#A daft story in the tags

[unashamedly-enthusiastic]

I know we have a "posts that have 10k to me" energy around here, but today I'm seeing lots of fantastic 100 - 5k notes posts and it's so much fun

I haven't read these before, I haven't heard these thoughts before, I haven't enjoyed this art before

Maybe they'll rocket to 100k stardom in hours, maybe they'll slowly grow into 10k posts over years, maybe they'll fall into obscurity at 118 notes, who knows?

Doesn't change how much i enjoyed it or if a phrase buried it's way into my brain, or if I will think of a piece of art the next time I see a cat

[anachronismstellar]

Hey yo, SVSSS fandom, I arrive uh *checks the clock* three years late and at one in the morning because this idea won't leave my head.

I don't think I'm going to write more of it, because I'm already two long fics deep and *shrugs* I'm also too much like our poor Airplane: high on caffeine, without enough time to write all that I want to write, and this idea deserves better

Basically, after canon, the system got bored? And as it can't mess up with the protagonist, it went on to torture our poor Mobei Jun, curious to know why he's Airplane's fav character and the only character that was kept the way Airplane originally wanted the story to be.

It's just a scene, and if you wanna adopt this idea go for it! Just tag me please, I wanna see your takes on it! :D

Anyway, scene under the cut! TW: Canon mentions of blood, torture and- let's be honest, the System itself should be a TW.

Hope you like it!

Mobei Jun couldn't see who said it, the stench of blood and piss burning his nostrils, the room too hot for him to think. Somewhere on his mind, a voice that screamed too much like Shang Qinghua kept repeating, "Get up, get up, get up, GET UP!" but he couldn't move, both his arms and legs bound by heated metal.

----

"Oh, that won't do."

"That won't do at all," the voice repeated, closer than before. Too close, the little Shang Qinghua voice in his mind would say. He forced himself to blink, head lolling to the side as lukewarm hands grabbed his face, pushing his hair back, a thumb pressing on his demon mark.

"You were written to be better than this," the voice- no, the man mumbled, followed by an annoyed "Tsk", his touch slowly bringing Mobei Jun back to the present, blue eyes widening as he recognized the soft yellow An Ding Peak robes.

"Shang Qinghua?" he tried to ask, but for sure, he only managed a gurgled sound, throat too dry to say anything. Besides, the man - should he call it a man? - in front of him had his servant's voice, but his posture was all wrong, too confident, too sure of himself. Daft fingers pressed on his cheeks, forcing him to look up, making his breath stutter.

"User 001 is not available at the moment," the strange man wearing Shang Qinghua's face said with a smile, too polite, too calm. There was also something really wrong with his eyes, as if someone had taken Shang Qinghua's warm brown ones and swapped with a poisonous green that glowed in the dim room.

"Where's Shang Qinghua?" he managed to speak, blood dripping from his lips as the room got impossibly warmer. Mobei Jun could feel in his conscience slipping, his strength melting from his bones as he did his best to keep himself awake, to not close his eyes and let himself even more vulnerable to his torturer.

"User 001 is not available at the moment," the man repeated again, and then once more, as if mocking Mobei Jun's hazy mind. "There, I hope you understand. Important things must be told three times. Now-" The thumb on his demon mark pressed further, the inhuman strenght tearing a scream from Mobei Jun's throat as a pain thin and sharp like a neaddle splited his skull in two. He couldn't think he couldn't breathe- Where was Shang Qinghua- Was he hurt? Did this skinwearer kill him?! He had to-

"Protocol 24978 generated. System's mission engaged: Author's favorite."

None of those words made any sense, what-

"I hope you enjoy our services!"

Mobei Jun's world went blank in a flash of white.

[lcdrarry]

LCDrarry 2024 Master List Part 1: Podfic & Art & Fic

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of this fest,

The 6th installment of LCDrarry has come to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in this fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with and to your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for everybody!

Fests would not exist without their participants or readers! You're all amazing! And we're so happy that you chose this fest in the vast and wonderful offerings of HP and Drarry events.

You can find out under the cut who created what ;D

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami (@celilasart) and Suzi (@erin-riwen)

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings. Thank you! PPS: You can find a link to Part 2 of this Master List under the cut. Enjoy!

Part 2 of this Master List with more lovely fics can be found here.

***

Podfic

***

A Mist That Appears (For a Little Time)

Prompt: “Sweet November,” 2001, Pat O’Connor Written by: dodgerkedavra Narrated by: reveriepi Podfic Length: 02:25:58 Rating: Explicit Warnings: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Vomiting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: “Give me November, and I’ll teach you to be happy. There’s only one condition. You must swear on your magic that you won’t fall in love with me.” Harry’s so tired. His whole body hurts. If Malfoy can teach him how to be happy, then... “Okay.” Harry is working himself to death. Draco only has November to help him. Falling in love is strictly against the rules.

***

As You Wish

Prompt: "The Princess Bride", 1987, Rob Reiner Written by: Pineau_noir Narrated by: Cailynwrites Podfic Length: 02:31:28 Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead.

Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

***

The Pirc Defence

Prompt: "The Queen’s Gambit", 2019, Scott Frank Written by: sleepstxtic Narrated by: sweaters_in_the_summer Podfic Length: 01:05:00 Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: They were rivals, and they were lovers, and they were the greatest chess players of their generation. Exactly in that order.

***

My Big Fat Weasley Wedding

Prompt: “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”, 2002, Joel Zwick Written by: slyth_princess Narrated by: Melcarrianna Podfic Length: 07:17:21 Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: A decade after the war, Harry Potter is lost. There was a time when he knew exactly who he was, where he was going, and what he wanted. He is not that man anymore. Until one day he decides he is done. No more wearing clothes that don't fit, stuck in a job that was meant to be temporary, and simply coasting through his life. He has a plan. And, unsurpisingly, every single Weasley and honourary Weasley seems to have an opinion about it. But it's fine. Harry knows he is doing the right thing.

What he didn't plan for, however, was to find love in the most unexpected place. And with the most unexpected person. Still, it's going to be fine. Like he said, he has a plan. Weasley opinions be damned. He's got it all under control. Doesn't he?

Featuring a million Weasleys, a daft labrador, and a whole bunch of people just trying to figure out their lives.

***

Art

***

Draco's Moving Castle

Prompt: "Howl's Moving Castle", 2004, Hayao Miyazaki Artist: Averily Art Medium: Digital Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: Art for LCDrarry2024 fest. Prompt was Howl's Moving Castle.

***

Go the Whole Wide World

Prompt: "Stranger than Fiction", 2006, Marc Forster Artists: julchen_in_red and m4g0rtz Medium: Digital Art Rating: General Audiences Warnings: None

Summary: When government employee Draco Crick was assigned to audit baker Harry Pascal, neither anticipated falling in love, but sometimes the person right next to you is the most welcome surprise.

***

[Art] A Game of Horcruxes

Prompt: "Game of Thrones", 2011, David Benioff Artist: fantalf Art Medium: Digital Art Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Duelling, Horcruxes, Blood and Injury

Summary: Art Post for "A Game of Horcruxes" written by sleepstxtic.

***

Illustrated Fic

***

[Fic & Art] A Game of Horcruxes

Prompt: "Game of Thrones", 2011, David Benioff Author: sleepstxtic Word Count: 118,635 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Brief Descriptions of Injury, Racism, Classism

Summary: It has been centuries since an attack on the castle of a royal scion. Centuries, until now.

The Realm of Hogwarts is ruled by eight noble Slytherin families, aided by their Gryffindor armies. Each kingdom possesses a Horcrux—the most precious source of magic to the throne. But when the Kingdom of Malfoy finds their Horcrux stolen, Prince Draco must break all protocol and enlist the help of a commoner, Harry, to find what's missing. All the while, an evil beyond the horizon stirs, Dementor attacks are increasing, and civil unrest is burning across the land. Can Draco and Harry recover the Horcrux and save the realm? And will they be able to resist their growing attraction to each other in the meantime?

***

A Ferret, a ScarHead, a Weasel, and a Baby

Prompt: "Three Men and a Baby", 1987, Leonard Nimoy & "Taken", 2008, Pierre Morel Author: trishjames Word Count: 91,420 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, Epic Fight Scene(s), Canon-Typical Violence, Hand-to-Hand Combat, Blood, Muggle Weapons, References to Past Child Abuse, Abduction, Injuries

Summary: They say becoming a parent is an unparalleled, priceless joy. Draco Malfoy finds himself putting that theory to the test when the star witness in his dangerous illegal potions case entrusts him with a powerful wish: protect her newborn baby at all costs. Now, it's up to Draco to fulfill that wish despite the looming threat of criminals hunting for the child. To think, just the day before, he was fretting over his inappropriate feelings for his annoying, bespectacled git of a housemate—not the mechanics of changing nappies!

Thank Merlin it takes a village to raise a sack of flour, ah, child.

***

Fic

***

White, Blonde & British

Prompt: “Red, White & Royal Blue”, 2023, Matthew Lopez Author: SortofShea Word Count: 40,058 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Mentions of death, drug and alcohol use and abuse, homophobia, racism, discrimination

Summary: Prince Draco Malfoy is known all over the world as “The Modern Day Prince Charming”, ask anyone - well, anyone except for Harry Potter, first son of the Indian president and (self) sworn rival of said stuck-up, snobbish prince.

***

drag the past out into the light

Prompt: "Se7en", 1995, David Fincher Author: ChaosBitch Word Count: 20,796 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Summary: There's a serial killer stalking magical London. The murders are gruesome, bizarre, and somehow connected to the Voldemort wars. Auror Harry Potter is paired up with an analyst from the Department of Mysteries to piece together the clues in the killer's unsettling game before they kill again.

The good news? This analyst is the best one on offer. The bad news? It's Draco Malfoy.

***

the beating of our hearts (is the only sound)

Prompt: "Pacific Rim", 2013, Guillermo del Toro Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 12,675 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: canon (Pacific Rim) creature grossness

Summary: Do you want awesome, kickass fights between giant robots and aliens??!?!?

Go watch Pacific Rim.

This is a story about two flawed men who fall in love during an apocalypse.

***

Draco Malfoy's New Guide to Old-Fashioned Dating

Prompt: "How to Lose a Guy in 10 days", 2003, Donald Petrie Author: caliowl Word Count: 52,377 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Non-Consensual Drug Use

Summary: When Harry's job as an auror is threatened by his perceived negative attitude towards Death Eaters, he makes a desperate gamble with his boss to save it. Bring a Death Eater as his plus-one to the company holiday party. Unfortunately for him, there's only one person he can think of to ask...

Meanwhile, in order to save his best friend Pansy Parkinson from a terrible social fate, Draco Malfoy makes a bet with Pansy's mother. He believes that old-fashioned, traditional courting methods are the best way to repel, not attract, a potential suitor. Now, if only he can find a wizard who has no clue about those methods...

***

Black Sheep

Prompt: "Shaun the Sheep", 2007-2020 Author: shushu_yaoi_lj Word Count: 10,808 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: smut, dirty talk, praise kink, soft d/s dynamics, begging

Summary: “You know, Potter, maybe all you need to win is a little—incentive, let’s say.” “An incentive?” Harry asks, his interest piqued. He takes a step closer to the fence, and then another one, until he’s standing so close that he can smell the intoxicating scent of Malfoy’s expensive cologne. “Shall we say that if you win, you can have whatever your heart desires?” Malfoy replies with a smile. “Anything.”

***

Jackknife To The Heart

Prompt: "Mad Max: Furiosa", 2024, George Miller Author: sleepstxtic Word Count: 11,723 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Gunfights

Summary: Draco licked his lips, slow and sensual. He climbed over Harry’s lap and slid down onto his knees. “Keep making love to me, darling,” he said, gazing up at Harry, something starry in his eyes; and then he pulled down Harry’s pants and took his cock in his mouth.

Harry sucked in a breath, threw the shifter into gear, and drove.

***

First Impressions

Prompt: "Pride and Prejudice", 2005, Joe Wright Author: ActuallyMoon Word Count: 87,934 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Period-typical racism and colourism (only present in one chapter), A/B/O dynamics, Dubious Consent, Classism, Smut, Mpreg

Summary: At the Shacklebolts' ball, Ginny found herself irrevocably smitten at first sight with Ms Pansy Parkinson. Meanwhile, her brother, Harry Potter, became the unfortunate target of biting remarks from Parkinson's haughty and aloof best friend, Mr Draco Malfoy. Harry's disdain for Mr Malfoy grew, fuelled by the latter's evident arrogance. Amidst this burgeoning animosity, Ms Romilda Vane began to spread malicious rumours regarding Malfoy, further tarnishing his reputation. Yet, the true nature of his character was far from what these tales suggested. Could Draco overcome his pride and Harry his prejudice, allowing love to blossom between them despite the odds?

***

Obscuro

Prompt: "Love is Blind", 2020 Author: stratigraphy Word Count: 35,227 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Draco is grieving. His conversation partner is here against his will. It's a shameless rip-off of an insipid Muggle reality dating show. Hardly the occasion for true love, if you ask Draco. feat. a cat named Marmalade, a bird named Mumble, Lee Jordan's answer to Love is Blind, and two best friends who only want their dads to be happy.

***

Eternalism is a Never Ending Day

Prompt: "Russian Doll", 2019 Author: JK_Terfling_Can_Suck_My_Silicone_Dick Word Count: 25,970 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Temporary Suicide, Temporary MCD, implied/referenced Depression

Summary: Malfoy has been reliving the same day for longer than he can keep track of now, and has just assumed that he was dead in the real world, which was fine to him. It isn't until the time loop stops doing what he expects that it occurs to him that maybe there's something else going on.

***

Part 2 of this Master List with more lovely fics can be found here.

As always, reblogs here on tumblr are very much appreciated to share all the wonderful works of LCDrarry with more people. But of course, please also shower our creators with comments and kudos on AO3 ;D Thank you! Read you next year ;)

[irondadfics]

Hi!!!! Hope you're doing great. So, I really love fics where tony makes a mistake, like yelling at peter, misunderstanding, argument, ignore peter, etc. And then he feels guilty and apologize. I already checked out all the "tony is not nice" tag and I really loved it, so I was wondering if you have more fics like this. Thank you very much! I really love what you do!

We got a few recommendations with these themes! Enjoy!

Mistakes by happyaspie

Peter is injured during a mission but Tony is too distracted to notice... or listen when Peter tries to ask him for help. This leads to some frustrated tears, a trip to medical, a few promises and, of course, forgiveness.

You Need to Know (and I wish I Knew How to Tell You) by NanixErka

Alternate Title "Tony Stark Has the Emotional Intelligence of a Fish"  Tony Stark - through a daft conversation - leads Peter to think he doesn't care about him Luckily he knows exactly how to fix it (He doesn't)

you held your pride like you should have held me by searchingforstars

“I had to take the risk!” Peter snaps. “I saved your life.” Tony’s stare hardens. “Yeah, and nearly ended your goddamn own. This isn’t a trade-off. It wasn’t your call to make.” “You would have done the same thing to protect me,” Peter points out. Tony just seethes at the statement.  “I don’t care about what you think I would have done. You are notme. And I don’t know who you think I am, but I’m perfectly capable of looking after myself." -- or, as the timer ticked down, Peter knew his only option was to take things into his own hands. He just didn’t expect Tony to be mad at him for saving his life.

Irreplaceable by for_the_night

It starts with a cancelled lab session. Then two. Then three. When Peter finally plucks up the courage to ask what he’s done wrong, he finds another kid in the lab with Tony. The teen feels a pang of hurt seeing the pair laughing and joking together, but the fatal blow is seeing Tony ruffle the boy's hair. Tony doesn’t hate Peter. He’s replaced him.

it hurts to be half-loved by canon irondad (tomlinsoul)

“Oh for God’s sake. I’m not Peter’s fucking father. I’m not, I never have been, and I never fucking want to be, okay? I like the kid, sure, we all do, but at the end of the day, he’s just a smart little superhero I happen to mentor, alright? Now can that be the last I hear of that, please?” or; Peter overhears another denial Tony is Peter's dad right after he realises he sees him as one. It's about as messy as you might expect.

I Do Listen To You by Icylightning

Tony was not having a good week. Too bad he takes his anger out on Peter.

The Tumblr Archives by losingmymindtonight

Chapter 21: Shout, Shout, Let It All Out

Written for the anon who left the prompt: "peter doing something self sacrificing and stupidly heroic during a fight and tony is like. fucking screaming at him once they’re safe cause he doesn’t wanna loose his kid but he stops when he sees peters eyes wide in fear, hands shaking, knees about to give out and tony realizes just how fucking scary it must’ve been to have to step up and do whatever the stupidly heroic act was, especially for a teenager..." WARNINGS: mention of past child abuse, lots of explicit language, yelling

please believe me (i’m begging you) by idyllic_dae

Things were going so damn well. But then Michael showed up, and now everything around Peter is turning to ruin, and he doesn’t know how to stop it, and— Maybe he’s the crazy one after all.

Forgive me by wolfypuppypiles

Tony thought that a botched mission and a fight between him and Peter would have been the worst thing to happen that week. He was wrong.

I Didn't Actually Mean That: A Tony Stark Story by what_the_fluff

Tony reverts back to bad habits for one night, resulting in a terrible rift between he and Peter (aka drunk asshole!Tony makes an appearance). It's entirely his fault, and he knows it's up to him to make things right - and save whatever shred of the last good relationship in his life still exists. He hopes Peter can forgive him...

Stress Is A Man's Best Enemy by Yousaydoctorisaywho

Tony Stark never really gets angry. Sure, he gets stressed nearly all the time, but who doesn't? Unfortunately, after both him and Peter have very stressful days, Tony releases it on Peter who ends up running away. There were quite a lot of misunderstandings and now Tony has to go out there and save the kid.

[leighsartworks216]

This request is actually inspired by my fic I'm writing and I wanted to see your interpretation of the scene.

Tav is the daughter of a well known pirate, basically the black beard of Baldur's Gate, but after an attack that lead to her father and alot of the crews death she roamed Baldur's Gate until the mindflayer thing happened.

Currently, she and everyone are at a tavern, celebrating another successful quest and honestly still being alive when she hears a familiar song and she sees four old crew members (family) she thought was gone. What is your interpretation of the scene, how would Astarion would react to the news, and seeing her reuinte with her family?

I did not expect this to turn out as long as it did lmao

Astarion x fem!Tav/Reader (can be read as gn)

Warnings: fear of abandonment, alcohol/drinking, swearing

Word Count: 2,123

Main Masterlist

Baldur's Gate 3 Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The tavern was lively and bustling on the evening you and your companions squeezed in, the sun beginning to paint the sky in dramatic colors as it sets. Almost instantly, your party's spirits are lifted - yours included.

Finding a table for 7 people is no easy feat, but you manage to snag one in the corner. Drinks were served around, jokes about the battle you’d just endured and old stories of lives before the Illithid threat fill the air with an easy camaraderie. It reminds you of your father's ship, of the crew that raised you. Thinking about them again left a bitter taste in your mouth. Astarion must have noticed the distant look in your eye. He reached under the table for your hand, interlacing your fingers easily, and trying to catch your eye.

You smile at him, but your eyes are still glazed over. “I’m just thinking about my family, is all,” you tell him, as though it’s as mundane as thinking of what one needs to get from the market to make dinner. You’d told him of your father, his crew, the ship - and what happened to it. It’s been months, but it’s still too fresh. You still wake up in the dead of night from visions of colossal waves that pull your head under, and screams cut short with the slice of a cutlass. “This… reminds me of them.”

He offers a concerned smile, though it comes out as more of a grimace. “I’m flattered we remind you of drunken sailors,” he drawled sarcastically. It worked to get a laugh out of you, if nothing else.

“Drunken pirates,” you correct. He watches the smile slip, your eyes become distant once more, water pricking at the corners.

Astarion had a… complicated relationship with family. He couldn’t remember his parents, and the “family” Cazador provided were less-than-welcoming at best. As such, he never really knew how to comfort you in times like these. Not that he knew how to comfort anyone, really, but he wanted to try, at least.

“Gods,” you sigh, choked with emotion, “I miss those daft fools.” You lean your head against his shoulder. He maneuvers to wrap his arm around your middle, holding you close, and takes your hand again. “We used to celebrate like this,” you mumbled. His elven ears picked it up easily. “We’d drown the night in ale and groan about it in the morning. Played knife-throwing games as our visions start to spin and double. Sing songs at the top of our lungs, like screaming it would scare away any monster at sea.”

You sigh again. Though he can’t see your face, he can see when you use your free hand to wipe your eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with this.”

“Darling,” he hums, squeezing your hand, “we are technically in this together. Your burdens are mine and all that. In any case, you’ve carried all of our burdens, even when you didn’t have to. I’m only returning the favor.”

“Thank you.” You lift your head from his shoulder to kiss his cheek. He grins, all too pleased with the simple affection you lavish on him. “Now, enough wallowing.” You clear your throat and grab your tankard. “This is a celebration. And I intend to be too drunk to walk before the night is out.”

He sighed dramatically, lifting his goblet of wine. “And I suppose I’ll be the one to carry you back to camp?”

You smirk up at him, a glint in your eye. Like this, he can imagine you as the pirate you are. Swashbuckling and taking down other ships, climbing up ropes to the top of the sails, peering out from the crow’s nest for any sign of adventure. Dry land did not suit you, he thought.

But then came the thoughts that always followed. If you did return to the sea, to your old life with a new crew, after these tadpoles are removed, he couldn’t follow. The only reason he’s safe from the sun and the burn of running water was because of the damned, wriggly things. He couldn’t follow you onto a ship to be locked away in confined cabins until night, or help if the waters chose to fold over the deck in great big waves, threatening to take down the vessel. He couldn’t have that life. Not with you.

Your head was thrown back, neck bobbing with each gulp of shitty ale. You did not see the pain on his features those thoughts brought him. He tossed back the last of his wine.

You stand and gather the empty mugs of your companions, bright-eyed and ready for round after round (Karlach only encourages this.), when something sounds across the tavern. It’s a rather large establishment, and the bustle of other patrons covers up everything. But it’s there. Loud and boisterous and-

You rush to step over the bench and find the source of the noise. Astarion frowns and chases after. He’s right on your tail as you push through drunkards with half-formed “Excuse me”s and “Coming through”s. As you get closer and closer, the sound becomes clearer. It’s not just noise - it’s singing. A cacophony of voices all singing together.

You squeeze past a barmaid, nearly knocking the drinks from her hands, but the apology is lost when you see a table full of drunken pirates. One starts to take a swig mid-song, when his eyes land on you. He’s on his feet - Is that a peg leg? - in an instant, dropping the tankard carelessly to the table.

“Tav?” he gasps. The rest fall silent, turning around to see what the man was gawking at. They thought he was imagining it, as he’d done time and again since the attack. They all leapt up and rushed forward when you were more than a figment of their alcohol-addled minds.

Astarion was pushed aside as a horde of pirates surrounded you, hugging you and ruffling your hair and all speaking hurriedly with worry and joy. He can’t ignore the pain in his chest, as though someone had driven a stake through his heart. You hugged each one, misty eyed. Questions fell ceaselessly from your lips as you asked how they survived, what happened, what they’d been doing all this time. And he knew. He knew without a shadow of a doubt. He could not hope to be more important than your family. He couldn’t be the one you chose - not when you’d recounted your friends with tales of the open ocean and your father’s crew for hours.

He quietly backed away. The others ask why you rushed off and what was happening when he returned to grab the bottle of wine. He wasn’t too sure what he said. He’d like to think it was some sort of “They found their family” said with a charming grin, and a simple, but believable, excuse to go back to camp not like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, but like a vampire with things that need doing back at camp. Alone. With a bottle of wine.

Your eyes are red and your smile is about to burst off your face when you drag your pirate family over to meet your companions. You’re bouncing on your feet with energy, introducing everyone and nearly crying again when the pirates embrace everyone like family. Your heart is soaring when you look around for Astarion, searching around the table, the bar, the crowd. And it starts falling when you don’t see him anywhere.

“Hey, have any of you seen Astarion?”

Gale groaned as he was released from a bone-crushing hug. He winced as he held his shoulder. “He said he was heading back to camp.”

Your heart crashed firmly against hard cement, leaving cracks in the foundation. “Back to- Why? Did he say why?”

“No,” Shadowheart answered this time, trying not to get caught admiring the intricate braid of another crewmate. “He just took the wine and ran.”

The warm environment suddenly felt cold and unwelcoming. Was he uncomfortable with your family? They were known to be rather callous and loud - maybe they’d scared him off? Was the idea of confronting their family just too stressful for him? Did it bring up unwanted memories? Why… Why did he run off?

You touch an older pirate’s arm, letting them know you’ll be right back. They smile and nod and pull you in for one last hug. It feels bittersweet. You dash off from the tavern back to camp.

When you arrive, he’s uncorking a second bottle of stolen alcohol, frowning and grumbling and pacing. He’s so deep in his thoughts, he doesn’t notice you’re there until you say his name. He frowns deeply at you. “Shouldn’t you be catching up with your family?” he asks, but it’s bitter and cold.

You frown. “I wanted you to meet them. Why’d you leave?”

He looks away, focusing instead on taking a long drink from the bottle. It’s had no time to air out; he almost grimaces at the flavor. He pretends to read the label. “It was getting a little crowded in there,” he dismisses.

“So you leave without saying anything?”

“Well,” he begins, drawn-out and sarcastic, creating a barrier between you and his emotions, “you were busy. I’d hate to get in the way.”

You huff. “Astarion, please, just tell me what’s wrong!”

“Nothing.” He scowls. He begins pacing again. “Nothing’s wrong! You’ve found your family again! I’m so happy for you.” He spits the word like it burns him to say it.

“Is that what this is about? My family?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” you plead. “What’s wrong?”

“YOU’RE GOING TO LEAVE!” He sighs at his outburst, glaring at the ground. His feet are locked to ground, refusing to move closer or further away - because he can’t decide which would be better. “Once this is over, once we figure out how to remove these tadpoles, you’re going to run back to the sea. To a ship, with your family. And I can’t follow.” He scowls at himself. He hates laying out his thoughts, his feelings. It feels too vulnerable. He feels exposed. “You won’t stay on land.”

You won’t stay with me.

A silent war wages on in your head and in your heart. You’re torn in two directions - forced to choose between the people who raised you, the last fragments of your father and his ship, or Astarion, your vampiric lover. It’s painful.

You step forward slowly, like he’s going to startle and run away like a frightened rabbit. He doesn’t move. And he doesn’t look at you. The bottle in his hand feels too heavy.

“I love my family,” you start. You can see in an instant as his walls come back up. His face, still upset and angry, becomes stoic and defensive. “And I love the sea.” You stop in front of him. “And I love you.”

He closes his eyes, prepared for the rejection.

“I… I had a whole life on the ocean.” Your fingers brush his hand. It twitches involuntarily, wishing to hold you, for just one last moment. When he doesn’t pull away, you tangle your fingers with his. “I want to see what a future on land would be like.”

He swallows. He opens his eyes, but he can’t look at you. He looks instead at your hand in his. “And when you decide a life on a ship is better than hiding in the shadows with me?”

You pull his hand to your lips, kissing his knuckles. He watches longingly.

“If I decide to sail again,” you accentuate your words with a kiss to the meat of his thumb, “I’ll come back. Over and over again. I’ll sail for a week and stay with you for a month. I’ll sail a month and stay with you a year. I love you, Astarion. And I will always choose you. And when we find a cure for vampirism, you can come with me.”

He huffs a laugh. “I’d be a poor excuse for a pirate.”

“You can scrub the deck.”

He finally meets your eyes with a playful scowl. It softens into something quiet and sad. “I don’t want to tear you from your family.”

You shake your head, stepping even closer. “You’re not, I promise. Now that I know they’re alive, I’ll be damned if I don’t keep in touch. But all they know is the sea. They have no reason to stay ashore - they’re heading out with a new captain next week.” You cup his cheek with your free hand. He sighs and leans into the touch. “I want to stay on land for a while longer.”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnloveslokiredacted @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @bloopthebat @chesb0red @black-star1472 @sessils @olitheghostboy-blog @puppyg1rl666 @maruichio @cyber-dump-171 @cherifrog

[tamsinswriting]

Free Fanfiction Idea to Good Home

Howzit All

As anyone who knows me knows that I have a ton of fanfiction and other writing ideas and that I try to work on as many as I possibly can (currently sitting at 18--3 gifts, 1 Coco fanfic, 4 Star Wars fanfics, 2 TMNT 2003 fanfics, 4 Good Omens fanfics, 4 Original stories)

The problem?

I've had 7 more Good Omens fanfiction ideas that I'm forcing myself not to work on, but they're taking up too much headspace.

So, I thought that I'd share them here, in case anyone feels like taking a crack at writing them. That's not to say I won't pick them up later when some of these are off my plate, but it won't be for a while.

If any of these appeal to you, please let me know (and tag me if you write them!)

Perfume AU. (Either human or as angels and demons)

One of the Ineffables is convinced that the ordinary perfume they made is actually a love potion so they believe that all the romance coming from the other one is fake or a compulsion. (It's real, they're just being daft)

2. A Wedding Date AU

Inspired by the movie with Deborah Messing in 2005, Aziraphale is heading home to England for his brother, Gabriel's, wedding. He decides that, rather than face his family alone, he'll hire Crowley, the escourt, to be his boyfriend. (I saw similarities between Gabriel and Kat's sister in the movie, which is why Aziraphale is Kat and Crowley is Nick, though I probably would change the plot so there's no "win back the ex"

3. Marry Me AU

I heard about a movie with J-Lo, where she is a famous singer who plans to get married on stage in front of the world. But, before she says her vows, she finds out that her fiancé is cheating on her. So, she sees Owen Wilson's character in the crowd holding a "marry me" sign (he's not a fan, his friend forced him to go to the concert) and says "yes" so they get married. This sounds like an Ineffables human AU to me . . .

4. Fae Au

One of the Ineffables does a ritual where they end up married to a Fae (they had no idea that's what the ritual was supposed to do). The Fae Ineffable is, however, bound to the Fae court and has to either get the human's true name to enslave them or make them fall in love and break their heart to amuse their ruler. They end up falling for the human.

5. Arranged Marriage AU.

One of the Ineffables is fed up with dating and being alone, so they hire an matchmaker to facilitate an arranged marriage (which are done for many reasons by the company, from hiding your sexuality to getting tax benefits). They end up married to the other Ineffable. Could be Strangers to Lovers or Enemies to lovers. Lot's of pining, though.

6. Reverse Female Omens.

Aziraphale is a female demon posted on Earth while Crowley is a female Archangel. Crowley tried to reach out when the whole "Flood" thing was happening, but the demon wasn't interested (Aziraphale wanted to be friends, but Hell commended her for trying to get an Archangel to Fall and so she rejected Crowley's friendship in case it happened) But now Armageddon is approaching and the two might have to work together to avoid it.

7. Blood and Chocolate AU

Loosely inspired by the movie (I didn't really like the book). Aziraphale is a werewolf and his pack (led by Gabriel (yes, the movie character had the same name)) is pressurising him to take a female mate, despite knowing he is gay, as they believe his bloodline is powerful. He's trying to avoid the problem as much as possible. Crowley is a monster hunter who had ended up in Aziraphale's city looking for werewolves. They meet, but don't realise that the one is a monster and the other is a monster hunter.

There they are: the ideas that are brewing in my head. As I mentioned, if anyone wants to write them,. please feel free. Just tag me so I can read them (and, if you don't want to write, please reblog so these ideas can find someone to write them.)

[minoment]

ofc ofc ofc, sub!jack sparrow supremacy✨ So I didn't really plan this out, but something about jack getting the cockiness fucked outta him…it just does something to me. I don't mind presentation, so you can keep it gender neutral if you like!! Now i'll proceed to obsessively refresh the 'dom reader' tag until you publish it <3

Pairing: CAPTAIN Jack Sparrow x Dom GN!Reader

Type: Draft

A/N: Posting this because I promised to get it out <3

Minors DNI <3

You and Jack had gotten off on the wrong foot, to say the least. Well, in your opinion. He didn't seem quite so bothered by it, more.. excited? That definitely ticked you off. He was so.. so infuriating.. so carefree. He treated you like some alluringly gorgeous god of war and that he was some un-killable fool who dared question your presence. Like he was the special one who would never ever be shown your wrath. You hated it.

Jack Sparrow was known across the seas as the luckiest, unlucky but admirable alcoholic to ever stumble upon the slippery decks of a ship. You however, were known as a vicious, territorial, almost Nordic pirate who guarded their claimed land with iron and steel. No one dared to venture near your territory, the pure amount of fear had made you almost forgotten to this day. Not that you minded of course. Stories of your cruelty and maliciousness spread an elaboration of what you were truly like, the tales isolating you in an almost comforting sense of loneliness.

You almost wished you had back that loneliness. But no. Of course not. That fool had made sure to never give you a sense of tranquility ever again.

"HELLLOOOO??"

A shouting voice was heard over the waves, it was slightly slurred and incredibly obnoxious for this early hour. The golden sun peeked over the horizon, sending golden slivers dancing across the waters surface.

You grunted softly, opening an eye and slowly picking yourself off the deck of your ship where you had peacefully been napping. You were an intimidating figure, at least 6'4" and toned from years of taming rough oceans. Your skin was tanned and mottled with scars and tattoos. Your braided and decorated hair glowed a fiery auburn in the growing daylight, 'like molten copper' as your late mother used to say.

Silently, you moved over to the ships edge, raking your cold green gaze over the sandy expanse of the small island you were moored next to. And there he was..

That daft moron got himself stranded a few days ago, somehow separating himself from his crew AND the Black Pearl. You had moored here a few weeks prior, reading the stars and waiting for the perfect time to sail back to your hidden cove you called home. He had dragged himself drunkenly out of the sea not 16 hours ago and your tranquil peace had disappeared from that point forward.

You had no intention of helping him, his constant chatting and one-sided conversations making him insufferable. He was doing it on purpose and you knew that, but it got on your nerves either way.

"What tha fuck d'ya want?" You snapped crossly over the well-kept railing of your ship. Your gaze narrowed as a triumphant smirk played across his lips. He was admittedly handsome, you'd give him that.

"Mornin' lovely..." He singsonged flirtatiously, gazing up at you and shielding his eyes from the now fully-risen sun.

You scowled in disapproval, not appreciating this levelling sort of flirtatious friendliness.

"You know.." He continued thoughtfully, mockingly speaking as if you were some sort of Lord, "I'd really like some food and water.. if you'd be so gallant as to spare some?"

You scowled once more and moved away from the railing. As much as it was 'survival of the fittest' and a constant battle with your stubbornly cruel personality, you couldn't watch a man starve to death with your help right in front of him. Besides, apart from being an infuriating pest, he hadn't actually hurt you.

A neatly coiled rope lay near your mast and you picked it up, carrying it back over to the railing. You secured the end firmly to the rail and dropped it down so the other ratty end dipped into the salty water.

"Climb up before I change my fuckin' mind.." You snapped, tilting your head in a sort of aggressive invitation aboard.

Jack wasted no time in scrambling up the rope like a monkey, your powerful grasp steadying his shoulder and body as he helped himself aboard. He stood to the side as you untied the rope and started to reel it up. His hand absentmindedly rubbed where your fingers had gripped his collarbone, his gaze flicking to your veined, clearly weathered hand as it worked the now sodden rope.

You turned and looked down at him, your gaze becoming ever so less furious as he looked back up at you and thanked you for your generosity. For some reason, you felt a little guilty for not letting him on sooner. He looked like a curious little mutt, his beautiful brown eyes seeming to warm you up from the inside out. You bit the inside of your cheek and looked away, scolding yourself for getting in your head. You motioned Jack to follow and brought him below deck.

Your boat was large yet you were the only one on it. It was decorated beautifully, showing off what obvious peace you had by yourself. There were maps and tapestries in some rooms, others having shark skulls and ornately engraved longswords hung up with bent nails. Apparently you were incredibly creative as well as a ruthless killer.

Jack marvelled your boat before his gaze curiously roamed your broad form. His keen eye took note of your clean clothes, the neat Nordic pattern embroidery and the occasional stain of spattered blood. Your belt held pouches and sheathed knives, all made by you. He admired your physique too, the way your muscles flexed under your skin as your opened the heavy door to your main living area. You didn't smell like the usual pirate either. An alluring scent of spices, fabric, seawater and blood seemed to follow you wherever you walked.

Eventually you sat him down, taking note of his ripped clothes and dirty features. You motioned for him to hold out his hands, working in complete silence as you wiped off his hands with a wet rag. The salt water stung a few scratches but Jack patiently held still, letting you wipe off his neck and face area. You almost did this as a sign of respect before standing up and getting him some clean clothes. You held out the rag and the pail of sea water, wordlessly telling him to get dressed and clean the rest of his body. He did as he was hold and you turned, moving to the other side of the cabin to find some stale bread and dried fish for him to eat.

When you finally turned around, he had washed himself and was getting dressed. Only Jacks upper body remained unclothed and your green gaze wandered over his tan skin. He had many bullet and knife wounds, adding up to the lucky part of his reputation. Personally, you found them quite beautiful although you would rather die than admit it.

"Here.." You said gruffly, handing him the plate of foot and a pouch of rainwater off your person. "Rest for a while.."

"Ah.. thank you.." Jack replied, finishing dressing himself and taking the plate and pouch from you. "I knew ya soul would be as beautiful as your pretty face.."

You sighed silently, moving to pick up his discarded clothes. You walked back up to the sunny desk, laying out Jacks clothes so they would dry and be parched of their salty sea smell.

You moved back below deck, your gaze raking over Jacks now-clothed chest and opening your mouth to ask about his scars.

"You really are nothing like the stories say, are ya?" Jack said as he interrupted your train of thought before you could speak and looked from his food to your eyes.

You paused, momentarily re-arranging your thoughts before speaking.

"No I'm not..." You said eventually, motioning to your own chest in reference to his bullet wound scars. "But you're definitely as lucky as the tales tell.."

Jack looked down and smiled slightly to himself, unable to form a response to that. It felt odd to be complimented by such a stoic and feared persona like yourself.

"What are ya really like then?" Jack asked, drinking the last of his water and letting you take the plate from him.

"I- don't really know.." You replied, stowing the things away before turning back to him. "Well no.. I just can't remember.."

"Why not?" Jack asked with a tilt of his head. "You look like you'd have quite the personality.."

"Near death experience can blanch the personality from your soul I s'pose.." You shrug, leaning back against the ships wall and crossing your arms. You watched him closely. "You definitely have had your fair share of near death experiences, how come you're still an arrogant shit?" You say flatly, making Jack laugh.

"You've got quite the mouth huh?" He smirked, his gaze flicking to your scarred lips in a much more suggestive way than before.

You were a little taken aback by his suddenness but you regained control of yourself and narrowed your eyes. "Answer my question.."

"I guess I'm just better than you.." Jack shrugged with a cocky smirk, obviously trying to rile you up. The annoying thing was, it was working. You gritted your teeth, your jaw tensing.

Jack easily picked up on that and grinned, a soft chuckle escaping him. He knew this was a dangerous game; that only made him want to play it more. It certainly solidified his reputation of the stupidly brave captain.

"You aren't better than me.." You scowled, your hands moving behind you to grip the wooden counter as he began to approach you.

"Oh but I am.." Jack smirked. "You would have killed me by now if I were anyone else in front of you.. am I special?"

The audacity he had. It made your blood boil, but nonetheless you stayed against the wall, watching him like a hawk.

"It makes me wonder.." Jack continued, moving ever closer so his body was mere inches from yours and his calloused hand reached up to cup your face. He leant up and in a little closer, his lips only centimetres from yours. "A great pirate like you.. maybe you've gone soft.. maybe you could even be a whore and-"

That word set something ablaze inside of you, a boiling pit of rage and frustration overflowing within your guts. The only thing you could think about was teaching this cocky brat a lesson. Just before he could finish the rest of his insulting sentence, before he could kiss you; you snapped.

You pushed him back, slamming him against the opposite wall and knocking the breath out of him. Before Jack could get a single word or gasp out of his mouth, you crashed your lips against his and silenced him. His eyes widened in shock before he relaxed. He attempted to bring his hands up to cup your face but you gripped his wrists and slammed them against the wall with your iron grasp. This was a lesson.

You bit down on his lower lip and squeezed his wrists tighter, earning a low whine of protest from Jack as your larger body pushed him up against the wall. Soon your hands left his wrists and he got the message, holding onto the edge of the counter lining the ships wall. Jack gripped the polished wood so hard he thought his rings would splinter the expensive timber. His breath hitched as you wrapped your hand around his neck, only needing one to pleasurably restrict his blood flow.

Heat pooled between his legs when your hand tightened around his neck, a choked whine escaping his lips as lightheaded pleasure filled his senses. You took this opportunity to slide your tongue into his mouth, making his legs almost buckle. Your kisses became even more aggressive and vicious as you tasted him, pinning him roughly up against the wall. The fiery taste of rum and salt on his lips spurred you on as Jack mewled in your grasp. You were so good, it made him lose himself almost instantly. The way you squeezed his neck, how your rough fingers pressed against his arteries so he could breathe easily through his nose while you ravaged his now kiss-bitten lips.. he wanted more, oh so much more...

Jacks greed eventually got the better of him and he clawed at your free hand, trying to move it towards his hips. You growled low in your throat, warning him. He didn't listen, desperate for more pleasure as he dug his nails into your hand. You pulled away with a rough curse, gripping his dreaded locks and dragging him away from the wall and down into the next room; your quarters.

The man yelped in a pleasurable sort of pain, opening his mouth to protest. You didn't let him, throwing him down into the messy nest of furs, fabrics, and blankets that was your bed. You held Jack down on his stomach, one hand pressing down between his shoulder blades and your knee in the small of his back. Nothing could be heard except for Jacks laboured breathing, the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull, and the metallic noise of you unclasping your belt.

You dragged the thick, worn, leather strap from around your waist before wrapping his tightly around Jacks wrists. He watched as you wrapped the belt further around an iron ring connected to the wall, unable to move his hands. Now that he was restrained and laying on his stomach in your bed, you could begin his real lesson.

Jack buried his face in the fabrics, your scent making arousal rock through his body in steady waves; yet it was also weirdly comforting to him. He felt you over him, your knees on either side of his hips as you leant down to bite and kiss at his neck.

You moved his hair ever so gently to the side, your lips and teeth leaving dark hickeys all over his sweet, salty skin. Jacks breathing became heavy once more as he tried to hide this fact by muffling his face in the furs. Eventually it became too hot and Jack couldn't breathe, so he just lay his head to the side and took it; not even bothering to preserve his dignity or hide his rough pants and gasps anymore when you suckled marks onto his skin.

You were marking Jack as yours and the very thought made his hips stutter forward ever so slightly. A small whine escaped his lips and you scowled, one hand moving to pull his hips up away from the bed. Jack was now face down ass up, a humiliated blush spreading over his features as he panted. One of your hands was in his hair, tightly gripping his locks and keeping his neck exposed while you marked him. The other held his hips, keeping him pressed against your body but unable to grind down against the sheets where he needed it most.

A choked breath was pushed from Jacks lips as he realized exactly what situation he was in. You weren't going to give him any sort of pleasure. You were going to hold him up like this and mark him up until he was a pleading mess. Jack didn't want that, he was greedy for more, anything more; and you knew it.

Jacks heavy panting and gasps filled the room, occasionally breaking it up with low keening whines as you tugged his hair and marked his neck. Eventually he couldn't take this torture any longer.

"P-please.. Indulge me, I beg you.." Jack panted, swallowing and licking his lips. His own breaking, reedy voice surprised him. "Need more..."

Jack lay his head to the side as you pulled away from his neck, letting out a low groan as you squeezed his hips and silently warned him not to try and thrust back down against the bed.

You decided to treat him knowing that his stubborn greed and wants would get both of you nowhere. So instead of taking away what he wanted, you would give it to him. Oh yes you would, you would give him what he wanted until he was a squirming, moaning mess just pleading for you to stop.

Jack practically melted in your grasp once more as your hot mouth came in contact with the sensitive skin of his neck. Your sharp teeth grazed over the fresh bruises, your tongue gliding over their wake.

The sensation distracted his attention long enough for you to slip your large, rough hands into the soft cotton fabric of his pants. the low whine echoing in his throat turned into a strangled moan as your hand wrapped around his stiff, leaking shaft.

He buried his face in the furs once more, his hips trembling as your mouth continued to work at his neck and your hand tightened around his cock. Jack could feel himself dripping into your tight fist as he bit down on the thick wool of a blanket, his eyes rolling back in pure ecstasy. Nonetheless, he remained obedient and kept his hips as still as possible while your hand worked him into oblivion.

[daydreamgoddess14]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 6

And what if I maybe decided that this isn't actually the last chapter?

Don't ask how my work week is going, I stupidly wrote this instead of the draft report I need to submit on Friday.... Incidentally, the report has a shorter wordcount than this chapter so technically, technically all I need is some actual ooomph to go ahead and write it!

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Masterlist

Tagging: @cillmequick & @thomasshelbyswife

Chapter 6

Weeks had passed since Seren had left. She made her way around the aisle of the supermarket with her new charge, not too fast and not too slow. Heaven forbid she get the speed wrong. 

“That jam there, on the middle shelf.” The elderly woman in the wheelchair said suddenly, pointing vaguely at approximately 80 jars of jam variations.

“This one?”

“No, down.”

“This?”

“No left a bit, the one that looks like cherries.”

“Cherry jam then?”

“No, the one next to it.” Seren resisted the urge to smash every jar on the floor. She held up another jar. “That’s the ticket, love. Now, eggs.”

“You don’t like eggs?” “I want you to make a cake. Coffee and walnut.” Seren hesitated, her last coffee and walnut cake had been demolished in the space of about four hours by David and River.

“How about a vicky sponge instead?” She suggested, scanning the shelves.

“Too sweet. Next to the eggs, there, the walnuts.”

“Coffee and walnut, my favourite.” Another voice chimed in.

“Mine too! She’s refusing to make it though.”

“I’m not refusing, I just-” Seren turned back to the lady, eggs and walnuts in hand. Alongside her stood River.

“Fine Mags, I’ll make coffee and walnut.” She dumped the stuff in the basket on Maggie’s lap. “Excuse me.” She said politely to River and went to push the wheelchair on. “Seren, wait, please?”

“Who’s this young man?” 

“River, nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, Maggie blushed.

“Seren, you told me you were single!”

“I am.”

“I think I’d remember if you’d told me about this fella. He’s very handsome,” she turned to River, “you’re very handsome.”

“That’s because I haven’t told you about him. There’s nothing to tell. This is an old… acquaintance, that’s all.” Maggie’s bark of laughter turned into a hacking cough.

“Old acquaintance. Do I look bloody daft?”

“Come on, we’ve got to get a move on. Senior swim time.” Seren turned the wheelchair away from River and started at speed down the rest of the aisle.

“Bet he’d love to see you in a cossie.”

“Margaret Monroe!” 

“I’m only saying, love. If you’ve got it, flaunt it.” As they rounded the next aisle, Maggie turned in her chair to Seren, “he’s still there.” She whispered loudly enough to be heard by the entirety of the store. “Corrr and he’s looking at you like you hung the moon.” 

“Give it a rest, Mags.” Seren could feel the heat in her cheeks.

“It’s rude to ignore people.” The older woman said sternly.

“It’s a long story. We’ve got to go otherwise you’ll miss swimming.” Maggie raised her hand and waved to River who caught them up easily with no wheelchair to manoeuvre around. 

“How do you know the lovely Seren then?”

“She looked after my grandfather.”

“Oh!” She said brightly, then her face fell a little, “did he die? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. He’s… fine. He’s his usual self.” River confirmed, noting the relief that crossed Seren’s face.

“Why’d she leave then? Why’d you leave?” Maggie looked back and forth between them.

“I told you, it’s a long story. Do you want to go swimming or not?” Maggie huffed. 

“It was nice to meet you, love. We’re off to the leisure centre for a swim. She keeps telling me it’s good for me.”

“Sounds fun. It was nice to meet you Maggie, see you again.”

“No you won’t.” Seren interrupted.

“Can I call you?” He asked quickly, before the opportunity to ask had disappeared.

“No, please don’t.”

“You should! God knows this girl needs to smile more. Either that or she needs a proper good-”

“I smile loads.” Seren scowled, interrupting quickly to stop Maggie from saying something less appropriate. Maggie rolled her eyes. As she went to push the wheelchair through the checkout, River dropped Seren’s favourite chocolate bar into the basket.

“For after swimming.” He shrugged. “It’s really good to see you. Still wearing my hoodie though?” He smiled faintly. Seren nodded at the unexpected gesture and to her surprise, River was the one to walk away. As Seren watched him leave, Maggie chattered away next to her.

“Well you kept him quiet, what a lovely man Seren! Bet he’d show you a good time,” the older lady sniggered.

“Stop interfering, you old perv.” Seren teased her gently. “I’m going to stop getting you those smutty books from the library.” She threatened.

“Don’t you dare. I deserve to get my thrills from somewhere young lady.” Seren let her talk, her mind drifting to River. He’d done exactly as she’d asked and not contacted her in weeks. A week after the confrontation in the barn, she received a small box with her book, phone charger, chocolate and various other things she’d left behind at David’s house. It had been hand delivered to her house, she hadn’t sent a thank you message. As the weeks had gone on, she found her anger giving way to sadness. She still felt foolish for having trusted both River and David so completely, she began to feel more betrayed than angry. She’d fended off nosey questions from Maggie when she’d first started looking after her, her bruises still visible and her hand still tightly wrapped. She was so easily distracted by a tall flash of dirty blonde hair in the corner of her eye and now, with the unexpected meeting in the supermarket, she found herself wondering if she’d been right all along and he had really been there, she hadn’t imagined it or wished for it. With Maggie safely back at home, Seren poured herself a glass of wine and tried to settle with a book. A light tap at the door stirred her. River.

“I told you not to come here.” “You told me not to call.” She rolled her eyes, holding the door so it was clear he wasn’t going to be welcomed inside.

“I told you I didn’t want to see you again.”

“I know.”

“So? Why are you here?” She looked at him properly for the first time. Stubble longer than normal, a mournful look in his eyes and dark circles underneath. She knew she didn’t look much better, Maggie told her daily how sad her eyes were. Her resolution to not let him in was wavering. With a sigh, she pulled open the door fully. “Come in. 5 minutes, that’s all you get.” He slipped past her gratefully and she could smell the soap and aftershave he used, scents that had long deserted the hoodie she continued to wear.

“I wanted to apologise. Properly, I mean. I didn’t get a chance really that night, or when you came back to get your car. It was… fucked up. You should never have been caught up in it all.”

“You should have told me the truth.”

“How could I?” He asked, desperately. “I had to keep you safe.” 

“Safe?” She scoffed, closing the space between them and moving the neckline of her top to one side, “I still have the bruises!” Barely visible to the naked eye, River could see the faint marks which still littered her neck. Without thinking, he brought his hand up and traced the outline with his finger. He could make out her pulse, her heart pounded, and the movement of her nervous swallow. She took a step back, shaking her head, “don’t touch me.” She pleaded. His hand and his gaze dropped down to her hand where she still had a bandage.

“Still not healed?” He asked, his voice hoarse. He lifted it gently, holding it in both of his hands.

“They had to align the fracture. Two more weeks and I can take this off.” She felt a warm tear drop onto the exposed skin on the palm of her hand and looked up at him. 

“You got hurt because of me-” he started.

“I got hurt because I stupidly thought I could punch a grown man. I was an idiot, trying to protect David - who apparently can handle himself just fine.” 

“No, you were incredible. If you hadn’t been there… I wouldn’t have been there in time. They’d have done it, they’d have killed him.” She knew she should take another step back but the warmth of his body was intoxicating and she was struggling to hold onto her anger. He released her hand and wiped his eyes.

“How is he?”

“Pain in the arse. Hates everyone they send to look after him. He misses you.”

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me the guilty one.”

“I didn’t mean to, sorry. It’s just… he was better with you, I think.”

“He went through a crazy evening, finding out your old workplace wants you dead is a bit mental.”

“I was better with you.”

“River-”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry again.”

“Stop apologising, you’re doing my head in. You look like crap.” She muttered, wrapping her arms around him. 

“Yeah, so grandad keeps telling me.” He let his head drop into the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

“It’s just a hug, that’s all you get then you can fuck off.” She felt him nod against her and the soft huff of his breath on her skin. The proximity and familiarity made her heart flutter. She reluctantly released the hug, for her own sanity. He watched her intently, the conflict in her eyes clearly visible. He brought his hands up to cup her face and she leaned into his touch, a trembling sigh passing her lips as he met her in a soft, uncertain kiss. She pulled away first, placing a hand on his chest to push herself back. “No. No, I’m still so angry, River.” She paced back and forth in front of him. “I feel like such an idiot for trusting you so implicitly.” She told him, the accusatory tone to her voice gave away the anger rising in her again. She backed further away from him. “You should go now. I asked you not to come.” She marched past him and flung the door open wide. “Go now please, I can’t… I need to stop thinking about you, and the only way I can do that is to not be near you.” She trailed off weakly. He paused as he passed her. 

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He admitted cautiously. Seren reached for him first, her traitorous body overruling her mind and all sense of reason. She caught the edge of his jacket and pulled him down into a far less hesitant kiss than the previous one. He kicked the front door shut again and pressed her back against the wall. She led him down the short hallway, dropping his jacket and her (his) hoodie along the way. River pulled off the oversized t-shirt she wore, surprised to find nothing underneath and enveloped her in his arms. He walked her backwards through her open bedroom door, both of them tripping on her discarded shorts, his t-shirt. She pulled him with her onto the bed, hissing in pain as she realised she'd used the wrong hand. He slotted between her open thighs and turned her hand gently, kissing the slither of exposed skin between the thumb and index finger. Seren wanted to hold onto the anger she felt was justified, but she couldn't deny how much she wanted him. He stopped suddenly and she held her breath, waiting. She felt a kiss at the base of her throat and then at each ghost of a fingertip bruise on her neck, faint, but he found them all. She choked back a sob.

“I hate that I need you so badly.” Her whisper turned into a low moan as his long fingers teased a path through the thin layer of her underwear, already soaked with her need for him. She bucked against his hand, holding it in place tightly with her good hand. 

“Show me, Seren,” he demanded quietly, “show me what you need.” He slid the underwear down her legs. She covered his hand with her own and guided it to where she wanted him most. River thrust his fingers into her torturously slowly, building her orgasm from so deeply inside she could hardly breathe. "I've got you," he murmured through kisses, "I've got you." His thumb brushed against her clit and she rocked into him. She grasped at his shoulders as she got closer and closer to the edge. "I want this… want you, always." He kissed her hard as she came, swallowing her moans as she clenched around his fingers, his name on her lips. He worked her through the orgasm, watching her with a mix of pride and lust as she fell boneless into the mattress. 

“I’m not sure this is an appropriate way to earn forgiveness, River.” She whispered, a giggle bubbling in her chest for the first time in weeks.

“Thought I was never going to see you smile again,” he half joked.

“‘M not smiling.”

“Yeah you are.”

“It’s the endorphins. Totally out of my control.” She sat up to look at him, covering herself with her arm. “How do you still have clothes on?” She gestured to his jeans.

“I was more bothered about getting yours off,” he admitted. 

“Some things never change.”

“I’ve missed you so much, Seren.” His head dropped to his chest with a heavy sigh, the tension between them finally cracking. She moved her hand from where it covered her chest and brought it to cup his face, her fingertips running over the stubble. “Everytime I sleep, I see Duffy pointing that fucking gun at you.” He said hoarsely, laying bare his helplessness. Seren closed her eyes, trying to blink away the tears.

“Oh, love.” She sighed. Removing her hand from his face, she got off the bed and pulled on the closest item of clothing, his t-shirt. Then she set about closing the bedroom curtains and switching off the light in the hallway. He watched her from the edge of the bed until she stood directly in front of him. “C’mon, clothes off, we’re going to bed.” She nudged him. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She disappeared to what he assumed was the bathroom and came out a few minutes later in a t-shirt of her own. She put the one she’d taken off with the jeans he’d left by the bed and pulled back the covers of the bed. She folded her body around him, tucking her knees behind his and pressing her chest to his back. He could feel her warm breath on the back of his neck and her hand curled around onto his chest and for the first time in weeks they both fell asleep straight away. Seren woke on and off through the night to soft caresses and kisses until they succumbed to sleep again. In the early hours, fuelled by a restful night, she felt River curl around her, pressing hard into the soft flesh of her thighs. She rolled onto her back and pulled him to cover her body, pressing her heels into the back of his thighs to guide him into her. It was still so dark in her room that she could hardly see him. She let her hands guide her, trailing up his arms, over his broad back, down to squeeze his thigh, back up and into his hair. He matched with each roll of her hips, slowly and languidly. The darkness made everything quieter, his whispered affirmations, praise and moans were dizzying. Seren clung to him like she never wanted to let go, holding him to her as they both came. When she woke again, she was alone. If it hadn’t been for the ache between her thighs, it could have easily been a dream. 

*

River clattered up the stairs to Lamb’s office with more energy than he’d had in weeks, though his face did not share the same spirit.

“Blimey, you’re positively sprightly this morning. What’s wrong with your face?”

“It’s just my face. Ewelina has walked out on the old bastard.”

“Was she the Polish girl?”

“Yep, he insulted her cooking.”

“How many is that now?”

“He’s gone through eight, I think? He didn’t like Glenys-”

“No one fucking liked Glenys.”

“Or Debbie, Sarah, Pete-”

“What was wrong with Pete?” Lamb asked, incredulous.

“He couldn’t play chess. Shame, he left some decent IPA behind.”

“Is there anyone left?”

“Dunno, guess we’ll have to ask Taverner.” Lamb laughed,

“No, no Cartwright, you will have to ask Lady Di. Not me.”

“Go on Lamb, please? She’ll kill me.”

“While I would pay to see that, I’ll settle for watching you make the call.” He sniggered. With a heavy sigh, River took the outstretched phone.

“Umm, hi? It’s Cartwright? River Cartwright?” Lamb couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation to his disappointment. “Yep, another one. No, he just says they’re all shit. Great, thanks.” He hung up and passed back the phone. 

“Sending someone else?”

“So she says.”

“Y’know Cartwright, I’m quite enjoying the inconvenience all of this is causing for Lady Di. I feel like it’s a bit of vindication for us.” Lamb said decidedly.

The cause of the inconvenience tutted into his coffee, his mind wasn’t playing ball and the crossword was giving him more trouble than he deemed necessary. Outside, he heard a car far larger than River’s arrive, accompanied by a neat knock on his back door.

“David. Seems I have a reason to be here again?”

“Diana, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well the pleasure is certainly not mine, I assure you.”

“Coffee?”

“Hmm,” Diana Taverner looked around David’s kitchen while he pottered around making her a cup of coffee. “You’ve declined another approved carer?” “They weren’t suitable.”

“None of them?” She scoffed. “I do find that hard to believe. You’re becoming a nuisance, David. I’m starting to regret not letting Duffy shoot you.”

“You don’t mean that,” he smiled.

“I actually do. I want this resolved, I want this off my desk, and the next time I hear your name, I want it to be when I find out that you died peacefully in your bed. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“So what is it you want?” David hesitated.

“I want Seren back.”

“The girl from the barn?” He nodded.

“I got on with her, she understood me. We had an agreement.” Taverner frowned.

“Cartwright, you know she’s not service approved. Our agreement was that you would have someone who was service approved.”

“So employ her? It’s not that difficult, surely?” She drank her coffee in silence. 

“Will it shut you up?”

“There’s a good chance of that, yes.” He held up a finger, “but I don’t want River to know, not until it’s done.”

“That’s making the very big assumption that I’m going to do this for you?”

“You want it off your desk. That’s how it goes.” 

“I don’t like being held over a barrel like this.”

“Should have shot me when you had the chance then.” Taverner laughed,

“Yes, well - touché. Very well. You won’t hear from me again.” She left her half drunk coffee on the table and David went back to his crossword.

*

Seren hadn’t heard from River at all. She sat with Maggie side by side in a brightly lit corridor, like naughty schoolgirls waiting to go to the office.

“I don’t like this.” Maggie grumbled.

“I know, but Daniel and Penny think it’s the right thing for you.”

“We’re coping perfectly fine, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are, but you’ll have a lot more friends here?” She held out a leaflet, “look, they go to senior swim as well? And trips to the cinema and Kew Gardens - you love Kew Gardens.” Maggie huffed.

“I like living in my own bloody house.” Seren didn’t respond. Maggie hadn’t taken the news of moving to a care home well at all. Her daughter and son-in-law were in the office finalising the details of her new ensuite room. “Will you visit me?”

“Of course I will, Mags. Try and stop me.” Seren took Maggie’s hand and kissed the back of it. 

“You’re a good girl, Seren. What will you do?” She shrugged.

“No idea. Maybe a holiday? It’s been a weird year so far.”

“Somewhere sunny. Get that swimming cossie out again.”

“I’m starting to think you’ve got a thing about my cossie, Mags.”

“Maybe in my younger days darling. Don’t tell Penny.” Seren smiled.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Mum? Shall we take you to see your room?” Penny emerged from the office.

“I’ll go and have a look at the garden,” Seren told them and then dropped down to talk to Maggie, “be nice!” She warned her. She wandered around the extensive garden of the very exclusive - and expensive - care home. She wondered whether David had gotten the fence painted before the weather had turned, whether the plants they’d chosen were thriving. Her phone rang in her pocket and she pulled it out, the screen still cracked. She really needed to get that fixed. “Seren Harrison?”

“Ms Harrison, I have a call for you from Diana Taverner at Thames House. Can I connect you?”

“Uhh-” Seren’s response was a very undignified stutter and the call was connected before she could accept - or refuse - it. “Hello?”

“Ahh, hello. We weren’t introduced previously. I’m Diana Taverner, I hope you don’t mind my calling?” Seren stumbled over her words and formed some sort of non-committing answer. “Good. I was with David Cartwright a couple of weeks ago, has he been in touch?”

“No, why, what’s happened to him?”

“Nothing at all, more's the pity. He’s been getting through designated home assistance at quite a rate,” Seren couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “It’s becoming very frustrating. Apparently, he will only have you helping him.”

“Me?”

“You got along, did you not?” Seren recalled numerous plates and mugs she replaced but the memory was quickly overruled by ones of doing the crossword, drinking tea in the garden and learning how to play chess.

“We did,” she said softly.

“It seems the ties that bind you both mean a great deal to him. He would like me to make you an offer of employment.” Seren held her breath. “If that is acceptable to you?” Seren could almost hear David’s voice in her ear ‘don’t give in easily, make them work for it’. 

“Well, I’d need to know the terms of the contract, of course.” She stammered. Taverner sighed.

“Yes, yes. I’ll have someone send it over to you by courier. They will wait for an immediate return or dismissal though?”

“I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

“I certainly hope so. I do not want to have to deal with this any longer. I must go, I have a meeting with the Prime Minister shortly. I trust the contract will meet your approval, it’s likely you won’t hear from me again so you have both my admiration and commiserations for managing the Cartwright’s. You deserve a bloody damehood.” Seren nearly laughed at Taverner’s exasperated sigh.

“They’re definitely hard work.” She agreed.

“Indeed. Goodbye Ms Harrison, and thank you.” The call rang off before Seren could respond and from the conservatory, Maggie called and waved to her.

She parked in her usual spot. The revolving door of carers hadn’t bothered with the weeds on the driveway, she noted. She knocked and waited patiently, her hand had barely moved from the woodwork when the door flung open.

“Can I help you?” He asked impatiently. Seren sighed.

“Mr Cartwright, it’s Seren. I umm, well you see -” she tried to think of the best way to explain, the best way to re-introduce herself when she saw the corner of David’s mouth pulling into a smile. “You old git!” She scolded him with a grin.

“Couldn’t help myself my dear.” He beamed. “May I?” He held out his arms and she hugged him warmly. “It’s good to have you back.”

“It’s good to be back. I take it you’ve been quite the troublemaker?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Seren dear. It’s been quite an ordeal, really.”

“Hmm. Why don’t you offer me a proper apology over tea? I brought cake.”

“Coffee and walnut?”

“Of course. Chess?”

“Naturally. Come on in.” Seren followed him into the house, the familiarity of it washing over her. Despite the break in, she felt safe and calm there. They caught up over cake. Seren found that she was no longer angry. Knowing that she was a fully paid up Park employee, David spoke more openly about his past. She knew there would always be things he would keep from her, but he was able to articulate fully what had happened when they’d been in the barn. He told her of his worries about River not sleeping properly, eating junk and his overall desolate attitude.

“I take it he doesn’t know I’m here?” She asked carefully. As he went to respond, the sound of a car turning on the driveway filtered through from the kitchen window.

“I suspect he does now.” He mused as River came to a stop quietly in the doorway.

Chapter 7

[life-of-a-rat]

JUST SPEEDRAN THRU YOUR REVERSE TIMETRAVEL AU TAG ANYWAYS I'M THINKING MENTALLY UNWELL THOUGHTS.

Specifically just. Hold on I need to get in story teller mode *ahem*

So. It's quite obvious, the missing space where the future Tim and future Sasha should be. But they aren't. For awhile it was simply thought to be because this was the house of future Martin and Jon, not the house of the missing future Tim or Sasha!

But that empty space quickly became VERY aparent. Especially when noting how the future pair acted towards the past Sasha and Tim.

The future Jon was cagey, more cagey than what could be excused as "well it's abit awkward to be around a past version of your friends" and instead more the level of "I did something awful but you don't know what that awful thing is yet"

Future Martin was not nearly as shakey but with Sasha he acted as if she was more a friend of a friend of a friend of a cousin than someone he actually knew. With Tim he still had a familiarity but also a level of sadness- not that guilty saddness that the future Jon had but more the one of- mourning? He was good at not showing it but Sasha was not daft and Tim was the kind of fellow who paid extra mind towards others and how they felt- especially when those emotions were related to him

So, yes, the pair did notice the fact their future selves were not around.

AND SCENE. Insert clapping.

So uh yeah I am intensely thinking abt Tim and Sashas opinions on their future selves absences <3 and how future Martin n Jon feel about the past versions of their gone Coworkers <3

People keep sending in these amazing things but I can only offer these silly comics.

(I’m not saying that you should stop, I love reading these)

[todaywasamaritale]

‘small talk in the kitchen, dated dumb traditions’

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[annaelizabethhenry1]

Spy Royale

Summary: River Cartwright finally may have found a way out of Slough House when a minor member of the Royal Family is hit with death threats and needs protection. The posh socialite Lady Alice Highgrove is niece to the King and isn’t keen on having some government lacky tagging along after her all day, crimping her style. However, when it becomes very apparent someone is indeed trying to off her, she and River are left untangling a web of deceit that goes back to a very unsuspecting place. Question is will they be able to figure it out before it’s too late for both of them?

Warnings: Violence similar to the show/books and cursing and bodily functions from Jackson Lamb ;-) River Cartwright x OC. As to spoilers I’m trying to stick to the end of season one as the pick-up point of this story so more people can enjoy it.

Word Count: 2,481

Chapter One

River Cartwright huffed up the creaky staircase of Slough House balancing a case of copy paper that had just been delivered.

“Catherine! Where do you want the paper to go? Copy room or your office?”

River started when she soundlessly appeared in front of him from the opposite end of the hall.

“Oh, River – thank you!” she said smiling, almost shyly. “My office. Last time I left it in the copy room half of it disappeared in less than a week. Some people have no qualms about stealing supplies from MI5.”

River pursed his lips and said, “Yeah, what cheap arseholes we work with.” Including himself as guilt washed over him.

“Cartwright!”

River dropped the case of paper at the sound of Lamb’s voice. He knew he should’ve waited till Lamb popped out for lunch next door to bring this upstairs, but River hated how nervous Catherine would get if he left it near the entrance – heaven forbid someone fell in an emergency she always said.

“River do be careful – it almost landed on my foot.”

“So, sorry Catherine,” he said.

River sighed, his shoulders drooping at the thought of dealing with Lamb. He shuffled across the hall to Lamb’s office – entering a thick cloud of cigarette smoke tinged with the rotting remnants of pad Thai in the rubbish bin from the night before.

“You screamed?”

“Is that a question? You’re so daft you don’t recognize my voice?”

River bit his lower lip, forcing himself to not respond to the jab.

“Just making sure.”

“Yeah, well thankfully we don’t have any other rejects from your gene pool cluttering up the office. Good thing your mum quit while she was ahead and stopped at you.”

What an insufferable twat, River thought.

Lamb descended into a coughing fit that shook his whole body. River wondered how he passed his medical every year sounding like a tuberculosis patient.

“Anyway, Lady Di has a task for you – seems you were chosen especially since you’ll relate well to the environment among other things.”

“Oh?” River was curious, but worried given how the Park liked to screw Slough House at every turn.

“Yeah – protection duty.”

River’s face perked up as he imagined some high ranking government official in need of his services. “I’m grateful for the opportunity.”

Lamb grabbed the file nearest him and waved it towards River. River reached over to grab it. “Yeah, don’t thank me yet.” Lamb released the folder and leaned back in his chair as it groaned under the strain of his grith.

River opened the file and frowned. “Why does she need protection if she’s never had it before?”

“Death threats – the Royal Family has been getting a slew since the coronation.”

“Isn’t this detail usually handled by the Met?”

Propping his sock encased feet up on the desk, he leaned back further, hands now resting on his rotund belly. “Yep, not enough resources to babysit a spoiled rich girl.”

“She’s only the niece of the King – they must feel it’s credible to give her protection, no?”

“Seems so. Personally I hate the lot of them. That pomp shite – huge waste of taxpayer money. Anointed by divine right my ass. You wouldn’t catch me bowing to someone who shits just like everyone else.”

Right on cue Lamb ripped a loud fart. River backed away to avoid the oncoming stench.

River flipped through the file, skimming over the threat assessment report and his assignment’s fact sheet. Lady Alice Highgrove, age 28 went to Cambridge University, job socialite. What? That’s not a job. Sure he’d seen her splashed across the gossip pages pictured at glitzy events Royals attended, but he didn’t realize that was all she did. River had a bad feeling about this duty.

“Umm, maybe Louisa would be better suited for this as she’s a woman.” Not that Louisa would get on with a spoiled Royal socialite, but at least she’d maybe vibe with the girly crap he dreaded.

Lamb belly laughed, his greasy hair shaking on his head. “She’d murder her inside of 24 hours.”

“One of the dogs?”

“Nope. Lady Di said her Royalness wanted someone at least somewhat attractive.”

River quirked a half grin.

“Yeah, don’t let that go to your head. You’re not being chosen for your skills, but for your pretty boy looks. Her father the Duke demanded she get government protection – you know him right – Duke of Windemere?”

“Ah, yes – the sketchy one with ties to Middle Eastern sheiks and princes and whispers about underage girls.”

“Yeah, that’s the one – don’t get mixed up in anything dodgy. Trot off to the Park for your gun and a stipend. They’re expecting you.”

“What?” River lit up – they were entrusting him with a gun? Maybe this was his ticket back into the Park.

“God, you look like an excited golden retriever. Don’t fuck this up Cartwright – or else they’ll stuff you in the Tower of London and throw away the key.”

“River,” Catherine chirped at him as he neared the staircase.

He stopped and smiled at her, “Yeah?”

“I had seen the file – I’m so proud you got the detail. I think you have a chance of finally getting out of here. You’re grandfather will be chuffed – protecting a Royal.”

“God, I hope so. And she’s a minor Royal,” River said attempting to down play the importance of the protection detail. He didn’t want to give his hopes up, especially since he didn’t know what Lady Alice was like when she wasn’t smiling in a fashionable ensemble.

“Nonsense! She attends Christmas at Sandringham and Royal Ascot. This is so exciting.”

River chuckled. “I think maybe you’d like the detail more than I would. I’ll text you if I need any insight – which I might.”

Catherine looked down and then focused upwards again on River. “That’s kind you’d think I’d be able to help you.”

River didn’t want to point out the obvious – namely her stack of Royal Life and Hello, arranged neatly in chronological order coupled with a Golden Jubilee mug she had on her desk as dead give aways that she certainly knew more about the world he was about to enter.

River arrived at Regents Park about 30 minutes later, file clutched in his hand with a spring in his step. Security let him through seamlessly as he was on the visitor list for a change and he didn’t even need an escort this time. Things were looking up.

Pushing his way through the maze of corridors, he spotted Spider up ahead holding a cup of coffee in one hand and an iPad in the other. River contemplated jogging to catch-up to him, but stopped himself from gloating about the protection detail. Did he need to brag and tempt the fates? No, absolutely not. He had had so little luck since crashing Stanstead that it wasn’t worth the momentary charge it would give him and risk the wrath of karma.

River knocked at an inconspicuous door that required a card swipe which he did not have – yet. He heard shuffling on the other side and the lock disengage. Duffy appeared in the doorway and eyeballed River with a blank look on his face.

“It’s the prodigal nepobaby. I assume you’re here for your service weapon and stipend?”

“Nice to see you too, Duffy. And yes I am,” River said entering the drab windowless office.

“Better you than me. Hope you enjoy garden parties and horse shows and all that posh crap,” Duffy said while unlocking a large metal cabinet. It was the gun safe. He pulled a simple handgun out, checked the tag, jotted down the number onto a form and continued, “Try not to shoot yourself in the foot or worse her with it. You’ll need to sign the form. Let me grab some bullets.”

River signed the release form. Duffy returned with bullets and a small back holster for the weapon. “Oh, and this,” he added, pulling out a credit card from a drawer in his desk. “Remember any charges will require back-up proof of the work necessity for the purchase.”

“Of course, I’ll keep a log. Thanks, Duffy.”

“You need to report to her flat at Kennington Palace at six this evening. She’s attending a fundraiser at the National Portrait Gallery. Look like you belong there – suit, tie – got it?” Duffy said.

“I know how to dress,” River said suppressing an eye roll. No bad karma. He had to stay charming, polite and lose his frustrated attitude about his work.

River arrived early at the Palace to ensure he wouldn’t upset his charge. An actual real life butler answered the door and let him into a foyer more grand than luxury hotels. To the right was a semi-spiral staircase to the left a checkerboard black and white marble floor that led to an archway where he heard a commotion.

A small ball of fur darted out in a blur of brown and white with flying floppy ears. All energy and shrill barking. River took a step back as it charged at him, excited paws scratching on his trouser leg.

“Whoa! Down boy or girl!” River tried backing up more and more till he bumped a plantstand.

“Sir! Have a care, please!” the butler said as he rushed over to steady a large crystal bowl of fresh flowers.

“So sorry,” River responded, feeling his cheeks warm.

In the chaos River hadn’t seen the young woman who he recognized as Lady Alice Highgrove enter. She wore a smirk as she bent down to pick up the energetic dog. “Naughty, naughty Mr. Darcy, you scared mummy’s new friend.” She nuzzled the dog to her cheek while batting her eyes at River.

“Pleased to meet you ma’am,” River extended his hand which she didn’t take and continued, “I’m River Cartwright.”

Lady Alice gave him the once over. “You’ll do, but you are bit more scruffy than I expected. I thought protection detail had to be clean shaven. Oh, and it’s Lady Alice, not ma’am. God, I’m not that old yet,” she said in a very posh RP accent.

She wandered past the archway into another room while River stood there wondering what he was supposed to do. “Well, aren’t you coming? Are you daft or something?”

“Uh, no, I didn’t want to seem impertinent,” River mumbled.

River took a deep breath. He was so out of his league with this detail. He hadn’t had time to find a protocol sheet on what to call her and all that other nonsense etiquette rubbish. He’d text Catherine later for some pointers.

Following Lady Alice into what he assumed you’d call a sitting room, unless it was a drawing room – he had no idea what the difference was to be honest. He watched her drop down on a very overstuffed toile patterned sofa and put her dog down next to her. The dog wasn’t sitting for more than five seconds before he made a bee-line for River again, barking and anxiously scratching all over his leg again.

“He likes you! That’s a good sign. You can pet him, maybe he’ll stop pestering.”

River supressed a sigh. Bending, he patted the fluffy cavalier spaniel’s head and smiled. “Hi there fella.” The dog snarled, snapped a little and River recoiled.

“Mr. Darcy! Stop that!”

“It’s okay, ma – I mean Lady Alice.”

“Is this your first day on the job?” she asked giving side long glance to her butler.

“No, I’m an experienced agent. I assure you.” Just not used to yipping dogs and Royal protocol he felt like adding. River also noticed she wasn’t dressed appropriately for a fundraiser at a museum more like a night out. He glanced at his watch, it was already quarter past five.

“You have somewhere to be?” Lady Alice asked, brow arched, head cocked, not unlike her dog as she too had brown hair and warm, but cunning hazel eyes.

“No, but don’t you? I was told you’re attending an event at the National Portrait Gallery tonight at six.”

“Oh, that’s what I told my parents. No, we’re actually going to Sketch to meet up with a friend of mine for drinks and then maybe a club afterwards.”

River scowled. There was no place more difficult to keep a potential target safe than a bar or nightclub. The noise, the crush of people, the lights, the alcohol and drug use made it a nightmare. Not to mention he couldn’t shadow her into the ladies toilets.

“Do you always look like that or do you have indigestion?��� Lady Alice asked, stroking Mr. Darcy’s head.

Taking a deep breath and trying to make his face as neutral as possible, River said, “No. I’m just concerned about the challenge of keeping you safe in a bar or a club.”

“You said you’re experienced. Plus, I can’t believe someone would want to hurt me. I’m like 18th in line or something. I’ve lost track, too many cousins with babies ahead of me.”

He forced a smile. “Yes, I am. Certain venues are just not ideal, especially since I already mapped all the exits out for the National Portrait Gallery and various routes away from the venue just in case.”

Lady Alice hopped off the sofa and strode towards River and patted his cheek nonchalantly, “Aww, how cute, you like to be prepared. James Bond improvises all the time quite well. I suspect you can, too.” 

River felt his cheeks burn and bit his lower lip to stifle himself. “With all do respect this isn’t a film and that’s not what MI-5 is like ma’am.” He called her that on purpose – two could play at this game.

“The Sketch is only on the other side of the park and isn’t far from the National Portrait Gallery, so don’t worry, it’s the same escape route back to this heap. Come on, Cartwright, I’ll even let you drive my car,” she said with a wink as she made her way to the foyer.  “Wilson, do you have my coat and bag ready?”

River had no choice but to follow after the spoiled Royal. The butler apparently named Wilson helped her into her coat and then handed her the handbag seemingly out of thin air. She clicked open the purse, dropped her phone in and pulled out a set of keys. Wilson opened the door and she exited, River trotted after her with the dog zooming through his legs, almost tripping River. Regaining his composure, he noticed the butler followed them out and saw his minor mishap – not of his doing. However, that didn’t stop Wilson from giving him glaring side-eye.

“You think maybe the dog needs a leash or some training?” River said to no one in particular as he just couldn’t help himself at the sheer frustration. No one paid his comment any mind and he muttered, “Fuck me – I’m screwed.”

[multifunctionalnitroglycerin]

Leona and Diana Old Lore / New Lore. My take on it

Okay so, I am relatively new to the League community, with barely three years under my belt, but lore is one of the things that interest me the most about it. And well, the dynamic between Sun and Moon coded characters is one I never pass up in exploring. Leodia is arguably my favorite ship from League, but it's mostly the idea of it, with recent executions leaving me feel kinda... meh.

So apart from probably having read every single half decent fic under the Leona/Diana tag on Ao3, I have scourged the internet for their lore and have come across quite a few references of their old one. Never found the complete thing though. And possibly unpopular opinion, I like it better than their current one.

That is not to say that the old lore is any sort of masterpiece, and people could argue that it doesn't set them up to be lovers, but I think with a little bit of tweeking it can become really good. Many of my ideas are inspired from a fic I probably read like 2 years ago, also features an OC named Helena and has a side of Riven's inner struggle, Riven and Diana friendship and Rivelia. (I cannot for the life of me remember the name, I apologise)

My problem with the New Lore mostly, is that it's vanilla for a mountain of warriors and *cultists* it feels almost like High School AU but try to fit it into League, and yeah it's not it for me. Also the co-dependence of their ascension, and just Leona's whole thing kinda sucks. Like I can see how people might see it as romantic and poetic and whatever, that they ascended at the same time and Leona followed Diana up the mountain to keep her safe etc. etc. but that's kinda glossing over some issues especially with Leona's character.

Now the new take on Leona's character is really interesting, and a complete 180 from the old lore and actually the idea isn't so bad, if they ACTUALLY DID ANYTHING WITH IT. Now as a person that definitely doesn't overanalyze literature and fictional characters for fun, Leona's new lore is such an interesting take and could be taken many directions if someone chose to explore it and go a bit deeper that "genocidal close-minded bigot".

At first read Leona is really just that. She does what she is told no hesitation, no questions asked and turns on Diana also no questions asked. But let's take it a bit deeper shall we?

I have no intention to make it as though Leona holds no blame for her actions or that she is a paragon of virtue, cause she is not. But if we dive in her story a bit more we could perhaps understand how she came to be what she is. Because under no circumstance do I think she is that daft. Especially if she was with Diana for years. Some of that curiosity must have rubbed off on her. Then again she could have just ignored everything Diana said about the Moon and her research. I guess we'll never know.

I do not intent to ramble about Leona in this post. But I'll give you some clues as to why her backstory and the whole Targonian premise is important. She is born practically into a cult, or well a religion with really strict and particular disciplines. So already an environment with very particular ideas and particular ways to enforce them. She is the daughter of two really strict and proud parents in said cult, who seem to care more abt her achievements and punishments than anything (Grade A parenting), - She doesn't even send them that letter in the end - and she is the golden child of the Solari. So what do we have in our hands? An affection starved perfectionist suffering from gifted child expectations. NOw take that and put it in the Solari premise of religious fanatism and voila!

(I will probably at some point make a separate post abt this, because I really took a deep dive in Leona's character when writing my Ruination fic - that I wont ever post anywhere probably - and I have a LOT to say)

So in the old Lore the Rakkori are the warriors and defenders of the mountain, a bit heavy on the bloodthirsty side though, hence the right of Kor. A coming of age ritual battle to the death. (What else could it be). Leona being the only one that refuses to kill her opponent and friend, is sentenced to be executed, but before the execution could be carried out, she is claimed by the Golden Sister as the Sun aspect with a beam of golden light.

I feel that Leona's ascension in particular is really important in the old Lore, because in such a warlike culture she was rewarded for showing mercy. She was chosen because she chose mercy over mindless slaughter. Something that could potentially be really important later on, in a mountain where half its indigenous people have slaughtered the other half??

Point 1 I like from the old lore: The Sun chose Leona because she was merciful. (Or had a semblance of a moral compass)

Moving forward the lines kinda blur for Diana, mostly cause I am not sure what I remember is actual lore and what is related to that magnificent fic.

Her curious truth-searching nature is ever present. She discovers hidden texts, burned pages and embarks on a journey of knowledge that leads her to climb the mountain. Only she is in the company of an elderly woman I think? Anyhow, she finds - is lead to - an alcove, an old temple and the relics of the Moon Aspect. Overjoyed at her findings she dons the armor takes it all down to the elders, they call her a heretic, brand her, and intent to kill her, when she begs the Moon for help and ascends. Either her or the moon blast kills every elder in the room she gets blamed either way, and the chase begins.

Diana is at her core an academic and a researcher, that researches. She has her Indiana Jones moment in the mountain and there is a process a ritual to it, instead of I just climbed up saw unimaginable terrors and now I am the aspect of the Moon (over-simplified I know. The climb judges worthiness). There is something about her checking old dusty books, and deciding to brave the climb looking for answers. About her choosing to be helpful -kinda as a mirror to Leona sparing her opponent, Diana, the one that keeps to herself - apart from when arguing abt academics and scriptures consciously engages with and helps a stranger, guiding them up the mountain and helping them along the way when the trip became too arduous.

Point 2 I like from the old lore: The ritual of the process in Diana's research and ascension and the mirroring with Leona, minor though it is, that they ascended - sooner or later - after an act of kindness that contradicted what would have been expected of them.

Point 3 I like from the old lore: The brand. Like it just adds another layer to Diana's character. And is a much better explanation for its presence than Moon magic. Also the amount of complications this act has, its just delicious. I mean THE DRAMA. and ofc THE TRAUMA. I don't think she'd go near a fire for months.

Point 3 I like from the old lore: The independence of the ascensions. It gives us the chance to see them grow and evolve as their own people before the thread of fate that binds them together appears. We get to see one without the other, and that would later make their dynamic more interesting.

But How are Leona and Diana connected?

In the old lore they aren't. I think. Leona is like a blood hound that needs to kill the heretic.

In the fic, Leona's dad was one of the guards in the room when Diana ascended and was killed, which in the context of the story adds a layer of betrayal between them, as up to that point they were lovers. And you know what, I really like that idea. And I was thinking that perhaps we could try to get the best of both worlds. Though it might be difficult to fully develop the idea.

Lore Idea:

So the Rakkor ans the Solari are different factions. Solari = priesthood, Rakkor = Warriors. Leona's family are Rakkori, and they are simple people, her father works as a guard for the Solari Temple, something that is considered a bit of an honor despite that fact that the factions don't rly see eye to eye about everything. Right of Kor happens when they are around 15 (Yes I want to traumatize a bunch of teenagers that train to fight, kill and defend since they could walk) and Leona's story proceeds as we know it. She then gets taken to the Solari temple to be educated in their way and train to become the figurehead of their faith. (Like that Leona has already had the chance to develop some critical thinking, and to experience sth different.)

She gets there and all the acolytes younger and older look at her starry eyed, because the elders told them so and because they see her like a bit of a Messiah. (Plus I doubt a bunch of scrawny academics and priests to be have seen anyone their age with that musculature). All of them apart from Diana, who as always isn't particularly impressed by the paragon in training of the Solari faith.

Leona is relieved to get some normal person treatment, even if it is from the broody girl with her nose in a book half the time, and like the cocky 15year old meathead she is, she wants to show off a bit and perhaps win her favor. Shenanigans ensue and Diana unlike the other people that desperately want to befriend Leona, is not impressed.

Another point of similarity is that Leona - that has ascended already mind you - would have a few questions and oppositions to all that mumbo jumbo the Solari say about the Sun and the Moon. So after she flops exceptionally in one oration or sth class, with saying something positive about the Moon that has the students look at her with horror, and the priest fuming and screaming punishments - light ones, because the Sun chose that clueless miscreant, and he doesn't want to fall out of her favor - Leona manages unknowingly to win inquisitive Diana's intrigue - and favor, (but don't tell anyone about the last part).

A tentative bond forms. It gets solidified when Leona stops a few bullies from beating Diana to a pulp, and the dark haired girl in return helps her pass a class she was having an exceptionally hard time with. Diana - who in my head is a year younger - does eventually get charmed by the surprisingly goofy and sunny disposition of the Sun Aspect in training. (Don't get this wrong Leona will still act like a 15 yo that has had to train and fight every day of her life) Diana asks her countless questions about life outside the temple and they discuss theology together, either trying to help Leona understand, or trying to make sense of Diana's findings. (The Rakkori in my head are far more neutral abt Sun and Moon, more like if there is light and I can see I am happy, whether its the Sun or the Moon. "There was even that one traveler from some big city, Pilt - something was it, that even said that the Sun and Moon are like orbs in the night sky, one is a star rly close to us and the other is like a smaller planet or something, can you imagine?")

The become friends, the Nightless Eve happens, and then they become lovers. Leona starts suffering from all those expectations and the charade she needs to put up, she has more hours with classes and training she gets tutored by the priests, punished more severely when se speaks out of line or says something borderline heretical, yada yada. More people like her and she likes the attention. She doesn't abandon Diana though, and she always defends her. Things get difficult as the years go by but still they persist. (We could include some homophobic sentiment in the Solari, or even sth downright misogynistic, which would add complications with Leona's state as the Radiant Dawn, and the wlw relationships as they would not be seen as real substantial relationships - add asshole trying to flirt with Leona bc her relationship with Diana isn't real cause they are both women- DRAMA)

Leona is 18 passes her final exams, and Diana is 17 when Diana's arc happens. They have a huge fight about faith and contradicting it and if it is worth it. (No one wants to bandage their lover's whipped back that is practically a mosaic of scars at this point, or nurse them to health after sever dehydration - cause yes apparently standing naked in the sun for three days can do that). Diana storms off angrily. Finds an elderly woman in the base of the mountain that needs help going up (Silver sister in disguise). She helps her up, and when they are like 3/4 up and rest cause Diana's everything hurts the woman disappears. She looks around, finds the temple, sees carved proof that the Solari and Lunari co-existed gets the relics and climbs back down excited to show everyone her findings.

Meanwhile Leona has left for an emergency Solari mission or sth, and hasn't told Diana. Diana goes to the priests, they don't believe her, she invokes her right to be judged by the Aspect or sth, the priests pretend that Leona is still around and doesn't want to see or help Diana (Strike 1 of betrayal). Diana feels betrayed and hurt and fears for her life. The priests give the order for her to be branded and executed on the spot. Leona's dad who had been in the room and had met Diana, tries to plead her case from an outsider's perspective. One of the elders reprimands him and threatens him with death.

They brand Diana with the moon Symbol on the forehead, and are about to place her face down in the flames and / or slit her throat, and Iasur can't have her dying thinking that Leona betrayed her (A bit of family honor and afterlife beliefs - honor is a huge deal-, and a bit of a soft spot for his daughter's closest companion). He tries to fight his way to her, and gets killed in the process. Diana witnessing Iasur's murder prays to the moon for help, and seconds before breathing her last breath, she ascends. Pillar of Moonlight and heavenly fire burns everything to a crisp, and Diana remains alone in the middle of the room, barely breathing and clad in the garb of he Moon aspect. She takes one look around her and speeds away from the temple.

Leona returns three days after to find the council and her father dead, the council room in ruins and apparently Diana to blame. On top of that Diana is missing. Leona is presented with the case and believes Diana to be her father's killer. She vows to avenge him and kill the Scorn of the Moon, because her Diana wouldn't do that. It must be the moon spirit. and yes apparently Moon is bad because dad and Diana are gone bc of it. Leona is determined to save her lover from the Moon's clutches and set her free the only way she knows how, with killing her.

And thus their journey begins. Leona becomes more and more of a puppet from here and on driven by anger and betrayal and Diana feels abandoned and betrayed, with nothing left in the world but the glow of the branding mark on her forehead and the knowledge that her lover wanted her dead.

And as for their path to reunite again and achieve peace? Well Leona needs to be merciful, and Diana needs to guide and support someone through the right path.

Thanks for reading this huge ass post. Again MANY credits to that amazing writer on Ao3, if I find that fic I'll put a link here, cause its phenomenal.

Take care and see ya next time!

[moltenwrites]

Character interview tag!

Thanks @thatuselesshuman for the tag!

Today’s game is a set of questions that I answer from my characters POV.

My questions

If you could choose between a hero and a villain, what would you be?

What do you fear the most?

Do you believe in happy endings?

Your questions

Have you ever been in love?

What is your least favorite thing in the world?

What is your pet peeve?

OPTIONAL

Would you rather have unlimited bacon, but no games, or games, unlimited games, but no games?

I’ll have Res, Nelios, and Salazar answer these!

1. If you could choose between a Hero and a Villain, what would you be?

Res - I’d like to think I’m a hero in some sense. Stopping people who hurt others, that’s gotta be worth something, right?

Nelios - I’d rather be a hero. I do want to do good, even if DAD keep making me do stupid shit

Salazar - What a daft question. I am a hero.

2. What do you fear the most?

( I think the answer to this question changes based on what point in the story you ask these characters, so I’m gonna go with midway through How Our World Ended )

Res - Losing Lyra, it would be too much like- well, that’s not important. Losing her would hurt me to my core. I don’t think I could do that again

Nelios - Failing Celu. As much faith as I have, I do wonder if I’m not good enough for her grace.

Salazar - Betrayal.

3. Do you believe in happy endings?

Res - Yeah, as much as life’s been terrible to me, I really think it’ll turn out okay. I think there’s always a chance for a happy ending

Nelios - Yes, that’s a big part of my beliefs. I think those who do good will be rewarded by Celu and taken into the afterlife

Salazar - For me? No. I am but a stepping stone for fairness to prevail, and I do not think I will live to see it reach its potential.

TAG LIST, let me know if you want to be added or removed!

( note 2. I think I also have a few of these built up, so I’m also gonna not spam tags for those! )

@thatuselesshuman @ddgraywrites @jjoneswriting @revenantlore @aintgonnatakethis @yourpenpaldee @illarian-rambling @autism-purgatory @the-letterbox-archives @theverumproject @gioiaalbanoart @noxxytocin

+ Open, as always!

[kaylinelizabeth4004]

Between Two Lungs/Heaven is Here Pt 2

SYNOPSIS: Y/N tries to process the idea of eternity and reincarnation. Aziraphale begins to identify his feelings for both Crowley and Y/N. Crowley is pining and moody

WORD COUNT: 7k

TAGS: Aziraphale x Reader x Crowley, Aziraphale x Reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, fluff, soulmates, pining, kind of confession, so much fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, pov third person, fluff and angst

A/N: i didn’t mean for this to be as long as it is, and I mean the story itself. But there will be a part 3. This focuses more on Aziraphale, next more on Crowley. Sorry this isn’t as long as the last but felt like it was wrapped up

She felt like she was vibrating as a human, small little shakes destroying her entire sense of balance. Nina had made her take her break, though it was far too early in her shift, and she sat in the back with her legs shaking so violently the table rattled. She'd broken her mug that was sitting on top of it. Y/N was absentminded the entire shift, messing up orders and stuttering with each customer she talked to. Eventually Nina pulled her aside during a lull.

"What is going on?"

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked, eyes wide as she seemed to realize that this wasn't a 'here's the sugar, don't forget the napkins' spiel - the kind of spiel every new person got during the first month of their job, that was both helpful and insulting - but a 'you're fucking up spiel' - which was significantly less enjoyable and filled the receiver with such shame and embarrassment they considered the different cliffs nearby. During a particularly intense thought she considered the cliffs of Broadchurch, before remembering that was from a television show.

"Don't be daft. You've been a good barista these past few weeks, then that couple comes in and you're dancing like a bee."

"A bee?"

"They dance to communicate," Nina said plainly, as though it was an obvious comparison. Nina was sometimes so in her own head, tracking her own thought process, that she couldn't comprehend why it wasn't someone else's immediate thought as well. It was something her shrink told her to work on.

"Oh, sorry. I, they just rattled me." Y/N tried to ignore the image in her head of Nina moonwalking while firing her or someone salsaing on their way to tell someone their son has tried tragically. It was terribly funny and she was not in a terribly funny sort of mood. Demons and angels did that to a person.

Nina stared at her for a moment, "you a homophobe?"

"Oh! Oh my god, no. Never, that's not what I mean. No, no, no," she was rambling, not knowing what to say and now terrified her boss thought she was a homophone. She tried to consider how to explain to Nina that she wasn't homophobic, she'd just been pulled aside by a literal angel and demon who told her that her soul has been trapped on earth for more than 2,000 years eternally connected to them with their miscommunication and angst, which means that when the world does indeed end in fire she will definitely be there and might not have a place to go after the fact aside from miserable eternity. So she settled on saying something close enough to the truth that Nina wouldn't think she's a piece of shit that should be fired. "They, they made these comments about fate. Eternity and whatever. It wasn't bad, they weren't bad, I just got spooked. Not really religious, didn't know what to think of it."

Nina blinked rapidly and paused, letting Y/N's words sink in. "You're like this cause you're having a crisis of fate?"

"I- I, well yeah. It sounds silly. Just got to me."

"We get missionaries in here all the time, the Mormons won't leave me alone. You gonna be like this every time someone mentions God?"

"No! This is a one time thing, I promise. I'm not usually like this. I think it was the de - redhead, he drank like a lot of espresso and he was talking very intense-like." Whenever she got anxious her language devolved into likes and ums, stutters and little comments that only made sense to herself. She sometimes wished she could press an off button to stop the random shit that just decided to spew from her.

Nina looked at her with a sort of blanket skepticism she carried into each conversation. One of the things Maggie both loved and struggled with. Eventually she nodded, "right, okay. Life gets tough, people throw us off. I get it. I'm gonna send you home today, you're a mess even if it is a one time thing. Next time this happens, you tell me so we can fix it." Y/N's shoulders slumped at being sent home, feeling like she failed Nina. Nina, being surprisingly observant, went to reassure her, "shop closes in an hour anyways. Only one person comes in regularly and it's my partner, I'll be fine."

Y/N nodded, untying her apron and hanging it up. Nina gave her a smile as she left, trying awkwardly to comfort her. She really did appreciate the attempts, even if Nina's somewhat harsh demeanor failed to always communicate that.

Y/N loitered outside the shop for a minute, staring at the antique shop of 'Mr. Fell' who she'd come to realize just a few short hours ago belonged to the actual angel Aziraphale. She should go talk to them. They'd told her to. Aziraphale had insisted that she come over after her shift to discuss this situation more, maybe she could start to recover some of her past memories. She'd gotten a few initially, remembering the ring and Crowley's eyes. Crowley had suggested he just make Nina forget she was working and to let her go freely. While tempted by the demon's offer, she'd only had this job for two weeks and wasn't about to risk it all. Though it clearly wasn't the worst of her problems.

She began to cross the street to the building. It was tall and cute, tucked on a street corner and just old enough to be charming. Windows with drawn blinds teased at stacks and stacks of books, but even without approaching the door she knew it'd have a closed sign. Nina had told her when she first started at the coffee shop that the bookshop was never open, the owner liked having space for his personal library rather than actually selling any of his precious books.

Parked in front of the shop was a black Bentley. It was a vintage style though Y/N knew nothing about the year aside from it was older than 1980, and even then it was a hazarded guess. It was sleek, kept in prime condition. Inside one of the windows there was a film with two bullet holes printed on it, something that made Y/N smile. Her grandfather had one of them as well, said he'd bought it because of James Bond. In the back seat she spotted a cardboard box labeled 'troublemaker' with a plant sticking out of it. It's leaves were wilting. Somehow, without even being told, Y/N knew the Bentley was Crowley's.

She lingered in front of the doors. She wanted to knock, she had to knock, but it was bloody scary to face your entire past, present, and future in one go. But, with bravery unmatched since the laudanum accident in the '30s - the 1830s, that is - she knocked.

Behind the door she heard two voices talking, the deeper grumbling and getting closer as he walked to the door. Then it swung open with a gusto, revealing the shape of Crowley.

She swallowed. He was imposing, tall and thin as he peered down a just slightly crooked nose. His hair was beautifully curled back on his head, though the slightest hairs fell onto his forehead. Though his spectacles covered his eyes, she let out a breath knowing those eyes were still there. His eyes had been a constant in her life.

"We're closed-  oh. It's you." He said, his voice getting hoarse as he stared at her.

"Who is it - oh! Dear, you're here. Come, come in." Aziraphale said from further in the shop, standing with a book in his hands and spectacles on his nose. He looked kind and sweet, back straight and plush, pink lips curved into a smile. Crowley moved aside for her, letting her cross the threshold with anxious steps. He slammed the door shut.

The bookshop was exactly as she expected. Stacks and stacks of slightly dusty book shelves, covered with as many books as possible. There were horrors, romances, histories, science fictions, fantasies and Bibles. A remarkable number of bibles actually. They had a whole row shoved full of copies of the Bible. Y/N didn't feel like analyzing why an Angel would want well over 20 copies of his group's history but who was she to judge? She owned 5 copies of her favorite book, the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Perhaps a little boring as it was a classic, but the story had hooked her since she saw the enamoring - although a slightly questionable choice to be a children's movie - Disney adaptation. One look into the music and she was glued to the story. The shop smelled of vanilla and old books, a combination that helped calm her racing heart.

"Hi," she said softly once she realized the unearthly beings were staring at her expectantly.

"Hi," Crowley said back. He hadn't taken his spectacles off, and she didn't like that.

"I, um, I love the shop. It's so warm."

"I can, err, lower the temperature if you require, dearest," Aziraphale said, wanting to help calm her but not knowing how.

"No, I meant the atmosphere is warm. Like a hug. But t-thank you," she said. Then after a pause she added, "Aziraphale."

"Would you like a cup of tea, dear?" Aziraphale said finally after a long moment where the three exchanged glances at one another, unaware of what to do next. The tension was so thick she briefly wondered if she jumped from a ledge if she’d be caught in it’s stupid bloody web. A weird and kind of stupid analogy but it seemed to bring her back to reality. Silly things always did.

She let out a breath, "fuck yeah."

Crowley chuckled at this, sauntering back to where he'd been sitting by Aziraphale's desk. Aziraphale gave a curt nod and went into some back room. She lingered by the door.

"C'mon over here, I don't bite," he said, taking a sip of wine from a glass she hadn't seen sit on the end table. His posture was sprawled on a comfy chair, one leg hanging over the arm of it.

"I'm beginning to doubt that," she said with a little laugh, grateful for his relaxed energy to bring down some of the tension. She walked over and sat on a sofa that was surprisingly comfortable, letting herself sink into the cushions.

"Only if you ask, darling," Crowley said with a wink. He immediately regretted the wink but tried not to let it show. He was never an intentionally flirty individual so when he did say flirty things, often by accident, he cringed at himself.

But she just flushed at his words and got comfortable on the sofa. She wasn't upset, in fact she shot back with a, "only in your wildest dreams, love." The term love sent his human heart racing and he quickly looked away. Only Aziraphale had made him feel this way and he hadn't even begun to process those emotions, let alone do it a second time for her.

Aziraphale returned with two steaming mugs of tea and a bottle of wine which he promptly handed over to Crowley. She thanked him and sipped the drink, letting out a happy sigh at the cinnamon thrown in. She loved cinnamon.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" Aziraphale asked, his eyes wide and full of concern. "It can be a lot to take in."

"I'll admit I've kind of been in a state of shock. It doesn't feel real. Not that I don't believe you, I mean you did stop time and I remember your ring. It's, it's kind of frightening, actually? If that doesn't sound childish."

"Earth's full of s'frightening things," Crowley said in a strange sort of reassurance.

"Right, well while I appreciate that sentiment, you two aren't from Earth. So it's another layer of frightening."

"Perhaps we could help ease your worry by answering some questions?"

"Oh, I don't know. I have so many, I don't want to waste your time." She said, running her tongue over her lips quickly. She was struggling to maintain eye contact.

"Darling, you aren't a waste." This kind statement came, surprisingly - or unsurprisingly depending who you asked, as Aziraphale watched with a fondness towards a certain demon Y/N couldn't explain - from Crowley. "We could ask you some as well if you'd like. Even the scales a bit."

She blew out a breath, nodding. Her heart was racing inside her chest. Strangely enough she did trust these two unearthly beings, but she didn't know what to do or say. She'd never imagine herself being in a situation like this before, and she couldn't fathom the words. They slid on her tongue but wouldn't come out. So she meekly said, "you first?"

Aziraphale and Crowley exchanged a glance. Aziraphale smiled when he looked into Crowley's eyes, remembering how he and Y/N had agreed they were the demon's best feature. They made him look so kind, even if it seemed a roundabout sort of way. Crowley, on the other hand, was admiring the way Aziraphale guided what felt like such a new and unknown conversation. The Angel took lead with a breath and a kind smile, "what is your favorite dessert?"

Her mouth dropped slightly as her eyes lit up, she hadn't expected such an innocent question. "I- I don't know. I can be quite picky. Maybe Tiramisu? I quite fancy that."

"How lovely! Such a wonderful choice." Aziraphale clapped eagerly, now craving a nice cold Tiramisu with a warm cup of coffee right beside it. And of course water as a palate cleanser. Oh and perhaps -

"What-," she started, then seemed to lose steam. Y/N straightened, setting her mug down and sitting more firmly. "When did you meet me? First meet me?"

Crowley gestured for Aziraphale to start. The Angel began, "we met you in 55BC. You couldn't have been more than 25, maybe a little younger given you were unmarried at the time. Crowley and I went to eat oysters, and you were in a corner crying. Julius Caesar had just announced his invasion on Britannia, and you had a brother and father who were both in the Navy. You worried over their safety. I blessed you eternally, and Crowley cursed you eternally."

"What made you curse me?"

Crowley looked embarrassed, "I wasn't used to the whole cursing thing so it was a surprise for s'both. You tripped over my foot and called me an asshole."

Her eyebrows shot up and she laughed slightly. Then she stilled, searching her brain for as much memory as she could. It was hidden in the back of her head, hazy ideas of what happened with no coherent life story. She mused to herself that all those hyper realistic historical dreams she had must have some founding in her experience. Her experience. There was a Y/N that existed out of this body and this name, and she existed over 2,000 years previously. She was a sister and a daughter, she had fears and worries just like she did now. It was a frightening concept.

Crowley seemed to notice Y/N sink into herself, mind moving so quick with all these ideas. He couldn't well tell her not to overthink it because even trying to think about it was overthinking it, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Ease her into the world with little memories here and there. "You like Shakespeare?"

"Oh, I, yes I do. I love Shakespeare's works. I performed in one of his plays in secondary school."

"Which one?"

"Taming of the Shrew," she laughed. "Horrible meaning nowadays, but I was lucky enough to be Katherine. It was fun yelling and banging things up on stage."

Crowley and Aziraphale chuckled, they would have loved to see that performance. They imagined her standing brave, eyes sharp and shoulders pulled back as she spat venomous words to all of the men who dared to stand in her way. She was a passionate woman - time couldn't steal that - regardless of her acting ability, they wanted to see and feel it all.

"Did I ever see Shakespeare?"

"Funny you mentioned it, dearest, but yes. We met you once at Hamlet's rehearsals. You were quite enamored with the stage," Aziraphale looked wistfully into Y/N's eyes. "I know it seems odd to say given the strange circumstances, but it's one of my favorite memories of you. Before I realized who you were, I always thought fondly of the girl who broke in to see a Shakespeare show. You were so excited to be alive and experience life, that can be quite refreshing for an immortal creature."

Y/N's chest felt tight and she tried to swallow the emotion in her chest. She'd been there, seen it with her own eyes with people she didn't know she'd known and would know. The idea of reincarnation, of a soul going through the motions of life forever, haunted her and she suddenly felt as though she couldn't breathe. They were being wonderful with her, patient and kind. They knew that the concept of eternity wasn't easy, a brain couldn't wrap around it just right. It was so much, it was too much. She felt trapped and stupid, so stupid - shouldn't she be able to process this? Characters in film and book seem to understand the confusion around them like it was common sense, they don't panic over each thought related to what it is. Her chest was tight, she closed her eyes and tried to fight back tears she didn't know were there. This was too much, why would some God give all of this to humans?

She suddenly felt a hand along her back, gently rubbing up and down. It was Aziraphale, hands large, warm, and consistent along her spine. She released a shaky breath. "Breathe with me, dearest. Inhale... exhale. Inhale..."

Crowley appeared, sitting on the floor and leaning against the coffee table. He pointed to her hand and asked, "May I?"

She nodded and he lifted it, letting his fingers rub mindless circles into her palms. They were short and sweet, running up to her elbow and down to her finger tips. They made her shudder but in the best way.

Her heart started to calm down, the world stopped spinning beneath her. She focused on Aziraphale's warm hands on her back, Crowley's ginger touches to her arm. They were kind and gentle. It made her feel safe, it made her feel appreciated. In the back of her mind she felt those stupid, mindless thoughts about self loathing and incompetence.

Crowley seemed to sense these feelings. Whether he could read her mind or she was just that transparent she didn't know, but he jumped in. "Y/N, it'snot bad to question the universe. The universe is bloody strange, no one can make sense of it."

She opened her eyes now, blinking away the tears, and looked into his. His glasses were still on and she slowly went to remove them, to reveal the eyes she remembered. These eyes were raw, these eyes didn't lie. They were kind to her. She nodded.

"Dearest, if you are comfortable, would you like to take a rest? I have a bed upstairs if you'd like," Aziraphale said. She turned to look to him. His eyes were glassy and his nose pink, as though he was fighting to hold back tears himself. She liked his face, he had a pretty face. Pink lips with a perfect little Cupid's bow on the top, turned up in an attempt at a smile. She could tell he was struggling, wanting to help her.

So she nodded, stood up on wobbly legs and followed after Aziraphale up a winded staircase to a cozy bedroom. It was small, but covered with antiques and precious books on a desk in the corner. A large bed took up most of the room, made up nearly with beige sheets and many, many fluffy pillows. Aziraphale took his time fussing, folding back the sheets and making sure the pillows were just right. She climbed into the bed and laid her head down, smiling in affirmation.

"Now, dearest, we will be right downstairs. You remember that this situation is frightening, you are not wrong. If you need either of us just call."

She reached out for his hand and kissed his palm, muttering "thank you," against his skin. He nodded, flushed cheeks and ears, and hoped for her to sleep well. She closed her eyes, willing to be swept away in a world without fear.

—————

Aziraphale went down the steps quietly, meeting Crowley back where they were. Crowley had put his spectacles back on, sprawling in the chair. However, Aziraphale knew Crowley well enough to know that it wasn't as casual as it looked. He could tell by the way Crowley adjusted awkwardly that he, too, was trying to hide his emotions. Aziraphale sat down on the couch where Y/N had sat, his hands on his legs awkwardly before he sighed.

Aziraphale poured himself a glass of Crowley's wine, savoring the sharp taste. Crowley's brows shot up and he smirked, "bad day, eh?"

"I still do not understand the concept of sarcasm."

"It's funny, Angel."

"Hardly, if it was funny I would laugh."

Crowley chuckled to himself, sipping the wine. Aziraphale was so unintentionally hilarious sometimes. He glanced outside the window, peeking through the blinds as the sun started to slip behind the buildings. Crowley wondered vaguely how Y/N was feeling, wondered how they could ever make her feel better. There was no good way out of this situation, it'd never happened before and was certainly not going to happen again.

As Crowley thought about Y/N and the world, Aziraphale was caught thinking about the demon. He thought back to how kind he had been to Y/N, how he'd asked for permission to distract her with light touch. His reassuring words she hadn't asked for but he seemed to know she needed to here. The way he understood how terrifying the prospect of life truly was. Aziraphale had had this thought for a while, but it seemed to suddenly strike him that Crowley truly wasn't evil at all. In fact, he was kinder than most angels Aziraphale knew.

Questions. All it has been to cause Crowley to fall was some questions meant out of kindness. And yet questions were what he encouraged, what he did to help Y/N and help Aziraphale. He asked Aziraphale about anything, knowing how the Angel loved to learn and discover. He prompted him to reach farther, do better, not settle for what is known but look for more. Questions paved the way to understanding, which might not always lead to happiness, but it can settle the soul. Crowley had learned a long time ago that knowing is half the battle, but he'd rather stand half a chance than not at all.

"You were very kind to her," Aziraphale eventually said.

"Ngk, she was s'panicking."

"You didn't have to reassure her."

Crowley made a noise in the back of his throat as though he resented that statement, "yous might say that but when you trap someone to eternity, she deserves ki - not bad stuff."

Almost a dangerous slip up. Crowley was typically very aware of the words he spoke and how it could get him in trouble. Though his affiliation with Hell was pretty much done, they still had the power to torture him need be. No use letting the word out that he could ever be 'kind.' Crowley remembered what life was like after the 1830s, and his back seemed to burn with the memory. Scars that never truly heal, but reform, each step more painful than the last. But that was a moment for a different day, different circumstances.

Aziraphale went to speak, then doubted himself. Then he strengthened, reminding himself that things are different. He was going to make a move. "Crowley, I was planning to read my book. Would you - would you like to sit with me while I do?"

Crowley blinked, not understanding Aziraphale's poorly explained request, "I am sssitting Angel."

"Over here." Aziraphale said awkwardly, gesturing to the space around him.

Crowley didn't understand what Aziraphale meant. On the angels lap? Certainly not, neither of them were ready for that level of intimacy. Right beside him? Perhaps, but Aziraphale patted his thigh so perhaps not. The Angel cleared his throat, "I thought, perhaps, you could rest your head on my lap while I read."

Crowley's eyebrows shot up. Ah. Despite himself his cheeks flushed pink, but he wanted more than anything to fulfill the angel's request. He'd never dreamed that Aziraphale would prompt anything.

They stared at one another, realizing what this meant. In this moment they were acknowledging an unspoken part of their relationship, that they were certainly more than friends or acquaintances and far from enemies. That they might 'fancy' each other, as the humans say. This was their person, and they were wrapped eternally with one another. Crowley knew another fact, they were wrapped eternally with Y/N. And they couldn't make their relationship with her function if they could not understand themselves either. He also knew that Aziraphale looked very handsome, ankles crossed and book posed in hand as he waited for the demon.

Crowley sauntered over, laying closer to the edge so his legs could dangle off the arm. Then he let his head fall on the angel's lap. Aziraphale had very strong thighs, always had. They were warm through his trousers, and all of him smelled of vanilla and old books. Crowley let himself close his eyes, cherishing the warmth and surprising comfort of the position.

He felt soft fingers start to scratch lightly at his scalp, musing with his hair as gently as possible. Crowley let out a small moan at the feeling, Satan it felt good to have your hair played with. Aziraphale chuckled.

"What're you reading?"

"Henry V."

Crowley swallowed before asking, "Can yous read it to me?"

Aziraphale smiled, "of course, darling." He flipped back to the first scene for Crowley's sake. "The chorus sings 'O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest Heaven of invention' ..."

Though they wouldn’t say the words until much later, until emotions seemed to swirl round them and they couldn’t not address it, this was the best way they could say it.

It crossed a demon’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with an Angel.

It crossed an angel’s mind for the first clear time, I’m in love with a demon.

—————

She woke up the next morning to the sun blinking through the blinds. She hadn't slept that hard in a long time and she let herself wake up slowly, sleep threatening to take her over again. Y/N sighed, that was nice. Aziraphale's room was organized chaos, and as she woke up she let her eyes adjust to all the little things throughout the room. Trinkets.

A snow-globe that looked like early 1900s, multiple copies of Beowulf in various conditions stacked on his desk, a note from Crowley signed with a large signature taped to the wall, a map of England with a pin sticking out of a town called Tadfield. A whole person's history in one collection.

Y/N was significantly calmer this morning that she was yesterday. She'd woken up for a moment during the night and began to let her mind wander to all the possibilities, before stopping herself and falling asleep. Today, she found herself more used to the idea. It was strange, uncomfortable even, but she wasn't panicking.

She got out of bed, rolling her ankles and stretching her body. Her bobble had fallen out during the night and she grabbed it to pull her hair back and out of her face. Then she carefully went downstairs, smelling the warm scent of baked goods wafting its way to her. When she entered a kitchen that seemed hidden behind rooms full of books, she saw Aziraphale in his vest and trousers paired with an apron covered in sweet little hearts.

"Good morning, my dear!" He said when he saw her. He was making some tea and gestured for her to take a seat at the island table while the kettle finished boiling. "How did you sleep?"

"Really well, actually," she said with a little laugh, her voice hoarse from her first words.

He turned to her, smile so genuine it shocked her, "I'm so glad to hear it. I am making us some cinnamon rolls. I've also decided to slice up some apples to go with it, I thought the freshness of the fruit might be nice first thing in the morning."

"That sounds amazing," she said. "Where is Crowley?"

"He said he had some business to attend to. Shouldn't be out long, I assure you, dearest."

She mulled over in mind what 'business' Crowley had. She knew from some of their explanations in the cafe that they don't necessarily work for Heaven or Hell as they used to, they're more or less independent. That left them to live life as they see fit, so what business could a demon have?

"Thank you, Aziraphale. For everything."

He glanced up, surprised. He came over and grasped her hand lightly, "my dear, this is a strange thing that has happened to you. Crowley and I wish to support you."

"If I can ask... why? You could have not told me, you could have continued without dealing with the consequences. I'd have never known."

"We couldn't do that. You didn't choose this, and we did not mean to do it."

"I don't want to be your responsibility, that's not fair either."

He blushed, "It's, err, it's more than that. We want to be with you. In whatever way you'll take us, myself and Crowley. If I may be forward, we've yearned for you for too long to lose you the first time we realize what we have."

"You've not even known me? I could be horrible."

"You are not horrible, dearest. I could feel it if you were. It's ... odd. Our souls are drawn to you and we want you in our lives, even without knowing the details. Both Crowley and I have longed for the woman with the strange encounters throughout time, and we finally found her. The souls are linked, even without reason, and we'll take you in any way we can."

Her mouth dropped open, forming a little shocked 'o.' That was hot. Is that weird to say that was hot? She'd never had a man - granted he wasn't a man just presenting male - confess wanting her, in any way, like that. It made her toes tingle and her heart warm, and she stared deeply into Aziraphale's blue eyes to be certain this was no joke. She knew he was an Angel but she put that aside and looked at him. He said they were drawn to her, and without saying the word implied they'd loved her for years without knowing. She isn't the sort this happens to, she doesn't have creatures who want to know her and understand her like this. It was a pure connection, one built on a link they couldn't understand but knew all the same. Mysterious ways of the Almighty and all. She kept looking into those eyes, searching for any sort of trickery. Despite herself, she knew he wasn't the sort to lie.

The kettle started to screech and Aziraphale pulled away to pour the cuppas, destroying the moment. He slid hers in front of her, just as she likes it. It was delightful.

Y/N watched Aziraphale move around the kitchen. He wasn't a particularly tall man, but he wasn't short either. She let her eyes fall along his strong forearms, revealed by his sleeves rolled to the elbow, lightly dusted with hair. His hands were capable, yet she knew they were soft. He might not be the most conventional sort of attractive, the type that movie stars are, but she was struck by him. Aziraphale had a draw to him that made her blush and glance down, suddenly shy in his presence yet knowing she was safe in who she is.

She realized that she wanted to know more about him, she wanted to hear his stories about his life, regardless of if she was in it. She wanted to know more about his relationship with Crowley, and what they had that seemed to be left unsaid. Y/N couldn't believe the fantastical reality that started playing in her head, a world where she lived and loved a demon and an Angel. Love was getting ahead of herself, she should be more careful. She longed for a good relationship with them, but that didn't mean that it had to be a romantic relationship. But, as she looked back at the Angel she sighed, damn did the Angel have great thighs.

"Dearest?" He asked, eyes wide and mouth just slightly parted as he stared at her.

She glanced down. Her tea had gotten cold and a warm cinnamon roll with apple slices on the side sat in front of her. "O-oh. Thank you."

"Is everything alright?" Damn him for sounding so sincere, blue eyes sweet like candy.

"You won't laugh?" She asked with a small smile, though she'd already made the decision to tell him honestly. She had a feeling lying would not make things easier in this relationship.

"No," Aziraphale answered precisely.

"I was distracted by you. You're so handsome."

Aziraphale seemed to have a little shock, as though he didn't believe that is what she said. "Pardon?"

"I," She laughed softly, embarrassed to revealing that so boldly. Y/N always admired those who were bold, and in the moments it was needed to she would, but she didn't often express those thoughts. Mainly for a fear of being seen as a creep, but also because rejection is a scary thought. But Aziraphale was sweet, and seemed flattered that she thought him to be handsome. "I think you're very handsome. I like looking at you."

His cheeks flushed pink and he took a rushed sip of his tea, "well, thank you darling. I- I hadn't quite expected that. I've been told I'm soft."

She laughed, "so? Soft isn't a bad thing."

"Do you like soft?"

"Sure, I like soft, I like hard. Besides, I believe personality and talent makes a person attractive anyhow, it's not too important what it might look like to society."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, there's plenty of people who look just as the world wants for beauty. And I don't mean to say they're unattractive, they are. But I personally believe that a kind, talented man who might be ugly to the papers is the most attractive you'll encounter. And a mean, untalented man touted as attractive tends to be ugly. Words change appearances."

"You're very wise, my dear," Aziraphale said with a warm smile, placing his hand over hers. She took a shaking breath, looking up at him. He was close to her now, hot breath that smelled of cinnamon hitting her cheeks as a hand lifted near her cheek, "May I?"

She didn't know what he was asking, but she nodded because she knew she'd relish in it all the same. First Aziraphale's hand went to the bobble round her hair, gently releasing it so it fell down. Her scalp itched from the strain, and his fingers gently massaged it. His hands were strong, capable.

She was struck for a moment with a memory that seemed forgotten. Her holding the hand of a kind stranger as she slid a finger onto his finger, the way he'd clutched hers as though he might lose her. They were warm then, kind. These hands had also blessed her when she wasn't looking, guided her safely home, and cared for her at the bank of the river at St James's park. For Aziraphale it was a flash, a mere second as the memories went through her mind but she felt them deeply, surrounding her. She could feel the dirt floor of the Globe theatre beneath her feet, or the way her heart had jumped when she spotted him in 1865. It was overwhelming and beautiful, she saw a whole person's history in her interactions with him, with them. It was stupid, it was silly, but she wanted to know them. She wanted to experience the life she could only remember in fragments.

Y/N hadn't realized that tears had come down her cheeks until those hands that spoke the history came to hold her face. She leaned into his touch, the pads of his thumbs wiping the tears away.

"My dear, may I?" Aziraphale asked, his voice suddenly huskier than she'd ever heard it. Her eyes opened, staring into his. He cried also, gentle tears down his sweet cheeks. She hadn't realized she'd been holding onto his vest.

"Aziraphale... I remember you."

That was the invitation, the consent, he needed. With a gentle sort of ferocity, Aziraphale leaned in and took her lips in his own. It was eager yet restrained as it held her in place, imploring her to feel all that he felt. All 2,000 years of yearning over an unknown idea. She kissed back with an intensity she didn't know she had. She hadn't much kissing experience, not the sort to fancy many people due to her high standards that seemed only met by non-humans, but with each inexperienced stroke she paired it with passion and enthusiasm. He guided her, led her through the kiss with grace. It was like a dance. It was messy at times, noses clashing and tear stained cheeks brushing, but it was perfect. It was Aziraphale and Y/N, and they seemed to understand what the other needed.

They parted from air, their mouths not far from one another's as they let out gasps. Y/N wanted more, this Angel was dangerously close to becoming her own brand of oxygen and that kiss was the best bloody one she'd ever had. Her first was a horrible sort, a lad with no lips and horrible breath.

Aziraphale leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss to Y/N's lips before pulling away more definitely. They were both right messes. Mouths swollen and pink, cheeks flushed, and hair ruined. Y/N hadn't even realized her hands had gotten buried in those soft curls, and his explored her locks that now hung free. She had a thing for good hair, and it seemed the Angel did too.

"Did - did I overstep any boundaries?" He asked, having to clear his throat. His voice came back to his normal register, though it seemed to ring with suppressed emotions.

"No," she said simply. "You didn't."

Aziraphale blew out a breath, letting his forehead fall against hers with a soft laugh, "I worried, my dear, that that was a rash decision on my part. You have only, technically, known me for two days."

"I've known you for a lifetime, love."

The nickname seemed to roll off her tongue, as it had the other night with Crowley. Comfortable, easy. And Aziraphale tried to stop the way his vessel's heart jumped at the thought of love. Too early, yes.

"Let's eat our breakfast, shall we?"

"I'm starved," she answered back, sitting on a bar stool and pulling her plate towards her. "This looks delightful."

They ate together with small bits of conversation intermixed between flushed glances when they caught the other staring at them. Aziraphale's food was as good as it looked, sweetness baked into a cinnamon delight that made her roll her eyes back. God she could eat this whole. Or, she supposed, she should say Aziraphale she could eat this whole, remove Her from the equation. Soon Y/N realized that she had a shift coming up at Nina's cafe, and needed to run to her flat to change.

"Your apron is at the front, dearest, with your purse from yesterday. We left them untouched."

"Oh, good, thank you Angel."

She went out and grabbed her purse, checking to make sure she had everything she needed. Then she realized her hair falling in her face. "Aziraphale?"

"Hmm?"

"I need my bobble back."

"Your what, dearest?"

"My bobble, hair tie thing. What you took out of my hair."

Aziraphale hummed as he walked into the main area and towards his desk, an odd yet attractive set of glasses on his nose. "I've not the faintest idea what you're talking about, love. Perhaps it fell."

Ah. Unlikely story. Especially unlikely given the bobble now on the angel's wrist. Guess he fancied her hair like that, round her face. She rolled her eyes and made to leave, before hesitating at the door. "Thank you, Aziraphale. For.. for taking me seriously. It's a strange idea, my soul being immortal and what not. I'm struggling to adjust. But I know that I want you and I want Crowley, I want to figure this out."

Aziraphale's chest seemed to lighten at the words and he smiled at the woman standing before him. She was beautiful and calm as she said this, her hair looking radiant. Y/N was quite right, he fancied her hair indeed. "I'm glad to hear that, Y/N. After your shift, if you'd like, you may come back to the bookshop?"

She smiled, "I'd like that. I, I think I'll pop round to my flat after work first to wash my hair. Let me write my number for you."

Y/N quickly scribbled her number on the front page of a very modern copy of Hunchback of Notre Dame, handing it to Aziraphale and saying, "it's my favorite book. Thought this new copy could handle the defacement."

Then she left quickly and the Angel watched her figure race past the door towards her flat, lips still pink from kissing an Angel.

[dcbbw]

Stormholt Masterlist

This limited series will be my re-write of the hit movie sensation Saltburn. It will be a TRR AU, and include the iconic and infamous bathtub scene, vampire scene, and the cemetery scene. Because it’s me, there will be pushing of boundaries. (Chapters will be appropriately tagged with content warnings)

If you are unfamiliar with Saltburn, on the surface it appears to be the story of an unlikely friendship between outsider Oliver/Ollie (Drake Walker) and rich, popular Felix (Liam). However, it quickly devolves into an intricate web of obsession, deceit, depravity, and murder.

Trailer: Saltburn | Official Trailer (youtube.com)

Not saying I will do the original story any justice, but hopefully I achieve my objective of crafting an enjoyable story that is both similar to and vastly different from its inspiration, while still able to toss a few twists and surprises in.

Chapters will be posting soon. (I know I say that alllll the time, but promise I am working on them now) Order of and titles of chapters may change.

Cast of Characters:

Drake Walker: the outsider who infiltrates everyone’s lives

Liam Rys: rich, popular, living a frantic life at a frenetic pace

Regina Rys: Liam’s stepmother; pompous, prideful, a bit daft

Constantine Rys: Liam’s father, he knows more than he tells

Riley: Liam’s wife; blunt, erratic, and mentally ill … but not stupid

Madeleine: Regina’s cousin (once removed), who has outlived her usefulness in all ways

Maxwell: Childhood friend who has fallen on hard times and found a soft place to land

Leo Rys: Liam’s half-brother, a member of the duchy’s constabulary; Drake looks very familiar to him

Katie: Leo’s wife; her motto is “touch but don’t look”

Savannah Walker: Drake’s estranged sister

Jackson and Bianca Walker: Drake’s parents

Casey Valentine: Drake’s ex-situationship

Bastien & Gladys: Long-time servants at Stormholt; they came with the house

Chapters:

Prologue: A Fine Morning

Chapter One: Meet. Cute.

Chapter Two: Besties

Chapter Three: Menagerie

Chapter Four: Getting to Know You

Chapter Five: Deadly Sins

Chapter Six: My Best Friend’s Sister

Chapter Seven: Rub a Dub Dub

Chapter Eight: I Know What You Did Last Night

Chapter Nine: The Train Station

Chapter Ten: A Thief in the Night

Chapter Eleven: Little Lies

Chapter Twelve: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Chapter Thirteen: The Kingdom of Heaven

Epilogue: Alone at Last

[conkers-thecosy]

Hi conkers o/ I absolutely am loving backs to the walls your writing is amazing! I just had a small question it popped in my head randomly while I was rereading the story: is bilbo cutting his hair? Or has it been growing out? I know it's not really referenced while they're on the journey either so I know it's one of those hand wavey things but I'm just curious about bilbos appearance at this point and if he IS cutting his hair does he do it around the dwarves or does he scurry off and do it alone

Hi there, Boots! 💛

Thank you so much, this is a great question! Now bear with me here, because I might be making this up, but I feel like I read somewhere that hobbit hair is extremely slow growing? I've since tried to look this up and cite whatever source my daft little brain is quoting, but no luck so far. That said, because of this, in all my fics I've been working under the assumption that Bilbo's hair doesn't grow quickly enough that he would need to trim it!

...I will say this is going to irritate me now though, because I'm so sure I read that somewhere!! 😅

Thank you so much for the ask! If I ever find the line in the books or appendices I'm referencing I'll be sure to tag you, haha!