#and sure it is nice but this is countryside countryside. there is NOWHERE to go

[themetalbabygirl]

Guys I've been at my grandparent's house in the countryside with my cousins and sister for two weeks now and i am SO FUCKING DONE. GUYS. GUYS I CAN NOT DO THIS ANYMORE

[katsu28]

summer's golden haze - chapter two

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: backyard barbecues, the local market, and an unexpected discovery that has you wondering what exactly you may have just gotten yourself into. (5k)

warnings: angst (this early on, i know i'm sorry but it's for the plot i promise <3), lando and max f bickering like an old married couple

a/n: she's here!!!! sorry it took a little longer than expected but i hope you all enjoy this chapter :) pls feel free to come chat in my asks if you want to, i'd love to hear what everyone think about it so far!

previous chapter | masterlist

“Are these guys rich or something?”

Camille voices exactly the thought running through your mind as you roll to a stop to the address Lando had texted you yesterday, gawking out at the sprawling acreage in front of you. 

You peer at the impressive villa through the windshield, taking in everything with baited breath. She’s absolutely right. 

This house has to be two, if not three times the size of the one you’re all staying at, and that’s just what you can see so far. Vines bursting with colorful flowers crawl up white stone walls, curling around trellises of even more foliage, shutters on huge windows. There’s even a massive fountain in the middle of the courtyard, pristine marble, spewing crystal clear water in streams. 

It’s a classic old money countryside villa—worth millions, you assume, not even taking in the gathering of vintage and expensive sports cars parked along the cobblestone driveway. You suddenly feel so, so small compared to the extravagance of just the exterior of the place. 

Who are these people? 

A guy with brown curls similar to Lando’s pulls open the door when you ring the bell, in the middle of yelling something at someone further inside the house, before turning his gaze on you all. His face lights up in recognition at the sight of you. “Oh, hey, you’re the girl Lando won’t shut up about! I’m Max, but I’m sure he’s told you all about me, hasn’t he?” 

So this is Max. Lando’s told you a little about him, but mainly just funny stories. You wonder if Max knows his best friend is going around telling girls he’s just met about the time Max walked into a glass sliding door. 

“A little bit, not much. It’s nice to put a face to the name though!” You say politely. 

Max sighs dramatically, shaking his head in faux disappointment. He and Lando must be close. “I’m the best part of his life, and he doesn’t think to share it! What a knob. Anyways, welcome, come on in, make yourselves at home!” 

He ushers you all inside, leading you through the house and out huge double French doors leading to the backyard. The rest of their group sits on couches gathered around a stone fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting amongst themselves until they see you all coming. Max does the introductions between your two groups, but there’s one person missing. The one person you were looking forward to seeing again is nowhere to be found. 

Max must notice how your eyes search for Lando, because he grins knowingly. “He’ll be out in a bit. Work called.” 

“Oh, what does he do?” Samira chimes in. You fight the urge to throw a stone at her, because you know what she’s doing. She’s getting information on Lando because you haven’t got the guts to do it yourself yet. 

��Has he not told you yet?” Max raises a brow, taking a sip of his drink. When you shake your head, he presses his lips together, like he’s debating whether or not to tell you himself. “Yeah, sorry, I think I’m gonna stay out of this one. He gets pissy when I meddle with his budding relationships.” 

Budding relationship. Your face flames hot at the insinuation, but Samira takes it in stride, raising a skeptical brow. 

“What, is he in the mafia or something?” 

“‘Course not, that’s ridiculous. Pretty boy like him, he’d never make it in the mafia,” Max snorts. “No, he’s…look, it’s not really my place to say. I’m sure he’ll tell you when he’s ready.” 

Lando materializes from inside at that very moment, brows furrowed. There’s a tic going off in his jaw and he looks a little pissed off about something, but as soon as he looks up and sees that there’s company, he composes himself in a split second. 

“Hey, guys!” He chirps, hand raising in a wave. He makes his way over to where you all are, plopping down in the empty spot beside you without hesitation. “Glad you could make it.” 

“Thanks for the invite,” Maren replies, ever the polite one. “And the coffee yesterday.” 

Max makes an offended noise from the back of his throat at his friend. “You bought them coffee yesterday? Where was mine? You never buy me coffee.” 

“Mate, you don’t even drink coffee!” 

“Maybe I would if you bought it for me!” 

The two boys continue to bicker with each other in the same way all evening, which leads you to believe this is just how they are with one another. It gives Lando another dimension in your mind, and you like it.

There are a handful of common interests amongst your friends and Lando’s, ones that spark conversation immediately. As the night goes on, it feels like you’ve all been friends for a while, and you’re glad. Part of you was worried things would be awkward between everyone, but thankfully that isn’t the case.

It passes the time quicker than you expect. Soon enough it’s nearing midnight and you’re close to nodding off onto Lando’s shoulder, fighting to stay awake and looped into the ongoing conversation despite the sleep threatening to overtake you.

It certainly doesn’t help that he exudes warmth from where you’ve wound up pressed against each other on the small couch. You turn your head to look at him, to take in the little details of him. The angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose. The smattering of moles across his face and neck.

One wayward curl hangs over his forehead, and you want to reach out, brush it away. You don’t think you’re quite at that stage of comfort with each other yet, but then he tears his attention away from the rest of the group and meets your gaze with what you can only describe as pure fondness dripping from his lazy grin. 

“You alright?” He says softly, shifting his body to face you a little more. 

You nod, because you’re more than alright. For the first time in a while, everything feels just the way it should be. “Are you?” 

“Hm?” Lando replies noncommittally, sipping his drink. “Fine, why?” 

“Earlier, after your phone call, you seemed…upset. I don’t mean to pry, I just wanted to see if everything was alright.” 

“Oh, that? Nah, that was nothing, just my boss. Wanted to talk work stuff, but I wasn’t feeling it, y’know?” He shrugs. It feels like there’s more to what he’s saying, but you don’t want to push too hard. You’re still familiarizing yourself with him. “You’re sweet to check on me, though.” 

“Okay. But if you, um, if you need to talk or anything, I’ve been told I’m a good listener.”

Lando traces a finger briefly over the thin strap of your dress, just over your shoulder, before dropping his chin into his palm. You already know he’s about to change the subject. Involuntarily, you shiver at his touch, and he definitely notices, because he suddenly looks a little smug.

“Pretty dress,” He hums, tilting his head. 

You weren't trying to make a good impression on Lando, but you weren't exactly not trying, if that makes sense. It doesn't really make sense to you, but you’d gone for cute but comfy with a dress you’d borrowed, hoping it says you’d made an effort, but not too much of one. 

Suddenly you can’t remember what you were just thinking about not being at a certain stage of comfort with one another. Is it weird that you're secretly pleased he liked it enough to mention it?

“It’s not mine,” You say softly. Lando lets out a noise of question. “I borrowed it from Maren.” 

“Ah. Well, you should definitely get one for yourself then. It’s a nice color on you.” 

You want to say thank you, or really just say anything at all, but the moment your gaze flicks back up to his, you’re lost in his eyes again. Everything around you blurs into the background until it feels like it’s just the two of you. You’re teetering on the edge of something, and fuck, it would be so easy to just go over. To let yourself fall and fall and fall into his waiting arms at the bottom. 

Suddenly you hear your own voice in your head.

Don’t get attached. 

Clearing your throat, you pull back from Lando as smooth as you can manage with him muddling up your brain like this. “It’s late. We should get going,” You say, a tad louder than necessary. 

“She’s right,” Camille chimes in, taking note of the slight urgency in your tone. “We’ve got a guided hike in the morning—sunrise, can you believe it?” 

Lando’s mouth dips into a tiny frown for a moment, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared. He nods understandingly. “Sure. I’ll walk you out.” 

You all say your goodbyes and thank you’s, to which the boys wholeheartedly agree you should all do this again sometime before you part ways. 

Lando trails behind a bit like he’s unsure, but catches up to you quickly on the way out, shoulder bumping against yours lightly as you fall into step with each other. His hand brushes yours and lingers a little, pinkies almost intertwining. 

“Tonight was nice,” He says casually. 

“Yeah, it was,” You agree, bobbing your head. 

“Would you—I dunno, maybe want to hang out again?”

“With you guys? ‘Course we would, I’m sure the girls would love to.” You smile, casting a glance at your friends. They’ve all coincidentally already gotten into the car, but if you squint hard enough you can see them gawking at Lando and yourself through the windshield.

How very not subtle of them. 

Lando rocks on the balls of his feet almost nervously, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “No, I meant, like…just the two of us.” 

“You mean, like, alone?” 

“A date. I’m trying to ask you out on a date,” He blurts, nose scrunching. “And failing miserably apparently.” 

“Oh!” You feel your face burn hot, yet you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face even if you tried. You’re about to take him up on the offer, but before you can say a word, another voice pops into the conversation. 

“Yes! She says yes! Whatever you’re asking, her answer is yes!” Samira yells through the window enthusiastically, muffled through the glass but still very audible.

Neither you nor Lando can stop the laughs that escape your mouths, especially when you turn around and all three girls are shooting you excited thumbs ups. 

“Guess that’s settled then,” You giggle, turning back to face him. 

“It’s a date.” He pushes forward, catching you by surprise when he presses a soft kiss to your cheek. As cliche as it sounds, the touch of his lips against your skin, although fleeting, sends a flurry of butterflies through your stomach. “I’ll text you later to plan, yeah? Get home safe.” 

He waits for you to pull around the circular driveway, and as his waving form gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, a glimmer of hope worms its way through you. 

In the back of your mind, you know you should keep it in check. This could be totally casual. A short summer fling that won’t hurt anyone no matter how it ends. But maybe, just maybe, it could turn into something more. 

-------

Your schedules don't end up giving you a free afternoon together until a few days later, though you come to realize it only makes you look forward to seeing Lando again even more. 

You're supposed to be meeting him at the local market in the center of town at half past one, but you find yourself there early, wanting to get a lay of the land before he gets there.

Evidently Lando had the same idea, because you spot him within the first few steps into the open air marketplace, squatting next to a stand with crates and buckets of bright flowers. He’s already got a bouquet clutched in his hands, but still he browses through the different bunches. 

“Flowers for Max?” You joke. 

Lando shoots to his feet so fast he nearly hits his head on the lightbulb hanging above, only managing to miss it by mere inches as he startles at the sudden voice. When he realizes it’s just you, he snorts with laughter. “He wishes! They’re for you, actually.” 

“Me?” 

“Yeah, you,” He says teasingly. You don’t even know what to say. Flowers on the first date might be normal, yet nobody’s ever done it for you before. You’re touched, but he must take your silence as something else, because his smile drops the tiniest bit. “Unless you see something you like better? I can still put these back.” 

You study the flowers he’s picked out already. A little on the smaller side, it boasts a beautiful mix of both soft and brighter colors while still being simple—it’s exactly the sort of thing you would’ve chosen if you were buying flowers for yourself. “They’re perfect.” 

He pays for the flowers and passes them over to you with the biggest smile on his face, one that grows even bigger when you tuck them carefully into the crook of your arm after giving the delicate blossoms a sniff. 

You notice the camera hanging around his neck at that moment, despite knowing close to nothing about golf, you do know a thing or two about photography. “Golfer and photographer? Impressive.” 

“Amateur at best.” 

“Oh, I’m sure you're just being modest.” 

“Not even a little bit. I just enjoy taking pictures of things I like.” 

He swings around to face you fully, bringing the camera up to his eye and pausing only a second to make sure you're in focus before snapping a photo of you. The shutter clicks twice before you have the sense to hold up a hand out in front of you, a surprised laugh spilling from your mouth. Even then he grins, takes another one before lowering the camera. "What, you don't like having your photo taken?" 

“I’m just not very photogenic!” 

Lando scoffs immediately, shooting you a pointed look. “That is such a lie.” 

“I probably just broke your fancy expensive camera,” You joke. 

“We’ll just have to wait til I get it developed and see. I think it’ll turn out wonderful.” 

“And if it doesn’t?” 

“I’ll buy you dinner. If I’m right, then…you let me buy you dinner.” 

You let out a noise of surprise. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair, does it? You’d have to buy me dinner either way.” 

“I can think of worse things than taking a pretty girl out for a nice meal.” His words take you by surprise, but judging by the smug grin on his face, Lando takes pride in eliciting a reaction from you. “Shall we?” And just like that, he’s sauntering off down the path like he didn’t just leave you at a loss for words, pep in his step even as he turns around to shoot you a roguish smile. “You coming or what?” 

You push aside the fluttering in your chest, giving your head an amused shake before catching up with him. It’s cute that he thinks he’s funny. Even cuter that he seems rather eager to take you out on a second date before the first one has even started. 

The two of you wander through the market aimlessly, stopping here and there at various stalls to have a look around. If you had the means, you’d buy everything you see. You wind up picking up some gorgeous looking fruit and a bottle of locally pressed wine, a few small souvenirs for your family back home, but the most important thing you buy isn’t even for you. 

Lando had lingered at a stall selling handmade jewelry early on, seemingly interested in a woven bracelet of blues and whites, but didn't pick it up. Part of you wonders why, but it sparks an idea in your head. 

You tug at Lando’s arm lightly, smiling guiltily when he turns to look at you. “I think I left my phone at that fruit stand a few stalls back.” 

“You’d forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your body, you muppet,” He chides, shaking his head fondly. “C’mon, let’s find it.” 

“No, I can get it. Why don’t you find us something good for lunch? I’m starving.” 

“Are you sure?” Lando cocks his head, shoulder bumping against yours. “I don’t mind.” 

“I’ll be right back,” You promise. To sweeten the deal, you make the bold move of pressing a kiss to his cheek. He freezes under your touch, but you pass it off as him not expecting it and being taken by surprise. “Two minutes, okay? Maybe less.” 

As soon as you confirm he isn’t paying any attention to you, you slip back through the crowd, finding the same stall and buying the bracelet he’d been looking at. You tuck it safely into your pocket, quickly making your way back to Lando before he realizes you’ve been gone long and comes looking for you. 

“All good?” He asks upon noticing you reappear by his side. 

You wiggle your phone in the air. “Never better. What's for lunch?” 

Lando grins happily, reciting the spiel that the very friendly older man at the food stand gave to him when he’d decided on the delicious looking food. Sure, maybe he stumbles over his pronunciation a little bit, but you find his giggled embarrassment sweet. 

You find a semi-secluded bench a little jaunt away to enjoy your food, and you do enjoy it. You think it might be one of the best things you’ve ever had, and when you tell Lando, he looks pleasantly surprised. As you continue to savor every bite, Lando’s eyes light up with amusement, so much so that you wonder what’s suddenly got him all smiling big like this. 

“What?” You say incredulously. 

He gestures to the lower part of his face. “You’ve got a little…” 

Mortified, you mirror his actions on your own face, searching for the food you’ve somehow gotten smudged on your chin. After a few tries that have him shaking his head, you whine, “Help me, please?”, to which he obliges with a soft chuckle. He reaches out, thumb rubbing at the corner of your mouth briefly. 

This moment almost seems too intimate, but then again, so have a lot of moments between the two of you. The way he’s looking at you makes you feel like you’ve still got something on your face, but then his gaze flicks down to your lips again almost imperceptibly, and you have an inkling of what’s about to happen. 

“Did you get it?” You ask softly. You’re not sure why you break the silence, but it's definitely not because you don’t want him to kiss you. If you think about it, you’ve wanted Lando to kiss you this whole time. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I got it," He replies. His hand lingers, long fingers splaying flat under the curve of your jaw now. You surprise yourself by shifting forward slightly, as if encouraging Lando to close the gap. He leans in closer and closer still, and your eyes fall shut on their own accord, heartbeat hammering against your rib cage. 

You nearly melt the moment his lips touch yours, held up only by the firm grasp of his hand cupping your face. It’s a little awkward with the food in between the two of you blocking you from pushing closer to him, but you make it work, reaching over it to wrap your fingers around Lando’s forearm. You feel like you need it to ground yourself, because holy shit, you’re kissing him. 

Well, more like he’s kissing you, because you’re definitely not the one leading the way. Lando kisses like he knows exactly what he’s doing, and judging by how you feel weak in the knees when you’re not even standing, he does know exactly what he’s doing. 

You’re falling, falling, falling, getting lost in him, until— 

“Wait, hang on,” He breathes, pulling away. Your eyes flutter open in an almost dazed sort of way, focusing on him in hopes of finding him in the same state, but all you’re met with is…guilt? Sadness? Shame? Maybe a mixture of everything, you’re not sure. All you know is that it has your heart plummeting in your chest. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

Everything hits you at once, and suddenly you’re crashing back down to reality. Lando thinks kissing you was a mistake. You were so sure he liked you back, sure enough to go on a date with him, and now here you are with egg on your face, feeling unbelievably stupid. Hurt. 

“I’m gonna—I have to go,” You mumble, scrambling to your feet. You don’t even have an excuse prepared, you just need to get out of here, get away from Lando before you spontaneously combust from the sheer embarrassment. 

His hand encircles your wrist before you can make it even a step away. 

“No, no, don’t! Please, just let me…let me explain. I promise things will all make sense in a second, if you’ll just hear me out,” He says pleadingly. Despite your better judgment, you sit back down, expression guarded. Lando blows out a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose briefly. “Look, I like you. I really like you, and I wish things were as simple as that, but there’s things I’ve not told you. Things that, if you knew, you might not want to be with me.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut as hard as you can, burying your burning face into your hands with a muffled groan. “Oh my god, you are in the mafia, aren’t you?” 

“The—what?” Lando blurts, sounding wildly confused. “No, I’m not, I’m not in the mafia. Are you mad? I’m a Formula 1 driver!” 

You crack one eye open, then the other. “Formula 1.” You repeat, disbelieving. “Like, the racing thing?”  

He nods enthusiastically, tells you everything—how his childhood dream turned into a career, how he gets to travel all around the world doing what he loves. The fame, the lifestyle, the opportunities he’s worked so hard for, all while sounding entirely humble and grateful for everything and everyone who’ve gotten him to where he is today. 

It’s impressive, to say the least. The fact that he’s still fairly young and has already accomplished more than what some people have in a whole lifetime. Then he gets to how the chaos that doing what he does at the level he does it at wreaks havoc on other parts of his life, and you feel a wave of sympathy roll over you. 

The tradeoff for all that success is not getting to have a normal life in almost every aspect, and given the downward set of his brow as he tells you about it, this isn’t the first time he’s had this conversation with someone. 

“It makes being in a relationship…difficult, is the best way I can describe it. I’m never in one place more than a week most times, and the whole time zones thing makes it harder too. And after these two weeks are up, I’m already off to somewhere else, jumping right back into the second half of the season and hitting the ground running.” 

Realization hits you like a truck at this point, and you have to fight the urge to laugh out loud. Of course Lando is who he is. Of course you had to form a connection with someone with a life as complicated and as far away from your own as possible, someone who couldn’t be in a normal relationship even if he wanted to. 

“I wish it were different, but I just—I wanted you to know what you might be getting into if we…” He trails off, but you know what he means. If we want to get involved with each other. If we want to be together. 

“So like, long distance, but infinitely harder.” You’re doing your best to put a light spin on the massive amount of new information you’ve just acquired, but you’re barely managing to process it all, let alone even think about what it would be like to date someone as well known as Lando. 

“Yeah, something like that,” He says softly, shoulders creeping up towards his ears. “It’s—well, it’s a lot of baggage for anyone to have to deal with. Lots of eyes and ears, pretty public. Not really your cup of tea, I’ve noticed.” 

He’s right. You’ve never been one to enjoy being the center of attention, preferring to fly under the radar. Blend into the background. And you hate to say it, but knowing all of what he’s just told you changes things. You don’t think you can handle being thrust into the public eye, and it makes you feel like the most selfish person in the world to walk away from him just because of who he happens to be. 

Your life would be forever altered, your sense of privacy and security gone, and that isn’t something you want to compromise. You’re comfortable being nobody significant. With Lando, that would change, no matter how many measures you take to make sure it doesn’t. 

As much as you’ve come to like him—and you really like him—it’s just not something you can see yourself being fully okay with. 

“I’m so sorry, Lando,” You say quietly. He just smiles sadly, like he already knew it was coming, and you can't help but think about how many relationships—platonic or romantic—that he's lost out on because of his status. The thought alone makes you feel even worse. “I like you too, but I can’t—I don’t think I can be what you want me to be. It’s not me, it’s not the way I can live my life.” 

“Don’t be sorry. You haven’t got a reason to be,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing across your knuckles comfortingly. “Knew it was too good to be true, didn’t I?” 

“I’m sorry,” You say again, hoping that Lando knows you truly mean it. “I wish it were different, but—”

Lando shakes his head, interrupting before you can grasp for any other ways to apologize. He squeezes your hand reassuringly again. “Hey. It’s alright, I promise. I’d never ask anyone to do something they aren’t comfortable with. Especially not you.” 

Even when he’s sad, he’s still so thoughtful. It would take a different kind of awful monster not to want to be with him. Apparently that monster is you. 

You wish you were someone else, someone who could take huge changes in stride and never miss a step, but you’re not. Someone who knows what they want and goes for it—who knows who they want and doesn’t let anything get in their way. 

Unfortunately, you’re not that kind of person. 

“What do we do now?” 

Lando drops your hand to run his fingers through his curls, down to the back of his neck sheepishly. “Dunno about you, but I’ve—d’you think there’s any chance we can still be friends? I really do enjoy spending time with you lot, we all do.” 

“Friends would be nice,” You say softly. It feels strange to agree with him so wholeheartedly. 

Maybe it’ll be awkward between the two of you, maybe you won’t even be able to sit next to each other with what’s happened today, but you can’t bring yourself to care all that much. The only thought running through your mind is that you don’t want to lose Lando, even as just a friend. 

You’ve gotten attached. 

The bracelet you’d bought Lando burns a hole through your pocket. It would be weird to give it to him now, after you’d just turned him down, but you can’t exactly just return it either. You don’t really want to. 

Maybe it won’t go to him, but you’re sure you’ll find something to do with it someday.

The girls are waiting in the living room when you finally make your way home, gathered on the sofa with identical innocent smiles like you hadn’t seen them with their heads poked through the curtains. Samira bounces off the cushions with what you can only describe as a gleeful cackle to grab your flowers, showing them off to the other two like a game show host before grabbing your hand and dragging you into the center of their blanket pile. 

You know they're expecting good news and you wish you could give it to them, but you can’t. 

“So??? How’d it go?” 

“He got her flowers, obviously it went well!” 

“Okay, spill, now,” Camille presses, easing the bouquet out of Samira’s hands and setting it on the coffee table. “What’s he like, what’d you do—” 

“When’s your second date?” chimes in Maren excitedly. The other two nod their vigorous agreement. 

“Lando’s amazing,” You sigh, letting yourself fall back against the plush pillows. “He’s super sweet and really funny, we walked around and looked at all the vendors, and then we had lunch and talked for ages, and…there won’t be a second date.”

“What? That’s impossible, you guys were like, made for each other!” 

You sigh, rub at a flower petal that’s fallen away from the bouquet. “It’s complicated. I don’t—I’m not ready to get into all of it again this soon, but long story short, our lives are just too different. Being with him would mean compromising things I’m just not ready to lose right now.” 

If any of them wants to push for a better explanation, and you know they do, they refrain from doing so. They know you’ll tell them when you’re ready. 

But even Samira can tell you’re not quite as okay as you insist you are, and she’s been rooting for you extra hard. She leans her head onto your shoulder, squeezes your hand reassuringly. “You did what was best for you, and that’s all that matters.” 

“We agreed to still be friends, so we can still hang out with the guys and stuff like that, but—I mean, yeah, it just didn’t work out.” You don’t think you sound very convincing at all, but it’s the bed you've made, you’ve got to lay in it. “I just don’t really want to talk about it right now, but it's fine. I'm fine.” 

It has to be. You have to be. You’ve made sure of it.

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[rollinouttahere-writes]

Hi hope it’s not to late to request a yandere vampire Ace who finds out his mortal darling is pregnant ~ please (if pregnancy makes you uncomfortable maybe reader is just very ill instead ) ,also hi hope your doing ok 👌

Vampire Ace x AFAB Reader

3.8k words

Summary: You find yourself in a precarious situation as you discover you're pregnant with your vampire boyfriend's child. You know you need to talk to him about it, but how?

Warnings: pregnancy, menstruation mention, lightly suggestive references, yandere elements, controlling boyfriend

While it was most certainly embarrassing to admit to, you had a vampire phase as a teenager. You got swept up in the popularity of vampire romance novels and the movies and TV shows that accompanied them, and it was pretty much your entire personality for a few years there. 

Dark times. Cringey times. 

However, these were also very impressionable times if your current situation was anything to go off of. If anyone would have told you back then that you would one day achieve your dream of bewitching a vampire into falling in love with you, you would have laughed in their face. Well, okay, no. You would have squealed and kicked your feet in the air. But after you got past that phase, then you would have laughed. Mostly because up to that point, you had been under the impression that vampires were works of fiction.

But then you met Ace. It happened when you were on a solo road trip. You needed some time away from everything and wanted to start fresh somewhere new, so what better way to scope out a new place than to drive around the country until you found a place that spoke to you? It seemed like a good idea, and by most accounts it was, but there was one major flaw in your plan. You didn’t know how to perform maintenance on your car, which is a pretty glaring issue when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere at night. You had no signal, so you were left poking and prodding at the stuff under the hood of your car in hopes that it would magically come back to life. 

It didn’t take long for you to give up and realize that you were probably only going to do more harm than good. You considered walking until you either found a town or got a signal, but you didn’t want to do that at night. Just as you were about to get back into your car to sleep until morning, you saw the headlights of a vehicle coming down the road. You waved your arms as the vehicle, a large motorhome, drew closer. Honestly, you hadn’t expected the person to actually pull over, but he did, and that’s how you met Ace.

One thing led to another, and he went from being just some guy who helped you out in your time of need, to your boyfriend. It was something of a whirlwind romance, moving at a startling pace that would surely leave your parents clutching their pearls, but when you know you know.

That, and there’s just something about someone trusting you enough to admit to being a creature of legend that makes one’s heart flutter.

Ace was a far cry from the vampire love interests you read about as a teen. Rather than living in a gothic castle in the countryside, or skulking around a high school, he lived in an old RV that he traveled the country in. It was an interesting set up, that’s for sure. All of the windows are covered by several layers of thick curtains. The windshield also had a cover put up during daylight, as well as several thick curtains isolating the cab from the rest of the camper. He would drive and explore at night, then retreat into the darkened parts of the RV during the day.

Thanks to you adapting to his nocturnal lifestyle, you would usually be up all night with him while he drives and sleep with him during the day. From what you understood, he didn’t really need to sleep, but he claims that it feels nice and he likes to do it anyway. Despite that, you would usually wake up to find him absent from the bedroom and entertaining himself in the main part of the camper while he waited for you to wake up or for night to come, whichever came first.

However, sometimes you would find yourself driving during the day. Mostly when there was something time sensitive that Ace wanted to go to and if you guys were falling behind; a common occurrence with how much he loved to take his time exploring every place he went. When that happened, you would stay up during the day to drive while he hid away in the bedroom. These days were spent with him loudly bemoaning how terrible and crushing the loneliness was as if y’all were separated by miles and he wasn’t actively facetiming you. Being highly dramatic was perhaps his most stereotypical vampiric trait.

Today was one of those days where you were up driving for him. There was a music festival coming up this weekend that he really wanted to go to, but it was still several states away. You honestly don’t mind the day driving. It’s nice to get natural vitamin D instead of relying exclusively on supplements. Ace had been keeping you company via facetime for a few hours, but he had nodded off about an hour ago.

Having a moment to yourself was nice, doubly so when you have a lot on your mind. You made a very shocking discovery recently, one that you hadn’t thought was ever going to be a problem for you. Though, maybe that was because you weren’t exactly an expert on vampires and how their bodies work.

Because really, how were you supposed to know that pregnancy was on the table when you were seeing a vampire? Sure, some of those vampire shows and books covered this, but it was always treated like something that could never ever happen, and that if it did, it was a freak incident. 

The relationship was still very young, neither of you had ever discussed children. You were still young, and you assumed that him not using any protection was a silent indicator that you didn’t have anything to worry about. Surely he would have used it or talked to you about contraception if it was something he was concerned about, right? Wrong, apparently. 

As far as you could tell, you were only around six or so weeks into your pregnancy if your period tracker was accurate. You haven’t been able to go to a real doctor yet, but the pregnancy tests you took all came back positive. The tests were stuffed into the same drawer you kept your menstrual supplies in after you had finished having a silent mental breakdown. You still needed time to figure out how to break the news to Ace.

Would he be happy? Pissed? Would he freak out because the hybrid baby will be a superpowered freak of nature that will kill you? You had literally nothing to work with. Since you two have never discussed children, he’s also never told you about what a hybrid could potentially look like, and that was just you assuming that he knew. You were completely in the dark, and it was terrifying. You needed reassurance, but you had no one to get it from.

You heave a sigh as you shake your head and force yourself back into the present moment. There was an exit coming up on the interstate advertising the local amenities. A quick glance down at the fuel gauge confirmed that it was about time for you to stop and get gas. The turn signal is flicked on as you merge into the exit only lane. 

It only takes a couple of minutes for you to navigate your way to the nearby gas station and park at a pump. Your phone starts to ring before the RV has even come to a complete stop. You shift it into park and turn the engine off before answering.

“Is everything alright? Why are we stopping?” Ace’s sleep-addled voice came through the phone.

“Everything’s fine, we just needed gas. I’m going to run into the station to use the bathroom and maybe get an energy drink.” You stretch as you stand up, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear as your joints crackle and pop after spending hours seated.

“Are you getting tired? Just find a place for us to park until night, don’t force yourself to stay awake.” 

His consideration for you made your chest feel warm and fuzzy despite your anxiety. “I don’t mind, I know you’ve been looking forward to that festival.”

“It’s just a festival, there will be more of those. There’s only one of you, I don’t want you getting burnt out or hurt because of me. Just find a place to park, okay?” His words were sweet, but his tone left no room for debate.

A quiet sigh escapes you as you admit defeat, “Alright, I’ll ask the cashier if there’s a campground or something around here.”

“Good. Besides, I’ve been missing you. I don’t think I can wait until night to see you again.” His playful, flirty tone makes you smile.

You giggle softly as you make your way to the door, “I miss you, too, baby. See you in a bit, love you.”

“I love you more. Could you close the cab curtain before you go?”

“Of course,” You quickly spin on your heels and pull the dividing curtains shut. After one last exchange of “I love you’s”, you hang up and exit the RV. The fresh air, even while tinged with the scent of fuel, is pleasant after being cooped up in a vehicle all day. You quickly walk around to the gas pump and start refueling. While you’re leaned against the camper and waiting for the tank to fill, you can hear Ace moving around inside. It was relatively common for him to take advantage of these pit stops to get out of the bedroom and stretch his legs. You’re not sure why he wouldn’t just wait until after you got to the nearest campground, but whatever. It’s no skin off your back.

The gas pump loudly clicks off. You push yourself off the camper and hang it up before heading inside to relieve yourself and pay for the gas. The door chimes quietly and a young cashier with glasses casually greets you before returning her attention to the coffee machine she’s refilling, looking as if she would rather be anywhere but here.

You follow the sign pointing you to the single person bathroom and slip inside. The lights are dim and flickering, and the harsh scent of cleaning chemicals assaults your senses, though you suppose that it’s better than the alternative. You quickly do your business and wash your hands. You look into the mirror at your reflection, taking in your appearance. The “pregnancy glow” that so many people talk about was nowhere to be found in your humble opinion. All that you see is an exhausted, stressed out woman.

But staring headlong into your reflection isn’t going to help anything. You rip off some paper towels from the dispenser and dry your hands before leaving the restroom. Rather than going straight to the counter to pay for the fuel, you wander around the aisles, debating if you want any snacks or drinks.

The section of the refrigerators with energy drinks in it catches your eye. Now that you’re thinking about it, you suppose you couldn’t have actually gotten one of these anyway. You’re far from an expert on pregnancy do’s and don’t’s, but you’re pretty sure that energy drinks are a hard no. Caffeine is a no-no in general, you think. Damn, that probably means no coffee or soda either. You shoot a half-hearted glare down at your abdomen, internally cursing how you’re already having to make sacrifices for something the size of a grape, if that.

With a somewhat heavy heart, you grab a bottle of juice and peruse the candy aisle, grabbing a couple of things you had been craving lately, then go to the counter to check out. The cashier is already behind it, leaning against the counter with her chin propped up on her fist. She straightens up when she sees you approaching and plasters on a less than convincing customer service smile, “Good afternoon. You had the gas outside, right?”

“Yep, at pump…” your brain draws a total blank. Now that you’re thinking about it, you’re not sure you ever even looked, “Uh, whichever one has the RV in front of it.”

The cashier takes a quick glance at a screen showing the pumps outside while quickly scanning the few things you brought to the counter. She presses a button on the register to add the gas, then reads you the total.

You pull out some cash from your pocket and hand her enough to cover it. While she’s getting your change, you remember that you were supposed to ask if there were any campgrounds in town. You clear your throat, “Hey, do you know if there’s a campground around these parts?” 

She glances at you, then fishes out the rest of your change from the drawer, “Yeah. It’s on the other end of town. There are a couple of signs for it.” Her hand extends and drops the coins into your open palm.

“Cool, thank you. Have a nice day.” You smile politely as you grab your items.

The cashier chuckles dryly at your comment, “Yeah… you, too.”

Not wanting to make Ace wait much longer, you promptly exit the gas station and hurry back to the RV. You get to the door and knock three times to give Ace a chance to run back to the bedroom. This was a rule established between you two so as to prevent you from accidentally torching your dear boyfriend with sunlight. You listen closely, but you don’t hear anything. After a moment, you crack open the door, assuming that he must have already gone into the room.

The juice and candy are set in the kitchenette, and you call out to Ace, “There’s a campground here in town, it should only take a minute or two to get there.” You wait for a response, but hear nothing. You frown and look up at the bedroom door, “Ace?”

“I heard you.”

His voice is muffled, but that does nothing to hide how curt his tone was. Your heart sank immediately and anxiety clouded your mind. Where did this mood shift come from? He was just saying that he loved you a few minutes ago. What happened while you were gone?

As much as you wanted to burst into the bedroom and confront him here and now, you knew that was a bad idea. You needed to park somewhere where you wouldn’t have to worry about being intruded upon. You swallow thickly, then get back in the driver seat. The RV is started and you hurry to your destination, trying to ignore the growing nausea in your stomach. Whether it was the pregnancy or the stress was anyone’s guess. You just hoped you could get this thing parked before you had to throw up. Morning sickness hadn’t been much of a problem for you yet beyond occasional bouts of nausea, and you were really hoping it would stay that way.

In a few minutes, you’re at the campground and the RV is parked and turned off. Your hands are sweating as you push the windshield cover into place, then close the cab’s curtain. You turn on the artificial lights, then take a deep breath, “You can come out now.”

The second the words leave your mouth, the bedroom door is practically ripped off its hinges from how hard Ace forced it open. His face is contorted in anger, and you’re sure it would be flushed red if he were still a human. 

Instinctually, you take a step back from him, not expecting such an aggressive entrance. Your eyes frantically search his face and body for any clues as to where this was coming from, only to lock onto some things clutched in one of his hands. Your heart leapt up into your throat.

Oh no.

“How long were you planning on keeping this from me?” His words are sharp and dripping with venom.

“I- I-”

“You what?! I can trust you with knowing that I’m a fucking vampire, but you don’t trust me enough to tell me that you’re pregnant?!” The gap between you was closed quickly as he strode up to you. The positive pregnancy tests were thrown to the floor and scattered as Ace’s hands locked onto your biceps and pulled you even closer to him.

Your hands push on his heaving chest, but he doesn’t budge. You’re fully panicking now as your mind scrambles to find anything you could say to assuage him, “I was going to tell you! I promise!”

“When? How long have you known?” Ace’s lip pulled back into a snarl, showing off his enlarged fangs.

“Not even a week! It’s only been a few days, Ace!” All the other words on your tongue die as the fluctuating hormones and mounting stress collides inside you and breaks the dam holding back your boiling emotions. Hot tears bubble to the surface and pour down your face as choked sobs come out, carrying the jumbled words lodged in your throat, “I didn’t know what to do! I was scared!”

More sobs tear out of you as you completely fall apart. Ace never yelled at you, and you were absolutely not in the state of mind to handle this happening now. This was precisely why you hadn’t told him yet. This was the reaction you were afraid of.

Ace’s hands loosened their grip on your arms, “Shit…”

His hands let go of you, then he wrapped his arms around you, cradling your frame to his chest. “Wait, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course you’re scared, I should have figured as much.” His words come out hushed, but at a frantic pace as he tries to calm you down. In an instant, his arms drop down enough to lift you up off the floor while he continues to whisper assurances into your ear.

Despite his attempt at comfort, you were too distressed to accept his words. “I should have told you… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m the one that jumped to conclusions.” Ace was having none of your attempt to take the blame back. 

You hadn’t even realized he had been moving until you heard the bedroom door close and fell onto the bed while held in Ace’s arms. You sniffle loudly and look up at him, though that was pointless. He hadn’t bothered turning on the lamp, so you had no idea what emotions his face held. You’re sure that was intentional on his part. One of his hands strokes your hair while the other holds you tight to him.

When he doesn’t show any indication of intending to speak, you take the lead, “Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad at you. I just lost my cool for a second there.”

While the answer was sweet, it wasn’t exactly what you were looking for. “Not at me. Are you mad about… the baby?”

Ace stiffened and held you tighter. Your heart pounded in your chest as you waited for his response. The hand in your hair tangled into it to push your face into his neck, while the other hand clutched your hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he speaks quietly, “I’m not… mad about the baby either.”

Another silence falls over the room, one that you would break again, “Did you know that this could happen?”

This time, his answer was quick, “No.”

“So you don’t know what’s going to come next, do you?”

His arms tighten around you even more, “I don’t.”

The silence returned, though it felt much more tense and uncomfortable now. Your voice is just barely audible as you speak again, “I’m scared.”

“I… It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure something out. I’m here for you.”

Those words were what you had been needing to hear since the beginning. Finally, you feel relaxed enough to return his embrace and melt into him, soaking up his reassuring, albeit physically cold, presence. “I love you.”

Ace presses a kiss to the top of your head, “I love you more.”

For a while, you two take solace in each other’s companionship. That hadn’t gone exactly how you would have liked, but you feel happy with the current resolution, even if a lot is still up in the air. At least you know that Ace has your back no matter what.

Still, all the emotions that had burst within you earlier remained in there, bouncing around and making you feel antsy. You could stand to get some fresh air and walk it off. You squeeze Ace, then pull away a little. Even though you may not be able to see him, you know that he can see you perfectly.

“I think going for a walk would do me some good. I need some fresh air.”

“Oh… Yeah, of course,” Ace’s hold doesn’t loosen even a little bit. “We’ll go for a walk after the sun goes down.” With that, he pulls you back to him snugly. 

You sigh softly and squirm in his arms, “I meant now. The sunlight will probably be good for me.”

“But I won’t be able to go with you. Just wait.” His voice took on something of a stern edge.

“I’ve gone for plenty of walks by myself before, Ace. I won’t be gone long.”

Ace sighs deeply and keeps a firm grip on you. He speaks in a low tone, “Yeah, well last time you went for a walk, you weren’t carrying a half-vampire spawn in you. You’re done going for walks during the day or doing anything alone. I’m not risking a hunter finding you like this, especially not when I’ll be powerless to even follow you.”

While Ace being protective was hardly anything new, this was a lot even by his standards. “That’s a little extreme. I can’t just stay cooped up for months.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s extreme, this is just what we’re doing now.”

“But-”

Your face is abruptly grabbed and brought closer to Ace’s face. His nose brushes against yours as your cheeks are squished together. The chilled air of his breath fans out across your face as he speaks, “This is not up for debate. Drop it.”

“... Okay. I’m sorry. I’ll drop it.” The desire to plead your case was certainly burning within you, but you could tell that you weren’t going to make any headway with Ace today. You sigh in an exasperated manner as you’re pulled back into his embrace.

This has been a lot for him to take in in one day. You’re sure that he’ll calm down after everything has a chance to sink in. You just need to be patient. It’s not like he’s going to hold you hostage inside a camper for the entire duration of your pregnancy. He would never go that far… At least you hope.

[xoxo-sarah]

Ms. Perfect

↝a/n: this is an old idea that I had in the back of my notes app. Oops.

↝pairing: Daryl Dixon x fem!reader

↝warning: death, widow!Reader, apocalypse, mean! Daryl, swearing, not proofread

|| Disclaimer: I do not own Daryl, or any character from The Walking Dead. I only own y/n and any characters I create with my own brain. ||

↝⎙ 4.23.24

Daryl wasn't sure why he hated you so much. You were nice to everyone around you, even understanding. But the sight of you makes the blood in his veins boil.

It became a routine; you and him sniping at each other, digging up trauma neither of you really wanted to. He just got under your skin. Like now.

“Sorry, in case you haven' noticed, the world ain't all rainbows and sunshine anymore. We don't shit money to buy the newest thing. Life is different, Doll. Get used to it.” He drawled, his eyebrows scrunched together.

There he goes again.

You weren't even talking to or about him, but he had heard you. That had been enough for him to butt in, apparently.

Ever since you had stumbled your way into Daryl's group early on, Daryl had had it out for you. At the creek, he would be pointing out how your hair had to have been done recently. Your jewelry, clothes, how smooth your skin looked from the expensive moisturizers and night creams you had to use, your newly manicured nails- ignoring the dirt and blood underneath-, and the shine in your eyes. You didn't have the shine at first, but when you would hang out with Carol, you would smile, and the recent glazed look was gone.

Your eyes shone brightly like the stars in the countryside. Not that you would know. You probably never had the chance to see how bright the stars shone in the city.

You were unbothered by the people at the campsite, keeping to yourself. You didn't have to worry about anything when the world was built for your liking and convenience.

Daryl despised you and that god-awful rock on your finger that could feed him for probably 6 months to a year. He glared at the ring every chance he got—so much so that you eventually yanked it off, throwing it in the murky pond.

Even after leaving the campsite, you stayed with the group, arguing with Daryl along the way.

“I get it, you're used to having people do everything for you, but we're not always going to be with you, Princess. Sorry life now is so much different from your perfect life before.” For a quiet guy, he always had so much to say to you. All negative.

You bit your cheek, glancing from Maggie—who you were originally talking to—to the dirty man in front of you. "Yeah-I had the perfect life. I had the fiancé that I couldn't wait to marry. I had the apartment that I had the luxury to design with my mother, gushing about the difference wallpapers." You smiled at the memory. Your mother had been so happy for you. "I had the fluffy dog that had its own room. I had the dad who would always talk about playing catch with his future grandchild. I had the money where I didn't have to worry about anything in life." You didn't falter as you felt behind your eyes begin to burn. " I did, alright? I had the life that almost every little girl dreams about. But it was yanked out of my hands, like everyone else's. One day, I didn't wake up to my fiancé kissing me, or the smell of burnt toast-- cause he didn't know how to cook. I woke up to him nowhere in sight. Instead, I heard yelling outside the door, car horns honking outside of the windows. When I opened the door, I saw my neighbors with white eyes, growling and clawing at the skin of the man I was going to marry and grow old with. His screams will haunt me 'til the day I die. But you will not ever hear me feeling bad for myself. I did have the perfect life, but that doesn't matter now. So, get over -yourself-, cause I am just trying to survive just like you."

Daryl watched your eyes gloss over, your nostrils flare. You were rightfully pissed. And right. He hadn't heard you weep for your past-- ever. You had jumped right into survival mode as soon as he laid eyes on you. You had held your own too- most people called you a badass, Daryl wouldn't let himself verbally agree. With that, you turned and walked away. Maggie shuffled awkwardly, glancing from you to Daryl. She wore a disappointed frown.

Weeks. You ignored his existence for weeks, 2 weeks to be exact. Everytime he would go up to you, you would walk away. Even if you were in the middle to a conversation. The person you were talking to wouldn't mind, really. They would've known about your bitter back-and-forth. They wouldn't think anything of it.

Daryl just wishes you would give him a chance to at least try to apologize. After you had let your walls down and told him about what the end of the world was like for you, he felt bad - pathetic, even. He was so jealous about how you lived before the outbreak, he didn't care about how it had affected you. He should've.

The moonlight led him towards your house, his hands fidgeting. The streets were silent, everyone already in bed. He hadn't been able to sleep. The thought of you kept him up in a different way than before.

His knuckles hovered over your door. You had to be in bed. Was it worth it? You would probably be too tired to yell at him. He knocked.

It took a minute for the door to open. You stood, rubbing sleep from your eyes, a sleep frown on your face. At the sight in front of you, your hand dropped, your sleepy eyes immediately rolling in annoyance. "Oh my god-" You tried to close the door, but his boot caught it before it could close all the way. "Move your foot, Dixon."

"Listen." His eyes were pleading, something you weren't used to. You kept the door open when he reluctantly moved his boot. " 'm sorry."

You scoffed, Sure, you are."

" 'm serious. " He looked at the floor as he brought his hand up, turning it and showing his hand. "Not sure why I kept it." At the sight of your ring, tears bordered your eyes. Your head pressed against the side of the door as your body shook with a silent sob. Daryl didn't look at you. He let you grieve for whatever you wanted to in that moment. He let you have that moment. After your sobs died down, his calloused hand took yours, opening your hand and dropping the ring into your palm.

"You're a dick." You hiccupped.

"I know." 

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [I don't give permission!]

[jackactuallywrites]

Tight Spaces

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x You

Rating: Mature (mostly because of the setting)

Warnings: War-torn zone and bombings

Summary: You’re on recon with Ghost and have to hide in not one, but two tight spaces! Angst!

Notes: I have no idea whether this is a one shot or not I was just having fun with it

Word Count: 2,373

ao3 link

How could a mission go this wrong?

It was supposed to be a fairly short reconnaissance: go in, get the intel, go back out, yet somehow, they’d known you were coming. And that had led you here, lying down in a half-empty metal ammo box, listening to the foreign soldiers pace around outside. The situation was bad enough, with the sharp corners of the metal boxes poking into your skin, even through the thick material of your uniform, unable to move lest you were discovered.

What made it worse was the fact that your lieutenant was currently lying face down on top of you, his weight practically crushing you. There was nowhere else for him to go, so he’d had to climb in the crate alongside you, forced to lie on top of you like a heavy blanket, the various bits and pieces of his gear digging into your front as the boxes dug into your back. His head was in the space to the left of yours, the hard resin of his mask pressing into your shoulder. You could hear his breathing, slow and steady, as though this was no more stressful than a nice walk in the countryside, a far cry from your sharp, rapid breath.

A shot sounded out nearby, and you flinched, causing the boxes underneath you to shift and grind against each other, the metal screeching in protest. Another volley of shots sounded, closer than the last, and you scrunched your eyes shut tight as though you could will yourself out of the situation. It did very little for the adrenaline coursing through your veins, and you sunk your teeth into the inside of your cheek, trying hard not to physically vibrate with anxiety. Your hands were shaking, pinned to your chest by Ghost’s body, and you closed your eyes, desperately trying to will yourself into calm, but nothing seemed to work.

“Relax.”

Ghost’s voice was as soft as you’d ever heard, his gravelled voice little more than a whisper. Exactly how you were supposed to relax in a situation like this was an absolute mystery—stuck in an ammo crate, surrounded by hostile forces, with your superior officer directly on top of you. Not just any superior officer, either. Ghost.

It was no secret that everyone was afraid of the man, and you counted yourself among them. Anyone with a brain feared that man. Yet here he was, trying to calm you down. Of course, it might have had more to do with the fact that if you didn’t calm down, you might reveal his position. Still, you did your best to listen to him, trusting in your lieutenant to get you through this, letting out your breath in a long, slow stream of air.

You didn’t realise how much you preferred the gunshots until you heard the footsteps, the crunching of boots on the bits of rubble and broken tile strewn over the ground. Your hands started their incessant shaking again, and it was all you could do not to tremble all over as you listened to those footsteps grow closer still. Any second, you were sure they were going to throw open the lid to the crate and discover you both, killing Ghost and doing God knows what to you.

Terrifying or not, Ghost was human, and you found yourself yearning for a little human intimacy as you stared down what were to be your last moments on Earth. Gingerly, you leaned your head to the side so your cheek was resting against the fabric of his balaclava and the hard edge of his mask, where his cheek would be underneath it all. It might not have been the most intimate touch, but it helped a little with your shattered nerves.

It was Ghost who made the second move as the footsteps drew closer still to your hiding place, shifting one of his hands between you to grab hold of one of yours, practically crushing your fingers in the strength of his grip. The pain did little to snap you out of your spiral, but it did draw you back into your senses enough to hear his quietest of whispers.

“Shh.”

You were sure the beating of your heart was loud enough to be heard from miles away, and you pushed your face into the crook of Ghost’s neck, regulations be damned, muffling the shaky sound of your breath with his shoulder. The footsteps were right beside you now, and you found yourself wondering what the captain would write to your family after you were discovered dead. Would they mention how Ghost held your hand in those last moments? Would they know?

Would you be the next corpse on top of him? Would he have to use one of those cheekbones to dig his way out of another grave?

Positivity was not something that came easily to Ghost. After everything he’d been through, it seemed foolish; any time he’d been prepared for things to get better, they inevitably grew worse. His childhood, his brother, his psychiatrist. He’d done everything society told him he had to do in order to become a functioning member of it once again, and the world had chewed him up and spit him back out without mercy. He couldn’t even think about the sergeant. And here he was again. You didn’t deserve to be caught up in this mess. He’d escaped death more times than a cat; it was his number that should finally be up, but fate was never that kind. Any second now, those footsteps would stop. They’d open the lid. He’d get a quick death, but you wouldn’t be that lucky. They never were.

And yet the footsteps passed.

Another one of his nine lives gone, but he was breathing; you were breathing. Fate had always been a malicious cunt, but it seemed as though this time, it had turned a blind eye to him. He almost didn’t dare believe it. You were still there, your breath blowing out in heavy puffs into his neck, the fabric of his balaclava warm and damp from your breath. Alive. So wonderfully alive.

Ghost’s body seemed to weigh heavier on you, as though he’d been holding himself tense and finally relaxed, his head resting in the crook of your neck. His breath came out in one long, slow puff, warm against your skin, the only sign that he’d ever been anything but perfectly calm. He hadn’t let go of your hand just yet, his fingers still wrapped around yours. You could barely hear the footsteps anymore; they were far too faint, retreating into the distance like a bad memory until, at long last, they were finally gone.

The weight now lifted off of you was both metaphorical and literal. Slowly but surely, Ghost was shifting himself on top of you, shifting his hand to finally release yours. He placed both hands on either side of you, gingerly pushing himself up, the lid of the crate slowly lifting. There was no shot, no sudden violence, so he continued to lift himself entirely off you, grabbing the rifle he’d laid by your side as he slowly crept out of the crate. He didn’t let the lid drop, holding it open with one hand as he looked for any sign of movement, yet from what you could tell, everywhere was clear.

Ghost lifted the lid up entirely then, keeping it in place as he gestured for you with his head to climb out. You would have liked to have stayed curled up in that crate forever, but your training went too deep, your limbs already moving to grab at your rifle and climb out of the crate, allowing Ghost to close the lid to that little piece of safety.

“Safehouse is one klick south. Quick and quiet. Let’s move.” Ghost's voice was deadly quiet, firm this time instead of reassuring, his eyes restless, constantly flicking from place to place as he turned away from you and began walking, his boots crunching quietly on the gravel. You shifted your rifle in your hands and followed along after him, your nerves razor sharp, flinching at every little noise. What was a mile felt like seven as you moved at a snail's pace through the bombed city, like two thieves in the night, terrified that every noise was to be the last one you ever heard.

At long last, you made it to the safe house. At first, you hadn’t recognised it amongst the rubble surrounding it, expecting some sort of armoured building built with steel and bulletproof glass, yet there was barely even a house. House was too generous a term for it; it was more of a shed: crumbling brick walls and a corrugated metal roof, the windows made out of some flimsy matte plastic. You weren’t sure it was the right place until Ghost had pulled open the moulding wooden door, glancing around over your head and beckoning you into a space barely big enough for you to stand upright in and far too small for him to.

Nothing about it felt particularly safe; there was no cache of guns, no ammunition, only a threadbare Persian rug covering splintering floorboards. At any rate, Ghost didn’t seem to be perturbed, pulling out his console and plugging in the USB you’d taken from the enemy base, tapping on the screen to send it back to HQ. It seemed strange that a few strings of data were worth risking your lives for, the weeks of subterfuge by your contacts, the danger they’d put themselves in, all for this. A minute of data transfer, and it was done. A month's worth of work, all compressed into a drive less than an inch long.

You were so focused on the patterns on the rug that you didn’t see that Ghost had put away the console until he spoke again, his voice gruff yet quiet, “HQ have the data. We hole up here until extraction at 0500.” You checked your watch, the digital face displaying 02:30. Two and a half hours. It was not the longest you’d ever been stuck waiting for evac by any stretch of the imagination, but not anything to sniff at either. You set down your rifle carefully, stretching out your sore back from where you’d been stuck in that crate. And now you’d be stuck in a tiny shed for even longer.

Ghost crouched by the rug and pulled a corner back from the floorboards. You’d half hoped that there was a luxurious basement hidden underneath, a large steel handle that had cleverly been concealed under the rug, giving you some hope that this could be the case. These hopes were dashed when Ghost pulled it open, revealing a small space, perhaps just a little bigger than the crate you’d just been hiding in. You weren’t entirely keen on getting into yet another confined space, and this hesitation must have shown on your face.

“Never stand when you can sit,” Ghost began, repeating the words drilled into your head as a private, “Never sit when you can lie down.” You repeated the last part of the phrase to him with a sigh, “Never stay awake when you can sleep.” It must have been one of the oldest creeds repeated amongst soldiers, and you couldn’t argue with its eternally sound logic.

With some reluctance, you got into the small steel box, shifting so you were pressed up against the side, leaving space for him to climb in beside you. He did so without a moment's hesitation, though thankfully not on top of you this time, pressed tightly against your side as he pulled down the hatch on top of you two, sealing you into the darkness.

With the adrenaline of getting to the safehouse beginning to fade, the reality of your situation set in. You’d come so close to death, so close to worse things you refused to even think about. It was hard to come to grips with your own mortality and harder still to confront it all in what felt like a steel coffin with your lieutenant pressed up against you. Thankfully, you were somewhat of a master at repressing your emotions, yet you couldn’t quite hold back the tears that pricked at your eyes or the heavy feeling in your heart.

In the darkness, you could hear Ghost shifting, snapping you from those darker emotions and replacing them with kinder curiosity as one of his arms tentatively stretched out across your chest. There was nothing lecherous in his touch; his fingers didn’t linger on your breast but moved straight over to your shoulder, gently tugging at you until you gave into his touch, allowing him to roll you over onto your side.

Ghost, Ghost, your Lieutenant was hugging you. His arm was draped over your side, and he was allowing you to rest your face against his chest, your tears swiftly soaking into the fabric of his balaclava. Nothing about this felt right. Ghost was a beast, more monster than man, yet he was cradling you to his chest as you were the most precious thing in the world.

It was only when you felt the whole ground shake with the force of heavy explosions that you realised, like everything he did, Ghost was merely doing it for the sake of the mission. If you panicked now, clawed at the latch to escape in a claustrophobic frenzy, you would both be reduced to nothing but charred bones. He was restraining you, his strong arms caging you in, disguised as a hug when it was little more than imprisonment. You were more than happy to remain in that gilded prison, burying your face in his chest and allowing the cacophonous sound of the explosions and the vibration of the earth around you to hide your muffled sobs.

Yet your world was not the only one shattering. Even among the tears and chaos, you could feel Ghost’s sharp breath hissing in your ear, his vice-like grip around your back, fingers digging in tight enough to leave bruises, his masked face pressed tightly into your shoulder. You might have been in hell, but you weren’t there alone.

[blakeswritingimagines]

Closer than close

Summary: Not thinking of prince Aemond’s kindness toward you as you thought it was normal, quickly learning due to his attention that he in fact cares for you in a much different way even if you try to deter him.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon/Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Word count: 1.6k

Aemond spent months trying to get your attention and make you see him in a different light. He would approach you in the garden, or seek you out in the halls. He would find excuses to speak to you, even if it meant having the same conversation over and over again. When he thought he had found something to talk about, he would often come off as nervous, not making the impression he wanted. He also tried sending gifts, to show his appreciation but they were often left at your door, unopened.

He would often sit near the door to the servant’s chambers, waiting for you to catch his eye. Whenever he saw you, he would go out of his way to talk to you and try to engage you in conversation so he could end your night. He would occasionally surprise you with a small gift to show he was thinking about you, like flowers or a book that he thought you might like. He wanted you to know that he was thinking of you all hours in a day. When you tried to avoid Aemond, he made every effort to seek you out more even forcing others to tell him where you were. He would offer to take you on long walks, or to take you riding through the countryside, to show you how beautiful the world was when sharing it with someone you love. 

Aemond had been trying for months, to no avail. You were obviously uninterested, but now he felt almost angry. He wanted you, and if he couldn’t have you, nothing else would satisfy him. He was tired of trying to win you over. He was tired of being kind and sweet only to get nowhere. He would take what he wanted. He approached you when you were busy doing chores, forcing a smile as he stood before you. “Hello, my love.” he crooned. You sighed as you ran your fingers through your hair feeling tired but knew you couldn't stop and take a break due to not wanting to anger anyone further, taking a deep breath when you heard the same voice that had been trying to talk to you almost everyday now but turned as you looked up at him and nodded your head keeping your voice light and soft "Hello my prince, did you need something?". Aemond’s smile faltered for a moment, surprised by your cool demeanor. You seemed so unbothered by his attention. He quickly recovered, though, and looked into your eyes, his gaze lingering. “Can I walk with you?” he asked, his tone soft and gentle, as it had been every time. “I’ve something important I’d like to discuss with you.”

You softly sighed as you heard his words knowing you couldn't and shouldn’t deny him but spoke as you made it clear "I don't believe I can, your mother has given me more chores and I don't want to anger her by not doing them", you gave him a small smile trying to be nice since you didn't want to anger him anymore either but all you had seen since knowing the prince was hot/cold craziness instead of a real person which didn't help with the whole not trusting him. “Chores? But that can wait, surely.” Aemond was becoming frustrated. Of all the things his mother could have come up with, this is what was keeping you apart. Was there no way for you to be together? Could he just not have you for once? “It will not take long, please?” he begged you. “I need to talk to you privately. I promise.”

Knowing the chores were given to you for simply denying the prince but sighed as you heard his tone, knowing you didn't want too but slowly nodded your head as you wiped your hands on the skirt of your dress as you took a few steps closer to him "Very well your grace, how may I help you?" Having a feeling you knew where this was going but didn't know how much in the other direction he was planning on going to go. Aemond took a slow breath as he closed the distance between you both. When he had come to find you, he had felt angry and fed up with all the delay and resistance, but now his anger had softened to a sense of calm and determination. “I’ve something to tell you.” his voice was still calm and soothing. He had learned after all his attempts with you that anything else brought out your defenses. “I want you to know the way you make me feel.” he spoke softly.

You walked beside Aemond quietly as you both started walking through the gardens keeping your hands down by your sides, looking up at him as you listened to him talk before you sighed feeling as if you had heard everything but wasn't ready for all the details he was about to speak as you stopped and turned to face him thinking it was best to get it over with but felt shocked by his words that he had truly noticed so many little things about you. “Your kindness,” he spoke, his tone soft and sincere. “The way your eyes light up when you smile.” He took a deep breath. He couldn’t keep this secret any longer, not when he felt like he was on the verge of exploding. “My thoughts are that you are beautiful beyond compare. You are kind, gentle, and a true angel straight from the heavens. I am enamored by your personality and your smile is the sweetest sight even if I am not the cause of it. You are like the bright ray of sunshine on a dim and dreary day. I love your very essence. I love your voice, your laugh, and your smell. I love every little thing about you, and the idea that you could one day be mine fills me with joy, warmth, and a true sense of peace. “I’ve dreamed of you…and of us…being together.”

Aemond was still gentle with his words, despite the fact that it was clear he had been holding them in for so long. You bit down on your lower lip as you listened to him as you found the words to be quite sweet, still curious as to why he went out of his way to act so crazy over certain things but gave him a small smile "That's very kind....May I ask you something my prince?".  Aemond noticed that your eyes were full of curiosity, even after his confession. “Anything…” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly. He could not believe he had confessed his feelings. He had no idea what you were going to say in return. He had been trying to be his most polite self, and now he had shown his vulnerable side, something he never let anyone see.You let a sigh slip past your lips as you looked over to the flowers in the garden as you tried to find the right words before you softly spoke "Might I ask why you didn't say that in the beginning? why go out of your way to have me stop speaking to people, or doing certain things or when I can't give you attention or speak with you why you become so cold." 

Aemond took a breath. You would certainly not enjoy the truth behind his actions, but it felt necessary. “Because it was the only way I thought I could make you notice me.” he whispered. He took you by both hands, his eyes begging for forgiveness and understanding. “I know it was stupid,” he said, “but the way I felt about you was far stronger than anything I’d ever felt before. I just wanted us to be together,” he added passionately. Aemond took a moment to consider your question. “I…I don’t know why it was my first thought truly,” he admitted, his voice quiet. “I suppose I was afraid. Afraid that you would reject me. And when you spoke to other people, I felt that you were ignoring the feelings between us. I’m sorry. I don’t want to force anything. I just…would like an honest chance with you.” You felt as if you were at a loss for words. Aemond had touched your heart in a way you could never have imagined. When he spoke of his feelings for you, you felt butterflies in your stomach and warmth in your cheeks. The way he described you spoke directly to your heart. Your mind told you to run, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to do so. Instead, you found yourself drawing closer to him. Aemond’s heart was racing. He couldn’t believe this was happening. All of his actions had paid off. You didn’t hate him, you were just afraid of him, that was all. He looked at you, and saw the same nervous excitement in your eyes that he felt in his chest. You must be feeling what he felt. His instincts were right. 

You could feel how he felt about you. “Will you…give us a chance?” he spoke softly, closing the gap between you.You looked into his soft lilac eye as if trying to see if he was going to be fully honest or not but knew the truth due to how much he kept trying to get your attention, listening to his question as you kept your eyes locked on him even as he moved closer but spoke honestly as you tried to think clearly "I'm still not sure I'm sorry....but perhaps we can go slow?". “Slow?” Aemond’s voice was filled with hope. You had agreed to a chance, and Aemond would take it anyway he could. He moved his face closer to yours, your cheeks almost touching. Your lips were centimeters apart. He could feel your breath and the warmth of your skin. “I’ll do anything…” he whispered.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Rose Recaps 2023 - Korea

I started with Japan because this year it gave me everything I could possibly want. Korea gave me some very nice surprises. Let's go.

The one that had me question if watching it was good for my mental health.

The Eighth Sense

Much like what I said about Tokyo in April is... it was not a good decision on my part to watch this one live. I related way too much to Jae Won and I wasn't in a specially good place at the time. However, I love it so much. I have rewatched it since then and it's such an incredible journey.

I think they used the time very efficiently and they didn't try to skip too many steps to make it a happy ending. I would be okay without any redemption for those two but on the plus side the other friends were brilliant.

Favourite Moment

The one that came out of nowhere

Sing My Crush

This show came out all at once and I had no idea it was coming. But I'm so glad it did. There were I think 4 kbls that came out all at once this year. And with the exception of this one, they were all worse because of it. First of all I fell in love with the song instantly and Han Tae immediately after. He's so cute and in love and it takes him way too long to realise it, but his devotion to Ba Ram is unquestionable from the beginning.

Favourite Moment:

The one that was a sequel but not really

Love Class 2

The first couple of episodes I wasn't sure about this one. The first couple of episodes were kinda of confusing, starting with such a dark scene on the roof, and so many different types of relationships to keep track of.

Joo Hyuk was my instant favourite from the beginning. The way he was instantly smitten and committed from the first moment he saw the TA was delightful.

It took me longer to warm up to Min Woo and Maru. But I love their arc. Even the jealousy experiment didn't bother me, Maru needed a push. Much like Lee Hyun said, it was so obvious.

Lee Hyun and Kim An were the last ones to reach me. I think the whole backstory around Kim An muddied the waters a bit and I'm not sure it was necessary to have so much of it, but I did love that when Kim An gave in, he did so with no reservations.

Favourite Moments:

The one that had me considering moving to a farm

Love Tractor

Ok. Not really, But look how pretty. Funny story, I actually rewatched part of this show in an orchard not that much different from the one here. I was on holiday in the countryside and just thought it would be incredibly amusing.

Anyway. I love Ye Chan an unreasonable amount. He's so dramatic and so earnest. And honestly if I ever had to move to a place like this I think I would pretty much have the same reaction as Seon Yul. I just want my peace and quiet.

But I really like their dynamic all throughout and considering the time restraints I thought that the development of Yul's feelings was done quite well.

Favourite Moment:

The other one with Love in the title

Love Mate

There was absolutely no reason for me to like this show has much as I did. Ha Ram should've bothered me. This whole concept should've annoyed me. The whole separation bit should've made me angry. Why didn't it? I have no clue. But I loved it. I've watched it more than once and love it every time.

Favourite Moment

The one with coffee and pottery

Unintentional Love Story

I adore this show. Pick an episode, any episode, I love it. Was it perfect? No. Was the kissing the thing that made it not perfect? Perhaps. I love it nonetheless.

[Confession time. Is there one thing about this show that bothers me no matter how many times I rewatch it? Yes. Is it the kissing? No. Is it something absolutely and stupidly tiny that only I could possibly be that bothered by it? Yes. What is it? " Let me at least do this." It's such a great moment. But why did whoever was in charge of the editing felt the need to show us the scene that we saw 17 minutes before? (it's really 17 minutes and 40 seconds, I checked because I'm nowhere near sane). Did they thing we forgot about it in that time? It lessens the moment and it insults the audience. I hate it an unreasonable amount. ]

There are so many moments in this show that I love. The four mains are amazing, the confession scene by HoTae in the coffee shop floored me, the writing in the sand moment was delightful and the soundtrack is my favourite of the year.

Favourite Moment:

The one that was perfect

Our Dating Sim

What's there to say. There's nothing wrong here. They are delightful, I had a great time with the video game format at the end of the episodes, their chemistry was amazing, and Ki Tae is my favourite boy. Also, my second favourite soundtrack this year.

Favourite Moment

See you next time with Thailand I think.

Thanks for reading💜

[pentrologram]

What Normal People Do

John 'Soap' Mactavish and Simon 'Ghost' Riley have routines. They have also each other, the truck, the dog, and their flat. That is until the dog practically manhandles you into their life. Changes ensue. please be warned this is very self indulgent and probably not in character at all. i have never played MM2, i haven't watched a single playthrough (unless countless tiktok edits count) and I only know what I do about their characters from a lot of tumblr posts and fics on ao3. speaking of- ao3! ghost/soap/gn!reader (established ghoap)

I'll Run Away With You

Simon Riley is not known for being tender and soft-spoken- he wasn’t a lieutenant because he spoon-fed soldiers and tucked them in on cots in the middle of a war field. He earned his stay on Earth, earned his title, hell, earned the clothes on his back. God would have had his head if he hadn’t made sure the younger, more incompetent kind didn’t have to, too.

It was hard for him to find that balance between the harshness of his job and the still bad but significantly less thorny outside (or inside?) world. Sometimes, while on the field, old injuries from years past would randomly decide to rear their heads. Maybe it would be an old knife wound that felt like it was bruising all over again or his ears would ring like he was hearing gunshots in the middle of a Marks and Spencers.

He was a valuable soldier, he knew. There were bunches and gaggles of people who wanted his head mounted on a stick- too many to count, and properly address. He was only one man, though. It would make sense that after all those years, it would weigh on him.

When he was younger, newer to the military, he tried to be normal when he was off duty. What his mam would have wanted for him, had she not been a deadbeat and dead. Polo shirts that stretched around his wide frame tucked into jeans, taking care of the flat he rented somewhere in the countryside-city (it’s not really a suburb but he calls it that anyways because who cares?) and pretending to debate about vacuums and silverware. Because that’s what normal people do.

But as time went on, it got harder to separate work from his life, and he just… let it consume him. Now that same suburb-y flat is in a place more urban than sub, “prime real estate,” he overheard in a decent pub with a pint once in between missions. Rent’s gone up, that’s damn sure. He offhandedly considers buying the whole building sometimes- he’s got bloody enough money, more than enough from saving absentmindedly, as the money had nowhere notable to go- but he wouldn’t be present enough to be a landlord and that shite. The flat he tried to furnish when he was twenty-something is still furnished the same way, if not a little more touched up by Johnny and his never-ending energy, and sometimes, it feels like being in a dead person’s house. It’s lived in but in a state of perpetual disrepair, never feeling like an actual home (at least for him).

The fridge was rarely ever stocked with anything but condiments and beer during their military days- he and Johnny never really had the energy to cook, preferring to use their free time elsewhere- but the bed had a frame (better than what he can think of some of his friends, bleedin’ Johnny and bringing girls back to a mattress on the floor before he moved in with Simon) and a rug underneath it and even a potted plant on a side table that is 100% plastic. It catches the light nicely in the wee hours of the morning, though, so it’s worth dusting the thin, leathery material of the fake lily now and again.

The flat is more furnished now, now that they’re officially in retirement. Knick knacks found at thrift stores or random handouts from the festivals and fairs that they go to every season, just to feel a little human again. There are more plastic plants on the side table now and Simon even tentatively tried a spider plant six months ago. It’s still alive, flourishing even, and now Simon has a couple of gardening books. Sometimes, when neither of them can sleep, Simon reads them out loud while Johnny fiddles with some new craft. Johnny says out loud once that they should get a house, for Simon and his plants.

Johnny came home with him every time they got some leave time together. The two of them are one in the same, really, feral animals without an off switch. It makes it easy for a relationship to foster, their understanding of the other in such an intimate and vulnerable way. It lets them open up guarded and bruised hearts, letting the other shine a flashlight on them and deciding to love them anyway. It’s the same as the hopeless romantic shit that you see in movies but plays out a lot dirtier in real life- it’s all the love and passion and borderline insanity that comes with a real first love mixed with the obsession of two retired soldiers who had been in the game too long and longer still without anyone normal to add some perspective to their lives.

That’s how it’ll always be, Simon thinks to himself as he stares at Johnny, hulk of a man he is, curled around Simon like a docile little thing- he surely looks it, as he was dwarfed by the extra five inches and the fifty pounds Simon had on him. He’s asleep- man sleeps like the dead, anywhere and everywhere- mohawk unruly and sticking up every which way. Getting long, Simon thinks to himself as he runs a hand through it- slightly sweat slicked but soft from a shower that night. It’s the right on the cusp of summer, the AC working hard- in this old flat, it doesn’t work the best but gets the brunt of it done. Simon’s opened up a window, (hesitantly- but between him, Johnny, and the dog, it’s sweltering and he fears he might get heatstroke) the one closest to his reach, so that the mesh covering can ventilate the room. They’re three stories up, but neither he nor Johnny enjoy having windows open. Too many weaknesses. He takes advantage of the window, though, lighting up a cigarette with a Zippo Johnny got for him a year ago.

His life is full of opposites, he finds. Johnny tends to take up a room, but Simon moves silently, just like his callsign. Johnny sleeps like a log while Simon struggles with his insomnia (right now he hopes the cigarette will help quiet him enough for sleep).

It won’t, Simon thinks to himself as he watches the moon move through the window and sinks below where he can see and eventually, the sun makes its appearance known. He puts his cigarette out sometime between the sun bleeding to view and the first rays of dawn because time keeps on moving and then Johnny is shifting awake at 0800. Johnny blinks, eyes already bright, ready for the day. He’s always alert when he wakes up, force of habit, Simon supposes. He doesn’t sleep enough himself to be so put together when he wakes up.

Then their day goes as follows:

Johnny puts the telly and the kettle on while Simon makes them brekkie. After two cups of tea are made (one with enough creamer to strangle a cow and the other black and simple, the way God intended it, as Johnny’ll tell Simon) and toast and egg sandwiches like the ones from cafes that Johnny learned how to make on a whim are put together, they sit for a while, just enjoying their company. Johnny fiddles with something- today it’s the newspaper- and Simon reads a book, and every once and a while, there’ll be a fair advertised in the paper. The fairs have always been there, in the city, but the two of them never really had the time while in the military. Now, they have more time than they can think to do with it, and so Johnny dragging Simon to them is now a familiar routine.

“‘S strawberries thi’ year,” Johnny says out loud.

“Mm?” Simon hums, immediately knowing what Johnny is talking about.

“Shite, 't started tae days ago.” He puts the paper down and puts his hands on his knees, and Simon puts a bookmark in his book before getting up.

They work cohesively around each other while getting ready to go to the fair. Johnny searches through the walk-in closet for a shirt and Simon digs through their dresser for socks. Johnny fixes his mohawk while Simon hooks a surgical mask around his ears. Johnny laces his sneakers up and pulls Riley’s harness on and Simon pulls on a hoodie, and then the three of them are in Simon’s truck, chugging along to the Town Center, where there are tents and stalls and people with strawberry hats. They get strawberry cider, strawberry pound cake and strawberry-shaped pasta to take home and strawberry cider that the both of them conclude is just Sp

rite in a pink glass bottle. Simon has to talk Johnny down from buying a big, ugly strawberry hat for Riley and compensates with a ceramic strawberry planter. There are strawberry-printed picnic blankets spread underneath trees with strawberry lanterns connecting them, lighting up the public park as the sun dances in the sky. Simon watches idly while Riley bites at a chip Johnny offers her.

They have a moment of peace there, on the picnic blanket, before Riley loses her shit and starts pulling on her leash, her distress signal- usually for Simon, but obviously for someone else now, if the desperate way she’s struggling against her harness is anything to go by. Simon gets up begrudgingly, the metal plate in his knee protesting as he jogs to meet Riley’s speed as she practically sprints behind one of the stalls. There is you; half curled on yourself with your phone in your hands. Riley rips herself out of Simon’s hold and barrels into you, calculating her speed so she’s at a trot when she lays her weight across your lap. You blink, phone forgotten, and Simon watches, silent, as you flinch away. Riley’s nothing if not persistent though, and eventually her weight forces you to calm down. Huh. Simon thinks offhandedly. You still haven’t noticed him, big and hulking as he is, just focused on Riley’s comforting weight as you calm yourself, slow, stuttering breaths evening, phone forgotten. DPT, Simon thinks to himself. When you calm entirely, you spot Simon. Your eyes go wide and you immediately try to wiggle out from underneath Riley.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, your dog sort of- um, trapped me here, I didn’t mean to-“

“No.” Simon says, and his gruff tone matched with his physique is enough to quiet you. “She wanted to help you. ‘S fine.” He says.

“Um,” you say. “Okay. Are you sure?” Simon just grunts in response.

"Are you okay?” He asks, his voice softening just a little.

“Oh, um. Yeah.”

Simon doesn’t believe you.

He stares down at you for a long while, and your expression gradually grows more anxious.

“I just, um- I have an, um. A thing.” You say quietly.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, giving you a chance to tell the truth, to redeem yourself. “Riley doesn’t start DPT on total strangers for no reason.” This time, Simon’s insistent, giving you no wiggle room. He stares two holes through the back of your head. You look uneasy.

“No, I’m OK. Just… got a little upset.” You say, giving him a little smile. Simon stares longer than necessary. Just as he’s about to answer, Johnny comes in running.

“Si, ‘ave found a strawberry sex stall-!“ Johnny starts before his eyes land on you. Pleasantries are exchanged before you squeak out an excuse and you make a point in scurrying out before Johnny can even start his main charming event. Johnny pouts but watches you go.

“Bonnie, that one,” he murmurs, if a little mournfully. Simon only grunts in agreement.

Later that evening, the interaction is forgotten about. Passed off as just a weird event, perhaps an endearing story to tell about Riley- (sweet girl, always so concerned for others- took off running for a stranger once, she did)- and nothing more.

That night goes as follows:

Johnny and the dog watch telly until Simon is done with dinner. They eat together, their little family, Riley eating her generic shepherd’s meal through her slow feeder, chowing loudly while Simon and Johnny talk about everything and nothing at all. Then they all sit together on the sofa to watch a random movie. It’s time for bed after, which means brushing their teeth, showering, washing hair and getting the last of Riley’s jitters out. Then the three of them settle in bed- it’s barely past 1100 before Johnny’s out like a light.

This is where the routine of retired life varies:

Sometimes Simon will sleep. Sometimes he will stay up for a night, then two, then twelve. Sometimes he’ll take the medicines he is supposed to and others he will wake with night terrors. Sometimes he’ll wake up and feel so broken he’ll wake Johnny up so that can cuddle and fall asleep together and sometimes the dog will wake Simon before an especially bad nightmare.

Yes, his life really is full of contradictions, Simon thinks. Because knows he is in love with Johnny but somehow cannot get his mind off the brief meeting he had with you. He takes after his father in more ways than one, it appears. The heart of a cheater hidden in the skin of a new mind. He and Johnny have had thirds before- but Simon’s never felt so enraptured by one before. Not so quickly, not so strongly, not so potently. He finds himself craving to know more about you, to learn everything about you- the same way he felt about Johnny when they first met. The revelation makes him stay up and smoke and watch the moon bleed to the sun, with Johnny curled to his side and Riley in their bed.

Then their day goes as follows:

Johnny puts the telly and the kettle on while Simon makes them brekkie. After two cups of tea are made and omelettes are put together, they sit for a while, just enjoying their company. Johnny fiddles with something- today it’s a new paper craft- and Simon reads a book. Sometime during that, they'll part ways. Maybe the dog needs a walk or Johnny takes a piss- it's a little like a game of wills, looking for who will tap out of just sitting there first. Today, it's Johnny. He gets up to get his laptop before settling back on the couch with the TV buzzing lowly. Johnny job hunts. Simon reads. Johnny feeds the dog. Simon ponders their pension. At some point both of their minds wander to the same topic- you.

Then their night goes as follows:

Johnny and the dog watch telly until Simon is done cooking dinner. They eat together, their little family, Riley eating her generic kibble, chewing loudly while Simon and Johnny talk about everything and nothing at all. Then they all sit together on the sofa to watch a random movie. It’s time for bed after, which means brushing their teeth, showering, washing hair and walking Riley to tire him out. Then the three of them settle in bed- it’s not even past 1100 before Johnny’s asleep.

Then the routine of retired life varies:

This night, Simon lays on his back like a log before curling into Johnny's back. He sleeps that night.

next ->

[future-ghoost]

16 and 28 for rook codex writing prompts :)

Oh hi T-aash 👋

You picked a good time to ask - I'm in the middle of writing so the creative juices (and whisky) are flowing.

16. Letter from Rook to their love interest (NeveXGreyWardenRook)

Let's pick the context of Rook having to go on a mission to clear out some of the Blight that remained post-game.

Neve,

I've never been one for cities. Growing up in the countryside surrounded by nothing but fields and gardens makes you used to isolation and open expanses of land. Being a Grey Warden for a decade makes you used to camaraderie and wary of crowds and strangers.

I've never really liked the rain. It's never been more than an inconvenience - nothing more than a sign I'd have to re-grease my armour and carefully place my socks over the fire so they'd dry out before morning.

Even so, I can't help but miss Minrathous. It's energy, the people, the streets and towering buildings, the views across the docks and the never-ending rain. I never could have imagined I'd find myself living in such a place. More than that, I never could have imagined myself happy living in such a place. Yet, out here, in places where the views go on for miles and the sun shines on Davrin, Assan and I as we clear out the remainder of the same Blight I've been fighting for my entire adult life, I can't help but find myself yearning for it.

You're the best detective in Thedas, so I won't bore you by explaining the obvious reason why I wish to come home.

But, Maker, do I miss you.

You'd never believe it, but out here in the middle of nowhere, Davrin actually makes a coffee worse than you. He tries his best, but it's hard to control the temperature of water over a campfire. And while it's nice to see the stars at night, they're hard to enjoy when I don't have you following the point of my finger when I name every constellation I can remember.

You'll be glad to know that Assan is at least happy. Unlike the city, or the Fade there are snacks everywhere for a growing griffon. You'd be amazed to see how big he's getting. We might have to widen the doors of your apartment when I get back if you want to have him stay over.

There are moments of lonliness out here that I've never experienced before, even with Davrin and Assan by my side. I haven't been injured much (please don't worry for me, a few months on the road and all the weight gained from Lucanis' food has turned to muscle), but Davrin doesn't hold a candle to you as a healer. In the moments where I'm getting a wound wrapped, I feel you here with me sometimes. Your soft hands, your warm voice chastising me for not dodging quickly enough.

Still, the new scars are worth the work we're doing out here. You'd be so proud to see what we've accomplished. Killing Darkspawn isn't all being on our own in the middle of nowhere. We've been to new places, new towns and met some incredible people. The Blight is much more complex than it seems - it worms its way into their lives in ways you can't imagine unless you've been in our position. Without the Gods to command it, it's not quite as brutal, but its effects still persist. But because of the work we've done, people are alive - their houses still stand, they've rallied together as communities and its incredible to see. I understand how you must feel helping people with Rana.

How is the new Detective Agency going? I can only imagine how you and Rana are getting on each other's nerves, but I'm sure you're doing fantastic work.

There are only a few more villages assigned to us to clear out. Once they're done, Davrin and I are thinking about hanging up our swords. With the Taint removed from our blood after killing Elgar'nan, and with the Blight mostly dealt with, there's nothing left for us out here. Minrathous Murders and Monsters has a good chance of going ahead!

I never imagined my life as anything more than doing my duty as a Warden and eventually succumbing to the Blight, but I have a real chance at a life now. I'd love nothing more than to spend it at your side.

I love you, Neve Gallus.

Stay safe. If you can't stay safe, stay alive.

Always yours, Rook

28. Propaganda against Rook - by the First Warden

Warning!

A discredited Warden by the name 'Kyra Thorne' aka 'Rook' has been attempting to contact members of the order to join her cause against so-called 'gods'.

There is no evidence that any gods beyond the Maker exist and any attempt at stating otherwise will be seen as a slight against the Order. Furthermore, any attempt to contact 'Rook' will be met with exile.

The Blight has not changed.

In War, Victory. In Peace, Vigilence. In Death, Sacrifice.

[drabblesandimagines]

Fearless

Based on this request. Clive Rosfield x fem reader Established relationship, fluff 1,220 words

You’ve always been good at putting on a facade, holding your nerve in life or death situations – part of everyday life, really, since joining the Cursebreakers – but as you grow closer to your destination, it’s getting harder to make your legs comply. “Are you sure, Clive?” You slow in your walk, your voice soft, but he still hears.

Clive stops in his stride then, steps in front of you and places one hand on your shoulder and his other warm palm cups your face with a sympathetic smile. “I promise it’ll be fine. Have I ever led you astray before, my darling?”

“No, you haven’t… but I must confess I’m still nervous.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead in his reassuring way – he’s all about soft, sweet touches. “I’ll be with you the whole time, all right?”

You nod, though you know it’s not coming across as a confident one. He smiles, encouragingly, and moves his hand down from your cheek to tilt your chin upwards so he can kiss you chastely on the lips. It’s all too brief, a distraction perhaps, as he then wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you tight to his side and continues to lead you down the path into the clearing he’d scouted out for this particular excursion – free of fiends and blight. It would be a nice spot for a romantic picnic, you think… or literally anything else than what Clive has planned.

Once you’ve reached the centre, he slips his arm away and takes a step back, facing you with a look on his face that reminds you of how excited Torgal gets for one of his treats. “Ready, my lady?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He holds his fingers up to his lips and lets out a long whistle. It’s almost like magic, really, with how quickly the silver white chocobo appears out of nowhere. She charges into the clearing with impressive speed and you quickly sidestep to stand behind Clive’s stature. The chocobo’s head is bowed down low, squawking, until she comes to an abrupt stop a few metres away from you both.

“Hello, Ambrosia.” Clive greets, rubbing her head softly as she bows it to him, now letting out soft, sweet kwehs. “How have you been, girl?”

For the majority of your life, you’ve been terrified of chocobos. It’s an understandable fear – as Clive had repeatedly reassured you upon discovery – considering your past.

You’d made it to your seventh Name Day before being discovered as a Bearer, quickly Branded and sold off to a noble in the countryside who made his gil through agriculture. The days were spent toiling in the fields - turning over the soil, planting seeds, harvesting - and the nights were spent sleeping in the chocobo stables. Unfortunately, your former master treated both his Branded and chocobos with the same amount of affection – forced to share the same dirty water trough and the same buckets full of food scraps.

There was some sort of unspoken bond between you and your fellow Bearers to share everything equally – favours repaid to one another in the field, throwing a couple more vegetables in their basket at the tally count to avoid a lashing. But chocobos have awful sharp claws to go along with their hungry stomachs.

You’re torn from your daydreaming by Clive saying your name, catching the tail-end of him introducing you. There was always a certain glint in his eye when he told you tales of growing up in Rosaria, especially involving Ambrosia. The young Rosfield had raised her from a chick, for Founder’s sake. She’d saved his life at Phoenix Gate, lost her eye in the process… so if there’s a chocobo to like, she’s definitely the one to like.

She draws up to her full height then, flapping her wings and your heart pounds – a flashback to a night where you very nearly lost your fingers to a sharp beak.

“Can you lie down for me?” Clive asks the bird, softly. Ambrosia folds her wings back to her sides, immediately lying down, tilting her head quizzically at her master. “Good girl.”

You remain standing behind the Fire Dominant, using him as a shield, but you know it won’t last much longer as he turns to you.

“Will you say hello?”

You take a breath – you’ve faced far scarier things, you know you have – a morbal, a couerl… Tarja’s wrath when you returned to the Hideaway exhausted and wounded.

“H-hello, Ambrosia.”

The chocobo kwehs loudly, thankfully staying settled on the ground. Clive slips an arm around your waist, squeezing your side.

“She likes you already, you know? I’ve told her a lot about you. She’s a very good listener.”

“Mm.”

“Would you like to touch her?”

“I…” Your hands are trembling at the thought.

“I would never force you, you know that, but you’re doing so well.” Clive grabs your hand, squeezing it. “We could do it together.”

“All right.” You’ve come this far after all, but there is a definite waiver in your voice.

“Ambrosia won’t peck you,” he laces his fingers through yours then. “But we’ll do it like this, so she’d only get me if she did. But you have my solemn vow that she won’t.”

You trust Clive with your very life after all, so you swallow – your throat incredibly dry – and nod. Clive grins, stepping behind you then, wrapping one arm around your stomach to pull you back into his chest. He begins to guide your intertwined hands up to the bird’s side, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in reassurance the whole time as your fingers brush against her feathers.

She’s incredibly soft, is the first thing you notice. Different from the sharpness you’ve always associated with chocobos. Ambrosia swivels her head to watch, softly kwehing away.

“She’s beautiful, Clive.” Your fingers relax a little into a gentle stroke.

“As are you, my darling.” He murmurs in your ear, pressing a kiss against your temple as he does.

The two of you stand there a little while longer, continuing to stroke Clive’s loyal steed. Ambrosia tucks her head against her chest, seeming to nestle down for a nap. It’s incredibly sweet.

You don’t even notice when Clive moves his hand away, slyly – only realising when you feel his other arm wrap around your waist.

“I’m so proud. You truly continue to astonish me every day with how remarkable you are, and how lucky I am to bear witness to it.”

“No,” you pull your hand away cautiously, but continue to look at Ambrosia. “I’m not-“

He spins you round in his arms then – Ambrosia doesn’t even move, content in her slumber – and puts on a pout. “Beautiful and brave and I will not hear otherwise.”

You can’t refuse that particular face, even when he’s not being entirely serious, and caress his cheek, and stare into his stormy blue eyes. “I wouldn’t be able to do it without you - truly. I love you so much, Clive.”

He sinks into your touch. “I love you too, my darling.” He pulls you even closer, if it was possible, and embraces your lips passionately – your reward – teasing your bottom lip with his teeth. His kisses still leave you almost dizzy and he knows it.

“Now, how about a ride?”

--

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-f

[seethesunny]

Prompt: Joel/Tess on a date but Sarah (knows Tess and adores her) doesn’t know yet that they’re dating, catches them at the movies or at the mall. Something innocent and adorable yet very smoochy!

It's been a while since I got this but this prompt was lovely! Happy belated birthday @bignosebushybrows and hopefully you had an amazing day ❤ and fingers crossed you like it:

When her uncle barged loudly inside their house, calling her downstairs and immediately showing her the keys of the car looped around his finger with a flashy grin, Sarah hadn’t thought much of it. Really, she would, over all things sacred, hate it if someone else had been entrusted to watch over her. 

But uncle Tommy was fun and, hopefully her daddy wouldn’t know if she lowered the voice inside her head just a little; Sarah liked going on with him because he let her do things on her own. 

Now, she did love her dad. More than she could try to put into words, more than she could ever describe, more than the countless stars that adorned the countryside sky when they visited the old ranch where they grew up. However, she was growing older, and there was so much freedom a girl of her age could get under the vigilance of her parents. And she had long gotten used to her daddy being overprotective, it was for her own good, and there was truth to it sometimes.

Tommy rolled the windows down and clicked on the radio, humming along, and she beamed on the passenger side.

Yet she liked this, and it wouldn’t do her harm. At the end of the day, there was someone supervising her, and Sarah understood her own limits and what risks she could encounter. 

“You gotta try the new arcade.” He said, messing up her hair, laughing at her scoff.

She couldn’t stop smiling, having talked long enough about that with her friends over the phone. 

“Sure will.” She agreed eagerly, wrinkling her nose at him playfully.

“And what are you gonna do while I’m nowhere to be seen? You aren’t gonna be scared, aren’t ya? ” He teased half-heartedly, earning a giggle out of her as he took a turn and drove through the park, a shortcut he always reminded her existed when they went this way. 

“I'm gonna use the money my daddy gave me, buy me some fries.” Sarah shrugged, playing with the bracelet around her wrist. “And you should take out Maria on a real date.” 

Tommy gave her a sidelong glare before staring ahead.

“Uncle, meeting her at the mall only is a disgrace to the Miller’s last name.” Not for the first time Sarah scolded, and Tommy almost put his hands up in surrender. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He joked, elbowing her gently while she frowned, right as they approached the parking lot. “Listen, I promise this is the last time.” 

“It better be.” Sarah gave, that chiding tone the same one she brought out so similar to her dad’s, and then she remarked seriously, elbowing him back. “You should buy her something nice.” 

Maria was a cool, charismatic woman who worked at the cash register in one of the stores—she had forgotten the name now—and her uncle was infatuated. He would use the excuse of taking her to the mall for an ice cream or to shop around, but then he would flirt with her while Sarah looked around, and it became common. 

Right now, her daddy had no clue, and she had zipped her mouth shut. 

Once inside, Sarah counted her money twice as Tommy mocked her without malice, barely disguising his impatience.

Maria’s store popped into view when they took the escalator, and Tommy kissed her forehead to her light-hearted complaint.

“Don’t get too far, ‘kay? And if you need anythin’ you know where to find me. Go have fun, kid.” He squeezed her shoulders, trusting her and letting her acknowledge it as she nodded. 

“Please, bring up the date before we leave!” Sarah exclaimed, waving a hand in the air before disappearing into a bright, big H&M store on her left. 

She took a break at the food court when she got thirsty, all the walking and observing and trying on clothes tiring her some, so she sat close to the cinema entrance and ordered some cinnamon sugar pretzels after drinking her lemonade. Munching on them, Sarah squinted in the fluorescent lights above her head.

It couldn’t be him, right? 

Sarah was sure of one thing: she could recognize her daddy on a crowd, and he just stood out with his physique. And he wasn’t alone! His arm was banded around a woman’s shoulders, leaning on him, and when she saw a glimpse of her face- 

“Ish that Tesh?” She murmured around a mouthful of food, crumbs drizzling around her lips; Sarah brushed them aside, pretzels being set apart as she scanned them thoroughly, not being noticed.

Accidents happened, and she could mistake some random couple; nonetheless, some meters between them couldn’t fuzz out the truth. Sarah leaned on he elbows, attempting to capture more as her daddy whispered something on Tess’s ear, who in turn smacked him gently on the chest and pressed their lips together. Oh, oh, so it was something serious.

Tess had been a constant presence in her life whose encouraging words were always at the ready, who had figuratively taken her under her wing since the first day, who was confident and relaying both—she was friend of the family, had known her for so long. The past summer, she had spent so many hours at their home teaching her how to work with clay, starting with easy things since Sarah was a beginner.

Had she been so blinded by her own joy as to not notice the signs? Tess surely showed up more, and her daddy had been a bit weird, in the sense that he would act differently around her, and once Uncle Tommy picked at him because he called her during work hours… 

Her heart almost leaped out of her chest, the dawning realization sticky like the cinnamon on the pad of her fingers, a gasp spilling out of her lips as they walked towards her seat. 

Sarah froze as there was no way she was exiting without being noticed, clutching a napkin to clean her fingers anxiously and blinking repeatedly at the wait for the inevitable.  

Warm eyes spotted her, their conversation drowned before being completely shut down, and then it was their turn to still like a deer caught in headlights.

Tess’s hands were intertwined with his, and Sarah fixed on it before her gaze darted between them, chewing the inside of her cheek.

The first one to regain her composure was Tess, laughing nervously. “Hey, hi Sarah. Nice to see you here.” 

Sarah rubbed her palms, clasping them together as she locked eyes with her daddy, who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. 

“Uh, baby girl.” He greeted gruffly, strained, but not dropping Tess’s hand at all. “How long have you-” 

“You have some explainin’ to do.” Is what Sarah opted to answer after chosing her words carefully, approaching them openly. 

Tess was the one who tilted her head and offered a relieving, small grin, offering her other hand. “Let’s go for a walk then.” 

Joel sighed heavily and scrubbed at his face with a hand, staring at them both afterward. “‘S a long story, Sarah.” 

“Got nowhere else to be, Daddy! I suspect we’ll be here for a long period of time.” She yelled to jab at them, who shared a quick, fleeting look, giving in easily. “At least you were in good hands.” 

A complicit wink at Tess—they both busted in giggles, he rolled his eyes, and urged them forward.

She wasn’t ready to go home yet.

[redheadspark]

Hi! I love your work. Can I request Jack Russell and Fem!Y/N with 15) being ready for the next step?

A/N - I think this is quite cute for Jack! Thanks for asking this, anon!

Perfect

Summary - Jack wants to find the perfect place for you and Jack to hide away from the world, and he might have found the perfect place.

Warnings - Just some cute fluff for our wolf boy

"Jack, this seems a bit out of the way for a picnic,"

"You gotta trust me on this one, Amor,"

"I trust you with my life, Jack. But come on, we're out in the middle of nowhere,"

Jack simply smiled as he drove along the dirt path through the small wetlands and then into the open grassy fields. You sighed and looked out the window, knowing you weren't going to get anything else out of him that evening. This entire drive and plan was all on Jack, and although you could get a secret or two out of him in the past, not this time. He was more tight-lipped in what you two were doing and what he had planned for you.

You and Jack were dating for about a year now, a nice and simple relationship that you both needed in your lives. Jack was going through a chaotic season as a monster hunter, you finding out in an awkward manner when you stumbled on one of his duffle bags filled with weapons of every kind. Of course, Jack thought you were going to run from the door, and you were about to. Yet you stayed, thinking nothing of it since Jack was still a good person with a heart of gold and was a fantastic boyfriend.

Your life was no bed of roses either. Dealing with an asshole ex-boyfriend who cheated on you two at least two times in your relationship, your parents and their impending divorce that took forever to finalize, and the dead-end job that took more life out of you. It was hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel at times, but you were glad you and Jack found each other when you did.

All you could do was ascend, not descend,

Jack wanted to take things slow with you regarding being in a relationship. He knew you were still healing from your ex-boyfriend and the damage he caused, and you knew that Jack hadn't been in a relationship for some time. So you two were taking things at a good, slow, gentle pace: dates once a week, calling each other on the phone at least 3 times a week when you couldn't physically see each other, and making sure to make time together when you could.

It felt like falling in love all over again when it came to Jack, but in the best way possible.

So now, a week after your one-year anniversary, Jack made sure you had a Saturday open for something he had planned. You were a bit excited about what he had under his sleeve, and yet a bit nervous since you had no idea what was in store. But in the end, you were whisked away in his car and was now driving over an hour out into the countryside.

Finally, over a little hill that was dipping down into a small clear, Jack was slowing down and you saw where the path was leading. A very small and quaint cabin, with stone walls, and a slanted rooftop with a small chimney stack and a bright blue door in the front. It was a cabin for certain, small and quaint with a dash of romance and history behind it.

Jack pulled up to the end of the dirt path, stopping the car as you slowly got out and walked ahead for a moment. Jack stayed behind, watching you as you were drinking in the house in front of you. The sweet smell of the soil that was fresh from the recent rainfall, the soft long grass near your pant leg, and the distant chittering of sheep that was not too far away as they were free roaming on the grass.

"This is amazing, Jack," you said to him as you were looking at the small windows of the cabin and the worn-down door.

"You like it?" Jack asked behind you as you nodded your head.

"I do! It has character to it," You explained as you then noticed Jack now standing next to you. Tentatively he took your hand in his, lacing your fingers together as he took in a long breath and looked at the cabin too.

"Good, because I bought this place for us,"

Your head whipped over to stare at him with shock as he was still looking at the tiny cabin, your eyes going wide.

"What?" You gasped, Jack then grinning widely as he looked over at you. You saw he wasn't lying or phased by your reaction, more like he was ready for that reaction.

"I bought it for a decent price, off of an old client whom I have good relations with. And I figured, the two of us being together for some time, I thought this will be the next step for us and we can stay here as a second home," He explained, rubbing his hand in yours as you were drinking in this new information, "The apartment we're in is still ours, but so is this place,"

"We...we have two homes now?" You asked a bit sheepishly and almost in disbelief. Jack had to laugh at how you were absorbing this. He leaned over to kiss our cheek and then searched your face

"Is this okay?" He asked you, the sound of his voice was a bit concerned and uneasy. Even after dropping this news in your lap, he still wanted your blessing and permission. It made you love Jack all the more, knowing he was wanting to go at your pace and not further than that. You simply smiled and cupped his face with your hand, leaning in to kiss him softly and yet deeply at the same time. Jack kissed you back, a bit taken back from you kissing him out of the blue.

"It's perfect," You murmured against his lips, "So perfect, Jack. I don't deserve you at all, you know,"

"Oh, Amor," Jack cooed at you as he pushed your hair from your eyes, "I think we deserve this and each other,"

And you knew Jack was absolutely right.

The End

May Prompt Session

[doctorhelena]

Steggy Fic: Until Then (We'll Have To Muddle Through, Somehow) - Chapter 2/6

This story is complete, and a new chapter is posted every Wednesday.

Story summary: Five times Peggy and Steve carved out small moments of happiness, and one time they didn’t have to.

Chapter 2 summary: In which Peggy and Steve go on a stealthy date in Naples, and each says a little more than they'd intended to.

Rating: R

Read this chapter on A03

Read it from the beginning on A03

Excerpt:

Italy, April 1944

Steve was almost finished packing his socks when he heard an unexpected commotion outside and, when he poked his head out to see what was going on, was startled and delighted to discover Peggy, chatting casually with Morita and Dugan as if she’d been here all along and hadn’t just popped out of nowhere to appear at this Allied base in the middle of the Italian countryside.

She looked as composed as ever, standing at ease in combat fatigues and her signature red lipstick, although it looked like she had a bruise under one eye. Steve took a closer look and winced internally with a sympathy gleaned from years of painful experience. Still, given the work she’d been doing, or at least what he’d extrapolated from what she’d been allowed to tell him about it, a bruise was a small price to pay, and she looked reassuringly intact otherwise.

The spring sunshine fell at just the right angle to ring her hair in a golden halo, the early morning shadows sharpening the lines of her already striking cheekbones. She laughed at something Dugan had said, and Steve was momentarily immobilized by how beautiful she was, and by the almost irresistible longing to walk up to her and take her into his arms. 

They hadn’t seen each other in over a month, after a winter during which they'd been able to spend far more time together than they'd had any cause to expect, back in December. Bolstered by Phillips' good mood after the rescue of the 107th and the formation of the Howling Commandos, Peggy had managed to talk her way into joining the new team in the field, on paper tasked solely with gathering intelligence while they raided Hydra bases, but in practice every bit as much of a guerilla combatant as the rest.

It hadn't been just - or even mostly - because of him, Steve knew. This was an opportunity she'd have jumped at regardless. But he was pretty sure he wasn't alone in feeling that the long hours of time they'd been forced to spend together as a consequence had certainly been a nice bonus.

The Howling Commandos had been a bit unsure of her at first. Bringing a girl into combat with them? And they'd all heard the rumours about what had happened in Howard's lab - although, in the version most of them had heard, Peggy'd been aiming at Howard, which, she'd agreed privately to Steve, did sound a lot more plausible.

Still, it hadn’t taken her long at all to win them over, once they were confronted with the genuine article.

Read the rest of the chapter on A03

[supergito]

Fusion Revived - CH 2 (You Again)

➤ This story is actually complete (finished Sep 2021) over on my Ao3 already; I'm just publishing it here on tumblr too for archival purposes. I hope any and all curious readers enjoy if they haven't checked it out yet!

SUMMARY: Majin Buu has been destroyed, and the Earth has known peace for close to a year now. Life hasn't been too peaceful for the person responsible for saving the world and the entire universe however, but when an ordinary woman meets him one day, things start to change.

RATING: Teen and Up. PAIRING(S): Vegito x OC/Reader, alluded Gochi, alluded Vegebul CONTENT: Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Family Drama CW(s) THIS CHAPTER: None.

She liked going for walks around the countryside. Some might think it’s foolish for a woman to live basically out in the middle of nowhere on her own, but the pros of she not having to deal with noisy neighbors or other human aggravations made it worthwhile. As did the beauty of nature that surrounded her.

It was a shame she couldn’t be completely independent from society though. She wasn’t knowledgeable enough on how to grow her own food or make her own clothing, and she was too dependent on luxuries like internet to go without them. Having heating, running water, and electricity was also very nice.

Her job out in the city thankfully wasn’t a huge pain to travel to or from, it paid well, and it itself wasn’t something that demanded she invest all of her time and energy into. She worked her absolute hardest during her shift, but outside of it, she gave anything related to work little attention.

Today was her day off, and she chose to spend it outside. Enjoying the pleasant weather and temperatures, she kept her eyes aimed at the sky, watching a group of birds pass by. There was something else in the sky that caught her attention, and after taking a moment to look closely, she could see it wasn’t another bird.

It was a person. She could make out that they had quite the impressive head of spiky hair.

She gaped up at them, unsure if she was just imagining things, but then they suddenly descended from the sky. Too nosy to just ignore what she witnessed, the woman quickly trekked towards the location they dropped down in. When she got there, she was face to face with someone she frankly thought she wouldn’t see again after their meeting a handful of days ago.

His face held a rather introspective expression, but it faded when he saw her appear over the hilltop. Recognition had his face lighten.

“You…weren’t you that apple woman from before?”

“Apple woman?” Of all things she could’ve expected him to call her, that wasn’t one of them. She tsked, crossing her arms. Now that he was standing this time instead of sitting, she took note that he was about a foot taller than her, but she wouldn’t allow that subtle intimidation factor to work.

“I have a name.”

“Oh?” That smirk of his was back, and one of his gloved hands came up to rest on his waist. The amusement that bled into his outlandish voice wasn’t missed by her.

“What is it then?”

She knew she should be cautious when it came to strangers. It was unwise to give your name to one, but in this instance, an idea came to her. She was far too curious about this man for her own good.

“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours. First.”

“Aren’t you bold?”

He chuckled. Thanks to their close proximity to one another, behind his curled lips she could see the elongated canines of his teeth. A feeling of uncertainty had her confidence waver.

“Vegito.”

“…Huh?” She blinked.

“My name is Vegito.” He scrutinized her, for her reaction surely. He may have found it to be lack luster, as she only gave him an impassive stare and nothing more.

He was like a mystery box that just kept giving. She couldn’t determine if his name meant something specific in another language, or if it meant anything at all, but at least she wouldn’t forget it. Vegito…

“_____…”

His eyes widened ever so lightly. Before he could possibly comment on her name, she moved onto something more pressing.

“How were you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Floating in the sky.” Her gaze flicked up to it.

“Oh, that?” Smugness joined his playful demeanor, as he looked down at her with onyx eyes that sparkled with a certain light.

“I can fly. Nothing more to it.”

“…Fly?” This evoked a reaction. Shock erased her frown, and her arms went limp at her sides.

“Yes, fly. You know, what most birds and many insects can do.”

“I know what flying is.” She hissed, but unaffected by her irritation, Vegito snickered.

“How were you doing it?” Unlike flying birds and insects, he had no wings that she could see.

Silence was his initial response. The intensity of his gaze was truthfully unnerving, and even though she wouldn’t admit that, the woman felt herself starting to sweat.

“Before I can answer that…I must ask you this. Do you know what ki is?”

She wondered why that was relevant to the discussion, but she saw no harm in it.

“Yes. It’s supposed to be the life force of all living beings, or something like that.”

“You’re right.” Vegito was visibly surprised, not expecting her to be somewhat knowledgeable of the concept. She felt a small amount of pride at having managed to get that cocky look off of his face, if only briefly.

“Where did you learn of it?”

“I’ve looked into martial arts.” Pieces were starting to connect. Vegito wearing a gi made sense; he must have been a martial artist himself. It helped explained why he was so ripped at least.

“I don’t practice any though. Just read about some things that interested me.”

“I see….well, ki is the energy that our spirits naturally emit, but the strength of it varies from person to person. You can channel it, and use it in a variety of ways. One way, is by flying.”

That sounded far-fetched, but she wasn’t ignorant. Unlike a lot of humans out in the world, she knew there was more to things than what met the eye. Like this spiky-haired, fanged man here.

“How do you use ki to fly? Do you have it carry you?”

“Close. To cut a long explanation short: you force your ki underneath you to push yourself upwards. It generates lift, similar to what rotor blades do for a helicopter.”

“Really? That sounds…complicated…”

“Eh, it’s not. Anyone with sufficient ki and control of it can fly. Even children.”

The day she sees a child flying through the sky is the day she might question existence itself, but for Vegito, he was likely speaking from personal experience.

“I think you can learn how to fly. You’re strong enough at the bare minimum.”

“…Strong enough? Like, my ki is?” She quirked a brow. Vegito didn’t seem to be pulling her leg, but then again, she couldn’t be utterly sure. “How can you tell?”

His smirk returned with a strength that made her want to roll her eyes.

“I can sense ki.”

Sense it? How in the world was that done? Her head was starting to hurt.

“But I can teach you how to fly if you want _____. I’ve been pretty bored lately, and I don’t mind imparting knowledge onto someone else.”

He leaned forward, and the excitement upon his face was blatant. In the moment, he was like a child who couldn’t wait to do something fun. The abrupt innocence in his smile was…jarring, and she was at a lost for words. She was saved by a buzzing noise that cut through the air then, and an object vibrating in her pocket. She reached down into it to pull out her phone.

Checking the screen, she sees that she received a text message. It was from one of her co-workers, asking her to…come into the office in an hour? For a favor?

The rush of anger had her exhale a puff of air out of her nose.

 “I have to go. I’ll…take a rain check on that flying lesson.”

She turned on her heel to stomp away, furiously typing out a reply on her phone’s screen. Vegito watched her leave, slightly disappointed that his offer wasn’t accepted, but he shook if off. Standing straight, a hand went to his chin as he thought about one particular thing.

He was oddly motivated. This irritable lady has been a new spark, among his dull days…he felt like bothering her more, just for a little while longer.

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

NUMBERS 15 16 AND 18 FROM THE CASUAL F/O ASKS FOR ONE MISTER TANK DEMPSEY

*cracks knuckles* Good to see you again, Julia! Now let’s see what we have here…

18. Have you ever met any of s/i’s friends or family yet? If so, thoughts on them? Are they nice?

Any friend of Maddie’s is a friend of mine! You especially! I’m glad she’s got a little crew of her own. My friends get along with her too, although they beat on me about getting soft around her. But I can have a soft spot! I’m not a complete hardass, you know.

I haven’t met the family she grew up with but from what I heard, I’m keeping her safe. We’ve been together long enough to agree on settling down. I have to really hand it to her. I’m proud she’s strong enough to still value family even after all she went through.

Between your friends and me, it looks like you’ve made a found family of your own, haven’t you cupcake?

*nods bashfully* Yeah, and I’m beyond blessed to be able to.

16. If you could take s/i anywhere in the world, ignoring budget and all that, where would it be?

Oh man, Maddie’s my little adventure buddy! Where wouldn’t we go? For starters, I was hoping to go on a road trip with her to a few states. Gotta enjoy the All American beauty these 50 states have to offer, right?

I really want to visit Nevada now that I know that’s where you’re from.

Me too, honey. I can’t say I remember much of what it was like. I faintly remember it was a small, quiet town in the middle of nowhere. Everyone knows each other and it has a wholesome comfort to it. I think it’s important for you to know where I grew up. As for foreign places, Amsterdam would be a real party!

Do you think we could maybe fit in a trip to the countryside too? Anywhere with lots of forests and tulips!

Sure, maybe some peace can help balance out from all the bustle of the city. No matter where we travel though, you know we’ll be kickin’ ass! Ha ha ha!

15. What’s something about s/i that surprised you when you first started to get to know them more?

Seeing her lift up heavier things with such ease! All I could say seeing her lift up the pack-a-punch was just like… woah. I mean, a woman who could be sweet and strong to get shit done? Kinda awoke somethin’ in me.

I told you I did strength training! I just want to be able to help

D-Don’t hurt yourself going past your limit though, okay?

Hey, why are you eyeing at me like that?

[lennjamin-o7]

To Be Truly Free

Chapter 2

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As far as punishments go, Technoblade recognized that it could have been worse.

There was that time when he was twelve that he smuggled food from the kitchen. He had accidentally injured another kid during a particularly rough training session. Per the rules, if you couldn’t walk yourself to the Mess Hall, you didn’t eat. Technoblade thought that the rule was stupid, and decided to sneak the kid some food.

The kid refused and turned him in. Being banned from the Mess Hall for a week was brutal, especially when you were running miles everyday.

Or there was the time when he was nine. A priest’s hem had torn on a bush. The priest hadn’t noticed, hadn’t even cared, but a small shred of gold and crimson fabric was left behind. Technoblade had snatched it, hidden it in his pocket. He pulled it out where no one could see, enjoying how the light caught on the gold and how soft the fabric felt against his fingertips.

He was punished for stealing. They beat his wrists and hands with a thin rod until every inch of skin was covered in blood. It didn’t excuse him from training, though. Holding a sword with flayed fingers was not the easiest thing he had ever done. 

And then there was the time he ran away-

A blistering hot room. Screams torn from his throat. A whispered promise of retribution in his ear.

You’re not there .

Technoblade took a slow shaky breath. He wasn’t there anymore. That was in the past. Thinking about it would not help. He had to stay focused on the here and now. Even if the here and now was mildly uncomfortable.

The cold air plumed in front of his face, the sky finally lightening once again. His disheveled hair dripped as it continued to drizzle, not nearly as bad as the maelstrom that seemed to pop out of nowhere yesterday. Technoblade tried to shift. His shoulders were certainly not happy with being pinned in the same position above his head all night. His bruised ribs complained anytime he moved. 

He leaned back against the post, trying to lessen the weight pulling on his shoulders. Yeah, still not the worst punishment. Tied to the post all day and night? Not a big deal. No food or water? Eh, he didn’t need them anyway. Besides, he had perfectly good rain. One of the guards beating him with a wooden cane twenty-five times? Nothing. It’s fine. He’s fine. He’s just built different. This doesn’t phase him. Nope. Not at all.

Technoblade shivered. It was cold.

Yeah, this punishment was just as petty and unnecessary as the rest. Technoblade did not see how he had ‘tarnished the image of the Church’, as Priest Jereth said. Dear old Jerry just had a vested interest in making sure Technoblade was as beaten down and broken as possible. So, of course, Technoblade was punished for guiding a teenager through the city. Because that is just the height of blasphemy against the Blood God. Associating with some random blonde kid would be the end of all the Blood God’s well laid plans. The very downfall of Scywar. Ridiculous.

Technoblade didn’t regret helping Tommy. Even knowing that helping the kid would lead him here, he would still probably do it again. Technoblade wasn’t big on regret in the first place and Tommy had been interesting. It had been…nice. Fun, maybe? He didn’t have much experience with fun, so he wasn’t sure what to compare it to. The short conversation had run through his head multiple times during the cold and wet night.

He should have asked where Tommy was from. It definitely wasn’t Scywar, unless he lived under a rock in the countryside. Tommy might have answered some of his questions, the ones that he couldn’t find in the books he ‘borrowed’ from the priests’ library. The books cleverly hidden in the cell the priests loved to throw him in, a carved out crevice in a cold stone wall. Then again, the kid didn’t give him the impression that he would know many of the more technical answers. Technoblade snorted as he recalled the kid’s reaction to his ‘nerd shit’. Still. It really had been a wasted opportunity. To pass the time, he made a mental list of the things he would ask if he ever met someone else from another country. He wished he had a journal or something to write them down in.

Technoblade lifted his head when he noticed movement. He peeked through the wet hair stuck to his face. Priests and their younger disciples were making their way slowly across the grounds to the barracks, umbrellas held over their heads. Maybe Technoblade should be more grateful that he wasn’t in the barracks. He did get to avoid the annoying wake-up call of those irritating gongs-

A loud click and suddenly Technoblade was falling, arms no longer pinned. His feet slid out from under him, finding no purchase on the wet marble to hold his weight. He groaned as he slammed against the ground, the fall sending a wave of fresh pain to his ribs. He curled up on his side for a moment as crimson robes filled his vision. 

Priest Jereth stared down at him, a disciple holding an umbrella over his head. The priest scowled at Technoblade. That could either be a good thing or a bad thing. He had once made the priest mad when he called him Priest Jerry outloud, and his face had turned a similar color puce. Technoblade stands by that choice, no matter the scars he earned from the punishment.

“You’ve been summoned,” The priest said through clenched teeth.

“Summoned?” Technoblade croaked, voice cracking from disuse. He coughed, causing the priest to scowl harder. “By who?”

“By the King,” Priest Jereth spat. “Come. We have to get you looking more presentable .”

A guard jerked him to his feet and Technoblade nearly collapsed again. His legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate and the guard was nearly dragging him across the Church Grounds. Technoblade gritted his teeth, forcing his legs to work with sheer willpower so he could push away from the guard’s grip. Once he was able to walk, Priest Jereth’s words caught up to him.

Summoned by the King? No, no, no. Technoblade was not good in social situations and now he would have to try to not offend a King? The King? King Dante, The Bloody? Was this more of his punishment? He could almost hear the universe laughing at his plight. A chorus of cackles and mocking nonsense, entertained by his misfortune. He wanted to ask for more details as the guards and priest pushed him into the showers, steadily ignoring his questions. Frustrated, Technoblade quickly washed, making sure that no blood was congealed in his hair. He winced when he glanced at the massive purple bruises mottled along his side and arms, touching them gently before braiding his hair with well-practiced ease. He slid in the slightly fancier (but still completely white) clothes that Priest Jereth had given him. More of the Church’s people had gathered while he changed and Priest Jereth motioned to a disciple to cover Technoblade with an umbrella as they stepped back into the rain. As if Technoblade’s already wet hair wasn’t dripping into the white fabric.

There were many buildings across the Church’s Cloister, a part of the city walled off from the secular masses except for specific feast days. It was more like the size of a town, hidden away from the rest of the city’s people. Most of the structures were crumbling barracks assigned to the Blessed Ones who were ‘stationed’ in the capital. In the center of these barracks was where public punishments were held, where Technoblade had spent his pleasant night. The nicer buildings held purpose only for the Priests, or the devoted guards that volunteered their services to the Church. Of course, there was the massive cathedral in the very center of the cloister, a work of art. The stained glass windows sparkled, diamonds and rubies lining the polished white marble walls. Fine engravings and gilded reliefs lined every inch of the exterior. The tall steeple was carved into the likeness of a thick spear, hurtling to plunge its point even into the heart of the sky.

He was roughly dragged to the large wooden gates that separated the Church from the rest of the city. Many of the Church’s people loitered around the entrance but Technoblade didn’t have a chance to make sense of the crowd before one of the guards shoved him into a windowless carriage. The door nearly hit him as it was slammed shut.

“About time,” A voice grumbled and Technoblade glanced up. He wasn’t alone. Five other people were shoved in the carriage, all dressed in white, all staring at him. “Technolate, as usual”

He didn’t respond to Hallowlance’s comment, sitting in the only available space before the carriage began to move. It was astounding how much the man looked and sounded like his brother. The same red hair and pale eyes. It was almost like there were two Jerrys. And even though Technoblade would never be allowed to punch Priest Jereth in his smug face, he had taken great pleasure over the years in breaking Hallowlance’s nose repeatedly. It was cathartic. Self-care.

“Any idea what this is about?” Technoblade asked while he fiddled with the metal bracelet around his wrist. His fingers searched for any sign of clasp or weakness in the cold, slightly glowing iron. 

“Not a clue,” Ashenpike replied, not even glancing at Technoblade.

Technoblade hummed in response, leaning against the carriage wall.

Locked in the windowless carriage, Technoblade was unable to see the entire spectacle of people that arrived at the front of the Palace. Gold inlaid dark oak carriages carried dozens of priests, even more disciples. Townspeople jumped out of the way of the brown clad guards that surrounded the procession. Technoblade stayed quiet as the other Blessed Ones in the carriage talked. They did nothing to pull him into their conversation, and he had more important things to worry about than making small talk with people who despised him. Nothing could be done about the hunger that had begun to claw at his stomach, so he focused on what he could do. He tried to roll his shoulders enough that they would stop aching. His back was stiff, and his legs felt a little more durable than gelatin. Technoblade did every little trick he could think of to relax the muscles, ignoring the glares he received from the other five. He stifled a cough, his throat feeling slightly raw. Oh, he was not going to get sick. Nope. That was not something that was going to happen. 

“Do you think it's about the prophecy?” That caught Technoblade attention, but he maintained his uninterested facade.

“They did always imply it was only one of the Blessed that the prophecy referred to,” that would be Subtleknife’s voice.

“Do-do you think they know?” 

“It’s been twenty years,” Hallowlance scoffed. “It should be obvious who it is at this point.”

“Go fuck yourself, Hallowlance. I kicked your ass just last week.”

“Except we know it’s not just about power,” Hallowlance interrupts. Technoblade pretends not to notice the glare thrown his way. “Because we know who the prophecy isn’t about.”

And that was the one thing on which Hallowlance and Technoblade agreed.

When the carriage stopped, The Blessed Ones were ushered quickly inside with the Church’s entourage. Technoblade hung back to let the other Blessed go first, Hallowlance’s self-confident strut had him rolling his eyes. The guards stayed with the carriages, not allowed inside King Dante’s palace. 

King Dante’s Palace. Right. Technoblade swallowed hard as the large golden doors that led to the throne room slowly opened. 

The priests entered first, guiding the Blessed One with subtle gestures. None of the Blessed had experience in front of the King, but the meanings of these signals had been beaten into them since they were small. Technoblade knelt with his peers, not looking up at the throne  only a few feet in front of him. He stared into the plush carpet on the floor. He had expected to see the room packed with the nobility or the constant bows of stewards and servants. 

But the room was silent.

“Welcome,” A voice boomed, which seemed unnecessary because they were already so close. Priest Jereth’s robes were basically touching Technoblade, an unspoken reminder for him to behave. “to the Blood God’s faithful servants. And, a momentous welcome to those chosen to be His Blessed Ones, His swords and shields. I do apologize for calling upon you with such short notice, High Priest Jericho, but I assure you that it is of the utmost importance.”

“I understand, Your Highness,” Technoblade flinched at the nasally voice, soft footsteps echoed as a person approached the throne. “Service to the Blood God means service to one’s King.”

Technoblade felt as if the air had been knocked out of him, and it was only his years of feigned nonchalance that prevented him from visibly panicking. He was hyper aware of that voice, the voice of the High Priest.

A voice he had only truly encountered once before. A voice that bound him. A voice that haunted him.

“However, I would like to know what prompted your summons. You have never asked us to bring any of the Blessed from the cloister before. It is quite risky, as they may be corrupted by the world if not kept safe under the Blood God’s watchful eye,” The High Priest continued.

“Your concern is understandable, High Priest, but you have no reason to worry. The Blood God revealed to me that this would be the best for all,” The voice- King Dante responded. “Raise your heads, those Chosen by the Blood God.”

Technoblade wasn’t the only one who hesitated, before they all stood and looked up at the throne. Technoblade met the eyes of the King for the first time.

Technoblade wasn’t sure what he expected a King to look like, especially not one with the reputation of King Dante. A King that took what he wanted, by threat of blood. A reputation that suited one that claimed to be a direct connection to a god of slaughter and battle. So seeing a slight man, clad in soft silks and furs was not something Technoblade could say he expected. Brown hair with a long well kept beard, gold braided throughout. He sat comfortably in his throne, grinning down at those who stood before him. He inspected them with undisguised greed, eyes flickering between each of the Blessed. 

Technoblade’s eyes drifted up to the crown on the King’s brow. It was beautiful, true. It was gold with interspersed gems. But its well polished shine could not hide the plethora of dents and scratches in the metal, the harshness of time wearing on a crown meant for a warrior king. Battle leaves its scars, even on the inanimate. But that wasn’t what drew his eye. Something about the crown seemed… more. Something barely contained in the ancient metal and magic. Something powerful, angry, deadly. Inhuman. Divine.

Technoblade also noticed that the King was not alone on his dias. Two men stood on his left and right. He resisted a shudder as he glanced at the High Priest settling on the King’s right side. The elderly priest’s neat white hair stood out starkly against the crimson hood, the intricate golden embroidery separating the man from any common priest. Technoblade glanced away as the High Priest’s gaze shifted to him.

He focused on the third man standing on the dias. He looked younger than both the King and High Priest. Not much older than Technoblade himself. Chocolate brown curls accentuated eyes of the same hue. Round glasses rested on the end of his nose. The unknown man was dressed much more simply than the King or High Priest. Technoblade could see that the clothes were wellmade, but not in a style that was common for Scywar. Scywar favored cloaks and capes for the colder months, but the man was wearing a well tailored brown coat. Yet, even without a lavish appearance, the man didn’t seem out of place. As if neither finery nor wealth could compare to the presence he held, even as he stood silently with a lazy grin. He met Technoblade’s gaze, quirking an eyebrow as his grin widened.

“I have heard that the seeds of doubt that have taken root among the nobility,” The King tapped his fingers on his throne. “Some have so little faith in our God that they try to impede His work. They continue to try and stop any legislation that would aid us in protecting the country from the vampiric plague to the north. They are too focused on lining their own pockets rather than doing what is good for the country. I had been tempted to just kill the main dissenters and reclaim their wealth for the crown.”

“But then, Sir Wil here swayed me,” The King gestured to the brunette, who shifted his smile to the King. “He raised a valid point. All these years, none outside of the Priests have seen the fruits of their labor. All the effort into building an army, and not even I know everything that takes place behind the cloister walls. ”

“So, High Priest Jericho, I asked you to bring the best of your Blessed to snuff out any doubts. To show me what all of my hard work has created,” The King turned to the High Priest, who was frowning at the King’s word. 

“...this is rather unorthodox, Your Highness, and so sudden. If I could have a moment of your time I could expl-”

“Orthodox should only be applied to those without a direct connection to the Blood God, don’t you think?” Sir Wil tilted his head. Technoblade’s eyes locked on the man. His voice seemed to reverberate through the air, laced with milk and honey. 

“The state of the Blessed Ones is privileged knowledge-” The High Priest argued.

“And the King isn’t privileged to that knowledge?” Sir Wil raised his eyebrows in shock.

“The King is always informed about anything to do with the Blessed Ones-”

“Then there should be no surprises in this meeting, only confirmation of his information. Unless you think you are more knowledgeable about what best serves the Blood God-”

“I have been King Dante’s closest advisor for years! He trusts my judgment. You, who have been here barely a week-”

“Enough,” The King raised his hand, silencing the argument. “I will not have my two wisest advisors arguing over this. My decision is final.”

High Priest Jericho gaped for only a moment, before composing himself.

“What did you have in mind, My King?” The High Priest asked cooly.

“It would be good to talk to them, get an idea of their character-” Sir Wil’s voice was silky and warm.

“I did not ask you, Sir Wil,” The High Priest snapped, which only seemed to amuse Sir Wil further.

“High Priest Jericho,” The King leveled the man a look. The High Priest shut his mouth with a click. “I would very much like to speak to those that you have brought. Who knows? The one of prophecy may even be standing among them.”

The King’s eyes surveyed the Blessed Ones.

“We may even be able to find them today,” The King stroked his beard in thought, a sly grin spreading across his face. He stood quickly. “Come, tell me about the ones you have brought.”

The King strode forward, Sir Wil strolled just behind him as the High Priest glared behind the King’s back. The King was much shorter than both the High Priest and Sir Wil. Sir Wil glanced over the King’s crown at Technoblade, before pointedly walking to the other end of the line of white clad people. Hallowlance stood up straighter, basking in the gaze of the King.

“Tell me your name, Blessed One,” King Dante said. Hallowlance quickly glanced at the High Priest before answering. A subtle nod was all the confirmation he needed.

“They call me Hallowlance, your Highness,” He then dipped into a smooth bow. “It is an honor to serve.”

“Hallowlance,” King Dante weighed the words, “Ah, yes. I have heard of you. High Priest Jericho has spoken nothing but praise. Skillful and pious.”

“I come from a long line of Priests, your Highness. It has always been my family’s goal to serve you and the Blood God with our entire being,” Hallowlance smiled brightly and the King nodded in approval. The High Priest ceased glaring at Sir Wil for a moment to grace Hallowlance a smile.

“Oh? What kind of skills do you have?” Sir Wil stalked around Hallowlance. Hallowlance flinched as the man walked out of his sight. But he did not turn to look at him. 

“Hallowlance is well-learned, knowing all of the Sacred Texts by heart-” The High Priest started.

“Yes, but will words help defeat the vampires? If so, maybe I should draft a strongly worded letter-”

“Enough, Sir Wil,” King Dante cut in. Sir Wil merely hummed at being chastised. “Even if you are not from Scywar and do not know all of our customs, I cannot allow you to take the sacred texts lightly.”

“Apologies, your Highness,” the man did not sound repentant at all, yet Technoblade couldn’t help but believe him. “I merely meant that it should go without saying that all of these ‘Blessed Ones’ would be pious. That’s why the Church keeps them so separate, no? But what actual skills for battle do they show? How would they defend against the Sleeping Empire? What threat do they pose to the vampires?”

The King nodded, eyes unfocused as he pondered.

“I understand. Indulge Sir Wil, then, High Priest Jericho. What militant skills set Hallowlance apart?” The King turned to the High Priest, who looked put out.

“Hallowlance is one of our most accomplished with sword and shield, though he is almost unmatched on any weapon. The exceptions standing here as well,” High Priest Jericho gesturing to the five others. “He also excels as a leader, and has truly devoted himself to the cause.”

King Dante nodded in thought as Sir Wil walked all the way around Hallowlance. Hallowlance glanced at the man warily, eyes flicking away when he caught his eye. Sir Wil hummed thoughtfully.

“You said ‘one of our most accomplished’?” The High Priest had a sour look on his face when Sir Wil spoke. Hallowlance tensed at his question. “Not the most accomplished. Who is the most accomplished, then?”

The High Priest merely glared for a moment, but composed himself with a look from the King.

“That would be Technoblade, Sir Wil,” came the High Priest’s stilted answer. Sir Wil seemed delighted at the answer.

“I see,” The brunette walked away, not even glancing at Hallowlance. He walked to the next one down the line. “Who is this?”

“This is Ashenpike, a natural tactician. Her aim is almost unmatched with all projectile weapons. She-”

“Almost? So there is someone better?” Sir Wil seemed to be enjoying himself. He looked like he was trying not to laugh. Once more he circled, much to Ashenpike’s obvious discomfort.

“Yes,” the High Priest gritted his teeth. “There is one other whose aim is better.”

“Oh?” Sir Wil tilted his head, brown curls briefly falling over his eyes. “Who?”

“...Technoblade has the highest accuracy, as of now.”

“I see,” Sir Wil stood right in front of Ashenpike, his height dwarfing the woman. She glanced away, not meeting his eyes. “Anyway…”

Sir Wil skipped to the next person. The King followed behind, eyes still hazy as Sir Wil and the High Priest talked.

An obvious pattern occurred.

“Who is this?”

“This is Clovenscythe. They are extremely skilled with polearms of all types-”

“Are they the best? Who is the best with polearms?”

“...Technoblade.”

“I see, I see. And this one?”

“Subtleknife is very skilled with staff weapons, especially a quarter staff. She-”

“-is the best at it? No one can beat her?”

“She is extremely skillful! The only person who can consistently beat her is-”

“Technoblade, I’m assuming?”

“Yes, but-”

“What about this one? What are they the best at?”

“Toxicmace is exceptional at close range hand-to-hand combat as well as stealth and reconnaissance. The only person who can outmatch him is-”

“Let me guess,” Sir Wil snorted. The High Priest was shaking, his face nearly as red as his robes. Sir Wil barely spared a glance at Toxicmace, who stared at the ground, red-faced and fists clenched. 

Technoblade watched the trio approach with trepidation. Part of him was entranced by Sir Wil’s disposition, the calm way he seemed to goad the High Priest with every word he spoke. How he seemed completely unbothered by any power the High Priest could hold, which was a significant amount in Scywar. Seeing the High Priest blushing with embarrassment was a treat. However, the other part of Technoblade was wary of how the High Priest was becoming more and more angry as Sir Wil spoke.

Technoblade had spent a large portion of the last three years trying to not make the High Priest angry. Seeing him in such a state was nerve wracking. 

“And this is?” Sir Wil was right in front of Technoblade. Technoblade found himself analyzing the man. It was very rare for someone to be taller than him, even if only by an inch or two. The brunette grinned when Technoblade met his eye. Technoblade didn’t want to look away.

“Technoblade,” The High Priest huffed. Technoblade ripped his eyes away from Sir Wil to look at the High Priest. The older man looked at him with narrowed eyes, a warning evident in the glare. Technoblade looked away, staring at the ground. 

“Hello, Technoblade. I’ve heard so much about you,” Sir Wil half-sung. The sound of his voice sent a not completely unpleasant tingling down his spine. 

“Hullo,” Technoblade said back, still not meeting his eye. Sir Wil chuckled.

“You have quite the reputation, it seems.” Sir Wil glanced back at the other Blessed Ones. Technoblade felt his face get hot at the admiration in Sir Wil’s voice, only nodding in response.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Sir Wil. Technoblade’s talents in battle are unmatched, it's true. But he has one incredible flaw,” The High Priest warned..

“Oh? Is it a penchant for walking in the rain? His hair is soaked. But it’s a chilly day and I’ve heard that can make you sick-”

“Loyalty,” Technoblade tensed as the High Priest stepped closer. “Technoblade’s flaw is a lack of loyalty and a lack of devotion. Something I don’t expect someone from L’Manburg to comprehend. You dismissed the virtue of piety, and those who exemplify it. But piety is something so hard to teach. And some wayward Children need a firmer hand to keep them on the path.”

Technoblade shuddered as a finger lifted his chin, brushing against the scratches from yesterday. The High Priest met his eye, his glare making Technoblade stiffen.

“Is that not right, Technoblade?” 

“...yes, your Holiness,” Technoblade muttered.

“Ah, so this is the one,” King Dante stepped closer, the hazy distracted look vanishing. Now all three men were way too close for Technoblade’s comfort. The King stared at Technoblade’s face, avarice apparent in his eyes.

“Yes, your Highness,” The High Priest released Technoblade’s chin.

“Oh?” Sir Wil raised an eyebrow.

“It isn’t something that concerns you, Sir Wil,” The High Priest sneered.

“I think it is up to the King whether or not it concerns me,” Sir Wil said sweetly, turning to the King. “Your Highness?”

The King looked between Sir Wil and High Priest Jericho. Technoblade glanced up to see the King staring into nothing, before blinking hard.

“We will discuss it in private at a later time,” The King said. Sir Wil pouted before glancing at Technoblade.

“As you wish, Your Highness,” Sir Wil said, clapping his hands together. “Well, I am so happy I get to thank you in person, Technoblade. My brother will not stop talking about you, and how you helped him find his way through the city.”

“What’s this?” King Dante raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I assumed one of the priests would have told you, Your Highness. Since ‘the King is always informed about anything to do with the Blessed Ones’, correct?” Sir Wil’s eyes widened, he placed a hand over his heart. “My poor brother was coming to meet me and got completely lost. He was absolutely distraught, no one to guide him to where he needed to be. I didn’t even know he was coming, so I couldn’t go out to meet him. Technoblade guided my brother through the city before returning to the Church. My brother has done nothing but go on and on about Technoblade for the last day. Honestly, I’m quite relieved to know my brother was in such good hands.”

Sir Wil stepped closer to Technoblade, nearly touching. Why was he getting so close? Technoblade met his eye with slight apprehension. Sir Wil smiled warmly.

“Maybe I don’t know a ton about loyalty,” Sir Wil chuckled. “But I do know the importance of family. So, you have my thanks.”

“Y-you’re welcome?” Technoblade was shocked into answering. He glanced at the High Priest, who looked on impassively. The King seemed…absent from the conversation.

“And you have my thanks as well, High Priest Jericho. Any achievement of Technoblade is obviously a reflection of you,” Sir Wil briefly gave the High Priest a dazzling smile. The High Priest wrinkled his brow in confusion, but Sir Wil had already turned back to Technoblade. “But tell me, what did you think of my brother? I’d like to know.”

An odd sensation washed over Technoblade. He felt warm, the aches and pains that had bothered him seemed less important. He felt content as he stared into Sir Wil’s eyes. The honeyed voice reverberated in his head as he thought of the best way to describe Tommy, not concerned with anything except answering truthfully.

“He’s like a thunderstorm,” Technoblade settled on. Sir Wil tilted his head, eyes glittering.

“Oh? How so?”

“Loud,” Sir Wil barked a laugh,” But…not unpleasant to listen to.”

“I agree,” Sir Wil’s eyes softened, taking a step away from Technoblade. “A thunderstorm is an excellent way to describe him.”

Technoblade and Sir Wil stared at each other, Sir Wil smiling warmly. The look was so genuine that Technoblade found himself returning a small smile of his own, before catching himself. With a glance at the High Priest, he fixed his eyes on the floor. Something flickered in Sir Wil’s eyes, a sort of excitement. 

“Well, I think it's obvious who the big, very important prophecy is about,” Sir Wil strolled back to the side of the King. The High Priest bristled and he wasn’t the only one. Priests that had stayed silent the entire exchange scoffed, muttering among themselves at the blasphemy of the man.

“While I trust your advice, Sir Wil, as your information concerning the actions of the Sleeping Empire have been extremely accurate, you don’t have the knowledge necessary to anticipate the Blood God’s choice,” King Dante frowned, but Sir Wil did not seem deterred.

“Would you at least like to hear my opinion? It may be meaningless, but I think it would confirm what everyone already knows,” Sir Wil’s honey silk words stilled the King, who frowned deeper, gazing in the distance before sighing.

“Fine, tell me who your pick would be, Sir Wil.”

“Your Highness!” The King stopped the High Priest with a wave of his hand. Sir Wil smiled sweetly.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Sir Wil sang. No one dared breathe, attention firmly on him. “Your child of prophecy must be Hallowlance.”

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