#Did i just have my characters call me out

[connorcampbel]

There was also one thing that went in the other direction in GoT. Despite a lot of foreshadowing, a large chunk of the audience set expectations for Daenerys Targaryen that they shouldn’t have. I may have posted about this before. In any case, I have a friend who moonlights as a film critic, but his day job is social worker. He called what would happen to Daenerys at the end of season 2. At the time, no one wanted to believe him. Even I was skeptical, though I had to admit the argument was a compelling one.

His argument? Look at it from the point of view of a social worker who has seen – in real life – some of the worst situations humans get into. I’m paraphrasing from memory, not quoting.

We have a subject, one Daenerys Targaryen. She’s from a family with a very long history of congenital mental illness (comparisons can be made to European royal/noble lineages). Onset of the family mental illness is usually very quick, “sudden” according to those who’ve witnessed it. Her father, “The Mad King”, was a victim of this mental illness. Orphaned at a young age after her father was killed during a rebellion, “Danny” was raised by her sole surviving older brother, who abused her physically, emotionally, and sexually. Constantly on the run and having to watch out for assassination attempts, she learned not to trust anyone. She was married at a young age to a “Khal” (Horse-Lord) against her will in order to secure an alliance and troops to regain the throne for her brother. She learned to love this Khal, and the relationship was not damaged when her brother was killed right in front of her by the Khal due to bad behavior brought on in part by the family’s congenital mental instability. Her life became more stable during her marriage, until her husband the Khal was killed. When the rest of the Dothraki Khals made it clear to her that her life as she knew it was over and that she would be expected to stay with the other widows of Khals who had passed away, over her protests, she resolved the issue by mass murder of said Khals by way of arson. Fire – fascination with it and using it to cause harm – have been a recurring motif in the family’s mental instability.

And that’s just where we were at the end of season two. As time went on, it became clearer and clearer that Daenerys was heading in the same direction, though some of the signs weren’t clear until after the fact. Every time she was confronted with an obstacle, she was likely to burn the obstacle to the ground. She would listen to advisors but increasingly adopted a “my way or the highways” mentality. Everyone kept cheering her on because she was powerful – both personally and politically – and the people she was going after were “bad people”. The magicians who just wanted to exploit her. The slavers. Criminals. Despite good advice about not crucifying all the nobles on the way to Mereen, she did so anyways. This sowed the seeds for the rebellion that would take place later. By the time the episode “The Bells” rolls around, she’s lost most of her closest advisers and friends – some she drove away, some have been killed (in a few cases by her), and some have been left behind. She’s lost one of her dragons, her “child”. She’s literally burning people who won’t swear fealty to her.

The fact that when her closest friend is killed right in front of her by Cersei it “flips the switch” and causes her family’s congenital mental issues to surface, where she uses fire to burn most of King’s landing shouldn’t have been a surprise to anyone. In fact, it wasn’t a shock to me by that point. I may have been throwing peanuts at the screen going “don’t do it, fight it” but the fact was that I already knew what she was going to do when the bells started to toll. A lot of people didn’t put the pieces together. They didn’t see the signs, they didn’t have a social worker to warn them in season 2, they loved the character. Apparently this blindness happens in real life – people don’t see the danger until afterwards.

my 10 holy grail pieces of writing advice for beginners

from an indie author who's published 4 books and written 20+, as well as 400k in fanfiction (who is also a professional beta reader who encounters the same issues in my clients' books over and over)

show don't tell is every bit as important as they say it is, no matter how sick you are of hearing about it. "the floor shifted beneath her feet" hits harder than "she felt sick with shock."

no head hopping. if you want to change pov mid scene, put a scene break. you can change it multiple times in the same scene! just put a break so your readers know you've changed pov.

if you have to infodump, do it through dialogue instead of exposition. your reader will feel like they're learning alongside the character, and it will flow naturally into your story.

never open your book with an exposition dump. instead, your opening scene should drop into the heart of the action with little to no context. raise questions to the reader and sprinkle in the answers bit by bit. let your reader discover the context slowly instead of holding their hand from the start. trust your reader; donn't overexplain the details. this is how you create a perfect hook.

every chapter should end on a cliffhanger. doesn't have to be major, can be as simple as ending a chapter mid conversation and picking it up immediately on the next one. tease your reader and make them need to turn the page.

every scene should subvert the character's expectations, as big as a plot twist or as small as a conversation having a surprising outcome. scenes that meet the character's expectations, such as a boring supply run, should be summarized.

arrive late and leave early to every scene. if you're character's at a party, open with them mid conversation instead of describing how they got dressed, left their house, arrived at the party, (because those things don't subvert their expectations). and when you're done with the reason for the scene is there, i.e. an important conversation, end it. once you've shown what you needed to show, get out, instead of describing your character commuting home (because it doesn't subvert expectations!)

epithets are the devil. "the blond man smiled--" you've lost me. use their name. use it often. don't be afraid of it. the reader won't get tired of it. it will serve you far better than epithets, especially if you have two people of the same pronouns interacting.

your character should always be working towards a goal, internal or external (i.e learning to love themself/killing the villain.) try to establish that goal as soon as possible in the reader's mind. the goal can change, the goal can evolve. as long as the reader knows the character isn't floating aimlessly through the world around them with no agency and no desire. that gets boring fast.

plan scenes that you know you'll have fun writing, instead of scenes that might seem cool in your head but you know you'll loathe every second of. besides the fact that your top priority in writing should be writing for only yourself and having fun, if you're just dragging through a scene you really hate, the scene will suffer for it, and readers can tell. the scenes i get the most praise on are always the scenes i had the most fun writing. an ideal outline shouldn't have parts that make you groan to look at. you'll thank yourself later.

happy writing :)

[sully-s]

Open in a different window to zoom in. So this is just a deep dive behind all the stuff I put in my last post I rolled back my picture before I did all the lighting and color changes to make certain details more visible. Fun fact I almost scrapped this whole picture at this stage because A. I was just burned out; this piece took me forever. B. As I kept getting more and more "neat" ideas to stuff in, I lost any real focal point, especially with the color scheme. After hours of trying to fix it in PS and failing, I was about to give up. I was like fuck it make it a night scene. Let me tell you all a world of lighting makes lol.

Anyways, enough about my struggles, let me give you the tour.

I love the idea that this corkboard was originally Phoenix's mood board in the beginning it just had his childhood pics from like the yearbook and that one time Larry got a polaroid camera. Then, a new year clipping about Edgeworth being Demon Prosecutor which led Phoenix to make his thesis about court drawings just so he could watch and see with his two eyes how much Edgeworth changed. - Then, later, he added Mia because she was his mentor. then Vinny (from the movie "My Cousin on Vinny") because like Vinny, Phoenix never understands court procedure but has very good instincts; and last Elle Woods who also went to law school for a boy basically his spirit lawyer lol. - Later, after Maya joined, she thought it would be funny to replace Phoenix's real reason to Steel Samurai. Also, it was fun because Will Powers was their client, so he should be their reason. Phoenix let them stay because it made Maya happy, and Phoenix knew that with Mia's death, she needed it. - I was going to add a sticky note from Miles that he approved, but I do like that Miles will never admit out loud or in writing that he enjoys the show. - A year later, Pearls tries to replace all the Steel Samurais with her drawings of Maya. Which Phoenix encouraged her to make during Maya's disappearance because facts. - Tid Bit: I was sad to cover up Will Powers' signature I really liked how it came out

Moving away from the mood board idea, I like that the cork board just became Phoenix's catch all. So his Law Degree which isn't the original it's just a sad printed-out version of what should've been his fancy embossed one. I like the idea that Phoenix never went to graduation. (Can't be bothered he's on a mission to save his childhood bff.)

Lastly are postcards from Edgeworth, his way of making up for all the years he couldn't write back to young Phoenix. - Also, this picture takes place some time after the 3rd game but before the disbarment.

Calendar whiteboard that I forgot to add the last row too so I guess in Japaniforina the months are only 25 days long.

I spent a frustrating amount of time trying to figure out the logistics of this paper trail. It really doesn't need to make sense It just has to make the room messier. - You can imagine Phoenix is looking over phone records or court stenographer's record.

So Edgeworth is a nerd; we all know this. But it annoys me just a tad that his nerd-isum is always just Steel Samurai (like I get it, it's canon), but all geeks have many fandom loves, okay. - So I just love the idea that Phoenix and Edgeworth (who are in a relationship at the time of this pic ) watch Better Call Saul, and they both bought each other a little plushie of the character they joke is them. -Edgeworth bought Saul for Phoenix (because of Saul's heart, not because he does shady practices), And Phoenix bought Kim (because she a really good lawyer who seems cold and is a workaholic who would break the rules for their Saul (used phoenix's badge in the third game )) - They keep each other's plushies in their offices, and if one of them stops by when the other isn't in, they put a sticky note on it. - Which we can see that Phoenix did need reminding because, as you can see, the date is 18th, and no mention of a dinner ;)

7. Now the whole reason I drew this picture was too show off my headcanon that Phoenix has a Harvey Birdman, Attorney at Law action figure that you know Gumshoe got him after Edgeworth vs. State happen because of Polly. And we all know that man would be a fan of old Hanabara cartoons. - I've loved this stupid tid-bit of a headcanon that it's been haunting me for years. That's it; that's all I really wanted to say with this piece, and look where it got

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dearly Beloved 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, arranged marriage, allusions to abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After spurning one too many suitors, you wind up with the worst person you've ever met.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen

Note: inspired by the ask about a reader that wears skirts all the time but Lloyd discovers she wears shorts too and it challenged to get past them.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You swipe the wand against your lashes one last time and shove it back into the tube. You sit up as you check the overall effect. Nothing too much. You like a dewy look, natural but glowing. You have to at least look like you care about today. 

The knock at the door is like clockwork. You’ve done this too many times. You expected your parents to give up by now. All the men did. 

You yawn and set the mascara back in your makeup case. “Come in,” you call dully. 

You watch your mother enter in the mirror. She’s in one of her stiff tweed jackets and a matching skirt. If she took a few inches off the skirt, it might be cute. 

“Waiting on you,” she tuts and crosses her arms. 

“Oh, are you?” You shut the case and stand. “I must’ve lost track of time.” 

You stand and smooth your dress. The little bow accoutrements long the shallow slit of the short skirt add a touch of sparkly to the navy blue. You’ve paired the dress with beige heels and thick gold hoop earrings. You look exactly to her standards and yet there’s disappointment in her eyes. 

“He will not like you being late,” she girds as she crosses the room and reaches for you. You stop her from touching your hair. She always has to fix what doesn’t need to be fixed. 

“Mother, it’s not on purpose. I only want to look my best. As you said,” you tilt your head coyly. 

“Don’t,” she frees herself from your grasp and points at you. “I need you to start taking this seriously. You are twenty-five.” 

“An old spinster,” you sigh dramatically, “how many is this now? Eighteen? You think this one will bite?” 

“If you would try, perhaps. Don't think you are so clever,” she bristles. 

“Mother, I’ve done everything you’ve asked me too. I’ve been on my best behaviour but you simply can’t force love,” you insist. 

“Dear, I do not know why you do this. Your father will blow an aneurysm if you keep this up,” she hisses. 

“Oh yes, the steam came out of his ears last time,” you chuckle. 

“It isn’t funny. This is our legacy. You are our legacy.” 

Your smile falls. Why you? It was her choice not to have any more heirs. If they are so important, she should have, right? Why must it be you? 

“Mother, can it not wait longer? A few years?” 

“This is not a seller’s market.” 

“And I’m not property. I’m a person. Your daughter.” 

“Mm, well, a few more years and there would be concern. For... fertility,” she sniffs. 

“Yes, I am cattle. Forgive my mistake.” 

“Please, I am not—if you tried to get along, you might find a good match,” she snips. 

“They are all snobs and terribly boring. I’ve tried.” 

“You are late. You are catty. And you roll your eyes,” she sneers. “How about a smile and a ‘yes, mother’.” 

You hold back your agitation. You get your stubbornness from her but that only seems to irk her. She didn’t raise you to be a pushover but that’s exactly what she’s telling you to be. 

“Yes, mother,” you smile and flutter your lashes, “I will try to increase my price so that you and father can go on your....” you count silently on your fingers, “twentieth honeymoon?” 

“You--” she begins and makes a fist. You lean away. She glares at you. “Rein it in.” 

She spins and stomps to the door. You exhale as your cheeks pinch painfully. At least she thought not to mess up your makeup. 

You follow her into the hallway. You’re silent. You know better than to keep on when she gets to this point. You tell that crying little girl to go back to her corner and once more paint on a smile. 

You follow her down the curling stairs and your heels echo through the foyer. She takes you to the sitting room and steps back to let your through first. You barely look at the man sat in the centre of the settee. 

“She’s here. Apologies for the wait, she was having a bad hair day,” she preens. There’s silence. “Well, then I should leave you to introduce yourselves.” 

She pulls the sliding wood doors from another era. You huff, “as if. My hair is perfect.” 

The man laughs. His sole scuffs as he stands. He says your name. 

“Mm, let’s not pretend here. We both know what this is.” 

“Straight to the point,” he remarks with a snort. “Should we exchange measurements and decide?” 

It takes you a moment to get his meaning. That’s disgusting. You face him with lip curled. “I think I can guess pretty easily,” you look him up and down. You arch a brow. “Oh, well...” 

His lips thin and he squints. The crinkles around his eyes deepen. You want to wipe off that silly mustache above his lip. 

“You’re a bit older than I expected.” You shrug. 

He puts a hand on his hip, “experience. Means I know what I’m doing.” 

You smile again, only to keep from laughing. You dig a heel into the floor and check your nails. “Sure, well, we should waste about half an hour and then we can send for my mother.” 

He clucks. You look at him, your elbow against your side as you keep your hand up. His brows knit then lift. “Lloyd Hansen.” He offers his hand, “billionaire, with a whole lot more coming to me.” 

“Right,” you look at his hand and turn away. You strut around him, “look, I’m really not looking to get married. I’m just doing what they tell me so I wouldn’t bother. Save your energy.” 

You flop onto the settee and hook one knee over the other. You rock your foot as you cross your arms. He slithers after you, stopping by the arm rest. 

“Oh, I got lots of energy,” he scoffs. “Well, half-an-hour, I can think of a few ways to pass the time. I’m not really the sort to wait until marriage.” 

You grimace at him, “no thank you.” 

“Well, aren’t you a treat? I heard about you but I thought all those guys were cucks,” he snorts. 

“Heard about me?” You repeat. 

“Sure, frigid bitch it what they’re saying,” he snickers and turns to sit beside you, “but they didn’t say anything about those legs.” 

He stretches his arm across the back of the couch above you. He tries to drop it onto your shoulders and you catch his wrist and shove him away. He chuckles again and tugs on your hair. You swat him. 

“Hey, no touching,” you snarl. 

“I like this,” he pinches the little ribbon button along the skirt, “it’s cute. Nice little peek of thigh.” 

Before you can stop him, he shoves his hand through slit of the skirt and squeezes our thigh. You yipe and you grab his other arm. He pushes up against your shorts. He frowns. 

“What?” He pinches the edge along your thigh. 

“Chafing,” you push him off of you. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“I’m here to buy. I wanna know what I’m paying for,” he sneers. 

“Ew, ew,” you shove him again and stand, storming away as you shiver in repulsion. “Ew. Firstly, you’re too old. Second, your pervy little mustache is gross. Third, you’re nasty.” 

“You haven’t really given me a chance. One, I might have a few extra years under my belt but that means I know what I’m doing,” you face him as he holds up a thumb. “Two, this mustache is there for her pleasure. Yours, if you play your cards right. Three,” his other hand rests on his thigh as you glimpse the twitching in his cream coloured pants, “tell me how nasty to be and I’ll gladly fuck that rod out of your ass.” 

“Wow, you are repugnant,” you scoff. 

“I got some extra flavour,” he leans forward, his elbows on his legs as he clasps his hands together. “Those other guys, I know they came in here like simps in their bowties, tryna lube you up with those puppy dog eyes. Well, I’m here for business. I don’t have time to waste on games and you don’t seem to like playing. It’s perfect.” 

“It couldn’t be less awful,” you assure him. 

“Right, I’m sure you’re having the time of your life with Mommy Dearest there. Does she have wire hangers? Don’t answer that,” he laughs and sits back, leaning his arm on the cushioned rest. “At least I’m honest. I’m not gonna sit here and lick your asshole. Not figuratively. I got shit to get done, namely, getting married, and you seem, well, to put it in your language ‘so over it’,” he puts on a trite voice. 

“I’m over you,” you insist. 

“I don’t mind a girl on top,” he winks. 

“Ugh, maybe you should meet a few divorcees. They might just be desperate enough.” 

“Tried that game. She cried after. Was really awkward.” 

You glare at him. He really is gross. You’re not a prude by any measure but this is supposed to be an introduction. He’s supposed to at least pretend to be gentleman. 

“I’m done with this conversation, so you can entertain yourself,” you dismiss with a flick of your fingers. 

He chortles as you turn your back to him. You clomp over to the window and distract yourself with the hedges and the sparrows rustling within. Your mother will be upset but he’s the last of the...however many men you’d choose. 

“No wonder you got them lined up, sweet cheeks, you fill out that dress real nice,” his soles scuff on the floor. “It’s cute but I’d suggest something with a bit less at the top. I’m sure you got a nice balance.” 

You ignore him and shake your head at the panes. You listen to his slow approach. You tense as you sense him right behind you. 

“You’re not the first I’ve met either, you know? The rest of them are so... flighty. The last one had a list of demands. A fucking bride price. Chanel everything. Boring,” he says. 

You wince as he touches your back. He drags his fingers up your dress and you snarl as you go rigid. He gets even closer and hums. 

“Let me pet the kitty and then you can decide. You really can’t make a clear decision if you don’t know how a man--” he snakes his hand around your neck and you dip your chin. You bite down on the webbing between his thumb and index. 

He yowls as you clamp down on him. You let him go and he staggers away. You face him and watch him with a smug smirk as he shakes his hand. He cradles it and hisses. 

“You little...” he snarls through his teeth as his eyes blaze at you. 

“I warned you already not to touch me,” you insist. “The next time, they’ll be blood.” 

He holds up his hand and examines the red bite mark. He scowls and lowers it. His glare meets yours hotly. He squares his shoulders and narrows his eyes. 

“Oh, baby girl, you don’t know what you’ve done,” he spits. 

He turns and strides to the door. You cackle as he tries to pull them inward first, then figures to slide them apart. You stay as you are as you hear his footsteps reverberate around the foyer. You turn to face the window again. 

He marches down the long stone walk toward the arched driveway. You’ve never chased one out before. To be honest, all the others were too shy to get that close. He waves at Carmen, the valet. You tisk between your teeth and shrug as you spin back. 

Your mom will probably let her fists fly now but it will be worth it, so long as you never have to see that man again. 

[grandline-fics]

Love Potion

DESCRIPTION: Love Potion- You were both only pretending to date. The feelings aren't real...right?

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Smoker

WORDS: 1,663

A/N: Thank you @missrandomdreamer for requesting this one for the Valentine's Event. Hope you like what I came up with for this one, Smoker deserves the love so hopefully I did him justice on this. As always thank you everyone for your support. Enjoy ♥️

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Is this really necessary?” Smoker grumbled around the cigars in his mouth as he shut the door to your room closed firmly. “I’m in perfect shape.”

“Every active member on this base has to undergo routine physicals, Vice-Admiral.” You spoke up from your desk as you grabbed his file and a pen. Even when he was wounded he protested the need to be tended to and while you were already expecting him to clear all your checks with no issues, you still had your job to do. Apologetically you looked at him as you rose. “No exceptions.”

Smoker made a disgruntled noise and glared at the examination bed he’d yet to approach. He swiftly turned his glare your way when you snatched the cigars from his mouth with ease and stubbed them out on the ashtray you always made sure to have in the room in the event Smoker would be coming by. You accepted his ire with an effortless smile, used to his perpetual grumpy and serious expression at this point. Lightly you nudged him along towards the bed. With all his strength and training he could have remained rooted in the spot had he wished but at your touch he relented and moved, eager to just get this over with.

As he sat down and zoned out, letting you do whatever checks and assessments necessary he began to think about how being here was actually a nice break. You weren’t going to pester him about changing the training schedule or beg to swap missions with another member of the base, you weren’t going to chase him about reports he forgot-or just didn’t care about- handing in for the higher ups at Marine’s main Headquarters. Best of all, any conversation you shared with him was appropriate and never prying beyond clear boundaries, unlike those under his command who thought any facet and avenue in his life was theirs to know and analyse obsessively over. Suddenly you made a surprised hum and he pulled himself out of his thoughts to see you studying his face carefully. “What were you thinking about?”

“Why?” Smoker couldn’t help but become defensive, ready to argue that whatever you spotted or noticed in your tests was false. 

“It caused a spike in your otherwise steady blood pressure.” You explained, lips curving in slight amusement. Lightly you tapped your medical notes. “Can’t clear you if there’s a possibility of an underlying condition affecting your blood pressure or an area of stress that could hinder your work.”

“It’s nothing.” Smoker explained firmly. “Nothing for you to worry over. I’m not going to complain over something insignificant and stupid.”

“Wouldn’t call this spike insignificant. Come on tell me and I can help. It’s what doctors are for right?”

“I was getting annoyed about the subordinates prying into my personal life. They’re like gossiping teenagers sometimes.”

“Is that all?” You asked with a laugh, stepping away from him and unhooking the blood pressure monitor. “What do you expect? They’re bored in between missions and you’re the best source of entertainment on the base.

“I shouldn’t be entertainment, I’m their boss to be respected.” At that you snorted with an undignified burst of laughter causing him to frown. “What?”

“Oh come on! I’ve heard you swear out the higher ups countless times when they annoy you. You call that respect?” You teased, laughing again when he looked away from you and muttered about how even you were disrespectful to him. “So what did the bad subordinates pry into most recently.”

“Recently and consistently they bring up my love life or in their words ‘a tragic lack of’ one.” He scoffed. “Every mission it’s putting up with their incessant questions and on the way back it’s stupid schemes to set me up with someone.”

“It’s sweet that they care.” You reasoned only to hear him being to mutter again. With a soft sigh you grabbed his notes to update them. He was the picture of health as you both knew would be the end result. “But if it bothers you that much, take the mystery away from them and they’ll move on. Tell them you’re seeing someone.”

“Magic someone out of thin air?” Smoker shook his head. He shouldn’t have even entertained the notion. His life was his own, he didn’t need to lie or divulge information if he didn’t wish to. “They might act like fools but creating a pretend lover is something even they’d notice a mile off.”

“Sooo don’t make up someone. Use someone they know?” You advised, moving to your desk to officially give Smoker’s physical the stamp of approval needed. Seeing you move, Smoker fixed his jacket and pulled out two fresh cigars to light but for once he didn’t make his way to the door with a gruff ‘thanks Doc’ like he normally did, he was too caught up in your words as you continued. “Then after a couple weeks, stage a break up and they’ll leave you and your personal life alone while you deal with it in your own way.” 

“Who am I going to rope into this scheme that I know won’t blab what’s really going on?” Smoker asked while stepping closer to the desk. His interest was piqued and it seemed like a solid enough plan but he knew that gossip spread fast in the G5 base. The last thing he needed was to risk extra insult to his pride if his subordinates knew he was lying. Smoker was surprised when you lifted your head and smiled at him expectantly. “Wait. You’d go along with this?”

“Why not? Helps you out from getting your blood pressure dangerously high again.” You shrugged simply. “Besides, doctor-patient confidentiality means I can’t tell anyone. What do you say?”

A few minutes later one of the G5 Marines rounded the corner, preparing for his routine physical only to slide to a complete stop in shock. The sight of Vice-Admiral Smoker, his leader straightening from what was most certainly a kiss with the base’s top doctor. The Marine froze when Smoker turned sharply to glare at him while you bit your lower lip shyly and looked away from the wide-eyed gaze of the Marine who interrupted such a sweet and tender moment. Smoker dropped his hand from your lower back and walked towards the Marine. “Whatever you think you saw. You didn’t.” 

Smoker continued on his way, the Marine unable to see his smirk as everything was already set in motion. By the end of the afternoon it was all through the base, some iterations of the events witnessed exaggerated or completely different but it all got Smoker what he wanted; for his subordinates to have something to distract them from him. Technically they were still fixated on him, but now that they believed he was seeing you, they were now talking amongst themselves about the matter and leaving him alone. 

Throughout the day he’d overheard the conversations both mixed and speculative. Some tried to work out when the romance had started and even that split theories and opinions. It had to have been recent because there was no way you both had hidden it for so long. It had to have been going on for a long time because it would explain why Smoker never looked at anyone else both off and on base. Some even declared they’d always known something was going on between Smoker and you and either way it was about damn time. 

For the next few weeks you and Smoker continued your subtle theatrics of being a couple and as you’d predicted the base that now there was no mystery to work out with Smoker’s love life, the base asked less questions. However when you appeared, even if it was passing by in the corridor the Marines looked your way in curiosity. Sometimes you did steal him away to say something useless or unimportant, just so you both appeared to be sharing a quick moment together when really it was just to keep your audience’s interest sated. One evening you found yourself in Smoker’s office, a new development that had occurred from your joint deception. While he finished reports at his desk, you reviewed your own medical reports from the comfort of the sofa he rarely seemed to use. While you both worked you engaged in idle but content conversation. 

“A friend of mine from one of the G7 base was in touch today.” You spoke up with an amused smile, not taking your eyes from your notes as you worked. “We’re one of the topics of conversation there too.” Smoker chuckled slightly at your report of how far the gossip had spread. 

“The interest in our relationship hasn’t died down at all.” He said with a small shake of his head.

“They’re so invested. They’ll be heartbroken when we end things.” You mused, too busy reading to notice Smoker's hand still in the writing of his own reports. He only now realised that that was the next stage in the plan; breaking up to gain full privacy again. Smoker hesitated to even admit it but he truly did enjoy your company. You were easy to be around, brought him a certain calm that he enjoyed. He tensed slightly when you asked him. “Have you considered when it’ll happen?”

“Uh…no. Not yet.” He admitted, that much he could confess. “They gossip but they're behaving for the most part, might just wait until they start to get bored. If that’s okay?”

“Of course, just let me know whenever you’re ready.” Smoker glanced at you in time to see you finally glance his way and offer him a relaxed but warm smile. The same smile he found himself looking for a little more each day. Whenever he was ready? Something gnawed at him in the uncomfortable realisation that perhaps the only thing he wanted to end with you was the pretending. 

——————————————-

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[peachway]

My Fault (Lando's version <3)

✦ characters - fem!reader x Lando Norris ✦ warnings - mention of drugs, bit violence and little blood                    ✦ word count - 4.1k

A/N - I do not own the plot and except for few, all the characters belong to Mercedes Ron. The London Nick has my heart and he's literally Lando Norris so I decided to write a My Fault: Lando's version <33 I have changed the plot just a tiny bit. And in the series i have a used nickname for the FEM OC, 'FRESA'. happy reading ✨                                                                

Third Person’s POV -

The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and blueberry muffins filled the air as Charlotte platted everything with beautiful flowers. She wanted to make breakfast for her daughter all by herself. She knew Fresa was going through a tough time after her recent breakup, and Charlotte was determined to help her daughter heal and move on.

With a warm smile, Charlotte carried a steaming mug of coffee into upstairs, where her daughter was curled up on her bed, lost in her thoughts. The sight of her little girl made her heart ache.

"Hey, sweetheart," Charlotte greeted softly, placing the mug on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

She looked up, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy, and a faint smile touched her lips as she saw her mother, "I'm fine mom. I called Theo but he didn't pick." she sniffs.

"Oh it's okay, it's just a little break. This happens in long distance." Charlotte said stroking her hair

"Why does it feel like we have broken up?"

"It's going to be fine, give it a little time." Charlotte soothes her, "Now come on, breakfast is ready."

"Mom, I'm not hungry," Fresa said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Come on, baby," Charlotte coaxed, her voice soft but firm. "You haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

"Just the coffee is fine," Fresa replied, retreating further into the cocoon of her blankets.

"I have a surprise for you," Charlotte offered, her smile widening, a spark of mischief in her eyes.

"Come join me downstairs." She said.

Fresa finally agreeing slowly got out of bed and followed her mother downstairs.

"Oh wow these muffins are really good."

On the kitchen island was Fresa's bestest cousin, Chloe.

"Chloe!!" Fresa screamed, her face lighting up with immense joy. She ran and threw herself into Chloe's arms, the two girls hugging tightly, their laughter filling the room.

"Surprise!" Chloe giggled.

The joyous reunion then settled into a comfortable hum, all sat down for breakfast.

"Wow mom you made everything?" Fresa smiled, impressed by the efforts.

"I can cook you know!" Charlotte laughed.

"I did made the muffins...I well helped with the batter." she admits and to that everyone chuckles.

"So baby I was thinking," she began, "Chloe is here for 3 days. So you both can go wherever you like, whatever you want to do, you can go crazy....and since it's your vacations, you can go to London with Chloe."

"London?" she asked with wide eyes.

"Yes. You know to see your dad." she said.

"Mom?" Fresa protested because her and her father's relationship wasn't in very good terms.

"You love Chloe right. Dad loves you too. I know he's done some stuff but he loves you baby." Charlotte says, "And you can also surprise Theo!"

"I don't know mom." she mumbled, taking a bite out of croissant from her plate.

"It'll be fun." she encouraged.

Fresa was initially hesitant, eventually agree. She did need some fresh air. And above that, she wanted to surprise Theo so bad.

Just as they landed Chloe informs that her dad had to go out on an important meeting and he was out of state and it brought a sigh of relief to Fresa. She still had to face him via FaceTime, however.

"Flight was alright, princess?" Clifford asked, his image flickering on the screen.

"Yes Dad." she replied.

"I'm out of town so stay with your sister for some time hmm?" he said, "I'll be there in few days."

"Okay." she replied.

"Call me if you any problem at all okay?" Clifford smiles. "Yes daddy." she nods.

"Chloe.." Clifford calls out.

"Take care of her. I don't want her to be involved with those guys. You Understand?" He warned.

"Understood uncle." she smiled.

"What was that about?" Fresa asked as soon as the call ended.

"Nothing." she dismissed.

"Listen baby, my boyfriend and I have take some time off work and are we currently living in one his villa near the forest."

"Okayy.." Fresa nods.

"So I'm gonna take you there. But please don't tell this to your dad. Please I request you." Chloe says.

"Why?" She asks.

"Because my boyfriend's father is kind of a rival to your dad and it's very messy. So please.." said Chloe.

"It's okay it's fine." she nodded.

Within an hour they had reached the beautiful villa. It was too perfect, mesmerising and straight out of a fairy tale. The modern white architecture blended seamlessly with the verdant darkness of the surrounding forest. Inside, the air was cool and subtly perfumed with the scent of flowers.

The first thing Fresa noticed was a framed photograph hanging on the wall in the living room: Two boys, standing on a race track against a race car. She could see the intensity in their eyes.

"Is nobody home?" she asked as only the butlers were present.

"Well, Liam is at work, and I think his brother might be in his room." Chloe replied, He's a dick. Don't fight with him,"

"Why would I?" Fresa raised an eyebrow.

"He doesn't particularly have a good influence. He's a good guy, but don't get too involved with him, okay?" "Okay." she nods.

"You can change and relax a bit, then we'll go somewhere nice in the evening." She said removing a strand of hair from Fresa's cheek.

"Can I just go to my room and disappear with my books?" Fresa said.

"No absolutely not. I won't leave you in here like a gremlin rat." Chloe laughed.

Y/n puts on her bathing suit and decides of read her favourite book by the nice warm sun. She sat by the edge of the pool, her bare feet dangling in the water. She opened her book, the gentle breeze rustling the pages, it was very peaceful and soothing. She felt a little good after months.

But her calm thoughts were interrupted by a sudden, explosive splash in the water. The splash drenching her and the book. She glances over to see a grinning idiot in the water.

"Sorry!" he called out.

He propelled himself towards the edge. His broad shoulders slick with water. Dark, wet strands of hair clung to his forehead, and the sun gave his skin a golden hue. But his eyes— were the prettiest blend of green and blue.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"This is my house. Who are you?" he countered, hoisting himself out a little. The water cascaded down his hair.

Fresa’s eyes narrowed. "Either you're Liam or his...dickhead brother."

"Lando," he said, the grin widening. "The dickhead brother. I was told you were coming. Not so nice to meet you?"

"Fresa," she replied, with a curt nod.

"Wow worse than I imagined." He laughs to himself.

"Why were you on the swimming pool edge if you didn't wanted to get wet." he asked.

"I just wanted to read and now you ruined my favorite book." she said as water dripped from pages.

Lando's grin only widened. He came a little closer, "Come on, Fresa, lighten up. It's a pool, meant for swimming, not sunbathing with literary casualties."

The tension was broken by the sound of the back door sliding open. Liam and Chloe emerged, hand in hand.

"I get you two have met?" Liam chuckled, glancing at Lando. "Fresa, this is Liam, my boyfriend." Chloe introduced.

"Hi!" she smiles backed.

"Well her name is actually y/n but we call her Fresa since she was 2 because she loved strawberries.." Chloe explained.

"Strawberries seriously." Lando snorted.

"And that is my asshole brother." Liam chuckles with a playful jab at Lando.

"Are you done?" Lando sneered and dives back into the water.

Later at the brunch table Liam and Chloe discussed about the next plans since Fresa had come to spent her vacations there. Lando sat across from her, his wet hair now dried and curled, framing his face. He looked at her taking a bite of toast and smiled. Fresa rolled her eyes, trying to ignore him, and focused on her omelette.

"So we can go out for a nice dinner tonight." Liam suggested.

"Oh no listen bro tonight-" Lando began, but Liam cut him off, "No! Anna is coming today. You're not going anywhere."

"Who's Anna?" Fresa asked.

"His girlfriend." Chloe teases.

"Thank you for answering" Lando smiles mockingly.

"Lando you can't run from it. We're going out, dinner at 7. And you can't leave the house till then." Liam ordered.

"You're not dad." Lando retorted, standing up and leaving the table.

The evening approached and everybody was ready to go out. Fresa went with Liam and Chloe whereas Lando went separately in his McLaren. Fresa was nesteled in back seat, imagining Theo face when she’ll surprises him tomorrow and about all the things they’ll do together. It was cheery drive. But the good time was limited. Fresa receives a text from her friend who was in London, attached were the photos of Theo kissing another girl. Fresa's head started hurting and she couldn't control her tears as they overflowed her eyes. She didn't wanted to ruin the mood so she didn't say anything to anybody.

After reaching the restaurant Fresa tried to be composed and to stop her emotions but she failed. She stared at the menu, the fancy letters unreadable to her.

"Chloe?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

Just then, Lando's phone rang, a sharp chime that cut through the restaurant's soft murmur. He excused himself and moved away from the table.

"Yes, baby?" Chloe asked "Can I go home?" she said.

"Is everything alright? You don't look good." asked Liam. "Just a headache," Fresa lied,"Can we please do this dinner later?"

Chloe squeezed her hand, her touch comforting. "Of course, no problem. I'll call you a cab." Her eyes, though, were sharp, searching. "But if there's anything at all, you can tell me, okay?"

Lando returned, his expression tight. "Listen, Liam... I have to go." "Where?" Liam asked.

"Work," Lando replied. "I swear to god, if you're again going to that bloody—" Liam began, but he cuts him off, "No, this is important. It's Lion. He called, he wants to meet at his place."

"Okay, go." Liam's shoulders relaxed slightly, "Wait, take her too," Liam ordered, gesturing towards Fresa.

"No. She can go by herself!" Lando shook his head.

"Lando!" Liam sighs.

"She's your girlfriend's sister, your problem not mine." He argued.

"Come on Lion's place is on the way to our home...go drop her home, then you can go wherever you want." Liam insisted.

"Fine." Lando rolled his eyes, "Come." he said to Fresa, his tone rather rough, offering no comfort, only a means to an end. The night, which had started good was now a mess of broken trust and forced companionship.

The silence in the car stretched. A little uncomfortable, as Lando sped away from the restaurant.

"So you like racing?" Fresa asked to break the silence.

"I loved it. Me and Liam both," Lando replied.

"That picture.." she said, remembering the photograph on the wall.

"It’s me and Liam. We used to go karting and racing together." Lando nodded.

"You don't go anymore?" she asked.

"No, I left. He made me." a shadow passed over Lando's face, "My dad." he said.

"Your dad?" Fresa looked at him.

"Please don’t talk about him. I don't talk about my dad," he said, his voice clipped.

"Why are you getting all prickly and irritated. Such a Typical spoiled brat." she said.

Lando's knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. The car swerved slightly, and Fresa braced herself. "What did you just say?" His voice was low. "Aren't you a spoiled brat too? Doesn't talk to Daddy but is still here to meet him. She hates him but loves his money." He said.

"You know nothing about me," she said, her voice a low, tremor.

"You know nothing about me either. Yet you judged me. I'm not a spoiled kid" he countered.

"Okay leave it. I don’t know what I just said." Fresa gave up.

"Is this your way of apologising? Because you're terrible at it." Lando scoffed, the bitterness clinging to his tongue.

"Why should I apologise? I've been told you're a dick and you're kinda proving that right now." she said.

"You're the one who started it," he snapped.

"I told you to drop it," she hissed.

"I would have if you had simply just apologised." said Lando.

"I'm not apologising." Fresa glares.

"Get out." he suddenly says, his voice cold and flat.

"What?" Fresa stared at him.

"I said, get out of my car," he repeated, his eyes fixed on the road. "I'm not taking you home."

He pulled the car to the side of the road.

"You're not serious?" Fresa's eyes widened.

"Dead serious," he said, his voice hard. "Get out."

They were far from the city, on a dark, deserted stretch of highway.

Fresa glares him, she gets out of the car and slammed the car door shut, the sound echoing in the quiet night. Lando drives away leaving her all alone.

He rushed through the dimly lit streets. The roads seemed the type where all the illegal shit happens. He reached at the location and pulled up beside the Camaro there. Lion was slumped in the driver's seat, his face pale and streaked with blood. "What the hell happened to you?" Lando growled, his voice tight with anger.

Lion's palms were sweaty, his eyes wide with fear. "Nothing, man, I tripped. But forget that, I have a bigger issue!" He held up a medium-sized package, his hands trembling. "My brother told me to deliver it here and told me not to open it, but I'm an idiot. It's cocaine!"

"What the hell Lion! If you wanted money, you could've just asked me. Why are you doing these kind of things?" Lando cursed, his frustration boiling over.

"Forget about that, man, help me out now!" Lion pleaded, his voice cracking. "Don't go in there then," Lando said, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the pub.

"They'll kill me, Lando!" Lion cried, his voice laced with panic. "Well what do you want me to do?" Lando asked, his patience wearing thin.

"Come with me, I will mess things up! I need some support," Lion replied, his eyes pleading. "No!" Lando shook his head

"Okay, let's go back home. The person I was supposed to deliver this will come after me because this is worth 1 lakh pounds! And I will die just because you didn't come with him there!" Lion said, his voice rising in desperation. "God, you're so dramatic. Okay, Fine." Lando sighed.

Just as they were about to go in Fresa slid into the back seat of the car. "What the hell are you doing here?" The already angry Lando snapped.

"I left my phone in your car!" she countered, a simple shrug dismissing his expressions.

Lion, perched back. "That's your new girlfriend?"

"Shut up!" Lando retorted, his face flushing. "I had called you a cab and rather than going home you followed me?"

"Yes. I had the location on so it was pretty easy." she replied.

"You could have waited for me to come back home!" he scoffed.

"You irritated me so much, now I’ll irritate you. What are you doing here anyways?" She asked.

"We need to go—" Lion began, but Lando cut him off with a sharp glare. "This isn't a game, Fresa. You need to leave. Now." he ordered.

"No" she replied with a hint of defiance.

"Ugh, my god. Okay, stay in the car. We'll be out in a few minutes," Lando said but was she going to listen? No.

While Lando and Lion disappeared into the dimly lit back room to deal with Ronnie, Fresa, alone, wandered to the front of the club. She tried to blend into the shadows, but Ronnie's brother, Robert, had already fixed his gaze on her. He slid into the seat beside her,

"Hi" he greeted.

She doesn't say anything, just smiles back.

"Not much of a talker I see."

"Drink?" He said pushing over a gin to her.

With the anger over Theo she gulped it down without thinking much.

Meanwhile, in the back room, tensions were escalating. Ronnie had discovered a discrepancy in the weight of the package Lion had delivered.

"It's opened," he growled, his eyes narrowed.

"Dunno. I just delivered it as it got," Lion stammered, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously.

"It's missing 100gms ," Ronnie said, placing the package on a scale.

"Come on man it's just 100?" Lando said, trying to diffuse the situation.

"You know how much it costs? That's gonna cost me thirteen thousand pounds," he glared.

"Thirteen thousand??" Lando repeated, his eyes widening.

"It's uncut. Pure." Ronnie said, "now I need my money."

"Fine. I'll get the money to you by tomorrow," Lando retorted, trying to maintain a composure.

"Tomorrow?" Ronnie shook his head.

"Look I can't just magically get that kind of cash okay? There's a limit on the ATM." Lando argued, frustration taking over him.

"Alright, fine. Go," Ronnie nodded, his eyes still holding a threat.

Lando and Lion sighed in relief, eager to escape. They hurried back to the front of the club only to see Fresa stumbling towards the exit door with Robert’s arm draped around her shoulder.

Lando ran over and pushes him away.

"Easy there boy" Robert yelled.

"Fresa!" Lando called. He cupped her face, his thumb gently tracing her cheek.

"She's a beauty isn't she." Robert smiled smugly.

"Fresa, look at me," Lando said, his concern growing into a burning fear.

"Lan..." she slurred, her words barely coherent. One drink couldn't do that and as far as Robert's reputation goes, he definitely drugged her.

"Here." Lando carefully lifted her onto a nearby table. Then, he turned to face Robert and his goons, his eyes a cold, unwavering stare.

"What?" Robert sneered.

With a swift, brutal movement, Lando's punch landed Robert's face. When the first blow didn't bring the man down, he struck again, this time breaking his nose. The guy falls down on the ground with the force and the temperature in the room rises.

Robert wastes no time in giving the fist back to Lando. From then it all became a chaos. Ronnie came to the front and joined in the fight. Everyone started hitting each other like crazy, they'd hit with whatever is nearby, the glasses, alcohol bottles, chairs and what not.

Nobody touched Fresa. She was just sitting in the corner, not understanding what was actually happening in front of her. When she saw a woman pointing a knife at Lando's back, she quickly grabbed a glass from the table and breaks it onto her head.

"You bitch!" The woman shouts. She slashes Fresa in her stomach and Fresa punches her back, both fell down to the ground fighting further.

"FRESA!" Lando yells as he tries to fight off Ronnie.

Suddenly faint siren could be heard outside and it wasn't long before the cops got there.

"POLICE, STAND DOWN!" The officers barge in with guns.

They got hold of Lando, Lion and Fresa and some others but Ronnie and Robert had slid out the back door. "Damn you officer, those goons ran away." Lando cussed.

"Lando Norris, you are enough for us." The officer said snapping handcuffs around his wrists.

This was bad. He was trying to get way from these types things as much as he can and now Fresa was a part of this too. She was trapped in a war she didn't understand. He needed to get her out of this. He needed to fix this. Ronnie already hated Lando and he surely won't let this slide.

As soon as they reached the station, Lando reached out to his lawyer friend, Anna. And secured their release by the following afternoon. Lando decided it was best for Fresa to stay away from her home right now so he took her back to his villa.

Fresa cleans up and sat on the kitchen island, her head pounding, her stomach churning. The aftereffects of the drug were still lingering, blurring her thoughts and making it difficult to focus. She felt disoriented and vulnerable.

Lando came in from upstairs and glanced at her as he made some ginger tea. "Here, it'll help," he said, giving her a steaming cup. "How are you doing?"

"Me? I just got drugged, stabbed and arrested. In one day! Oh I'm doing awesome!" she replied.

"I'm sorry." Lando apologises, his eyes filled with genuine regret.

"Where's Liam?" She asked.

"Dad called him back for an important case so he and Chloe went back. But they'll be here anytime soon."

"Does he know how much of a saint his little brother is?" She chuckled.

"No please don't drag my brother into this. He's clean. He'll kill me if he knows I'm involving in such things. Sorry please." Lando pleaded.

"It's okay. It was really my fault." She said.

"You told me not to come but i didn't listen and took that drink. God how stupid am I....I guess I was angry."

"On whom?" Lando asked, his voice gentle.

"My boyfriend, Theo....It was almost over between us when he moved here in London and I was trying to mend it. I thought it was because of the long distance thing but it turns out he was cheating on me."

"What a loser." Lando scoffed.

She chuckles and then hisses as she shifts in her chair and feels a sharp pain. Last night's wound.

"Can I see it?" Lando asks.

Fresa lifts her shirt and and he saw the red bandage gash above her waist, to the side. "You're bleeding through." Lando said, his brow furrowing. He hurriedly grabs the first aid box and guided her to the couch.

Then he carefully cleaned the wound. His touch surprisingly gentle. Fresa gripped Lando's shirt as the antiseptic stung, a sharp, clean pain. "I'm almost done," he reassured her.

The scent of antiseptic filled the air, an oddly comforting aroma. Fresa's gaze drifted to Lando's face, his brow furrowed in concentration. He was so close, every detail of his expression magnified.

As he finished bandaging the wound, his fingers brushed against her skin, a feather-light touch that sent a shiver down her spine. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers.

The silence continued with only the chirping of birds outside. Lando's gaze lingered on her lips. He leaned in, his breath warm against her cheek. She closed her eyes, feeling his lips brushing against her cheek.

Then his lips moved to hers, a soft, tentative exploration. The kiss was gentle, hesitant. But as she gave him access, the kiss deepened, becoming more passionate. Her hands found their way to his hair, her fingers in the soft curls.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers. A soft smile played on his lips. "Do you want go to a party?" he asked.

"A party?" she chuckled.

"No no! Not like last night. Liam and Chloe will be there too!" He laughed.

"So you're not angry at me anymore?" he asked, his eyes searching hers.

"Yes, still am," she replied, a playful smirk playing on her lips. "But maybe tomorrow, right now I'm in a little pain," she smiled.

"Wow, Chloe, look, the house is standing," Liam laughed as he entered with Chloe. Seeing them, Lando moved away, and Fresa adjusted her shirt back.

"What you kids do when we were out?" Liam asked, settling onto the couch.

"Played in the sand" Lando sneered.

"What happened to your hands?" Chloe asked, noticing Lando's reddened knuckles.

"What happened to you?" Liam asked, seeing Fresa's forehead wound.

"I, uh, don't know...I think I was drunk and I fell," she stammered a little.

"And you went for a boxing match, didn't you?" Liam glared at Lando. "You do boxing?" Fresa asked, looking at Lando. "I've told you a million times to quit, but you never listen, right?" Liam continued. "You didn't take Fresa with you, did you?"

"No!" Lando and Fresa replied in unison, their voices too quick, too synchronized, making them even more suspicious.

"Anyways where's Anna?" Liam asked.

"She's late, she had some important work so she'll come by tomorrow morning." Lando answers and Liam nods.

Anna. The words echoed through Fresa's ears. Did she just kissed Lando despite him having a girlfriend? Guilt washes over her.

[4.1k words]

[ergodic-mentality]

Shared this to my friends (outside my dnd table) and they asked for explanation on the names, so here goes:

The Final Breath - Current Campaign - Player Character, An Elderly Crystal Dragonborn - Planescape module

So I have a lot of fun as the dm just throwing bullshit at them. One of the things I threw out early was the teeth of Dahlver-Nar, funny artifact, doesn't see a lot of use. One of the teeth you can pull from it is a red dragon tooth, which the elderly dragonborn did manage to pull and implant into his mouth. Gave him a super strong fire breath attack at the cost of 2 exhaustion levels (DC 24 Dex save, 26d6 fire damage). Proceeded to use it 3 times in a row in a confined building to vaporize a whole horde of demons, and resulting in his own timely death (6 exhaustion levels is instant death). A caveat in this campaign is the players each play 3 characters that cycle when one dies, so he does still eventually come back. Very funny to constantly bring up.

Stormcaller - Same campaign - Different Player Character, Male Witch with a touch curse

Due to Various Happenings, the party found themselves in a tavern concert in Glorium on the Edge of Valhalla for a Girl Failure Pop Idol. While near the crowd, due to some failed-forward/succeeded rolls, the witch gets hauled up by the mosh pit to crowd surf and get tossed on stage (much to his own protest). This results in many people touching him, and many people getting cursed. SOMEHOW most of them lucked out and didn't get any obvious curses EXCEPT FOR THE FINAL GUY who not only botched his save and got cursed, but then rolled "INSTANTLY GETS STRUCK BY LIGHTNING". So yeah, instant lightning strike into the middle of a mosh pit, massive boom, people go flying (but somehow survive), lands on the stage holding a piece of paper out to the idol in front of everyone embarrassed.

The Immortal Herald of Heaven and Hell - One-Shot, My character, Wild Magic sorcerer.

Ended up in a room full of enemies. Several spells were up. Get knocked unconscious. Due to trigger on DMs side to call for wild magic roll, instantly calls for a wild magic roll as my conciousness begins to slip. Roll a 1 on a d100. DM rules the "Roll on this table at the start of each of your turns for the next minute" all go off at once. Several things instantly happen:

A modron (pentadrone) is summoned

2. Maximize the damage of the next damaging spell you cast

3. Maximized Fireball goes off centered on myself, vaporizing everything in the room (and nearly instantly killing me)

4. Illusory butterflies and flower petals flutter in the air within 10 feet of you for the next minute.

5. A unicorn is summoned

6. I gain a regeneration effect, saving me from death and bringing me back up into consciousness

He wakes up to a room full of dead enemies, flower petals and butterflies flying around, a unicorn suddenly prancing, a dead interdimensional cop-bot, and everything on fire

Mage titles like "Lord of Lightning" or "Child of Darkness" are no different from army nicknames: They're usually based on inside jokes. You didn't realize this until you got one.

[pluckyredhead]

Do you think Dick has a favourite brother?

I LOVE THIS QUESTION. I'M GOING TO ANSWER IT AT UNNECESSARY LENGTH.

But for the tl;dr crowd: yes, 1000000%. It's Damian. Dick would not admit this under pain of death, even to himself, but it's Damian.

THE LONG VERSION:

So Dick and Jason are not close and never have been. I always sort of blink in bewilderment when people say they are, or were when Jason was Robin, because they are demonstrably not, and that's what's interesting and tragic about them.

The fact of the matter is that Dick simply wasn't around very much when Jason was Robin. The Doyleist reason for this is that he wasn't really being treated like a Bat character: he was a Titans character, appearing in Titans books, with only the occasional cameo in Batbooks. He and Jason get along very well in Jason's first origin story (when Jason was a circus acrobat and his parents were eaten by crocodiles); in fact, Dick tells Bruce he wants to adopt Jason and Bruce is like "Not if I adopt him first!" But after that, Dick simply...wasn't there very often.

If you need a Watsonian reason for this, it's pretty easy to extrapolate one. Dick and Bruce were not getting along well during this period, so of course Dick would avoid Bruce and Gotham. And yeah, I think it's fair to assume Dick felt some kind of complicated feelings about Bruce having a new Robin, especially post-Crisis when Bruce made Jason Robin without Dick having any say or even a warning that it was going to happen. I tend to headcanon that he resented Jason a little, but was mature enough to know that it wasn't actually Jason's fault, and partially decided to stay away so that he didn't take that out on Jason. But Jason, a smart and sensitive kid, interpreted this as Dick avoiding him because he didn't like him.

And then Jason died.

Dick took that hard, and I think it was less "my brother who I had a close relationship with died" and more "this child followed in my footsteps and it killed him and I wasn't even there for him when I had the chance." To me, that absolutely forms the subtext of the relationship he develops with Tim.

Not at the start. At the start, once "A Lonely Place of Dying" is over, he's as checked out with Tim as he was with Jason. The Doyleist reason is the same - Dick literally just wasn't supposed to be in Batbooks too much - but the way it plays out is sometimes really funny in an awful way. Like in and just after Knightfall, when Bruce gets his back broken by Bane and is like "I've known Jean-Paul Valley for two weeks and he barely has any training, most of it done by my extremely new 13-year-old Robin...I think I'll make him Batman." And then Tim's dad and Tim's dad's doctor, Shondra Kinsolving, get kidnapped, and since Bruce has been aggressively romantically pursuing Shondra to the point of it being uncomfortable and inappropriate, he's like "Okay going to rescue Shondra! I mean, your dad! I'm taking Alfred with me! Tim, you're in charge of Gotham and Jean-Paul byeeeeee!" And then JPV immediately gets unhinged and violent and tries to kill Tim and Tim keeps calling Alfred like "Um can you please come back and help" and Alfred's like "No" and Tim's like "Okay well did you at least rescue my dad?" and Alfred's like "Also no." Anyway Dick finally comes to Gotham and Tim is like "THANK GOD, HELP, BRUCE MADE AZRAEL BATMAN AND HE'S TRYING TO KILL EVERYONE, I NEED AN ADULT" and Dick is like "He made someone who isn't me Batman??? 😡😡😡" and then just...fucks off back to New York and leaves Tim to deal with it. Very out of character, VERY funny.

BUT ANYWAY. Then we get to around 1996 and 1. Dick is no longer on the Titans which has a whole new lineup and 2. there's an editorial shift emphasizing the Batfamily. This is where the line really expands: Robin (started in 1993, but still pretty new), Nightwing, Birds of Prey, Azrael, eventually Gotham Knights in 1999 and Batgirl in 2000. Dick moves to Bludhaven and spends way more time in Gotham.

This is when Dick looks at Tim, says "Is anyone gonna big brother that?" and doesn't wait for an answer. All of a sudden he's behaving in a way that suddenly feels in character for him (although the idea of Dick as a big brother/mentor...really wasn't a thing for him prior to this era, so it's more of a new development that feels correct in retrospect). He's training Tim, he's giving him advice, he's teasing him about girls, he's coming up with inside jokes, he's giving him noogies. It's like he watched a bunch of 80s sitcoms to learn how to be a big brother and applied his research accordingly.

And Tim? Tim absolutely blossoms under the attention. Tim, who has been adultified by every other adult in his life since he was, like, eight, is getting treated like a kid. Tim, whose parents are never around, and don't pay attention when they are around, has an adult he looks up to who wants to spend time with him, for fun. Tim, who has hero worshipped Dick Grayson since he was...well, according to the math, he was one (1) year old so let's ignore the math, but he was small, is now basking in the full force of Dick Grayson's off-the-charts charisma. This is the best thing that has ever happened to Tim. This is the dream.

I want to be clear here: I think Dick's extreme reversal here is a delayed reaction to Jason's death, but I don't want to imply that he doesn't care about Tim as an individual. He loves Tim as much as Tim loves him. Tim's good opinion is incredibly important to him. This relationship goes both ways.

Annnnd then both of their lives fall apart extremely rapidly, and Damian shows up, and Bruce dies. And Dick tries to get out of it, but ultimately it ends how it has to: with him accepting the mantle of Batman, and responsibility for Damian.

The relationship Dick has with Damian is nothing like the relationship Dick has with Tim. Tim is his little bro. Damian is his baby. He's fourteen years older than Damian and as much of a parent figure as a sibling figure. And Damian is difficult and exhausting but Dick slowly, slowly coaxes a degree of trust and affection out of him that even Bruce will never achieve. And he can only do that by making Damian Robin, which means Tim has to stop being Robin.

This is where Dick and Tim fall apart, because what they need in this very vulnerable moment is so diametrically opposed, and neither of them are wrong. To Dick, asking Tim to step down - or up, from Dick's perspective - from being Robin is a compliment. Dick fought to free himself from Bruce, to become his own man with his own name, and so asking Tim to do the same thing is a show of faith in Tim, in his skills and experience.

Whereas Tim's hero-worship has always been for Robin, not Batman, and every glimpse he has had of a future beyond Robin has always been a dystopia. But more importantly, Tim has just lost his father, his stepmother, his mentor, his girlfriend, and his two best friends. He desperately needs to be able to lean on Dick, the grown-up he admires the most, and instead, Dick is kicking him out of the nest.

In other words: Dick is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "I need you to help me by being a fellow adult." And Tim is saying, with all the love and trust in his heart, "But I need you to be my adult." And they both get a no.

This is water under the bridge now, and they've healed even though they've never really talked it through because Bats don't do that (although what I wouldn't give for a Nightwing/Red Robin miniseries where they do everything but talk about it). But I do think Tim looks at the closeness and affection between Dick and Damian and feels some kind of way about it to this day, because it's so clear to everyone that Damian is Dick's favorite...but Tim remembers when he was Dick's favorite. And what Tim doesn't see is that Dick values him as a genuine partner in a way he will never quite achieve with Damian, because to him, Damian will always be his baby, even more so than he is Bruce's. (Dick is Bruce's baby, actually, not Damian. In this essay I will...)

(I could see a really interesting dynamic developing between Jason and Tim here, as the ones on the outside of that mutual appreciation society, but sadly the comics have never gone there. Alas.)

Finally, I think the relationship between Dick and Duke is very much "I just work here." Like, Dick is grown, he's out of the house, he's largely matured past the Bat-drama. He likes Duke but he doesn't feel the compulsion to brother him the way he did with Tim, and Duke doesn't need the mother henning Damian did.

IN CONCLUSION, and hooboy, sorry anon, most of this wasn't at all the question you asked:

Duke and Dick get along fine but aren't particularly close.

Damian is Dick's precious baby and always will be, even when Damian is an adult and annoyed by this treatment (but privately kind of loves it because he is a princess at heart).

Tim is Dick's buddy, his pal, his equal. If Dick were ever going to talk something through with a sibling, it would be Tim. (But that would require Dick admitting that everything isn't perfect or asking for help, so it'll never happen.)

Jason and Dick can't be in a room together for five minutes without fighting and Dick finds him wildly frustrating, but they will throw down for each other. When they aren't punching each other.

(And to answer the corollary: Damian's favorite brother is Dick. Tim's favorite brother is also Dick. Duke's favorite brother is Tim by default, since he doesn't know Dick very well and Jason and Damian are both too annoying, but really he's closest with Cass. Jason's favorite brother is Ace and he has communicated that often and loudly (but really it's probably also Dick).)

[ladsonlads]

Impartial Hearts | Sylus - Part Two

Pairing -> Boss Sylus x Non MC Reader

Parts -> Part One | Part Two

Synopsis -> You’ve been working as Onychinus’s accountant for two years, and you’ve been carrying two heavy secrets for a third of it. You were in love with your boss, and your mother was dying.

A/N -> I'm sorry it took so long. I have been obsessing over trying to make part two perfect but I don't think I can. It's time I share my baby with you, and I really hope you enjoy it.

Tags -> Angst, fluff :)

Trigger Warnings -> Character death, heavily mentions grief. Some parts are suggestive but there is no smut.

Word Count -> 18.8K (it got kinda crazy)

Late October

It was cold, dark and gloomy; the weather a perfect pathetic fallacy to the narrative of your life. The freshly disturbed patch of grass failed to convey the significance of who laid underneath it. It was vexing, how the world continued to spin on it’s axis despite the fact that it stopped spinning for you. 

It hurt to think about the events that led to your undoing. The weeks prior to the moment your mother drew her last breath. You were a cracked vase filled with wilting flowers and overflowing regret. Every breath you took consumed more energy than you could spare and yet the world just. Kept. Spinning. 

“I brought you flowers. Yellow tulips, by the way.” The words felt like lead on your tongue. It was one thing to accept your mother was never coming back, it was another to try to act normal about it. “I know you never cared for them, but I didn’t think leaving a pack of cigarettes on your grave was very tasteful.” You bitterly smiled to yourself at the memories of your mom sneaking a cigarette in the backyard when she thought you were asleep. It was a nasty habit you did everything to rid her of. A fruitless attempt to protect her from the inevitable. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t figured out your epitaph yet. It’s just so hard to condense your entire life into a few words. Plus, they charge by the letter, so I’m trying to be really selective.” It felt weird, speaking into empty space, but you read online that it helped with grief, so you tried anyway. 

That was how you approached most things nowadays. Eating, drinking, sleeping, they all seemed meaningless. But, you knew you couldn’t survive on just antagonism and mourning, so you did it anyway. 

“Zayne called again. I know you told me not to hate him and that it wasn’t his fault, but I can’t bring myself to agree.” 

The moment Zayne told you that the heart that could save your mother’s life was going to someone else replayed in your mind like a scratched vinyl stuck on an aggravating note.

“I got so frustrated by his constant calls that I threw my phone into the ocean.” You let out a sad laugh. “Guess that’s the last time I bring anything with me when I’m walking along the coast.” 

You paused for a moment, feeling stupid. But you had so much to say to her, it all just began spilling out.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I might lose the house. I burned through all my paid leave, and the idea of going back to work for Sylus makes me want to put my head through a wood-chipper. I know I have to, but how can I focus on work when I have nothing left to work for?” You tasted the tears before you felt them, the saltiness reminded you of your weekends at the beach with your mom. You did everything to get out of joining her, you hated the beach, but it was her favourite place to be and in a desperate attempt to cling on to whatever was left of her, you forced it to be yours too.

“I’m sorry I never got you that house you dreamed of, or the dog. I’m sure there are lots of dogs in heaven, and at least the dogs there have been screened. With my luck any dog I would’ve gotten you would’ve been evil.” You teetered around the grievance you truly wanted to apologise for. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t spend much time with you before you passed away. I was so sure you would get the transplant. I tried so hard to save for it. I should’ve been with you. If I knew—” The sobs raked through you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs. You sat down next to her tombstone, leaning your head against the chiseled rock. 

There were moments when you’d wake up, and in the haze of your muddled mind you’d forget she was dead. But then the ache in your body is deciphered by your mind, and you’re reminded of just how much you’ve lost. Maybe that’s why they called it mourning. Grief dawned on you like the rising sun.

Life had a way of being entirely unfair, and there was nowhere to hide from fate’s piercing claws. And as if to ensure you hadn’t forgotten just how cruel life could be, your head whipped around at the sound of footsteps behind you to find the last person you wanted to see.

Sylus was dressed in a long black coat hanging effortlessly off of his broad shoulders, a black dress shirt that really should’ve been buttoned up to the top, and a pair of black slacks that made his long legs look impossibly longer. He looked every bit the cunning grim reaper, and it wasn’t just because he was surrounded by graves.

“I didn’t know you were back in the N109 Zone.” The words came out harsher than you intended as your head returned to it’s position against the rock. 

Sylus stopped in front of you, lowering himself to his haunches so that you would be face-to-face. It stung to look at him, so you focused on picking at the grass instead. 

“I only got back a few hours ago. I heard about your mother. I’m sorry.” Having been deprived of his voice for over a month, you cursed the butterflies that coursed through you like muscle memory. Part of you wished he’d returned disfigured, but you knew it wouldn’t have made much of a difference. Ugly or devastatingly beautiful, the storm that was Sylus could not be stopped, only weathered. 

“Sorry that she died or sorry that you weren’t there?” The bitterness in your tone was unfamiliar to you. Even though you knew it was unfair of you to expect him to have stayed, he left immediately after he dropped you off at the hospital and you hoped he’d have been there just a little longer. It didn’t help that you didn’t hear from him until two weeks later, and by then you were too engrossed in your battle against Akso hospital’s medical board to respond. 

“You haven’t been answering my calls; they’re not even going through anymore. You haven’t blocked me, have you?” Sylus countered your question with one of his own. If you cared enough, you might’ve called him out on his diversion. 

“No, my phone broke.” That was an understatement if there ever was one. 

“How long ago?”

“A week.” That much was true and since you couldn’t afford a smart phone, a shitty $30 flip phone weighed down your pocket. 

“And all the times I called before then?” Sylus’s eyes perused you with intensity, and you suddenly felt self-conscious. You weren’t dressed well, in a pair of black sweatpants that were too big on you and a matching hoodie. Grieving people were allowed to dress terribly without judgement, Y/N. It’s okay.

“I didn’t feel like picking up.” The grass continued to bare the brunt of your nerves as you answered. The you that wasn’t effectively an orphan would’ve made up some excuse to protect his feelings, but you were resolved to change that. Your mother was strong, independent, and she never backed down from a fight. Not against men like Sylus, and not against her illness. If you wanted to honour her memory then you had to live your life the way she’d want you to.

“Do you have a phone now?” 

You reached into the pocket of your sweatpants to take out the grey flip phone. You watched as Sylus bit back a laugh.

“I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t need you to get me anything.” You quickly retorted.

“You’re going to need a phone from this century if you’re working for me, Y/N.” He said it so casually, as if you were put on this earth solely to serve him as his accountant. 

“Right, about that…” Your determination to be confident and unapologetic began to dwindle as you wondered how to tell Sylus you needed more time.

“No. Resigning is not an option.” Twelve minutes. It took Sylus twelve minutes to return to his usual controlling self. You were impressed, truly, it was a new record after all. 

“We don’t have a blood pact, Sylus. I can resign if I want to. Besides, that’s not what I was going to say. I need more time off.” You didn’t sound very convincing, but it wasn’t like you could change who you were overnight. It would take a lifetime to unlearn your bad habits. 

Sylus looked conflicted, as if he didn’t know what to say. When he chose to finally open his mouth, you wished he hadn’t.

“I’ve given you a month, Y/N. That’s enough.” His statement came out so matter-of-factly, you wondered if you had imagined it. A month was not nearly enough to recover from losing your mom, but you figured a man who killed people for a living wouldn’t understand. 

“It’s only been two weeks since she died. And I’m sure the temp you’ve got is perfectly competent.”

“The temp doesn’t know the company like you do and I haven’t bothered teaching him on the premise that you were returning. If you’re not back soon I can’t promise you’ll have a job to come back to.” 

The tension in the air dissipated as you began to laugh. Loudly. Obnoxiously. Hysterically. 

“You— You seriously think I care whether or not I have a job? I can barely will myself to eat right now—employment is not my priority.” You wiped back the tears that began to spill out. Their origin unknown, between your hysteria and sorrow, your eyes were constantly puffy.

“People die all the time, sweetheart. It’s no reason to throw your future away.” Sylus stood up straight at the end of his statement, holding his hand out to you. 

The angel on your shoulder whispered that in his own peculiar way, this was his attempt at comforting you. But you stopped listening to that angel when they buried your mom under six-feet of dirt, and you couldn’t help the word vomit that escaped you like water barrelling out of a splintered dam. 

You pushed away his hand, and stood up to look at him with a ferocity you didn’t know you possessed.

“I get that something really dark and twisted must have happened in your youth to make you so heartless, but most people have shitty childhoods, sweetheart. We choose not to be terrible, insufferable people because of it.” The unbridled rage you’d spend so long trying to suppress seeped out of you uncontrollably as you screamed at Sylus. You walked toward him, your anger taking hold of you as you began to push him away. A few months ago you would’ve given anything to touch him, now all you cared about was making him feel a semblance of the pain he instilled in you. 

“Some of us choose to feel our emotions in their entirety, regardless of how much it hurts, because we’re not scared to love and lose. You’re a coward, Sylus and you may think that my mother dying is just an inevitable consequence of life, but my world will never be the same.” In an attempt to calm down, you took a deep breath.

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.” The word vomit continued, and when you saw the hurt flash briefly within his eyes, you felt the arms of regret begin to sink their claws into you. 

You shouldn’t have said that. It wasn’t you.

But before you could take it all back, Sylus’s phone began ringing and you figured from the urgency in which he answered it must’ve been her. 

“I lost track of time, I’ll be right there.” He spoke in a low voice in what you could only assume was an attempt to mask the fact that he was leaving you for something more important, again. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“Just go.” You waved him off and turned back around to face your mother’s grave, though now the tears welling up in your eyes couldn’t be entirely attributed to the grief. 

Early November

You weren’t sure time could heal the gaping wound your mother’s passing left behind, but grief had settled into your life like an imposing aunt. It was in your home, touching your things, ruining your food, and never once leaving you alone. It didn’t feel so all-consuming anymore, but it clung onto you constantly like a shadow. 

You were watching the third Harry Potter movie at 8am when you received the eviction notice via Email. You’d been expecting it, ultimately you were behind on rent, but the reason plastered on the paper was exponentially worse than your own incompetence.

…Selling to developers…suburban expansion project…

As if losing your childhood home wasn’t bad enough, they were planning on destroying it. Memories were bound to decay with time, that was an inevitable consequence of being human. Sooner or later you’d forget the way your mom dressed, or the smell of her perfume. Tangible things like photographs, places, they kept those memories anchored. You couldn’t lose the house, it wasn’t an option. 

You spent the next hour trying to reason with your landlord over the phone, but he was committed to selling. He rejected every single one of your proposals, though even you knew they were weak at best. The developers were offering significantly more than market value, there was no way you could beat that. Stupid gentrification. But, your landlord told you he was sympathetic, and the deal hadn’t been finalised just yet. If you could match the developer’s offer by the end of the month, he’d gladly sell it to you instead.

Of course the developer’s offer was $800,000, and by the looks of your financials, you were about $796,312 short. 

Desperate for a catharsis for your unending frustration, you screamed into the throw pillow on your couch until your throat felt raw. Then, you opened up your laptop to figure out a plan. 

30 minutes later you had:

Sell your kidney to an organ broker and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score. 

Dabble briefly in prostitution and use the money to get a loan from any dodgy bank that would accept your mediocre credit score.

Become a squatter and protest the demolition of your home environmental-activist style. 

“Wow, Y/N. Graduated top of your class and this was all you could come up with, huh?” You muttered to yourself as you stared at the list of terrible ideas. Your mind hadn’t come up with something so horrific since the bed-in-breakfast Mother’s Day fiasco when you were 11. 

The only option that didn’t end in bodily harm or a prison sentence was to work as many jobs as humanly possible for the next few weeks in hopes you could somehow manage to accumulate the deposit for a loan. You could probably sell some appliances too, and maybe revisit the kidney idea if it came to it. 

Despite it being a long-shot, you had to try. You changed into a pair of flared leggings and a sweater. It was basic and borderline mismatched but traversing your explosive closet was a large undertaking you tended to avoid. You dug a copy of your old resume out from your file drawer, after all, it wasn’t like your experience as Onychinus’s accountant was going to do you any good. Further, listing Sylus as a reference would ensure you never got a job again. 

You figured the easiest place to start was the central district of the N109 zone, bars and restaurants there were constantly hiring and from what you’d heard their only requirement was that you had two functioning legs and arms. But when you tried to leave through the door to begin the job search you collided with a formidable wall. 

Since when was there a—

“Where you headed to, Y/N?” The familiar voice was so surprising it made you jump, the action accompanied by a shrill scream.

“What the fuck? Why are you just standing outside my door?” You rarely ever swore and you were sure that if your mother was still alive she’d throw her shoe at you for using the devil’s language. But of all the things you expected to see that morning, Sylus outside your door was not one of them. 

“Is that any way to welcome your old employer?” Sylus stepped into your home without an invitation. Conclusive proof against your theory that he was secretly a vampire. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked again, still staring at Sylus like he sprouted a second head. You couldn’t think of a single reason why he’d show up at your place of residence, he never did while you were still his employee.

“I need you to come back.” You choked back a laugh at his ridiculous request. Was he insane?

“Go to hell.” Your vicious response didn’t sway Sylus. 

“I’ve fired an accountant every week since you left. The accounts are in complete disarray, half my businesses are behind on their bills, the other half have been paying the wrong amounts to the wrong companies. My investors are unhappy, my debtors are one week away from assuming I’ve gone bankrupt and I haven’t slept in weeks. Come. Back.” While it stroked your ego to hear that the organisation was suffering in your absence, you couldn’t just forget the terrible way he’d treated you in and out of the workplace. 

“You insisted I was especially replaceable and now you’re saying you can’t replace me?” You chose to remind him of just how horrid of an employer he was, an action he didn’t appreciate. 

“If you’re going to dwell on the semantics I’d rather just cut to the chase. What’s it going to take to get you back?” Sylus’s tone suggested he was truly trying to negotiate with you. Of course a man like him didn’t know how to take no for an answer. 

“Pigs to fly.” You quipped, opening your door in hopes he’d get the hint and leave. 

“Y/N, I’m serious. We can’t survive without you.” His desperation went straight to your head, but you stood your ground. 

“Then die.” You tried to shove him out of your doorway, but he was about as easy to move as a truck. 

“Everyone has something they desire, sweetheart. Name your price.” While you were ready to fire up a quick retort, his suggestion reminded you of the very reason you were about to leave the house. 

Perhaps this was a sign; you could swallow your pride if it meant you got to keep your home. 

You pretended to give it thought, sighing loudly in contemplation. “Fine. I want a sign-on bonus. Or in this case, a re-sign-on bonus, I guess…” You trailed off, unsure if he would agree. 

“Alright, how much?” He was quick to accept your terms, and you decided to test the waters of just how desperate he was for your return. 

“A million dollars.” 

“Done.” 

Dammit, you should’ve asked for more. 

“I want a personal driver too, I’m sick of biking to work.” You would’ve been okay with just the bonus, after all, it was insanely generous. But you’d be a fool not to milk this opportunity for what it was worth.

“Anything else, princess?” The condescending nickname only added fuel to the fire as you fired off more requests. 

“I don’t want to share my office with the twins anymore, they’re loud and annoying and they have no respect for the sanctity of my monthly budgets.”

“Okay.”

You masked your shock at his sudden magnanimity. “One last thing. Since you’ve come to the realisation that I am, in fact, a valuable asset to your organisation, you’re not allowed to be a dick to me anymore.” 

“Elaborate.”

“No more calling me stupid or other degrading insults, threatening my job security, threatening my life — just no more threats in general — and if you’re going to assign me extra work that is beyond the scope of my job description, a please and thank you would be nice.”

“You’re pushing it, Y/N.” Of course treating his employees like human beings was the most difficult request. 

“You just agreed to give me a million dollars and being nice to me is where you draw the line?” 

Sylus sighed, deliberating in silence for a moment. When he saw that your resolve was unrelenting, he begrudgingly agreed. He wasn’t sure where your newfound confidence was coming from, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t find it the slightest bit attractive. 

“Alright, you’ve made your case. I’ll agree to your conditions. Now, please fix it.” 

It took every fibre of your being not to break out into song and dance at your victory. “Let me get my coat.”

______________

You stared at the horrific mess your beautiful spreadsheet had turned in to. This was a disaster. A colossal, unfathomable disaster. “How could you let it get this bad?” Your voice was dripping with fear, it was like staring a train wreck. 

“It wasn’t like it happened on purpose. Besides, if you’d never—” Sylus interrupted his own sentence which you were sure contained an insult, and you could almost hear the evil chuckle resounding in your head at the sight of his obedience. This was going to be fun. 

“This is going to take forever to fix.” It would actually only take the day, but you didn’t need to tell him that.

“I need it fixed by the end of the week. Please.” He looked pained as he added the nicety. Soooooo much fun.

“Add on a massage chair for my office and I’ll get it done by Wednesday.” You wondered just how far you could push his desperation. 

“Deal.” He held his hand out for you to shake and when you did, you felt a strange sense of accomplishment. Now you could tell people ‘How to Tame Your Dragon’ was loosely based on your life. 

“You know, Sylus, I’m liking this new dynamic.” Your shit-eating grin couldn’t be wiped off of your face no matter how hard you tried.

“Oh I can tell. Now, get to work.” Sylus made a show of pulling out your office chair for you, and when you sat in it for the first time in two months, you felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. And for once, the recollection of your past didn’t hurt as much as it usually did.  

Mid-November

This time around, your employment under Sylus was much more pleasant. Surprisingly, he’d actually adhered to your conditions. 

The twins were slightly offended that you no longer wanted to share your office with them, but their gratefulness for your return trumped any antagonism they had for you. You were kind of a celebrity in Onychinus’s executive team, their saviour, if you will. 

But, the enjoyment of your newly established status could not be savoured. Undoing months of mistakes was turning out to be positively exhausting. You were an accountant; socially awkward, stuck to her Excel sheets, spent most of her free time indulging in shitty rom-coms. You were not built for briefing CEOs, Chairmen, investors, subsidiaries and of course, debtors, on your commitment to stability via video call.

Sylus insisted it had to be you, even though he usually handled the bureaucratic part of the organisation. Something about him not being able to answer their questions regarding the numbers. You told him you would tell him what to say through an ear piece like a spy movie, but he responded with a resounding no. 

It was more like ‘hell will freeze over before I turn into a glorified puppet, Y/N, blah blah blah’.

Every single one-on-one conference call made you feel like you were getting hives. Not to mention the active effort it took you to refrain from making stupid jokes at every opportunity. When the last one with the representative from Onychinus’s main bank was over, you had officially smoothed over all bad blood between Onychinus and it’s stakeholders.

Giving yourself a moment to recalibrate from the sheer amount of social interaction you had been subjected to, you glared at the shared calendar event. ‘Miss Hunter’s Birthday in 13 days’.

You tried to distract yourself from that familiar sinking feeling in your gut with your work. Sylus never remembered your birthday, but it wasn’t like it mattered. You were his accountant, he was your boss. That was the extent of your relationship, even though you’d both said things to each other that would cause your HR department, if you had one, to self-emulate. But in the chaos of buying your home, going back to work and learning how to navigate life with your unwanted companion; grief, you’d forgotten all about your feelings for Sylus.

They weren’t gone but they were muted, like a voice screaming out to you while your head was underwater. Most of the time they were easy to ignore, but in times like these they were too loud to overlook.

You couldn’t dwell on your self-pity for long because there was a knock at your door. No one ever knocked on your door, people just tended to barge in.

“Come in?” Confusion dripped from your voice. When the door opened to a pair of twins with shameful smiles, you knew they were about to ask you for a favour.

“We… fucked up.” Three words you never wanted to hear coming out of either Luke or Kieran’s mouth.

“What have you done?”

“Long story short. Boss sent us to pick up a gem for Miss Hunter’s birthday. It’s really rare. The man who owns them is this older, heart of gold type old guy who refuses to sell to nefarious people because of his outdated principles. He wouldn’t give it to us, said something about us being part of Onychinus. We knew if boss didn’t get this gem today he’d have our heads displayed on mantels in his office, so we threatened the old man with a gun and then an entire arsenal of security appeared out of thin air and we were blacklisted from the property.” Kieran’s explanation left you astounded. 

The twins had their fair share of asinine mistakes, but this one might have taken the cake. 

“You threatened an old man with a gun…” 

“Yes.” Kieran responded. 

“Over a gem?” You asked in disbelief. 

“A very rare gem!” Luke corrected. 

“Huh. How am I supposed to help?” It was a genuine question, you didn’t really see a way out of this one. 

“Can you go and convince the old man to sell the gem to you?” Kieran’s request made your eyes widen in protest.

“No way! I’ve had my fill of uncomfortable business meetings.” And wasn’t that the truth. If you had to see one more man in a business suit ask you ‘if you even knew what you were talking about’ you might throw your laptop into the first body of water you could find. 

“Please, Y/N. Sylus will kill us. Do you want our deaths to hang over your conscience?” 

Luke’s question was an innocent hyperbole, but at the mention of deaths hanging over your conscience, you were reminded of your mom. Your face dropped, your fingers slowly forgetting what they were supposed to type. Kieran, the more observant twin, elbowed Luke.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m sorry, I forgot.”

“No, no, it’s fine. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me, I’m not going to burst into tears.” You weren’t sure that was true quite yet, but fake it till you make it, right? 

“Will you help us? Please. We’ll owe you big time.” The line was clearly rehearsed since they said it in unison, or maybe it was some weird twin telepathy thing. Either way, it freaked you out so much you agreed. 

“Fine, what’s the address?”

_____________

You knocked on the large wooden door of a beautiful home. It was classically designed, a perfect intersection between modernity and the timeless complexity of archaic house designs. It was rare to see homes like these in a society that prided itself on progress. 

When you heard the sound of soft feet shuffling toward the door, you felt the guilt eat at you internally. You were tricking an old man into selling a gem to people he very reasonably did not want to sell to.

“Y/M/N?” 

Did he— why did he call you by your mother’s name?

“That was my mother, I’m her daughter, Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god, I was beginning to think I’d finally lost it. Come in, come in.” 

Your interest had been piqued, and you forgot all about the gem as you entered the old man’s home.

“I must say, I’m surprised you’re here. Did your mother send you?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “She passed away just over a month ago.”

“Oh god. I’m so sorry, dear. Are you alright?” The question was filled with so much warmth it made tears well up in your eyes. Your mother never had any friends, and you were estranged from your extended family. You were all alone in your grief, and hearing someone who knew your mom in some capacity ask you if you were alright felt bittersweet.

“Yeah. I’m doing okay. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know her?”

“You don’t know? I figured that was why you were here.” 

Right. The reason you were here, the gem.

“No, I’m actually here entirely coincidentally, I came to acquire a gem.”

“Which gem were you after, dear?” He asked the question as he looked around his living room for something.

“The Painite one.”

He stopped pacing and turned to you with an accusatory stare. “This wouldn’t happen to be related to those two rowdy boys who came by earlier, right?”

“Well…” You couldn’t lie to him. He looked like the old man from ‘Up’, it was entirely unfair. 

“I’m afraid I can’t sell to you. I’m concerned you’ve even gotten yourself wrapped up in such a terrible organisation.” He shook his head, his disappointment evident in his tone. 

“Look, I know what you’ve heard, but most of the rumours you hear about Onychinus don’t have a modicum of truth to them.”

“Then why hasn’t your boss cleared them up?” A great question. 

“In this business its good to have a reputation that instills fear in others. You’ve seen what people do for Protocores and black-market items. Onychinus serves as a… regulatory body of the underworld, the only people they harm are those that harm others.” The practiced speech came from years of listening to Sylus give it to yourself and others. 

“I don’t know dear, I’ve heard some horrific things about their leader, Sylus.” You were probably responsible for a few of those rumours…

“The only horrific thing about him is his sharp tongue. Seriously, he has a way of finding your worst insecurity and then using it to drag you through the dirt.” Recognising the unhelpful tangent, you digressed.

“But when it comes to business, he’s fair and when someone hurts the people he cares about, he’s merciless. He has a good heart, it’s just encased under a very thick layer of stone.” When he didn’t look convinced, you continued. 

“In fact, he wants this gem for a woman. She’s special to him and its her birthday in a few days. She’s a hunter, by the way, she saves lives. So, even if you don’t want to sell to Sylus because he’s probably half demon, you should sell it to her. You know, by proxy.” The argument was a stretch but you couldn’t help your rambling. 

“You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The comment caught you off-guard.

“You think so?”

“I knew your mother when she was your age. She used to sing live at a bar I frequented with my friends. It was a simpler time, before wanderers attacked. I was head over heels in love with her, and I knew she felt the same way about me. But, she got wrapped up with the wrong guy, a real bad man, and it took finding out she was pregnant with you to break it off with him.” He recounted his past as he continued to search his drawers for something, when he came back to the couch in front of yours, he handed you a photo.

It was of your mother, except she was much younger. She was on a stage performing, a part of her life she never told you about. She looked happy and was glowing with the kind of ethereal beauty that never dwindled with time. He was right, you looked a lot like her. 

“Can I keep this?” You looked up at the man, and he gave you a small nod. 

“Of course. You know, I offered to help her when I found out, said I’d raise the baby as my own, but she told me I was destined for more than she could give me. Said she had to do this on her own. She was stubborn but she loved boundlessly, Y/N, just like you.”

You were confused, this man hadn’t known you for very long, how could he know such a thing? “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know what that Sylus man has done to deserve your adoration, but I can tell you love him. And for you to come here on his behalf to convince me to sell him the rarest gem in the world for another woman? You truly do have your mother’s heart.” 

His words sprouted doubt and introspection. Why were you trying so hard to get Sylus such a romantic gift when it was meant for someone else? Were you secretly a masochist?

“If it’s alright with you Y/N, I’d love to get to know you. Your mother was my first love, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to about her.” 

You gave him the sincerest smile you could come up with. “I’d like that. I don’t really have anyone to talk to about her either.”

“As for the gem, I’ll sell it to you but only if you promise to love a man who will go to these lengths for you, not someone else.” 

“I promise.” You’d promise to try, at least. You told the man, who you now knew was Dr Jeffery Hunt the geologist, that you needed to get back to work. You exchanged contact information with a promise to catch up later and trade stories about your mom. 

You left the house with the rarest gem in the world in one hand, and an infinitely more valuable picture of your mother in the other. 

___________

You walked toward your office where Luke and Kieran should have been to find the door slightly ajar. You stopped just outside the door when you heard Sylus’s voice from inside your office.

“You sent Y/N to get the gem? Was the task too difficult for the two of you?” You tried to sympathise with the twins, but it was kind of funny to see Sylus berate someone else for once.

“The owner said he wouldn’t sell to Onychinus—” Kieran’s attempt at an explanation was shot down instantly.

“So you pick some random person off the street and send them in instead. You don’t send the girl the gem is for to go retrieve her own present. You have completely ruined the surprise.”

Wait, what?

“No, it’s fine, we sent Y/N not Miss Hunter.”

“Miss Hun— why would you assume it’s for her?” The question hung in there for an uncomfortable moment, after all you assumed the same thing. 

“Her birthday’s in a few days.” Luke timidly added. 

“How do you know that?” 

“It’s in the shared calendar.”

“Fuck.” 

With your ear plastered shamelessly against the door, you smiled to yourself. He had a bad habit of putting personal events in the shared calendar.

“The gem was for Y/N. Thanks to you imbeciles I have to figure something else out.” 

Why was the gem for you? Was it poisonous? You started down at the velvet box in your hand and wondered if the gem was secretly a teeny tiny bomb. 

“Is it Y/N’s birthday soon too?” Kieran’s question offended you. Your birthday was in March and both he and Luke were at your celebratory birthday dinner last year. 

“No, that’s in March. It’s to celebrate her 3rd year with Onychinus. Although now I’m wondering if your time here has come to an end.” It was kind of sadistic, but it was comforting to know that Sylus threatened other people’s job security over minor inconveniences too. 

“No! Please, we promise we’ll make it up to you.” 

You stopped listening to the conversation as you opened the box in your hand. The gem glistened under the artificial lights as questions fired off in your brain. He wanted to give this gem to you? How did he even remember the day you started at Onychinus? And he knew your birthday?

Before you could search for the answers, the sound of footsteps approaching the door made you panic. You tried fruitlessly to escape the long hallway but Sylus stormed out before you could.

“I um, got that gem for you.” You pretended you weren’t eavesdropping and held the gem out to him, but he pushed it back toward you. 

“Thanks. I was going to have it turned into a necklace, but since the cat’s out of the bag, you can decide what to do with it.” He clearly knew you’d heard everything and gave the twins a pointed glare as they scurried out of your office. 

“It’s really too much. Most employers get their employees a gift card or something.” You tried to hand it back again, but he was unrelenting. 

“I’m not most employers, and you definitely aren’t most employees.” The loaded compliment made you bite back a smile. 

“In that case, a necklace would be nice. I have a photo of my mom when she was my age, she wore a necklace with a similar looking gem. Do you think you could find someone who can copy the design? It would mean a lot. I’d pay for it, of course.” You kept the photo in your wallet now, it quickly became one of your favourites. When you passed the photo to him, he looked at it for far longer than necessary. 

“Consider it done, and your money’s no good with me. Save it for something else.” He paused for a moment, took a photo of the necklace on his phone and returned the photograph. “I see where you get your beauty from.” The comment was so nonchalant and inconsistent with Sylus’s usual dialogue that you were left speechless. Your heart battered against your ribcage as if it were trying to escape and mount itself onto him instead. Traitorous organ. 

You watched him turn around and walk toward his office. The sight of him walking away from you brought back memories of that day in the graveyard and what you’d said to Sylus before he left. 

“You can judge me all you want, but it won’t change the fact that when you die, no one will mourn you.”

The guilt was eating away at your conscience, and you knew you had to let him know that you didn’t mean what you said. Especially not now. 

“Sylus, wait.” He stopped just as his hand reached the doorknob of his office door and looked up at you expectantly.

You raked your mind for the right thing to say, and Sylus didn’t make a sound as you prolonged the silence. 

“If you died, I’d mourn you.” And you meant it. You maintained eye contact despite the urge to look away from his intense gaze in an attempt to convey your sincerity. 

He shook his head with a slight chuckle in response, and walked into his office wordlessly. 

You figured he hadn’t given what you said a second thought. It was foolish to think you could ever hurt the impenetrable Sylus’s feelings. You weren’t even sure he had feelings. 

But, unbeknownst to you, when Sylus closed the door behind him, he felt himself let out a breath that alleviated a pressure in his chest he didn’t know he’d been carrying. What you’d said to him in the graveyard weighed on him like an uncomfortable tumour. 

Sylus knew you were right, but the idea of no one caring for him never bothered him before, not until you said it. It dawned on him that the only person who’s idea of him actually affected how he thought of himself was yours. 

Late-November

“Finish up, we have a reservation at six.” At the sound of your boss’s  voice, you looked up from your computer screen. Your eyes were watery from staring at the ledger for hours but you still couldn’t reconcile the $15.70 that was missing. It was driving you insane.

“Was there a meeting I forgot existed?” The calendar looked empty from where it stood on your second monitor. Well, it was empty now that Sylus deleted the shared calendar event for Miss Hunter’s birthday which should’ve been yesterday. 

“No, it’s just us. I’m taking you to dinner. Now hurry up.” You couldn’t help the frown on your face. There was surely an ulterior motive. 

“Taking me to dinner? Are you asking me out on a date?” You were teasing; hell would freeze over before Sylus would ask anyone out on a date. Though, maybe he already had, after all he was busy yesterday…

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re celebrating your third year with Onychinus. As an employer I believe rewarding long-term employees can strengthen their loyalty to the company.” He regurgitated the words like they were toxic. 

“You stole that from the last issue of Forbes magazine. I would know since I was the one who gave you the article.” It was titled ‘Ten foolproof ways to make your employees like you’ and you thought it would be funny to leave it on Sylus’s desk. 

“And I’m responding to your feedback like number 4 on that list suggested. Now, do you want to go to this dinner or should I ask someone else?” 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat, you couldn’t miss out on a chance to see Sylus actively try to be a regular boss. Who could say no to dinner and a show?

“No, no, I’ll go.” You grabbed your bag off of the floor and followed Sylus out of the building. You asked him a series of questions about where you were going, when you’d be back, if you were getting paid for the time you were forced to spend with him, but he answered none of them. 

Sylus was driving for all of 2 minutes before you began to draft an appreciation letter to the inventor of seatbelts in your head. 

“You know, you may be harder to kill than a regular person, but I will die if you crash this car.” Pleading for your life in an expensive sports car was not how you expected to go. 

“It’s a little early in the night for your theatrics, Y/N.” Sylus’s deadpan tone did nothing to soothe your concerns as he turned yet another sharp corner with aggressive speed. 

“It’s also a little early in my life to die.” You unhelpfully added.

“Relax, will you? I’ve never crashed before.” 

Well, there’s a first time for everything. You thought as you tightly gripped the handle of the door. You found yourself suddenly missing the middle-aged man who would grouchily drive you to and from work. At least he drove like he valued his life. 

 _______

When you arrived to the place in one piece you felt severely under dressed. Sylus was wearing his regular attire, a suit without the tie, and you were dressed in linen pants and a turtleneck. Sylus never enforced a business dress code, though in that moment you found yourself wishing he did.

The restaurant was multi-level and sat at the top of a mountain. The exterior screamed affluence and you were sure everyone who dined there was in a different tax-bracket. Sylus reserved a table on the rooftop which unfortunately meant you had to ascend four levels in your mediocre outfit that made you stick out like a sore thumb. 

When you eventually reached your table, you quickly hid in your seat. While it was unrealistic to assume anyone would pay you any attention but your embarrassment was usually irrational. Nor, did it help that Sylus naturally made heads turn wherever he went. He was freakishly tall and unnervingly handsome; next to him anyone struggled to look attractive.

“You’re in a rush. Hungry?” Sylus asked across from you as you buried your face in the menu. You didn’t feel like explaining how being out with him made you feel insecure, so you forewent a response. 

The waiter quickly returned with a bottle of wine. Of course Sylus’s favourite wine was known universally. Why wouldn’t it be? He practically ruled the N109 Zone.

“Thanks, she’ll have a mojito.” Before you could tell the waiter not to bring you your favourite cocktail, he was gone.

“I’m not drinking.” Your protest fell on deaf ears. “Drinking with your boss is like number 1 on the list of things you shouldn’t do if you value your job.”

“You don’t have to worry about embarrassing yourself in front of me, Y/N. You’ve done that plenty of times sober.” Sylus smirked as he made the dry joke and you held back the urge to step on his foot under the table.

Never mind. You needed a drink pronto.

“Asshole.” You muttered under your breath.

“What was that?”

“Artichokes! I said the artichoke salad looks good.” You could tell Sylus wasn’t convinced, but he dropped the matter anyway. 

“Order whatever you’d like.” 

“There’s no prices on the menu.” You flipped it around every which way but not a single price appeared.

“Sweetheart, the people who can afford to dine here aren’t too concerned with prices. Don’t worry and order what you wish.”

Aw, how sweet. Sylus thought you enquired about the prices because you were concerned about overspending. As if. You knew that man’s financials inside and out, if anything, you wanted to order the most expensive things on the menu. 

“Jeez, my bad Mr One-Percent.” Your joke was not well received.

“Can we have one night without your incessant sarcasm?” The plea sounded genuine, but it was denied. 

“We could, but that’s no fun.”

“I find you painfully unfunny, Y/N.” You smiled to yourself at his blatant lie. Everyone found you funny. 

Before you could think of a retort, Sylus pulled out a large velvet box and slid it toward you on the table.

“What’s this?”

“The necklace.”

You opened it up eagerly and the sight of it brought pure bliss to your heart. It was exactly like the one your mother wore, and it was even more beautiful in person.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.” Feeling slightly remorseful for your attitude prior to the gift-exchange, you gave him a sheepish smile.

Sylus watched you lift it up to put it on, but quickly interjected. “Allow me.” He stood up, walking toward your seat. Flushed, you clumsily turned around so your back was facing him. You felt goosebumps on your skin when his cold hands bunched your hair away from your neck, the tips of his fingers leaving a trail of wired nerves in their wake.

You took your hair from his hand to hold it up, the mere feeling of your fingers brushing his gave you heart palpitations. The act was way too intimate, and despite how it good it felt to have him so close, your brain knew it was safest to pray it would be over soon.

When Sylus was done he spun you around to face him and shamelessly observed his handiwork. “It looks good.” Your brain short-circuited the moment your eyes met his, so you sat in front of him in complete silence.

The moment was rudely interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice.

“Sylus? Y/N? Fancy seeing you here!” You both turned to the source of the voice to see Miss Hunter in a beautiful baby blue gown. As if you didn’t feel bad enough about your choice in attire. You began to smile until you noticed that the arm linked with hers belonged to your mortal enemy. Dr Zayne. 

You got up to greet them, despite your primal urge to push Zayne off the roof, but Sylus beat you to it. “Miss Hunter, always a pleasure.” You tried not to gag at the sight of Sylus being so gentlemanly. It became particularly hard when he kissed the top of her hand. 

“I didn’t know you knew Dr Zayne.” The comment slipped out of Sylus’s tense smile with a twinge of what you thought was hostility. Was he jealous that she was with Dr Zayne? Were you jealous that he was jealous? Are you in a soap opera?

“Oh, he’s a childhood friend andmy doctor! I’m very lucky. How do you know him?” Before you could whisper to Sylus to make up some excuse, he was firing off information about your personal life to the last two people you wanted to discuss your personal life with. 

“He was Y/N’s mother’s doctor.” Everyone went tense, everyone except for Miss Hunter, of course. 

Your eyes followed her as she turned to you, praying she wouldn’t ask about your mother’s health. Instead, she praised your nemesis. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?”

You wanted to scream in protest. You wanted to swing a chair into Dr Zayne’s head, and then use the broken scraps to beat him to a pulp. But you opted to force a painful smile instead. 

“He’s definitely something.” You looked right at Zayne, hoping he’d understand the implications of your backhanded compliment.  

“Well, we were just here to celebrate my birthday yesterday, but the hostess said it was all booked out and silly Zayne forgot to make a reservation. We just came up to the rooftop to get some pictures, but you guys should enjoy your dinner!” Miss Hunter’s polite dismissal was the perfect opportunity to end the painfully awkward interaction and move on with your night. 

“Thanks.” You were about to return to your seat when Sylus decided to continue with his commitment to ruining your life.

“You guys should join us, the more the merrier, right Y/N?”

The question you had no idea how to answer only poked at the jar of pent up murderous rage you were trying to suppress. It wasn’t like you were subtle about your hatred for the Doctor, why the hell was Sylus inviting them to stay?

“Right.” You couldn’t have sounded less sincere if you tried, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You had to focus on making it out of this building without a homicide charge.

When Miss Hunter happily agreed, Sylus quickly waved down a waiter and made them transform your two-seater table into a four-seater. Unfortunately for you, the seating arrangements somehow ended up with you next to Zayne and Sylus next to Miss Hunter . 

Zayne could feel the hostility radiating off of you in waves, but he was too scared to do anything about it. 

“Happy birthday, by the way.” You offered Miss Hunter the nicety, since she was really the only innocent person at the table. Your unfounded hatred for her took the back-burner when Zayne was around. 

“Thanks, Y/N. I love your necklace, where did you get it?” Yet another question you didn’t know how to answer. If this was how the entire night was going to be you might as well cut your losses and take your chances with jumping off the roof.

“It’s um, custom made.” You avoided Sylus’s glare. 

“Well it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help but smile at her compliment. Her sunshine-y attitude could rival yours. 

“Sylus knows the guy who made it, I’m sure he could get one for you too.” You glanced at him only to see him quirk an eyebrow at your response. Was he seriously mad? You were practically the world’s greatest wingwoman. 

When Miss Hunter turned to look at him, he quickly shut her down.  “He retired right after making that piece, actually. Something about getting arthritis.” 

He was definitely lying. You weren’t sure why he was gatekeeping this jeweller and you never got the chance to ask. 

“Oh, that’s unfortunate. Hey Zayne, you’ve been awfully quiet. Say something!” Miss Hunter gave him a playful push on the shoulder as she teased him. The sight would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for satan’s incarnate sitting inches away from you.

“Yeah Zayne, how was work? Steal anymore hearts lately?” You asked the deceivingly innocuous question while breaking apart a piece of bread. The double-entendre was like a secret you both shared; though the idea of sharing anything with that waste of space made you inscrutably angry. 

Sylus silently observed the interaction with curiosity. Your passive-aggressiveness was a trait he thought you only reserved for him. You were always nice, to everyone. Seeing you treat Zayne so coldly was like witnessing a beaver play the piano. It was unnatural. 

“Work went as well as expected.” Zayne’s clipped reply left no room for further discussion. The conversation came to do a lull, and you took it as the opportunity to excuse yourself to the bathroom. You immediately beelined away from the table that currently situated your nightmare blunt rotation and toward the women’s bathroom that was positively Zayne-free. 

The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the restaurant but you didn’t get to admire it before you splashed water on your face in an attempt to cool down. There was no way you could last an entire dinner next to Zayne. Maybe you could say you were feeling sick. Probably a bad idea when he’s a doctor. Work emergency wasn’t plausible, your boss was at the table. What if you just ran away? You could live with the shame and embarrassment.

You looked up at the ceiling and silently cursed the heavens for your terrible luck. Seriously, you must’ve been a serial killer in your past life to deserve this fate. It was a never-ending series of unfortunate events, and you were desperate for a break. 

When you eventually left the bathroom, Zayne was standing right outside the door. He startled you, but the moment the shock wore off your face morphed into a deadly glare. 

“Look, I know you think I’m a terrible person but—”

“Monster is the term I’d use, but go on.” You rudely interrupted Zayne. He chose not to acknowledge your comment. 

“I rarely get to spend time with MC and I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t ruin her birthday dinner because of me.” It didn’t take long for you to realise that MC must’ve been Miss Hunter’s first name. 

Zayne ruined everything he touched, he needed no help from you. 

“I’m sorry, does the fact that I’m angry at you for letting my mother die put a damper in your dinner plans?”

“Yes it does, actually.” Zayne responded quickly. He either didn’t understand sarcasm or was an even bigger dick than you thought.

“Then might I suggest you take her someplace else. It’s your fault you couldn’t get a table here. Why should I have to suffer because your incompetence knows no bounds?” You couldn’t think of a time you’d insulted someone so much in such quick succession. Dr Zayne brought out the worst in you, but you could reflect on your actions later. Right now you were at war. 

“We are perfectly capable of having an amicable dinner.” 

You rolled your eyes at his condescending tone. “You might be, I’m not that mature.” 

“Y/N. We’re both adults.” He pleaded.

“Bite me.” 

Before Zayne could open his mouth again, Sylus interrupted.

“Everything all good here?” For once in your life, you were grateful for Sylus’s interruption. 

“No.” You said.

“Yes.” Zayne also said, at the exact same time.

“Zayne you should head back to the table. Miss Hunter's waiting for you.” Zayne didn’t think twice before taking the out and you internally flipped off his retreating form.

Sylus grabbed you by the forearm, his grip tight as he dragged you to a secluded part of the rooftop and away from the bathrooms. 

“What’s going on with you?” He asked the moment you stopped moving, his hand still gripping onto your arm like a vice. 

“Can you let go? You’re hurting me.” He quickly released you, his eyes washing over with something you couldn’t recognise as you soothed the part he’d rubbed raw. 

“Why are you acting so childish?” His question would've angered you had you not been angry already.

“I hate his guts.” The response did not help your case, but you weren’t very articulate when you were upset. 

“What did he do to you?” Sylus’s eyes narrowed, and he spoke in a low tone that was laced with danger. You didn’t think too much of his strange reaction, Sylus acting strange was pretty much the only consistent thing in your life lately. 

You gnawed on your lip, unsure of how to respond. Your grievance against the world-renowned doctor was one you’d always kept to yourself. After all, everyone had nothing but praise for the brilliant Dr Zayne. 

“Y/N, if he touched you I’ll—” Your eyes quickly widened in shock at his interpretation.

“No! Nothing like that. It’s just, a few days before my mom died, a heart came in that was a match. But there was this other guy who was younger and needed it just as badly. The policy was that the hospital's medical board would vote on who got the heart and the entire board, Zayne included, unanimously agreed that the heart should go to the other guy.” They said it wasn't personal, that it had everything to do with survival rates, but there was no way to detach personhood from medicine.

You realised that when you said it out loud, your hate seemed unfounded. “I know it wasn’t entirely his fault, but he didn’t even try to give my mom a fighting chance. He didn't say anything to sway them, he just silently agreed. He was supposed to be her advocate.” The frustration began to boil over, and before you knew it there were tears welling up in your eyes.

“God, I spent every last dollar of my paycheque to make sure she got the greatest medical care money could buy. Everyone said he was the best, but when it really mattered, he did nothing for her. I was such an idiot.” There was an uncontrollable fountain of tears streaming down your face, and you were grateful for Sylus’s decision to drag you to somewhere secluded. 

The familiar tendrils of an oncoming panic attack began to wash over you as you began to hyperventilate. No matter how much you wanted to blame Dr Zayne, or the universe, or your shitty luck, the only person you could really blame was yourself. You sent her to that hospital, you convinced her to hold on for a transplant, you spent her last months on this Earth slaving away in another city instead of by her side. There was no way to get that time back. 

“Y/N, look at me. It’s not your fault.” Sylus’s voice was like a beacon of light that led you through the dark tunnel you were trapped in. He cradled your face in his hands, wiping away your tears as they continued to stream down your face. But when your tears showed no signs of slowing, he pulled you into his arms, his hands holding your tear-stricken face against his chest.

He ran his long fingers through your hair as he whispered everything you wanted to hear. "It’s not your fault. It’s okay to hate him. It will get easier."

You weren’t sure how long you spent with your face buried in his chest, but by the time you’d returned to reality, his white dress shirt was slightly transparent where your tears soaked through the material. 

You laughed a little at the sight, and the corners of Sylus’s lips raised ever so slightly at the sound. When he saw you were okay, Sylus began to speak. “Don’t move. I’ll grab your bag and we’ll get out of here.”

Before he could leave you tugged on the sleeve of his suit jacket. “Hey, I’m sorry I ruined your dinner.” You truly were. Sylus did not deserve to be subjected to yet another one of your meltdowns, but he seemed to have a habit of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. 

“No it's my fault, I ruined it by inviting them to join us. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Sylus then manoeuvred through the restaurant toward the nightmare table. When he returned with your bag in one hand and the other outstretched toward you, your heart skipped a beat. Or two. He played the role of the knight-in-shining-armour quite seamlessly, and he looked every bit the handsome prince charming. You tried to remind yourself why it was so dangerous to be attracted to a force like Sylus, but when he smiled at you like you were the only two people in the room, all caution was thrown to the wind. 

_____________

In the spirit of making things up to you, you made Sylus take you to a restaurant of your choosing. It was a hole-in-the-wall dumpling place that charged so little one would question if they were serving real meat. But you never found better dumplings, so you took the risk anyway.

The dynamic was completely subverted as you sat on the table that was slightly sticky with cheap cleaning chemicals. Sylus was the one who looked out of place, his suit was unarguably the most expensive thing in the room and it brought joy to your miserable night to see him out of his comfort zone.

“How did you find this place?” The question was warranted, other than you two, the only other occupants in the restaurant were a few middle-schoolers.  

“I used to come here a lot with my friends in high school.”

“Did they all die from food poisoning?” Sylus seemed proud of his quick-witted joke. You gave him a pointed glare to convey just how unfunny that joke was. 

“Funny, but no. We just drifted apart after we graduated.” The clipped reply shut down any further inquiry. You thought back to the fond memories you had in that restaurant. Things were different when you didn’t yet know the cost of failure; before you knew what you’d be losing. And while everyone may have moved on from this small town in the N109 Zone, you never left. 

“Do you even have any friends?” You choked on your drink at the question. He was genuinely asking and the worst part was, you really didn’t.

Your constant struggle to make ends meet and maintain a high GPA for your academic scholarships made it impossible to have a social life. It didn’t help that you went to a college you couldn’t afford. It was hard to find people to relate to when everyone had grown up with silver spoons. Then after you graduated you landed at Onychinus, and it wasn’t exactly a friendly environment.

“Of course I have friends.” Your lie was a feeble attempt to preserve the last of your dignity. Sylus had seen you at your absolute worst, but there was something extremely dehumanising about letting him know you were insanely lonely.

“Really, who?” His genuine surprise only made your insecurity worse.

“You don’t have to sound so shocked. Plus, you wouldn’t know them.” 

“Try me.” Of course he wouldn’t drop it. When has Sylus ever let something go?

“Well, there’s Mr Demir, and Luke and Kieran, and my newly acquired friend Dr Hunt.” In a desperate attempt to keep up your lie, you pretty much just named all the people you knew. 

“Y/N, that’s the man who sells you your sandwiches, my assistants, and a geologist who sold you a gem.” 

“Has anyone ever told you that no one likes a know-it-all?” 

“I think you should get out more. Maybe tone down the sarcasm and you might just make a friend or two.” Your jaw-dropped in faux shock at his unsolicited advice.

“You’re one to talk, your best friend is a mechanical crow.” You snuck a dumpling off of his plate while he was distracted.

“I don’t need friends, they’re unnecessary burdens.” He took a swig of his beer. You thought he’d burst into flames if he drank anything other than red wine, but he adapted to his surroundings with little effort.

You put a hand on your heart as if in pain and jokingly gave him a solemn look.“Then why would you wish such a cruel fate onto me?”

“Because I hate seeing you this miserable, Y/N.” The amusement from your banter died a quick death at his confession. You thought you kept it together most of the time, though bawling your eyes out in the N109 Zone’s hottest restaurant probably didn’t do that facade any good. But for the most part, you handled the death of your mother relatively well. 

“I’m not miserable. Not all of the time at least. Like right now, I’m only mildly annoyed!” You tried to change the topic the only way you knew how, with humour, but Sylus wasn’t budging.

“You take care of everyone but yourself and all it’s done is isolate you. There needs to be a give and take, sweetheart. People don’t like feeling useless.” He spoke to you softly, as if he was scared the timbre of his voice would cause you to shatter into a million pieces. 

There was a sinking feeling in your stomach that followed his oddly specific guidance. He seemed to know more about you than you thought he did, and you were torn between feeling seen and feeling judged. 

“That’s sound advice. Guess you’ve been reading more magazines.” You were grasping at straws, willing to try anything to get the unwanted spotlight off of your inadequacies. 

“You also need to learn how to accept help without downplaying your problems.” 

“Okay, okay. You sound like my mother. Has her soul possessed you?” There you go Y/N. Play the dead mom card, that’ll work. 

He chuckled at your joke. You knew he found you funny.

“You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

“Yeah, the manufacturers didn’t include an off-switch. No refunds, sorry.” You stuffed a dumpling in your mouth as the tension subsided. 

“Oh, I’m not returning you, sweetheart. They’ll have to pry you from my cold dead hands.” While you knew he was probably referring to the value you brought his company as his accountant, you couldn’t stifle the butterflies that wreaked havoc in your stomach.

You didn’t move when Sylus’s car stopped outside your house. 

“Thanks for tonight, I had fun. Sorry it didn’t go to plan.” You turned to him after you unbuckled your seatbelt and the tight confines of the car felt even smaller.

“It’s fine, I liked this version of events better anyway.” His low voice reverberated through the small distance between you, nestling in your heart that was beating unhealthily fast. 

“Me too. Next time you take a girl to dinner you ought to let her know if she’s supposed to dress like she’s going to the met gala.” Your advice had a bitter undertone because part of you still wished you could be the only girl he’d take to dinner. 

“I usually do, but this particular girl doesn’t need a fancy dress to be the most beautiful girl in the room.” The candid compliment made the butterflies do summersaults, and while their gymnastics routine continued, you found yourself at a loss for words.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Sylus leaned over the centre console and opened the door for you, completing the chivalrous act of opening the door for you in his own unique fashion. He was so close, all it would take was one small move and his lips could’ve been on yours.

“Goodnight.” You barely got the word out through the sudden bout of breathlessness you were experiencing. And when you were finally encased in the familiar four walls of your home, you thought about every moment you shared with Sylus and how different he seemed from the man you knew before. 

The weekend passed by in a blur. The necklace that looked like a carbon copy of your mom’s was nestled on your neck. A permanent reminder that made ‘Operation Sylus: No More’ infinitely harder to achieve. 

Perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him to stop being a dick, because what you thought would be an easy feat was beginning to feel like climbing a mountain with a peak you couldn’t even see. 

You were staring at the list on your notes app on your brand new phone in hopes of searing it into your memory. 

Operation Sylus: No More

The foolproof guide of getting rid of all feelings Sylus related by the end of November. 

Step 1: avoid Sylus and all thoughts of him at all costs.

Step 2: no more funny jokes, his laugh is seriously deadly. 

Step 3: force yourself to remember Miss Hunter in moments of weakness. She’s the one he really wants. 

Step 4: try to find love elsewhere, like the corner shop owner, he may be in his 50s and happily married but he’s kind of a silver-fox!

Step 5: do not, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be alone with Sylus for too long.

You violated step 5 that Friday when you let him take you to dinner and you were reaping the consequences of your mistake. There was no way you could survive the free-fall if you couldn't get your heart to obey your mind. The disconnect between the two vital organs might be the thing that kills you.

When you heard something shatter in the hallway, you quickly put your phone down and went out to investigate.

The door opened to Mephisto standing on a side table where an empty vase used to sit. The vase was now on the floor in pieces in front of your feet. 

“You did this on purpose.” You pointed an accusing finger at the bird, but all he did was tilt his head to the side as if he couldn’t understand you. You knew he could understand you perfectly well.

The cold war between you two started in your first week at Onychinus when he would swoop at your head spontaneously for no reason. Sylus told you he did it to everyone he didn’t trust and that he’d be over it in due time, but you were too vindictive to let it slide. 

Several back-and-forth pranks later, the bird seemed to have remembered the tradition you managed to forget. “If this is your way of saying you miss me then you take an awful lot after your owner.” Your words faded as you made your way to the kitchen to find the broom. However, upon your return you saw that the floor was flawless and the door to your office was closed.

You rushed in with unparalleled speed to see your worst nightmare; Sylus leaning against your desk in his usual model-like fashion with your phone in his hand.

Panic coursed through you like never before as you remembered what had been left open on your phone when you set it down and the painful fact that you left it unlocked. 

Prayers for a sinkhole to open up and consume you in that very moment went unanswered as Sylus looked up at you with a smirk on his face.

“Is my laugh really deadly?” He looked amused. 

Come on sinkhole. Anytime now. 

When you didn’t answer, Sylus moved toward you. When he was close enough to touch you, he leaned down to make sure your eyes were on his.

“Your deadline is fast approaching, Y/N. Care for a progress report?” The taunting question made heat rush to your face.

“It was stupid, I wrote it months ago.”

“Then why did you have it open?” 

You couldn’t exactly tell him that his willingness to change his cold and cruel demeanour just to keep you as his accountant revived the feelings you thought were long dead. You definitely couldn’t tell him that the necklace that suddenly weighed down your chest made your heart skip a beat every time you touched it. And there was no way you were telling him that the dinner you shared was the happiest you’d felt in a long time.

“I was going to delete it when I heard Mephisto break something in the hallway.”

“Delete it? Guess you don’t need it anymore.”

“Nope.” You popped the P on the word for emphasis. “Can I have my phone back now?” He placed the device into your outstretched hand. 

“So how do you feel about me now, sweetheart?”

You tried your best to appear unperturbed by his taunting. “Mad at your blatant violation of my privacy.”

“Forgive me. I saw my name on your phone when I went to check in on you and I was curious.”

“Mephisto told you I broke the vase, didn’t he?”

“Don’t deflect. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“No, they’re gone. Can we please drop this? It’s embarrassing.” You lied in favour of self-preservation and hoped he wouldn’t be able to see through your act.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Y/N. Many women confess their love for me every month.” You rolled your eyes at his ardent display of over-confidence and narcissism, though you knew he wasn’t exaggerating.  

“Okay, brace yourself there bachelor. No one said anything about love.” It was true, you never said you loved him. Whether or not you did, well that was a secret you’d take to the grave. 

“So then which feeling are we discussing?” The loaded question came out of his mouth so casually, like someone ordering a latte. A display of power that reminded you of just how little this mattered to him. 

Your feet felt like they were grounded in their place by an invisible force and you were sure your cheeks were beet red. You knew your mouth was slightly agape in shock, but you couldn’t even close it. Meanwhile, Sylus was unfazed, treating your feelings like a game. 

“Since when do you even care about how I feel?” The sudden outburst was accompanied by your hand running through your hair out of frustration.

Sylus’s jaw clenched and for a moment he said nothing. There was no hint of amusement left on his features. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He seemed irritated by the premise, but you couldn’t figure out why. You thought Sylus was proud of his clear disregard for other people’s emotions. 

“You treated me like gum stuck to the bottom of your boot for years. What reason did you give me to think otherwise?”

“I don’t know, maybe the fact that I pay you more than my highest ranking footmen. Or that I had Mephisto tail you when you used to bike to and from work to make sure you got home safe. Hell, I invented the lunch budget when I hired you just to make sure you were eating— I even banned mushrooms from my kitchen in case you wanted to eat here. Not to mention the bullshit extra work I’d assign you just so you would stay longer.” 

Choosing not to dwell on the implication of his silent acts of kindness, you interjected. “Hey, I took those tasks seriously!” The twins thought you were crazy when you asked if Sylus was making those assignments up. You knew you were right. 

“Don’t interrupt me.” Your mouth clamped shut at his rather reasonable request. Sylus wasn’t a big talker, so when he monologued, it was important. 

“Your kindness, your humour, it all caught me off guard. No one ever treated me like you did and I had no idea how to feel. The little doodles you sent back to me on the notes I left you delineating tasks? I kept every last one. When Mephisto complained to me about that time you put corn-starch in his water fountain and almost destroyed his wiring, all I could do was laugh. I treated you like I treated all my men because I didn’t want people to find out that you were my weakness.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but the pressure wasn’t budging. There was so much you didn’t know about Sylus, so much you completely misunderstood. This revelation caused a series of chain reactions to go off inside your brain and the weight of what he was trying to say felt suffocating.

You dreamed of a time where Sylus would reciprocate your feelings, but the reality of it was more daunting than you realised.

“All my threats are empty with you, Y/N. You’re the only one who gets away with the attitude you give me. You tell me you crashed a car worth over half-a-million dollars and all I could think about was if you were okay. I even offered to buy your house for way more than it was worth just to get you back. Do you seriously think I don’t care?” 

All sound came to a stifling halt. 

“Wait, you were the ‘developer’?”

The inklings of betrayal wove their way through your skin as the pieces began to fall into place. The timing of the eviction notice, the fact that he’d shown up at your house the day you received it, the way he was so quick to agree to the ridiculous bonus. 

He manipulated you like a puppet on a string and let you think you were in control the entire time.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some traitor.” His audacious demand made your blood boil.

“You are a traitor! How could you do that to me?” You yelled.

“You were going to leave me like I was nothing!” For the first time since you’d met him, Sylus raised his voice to match yours. Your entire body went cold at his vulnerability. He was afraid of being abandoned, and that was a fear you both shared.

“Not seeing you every day made my heart feel like it was being ripped out of my chest. I could barely focus, all I could think about was what you were doing, who you were with. So imagine my surprise when I come to find that while I’m being tortured every minute I’m away from you, you needed more time.

“I knew I was being selfish, I knew that your grief had nothing to do with me, but I’ve never been good at putting my feelings into words. That day in the graveyard when you wouldn’t even look at me, I thought I’d lost you for good. It ate at me like a parasite. I had to get you back and I won’t apologise for not playing fair. There isn’t a rule I wouldn’t break for you, Y/N.”  

It was hard to hate him for what he did when you understood where he was coming from. You were two sides of the same coin. While you overcompensated for the lack of love in your life by becoming the ultimate people-pleaser, he avoided it at every turn, saw it as a weakness. But at the core of every human being was an innate desire to be loved and an inherent fear of being abandoned. 

People couldn’t leave your life if you never let them in. That was a philosophy you saw both your mother and Sylus live by. It was lonely and difficult, and if you had the power of hindsight you would’ve tried harder to convince your mother she was worthy of love. You couldn’t make that same mistake again. 

You loved Sylus, that much was ingrained into the flesh of your heart. For all his rugged edges, he had a way of making things happen that was akin to magic. His determination, his grit, it was admirable.

His intelligence was infuriating, you couldn’t get anything past him. If he received the Greeks’ horse instead of the Trojans, you were sure he’d have seen right through their ruse. 

His desire to make the N109 Zone a better place stemmed from a sense of altruism you could only hope to possess. And when Sylus did things for others, he never expected anything in return. 

But for all his greatest traits he had some difficult ones too. He’d hurt you more times than you could count, and even if he’d changed drastically since your mother’s death, you couldn’t quite trust that he wouldn’t hurt you again.

“You already know how I feel about you.” You confessed. It was no secret you wore your heart on your sleeve, despite your mother’s constant reminders that the world was filled with terrible people who’d take advantage of your candour. You chose to see the good in others, it boded better than the grim lifestyle that came with perpetual pessimism. 

“Then why are you fighting this?” His question came out pained, and it was one you could answer. 

“I’ve loved you for a long time, Sylus. I loved you even though you insulted me, ignored me, reminded me I was replaceable every chance you got.

“I told myself it was just how you were, that it wasn’t personal. But when you walked out on me in the hospital when I needed you the most, I loved you a little less.”

Sylus felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest, like someone took a needle to his heart. He left that hospital because he wasn’t sure you’d even want him there, and it pained him to see you so distraught over a problem he couldn’t fix. When MC came to him with an important mission in Skyhaven, he saw an out, and like the coward he was he took it. If he knew that you’d lose your mother while he was away, he never would have left your side. 

“When you didn’t call until weeks later, when you showed up only to tell me I was being dramatic for grieving, I loved you even less. Every time you screwed me over you made it easier to live without you.”

It hurt to remember the pain you were in back then, the immense pressure of the burdens you carried. But if there was ever a chance of you and Sylus working out, he needed to know the truth. 

“I’ve only ever loved two people, Sylus, and in one month it felt like I’d lost them both. I still love you, I’m afraid I couldn’t stop if I tried, but I don’t know if I can be more than your accountant right now.” You couldn’t survive another heartbreak, that much was for sure. 

Even though Sylus looked like he was going to be sick, you continued. 

“I thought I was okay with you treating me like everybody else, thought I was strong enough to take it. But when I saw you with Miss Hunter and the softness with which you spoke to her, it broke me. I saw that you were capable of being gentle. You just didn’t think I was a worthy recipient of your kindness.”

He was quick to correct you. “That’s not true, sweetheart. Not at all. She has something I need, something I can’t take with force. It’s why I’ve had to adopt unusual methods. If I’d known it was causing you so much pain I would’ve explained. Fuck, Y/N, you deserve so much more than just my kindness, more than I could ever give you. I can’t even think of a person on Earth who deserves you at all.” 

When Sylus saw the tears begin to slide down your cheeks, he resisted the urge to wipe them away.

“I’ll give you anything you ask for, anything but letting you go. There’s nothing so broken it can’t be fixed, Y/N. You taught me that. Let me fix this.” He tested the waters by taking your hand in his and when you let him, he pulled you into his arms. 

For a moment, the room was silent. You listened to his heartbeat through his chest and it might have been even faster than yours. It felt like deja vu, reminding you of that moment in the restaurant, or that time in his hallway after Zayne’s phone call. Sylus was there to comfort you more often than not, why were you so scared of letting him in?

“I want to believe you, I just don’t know that I can.” Your voice was small, timid. As if you were afraid something you’d say would shatter the sanctity of this moment and you’d find out it was all a dream. 

“I won’t stop trying until you do, sweetheart. You’re it for me, there’s no one else.” He kissed the top of your head with a softness you didn’t know he possessed and the words were like bandages wrapping around the wounds inflicted by your own envy.

In the comfortable silence, Sylus made a vow. “I don’t have regrets — you know that quite well — but I regret the way I treated you. I’ll spend every lifetime repenting for my mistakes, Y/N, and I promise I’ll never let anything hurt you again.” He squeezed you tighter and the comfort his warmth brought you was a welcome change to the cold you lived in all the time. 

Desperate to diffuse the overwhelming angst of the situation, you pulled away from his embrace and clapped your hands together. “Okay then, as of today we commence ‘Operation Sylus: The Redemption'.”

His loud laugh resounded through your office, and it was a sound you’d never get tired of hearing. He grabbed your chin. “Have you always been this corny?” 

“I watch a lot of movies, okay? Now, shake on it.” You shook his hand off your face and held out your hand with an invitation that he instantly accepted. With his warm hand encasing yours, you whole-heartedly hoped this operation would be a success. 

Late December

You assumed the dynamic between you and Sylus would drastically change following your impromptu heart-to-heart. But the changes came in small waves. 

It started with the middle-aged man who silently drove you to and from work with a permanent scowl on his face being replaced by Sylus himself.

Then there was the sticky notes he’d usually place on documents explaining the task and deadline, now with an added addendum.

— That necklace was the best decision I’ve ever made.

— Your hair looks especially nice today.

— Did you switch perfumes? I like it.

— That new lipstick suits you. Your lips are all I can think about. 

You saved all of them in a drawer at your desk. 

He had someone bring you your lunch every day and spent your entire lunch break with you. Somedays you talked until your tongue felt like it was going to fall off, other days you just sat and ate together in silence. And every Friday afternoon, instead of taking you straight home, he’d take you to visit your mother’s grave with a new bouquet in his hands. 

You were glad he was taking things slow. His small gestures made your heart flutter without overwhelming you, but it had been a month since your confrontation, and he didn’t even try to touch you. 

While your inexperience with love, lust and romance never impacted any significant aspect of your life before, it was growing increasingly difficult to wait for Sylus to make the first move. He didn’t want to scare you, that much was understandable. But you were growing angsty waiting for him the tension between you two hit a boiling point.

The glorious plan came to you while you were shopping with Luke and Kieran for Onychinus’s annual Christmas gala. It was a networking event masked under the guise of a holiday celebration where the people hiding in the shadows of the underworld could spend one night communicating on the surface.

Every year, Sylus insisted he couldn’t outsource waiters for the event because of potential security leaks, so you, the twins and a couple other of his staff were forced to fill in as the help. Sylus told you that you wouldn’t have to participate this year, but you began to look forward to the event. It was like an unorthodox Christmas tradition.

Your eyes drifted to the costume section of the party store, and when they landed on a short red Santa’s helper dress, you felt a lightbulb turn on in your head. Maybe you had to give Sylus a little nudge.

“Hey, aren't you guys kind of bored of the slacks and the dress shirts he makes us wear?” You sowed the seed of doubt into your unwilling accomplices.

“Duh. I hate dressing like a butler.” Luke’s eyes continued to scan the aisle for decorations. The hall was professionally decorated, but you added your own little details every year. It made things less drab and it gave the twins an excuse to spend hours in the party supply store. 

“What if we went with Christmas themed costumes this year?” The twins turned to look at you with confusion, but they quickly warmed up to the idea when you pointed at the wall of seasonal costumes.

“I’m Rudolph!” They made their declarations in unison before breaking out into an argument in the middle of the party store.

“Just flip a coin!” You desperately suggested, taking a coin out of your wallet and placing it on your thumb, ready to flip. People were beginning to stare.

“I’m heads!” They said in unison, again.

“Kieran you’re heads, Luke you’re tails.” You assigned them the parts of the coin alphabetically and watched it flip through the air. When it landed in your hands, it displayed tails. You silently hoped they would move on from this unnecessary battle and restore peace to your shopping trip again.

“Sorry Kieran, Luke’s Rudolph.” Kieran complained for the rest of the day about how annoying being an elf was, and how, since he was an inch taller than Luke, it only made sense for Luke to be the elf instead. 

They argued like the siblings you never had, and for all the pain and suffering they caused you, there was no denying you loved having them around. Besides, working for Sylus left the three of you trauma-bonded for life. There wasn’t really an out from this unconventional friendship. 

_________________

You failed to remember to clear the costume idea with Sylus before the gala. He was just so busy trying to organise the event, and you were similarly swamped with ensuring all the invoices were sent out on time to the right vendors. You barely saw each other in the days leading up to the big event.

The dress was shorter on you than you anticipated. Coming up just above mid-thigh, it was nothing like anything you owned in your closet. The little hat it came with was cute though and you pinned it to your hair. The make-up you wore was the same as your everyday makeup, barring the eyeliner you’d spent way too long trying to perfect and your lipstick. 

Other than the dress, you really did look the same as you did most of the time. Would Sylus even notice?

Right on cue, a knock on your door snapped you out of your train of thought, and you took a deep breath before opening it. 

As you expected, Sylus looked unfazed by your choice in attire as you moved out of the doorway to let him in.

“I see we’ve foregone the uniforms this year.” His comment was a welcome distraction from your insecurities.

“Whimsy is part of the Christmas spirit, you know.”

“It’s cute. Did you get that dress from the children’s section?”

The question came so out of left-field it left you were stunned. Once the shock settled in, you suddenly felt self-conscious.

“No… Why? Does it look childish?” You couldn’t help the vulnerability in your voice. 

Sylus closed the distance between you in a few long strides, his hands were on you in an instant. His palm was holding onto your waist the other tracing alone the edge of your dress. 

“Quite the opposite, I’m just wondering why they’d make a dress so short for adult women.” 

“Adult women can dress however they want, Sylus.” You chided.

“I know, but I’ll have my hands full if I’m trying to host this event and take care of the hoards of men that will be chasing after my girl at the same time.” He whispered the words seductively into your ear, the hand on your thigh slipping ever-so-slightly under the dress.

You ignored the warm, fuzzy feeling that bloomed through you at the sound of Sylus calling you his girl.

“There won’t be ‘hoards of men’. This will be the third time I’m working your annual gala and I’ve only ever gotten hit on like four times.” You knew from the way his eyebrows furrowed that you shouldn’t have told him that.

“Four times? Men hit on you four times while I was in the room and you didn’t tell me?” He was clearly angry, his rage unwarranted since it happened right under his nose. 

“I didn’t think you’d care. Most of them were like fifty, anyway!” That was true, and every time one of them placed a hand on your shoulder or your forearm, it made you grimace. 

“If men approached you in long pants and a dress shirt with a plate of refreshments in your hand what do you think they’ll do when they see you in this get up?” He walked you back until you were standing against the wall.

He had a point. Maybe it was too suggestive.

“I can change—”

“No. You never have to do that with me, baby. Just stay where I can see you, alright?” 

“Okay.” You felt a blush paint your cheeks. The tension was bubbling up between you. His hand was searing into your waist, his other one moving dangerously high on your thigh. You really thought this would be the moment he kissed you. But then the warmth of his hands was abruptly gone. 

“Okay. You ready to go?” He held the door open for you. That was it? Frustrated at your lack of results, you silently walked out of your house.

__________________

“Did you see Sylus’s date?”

“Of course, she’s definitely the hottest girl here.”

“I bet she’s had work done.”

“If so, I need the name of her surgeon.”

You eavesdropped on the hushed whispers of a group of women who were gossiping in a corner near the kitchen. The second you walked through the doors of the extravagant event hall, you both went your separate ways and you hadn’t seen him since. So much for not letting you out of his sight. 

All you heard about the entire night was his mysterious date and her envious beauty. He never told you he was bringing one, nor did he ever ask you to fill the spot. But before you could completely spiral, you reminded yourself of Sylus’s promise. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. There had to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. 

“Now what’s a pretty girl like you doing working here?” Your train of thought was interrupted by the voice of a man. You turned around, expecting to see one of the many sleazy old men who frequented these events and saw you as an easy target, but all you saw was a young, attractive guy in a three-piece suit. Huh.

“Hors d’oeuvre?” You offered the plate to him in place of a response. 

“No thanks. I’ve had my fill, though I must say, the other servers aren’t quite as easy on the eyes as you.” His eyes shamelessly scanned every inch of you, head-to-toe, and you felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny of his gaze. 

“Oh, um thanks.” The blush on your cheeks was an unwanted biological reaction, you weren’t used to attention from men within your age range. It wasn't like you thought you were ugly, you were just a bit of a hermit.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” You were about to answer his question when someone did it for you.

“Y/N.” The voice belonged to the man of the hour who seemed to have appeared out of thin air. 

“Sylus, hello. Hors d’oeuvre?” Clearly you were running out of things to say if your default reaction was to offer everyone a snack, but it was hard to find the voice to speak when you saw the girl who had her arms wrapped around his. 

Miss Hunter. You should’ve known. Your eyes passed over her beautiful dress and pinned up hair. She lived up to the rumours, she was definitely the prettiest girl in the room. Next to Sylus the pair reminded you of a renaissance painting. They made sense, and clearly not just aesthetically if he brought her as his date instead of you.

Sylus saw the way your eyes trailed off to MC standing next to him. He saw the self-doubt turn your eyes glassy, and all he wanted to do was whisk you away to a private room where he could show you just how badly he wanted you, and no one else.

But his enemies were in attendance tonight, it was part of the reason he didn’t want you there. Sylus’s only weakness used to be his mortality, and even that was debatable. But now his biggest weakness was tangible, and she wore an adorable Christmas themed dress that made every man in the room brim with desire. Miss Hunter may have been the focus of all the women in attendance, but all the men could talk about was the sexy server in the little red dress. It was driving him insane. 

But MC was a hunter and if he endangered her, she could get out of it unscathed without his help. Their enemies were the same, which made them perfect allies, but it also made their loved ones easy targets. Sylus would never forgive himself if he let someone hurt you. So despite the excruciating pain that coursed through him at your hurt expression, he did nothing to quell your concerns.

But he couldn’t idly stand by and let this man make a pass at you either. It was clear Henry was not aware of Sylus’s newly established no-fraternising-with-the-staff policy. 

“Henry, not distracting my staff, are you?” Sylus directed his attention to his business associate. Henry ran a security company which supplied a large portion of their weaponry from Onychinus. The contract they shared was a substantial source of revenue that Sylus couldn’t afford to compromise. 

“I’m just wondering where you found such delectable staff.” Sylus felt his jaw clench at the way Henry undressed you with his eyes and your consequential discomfort. Fuck the contract, he was going to make that man pay. But he couldn’t inflict his revenge quite yet, so he played nice. 

“Unfortunately my staff are exclusively mine. I’m sure you understand how difficult it is to find loyal help.” Well, at least he tried to play nice. The subtle jab at Henry’s recent whistleblower scandal was a low blow, but he wasn’t above kicking below the belt.

Annoyed and slightly confused by the exchange, you rolled your eyes at the testosterone-fuelled men bickering and cleared your throat.

“I think I’m needed in the kitchen. Nice meeting you, Henry.” You gave him the kindest smile you could muster and gave Sylus no smile at all. It was the least he deserved for blindsiding you with his date. 

“I should check on the catering, excuse me.” Sylus followed you to the kitchen and the second he caught up to you, he pulled you into a nearby storage closet.

There was barely any room for the both of you in there, so you were pressed up against his body. You tried to create some distance between you two, but he just pulled you back in by your waist.

“What are you doing? I’m supposed to be working and you’re supposed to be socialising. We can’t do those things from here.” You berated him quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn’t really need anyone from the staff discovering you in this compromising position. You’d had enough embarrassment in one night for a lifetime.

“Miss Hunter is just here with me on business.” Sylus’s statement did little to comfort the tumultuous storm in your mind. 

“I don’t care.��� In a sense, it was true. It seemed your mind didn’t care whether Miss Hunter was there with him on business or not, it still hurt all the same. 

“Don’t lie to me, I can tell when you’re upset.” Sylus tried to caress your cheek but you pushed his hand away. 

“Okay, fine. I’m upset. Now will you let me leave?” You tried to wriggle out of his grasp but to no avail. His hand squeezed your face as he forced you to face him. 

“If you’re upset, talk to me about it. Don’t antagonise me by flirting with other men. It won’t end well for them.” The fire in his eyes swore retribution and you did not want to be Henry right now.

“I wasn’t flirting!” You tried to defend yourself but you knew he’d see straight through your ruse. 

“That sweet smile of yours is reserved for me and me alone.” There was no way Sylus would’ve let that over-the-top smile slide and this was exactly how you expected him to react, but it only made you more upset.  

“Right, but I just have to make do with sharing you with Miss Hunter.” The irony of the situation was not lost on Sylus, but he had a laundry-list of crimes, hypocrisy was the least of them. 

“I’m all yours, baby. I promise it’s just business.” He sounded sincere, and you trusted him to tell you the truth. Sylus never lied unless it was out of omission, but when you asked him a direct question, he never failed to answer honestly. 

“I can help you with business.” You tried to reason, your palm resting against his pounding heart. 

“Not this kind, sweetheart. I’m just trying to protect you. I need you to trust me.” You trusted Sylus with your life, with your heart. Which was why you knew you wouldn’t like the answer to the question you asked next. 

“Did you sleep with her?” The mere thought of it tasted like acid on your tongue. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware of Sylus’s past, but where the other women in his life came and left like the tide, Miss Hunter’s presence was persistent. 

You needed to know just how far they’d gone, even if it might destroy you. 

“Yes. It was one time when we first met in September. Before I realised how I felt for you.” The words pierced straight through you like bullets of radiation. Your palm slowly slipped off of his chest and you diverted your gaze to your heels. “Y/N, you know I only want you. It meant nothing to me.” 

Perhaps it wasn’t the fact that they’d slept together that hurt you so deeply. Maybe it was the way he looked at her, the way she got under his skin. Sylus may love you, but what if he wasn’t attracted to you?

The thought slipped out of you before you could mull it over. “How am I supposed to believe that when you were all over in seconds and you won’t even kiss me?!” 

A hint of recognition flashed through Sylus’s eyes as he realised the catalyst behind your frustration. For some odd reason that he could never figure out, you were insecure. Even though your charm bordered on lethal and your beauty was unparalleled, you still felt inadequate. It perplexed him how someone could look so divine and not be aware of it.

“I haven’t kissed you because I wanted to make sure you were ready, sweetheart. I was worried I’d scare you away, because I’m sure if I got a taste of you I wouldn’t know how to stop.” He sounded strained when he spoke, as if he was recalling his frustration at having to hold back. 

You watched him intently, his words dripped with a desire you both shared. With his body so close to yours, it was hard not to wish he’d just act on his primal instincts. 

“You’re entirely unaware of your affect on me. You have no idea how precarious the string holding me back from insanity has become. When I saw you in that dress, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to hold back. But then you'd look up at me with those angelic eyes and I realise I can’t risk losing you.” 

Before you could even think it through, your desire became overwhelming and your lips were on his in an instant.

It was nothing like you expected, nothing like the chaste, sweet kisses you saw in your movies. It was heated, messy, desperate. His lips ravaged yours like a man on death row devoured his last meal. You felt his desire with every movement and all the doubt you had dissipated instantly. His hands were all over you, one softly held on to your neck, while the other held on to your waist like you might disappear. 

His lips moved to your cheek, your jaw and eventually the sensitive skin on your collarbone. When he bit a particularly sensitive part of your neck, you let out a whine. You hoped he hadn't given you a hickey. His face came up to yours as he looked at your lips which were red from the impact and the desire running rampant in your eyes. It might’ve been the most beautiful you’d ever looked.

“Well? I’m still here.” You whispered against his lips before giving him a chaste peck.

Sylus knew you weren’t just talking about this moment. You never left, even when he gave you a million reasons why you should. He didn’t know what he did to deserve such luck, but he knew he’d never give you a reason to walk away from him ever again.

“We should get out of here.” Somehow you knew he didn’t just mean the storage closet. He shifted to lead you out but you quickly stopped him.

“You can’t leave your own party! What about your date?” As much as the idea of MC hanging off his arm made your skin crawl, it wasn’t right to just leave her alone. 

“She’ll be fine. The only woman I care about is right in front of me, and I want to do so much to her than kiss her in a storage closet.” There was an underlying promise in his tone, and you felt the slightest bit of fear that you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

“You’ve lasted this long, what’s one more night?” Your last ditch effort to escape the dangerous situation was unsuccessful. 

“Sweetheart, I can't wait another second.” He gave you a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed his fraying restraint. Your fear felt inconsequential when he was with you, you knew you could trust him wholly with every part of you. 

So, when he led you out of the storage closet and all the way to his bedroom, you never once felt scared. Or insecure. Or inadequate. Sylus worshipped you like you were his salvation and he never once let you doubt yourself again.

Later that night, as you laid in his bed underneath his covers, staring over at his peaceful sleeping expression, you realised he was your salvation too.

Christmas Day

“What’s the surprise?” You asked the same question for the umpteenth time. 

“Just be patient, we’re almost there.” You let Sylus lead you through what you thought was a building while you obediently kept your eyes shut. Eventually your feet came to a halt, and you were bursting with anticipation. 

“Alright, open your eyes.” When you opened them you were in the living room of a charming beach house. It was so bright it took your eyes a while to adjust, but when they did you noticed that it was decorated with splashes of your favourite shade of yellow. The large balcony doors opened to the sight of a familiar beach, and you felt a range of emotions wash over you all at once. Sadness, nostalgia, yearning. 

“Merry Christmas, baby.” Sylus’s voice behind you snapped you back to reality. 

“What is this place?” The awe in your voice could not be concealed.

“It’s yours. I know how much you hate being on the beach, but I also know it meant a lot to your mother. From this balcony it’ll be like you’re right there without actually being there.” He sounded almost nervous while presenting his gift to you, worried you might hate it. But there wasn’t a word that could describe the pure gratitude and love you felt for the man standing in front of you. 

“You bought me a house on my mother’s favourite beach?” The disbelief in your voice was almost tangible. 

“Yeah.”

“Sylus, all I got you was a pocket watch!” You thought that since you were both not very big on Christmas, you would exchange small gifts. Clearly small wasn’t a word Sylus kept in his vocabulary. 

“You gave me so much more than that.” The suggestion in his voice did nothing to soothe your guilt. 

“This is too much.”

“Y/N, you’re more familiar with my assets than I am, if this made a significant dent in my bank account I think you would’ve noticed when I bought it a month ago.” 

“You’ve had this for a month?” The shock persisted, but he was right. His expenses ranged from a box of paperclips to the purchase of a two-hundred-million dollar industrial complex. 

“Yes, I bought it the first time you asked me to take you to the beach after work.”

“But what if we didn’t work out?” A month ago that seemed like a palpable possibility, but now you couldn’t imagine your life without Sylus in it.

“I’d find a way to trick you into taking it anyway.” 

You all but rolled your eyes at the memory of his less-than-graceful plan to acquire your house until you ended up working for him again. 

“Right, of course. You’re quite good at that I hear.” 

“I’m good at many things, I’ll remind you later.” He drawled against your ear, but before you could force him to act on his promise he spoke up again. “For now, there’s one more surprise.” 

You let Sylus lead you out to the balcony with his hands on your shoulders, driving you forward. He stood behind you, his chest to your back. He pointed to a hill on the left of the house where a beautiful willow tree sat atop the beach on a cliff.

“I bought that plot of land too. I don’t want to overstep, but if you’d like, we could move your mother here. Have her final resting place be at the place she loved the most.” His voice kept you anchored as memories of your mother threatened to pull you away. It still filled your chest with overwhelming sadness when you thought of her, but the thought that she could spend forever in the place that brought her the most joy filled you with relief. You didn’t get to give your mother much, but at least Sylus helped you give her this. 

You couldn’t stop the tears streaming down your face if you tried.

Sylus had come a long way from that day at the graveyard, an even longer way from the day you met him. The fact that he grew to care about your mother as much as you did made your heart swell with love for him that expanded every day. Something you didn’t even think was possible.

“She would love that.” Sylus wrapped his hands around your waist, placing an ever-so-gentle kiss on your temple. “I wish you could’ve met her when she was alive, you would’ve loved her.” They were both the strongest people you knew, and it pained you that they never got to meet. 

“I’m sure I would have. After all, I am a huge fan of her work.” You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his cheesy joke. You were rubbing off on him, that was for sure. He peppered kisses all over the side of your face at the sound of your joyful laugh and you had to squeeze out of his grasp to make him stop. 

While you wished you didn’t have to lose someone so important to you to gain another, things always had a weird way of working out. Your future was still murky, but what you did know for sure was that ’Operation Sylus: No More’ could officially be declared a massive failure. And even though the physical hole in your heart still existed, the proverbial one shrunk to half it’s size; and you had the silver-haired man with the stone-encased heart of gold to thank for that. 

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Sorry if you were tagged but didn't get a notif, I think some of you might have your tags off because your blog wasn't coming up for me >:c

[urdreamydoodles]

MARVEL COMICS CHARACTERS x FEM!READER

Marvel Comics Characters with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Thor, Loki, Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bucky Barnes, Matthew Murdock, Frank Castle, Marc Spector, Johnny Storm, Reed Richards, Felicia Hardy, Stephen Strange, Namor, Johnny Blaze, Eddie Brock / Venom, T'Challa & Elektra Natchios

This headcanons is for all my friends who suffer from social anxiety like me!

Peter Parker (Spider-Man)

- Peter understands your struggles in a way few others can. He was the kid who sat alone at lunch, the one who stammered through conversations, the boy who felt too much and spoke too little. So when you shrink into yourself at a crowded event or hesitate before speaking, he doesn’t push. He waits.

- He is patient with you, always. If your hands shake when ordering at a café, his fingers brush against yours—not grabbing, not forcing, just reminding you he’s there. If you struggle to meet a stranger’s eyes, he fills the silence effortlessly, making bad jokes until you breathe out a quiet laugh. He knows how much effort it takes, and he never belittles it.

- When you’re overwhelmed, he finds ways to help without making a big deal out of it. “Hey, let’s get out of here,” he’ll say casually, like he wasn’t watching you from the corner of his eye, counting the seconds between your anxious glances. He makes excuses to leave early, to find a rooftop where it’s just the two of you, the city stretching wide beneath your feet.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he believes in you, too. He knows you’re stronger than you think. “You don’t have to say anything,” he tells you after a stressful interaction, “but you did great. And I’m proud of you.”

- One day, when you stand your ground, when you speak up even though your voice shakes—Peter looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky. Like you’re the bravest person he’s ever met. And to him? You are.

Tony Stark (Iron Man)

- Tony is used to fast talkers and smooth charmers. He’s not used to you. The quiet, hesitant way you speak, the way your gaze flickers away when too many eyes are on you. At first, he doesn’t know what to do with it. But then, he realizes—he doesn’t need to do anything. He just needs to be there.

- Social situations? He handles them for you. If someone puts you on the spot, Tony is already redirecting the conversation before you can panic. If a gala feels too loud, too bright, too suffocating, he whisks you away with a perfectly crafted excuse. No one ever questions him—he’s Tony Stark, after all.

- But he also refuses to let you believe your anxiety makes you less. When you apologize for stumbling over your words, he raises a brow. “What, you think that matters to me? Have you met me? I stumble over my words all the time. It’s called being devastatingly charming.”

- He builds little comforts into your daily life without making a fuss. Noise-canceling headphones that match your style. A secret signal for when you need an escape. He makes sure you know—“I got you, sweetheart. Always.”

- One night, when you tell him you feel like a burden, he physically stops in his tracks. Turns to you, eyes serious in a way they rarely are. “You think being loved is a burden?” And when you don’t answer, when you shrink under his gaze, he exhales. Steps closer. “I don’t throw around the ‘L’ word lightly. But I love you. You get that, right?”

Steve Rogers (Captain America)

- Steve is a protector by nature, but he learns quickly that you don’t need protecting—you just need understanding. So he listens. He doesn’t try to fix you, doesn’t tell you to “just be more confident.” Instead, he sits with you in the quiet moments, in the spaces where words aren’t needed.

- When your anxiety flares up, his presence is a steady, grounding thing. His hand finds the small of your back in crowded rooms, a silent reminder that he’s there. If your breathing gets uneven, he murmurs, “With me, sweetheart. Deep breaths. In… out.” And when the world is too much, he shields you—not with his vibranium, but with his warmth.

- He notices the things you don’t say. The way your shoulders tense before you speak, the way you fidget when too many eyes are on you. He never rushes you, never forces you to talk before you’re ready. But when you do—when you finally find the courage to tell him what’s on your mind—he listens like it’s the most important thing in the world.

- He makes you feel safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to pretend with him. When you’re exhausted from socializing, he doesn’t take it personally. Instead, he presses a kiss to your temple and says, “Want to stay in tonight? Just us?”

- And one day, when someone comments on how quiet you are, how shy—you shrink back, but Steve? Steve straightens. Levels them with that unshakable, unwavering gaze. “Not everyone needs to be loud to be strong.” And the way he says it—the quiet pride in his voice—it makes you believe it, too.

Thor (God of Thunder)

- Thor does not understand at first. He is a god, a warrior, a king—he has never hesitated to speak his mind, never faltered in the presence of others. So when he notices your reluctance, your anxious glances, he frowns.

- But he learns. He watches the way you grip the hem of your sleeve when you’re overwhelmed, the way your voice gets softer when too many people are listening. He learns, and he adapts. Because that’s what love is.

- If you are uncomfortable in a gathering, he makes it known. “My beloved tires of this company,” he declares in the middle of a conversation, and before you can protest, he is leading you away, unbothered by the stares. To Thor, your comfort is more important than social niceties.

- He does not see your anxiety as a weakness. When you apologize for needing space, he shakes his head. “There is no shame in feeling.” And then, softer, “I would battle a thousand foes, but I cannot battle your thoughts. So tell me, my love—how can I ease them?”

- And when you finally speak—when you let yourself be vulnerable, let yourself be seen—Thor looks at you like you are more powerful than any storm he has ever summoned.

Loki (God of Mischief)

- Loki is used to masks. Used to hiding, used to maneuvering through conversations like they are battles to be won. But you? You don’t wear masks. You don’t need to. You are soft-spoken, hesitant, but there is a sincerity in you that unnerves him.

- He sees the way people overlook you, the way they dismiss quietness as weakness. It infuriates him. But more than that—it intrigues him. Because he sees what they do not. He sees the way your mind works, the depths beneath the surface.

- When you struggle with your words, he fills the silence with his own. When you are anxious, he redirects the attention elsewhere. He will never let the world swallow you whole.

- But when you grow comfortable, when you begin to speak more freely with him—Loki listens. No tricks, no arrogance. Just listens. And if anyone dares to mock your hesitance, they will learn why he is called the God of Mischief.

- One day, you tell him you feel small. Insignificant. He tilts your chin up, his green eyes glinting with something unreadable. “You are not small,” he murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. “You are the only thing in this realm that makes me feel real.”

Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

- Clint notices things. He notices the way your hands tremble when too many people are watching, the way your eyes flick toward the door in crowded rooms. He notices the way your breath catches before you speak, the way you fidget when someone puts you on the spot. He notices because he’s been there too—the kid no one thought twice about, the one who had to learn to take up space in a world that wanted to ignore him.

- He helps in his own way. Casual, unspoken, never forcing. When he sees your shoulders tense in a loud bar, he makes a joke so ridiculous, so absurd, that you forget why you were panicking in the first place. If you start to shut down at a gathering, he suddenly remembers an “important thing” he has to show you outside—just the two of you, away from the noise.

- He doesn’t push you to talk when you don’t want to, but when you do? He listens like every single word matters. Because to him, it does. He knows what it’s like to feel unheard, and he refuses to let you believe your voice is anything less than important.

- He’s protective, but not in an overbearing way. If someone tries to rush you into speaking, he’s already cutting in, redirecting the attention, making himself the distraction. If someone mocks your quietness, his usual easy grin goes sharp. He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his words are just as sharp as his arrows.

- But what really gets him? The way you trust him. The way you let him see the parts of you the world doesn’t always understand. One night, after a long day, you let yourself lean into him, burying your face against his shoulder. And Clint? He just holds you closer, arms firm around you, like he’s never letting go.

Natasha Romanoff (Black Widow)

- Natasha understands. She understands in a way no one else does. She was trained to be invisible, to fade into the background when necessary. She knows what it’s like to measure every word before speaking, to feel like too many eyes are on you.

- With her, there’s no pressure. No expectation. She never pushes you to be something you’re not. If you don’t want to talk, she doesn’t fill the silence with meaningless chatter. She lets the quiet exist, natural and unforced, because she knows sometimes words aren’t necessary.

- She is your shield in public. If she sees you struggling in a conversation, she subtly shifts the focus onto herself. If someone tries to pressure you, she gives them a look—a cold, unreadable thing that makes them shrink back immediately. No one messes with you when Natasha is around.

- But in private, she’s different. Softer. When you tell her your fears—your worries about being a burden, about not being enough—she listens, then gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your forehead. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

- And one day, when you stand up for yourself—when you find your voice even though your hands shake—she watches you with something like pride. Because she knows exactly how strong you are.

Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier)

- Bucky knows what it’s like to feel out of place. To feel like the world moves too fast, too loud, too much. So when you get overwhelmed, when the anxiety becomes too sharp, he doesn’t tell you to “calm down.” He just takes your hand. Grounds you. Stays with you.

- He’s not much for words, but he doesn’t need them. He knows when you need space and when you need him close. If you’re panicking in public, he subtly moves in front of you, blocking the world from view. If you need an out, he makes an excuse without hesitation.

- He’s fiercely protective, but he never treats you like you’re fragile. He knows you’re strong, even if you don’t always believe it. “You don’t have to be loud to matter,” he tells you one night, his voice quiet but sure. “I see you. That’s enough.”

- When you have bad days, the kind where speaking feels impossible, he never makes you feel guilty. Instead, he just sits with you, silent but present. Sometimes, he’ll read aloud, his voice low and steady, filling the empty spaces with something comforting.

- And when you finally whisper, “Thank you,” he just shakes his head. “You don’t have to thank me, doll.” And the way he says it—like it’s the easiest thing in the world to love you—makes your heart ache.

Matthew Murdock (Daredevil)

- Matt hears everything—the shift in your breath when you’re nervous, the way your heartbeat speeds up in crowds. He hears the words you don’t say, the ones caught behind your teeth, and he never pushes them out. He lets you speak at your own pace, in your own way.

- He’s a lawyer, a talker, a charmer—but with you? He is patient. Gentle. He knows the weight of words, the way they can soothe or break, and he chooses them carefully when speaking to you.

- If a social event becomes too much, he senses it before you even say a word. “Wanna get out of here?” he murmurs, already reaching for your hand, already leading you somewhere quieter, somewhere safer.

- He never lets anyone make you feel small. If someone talks over you, dismisses your words—his easy charm vanishes. His voice turns sharp, his lawyer’s precision cutting through their ignorance like a blade.

- But when it’s just the two of you—when the city quiets, when the weight of the world is gone—he presses his forehead to yours and whispers, “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself with me.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Frank Castle (The Punisher)

- Frank is not a man of many words, but he doesn’t need them. He sees you—the way your hands curl into fists when you’re anxious, the way you shrink back when too many eyes are on you. And without a word, he adjusts. He puts himself between you and the world, silent and steady, your shield against everything too loud, too much.

- He never tells you to “just relax” or “get over it.” He knows what it’s like to have demons clawing at your throat, to feel like your own mind is working against you. So instead, he stays close. A hand at your back. A steadying presence beside you. A quiet, unspoken promise—I’ve got you.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Frank’s entire demeanor changes. His voice drops, his posture shifts. “You got a problem?” And suddenly, the room is very, very quiet.

- But when it’s just you and him—when the world is far away and you don’t have to be anything but yourself—he’s softer. He pulls you into his arms, presses a kiss to your hair. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You don’t gotta be anything but you.”

- And in that moment, wrapped in his arms, you finally believe him.

Marc Spector (Moon Knight)

- Marc is a man of chaos, of violence, of war. But with you, he learns the art of stillness. He sees the way you hesitate before speaking, the way your hands tremble when too many eyes are on you, and he knows that kind of fear. He’s lived with it—not the fear of people, but the fear of never truly belonging.

- When crowds press in too close, when anxiety wraps around you like barbed wire, he moves instinctively—positioning himself at your side, shielding you from the world. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t pry—he simply becomes a wall between you and whatever is making your breath hitch.

- He’s rough around the edges, all sharp angles and battle scars, but when it comes to you? His hands are gentle, his voice low and steady. If you can’t meet his gaze, he tilts his head just slightly, lowering himself to where you are—never forcing, always waiting.

- If someone dares to mock your quietness, Marc is not a man of restraint. He looms over them, voice eerily calm but laced with danger. “Say that again.” He doesn’t need to throw a punch—his presence alone is enough to send them running.

- But when you’re alone, when the night is still and the world is quiet, he holds you like you’re the only thing keeping him tethered. “I get it,” he murmurs into your hair. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.” And you know, without a doubt, that he means it.

Johnny Storm (Human Torch)

- Johnny is fire, and you are the quiet ember he never knew he needed. He is loud, bold, reckless—the center of every room he walks into. And yet, when he’s with you, he finds himself softening, lowering his volume, learning to exist in the quiet without burning it away.

- He doesn’t always understand your anxiety, but he tries. He notices the way your fingers twitch before speaking, the way you flinch at unexpected attention, and he makes it his personal mission to be your buffer.

- If you ever feel overwhelmed at an event, he pulls you aside with the easiest excuse in the world—“Sorry, gotta steal my girl for a sec.” And just like that, you’re swept away, safe in the warmth of his presence, away from prying eyes.

- When someone comments on how “shy” you are, he grins wide, throws an arm around your shoulders, and says, “Yeah? Well, she’s also the smartest, kindest, most beautiful person in the room, so I’d shut up if I were you.” And somehow, you know he means every single word.

- At the end of the day, when the world feels too big and your voice feels too small, Johnny pulls you into his arms, presses his forehead to yours, and whispers, “You don’t have to be loud to be heard. I hear you.” And for the first time, you believe it.

Reed Richards (Mister Fantastic)

- Reed’s mind moves faster than most, always ten steps ahead, lost in equations and theories. But with you? He slows down. He listens, truly listens, because he knows how hard it is for you to speak sometimes—and if there’s one thing he values, it’s the power of a voice that chooses its words carefully.

- He’s observant, even if he doesn’t always show it. He notices the subtle shifts in your posture, the way your breathing changes when anxiety creeps in. And without a word, he adjusts—offering his hand, shifting attention away from you, giving you space when you need it.

- When someone talks over you, dismisses your words, Reed is not an aggressive man—but he is precise. He calmly redirects the conversation, effortlessly reinforcing your point until the offender realizes their mistake. It’s a quiet kind of defense, but it leaves no room for doubt: your words matter.

- He never forces you into situations that make you uncomfortable, but he encourages you in the gentlest ways. When you whisper your thoughts to him, he repeats them out loud, ensuring your ideas are heard. He never takes credit for your brilliance—he amplifies it.

- And when you’re alone, when the weight of the world is too much, he pulls you close, resting his chin atop your head. “You don’t have to be anyone but yourself,” he murmurs. “You are enough, exactly as you are.”

Felicia Hardy (Black Cat)

- Felicia is a storm wrapped in silk—a whirlwind of charm, confidence, and mischief. And yet, with you, she is something softer, something gentler, something she never thought she could be.

- She adores the way you shy away from attention, how you linger in the background—not because she wants you to hide, but because she loves the way your beauty is something only those who look closely can see.

- When you get anxious in public, she drapes herself over you like a shield, whispering teasing remarks into your ear until you laugh and forget why you were nervous in the first place. She makes the world feel smaller, safer—like it’s just the two of you, even in a crowded room.

- If someone insults your quietness, her entire demeanor shifts. The playful smirk sharpens, her eyes go cold, and she takes a single step forward. “Wanna say that again, sweetheart?” No one ever does.

- But when it’s just the two of you, when the night is quiet and you’re curled up in her arms, she presses a kiss to your forehead and murmurs, “You don’t need to change for anyone, least of all me. I love you exactly as you are.”

Stephen Strange (Doctor Strange)

- Stephen is a man who has faced horrors beyond comprehension, who has seen the vastness of the cosmos and returned unchanged. And yet, you—soft-spoken, hesitant, shy—unravel him in ways he never anticipated.

- He is a man of logic, of knowledge, and yet he finds himself studying you as though you are the most intricate spell he has ever encountered. He learns your tells, your fears, the quiet ways you ask for help.

- When your anxiety becomes too much, he doesn’t try to “fix” it—he simply exists beside you, grounding you with his presence. If words fail you, he conjures illusions of calming landscapes, filling the space with something serene, something safe.

- If someone belittles you, his voice turns cold, clipped. “Do you always judge people based on volume, or is it just when you lack the intellect to comprehend quiet strength?” His words cut deeper than any blade, and the offender is left stammering, humiliated.

- But when you’re alone, when the world has faded away and it’s just the two of you, he takes your hands in his, presses a kiss to your knuckles, and whispers, “You don’t need grand gestures to be extraordinary. You already are.” And for the first time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, he’s right.

Namor (The Sub-Mariner)

- Namor is a king, a warrior, a force of nature that bends to no one. He is fire and water, fury and grace, and yet when he looks at you—quiet, hesitant, soft in ways he has never been—his arrogance falters. He has ruled the depths for centuries, but he would kneel for you.

- He does not understand your reluctance to speak, the way your hands shake in crowded halls, but he does not mock you for it. Instead, he watches, learns, and makes sure his court knows that your words carry the weight of a queen’s decree.

- When you feel small, when your voice wavers, Namor’s is strong enough for the both of you. If anyone dares to belittle your quietness, his voice booms across the room, regal and unyielding. “You would do well to remember that power is not measured in volume, but in presence.”

- He encourages you to stand tall, not because he wishes to change you, but because he knows the depths of your strength, even when you don’t. He will remind you as many times as necessary—until you believe it, until the ocean itself whispers your name with reverence.

- And in the moments when the world is too much, when the pressure of existence weighs heavy on your chest, he takes you to the water. He carries you effortlessly through the waves, where silence is sacred and your anxiety cannot reach. Here, with him, you are weightless.

Johnny Blaze (Ghost Rider)

- Johnny Blaze has stared into the abyss and walked away burning. He has made deals with devils, has felt Hell’s fire in his veins, but nothing terrifies him more than the thought of you feeling like you are alone.

- He knows what it’s like to be trapped in your own mind, to battle demons no one else can see. So when he sees your hands tremble, your voice falter, he doesn’t push—he just stays. A quiet, unwavering presence, reminding you that you don’t have to fight alone.

- When your anxiety is a storm raging inside you, he lets you borrow his fire. Not in words, not in force, but in touch—a steady hand at the small of your back, a whispered joke to pull you from the darkness. He doesn’t try to fix you. He just makes sure you know you’re not broken.

- If someone mocks your quietness, Johnny doesn’t bother with threats. He just looks at them, eyes burning gold, voice like gravel and embers. “Wanna run that by me again?” One glance at the fire flickering beneath his skin, and they never do.

- But when the night is still, when his demons are quiet and yours are loud, he holds you close, presses a kiss to your temple, and murmurs, “You don’t need to be louder to matter, sweetheart. You’re already everything.”

Eddie Brock / Venom

- Eddie has never been good with words, and Venom has never needed them. But when it comes to you—shy, hesitant, unsure of your place in the world—they both learn a new kind of patience.

- Venom is fascinated by you. “WHY IS SHE SO QUIET?” the symbiote demands. “SHE IS STRONG. THEY SHOULD FEAR HER.” And Eddie just sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, buddy, but not everyone wants to be feared.”

- When your anxiety flares, Eddie keeps you close, shielding you from the world with the ease of a man who has spent a lifetime on the outskirts. And if that isn’t enough? Venom coils around you, a silent, watchful protector, daring anyone to make you uncomfortable.

- If someone ever makes fun of your quiet nature, Eddie lets out a slow, measured breath—then smirks. “You really wanna keep talking?” And before they can respond, Venom grins wide, teeth gleaming. “WE COULD EAT THEM,” the symbiote suggests, only half-joking. (Probably.)

- But in the quiet moments, when it’s just the three of you, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and sighs. “You don’t have to change for anyone, least of all me.” And Venom, surprisingly gentle, echoes, “WE LIKE YOU AS YOU ARE.”

T’Challa (Black Panther)

- T’Challa has ruled nations, fought wars, stood against gods. But when you look up at him, eyes hesitant, voice barely above a whisper, he feels like a man first and a king second.

- He is deliberate with his affection, precise in his understanding. He does not rush you. He does not try to fix what is not broken. Instead, he offers his hand—steady, unwavering, waiting for you to take it when you’re ready.

- When your anxiety makes you withdraw, he does not let the world swallow you. Instead, he ensures that you are given the space to exist on your terms. You are not just "his" in the public eye—you are your own, and he will defend your right to be exactly as you are.

- Should anyone dare mock your shyness, his response is quiet but lethal. “Do not mistake her silence for weakness,” he says, voice like the edge of a blade. “There is power in stillness. And wisdom in restraint.” And just like that, the room remembers why he is king.

- But when the throne room is empty, when the world is quiet, he cups your face with hands that have known both war and tenderness. “You do not need to raise your voice to be heard, my love,” he whispers. “I will always listen.”

Elektra Natchios

- Elektra moves like a shadow, speaks like a blade. She has spent a lifetime in the dark, but with you, she learns that love does not need to be loud to be real.

- She understands your silence in a way few others can. She does not push, does not pry—she simply exists beside you, unwavering, patient. If you need space, she gives it. If you need grounding, her hand finds yours, steady and sure.

- When your anxiety takes hold, she does not fill the silence with empty words. Instead, she teaches you how to fight—not because she expects you to, but because she wants you to know that you are strong. Even in stillness. Even in silence.

- If someone ever dares to mock your quietness, Elektra doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. One sharp glance, one tilt of her head, and suddenly, the offender remembers they have somewhere else to be.

- And when the night is quiet, when it’s just the two of you tangled in silk and moonlight, she runs a slow hand down your spine and whispers, “The world does not deserve you.” And you believe her—because in her eyes, you are more dangerous, more beautiful, more powerful than anyone could ever understand.

[luniviravosshipper]

Okay, I was initially going to include some of my thoughts in the tags but I did a quick google search on the symbolism of this flower and it ended up not being that quick so I’m just going to share my findings here.

So, morning glory flowers as symbols have been most prevalent in Mesoamerican, Victorian, Japanese, and Chinese cultures throughout history. I’m not going to go through each because from what I found I feel like if the cultural background of the symbolism of this flower is relevant in any way it’s through the Mesoamerican cultures (also because the specific flower used looks most like the Mexican morning glory to me, which I’ll talk about in a minute.)

Like what was already said, these flowers can represent the cycle of death and rebirth and that’s especially true for some of the Mesoamericana cultures. But additionally, I also found in a few they also can be a symbol of penance and sacrifice.

Which, you know, fitting for Viren.

Also, they were used as a way to induce visions, which again, is pretty fitting for Viren.

Outside of cultural significance, morning glory flowers and their symbolism oftentimes hinges on their colors too.

Blue morning glories for example, like what was shown in the series, are associated with connection, loyalty, and trust. (And I definitely think some things could be said about that and how it relates to Viren and Claudia’s relationship, and what happened after his dream sequence and catatonic episode.)

There’s even some stuff I found that hinted at the blue morning glory in particular being associated with the water element in some cultures, which would be really interesting if true because season 5 was all about the ocean primal and there were definitely connections made between that primal (specifically its arcanum centering around the ideas of control and freedom) and Viren’s arc.

(Unfortunately I couldn’t find any other sources that delved deeper into the supposed connection made between the water element and this flower, and maybe this source was just talking about the separate symbolism of the color blue and how that could be applied to this flower, but it’s still interesting and I wanted to point it out.)

Anyways but to actually get to the point. I thought the ones shown in the series look most like the Mexican morning glory which is actually a perennial flower unlike most other morning glories, but they’re still pretty common. They’re also known as heavenly blue morning glories.

Now, this part might be a stretch ‘cause I don’t think the flowers shown in the series looked exactly like these, but I did discover a specific type of Mexican morning glory that had an interesting name and could maybe relate to the series’ usage of this flower symbol. Particularly, a flower called a blue star or otherwise referred to as a glacier star morning glory.

Hmmm…

Hmmmmmmm…

(I mean, the fact that was the scene where we first saw her with the flower.)

And you know, thinking about how this specific flower is actually perennial…

And how Claudia was holding this in Viren's dream who had to literally die in order to be reborn… When it seems possibly representative of another character who cannot permanently die…

Also, apparently despite being used for medicinal purposes in many cultures throughout history, the seeds of these flowers are known to have some similar chemical makeup to LSD.

Which, well, could also explain Viren’s connection to the flowers through his dark magic dream. (Also kind of recontextualizes what the other source said about the flowers being used to induce “visions” as a medicine. I found this too, although I’m not sure how credible it is, that talked in more detail about how these flowers were specifically used to as psychedelics.)

Also, another fun fact. They're highly invasive. So if we're talking about Aaravos's connection to the flower symbol (which, again, I recognize is a bit of a stretch)...

would also like to point out that the flower Terry picks for Claudia and she has in Viren's dream

bears more than a passing resemblance to a Morning Glory 👀

a plant where each individual flower blooms only once, and dies on the same day 👀👀

frequently a symbol of death and rebirth 👀👀👀

[corpocyborg]

Regarding The Busts in Gortash's Office

So because I'm endlessly obsessive, I did what I said I would do & wrote down the names and descriptions of all of the people that Gortash has busts of in his office because they seem to be people he admires so I wanted to analyze them, as one does when one is endlessly obsessive. I also did additional research on the ones that I could find more information about. Here they are, and some of my own thoughts on why they might have been included (under a read more because it's long because, again, obsessive).

Baron Alec Bormul - First of the Bormul patriar family to start his own venture, Alec is the unscrupulous bastard who made their fortune in mines and vineyards.

Now, as far as I can find, this is the only information we have about this character. However, there are several other Bormul family members that exist in the game (including an NPC called Callem Bormul who is present at Gortash's ordaining ceremony). The one that stands out more to me though is Ilza Bormul, who is mentioned in the in-game book "Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder" and stated to own "slave-labour mines in the mountains of Amn". Presumably therefore Alec is an "unscrupulous bastard" due to the use of slave labor. Not particularly surprising Gortash would approve of that since he is a known slaver himself. Interestingly, that same book also mentions Xeremiah Eltan, who is another of the busts in the office, as another example of the fact that Baldur's Gates patriar families are all founded by blood and immorality (which the author of the book says no one ever talks about). So I imagine both busts are also included as confirmation of his worldview that no one innocent ever gets far in life. I think it's also notable here that Gortash chose to commemorate the "first" of the family who "started his own venture". We know he loves a self-made man, no matter how brutal his path was. Commodore Morgan Redlocks - Baldur's Gate ship captain Morgan Redlocks wed a man thrice her age. After the wedding, the groom suffered a heart attack. Redlocks converted his merchant ships into a pirate fleet.

Unfortunately not a character that I can find any more information about, but how much do you want to bet that she killed her husband? I mean, come on. He has a heart attack so soon after the wedding that he's still being referred to as the "groom" and not the husband? Plus it wouldn't even remotely surprise me that Gortash would appreciate a subtle femme fatale assassin. Also, of fucking course he would admire a pirate. Magnate Carric Ilphescient - Carric started from nothing, built a financial empire, and founded the Counting House. He refused to mingle with the other patriars, saying, "They didn't want me when I was an urchin, and now they can't have me."

Another self-made man, and one who does not mince words about it. Easy to imagine that that quote reflected Gortash's own mentality. Only other reference I could find to him was in an in-game book in the Counting House called "Record of the Honoured" but all it tells us is that he did in fact found the Counting House. The Cockeyed Stranger - This is a bust of the god Bane as he first appeared to Gortash in dreams, and was then described to a Rivington sculptor.

Bane is obviously a far more established D&D character than anyone else here, so I could write a whole page just about Bane and how I imagine Gortash sees him. I swear I've seen a bit of loading screen flavor text in BG3 that states that when Bane was a mortal man, he was originally a battleslave of Mephistopheles, but it is possible that I'm wrong about that because I cannot find confirmation of this lore anywhere on the internet. (If anyone else has seen that loading screen flavor text, please confirm so I know I'm not hallucinating!) But if it is true, then it's immensely clear what Gortash sees in him. Gortash's whole thing is he absolutely loves the idea of someone who started from the bottom and rose to the top through sheer ruthlessness. He likes the idea of overthrowing his oppressors and taking their place. As a whole, Bane's doctrine also fits Gortash really well. The Forgotten Realms Wiki says that Bane "embodied the principles of ambition and control and believed that the strong had not only the right, but the duty, to rule over the weak." I can easily imagine Gortash having the same mentality. Bane is also known for being a lot more open to having alliances than is typical for an evil god, but he always makes sure he ends up on top. (I could write a whole other analysis about how the original plan hatched by Gortash, Durge, & Ketheric leaves Gortash in the best position. Ketheric gets to be a fearsome conquering general, Durge (later Orin) gets to spread chaos in the streets, but Gortash is the one who ends up being the hero who can actually not only have the benefit of his legitimate ruthlessness but also the benefit of it remaining hidden! By far the best position in the alliance. Orin actually is mad about this (she gives a little speech to Durge about how Gortash betrayed them because all her murders only drive the people of Baldur's Gate into the arms of his Steel Watch) but it is implied that Durge didn't think of it the same way since those were always the terms of the plan... something that always makes me wonder about what exactly it is that Durge & Gortash originally had planned in the long-term. Were they really just both always planning to betray the other eventually? Because I'm honestly not so sure about that. I think they're both too smart for that. But I digress.) Dame Amafrey Ephemial - Dame Amafrey, the Orphans' Friend, founded several orphanages in the Outer City, as the Lower City was no place for children (and the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage).

Okay, this is by far the black sheep in the set. A philanthropist? Seemingly without an ulterior motive? Why is she included here? I mean, on the one hand, I could almost believe that Gortash is sympathetic to the plights of children in a way he wouldn't be for adults (since he suffered so much as a child & since children don't have as many ways to help themselves and take responsibility as adults do), but on the other hand, it is so deeply inconsistent with his character too. But then again, maybe he's just a hypocrite. Maybe this really is some sort of secret soft side. Or perhaps it has more to do with the fact that she seemed to be bogged down by the corruption around her (the Upper City declined to sponsor an orphanage) so maybe he keeps her bust around as a reminder that good intentions don't get you far enough. I genuinely don't know with this one, and I was unable to find any more info about Dame Ephemial. Grand Duke Eltan - Founder of the Flaming Fist. Later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time, which portray him as a cruel and hard-handed mercenary commander.

According to the same in-game book mentioned previously (Baldur's Gate and the Dialectics of Plunder), he "founded the Flaming Fist as a ruthless mercenary company that slaughtered and burned for pay along the entire length of the Sword Coast". He is also a character in the first Baldur's Gate game and the expansion Baldur's Gate: Siege of Dragonspear. According to the Forgotten Realms Wiki, he was Lawful Neutral and he was known as "steadfast and principled" because of his "tactical genius" and "a sincere belief in maintaining the balance of power among the many small kingdoms of Faerûn". Also apparently he survived a whole lot of assassination attempts. Easy to see why Gortash would see this one as a role model, I think. He is described as a "tactical genius" himself. I also think it's interesting that it says that "later history is kinder to him than accounts from his time". I mean, we know Gortash is huge on propaganda and controlling the narrative. I would imagine he cares how he might be remembered.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Monster Movie | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader ( :0 ? )

Warnings: all of 'em. put 'em all here. mentions of disordered eating, descriptions of severe anxiety, dean is lowkey being the worst, burns, injuries, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 3587

A/N: I'm gonna keep it very real with y'all. Please heed the warnings about anxiety and disordered eating. If I am honest, I kinda got triggered writing it as I pulled the experience of my character from my own experience in a previous relationship. Obviously, the circumstances were very different, but I used to get tonnnssss of anxiety specifically while eating that ended in me becoming malnourished because the person I was dating was so horrible to me. Dean isn't like that, though, and I guess I kind of used this chapter and this part of the character's arc to heal that pain still within me, even after years.

Please know I understand if you have to skip out on this chapter for the reasons above. The beginning of season 4 is going to be very rocky as Dean and (Y/N) continue to learn to trust each other again, but I hope to see you in the coming weeks as the storm begins to calm. Much love to you, as always.

-m

“Dean,” you breathed out, eyes filling with tears. 

“Hey, sweetheart.” He sat in the chair across from the bed that he’d undoubtedly put you in.

“Dean, I’m so sorry—” 

That seemed to send a ping of anger through him, but he suppressed it. “We can talk about that later. Are you okay?” 

“I think so,” you said. You pushed yourself up with a wince and noticed the gauze around your left forearm and right calf. “You did this?” 

He nodded. 

You smiled lopsidedly, cheeks heating. “Thank you.” You tried to joke lightheartedly. “You’re finally getting a hang of the right way to dress a burn.”

“Eh, I had a good teacher,” he shrugged. 

You’d missed this so much; the comfort in the mundane moments with him. 

Both of you seemed a little too scared to say anything, and you stared at your scraped up hands instead of at him. 

“I’m still pissed at you,” he stated.

You nodded. “I figured.”

Another moment of tense silence passed between you.

“Once you’re healed, I still want you gone,” Dean said. His blunt tone felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

Even still, you nodded. “That’s fair.”

Dean nodded sharply and got to his feet. When he’d nearly left the room, he turned around again. “Why aren’t you fighting me on this?”

You threw your hands up in defeat. “What do you want me to say, Dean?”

He approached the bed you were in once more. “Something. Anything. Be mad. Yell at me. Call me an asshole. Dammit, tell me what happened. Explain it all away. Just something!” 

You used the side of your thumb to apply pressure to the bridge of your nose. “Well, you pretty definitively told me to leave and not to come back at Bobby’s.”

“I gave you a choice!”

“A choice you couldn’t even begin to understand the difficulty of!” you shouted back. 

“Okay, so tell me!” he yelled. “Help me understand! Because you’re not making sense to me, (Y/N)!”

You huffed, going quiet for a moment. “I can’t,” you finally breathed out, hiding your face from him. 

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course, you can’t,” he muttered angrily. He started back for the door. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him hesitate while he grabbed the door handle. When the door shut behind him, you felt your heart sink.

****

Being in the backseat of the Impala again was an amazing feeling. You were tired of going it alone. However, the tense atmosphere was something you could do without.

“The radio around here sucks,” Dean grumbled. He turned it off, briefly stealing a glance at his skulking brother. “Come on, man. Jobs don't get much sweeter than this, you know? Dead vic with a gnawed-on neck, body drained of blood, and a witness who swears up and down that it was a vampire.” He was making it clear he was going the route of ignoring you and only addressing you with a sharp comment when absolutely necessary.

“No, I- I agree,” Sam said half-heartedly. “It’s a hell of a case.” “A little more gusto, please.”

“It's just... the world is coming to an end. Things are a little complicated, you know?”

“C’mon, man, it's like the good old days, an honest-to-goodness monster hunt. It's about time we got back to tackling a straightforward, black and white case.”

****

“Oktoberfest 2008” was painted on a sign Dean drove past, and you watched people celebrating in tacky Lederhosen and barmaid costumes. 

“You stay,” Dean told you gruffly when he parked the car. 

You crossed your arms and stared out the window. 

“We still got to see the new Raiders movie,” Dean pointed at his brother as he got out of the car. 

“Saw it,” Sam replied monotonously. 

“Without me?” 

Their voices became distant as they shut the doors and walked away. 

You felt sick to your stomach. Everything you wanted to say to Dean— the things that had happened since he went to Hell, Uriel, Castiel, the things you’d done— they were all on the tip of your tongue. But then, he’d glare at you. Your heart would sink, and you’d retreat right back into yourself.

Marissa Wright was a young girl who’d been visiting the town for Oktoberfest. Strangely, she had two dark marks on her neck like a cartoonish vampire bite. At least, that was what you gathered from the pictures you’d snagged a peek at over Sam’s shoulder on the ride from the morgue to the bar Dean and Sam had left you outside of.

Frankly, Marissa Wright wasn’t interesting to you. At the moment, you were too concerned with your angel business. Uriel’s words about killing Sam loomed over you, and you felt like you couldn’t leave the Winchesters even once you were healed because of what Uriel was making you do.

Somehow, you needed to regain Dean’s trust. The idea of trying to manipulate him made you sick, but maybe it was what you needed to do to protect him. Even if he never understood why you did the things you did, at least he’d still be alive to wonder.

****

That night, you were unable to sleep. That, unfortunately, was not unusual. Yet again, you were alone in a motel room wishing to be next to Dean. 

The mirror had become your worst enemy. Shirts you’d stolen from Steven when he was a teenager hung even more loosely off you than they did before Dean died. Your arms lacked the muscle tone they once had, and you felt weaker and sicker with each passing day.

An anxiety was beginning to form within you that you’d become unhealthily dependent on Dean. You never wanted that for yourself; men had always been an accessory to you before Dean. You were complete on your own. Now, you weren’t sure what was wrong with you.

Was it that you missed Dean that much? Was it the angels? Was it the things you’d done? You supposed it was a combination of all of the above. 

****

The next morning, you opened the door to your room to see Sam. Your heart sank a bit that it wasn’t Dean, and it seemed like that much was evident based on your facial expression.

“Good to see you, too,” Sam chuckled.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Good morning, by the way.”

The brunet nodded, still seeming not to feel sure where he stood between you and his brother at the moment. “We’re leaving in five. Headed to the morgue, I think.”

“Another attack?” you asked.

Sam nodded. “Doesn’t sound anything like the last one, though.”

“Fun stuff,” you replied, pulling your boots on. “You think he’s gonna put me in the timeout chair again?”

The younger brother looked at the ground bashfully, and you sighed. “Yeah, I thought so, too.” 

****

Sure enough, Dean made you stay in the car again. It seemed he was deriving some strange satisfaction from keeping you separated from the case. Or maybe his joy came from the fact that it very visibly pissed you off.

When the boys returned to the car, you didn’t ask any questions about the case. Frankly, you weren’t interested. However, Sam was adamant about getting your input. 

“Wolf Man?” you scoffed. “Are you sure?”

“What, do you think we’re idiots?” Dean snapped.

You took a deep breath and nearly bit your tongue to keep yourself quiet. “It’s not that, Dean,” you said lowly. “It’s that it’s just sort of implausible to have found a wolf hair next to a body with its heart still intact and Dracula-accurate fang marks in that girl’s neck.”

“Thank you, Sherlock,” Dean snapped.

“Dean! Cut it out, man,” Sam warned. 

Dean seemed taken aback by Sam, but he didn’t press the issue. 

The ride remained silent until the three of you arrived at the bar Dean had left you outside the day before. 

Sam opened the door for you, encouraging you to get out despite the very obvious glares from his brother. 

Once inside the bar, you sat on the same side of the booth as Sam. Dean grumpily chomped on his burger, and Sam ate his meal silently. You didn’t even order anything; your stomach was too upset and tied in knots to properly digest anything. As soon as you tried, you knew you’d be in the bathroom puking your guts up. 

“Aren’t you gonna eat something?” Sam asked you.

You shook your head. 

“C’mon, not even a bite of mine?” he tried again.

You shook your head once more, feeling too shaky to say anything.

Dean looked up from his burger momentarily to address you. “C’mon, (Y/N), you gotta eat something.” His tone was still guarded, but it was nowhere near as harsh as it had been in the car.

“I’m fine,” you mustered out. 

You could feel Dean’s eyes on you, but you just stared down at the table in front of you and took a sip of your water.

The pretty blonde waitress, Jamie, bounded up to the table with two more beers for Sam and Dean. 

“Looks like you guys are staying a while. I heard about Rick Deacon,” she said, referencing the most recent victim. 

Dean nodded. “Yeah, this case just got weird enough for our department.”

“Well, beers are on me,” she replied with a smile. Then, she turned to Dean confidently. “And, just so you know, I get off at midnight tonight.”

“Oh, it's not another, uh, girls' night out?” Dean smirked up at her.

Your stomach fell to your shoes, and rage bubbled in your chest. However, you knew your anger was misplaced. He wasn’t yours anymore, and you needed to accept that.

Jamie returned his playful smile. “Doesn't have to be.”

“Okay, then. I'll see you tonight.”

“Okay, then.” And, with that, she left.

Sam noticed your discomfort, but he couldn’t offer you anything more than an empathetic look.

Without even noticing you, Dean said, “Hey, you think this Dracula could turn into a bat? That would be cool.”

**** Another murder, except this time, committed by a mummy. However, you and the brothers determined the “mummy” was using special effects from a prop house in Philadelphia to enhance his monstrous performance. You were either dealing with a Silence-of-the-Lamb-level psychopath, or… you weren’t really sure. Truth be told, you weren’t devoting even a half of your attention to this case. That seemed to put Dean off, slightly, and it made him even more sure you should be kept in the car. Secretly, you thought it was because he was worried about your wounds, but you also knew there was a really strong chance he just did not want to see you.

When Dean realized he’d be late for his date with Jamie, your heart sank. Still, Dean ran off and left you and Sam behind to investigate.

“(Y/N),” Sam said, turning to you. “You have got to eat something. You look like hell.”

“Don’t worry about me, Sam,” you responded absently. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Talk to me.”

You continued to poke around the sarcophagus. “No,” you snapped. You realized how harsh you sounded. “I’m sorry, that was mean. I just— I can’t. I’m sorry.”

You could feel Sam scanning your face, but he just nodded slowly.

“I really am sorry, Sam,” you said sincerely.

His tone was soft and understanding. “I know you are.” 

As much as you didn’t really trust him as a result of the whole “Ruby” ordeal, Sam had a way of making you feel seen. He really was an incredible friend to you, and you hated what you felt your relationship was turning into. 

Not even ten minutes later, Sam got a call from Dean. With a panicked expression on his face, Sam gave you a look that meant the two of you needed to leave at that moment. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Is Dean okay?” Your heart pounded in your throat.

“Dracula attacked,” Sam replied as he tried to hail a cab. 

“What?!” 

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s all I know right now.”

As soon as you made it to the bar, you burst through the doors. When you saw Dean sitting at a table with Jamie, your heart sank in the midst of your relief.

“Hey,” Sam called out, trailing behind you. “You guys all right?” Dean sighed. “Yeah, I think so. And I think I know what's going on.” He put a folded towel down on the table.

“Yeah?” his brother replied.

“Part of it, at least.”

You hesitantly reached out to the towel, trying to keep your distance from Jamie and Dean. He eyed you curiously while you opened the towel. An ear was inside. You lightly touched it; immediately recoiling as you realized what it was. 

“Shifter,” you stated, keeping your eyes anywhere but on Dean’s.

“Oh, man,” Sam huffed.

Dean nodded. “Just like St. Louis and just like Milwaukee. Of course this one's all holding buckets of crazy. Oh, and, uh—” he took a medallion out of his pocket and tossed it to Sam. “This, I uh, pulled it off during the fight. Look at the label on the ribbon.”

Sam scoffed when he read it. “It's a costume rental.”

“All three monsters— the Dracula, Wolf Man, and the mummy— all the same critter; which means we need to catch this freak before he Creature From the Black Lagoons somebody.”

Jamie’s voice broke in. “So, you guys are like Mulder and Scully or something, and The X-Files are real?”

You didn’t miss how Jamie failed to include you in the analogy.

“No, The X-Files is a TV show. This is real,” Dean replied.

“Oh.” The blonde looked down at the table in front of her.

“Okay, so, the stagecraft, the costuming—” Sam pointed out, “it's like he's trying to re-enact his favorite monster movie moments, right down to the bloody murders.”

Jamie furrowed her eyebrows. “Wait a second. Who the hell is Mina?”

“Mina?” Sam questioned. 

“Yeah. That's what he called Jamie,” Dean nodded. “And he called me Mr. Harker.”

You bit the inside of your lip. “Characters from the original Drac movies and novels. Harker’s Mina’s fiancé. Dracula’s obsessed with Mina. Seems he fixated on you, darlin’,” you nodded at Jamie, pushing down your jealousy.

You knew it was twisted to be jealous of a girl getting stalked, but it was just solidifying in your mind that Dean wasn’t yours anymore. And it was all your fault.

“Wow. Lucky me,” Jamie groaned.

“But to fixate on you, my guess is that the shifter has to have seen you before or been around you,” Sam added.

Dean turned to the blonde. “Jamie, has anybody strange come to town, somebody that has taken a specific notice of you?”

“I don't know, Dean. It's Oktoberfest. I'm a bartender. There's lots of people. I... wait a second. There is Ed.”

“ ‘Ed Brewer’ Ed?” Sam asked. You assumed it was someone they’d met earlier on the hunt; possibly while you were confined to the car.

“Yeah. He moved here about a month ago. Lucy swears he has a crush on me. He comes in almost every night. But, you know, I don't think he's the type of guy—”

“Where does Ed live?” Dean asked, cutting her off.

“I don't know. But he works at the old movie theater. I think he's the projectionist there.”

Sam looked to you and jerked his head toward the door. You turned on your heel, hearing Sam ask Dean to take care of “Mina” before he followed behind you. Anger bubbled in your chest, but you were trying to keep your feelings from seeping out.

****

You cocked your gun against the back of the head of Mr. Ed Brewer. 

“Whoa!” Brewer asked, holding his hands up in surrender. “W-Wait just one second, okay?” He tried to turn around to face you.

“Don’t move,” you commanded, voice eerily cold.

“W-What do you want?”

“You know what you did, Ed,” you replied.

“What?”

“I know what you are.”

“I'm not anything. I just like to play the Casio,” the man pleaded.

Sam nodded at Ed’s skull. “Had time to grow the ear back, huh?”

“What?!” He tried to turn around again.

“I said don’t fucking move,” you sneered.

Brewer froze again.

Sam tugged on Ed’s ear, but it wouldn’t budge. “It's supposed to come off.”

“No, it’s not!” he replied.

“You’re right,” you stated evenly. “I’m gonna walk away now. You don’t move until exactly two minutes after you hear the last of my footsteps, okay?”

“Okay, okay—”

You cut Ed off by pistol whipping him on the back of the head. He slumped to the floor, and you quickly rushed out of the room.

You caught Sam giving you strange looks, but you completely ignored them. “What did we miss, Sam?”

“Uh—”

“Sam! What did we miss?”

“Give me a second, (Y/N)!”

"We may not have ‘a second’!”

“The fuck are you in such a rush for?” he asked. 

“We don’t have time to talk about this, Sam,” you replied, voice becoming even again. “We gotta find this fucker, so I can—” you cut yourself off, nearly biting your tongue to avoid bringing up the angels and your “mission.” First and foremost, you were supposed to be keeping them safe. If you weren’t with Dean, you had no assurance that you were doing your job. 

“So you can what, (Y/N)?” Sam asked.

“I can’t tell you,” you answered sharply.

Thankfully, Sam just huffed and shook his head. 

****

When you got back to the bar, you strutted through the front doors that were surprisingly unlocked. As soon as you entered the bar, you felt uneasy. 

“Dean?” you called hesitantly. 

Sam just chuckled and took out his phone. “Dean, hey listen. Uh, Ed is not our guy. Um, I'm guessing you're at home with Jamie, so just give me a call, okay?”

While he left his voicemail, you walked over to the table Dean and Jamie had been sitting at. You stopped short at a broken bottle on the floor, and a napkin had a lipstick color on it you hadn’t seen Jamie wearing.

“Sam,” you said, feeling slightly choked.

He walked over to you and looked down at the napkin. “Lucy,” he murmured.

“Wait, Jamie’s friend?” you asked.

Sam nodded. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” you sighed heavily. 

****

Sam tracked Dean’s cell phone as you sped to the house the signal pinged at. As soon as the car was parked, you were sprinting up the stairs to the door of the house. Sam picked the lock, and you burst in, sneaking around with your gun drawn. 

You nodded for Sam to check upstairs while you went to check downstairs. Quietly, you slinked down the stairs with cat-like grace. Silently, you were hoping you’d be finding Jamie instead of Dean to avoid the awkward rescue scenario. 

Alas, your prayers were not answered. You entered the dark basement and saw a large, medieval looking torture device in the center of the room. Dean grunted while he tried to make it out of his chains, muttering the odd, “Dammit!” 

You lowered your gun as you rounded the device. “Dean?” You came to a stop in front of him, feeling everything in you wanting to run right out of the room.

“Get me outta here, would ya?” His tone was harsh.

You nodded obediently, wanting to avoid fighting with him as much as possible. It upset you that Dean could make the Lederhosen Dracula had dressed him in work. 

“Where’s Sam?” he asked.

You nodded at the stairs. 

“Silent treatment?” Dean scoffed. “Mature.”

“Stop, Dean, please,” you begged quietly. You hated that your voice came out as more of a whine than anything. Then, you rushed out of the room in an attempt to avoid any further conflict. 

When you heard a loud crash upstairs, you ran up the steps to the second floor. Dean followed close behind and burst into the room the scuffling sounds seemed to be coming from. 

Immediately, Dracula tackled Dean. “And you, Harker, now you die.” Dean choked out, “How 'bout now you shut the fuck up?”

With Dean trying to shield himself on the floor, you waited for Dracula to raise his sternum up enough for you to fire. Just as the monster was about to finish Dean off, you shot him once in the chest.

“Silver?” the monster said, seeming mystified. He looked up at you menacingly holding your gun. “It was beauty that killed the beast. No, Mina, do not weep.” He dramatically collapsed into a chair. “Perhaps this is how the movie should end.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, immediately turning on your heels to walk out of the room.

****

The next day, you slumped down in the back seat of the Impala while Dean and Jamie made out just outside the passenger’s side window. 

Faintly, you heard Jamie say, “Well, thank you, G-Man. You have been a great service to your country.” “Oh, yes, I'm very, very patriotic,” he responded flirtatiously.

You scoffed, pulling your gun out of the bag on the seat next to you to clean it. 

When the two brothers finally bid Jamie goodbye and got down into the car, Dean turned his eyes to you in the rearview mirror. “Jamie said to thank you.” He stared at you in the rearview mirror waiting for you to respond.

You never answered, and Dean just shook his head and started driving.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-nesmith @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[artsninspo]

007 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 006

♠ summary: Lorence navigates the high-stakes world of elite private security under her enigmatic boss, Terry Richmond. But when Terry’s watchful gaze turns unexpectedly intimate, the tension between them ignites—blurring the lines. This ones fluffy 🧸.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~3.2K

⌖ - Monte Carlo, Monaco

I’ve never flown private before, nor have I ever been on such a lively flight. The champagne flows freely, and the chatter is so loud I crank my headphones to maximum volume just to drown it out. The last time I was aboard a plane, I was tossing back flutes of champagne to numb the sting of losing my job. Weeks later, I’m flying private at an elevated position—my new reality. Unlike my more seasoned colleagues, I’m more unnerved than excited.

I check the ETA on one of the screens and go over the expected hotel arrival time, counting down the hours until the big race is over and I can finally relax. I take out my tablet, reviewing my plans for what feels like the hundredth time, searching for any holes in my outline. I replay the live feeds at an accelerated speed, scanning for anything that could derail my emergency plans.

“Lorence.”

Cassandra smiles, placing a flute of champagne in front of me.

“Cassandra.”

She folds her arms, giving me a knowing look.

“Please tell me you're talking to someone handsome and not reviewing your plans again.”

“I’m talking to someone handsome,” I reply, telling her what she wants to hear. She sighs, satisfied.

“Emergencies almost never happen, and you’ve planned for so many types—it’ll be fine.”

“Well, partying isn't going to help my nerves,” I explain.

“You’re almost as bad as Terry.” She powers off my tablet and takes the open seat beside me.

“Now I’m insulted.”

She giggles, leaning in conspiratorially.

“Also, never suggest staggered flights for operatives again. Your extra effort is already making you unpopular with the weaker links.”

“Unpopular? As if I have the boss’s ear or give a flying fuck.”

“That’s the spirit.” She nudges me playfully. “It wasn’t the majority, but Emerson tried to stir up trouble. Richmond shut it down quickly. That weasel is always looking for a win. Must’ve heard there’s no warmth between you and Terry.”

“The blind know that.”

“Good thing my mouth isn't big. Cause that suit try-on definitely was more Dubai heat than Antarctica frigid.”

I give her a warning look, but she only squeaks, enjoying my discomfort.

“I’m glad you're amused.”

“Ladies.”

Emerson approaches with a drink in hand and that cavalier smile. He’s one of the company’s top ten most attractive male directors—probably the best-looking among the single ones.

“Emerson.” Cassandra acknowledges him, but his attention shifts to me.

“Lorence, why don’t you come mingle with the rest of us?”

I blink, caught off guard. The only colleague I’m on a first-name basis with is Cassandra. I’ve known Joel long enough to consider him more of a friend.

“I’m a nervous flyer. I’m fine here with my headphones and Gordon.”

“Cassandra didn’t tell you we use first names?”

“Not everyone. It’s Cole's choice.” Cassandra interjects quickly, sensing my discomfort. “Cole, what would you like to be called?”

“Cole.”

“Cole it is.” Emerson forces a smile. “You make your friends call you Cole?”

“I didn't realize the two of you were friends.” Cassandra leans in with a smirk.

“I’m friends with all of my colleagues.”

“Hmm.” Cassandra’s brow raises with condescension.

“Well, Cole, we’ll chat once we touchdown.” Emerson flashes another smile before returning to the back of the plane.

“What was that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“Emerson and I may or may not have had a few rendezvous. It also may have ended badly.” she shrugs.

I’m not surprised.

“How did it end badly - hypothetically?” I ask.

“I felt like he was trying to use me to get on Terry’s good side, and when that didn’t work, suddenly Terry and I were too close. Blah, blah, blah. I know how much he makes, and it is NOT enough to afford me full time. So I went cold. Hypothetically.”

Cassandra shrugs, completely unbothered.

“Don’t hmm me. We’re all gorgeous—you’re the only one who hasn't dipped in the office pot.”

We spend the rest of the flight gossiping about who’s been with who, and I’m astounded by the level of secrecy and professionalism. Five office flings had gone entirely under my radar. When the party dies down I turn back on my music and relax dozing off a little. I’ve memorized my routes down to the detail and the timing windows play in my subconscious in a loop. 

When the party dies down, I finally drift off, my subconscious looping the timing windows of my routes. Twenty minutes until clearance, an hour until our clients are safe. I wake with the sun warming the Mediterranean coastline below.

The weight of my responsibilities dampens any excitement. The drive to our accommodations is short, and I snap photos for my parents. The group dinner is the last thing I want to attend, but the chefs' live show and five-star cuisine prove to be a welcome distraction. Afterward, I slip away to the terrace with a glass of wine in hand.

“Still going over the routes?” Richmond’s voice cuts through the night air. I know it’s him by the shift in energy.

“Yeah” I respond.

“If you don't trust yourself—and you should—you should trust the agents on the ground, the drivers, the armed agents, helicopters, and tech. And if you don't trust all that, there's still the local PD, Fire, EMS... and human nature. After that, it's an act of God, and none of us can contend with that.”

I exhale slowly.

“I just don’t want anything to go wrong.”

“When something goes wrong tomorrow, it won’t be because of you.”

“When?”

“When. It's inevitable.” His confidence is oddly reassuring, though I know better than to assign sentimentality to Richmond. “One of our clients could get wasted, fall over and break their nose, or have food poisoning, require medical attention or be robbed by hookers they’ve hired or local thieves. Something happens here every single year. Transport’s never been an issue and no one has approached it like you have” he says.

I nod, sighing deeply. “That’s some peace of mind.”

“It’s not flattery, it's the truth,” he responds.

“Has to be, flattery seems highly unlikely” I confess. “Maybe now I understand why you’re always so uptight - this is a lot on someone’s shoulders” I sigh looking back down into the city. I swear he snickers but by the time the lights flicker on above us signaling night is here it's gone from his expression.

“I’m the last person you need to worry about,” he says. Looking him over I concur - he’s probably experienced things my nightmares would have trouble conceiving of.

“So if it isn't stress then what is it? Just your natural disposition?” I ask looking away just in case his face shows disapproval.

“I can never tell if you're joking” he responds unappreciative of my sarcasm. The feeling is mutual, I can never read him either. There are too many things at play, this sizzling tension between us born of disdain, or misunderstanding, or the unbalanced power dynamic. His resistance to letting his guard down. Smiling, small talk, pleasantries or being kind. The silence lingers mostly because none of my responses are safe and could put us back at odds. “I’m not uptight,” he says finally.

“Pigs fly. Now we’re both lying” I remark.

“I’m not uptight, I’m what my position requires of me as the lead, founder and CEO” he explains. 

“Look, I'd better get some rest. I'm a mess of nerves and we already don’t get along well” I sigh, not wanting to get into it with him. He smirks this time.

“You’ll toss and turn all night if you head in now. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and meet me in the lobby in ten?” he says, stopping me in my tracks. He looks harmless when he smiles. It withdraws into his usual disposition and when I turn Emerson is walking up behind me.

“Ok” I agree and he nods giving me a half smile that I know Emerson sees. I wonder if it’s to get my blood out of shark infested waters.

“Emerson” I nod, taking leave. I slip my heels back on once I'm off of the grassy terrace and head in. There’s a sprinkling of people, less than half of those who were at dinner. I head to my room and look myself over. I curse Cassandra when all of the outfits I have packed are transitional, appropriate for the beach, boat, dinner and anything else that may arise in a place like this. Blowing out a deep breath I opt for a black maxi dress. I grab a small purse and fill it with necessities. My reflection is date worthy, not following your boss around appropriate. I tie a scarf around my purse just in case it gets cool. When I arrive in the lobby Richmond is checking his watch and stands up like I've stood him up. He’s changed too into something more relaxed. 

“Sorry I’m late” I tell him once I've crossed the room. His eyes scan over me, his tense demeanour has returned.  “Am I dressed okay?” I ask.

“Fine” he nods. “I just thought we’d take a walk, go over your routes in person, put your mind at ease, tire the body, help you rest” he explains and it is such a simple approach I wonder why I haven't thought of it.

“I can walk in this” I nod and he leads the way. We walk alongside each other. It takes us about ten minutes to make it to the primary route we decided on. “Cassandra said, always look better than you need to while in Monaco” I tell him when the silence has stretched too long.

“That’s what that bill was about” he mutters to himself shaking his head. “I dont think you and Cassandra have the same objectives”

“I don't follow”

“Cassandra likes causing a stir and hooking big fish” he says without condescension or condemnation in his tone as we walk. “Wherever we go” he adds, making a left. I see he’s memorized the route as well as I have.

“I bet she’s a great decoy” I think out loud.

“She is,” he nods, leading us onto the main road. It’s brighter along this path, I smell food and hear music and chatter which is a good sign. We pass souvenir shops, restaurants, boutiques and tourists. There’s so much to see, it's distracting and I don't remember the last time I was in Europe so carefree. I take pictures of postcards and restaurants and send them to my parents. My mom will tell me what to try and my dad will tell me what cheesy thing they want.

“So, are you and your parents very close?” Richmond asks and I realize he has a birds eye view into my phone and no boundaries.

“Yeah” I nod. “They love to travel and my mom runs a food blog” I explain my actions.

“I’ve seen the food blog - she’s very good,” he remarks. Of course he has.

“She’d be happy to hear that” I say with a smile.

“How’d she get into it?” he asks.

“She had an empty nest, she put everything on hold to be a mom and wife. She retired early and I told her to go. It was like we both went to college together. She’s always been great but since it started she’s really happy.” I reflect feeling calmer at the thought of my folks. 

“We have contacts and so many unused vouchers, tickets, everything. You should ask Cassandra and use them up. Go with them too.” he says giving unconventional advice for a boss.

“Are your parents still around?” I ask and he tenses.

“My mom passed. Pops is still around. He’s married to Cassandra’s mom” Richmond says and it's a shock at first then it makes sense. “I was sure she told you.”

“She didn’t and I’m sorry about your mom” I respond he nods.

“It  was a long time ago,” he says. We approach a live band and he guides me in front of him. “Hold your purse close, it's a distraction for pickpockets” he explains, keeping me close until we’re out the crowd. We’re lower down now and closer to the water at one of the intersections I thought would have the most trouble. I assess it quickly before relaxing into my decisions.

“So is this what you recommend before a big gig?” I ask.

“No, I don't advise you to walk around at night in a foreign country,” he says.

“Now it's you who needs faith. We go through too much training to not be fine anywhere in the world that isn't war torn.” I remind him crossing the road. 

“If the richest men in the world need protection, what makes you think you're above danger?” he asks.

“I don’t think I’m above anything, I just dont think danger is likely.”

“You’re naive,” he comments.

“You're a pessimist” I respond.

“Realist. Men jeopardise their livelihoods and lives all around the world for women and sometimes men. Being alone at night is an unnecessary risk” he says, sounding like my father. When we make it to the beach the sound of the ocean is calming.

“Can we stay awhile?” I ask and he nods. I step onto the sand. My dress is too long so I take down my hair and use my hair tie to hike it up to my knees. There’s a breeze in the air but after all that walking it's not too chilly. My nerves are worlds better. I find a spot and sit down, feeling safe. I close my eyes and block out everything aside from the sound of the waves crashing and crackling sea foam. The air shifts and I catch Richmonds cologne as he sits beside me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep mine closed. He probably thinks I’m crazy, maybe even too trusting given our history but I don't open my eyes until I'm ready. When I do his eyes are on me.

“Jameson told me you dont value your life” he says and I scoff.

“You can't care too much about yours if you joined the military” I shoot back.

“My father was decorated, he had me in mixed martial arts since I was five. I can take care of myself”

“So we have daddy to thank for this personality” I jest and he shakes his head instead of silencing me with a look.

“You really don't like it” he says, looking up at the sky.

“No I don’t, this is the most normal you’ve ever been with me since we met” I tell him.

“I’ve tried but you’re always running”

“Why were you so mean that first day?” I ask.

“It’s complicated,” he says, hardening.

“More complicated than using my trauma as a test?” I ask and he sighs.

“That wasn't my idea to push you and yes, that complicated” he affirms. “I was in a bad state, looked my worst and I found out my new recruit Lorence Cole is a woman,” he explains. 

“That’s a sexist admission”

“No. You’re my type Lorence. Cassandra knew that and didn’t tell me ahead of time. I was upset with her to make a point and short with you” he confesses and the way my cheeks burn im thankful for the nights forgiving lighting. Not was, not one of my preferences, you’re present tense my type.

“The next time your type walks in, try being kind. Most women don't like being barked at, frowned at, scolded. Do I need to continue?” I ask.

“I get the picture” he nods. Then there’s laughter down the beach and I see people laughing around a photograph.

“We should go see” I suggest getting up. I pat the sand off my dress and we make our way over to see caricature artists seated. 

“Come on, beautiful couple,” One of the women artists say.

“I don't want to” Richmond says motioning for me to sit alone.

“Not my boyfriend's bodyguard” I tell the woman in french and she smiles. Mischief lights in her eyes and I smile bracing for the worst.

“First time in Monaco?” she asks with a thick accent.

“Yes”

“Welcome! here for the races?” she asks.

“Yeah, a few friends wanted to check it out” I explain using my cover story and she continues drawing.

“Are you famous?” she asks.

“No” I laugh.

“Then why bodyguard?” she asks.

“He’s a friend who didn't want me out walking alone” I explain in french and she nods complimenting my speaking ability. I sit for another ten minutes and she stands finished. They count me down and when I get the photo I have to stop myself from laughing. I fold the photo immediately as the other artists cackle and pray Richmond hasn't seen it. If he didn't speak French too I’m sure he’d think I put her up to it. We leave the beach heading back on the path back to the accommodation when Richmond snatches it from my hand as I let my dress back down. He gets a full look of the photo of me looking like an angel in caricature form while he looks like an angry muscle man with ears so big they span to the margins. I giggle and he gives me a look of warning handing the drawing back. I’m surprised he doesn't rip it into pieces.

“Aside from the ears it's an accurate depiction of how scary your scowl is” I joke.

“Good to know” he mutters, the streets are more lively now and the party crowds are out. Leading the way gets too challenging. Richmond holds his hand back and I take it following him through the crows he can see over. He's a gentle guide parting the crowd for me with his size. My brain starts to run away with the information I’ve learned aided by the hand holding and a replay of the past few weeks. My realization shouldn't be as charming as it is. Richmond the decorated veteran and impeccably polished CEO has a crush … on me? He’s not to be played with, tall, handsome, well off ….. My boss. My thoughts hit a roadblock there. The uphill trek starts to become a battle and he crosses the street finding a cab stand. His French is impeccable as he orders us a cab barely fitting in the small European car with me. I get my hand back and find myself missing the contact. The ride back to the accommodation is short. When RIchmond and I clear the lobby he’s right I’m no longer worried about tomorrow or my work. This elevator ride is far less tense than last trip. 

“Thanks for walking me through my route” I tell him as he walks me from the elevator to my door. 

“No problem” he nods. “Last call is at noon if you want to see the parade and the royals otherwise you can leave at two” he reminds me of the schedule. I check my watch and see I have a lot of beauty rest to catch up on.

“Sounds good.” I nod heading in my room. I stop turning to face him. “Why don’t we start fresh tomorrow? My type is nice” I tell him and he gives me his first genuine smile.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Cole” 

“Good night Richmond.” I smile, shutting the door. I call Sin thankful for time differences and we talk for an hour about what it all means before I fall asleep.

Authors note: thanks for reading loves. things are heading up and these interactions are getting more and more fun to write. Are we here for the new developments?

click here to ✮ join taglist ✮ and be notified when new updates drop.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

Wow this was such a surprise! I had no idea you were reading this today LMAO 🔮😉

God YES. This is the same idea I've explored in my sequel fics to ESC. It's the idea of wanting more time with a man who by necessity of his job, has to pop in and out of your life. As endearing as Russell is, that would be such a difficult obstacle to overcome in a new relationship.

Exactly! I think that it would be frustrating and a little bit sad to be in a long distance relationship especially with Russell, because he has a dangerous job and there are parts of it that he'd probably want to keep from you. I don't want to think that you couldn't rely on Russell, but I think there would be a little bit of disappointment when he couldn't make it back to you because there were complications or him having to leave suddenly for an emergency. It's funny because it kinda reminds me of how it would be to date Dean if you weren't a hunter and he was. I still need to read Every Second Counts! I'm going to add that to my tbr, which is getting longer every day 😅

Ugh I'm so glad she's got a man in her life that actually loves her and considers her the way she deserves. And if you ever write more of these two I would love to see this exploration of how Russell helps her feel beautiful and appreciated again. 💕

I know! This reader really deserves it, especially from what we all saw with her ex-husband 😒 But I really do want to make a series with these two because it would be really wonderful to show how Russell treats her so differently than any other man she's had in her life and does make her feel "beautiful and appreciated again." I feel like it would also kinda be like what you did with the reader in Midnight Espresso 💗

*snorts* yeah, like a mule, I'd imagine. 😆 But there's something so endearing about Russ wanting and insisting on fixing things around the house for her. Though of course I sympathize with her side of things. She just wants a nice healthy piece of her man. The showerhead can wait! 😏

I am obsessed with fix-it Russell! Imagining him getting his large hands dirty for me, working around the house WHEW🥵! And I can imagine him thinking of all the things this reader does at work and for her kids and him just wanting to make her life easier for when he's not there 🥹 But oh yeah, no, she likes when he fixes things but she really missed him (I would too tbh).

Oh how I cackled! 😝 She's playing dirty and I love it lmao! Girl get him!

She knows just how to work her man 😉 She will go to any level to get what she wants 👀 I don't judge her for that because it's what we all want lol.

💀💀 Get himmmmm!

Man does not know what hit him 😂

LMFAO. Okay, Russ took me out with that one. The audacity. ���🤣 Side note: but I love the word "salacious," especially because it fits so well with most Jackles characters. lol

It's a little bit of payback for her making him all hot and bothered 🤣 And oh yeah, I was really proud of that descriptor because we all know Ben or Dean would be throwing around some "salacious" winks 😉

Omg yay he's moving in!! That's a big step and I love that for them.

Yes! It's another step in the right direction to give Russell a more permanent place in her life and her in his! 🤗 Plus I like to think that she's the kind of person that would hate that Russell is more nomadic, doesn't have a place to call home, and that he doesn't eat a home cooked meal.

Girl Yessss - I love the body positivity in this storyverse so damn much. Thank you for continuing this giving me more Russell goodness, I really enjoy how you write him! 💜

Aww thank you so much my lovely friend 🤗 I'm so happy you enjoyed it! I really love this reader and Russell and I'm hoping that I'll get to write out more of their story and build their relationship more between this fic and Long As I Can See the Light soon! ❤️

It's Not A Wet T-Shirt Contest

Pairing: Russell Shaw x f!reader, Reader POV

Prompt: “Is that supposed to be leaking?”

Requested by: @luci-in-trenchcoats

Summary:  When your boyfriend comes into town to surprise you one weekend, you thought that you’d spend it together, turns out he has other plans. Reader is a single mom and is the niece of Teddi and Velma. Reader is described as curvy. (Technically takes place in my Long As I Can See The Light Universe, but can be read as a stand-alone.)

Tropes: Established Relationship

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ because I made it more spicy than I meant it to, References to Sex, Sexual innuendo, Little bit of self-deprecating thought (reader), Cursing, Kissing, Idiots who love each other lots. I think that's everything?

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n if any. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Tracker Masterlist

A/N: Alright, y'all this is my first fic written for my prompt celebration requested by the wonderful @luci-in-trenchcoats 😊 ENJOY!

You took another long sip of coffee from your favorite hand-painted "World's Best Mom Mug" and tried to block out the symphony of the colorful curse words and banging coming from your upstairs master bathroom.

When your boyfriend showed up this morning out of the blue to surprise you, this was not what you expected to be doing. Well, his appearance was a surprise to you, but you had a sneaking suspicion that your Aunt Teddi and her wife Velma had gotten a heads up that Russell was coming. They'd shown up about an hour before Russell had to take your son and daughter for a movie and a sleepover at their house.

But the bigger surprise was your current dilemma.

You'd expected to be tangled up with Russell in bed for hours trying to convince him to never leave you again, not be waiting downstairs while he tried to install a new shower head in your master bathroom.

You only blamed yourself.

You'd let it slip that the water pressure wasn't quite right and something that you'd thought would take a plumber twenty minutes had turned into an all day affair for Russell. 

Instead of taking you to bed, Russell had dragged you out to his car and to the nearest hardware store where he let you pick out a new shower head and where he got supplies, all the while you told him that he didn't need to, and Russell only kissed away the frown on your lips leaving you wanting more.

You always wanted more.

Russell and you had been together for five and a half months, and each time he left you found yourself wanting more. 

More of him and more time.

It was frustrating to be with a man who had a job that would pull him out of your arms as quickly as he’d appeared and leave your bed cold once more. 

It had been cold before and you didn’t want to go back to that. Didn’t want to be reminded of the cold bed over the final years of your marriage when your husband’s favorite phrases echoed through your bedroom after you put your children to bed:

“I’m tired” and “Not tonight baby, I have to work.”

Those last few years of your marriage were frustrating and did little to boost your self-esteem. Especially when your husband made you think you were annoying him and made you feel stupid for wanting more. 

With Russell there was no such thing.

When the two of you started dating and Russell realized exactly what your husband had done to you, he'd spent every waking moment making you feel more beautiful than you ever had. He listened to you, understood you, and did more for you than your husband had done in all the years that you'd been married.

But each time he left, Russell always took a little bit of yourself with him. You didn't sleep well when he was gone doing God knows what, God knows where, only that when he finally called or showed up to tell you he was okay, you didn't let go of him for hours.

There's another loud bang followed by a string of curses that make you sigh into your mug.

For fucks sake, that stupid showerhead is getting more action than I am.

You loved your boyfriend to bits, but you hated how stubborn he was sometimes.

You straighten up from where you lounged against the countertop in your kitchen, taking one more sip of coffee, before you make the trek through your living room and up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

This wasn't the first time that Russell fixed something in your home. He liked it when you made him a list of things to do when he visited, things like cleaning the gutters, nailing down the front step that always caught underfoot, mowing the lawn, etc. Things that Russell wanted to do for you because he knew how busy you got at work and with your children.

It made you love him more, because you’d never met someone so selfless before. 

When you enter the bathroom, Russell is standing in your shower, just inside the large glass double doors, soaking wet, and holding a wrench.

His usual easy smile has slipped into a frustrated frown while he stares at the bright silver shower head hanging on the wall. 

“I see things are going well.” You snort out a laugh, admiring the scene before you. 

Russell’s dark hair drips forward in lazy strands against his cheeks, his t-shirt clings to his chest like a second skin, catching in the dips and curves of your boyfriend’s muscular torso, and his usual blue jeans are stained a dark navy. The edge of his t-shirt pulls up from the top of his jeans with the stretch of his arms, giving you a view of the delicious stripe of skin just below his belly button.

For the love of french toast, the guy could win a wet t-shirt contest without batting one of those ridiculously perfect eyelashes of his.

At this point you were still trying to figure out how the hell you landed this man and why the hell he kept coming back for more of you.

“Smooth as silk.” Russell gives you a lazy smile that makes you feel like butter on a pile of buttermilk biscuits. “I just finished.”

 “Really?” 

“Mhmm.”

“Huh.” You take a step closer to admire his handiwork, so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath ghost along the side of your face, making goosebumps trail over your skin. All it does is remind you of what the two of you could be doing instead of standing inside of your walk-in shower fully clothed and the things the two of you had done in this very shower the last time he was in town.  

"Is that supposed to be leaking?" You ask, pointing to the place where the plate of the shower head fastens to the wall and where there is a trickle of water dancing down the white subway tile backsplash.

"Oh shit." Russell sighs, his shoulders drooping when he notices the stream. “I can fix that."

You note his sheepish smile. “Rus, please let me call a plumber. You’ve been up here for two hours!” 

“No way! They overcharge you and it’s what I’m here for!” He argues.

Maybe I should try a different approach.

“Rus.” You say sweetly, putting both of your hands on his stomach. Russell’s familiar green eyes flick to your hands as you begin to move them up the wet t-shirt. “When you showed up today I thought we’d be doing something a little different with our time.” 

Russell swallows. “Baby-”

“And the longer you stay in here-” You breathe taking a step forward as you continue to move your hands up, tracing the hardened muscles beneath your palms. “The less time we have together.” You gently press a kiss to the space where his shirt meets the base of his neck and you can feel the bob of his throat as he swallows again. 

“I-” He tries again, but you feel his hands come down to the curve of your hips to ground himself there. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” You murmur into his skin, pressing your chest against his as your hands work up to the back of his neck. The water from his clothes soaks into yours, but you’re not cold. 

“You’re fighting dirty.” He half groans, but you don’t feel bad. Judging by the way his hands have begun to squeeze your hips and pull you tighter against him, Russell was enjoying this as much as you were. 

“But it always works.” You purr against his throat with a smirk. 

“Fuck, baby I-“ 

“Yeah?” 

Your smirk grows the more you tease him. By now you could feel your own heartbeat thudding in your chest calling out to his and despite how cold Russell’s wet clothes are, heat was dancing along your skin. 

“I really want-“ There’s a grit along Russell’s voice, as if he’s trying to hold on to some shred of self-control.

You loved that you were able to do this to him, it made you feel powerful and sexy. Two things that you hadn’t felt in a long time. 

“Hmm?” You moan softly, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck while your lips continue their path along his skin.

He groans. “I really want to do this for you, but you’re making it kinda hard-“ 

“Really?” You mutter nipping along his jaw. “That’s what I’m making hard?”

Russell pulls back from you, holding your wrists in his large hands. But he looks far from angry. His green eyes flash a darkened pine, and dance with mischief. “Baby, trust me. There is nothing more that I want to do than show you how much I missed you.” 

“Then why-" You begin to say.

“Because I know that the second I do that, we’re not going to do anything else the rest of the time I’m here. And I want to do this for you.” Russell’s eyes shift a little lighter. He releases your wrists and cups your cheek with his large hand. You can see the love you have for Russell reflected back at you in his gaze

You sigh again a little disappointed. Today really wasn’t going the way you wanted it to.  “But I missed you.” 

“I could tell.” He smirks. “Maybe your shower head would last a little longer if you didn't wear it out." Russell sends you a salacious wink that makes you blush bright red.

“Shut up!” You slap him on the shoulder, cheeks flaming. 

Russell only smirks wider at you. “You know… I’ve got a solution for that.”

“Oh do you?” You ask innocently. 

Finally, we’re getting somewhere.

Russell hesitates, his hand still stroking your cheek softly. "I could move in."

It was the last thing that you were expecting him to say.

“See I've been thinking about this for a bit." Russell  clears his throat. “I know you can’t move because of the kids but... I want to be here in your life. I hate leaving you and each time I get done with a job I always find myself driving back to you. I don't want to be anywhere else.”

Your mouth is still open in shock, eyes wide. You couldn’t find the ability to speak.

In the months that followed your divorce you’d been on a couple of dates before you met Russell, where the mere mention of your kids sent your dates scuttling into the shadows or back to whatever swamp they crawled out of, but here, standing in front of you was a man who didn’t just want you, he wanted you, and he wanted your children. 

It was a combination that you thought you’d never find, and then you’d met Russell. A man who not only loved you, he made you feel beautiful, alive, happy, and seen in a way that you hadn’t been in years. 

Not to mention that both of your children absolutely loved Russell, and he did a good job of scaring off your skeevy ex who refused to come around whenever Russell was in town because the last time Russell had broken his nose and threatened other bodily harm.

Russell’s soft smile drops a little the longer you remain silent. “But if you think that’s a bad idea or if you think it’s too fast-”

You pull him down to you for the searing kiss that you’d wanted all day long, feeling the drag of his beard against your soft skin, and the warm pillow of his lips moving in tandem with yours. 

His hands run along the curves of your body, trailing fire in their wake, the same curves that you’d hidden under long cardigans and oversized clothes, the ones that you cursed each time you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. But not since you’d met Russell. 

Not when he’d taught you that each blemish or curve you once cursed was something that could make him lose his last shred of self control and in turn, make Russell lose himself in everything you were. 

“It’s not too fast! I hate when you leave. I hate waking up in my bed each morning and not having you there holding me. ” You breathe before you kiss him again, soaking in everything that is Russell as you do. The roughness of his hands pushing up the shirt hung low on your hips, the smell of mint and gunmetal, the taste of the coffee he had this morning, and gentle drag of his wet hair against your cheeks that dip between the two of your faces when you kiss. “I want you here with me all the time.”

“Then I’ll stay.” Russell smiles so wide you can feel the click of his teeth against yours when he pulls you back in for a kiss. 

“Wait.” You smirk, leaning your forehead against his, your hands gently cupping his bearded cheeks. "If I say yes, I have one condition."

"Anything."

"Please let me call a plumber."

Russell rolls his eyes at you, but squeezes you tighter against him, green eyes flashing with mischief. “Not a chance baby.”

A/N: It was so fun to write this prompt and also to come back to these two! Thank you so much @luci-in-trenchcoats for requesting this one 🥰 If anyone else would like to ask me a prompt for my prompt celebration, here is the post:

Prompt Celebration

As always, thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, comments, and likes are not required, but are always appreciated 😊

Taglist:

@roseblue373 @livya99 @mrsjenniferwinchester @zepskies @louisanalady

@yvonneeeee

[lucidheart3]

An Analysis on how the movie could make the SonAmy dynamic similar to game version without making Movie Sonic and Amy too out of character:

Heyya! If you follow me you maybe saw me screaming about Reverse Sonamy for the fourth movie for ages, and as much as my shipper heart enjoys that, I decided I should also share my more serious hc’s about their relationship.

After Sonic 3 we all know Sonic has more of a little something called ✨TRAUMA✨. So I don’t imagine him taking a liking to Amy (as a friend) immediately . Because if we compare his first reaction to Amy and Shadow, I recall it being ‘Guys wow look at him he is just like me’ for Shadow, And it’s a more serious ‘who are you’ for Amy.

For Shadow, he didn’t take him serious for their first encounter, he was even asking about highlights and stuff when he was chasing Shadow. Because he really believed talking with him could turn him around. Then when they meet him again at the abandoned GUN facility, he tries to give him a wake up call, still believeing that only talking will suffice.I think he is still going with his experience with Knuckles, thinking Shadow got a little mixed up like him. But then, Shadow turns out to be a real threat once he hurts Tom (we know he thought Tom was Walters but Sonic didn’t know that, especially when shadow said he did what he had to). So that’s when Sonic switches up his approach and literally goes for the kill, and that’s what makes the violance really impactful.

Yes in the end they made up and worked together, but that has to elavate his trust issues that he admitted to having earlier in the movie. So, when he sees Amy, who despite saving him also got him flung to the ground by the impact of her hammer, I bet he won’t fall to his mistake with Shadow, and consider her a potential threat too despite her saving him at first. We can actually see it with his first sentence to her, too, it’s a straight up ‘ Who are you’ rather than even an acknowledgement that she is a heghehog like him. I think this actually lays a good baseline to their relationship if they want to keep the usual SonAmy dynamic we see in nearly every media. Because they can make Sonic not appear as ‘excited’ as her without making him look like he isn’t interested in her in the slightest. He’d have a hard time trusting her, therefore he’d have his eyes on her every move, which can make him acknowledge her strength, maybe even faster than others. I imagine him gaining his hope back once he really accepts that she has a good heart. And since he kept her closer because his initial distrust in her to protect his family,I can see their relationship develop fast, especially on Amy’s side.

About Amy, I don’t think she’d be like Sonic in this regard. She will be the Amy we know and love, except that I hc she was the hero of their home planet since Sonic wasn’t there. She helped everyone in need, and that’s how she is portrayed in her first appearence, as a confident heroine.And especially since she looks like she has been chasing the metal army in my opinion instead of trying to find Sonic. If the theory of Ivo being sent to their home planet is true and he actually builds metal there to capture Mobians/ animals to use them as power sources, I can see her stepping up to fight them. And if Robotnik is the one to make Metal Sonic there is no doubt that he’d send them after Sonic, which is proved by the fact that the screen we were shown that said ‘Blue Hedgehog’ when a robot scanned Sonic, then the robot immediately attacked Sonic.

And about how she will be in their dynamic, like I said they can excuse her being a lot more excited to meet Sonic than he is by his trust issues and not that she is a damsel in distress that falls for the hero. Because she is a hero in the movie too, and she is quite confident in herself as we’ve seen from her expression, and she thinks she can manage everything thrown her way like Sonic did before the events of the third movie, therefore she has no problems of warming up to everyone. Like @iwasbored777 mentioned in one post, she must have heard Sonic boast while fighting Metal, and might be thinking he is too cocky. But I think his reluctance towards her especially when he is with the family will pique her interest a lot more. Like, she must have heard the rumors about him, and like Tails said he must have been talked about as ‘a legend’ minutes before he was boasting then when he sees her there is none of that confidence, he is just warry of her. And knowing Amy that will make her a lot more prone too try and win his favor, hence leading them to have their game dynamic without making her obviously fall in love right away.

These were all about my hcs for the platonic side of their relationship. About the romantic side, I can see Sonic falling for her as he sees her ‘giving the world her love’ side. Because this boy has been surrounded by love for a long time now, be it from his parents and brothers, and we have seen him have a hard time to acknowledge that he has all of that, now. He took two movies to call Tom ‘dad’ and he still hasn’t acknowledged that Tails and Knux are his brothers (which we got the definite confirmation of with Tom calling them all ‘siblings’ instead of friends like he did back in the first movie). And ıt amazes him just how easily she loves and shows her love, and is all more stronger for it. While everytime Sonic tries that, his loved ones get hurt. So he is afraid of labels, afraid of showing affection (because he took long to get used to hugs, too). He must feel like he should hide he holds something dear just so the world doesn’t see and decide to take it all away. He still hides himself like Longclaw told him to all those years ago, he has never stopped running. And Amy will make him realise exactly this. Embracing his love for his family and friends won’t make him lose them, because they are all capable of defending themselves especially when they are together with him, and he doesn’t have to run ahead to protect them. I’m so certain we will get a scene about him running ahead and leaving his team behind again, this time to protect them,because this has been a huge theme of sonic 3 and despite apologising and making up,the team didn’t actually resolve the issue.

I think Amy will play a huge role in this because: 1- He and the other boys don’t have a familial bond with her

2- She proved that she can hold her own right when she first met him.

3- We saw Knuckles and Tails try to snap him out of running ahead several times, but since they are family they weren’t really adamant in fear of breaking him further. And they understand why he did what he did pretty quickly because they know how he feels for his family and why he runs forth, they were there to witness majority of his traumas. Amy wasn’t, and that’s why she won’t shy away from reminding him that they are a team, because she won’t be as afraid to lose him even if his reaction will be negative. She will have the same attitude of ‘I can protect myself’ , he did in the beginning of the movie. And she isn’t actually in the team because she needs them in the beginning, but wants to be there.And isn’t this what romantic love really should be? Two equal people that doesn’t need each other to survive but their lives are all more beautiful because they have each other. They aren’t ‘halves’, they are a ‘whole’ that complement and add onto each other.

And about how she will grow to like him, I hc that as she sees the reasons for his first distrust and reluctance and the obvious boasting he does to hide these, that he has so many precious things he almost got taken away from him to protect,she will tone down her excitement.And him trying to protect his loved ones, and actually having the strength to do so, is so impressive to her.And since being a hero would be her whole identity by now, like I’ve seen @ficsinhistory suggest (for a different but cool reason) she would be self-sacrifical. Because I’m guessing she didn’t really have anyone to love, and she shows her love for the world through heroic deets. And thinks she is nothing without that. As opposed to Sonic who only started trying to play hero after Tom and Maddie took him in. His need for love was achieved through his new family, but Amy’s never was, so she filled that void by trying to protect, so that people love her. Sonic wanted to be a hero, while Amy desperately needed it

I hope this isn’t so disorganized I am just typing every thought that comes to mind!

I’d love to hear your thought on this.

[mossangelll]

is that hyperpigmentation?

arcane characters x reader

basically what the title says, you draw the arcane characters à la hyperpigmentation 😍 i needed smth silly to work on to get me out of my writing rut, hope you enjoy :p

content: gn!reader, reader is their partner (could be seen as platonic/child reader but i think most of, if not all, the hcs allude or explicitly call reader their partner - sorry!)

Jinx

she LOVES it

as an artist, engineer, overall creator she can really appreciate the more wacky expressions of art

she does a whole art critique (barely a critique tbh) and pretends to be some stuffy piltie talking about the genius and emotion behind the artwork

“ya know, toots, i’m reaaallyyyy enjoying what ya did with that…um, splodge? on my face there. yeah!”

she draws her own version but this time it’s a portrait of you

you swap them and have a cute little date where you colour the pictures in together and add details in the background

by the end, jinx’s workshop is covered in glue and glitter and paint and powder and also for some reason silly string

jinx even makes frames from scratch so they can be hung up - they’re probably the most nicely presentee decoration she has in her place

Ekko

you slide the portrait of him over to his side of the table in silence

he looks down absently and has to do a double take

“this is…me?” he asks hesitantly with his eyes widened like a deer in headlights; a look you rarely ever see from him - you nod and confirm his fears

“we have one tree down here. paper’s expensive. remember that.”

walks away and goes about his duties helping the firelights and though you suspect he might be upset, he did take the picture with him

feels so guilty about his reaction he almost sacks himself into a wall as he rides his hover board

later that night he apologises and makes a show of sticking the picture on his bedroom wall (in the corner he can barely see of course)

Vi

she’s been in prison and seen some interesting tattoos but this takes the cake

spends a good ten minutes staring at it whilst rubbing her chin as if that’s gonna make it look better

asks you if this was the rough draft

she’s smooth though so she basically tells you she hates it but in a way that you don’t even realise - you’re too busy being seduced to notice

“i love how wild your imagination is babe 😍”

vi keeps the picture and shows jinx; needless to say, this portrait becomes famous

kids all through the lanes have a challenge where they find all the weird faces jinx spray painted everywhere

vi pretends to act dumb as if she doesn’t know how jinx got ahold of them but you both know what happened LMAO

Caitlyn

she laughs in your face

she probably just had an argument with her mum over being an enforcer so she really needed this to lighten her spirits

teases you over it but accepts it gracefully because she’s a kiramman and those manners have been engrained into her

keeps it in her room as a joke and everything’s seemingly ok

except she can’t stop looking at it

and then looking at her reflection in the mirror

starts to question reality because she knows there’s no way she looks like that but if so, why would you draw it in the first place 😭

then she enters the mad stage and she confronts you about this thing called negging she discovered

it’s a loooooong night but don’t worry it ends in lots of laughter and giggles

she understands it wasn’t serious and was just projecting her stress onto the picture

but then this starts a new tradition where you two draw daily doodles of each other; sometimes with stupid faces, other times as animals, whatever you two are feeling really

Mel

the woman was too stunned to speak

no, she’s literally speechless for a good minute or two as you hold it out for her

she eventually takes the portrait from your hands but does it in a way where you’d think it was going to explode the second she touches it

she tries her best to smile and be graceful about it, years of etiquette training being tested but even this is a bit excessive

she finds a way to dodge actually having to tell you it looks bad but also dodges telling you that it looks good too - she’s a lot of things but she’s not a liar 😭

she’s incredibly diplomatic

the very next day she’s introducing you to an absolutely fabulous painter who just happened to make an impromptu visit but has just enough time to run a session (or multiple) with you!

how serendipitous is this!

never again will she receive a portrait from you like hyperpigmentation

Jayce

“oh wow this is for me?”

you handed this to him in the busy academy building in front of SOOO many people and now his face is red

his teeth are gritted, hand rubbing the back of his neck and if you look closely there’s even beads of sweat dripping down his forehead

you’ve got this man stressed out

takes like 20 minutes trying to tell you that he’s not too sure if this is exactly his style

internally he’s crying for help because he just wants to get out of this situation

he loves you don’t get it wrong but this has never happened to him before and it’s not like they’ve got a guidebook on this stuff

eventually admits defeat and accepts the portrait

it’s probably in the break room and although he isn’t particularly fond of it, he won’t stand for anyone saying mean things about what you made

that is until you tell him it was all a joke in the first place and you never thought he would actually accept it considering how shitty it was

yeah, he allowed everyone a ten minute free for all where they could slander the picture after that

he is gonna give you silent treatment for all of an hour before he can’t stand it anymore and he asks you not to pull pranks like that on him again with tears in his eyes 😭

Viktor

viktor is chronically ill AND chronically overworked

gonna be real, he sees the portrait and doesn’t even think anything of it

like, he’s so sleep deprived that he’s constantly squinting and so to him, it low-key looks like him

you even got his beauty mark right too! most people forget that detail!

it’s only after a good few weeks of having the picture on his bedside table and actually, finally, getting eight hours of sleep that he properly looks at the picture and

who the fuck is that

but at this point it’s too late, it’s already in a frame next to the bed you two share and there’s no way he can discretely get rid of it without you noticing

stages an accident where his cane “accidentally” happens to slip and somehow punt the picture frame right out the window with surprising accuracy

he gives you those puppy dog eyes and tells you how sad he is but that he’ll survive so don’t worry!

can’t even feel guilty about the situation because the moment the portrait is gone he stops having nightmares

Silco

another one who is speechless

if you were anyone else, he would’ve berated you so badly you would want to quit by the end of it

unfortunately you’re someone he loves so he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place

the thing is, he really does appreciate that you went through the effort of drawing a picture of him since it reminds him that perhaps his love isn’t as one-sided as he fears

so he really does want to have it framed and put up on his desk so he can stare at it whenever he misses you

the problem is that even though one of his eyes is fucked up he can still see how butt ugly the drawing is

plus the fact that if he has meetings his business associates are gonna see it and that’s gonna be a tough one to explain

rather not lose out of business because his partner decided to be picasso for a day

silco ends up compromising by having you draw a teeny tiny version he keeps in his wallet instead :3

the bigger version stays in a locked compartment of his desk drawer, he doesn’t want to risk sevika seeing it

Vander

vander does NOT care what it looks like, he loves it

you could literally scribble on a page, say “that’s you” and he’s tearing up at your thoughtfulness

it’s going on the fridge asap and it’s staying there too

he’s gonna show it to everyone with such pride in his voice

sure, he doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking at and maybe you drew his body hair a bit liberally but you made it so that’s good enough for him!

when he shows it off, most people say aww what a cute werewolf and ask how old his kid is

the light leaves their eyes when he tells them, chest puffed out, that his fully grown adult partner did it and that it’s actually a portrait of him

whether you made it as a joke or not, expect all of your friends, your friend’s friends, those friend’s friend’s friends…everyone to have seen it

Sevika

sevika tells you it’s ugly straight away <\3

rolls her eyes as she listens to you explain all the reasons why she should like the drawing

she does nawt care

wants to act unbothered but deep down she’s a bit insulted

however she doesn’t like sein you upset so she kisses you to distract you from the fact she hates the drawing

sevika is an incredibly considerate partner so now she knows you like art, she takes it upon herself to buy colouring books and art journals that you two can fill out together

this is how you find out she’s a god at drawing and you find it sweet how she takes you under her wing

if something’s bad she’ll tell you but it will always be constructive criticism and before you know it your portraits actually look decent

she’s smug knowing she helped you get to that point

little do you know she kept your abhorrent portrait of her and she looks at it every so often to see how far you’ve come

she’s a softie deep down

AU!mylo

he says he likes it but that’s just because he wants to hit

also is a bit pretentious so you could hand him a really bad painting and he’ll try and act like he “gets it” even if there’s nothing to get 😭

this WILL make him doubt his looks constantly

he’s confident for sure, more than he should be at times, but now he’s got that image in the back of his head

aura down and now he’s even WORSE at flirting god save this man

will go around asking random people if he looks like the guy in the portrait because he’s not going down without a fight

he needs to beat the allegations one way or another‼️

AU!claggor

genuinely too nice to decline it or say it looks bad

doesn’t know what exactly it’s meant to be even though you already said it’s a portrait of him

too focused on his plants to worry about it too much, it’s just something that makes him chuckle every now and then

he will conduct a mini interview on why you made it look the way it did

he looks all serious as he nods at your answers

deep down he just wants to understand how your brain works

masterlist