#2 type A's in the same room what will they do?

[cosmicanakin]

╰ ﹒ (sorta) long awaited PART 2 to this DEAN BLURB. 🍋‍🟩

i'm shit at writing a second part to any standalone FICS or BLURBS so i'm rlly sorry if this isn't the 'makeup sex' type blurb yall were lookin' for <3

⎯⎯ warning(s) smut | emotional vulnerability | strong language | semi-public sex | rough sex | praise kink | dirty talk (yum) | jealousy | overstimulation | POSSESSIVE!DEAN | power dynamics | mirror sex. ఌ︎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

the bar is loud, filled with the familiar hum of conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. you sit at a table near the back, surrounded by a few of your close friends—hunters like you, women who know the life, know the dangers, and are just as good at blowing off steam after a successful hunt. tonight, the drinks flow easily, and the laughter comes even easier. it's rare to get a reprieve like this, to have a night off where you can just relax and enjoy yourself. you deserve it. you know you do.

but even as your friends trade stories and jokes, your mind keeps drifting. keeps circling back to him. DEAN WINCHESTER. it's been weeks since you left him in that motel room, since you walked away without an explanation, with only a hastily written note. you haven't spoken to him since, haven't called, haven't reached out. not because you didn't want to. GOD, you wanted to. but fear held you back. fear of what he felt, of what you felt, of how everything had changed with those three words he'd let slip between gasps of pleasure.

i love you.

you still hear his voice in your head, still feel the way his body had tensed beneath you when he realized what he'd said. you'd thought about calling him a hundred times, a thousand times actually, to tell him you felt the same. that the reason you ran was because you were scared—scared of how much you loved him, how deeply you'd fallen without even realizing it. but every time you picked up the phone, you hesitated, and the moment passed.

now, sitting in this bar, surrounded by friends, you can't help but wonder if you made a mistake. if walking away from him was the worst decision you could've made. but before you can spiral any further, you hear it—a laugh. a deep, familiar laugh that sends a shock of recognition through your entire body.

you freeze, your drink halfway to your lips, as you turn your head and see him. DEAN WINCHESTER. standing at the entrance of the bar, his brother, sam, by his side. dean doesn't see you at first, too busy scanning the room, probably taking in the scene out of habit, always the hunter, always alert. but then his eyes snap to yours.

it feels like the air is sucked from the room. your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can't move, can't breathe. he looks just like you remember—broad shoulders, brown leather jacket, that chiseled jawline you've traced with your fingers more times than you can count. but there's something in his eyes, a flicker of something raw and unresolved, and you know he's thinking about that night, about the last time you saw each other.

he doesn't move. neither do you.

but his gaze lingers on you, even as a blonde woman sidles up to him, clearly trying to get his attention. she's pretty—tall, curvy, the kind of woman who turns heads in a place like this. but dean barely spares her a glance, his eyes locked on you like he can't tear himself away. you feel a surge of something hot and uncomfortable twist in your chest—jealousy, anger, desire. god, you miss him. you miss him so much it hurts.

and it's not just him. it's the way he made you feel, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered, the way his hands felt on your skin, rough and gentle all at once. the way he'd held you that night, the way he'd said he loved you, like it was the most natural thing in the world. like he couldn’t help it.

you tear your gaze away, pretending to focus on the conversation at your table, but your mind is spinning. your body is buzzing with the awareness of him, of how close he is, of how much you want him. but the thought of facing him, of having that conversation, of admitting how you feel... it terrifies you.

so you do the only thing you can think of. you excuse yourself, telling your friends you need to use the bathroom, and slip away from the table, weaving through the crowded bar until you reach the small, dingy restroom at the back. you close the door behind you, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead, and lean against the sink, staring at your reflection in the cracked mirror.

your heart is racing, your skin flushed, and all you can think about is dean. about the way his muscles flexed under that leather jacket, the way he looked at you like he was starving for you. heat pools low in your belly, and filthy thoughts flood your mind—thoughts of him pressing you against the mirror, fucking you from behind until you're a mess, just like he did that night in the motel.

you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts away, but it's no use. your body wants him. you want him.

and then the door creaks open.

your eyes snap open, and you see him—dean, standing in the doorway, his eyes dark with that same hunger you feel. he steps inside, closing the door behind him, locking it with a click. your heart pounds in your chest, and you can't move, can't speak, as he crosses the small space between you, his body heat radiating off him in waves.

he doesn't say a word. he doesn't have to.

his hands are on you in an instant, rough and desperate, pulling at your clothes, as you do the same to him. his leather jacket hits the floor, followed by your shirt, your jeans, his belt clinking as he yanks it free. his breath is hot against your neck, and he's whispering in your ear, his voice low and gravelly.

"you're such a bad girl for leaving me like that," he growls, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. "but god, y'feel so fucking good... s'perfect."

his words send a shiver down your spine, and you can't stop the whimper that escapes your lips as he spins you around, pressing you against the mirror. your breath fogs the glass as his hands grip your hips, his body pressing against yours from behind. he wastes no time, thrusting into you with a force that makes your knees buckle, but his strong arms hold you steady, keep you grounded.

you're a mess beneath him, a blubbering, trembling mess as he fucks you hard and fast, his hips pistoning into yours with a desperation that matches your own. he's everywhere, all at once—his hands, his mouth, his body consuming you, and you can't think, can't breathe, can't do anything but feel.

"you're mine,” he growls, his voice rough and possessive in your ear. "you've always been mine."

and it's true. you know it's true. you've always been his.

you lose track of time, of how many times you come, his name spilling from your lips like a prayer, your body shaking with the force of it. by the time he finally pulls out of you, you're spent, your legs trembling, your breath ragged. but dean takes care of you, cleaning you up, pressing soft kisses to your skin as he helps you back into your clothes, his touch gentle and tender, so different from the roughness of moments ago.

when you're both dressed, you turn to him, your eyes meeting his, and without thinking, you pull him into a kiss. it's not like the others—it's not fueled by lust or desperation. this kiss is soft, slow, full of something deeper, something you've been too afraid to admit 'til now.

when you finally pull away, dean looks at you, his eyes searching yours. "what was that for?" he asks, his voice quiet, vulnerable.

you take a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. "i love you," you admit, the words catching in your throat. "and i'm sorry for leaving you like that. i was scared. but, fuck… i love you too, dean. i always have."

the smile that breaks across his face is like sunrise, brilliant and beautiful. he pulls you close again, pressing his body into yours. "yeah?"

"yeah," you whisper back. "turns out you're kind of hard to resist, winchester."

he laughs, the sound rumbling through his chest where you're pressed against him. "good thing i'm not trying to resist you anymore either, sweetheart."

when you eventually make your way back to the bar, sam takes one look at your slightly disheveled appearance and dean's stupid grin and rolls his eyes, but he's smiling. your friends are also giving you knowing looks, and the blonde from earlier has long since found another target.

none of that matters, because dean's hand finds yours again, and this time, neither of you are running anywhere. he also pulls you close to him again, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a promise of something more.

something real.

꣑୧ UNOFFICIAL TAGLIST. @anqeliclust @aileenunfiltered @embarrasingmf @stereotypicalbarbie @ninii-winchester @suckitands33 @ohheyguyss @spxideyver @artyandink @titsout4nicholas 𓂃 ݁ 𖦹

[yameoto]

angel in your pocket quinn fabray.

warnings; sub!quinn, angel!reader. not hate-fucking. irritated-fucking. masturbation (in the same room as an angel), voyeurism because God Is Always Watching, motel room sex. supernatural!au wc; 2k.

Quinn hasn’t had alone time in what feels like a fucking millenia. In the grand scheme of things, out of all that she’s sacrificed for the hunting life; her innocence, childhood, a normal, healthy relationship with literally any human being—all negligible compared to the great and terrible woe, of having absolutely zero time to masturbate. Like, almost zilch. Hell, nowadays she’ll flop back to bed after a hunt and pass out from exhaustion. Not even enough time to sneak in an innocent tryst against her pillow.

So, of course—with the rare occasion of her baby sister and her being (forcibly) split up for a hunt, for once; and Quinn having her first free day in—well, years (also, forcibly)—when she cranks the blinds down, sinks onto the motel room mattress, bedsprings creaking underneath her—she’s prepared for the most blissful, mind-numbing, apex-of-Nirvana type of relaxation. Involving; a bolt-locked door, three fingers, and a whole lot of time.

Except, things can never go Quinn’s way. Because just when she’s sufficiently worked herself up enough to sport a damp spot, hips rocking upwards as the barest brush of her fingers catches the hem of her underwear—there’s a sudden, blinding crack of light—the familiar crackle of ozone; and such heralds her favourite (derisive) and only guardian angel standing over her bed. 

“What in the ever living fuck?” Quinn hisses, scrabbling to fling the blankets over herself. “What the hell is wrong with you?” (You’d think, around an angel, Quinn would tone down the swearing. Except being raised by a gunslinging, monster-smoking preacherman meant Quinn veers from the Lord’s name like it's red-hot iron. Cussing was free-game, though. Swear words are made-up; God isn’t.)

You scrunch your nose, wings outstretched, tips brushing the motel room’s popcorn ceiling. You sniff the air. Heady. Thick with the scent of Quinn’s arousal. 

“It reeks.” 

Quinn prays you get asbestos in your feathers. 

“Were you indecent?” In your stupid angel get-up, feathery wings and all, the inquisitive tilt of your head makes you look like an oversized bird. A quizzical owl. She’s also just being mean in her head on purpose because 1. She knows you can hear this cute little introspection, if you can be bothered listening. (No, she’s not bitter that you’ve been ignoring her prayers for weeks.), 2. She also knows you’re just fucking with her, because your lips are quirking upwards, and Oh, laugh it up. Hoot-fucking-hoot. “Shouldn’t you tell me?” Quinn scowls, yanking her top over her head as she grumbles. You’ve breezed right on to the topic of the coming rapture. Lovely.

“Lilith. Her arrival cometh in four days. You and your sister must cross state lines by then.”

“Okay.” Quinn is only half-listening. She’s far too preoccupied with the red-hot pulse still throbbing at her crotch. Her briefs cling, damp against her skin. Sticky. Underneath the blankets, she squeezes her thighs together. Shit. Shiiiit. It gives her a brief reprieve, but it’s still not enough.

“—and if you do not give the angels an answer soon, they will keep coming. Michael—”

“It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I ever say yes to that fucker. You hear me?” She growls as her fingers run over the sodden fabric of her underwear, lashes fluttering as she skims up her waistband—because the reminder that she is, apparently, destined to be a hollow shell housing an archangel to shank the devil (housing her baby sister) is not enough to kill the last lingerings of her good mood. 

“I hear the Ninth Circle is unpleasantly frigid.” Quinn snorts. “You are such a smartass.” She circles her fingers, ever-so-slightly, against the thin barrier that just barely separates the ache in her soul from sweet, sweet relief. You are still, depressingly, there, and rambling on about scriptures and duties and blah, blah blah. She’d memorised all of that shit when she was three. Burned into the back of her skull. Experimentally, she applies a bit of pressure, just to ease herself. Quinn swallows, hard. 

“You’re not listening to me.” There’s that pretty little frown. 

“No, m’totally listening.” Quinn bucks her hips upwards, and her clit bumps against the ridges of her fly. She almost moans out loud. “I’m just saying no.” Maybe if she rocks her hips it’ll get a little friction righttt—ah, yeah. There’s the spot. “You’re aroused.” 

Whatever snarky quip Quinn was about to say wilts on her tongue. She pauses her movements, of which was hooking her index down to shimmy her briefs down her thighs, to glower—cheeks puffing out to exhale a frustrated huff. “Yeah, well, you picked a pretty shitty time, if you asked me.”

You sigh. “The dawn of the apocalypse will not wait for you to finish masturbating, Quinn.” 

Then, promptly and unceremoniously, you rip the blanket off of her. She is ashamed to say, she squeals. “Wh— hey!” Cold air rushes quick enough to shiver, band of her briefs rolled just enough that her cunt is exposed, and a current runs down her spine at the way your gaze falls, honing in on it.

Instinctively, Quinn goes to wrench the covers back over, of course, but attempting to tear the scratchy thing out from your hands is like trying to move a literal mountain. It’s also, long-forgotten in the swift way  you glide forwards, smoothly sliding to your knees and clasping strong (and somehow, gentle) hands at her knees and nosing between her legs and—

“Um. What’re you doing?” The words spill out in a rush, body tense—alarm bells ringing, because in the brief time she’s known you, Quinn has discovered she doesn’t quite know as much about angels as she thought she did—or as Father had told her— but she certainly didn’t think angels were in the business of peering up at her with those innocuous, unblinking doe-eyes of yours, through those stupidly lush lashes. Nor prying her thighs apart and swiping a thumb over the sticky residue left behind with a low, rumbling hum and shit. When did she get that wet?

“You’re not focusing. You must focus. This is the most efficient solution.”

“Fucking me is the most efficient solution?” Quinn gapes, and if her voice cracks and comes out an entire register higher, that’s her business. “That’s—you’re shameless!”

“I’m shameless? An Angel of the Lord visits upon you, urges you of your role in the Holy Scriptures, and you begin pleasuring yourself.”

Okay, when you put it like that, Quinn doesn’t have much ground. 

“I was finishing,” She blusters, cheeks flaming She’s arguing for the sake of arguing—with all the petulance she can muster, because otherwise, she doesn’t know what is an appropriate reaction to an angel’s tongue flicking up your skin, nose nudging between the crook of your warm, wet folds and inner thigh. 

Her breathing grows ragged. Fuck, fuck— fuck. “It’s not my fault you come at the worst time ever—” She’s aware she sounds like a bratty teenage girl, but you also lecture her with an ego the size of a small city, and when your tongue finally meets the sopping heat of her cunt, she makes a sound the furthest thing from holy. “Can—fuck—a girl not knock?”

“The Lord doesn’t knock.” You retort plainly, flat of your tongue dragging upwards. Quinn speaks through gritted teeth, fists curling. 

“‘Behold—I stand at the door, and knock; if any man hear my voice and—oh, fuck..—open the door, I will come into him—”

You stop in your tracks, head lifting. Any disappointment at the way your tongue slips out from her folds is quelled by the sizable strip of satisfaction unfurling in her gut. Seeing you; stare incredulous, mouth still open. For once, you’re the one taken off-guard. 

“Did you just.. quote scripture at me?” A draught sweeps in the room, and your fingers twitch inside of her as if considering whether to curl them to the knuckle or jerk yourself out entirely or reach up her ribs and perhaps yank her heart out from the inside. You do none of those things, and instead settle on gaping in utter disbelief. Quinn grins. 

“Revelations; chapter three, verse twenty, baby.” Quinn’s not her Daddy’s girl for nothing. 

“..It was an euphemism.” You grumble, annoyed, and if Quinn didn’t know any better—embarrassed—though from here, she can only see the flushed tips of your ears. Tne hand gripping her thigh tightens, a pressure so negligible Quinn might think she’d imagined if—if it weren’t for the fact, that, out of fucking nowhere, your thumb presses hard against the swollen bud of her clit. 

She cries out, hips jolting up off the mattress, and you don’t let her come back down–one hand supporting her entire bodyweight, as her legs quake. She scrabbles for purchase, and finds your hair a suitable levy.

“Ah—what the—fuck—” “And you call me the smartass,” You grunt, and another finger snakes in underneath the others, with a squelch so obscene Quinn almost blushes, though she only whines with approval instead. You thrust, deeper. “If you had talked back in such a way in B.C, I would’ve ripped out your tongue.” 

Score. Quinn totally knew she got you all hot and bothered. Despite it all, she can’t stop the smirk worming its way on her lips. You can’t win against a celestial being shaped by God—but you can savour the little victories. 

You’re panting, she can feel it—each puff of your breath—coming hot along her thighs and against her ella’s and into her cunt. Quinn is all at once hit with the dizzying thought that, that same breath has blown entire civilizations to dust—and right now—right now it’s being used to dirty-talk into her pussy. 

“It wasn’t even written in B.C, you sanctimonious—oh, fuck.” Apparently, you don’t appreciate her sense of humour, because you ravage her like you’re trying to carve out a space for Michael yourself with your teeth, fingers sliding in deep and pressing out against her walls, fighting against the resistance in their tight clenches—stretching out, as your tongue swirls over her clit. For a moment, her entire brain empties, and the tension—winding, winding, winding in a band she didn’t even know existed—snaps. Her hiss is strangled, nails curling into dank bedsheets and a white-hot flash has her thighs crunching together, slamming down against your head and all as she gasps at the feeling, like iron striking stone. It’s the most surreal thing she’s ever fucking experienced. She grasps, free hand fisting the back of your head, tightly, and she’s grinding out the sopping, slick folds of her pussy against your open mouth, legs coiled around your neck like a vice. 

In the bleary remnants of thoughts she has, she figures you can’t mind too much. Angels don’t need breath, after all. (The sexy heaves of your chest when you pant, splattered with demon blood or the spine-arching way you glide up her thighs is designed, specifically, to torture her, she thinks). 

It’s the quickest orgasm she’s ever had, in all whopping twenty-six years of her life.

Your chin come away glistening, a glassy sheen coating skin and trickling, down the holy, unblemished stretch of your neck to your clavicles. 

“..Wow.” She croaks.

Her eyes, unbidden, follow the bob of your throat. You swallow. An audible ah bursts through your lips, like you’ve just downed a bubbly pitcher of beer rather than her cum. Through the renewed pounding in her head and cunt, she hears a strangled whimper. She realises it’s her own, too late. 

She needs a beer, right about now. She watches, with hazy eyes, as you simply get up off the mattress and stray to the rickety table that hosts nothing but empty cans and spare ammunition. You pull out two chairs, opposite one another.

“..Not the cuddlin’ type, then?” She rasps, weakly. Damn you and your stupid feathers for looking so unruffled when you still have her juices dribbling down your throat. She’s overcome with inscrutable urge to wrench you back by the collar and lick her salt off your skin.

“Come. We must finish our talk.”

Quinn flops, her face buried into the pillow. Her eyes are heavy, lids dropping as she groans into cushion.

“..You’re not serious.”

“I did say, efficient."

[higuchisora]

They said the scripts were "locked in" for season 2 by the release of season 1 and it was just the animation they were working on, but I don't think that necessarily means they didn't make a SINGLE change. I think it might mean they had the general broad strokes of it, though, so even though I can totally see this happening, I don't know how much of it really was just them not thinking shit through ahead of time.

Like I wouldn't be surprised if they really only had the skeleton of a script "locked in" and the rest of it had significant changes, but I think that would make sense - Ambessa feels like she wasn't even supposed to BE in half the scenes she was in because she contributed literally nothing to them. I could imagine a situation in which Ambessa was initially supposed to have a much smaller role, maybe only becoming important towards the VERY end, like final episode or something where it reveals some type of scheme she had/sets up possible future stories etc., and that Caitlyn being "mentored" could've come from someone else. A lot of the lines weren't necessarily relevant to location, so the dialogue could've been tweaked and initially come from another character - maybe one of those "conversations with a ghost" with her mother or something, like an argument with the different sides of herself or whatever.

Either way, there are plenty of moments like this that feel like they were out of place or redistributed or rushed in such a way that I doubt they made ZERO changes (and also because it's Hollywood, last minute changes are NOT new).

Same for Mel; her plot was so irrelevant I wouldn't be surprised if they just added it at the last minute. Especially because she hardly said anything, particularly during confrontations.

To that end, them ignoring Jinx's mental illness feels like one of those cutting corners situations. Something along the lines of, "Well they already know she's mentally ill, there's no need to keep showing it" which we know is DUMB AF but to corporate minds is perfectly logical. It felt like they waffled between making the story "shocking" and keeping the characters likeable (which they failed to do with a lot of them, so...)

Hence why Caitlyn never has to answer for her actions. And why Vi seems like she's been lobotomized and is strictly relegated to the "love interest" role, despite being arguably more of a main character in s1 than Caitlyn (as I was under the impression that this show was about the sisters, not their romantic interests). And why Jinx's only personality traits are semi-sarcastic and suicidal. And why her and Vi's differences seem to solely boil down to "I don't like your girlfriend" (which in s2 is pretty valid for Jinx's part, spoken as a former caitvi shipper, but still takes away from the real weight of their conflict). And why Ekko was exiled for 3 whole episodes on a Spiderverse subplot.

Unfortunately, we'll never really know what the truth is, or what the "original" script would've looked like (and if it was really all that different from now). But what I wouldn't have given to be in that room with a squeaky toy hammer so I could bonk Netflix/Riot every time they suggested some stupid shit....

Something that has really bugged me about season two is Jinx's hallucinations and PTSD. It magically disappears when Silco dies, save for two scenes. I remember when people on reddit were literally making jokes about the writers going this route because it would be so stupid.

One of the things I loved about season one was the realistic depictions of mental illness that you just don't see often in media. I don't know what it is like to experience schizophrenia, but I have experienced PTSD and paranoia, and seeing how it was represented in Arcane was actually one of the things that helped me through it.

And then season 2 comes around and they just completely neglect this side of Jinx.

PTSD isn't a switch that can magically be flipped off. Recovery is a slow and gradual process. In absolutely no world would Jinx killing yet another family member cure her of her conditions, it would make them 10 times worse. Not to mention just before killing him she has an extremely severe psychotic episode, which would only make forgetting her trauma even more difficult since it was just brought up fresh in her mind.

And what even about the end of s1 was it that healed her? I genuinely have no idea, because she finally chooses Jinx only to once again go back and forth between Jinx and Powder in season two, because apparently all that buildup for her final decision was for nothing.

She does experience two hallucinations (I'm not going to count the jail silco thing in act three because what even was that?) when she sees enforcer Vi and when Sevika talks about the attack at Vander's statue, but suddenly that is all that triggers her?

In season one, just seeing Vi, or even someone who looks like Vi triggers her. But now when Vi is literally trying to capture and possibly kill her she is fine, it's only the mask that bothers her? Wasn't that her worst fear, that Silco and Sevika were right, that Vi only wanted to stop her? And she is constantly triggered by Cait in season 1 but not 2?

And then there was the insulting ending, where jail Silco tells Jinx to 'break the cycle' (something he would absolutely never do) and Jinx finally finds redemption by literally killing herself after Isha kills herself in what is framed as an act of heroism (and if Jinx actually didnt, than what even was the point of that scene?) What happened to Ekko trying to stop Jinx from doing that? What happened to Silco having Singed revive her to save her life after she attempts to take it? Or Jayce and Viktor talking each other out of it? Or Silco choosing to keep fighting rather than give into the "peace in water"?

On purpose or not season 2 frames suicide as a glorious, edgy, perhaps even necessary thing and it's disgusting.

[quietstormxr]

Found You Again

You'll Survive - Part 2

Garrick Tavis x Reader

Angst/Violence/PTSD

Minor Iron Flame spoilers

Summary: After Garrick finds you still alive, you both have to deal with the consequences of torture, the coming war, and your relationship.

Word Count: <10k

A/N: Get a beverage and get comfy, this is going to be a long one. Got a little carried away with this one, so it's going to be three parts. I have a few more scenes I want to add and didn't want to cram them all here! Hope y'all don't mind.

All it takes is a moment and you are shooting up from the bed that you had apparently been laying in. A scream still tearing from your throat as you scan your surroundings frantically. There are beads of sweat pouring from your temples and you can feel your heart beating a rapid staccato that you can’t seem to control. 

As you continue to heave breaths in and out you wildly search from left to right for any threats, the lingering phantom of hands holding you down ghosting across your skin. 

Your eyes finally snag on another pair staring at you with agonizing sorrow. You can’t help the way you scramble back out of the bed and as far away from the figure as you can. Your brain tries to remind you this figure won’t hurt you, but you can’t seem to connect the thoughts with the remnants of your dream that felt more like reality.

Your back finally hits cold stone and that makes you turn and jump again; memories of your head being smashed into the same type of stone only days ago vivid in your mind.

As the present slowly comes into focus and your dream fades away, your heartbeat slowing to a more reasonable rhythm, you finally begin to process the room in front of you. 

There’s no longer the smell of rotten earth and the metallic iron of dried blood, the floors are clean and there’s a large window showing the beginning cracks of sunlight rising from the horizon. You try to continue taking deep breaths as your gaze finally sweeps back to the pair of eyes that had you scrambling back before.

You meet the hazel gaze that shines with unshed tears and a sorrowful look on his face that you had never seen before. No one could miss the way that he is holding himself to the chair that he has been sitting in, obviously an effort not to move or scare you. You can hear the wood of the chair creaking under the pressure and his knuckles turning his pale skin even whiter.   

You both stare at each other for what seems like an eternity, neither one of you speaking seeming to not want to break the spell that you’re both in. 

You slowly begin to straighten yourself from the shrunken in shape you had taken when waking from your nightmare. As you do, you notice that you are no longer in your torn and shredded flight leathers you were tortured in. Now, you are in oversized training clothes that you know must be Garrick’s. Your hand moves to your hair and the strands slide through your fingers. Someone must have bathed and changed you after you were mended.

You continue to look around the room you are in and take in the way that it looks lived in and has notes of Garrick all around. There’s a tapestry over the large inner wall that has a desk in front of it and a weapons rack right next to it. You can’t help the way you notice the number of swords that are littered on the other wall making rainbow of glittering sharp weapons.

Out the corner of your eye, you can see Garrick’s form slowly move from grasping the chair with a death grip to relaxing his hands in his lap. You swallow, noting the scratch of your throat as you do. The memory of the scream you awoke to striking in your mind. You bring your hand up to your throat and tap, hoping that he will understand the gesture and get you some water. 

Garrick gives you a short nod before he moves to the small table that is beside the bed. You watch as he pours a glass of water before turning back to you and slowly making his way to where you stand. Neither one of you deigns to speak as if either of you do the spell will be broken. 

As he hands you the glass, you give him a curt nod before taking a few steps out of his reach. His eyes continue to look pained, and his arm falls back to his side as if in defeat. 

You slowly take sips of the water trying to relish in the way the liquid quells the scratch of your throat. It doesn’t escape your notice that something that was so trivial now seems to be such a luxury. The use of your hands, a mended body, the ability to move away from someone whether a threat or not. You hold onto the glass with both hands as you continue to drink the water while walking back to the bed. You sit on the side and let your body drop back in relief of not being restrained. 

Emotions hit you hard suddenly and you look at your hands noticing the way they’ve begun to tremble. You let yourself slide from the bed onto the floor carefully placing the glass at your side. As you finally make contact with the ground, you clasp your hands together trying to steady them. Leaning your head against the mattress, you can’t control the gasp that leaves your mouth as your throat constricts and tears begin to stream down your face. You continue to take gasping breaths as the tears fall and your head stays firmly planted against the mattress. 

As the fog of emotion slowly begins to clear, you hear carefully measured footsteps come towards you. Turning your head slightly, you watch as Garrick comes towards you slowly. He crouches down not far from where you’ve melted into the floor, and you notice the tear streaks that mar his pale cheeks. Your gazes collide and there’s nothing but raw, charged emotion hanging in the air. If the last week had never happened, you would be laughing at the way the mountain of muscle before you had become so tentative. Gone was the bravado and over-confident air that seemed to follow him around.

“C-Ca-Can I touch you?” He questions stammering, his tone quiet and reserved. 

Your mind is suddenly a cacophony of thoughts. The anger that you’d been clinging onto burning bright, the fear of anyone touching you in any way, and the undeniable want to be held close and safe by the man in front of you waging a war on every front. 

“P – Please don’t.” You whisper as the fear and then anger win out over the softer emotions roiling within you. 

You know that the fear you’re feeling must have leeched into your voice, because it’s almost as if you can see the heart of the man in front of you breaking as the words leave your mouth. 

“What can I do?” He mumbles as he seems to waver on how exactly to move forward. 

You look at him with a mix of sadness, resolve, and anger in your features before replying. “Nothing.”

The fear and helplessness you were feeling moments ago morphing into the relentless anger that you had harbored for the man sitting next to you. It’s with that spark of fire that ignites in your body that you find yourself getting up from the floor and marching towards the door.

“Wait!” Garrick calls from behind you as you go to open the door. You’re immediately met with a barrage of sounds that cause you to shrink back. Your eyes wide with pure fear, darting back and forth among the cadets that seem to be milling about wherever you are. 

You immediately close the door again, your breaths coming in ragged pants as you plaster yourself to the back of the door. Terrified eyes look back up at Garrick before the questions start rapid firing in your mind.

“Wh-where are we?” The question coming out with pure confusion laced in your words. You knew you couldn’t be at Basgiath, but all those people couldn’t possibly be lieutenants. 

“You’re at Riorson House in Aretia.” He says in a calm tone.

“Who are all those people?” Your brows furrow trying to make sense of everything that’s happening all at once.

“They are all the cadets that defected when Riorson and I came for Violet.” As he continues to explain, you watch as he slowly moved forward. His hands are fisted at his sides and look as if they are trying to hold him in place. 

“When I finally found you again.” He continues as if the thought of getting to Basgiath for anyone but you wasn’t worth his time to dwell on. His hand starts to reach out for you of its own accord, but he finally realizes, and it falls back to his side.

As the facts start taking shape in your mind, you can’t help the confusion that seems to blanket you as well. 

“Defected? Are you telling me that you took me, injured, from the little protections that Navarre does offer?” You incredulously look back at him, your eyes boring into his soul.

Garrick seems taken aback by your phrasing of the question and rage flashes in his eyes. “What protections?” His voice starts to raise slightly as the anger builds.

“Do you really think torturing you within an inch of your life is much protection? Of course, I fucking took you! I wasn’t leaving you with those sadistic fuckers.” He hisses, the switch to anger turning palpable as you see memories haunt his face.

He stops just a few steps from you and brings his face down to be level with yours. “And I would fucking do it again if it means knowing you are safe. I don’t give a shit whether you like it or not.”

Your face contorts into a sneer as the anger you felt before being taken roars back to life. But you aren’t complaining because at least the anger can drown out the fear. With that knowledge, you turn again back to the door and fling it open while Garrick tries to grab your arm, the fear you had shown him forgotten as he tries to catch up with you. 

You have no idea where you are going, you are just moving down the hallway trying to get away from the man that is yelling your name. You slink through the cadets that are milling about as fast as you can, using your smaller agile frame against Garrick’s herculean form. You descend the stairs and find a door open to the left and swiftly enter trying to escape. 

Unfortunately, it seems Zinhal has other plans for you today. As you suddenly come to a halt you look around and see that you’re obviously now in a training room that regrettably contains Bodhi, Xaden, and Imogen. The three of them turn to you with slight shock on their faces before you can hear Garrick’s voice burst into the room.

“Y/N.” He breathes in an exasperated breath before looking at the other three gathered as well. His eyes seeming to zero in on Bodhi.

You watch as Garrick stomps over to Bodhi with deadly intent. His uncertainty on how to handle the situation with you crumbling all the restraint left to his anger, fear, rage, and powerlessness to fix the torture you had to endure.

“You.” He growls menacingly while staring at him with a murderous gleam. 

“You knew she was fucking alive and didn’t think to tell me!” He roars. “I never thought my ‘brother’ would keep something like that from me.”

Bodhi’s face falls completely and that’s when you know that you must step in. You may not be overly friendly with Bodhi, but he doesn’t deserve to be treated badly because of the spot you put him in. You walk in between the two right before Garrick goes to grab Bodhi’s collar. You push Garrick’s hand aside and look up at him with a fire dancing in your own eyes.

“I made that decision for him.” You utter coldly. 

Garrick finally removes his gaze from Bodhi and looks down at you, the anger in his eyes softening in some of its sharpness. 

“Bodhi told me to write you the minute he saw me land at Basgiath, but I tied his hands.” You explain with no hint of remorse. “You left me behind, all while your little pink girlfriend smirked at me in smug satisfaction. You showed your cards to me, remember?”

Garrick’s anger seems to evaporate, and his entire expression turns into regret, but this time you aren’t swayed. 

“Then I went to Eltuval and found myself alone on patrol and learning that venin and wyvern were real. Alone. Something I believe you know a little about.” You add sarcastically as you gesture to the expanse of Riorson House. 

Your anger at the whole situation and what you had to face alone comes rushing back. A derisive laugh bubbling up at the predicament you find yourself in.

“You left me behind, told me I would survive without you, then I was left alone on watch and became the number one target for a massive wyvern doing its own patrol of Navarre’s borders.” You revealed while the anger and level of your voice began to rise. 

The expression on Garrick’s face is laughable to say the least. You watch as his regret turns to disbelief back to anger and finally lands back on regret. 

“That – That’s impossible.” A female voice stammers from behind you.

You huff a humorless laugh and turn towards the voice. You narrow your eyes in a glare at the girl staring back at you in disbelief. 

“Tell that to the scars on my back from the wyverns razored feathers.” You say as you stalk towards Violet with an ominous look in your eyes.

“Did you think that your little group was the only one who found themselves the victim of the cadre’s wrath? Did you think they were only after your precious Wingleader?” You spit the derision in your tone obvious as you gesture towards the brooding shadow wielder.

“You are more naïve than I thought if you believe that Colonel Aetos was only going to go after the marked ones alone.” You asserted as you walked into Violet’s space, looking down at the girl who was a few inches shorter than you.

You couldn’t help the mocking laugh that slipped past your lips when you noticed Xaden step up to her back as if you intended on hurting the girl in front of you.

“Don’t worry, Riorson. I have absolutely no intention of hurting your dear girl. I just want her to realize that you weren’t the only ones that the cadre had an issue with.” You sneered with boredom lacing your tone. 

“Now if your little family gathering will excuse me.” You gesture towards all the ones gathered there making a circling motion with your hand. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

You take three steps away before you feel a large, calloused hand wrap around your upper arm. You can’t help the way you flinch and your eyes flash at the touch.

“You can’t go out there by yourself. It’s dangerous and anything could happen to you.” Garrick explains sounding like he’s trying to reason with you. You forcefully pull your arm from his grip before turning around.

“No, see here’s where you’re wrong.” You purr with conviction while thrusting your finger into his chest forcefully. “I can do whatever the fuck I want. If I die,” you shrug your shoulders conveying your nonchalance “then so be it. At least I won’t be haunted by the nightmares any longer.”

“I will not let you put yourself in unnecessary danger.” Garrick barked blocking you from your path.

You take your time looking back directly into those hazel eyes. “You, my dear Garrick, lost your fucking privilege of caring about what I do about five months ago. Why don’t you go rut with one of the other mares in your stable and leave me the fuck alone.”

As you swiftly turn your body and continue your walk, there was no way to avoid hearing the shocked gasps at the words you said. Even though you knew you still loved Garrick, your heart was walled off to him after he became just another one of the men who continued to disappoint you. 

Right before you closed the door, you couldn’t help overhearing Garrick’s loud curse and a roaring bang that you surmised must have been a punch to the nearest punching bag or possibly a wall. A small, satisfied smirk crawled across your face when you realized that you could successfully still get under Garrick’s skin.

As soon as you were outside the heavy wooden doors of the fortress, you looked down and noticed the shifting of shadows.

“Leave me the fuck alone Riorson.” You spit while stepping over them. 

As you kept walking, you found yourself entering the small, reconstructed town of Aretia. You had heard stories of the burning and due to your interest in geography and history had more knowledge than your average cadet. However, you had no idea where you were going; you just knew that you needed to get away. 

You continued along the path, but still noticed the wisp of a shadow that followed you. Clearly Xaden wasn’t going to let you be alone, so you knew what you would have to do to throw off your wisping tail. Without much thought, you walked into the nearest shop that was bustling with townspeople trying to do their daily shopping. 

The minute you stepped in, you changed your entire appearance with the aid of Diomat’s power. You made your hair shorter and darker, your eyes a shade of sapphires you hadn’t seen anyone else have and reduced the look of your height. As soon as your looks were fully disguised, you walked back out of the shop. Taking a deep breath when you were finally away from the crowd, and you stepped into the shade of the nearest tree. Looking around for your unfortunate addition, you were happy to find that you must’ve slipped the shadows notice. 

When you confirmed there was no longer a wisp following you, you proceeded to continue your walk into town.

You couldn’t help the smile that immediately lit up your face as you watched children playing and mother’s going about their days. Something about seeing this domesticity made your resolve about fighting in the coming war harden. You knew there was no way that you would let these people suffer if you didn’t have to. Especially after experiencing what torture could be doled out from your own cadre, let alone an enemy. 

After walking a while, you found a small café and ordered a hot chocolate while sitting at one of the small tables. You sat there watching the calm lives of the civilians outside and continued to smile in your revelry of the small things. You were so engrossed in your own daydream that you startled when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

Looking up in a swift turn, you are surprised to find a pair of liquid silver eyes staring back at you. You couldn’t help the way you appraised the stranger. You had never seen a man with such mesmerizing eyes. You continued to stare at the man in front of you, now noticing his raven hair and warm honey skin. 

“Can I help you?” You asked as you continued appraising the stranger in front of you.

“I’m sorry to bother you. But I had to ask as I was unsure if I was hallucinating. Did you change your appearance in that shop across the road?” He queried you while giving a slight tilt to his head indicating the shop you had left. 

You turned a little sheepish not really knowing how much you should reveal to the man in front of you.

“I don’t mean to catch you off guard.” He continues with a placating tone. “I’m a guard at Riorson House and by the clothing, I assumed you were a rider, and obviously noticed you before the hair and eye color change.”

You shake your head in acknowledgement before giving him a reply.

“Yes, I did. I was just trying to shake a little shadow and have some time to myself.”

He nods in acceptance obviously realizing what exactly you are insinuating. 

“Ah, yes. The real question is why Lieutenant Riorson is needing to follow you around.” He added pure curiosity in his face.

“If you’re asking if I’m a threat, I can assure you I’m not. After days of torture, I’m not sure how much of a menace I could be right about now.” You muse not afraid to share your misfortunes. 

“So, are you the Sorrengail or Lieutenant Tavis’ interest?”

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you at the remote possibility you could be Violet Sorrengail. 

“I’m not naïve enough to be Sorrengail. Besides, do you really think Riorson would let her out of his sight?” You criticized seeing that you can’t imagine how someone who was hailed at being so smart couldn’t imagine that the cadre of Navarre wouldn’t just take out anyone they saw as a threat in any way.

“So, you’re the one that Tavis thought was dead.” He surmises. 

Your eyes widen slightly and then narrow in suspicion. 

“And exactly how do you know that?” 

He gives a small smile before continuing. “I promise I mean you no harm and I don’t report back to Riorson or Tavis if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“If that’s the case. How exactly do you know all of this? I can’t imagine that the love lives of mere lieutenants are the subject of gossip.” You can’t help but question this man that has seemingly popped up out of nowhere.

He nods in understanding and gestures asking to sit at the table that I’ve taken residence at. You offer the seat, and he immediately sits down across from you. 

“You’re right in one instance. People aren’t normally interested in the love lives of the Lieutenants. However, I’m guessing you are aware of why people would be concerned with Riorson’s life.” You give a slight shift of your head confirming your understanding.

“Being that Riorson is the most important person to the Tyrrish people, it does not escape them that Tavis is his right hand. Therefore, both of their lives are heavily scrutinized from the Assembly, hence my knowledge on the subject.”

He goes on to continue to regale you with stories of both men, including Bodhi in the bunch. He takes time to explain how the Assembly learned of your existence since you were apparently a wrench in their plans. No one expected Garrick to be entangled with anything more than physical, let alone a first year.  

You also learn that this man’s name is Fabien, and he has been a guard at Riorson House since about two years after the Apostasy. His family owns the café that you are currently sitting in, but they had previously been servants at Riorson House as well. 

Oddly enough, you begin to let your guard down and find yourself being drawn into the grey eyes and warm personality of the man in front of you. It has been a while since you had met someone so open and willingly trusting. 

You could only think that a person like Fabien would be torn down immediately at Basgiath. The sad reality that the thought even crossed your mind crashing into you.

Soon enough, the light of the sun began waning into the horizon beyond the cliffs. You looked out at the setting sun and something in the shift of your facial features must’ve given away your decision to get back to Riorson House. 

“I know it’s getting late, and I imagine that you need to get back. Would you mind if I escort you back to the fortress?” Fabien asks as you both rise from the table. 

“I’d hate to be a bother, especially if you weren’t planning on going back today.” You say giving him an easy out from his ask. Although you were hoping he would still want to as you were slightly unsure of how to get back to the fortress.

“I insist. I’m more than confident you can handle yourself, but I will feel better if you’d allow me to escort you.” He declares.

‘I expect you to accept his offer, Bold One.’ Diomat slithers into your mind, reminding you that she’s watching out for you as well.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ You sass back, smiling at the exasperated huff you hear down your bond.

You nod your head in agreement and push in the chair that you had been relaxing in all day. As soon as you step into the night air you can’t help the shiver that crawls up your spine, the oversized training clothes not doing much to shield from the chill of the October air. Fabien must see your discomfort because not even ten steps later, he has thrown his cloak over you and closed the middle clasp. You give him a small thankful smile before you both continue your saunter back towards the doors of the fortress.

As you walk with him, you find yourself continuing to fall into conversation and chat about anything and everything. He takes great care to point things out around the town and let you know little stories from both his childhood and the ‘three musketeers’ that ran terror around the town growing up. In return, you tell him stories of your childhood growing up on the coastline and the scuffles you got yourself into with your siblings. 

As you both get to the gates of Riorson House, you can’t hold in the boisterous laugh that tears from you at a particularly funny story involving three small children and a two-tiered chocolate cake. As you round the corner, you see a tall, muscled figure pacing back and forth in front of the wooden doors. The minute the sound of your laugh touches his ears, you watch as he turns to look directly at you. 

Garrick’s eyes twinkle at the sound of your laugh before his gaze follows to the person that is standing next to you. His eyes immediately harden at the man standing next to you. You watch as he strides towards you with clear purpose.

Without giving him too much attention, you turn to Fabien and go to unclasp his cloak. However, before you can undo the clasp, Fabien touches your hand stopping you.

“Please keep it.” He says while looking out the corner of his eye, obviously watching the mountain of muscle that is marching straight towards you.

“You don’t have to do that.” You go to protest, but he shakes his head.

“I know I don’t have to, but I’d like if you would.” He states. “I’d also like to see you again sometime, whenever you aren’t too busy.”

You go to respond to him, but you are cut off by a gruff voice replying before you. “She’s too busy all the time.”

You turn a glare at the man that has decided he needed to put himself between the two of you. You step around Garrick and give him a glare that he doesn’t acknowledge.

“We’ll see each other again.” You say looking at the man who has treated you as more than a beautiful annoyance all afternoon. “I’ll make sure to stop by when I get some free time. In the meanwhile, thank you so much for the wonderful afternoon, stories, and the cloak.”

Fabien gives you a slight bow and nod with his smile before he turns on his heels and you watch as he walks outside the fortress walls. You spin on your heels and head towards the doors. As you go to open the door, a large hand covers yours and turns your body to face them.

You look up at Garrick with a face of exasperation your eyes turning tired. 

“How did you slip past Xaden’s shadows?” He questions. 

“That’s none of your business, Lieutenant.” You snap at him.

“Why won’t you just talk to me? I’ve been sitting next to that bed for three days waiting for you to wake up. Praying to any gods who would listen to make sure you’d be alright.” He explains while running a hand through his hair. 

“Will you ever give me another chance?” He says quietly. 

“What chance do I need to give?” You snarl back harshly. “You made your decision and told me that I would survive without you, didn’t you? So here I am, surviving without you.”

You watch as he rakes his hand through his hair again and blows out a growl of utter frustration.

“Yes, I said that, and I was a fucking idiot.” He starts as he moves closer to you. “You don’t know how much I regretted those words the moment you mounted Diomat and left me behind. Hell, the moment they left my mouth.”

His hand rises to your face and cups the side of your jaw, his thumb rubbing lazy circles over your cheek. 

“Then I flew back to Basgiath after Resson and the only bright light I could think of was your face.” A faraway look clouds his eyes as the memory fizzles inside his mind.

“When everyone was trying to play their part to make sure no one knew the truth, I kept searching formation for you. I looked up and down every row, every face looking for your eyes.” He recounts. “I was standing there trying to breathe and keep my composure so that we could sell our story. But the only thing I wanted to do was run down to your squad and ask every single person where you were.”

You take a deep breath as you stare into the worried hazel eyes that seem to dart all around your face as if cataloging every detail. 

“What do you want from me Garrick?” You ask tiredly not knowing whether you’re willing to give the man in front of you anything anymore.

“You.” He says breathlessly while bringing his forehead to rest on yours. “I fucking want you.”

You can feel how tense his body is from holding himself back from rushing to crush your body to his. Every muscle in his arms seem to sing with want to move and not let go, but you aren’t convinced.

You push yourself back from him and take his hand from your face. You bring it down and let it fall limp next to his body. 

“You of all people knew how many men in my life have let me down.” You reply, drawing your gaze down with the tears that are beginning to fill your eyes. You lift them back to Garrick and let him see your eyes shine with held back emotion.

“I was expecting better from you. I was expecting to be your priority, but I wasn’t. Not to mention you were keeping secrets. I feel like I don’t even know you.” You tell him as a single tear slips down the side of your face. 

Garrick’s face becomes a whirlpool of emotion as your words crash around him. He knew all the ways men in your life had failed you, yet he let himself do the same. 

“I was tortured because of your secrets that you didn’t see fit to tell me.” You can’t help the small shake of your head in disbelief and the haunted look of your eyes. “You knew that I would keep any secret and take it to my grave before putting anyone in danger, especially you. However, you chose to take my agency. You chose what you thought was best, with I’m sure some assistance from your friendly shadow. But, at the end of the day, you made your decisions.”

You begin to walk towards the heavy doors again before turning back towards the man that held your entire heart. 

“Now it’s time for me to make my own decisions. It will be on my terms if anything else happens between us.”

As you enter the fortress, the realization that you have nowhere to go dawns on you after remembering it was Garrick’s room you woke up in. As if in answer to your question, Xaden steps out of one of doorways in the hallway in front of you. With purpose written on your features, you walk up to your previous Wingleader. 

“I need a room to stay in.” You say unceremoniously to the man standing in front of you.

He looks at you with a hint of confusion on his face, before nodding his head and walking further into the fortress. You follow him and hope that you’ll be able to keep the talking to a minimum. 

“Are you sure that you don’t want to stay where you are?” He asks while continuing to walk forward, though he does turn to glance back at you. “The rooms in the family wing are significantly larger than those in the barracks.”

“I’m sure.” You can’t help the terse way you respond. 

Suddenly he turns and faces you. The quick way he moves and turns towards you has you retreating and running into the wall. You can feel the way that your face has twisted in fear at his movements and watch as the brooding man before you softens uncharacteristically. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He softly says while taking a few steps back. “We’ll get you assigned a room, but you should know that Garrick isn’t going to like being separated from you after everything.”

Your eyes roll at the statement and Xaden looks at you with a sad understanding. 

“Trust me when I say that both of us have said and done things in the past year that we deeply regret.” He starts in a rare moment of vulnerability from the hard man he usually is. “I’m not going to try and convince you to be with Garrick, but I do want you to know that it wasn’t Garrick’s call to leave you for War Games. It was mine.”

“I know that.” You argue. “It wasn’t the not being taken, it was the way he handled it and the words he said.”

You huff a cynical laugh before continuing. “I’m sure even Violet would admit that every girl wants the man that she’s with to show a little fight when it comes to her.”

It was then that Xaden blew out a huff of his own. “You may think that he didn’t fight for you. But you didn’t see him after he saw you in that chamber. When Aetos caught you after you fainted,” He stops shaking his head while recollecting the memory. “I’ve never seen Garrick move so fast to get to you and wrap you in his arms. When flying back here, he wouldn’t even let anyone else touch you.”

“Not to mention, you need to realize that sometimes a man makes a decision purely on the thought of keeping the woman he loves safe.” He catches me before I can open my mouth to argue back. “Whether or not she may like what that decision is. Sometimes he may prefer her to hate him if that means she’s safe.”

You look into the eyes of the man in front of you and his face is nothing but open and serious. You give him a curt nod noting your understanding before he turns back around, and you both continue down the hallway. 

Good to his word, Xaden finds you a room and even though you expected to be in the barracks, your room ends up being on the floor underneath the family rooms. You thank him for helping you and close the door to your room. 

You heave out a large breath before unceremoniously dropping yourself onto the bed. You turn and let your eyes drift to the ceiling of the room trying to quiet your churning mind.

______

Due to the amount of mending that you had to have after Varrish’s particularly brutal forms of torture, you were given some time off before having to join in with the rest of the cadets. However, after learning of your fate in Eltuval, you were summoned to the Assembly to explain exactly what you saw.

As you walked into the large room, you couldn’t help but notice the long table that ran the length of the room with several members lining each side. However, the thing that really took your attention was the large chair sitting slightly higher than all the rest and not just the chair, but the man lounging in it. 

There was Xaden sitting in the half-burned chair, legs stretched out in front of him with a bored look on his face. And if there was any question left in your mind about where Garrick fell, it was answered today. There he was stood behind the chair with his twin swords strapped to his back, arms folded across his chest looking as if he was assessing each and every person and the threat they may pose. 

A General guarding his King.

Garrick’s eyes met yours and you watched as his stance softened ever so slightly, the same way it always would at Basgiath. A sad smile sprawled across your lips as you shook your head slightly at the memory. 

“Cadet L/N.” You looked up as a man with auburn curls called your name and motioned you to take a seat at the middle of the table. “We appreciate you talking to us about your experience in Eltuval. Feel free to begin whenever you’d like.”

You make your way to the seat and tentatively sit down. You heart begins to flutter in your chest and nerves begin to make you stomach tighten. You place your hands in your lap to stop them from shaking and take a deep breath to try and steady yourself.

“I’m not sure how much information that I have to share that will enlighten you more than what you already know.” You start, suddenly feeling very self-conscious with all of these older riders.

“I was given orders to patrol a specific area within the borders of our position at Eltuval. Diomat and I proceeded to the area and began our patrol as normal. About a half an hour into the watch, there was a large roar from the northwestern part of our patrol.” You take another fortifying breath before the assembly seems to fade and your eyes become your memories.

“As I looked towards the sound, blue flames erupted from the mouth of the beast. I consulted with my dragon, as I wasn’t sure what exactly I was looking at. Diomat confirmed that it was a wyvern and confirmed that I could kill it with a blade that Lieutenant Tavis had previously gifted me.” As you finish your sentence, your eyes involuntarily flick to the man in question.

“Diomat then flew towards the wyvern as it headed straight for us in return. As we made our way there, I utilized my signet to be able to get down on the wyverns back. Once there, I slammed the blade in and was able to slash through half of its neck while it flailed.”

“Regrettably, I was thrown into its razored mane before I was flung into the air. Luckily, Diomat was able to catch me, and we returned to the outpost. From there, my wounds were tended to, and I told the cadre that I was hurt from falling from Diomat’s back.” As you finish, you look around the room at the eyes staring back at you. A mix of disbelief and astonishment fixed on all their faces, all but one. Garrick is looking as if he might be sick from the recounting of your tale. 

“Are you saying that you jumped on the back of a wyvern and killed it with your own hands?!?” A man with a hawkish nose barks out incredulously.

Your head immediately whips to him and your eyes narrow. “Why the hell would I lie?” You challenge the man.

“Why should we believe this tale? The whole thing sounds of fairytales.” A woman with an axe strapped to her back argues back.

“I thought venin and wyvern were fairytales, yet here we are in an Assembly room that is trying to figure out best way to beat them.” You fume as you gesture to the people sitting around the table while standing up from your seat. 

“And even though I shouldn’t have to fucking qualify my story for you to believe me, how about I fucking show you.” The anger at their accusations has turned your body into a raging wildfire. 

With that fire burning in your veins, you turn around and lift the back of your shirt. There’s no way to ignore the gasps of horror that leave the mouths of the people in the room. You know what they’re seeing, large scars that bisect through the part of the relic that Diomat placed on your back.

“So yes, I jumped on the back of a damn wyvern and killed it. And no, it wasn’t a fucking fairytale.” After you finish speaking you bust out of the room, the fire in your veins still burning brightly.

You know from experience there are only two ways to burn the fire licking at you. You decide that its been too long since you’ve seen Diomat and find yourself immediately making a beeline for the large front doors. Just before you are about to grab one of the handles and swing the door open, a large hand wraps around your arm.

You are immediately tugged around and enveloped in large arms. Your anger is still burning hot on the surface so thankfully the fear of being restrained hasn’t bubbled up. 

“Gods.” Garrick breathes as he holds you tightly. “It’s so much worse than I thought it was.”

“What did you think I was making it up too?” You huff out cynically. He moves one of the hands from the hug and pulls back slightly to grab your chin in his hand. 

“Of course, I didn’t. I was just hoping it wasn’t as bad as I thought. But apparently, it was worse.” He answers his eyes serious with a hint of sadness. The next thing you know he’s huffing out a small laugh. “I don’t know whether I want to be angry with you for risking your life so recklessly or just be in wonder at how astonishing you are.”

Now it was your turn to scoff. “You can be both, but I need to get out of here.” With that you turn from the man and make your way outside of the fortress.

You’re thankful that Diomat shares your mind, because without you even having to ask, she touches down in the large courtyard upsetting the guards and garden below. Without caring, you mount your dragon and immediately take to the skies. 

After a few hours, your lack of flight leathers begins to wear on you as you become colder and colder.

‘Diomat, how close to town can you get me?’ You ask your dragon hoping that you can finish of this tiring day with a warm cup of hot chocolate. 

‘I can take you to the edge of the woods. Due to the civilians, they ask the dragons not to get too close and scare them. If you walk the path, then you should be at the town in about ten minutes from what Chradh says.’ She confirms down your bond.

You look down giving the back of your dragon’s neck a raised eyebrow as you hear her mention Chradh.

‘Why are you speaking with Chradh all of a sudden?’ Your eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

You hear a huff of amusement in your mind before she replies. ‘I suppose because his rider keeps pestering him about my whereabouts, and therefore yours as well.’

You can’t help the snarking laugh that you let out while Diomat begins to descend into the woods. ‘Well how about you just let him know you’re going back to the valley and leave me out of this one.’

As you begin walking away, Diomat huffs a blast of steam at you before nudging you with her maw. You glance back at her and give a wide smile.

As you begin your walk into town, the anger seems to bleed out of you again as you enjoy the day-to-day activities of the people around you. Soon enough, you find yourself outside of the café again and a smile breaks across your face as you see Fabien wave you in from the window. 

“Come in.” He says as he steps out from behind the counter. “I didn’t expect to see you in here so soon.”

“I didn’t anticipate a visit today, but I’m in need of a warm beverage.” You admit. “Preferably, one of those delicious hot chocolates.” You say sheepishly.

A genuine smile breaks across Fabien’s face.  “Of course, that’s no problem at all.”

You watch as Fabien disappears behind the counter to make your hot chocolate. Settling into the chair, you let your head fall to stretch your neck muscles from the flight and take a deep breath. Suddenly you feel someone tapping on your shoulder and you go to move your head expecting to see Fabien looking back at you.

Looking up, you are met with a pair of light green eyes. The snarl that formed on your lips was purely instinctive. Why couldn’t this little group just leave you alone when you wanted to be alone?

“Why can’t you all just go the fuck away?” You sighed exaggeratedly.

“Because you are going to stay seated and listen whether you like it or not.” You can’t help but roll your eyes at the commanding tone that Imogen takes. 

“Well, I don’t like it. So how about I don’t listen.” You were in no mood to listen to anything the girl in front of you had to say.

“Look, I’m not here for you. I’m here because I love Garrick.” You can’t help the way your eyes widen and look back at Imogen when she finishes her statement.

“Oh-kay.” You say unsure on how to proceed. “We aren’t together, so I’m unsure as to why you need to talk to me about him. If you want to tell him you love him, shouldn’t you be saying that to him.”

Imogen rolls her eyes at you while beginning to sit in the seat across from yours. 

“The bastard is more than aware of my feelings.” She replies tersely. “But that doesn’t matter when he only has eyes for you.”

“I know that Xaden has already talked to you.” She goes on to explain and you quirk your eyebrow at the girl in front of you. “Don’t look so surprised, we all talk. Besides, its time to get off your high dragon and forgive the man.”

“Excuse me.” You say incredulously. You honestly can’t believe Imogen would have the gall to say that considering she wants to be with Garrick.

“Look, I get it. He was an asshole. Welcome to Garrick and his best friend Xaden for that matter. If you wanted the sweet one, you should’ve gone for Bodhi.” She continues. “I know Xaden told you that Garrick was doing what he thought was best, but it wasn’t only that.”

“He was doing what he wished he could’ve done for his own family. His mother. He’s always pushed women away because of losing his mom, but you somehow broke through that barrier. You’re the only girl I’ve ever seen him care about as more than just a friend or good fuck.”

“I’m not saying you should give him a free pass.” Imogen admits. “But I am telling you to let him in. Let him grovel and work for you. He needs that, needs you, just like Riorson needs Violet.”

You let your gaze bore into Imogen’s and see the hard set of her face and eyes, even though she can’t hide the flash of pain. In that moment, you can’t help but hate the whole situation that seems to have formed between the three of you.

“Imogen, I’ll give what you’ve said some thought.” You say seriously. “But I want you to know I am sorry. I never meant to show up and take anything from you, regardless of if you believe me or not.”

Pale green eyes look straight at you and a sad smile crosses her face fast before it falls, and she moves to get up. 

“Don’t throw away a chance at happiness over some heated words.” She urges before sharply turning and walking out of the doors. 

As she walks off, Fabien shows up with your hot chocolate and a small smile. You thank him and take a sip relishing the way the warmth of the drink seems to flow through your body. 

As you finish your drink and bid Fabien good night, you begin your walk back to the fortress and let Imogen’s words ruminate. Between her and Xaden, you could feel the anger in your heart for Garrick lessening day by day. 

As soon as you arrive back at the fortress, you look up to see the man with the auburn curls from the assembly looking back at you.

“Ah, just who I wanted to see.” He says and you look around checking to see if anyone else is there. 

“Yes, Cadet L/N. I’m speaking to you. I just have a few more questions to ask.” He explains as he beckons you back into the same room you were in earlier. 

You look around and notice that now you are the only two in the room that was previously filled. He turns back around to look at you and motions to a chair.

You sit as he begins to speak. “I’m Lieutenant Colonel Aisereigh. I know we didn’t get to introductions earlier.”

“No, he’s my brother, Brennan Sorrengail.” A female voice breaks in from the doorway. You watch as the man in front of you rolls his eyes as Violet moves into the room as well. 

“Either way, I wanted to ask you about your signet.” Brennan continues. “You said that you used it to drop onto the wyvern but didn’t explain what exactly it was.”

You look around at both people in the room and can’t help the uncertainty you feel at revealing your secret, even Carr wasn’t privy to all that your signet could do.

“I can change my appearance.” You begin to explain. Both of the faces in front of you widen in shock as you begin to detail the fact that you can change your entire body and clothing to replicate anyone. 

“With encouragement from Diomat, I – uh – I shifted to look like a venin I remembered from a book that was read to me growing up.” You say tentatively.

“Tha -That’s incredible.” Brennan speaks up after the shock begins to wear off. “And the wyvern didn’t think anything of you being on top of it while shifted to look like a venin?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think so, but I wasn’t there long before I sliced the blade into it.”

As you look back at the man in front of you, you can’t help as you watch the gears in his head turn through his eyes. 

“Could you show us?” He asks curiously.

“I can.” You reply in turn. “But – “

“But, what?”

“You have to remember that it’s me and not an acutal venin.” You croak worried that you’re about to be seen as a threat.

“Understood.” He confirms as Violet goes to stand next to him. 

After taking a long deep breath, you reach for Diomat’s power and let it flow through your body. You let your mind drift to the illustration in the book and feel as your fingers tingle. When you look back up, you see two sets of eyes as wide as saucers and know what it must look like to the people standing in front of you. 

Before anyone has time to speak, the door to the Assembly room opens and you can sense two people have entered. 

“Violence, I –“ The voice stops and suddenly you feel yourself being hoisted up by your throat, your hands reflexively going up to try and grab at the obstruction. However, when you try, there’s nothing to grab onto and you’re left kicking and flailing your arms. As the fear of being held begins to grip you, the hold on your power leaves and you’ve changed back into yourself.

“Xaden! Stop!” You hear Violet shout a second before you are dropped to the floor. You try to take a breath, but the fear has you in a cloud you can’t escape. You hear footsteps rushing towards you as you continue to take gasping breaths, your hands wrapping gently around your neck. 

“Y/N. Love, are you alright?” You shrink back as inescapable fear comes barreling in and your eyes blow wide. You look back into hazel eyes, seeing pure concern laced there. 

After what feels like hours, your heartrate finally slows again, and you can take full breaths. Looking up, the room around you feels frozen in time. Looks of horror and sorrow gracing each person’s face. 

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Xaden breathes quietly as if afraid to speak. You sit there with your hand around your neck and stare straight back at the man not really registering his words. 

“I – I’m going to go upstairs.” You croak through your abused vocal cords. You try to slowly get up on your feet and as soon as you’re standing, you feel your legs giving out. Before you can fall to the ground, you can feel a strong arm grip you around your waist. 

Looking to your side, you see Garrick looking back at you cataloging each blossoming bruise on your neck. His brows furrow as his concern grows. You can feel the bruising already and know that they must be turning a mottled shade of purple. 

Before you can think much more, you find yourself being scooped up into Garrick’s arms as his face turns hard and he begins walking up the stairs. Even though you are tense, you try to let yourself settle into his arms. You close your eyes for a second and before you know it, you can feel Garrick dropping to a bed with you still cradled close. 

“Why does it always seem that my family and I are always hurting you?” He rumbles lowly while dropping his head.

“It wasn’t Xaden’s fault.” You rasp, your voice feeling like its grating against sandpaper.

Garrick looks back at you and brings his hand to your chin, tilting your neck up. Soon the blue green of his hazel eyes disappears, and they become a molten shade of gold, hard and angry. 

“I’m going to fucking kill him.” He seethes as you watch him catalog the bruises along your neck. A sad smile blooms on your face and you bring your hand to his jaw, moving his face to look directly at you. You shake your head no before swallowing hard to speak.

“It wasn’t his fault. I knew it would be a risk to show them. I just didn’t think anyone would walk into the room before I could change back.” You finish before you end up coughing trying to coat the damage to your vocal cords.

As you finish, you feel the way Garrick’s face nuzzles into the hand that is still placed along his jaw. You look up to see his eyes closed as if he is trying to drink up every moment. A lost man wandering the desert for a drink of water.

Something about the gesture causes a crack in the wall that you’d built around your heart for the man that still has you cradled close. You realize that this is the first time you���ve seen the worry, tension, and stress melt from his face since War Games. 

A sudden knock at the door brings you both out of the moment. Garrick looks down at you and as if he can’t resist, brings his lips to the side of your head and gives you a quick kiss. He then sets you down gently on the bed and goes to open the door. 

“I thought Y/N could use some mending.” You hear a male voice call from the other side of the door. You watch as Garrick nods his head slightly before opening the door and letting Brennan in. Brennan shuffles in and with sad eyes looks at the bruises across your neck.

“Would it be okay with you if I mend you?” Brennan asks tentatively. You give a curt nod before he is standing before you and you tilt you head back for him to get a better view of your neck. You shut your eyes tight as the tears silently flow down the side of your head, the burning sensation of mending filling your head. 

Almost as soon as it begins, the pain seems to lessen slowly, little by little. You finally blink open your eyes and slowly lift your head back. 

“Better?” Brennan questions as he rises back up to his full height. 

“Much. Thank you.” You confirm.

“I know after what just happened, you may want to say no.” Brennan starts. “But I think it would be beneficial for everyone to get the visual of what they may be dealing with on the battlefield.”

You know where he’s going with his comment and your immediate response is to shake your head. However, wading through the panic, the logic starts to win out and you take a deep breath. 

“Would you mind doing the same thing when most of the Lieutenants and all the cadets are present? The Assembly all agrees that it would be best for everyone to have a real feel of the enemy.” Brennan finishes in a tactician’s voice.

You go to open your mouth, but you’re immediately cut off. 

“NO. You can fuck right off if you think she’s going to do that again.” Garrick growls while stepping into Brennan’s space. “Did you not just see what fucking happened? And then you want to put her in a room with untrained cadets who don’t even know how to use their signets and hope someone doesn’t have a bad reaction.”

Undeterred by Garrick’s reaction, Brennan calmly responds to the threat in front of him. “I understand your reservations Garrick and hers as well, which is why Bodhi and Mira will be on hand to make sure that no one responds the same way.”

You stand from the bed you were seated on and walk up to the two men that are still looking at each other trying to calculate who is going to make the next move. Instinctually, you raise your hand and place a comforting hand on Garrick’s forearm. You can’t help but feel the tense set of his muscles and crack a soft smile to reassure the hulking man.

“Gare.” You say and his eyes immediately dart to you as you use the nickname for the first time in months. “Brennan is right. Everyone needs to see what they’re going to be facing. It’s better than sending everyone out without having any idea.”

Garrick’s eyes search yours looking for any hesitation, seeming to hope that you aren’t really considering this. Immediately his shoulders sag when he realizes that you’re serious. 

“I’ll just need some forewarning to get myself in the right headspace, so maybe not the next couple of days.” You confirm with Brennan as he shakes his head in agreement.

“You’ll wait until I’m back here.” Garrick asserts as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Brennan. “You’ll do it after I’m back from patrol. She isn’t going to do it without me being present.”

You roll your eyes at his protective demands but you’re grateful that he’ll be there, if only for a sense of safety. 

“That can work. We will do it during a battle brief class and will catch the lieutenants while they are switching patrols.” Brennan affirms while he begins to walk towards the door.

You both watch as Brennan leaves and closes the door behind him. Garrick immediately moves forward to you lifting your chin to check for any lingering bruising. 

“I’m fine.” You say quietly to try and quell the anxiety burning in his eyes.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He quips back.

“You do realize that we’re both about to be thrown into a war that most likely will take both of our lives, right?” You sass back, getting irritated with his hovering. 

“Not if I can fucking help it.” He grumbles at you. You snort and roll your eyes at the over-confident man that he’s turned into again.

“Promise me you won’t do that again, unless absolutely necessary.” The earnestness in his eyes a plea for you to listen. “I don’t want you to be a victim just because someone can’t decipher you from friend or foe.”

You sigh and let your gaze soften. “You don’t think I already know that shifting myself to look like a venin is dangerous? You can ask Brennan or Violet, but I was hesitant with them both before I did it. And what followed just proved why my theory was correct.”

“You of all people should know that I’m smarter than that. I wouldn’t shift into that form unless absolutely necessary. Brennan just asked to see why the wyvern didn’t react to my landing on its back, so I showed them.”

Realization dawning on him seems to do nothing to quell the fire in his eyes. Fire to protect and shield evident on every line of his face. You realize that no words seem to be cracking through the thick skull of the man in front of you, so you utilize your best weapon, your touch.

You bring your hands to his face, cupping each side and rubbing soothing circles on his stubbled cheeks. He takes a deep sighing breath and his gaze bores deep into you. 

“I don’t think you understand how terrified I am of the actual reality of your death.” He divulges as both of his arms snake around your waist tugging you to him. “Ever since I laid eyes on you again, I wake up every day busting through my door to search for just a glimpse of your form.”

“Having to face a reality again where you aren’t there is the absolute worst thing I can honestly imagine.” He brings his forehead to yours leaning in and breathing a deep, calming breath. 

A sad smile begins to crawl across his face. “And being so close to you, but far away at the same time is eating at me more than you know.”

You give him a sad smile back in return. “I know.” You whisper, your walls cracking even more with the tenderness and vulnerability seeping from Garrick’s every fiber.

“I need you to know that I’m working on it.” You tell him while bringing your hands down to grab his own, rubbing gentle circles on his knuckles. “We aren’t there yet, but I can promise you the more you let me in, the more you show up for us, then eventually maybe we can get back to before.”

Garrick’s eyes search yours, probing for an alternate meaning. You just look back at him with the honesty you feel at his words. You’re unsure of what you’re looking for to be able to let him completely in again, but you know that you just aren’t in the right space at this moment.

__________

Taglist: @smashee0789 @batboygirlie @gayandfairycore

[durgetavoc]

Yes I really want to know the horrors of the shit bucket. I’m quite surprised that he isn’t obsessed with cleanliness. He always struck me as the type but then again… I guess I’m wrong.

Oh god, here we go then.

SPOILERS FOR THE HOUSE OF HOPE

(CW for...The Shit Bucket Guy, obviously)

So, if we ever decide to go steal the Orphic Hammer, we can go visit The House of Hope, there, we obviously find Raphael's collection of artifacts, his eternal debtors, and one of them is… This guy.

You should know that all eternal debtors are condemned to a certain task/action. It's difficult to know if this has anything to do with their contract with Raphael, if it is a distortion of an already existing trait of their personality (for example, the Perfect Eternal Debtor, the Theologist Eternal Debtor or even the Voyeur Eternal Debtor) or if it's a way to completely dehumanize them (Loyal Eternal Debtor…My beloved :( ). It seems to be a mix of everything, that wouldn't be surprising if Raphael did what seemed most entertaining to him.

But let's focus on the Shit Bucket Guy, since he's the one that interested us today.

As our affectionate nickname for him indicates, we find him in front of a chamber pot with a visible green odorous cloud above it, which confirms us that it has been used (when you interact with the pot, here what the game says : "An overpowering stench singes your nostrils. Nothing good happened here."). The debtor doesn't appreciate us getting closer to it, and if we ask him if he is its guardian, this is what he answers:

His "name" in the game is "Unclean Eternal Debtor" and if you're taking a look at his face... Yeah, I guess he's not just guarding the pot. When we observe the animation of the character, he walks around the pot, makes a hand gesture to smell it, and that's it.

It has become a running joke in the fandom, particularly for us, little mouses. Those who have been to the House of Hope know about the Shit Bucket Guy... But nobody talks about him.

(Yeah I couldn't help it.)

It's not really surprising, the presence of the chamber pot, and not just any one, RAPHAEL'S, raises other questions. One might wonder if it's not a little OOC coming from someone like him.

Let's take advantage of this question to dig... A little deeper.

Here's, imo of course, why it's somehow relevant to show Raphael's chamber pot and what this tells us about him.

Shall we?

1. Don't be fooled by appearances, he POOPS like us!

Raphael. Raphael. Raphael who embodies sophistication, intellect and danger... Alluring and at the same time fearsome, a fascinating mix. Goddamnit, he's a suave motherfucker, and he fucking knows it.

In video games, it's part of the suspension of disbelief to not talk/show toilet, unless you're in a life simulation game like sims. It's not just taboo since it's one of the most private aspects of our life, but it's also... Not relevant to the intrigue most of the time.

Showing us something that intimate about him disintegrate his mysterious aura. We learnt that Raphaels shits. Yeah, absolutely astonishing. Reminding us that he's exactly at the same level as us. Like the title said, despite his charming manners, his eloquence, his theatrical gestures... He's still human, hells, part human.

2. In the Devil's house.

The first time we meet Raphael, he wastes no time in bringing us to his home, on his own terms. We only see one room, and this is what we see:

Luxurious place, lavish displays of food, ordered furniture... Promising, right? This is how Raphael wants to give as a first impression. I think this scene is perfect as a metaphor. Remember what Gale said? He's taking us to dinner! Like a date, he wants to impress us, seduce us.

But when we're back to this place during our improvised visit, what do we see?

Rotten food. Blood. Skeletons. Mess. Remind me of my room before I have to rush to clean everything because a friend comes over.

By choosing to enter Raphael's home, into his privacy, the game takes us on a tour of his home: we discover what is hidden behind Raphael's character. It is of course expected that we discover his secrets and/or aspects of his personality that he would not wish to reveal, at least not before we make a deal with him.

Haarlep, his incubus, also participates in this demystification. Through them, we can learn about Raphael's sexuality (I'll be quick on this since @bitethedevil did some really good analysis posts about it):

Raphael is only attracted to himself (hence Haarlep's appearance)

He is a bottom pillow prince

And he doesn't last in bed (a valuable information that can be used to anger Raphael later)

Once again, this is another very intimate aspect that is revealed to us. I'm sorry to say it, but Haarlep basically plays the same role as the chamber pot to accentuate the intimacy of the place and also to ridicule Raphael, thus revealing to us what he really is.

3. Raphael hates his father.

Our favorite cambion is having daddy issues, and the chamber pot seems like a nice response to the statue his dad gave him. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" kind of detail, but it's funny to point it out. Show don't tell as it's finest.

4. How bad it is to sell your soul to Raphael.

This one is easy... The Shit Bucket Guy is an example of Raphael's cruelty : "This is what could happen to you if you make a contract with Raphael."

Sure, it's funny because the whole thing is ridiculous: "Guardian of his chamber pot? Seriously?", but it's hard to really laugh at it if you take into account the other eternal debtors. The whole place is designed to make you uncomfortable, because it's not treated as a joke. They had a life, had to ask Raphael for help, and are now reduced to doing something degrading until the end of time. They don't even have a name anymore. They could be your Tav/Durge or your companions...

Suddenly, the temptation to make a contract with Raphael is less appealing after seeing all this, isn't it?

Conclusion : Now the question that burns our lips : What could this guy have done to him to be reduced to this? And why?

My first instinct when I met this character was to think, "oh boy, you must have really pissed off Raphael..." let's be honest, it's the kind of torture you could imagine to your worst enemy or at least a very annoying one.

It could be that, or maybe, mayyybe...

Remember Mephistopheles' statue?

What if Raphael was SO annoyed by this gift that he woke up one day thinking "fuck my dad, fuck his gift" and decided to literally shit on him by putting a chamber pot in front of this statue to express his thanks. And just like any narcissist/paranoid guy, he named a "guard" to be sure no one would spy on him through this (it sounds delirious, but again, we learn that Haarlep was send to distract Raphael, so why not?)

Sure, maybe Shit Bucket Guy annoyed Raphael in the past, but wouldn't that be kinda fucked up that this guy didn't do anything that would justify this treatment? He's just a dude, and Raphael is just a pissed-off daddy's boy (and a very mature one).

Or maybe, Raphael just thinks it's funny. And who are we to discuss a devil's sense of humor?

In any case, sorry Shit Bucket Guy, but it wasn't your lucky day.

PS: Hush, I can hear you wondering "do you think Raphael is scat???" and on this subject I would say: I don't think so, his narcissism is there after all, but he also seems really into humiliation. So maybe it's for the best we don't really know the answer to this question.

After all, only Haarlep can judge him (so the bar is already on the floor).

[daizedndconfused]

You wouldn't happen to be open to doing a cole x reader where they are asked by wu to train the ninja (because there extremely flexible and skilled) and they end up beating all of them without using many weapons would you??? Mehehehe I love your writing and cole is so Under Appreciated (people should give him so more love!!) and you portray his character so well thank you thank you :3

new girl

a/n - hi lovely!! tysm for the request and kind words hello?!! also loved this request we love us a strong girl hahaha i kinda drew some inspo from our icon ty lee. this lowkey ended up being longer than i thought but SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG SOME RANDOM SICKNESS WAS KICKING MY ASS ALL WEEK??? but we’re getting better now hahaha (also totally agree give my boy cole some love he deserves it) anyways enjoy i hope i did your vision some justice honestly if you want me to make a pt 2 i sooo can with some more one on one moments

characters - cole x reader

type - fluff!!

warnings - just some mild violence in the form of sparring

synopsis - the ninja a relying too much on their elemental powers and master wu needs some help reminding them of what’s really important who better to teach them than you??

“Breathe,” your mother reminded you gently.

Easy for her to say, she wasn’t the one suspended in a middle-split between two rocks over a stream. Regardless, you did as she asked, feeling the air move in and out of your lungs and the sweat forming on your temple.

“The key is concentration–balance,” her voice came from the bank to your right.

Most of what she said you already knew having been doing this for years, but you didn’t mind.

In and out your breaths went, eyes closed, relying only on your hearing until you felt your mother’s presence hovering next to you.

Peaking your eyes open, she stood on a nearby rock smiling down at you.

“Very good,” she nodded, offering you a hand to help you up.

“Thank you,” you exhaled, stretching out your legs a bit after so long in your previous position.

Your mother smoothed your hair back before leading you across the stream and back onto the land where you promptly shoved on your shoes.

The two of you chatted beneath the warm sun and cool breeze all the way back to your house. Though even before entering, you heard voices coming from within.

You shared a look of confusion with your mother.

That was odd, your father should be the only one home at the moment.

You gently pushed the door open and followed the voices to your living room where you saw your father in a deep conversation with an older man.

“Wu!” Your mother chirped, rounding you to greet the stranger.

The old’s eyes crinkled as he smiled beneath his long wispy white beard. Your mother bowed slightly as a sign of respect, and you thought it only best to do the same.

Eventually, you all sat around the living room, each nursing a steaming cup of tea.

“What do we owe this visit?” Your mother asked kindly. Apparently your parents and Master Wu went way back. They learned all they knew from the man himself, which then trickled down to you.

Wu took a sip of tea before answering. “I wish to offer your daughter a job.”

All eyes moved to you.

A job? What kind of job?

Your back straightened slightly at all the attention. “Sir?”

Wu sighed wearily, “I have realized I may need more help than I currently have. Upon opening a tea shop, I have less and less time to teach my students.” He swirled his tea twice before his eyes set upon you. “Would you be open to helping out?”

“Oh, uh… your students are?” You trailed off.

“The ninja, dear,” your mother filled in gently.

Oh. The ninja? What could you possibly teach the ninja? Sure, martial arts was nothing new, and yeah you were trained in combat thanks to your father, but they had elemental powers for heaven's sake.

“I’m not sure how much help I could be,” you answered sheepishly.

“You do not need special abilities to teach,” Wu smiled. “And I fear the elements are why I am seeking this help in the first place. It appears my students are disregarding their training for their elemental powers.”

That made sense. Whenever you got frustrated while training with your father he always reminded you you didn’t need flashy powers to be strong. Because while they may be useful, there’s always a chance they can vanish, and then what?

Eventually you made up your mind. “Okay, I’ll do it.” You quickly looked to your parents, “If that’s alright with you?”

“Of course,” your mother wrapped her arms around you. “We know you’re in safe hands with Wu. Just promise you’ll call?”

“Of course,” you assured her as your father also joined in on saying goodbye.

Before long you were packed with enough things to last a few weeks. You might have to repeat some outfits for a while since the duration of your stay wasn’t specified. But you always had money you could spend on clothes.

“How do we get there?” You asked Master Wu after he informed you he and his students were residing at his tea shop, Steep Wisdom.

He glanced at you out the corner of his, and you just caught the glint of a smirk beneath his beard before golden particles started to form in front of you.

From those particles, something even greater arose. A dragon.

Your mouth gaped open. Wu laughed before tossing your luggage on top of the large white and gold dragon that had just materialized in front of you.

--

The dragon flight was frightening at first, but as you relaxed it wasn’t so bad. You got to see things from an all new perspective. Dragon-eye view style.

Eventually, through the clearing of teas you flew over, you spotted a cozy tea house nestled between the woods.

The dragon dipped lower and lower before let out a warning, “The dragon dissolves, can you stick the landing?”

“Of course,” you smiled. A drop from this height? Easy.

You prepared yourself, but the disappearance of the dragon beneath you still caught you off guard a bit. However, that didn’t stop you from landing perfectly on your feet.

Flawless, you thought as your luggage somehow landed just as gracefully next to you.

The space around you truly was beautiful. A wall surrounded the tea shop and courtyard, and you heard rushing water faintly in the distance, telling you there was some type of natural water nearby.

What you didn’t notice was the five boys lingering outside upon your arrival.

“Uh, anyone gonna introduce us?” A slightly high pitched voice asked.

You snapped your gaze away from the scenery and towards the voice. Five boys around your own age and dressed in colorful gis regarded you curiously.

Before you could introduce yourself, Wu cut in. “This is your new strength trainer. She’ll be taking over lessons when I’m busy. I expect each of you to treat her with respect.”

A course of “Yes, Sensei’s” were said before the bowed in unison.

Then, an older woman with a long braid falling down her back summoned Wu. Something about an inventory issue.

“Excuse me,” he said to you, and then to his students, “someone will need to show her to her new quarters.”

With that he was gone. And you were left with five teenage boys staring at you.

“Um, hi I’m (Y/N). Nice to meet you.” You stuck with a polite introduction.

“Hey there,” a brunette boy with somewhat spiky hair said. “You know we don’t usually get many new people, may you and I could–”

“Kai,” a tall boy with black hair, cut him off. “Don’t be weird. She just got here.”

“What?” Kai gaped. “I was just going to ask if–”

“I apologize for my brother.” This time the voice came from… a titanium robot? Now that’s something you don’t see everyday.

Clearly the surprise was written all over your face at the unanimous chuckle that came from each boy.

“I am Zane,” the robot didn’t seem phased by your surprise. “This is Kai, Jay, Cole, and Lloyd. Kai’s sister also resides with us, but I’m afraid she is busy helping Misako and Master Wu.”

“Oh, that’s no problem,” you responded. “Do one of you know where I’m staying? If I don’t unpack now I’ll never get it done.” You admitted with a laugh.

“I got it,” said the boy with black hair you now knew to be Cole. He walked over, and grabbed each of your bags as though they weighed nothing.

“You don’t have to do that, I can take some of them. I know they’re a little heavy but no one told me how long I’d be staying.”

“Please,” Cole smirked, “it’s nothing. I can lift more than ten times this weight.”

“Show off,” Kai coughed.

“You okay?” Lloyd asked him.

“Yeah just something caught in my throat,” Kai shook his head before coughing the phrase again.

Cole rolled his eyes at Lloyd and Jay laughed. Zane didn’t seem to get it. You even found yourself smiling at the joke before following Cole to your room.

“Don’t mind them,” he said. “They can be a lot sometimes.”

“Something tells me you also fit into that category,” you teased. You are who you hangout with afterall. Though it wasn’t always true, it seemed fitting for this situation.

“I guess you’ll just have to find out won’t you?” Cole joked, looking back at you over his shoulder.

Eventually the two of you climbed a set of stairs hidden in the back of the tea shop. Upstairs was a small apartment looking room with multiple sets of doors, one of them being your own room.

It was a decent size, about the same as the one you had back home, with plenty of closet space.

“It’s not much I know,” Cole said, “but there’s been worse places we’ve stayed trust me.”

“No it’s perfect,” you insisted. “I don’t need a whole lot to get by.”

Cole nodded, setting your stuff down. “There’s two bathrooms, the boys and I share the one on the left, and you’ll be sharing with Nya on the right.”

You nodded, looking around your new room, thinking of all the ways you could make it look homier. Cole didn’t say anything more, but he didn’t leave either. He simply stood in your doorframe, looking at you, looking at your bare room.

“What?” You asked him, smiling.

“Nothing,” he shook his head with a grin. “Sorry, I’ll let you get settled in.”

You wanted to tell him it was no problem, but he vanished before you could. Out of all the boys you had just met, was the best looking in your eyes.

Shiny black hair, tall, and built like the mountains he commanded. Your new job was off to a good start already.

It was well into the evening when you finally met Nya. She sighed thankfully at the sight of you. She loved her brother, and she didn’t have any problems with the boys. They were all equally respectful, but other than Misako she had no other girls to talk to.

You too were happy for another girl to talk to. There was only so much testosterone someone could be around.

The two of you got along quickly as you offered to stock some shelves with her. Even though you were technically here to train the ninja, you weren’t due to start until the next day.

Your alarm woke you up at six thirty sharp. You know you weren’t supposed to start with the boys until eight that morning, but you wanted to get an early start on your first day before you got lazy.

Passing your way to the bathroom, you ran through your morning routine groggily before you headed downstairs to make yourself a cup of tea to wake you up.

Scanning the shelves for something that looked appetizing for the early morning, you didn’t even hear someone approach you from behind.

“I personally like this one,” a familiar voice said from behind you before a hand shot out and grabbed a case off one of the shelves just a hair too high for you to reach.

You jump slightly, startled by the person’s presence.

Spinning around, you saw the voice and arm belonged to Cole. He was smiling softly at you, a case of green tea in his hands. He too held the appearance of just waking up–tousled hair, sleepy eyes, and the lack of a shirt with black plaid pajama pants.

You quickly averted your eyes from his bare chest and instead found refuge in his earth eyes.

“Why green?” You blurted. It was the only question you could think of at this moment. And maybe it would distract him from the fact you were ogling him just a bit.

“Helps with energy,” he shrugged, tossing the case up in one hand. “I’ll start the kettle.”

It took you an embarrassingly long time to follow him to the back of the tea shop where a small kitchen resided.

He filled the kettle up with water and placed it on the stove before taking a seat at the island next.

“I’d make you some breakfast, but I’m afraid it wouldn’t be edible and that’s not the first impression I want you to have of me.” Cole laughed sheepishly.

You laughed with him before you took it upon yourself to scope out the fridge.

“How do you feel about omelets?” You asked after finding multiple cases of eggs. With this many ingredients you would be able to feed the whole team.

“I’m down,” he nodded.

You closed the fridge slightly before you saw a slip of paper taped to the front. It seemed to be a list of written chores, and at the bottom written in all capital letters next to a star were the words, ‘COLE IS NOT ALLOWED IN THE KITCHEN UNSUPERVISED.’

“Jeez, what’d you do?” You giggled, gesturing to the paper.

The boy flushed slightly, shrugging his broad shoulders before saying, “You set fire to the oven one time and suddenly you’re untrustworthy.” He rolled his eyes.

“Funny how that works.”

“Hilarious.” He deadpanned.

“Well since you can’t help with the food why don’t you just grab anything you want to add to the eggs, help me find the pans, and I’ll take care of the cooking part.” You suggested.

“That I can do,” he slipped off the stool.

Even though he wasn’t helping with the actual breakfast, the two of you worked in harmony together. He’d hand you the spatula, chop some vegetables, and give you some spices upon request. However, when you thought you could trust him with cracking an egg and he ended up getting it all over his bare torso you took it upon yourself to tie a black apron around him.

“Seriously?” He laughed as you tied the knot around his waist.

“Yup,” you nodded. “Damn. I’d need a magnifying glass to find your waist.”

He tipped his head back and laughed as you returned to flipping omelets with a smirk.

At this point you had successfully made two cups of tea, and three omelets. On the fourth, you were starting to grow more confident.

“Think I could flip it without a spatula?” You asked.

“No,” Cole shook his head, now seated on the island behind you.

“No faith,” you gasped, offended.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he shrugged, leaning back on his palms.

“Oh yeah?” You challenged before grasping the pan handle with both hands. You’d never done this before, but how hard could it be really? The answer was not very as you successfully tossed up an omelet and caught it gently on the other side.

You cheered, victorious as Cole also encouraged you, both laughing all the way.

Eventually, more and more people started waking up, and the more competent ones (Zane) began to help you with breakfast.

By the time eight in the morning rolled around, breakfast had been done, dishes were washed, and you were gathered in the courtyard with each of the ninja. Wu had given you the rundown of what he’d like you to work on with his students, and that’s exactly what you’d do.

“So,” you said, shaking the jitters out of your hands. “I’m thinking I’ll just spar one on one with each of you to see what you need to work on. Okay?”

The boys traded uneasy glances. “Are you sure?” Jay asked.

You smiled a little at their apprehension. “Yes, I’m positive. We’re just sparring, remember. But don’t hold back, otherwise it’s just a waste of time.”

“Yeah, you get your ass handed to you by Nya all the time, this shouldn’t be different.” Cole patted Jay on the back.

The others laughed at Jay’s blush and he grumbled something inaudible under his breath.

“Okay Jay, since you’re so worried you’re up first.” You waved him over. “Sensei said no powers.”

“Right,” Jay nodded as he approached you slowly.

“I’m not gonna bite you, Jay.”

“I know that!” He defended as the boys behind him howled with laughter.

You couldn’t help but tease him as the two of you got into a fighting stance.

You dug your feet into the ground and steadied your breathing. The key to combat was focus, controlled breathing, and anticipation. At least that’s what your father told you.

It was no surprise to you that Jay attacked quickly. He was the master of lightning afterall. However, that was what made him so predictable.

He’d throw a series of quick jabs that you avoided with grace. With each attack you’d be just an inch out of reach. Jay was quick–but you were quicker.

You didn’t notice it, but the chatter was nonexistent, and Jay was wholly focused on sparring. Though the sweat building on his forehead, and his attacks slowing were also becoming more prominent.

He threw a high kick in there this time, which was just what you were waiting for. The second his foot came off the ground, you moved to the side, grabbed his ankle, and with your own leg, swept his balancing leg off the ground causing him to fall straight onto his back.

Jay landed with a wheeze, but you helped him up just as quickly. “Your attacks are precise, but they’re sloppy. You try to cram in a lot of combined attacks and hope for the best. If you slow them down a bit you’re more likely to land a few.”

Kai ‘Ohed’ from the sidelines. “You didn’t even get one hit dude.”

Jay glared at him as he took a seat beside Lloyd.

“And you won’t either, your turn.” You pointed to Kai.

The others laughed, but Kai rose, determination clear on his face.

You got into position again, but this time you’d change up your evasion techniques. Since he spent the previous match observing you he no doubt knew some of your moves.

Kai fought more aggressively than Jay, but with less accuracy making him easier to avoid. You twirled around him after a hard punch threw him off balance slightly. With your backs to each other, you only had a moment to grab his arm, crouch, shift your weight, and flip his body over yours.

Kai landed as hard as Jay.

After explaining his problem to him, you called up Zane next. You wanted to get the analyzing robot out of the way before you completely ran out of cards to play.

You had to admit, Zane almost got you, but you quickly threw yourself from his reach with a well timed aerial over his shoulder. Just as you landed he threw a punch, but you were ready for that. You crouched the moment you landed, and swept both his legs.

Standing quickly, you had just enough time to catch the front of his gi, suspending him above the floor ever so slightly. You felt a bit bad–you didn’t want to dent him after all.

Lloyd whistled, impressed, as he was finally called to the stand.

Lloyd, the green ninja. You knew he would also be pretty difficult, but it was like you were in a trance at the moment. You weren’t about to lose your winning streak, were you?

Being as flexible as you were didn’t hurt either. Sure the ninja were pretty flexible, but you could contort yourself into the most uncomfortable positions making it easy to avoid each of the ninja's blows.

All you had to do was wait until they tired themselves out, and then deliver the final blow. It was almost as if they were fighting themselves.

Lloyd looked concentrated, but his stance was off slightly. You feinted one way, and he fell for it easily, shifting all his weight onto one side of his body to prepare for the hit he thought was coming. Instead, you spun and shoved your shoulder hard into the opposite side of his body.

Lloyd crumbled like a house of cards.

When the green ninja retreated with a defeated look on his face, you were left with only one ninja now.

You suspected because of his height, Cole would be slow and off balance, but you were wrong. He was sturdy, and his height only added to his balance if anything. You’ve fought people bigger and stronger than you all the time, bad unlucky for him they only went down one way.

After a while of going through your song and dance of avoidance once again, Cole laughed.

“You’re slippery, huh?” He joked.

You winked before sliding between his legs, kicking the back of his knees and then once more between his shoulder blades to send him tumbling down to the ground.

“Wu was right,��� you huffed, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “You guys rely way too much on your powers.”

“Alright, cough it up, where’d you learn that?” Jay asked.

“Learn what?” You laughed, helping a grumpy Cole from the floor.

“You flip around so much I got sick from just looking at you!” Jay whined.

“Lots of practice and some time in the cirque,” she shrugged.

“Like the circus?” Cole asked, looking down at you.

“Not the stuff with the tent and the animals,” you clarified. “More like the Cirque Du Soleil shows, you know? Anyway, I did a lot of acro as a kid. Made it easy to learn combat.”

“That’s awesome,” Kai said. “Have you ever juggled fire?”

“I told you, it’s not the tent type of circus,” you laughed. “It’s classier than that. That’s besides the point, you all have work to do. Lucky for all of you we’re going to start with yoga today! Just as a warm up.”

You giggled behind your hand at the unanimous groan coming from all five boys.

[jubburb]

✮⋆˙Toge Inumaki

Safe words Toge uses (All not used)

NOT PROOFREAD, JUST ONE SEXUAL JOKE, EVERYTHING IS ALL FLUFF. I think.

----Salmon (shake), fish flakes (okaka), kelp (konbu), mustard leaf (takana), Salmon roe (Sujiko), caviar (ikura), spicy cod roe (Mentaiko), tuna (tsuna), tuna mayo (tsuna mayo)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

It would've been better if someone as lively as you weren't in Toge's life. It's been so hard on him ever since you went on that 3 week mission, leaving him all alone, with no one to talk to.

Of course that's an exaggeration. Yuuta and Panda were there talking to him, but it's not the same when the love of his life talks to him.

It's quite the predicament, really. He thinks that you don't know about his crush on you, but you know that he has a crush on you and he doesn't know that you know. (Good lord-) Toge didn't really hide it well, making it obvious with how much more eye contact he made with you. Who wouldn't pick up on the hints?

As the reasonable person you are, you decided to wait. If he doesn't say anything, you won't say anything about it either. Yuji says otherwise, he wants you to blast Toge's love life on speaker. He's just a little excited, that's all.

Though it also helps you, since you're not too sure how you can reciprocate the feeling back, when you haven't done that much romance in your life yet. It's an odd feeling, you being the target of someone's love, and not it being the other way around. It's hard to think about it when you yourself haven't experienced romantic love. (But it's not hard to know when someone likes you, given they act all weird around the said person)

---

"Ikura." He grumbled, expressing his sadness, kicking a pebble while walking.

It's been 2 and a half weeks, your mission coming to an end in a few days. Toge doesn't know what to do for the rest of those few days, he doesn't even know how he survived the past 2 weeks.

He walked back to his respective room, mind blank as he threw himself onto his bed. Toge didn't have that many missions this morning, but he did feel a little drowsy.

He tried to fight off the sleepiness, he doesn't know why, but he did so.

Toge- slept. He failed the battle against his eyes, sleep weighing down on his eyelids. Although, Toge found it weird when it felt like the best nap he had gotten when he woke up. His hair was oddly well brushed too.

At first, his vision was a little blurry, but as he rubbed it, he saw a silhouette of a face, looking at him.

He jolted up, lowering his scarf as he was ready to use his curse technique, but then he saw your face. Toge lit up to the sight of you, immediately hugging you.

"Toge! Surprised to see me? I got back a little early from the mission!"

Toge nodded and rubbed your back, “Konbu” he whispered, feeling your shoulder blades. He's an odd guy, really. He might've done that to try and tickle you.

"Hello to you too. I know you definitely missed me. I actually thought my mission would end a week early but the curse kept on duplicating and it was..tiring. Anyway, you doing good?”

“Shake,” he nodded from your shoulder. Toge hugged you more tightly, but what can you do? You were away for so long, it's understandable for him to get touchy feely.

"I got us some snacks from my mission, you wanna eat it?" You patted his back, trying to pull away from him. Toge kept his hands wrapped around you, only to release the hug and type out something.

“U owe me. You left me here for too long :(“

You patted his shoulder, smiling at his response, “Of course, what do you want?”

Toge pondered for a second, before immediately typing on his phone.

“Gibe me s kuss”

“Huh?” You squinted, looking at his phone.

Toge pulled his phone back and corrected his mistakes.

“Give me a kiss”

You stopped, looking him in the eyes. He’s become bolder, hasn’t he? First it was hugs, then cuddles, now kisses. At this point, who wouldn’t think that you guys aren’t dating?

"Who's the submissive one now?" You snickered, shaking him from his shoulder. Toge rolled his eyes, typing again as he grunts from your shakes.

"You can dominate me..in bed ;)"

He smiled, you can see it even if his scarf was up.

"Please, I do not want to see you type that out again. You're so cringe Toge."

The both of you were silent, then a sudden burst of laughter cut the silence. It was fun. The comfort both of you got from each other was evident. You shook Toge as the giggles and snorts continued, but Toge was somewhat serious about the previous text before that.

He loved the way you laugh. It was a wonderful sound to him. He always appreciates that he could get a good laugh out of you.

When it started getting silent, he grabbed your hand, still smiling widely.

"Tuna tuna."

"Yeah?" You asked also smiling, reciprocating the gesture. Toge hesitantly intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting up his scarf and looking away.

You giggled a little, getting closer to his face. You noticed his ears turning into a soft pink. "He's so adorable."

Toge dragged his eyes to look at you, trying to maintain eye contact. He made a little finger heart to you, still being a little shy.

"I love you too Toge," you bumped foreheads with him gently, leaning in to his cheek to give a kiss.

Toge felt it. It was warm. He wished it was planted on his lips instead, but he could only hope for more.

"Shake," he purses, but you couldn't see it, his scarf was in the way. He hadn't noticed that you told him a genuine I love you yet, so you repeated it.

"Toge, I love you. Would you do me an honor of being my boyfriend?"

His eyes widened, face snapped to look at you more clearly. Toge hugged you again, this time pushing you into the bed and wrapping his legs around you. He didn't stop hugging you, still surprised from the sudden confession. But he should've expected it.

You laid there for a while, Toge hugging you from beside. Who would've known? He then pulled out his phone in the hug, typing them deleting, as if he were unsure of what to say. He finally managed to make a sentence.

"Can you do the thing again where you focused your cursed energy in your ears to deflect commands from me? Just this once please?"

He showed you the typed out sentence, you wondered why he had to hesitate a little.

"Sure, give me a moment.."

As cursed energy flowed to your ear, you were ready.

Toge took a deep breath, looking at you in the eyes once again and saying,

"I love you"

Your breath hitched, you never expected it to be this emotional. Toge is never this serious before. And he just showed how much he liked you.

You were about to cry, but you pulled into his hug. Finding more comfort and warmth in his arms.

"I always loved your hugs Toge. I hope we can continue hugging for as long as we are able to."

Toge Inumaki nodded, shifting his position to get a better cuddle from you as he big spooned you.

____

Wasn't it nice to know your crush had also liked you too?

____

A convo with the other creator of this account

"You can dominate me in bed💀" 💀💀💀 - signed by c

Its so sigma skibidi toilet rizz🤧 EAWWW not doing that again👹

-Jღ

[biblical-chronicles]

Don't be a stranger pt. 2

_________________________________________________________

You lot wanted it, so here it is. I probably would have done it anyway since it's been rattling around me little head, this one x

the reader comes back for seconds and gets her sweet little revenge for the mark that Liam left on her neck last time.

part one here for anyone who has just joined the party.

_________________________________________________________

You hadn’t necessarily planned on texting Liam after that first whirlwind of a day at their house. But as the days turned into a week, you found yourself unable to shake the memory of his smirk, the casual confidence in the way he teased you, and the heat of his kiss still tingling on your skin.

When you finally caved in and sent a text—just a simple “Hey, it’s me”—you told yourself it was just out of curiosity. Nowt more.

His reply came later that night, the screen lighting up your dark room.

“Took you long enough, love. Thought you’d bottled it, got me worried”

You rolled your eyes at the message but couldn’t fight the smile spreading across your face.

“Worried? Really?”

“Course. Not every day someone like you waltzes into me gaff, and leaves me wanting more.”

Your cheeks burned at his audacity.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously charming, you mean.”

The banter came naturally, his texts as playful and maddening as his in-person quips. What you didn’t expect was how much you’d start looking forward to them—or how much they revealed about Liam beyond the cocky front. Beneath it, there was a wit and depth that caught you a tad off guard. You found yourself talking about everything from music to the frustrations of everyday life, and before you knew it, you were texting late into the night more often than not.

It was dangerous territory, you knew that much. And yet, when Lennon invited you back over to finish the project draft the following week, you didn’t hesitate.

You arrived mid-afternoon, greeted once again by Liam instead of Lennon.

“Back again, eh?” he said, leaning against the doorframe with that same smirk that'd drive anyone up the wall.

“I’m here for Lennon,” you said pointedly, brushing past him into the house.

“Right,” Liam drawled, shutting the door behind you. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, love.”

Lennon was nowhere in sight, and Liam wasted no time making himself comfortable on the couch beside you.

“He’s upstairs,” Liam said, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “Probably lost in some boring uni nonsense. Reckon we’ve got a bit of time to kill.”

You gave him a wary look. “Don’t you have summat better to do?”

“Not really,” he said, grinning. “And even if I did, can’t think of anything better than windin’ you up.”

You tried to ignore him, pulling out your notes and pretending to organize them. But Liam was relentless.

“What’s this project of yours about, then?” he asked, leaning closer to peer over your shoulder.

“Media influence, told you already” you muttered, trying to focus on your pretend note organising.

“Fascinatin’,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Bet you’ve got loads of thrilling insights, don’t ya?”

You shot him a glare. “Do you ever take owt seriously?”

“Sure I do,” he said, feigning offense. “Just not boring uni projects - Proper dull, that. Can’t imagine Lennon’s much help with it, either.”

“He’s actually been great,” you said, your voice defensive.

Liam snorted. “Figures you’d say that. Always did like the serious types, didn’t ya?”

You frowned, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just an observation,” Liam said, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “Bet you’ve never let yourself have a bit of fun, have you? Always playin’ it safe, always thinkin’ too much.”

His words struck a nerve, and the frustration bubbled to the surface before you could stop it. “And what’s wrong with that? At least I’m not going around acting like a...a walking ego with no sense of boundaries”

Liam grinned, clearly happy about successfully winding you up. “And we all know that you love when I break these boundaries, love.”

The tension crackled between you, the air thick with unspoken challenges. Liam’s gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, standing abruptly. “I’m going to find Lennon.”

But as you turned to leave, Liam’s hand shot out, gently catching your wrist.

“Wait,” he said softly, the teasing edge gone from his voice.

You hesitated, glancing back at him. His expression was different now—more serious, more vulnerable.

“Don’t go,” he said, his grip light but firm. “Not yet.”

The sincerity in his tone threw you off balance, and before you could respond, he stood, stepping closer. The tension between you was almost unbearable, the silence filled with the sound of your racing heartbeat.

“Tell me you don’t feel it,” Liam said, his voice low and rough. “Go on, say it, and I’ll back off.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but no words came out.

Liam’s lips quirked into a small, knowing smile. “Thought so.”

He took another step closer, his hand still holding yours. “Let me kiss you again, love. Properly this time.”

Your resolve crumbled as he leaned in, his other hand brushing against your cheek. And when his lips met yours, it was as if the world stopped.

This kiss was slower, deeper, filled with all the unspoken tension that had been building between you. His hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

When you finally broke apart, your forehead resting against his, Liam let out a soft chuckle.

“Admit it,” he murmured, his voice still rough with emotion. “You’ve been wantin’ that as much as I have.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you just nodded, your cheeks flushing.

Lennon’s voice echoed faintly from upstairs, snapping you back to reality. You pulled away from Liam, your breath still uneven. His hands lingered at your waist for a moment before he reluctantly let go, his lips curving into a lazy grin.

“You’re trouble,” you whispered, taking a shaky step back.

Liam’s grin widened. “Takes one to know one, love.”

You rolled your eyes, but your flushed face betrayed the truth. Before you could overthink it, you mumbled something about needing to finish the project and hurried upstairs, leaving Liam behind with that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face.

The next few days were a blur. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, half-expecting another message from Liam. And they came often—teasing, flirtatious, and persistent.

You ignored the more daring texts but couldn’t resist replying to the others, your banter sharp but secretly thrilled. Despite your best efforts, Liam had a way of getting under your skin, his charm impossible to ignore.

A week later, you found yourself back at their house, this time to review your final project draft. You were quite sad as that would be the last time you could arrive at Liam's with a good excuse, after this session the project would surely be done. Lennon was as diligent as ever, focused on editing while you fought to keep your thoughts in check.

You almost made it through the session without incident—until Lennon got a call and excused himself, leaving you alone in the living room again.

The silence was short-lived.

“Fancy seein’ you here.”

You didn’t even need to look up to know it was Liam. His voice had that familiar mix of amusement and mischief, and when you glanced toward the doorway, he was leaning against the frame, arms crossed.

“Not now, Liam,” you said, trying to sound firm.

But Liam was undeterred. “What’s the matter, love? Thought you’d be happy to see me.”

You huffed, turning back to your notes. “I’m trying to work.”

“Boring,” he said, strolling into the room. “C’mon, you can’t be serious all the time.”

“Some of us have priorities,” you shot back.

Liam plopped down on the couch beside you, far too close for comfort. “And some of us know how to have a bit of fun. When are you gonna loosen up, eh?”

You didn’t answer, keeping your eyes firmly on your notes. But Liam wasn’t one to give up easily.

“Still mad about the other day?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You looked at him sharply. “I’m not mad.”

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. “What do you want, Liam?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “You.”

The word hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Your heart skipped a beat, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Too bad,” you said, your voice steady despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not interested.” you said with zero conviction in your voice.

Liam chuckled, clearly sensing your lie. “Keep tellin’ yourself that, love.”

Before you could reply, he reached out, his fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was so unexpected—so gentle—that it left you momentarily stunned.

“You’re beautiful when you’re flustered, you know that?” he said softly, his gaze locking with yours.

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the tension between you was unbearable. Liam’s hand lingered near your face, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek.

“We should stop” you said weakly, though you made no move to stop him.

Liam’s smile softened. “We don’t have to.”

And just like before, you found yourself leaning in. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate, as if both of you were savoring the moment. Liam’s hands slid to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a confidence that left you breathless.

When the sound of footsteps on the stairs broke the spell, you pulled away abruptly, your heart pounding. Liam grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Better get back to Lennon,” he said, his voice low. “Don’t want him gettin’ suspicious.”

You nodded, still dazed, and watched Liam hurry out of the room, your mind still racing.

That night, as you lay in bed, your phone buzzed with a new message.

“Still thinkin’ about me, love? Don’t lie—I know you are.”

You groaned, tossing your phone aside, but the smile tugging at your lips was impossible to ignore. Liam Gallagher was trouble, no doubt about it.

And yet, against all logic, you couldn’t seem to stay away.

The days that followed were a constant tug-of-war with yourself. Liam's texts kept coming leaving you blushing more with each one.

At first, you resisted replying. But by the third day, you’d had enough of pretending you weren’t thinking about him almost the entire time. With your heart pounding, you finally texted back:

“Fine. Come over tomorrow night. Just you.”

His reply was immediate.

“Now we’re talkin’. What time, love?” “7. And don’t be late.” “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

You stared at your phone after sending the message, half-excited, half-terrified. This was reckless, you knew that much. But the truth was, you didn’t care anymore.

The next evening, you found yourself pacing your living room, nerves buzzing as the clock ticked closer to seven. When the doorbell finally rang, you took a deep breath and opened it to find Liam leaning casually against the doorframe, a crooked grin on his face.

“Well, don’t you look nice,” he said, his eyes raking over you with a smirk that made your cheeks heat. “All done up for me, are you?”

You crossed your arms, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“Sure, love,” he said, stepping inside. “Just happened to be wearin’ that when I showed up, yeah? Don’t lie to me; I know effort when I see it.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, shutting the door behind him.

He turned to face you, the teasing glint in his eye sharpening. “Oh, I don’t need to, love. You’re doin’ all the flattering for me. I mean, this,” he gestured to you with an exaggerated sweep of his hand, “is practically a declaration of love.”

You groaned, resisting the urge to toss a pillow at him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you invited me over,” he said, his smirk growing. “Must mean you like me a little bit.”

“Don’t push it,” you said, trying to sound firm. But the smirk on his face told you he saw right through you.

Liam followed you to the couch, where you’d set out drinks to break the tension. He plopped down beside you, stretching out in that effortlessly confident way of his.

“So,” he said, picking up his glass. “What’s the plan, love? Bit of small talk before you ravish me, or are we skipping straight to the fun part?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Give over.”

“Oh I know you love it” he said, grinning as he leaned back against the cushions.

You laughed shaking your head. “How do you even fit that ego through the door?”

“Talent,” he said smugly, taking a sip of his drink.

The teasing went on for a while, the conversation flowing easily as it always did. But there was a new edge to it tonight, a tension that simmered just beneath the surface. Liam’s gaze lingered a little longer, his touches—an arm draped over the back of the couch, a hand brushing yours—more deliberate.

Finally, you set your glass down and turned to face him fully. “Alright, enough games,” you said, your voice steady despite the butterflies in your stomach. “Why don’t we stop pretending we’re here to just talk?”

Liam’s smirk widened, his eyes darkening with something that made your pulse quicken. “Thought you’d never ask, love.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you met him halfway, your lips crashing together in a kiss that was as electric as it was inevitable.

Liam’s hands were on you immediately, pulling you closer until you were practically in his lap. His lips moved against yours with a confidence that made your head spin, his hands sliding up your back, tangling in your hair.

“You’ve been drivin’ me mad, y’know that?” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough with desire.

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, your fingers tugging at his shirt.

He chuckled, his lips trailing down to your neck. “Can’t help myself around you, love. You’re irresistible.”

You let out a soft gasp as his lips found that sensitive spot just below your jaw, his teeth grazing your skin. “Liam—”

“Hmm?” he murmured, his lips still on your neck.

“Don’t you dare—”

But it was too late. You felt the familiar pressure of his lips against your skin, the telltale heat of a hickey forming.

“Liam!” you exclaimed, pulling back to glare at him.

He looked entirely too pleased with himself, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Couldn’t resist,” he said with a grin.

You narrowed your eyes at him while he leaned back a little with an unapologetic smirk.

You pushed him back slightly, your lips quirking into a sly smile. “Fine. But if you’re going to keep marking me up, it’s only fair I get to do the same.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, and his grin turned downright devilish as he leaned back against the couch. His hands stayed planted firmly on your waist, holding you there like he wasn’t planning to let you go anytime soon. “Oh, is that how it works now? You think you can keep up with me, love?”

“I don’t think—I know,” you said, your confidence unwavering even though his smirk made your stomach twist.

“Big words,” he said, his voice dripping with mockery as he tilted his head to expose his neck. “Go on, then. Show me what you’ve got. But don’t cry when you realize you’re not in my league.”

You scoffed, leaning closer. “I’m not going to cry.”

“No?” he teased, raising his eyebrows. “You sure about that? Last time I so much as nipped you, you were practically beggin’ me to stop. Or was it to keep going?” He cocked his head as if in mock thought. “Hard to remember—it’s all a blur of you moanin’ my name.”

“Shut up, Liam,” you snapped, your cheeks burning despite yourself.

“Shutting up,” he said, the grin never leaving his face. “But I’ve got to say, the view from here is pretty spectacular.” His eyes dragged over you pointedly. “You got all dolled up just to get your revenge, didn’t you? Go on, admit it. Could’ve come out in your pajamas, but no—you went full effort.”

You huffed and tried to ignore him, leaning in closer to press your lips to his neck, but he wasn’t finished.

“I mean, it’s flattering, really,” he said, his voice dropping into that low, teasing tone that made your skin prickle. “All this just for me? Sweetheart, if you wanted to impress me, you could’ve just said so.”

“Oh my God, Liam,” you said, your voice muffled against his skin as you tried to block him out.

But he wasn’t letting you off that easily. “What?” he said, his voice lilting with mock innocence. “You’re makin’ me feel special, love. You’re desperate to make your mark, aren’t you?”

“Desperate?” you echoed, pulling back just enough to glare at him.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning forward so his breath brushed your ear. “You’ve been thinkin’ about this, haven’t you? Wondering how it’d feel to take control for once. Bet it’s been driving you mad, hasn’t it?”

“You’re unreal” you muttered, trying to focus on your task.

“And you’re stalling,” he said, grinning as he leaned back again. “Come on, then. Show me what you’ve got. Or is all that fire just for show?”

Your pride refused to let him win. “Fine. But don’t complain when you’re the one left squirming.”

“Oh, I’m quaking in my boots,” he quipped, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You ignored him and pressed your lips to the curve of his neck. You started with a gentle kiss, your lips brushing over his skin like a whisper. His body tensed beneath you, though he tried to play it off.

“Is that it?” he asked, though his voice was already a little uneven. “Didn’t realize revenge was meant to tickle.”

You smirked against his neck, letting your teeth graze the sensitive spot just below his jawline. His breath hitched, and the grip on your waist tightened reflexively.

“Better?” you murmured, your lips brushing against his skin as you spoke.

“Gettin’ there,” he said, though his voice was noticeably rougher.

You sucked gently at first, testing the waters, then increased the pressure, making sure to take your time. His breathing grew heavier, and his hands flexed on your hips like he was trying to stay still.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “Alright, love, point made.”

But you weren’t done. You moved slightly, finding a new spot just above his collarbone, and sucked harder, your teeth grazing his skin enough to make him let out a low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” you teased, emboldened by his reaction.

“Don’t get cocky,” he rasped, though his hands slid up your back, pressing you closer. “You’re not—oh, fuckin' hell—” His words cut off as you sucked again, the mark blooming dark against his pale skin.

Liam chuckled, his hands tightening on your waist. “Not bad,” he said, his voice rough. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that if you wanna keep up with me.”

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

You pulled back, a smirk tugging at your lips as you watched him, utterly satisfied with the two dark marks you’d left on his skin. But your mischievous side flared, and you leaned in again, catching his gaze.

“You know,” you said softly, your voice dripping with intent, “I think I’ve found the perfect spot this time.”

Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but also a little wary. “Oh, is that right? You reckon you’ve got me figured out now?”

“Maybe,” you teased, the corners of your mouth curling as you moved in closer. “Or maybe I’ve just been saving the best for last, all for you love.”

His body stiffened slightly, but he didn’t pull away. His hands slid up to your back, fingers grazing the edges of your shirt, and he met your eyes with an almost challenging glint. “You’re gonna keep me here, then? Got no other plans, huh?”

You didn’t answer, too focused on the task at hand. Instead, you let your lips hover near his skin, just inches away, and he exhaled sharply, like he knew exactly what was coming.

You lowered your mouth to the side of his neck, your lips brushing over the sensitive skin as you tested for that perfect spot. He twitched, and you smirked, immediately knowing you’d found it. His breath hitched slightly, and before he could say anything, you pressed your lips firmly against the warm skin, sucking gently at first.

He froze, his hands gripping your waist, as you felt his pulse quicken under your lips. You couldn’t help but smile into the skin, feeling that rush of power as he tensed, knowing you had him just where you wanted him.

Liam’s breath hitched. “Bloody hell,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. But you didn’t stop—this time you sucked harder, your lips pressing down with a firm, determined pressure. You felt the soft pulse of his skin beneath you, and the moment your teeth grazed his neck, Liam let out a sharp gasp, his hands digging into your hair, tugging you even closer.

“Oh God,” he groaned, his voice thick with a mix of shock and desire. “You really know what you’re doin’, don’t you?”

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, pressing deeper, your tongue flicking out against the sensitive area. His body was shaking slightly beneath your touch, but he didn’t dare move away. His hands gripped your hair harder, guiding you with desperate urgency as his breathing became uneven.

You could feel the strain in his neck as he stretched it out, giving you better access. “Jesus,” he muttered, his voice tight with tension. “I swear to God, love...”

You took that as your cue to push even further. With one final, decisive suck, you pulled away to admire your work. The mark you’d left was darker, deeper, and undoubtedly the best one yet.

Liam let out a groan of both frustration and pleasure, and you could see how the edge of his control was slipping. He was breathing heavily, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he tried to regain his composure. His lips parted as though to speak, but nothing came out. His hands were still in your hair, keeping you impossibly close, his breath warm against your skin.

“You’re gonna be walking around with this for days, aren’t you?” you teased, the power shift intoxicating. “You’re not gonna be able to hide it.”

Liam let out a low, throaty laugh, his voice rough with need. “I don’t bloody care, love. You could cover me in them, for all I care. Doesn’t bother me.”

“Oh, I know it doesn’t,” you said, eyes glinting with mischief. “You like it, don’t you? Being marked like this.”

“Yeah, well,” Liam muttered, still catching his breath, “You’ve got me all turned on now, couldn’t care less who sees it.” He leaned in close again, his lips brushing against your ear, the warmth of his breath making your heart race. “I’m not the one hiding, am I?”

The night blurred after that, a mix of kisses, laughter, and whispered challenges. By the time you finally collapsed against him, both of you were marked with more than a few hickeys.

Your face was hot, your breath still coming in uneven pants as you looked at Liam, whose own face was similarly flushed. He was studying you now, his eyes dark but soft, filled with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You alright?” he asked, his voice rougher than usual, his fingers tracing lightly across the small hickeys you’d left on his neck.

You nodded, still catching your breath, the intensity of the moment slowly sinking in. "Yeah... I'm good."

Liam chuckled softly, shaking his head, clearly still in disbelief at the way the night had unfolded. "You're bloody brilliant, you know that, love?"

You smiled, teasing as always. "Glad you think so, Gallagher, same goes out to you"

But despite the playful banter, there was something deeper there now, an unspoken connection that neither of you could deny. The night had shifted, but it hadn’t ended. And as you stayed close, tangled in his arms, you both knew that things had changed between you—and there was no going back.

Still, the reality started to set in, and you hesitated for a moment, your thoughts clouded with uncertainty. You bit your lip, gathering the courage to speak up.

"Hey, Liam," you started, your voice quieter now, the playful edge gone, replaced with a vulnerable honesty. "I don’t want this to just be a one-night thing, you know? I... I want more than that."

He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into one of those familiar teasing grins. "Oh, so now you want more? Where was this earlier, love? I coulda been yours way back when, but you had to play it cool, didn’t ya?"

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile at his typical Liam bravado. But you weren’t backing down. "I didn’t know what I wanted until now," you admitted, your voice quieter, more sincere. "But I know I don’t want this to end like some fling."

Liam's grin softened a little as he studied you, that playful edge still there but with a new tenderness. He leaned in, brushing his lips lightly across yours, almost as if he were testing the waters.

“Should’ve said summat before, then, if you wanted to be me girl,” he teased, though there was something genuine behind the words. "But I'll allow it, love."

Your heart fluttered at the way he said it, the mix of cocky and sweet that only Liam Gallagher could pull off. And before you could respond, he pulled you in again, his lips pressing against yours in a kiss that was somehow both lazy and full of fire, the promise of something deeper between you both.

You melted into him, your body fitting against his like it always had been meant to. The kiss deepened, the air around you thick with everything that had been unsaid before, everything you were now ready to face. As his hands pulled you closer, you could feel that you were both stepping into something new—something that could be real. And you weren’t about to let it slip away.

He grinned, pulling you closer. “Think we’re gonna have a lot of fun, you and me.”

And for once, you didn’t argue.

_______________________________________________________

Hope you lot liked it. Kept it proper long ’cause I know the pain when a fic cuts off too soon. Also, let’s be real—I’m just hopelessly head over heels for that man

waiting for your feedback me celestial bastards xx

[cosyvelvetorchid]

Chapter 2 of Death Becomes Them is up!

Reason on ao3 or below

(See ao3 for tags and TWs)

🩶

They turned into a typical suburban tree-lined street and pulled over beside the curb in front of the sixth house along. It was your average wood-built family home. Two storeys and an attic, with a wooden porch not too dissimilar to the one Tommy had along the front of his house, and a front yard that Tommy was not kidding about.

Green shrubs, all the exact same type and length ran along the edge of the porch, and a small grassy area in front that Buck was certain he could get out a measuring tape and each blade of grass would be the same height.

The only flaw was the two wide lines running parallel to each other diagonally across the grass, presumably from the gurney Thomas Sr was taken out on.

Tommy scoffed when he saw them. “He’d have hated that.”

He took the keys from the plastic bag and unlocked the door but didn’t open it straight away. His hand hovered on the large brass door knob.

“You don’t have to do this right now, Tommy. It’s okay if you’re not ready.” Buck reassured him softly.

Tommy sighed. “I have to. If I don’t do it now..” he let the sentence fall away.

Buck placed a gentle hand on Tommy’s back as he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

The house was emptier than Buck had expected. A shoe rack by the door; a sofa, coffee table and TV in the living room with a small dining table with 2 chairs at the other end. No artwork on the walls, no knickknacks and not a single photograph hung anywhere.

Tommy was frowning as he looked around, assessing the place.

“Did it always look like this?” Buck asked.

Tommy shook his head. “No. Last time I was here there were photographs on the walls, and a big rug here” he pointed to the centre of the living room. “There was my grandpas old drinks globe in the corner here and plants on the window ledge.”

Tommy walked through the living room and dining room and into the kitchen around the corner. It was just as bare. Wooden counters across two walls with only a microwave, a cheap looking coffee pot and a set of knives on top.

He opened the fridge and scoffed when he saw it was mostly filled with bottles of beer. “Some things never change.”

“He drank a lot?” Buck asked.

“I can’t remember a single time he didn’t have a beer bottle or whiskey glass in his hand.” He said it so matter of factly and so easily, showing that it was a normal thing for child Tommy to be seeing.

Buck followed him back through the downstairs and to the front entrance then up the stairs. The first door Tommy opened was his old man’s room. It followed the empty theme from downstairs—a bed, a nightstand on either side and a large dresser opposite. No homey touches or decor.

Tommy walked along to the next door and stopped. His finger tips trailed along the scratches halfway up the door. Buck squinted and could just make out the word ‘Lakers’ etched into the wood.

“You’ve always been a fan of the Lakers I see?” Buck smiled.

“Yeah.” He smiled back, but the smile slowly faded. “Got my ass beat for this, though.” He replied.

He pushed open the door and they walked into Tommy’s childhood bedroom. Except it wasn’t a bedroom anymore, not really; more of a storage room. A few dining chairs stacked up in the corner, an old scratched up coffee table and a couple of large cardboard boxes.

The bare floorboards creaked under Tommy’s feet as he walked to the center of the room and surveyed his surroundings with a somber look on his face. Suddenly his body straightened and he turned quickly and opened up the closet door and bent down. His hand reached to the back corner of the floor to find the familiar hole which he slid his finger into and pulled up the small length of floorboard.

“No way!” He laughed to himself.

“What?” Buck asked trying to look over his shoulder.

Tommy turned around with a small, rusting metal box in his hand and sat down fully on the floor to open it.

“What’s that?” Buck asked.

“My safe.” His fingertips caressed the items in the box. “It was something my mom got me. She said I should use it for things that were important to me.” He pulled out a set of cheap baseball cards. “Clearly my priorities were a little off.” He laughed to himself.

Some coins, a toy soldier and some other little childlike oddities came out of the box. Then Tommy’s hand stilled. He took a shaky breath as he lifted out a faded post-it note.

Buck leaned forward to read the beautifully cursive writing.

“Have a wonderful day at school, sweetheart. Love, Mom”

Tommy took a harsh breath. And then another. And another. His breaths were becoming short and fast and then a strangled sound came from his throat as his shoulders began to shake.

Buck immediately fell to the ground and wrapped his arms around Tommy as he broke apart with wrecked sobs. His body shook hard with every loud cry that became muffled when he shoved his head into Bucks neck.

It was all Buck could do to stop himself from breaking just seeing Tommy like this. He ran a hand up and down his back while the other softly ran through the hair on the back of his head.

“It’s okay.” He whispered. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

He gripped onto Bucks hoodie so tightly Buck had the fleeting thought that it might rip. That didn’t matter though; nothing else mattered.

“Just breathe, baby. Just breathe.” He could feel Tommy trying to gain control of his breathing. Eventually the sobs quietened but he kept hold of Buck.

Buck felt a big lump of guilt in his stomach. His priority was making sure that Tommy was okay but he couldn’t deny that it felt nice to have Tommy in his arms again.

He shook that thought away. This wasn’t about him, or them—it was about Tommy and what he was going through.

“Hey. Why don’t we go outside for a bit? Get some fresh air.” Buck suggested. Tommy nodded into Bucks shoulder before detaching himself and slowly standing up. As they made their way downstairs, Buck made sure to stick close enough to him just in case he needed to be leant on.

They both sat on the front porch steps quietly for a few minutes. Tommy rested his elbows on his knees and blankly stared at the street ahead. He sniffed and wiped his eyes.

“I miss her.” He said; his voice thick.

“Your mom? What happened to her?”

“She died. When I was 12. Drunk driver.” He answered.

“Oh god. Tommy, I’m so sorry.”

“My dad.. Things got so much worse after that.” He wiped more tears from his eyes.

Buck let his hand run up and down Tommy’s back in an act of comfort. Tommy blew out a heavy breath.

“I’m sorry. I..”

“No. No, Tommy. You have nothing to apologise for.”

“It’s just so stupid!” He said suddenly standing up. “I hated the man. And I mean truly hated him.” He began to pace around, getting more agitated. “Do you know how many times that I wished he’d died? Like actually hoped that he would die?! And now he has and.. and here I am crying about it. Crying about a man who never gave a shit about me my entire life! It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

Buck stood and closed the distance between them quickly, holding onto Tommy by his upper arms.

“Hey! You are allowed to feel things about this. About him, about him dying. That doesn’t make you pathetic.” He tried to reassure him but he shook his head.

“He made my life hell. And my mom’s. He doesn’t deserve anybody grieving. Yet here I am..” He tried to move away from Buck but Buck held him tighter.

“I don’t.. I don’t think you’re grieving him, Tommy. I think maybe you’re grieving hope.”

“What? I don’t understand.” Tommy wiped his eyes again.

“As much as you hated him, maybe there was a part of you deep down that hoped one day he would change. And now that he’s died, that hope has died too.”

“I.. maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know how to.. deal with this. I..”

“It’s okay. You don’t have to figure it out right now. It’s still fresh and raw.”

He lifted his arms higher and pulled Tommy into a hug. Tommy arms gripped tightly around his waist.

“Thank you.” Tommys voice was strained and raw.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do. After what I did-“

“Stop.” Buck interrupted, pulling back and letting go of him. “We should definitely talk about that, not least because I deserve to say my piece.” He had no anger in his voice, but his tone was clear. Tommy nodded, looking down at the ground. “But, right now isn’t the time. What you’re dealing with.. This is more important.”

“Okay.” Tommy agreed.

“We can take a break if you want.”

“I am actually starting to feel a little hungry.” He replied.

“I told you to eat some of that banana bread before left.” Buck reminded him and playfully nudged him with his shoulder. Tommy huffed a small laugh.

“Yeah I know, you were right.” He conceded. “Okay..” he said firmly, straightening himself up and shaking his head clear. “Let’s get something to eat and we can deal with the house later.”

“Good plan.” Buck smiled. Tommy locked up the house before they got into the truck and drove further into town.

“Hey, I was thinking.” Buck said after a while. “Maybe we should get a hotel for the night.”

Tommy’s head whipped to Bucks direction but Buck spoke before Tommy had the chance to say anything.

“Separate rooms.” He made clear. “I just think it’s a long drive back and you still have to speak to the funeral home and sort those arrangements—maybe it would be best to figure some things out today and finish the rest tomorrow.”

Tommy contemplated it for a minute before speaking. “Don’t you have a shift tomorrow?”

“How do you know that?” Buck asked.

“I, uh.. We still have our calendars synced.” Tommy admitted sheepishly.

“Oh.” Buck responded as though he hadn’t known, which was a blatant lie—he’d noticed a few days after they broke up. Much like the idea of throwing out Tommy’s things, he couldn’t bring himself to un-sync them.

“I’m sorry. I’ll un-sync them when we stop.”

“No!” Buck protested. “I mean, it’s fine. And-and you’re right I do have a shift tomorrow, but I’m sure Bobby won’t mind. It’s not like I take days off regularly anyway.”

“You sure? I don’t want my shit causing an issues for you at work.” Tommy argued.

“It’s fine, Tommy. I really don’t mind. I’ll call Bobby when we stop for food.”

They decided on a cheap diner in town and Buck found them a table while Tommy used the bathroom. Buck took the opportunity to call Bobby.

“Hey Buck, I came by earlier to bring back your cake dish but you weren’t there.”

“Uh, yeah I’m, uh.. with Tommy.”

“You’re what?” Bobby replied in a surprise. “I thought you were trying to not see him?”

“I was. Uh, but then he turned up at my apartment last night, and-“

“Buck.” Bobby chastised.

“No, Bobby—it’s not like that. His dad died.”

“Oh jeez.”

“Yeah. He was.. Bobby I’ve never seen him this way. He really worried me.”

“Well, I guess it’s good he someone to help him.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m calling actually.” Buck said.

“What do you need?”

“Couple of days off? We’re up by Tommy’s dad’s place a few hours away. He identified the body earlier and he wanted to see his old house and.. he just needs some time for it to sink in and make arrangements. I don’t want him to do it alone.”

“I understand. Take as long as you need.”

“Thanks Bobby. And.. I’m only telling you because I need the time off, but please don’t tell anybody else about Tommy’s dad, or that I’m with him.”

“Buck, you know they’re all going to wonder where you are.” Bobby reminded him.

“I know.” Buck conceded. He contemplated telling Maddie he’d gone away for a few days to clear his head, but after what happened with her after she had Jee she’d just worry he was going to do something more serious. Bobby sensed his appreciation.

“Look, I’ll tell them I sent you the academy for a few days to help with training. But after that you’re going to have to tell them something.”

Buck sighed with relief. “Thank you, Bobby.”

“You’re welcome. And I hope Tommy’s okay.”

“I’ll see you in a couple of days.”

“Bye Buck.”

“Who was that?” Tommy asked taking a seat across from Buck.

“Oh, uh, Bobby. I managed to get the next few days off. I had to tell him about your dad, but I asked him not to tell any of the others. I wasn’t sure if you wanted anybody else to know.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you.”

Buck opted for a burger and Tommy chose pancakes. They ate in silence for a while. Buck wasn’t sure what to say. He wanted to ask Tommy how he was feeling and offer comfort where he could but he also didn’t want to spook him.

He’d been more open in the last 18 or so hours than he’d ever been and though Buck hated the reason why, he was grateful that Tommy trusted him enough to come to him.

“So..” Tommy asked breaking the silence. “How have you been?”

Buck looked at Tommy for a second before laughing. Not because it was actually funny, but because it was a ludicrous question.

“Really?” He said trying not to sound snippy.

Tommy immediately understood and gave a small laugh too. “Yeah, I’m sorry. Stupid question.”

“Do you want the honest answer?” Buck asked. Tommy took a second before nodding.

“Not great.” He said. “Awful, actually.”

Tommy opened his mouth to say something but stopped and looked out of the window instead.

“What about you?” Buck asked. Tommy turned his face back to Buck and held his eyes for a moment.

“Same.” He said, sadly. Buck was torn between being glad he felt like shit, and hating it. He was still in pain from what Tommy did but he’d never found it in himself to hate him. He could never hate him.

There was a tension in the air between them. Something not entirely uncomfortable. It wasn’t exciting and electrifying as it had been numerous times between them in the past, but there was an underlying current of.. something.

“So,” Buck said trying to break some of that tension. “Once we’ve finished here, I thought maybe we could go to the funeral home, if you’re up to it? You don’t have to make any decisions yet, but we can find out what the next steps are for when you’re ready.”

Tommy sipped his coffee and took a deep breath. “Yeah. I think I can do that.”

*

The funeral home was much nicer than the last one Buck had been in. Then again, this one hadn’t had a car plough through it. There was soft string music playing gently throughout the place and fresh flowers dotted around.

“Can I help you, gentleman?”

They both turned around in the foyer to see a tall, bald and gaunt looking man in a black suit. His long thin fingers crossed together in front of him.

“Yeah. Yes. My.. my father passed away yesterday. I need to, uh, make arrangements.” He told the man. Buck noticed his breathing changing and took his hand and laced his fingers in between Tommy’s, who squeezed his hand in return.

“Let me first say that I’m sorry for your loss.” The man said.

“Thank you.”

“We offer a range of services to help honour the death of a loved one. If you’d like to follow me, I can take you through process. Do you have the relevant paperwork?” Tommy handed the forms the hospital had given him to the man. “Thank you.” The man gestured for them to follow him.

An hour later, they walked out of the funeral with plans in place for the collection of Tommy’s dad’s body from the hospital and basic funeral arrangements made.

Tommy chose a basic wooden casket, and a burial site in the cemetery closest to the house—it didn’t matter where, he was never going to visit. He chose not to have a service or memorial—the bastard didn’t deserve one. Due to the death being of natural causes the hospital would release the body straight away and so the burial was to take place the day after next.

Tommy sighed as they sat back in his truck.

“Was it me or did that guy look-“

“Like a corpse? Yeah.” Tommy replied. Buck sucked in his lips to prevent himself from laughing but couldn’t help the snort that came out. Tommy huffed in response, which made Buck laugh. They both began giggling.

“Billy Boils looked more alive.” Buck said and Tommy barked out a loud laugh in response. Suddenly the car was filled with raucous belly aching laughter.

An elderly woman, dressed in mourning clothes, walked past the truck and looked horrified at the two men laughing wildly. They didn’t notice.

Buck wiped tears from his eyes as their laughter began to wind down. “How are you feeling?” He asked.

“I’m.. I don’t know honestly. I’m glad I got this done though. Thank you coming with me.” He looked at Buck so softly that Buck had to hold himself together. He wanted to pull Tommy into his arms again and keep him there. This big, usually stoic and confident man who somehow looked smaller; the weight of his past trauma and current feelings weighing him down.

“Of course.” He simply said instead. Tommy gave a soft half smile at Buck using his words. “But I think that’s probably enough for you today. We should get to a hotel and get some rest.”

“Yeah. I think there’s one near here.”

“Wait, I just realised—we don’t have any clothes. Or toiletries. I don’t even have a phone charger.”

Tommy pulled out of the parking space. “It’s fine. I’ve got all that stuff in the back.”

“Well, yeah it’s your car.” Buck said knowing Tommy was referring to his emergency go-bag; the one all first responders kept in their cars. “But I don’t have anything.”

“Actually you do.” Tommy glanced at Buck before back to the road ahead.

“You.. you still have it?” Buck asked, surprised. A few months after they started dating they each added a small bag of essentials to their trunks for the other. Mostly in case one of them was in the hospital it would save the other from having to go to their place to pick up things.

“I kept meaning to take it out but kept forgetting.”

Buck wondered if this was a situation like his own and Tommy simply didn’t want to get rid of things that were his. That thought was doused quickly remembering it was Tommy that didn’t want to be with him so it was more likely that he did just forget.

They found the hotel and booked 2 rooms, only arguing when Tommy insisted on paying for them both given that Buck wouldn’t be there if it weren’t for his dad dying. Buck gave in, allowing him to pay.

“Okay. Here are your room keys, gentleman. Rooms 118 and 119.”

They both looked at each other and laughed.

“Is everything alright?” The lady at the desk asked, confused.

“Uh, yes. Everything’s fine. Thank you.”

They made their way up to their rooms and stood awkwardly in front of their doors.

“I..”

“Do-“

They both spoke at the same time.

“Sorry.” Tommy said.

“It-it’s okay.”

“What were you going to say?” Tommy asked.

“I was just going to say that I’m going to jump in the shower then maybe go downstairs for a drink at the bar. If-if you want to join me?” He well aware of how pathetic he sounded and was trying to hide his nerves in asking.

“Oh.” Tommy said. Buck immediately felt a flush of embarrassment heat up his face.

“You don’t have to. It’s-it’s fine, really.” He waved the key card over the lock and it clicked open.

“No, that’s not.. I.. I was going to say that I’m exhausted and thinking of ordering room service for dinner if.. if you wanted to join me?”

Oh. That wasn’t what Buck was expecting. Although it made sense that Tommy probably didn’t want to be alone.

“Uh, sure. Yeah. Just let me shower and change.” He told him.

“Don’t rush. I’m not going anywhere.”

This time. Buck couldn’t help but think.

[brutermonger]

What’s going on over there on the Byrd app? 

Folks shipping Miguel O’Hara with Million Knives. *Pfff 😅

[r0zzk1ll]

"this man, is weird.. CRAZY weird.." "he was always very bright.."

[ayyponine]

not to be a milennial but harry potter and the prisoner of azkaban really is that bitch....

[ferociouslycreativemystery]

Me: I'm fine about my autism now btw, like I've come to terms with my fixated interests, limited tolerances and social inabilities. The alienation it brings is not ideal but it's just a reality I've gotta deal with now that I know it's just a part of who I am. I mean, it's not like an awkward conversation is gonna ruin anyone's life, is it? We'll both move on from it eventually. This is fine!

Also me: physically unable to watch beyond the first word of the first question of The Assembly because oh my god what if someone says something awkward or controversial or someone can't make themselves understood people are gonna get mad and scream about it online and I will freeze up and be stuck in the backlash forever I don't know how to handle conflict AT ALL let's just hide in the corner behind the sofa instead wait what if I became a hermit actually yeah yeah yeah that sounds good let's do that

[citrusitonit]

thers this bitter passive aggressiveness between kids who secretly find a younger kid annoying and its really sad

[c0rpsedemon]

over here creating an extended web (hehe) of japan-based tma ocs bc of the fucking. entities as jfashion styles post.

[so-many-ocs]

practical writing advice

part 2

avoid writing in bed if you can. writing in bed is the mind-killer. writing in bed is the little death that brings obliteration. you may think "but i can write AND be cozy" you will get sleepy so fast. 98% of the time when i try to get a nighttime writing session done in bed i go to sleep. maybe 70% of the time if it's an afternoon writing session. also it fucking kills your wrists.

STRETCH before writing. stretch as many parts of your body as possible ESPECIALLY YOUR WRISTS! i have chronic tendonitis in both of my arms from not doing this and it is manageable but it is Not Fun!

plug your phone in on the other side of the room. better yet, plug it in and leave it in another room. better yet, power it off and leave it in another room. "i'll just check one quick thing" do not underestimate the power of the doomscroll.

do a warmup. look up writing prompts (i like one-word prompts or prompts that focus on a general theme as it's easier to integrate into my writing style), set a timer for fifteen minutes, or ten, or five, and go ham. make it shitty or incomprehensible, as long as you make it. create a dump document for all your warmups. i currently have two novels in the works that started as one of these fifteen minute little warmups.

pick your background noise ahead of time if you use it, and look for something long. i listen to 3-hour-long silent hill ambient mixes on youtube dot com.

take breaks. around every 45 minutes, as i'm noticing myself begin to lose focus, i get up, grab a drink, get my blood flowing, and give myself some space to breathe.

sometimes i sit down to write and i think "every atom in my body is averse to doing this right now. i would rather dance barefoot on a bed of nails than open my laptop and start typing." and you know what i do? i go do something else instead. don't force it! it will become a chore.

that being said! write as often as possible. try to write every day. try to write at the same time. don't beat yourself up if you can’t, BUT the more often you write, the more often you'll want to write.

if you're stuck on a scene or a page or a chapter, go back to the last place where you felt like you knew what you were doing and start writing from there. keep a copy of your other writing in case you want to reuse it or refer back!

i don't know if this is something that will be helpful for other people but i start mentally preparing myself for my writing session a few hours ahead of time. i will say to myself, "today, at this time, i'm gonna sit down and write that scene where mina walks out on her book club, and it's going to be awesome and i'm looking forward to it." then, by the time i actually begin, i basically have the whole thing written out in my head and can just put it down to paper. it's a good way to at least kickstart the session !

ok thanks bye