#also: the author noting that Blue complains less

[felibrary]

╭──╯GOOD DAYS | even as the snow falls atop his hair and the colorful fireworks launch in the distance, sylus can't help but keep his eyes off of you.

pairing: sylus x reader (gender neutral) | content & warnings: just some toothrotting fluff, bit of banter and bicker, reader is implied to be shorter than sylus, possibly ooc sylus | wordcount: 1.1k ; ficlet

author's note: this is based off his nightplume card with my own little add-ons lolll (also i don't even play lad anymore..so if you see any mischaracterizations here..yeah..)

A/N: Loll finally posted again and it's lad haha, enjoy!!

"sylus, i'm cold."

your boyfriend raises his brow and sighs, having the audacity to act disappointed. "i've warned you about the cold weather. should've listened to me about wearing a scarf," he smirks while you on the other hand only huff, frown deepening.

"well, i didn't know it'd be this cold," you shudder as the snowflakes meet your nape and slowly dissolve.

you're pretty sure you look absolutely ridiculous right now — with a runny nose and a hoarse voice complaining about something you're at fault for, to sylus who simply enjoys watching your dilemma and chuckles in amusement.

there aren’t often moments when sylus feels at ease, always on the lookout if something happens to you when he isn’t around. but he knows that if he stays by your side there won’t ever be something bad happening to you — he makes sure of that and instead decides to enjoy these simple but meaningful moments with you.

so maybe these little moments make him pay less attention to his surroundings than usual, oblivious to the snow that gets stuck in his hair and you can’t help but cackle a bit. “what?” he asks curiously. “there’s snow in your hair,” you point out. sylus’ gaze drifts up for a split-second before smiling and lowering his head. “help me,” his voice is soft as he requests you to help him.

even through hands covered in mittens, you can feel how soft sylus’ hair is, you play with his hair for a bit, rubbing your hand over his head before finally brushing the remaining snow out. “be careful, even a crow can turn into a dove in this weather,” you smile. “a crow? what a funny thing of you to say,” sylus returns your smile before turning his head away from you to look at the fireworks and so do you.

the fireworks are pretty, magnificent even. they vary in size, motive, and color but despite all of that each of them is unique and beautiful in its own way, making it unable to rip your eyes off them..besides maybe one exception.

not even a moment later, the exception in question turns to you, expectant ruby eyes staring down at you before swaying his gaze down to the snow-covered railing, smiling. "want me to draw you?" the turned-up collar of his stuffed leather jacket rises and falls along his neck as he exhales.

you follow his gaze and scoff. "sylus, what are you up to," you mutter under your breath. he doesn't respond, instead his gloved hand meets the metal railing before slowly tracing circles in the snow, and soon after you're able to recognize what he drew — a cat.

“seriously? a cat? i thought i’d at least be something more intimidating like a tiger,” you complain in faux offense. sylus only hums “do you know what you look like right now?” he doesn’t wait for you to respond before tracing lines onto the cat’s forehead.

"like a tiger that meows when it opens its mouth," he says, voice laced with sarcasm. upon seeing it, you can't help but crack a smile. "you're so stupid," you express with a shake of your head. "says the stubborn one who refused to dress warmly," he huffs before turning away from you again.

those ruby eyes full of danger and a lust for adventure soften upon seeing the shower of fireworks being cast in the sky. a mixture of bright red and blue colors paints the sky and casts a light shadow over sylus’ figure. 

you playfully roll your eyes at him, grinning as you scoop some of the snow off the railing. “sylus, you still have snow in your hair, want me to get it out for you?” you offer, a sweet smile gracing your lips. “what, you want to deepen our relationship? but if you insist,” he smirks before lowering his head.

you reach forward and unlike sylus’ expectation your hand lands on his cheek, making his eyes widen in surprise while you bite your bottom lip, suppressing the giggle you’ve been meaning to let out ever since you got the idea. sylus shoots you a boyish smile before flicking his fingers against your forehead which catches you off guard. “unprompted benevolence wasn't out of the kindness of your heart,”

before you’re able to process what’s happening, sylus pulls you into a tight embrace, strong arms snaking around your waist and holding you closely to his chest. "sylus let me go, i can't see the fireworks" you muffle into his jacket. "mhm, but weren't you the one who was complaining about the cold just now?” he says absentmindedly and you gaze up at him as he turns his head to the fireworks. 

his eyes find yours again, ruby eyes locking with yours as he gives you a mirthful smile. i'd rather not let you be exposed to the cold again" you glare at him which seems to amuse him even more because his next move is to pull you closer than before. (which you didn’t even know was possible from how close the two of you were already.)

luckily he lets you go soon after and you breathe in relief and observe him curiously as he pulls something out of the pocket of his jacket — a scarf. you gasp in surprise. “you had a scarf with you all along?” you ask him dumbfoundedly, not sure whether to be grateful for having something to warm your neck which isn’t sylus’ biceps, or if you should feel betrayed that he hid it from you.

“i’ve had a hunch that you’d forget yours in the rush, always so forgetful.” he smiles softly before wrapping the scarf around your neck, twice around your neck, and once around your.. eyes? “sylus, i swear to god.” even with your eyes covered beneath the wool scarf you can practically see sylus smirking to himself. “fine, fine,” he mutters, smiling before removing the scarf from your eyes.

the scarf sits nicely around your neck and not to mention it’s very comfortable and keeps you warm. you exchange glances with sylus before turning your attention to the fireworks again. 

from beneath you, on the riverbank, a bunch of people are lighting up their fireworks before watching after them as they fly into the distance. your eyes follow the fireworks as they light up the night sky and their reflections shimmer on the surface of the river. “the fireworks are so pretty, aren’t they?” you turn to sylus, expecting him to watch the fireworks too, instead you find his ruby eyes fixated on yours. 

“yeah, they really are.”

TAGS: @azullumi we're just gonna ignore the fact that this is dedicated to you and your birthday you oldie gramps of a geezer which was one week ago.....but anyway although i don't want to repeat what i said in my birthday letter (which you haven't read yet LOL) i want to tell you that in such a short period of time you've grown to a person I've learned to love so easily as if it were naturally - which it is. you're so loveable that it makes me wonder how anyone could ever hold a grudge towards you? you're the sweetest soul on earth and i wish i would've been there for your birthday to congratulate you in person but well beggars can't be choosers. azul, you're my soulmate and i appreciate everything about you and everything that you've done for me. i love how clear and easy our communication is, i love our little playful banters that other people find questionable and i love that people associate the two of us together, even when it means mistaking us for one another, which just proves how close we even appear to other people. you're the embodiment of lovely and loveable to me. i love you to death azul and once again happy birthday! <3

© FELIBRARY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[bigmacari]

╭──────────────────.★..

Error! Sans x Gen Reader

Meeting/Romantic Headcanons

Warning(s) Error being an asshole.

Author Note(s) Okay, first and foremost, the original creator of Error already said that Error would be too unstable for a romantic relationship in the first place. So this is gonna be mostly fanon. I also find it hilarious that they call Error a manbaby.

..★.──────────────────╯

☆ To really even get into this man's life, you would have to very persistent, lucky, and borderline a little dumb.

Imma say you're a glitch, something happened to your AU and you somehow ended up in the antivoid. Confused and afraid, you wander around a while only to find... a blue beanbag chair and portal thing? Okay...

You decided, 'what the hell, might as well take a seat 😐' (Dumb)

And after a long day, all Error wanted to do was relax and watch his Spanish telenovelas. Only to see YOUR ass sleeping on HIS beanbag chair. Yeah, he screams like a little girl and immediately attacks you, no questions asked.

Now the only way your surviving this situation is MAYBE with the deal he made with Ink. No destroying means no killing, sooo 🤷🏻‍♀️ (Lucky)

Uses his strings to hang you from the ceiling for a couple hours, and your body starts going numb. So obviously you start complaining??

*Can you at least put me on the ground.

*No.

*...Please...🙁

Do that for a couple of minutes and eventually it drive him insane enough to let you go. But its also the anti-void and you have no idea where you are. So you just kinda stick around Error. (Persistent)

☆Error isn't the most... mentality well person, as the title, 'God of Destruction' hints toward. But when you get on his less annoyed side, he's honestly kinda chill?

If Error can't find the energy to shoo you away anymore, he'll begrudgingly let you set next to him while watching the other AUs. Just be very still and quiet, he'll won't even notice your there after a while.

☆The anti-void really fucked with his overall mindset, so his mood changes day by day, hour by hour. This gets worst when he's around people, so good luck holding a decent conversation for more than 30 seconds. At least until you know eachother for a while.

But during those 30 second conversations, you'll notice him slowly start opening up about his personal life. Now, this is mostly complaining about this "Ink" and the "anomalies" (You have no clue wtf he's talking about.) but it's still something.

As he gets more comfortable and your relationship grows, he'll go into more detail about the AUs and how yours was

*Probably another piece of trash, just like the rest.

Great. Just what you wanted to hear.

☆Don't worry once he starts getting a crush on you, it gets completely worse. The whole "character not realizing they have feeling for a person" thing is cute... if it wasn't Error.

How long has he been in the anti-void? Only talking to people he's completely annoyed with?

Of course he's not gonna know anything about having feelings for someone. So Error just gets annoyed with you and glitches out more when your around.

☆Its not until he realizes that he has feelings for you that he starts going 'soft' on you. Has the same attitude, but he's less likely to tell you to 'be quiet' during his telenovelas or will share a singular piece of chocolate with you.

Minimum stuff but he's getting there.

Starts stealing stuff from other AUs to give to you. If you mention that you like something, the next day Error will simply drop it into your hand with a straight face and a

*Be grateful.

When he really gets serious about his feelings? Error makes a doll of you. For some reason it takes many more hours than the rest he's made before and he gets frustrated. (He just wants to make sure he got your features right.)

☆When dating, things are a little more than awkward for a while. Error just... doesn't know what to do. His zygomatic bones turn a deep blue when your around and if you try to flirt at all he just glitches out.

God forbid you touch the poor thing. His hephaphobia is very bad no matter how much he trusts you. If your someone who needs touch in a relationship then umm... Error is probably not the best option.

The most he can do after a while, (I'm talking a year or so) of being together is wrap a pinkie around yours. Even then its unnerving to him.

I imagine that he would do this thing with his strings were he would gently wrap them around your wrist or something. Just to show thats he there.

☆Errors love languages is quality time and gift giving.

Sitting at a pretty spot in some AU, crocheting and knitting together, bing watching shows, hell if your crazy enough, help him beat Ink's ass. Either way Error likes having you next to him. After being alone in the anti-void for so long, its nice to have someone to talk too. Its also a protection thing, he has a lot of enemies.

Error will make you things often. A doll, scarf, sweater, blanket, you name it. Its honestly really impressive on how fast he can crochet and knit things. He acts like its not a big deal but he can't help to have his cheeks dust blue when you express gratitude.

[nyarumie]

hii dropping by to say i love your works sm !! since you mentioned abt narumi requests, id like to make one :3

how aboutt narumi randomly feeling hungry during his game night and when he goes to find food he sees reader! so they end up making/getting food tgt all domestic and fluffy (if you’re cooking bro is definitely not thinking abt wifing u up uhhhh), feel free to create any setting you’d like for the scenario hihi

(also this might or might not be an excuse for me to ask u to become moots aha)

Food Impact! (Oneshot)

narumi gen x reader — pure fluff, more fluff, and even more fluff! sweet and gentle narumi, established relationship, the kitchen staff are eavesdropping on them, spoiler alert: they made a mess in the kitchen.

Author's Note: Readers, please search up the food name references I included here to get the entire picture of what they're trying to make <3

Author's Reply: hi, rye! I think we're already mutuals (at least, it's what my notif bar says? i know im already following u tho! i love your works too <3 it inspired me to write and post too, to be honest) thank you for this request i totally had fun writing it and helped me with my writer's block (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ id love to interact more too!

Cross-posted on ao3. Ask box is open, and masterlist can be found on my pinned. Have fun reading, everyone!

The sight that greeted Hasegawa has an unusual factor.

Stacked yamazon boxes, check.

Littered cans and bottles, check.

Neglected blankets and pillows, check.

An unbothered Captain on his futon playing his BS5, gone.

Or maybe he's just being dramatic. Narumi is actually there, albeit not stuck in front of his huge ass TV for once. Rather, he's shockingly seated behind his office table, adorning a serious expression while giving his laptop an intense focus.

His Vice Captain is rendered speechless. Was he seeing things? The First Division’s Captain… is actually doing work?

“Hasegawa. What is it? I’m busy here.” he said, hands busy on his laptop.

Oh, he's been staring at him for the past 5 minutes, mouth agape. Regaining his composure, he stated his business. “Your presence is requested for an interview. I believe I sent you the notice first thing in the morning.” But is it right to be disturbing him when he’s finally working—a rarer than once in a blue moon occasion?

“Requested, not required. Don't care, won't care.”

“...Then I’ll ask her to do it in your stead.”

“Don't. She's helping me with my work.”

Sighing, Hasegawa turned around to leave, surprisingly not picking Narumi up like a helpless cat to make him attend the interview.

Once Narumi heard the door click, the corner of his lips turned up, unable to stop the smug, triumphant grin from forming. “Hah, too easy! I’m busy working alright, my ass is practically burning from sitting here all day!”

In truth, the laptop Narumi specifically requested when he was promoted as Captain is a gaming laptop. He had somehow convinced the higher ups that its specifications are far greater than anything most officers can handle and is fitting for his position as Captain. Not that they know what it really is, of course.

He has been playing Jenshin Ympact the moment his office shift started. You had practically begged him yesterday to grind for you, saying that you’ll handle his paperworks worth a week’s job as long as he gets your desired character and weapon. “Why won’t she just top-up on this game? We have all the money to get every single character. What a bummer.”

Not that he understands why you’re willing to shoulder his paperworks over playing a game. Nothing’s enjoyable about paperworks at all! But you complained that your back was hurting from grinding, and who was he to reject such a good offer? That means a grumpy Hasegawa would appear less on his doorstep.

Complaints can be heard from him as he speedruns a side quest, mumbling about how the NPCs are too helpless. “What the… why do most NPCs ask for food here? What kind of adventurer doesn’t bring any food with them?”

Karma seemed to have hit him, his stomach growling too loud for his liking.

Ignoring it, he continued, still insulting every single unimportant character here and there. “Boo. Shut up. Don't like you. Go away. I hope you get eaten by a slime—”

And an even angrier sound came from his stomach.

“Fine! I’ll grab something to eat.”

What he meant by grab something to eat, is grab you to get the both of you something to eat. He refuses to eat anything without you, finding it more enjoyable doing mundane things with you around. His stomach has been empty since morning, wanting to get an early start on his grind.

He sulkily made his way towards your own room, knowing that you've been just as cooped up as him in your respective offices.

Not bothering to knock, he calmly opened the door, instantly finding you still working on his paperworks, desk situated across your door.

His familiar presence caught your attention, eyes lighting up in joy at the sight of him. “Gen! What brings you here? Do you need anything?”

Without a word, he gently grabbed your wrist and pulled you up, making you drop your pen in the process.

Confused, you tried calling him again. “Gen?”

“Mhm… heard you. Just come with me.”

“Alright.” You smiled, his uncharacteristically calm demeanor endearing you. He was often like this with you, as if your very existence is his source of peace.

A comfortable silence lingered as you let him lead you to his your destination. Halfway there, you finally recognized the route to the cafeteria.

‘Oh, he's just hungry.’ you thought. ‘But wouldn't he prefer instant meals or deliveries instead of going all the way here?’

But instead of going straight to the self-service counter, he turned and made his way to the kitchen instead. Wait, are you even allowed there? Sure, he's the Captain, but he's not a cook!

He finally let go of your wrist, unceremoniously opening the large door, earning shocked stares from the kitchen staff and making them pause their job.

You pulled at his sleeve. “Gen—”

“Is there an available cooking station here?” he asked.

The staff looked at each other, obviously baffled. “Uhm, Captain Narumi, sir; there is. But it's at the far end of the Kitchen…” a cook said, pointing towards the station.

“Good. We’ll be using it undisturbed.”

Gen continued making his way forward, with you holding the cuff of his sleeve to ease your nerves. You offered an apologetic look at every person you made eye contact with as you both made your way through. He still hasn't said anything as to why you're here of all places, confusing you further.

He came to an abrupt stop once you reached ‘your’ station. It's time to get to the bottom of this.

“Gen, did you say we'll be using this cooking station? Are we actually cooking?”

He faced you, his arms crossing. Suddenly, he looked a bit bashful. “Yeah. That's what I said.”

Raising your brow, you tried prying more information from him. “And what exactly are we gonna cook?”

“Ahem. So I saw this food while playing Jenshin Ympact…” He pulled out his phone, showing you a screenshot of the food.

Invigorating Kitty Meal.

Giggles threatened to spill from your lips. No wonder he wants to make it yourselves.

He swiped the photo to another screenshot. “And there's this other one. You love mushrooms, I thought you'd want something simple to eat.” Milky Mushroom Crisp Tower. How cute, he was also thinking of you!

“They look pretty fun and easy to make. However… Both of us don't know how to cook, Gen.” you frowned.

“But you just said it looks easy to make. There's two of us, that should be good enough, yeah?” he pouted.

Fondly, you sighed. He’s being too adorable right now, you just can't say no to him. “Alright, we’ll try. If it turns out good, you’ll marry me, won't you?” you joked.

He brightened up at this, pushing his hair back, determined to make his kitty meal. “Consider it done.”

After thoroughly examining the screenshots, you personally approached a few people stationed in the kitchen, asking them which ingredients would best suit your planned meal. With a couple of pieces of advice here and there, you and Gen started to put the plan in motion.

He passes you a rather large bowl full of rice, busying yourself with shaping it to form a cat, filling its inside with mayo tuna. He tasked himself with (trying) to cook the steak while watching the eggs boil, which you doubted at first, earning you a complain from him (‘Hey! You're on the same boat as I am; can't cook, can't question!’)

Cooking the steak is quite the task, so you decided to handle your mushroom toast yourself.

You poorly sliced up the mushroom and tossed it in a small pot filled with a cup of thick cream and easily melted cheese. Not hard at all!

You leave it be and checked on Gen, who you find struggling with not burning the steak. “Need help?”

“I’m fine! It's just that this is totally not beginner friendly, that's all!”

“...Gen, the eggs are overcooked.” A series of curses left his mouth as he hurriedly took them off the boiling water, and his nose scrunched up on the smell of something burning.

“Your mushroom! The heat is turned all the way up!” Now it was your turn to panic.

After a couple of errors from both your ends, it was safe to say that you've finally reached the final task of your newly found skill.

You were carefully carving some seaweed, cheese, and ham as the final touches to his rice kitty’s facial features. Gen was standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he watched your art, humming to himself. He seemed pleased despite the mess you both made.

“Let's cook again someday.” he said.

You snort, “Speaking too soon? You won't say that if this turns out bad.”

“Nahh. Not if I’ll marry you.”

You laugh, taking it as a joke. You feel him perch his head on your shoulder, face turning into a frown. “I wasn't joking! Here, have this.”

He took your hand, putting a seaweed ring on your finger. You giggled again, your heart can't take him sometimes. “I didn't mean to laugh at you. You're being too adorable today! Let's eat these right here before they spoil.”

He looked too sad to see the kitty get devoured, sulking despite how good it surprisingly tasted. And yours wasn't too bad either, glad that you were able to salvage whatever was left from the burnt mushroom sauce.

“ ‘M definitely gonna marry you someday.” he suddenly said.

Your head whipped towards him so fast, only to find him munching on his meal, face serious. “Food so good it got you saying that again?”

He shook his head. “Don't you want me as your husband?” he whined.

You felt your face flush, suddenly aware that he meant what he said. “Go put on a real ring on me first. Then I'll take you as my husband.” you teased.

Looking thoughtful, he hummed. “I can wait just fine. It arrives tomorrow.”

Wait. What?

“What arrives… tomorrow?”

“The ring.” he said, matter-of-factly.

You faced him fully, mouth wide open. He’s dropping this information way too casually!

Sensing your stare, he also turned to look at you, food still in hand. “What? If you're worried about the size, I got it covered.”

“You're crazy. When did you purchase it?”

“Hmm… a couple of weeks ago. When I heard you scolding Hasegawa for disturbing me, saying I needed rest for carrying No. 1’s eyes on a daily basis. No one dares to scold him like that! So I decided to promote you as my wife!” he proudly said.

You tug at the front of his clothes, pulling him closer. “I want to kiss you right now.”

He set his food down, placing his hands on your waist. His eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth. “Then, as the Captain of the First Division, I grant you special permission to kiss me.”

And with that, you closed the distance between you, feeling the both of you smile in your kiss.

Bonus:

Unbeknownst to the both of you, the kitchen staff were eavesdropping the entire time. Who would’ve thought that this is how good their Captain's romantic life is?

You two were so absorbed in your own little bubble, failing to notice the suppressed squeal from a staff that was tasked to spy on you when you kissed. Seems like you forgot there were other people around you.

The staff went back to the others, meeting their expectant gazes. Wordlessly, they gestured their ring finger and acted out a kiss. It was comical, but the message was well-received nonetheless. It became an unspoken rule to keep what happened that night amongst themselves, wanting to respect your and the Captain's joyous moment.

[worldheadcanons]

☆ stalkertalia: period comfort!

starring . . . afab, feminine reader and france, china, & canada. warning for menstruation, suggestive implications in france and maybe china’s, but nothing explicit or nsfw. requested by anon. masterlist found here.

📌 . . . author notes: i already had this worked up, but i’m glad i could use this piece as practice to get back into my own character characterization. if you don’t like it/it seems ooc — please be patient while i get back into my groove, lol.

francis bonnefoy!

— you’re struggling with cramps? why didn’t you tell him sooner?! you’d sent a text around eleven complaining about your cramps, and he hasn’t stopped fretting since. if you’d told him earlier in the morning, he’d have convinced you to take work off. since you’re at work, he decided to treat you to the bonnefoy special. okay, not the bonnefoy special but the family friendly bonnefoy special: a well crafted, homecooked meal.

— his flirtations and perverseness are pushed aside as he texts you about when your lunch is. normally, he’d ask for a date or even a sexy work pic, but his concern for your current state overrides everything. all he can think about is making you feel better.

— he cooks your favorite foods for lunch, following recipes to make sure he gets the flavors down. francis opts to also make you a bowl of french onion soup, something warm to help ease your spirit. he even goes out to buy a lunch box, as if he were a wife creating a meal for her blue-collar husband. his dedication to your health knows no bounds.

— by the time he gets to the office, it’s just about time for your lunch break. still, he doesn’t try to stay, merely messaging you that he’s dropping off a meal for you in a blue lunch bag. “i hope it helps you feel better, ma chérie*,” he adds in a separate text.

— you’re grateful for his change in behavior, honestly. normally, you can handle the push and pull, the flirting, the biting remarks, the playful teasing — today, though, it was a struggle not to cry when your boss e-mailed you about a mandatory work party. bonnefoy’s astute, recognizing when he ought to ease up. most of the time, he recognizes it, anyways.

— this relationship you guys had, it was completely unconventional… still, it was real. moments like this only cement it further for you. not only that, but the relationship was no less dear to you or him. isn’t that all that matters? you send him a text as soon as you’re free for your lunch break, having gotten the blue lunch bag from the secretary downstairs. “thank you, mon coeur. je t’aime**.”

yao wang!

— texting you how your day had been was a real step outside of yao’s comfort zone. he likes to send long letters, not short little messages. there’s an intimacy in it, someone holding the same paper you’ve held, reading the words you’ve taken the time to etch. still, he was feeling bold today. bold, and maybe a little needy.

— you reply to his text, explaining that your period started last night and that you’ve been cramping pretty bad all day. you even admitted that it got to the point where you left work early. were the cramps still that bad? no, not anymore. but it didn’t hurt to fish for attention (and also his money — if wang wants to be an anonymous sugar daddy, why not go with it?).

— fortunately for you, the bid for attention works. it works a little too well, even. yao takes his time replying, but after a few minutes he texts you back, saying that he bought you a period comfort device online and that he’s sending a professional masseuse over to your house.

— “my only condition,” wang adds in a separate text, “is that you have me on speaker phone so i can talk to you while you get massaged.” he leaves out the whole, ‘i want to hear your moans of pleasure’ bit that’s running through the back of his mind. he wants to talk to you, to comfort you; hearing you moan would just be a bonus.

— the doorbell rings and, sure enough, outside is a young woman carrying a case with her. he really sent a whole masseuse to your home… she shifts expectantly on the other side of your door before you let her in. “ah, hello! your husband was very insistent i get here quickly. is it okay if i set up in the living room?”

— you nod your head. boy, this man was strange. and yet, caring… more than willing to spend money on you… he listened to you without complaint... “yeah, sure, come in — wait, husband?” is that what he told this woman?!

matthew williams!

— when you replied to his morning text complaining about cramps, matthew decided that you should take the day off. you argued against it, of course, but it was a futile battle. he’d shifted into ‘doctor mode’, treating you as one would a stubborn patient. doctor’s orders! you were not going to work. any worries you had were dismissed with one (maybe two or three — you had a lot of qualms) simple ‘i’ll handle it’ text. but that was in the morning. now, it’s midday.

— “have you drank water?” he asks over the phone, “try eating some of the chocolates i bought you the other day.” there’s a pause as you respond and the soft sound of terribly concealed chuckling. “you ate them all? i guess i’ll have to deliver some more. you want more chocolates, baby?”

— you whine into the phone for mattie to ‘please, bring some more chocolates’, causing him to grin and tell you that he’s already on his way. of course he was, sly dog. it isn’t a long wait before mattie’s in your house. not at your house, in your house, without so much as ringing the doorbell.

— the blonde crawls through your bedroom window with a box of chocolates in one hand and a cheesy romcom cd in the other. “here i am,” he coos. “you should really lock your window. someone crazy could get in.”

— you should be alarmed that he managed to get in through the window. you should feel scared of or at least worried about how easily he’s made his way into your heart, becoming an important aspect of your life. even so, you can only feel… relaxed. his soft hum as he sets the movie up makes your eyes soften, and when he walks over to your bed, a chocolate in hand, you smile.

— “open up,” mattie orders, waiting for your lips to part before popping the small piece of chocolate into your mouth. “much better than work right?” he settles next to you, holding onto you and stroking some hair out of your face. he kisses your temple. “feel better yet?”

— you don’t want to admit it, even now. you’re stuck in this strange limbo of doing what you know is right and doing what feels right. as he looks down at you, however, the words fall automatically from your lips. “yeah, i do.”

☆ TRANSLATIONS.

— *”ma chérie” means my dear/my love.

— *”mon coeur” means my heart/my love.

— *”je t’aime” means “i love you”.

[francisofthespook]

Merry (late depending on your timezone) Christmas y'all ! Heres a little oneshot Christmas gift from me <3

DIY Santa

Summary: Judith drags you along with her to meet Santa, but surprises you when she demands that you also tell Santa what you want for Christmas.

Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Wordcount: 1,002

Warnings: Some very very slight suggestive dialogue

Authors Note: Thank you all so much for all the love on the works I've posted so far, I really can't explain how much that means to me <33 I have a longer Christmas oneshot I'm working on, but I didn't finish in time like I thought I would :( So I threw together this little oneshot so that I could post something today. Hope u enjoy it, and that all of you had a great day ! <333

(border made by me :) )

You really didn’t understand how Carol had convinced him to do it, but you weren’t complaining. Judith dragged you up the stairs to the small gazebo that sat in the middle of Alexandria and all you could do was bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. The little girl let go of her grasp on your hand and ran up to Daryl. He was dressed in a ragedy white sweater, red sweatpants, and a red beanie with a cottonball beard attached to it. Carol must have called in a seriously big favor. 

Daryl picked up Judith and plopped her in his lap. The two of you had been waiting in the little line for longer than you would have liked to spend in the cold while listening to all the other children of Alexandria plead with ‘Santa’ about why they really needed a new bike, a barbie doll, or a pony for Christmas. Daryl looked less than pleased, but he surprisingly played along. However, when you and Jude ascended the steps to the dingy setup, Daryl’s expression showed a flicker of change. He bounced Jude on his lap while asking her what she wanted for Christmas. “Mmm, I want a jump rope and rollerskates!” Okay, easy enough… you were beginning to silently thank Carol, as you had been stumped on what to get your little niece. “Ah! Well, I think Santa can work somethin’ out…” Daryl looked to you and gave you a wink. You lowered your head as you chuckled in attempt to hide the heat that was creeping up your cheeks.

“Your turn aunt (Y/N)!!” Judith hopped off Daryl’s lap to grab your arm and drag you towards him. You were shocked at her demand and tried to quickly stutter out an excuse. “Oh honey, I think I’m a little to old for Santa to get me a gift.” You tried to laugh it off while avoiding making eye contact with ‘Santa’. “Nonsense!” Daryl laughed, “Yer never too old for Santa.” He opened his arms gesturing for you to take a seat. There was no hiding the blush now. 

In attempt to shut everyone up before further argument, you reluctantly turned and sat yourself on Daryl’s knee, angling your body slightly towards him. You didn’t know where to put your hands, so you ended up awkwardly resting them on your thighs. Daryl carefully wrapped one arm around the small of your back, his hand slightly gripping your hip while the other gently rested on your knee. His warm touch felt jarring against the chill breeze that was nipping at you. When the two of you met eyes, it suddenly felt like you were underwater. Everything and everyone else around you was drowned out, the soft glow of the warm lights that had been strung around the gazebo backlit his face in a halo. “And what do you want for Christmas Aunt (Y/N)?” He spoke to you in a low whisper. You were frozen in the icy blue of his eyes, unable to speak or move. 

When you didn’t respond, he prompted you with another question, “Well, I guess it depends if you’ve been nice or naughty this year…” Your stillness broke as you bit your lip and finally gave into the blush that nearly covered your whole body at this point. “She’s been nice this year!” Judith interjected from the sidelines. You had forgotten that she was there and quickly turned around to smile at her before returning to Daryl. He leaned in close to your ear and said in a low whisper, “Now tha’s a damn shame”. He pulled back and gave you a smirk. You finally were able to break your silence with a small laugh.

You and Daryl had been playing a dangerous game over the past few years. Always toeing the line, but never crossing it. You told yourself that nothing ever happened because you never had the time or stability to explore your desires, but part of you was just scared that he didn’t really feel the same despite the constant flirting. But something about the way the sun was setting over the walls, the flicker of lights in the gazebo, and the way he was confidently eying you made you take a chance and stick just a toe over the line. This time, you were the one to lean into him and whispered in a quiet sultry voice, “I may have been a good girl this year, but I definitely thought about doing some very naughty things…” before pulling back and giving him a smirk now. 

Your comment had caught poor Daryl so off guard that his mouth hung slightly agape with his eyebrows rising. You paused for a second, shooting him a knowing look. “But maybe since I’ve been so good, I’ll get what I really want this year.” You said in a sly tone and looked up at him through your lashes for a beat. Then, as nonchalantly as possible, you stood up and turned to Judith with a big smile and an outstreatched hand which she gladly grabbed. The two of you sauntered off down the steps, and you made sure your hips swayed in the most seductive way possible. Once the both of you had cleared the gazebo and started walking down the street, you turned back and gave Daryl a smug smile and a wink before turning onto Rick and Michonne’s street. 

Daryl sat back in his chair stunned and glanced at Carol who had been keeping the kids in line occupied. She looked back at him and gave him a small smile while shrugging before turning her attention to the next kid in line and sending him up the stairs. Daryl tried his hardest not to think about the way you looked at him for the rest of his Santa shift. But every time the thought of you sitting on his lap creeped it’s way into his head, his heart rate sped up just a bit.

Again, love you all and hope you had a good day <3 Sending all of y'all lots of love <33333

((((Should I do a part 2 ????))))

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Crab Boil

Author's note: I'm going to be trying to do Mermay 2025. thanks to @c-u-c-koo-4-40k for letting me borrow Khopesh and Lullaby. This was a fun collab.

Summary: Khopesh and Claude meet and get some free food.

Warnings: LMK if I need to add something

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock

tagged: @kit-williams @whorety-k @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @bispecsual, @egrets-not-regrets @nereidof40k @finchly-tintinnabulation

Claude had finished training with Anrir- when he spotted a dark navy blue scaled form- similar to Anrir- but less scarred. Claude tilts his head and says, “who are you?” 

Khopesh turns towards the larger- and younger space marine, he smirks and uses his voice mimicry as he retorts, also curious to see who this Raven Guard is, “Who are you?”

Claude rears back a little- somewhat startled to hear the Night Lord throw his voice back at him, but he’s had some of his brother-cousins do voice mimicry to such a freaky degree and has since gotten over the initial knee-jerk violent reaction.

“I go by Claude,” He says carefully as he tilts his head slowly coming closer to the Night Lord, “What’s your name?”

Khopesh is surprised by how well Claude is reaction as he tilts his head back and smiles, hes more than a little bewildered by how passive the reaction he’s getting his as he continues to use his mimicry, “I go by Claude, Claude! Claude!”

He’s looking for a more normal reaction out of the Raven Guard? As he goes back to his normal voice as he says, “I go by Khopesh! You’re strange… and big. Most take a swipe when they hear their own voice bouncing back.”

Khopesh has been swimming around, kind of wriggling and squirming, turning upside down, but keeping his eyes on Claude. Its kind of weird how calm this Raven Guard is with his antics.

Claude shrugs as he says honestly as he tilts his head the other way as he watches Khopes swim about. “You aren’t the strangest person I’ve met. I’m a Primaris- we tend to be Big.”

Khopesh hums and sings to himself as he continues to swim at odd angles- keeping a watch on Claude, “Pri-mar-is!”

He tastes that word- so strange, so new, so strange. “So! Why do you wanna speak with me big birdie? Not, like I’m complaining, but usually Ravens are Ever so… standoffish- or snobby.”

Claude listens to that with a snort- some of his brothers could be rather … high handed, despite the amount of blood and sins that soak their hands. He focuses on Khopesh again as the First Born Scout Night Lord Darts in close before swimming away again as he says, “As if we don’t hunt squirming squealing things in the night.”

Claude nods, all astartes kill- be they heretics, traitors, xenos or other things. Some kill for honor, some kill for the sake of it. Some for protection of others. The way that some of his so called ‘honorable’ older brothers claimed that what the did was for the betterment of the Chapter. Tch. Hypocrites.

“My kind are just more Honest about how Monstrous we are~” Kohpesh continues to say with a sharp, fanged grin.

Claude is rather pleased that his shape shifting his doing really well and he can’t help but say, “Ah good, you think I’m a Raven Guard, it’s working.”

Khopesh tilts his head and then surges close- almost touching him eyes wide with a sharp smile, “What’s working?”

Then he darts off with an off putting cackle, “Oh ho ho! You are fun! And you’ve got secrets!” Khopesh flips over backwards and coming right back up as he spins around Claude with delight.

“Don’t you have secrets?” Claude points out mildly, “ And doesn’t everyone have at least a few secrets?”

Khopesh laughs in delight and nods, “You got me there!”

He swims in circles and is upside down again, as he continues to talk with Claude, “But still! Why come up here to little old me? Am I breaking any rules by swimming here?”

It is bothering Khopesh a little bit that there is a Pri-mar-is Raven Guard Scout talking to him when he doesn’t think he’s done anything to upset the balance of things. And Anrir would give him such a talking to if he had… gotten caught doing something.

“No…?” Claude says confused as he tries to recall the rules near this area of the ocean and shrugs, “you just seemed interesting and I wanted to see if you’d talk to me.”

“Aww! Aren’t you sweet!” Khopesh coos at the younger marine.”

Claude shrugs a little, “Also- I wanted to warn you- there is a shoal of Black Templars swimming nearby during their migration. Shouty bastards.”

“And bleh. Templars. Gross,” Khopesh says wrinkling his nose in disgust and shakes his head. “Hm… Say…. Do you like, crabs?”

“I do like crabs,” Claude says with a grin as he perks up and swishes his tail excitedly.

Khopesh hoots in excitement and says, “Yes!”

“Wanna go hunting grabs?” Claude asks him, tilting his head a little.

“Not right now,” Khopesh says as he shakes his head as he asks, “Tell me! Have you ever had steamed crabs? From a seafood boil? Slathered in butter?! With a shell that crunches just right? Mmm! ‘Cause I know where we can get some!”

“I have not - but that sounds delicious,” Claude says perking up a little. “Where do we go to get that?”

Khopesh grins in a vaguely unsettling manner, as he leans in really close to Claude and gets his voice close to a stage whisper, “Up the coast- a little bit away from the Port City, but still near the water. There is a small… ah… I forget the common word for it? Bairn? Barm? It has those weird four legged creatures with sharp heavy toes and long faces!”

Claude sees the way Khopesh waves his hands enthusiastically as he smiles as he sees the way Khopesh seems to grow animated. “The human there feeds me and we sing together! I also always get more treats when I bring my brothers, but they’re always away right now? Sooo what d'ya say? Up for some crab-singing?”

“Sure! I’m up for food-” Claude says, he could always eat- and he blinks- as he remembers something about Anrir speaking about some of his Claw- an excitable- *oh* so this is Khopesh. “Oh! I was trained by an Apothecary named Anrir on singing and Night Lord Siren stuff. Do you know him?”

He grins at Khopesh, who seems a little strange- but he doesn’t seem that bad, all things considered. At least for now. Khopesh can’t stop his jaw from dropping as his eyes go wide, “You’re kidding!”

He swims around Claude in an animated circle, “Anrir is my Night Lord Sire!” 

“Oh- that’s neat.” Claude says with a smile, Khopesh’s frantic, excited energy has infected him a little.

“That means we’re practically Claw already!” Khopesh continues.

“Er. I think Anrir mentioned something about a Claw once?” Claude says confused as he raised his clawed hands.

Khopesh laughs a little at his confused expression, “pfft! Not those claws! Although- I’ve got them too!”

Khopesh shows off his wickedly sharp nails, “Naw, a Claw is a group of Night Lords who shoal together! Basically it’s like a Pod, but if you saw Claw you know it’s made of Night Lords.”

“Oh! That makes a lot of sense.” Claude says with a nod as he feels rather enlightened with Khopesh’s explanation.

“Like how a group of Salamanders is a Nest. A group of Fists is called a Fortress,” Khopesh continues to say sounding 100% confident and proud as he continues to explain things to Claude, feeling rather happy to be a teacher, rather than the taught for a moment, “A group of Hydras is called a Facade, and a group of Templars is called a Toothache.”

Claude laughs at the last one, “Toothache? Not a headache?”

Khopesh cackles at that and continues to speak, “hehe! Anrir is our Claw Leader! There’s about … hmmm… Me- Karlsy, Him, Ghosk,... Four! Four of us!”

“Although… you are the second Night Lord that I’ve met on Ancient Terra.” Claude says with a hum.

Khopesh had been naming people and tapping his fingers as he’d spoken. “Though- Anrir has made and trained thousands of Neophyte Night Lords! And he’s older than the Legion itself! He’s even adopted a few Ravens over the years! Though… right now it’s just us, here, on Ancient Terra.”

“That’s really interesting- so he’s Terran born. Huh. That explains the accent.” Claude says musingly.

“Enough about history! There’s buttered crabs on the line! Lets go!” Khopesh says as he grabs one of Claude’s arms and tugs him in the direction of his beloved Lullaby.

They swim up the coast until they come to the place Khopesh had described. A farm with horses. There’s white smoke coming out of the house’s chimney. And a buttery smell in the ocean air becomes stronger and stronger as they approach. Claude swallows the saliva that coats his mouth.

Claude’s stomach growls and he licks his lips a little as he says, “That- smells really good.”

“Just follow my lead Claudey.” Khopesh says while he’s still under the water, before he pusehs himself upwards until he breaches the surface and lets out a trill that seems half-way between a mer- and a human song. It carries a voice that is neither Khopesh nor Claude’s.

Claude tilts his head a little and blinks as he notices that the voice seems to reverberate back and forth with the new voice and Khopesh’s own voice. How curious. He tilts his head the other way as he follows after the Night Lord a beat or two more slowly.

The door to the house opens, it’s on a higher level and there’s a small beach that slopes down to the water where the boys are. But in some areas it’s more like the land stands higher than the sea. 

An unknown voice, in a jovial tone, “Hark! Is that, that pale Ghostly black eyed Scoundrel! Barking my own voice back at me?!”

A human baseline leans over the fence that borders the small cliff that drops down to the ocean. Unknown baseline, their voice still playfully teasing tone, as they spot a grinning Khopesh, “Why yes it is! Tis! Tis indeed! Honestly, I feed you once and like clockwork, here you are. Again!”

Lullaby looks over at Claude and nods towards him before looking back towards Khopesh, their eyes sparkling with delight, “And you’ve even brought another friend in on your schemes, you slimy cheeky thing!”

They step a little closer as Claude and Khopesh swim closer in the air, “Ah, whatever shall I do?” 

They eye the pair of tongs in their hands as they lean dramatically against the railing and clacks their tongs cheerfully and for emphasis.

“Ummm. Hello. I go by Claude.” Claude says he has noticed the playful way they speak with a shy smile, “What may I call you? Friend of Khopesh?”

“You are so very polite. Much more polite than the fella with batwings who tried to eat my tongs in one bite.” Lullaby says, “You can call me Lullaby, s’not my given name, bit it’s what everybody calls me, and I happen to like it.”

Lullaby looks Claude over and says, “You’re a big ‘un! I suppose I’ve got no choice but to give ya’ll extra crabbies. Not like that isn’t what you had planned, right Khopesh?”

Khopesh shrugs, as he grins, “Ah well! Guess I couldn’t hide it! You’re just too clever~”

“Flattery will only get you so far! Come now, lets see what you’ve learned~!”

“Oh! Ooh! Guess this one!” Khopesh straightens up proudly and immediately starts making a weird warbling … is it a bird… call??

Lullaby hums a little as they try to figure out what it is, “... Is that a sea bird? Not a gull… Hum… How curious.”

“The sound is that of a magnificent Frigate bird.” At least- that’s what Claude thinks it is, he states that out Loud. And from Khopesh’s reaction- that’s the truth. Lullaby seems delighted by being able to get it after they were stumped for a few minutes trying on their own to come up with what it was.

“I have an animal sound.” Claude offers. 

Lullaby turns to him, “Oh ho?” Lets hear it!” They say with a smile.

Claude lets out a warbling call of a deep ocean creature.

Lullaby tosses a grab towards Claude who catches it with a grin and his mouth and starts to eat it- shell and all, “This is quite tasty lullaby, thank you.”

Khopesh pouts a little that Claude got some Crab before he did. Lullab smiles at the older Space Marine and tosses a crab at him, “And one for you- since you stumped me.”

Khopesh catches the crab with a triumphant noise, “YES MINE!” 

He messily devours the crab, shell included as he asks, “more please!”

Lullaby laughs a little as they say, “Alright, alright! Got any new sounds.” They look over at Claude. “If you know the call of the Frigate Bird, maybe you know others? I love my land beasts a little too much to ever leave them, so sadly, the are some animals that I’ll never get to see or hear. So, I always appreciate Khopesh bringing those sounds to me when he visits.”

Claude thinks for a moment as he mimics the sound of another deep sea creature he’s heard recently- the warbling whistle of a humpback whale and a giant squid. Khopesh wriggles as he calls out, “Ah! I know- one of those is a big ass squid, and the other’s a whale- humpback!”

Khopesh mimics Claude’s mimicry with near perfect whistle- Claude is impressed by Khopesh’s ears.

“Ooo! Spooky,” Lullaby tosses a crab to both of them. “By the way, how are your other brothers Khopesh? Is this a new arrival?

“The other members of the Claw are doing their own thins right now. And noope! Claudey and I just met! But he’s just so funny, I just had to show him buttered crabs!” Khopesh explains as he gestures as he talks and leans against Claude a little bit.

Lullaby looks towards Claude, “Khopesh thinks high of you them! Well, I’ve got a bucket full of crabs and nothing else to do. Oh! And I’ve got some pumpkin muffins baking right now. They’ll be ready soon, do y’all wawnna hang around ‘till then? Maybe show some of your other tricks?”

Khopesh grins before diving under the water, only to resurface into a jumping backflip. Claude realizes that Khopesh is showing off to Lullaby, in a distinctively courtship like manner. Claude smothers a grin as he lets out an echoing call and uses a bit of psyker to do an illusion of Dolphins- he’s going to help Khopesh court his beloved and play wing man for him.

Lullaby is stunned, “That’s wild y’all are amazing!”

Khopesh is beaming with Pride as he puffs out his chest, while Claude smiles softly, “Thanks Lullaby.”

After they finish the bucket of crabs and show off their forms- Claude helping Khopesh to look more impressive and back him up. They finish the muffins as well- a delightful baked goods, it is getting late and Lullaby needs to retire.

“Thanks for spending time with me. As usually y’all are welcome to come back when it suits.”

They address Claude specifically, “I usually catch a bucket of crabs every weekend and boil ‘em up. So feel free to stop by again. Or just follow Khopesh. He always seems to know when I’m making something tasty.”

“Thanks for the offer! I’ll be sure to come by again,” Claude says with a friendly nod, “it was nice meeting you.”

“Same dear, y’all have a good night.” Lullaby says with a nod and a smile. 

They head back into their house to bed down for the night. 

Claude and Khopesh swim off and Khopesh smiles at him, “I told you that Crab singing would be worth it. They even stayed for an extra hour tonight! And sang songs with us!”

He looks back up at the lit up windows. He says more quietly, a look of intense longing on his face, “I just know… that their songs would be even more beautiful if…”

Claude watches Khopesh slowly, carefully, he interrupts Khopesh’s thought processes as he doesn’t want another missing woman to end up with a mer-tail and carrying a Night Lord’s Child. Then he’d have to tell someone something.

“Crab singing was fun! However- they seem happy on land… perhaps… they might sing more lovely in a different form, but would they be happy as a Mer?”

Khopesh sighs and wilts a little and shakes his head, “No, at least not right now. They have their own Claw- I mean family! Their gene-parents live nearby. I’ve seen them. And they love their land beasts! And the land beasts love them. Their specific long face creature tried to bite and kick me when I got closer to them one day while they were on its back.”

Khopesh gestures at the horse. Khopesh shuckles, “it was funny to see them scold it like a baby. And then give it kisses because it was protecting them. I… suppose, I just wish it was easier to spend more time with them.”

He looks sullen and morose at that. “They are most active during the day- and my Kind… are more active at evening and Night. These times at sunset are one of the few times we can meet… I cannot leave my Claw anymore than they can leave theirs… but Maybe there is some other way… I just haven’t found it yet.”

Claude nods as he listens, “It’s hard being parted from the one you love and wanting to be with them- but aso be with your kin. Uh. I know Anrir did… something… and has his Draga with him. But well.”

Claude shrugs a little, still uneasy about some of the red flags that Anrir was showing, but he didn’t know how to bring them up without upsetting the other Space Marine. Or if it was his place to say anything. Perhaps he should talk to Lenora and Erroix? They seem to have a healthy and happy relationship.

“Anrir is clever- but I think sometimes his advise is… should be taken with caution. I have seen humans wear something called.. Sun Glases? Which helps keep their eyes protected from the wrath of the sun. We can fly in the air… who knows? Perhaps you will find a way? Oh- and the long faced, four legged creatures, I think Olly called them Horses?”

“Right! Horses! Gah! Why do I always forget that. Ah…” Khopesh replies with a groan. “... Anrir did manage to get his Draga… but well. Draga did not have all this.”

He gestures towards the table loving home and farm. “More than anything I… I want to just be with them… I will speak with Anrir, not about changing them, now, but … how to be with them as it is now. And maybe some day, when their family is lost to time, as all things must be, maybe they would be willing to be part of mine them… Either way, I enjoy the time I spend with them… so maybe that’s enough?”

Khopesh shrugs as he and Claude swim back the way they came and Claude nods, “the future is not set.”

“Well aside from you coming to more Crab sings! If you’ve got any sense that should be set.” Khopesh points out.

Claude nods and laughs, “That’s true! I will definitely come to  more crab sings! That was fun, and I wouldn’t turn down free crabs.”

[sc0tters]

New Cities Mean Fresh Starts, Right? | Jack Hughes

summary: you’ve finally moved to New Jersey and whilst most people seem happy to see you, one man in particular doesn’t. And did you forget? He’s your new neighbour!

warnings: swearing

word count: 1.21k

authors note: we have been waiting but the first chapter of the brutal series is now here! It’s a little bit shorter than what I would have wanted but nevertheless I like the ground roots it has set for the rest of the series. This is an interactive AU so you guys are the ones who drive the blurbs and social media posts for this series!

brutal masterlist

You watched as Alex brought the last of the boxes up to your apartment.

The frown was clear on your face as he looked back up to you “we promised that you wouldn’t cry!” Alex groaned at the sight of your lip quivering “c’mere,” he sighed holding his arms out for you to come and hug him.

It took you like less than ten seconds to respond as you ran over to him almost tackling your best friend in the process “it’s not too late for you to come back to LA with me.” Alex reminded you as he squeezed your waist.

This was a common moment for you two as he let his hands slide up to cup your face “I gotta stay here Al,” you mumbled placing your hands on top of his.

He smiled nodding “was worth a shot,” Alex shrugged making you laugh “and are you sure you don’t want me to have a talk with Jack?” The Kings player added as the idea of you being left alone with Jack made him feel sick.

Sure Alex liked his friend when it came to the way Jack was around you, Alex felt better being there to tell him to lay off. The older boy felt like it was his job to protect you “I can handle him!” You complained rolling your eyes.

Being Jacks new coworker was not exactly something you were looking forward to, but your position with the Devils was a promotion from the one with the Kings and the money was also better here. So Jack was going to have to put up with you like how you planned to put up with him “just let me know if he gets too much for you.” Alex mumbled taking the cap from his head and placing it on yours.

That black cap of his was on the top of the list of clothing items that you stole from Alex whenever you went into his closet. You had the blue version of his hat but Alex’s was always your favourite “you finally letting me keep this one?” You gasped dropping your jaw as your eyes lit up.

Alex nodded as he let out a laugh “we can have split custody for it.” He proposed wriggling his eyebrows as he made you smile.

“I can get behind that.”

Your first night in your apartment was rough to put it lightly. Alex had left to go back to LA which meant that you were living on your own for the first time in your life since you had living with your best friend from the moment you left university.

New Jersey was humid in the morning as you sat on your balcony enjoying a much needed coffee and Redbull as you swore you only got three hours of sleep all together.

It was peaceful at you watched the city wake up beneath you “mom just listen to me!” Your neighbour groaned slamming the door behind him as he walked onto his own balcony.

Your eyes went wide at the disruption turning to see the what was going on “I think she’s here!” The voice all of a sudden began to sound familiar.

It was Jack.

You were quick to slide onto the floor as you tried to avoid being caught by him “I think I’ve got a new neighbour.” Jack mumbled as he had heard you hit the floor.

There was a mental coin toss going on in your brain as you contemplated what to do “fuck it,” you grumbled getting up as you brushed your fingers through your hair.

What you didn’t expect was that he’d be looking right back at you “I’ve got to go.” The Devils players eyes went wide as he stared at yours.

But before he got the chance to talk to you your legs had already pushed you back into your apartment leaving the boy alone with nothing more than the mug from your coffee and your empty can of Redbull “move into the place with no neighbours they said, it’d be fun they said.” He grumbled to himself slamming the glass door behind him.

Today was going to be a long day for the both of you.

Sure you knew what you were doing was going to piss Jack off but you were friendly with Luke and wanted to have at least one friendly face at work.

short stack 😎: howdy neighbour 🤠

tall shot 🦅: what.

tall shot 🦅: NEIGHBOUR?!

Your couldn’t help but laugh as your phone began to ring with Luke’s contact information lighting up your phone “hey tall shot,” you smiled walking into the prudential centre for your introductory meeting with the players as the previous photographer had apparently been integrated pretty well amongst everyone.

Luke shut the door behind him as he obviously didn’t want Jack to hear about this “you better not be fucking with me short stack.” The nickname was something he had called you for the last three years from the moment he overtook you in height. It started off as a joke when he had said it since there was the guy who was trying to flirt with you and Luke came to your rescue and the joke his came from there.

You giggled hearing his words “you think I’m lying?” You asked smiling as you sat on your chair “come and visit the media office when you get to the centre.” You proposed grinning to yourself.

The youngest Hughes boy chuckled to himself “I’ll be there in a bit shortie.” His tone was serious as he now looking forward to all of those fitness tests that he was going to be put through.

What you didn’t know media day meant was that you were going to be forced to be stood alone with each of the players individually.

John and Nico and each offered to show you around the city and of course you accepted on both occasions because Luke’s inevitable tour was going to be to the nearest Costco and maybe to the apartment building gym “who should I send in next?” John asked sending you a toothy grin as he grabbed his jersey to pull over his head.

You looked at the list of player you had left “little Hughesy would be nice,” you proposed ready to see the youngest Hughes boy again “you got it!” He called out walking to the door “oh one more thing.” John spun around to face you as he smiled.

Your head tilted up to look up at him “yep?” You cocked your chin as you sent him a grin “you’re gonna fucking smash it!” His words of encouragement made you laugh as he walked out of room.

With the little time you had left to try to work on things in preparation for Luke’s arrival as you pulled his jerseys off of their stack “pretty sure that you’ve got the wrong Hughes jerseys.” The voice came from the door causing you to drop the hanger on the floor.

You spun around so fast that you almost fell over “now do you mind telling me what the fuck you are doing in Jersey?” Jack asked letting the door slam shut behind him.

Fuck.

[attapullman]

The Boys Are Back / Whodunit? Origin Story

Summary: When best friends and childhood sleuths Bob Floyd and Mickey Garcia grow up, everything seems less fun. Thankfully things are about to completely change for these two hometown goofs.

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: 18+ as always, language, 80s inaccuracies, sci-fi opinions do not reflect that of the author

A Note From Mo: As would be the only appropriate gift for providing the inspiration for Whodunit?, happy birthday @bobgasm! Thank you for loving these two as much as me and helping make their story as fun as it is. Wishing you the best birthday on New Zealand time (we'll be celebrating America time as well, don't worry 😉)

origin story / prologue / whodunit? masterlist

“Are you really trying to convince me that Return of the Jedi is better than The Wrath of Khan?” Mickey couldn’t wipe the look of disgust off his face at this zit-faced teenager at the counter. The two fairly recent box office hits were a common disagreement, and this kid came in thinking he knew all that and a bag of chips.

“Force lightning? Luke trying to redeem his father? Dude, George Lucas made the last two movies true masterpieces, cinematic perfection!” 

Rolling his eyes, aware that this knucklehead has no clue who he’s going against (all the best film geeks in town knew to not go against Fanboy Garcia and his sci-fi knowledge), Mickey dropped the copy of Raiders of the Lost Ark into a plastic bag along with the receipt.

“The Wrath of Khan brought people to tears. Invested us deeper into the characters we’ve loved for years, grown up with. Spock’s death shocked an entire nation, no doubt about it. And don’t be stupid, Vulcan nerve pinch defeats Force lightning every time.” He slides the bag across the counter with a scoff. “Movie is due back Tuesday. Come back with some real ammunition next time, airhead.”

Cheeks red, the teen grabs his bag and scuttles out of the Blockbuster. The bell chimes and suddenly the shop is empty. 

While the access to new releases and movies in the break room were great perks, Mickey was so over this job. The blunderhead teens with their gnarly opinions, the bratty moms who always complain about the return dates. It’s just renting a movie for a week, not that complicated. When was his cousin going to get back to him about that maintenance gig at city hall? The sci-fi fan slumped against the counter and continued watching the copy of Legend they just got in.

Across town, Bob was also struggling with his work day. When was everyone going to realize he didn’t set the price of parts? He wasn’t even really a mechanic, just a guy who needed a summer job in high school and never stopped coming in. A star employee, he enjoyed the puzzle of putting components together and the purr of a perfectly oiled engine. 

It may not have been his dream job, but the free parts for his ’65 Mustang and the content silence he and his uncle worked in wasn’t horrible.

Two more customers come in and try the haggle the price. Neither are impressed with the calm way Bob explains the cost of labor and parts, rubbing his greasy palms impatiently on his coveralls as he breaks down why he doesn’t work for free. And when he asks if they’d like him to undo the work to cut the cost, pocketbooks are pulled out and he’s got money in his pocket for beers later.

His uncle is long gone by the time Bob locks up the shop with a heavy padlock on the garage door. His boots scuff in the dirt as he makes his way to the Mustang, her blue paint shining in the late summer sun. She was stunning.

The breeze whipped through his hair - too long for his mother’s liking - as he drove across town. Mickey was just opening the door to The Alibi as he parked on the street. The best friends tip their heads in greeting.

“Bobby.”

“Fanboy.”

The two slap their hands together. Palms first, then two slaps from the back, before looping around to fist bump. A handshake from elementary school that somehow has carried on twenty years. After a few drinks a shimmy will make its way into the mix.

They take up residence at the bar, the same spot they’ve occupied a few nights a week since they walked out of that Navy enlistment meeting and never looked back. The bartender always knows to hand out whatever’s cheapest unless they’re holding paychecks.

“How many people confuse Star Wars and Star Trek today?” The cutting glare Mickey gives him says it all. Probably not the best time to make a Darth Khan joke.

Lost in the clatter and whoops of the bar, the best friends mull over their meaningless hourly jobs and contemplate the meaning of ‘the man’. Bob’s leather jacket hangs off the stool back, the sticky air of the bar clinging to the twentysomethings’ skin. One beer becomes two, two becomes three as the weekend arrives.

A loose curl hanging over his forehead, Mickey makes eyes contact with a babe across the room. He’d happily spend the evening with those beautiful eyes. The only perk of this dingy bar is it’s the only one in town, and a mix of old classmates and new-in-towns keep the dating game fresh.

Bob himself does a quick look around at the night’s prospects, doing a double take. No, it couldn’t be. When did the police captain’s daughter get back into town? She shoots an amiable smile and nod back before turning to her own drink and friends. 

Mickey raises his eyebrows at his bud. Bob shoves him off his stool on the way to the bathroom.

As the night progresses, only the young and the young at heart (and alcoholics) are still in their seats at The Alibi. The best friends are a handful of beers deep, leaning across the bar to chat with Mickey’s childhood neighbor, Tom - a gruff guy with a beer gut and a penchant for belching when he laughs. They love making him laugh.

“I tell you two about the rocks that keep showing up on my doorstep?”

Mysterious rocks? The boys lean in closer, their light denim-clad pelvises nearly over the bar top. Shaking their heads, all ears, they urge Tom for more information.

“Been happenin’ for months now. At first I didn’t think anything of it. Animals maybe? But they keep getting bigger and bigger. Tripped over one the size of a melon yesterday, stupid fucking rock. Belchhhh.” The boys snicker into their beers. “Can’t figure out who’s doing it. Gonna end up breaking my front step with a mountain one of these days.”

The boys exchange a look as they contemplate the conundrum. Who would just leave rocks on Tom’s doorstep? Wouldn’t it get old after a few weeks? And rocks of all things?

“It’s not that big of town. Who could it be?” Mickey cocks his head to the side. Tom has always been a nice guy. A little oblivious, but harmless. “Your ex-wife back in town?”

The bearded man shakes his head, scratching the underside of his belly as he realizes it’s time to call it a night. 

As Tom goes to pay his tab, Phil, who’s been manning the bar at The Alibi since before LBJ was in office, spoke up. “You two solved mysteries as kids, yeah?” 

The young men give him a perturbed look, confused why he’d bring up their silly sleuthing games from decades before. Hesitant, Bob nods. Who could forget the years spent hunched in random hiding spots, notebooks and binoculars at the ready. Mickey still had a scar from falling out of the second floor stairwell in the community center.

Tom is delighted, his drunken eyes lighting up. “Any chance you two could take a whack at figuring out who’s leaving all these fucking rocks on my doorstep? There’s a twenty in it for ya.”

It’s been…years since they last solved anything. Petty crimes from other classmates, some neighborhood drama, but that was before puberty. Did they still have the gift?

“Sure man, why not?” Shoulders are shrugged, hands are shook tipsily. They’d stop by in the morning before their shifts. Natural curiosity has them dying to see the assortment of rocks.

Tom heads out and the boys clink the necks of their bottles together, enjoying the last sip of the night. Who knew where this was going, but they were always up for a challenge.

A week later, the two returning sleuths are hunched over behind a bush with a pack of pretzels and a six-pack, mud caking Mickey’s new Air Forces. There’s cigarette stubs in the dirt and they’ve been arguing over the best flavor of Fanta for an hour.

In the wee hours of the morning Tom’s next door neighbor sneaks into his garden to place a rock roughly the size of a pumpkin on the front step. The shared fence issue Tom thought to be resolved? Definitely not. 

Another neighborhood drama solved. Twenty dollars in their pocket.

But with the solve comes a burning itch that Mickey can’t scratch. Keeps him up at night, lives in the corner of his brain while he rents movies to bored-face teens. A blazing fire that can only be tended, not extinguished.

“What if we started our own detective agency?”

Bob spat out his ginger ale on Mrs. Garcia’s freshly cleaned granite countertop. Was Fanboy tripping?

“C’mon man, why not? Put up some flyers and solve whatever rinky dink shit comes up in our free time? Make some extra cash? We might actually be able to move out on our own. Don’t you want freedom?” 

They’d been bitching about it for months, wanting to get out of their childhood bedrooms and actually do something with their lives. So the Navy wasn’t for them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t serve their community in other ways. Maybe this was the answer to their unsure futures.

Bob grabbed his best friend’s hand, the decade-old handshake turning into a brotherly hug. “Just promise me we won’t get into anything too crazy. I like my Sundays on the couch.”

In six months they’d raised the cash for their own apartment, a small two bed in the dusky pink modular building off Main Street. In a year the amateur sleuths had been in the local paper twice. And two years and several police case assistances later, they stood across from the police captain’s daughter, not a smile in sight.

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[arlestial]

hello hello! i'm really fan of your work and i'ld like to know if you could make rin boyfriend headcanons please? thanks in advance! :) bisous de france and don't forget to take care of yourself <3!!

❝He looks up grinning like a devil❞

synopsis : Rin Itoshi thought he wasn’t ready for love, ever. Until he met you. And now; his heart isn’t really his anymore.

pairing : Itoshi Rin x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : none, just some fluff, some suggestive mentions - (just some kisses) but nothing really developed nor important here (kind of enemies to lovers at first, tho)

word count : 1850~ words

author-note : it’s been 8 months guys, and I’m deeply sorry for this - clearly not intentional - hiatus ! I’ve been busy with my studies and my mental health but it’s all better now <3 I’m going to answer to the few requests I have in my ask box as soon as I can. It’s longer than what I excepted 😭.. Thanks for your request, hope you like it anyway. Gros bisous à toi, et passe une super bonne journée ! (N’oublie pas de te reposer surtout)💗 take care of yourself ♡

RIN ITOSHI was an actor. Always playing the rude, cold guy. The emotionless, indifferent man who was in fact a broken little boy inside. He was a huge liar. Constantly putting a facade between him and other people. Maybe it was a shield, not to be hurt again. Maybe it was a weapon, not to be approached again. He was lonely. And he knew it very well, deep inside of his slewed heart. But wasn't solitude better than suffering? So he sticked around his old mentra. He had other things to attend to, to think of.

RIN ITOSHI despised you. No- he hated you, with all his guts. You were so annoying; always talking to his teammates, laughing with them as you brought water bottles so they could drink. Could you just do your job without talking for once ? When Ego announced you were going to replace Anri for a few weeks, because she was severely ill, he swore he was going to jump out of the window. It could’ve been anyone else - but no, Ego chose you, you out of all the qualified, useful, and actually smart people out there who wanted the job. Why ? He wasn’t the type to complain, he couldn’t care less, but just seeing you on the field made him feel a boiling anger deep in his stomach, and you felt it the first time you laid your eyes upon him.

"You got a staring problem, perhaps ?", you asked, raising an eyebrow at his staring. He looked so fucking irritating, his cold and condescending gaze fixed on you. Your tone betrayed your harsh thoughts.

"No. Just wondering why you look so boring and annoying even though I’ve never talked to you.", he answered, with a mocking tone - still, his face remained neutral, judgmental even. You scoffed.

"The feeling’s mutual."

Since that day, you two argued with each other constantly. His teammates never seemed to understand why; and Rin was too busy thinking about what comebacks he could said to your petty insults to actually explain them why you were so.. frustrating. He couldn’t understand it either. But seeing your shocked face, your scoffs and your protests, your upset behavior tainted by a sharp words just brought something new in him, something he couldn’t explain with proper words. Joy maybe ? It was fun to tease you. And it was also easy, too.

RIN ITOSHI, in all honesty, took a liking in this little game. He wouldn’t admit it, though. So, when the day came when you stopped answering his bittersweet notes and decided to ignore him, he felt strange. Weird. Why ? Wasn’t it the whole point ? Bore you until you stop to annoy him ? Why was he missing your plain, insignificant comebacks ? Your rude attitude towards him ? And now he was jealous. Jealous to see that his fellow teammates had all your attention. He wanted your attention all to himself. Because what Rin Itoshi wants, Rin Itoshi gets. And there was no way you were going to ignore him longer. He couldn’t bear it.

RIN ITOSHI decided - by his own chef - that it was enough. You were surprised, to say the least, to see Rin in front of you, completely silent, looking at you dead in the eye. You frowned, taking a step back. (Definitely not scared because he was creepy)

"Okay… I don’t think that staring is your only problem, I guess.. Can you-"

"Can you shut up, for once ? I need you for something.", he cut you before you could even finish, and you rolled your eyes. So ignoring him didn’t solve the whole thing.

"So now, you need help ?", you added, amused, "I thought you were a big boy that didn’t need the help of a "unqualified, dumb, assistant","

"I’ve changed my mind. Do you want to be the one to blame if we lose the next game ?"

You weren’t paid enough for this job. So you just sighed, accepting your defeat and your fate. Without further discussion, he dragged you to the gym. And that’s when the whole, well, quite unusual tradition took place at first.

RIN ITOSHI apologized. For his rude behavior, for his sharp words, while he was training in the gym - as you were watching his progression, of course. Every day, you were at the same hour at this exact spot in the gym, talking to Rin as he was training his already sculpted body. He was still teasing you, but this deep boiling anger in his stomach became, day by day, more.. pleasant. Until the day Isagi walked in, interrupting your little chat, and winked at him, murmuring in his ear to "make a move". That’s when he connected the dots. He had feelings for you.

Confessing his feelings was hard. Especially since Anri came back. You were supposed to leave in a few days, and Rin couldn’t help but feel the sting in his heart. Was he going to see you again ? He couldn’t let you go just like that. Not after what you’ve did to him. So the last day, after you had greeted all his teammates, you walked out the door of the Blue Lock’s building, a sigh leaving your lips. He wasn’t there. How foolish to think that maybe, your feelings were reciprocated. You walked away, until something - no, someone, grabbed your wrist. It was Rin. You turned to face him, surprised. You opened your mouth to say something-

"I like you. A lot. Fuck- No. I love you. Don’t go just yet. Please."

And how could you refuse this confession ? (You can’t anyway.)

RIN ITOSHI and you started dating after that. He was a little stiff at the beginning; the man wasn’t used to be loved nor taken care of. So you taught him. Light touches here and there; Rin was a quiet, shy, yet attentive lover. He wasn’t too fond of PDA : first, he didn’t want to include you in paparazzi issues, and second, he wasn’t completely comfortable in public in general. He would put his hand on the small of your back in a crowded street to show you the way, lock your pinkies together all the time, probably press a kiss on your hairline; but that’s all he would do in public.

"This way, love. Careful, we don’t want you to get lost, do we ?"

RIN ITOSHI, in private, is a touch-starved, self-deprived boy who needs your whole attention and affection. Please, cuddle him. Let him be the little spoon, and he would absolutely melt. He’s putty in your hands as soon as you reach for him. Lay down on the couch, with him resting on your chest, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep as you fingers play gently with his hair, softly scratching his scalp just like he likes it. If you stop, he will wake-up in no time; glaring at you with a slight pout on his lips.

"I didn’t know I asked you to stop."

"My hand hurts, Rin."

"Bold of you to assume that I care."

"Please ? Just for 5 minutes.", he added in a whisper after some seconds, practically begging for your touch. His sudden change of attitude caused you to chuckle.

RIN ITOSHI absolutely dies for your kisses. He lives for them, okay ? Your plush lips pressed against his, with you sitting on his lap as his hands traveled to the back of your thighs, holding you in place. One arm around his neck, the other hand supporting yourself by grabbing his shoulder, he swears he could spent hours just making out with you. His tongue buried down your throat, bodies grinding and pressed against each other’s as you both let your eager lips devour your love.

RIN ITOSHI who kisses your insecurities away (literally). He knows exactly what it feels like to have insecurities and to be misunderstood about them, so don’t worry (he’s definitely an overthinker too.) You’re not going to be insecure on his watch. He would reassure you all the time, taking his precious time whispering sweet nothings in your ear, hyping you up. He wants you to be the most comfortable possible around him. Communication is the main key in your relationship. He took some time to finally let down his walls, so he intends you to do the same : without any pressure, of course. You can trust him, he can trust you. You both rely on each other’s back, and you can always count on him for anything. He’s not a man of many words, but for you, he would make an effort.

"Shh, darling. Come on, look at me, please,", he gently tilted your chin up for you to look at him, "dry those tears, my love. I’ve never met someone as strong, as beautiful and as courageous as you. If only you could see yourself with my eyes.. Don’t listen to them. They’re just jealous of you. Honestly, they should be jealous of me. After all, what did I do to deserve an angel like you ?"

RIN ITOSHI was an actor. Always playing the rude, cold guy. The emotionless, indifferent man who was in fact a broken little boy inside. He was a huge liar. And perhaps you could heal the broken inner-child that still suffer in silence today. But with certainty, with you, behind closed doors, maybe- maybe, for you, he could grow into a whole different person.

"I think that.. I think that I like the person I am when I’m with you. Does it make sense ? Yeah. You bring a side of me that I don’t want to let go. I think it’s a soulmate thing, don’t you think so ?"

[lacontroller1991]

After Hours (Ernest Lawrence x AFAB!Reader x J. Robert Oppenheimer)

Main Master List || MISC Master List

Summary: Oppenheimer, finding himself in sexual frustration, runs to Lawrence and reader where Lawrence is more than willing to share reader.

Author's Note: THIS IS PURELY FICTIONAL. IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM DOES THIS ACTUALLY REPRESENT THE REAL PEOPLE THAT WERE LAWRENCE AND OPPENHEIMER. IF YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE WITH THIS, PLEASE SCROLL AWAY.

Author's Note 2: So I haven't really posted in a while and this is something new for me, so this is my trial run. I do have stuff planned for whumptober but that'll be next month. - SIDE NOTE I am currently obsessed with Josh Hartnett's interpretation of the character, a forewarning - SIDE SIDE NOTE, THANK YOU TO @arieslost FOR THE KICK ASS NAME

Warnings: SMUT 18+, cuckhold, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), semi Public sex, p in v sex, body shots, pet names, masturbation and language

Word Count: 2.3k

==========

The lab is relatively quiet for a Tuesday night. Not a sound can be heard apart from your pen scratching against the papers and Lawrence lightly tapping his shoe against the floor. When the two of you had met, you were his student, then you became his TA, and now, you’re still his TA but you’re also his. The first couple weeks of your relationship with him, neither of you could keep your hands off each other. Homeworks wouldn’t get graded and more often than not, both of you were extremely tired the next day. Now, it’s much more mellow. The two of you had decided to try and keep it out of the lab, but sometimes that’s easier said than done. Like now.

Setting down the papers, you involuntarily squeeze your legs and let out a frustrated sigh, but Lawrence makes no comment. “Ernie.” If there were any students in the lab, you would strictly refer to him as Dr. Lawrence, but when no one is around? All bets are off the table.

“Yes honey?”

“When can we go home?” Lawrence sets his papers down, adjusting his glasses and looking you over, desperation written all over your face. With a smirk, he kicks his legs up on his desk, readjusting the papers in his lap and clicking his tongue.

“I don’t know hon, I have all these papers to grade and the less you help, the longer it’s going to take.” His comment irks you but you know he’s right. Picking up the papers again, you try to scan them over as quickly as you can, oblivious to the quantum physicist walking into the room, Lawrence on the other hand notices instantly. “Well, look who’s here.” His voice tears your already frail concentration away as you focus on Oppenheimer, jacket tossed on one of the chairs. 

“I’m tired of her playing games.” He crashes on the seat next to you and takes out his pipe, lighting it up while you and Lawrence share a brief look in confusion. You don’t really know what Oppie is going on about, but from what you understand from Ernest, it’s about a woman named Jean.

“What did she do this time?”

“She calls me, says she wants me, I go over, she kicks me out. She got me worked up for nothing,” Robert complains as Lawrence raises an eyebrow, taking a brief look at you but your eyes are raking down his body. You and Lawrence have spoken, rather in depth, on your mutual attraction towards the Quantum Theorist. Lawrence’s attraction is more on an intellectual level while yours is more on a sensual level. 

“Anything we can do to help?” You offer quietly, repositioning yourself towards Oppenheimer and fixing your blouse. Oppenheimer’s cold blue eyes fixate briefly on your bosom before shaking his head, focusing on his pipe.

“Not unless you have a way to relieve my tension.” Your eyes flick to Ernest silently asking if you can, only to receive a slight nod of his head, his eyes returning to his papers.

“Well, I can,” you comment, setting your own papers down on Lawrence’s desk before pulling the pipe out of Oppie’s hands and sliding onto his lap, your legs resting comfortably on either side of his hips.

“Uh- Lawrence?” Oppenheimer’s eyes flick behind you and try to find Ernest’s only to find them still focused on the papers and not really caring.

“Go ahead and enjoy yourself Robert. She’s really skilled.” It’s all the convincing Oppie needs before his eyes focus on your face, your hips slowly rocking against his. 

“I- um- not really sure if you should be- doing this,” he swallows, trying to keep his eyes on your face as your hands trace down his chest. 

“Why not? Daddy said it was ok.” You can hear Lawrence snort in amusement as Robert nods, leaning back in the seat, his hands falling to your hips as he begins to take control. Leaning down, you press your lips against his neck, gently sucking on the supple skin right below his ear, causing his eyes to flutter close.

“Dear- ar-,” he lets out a little moan as your hand moves between yours and his body, gently grazing against his hardon.

“Wow, so Oppie can shut up.” Lawrence’s comment stifles a laugh out of you as you lean back, removing your shirt and bra, discarding them onto the floor of the Rad Lab. Oppenheimer’s eyes instantly fall to your breasts, his hands reading up and gently running the pads of his thumbs against your nipples, causing you to let out a soft moan. Looking up from his paper, Lawrence watches you with a smirk before returning to his work, ignoring the way his cock begins to press against his slacks.

“Lawrence?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure it’s okay if I take her?” Oppenheimer asks as you continue to undress yourself, leaving you in nothing except your stockings, knowing just how much Lawrence likes them on you.

“I’m not in control of her, you have to ask her yourself.” A wave of arousal goes between your legs, because no, Lawrence IS in control of you. For him to suggest otherwise is his way of foreplay.

“Well?” Oppie’s question breaks you out of your thoughts as you drop yourself back on his lap, immediately feeling the length of Oppenheimer’s cock. 

“Yes, Dr. Oppenheimer.” You can visibly see the way Oppie’s pupils dilate before he’s picking you up and placing your back on the desk, one of his hands shoving down his suspenders and pants to his thighs, letting his cock spring free. 

Looking up from his papers, Lawrence watches the way Oppenheimer begins to guide his member towards your heat. 

“You might want to go in at a slight angle, it gets the job done much faster.” 

“Who said I want to get it done fast?” Oppenheimer retorts, his eyes focused on Lawrence behind him and not the way you’re touching yourself underneath him. Lawrence though, sees your deft hand rubbing tight circles against your clit. 

“If you don’t get it done sooner rather than later, she’s gonna lose interest.” Lawrence’s comment has Oppie’s head turning right back to you causing his dick to twitch at the sight. “Besides,” Lawrence slaps the papers on his desk, making his way over to you and Oppie before sitting down on the edge of his desk, “I would still like to have a turn with her.”

“Are you going to watch?” You ask with a small smile causing him to smile back. 

“Yes sweetheart, now why don’t you show Oppie just how nice you feel.” Lawrence smirks, his eyes watching your body intensely as Oppenheimer begins to push the head of his cock in, grunting as he meets resistance. You, on the other hand, let out a moan at the feeling of his cock stretching you out. “How does he feel honey?”

“So good,” you moan out, wiggling your hips and looking up to the physicist above you, “you can move.” Oppie nods his head, his hips starting a steady pace, trying to not look to Lawrence for approval. Leaning over you, Oppenheimer places a tentative kiss on your nipple before taking it between his teeth causing you to let out a sharp gasp of surprise. Picking up his pace, sweat begins to trickle on his forehead as your moans get louder, your nails scratching at his biceps while your hips cant up. 

Feeling the beginning of your orgasm, you reach one hand down between your bodies and begin to rub your clit, eyes fluttering close and chasing the feeling, barely registering the fact that Lawrence is commanding Oppie on what to do. “I’m close.” “We know baby girl, just hold on a little longer.” Oppenheimer comments, his hips thrusting wildly as he chases his own orgasm while he looks to Lawrence, “where?”

“She likes it on her tits. But make sure she cums first.” Oppenheimer nods his head, trying to keep his pace as best as possible so that you can cum. “Come on honey, cum for Robert,” Lawrence whispers in your ear while petting your hair in soothing strokes, sending you toppling over the edge.

“Oh fuck,” you let out a long moan as Oppenheimer continues to thrust into you, helping you ride out your high before slipping out of you and jerking off, hot ropes of his cum landing on your stomach and tits. Both you and Oppenheimer breathe heavily for a minute before you sit up, his cum dripping off your body and onto the floor, while Lawrence smiles like a proud parent.

“Good job Oppie,” Lawrence claps Oppie on the shoulder before his hands unbutton his slacks and push them down, taking a seat at his desk chair, “but let me show you how it’s done.” His focus shifts to you, a lustful look in his eyes. “Well kitten?”

You raise a brow as a smirk forms on your face. “Yes Dr. Lawrence?”

“Why don’t you show me and Dr. Oppenheimer what that pretty little mouth of yours can do,” Lawrence comments as you nod your head, walking over to him before sinking to your knees in between his strong thighs. Judging by how hard he is and how much he’s already leaking, you’re thoroughly shocked he didn’t pull you off of Oppenheimer and just have his way with you. Despite Lawrence being a gentleman to all those who he crosses paths with, he sure loves to manhandle you. Wasting no time, you immediately grab ahold of his member and run your tongue along the thick vein on the underside. If Lawrence felt any sort of pleasure he’s not making it known. Normally, he makes all sorts of noises but you suppose it’s probably Oppie being in the room and Lawrence’s need to establish himself as an alpha male, which you will tease him about later.

Looking up through your lashes, you place a tender kiss to the head of his cock and you can barely see his breath hitch. Wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue collects the precum that has leaked causing Lawrence’s hand to weave into your hair.

“Think you can take a little more honey?” You nod in response, relaxing your throat as much as possible before his hand starts guiding you up and down on his cock. Reaching up with the hand that’s not wrapped around his member, you gently roll his balls in your hands, aware of the way Oppenheimer watches like there’s nothing else in the world. “You’re doing such a good job honey, just like that,” Lawrence tosses his head back, eyes screwed shut and mouth open in ecstasy as his hips lightly thrust into your mouth. Twisting your hand around his cock, you moan softly causing his hips to briefly falter. Picking up your pace, the sound of you gagging around your lover’s cock echoes in the lab, that and fapping? Looking over briefly, you can make out Oppenheimer’s hand pumping his own cock up and down as if he was watching his own personal porn, in which case, he is.

“Fuck honey, don’t stop.” You can tell that Lawrence is close by the way his hand flexes in your hair. Nodding your head, you take him as deep as you possibly can, your own moans sending vibrations around his cock before it twitches in your mouth. Lawrence lets out a small grunt as he holds your head still around his cock while your hand continues to rub the base of his cock, trying to help him ride out his high as you hear another grunt, this time a little further away. After coming down from his high, Lawrence gently pulls your face off his cock with a lopsided smile. “Now are you going to swallow?” You tilt your head back and swallow his load, loving the way both men have their eyes on you. “Ain’t she a beaut Robert?”

“Yes she is. Wish I had someone so… obedient.” Lawrence chuckles, tucking himself back in before leaning down and kissing you, deciding to ignore the taste of himself on your lips. Standing up to his full height, Lawrence offers you a hand and pulls you up, placing his jacket around your shoulders.

“Well, that was fun,” you comment as Lawrence pulls you into his side, being slightly more possessive now that the sexual tension is dissipating. Oppenheimer immediately picks up on it.

“Right, well, I should get going. Thank you both for that. It was much needed.” You move to respond but Lawrence’s hand grips onto you just a little tighter.

“You’re welcome. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Robert nods his head and dips out of the room, closing the door and leaving you and Lawrence there alone. Turning in his grasp, you reach up and fix his glasses while he kisses the palm of your hand.

“What was with the sudden possessiveness?” He scoffs before picking you up and placing you on his desk, slotting himself between your legs and kneeling on the floor.

“Because, even though we both like him, you belong to me and he needs to know that. Now, let me take care of you, okay?” He presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing your eyes to flutter shut.

“Sounds good to me.”

==========

Author's Note 3: Thank you to a few certain people who made me confident enough to post this, I could not have done it without you guys <3

Tagging just in case: @floralcyanide @arieslost @darkmoviesquotespizza @cranesbathtowel @madlittlecriminal

[hayffiebird]

Taste of Strawberries, chap. 55 (part three)

Hayffie Post-Mockingjay (Canon divergence) Multi-chapter, Rated M

Four years have passed since the end of the war when Effie becomes a fixture in Haymitch’s life once again. An old friendship is rekindled. Will it lead to something more?

Meanwhile, Panem has entered a new era. The rebellion’s over, the borders are open but in the shadows, anger and mistrust are smoldering. Something which will affect Haymitch and Effie’s life in a way they never saw coming. READ MORE

Author's note: SUNRISE ON THE REAPING SPOILERS!

The chapter contains easter eggs from SOTR and I also borrowed (caugh*stole*caugh) the Covey history scene and the Lucy Gray mention below. Hope you like Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber. I had SO much fun writing them here. Poor Haymich, haha!

We're reaching the end of this haydove chapter, only one more part to go - which will be up later this May - and then it's back to hayffie. Lots of DRAMA coming up for our beloved mentor and escort, and their little family.

Chapter 55, The dove and the butterfly (part three)

A group of long-legged waterbirds enjoyed themselves in the shallows. They were impressive creatures, no doubt. Surefooted. Beaks as long as sword blades. The sun, fully up now, played over their cool blue-gray plumage.

Water splattered as Tara’s dog bounced forward, then back again, yapping and barking at the birds. His tiny paws disturbed a batch of katniss plants, whose hallmark arrow-shaped leaves were just emerging.

The birds couldn’t care less. They barely deigned Gus with a glance. One clattered its thin, narrow beak and the dog bolted to the safety of Haymitch’s company. There he gave a wet shake and panted with glee, tongue sticking out, when the boy complained loudly.

Haymitch’s reflection swam on the surface, as he crouched by the water’s edge. He filled the empty jam jar, removed a stray leaf and settled the flowers inside.

The cabin by the lake was close to a two-hour trek. But worth it! And he always picked a bouquet on the way over here. Flowers, when they were in season. Twigs with pretty leaves and berries during the fall.

Today, they were bluebells, buttercups and lily of the valley. A nice combo of colors, he thought. He gave them a tentative sniff.

Water dripped down his wrist, when he carried his poor man’s vase back to the cabin. A solid rock propped the door open, to clear out the stuffy air. Tara just swept out the last of the dust, old leaves and dead bugs, using an old broom that Burdock fashioned.

She smiled his way when he placed the flowers in its usual spot: the glassless window overlooking the lake. The hot sun made a star of light in the old jar.

Putting the broom away, his girl sighed and stretched before she settled in the open doorway, back against the frame. With two easy twists, she removed her cracked, brown shoes. Flexed her toes against the warm wood, and Gus instantly flopped at her feet, head on top of them.

Haymitch joined her. Fitted himself snuggly in the door. Her knee, warm and downy, touched his and his hands immediately found hers.

The lake house felt like their place. His and Tara’s. A go-to spot far out in the wilderness where they could be alone. Far away from any living person. A place to call their own.

Not that he ever said it for Clerk Carmine to hear.

“This cabin was like a second home to them”, Tara once said, and by “them” she meant the Covey of course. “They went fishing and swimming here, collected eggs and harvested katniss roots. The family was much bigger then.”

It was Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber who first showed them this place, during a picnic. Well, showed Tara. Haymitch was just third wheeling. A spare tire, really.

The two men had been polite enough, but he couldn’t escape the feeling that they viewed him sort of like one would an annoying neighbor who’d accidentally locked himself out.

As if they were just hoping and waiting for someone to come take him off their hands.

The picnic took place on an unusually hot Wednesday. Clerk Carmine and Tam Amber had taken half a day off work for a change, to treat themselves to an outing. A daytrip. Just the family. And Haymitch.

Once they arrived at the lake, Tam Amber immediately reclined in the shade of an old willow tree, finding some relief from the beating sun. He puffed on a pipe, stuffed with a fresh batch of his favorite tobacco, until he finally tilted his feathered hat forward, and snored within the minute.

Clerk Carmine, on the other hand, spent most of his break, watching Haymitch like a hawk, making sure the boy didn’t ogle Tara in her bathing suit or – God forbid! – touched even an inch of her sun-warm skin. For two hours straight, his eyes shot daggers Haymitch’s way like, “I will hold you underwater, I swear I will do it!”

And since Haymitch enjoyed being alive and breathing, he put his best foot forward and kept a wide berth between himself and Tara.

Finally, Clerk Carmine grabbed a block of handmade soap that smelled funky and waded into the lake. With water reaching him mid-thigh, he washed what was left of his hair, dressed up in a pair of the largest, most patched up underwear-turned-bathing-trunks Haymitch had seen in his life.

They had bluegill for lunch. Tam Amber swiftly cleaned, gutted and cut the catch up into pieces, wrapped the fish in leaves and sprigs of some kind of herb he picked, and Tara arranged them in the embers of the fire.

Haymitch devoured his serving, but too anxious to ask for seconds. The Covey’s cooking put even ma’s to shame. And yet, he knew this would be their last outing as a quartet. Fivesome, if you counted Gus.

The two men didn’t say it in so many words, but Haymitch could tell they didn’t really want him there. He saw the words in Clerk Carmine’s eyes as clearly as if they’d been sky-written.

You’ve had years to get to know her. Now it’s our turn.

Haymitch couldn’t escape the feeling that the lake was all an audition of sorts. One he failed miserably. He bent over backwards and yet, nothing he did seemed right.

But they adored Tara. That’s all that really mattered. And they didn’t use their powers to try and turn her against her mother, despite Gwen’s smoke and mirrors – which was something Haymitch respected.

Especially given how hard it must have been for them, having to watch the girl grow up from afar.

“It’s like I’ve gotten two uncles”, Tara said, only days after her dramatic run-away to the Covey’s house. “Honorary uncles.”

Ever since her mother’s secret was out of the bag, hardly a day went by without Tara spending at least a few hours with her two new relatives on her pa’s side.

”Looking back, I feel like I should’ve connected the dots earlier”, she told Haymitch. “Because in their own way … they’ve always looked out for me. Even from afar. I know that if something had ever happened to ma. If Joe had … I wouldn’t be alone. They would have stepped up. Raised me. The Covey look out for their own.”

And not only had her small family suddenly grown by two members. Throughout this drama, she’d gotten closer to her mother as well. A mother who now answered all questions asked.

Watching the two Chance girls over the years, Haymitch had had this notion that Gwen didn’t know quite what to do with her daughter. At least not her teenage daughter.

His own ma was helicoptery in comparison. Overly involved. Breathing down his neck. Especially after he started venturing into the woods.

This used to make him envious of Tara’s freedom. The way her mother let her run wild, doing whatever she pleased at any given moment.

But as he got older and wiser, he had to admit to himself that, given the choice, he’d rather have a ma who held him accountable for his actions and expected him to pull his weight, over one who didn’t even seem to notice whether you were home in the morning or in bed at night.

Now, of course, he knew he misjudged Gwen Chance. There was much more to it, than met the eye.

Kit Raven. Meaghen. Who wouldn’t want a different life for their child after such an upbringing?

Having all the facts, it only made sense that Gwen wanted Tara to live the life she never had.

It explained something else too.

Mrs. G had always, always – from day one – been supportive of him and Tara. She was one of the few who gave them her blessing from the start. Who whole-heartedly welcomed Haymitch as one of the family. An integral part of her daughter’s life. Here to stay.

“If you like Haymitch, I like Haymitch”, she told Tara and that was that. Nothing more to it.

As far as the “uncles” were concerned, Haymitch reckoned they believed Tara could do far better than him. Deterred, probably, by Gwen and Kit Raven’s tragic love story. Afraid history would repeat itself and who could blame them?

Tara hated them being at odds, so Haymitch did his best to try and get on their good side.

Even if that meant taking a quiet step out of the pretty family picture, allowing those three to have their picnics and dinners and catch-ups in peace.

Haymitch still saw her every chance he got. Her and Burdock.

The Everdeen boy was another lake house regular and he taught Haymitch how to swim. Since then, the two of them went skinny-dipping, well into the fall. Tara giggled her little socks off when she heard.

Their own hours spent by the lake were precious and rare and here’s where she told him everything about the Covey. Stories and details gathered from Clerk Carmine, Tam Amber and her ma.

Apparently, her people were great travelers once, going from district to district to perform their music.

Tam Amber remembered it, as he was about Haymitch’s age when the war ended and the peacekeepers rounded up the Covey, killing all the adults and confining the kids to this district.

Tara loved those stories of the old days, with her kin rattling around in a broken-down pickup. When fuel got scarce, they resorted to hitching it up to a team of horses. By the time they were herded into Twelve, the team was pulling an old wagon and most of them were on foot.

But they were making it work, cooking over open fires, rolling into towns, playing in warehouses like the Hob, or fields if none were available. Famous in their way to the locals.

Haymitch was sure their life had its trials, but she had such a romantic view of it, he never mentioned that.

Returning to it was impossible, since no one could leave Twelve, and her uncles would never entertain the idea of hitting the road again.

But Tara was convinced there must be people outside of Panem. Far to the north. Sometimes she took to disappearing deep in the woods without him, and he worried she'd not come back. Not really, but a little.

When asked, Tam Amber and Clerk Carmine got her a faded overall – similar to the ones they wore. The latter threw in a shirt too, for good measure and Haymitch quickly noticed that Tara developed a habit of concealing snippets of color in her new attire.

A bright blue handkerchief peeking from her pocket. A raspberry ribbon stitched inside her cuff.

“What’s that from?” he asked once, running a finger against one of the rainbow ruffles. Old and ragged.

Tara hesitated, then said, almost reluctantly,

“It’s from her dress.”

“Who?”

She gave him a pointed look.

“Her.”

And that’s when Haymitch knew.

Her, could only mean one person.

Their victor. Their victor before their victor. Before Sophie.

A ghost girl, if there ever was one. From long ago. A girl no one seemed to know anything about.

When he was still just a kid, he didn’t even know Twelve had won the crown twice. He never saw anyone but Sophie in the clips of the old Games, but then again those early efforts were rarely featured, as they were said to be badly filmed and lacking in spectacle.

Back then, barely anyone in Twelve had a television, so the Games were mostly hearsay.

His parents weren’t even born yet and even Sae couldn’t (or wouldn’t) tell him much about the girl. She always got this sad look about her, whenever he brought it up.

Around the time he and Tara got serious, he figured there must be more to this victor’s absence on screen, than just poor production quality.

A reason why the Capitol focused so hard on Sophie, and her “beast mother”, whenever Twelve’s victories came up.

He hardly ever breached the subject with Tara though, because she never wanted to discuss her.

She’d much rather talk about her pa, and Haymitch got that. Kit Raven was her childhood hero. Just like Dom was his.

“The raven’s the biggest songbird there is”, she smiled, head rested against his lap, during one of their lazy afternoons. ”Did you know they use logic to solve things?”

“Got me beat there”, he had to admit, running his fingers through her hair.

“And nobody tells them what to say. That bird is who I want to be when I grow up. Someone who says whatever they think is right, no matter what. Like pa.”

Tara sighed.

“I keep wondering what my life would be like. If I’d gotten to have him in it. Maybe I would’ve burned flags and sung forbidden songs right alongside him”, she said, cheeks flushed with pride.

Yeah, thought Haymitch. And flogged right alongside him too. Or hanged or tortured or shot on sight.

He understood his girl’s grief, her frustration, but he had to agree with her uncles on this one. Her uncles and her ma. Even that nutcase auntie.

Why ask for trouble?

What could a couple of kids do, in the face of the Capitol? In the face of Snow?

And if it was possible to end the Games, wouldn’t someone have done it already? In 50 years time?

But Tara just wouldn’t let it go. For a girl who was quiet in public she sure could talk up a storm in private. About the reaping. The Games. The tesserae system. And, most of all: her wish to someway somehow someday, paint her own poster, just like her father did.

A worrying prospect, to say the least. Haymitch did his best to try and distract her from such dark and dangerous thoughts.

Maybe that’s why Gwen kept it a secret all this time, he thought.

Maybe she recognized that stubbornness – that will to fight back – because it was also Kit Raven’s. Kit Raven, who died for his beliefs.

And she simply didn’t want to water that seed; to add fuel to an already restless fire, lest it burned the forest down.

Another subject Tara didn’t enjoy dwelling on – not if she could help it – was the truth behind Pissin’ Joe’s murder. Or, more precisely: murderer.

Did it even matter? In the end? It could be anyone, and neither Tara nor Haymitch had any way of knowing for sure either way.

But sometimes, in the dead of night, when Haymitch lay awake, buried beneath quills, feeling his little brother’s snuffy breaths against his neck, he couldn’t help but wonder if Clerk Carmine or Tam Amber had something to do with it.

The Covey look out for their own.

He supposed it was too much to hope for that the sickly Meaghen was the one holding the knife. As a twisted way of atoning for her crimes against her baby sister.

Haymitch never pressed the issue though, given how utterly opposed Tara was to put a face on Joe’s assassin. He reckoned that was a bear you best not disturb.

And even if one or both uncles were somehow guilty, who could blame them, really?

Wouldn’t he, Haymitch, have done the same thing? If someone threatened the life of Tara or ma or Amadeus?

Tara gave his fingers a soft squeeze, bringing him back to himself.

“What’re you thinking about?” she smiled. “Care to share?”

“What am I thinking about?”

“Mm.”

Head tilted back against the doorpost, Haymitch stared across the shimmering blue waters. Never letting go of his love’s hand.

“I’m thinking that I’m happy”, he said. “Because I know you. We live in a piece of shit world … but at least we get to be alive at the same time. The same place. I keep wondering, what’re the odds for that? How many thousands of years? How many billions of people? And we still met. We get to be together. I’ll always be grateful for that.” His gray gaze found hers, held it, and he gave her knee a soft nudge with his own. “And for you, T. Always.”

To be continued …

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 4

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Damen knew the answer to that question. Laurent was not going to kill him. He was going to break him. Here, in front of everyone.

we all need hobbies. that just happens to be one of laurent’s

The men returned to camp boneless and exhausted with no energy to complain that their leader was a blond, blue-eyed fiend, curse him.

‘You just surprised me,’ said Damen. ‘Sometimes I think I understand you, and at other times I can’t make you out at all.’ ‘Believe me, that sentiment is mutual.’

‘The men think you bend me over inside the tent,’ said Laurent. He said it in the same calm way he said everything. Damen fumbled the vambrace. ‘It would erode my authority. My carefully cultivated authority. Now I have really surprised you. Perhaps if you were not a foot taller, or quite so broad across the shoulders.’ ‘It’s considerably less than a foot,’ said Damen. ‘Is it?’ said Laurent. ‘It feels like more when you argue with me on points of honour.’

laurent: i can’t promote you because everyone thinks you’re fucking me every night. it would make me look weak. damen: ?????? laurent: you appear to be surprised by this. maybe they wouldn’t think so, if you weren’t so tall and strong damen: i’m not that tall laurent: you seem to think you are, with how high and mighty you act

‘I want you to know,’ said Damen, carefully, ‘that I haven’t done anything to encourage the idea that I—that you and I—’ ‘If I thought you had, I’d have had you tied to a post and flogged until your front matched your back.’

somehow, this is a positive interaction for them. laurent admits that he knows damen wouldn’t ever take advantage of him, or view/portray him as a sexual object like so many other people do. this almost certainly means a lot to laurent, even though he can’t/won’t admit it.

Laurent wasn’t loved. Laurent wasn’t liked. Even among his own men, who would follow him off a cliff, there was the unequivocal consensus that Laurent was, as Orlant had once described him, a cast iron bitch, that it was a very bad idea to get on his bad side, and that as for his good side, he didn’t have one.

this has the same energy as regina george writing about herself in the burn book as a power move. laurent, to a degree, curates this image in order to maintain what little power he actually has.

actually, laurent has a lot of regina george energy. “raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by laurent of vere.” “he’s a life ruiner. he ruins people’s lives.”

now that i think of it, laurent has heather chandler (the og regina george) energy too. "mythic bitch" "they all want me as a friend or a fuck" "well fuck me gently with a chainsaw, do i look like mother theresa?"

It didn’t matter. Laurent gave orders and they were followed. Men found when they tried to baulk that they couldn’t. Damen, who had been manoeuvred variously into kissing Laurent’s foot and eating sweetmeats from his hands, understood the machinery that confronted and compelled them, deep-buried individually in each circumstance.

"Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people 'real life.' She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you're beautiful." - Heathers (1998)

Damen was aware that what he was witnessing was nascent kingship, the first flexings of command of a prince born to rule, though Laurent’s brand of leadership—equal parts consummate and disturbing—was nothing like his own.

nice vs good theme! damen is starting to reconsider some things—okay, laurent is a bitch, but he’s actually doing something good here? like i’d want to accomplish the same things, i’d just go about it more nicely? hmmmm

The mercenary had enough of the sympathy of his fellows that there was the danger of a minor insurrection if Laurent ordered him put on the post. A crowd gathered. Laurent didn’t order him put on the post. Laurent flayed him, verbally. It was not like his exchanges with Govart. It was cool, explicit, appalling, and it reduced a grown man in front of the troop as utterly as his sword thrust had done. The men got back to work after that. Damen heard one of them say, in a tone of awed admiration, ‘That boy has got the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard.’

HE IS REGINA GEORGE! HE IS HEATHER CHANDLER! HE IS THAT BITCH!

‘I’ve seen him. Last week he had half the camp at each other’s throats.’ ‘He’s all right,’ said Jord. ‘It’s only that he’s highborn, and not used to rough company. He’s doing the right thing by what he knows, it’s just that the rules are different. Like how it is with you.’

jord you have no idea how right you are. also i love how he just casually implies damen is a nepo hire lmaooo

is this perhaps our second lamen hr complaint? laurent giving damen special privileges? jord isn’t really complaining, though, it’s more of an observation. but he would have GROUNDS to complain. i’ll count it. lamen hr complaint #2 (jord).

‘I’ve never bedded anyone highborn,’ said Jord. ‘Is it different?’ Damen flushed when he realised what Jord was assuming. ‘He . . . We don’t. He doesn’t. As far as I know, he doesn’t with anyone.’ ‘As far as anyone knows,’ said Jord. ‘If he didn’t have a mouth on him like a harlot in a guardsroom, I’d think he was a virgin.’ Damen was silent. He drained his mug, frowning a little. He wasn’t interested in these endless speculations. He didn’t care who Laurent took to bed.

i would like to believe that laurent has developed his creative vocabulary simply because he is clever, theatrical, and well-read.

however, i think the more likely reason is that those words were used towards him for years, thus becoming a part of his vocabulary.

so that’s fun.

After a moment, Damen said, ‘Speaking of difficult men, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.’

i wonder if damen meant this to be an insult to laurent, as well as a conversational transition to govart. either way it’s funny

‘Why did you leave Govart alive?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You know why not.’

this is a great parallel to their dynamic in book 1. there were a few instances in the early chapters where damen challenged laurent’s morals/decisions, was asked “why not?”, and took the question as laurent inherently disagreeing with his concern. but here, damen does not seem to assume the worst of laurent’s actions or questioning. he actually WANTS to hear his plan, and help to make it better. and he’s much more confident in calling laurent out on his shit, because he sees laurent as something of an equal.

“you know why not” = “i’m not playing this game. we’re on the same page about what needs to be done. explain how your approach is supposed to work, or else accept my solution instead.”

‘You were well within your rights after Govart charged at you. And there was no shortage of witnesses. There’s something else.’ ‘There’s something else,’ Laurent agreed, looking at Damen with steady eyes. As he spoke he lifted his cup and took a sip. All right.

context: laurent knows the regent is somehow indebted to govart, so it’s futile to try to use govart’s bad behavior to manipulate the regent

‘It was an impressive fight.’ ‘Yes, I know,’ said Laurent. He didn’t smile when he said things like that. He sat relaxed, with the cup now dangling from his long fingers, and gazed back at Damen steadily.

‘I was never a fighter,’ said Laurent. ‘That was Auguste. But after Marlas, I was obsessed with . . .’ Laurent stopped. Damen could see the moment when Laurent decided to continue. It was deliberate, his eyes meeting Damen’s, his tone subtly changed. ‘Damianos of Akielos was commanding troops at seventeen. At nineteen, he rode onto the field, cut a path through our finest men, and took my brother’s life. They say—they said—he was the best fighter in Akielos. I thought, if I was going to kill someone like that, I would have to be very, very good.’ Damen was silent after that. The impulse to talk flickered out, like the candles in the moment before they were snuffed into darkness, like the last dying warmth of the embers in the brazier.

first of all, laurent, you’re so real for the swordfighting obsession. make that ptsd hypervigilance work for you.

second: the insanity of laurent knowing that damen is damianos, and saying this to his face…

this conversation is when, i think, laurent begins to perceive HIS damen and damianos of akielos as two different people. it indicates the splintering of something private and complex within laurent’s mind, that we can understand on a re-read based on previous and future characterization. left unsupervised, laurent’s main coping mechanisms—pretending, dissociation, and self-isolation—combine with his strongest traits—force of will, calculated risk-taking, and overall commitment to the bit—to eventually place him in an emotional purgatory of his own design.

the delusion is both subconscious and conscious, in a way only an experienced overthinker like laurent can accomplish. he knows it’s impossible to actually separate damen from damianos, and that knowledge at this point in the story probably brings him comfort. whatever he says or does, they’re still going to end up enemies in the end. and with that strong grasp on reality in place, laurent also knows he can start to play. he can pretend that they’re not enemies, that they aren’t going to hurt each other, that they haven’t hurt each other already. if laurent is actively choosing to indulge the delusion, he’s not actually being delusional. as long as he knows that he is lying to himself, and has no reluctance towards the eventual truth, he remains in control.

speaking to damen in this specific moment, laurent is almost testing the limits of his own bit. "just how insane and delusional can i get away with being here, as the only person who understands the depths of my own insanity and delusion?”

the results of this test—damen’s lack of realization or response—have given laurent a green flag to proceed. it’s almost as if he’s invincible—he’s pushed the dramatic irony of the situation to its limits, and STILL damen has no idea. so he might as well just do whatever he wants now, because nothing matters anyway. he can get to know damen, and he’ll kill damianos later. it should be totally fine, as long as he doesn’t do something ridiculous like fall in love.

of course, we know that laurent does end up falling in love with damen, fully aware that he is auguste’s killer the entire time. that’s the eventual emotional purgatory i mentioned a few paragraphs ago. laurent even has sex with damen under this ruse, which is probably the most vulnerable thing that he specifically could possibly do with anyone.

laurent’s intentional cognitive dissonance is good for us, as readers and shippers, and ultimately good for laurent himself. after all, it’s what allows him to find and eventually choose love. but he is setting himself up for a massive internal struggle for as long as the lie persists. which it will, for an absurdly long time—because the more laurent indulges damen and distinguishes him from damianos, the more he knowingly betrays his brother’s memory. laurent can handle the resulting guilt and self-loathing internally, but anyone else knowing would make that betrayal real.

meanwhile, damen’s just like, “oh fuck. he has no idea. awkward. anyway.”

‘You have to understand. Auguste was made to be the pride of any father. It’s not that there was any bad blood between Laurent and the King. More like . . . the King doted on Auguste, but didn’t spare much time for his younger son. In many ways the King was a simple man. Excellence on the field was something he could understand. Laurent was good with his mind, good at thinking, good at working his way through puzzles. Auguste was straightforward: a champion, the heir, born to rule. You can imagine how Laurent felt about him.’ ‘He resented him,’ said Damen. Paschal gave him a strange look. ‘No, he loved him. He hero-worshipped him, the way that intellectual boys sometimes do, with older boys who excel physically. It went both ways with those two. They were devoted to one another. Auguste was the protector. He would do anything for his little brother.’

damen hears these words, but he doesn’t actually Hear them yet. but we do!!!!! this pov style is so good.

Damen thought privately that princes needed seasoning not protection. Laurent in particular. He had seen Laurent open his mouth and strip paint from the walls. He had seen Laurent lift a knife and in cold blood slit open a man’s throat without so much as a flicker of his golden lashes. Laurent didn’t need to be protected from anything.

better start seasoning those words, damen, because you’re about to eat them

[romance-rambles]

HOW THE BOYS PLAY LUDO WITH EACH OTHER AND YOU

rules of the game: the goal is to have your four tokens inside the your columns. your opponents can impede your progress by stepping onto the same square as you and sending you back to the homebase ("blocking"). in some variations, two dices may be used, and rules can differ even between related families—for example, getting another turn after blocking a token or after getting your own to homebase. it can accomodate only four solo players.

— pairing: [mostly platonic] modern-day love interests & little painter/you

— word count: 977

— tags: none

— author's note: it brings me great joy that ludo is an actual activity in the itinerary. for me, ludo has always been what monopoly is to other people—breaker of bonds, with at least one person liable to flip over the board. i have no idea if someone else has done this before, but enjoy!

return to lbc masterlist | series: none

would not harm anyone unless backed into a corner; alkaid

Alkaid is perhaps the most civilized player at the table. Even as the rest of his companions holler for him to block someone's advance, he will always choose the less bloody option, unless it is the only move he can make or if someone's win [not you] is all but guaranteed and everyone else is indisposed of at the moment.

He will always apologize as he offers the loser their token back, and gracefully accepts his own losses with a smile. His preference for teaming up is with you, and his second most common team up is Clarence. He believes yellow is his lucky color, as he often ends up on the board before his peers—though he usually sabotages the wins that are handed to him on a platter.

Most often, he lets Clarence explain his options for a turn and decides his choice based on what is most beneficial for you. This often results in Lars having to physically restrain himself from bashing his head into the table, since Alkaid's playstyle is in direct opposition of his.

knows which tokens are on the chopping block, only makes use of that knowledge if it can earn him another roll; ayn

Ayn is a very competitive player. He has his next moves decided before the dice are handed over to him, and can quickly recalculate his next actions if the roll is suboptimal. Mercy is not a word present in his vocabulary—if he notices an opening, he will make use of it, especially if it's against you, often resulting in almost everyone banding against him. However, he's already against everyone, so it doesn't bother him.

He doesn't like teaming up with people, but he does demand a game of having you on his team on occasion for "fairness". He also often complains about how long you and Alkaid take in terms of deciding how to move due to his own speed—and he's absolutely a sore loser, particularly if first place went to Lars.

His preferred color is red, and he often has some of the best luck—and often the worst, as he remains the only person to successfully get three rolls of double sixes more than once, which constitutes the end of his turn without any movement on his part.

self-sufficient and absolutely ruthless, often goes easy on you; cael

Cael can be accurately described as a mix of Alkaid and Ayn. He enjoys blocking tokens whenever he can, but unlike Ayn, he enjoys taunting his opponents and he refuses to touch your team whenever possible. Often times, like Alkaid, he has to be consoled if he ends up going against you—though his intentions are decidedly less pure.

His preference is to be paired with you whenever possible, but he often ends up paired with Lars—which you find morbidly funny. Like Godheim, they often clash due to their opposing stances. If the token in their way belongs to you, Ayn often adds them to his hitlist because they take up quite a bit of time in bickering over their next move.

His preferred color is blue. He is usually never the first person to come onto the board, but he is also never the last part—which is a distinction that usually falls on you. However, he often has bouts of bad luck where he ends up with suboptimal rolls at the start and end of the game.

often takes the time to help other players [mostly you and Alkaid], just happy to hang out with friends; clarence

Clarence is an absolute sweetheart and actually a decent player. He could absolutely take the troublesome trio [Ayn, Cael, Lars] on, and does so whenever you and Alkaid hang back. But he often encourages you and Alkaid to block his tokens and often hands out the best moves without requiring anything in return—and Lars often teases him for it.

He's most often left with the color green, as all the other choices are always taken. Often, he pairs up with you or Alkaid, which Ayn encourages as it greatly speeds up the game. Among the group, he also has the distinction of being the only one who gets sad if he doesn't end up in a team, so Lars will sometimes give up his favorite spot to hang out with him.

The first time everyone played together, there were a few minor arguments about the ruleset since everyone grew up playing it differently. As he was the one who led them all to create a rulebook that still gets periodically updated, he's often the referee during any minor disputes—often caused by Ayn or Cael, who are quick to roll their dice on their turn, even if someone else has just barely finished their move. He values Lars' counsel during these moments.

self-sufficient, but enjoys pointing out the many ways in which someone can block a token; lars

Lars is chaos incarnate. If the table is yelling and screaming, he's having the time of his life. He's aware of the tokens on the board at all times and often uses that information to inform others of an optimal move—which often puts him on Ayn's hitlist since he ends up ruining Ayn's plans. Like Ayn, he always has his next moves prepared ahead of time and he often bargains when he is either asked to show mercy or offers it himself [usually to you, but sometimes, he takes pity on Alkaid and Clarence too].

He has the most variable luck among everyone. Sometimes, his run will be smooth sailing, and other times, he will have to carefully claw his way to victory with ones and twos. Despite that, he's often competing with Ayn and Cael for first, while everyone else prepares themselves for a poor showing. Very often, he's the one to suggest continuing the game until everyone has their own placements as he just enjoys the chaos.

His preferred color is also blue, hence why he often ends up paired with Cael. He rarely pairs up with you, mostly because he's the only person on the table capable of inciting a true competitive response from you—as opposed to a desire to merely keep up, like with Ayn or Cael.

[slowdripsunrise]

just kidding its not bedtime. i want to make a best of 2024 reads post but i have to update you all its been so long <- guy whos talking to herself over here. spoilers under the cut

lord okay lets see where we left off. meow.

the familiar by leigh bardugo !!!!! rated this one 5 stars, i can see how she lost some of her fans with this one as it didn't have as much magic as her other works do. but i thought the vibes were lovely and i'm always down for a waif of a male love interest. saw some people complaining that she's plagiarizing herself and copying the darkling and alina and well if she is i don't care because i never finished that series and probably never will. lol.

the fox wife by yangsze choo !!!!! oohhhhh the vibes. the snow. the grief. the silliness. ohhhhh my goodness. the characters !!!!!!!!!!! loved this one. 10/10 1000% recommend.

when among crows by veronica roth !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i haven't read anything by roth since i read divergent in maybe middle school. absolutely flabbergasted by the switch up because this was BEAUTIFUL. the setting was lush (as much as chicago can be lush) and rich and full of history and in such a short time i cared for all of the characters. the IMAGERY. of the knights literally ripping the swords from their backs. delicious. the very very very slight touch of romance and the heavier touch of yearning. also delicious. this is such a short book that i recommend to everyone even if you don't think you'll like it, took me less than a day to read. OUHGHGHGHG

the wild huntress by emily lloyd-jones !!!!!!! she did it again yall !!! fucked me up with this one i sure as hell was not expecting that . genuinely one of my favorite YA authors of all time. makes myths feel real and tangible and i was damn there in that forest. the concept is fascinating but familiar and well who doesn't love a little competition. the tragedy of knowing the best parts of you are gone. that you killed them. that the best parts of you were another person that is no longer there and well. okay i was rooting for a throuple there but the established qpr was in fact nice while it lasted and. okay note there is not actually an established in canon qpr but in my mind palace there is. anyway sorry just go read it. lol. its 2 am im tired.

summer sons by lee mandelo !!!!!! another lee mandelo book about fucked up gay people. thank you andrew for being the most repressed man alive and thank you sam for dealing with that. creeped me out because well i am a wimp but it was comforting also.

the whispering dark by kelly andrew !!!!! the second book in a row about a fucked up murderous teacher at a fucked up weird ass school. this one's just in boston not the american south. tbh i was listening to the audiobook and the accents weren't massachusetts enough for me so i turned it off but then i just kept reading lane's and colton's dialogue as blue and gansey. the vibes of those two were PALPABLE. bluesy you will find each other in every lifetime even if one of you is a fucked up demon thing. had fun.

your blood my bones by kelly andrew !!!!!!!!!!! slayed. another qpr/throuple where one of them dies. SAD! writing was gorgeous. imagery immaculate. this one i think was hyped a little bit too much for me to fully enjoy it bc i kept on waiting for something truly. truly insane to happen and well insane things did happen. and you know what they did make me insane. i don't know why i was about to complain i rated this 5 stars. i think the problem was i had just read the wild huntress which is a relatively similar sitch.... (3 people in love with each other in the woods and one of them dies) so it didn't like. blow my mind. but i still recommend.

thats it yall. now i just gotta find the jpegs for my 2024 favs post but that may be happening tomorrow. i sleep 🛏

[somevirtualnolife]

Qunlat 101

Rating: T (Kissing, Fade to black)

Pairing: Taash x Rook

Summary: Taash and Rook talk about studying Qunlat. Rook learns something pretty important about the dialect that she speaks.

Also on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61249084

Author's Notes:

I finished Veilguard and now I'm obsessed. And when I'm obsessed, I finally have inspiration to write, so here is another Taash/Rook fic.

I always thought it was kind of funny that even if you play a qunari Rook, they don't know what taamlok and kashlok means when Taash first pushes them against the wall. It's obviously implied that Rook is not as connected to their qunari background, so I figured this gave me a chance to challenge myself to figure out why my Rook (Tsura) may not know those words. I know a lot of people complain about some of the omissions in the game, but I actually take it as a way for me to explain things my way. It's sort of like a writing prompt that helps me flesh out Rook a bit more.

This is supposed to be pretty light-hearted, as it seems like I can't really do tragic or sexy lol. It's inspired by how I sometimes feel about language learning and also some of the things other folks have told me kind of happen to them.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Qunlat 101

“Taash, you busy?”

Tsura knocked on the door frame before entering Taash’s room. She scanned the area before she spotted the taller qunari mumbling to themselves on their bed, hunched over a book.

“Ah, studying. I’ll leave you to it.”

“Nah, it’s fine, I’m gonna wrap up soon anyway. Just wanted to finish this section,  in case tama quizzes me next time I visit. You can borrow it if you want.” 

“That’s okay. I can speak qunlat all right, but never really had a chance to learn how to read it, so it would be useless in my hands.” Maybe she would finally learn when all of this elven god-killing stuff was done.

“Where did you learn qunlat anyway?” Taash said, not looking up from the page they were on. “I know you said your mom went back to Par Vollen when you were young, right? Most would have lost it by the time they were adults.”

“My father picked up a decent amount, so we would switch between that and common, kind of like you and Shathan I guess,” said Tsura. “A small bit of elven too, but that one stuck less, funny enough.”

She crossed her arms and leaned back against the wall pensively.

“Then I guess on the road when we were living in the Free Marches. A lot of his work involved interpreting for Tal-Vashoth mercenaries and merchants since a lot of them didn’t speak common. He couldn’t really drop me off with friends or family considering the circumstances, so I also just ended up talking a lot with his customers, too.”

Northern Thedas was a very place different back then. Seeing a qunari outside of Seheron was nearly unheard of, let alone one that was a child. And then her father being a Tevinter elf... they couldn’t stay in one place for long. It was a wonder either of them survived.

Not to say everything now was fixed and full of peace and love, but at least she could travel to Tevinter without someone assuming she was here to convert them to the Qun.

“That’s pretty cool, actually,” Taash responded. “Also explains why you sound like that when you speak it.”

“Sound like what?”

Taash flipped the page of the book, not looking up.

“Like some battle-worn old man. Kind of bossy and condescending, too.”

The dark blue colour on Tsura’s face suddenly went pale. “Wh-what? No, I don’t. I sound like you.”

“No, I just sound angry.” Taash snorted a chuckle. “You sound like a retired leader of a kith. Heavy accent and all. Thought you knew.”

Tsura mentally reevaluated all of the interactions she had ever had when conversing in qunlat. She had always been told by other qunari growing up that they were impressed by her accent, and they always encouraged her to speak more. 

But all of those qunari were old men.

What about when she was on the galley? She met a couple of qunari there who were also…

Old men.

But then when she finally made it to Rivain, she did get to meet different qunari! Not just a bunch of old men, but an actual community of Vashoth from all sorts of backgrounds…

Who looked at her funny any time she spoke qunlat and almost always immediately did as they were told when she asked them to do something.

 Ahhh… vashedan.

“Is that why your mom immediately switches to common when I’m talking to her?” Tsura said.

“Ha—yeah. It’s also why she’s forcing me to do triple the amount of studying lately. She thinks you sound like a criminal. Certain you grew up Tal-Vashoth rather than just Vashoth. At least she complains a lot less about my pronunciation now, so thanks I guess.”

A groan exited Tsura as she slid down the wall into a crouching position and covered her face. This was bad. It wasn’t that she had a problem with being rude or threatening. Maker, using sarcasm was probably her go-to response for most of the people she’d met the past month.

It was that she had been rude and threatening without having any idea for at least 20 years.

“Dread Wolf, please take me,” she whispered to herself. Probably another expression she should take out of her lexicon considering, well, everything that was happening right now. However, much like her qunlat, it was something that was well ingrained in her and wouldn’t easily be changed, much to her great dismay.

“I mean, your dad is bas, right?” Taash said. “He probably didn’t know either since it’s not his maternal tongue. And if you’re working with mercs, they just probably thought it was funny that an imekari sounded like they were ready to tear them open a new one, or sound wistful about past battles.”

This, in fact, did not make Tsura feel any better. Instead, she started muttering to herself, cursing the fact that despite being hired for her keen eye, her ears apparently couldn’t pick up on the fact she probably bullied her way through every qunari in Rivain.

Tsura could hear Taash closed the book they were reading, most likely taking this as a sign to wrap up their studies. She always felt a little embarrassed in moments like these. Tsura was the type to keep composure over the big stuff. She was always taught that was an important quality, especially when it came to leadership. It was why she could comfort Taash in their own moments of crisis.

However, this also typically meant when a minor inconvenience happened, she was were easily thrown off. It was almost as though she only let herself feel things in small bursts. That part of her always made her feel like a child.  

She then felt a pair of large but gentle hands upon her own, carefully pulling them away from her face. Taash was squatting in front of them, their expression unbothered.  

“For starters, most of the qunari we’ve met outside of Rivain are Antaam,” they said. “And they deserve to be spoken to like they’re trash because they are trash. You don’t want to start acting all polite with ‘em because they won’t care anyway.”

“Great. So, the only people I can speak qunlat with right now are cranky old men and our enemies.” Which seemed to go hand in hand as of late. “It’s what I’ve always wanted,”

It was no wonder that she never learned terms of endearment or what taamlok and kaashlok meant. Tsura really only knew the type of qunlat to threaten, give orders, or barter down the cost of an overpriced set of armour. 

“I mean… you can still use it with me.” A bit of a sly grin surfaced on the dragon hunter’s face. They placed their hands on the wall above Tsura’s head as they leaned in. “Because you also sound sexy when you use it in bed.”

“Sounding like a cranky old man in bed is the opposite of sexy, Taash. Negative sexy, even.”   

“That’s not what I mean, dork.” they playfully tapped their right knuckle on Tsura’s forehead before letting out a sigh. “Look, I don’t normally like to talk about other partners when I’m with someone, but the girls and guys I’ve been with in the past, they like to beg. They want to beg. And that’s fun, playing the part and all.”

Taash lightly traced Tsura’s cheek with their middle knuckle, all the way down to her shoulder. “But for all your knee buckling and doe-eyed looks, you boss me around. You’re demanding, even. And when you do that with that kind of rough qunlat…”

A huff of smoke exited their mouth as they exhaled, and danced around their horns like burning incense.

“Can’t get that reading a book.”

Tsura bit her lower lip, trying to prevent whatever hue of violet was most likely showing up on her blue cheeks. Praise was something she never knew how to react to, and for something like this? 

“You know this is the weirdest compliment I’ve ever gotten about my bed manners, right?”

“So? I like what I like. Gonna break up with me with me because I like it when it’s you telling me what to do?”

They leaned in once again, but this time for a deep kiss. Their lips were warm and smoky against Tsura’s own. Her own hands then gripped at Taash’s tunic, keeping them close for a bit longer. If she wasn’t already sitting down, her knees would have buckled below her. Maker, Taash really knew her well.

“Well, if that’s what you like, I guess it can’t be helped, huh?”

“Nope. So… any orders, Rook?”

“Well, you’re making it really hard to say anything right now,” she relented. “But you need to close your door. Stays locked until I say otherwise.”

No random people bursting in, no roaring dragons, no studying. Just her and the gorgeous fire-breathing dragon hunter in front of her for the next several hours.

 Taash cracked a large smirk, before placing their right hand under Tsura’s chin and tilting it up towards theirs.

“I’ll barricade the door this time if I have to.”

[masterghandalf]

MG Reads Embers: Chapter One

Note: This is a continuation of my reread and commentary of Embers by Vathara, originally posted last fall and winter on my Dreamwidth account.

Chapter One NOTE: This is the first chapter of Embers proper, and per FF.net was first published a few months after “Theft Absolute.”

This chapter opens with an author note: Anything Avatar, not mine. (Like anyone had any doubts.) Timeline, starts within a day or two after "Theft Absolute", but before they meet up with the idiot whose dao the Blue Spirit steals. Fair warning, in this AU Iroh is less of the Martyr for Love and much more Retired Badass. No good general, no matter how peacefully retired, is going to let an officer in training get away without having some sense knocked into him. Plus, dragons get a lot more involved in the story, and the whole "fire is life" bit gets a lot more play. The chapter itself begins as Zuko snaps awake, initially fearing an ambush before realizing that he was just startled by Iroh’s snoring. We learn that Zuko is still aching from some of the wounds he sustained during Zhao’s assassination attempt on him, and that he feels Iroh must be doing even worse (though he’s reminded of what happened the last time on their journey when Iroh tried to take a relaxing soak). Zuko thinks about how he’s never been able to sleep well since his mother disappeared, and a moment later Iroh also wakes up, complaining of his old bones but saying he’ll be able to manage until the next town. Zuko has him turn over, forcing heat – but not fire – into his hands, and starts massaging his uncle’s back muscles.

Iroh compliments Zuko on his “interesting adaptation” of firebending, and Zuko claims it wasn’t an adaptation, while flashing back to Ursa’s disappearance. He says it’s based on something his mother used to do whenever he hurt himself in training, trying to keep up with Azula. Finishing up, he asks Iroh if they can get going now; Iroh is a bit bemused by the idea of eating on the road but assures Zuko he’ll be fine; Zuko is just glad he didn’t want to talk about Ursa more. We’re suddenly in Iroh’s perspective, as he wishes he’d had more time to talk with Ursa before Azulon died and she vanished. He then has a flashback to when he was awakened by a servant on the night of Zuko’s birth; it seems that Zuko was born at midnight, an ill-omened time for the Fire Nation, and was sickly and considered unlikely to live, so Ozai had already left the room when Iroh arrived. Ursa had thrown all of the servants and physicians out and called for firewood. When Iroh arrived, he saw Ursa sitting by the fire, and holding flames of all colors in her hands – and as the flames flickered, the healthier Zuko seemed to become. Iroh realized that he was witnessing firebending healing, and when it seemed the crisis was passed, he told Ursa she needed to rest. She was shocked to realize he’d seen, but Iroh considered it to be a mother caring for her son, no more. Ursa introduced Iroh to his infant nephew, Zuko… and as Iroh looked into the baby’s eyes, he was stunned to see they weren’t blue, but were already solid gold! Ursa explained that she was also born like this, and Ozai, who hates things he doesn’t understand and can’t control, mustn’t know. Iroh assured her that he would only tell Ozai he saw Ursa caring for her son, and asks if he could learn the technique, which he was able to do to only a limited degree, enough to perform basic battlefield first aid on himself. He never learned where Ursa learned it, but he knew enough to understand that the multicolored flames were dragon fire.

Back in the present, Iroh thinks about how he’d thought Zuko had never learned the technique, but he’s starting to realize that he was wrong, and is stunned by the implications of a healer as the Fire Lord’s heir. Iroh thinks back to Azula’s attempt to capture them in “The Avatar State” and how she’d never dare do such a thing without Ozai’s approval, and how Zuko’s death would guarantee her own position as heir. All of which means that, as things stand now, they can’t ever go home, though Zuko hasn’t realized it yet. He then asks Zuko about how they should go about getting a warm bed; Zuko says that they’re royalty and should be able to get what they want, but Iroh reminds him that the Earth Kingdom has no reason to respect that. However, they might be able to trade if they had something valuable, like polished stones. Zuko is nonplussed by the idea, but he’s been educated about things like the products of the Fire Nation’s mines, and Iroh has already spotted some likely-looking stones on what must be a dry streambed. Zuko complains that this will never work, but he nonetheless helps Iroh start hunting for rocks, as iroh reflects that he’s at least willing to try and the scene ends.

MG’s Thoughts We really have two main plotlines in this chapter – Zuko and Iroh’s traveling in the present, and Iroh’s flashback to Ursa and Zuko’s birth. The present-day story is pretty innocuous here, once again, mostly focusing on Zuko and Iroh’s dynamic as the two of them travel together. In that respect it’s pretty low-key, like “Theft Absolute” and a lot of Embers’ first arc, and like them it’s really remarkable in hindsight to see the huge fic that this became originating from something so straightforward. The biggest event in the present is Zuko’s tapping into fire-healing in a minor way, which ties into Iroh’s flashback in a much bigger way. Now, fire-healing is one of the fic’s biggest concepts, especially early on, and while I’ve sometimes seen the idea criticized… I’m fine with it. Fire and water are the two elements that seem the most likely to have healing powers (water because the body is mostly made up of it, and fire because of its associations with energy and life) and in a way it eventually made it into canon (in the frame story of “Beginnings” in Korra). I’ve used fire-healing myself in some of my own fics (and made Ursa a firebender, for that matter – both my own fics and Embers predating “The Search” by years, so canon!Ursa was still a blank slate at the time). However, together with the revelation of Zuko being born with his gold eyes (and Iroh automatically assuming gold eyes are the mark of a firebender rather than just a common eye color in the Fire Nation) we also get the first hint at Vathara’s determination to make Zuko *special*. Fire-healing alone would have been enough to build a fic around, but IMO Vathara makes it only one of about four ways Zuko is marked as *special* and it gets a bit excessive (and, again IMO, ends up diluting a lot of what makes canon!Zuko a compelling character… but more on that later). On its own merits, though, this chapter is pretty straightforward, has some good Zuko-Iroh interactions and lays some interesting foreshadowing down.

I do have some quibbles with Vathara’s AN, before we go. First off, I never got the impression that Iroh considered Zuko to be a young officer under his command or treated him that way (indeed, from the way Iroh almost always addresses Zuko as “Prince Zuko,” I’m pretty sure it’s Zuko who outranks Iroh in the Fire Nation’s hierarchy, presumably because even banished he’s still the sitting Fire Lord’s son, while Iroh’s position in the line of succession was revoked when Azulon died). Their relationship is always framed as familiar, or in some contexts as a master martial artist instructing his student. But I do think this is the start of a trend in the fic, where Vathara really likes soldiers and the military and seems to have a thing for Hard Men (and sometimes Hard Women) making Hard But Necessary Choices. But again, more on that later. And, considering what’s coming later in the fic, the offhand reference to dragons being “more involved” is just sort of… lol, that’s one way to put it. But again, like with “Theft Absolute” most of these issues are things that are really only noticeable in hindsight, in light of where the fic is ultimately going.