#and that man loves his chains and rings so of course he also spent a good chunk on getting real gold jewelry lol

[rotteneldritchhorror]

Once Barry got that money from the cross there were signs. Not that any normal person would recognise other than maybe new jewelry. But there were signs. And all those signs are in a trunk under his bed.

[radio-writes]

Love is Whatever You Can Still Betray

Synopsis: You recall a time when Alastor still saw you as friend, as an equal. You wonder: was any part of it even real?

Warnings: manipulation, mentions of drugs, violence and blood, physical harm to reader, power imbalance.

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; GN Reader

MDNI

At the back of your mind you vaguely remember a time when Husk had warned you. 

"He's a sweet talker when he needs to be. You'd be better off not trusting a bastard like him."

You think that's what the drunk cat had said. You're sure it was somewhere along those lines, at least. It was a fair bit of time ago.

However, you do remember—painfully clearly—that you had laughed him off. You found the mere idea of Alastor betraying your trust ridiculous.

The Radio Demon would never dare cross you. You were a powerful overlord; one that practically held the whole ring in the palm of their hands. And, more importantly, you were friends; one of the very few that either of you even had.

Surely even someone like Alastor would think twice about stabbing a beloved friend in the back, right?

You almost wanted to shoot yourself realizing how naive you've been.

Now, having been a brilliant chemist during your life on earth, it wasn't really much of a shock that you turned to drug production when you got to Hell. You had to make a living somehow, right?

Besides, with the quality of the drugs you made, it only took you a few months to have Pride Ring's whole drug operations under your thumb. 

But you were still so careful. You made sure to never deal with your clients or your distributers or your cartels directly. And on the rare times where you had to, you made sure to keep yourself as hidden as possible.

Very few people actually knew who this new Drug Demon was, and that's exactly how you wanted it be. You were smart, brilliant, a genius—if you do say so yourself; but what you weren't was strong.

Drug business in Hell was undoubtedly—and quite often literally—cutthroat. You wouldn't stand a chance if the enemies you made came after you, and you knew that. You'd probably have better chances of survival standing butt naked in the middle of the streets on extermination day. 

So it made sense that the few friends you held dear were the only ones you trusted with your secret—with your life. 

Alastor was...not really meant to be one of those friends.

Sure, he was the very first soul you met down here in Hell. You also both shared a love for soft jazz and easy nights and dancing your worries away. His dry comedic remarks and tendency to gossip made sure any time spent with him was entertaining enough to make you forget where you were, at least temporarily.

But still, you were cautious enough not to spill your darkest secrets to every charming young demon to slide to your side of the bar. Specially not to one that's been eager to steal your soul since the start.

Alastor was a friend, sure. But you weren't blind to all the blood he spilled, and much less so to just how much joy the Radio Demon got from it all. You hadn't failed to notice his grin stretching just a tad bit too wide, his eyes shining with glee with every limb he pulled from his victim's body. 

Often times you found it hard to connect your silly little friend, wagging his finger to the tune of the live music, with the demonic horror you've witnessed happily feast on the corpses of his unfortunate prey.

Of course, that eventually started to change.

You think, it all started on your One Year Anniversary in Hell. It's been decades since you've chained yourself to your current predicament, but the bitterness of that night was still so hard to swallow.

"Hardly anything to talk home about. Simply bumping gums with an old butter and egg man. But Oh! The drama when his children came in. Ha!" Alastor had been recalling some story that night. You barely understood a word of it, if you were being honest. Alastor had the tendency to use old timey phrases when drunk—whether as a genuine habit or to mess with you, you were unsure.

"Didn't take you to be type to cozy up to the rich folk." You had jested, sliding a shot glass over to your companion.

Alastor had caught it, downed its contents in one go, and smiled at you. "And I didn't take you to be such a light weight, old friend." Alastor mocked you.

You laughed it off, accepting and drinking the shot he then slid to you.

Your eyes glanced across the bar in front of you, several empty bottles of alcohol scattered about already. How much time had the two of you spent there? You were unsure. Clearly it was at least a few hours past closing time; but it's not like the cowering demon behind the bar had the guts to kick the Radio Demon out.

"I'm not the one swaying in my seat with every breeze, old friend." You bit back. 

"Ha! You must be absolutely stewed, dear. You're seeing things now!" He had slung a lanky arm over your shoulder, yanking you snugly to his side. 

For a moment, the room spun; taking a whole second before steadying again.

Sure, there had been a slight slur in Alastor's words underneath all the radio static, but the demon wasn't far off with his observation still. You admittedly did feel a bit tipsy. 

You had placed a hand on Alastor's chest, pushing yourself away from him, laughing all the while. "Watch the hair! You wouldn't want to piss me off now."

"Anger a sweet thing like you? Come now, you couldn't hurt a bee if it stung you in the eye," Alastor ruffled the hair on the top of your head as if to prove his point.

"Hey!— Fuck," You swore under your breath as you moved off your seat far too quickly.

Alastor materialized behind you, easily catching you by your elbows. 

"Steady now, dear! Seems you're a lot further gone than I expected you to be," He laughed.

You twisted around in his grip and poked his chest rather sluggishly. "I'd have you know I'm not the same weak soul you met a year ago,"

You should have stopped. It was only ever meant to be a joke.

Your body should have just blacked out.

"I happen to run all of Pride Ring. I can get your Great Depression ass hunted down for messing my hair up," You boasted.

Alastor didn't seem to take your words for anything more than drunk ramblings as he helped you up to your own feet. "Is that what they call my time? I happen to have found the whole stock market crash hilarious, not at all depressing." He mused, he seemed to have been ignoring your ramblings.

"I'm serious, you know!" You puffed up your chest proudly, wanting to be taken seriously, looking him straight in the eye.

"I am the great scary Drug Demon after all." 

You heard a record scratch.

Oh you were far beyond just tipsy.

You couldn't quite remember much else from that night. At least not after black tentacles swiftly protruded from Alastor's back, spearing right through the poor cowering bartender's chest. 

He said something too. Something about how your secret would be absolutely safe with him.

It took you a long time to realize why he had sounded so odd to you in that very moment. But eventually, as the times flew by, you realized it was because he had spoken straight—not a trace of slurring tainted his tone. But that was a realization that came far too late of course.

You had been worried, absolutely scared shitless when you had sobered up. You spilled your biggest secret to someone so infamous. Someone so happy to hog the spotlight for all of eternity. You felt as if you might as well have broadcasted your identity on live TV for all the good it'll do you now.

But the Radio Demon had proved himself to be quite the trustworthy confidant.

Surprisingly true to his word, Alastor had never let a word of your secret slip from his lips. Never once even hinted at it to anyone, not even in jest.

Instead, what he did do was help you in secret. He had fed you information on the ins and outs on different turfs on the Pentagram; down to the smallest of details. Who was itching for a fix, who would have given up anything for their next high, what down on their luck sinner was desperate enough for any means of escape. 

The promise of new information to help your business had made all your occasional catch-ups and night outs with Alastor all the more enticing for you. 

Not only would you be out and about with a dear friend, having fun, dancing, and drinking, but you'd also get a chance to grow your influence even more.

And hell be damned if that hadn't gotten your greed to grow.

It wasn't long until you trusted Alastor enough for the flow of information to turn into a two-way street.

When he had given you intel, you had thrown what you knew back at him. Desperate sinners, gangs, cults, that you cater to that could really use a trusty deal to get out of rough spots.

You had also found that Alastor, being the schemer that he was, made quite a good soundboard to bounce ideas on. He'd hear your plans out, help you hammer out the kinks before putting them into action.

He had been there to help you out of tight spots. 

He had been there to expanded your influence.

He had even been there to take care of any dumbass that dared to try to rival your business. 

But there had always been one nagging question just simply gnawing at the back of your mind.

"Your soul? What in Hell would I want with that?" Alastor laughed when you asked if you needed to sell him your soul in exchange for all this help.

"No, my dear. I simply want you to keep me company! It's so hard to find such a like-minded soul in this dreadful cesspool." He explained, taking your arm to loop around his as he had lead you to take a walk with him.

You were his friend he had said. And after all he's helped you with—after all the years spent drinking, gossiping, dancing, and scheming—you believed him.

So you didn't question it.

You didn't question it when one night people broke into your home. They had yelled for the Drug Demon. They yelled for you.

You simply had to run. Break through your window, caution thrown into the wind, and run.

You had no choice but to flee with no plan in mind, nothing in hand. Run with nothing but the clothes on your back.

You didn't question it when heads had turned to watch you as your ran through the streets. Hell's nightlife well and alive, but did nothing to help your pathetic self.

The whispers felt like screams in your ears. 

"The Drug Demon."

"That's them isn't it?"

The Drug Demon. The Drug Demon. The Drug Demon.

Everyone in the Pride Ring knew who you were.

You didn't question it when you had been cornered in an alley, a large hand squeezing your throat. Your body ached everywhere. 

How many times had they bashed your head against the concrete? How many times had they punched you in the gut? How many times had they kicked your ribs in as you laid whimpering on the ground?

You were in far too much pain to have kept count.

You didn't question it—you should have questioned it—when Alastor showed up. Skewering the sinner just as they held a knife to your throat. 

And stupidly, you still didn't question it when he made you that offer.

"You need to be much more careful than that, old pal." His gentle hand had patted dust off your shoulders. "You seem to be Hell's most wanted at the moment."

Your eyes had been wide as your body seemed to have moved by itself. Your arms wrapped around the Radio Demon in relief. "Alastor, thank fuck! I thought I was dead!"

You had felt his chest vibrate against your body as he laughed "My dear, you already are dead!" He joked, pulling your arms off him and stepping back. He had studied your shaking form, his grin stretched just the slightest bit more. "But I do say, you were lucky I was passing by just now. Can't say I can protect you all the time though."

Your throat had felt dry. You knew he was right. Had your good friend not been around, you were sure you'd have died right then.

Now that your secret was out, you needed Alastor. You needed his protection. 

"Can't I just stay with you? At least for a little bit." You had said—pleaded, your voice still unsteady from the fear that ran through your body. 

"Hmm?" Alastor's head tilted. He leaned his body on his cane in front of him. "Why of course you can! Although I don't quite see how that'll help much." He grinned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my dear, you've made quite a lot of enemies in the past few decades, haven't you? Torn apart many families and damned these poor souls further with all those recreational drugs of yours." In your distress, you had failed to catch the sheer glee in his tone.

Alastor melted into a pool of shadows, before he reappeared right behind you, his hands at your shoulders. You had jumped in his hold but it didn't seem to bother the demon. 

"Sure you can stay with me for a while, but what after?" His tone still as cheery as ever. "And what about when I just have to leave you? You can't expect me to be at your beck and call for every second, after all. I'm your dear friend, not a pet."

"Please, Al." You begged, turning around to face him. You weren't sure what you were even asking for. You weren't sure what you wanted him to even do. 

All you knew is that you were scared. You were scared because for how smart you were, you were sure there was no way you'd survive a night on your own now.

"Of course, there is something we could do to ensure you stay safe." Alastor had smiled at you, circling you like a vulture; elated that it was now the perfect time to swoop in on a long awaited meal.

"What?" You said, desperation clear in your voice.

"We could make a deal." He grinned.

You should have ran.

"A deal?" You asked, for all the fear you had, part of you was still wary.

"A deal." He confirmed. "If I owned your soul I could summon you whenever I want to. Should you fall into harm's way while I'm not around, I'd be able to pull you out and back to my side with a snap of my fingers."

You'd have been better off facing all the enemies you made. You should have ran.

"I can make sure you're safe and sound; untouched by all these ruffians after you. And it's not like you'll be selling your soul to a stranger now. Haven't I proven myself to be such a caring friend all these years?" His sickly sweet voice, and that overwhelming radio static filled your ears.

He had stopped in front of you, bent down to your height when he extended a hand your way. "So what do you say, darling? Do we have a deal?"

You should have known the worst creature stood in front of you. You'd have been better off facing all the enemies you made. You should have ran.

You bit your lip, eyes glanced away from Alastor in uncertainty. Surely, there must be other ways. If you could just have one night to think it through—

The sharp pain that had come from your back almost blinded you. 

"I found them! They're over here, fellas!" You had heard someone shout from behind you, at the opening of the alley.

Your arm reached behind you, feeling something sharp lodged into the back of your shoulder. Your hand quickly dampened by your own blood.

"Fuck. Fine, yes, it's a deal." You had hissed through your teeth before you could think. Your hand reaching out to clasp your friend's outstretched palm. 

A bright green light cut through the night's darkness, sealing your fate into Radio Demon's hands.

"Lovely." He drawled out, pulling you behind him as a flood of sinners made their way towards the pair of you.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys, but I'm afraid I have no use for you anymore." Alastor had greeted the crowd.

"Who's this loser?"

"What the fuck is this bitch talking about?"

"Shut up and hand us that trash!"

You heard many replies to Alastor's words before the screaming started. Shadows ripped through the sinners as essily as if they were simply wet piles of tissue paper.

And then your blood ran cold. No, not because of the sound of flesh tearing from bone.

But because you were sure you had heard one of them say: "Weren't he the one that broadcasted Drug Bitch's name anyway?" 

Surely—surely—you had heard wrong, right?

"Why, of course, I did!" Alastor had cheerily answered you. "Got a good deal from it too. Couple of Overlords happily forked their souls over just to know your name!" 

It had been a couple of weeks after the deal when you finally worked up the courage to ask.

It hadn't been the answer you were hoping for. You had spent all this time convincing yourself that Alastor would have never done such a thing. That he was your beloved friend—your trusted friend. That he'd never have put you in harms way just to get a couple more souls under his belt. 

The tray you had held bent with the grip you had on it. "You sold me out?" You wished you could bash the tray over his stupid shit-eating grin.

"Hello? Yes, that's what I just said. Did you not hear me, pet?" He finally glanced up from the paper he was reading to meet your glare.

"Oh don't look at me like that," He said folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "You're no patsy, surely you saw it coming." 

"We were friends, Alastor!" Your voice had risen in volume.

A heavy, glowing collar materialized around your neck before you knew what was happening.

With a harsh tug you had stumbled, barely catching yourself on the armrests of Alastor's chair when he yanked you down to where he sat.

His free hand had reached up, anchoring itself heavily on your shoulder.

"Yes we were!" His voice was cheery, but there was an edge to his grin now. "That made the betraying part all the more entertaining, if you ask me." 

"You piece of shi—" Your voice caught in your throat, the collar shrinking around your neck.

"I don't quite appreciate that kind of disrespectful language, darling. Specially, not from my pets." His pupils had turned to radio dials as you fought hard against his pulling just to remain upright.

The rush of anger in your veins froze as you met his eyes. You had felt your blood turn to ice in that very instant.

You've been with this man for so long.

You've seen him skewer crowds of sinners without batting an eye. You've seen him swallow limbs whole with a smile.

You've seen him happily throw friends to their deaths for...entertainment? Was that what he said?

His grip on your shoulder had tightened. Claws dug into your flesh and ripped your recent wound wide open.

Your poor little broken, indignant, heart could wait.

With the flash of pain stinging up your arm, you knew that every second that passed without a reply from your lips was a step closer to death's door again.

So you willed yourself to speak, despite the collar barely allowing enough air to reach your lungs. You managed to struggle out a weary "Understood."

And in an instant, the chains were gone, Alastor was back leaning against his chair. Newspaper back in hands as he idly read the print.

You had clutched at your neck, greedily sucked in air as you stumbled backwards.

"I like my breakfast on the raw side, by the way. And no sugar in the coffee next time; I do have a distaste for sweet things," He said dismissively.

Normally, you'd have cussed at him. Flipped him off and walked away. But there had been no fight left in you then. Your world was reeling from the revelation, from the fact that your friend throughout all these years, didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse for betraying you.

That he'd happily dispose of you himself for something as simple as disrespectful language.

You had meekly nodded, and hurried to leave the room.

Now you stood, listening to the princess of Hell herself rambling on about how much of a big help Alastor was to the hotel she made. How he's been so supportive.

How he's been such a good friend.

You just couldn't stop yourself.

"You know, your highness, Alastor's a sweet talker when he needs to be. You'd be better off not trusting a bastard like him."

She laughed you off. To her, the idea of Alastor betraying her trust was just absolutely ridiculous.

Surely he'd never betray a beloved friend, right?

[legendofmorons]

How to fall in love twice part 6

Pairing: Time x reader x Malon

Rating: T

Summary: Fate must really hate you guys. You and Malon have a brief encounter with the chain while escaping monsters. But it's over before you can really talk.

Warnings: cursing, vague fighting, Time is having a very bad day.

Other: If I missed anything, please let me know.

-------

Twilight has never before genuinely considered smacking the back of Time's head - until now.

Watching the old man pace over trampled grass for the umpteen time is painful.

Twilight gets it - mostly. He gets losing someone you love to an unknown.

But this is too much - it's been a month or so, and Time has spent every day on edge as he worries for you and Malon.

"Would you be still for five minutes? You're giving us all aneurysms." Legend barks from his spot tending the new fire.

"That’s not physically possible." Wild says without so much as a glance at the others.

"Time. You're going to wear a trench into the dirt at this point. You should take a break." Twilight says with a sigh, "You'll be no good if you tire yourself out."

"But -"

Leaves rustle and running can be heard. Voices sound - familiar voices.

"Farore above." Twilight manages.

All of the boys work to get to where your voice is heard.

-------

"I would really like to stop meeting monsters like this!" You call to Malon.

She laughs, taking down another monster with her bow.

You parry an attack and watch a portal open again. At least you can escape

"(Y/n)!" Someone calls.

That wasn't Malon.

"Malon!" Time's voice rings through the clearing.

The boys are running towards you- but you're pretty sure you have to leave through the portal and not stay outmatched by the monsters.

This is bullshit.

"Link?!"

"We have to go!" You call out, ducking an arrow.

You move then, with extreme spite and displeasure.

"Just stay there!" Time yells out.

Warriors are the ones to stop the others, taking the lead. He says someone to them that males Twilight look fairly upset.

"There's no time!" You yell. "Malon, come on!"

You can watch Malon look between you and her husband. She looks pained- and you can watch her try to fight the urge to stay.

"Mal!" Time calls, almost there.

It's not enough.

Malon tackles you out of harms way and through the portal.

You hit the ground hatd- but most unhurt.

"You okay?" Malon asks you.

You look around yet another strange place and no sign of a portal. Great.

"Mostly. Are you okay?"

"I'm- tired. But I'm okay."

"Good."

Malon stares at you - still hovering over your sprawled form. Her expression is something.

She's got a soft look on her face, but she also looks like she might like to cry.

"Has anyone told you you have pretty eyes?" She asks, moving off of you.

She sits to the side, her knees under her as she looks you over.

You can feel your face heat up. That's- not necessarily a common thing to hear.

"Maybe." You admit.

"It's true."

"Thank you." You say, sitting up and letting your arms hold you up.

"Any idea where we are?"

"The woods, mostly."

"Sounds right. We should follow the path then."

"Okay."

"Do you think the boys will be okay?"

"Of course. We've made it this far- and there are more of them.",

"That's fair enough." She gives a strained smile.

"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" You ask, trying to land somewhere between serious and not accusing.

Malon looks to you, and you can genuinely see how hard this has been on her.

Her eyes bear dark bags and bloodshot veins.

She's got littered bruises and fresh scars like stars in the sky. She's got dirt smeared across her and her clothes in at least ten places.

Her clothes are patched over too many times to last much longer. Her hair is in bad shape.

And you still think she's beautiful. (You must be really gone. Like- Malon is definitely pretty under usual circumstances, but no one can look that great in this condition.)

(Right?)

"I'm just tired." Malon says after a moment.

"Okay." You say.

You stand up, holding your hand out to her.

Malon takes your hand, standing up with only half a wince. Her ankle is still weaker than either of you would like.

Your phone gives a little notification sound

Your phone!

It's stayed at the same battery charge the whole adventure thanks to magic you suppose.

But it's not done more than self-storage and pictures.

You have a notification.

"I know where we are." You smile, "or at least when."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Let's follow the path. We're in my time."

"Oh! Is that good?"

"Maybe. Depends on where we actually are and such."

-------

You are in America, somewhere in the Pacific Northwest if the pine trees and rain are any clue.

You find a fairly nice extended stay and book about a week or so.

However, there are a few problems.

One, you and Malon both need new clothes.

Two, you have a lot of modern things to explain.

And three - which may actually be the biggest problem - there's only one bed.

However, just now, you're at the nearest Walmart superstore getting together some actual supplies for the time.

Watching Malon read all the ingredients in the shampoo and conditioner is eye-opening.

You've managed to find some decent jeans and some other clothes too.

You grab some basic foods and some other things before checking out.

This is going to be something.

-------

Time skids to a stop in the middle of a monster hoard. The reason you and Malon had to escape.

The portal closes just as he reaches it.

Fuck.

Fuck!

Time ... isn't really aware of his surroundings until that evening while he's cleaning his shield of monster guts.

He listens - realizing that Twilight and Warriors are trying to figure out how to get to you and Malon again.

"It might have been a fluke." Legend pipes in.

"I doubt that." Warriors says firmly.

But none of the conversations matter. Time can only replay the minute or two he saw you and Malon.

The way his wife tackled you through the portal ... he's glad she's never lost her drive.

You had looked - well, it's really not fair how pretty you looked.

And Time is so worried.

He knows Malon can handle herself.

He knows you can handle yourself.

But still.

He'd just watched you have to get tackled through a portal so you could both stay safe.

This is some shit.

Fuck whatever deity is running this sick game.

[castielforucauseilostmyaccount]

Outfits (or pieces of clothes) Castiel would wear imo: part 2

(part two of the previous post even tho I would've preferred to do it as one post but there was a limit of images to use 😭 and it's the most important part but whatever it's still fun 😽)

--------------------🎸🎸🎸--------------------

Band shirts 🚀: Obviouslyyy~ he has collection of cds, vinyls posters and of course shirts 😌 this man collect anything that involves rock'n'roll.

Grey sweatpants 🩶: a must 😭🤭 most people have one so does mr.Veilmont, would wear it home alone or during home practices cause why wouldn't he 😼.

𝓢𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓭, 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼 ☁️

🎱🕸️🐈‍⬛:

Castiel's a sucker for accessories of all types, the good one tho. Silver rings with silver chains and his regular collars (the ones we've been seeing him wear in the three versions of og mcl~)

And my fave part 🤭 a good rolex 😌, I believe Castiel's the type to treat himself (probably like anyone who can afford it) and we've already seen him wear those "expensive" sunglasses so a nice rolex for the classy (dork 🥹🖤) man he is wouldn't be surprising (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠).

𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭, 𝓸𝓾𝓽��𝓲𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓹𝓸 ���

Now the part I've been waiting for 😽, because I've found some good inspo imo that I would imagine Castiel wearing (and wouldn't say no to see him wearing it)

Castiel's a starboy I just know it 🙂‍↔️ I'd picture him wearing it especially those bikers inspired jackets he's fond of and would style it more (also imagining him wearing that at the airport driving the paparazzi and fans crazy 😌)

Castiel's choker appreciation 🙂‍↔️: I loved the choker's idea in his UL outfit and that made his outfit in it even more cooler so I imagine him wearing that accessory more.

That jacket: Castiel would probably own a jacket like that because it's just so pretty and it would suit him a lot and that brings a classy vibe to his punk outfit ~

---------------------🎸🎸🎸---------------------

End of the post ✨🖤

Spent hours but that was so fun 🥹😭 might do it for other characters cause why not and I'm not against imagining more cool outfits for the others!

[thecreaturecodex]

Theo Gravois

"Necro" © deviantArt user Asahisuperdry, accessed at his gallery here

[Another in my series of tributes to PCs past, this time moving on to Curse of the Crimson Throne. A game where I got a TPK in the final battle, which had never happened before and never happened again in my long history of running published adventures. Pro tip: do not teleport to the boss room without clearing the rest of the dungeon. Especially when said boss is a bard who can turn you against each other long enough for her minions from the rest of the dungeon to flood into the room. Theo technically survived, albeit dominated, which is part of why I picked him as the PC of choice. Also, as you'll see in the flavor text, Theo went through some shit (and was the first gay character that player made after coming out). So I wanted to finally give him a happy ending.

I ran Crimson Throne the first time around, in D&D 3.5. So mechanically, this version of Theo is quite different than that version. The original Theo was an archivist from Heroes of Horror (the divine class that tended to be most popular at my table), and for most of the game he had the necropolitian template and the Necrotic Cyst line of feats from Libris Mortis. I made him an oracle of Lore because a) he was very bookish and b) the same player played an oracle in both Jade Regent and Shattered Star. The lich oracle curse was used to reflect his time spent undead, and the inflict line of spells, plus various other necromancies, are standing in for the Necrotic Cyst spells.]

Theo Gravois CR 19 CN Humanoid This human has white hair, intense gray eyes and broad features. He wears chain mail and fine robes, and carries a staff, wands, books, and other magical paraphernalia.

Theo Gravois may simultaneously be the luckiest and unluckiest man alive. Theo was always interested in grisly crimes and tragic love stories, but didn’t expect to find himself in one. His fiancé, Ilya Kushnir, was murdered by the crime boss Gaedrin Lamm and fed to his pet alligator. All Theo had to remember his love by was Ilya’s severed hand, still wearing his engagement ring. Although Theo helped bring Lamm to justice, and then was embroiled in the chaos in Korvosa following the death of its king, he still dwelled on the injustice. Eventually, as his own body was wracked by tuberculosis and the city around him was gripped in the blood veil epidemic, Theo transformed himself into an undead creature in an attempt to cut off his grief and all emotions. The culmination of this ritual involved wrapping his love’s severed hand around his heart.

And then Ilya came back to life.

After months of adventures and just before fighting Queen Ileosa the Thrice-Damned herself, Theo and his colleagues were gifted with a Harrow Deck of Many Things. Theo drew the Unicorn, allowing him to undo any event in his past. Of course, he made it so Ilya never confronted Gaedren Lamm, which rippled through reality. Theo had a loving, living fiancé, so of course he never would have made himself undead. Just in time to fight Ileosa and lose. Because now that he was alive, he was vulnerable to her mind-altering magic.

Theo was the only survivor of the fight against Ileosa, and she kept him as a dominated pet until she could complete the ritual to grant herself divinity. The ritual failed by inches, as Theo had used stone shape spells to reshape half of the statues intended to focus the ritual into images of Blackjack, a Korvosan folk hero (the mantle of whom had been taken by no fewer than two of Theo’s close friends). Both Ileosa and Blackjack were transformed into powerful outsiders, Ileosa a devil, Blackjack an azata. And Ileosa, enraged, tortured Theo to death and left his body to rot in the dungeons beneath Castle Korvosa.

And then Ilya had him brought back to life.

Queen Croft of New Korvosa offered Theo his pick of any role in her city he wanted, but Theo refused—Theo distrusted authority before his many woeful experiences, and he is understandably somewhat paranoid about queens. Theo and Ilya now live on a small island in the Ironbound Archipelago, being perfectly happy to be alone together. Theo spends most of his days reading, sculpting, and playing games with his husband. It would take world-shaking events to bring Theo out of retirement. But if there’s one thing Golarion is known for, it’s world-shaking events.

Theo Gravois   CR 19 XP 204,800 CN Medium humanoid (human) Init +7; Senses Perception +3 Defense AC 32, touch 21, flat-footed 26 (+6 Cha, +3 deflection, +9 armor, +2 natural, +2 luck) hp 222 (19d8+133) Fort +17, Ref +15, Will +20 Immune death effects; Resist cold 10, positive energy 10 Defensive Abilities negative energy affinity Offense Speed 30 ft. Melee +2 quarterstaff +19/+14/+9 (1d6+6) Special Attacks arcane archivist (2/day),brain drain (DC 29, 19d4 damage, 10 rounds, 4/day) Spells CL 19th, concentration +29 (+33 casting defensively) 9th (5/day)—mass heal (DC 29), time stop, winds of vengeance (DC 29) 8th (7/day)—discern location, mass inflict critical wounds (DC 30), moment of prescience, orb of the void (DC 30), stormbolts (DC 28) 7th (7/day)—destruction (DC 29), ethereal jaunt, greater scrying (DC 27), mass cure serious wounds (DC 27), mass inflict serious wounds (DC 29), vision 6th (8/day)—harm (DC 28), heal (DC 26), mass inflict moderate wounds (DC 28), mass owl’s wisdom, wind walk 5th (8/day)—contact other plane, mass ghostbane dirge (DC 25), mass inflict light wounds (DC 27), planeslayer’s call, slay living (DC 27), true seeing, undead anatomy II 4th (8/day)—aura of doom (DC 26), dismissal (DC 24), divine power, freedom of movement, inflict critical wounds (DC 26), legend lore 3rd (8/day, 1 used)—cure serious wounds (DC 23), inflict serious wounds (DC 25), locate object, magic vestment, remove disease, stone shape, undead anatomy I 2nd (9/day)—align weapon, command undead (DC 24), inflict moderate wounds (DC 24), lesser restoration, remove paralysis, resist energy, spiritual weapon, tongues 1st (9/day)—bless, cure light wounds (DC 21), doom (DC 23), identify, inflict light wounds (DC 23), hide from undead, shield of faith 0th—bleed (DC 22), create water, detect magic, detect poison, guidance, light, read magic, resistance, stabilize Statistics Str 16, Dex 16, Con 20, Int 27, Wis 16, Cha 30 Base Atk +14; CMB +17; CMD 33 Feats Abundant Revelations (arcane archivist), Combat Casting, Greater Spell Focus (necromancy), Improved Initiative, Lunging Spell Touch, Oracular Intuition, Quick Draw, Scribe Scroll, Spell Focus (necromancy), Spell Penetration, Toughness Skills Acrobatics +22, Appraise +15, Craft (sculpture) +16, Diplomacy +20,  Escape Artist +22, Fly +22, Heal +14, Intimidate +20, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering, local, nature, planes, religion) +30, Knowledge (engineering, geography, history, nobility) +20, Linguistics +15, Sense Motive +20, Spellcraft +30, Use Magic Device +25 SQ legendary, oracle curse (lich), revelations (arcane archivist, brain drain, mental acuity, sidestep secret, spontaneous symbology, think on it) Languages Abyssal,Aklo, Boggard, Celestial,Common, Draconic, Dwarven, Elven, Gnome, Goblin, Infernal, Necril, Shoanti, Sylvan, Undercommon, Varisian Gear tome of leadership and influence +4 (expended), manual of bodily health +2 (expended), belt of physical perfection +4, headband of mental superiority +6 (Acrobatics, Escape Artist, Fly), +1 deathless cold resistance mithril chain shirt, staff of the hierophant, rod of quicken spell, ring of sustenance, ring of protection +3, mnemonic vestment, cloak of resistance +4, amulet of natural armor +2, handy haversack, wand of cure moderate wounds (20 charges), wand of spectral hand (30 charges), scroll of greater spell immunity, scroll of resurrection, scroll of greater restoration, scroll of heroes’ feast, guardian grimoire, (no preparation ritual), 13,000 gp worth of gem dust for material components, silver engagement ring worth 25 gp, 2 eye ointment material components for true seeing, 7 pp, 5 gp Special Abilities Legendary (Ex) Theo’s statistics are built on 25 point buy, and he has the gear of a PC of his class level. These advantages increase his CR by +1.

[sortagaysortahigh]

Please like the way that this fantasy AU is causing me brainrot like i must share some of the other ideas i had!!!!

Eddie is the human prince (who only truly wants to be a music-loving sailor) that has fallen in love with the elven princess after a grand total of 1 conversation.

He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t feel drawn to the cloaked woman, perhaps it was her almost-magnetic presence, or maybe it was the glow of her rings, rings that were rumored to drive those who could not live to their potential mad, or maybe, just maybe it was the sound of her laughter, it reminded him of a soft melody, only growing in volume as she chatted with the half-elf barmaid, a woman who’d been running the tavern with her father for longer than Eddie had been alive. It was clear to him that they weren’t speaking in the common tongue, and as he did his best to get closer without giving himself away he was positive that they were speaking a dialect of elvish, and of course, the prince of such a large region would hold some knowledge on other languages and even speak some.

Which is how he found himself eavesdropping on their conversation about the cloaked woman’s travels.

It wasn’t until she’d laughed again, and said something along the lines of “Don’t you just hate it when people choose to stick their nose in places they do not belong?” To the barmaid that Eddie realized the woman was well aware of his presence. Of course she had to have been, she wielded magic and a few of her rings probably held enchantments that allowed her to be incredibly hyper-aware of her surroundings. He sat at the table that was behind and to the right of the woman, placing himself in perfect ear-shot, even through the boisterous commotion of the tavern. It also left him in the perfect spot to be caught like a fish out of water.

The woman turned in her stool, the iridescent glow of her eyes gave away her elven race in seconds as she allowed her cloak to slide back the smallest amount-it was still covering her head-to allow for her fake to peak out more. The both of them held eye contact, she wasted no time in sizing him up, eyes trailing his figure once, then twice, assessing if he was a threat, or if he was just any regular townsfolk. But she knew he was neither, especially as she examined what she could see of his clothes, the loose-fitted beige shirt was something that many sailor wore, however the shiny silver chain tucked into it was a different story. Many sailors opted to wear gold, especially those affiliated with pirates or mercenaries. It was rare to witness a sailor in silver-especially silver that was as clean as his.

Not to mention how clean he was. It was mid-afternoon so the Tavern was well lit, and from what she could see there wasn’t much muck, grease, or dirt adorning his skin. Not to say that sailors were unclean-but typically those who spent the majority of their lives at sea had a very specific physical appearance, and this man did not fit a single one of those characteristics.

So the princess moved from her seat at the bar to the seat across from him, she was curious about who he was, and what it was that he found so interesting about her. There were easier ways to find all of that out, a few drags of her fingers alongside a word or two in arcana would allow her to gaze into his mind-but truth be told she didn’t enjoy using magic that way. Magic was sacred, and there was a time and a place that deemed it necessary.

“And who might you be?” He simply shrugged, now getting a better look at her, watching as she relaxed her shoulders slightly while placing both of her hands on the wooden table, fingers interlaced and still, outside of one of her index fingers tapping along the top of her opposite hand. He did his best to seem casual, like any other tavern go-er, but his attempts to be casual were short lived when she caught a glance of the pendant hanging along his chain. He immediately froze as she reached across the table, fingers now grazing the silver before slowly dragging it out of it’s confines.

“Ah I understand now, you’re the prince attempting to escape from your duties. I can only assume that of you, but wouldn’t it be smarter to not wear any of your house’s medallions, especially a silver chain adorning the house crest. I’d also recommend working on your disguise, commoners may not see through it, but you have many tells.” He opened and closed his mouth several times, feeling like a fish out of water, as if he had been exposed to the world in a matter of seconds. He half-expected her to give him away, or even lecture him on the responsibilities of any high-ranking royal. The regality of her voice let him know that they were of similar status, and as most high ranking nobles did, she too would probably tell him to give up on his fantasies about being a sailor, an adventurer, or truly leaving the city.

But she didn’t. Instead she laughed at his reaction before sitting back down, extending a hand to him, waiting for him to shake it.

“It is only right that I let you in on my attempts of escape as well.” She told him her name before nodding a few times “Princess of Silvermoon, daughter of King Haldir, but the use of a title is unnecessary here, considering we’re in the same boat”.

It all made sense to Eddie, he’d snuck out of the keep after his mother sent news that the High Elves of Silvermoon would be making their arrival today, and with them, a potential match for him. Historically it wasn’t uncommon for Elves and Humans of high-ranking status to wed, especially under the pretense of political alliances and unification under the threats of potential war. But that didn’t make accepting his possible arranged marriage and betrothal any easier. In fact it made it harder, knowing that he was expected to sire an Heir to his throne, while uniting two nations that have their own histories of conflict, plus up until today, no one past the lands surrounding Silvermoon had seen the Princess.

As superficial as it was, he didn’t want to be wed to someone he found unattractive, or even unappealing, especially when Elves were known to be very posh, judgmental, and just plain stuck up.

He blinked a few times before grasping her hand, shaking it over the table while he forced a small smile. “As you’ve assumed, I am the prince, Prince Edward, son of King Wayne the Third. But Honestly, I’d prefer if you called me Eddie, and skipped the formalities. Also, if you’d like to smite me at anytime during this conversation please feel free to do so”

There it was again, that laugh, except this time it was a little louder and she pulled her hand away from his gently to adjust her cloak because the moment she started laughing at him, it started sliding back again, revealing a peak of the deep black hair that her family was known for. They were unmistakeable, many elves had lightly colored hair, or even sunkissed blonde tones of hair, however her family was known for the deep black hair, it was said to be so black that it had hues of blue to it. The rumour had always been that their ancestors were the first to dabble in the mix of divine and arcane magic, using gifts from the Gods in combination with elements of the earth to create something almost untouchable that threatened the existence of divine magic. So in turn, they were marked with hair as dark as night, hair that would be used to alienate them from the other High Elves, however it only made her family stronger, and the power they possessed is what pushed them to where they were now.

“Unfortunately for the both us, I cannot smite you Eddie, if possible, I’d put us both out of our misery. I hear we’re to be married? A Prince who I can only assume yearns for the sea and the freedom it brings, and a Princess who’d rather speak to the city rats than to anyone considered close to noble. God they’re all so pretentious, and of course I know that my people are known to be pretentious, but oh Gods, they’re such asses!” she raised her brows while he let out a small laugh, doing his best to keep up a ‘relaxed’ appearance, when in reality, the more she spoke, the more he wanted to ask her a million questions about herself and follow her to the ends of the earth.

And he hadn’t even seen her without her cloak on yet.

[nexxen24]

The Sunwalker's Respite

BG3 FANFIC

Spawn Astarion X Female Tav

Tav: Hanelly Calista, Wood Elf, Fighter, Eldritch Knight. Age 180, born just outside the human city of Calder.

Romanced: Astarion(succeeded the perception check to keep him as a spawn)

Synopsis: 6 months after defeating the brain and saving Faerun, Hanelly Calista is happy, she has everything she could ever want in the form of Astarion, the sarcastic and sassy Vampire spawn that stole her heart. But there's still something missing, Astarion gave up his place in the light in order to keep his soul and Hanelly knows that there has to be a way to get it back. When wizard extraordinaire, Gale Dekarios, finds a clue to a ring, it'll lead Hanelly and Astarion deep into the Underdark as they discover the beginnings of a deadly plot, one that could destroy the city they nearly died protecting. The quest will lead them to Astarion's found family, the six other vampire spawn and show them just how far one can go to protect the people they love.

Chapter: Prologue/6-8

NOTES: This story will stay strictly PG-13, some language throughout cause that's fun but nothing explicit. All of it will only ever be implied since I don't like writing smut. If you don't like the fade to black, stop right where it ends and find an 18+ fic to fill the void. The intention is to have this more character driven than just a small oneshot, hence the multiple chapters. Enjoy!

Prologue

Astarion

Baldur's Gate, Undercity, 54 Years Before the Absolute’s Demise

The Undercity of Baldur’s Gate was dark and damp, covered in rats and questionable substances and not the spot that you’d want to spend a lot of time in but it was the perfect spot for a vampire spawn looking to catch his breath. Astarion was crawling around in the Undercity, trying to avoid his own task of looking for new victims for his master, a man named Cazador that resided in a mansion in the Lower City. Astarion knew that if he came back with nothing there would be a problem but the young vampire spawn was also tired of following the rules, he wanted a break.

A tavern would be the ideal spot and a drink could steel his nerves but it was almost sunrise and sunshine and spawns didn’t tend to mix. So Astarion found himself in the Undercity, crouching near a river and blowing on his hands in an effort to warm them up. Baldur’s Gate wasn’t known for having warm winters and that one was particularly chilly and Astarion was dressed to lure unsuspecting upperclassmen, not for warmth.

“Try a fire.”

Astarion jumped up and pulled the dagger from his belt, holding it out in front of him in defence only to glare at the woman who spooked him since he recognized her.

“Maleera, why are you here?” he hissed and she shrugged, taking a seat next to him as he calmed his nerves.

“You didn’t come back, I managed to convince Cazador that I could find you. Do I need to remind you about what happened last time?”

Astarion shook his head, eyes shut tightly as he tried to ignore the flashes of darkness and chains and blood from the year he spent buried alive under Cazador’s mansion. If he didn’t return in time for his master to feed, another year of that was likely in his future and Astarion curled his hand into a tight fist, trying to calm down his nerves. Maleera let out a sigh, feeling for the young spawn and pulled out a small bottle of Baldurian whiskey she had been holding onto.

“Are you sure?”

“You need it more than me,” she said and he nodded in thanks before taking a long sip, feeling the whiskey warm him, satiating the memories at least for the moment.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, so…why didn’t you follow his rules?”

“I needed a break, there was this nobleman in a bar and he was perfect, visiting from out of town and drinking too much but he started mentioning his family, a fiance and I just couldn’t. I came down here for a break, thought I’d sulk back there tonight, maybe come up with some excuse or grab two.”

“You know it doesn’t work that way, Cazador would still retaliate,” Maleera said and Astarion nodded with a sigh, knowing that she was right.

“I know, I just wish that it was different,” he said and Maleera frowned at him. “I just wish that I could run as far as I can for the whole night and never have to see that damn vampire again…but…I can't. I'm trapped, we're trapped.”

“You know you can’t change it, not right now, Cazador’s hold on us is too strong, too great. If you leave then he’ll hunt you down and you won’t spend a year locked up with Godey, you’ll spend a lifetime.”

Astarion knew that Maleera wasn’t trying to crush his spirit, to convince him that all hope was lost, she was simply being realistic and had been with Cazador for over 300 years, almost double the amount of time that he had. She had spent longer than just her time with Cazador stuck in the dark since being born a Drow, stuck in the Underdark and fighting a generations long war was supposed to be her future, her destiny. According to Maleera, Cazador went to the Underdark looking for something and after he didn’t find it he came out with a new spawn, a 60 yr old Drow who assumed that life was about to get better. But it never did.

“I know,” he said and sighed, running a hand through his hair, white from either stress or just time he had no idea. “I’m not looking to escape, I just wanted a break. Just wanted a moment to myself.”

“Of course, I get that, it gets suffocating sometimes,” Maleera said and grabbed a discarded barrel so she could take a seat next to him. “Big cities were never my thing. Drow, especially Seldarine like my people, tended to stay pretty far away, kept to ourselves. This was a pretty big adjustment.”

“Has it gotten better?” Astarion asked and the Drow chuckled, formally purple now red eyes catching the dim light shining through an open sewer grate above them.

“No.”

“Yeah, same for me and I was practically raised here,” Astarion said and grinned but frowned when he caught sight of the grime and the darkness. “Well…not here…up there.”

“I could figure out that much,” she said and smiled at him. “Well…anyways…we should be heading back.”

“Uh…I will later today, there’s a tunnel that connects to the Palace, I can probably grab a wanderer on the way, someone no one will miss.”

“Don’t be too long,” Maleera warned and Astarion nodded, giving her a mocking salute as she went. “Keep that pretty head up, it’ll all work out in the end.”

“I hope you’re right,” Astarion muttered and watched as she returned to the shadows and once again left him alone.

He didn’t get up and start heading back right away but positioned himself in such a way that he could peer through a hole in the ceiling of the tunnel and stare at the moon. The sun wasn’t a big fan of spawn, it hurt to be around, was practically deadly but the moon was a welcome respite, a friend. The moon meant safety, the cover of darkness and a chance to see some actual natural light, the only natural light that didn’t hate him. Astarion was also fully aware of the fact that there were a lot of people currently staring at the moon and maybe one of them could assist him in one day, could change his fate and rid the world of Cazador forever. That also sounded like a daydream, like some trick that his psyche used in order to not let him get so hopeless after so many years of being stuck, trapped with that man.

But for the moment, for the smallest, most miniscule little moment he didn’t care and Astarion was at peace and tipped his head back. He felt the moonlight on his face, felt that he wasn’t alone and sucked in a deep breath, wishing he could stay that way forever.

Hanelly

The Moonhaven Inn, Outer Baldur’s Gate, 54 Years Before the Absolute’s Demise

Whenever I got stressed I found myself searching for the highest point I could possibly get and in the case of Moonhaven, that spot was the top deck, the highest spot they bothered to build in the tree and my safe haven. The deck was perched just under a collection of branches and since Moonhaven just so happened to be the biggest tree in all of Faerun, its branches shielded the deck from the weather but were just far enough away to let in some moonlight. I loved moonlight, loved sitting under it and contemplating life and was doing just that, memories of how I got to Moonhaven threatening to ruin the day and I needed some way to hold them off.

I was born in a small village about three hours from the giant tree called Venia that was populated by Wood Elves who protected the forests surrounding a large human city called Baldur’s Gate. Myself, a Wood Elf, was destined to follow in my father’s footsteps and protect the trees, become one with nature and eventually take my place as a Tree Guardian, keeping the forest as perfect as it deserves to be. But when Venia was overrun by the very forest we swore to protect, we fled along with my brother to a nearby human town called Calder. It was different and strange, they liked trees less than us and when I turned 100(barely 18 for humans) the forest decided to fight back.

All at once I was forced to choose between the home I had found and the place that I assumed was made to protect me, that I had been taught to protect since before I could walk. But the human’s of Calder didn’t give me much of a choice and I was clenching my hands into fists as I tried to block out memories of accidentally shooting my brother with a poison tipped arrow, of watching my father fall in front of me before I could even do anything, of watching all I had gained, all I had kept close crumble to dust in mere moments.

“Hanelly?”

I turned to find Stephan standing behind me, the current High Harper for Moonhaven, and moved a bit so I wasn’t curled into such a ball as he climbed up onto the deck.

“Stephan, hello, sorry, I just needed some time to myself.”

The moment that it all came crashing down was only thirty years ago but it felt longer even though three decades was barely a weekend compared to the lifespan of an elf. I had over 600 years left to live and back when I arrived Stephan was barely five years old and now he was a grown-up, running the place, ageing faster than I could ever dream of.

“No need to apologise,” Stephan assured and took a seat next to me, his large frame taking up a lot more of the deck than I anticipated.

“The memories, they come back to me sometimes and it hurts, I just wish that I could’ve done something.”

“You had no idea that they stole from the Mother Tree, no one could have predicted that,” Stephan pointed out and I sighed knowing that he was correct.

The whole reason behind why the fighting started was thanks to Harold Clive, leader of Calder who stole a branch off the Mother Tree to create the two limbs of his bow. The Mother Tree, the biggest tree in the land that was birthed out of a grand sacrifice and said to keep its people safe if they protected it, retaliated and every Wood Elf for almost a hundred miles made it their goal to kill Harold. My family got swept up in the human side of the fighting and I became a fighter, trained myself how to use weapons and was forced into the fight for the opposing side. If someone would’ve picked out that the bow contained stolen wood then the whole thing could’ve been avoided, the tree satiated and my family would still be alive.

Instead, I left right after the fighting stopped, wounded, practically on death’s door and stumbled upon Moonhaven where Simon Carver, Stephan’s father, took me in and brought me back from the dead. I always held onto the soldier background, that pack mentality but knew that starting from the moment I realised I was safe I was gonna fight for what I believed in, not the masses.

“At least I don’t have to fight for what I don’t believe in anymore,” I muttered and Stephan smiled in agreement, wrapping me in a side hug.

“No you don’t, the people of Moonhaven will keep you safe for as long as you wish, I can assure you of that. We’re in this together, Hanelly.”

“I want to start assisting the Harpers, I feel like I offer a lot that can be beneficial, especially when dealing with elves.”

“Being a Harper is a lifelong commitment, a lifelong pact to protect people, are you sure that you can uphold that?”

I knew that Stephan was looking out for me, making sure that I wasn’t making a rash decision and locking myself into something I was going to regret years down the line but I took some offence that he didn’t think I could do it. Most people at Moonhaven expected me to return to Venia since it had grown in the years following the attack, was back from the dead practically and elves tended to stick with other elves. But I didn’t want that life, I no longer felt connected to the woods around the tree or felt the same way that other Wood Elves did in nature regardless of my heritage. I was less elf after that battle, less connected and felt like I was some weird in between of a human and my former self, trying to figure out what side I belonged to more. Sure the Harpers had always been a little disorganised and no one ever really knew what they stood for but they felt like family, felt like a group of people that I could trust.

“I can do it, I can keep the oath,” I assured and Stephan smiled at me.

“Alright then, how about we discuss your role among the Harpers in the morning?” he asked and I nodded, wanting to spend some more time outside.

“Sounds good,” I assured and smiled, “thank you.”

“Anytime, thank you,” he said and patted my head before getting to his feet and walking off, heading down the ladder and leaving me to my thoughts once again.

I hate to spoil the happy ending but I didn’t manage to join the Harpers that next day since Stephan was killed by an assassination attempt during the night and I spent the next ten years trying to figure out who did it. It kind of soured my need to be near anybody and when I got back after killing a Bhaal Cultist that thought killing him was good fun, I locked myself in the room at the top of the tree and ignored everyone for a good decade. It was Stephan’s wife at his time of death, Clara, that convinced me to be something totally different from a Harper or a Wood Elf, to be just me. To take all that I had learned from being a soldier, from finding his killer and focus on protecting people that needed it, keeping them safe like I wasn’t able to do for him.

I spent twenty years being a protector and enjoyed it. It felt freeing and I was just making plans to teach more people how to join me when I walked down the wrong alleyway in Baldur’s Gate and found myself kidnapped, stuffed onto a ship full of Mind Flayers and everything changed. For nearly two months I worked with a reluctant party to fix the tadpole placed in my skull and free the realm from the biggest threat it had ever faced. I found peace in doing so, found a chance to do right by the world and guarantee that all who called the realm home could call it home for many more years to come.

I also found love, probably the most shocking turn of events when the High Elf that stuffed a dagger against my throat within five seconds of meeting me stole my entire heart and then some. Keeping him safe, making sure that he could also call the realm home was one of the hardest things I ever had to do but it worked out in the end, I took all I had learned and fought harder than I ever had before and he made it, he survived. He broke free and became his own person and learned that sometimes it’s freeing to let love back into your heart, sometimes it’s what you need.

But of course all of that is years away and for the moment I was sitting on the balcony, drenched in moonlight and smiling since it all felt perfect, all felt peaceful. I was decades away from meeting that said High Elf and had no idea that when I looked up at the moon and smiled, somewhere out there in a dark, musty sewer he was doing the same. We were a long while from being connected in the physical sense but still had managed to both believe in the exact same thing, that for the smallest moment when you find yourself staring up at the moon, you’re in turn no longer alone.

[sablelab]

Covert Operations - Chapter 218

SYNOPSIS: James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp make their way back to Section as ordered.  When they arrive, their reception from fellow operatives is an interesting one of anticipation of what is going to happen now.

 Chapter 217  and all other chapters can be found at … https://sablelab.tumblr.com/covertoperations 

 *This can also be read on AO3

THANK YOU all for your continued support of this story.  I am in the process of writing the concluding chapters to this larger-than-life story, and I am so grateful to all who have been on this rollercoaster ride as I have written Covert Operations.  Thank you all so much for staying the course. 👋

CHAPTER 218

At some time, this morning, James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp would have returned to Section One, however, they were awoken by an interruption they were never expecting heralding a change to their plans.

For Claire, the call to come in to Section was déjà vu all over again. 

The means of communicating their return to Section this morning was very different from all those months ago when Jamie’s call had woken Claire from the wonderful erotic dream she was having about him. On that morning she’d been called in because of a new mission profile which turned out to be about the Rising Dragons triad. That first day she was alone, but much had happened over the weeks and months since that early morning call.  Claire and Jamie were together now, and the call to come in had seen them in the throes of passion only to be interrupted by their friend Murtagh Fitzgibbons’ incessant banging on their door.

In the past Claire knew that any day away from the Section and all the manipulations of Madeline and Operations, and the constant surveillance of her and Jamie was a good day. But all that had changed.  This call to come in was urgent, as things were afoot at Section One since their leaders had been placed under house arrest.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

All those months ago she had no interest in being called in, but yet she had hoped it would be Jamie when her cell phone’s ring disturbed her dream of a day off spent in the company of the man who made her heart flutter. At the time of Jamie’s call, she never knew where those orders would take her, or more to the point she didn't care to think about where they would lead. But the Rising Dragons’ missions had changed everything for Claire and especially her relationship with James Fraser.  They had experienced extreme scenarios of ups and downs of perilous missions, profiles that would test their resolve but best of all, they had strengthened their bond and deepened their love for one another against all odds. Claire remembered the anticipation of hearing Jamie’s husky, sexy Scottish accent over the phone as it had lifted her spirits, but as usual the succinct message was not the one she had hoped to hear. She had nearly grunted “Hello” into the phone fearing that the next thing she'd hear would be the seductive sounds rolling off Jamie’s lips asking her to spend the day with him. But that is not what had happened.

Jamie’s anticipated call had filled her with such longing on that morning, however the sound of her code name … “Jo-se-phine” … had been all that he’d said. It was enough. His call into Section One was all that was needed to ruin her mood, but who would have forecast that that call would set in motion the most extraordinary chain of events that had changed her relationship with Jamie. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ The call had come this morning too … the order to return to Section ASAP. They were interrupted during their passionate encounter as the pounding on the door had been relentless. When Murtagh Fitzgibbons had burst through the door apologizing profusely for the interruption, Claire knew then why he was there. After he had been shown the door, Jamie returned to the bed, kissed her on the forehead before they both broke into laughter at what had just happened. He had then leaned over placing a good morning kiss to her waiting lips, while his words brushed her mouth with a warm breath that sent shivers down her spine. “Sassenach?” “Hmmm?” He needed no words to explain what they had to do; it was written all over his face.

“We know the drill … we’ve been called in earlier than we expected.  It’s time to get up my love. However much I would love to join you again in bed, reluctantly we have to go in.” Claire Beauchamp was filled with both trepidation that weighed heavily on her heart and excitement too for a new beginning.  Up until this moment, Section One was the place where you were never free … free to have some semblance of a normal life. However, the difference between the call this morning, and her call months ago, was that they had received it together.  If she believed in Fate … in déjà vu … then the call this morning would be life altering for both of them this time.

Today was a time for turning the corner and leaving behind the past of orders from their soulless, hateful, manipulating leaders. They would descend deep beneath the earth to where those leaders were under cross examination about the way they had run Section, their manipulations of all operatives who were under their rule, and most importantly how Operations and Madeline had time and again tried to thwart the relationship bond between them. Today, their uncles Mr. Lambert and Colum Mackenzie would not only be expecting them to give evidence, but more importantly they would be expecting an answer from the two of them as to the decision they had been asked to make.

Little did Claire Beauchamp and James Fraser know that Murtagh’s intrusive banging this morning would be the beginning of a new future for Section One under new leadership, for today was the day that would change their lives and their destiny. 

  ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once dressed they hastily made their way back to Section One along their usual route. They had travelled this way on so many occasions over the years, that Jamie’s Mercedes may as well have been on auto pilot.

Their returns to Section had always been on the spectrum from highs to lows. Each time they returned to this hell hole they inhabited, Jamie and Claire were immediately made aware that they belonged to Section One again. They had no freedom and their lives were governed by their manipulative leaders.  Returning from a mission, a briefing to tell of their next terrorist target, a summons from their leaders about a mission debrief, or returning from downtime were the norm.  Nevertheless, every time they returned their emotions ran the gauntlet.  Sometimes they returned in fear knowing that Madeline and Operations would be scrutinizing their every move.  Sometimes it was with reluctance after a particular romantic time together when they had to face the reality of their lives and once again be under surveillance.  On those occasions, they had needed to hide any emotional attachment they had nurtured on their downtime. Nevertheless, Jamie always reassured her of their unflinching, invincible connection and that come what may, they each had the other’s back.

But most times when they were ordered back to Section One, it was for a new mission profile. Even then, they never knew what Madeline and Operations had profiled for them.  They never knew if their leaders had devised some contrived scheme that would test their determination and relationship in order to separate them, or place Claire in peril.  It could be a deep cover mission, like with Madame Cheung, or a calculated abeyance mission for Claire, that Jamie would have to recalibrate in order to save her from the death wish that Madeline and Operations had covertly planned for her demise.  

However, this time James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp had been recalled to Section to face none of these scenarios.  They had been asked to return for Madeline and Operations were under house arrest.  The two leaders had been involved in an inquisition by the Head of Centre and Colum Mackenzie that would not bode well for them.  No doubt all their past discretions, manipulations, management of Section operatives and any underhand machinations they had been involved in, planned and carried out, would be under intense scrutiny. Hence, Jamie and Claire both knew that their testimony would have powerful credence when they described their relationship with Section’s leaders. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Finally arriving at their destination, James Fraser drove his car into the underground parking lot reserved for Section personnel, and parked the Mercedes in his designated parking spot.  Alighting from his vehicle, Jamie and Claire glanced at one another before they made their way towards the elevators. They looked very much like a couple in sync and with the aura of authority of two people who were now in charge. On reaching the elevators that would take them into the bowels of Section, Jamie punched in the secret code and they waited until the steel doors opened.

“Ready Sassenach?”  he asked taking Claire’s hand in his and entwining their fingers.

“Je Suis Prest” she replied looking at him with a confident smile.

Raising Claire’s hand to his lips, Jamie smiled too and tenderly kissed her knuckles.  “Je Suis Prest,” he repeated, this mantra echoing their resolve and preparedness for whatever lay ahead.    

When the metal doors opened to reveal an empty compartment, they entered with stoic determination.  The doors slid together and quietly closed, then the elevator swiftly descended into the depths of the earth. Jamie and Claire had taken this journey so many times in the past that it was a routine occurrence. Today however, it felt very different. They stood quietly side-by-side contemplating what Fate may deal them when they eventually entered Section One.  With eyes fixated on the doors of the elevator they descended deeper and deeper into the secret world of Section One. Beside her, Claire could feel the strength, reassurance and the warmth of Jamie’s body as he placed his arm behind her and leisurely rubbed his hand over her back. Both were lost in their thoughts.

What would they find? Would Section feel different because Madeline and Operations were detained?  What might the atmosphere be like when they entered?  What would be the reaction of the other Section operatives?  Would they feel the eyes of Section on them?  Or would people treat them no differently?  Would there be anticipation that something was going to happen?  Would their demeanour suggest that something was afoot that might change the way things happened in Section? Or would it be just like every other time they entered together?  Respect, admiration and awe for Section One’s two best operatives?

As the elevator neared its exit point, the two solitary figures stood united as one in their signature Section mannerisms once more.  Jamie gently squeezed Claire’s fingers in assurance that whatever they would face this morning would be doable. United and together they would face whatever may come. After their discussions with their uncles, they both knew that whatever happened today would be monumental to their lives going forward. They looked at one another knowing that they had each other, and they had each other’s back. 

In the past, Section One had often got the better of Claire emotionally, but not any longer. With Jamie by her side, she felt invincible.  They were a tight unit, one that was highly respected and well-regarded, not only singularly but as partners in crime.  Jamie gave her strength, resilience and courage, while together they were an unstoppable duo.  Claire breathed deeply as the elevator came to a stop, the doors opened and the two operatives exited with an unyielding tenacity as to how they would proceed.  This time there would be no going back for they were ready for whatever they would face when they gave evidence against Madeline and Operations.

Together they had weathered the stormy ups and downs of life in Section, but things were going to be different from here on in.  It was their destiny that they would rule Section one day and take it in a new direction. Mr Lambert and Colum Mackenzie had asked them to make a decision and together she and Jamie had done so. Their supreme superiors had placed their unwavering trust in them to return Section to what it was intended to be, and not the place of horrors that it was under Madeline and Operations’ leadership.  Together she and Jamie would rule with compassion, integrity, fairmindedness and collaboration. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Passing along the empty corridors of Van Access, James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp entered into the hub of Section One focused on the Section and its needs, as well as what may lay ahead when they came face to face with Madeline and Operations. They knew what they would be asked to do … tell their truth and they were prepared for the confrontation that their leaders may refute their version of that truth.  Nevertheless, they had right on their side and there was no denying that their leaders had manipulated both of them to keep them apart and to keep them under the thumb. 

They briefly looked at each other as they headed further into Section One, their footfalls echoing with each step they took. When in Section, James Fraser always displayed his enigmatic demeanour.  He was Section’s superlative Level 5 operative and his bearing demonstrated this trait, while his determined gait indicated that he was in total control. His eyes gave nothing away of his state of mind about anything or anyone for that matter when he was in Section, but Claire knew only too well.  Jamie was a man on a mission, fiercely determined to do exactly what he had to do.

She was well aware that once they reached the Committee Room, things could become very heated between their leaders with what they had to say. Claire was cognizant that Operations and Madeline would vehemently deny their accusations, but they really had nowhere to hide.  Their treatment of her and Jamie had been abominable.   It was common knowledge that their leaders’ relationship towards them was anything but harmonious, and more times than not, it was antagonistic, conflicted and manipulative.   ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The rhythmical thumping of Claire’s heartbeats was in unison with her partner’s self-assured footsteps as they made their way towards the Common Room. Walking beside her incredible partner, made her feel confident and ready to face the powers that be in the Committee Room and whatever may transpire with assurance. All operatives on duty this morning witnessing their return, would only see Section’s two best operatives on a mission with a purpose, and one they were eager to know the outcome of.

Walking side by side in synchronized steps, the confident figures of James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp neared the Common Area.  Jamie was much admired, as too was she, and Section was abuzz with the news that they had finally arrived. All morning Operations and Madeline had been in the Committee Room being questioned about their leadership of Section, and the operatives knew that with Jamie and Claire’s arrival, the intensity of the situation had just gone up a notch or two.

Simultaneously, they too noticed many an operative’s eyes follow their approach and cast a sneaky glance their way at the two of them. Although the operatives gave the impression that they were still going about their duties as if nothing had happened, Jamie and Claire observed that they were clandestinely talking to each other in twos and threes. It seemed to be that they were gossiping, yet it was understandable, as so much had happened in Section over the last 24 to 48 hours, that it was hard to make sense of everything. Ever since these last couple of days with everything that had happened to Madeline and Operations, it was only natural that Section’s operatives would be curious to know of their leaders’ fate, and what was going to happen in the future.  The murmuring was certainly palatable for there was an air of expectancy amongst those working in and around the Common Area.

Without attracting attention, Claire glanced around once more at the operatives as they walked towards the exit. Yesterday, it was evident that the news of Madeline and Dougal’s in-house arrest had gone through Section like wildfire and had only escalated now that Mr. Lambert and the Head of Oversight were interviewing them. Jamie and Claire felt the intense atmosphere in the air, so thick you could cut it with a knife. Eyes continued to follow their every step then quickly glanced away if noticed, to continue whatever they were supposed to be doing. James Fraser was totally aware of the interest in their return, but as usual gave nothing away to those observing them as they passed by. Their fellow operatives were interested in watching them. It was not the same as their superiors glaring at them from the Perch like when they returned from the Rising Dragons’ mission some time ago.  Rather it was the eyes on their backs of interested individuals who knew that they were watching history unfold.  Today they knew for certain that there would be changes that would impact on how things were done in Section One … changes that would only be for the better.

“People are looking at us Jamie.” “I ken Sassenach.” “Do you think they know why we have been called in?” “They suspect … but they ken nothing at the moment.   But neither do we,” was his veiled answer. “We ken not what we may be asked in the Committee Room Claire, but I suspect it will be about yer Gelman procedure, and me finding Letitia in the Cryogenics Lab.”

“As I stated this morning … Je Suis Prest Jamie. I am ready, more than ready to explain what Madeline did.”

“I could never forgive her for what she and Operations did to ye mo ghràidh.  I thought I had nearly lost you so many times.”

“You will never lose me Jamie. Not ever again,” she replied with conviction.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As they passed through the Common Area, Jamie and Claire saw that Fergus Claudel, and his assistant Marsali MacKimmie had also stopped what they were doing and had looked over their way.  Fergus seemed as pleased as punch, and no doubt Murtagh Fitzgibbons had relayed to his buddy what had happened earlier at Claire’s apartment when he had tried to rouse them with the order to return to Section immediately. Fergus nodded at them, then he and Marsali returned to whatever they were doing. 

Their eyes also happened to see that Murtagh Fitzgibbons was now at his station talking to his fiancée Bóinne Rivière.  When the older operative heard the buzz from the Common Area he looked up. Jamie and Claire noticed a huge wizened grin plastered on his face from ear to ear when he saw who it was causing the commotion. Everyone knew that James Fraser was the heir apparent to lead Section one day, and the fact that Madeline and Operations were at this very moment being grilled in the Committee Room with the Head of Centre no less, and the Head of Oversight too, was an indication that there was most likely a transition of power and command about to occur.  Murtagh couldn’t hide his joy at seeing the two operatives return, knowing that he just may be seeing the new leader of Section and his second in command. 

Although Jamie and Claire tried to hide their amusement at his reaction they couldn’t, and a small wry grin appeared on the corner of their mouths.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Whatever was to happen in the Committee Room shortly, Jamie suspected it would be decidedly more than he was telling Claire.

There were mission profiles that had been put in place to do away with his Sassenach, by Operations and Madeline, prior to the Rising Dragons’ mission that were heinous and often placed her in jeopardy.  He had kept this information from his love, but had quietly gone behind their leaders’ backs to change the profile outlines and had done everything in his power to always keep her safe. He knew that they were not happy with his interference with changing Claire’s mission profiles where they had placed her in danger. No doubt some of their plotting against Claire would be raised in questioning, but they would only reiterate the lengths that Madeline and Operations had gone to, to see that Claire Beauchamp would not return to Section One alive from these missions.

Colum Mackenzie had set this inquisition in motion with his compiled dossiers on Section’s leaders.  He was the person who had single handedly set the cat among the pigeons, and because of it, Madeline and Operations now had to pay the piper.  It would be a high cost that they would have to pay for all they had done over the years. No doubt, Mr. Lambert was unaware that hostilities had existed between the three adversaries for some time. They had all tolerated each other over the years, but the suspicions between Madeline and Dougal on one hand and Colum on the other, had caused a large chasm that widened with each impromptu visit from the Head of Oversight. There was no love lost between them whatsoever.

Most times any encounter between the leaders resulted in a stalemate, but this time it seemed that Colum Mackenzie may just have checkmated Madeline and Operations at their own game. His first-hand evidence was irrefutable and undoubtedly overwhelming. Whatever else Colum had uncovered about his brother and Madeline would certainly be something that they had thought would never surface.  Section’s leaders had always covered their bases.  Everything was confidential, while files were encrypted and classified with access only for their eyes only. They had ruled Section One like dictators with their supreme discipline and iron will but all of this had come crumbling down around their ears. No doubt the evidence already presented had attested to these facts.  

Whatever the Head of Oversight had collated on Section’s leaders would be comprehensive and thorough, and because of this evidence, Madeline and Operations would have their backs to the wall. His and Claire’s testimony this morning just may explain the why behind what they did to his beautiful Sassenach, and also what prompted their hostility to her, to him and to them as a couple that had led to the things that they did to the both of them over the years.   Regarding the other matter about their decision that had been discussed with Colum and Mr. Lambert, he knew it was highly probable that the two men definitely hoped their negotiations with them would bear fruit.  Their ultimate plan involved Claire and himself to take over the leadership of Section One and the future direction of the organization. Perhaps at the conclusion of this inquiry their end game would be revealed, and then he and Claire would know all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Until James Fraser knew more of what they would face in the Committee Room, he could not elaborate as to what he suspected had been in motion for some time. However, it was evident by Claire’s next probing question that she too knew what might unfold today. Staring at Jamie closely, she asked, “So what will happen to Madeline and Operations? Will they be cancelled?” “It's too early to say. Mr. Lambert no doubt will make that decision Claire.” When she looked at him, Jamie just gave her a look, which registered his inner thoughts. His eyes were the windows to his soul and although his face was stoic, his eyes expressed volumes. In that instantaneous one look, Claire Beauchamp had seen deep into them for Jamie had let his guard down for her. It was only a fleeting glance then his Section mask had fallen back into place immediately, but in that one look James Fraser had declared his thoughts on the matter of their two leaders. With realization dawning, Claire lowered her shocked face at what she had seen, letting his answer wash over her.

She knew categorically and without a shadow of a doubt though, that whatever lay ahead today or in the future … they would always be there for each other.  

With eyes fixed ahead, their footsteps never faltered as together James Fraser and Claire Beauchamp continued on to the Committee Room where their uncles were waiting with Madeline and Operations.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~to be continued Friday 8th July

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

[tsunderedoctor]

Hello Purple!, I hope work has been well with the kiddos and all!, don’t forget to take time to relax yourself. I thought I’d request this based on what we were talking about since I think you’d find it cute too!, But Shanks and Law proposing to their female s/o with a bit of wedding day scenarios! (ﾉ´ヮ´)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

I've been so excited about this ask since I've seen it-!! 💖💖 I swear you spoil me Pebbsie!!

Babes down below!!💞

“Red Hair” Shanks

The moment he fell for you, he decided then and there he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. He didn’t expect to get married or anything like that however, just spending the rest of his life traveling the world with you was enough for him, but as the man got to know you more and more over the years, marriage didn’t sound that bad. 

He of course would bring it up to some of his trusted crewmembers, not completely out with it, rather than spoken in a metaphor of some sort. Every time the men seemed to agree with his metaphor, making the man feel even more inclined to ask for your hand. 

When the time finally came, where he finally decided to follow through with his debated decision, he did his best to make it as romantic as possible (as much as the man knows anyway-). 

He decided to ask you during the night, when the sea was quiet and calm, giving off this peaceful serene feel to living on the sea. The stars and the moon were the only lights that showed the individuals on the boat their way around. The others were busy drinking and laughing in the common area, while Shanks had asked you to step outside with him.

To say he was nervous, would be a lie. He was partially afraid you would deny him, stating you couldn’t or didn’t want to be tied down to someone. The other part of him was even more afraid you would say yes and he would disappoint your expectations of what you think a husband is.

When you had said yes, the man forgot about his fears for a moment and felt a wave of acceptance and euphoria hit him at once. He quickly kissed you, as gently as the now excited man could, though the kiss definitely held some desperation to it. Afterwards you two could only laugh happily as you placed your heads against each other, both excited about the new chapter in your lives.

The wedding consisted of some friends and crewmembers, it wasn’t anything too fancy, as neither of you seemed to care for a large spectacular wedding, rather just wanting to spend this happy moment with the people who matter. He found himself kissing your hand throughout the evening, excited about the new addition to the usual plain softness. His own ring was held around his neck by a chain of metal. If you pay attention, you can find the man playing with it from time to time.

Trafalgar D. Water Law

He gave up on the idea of having a normal life the night he watched his parents and sister die. The idea of being a doctor in his hometown and working with his parents, maybe meeting someone, though his ten-year old mind didn’t care about love or romance, so it was safe to say Law never though of marriage. 

When he first met you, he swore to himself he wouldn’t get close to you, he forced himself to find every little thing that annoyed him about you, just so he can walk away. As time went on though, he found himself coming back to you, more than he would like. 

He appreciated the fact you never brought up marriage or even relationship titles at that, you just accepted he was there and was yours, just as you were his. He truly felt content in those moments you two shared together on your own, with no one to bother you as you existed in your own world. 

He was finally broken from his happy world when a store clerk had asked him if you two were married and for how long. He didn’t respond to the man, and you had to jokingly explain how your were just partners, nothing else.

Nothing else. He though of those words the rest of the day, and it irked him, was he really just that to you, a partner you spent time with and not someone you wanted to spend your life with. He decided he wanted to prove you wrong, and show you how much he should mean to you.

His proposal was definitely plain and blunt (very Law like-), he tossed you the ring and stated to do whatever you want with it as he walked away. He was too scared to face you, even though he knew it was his idea, he was just afraid you would throw it back at him and laugh in his face; but seeing you wear it on your finger the next day made his heart race too quickly.

The wedding was also nothing to write home about, it consisted of the crew (Luffy begged to come, but Law refused-) and just you two. The ones who cried the most was not the happy couple, rather his first mate and two friends. Despite his grumpy face, a small blush could still be seen if you happened to smile his way, you couldn’t help but admire his own gold wedding ring gracing his slender hand. 

[regencyslxt]

To Have and To Hold

1542 words.

Imagine marrying Anthony Bridgerton.

Your wedding day was never something you had imagined a great deal growing up. The fuss made over the simple exchanging of vows didn’t quite appeal to you as much as it did others. Your mother had not married for love, and those around you cared only for a man’s pocket which meant your entire life had been spent readying yourself for a wealthy man’s proposal when it was time for your debut. You had grown up alongside Daphne Bridgerton however, so despite the lack of romance shown in your home, you had been able to witness it through her family and through her relationship with Simon. You would never admit this to her but watching her fall in love with Simon made you wish you had someone to experience that with. You never would have imagined that the man you would be meeting at the end of the aisle would be her eldest brother…

You were currently standing staring at your reflection in the mirror, your gaze making its way over all the intricate details of your wedding gown. Your sleeves were adorned with beads, the bodice was layered with lace and your veil was tucked neatly into the updo you were sporting for the day. Your favourite part though, had to be the blue detailing that scattered down your veil, small clusters of pale blue flowers, made using the fabric from the gloves you had worn on your first outing with Anthony. You had found your something old and something blue within the one item. Everything else you were wearing was new of course, but the something borrowed? Well, it was currently decorating your neck. The delicate chain which held a small pearl was given to you by your father. It had been his mother’s and before she passed, she had made him promise to give it to the woman he loved most in the world. He may not love your mother, but you…he loved you till the end of the earth which made the fact he had to give you away in little over a minute’s time was crushing him.

“I always knew you would make a beautiful bride someday,” your father tells you.

You smile at him and hold his hands.

“Thank you Papa.”

As you embrace him in one last hug before you wed, your mother barges into the room.

“There you are sweetie, it’s time,” she makes her way towards you and starts fidgeting with your dress.

“My little girl marrying a lord! I always knew you would marry rich,” she pats your cheek.

“Mama that is not why I am marrying Anthony…”

“Oh, don’t be foolish, any other reason for this marriage is insignificant. Now, let us go. Your future husband awaits.”

You watch as she leaves, stunned by her ignorance.

“Pay no mind to her dear, you know what your mother is like. But she is right, it is time to go,” he rests your hand in the crook of his elbow and you make your way towards the chapel doors.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves and as the soft melody from the piano starts so you do. You look towards the end of the aisle, your sight stuck on the man waiting there. His suit tailored to complement his broad shoulders, his hair sits perfect and the smile he is wearing is more stunning than any of the outfits in the room. Each step you take, you get closer to the one you love and the excitement builds within you. Your father kisses your cheek then moves to sit beside your mother.

You now stand in front of Anthony, your smile matching his own. Your hands find their place in his and the words from the officiant seem to fade into the background. All you can focus on is the way the light streaming through the window brightens his face, highlighting his features in a way that makes you weak in the knees.

“Have you both prepared vows?”

“Yes, we have,” Anthony clears his throat while reaching into his coat pocket. He pulls out a piece of paper and begins to read.

“Y/N Y/L/N. From childhood until this moment, you have always been a part of my life and although at the beginning you were only Daphne’s friend, I am utterly joyed that you will be leaving here today still as Daphne’s friend,” he chuckles airily.

“But also as my wife. Y/N I can assure you that there is not one single person walking this earth that could completely enamour me the way you do. The thought of being able to wake up beside you every day, the thought of making a home with you, starting a family with you makes me feel a way I do not believe I have ever felt before. I am excited, nervous, and so completely in love all at once. You, my love, have opened my eyes to what life truly means and because of that I will spend the rest of my days doing my best to show you the same.”

He sniffles slightly and angles his head away from the spectators. He wipes a stray tear from his face and with a shaky breath lifts his head back to look at you.

“How can I compete with that,” both families laugh as you joke.

“Anthony Bridgerton. As you and everyone here today knows, weddings have never been a priority for me. That was until I met you. From the very first moment I saw you I knew that my life would not be a life well-lived if I was not able to spend it with you. I have spent my life trying to figure out why people marry, when most of the people around you marry for gain it can be hard to break out of the same mentality. But then you watch your friend marry the love of her love and you wonder if maybe there is something else to it. Some people may call me foolish for this, but I truly cannot fathom spending another moment of my life not being your wife. I have loved you for the longest time Anthony and I promise to love you even more from now until forever,” you choke up as you watch his eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Daphne smiles at you from the pews and winks in your directions. You giggle at her antics.

“Very well. Do you Anthony Bridgerton take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to be devoted to from this moment on?”

“I do.”

“And do you Y/N Y/L/N take Anthony Bridgerton to be your lawfully wedded husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, to be devoted to from this moment on?”

“I do.”

You both exchange rings, hands trembling as you do.

“By the power vested in me I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Applause can be heard all around as Anthony dips you back, his lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss. He brings you back up with him and you make your way up the aisle hand in hand, as husband and wife.

…

The celebration afterwards was wonderful. Everyone in the ton had made their way to the Bridgerton home to congratulate you and as much as you loved having everyone here you could not help but count down the minutes until the last person had gone home.  

Daphne had arranged for her family to stay at Hastings House for a week or so as both you and Antony agreed that no matter how much you wanted to have a luxurious honeymoon away from home, there was too much to be done and you knew Anthony would be worried about it the second he stepped foot out of the door. Although having the entire house to yourselves was not the worst thing in the world.

You turned to face Anthony as the last party guest made their way out the front door. You closed the latch and turned the lock, only turning around when you hear the click. You both stare at each other, the only sound is that of your breathing. Anthony strolled towards you with his hands in his trouser pockets.

“We are finally alone…”

“That we are.”

“Do you have any idea of what happens on one’s wedding night?”

“I have an idea,” you whisper as Anthony tugs on the ribbon securing your dress.

“How about I show you?”

He encloses your hand in his and drags you towards your new bedroom. He kicks the door closed behind you both and he pulls you in for a kiss…

…

Your wedding day was memorable for many reasons; you got to marry and finally kiss the man you have spent years being in love with, you got to feel what it was like to commit yourself to a person for the rest of your life and you got to share the most important day of your life so far with the people you hold dearest.

Your wedding night on the other hand was memorable for a whole other reason.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

i just re read Pavlovian Responce because its sooooo fcking good and i was wondering if you have any more thoughts about bucky playing with steve's tits because i👏🏻can't👏🏻get👏🏻enough👏🏻

<3

read "Pavlovian Response" here

Not you sending this ask in and me scratching my head for a good 30 seconds being like... I wrote a fic titled that?? And then suddenly all of my sin coming crashing back in when I remembered what it was 🤣

Two years ago, man. Damn. Back to the most aggressive part of the lock downs in my area and- oof, turns out I don't remember it well nor at all I guess haha

I mean-

Something that's always on my brain with Steve and his nipples is that I feel like ANY Steve, top of bottom, dom or sub, pre-serum or post-serum, modern or not, should have sensitive nipples. Like- can it be a rule? All Steve's have sensitive nipples and all Bucky's love to tease him about it?

And, yes, of course bottom!Steve should have sensitive nips because... can you imagine the pretty sounds he would make, riding Bucky, fingers tangled in his dark hair, chest heaving, head thrown back, thighs shaking, as Bucky leans down to mouth at his tits? Biting. Licking. Sucking. Maybe even slapping his across the chest when he stops bouncing on his cock, too overwhelmed to keep going? Well, until he gets that slap. That ring of pain makes his wet, red mouth fall open like he's seeing God. It always makes his hips stutter. He'll keep moving if he knows what's good for him.

Goddamn.

I can imagine that image... perhaps too well 👀

But also-? Also what I've been in the mood for more as of late, and what always kills me to think about, is Steve topping but being a sub. Like. I love the dynamic on its own, a top that's more of a puppy, whining and humping, helpless because their partner feels too good inside and they'll do whatever they want! They'll be good! They'll be good for them!

But Steve... I just want to see him whimper and squirm and try desperately to not cum too soon because, yes, he's plowing Bucky and he feels so hot and wet and tight and it's too much ohmygod, but also he's whining and moaning into Bucky's neck, bent over him, melting, because Bucky spent a good chunk of time working his tits up first... making his cock leak and twitch by pinching and teasing and twisting those sensitive nipples and massaging his tits. He did it until he thought Steve might cum from that alone and THEN Bucky stuck nipple clamps on him. They took a moment to calm down. And FINALLY, then Steve was allowed to watch Bucky open himself up and stick it in him. His aching cock in his twitching, wet hole... goddamn. Fucking him. Nearly down for the count on the third stroke between being edged and having the constant pressure on his nipples, the chain between the clamps swaying with his thursts and tugging harder at his chest. He's just too sensitive. He can't help it, always whining in the back of his throat- loving every torturous, pleasurable second of it.

Oh and don't even get me STARTED on the idea of an already sensitive Steve getting nipple piercings so he's so sensitive that if you so much as Breath heavily over his chest he'll let go of a high, pretty whimper. Jesus.

Thanks for stopping by <3

[joannasteez]

𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: EZ Reyes x Reader x Angel Reyes

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: Inspired by Jazmine Sullivan’s “Bodies - Intro”. These two characters have ruined my life.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: Mature themes. Suggestive Polyamorous relationship.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2k

This is the Tiny Desk concert version, the original is available on streaming platforms!! Listening to the song is of course optional.

The morning had brought a nebulous strumming sensation, waving under the surface of your skin like the soft rippling of water. The sheets beneath you fingers were crisp, lucid light of the morning sun dancing to reflect against the pure white. You were wholly enraptured in a bliss only the rising of the sun could bring, till confusion, all disconcerting and worrisome, snuffed out your moment of elysian. A mild thrumming began just at the back of your head, memories refusing to surface as mild panic took hold of your senses. Your fingers still clung to the sheets, this time with more urgency, heart pulsing faster. An alluring scent, masculine, settled the air. Had it always been there? Your throat was raw, as if you'd spent the former hours screaming into the night, and by the soreness rattling in your thighs you'd say the assumption had some truth.

"How you feeling?", a voice asked. At the foot of the bed sat a man, naked save for his underwear. His name was..... it started with an E you knew that.... Ezra maybe? ....No! Ezekiel, but "everyone calls me EZ" you remember faintly.

You pulled some at the sheets, the softness covering you as you took in the room. "Ok. Heads a little foggy, bit of a headache, but I'm good".

He maneuvered to your side of the bed, handing you a short glass and a pill. "That's good. Take this, it'll help".

"Thanks".

A silence brewed then, the water remedying that rawness as it washed down the Advil. Ezekiel had been watching you with intent, soft brown eyes fluttering over your features till they landed on your lips. It made you lick at them in self awareness.

"Last night must've been crazy, I barely remember anything".

His voice was deep, resonating from his chest, tone suggestive. "I could remind you".

Dangling idly from his neck swung a slim silver chain. Your fingers hooking it to draw him near till your lips touched. His kiss was patient, a lackadaisical pace as he rolled and flicked his tongue in your mouth. He let you do as you pleased, and so you settled for sucking at the wet of his tongue in a way that reflected the dazed air of the morning. It was seductive, producing a pressure at the base of your core, but it was also light, a featherweight thing that hazed the mind, coaxing you to fall back into the comfort of the sheets. You both were parallel to the pillows, his thickly veined hands situating your body as it pleased him, broad body laying beside you. Ezekiel had a rather patient disposition about him, but from the way he kissed you again, you could sense the desperation waring in him. Threatening to unleash itself.

He pushed at your legs, spreading them as his teeth gave your skin tentative nips, lips trailing soft wet kisses till he lapped against the hardening flesh of your chest that dared to pebble under his touch. Soft circles laid at the sensitive bundle of nerves between the juncture of your legs, a whiny moan airing out of your throat. You'd become so pliant under his touch, the warmth he radiated bending your will till it became his own. He was killing the remnants of your resolve with slow passion, summoning every nerve within you to thrum and pulse to his liking. With the hard swirl of his thumb, the balling pressure in your gut began to grow, his breath fanning over your skin as he continued to kiss up and to the side plain of your neck.

"Faster", you pleaded. Hips swiveling to meet his touch in desperation.

"I love how needy you sound baby, Keep begging".

And beg you did, the rotation of your hips tight with purpose. Your high was so close and so potent you could taste it, the ache so deep, you were trembling. You nearly cursed him out in a fit of rage when he pulled his hand away, a mischievous grin taking shape to his lips as he chuckled. The sound brought faded memories of the night prior back to your remembrance, stuck in a similar situation where Ezekiel had guided you to the edge of some explosively beautiful state of euphoria only then to leave you hanging. The lack of fulfillment was maddening but still you couldn't resist his steady touch, or his kiss, and the way he overstimulated your senses as his brother watched.

His fingers rubbed through the soreness of your thighs, lips seemingly stuck at the flesh of your neck. The scent of food stuck to the air suddenly, the aroma missing your senses up till now. "Where's your brother".

He smiled against your skin. "What, am I boring you?"

"Not at all. I just smell food is all".

"Hungry?"

He swirled his tongue against a sensitive spot on your neck.

You voice was airy. "Yes"

"Ever heard the saying patience is a virtue".

'Of course he'd think it was a virtue. He's a damn tease', you thought. "I think I'm all out of both".

You both let out snickers, the small comical moment disrupted by the sudden whipping boom of the door opening. Standing in the entrance was Angel, his hands occupied with glasses of orange juice. "I'm out there slaving over the stove and you're in here seducing our guest".

EZ rose from the bed, stalking toward the door. "Angel if you burnt the eggs just say that".

"Blow me", Angel griped.

The younger brother had left, being exchanged for the older one, who'd regarded you with an intensity that wasn't present before. His energy seemed to shift the room, lean built body blocking the rays of the sun to cast a long shadow down on you. You sat there, knees pressing into the sheets as you sat back against the heels of your feet. A piece of your lip tucked under your teeth in anticipation because Angel was different from his brother. Ezekiel was patient, and tended to you with a burning desperation to be near you, as if to savor each moment . You felt it when he kissed you, the way he gripped at your skin, like the feeling had become so foreign at one point or another and now that he had you he didn't want to let go, but Angel made you patient and pliant in a different manner. While Ezekiel waited for you, you waited for Angel.

"Thirsty?", he asked. Extending a glass of juice to you. You shuffled closer, nearly at the edge of the bed as the coolness of the glass danced under your fingers to produce slight shivers when you drank.

His stare bared down on you as you took long pulling sips. Your eyes peering back beneath the fanning of your lashes. The last sip caused a single droplet to store at the corner of your lip, his finger catching absentmindedly before tasting it. He hummed at the sweet citrus flavor, placing the empty glass down before turning back to you, fingers raising to caress against your face. You leant into the touch without much thought, the warmth of it nice and easing. A thumb pulled softly at your bottom lip, his voice murmuring something about you being beautiful.

He descended to lay a rough kiss, the pace powered to his liking, the swipe and roll of his tongue domineering and heavy. He made you breathless, lips reminding you of hours before and how he loved to control every part of you. The push and pull of his fingers against your skin, the robust groan that stayed stored away in his chest drawing out long and deep whenever you reacted to his dominance. He was a passionate lover as well but had commanded a level of submission that made your head swim with delirious need. Ezekiel had left you desperate, and now Angel was here, those long rough fingers in tow, ready to push you over the edge.

He tugged at your lips, hands gripping your thighs to spread them as you stayed kneeling before him, your hands pressed into his abdomen for support. He laid deep rotating motions at your clit, the shudder of pleasure resonating on your nerves causing you to gasp. With the tight rhythm there, he delved in two fingers, the thickness of it causing you to whimper soft curses, your head lulling back at the teeming sensations. You felt your body edging, a rocking in your hips urging you to burst under him.

"Feels so good Angel", you moaned. The grip on his waist that you have growing tight. As his right hand worked you he raised the left to hold the pressured points at your neck. A squeeze that made your vision white and splotchy. You were mumbling incoherent phrases, drunk off pleasure and it spurred Angel on.

"My brother left you high and dry didn't he?", he asked. His lips tugging against the shell of your ear. "Forgive him, he's a tease, he can't help himself".

"Please Angel, I'm so close", you pleaded.

"I know baby, and you're doing so good. Such a good girl".

The praise sent you into a short bout of small convulsions, the heated pressure in your gut bursting, causing your head to rest lazily on his chest. Blissed out state consuming you. He discarded your slick release with his tongue, tasting before he placed you gently to lay against the sheets. His long fingers finding the dips and curves of your body to caress.

Ezekiel stepped in the room then, a tray of assorted breakfast foods in hand. At this you sat up, body reacting before the mind. Ezekiel placed the tray at the center of the bed, the contents thereof a beautiful assortment of fruits, cooked meats, a stacked pile of toast and a big steaming plate of scrambled eggs. You all picked at it in comfortable silence. The chirping song of birds ringing in the distance. It was nice. Perfect even.

A thought came to mind. "Is this something you guys do often?"

Angel grabbed the bowl of fruits, lifting one to your lips to taste. The juice of the fruit streamed, Angel catching it with a kiss to your chin before answering. "It's our first time sharing to be honest. We both saw you and figured it was better this way than fighting about it".

Ezekiel reached over you to grab a fruit. "Sharing is caring".

You smiled, leaning over to peck his lips. "And there's enough of me for the both of you".

Angel raised another fruit to your lips, watching as you suckled the juice of it. The soft flesh of your mouth catching his fingers. You too had entranced each other, eyes falling one into the other till you shifted on your side to kiss him. He'd paced it slow, tongue heavy as it licked and swirled to gather the taste of your lips. Soft kisses pressed into the curve of your side, Ezekiel's thick hands kneading your skin with a tugging sensation. The feeling of them both, surrounding you at every turn made your head spin in excitement. They kissed you, touched you, regarded your with such an overwhelming dynamic that, if you were anyone else you'd probably go insane.

A burning smell ruffled your nose. "What's that smell?"

Angel kept at your lips, his care else where, but Ezekiel had come to a full halt behind you, till he shot out of the bed.

"Shit I left one of the stove burners on".

You giggled and Angel shook his head, traveling down to nip at your chest. Your fingers ran through his dark locks, still giggling as you heard Ezekiel cursing in the kitchen.

"You both are so cute, can I keep y'all?"

"You couldn't get rid of us if you tried querida".

That whole morning, you'd been stuck, resting between them both, one perfection and another. Moaning and withering between the soft lips and brushing kisses of two elysian bodies.

[rattyoakenbitch]

youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝  corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate. 

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories. 

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband. 

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same. 

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers. 

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly. 

“Boo!” 

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?” 

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice. 

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art. 

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on. 

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group. 

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot. 

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know. 

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..” 

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through. 

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man. 

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you. 

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled. 

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious. 

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively. 

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you. 

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?” 

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.” 

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss. 

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’. 

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.” 

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face. 

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

[teddy06writes]

sapnap x reader where the readers first language is greek and they confess to him in greek without knowing he speaks it too ? i love ur writing btw !! :)

sapnap x reader

first of all, this is such a cute idea and I love it, second of all, I DO NOT KNOW GREEK, so apologize in advance for anything google translate gets wrong

trigger warnings: some swearing, drinking

(y/n/n)- your nickname

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You’d first seen him from across the quad, whilst searching for a distraction from the boring chattering of your mother on the phone, the dirty blonde man also lost in conversation with the brunette who’d walked beside him.

You continued to watched them on their path through the mess of kids on benches or even the ground, tracing his familiarity to one of your lectures on software design.

What surprised you most, was when he looked over, and smiled at you, he’d caught you in the act of staring at him, and smiled.

You smiled back, not to be impolite, and were pulled back to reality by your mothers voice in your ear, “(y/n), είσαι εκεί? ή έχει πετάξει το κεφάλι σου στα σύννεφα;” (Are you there? Or has your head flown off in the clouds?)

“Είμαι εδώ μαμά.” (I’m here mama) you sighed.

~~

The next time you saw him was at a party some frat house on the other side of campus was throwing.

You hadn’t planned on going, seeing as you barley knew the boys in the frat, and your friends, well, at this college anyway, were nonexistent, but hey, free booze.

So that's how you found yourself, leaning against the living room wall, cup in hand, watching the beer pong game happening in the center of the room.

Taking another sip of your drink you did a mental walk of the room, making mental note of the people you knew, and then there he was again, definitely less than sober, calling dibs on playing the loser of the game.

You watched, amused as the game ended, and he quickly took the place of the loser, taunting the other guy loudly.

Three games (and several beers) later he was still winning, loudly yelling that he could beat anyone at the party.

Unable to help yourself you stepped forward, “I’ll have a go then.”

He looked you up and down proclaiming, “Easy win.”

You smirked, moving up to the table.

The game began, and his confidence quickly wore down, as all your shots either landed, or came very close.

The last few were neck and neck, but soon it was down to three left on your side, and only one left on his.  

Desperately, his first shot got one of yours and you quickly chugged it down, still smirking at him.

You raised an eyebrow as he lined up his next shot, and his eyes flicked to yours just long enough to cause him to miss.

You bit back a grin, easily sinking the last shot, “I’ve bested the beast.”

The people who had been spectating cheered, and the brunette who you’d seen with him before started to laugh his ass off, “They fucking got you Nick!”

“Yeah, I’m aware.” He sounded all too sober for someone who should’ve been that drunk.

You chuckled, turning and disappearing into the crowd.

A half hour later you were half way out the door, not bothering to pull on your jacket, the relative amount of dinking you had done still making your cheeks feel warm.

“Wait! Wait!” He- Nick, you reminded yourself, came half stumbling down the road, “I wanted to say good game.”

“That was half an hour ago.” You laughed.

“Still- i- sorry, what is your name?”

“(y/n), I’m in your intro to software design.”

“I’ve never seen you in there before,” He looked confused, “Which group do you sit with?”

“I don’t really have friends.” You shrugged.

Nick frowned, quickly holding out his hand for a shake, “Hi, I’m Nick, I’m your friend now.”

You looked at his outstretched hand confused, “Yeah o-kay. Your drunk, I’m tipsy and if I’m lucky you won’t remember this in the morning. I don’t really do friends here.”

He nodded as if paying attention, but then said, “You have an accent.”

You nodded, “Yup, I’m leaving now.”

~~

You didn’t see him again after that, for nearly three weeks, and you were beginning to think he really had forgotten, that is, until he approached out out side of the lecture hall, “Hey!”

“Yeah?”

“(y/n) right? Your the one who beat me at beer pong. And then walked away when I asked about your accent.”

You rolled your eyes, “You didn’t ask you literally just stated I had an accent.”

“Well I’m not wrong! I meant to ask why- well not why- just, are you an exchange student or?”

You adjusted your laptop bag on your shoulder, “This isn’t high school. We don’t have exchange students.”

“Well, are you studying abroad then?”

“I’m an American. I can’t study abroad in my own country.”

He looked slightly confused, “Sorry- it’s just with your accent I assumed.”

“I wasn’t born here if that helps.” You turned and started away, pulling out your phone as it started to ring, “Ναι μαμά; Έχω μαθήματα σύντομα, τι συμβαίνει;” (Yes mama? I have class soon, what's wrong?)

~~

“Why are you always alone all the time?”

You groaned, looking up from the firewall system assignment you’d been testing on your tablet, to see Nick, “I’m working.”

“And I’m asking a question,” He sat down at the otherwise empty table, “Why are you always alone?”

“I told you, I don’t have friends here.” You ran the breaker code again, seeing if it could illuminate any unseen holes.

“You were at the party, surely you knew someone there, otherwise you wouldn’t have gone.”

“σκατά“ You muttered, a new problem in the chain arising, “It was an open house party, I heard about it from people I know.” (shit)

Nick frowned, “Oh, thats-”

“Sad, tragic, depressing? Yeah I’m aware.” You sighed.

You saved the project, shutting off your tablet and looking around the empty cafeteria, “Isn’t it like, wicked late? Why are you here?”

“Why’re you?” he countered.

“World’s asleep.” You muttered, packing up the rest of your stuff, “Why do you keep making such an effort to talk to me?”

“Cause we’re friends remember? Shook on it.”

“I never shook your hand.” You grumbled, standing up.

~~

“You know that I’m right!” Nick exclaimed.

“Maybe! But I don’t want to admit it!”

Over the course of a few month Nick had crawled, kicked and wormed his way into your life, all but forcing you to become his friend, and surprisingly, you didn’t mind all that much.

Now you were sitting out on the roof of your dorm, looking up at the night sky.

“I swear your fucking nocturnal dude! Like an owl! And I willingly give up my sleep to hang out with you!”

You hesitated, feeling a sudden jolt of a realization, and as suddenly as a lighting strike, you were falling in love.

You fumbled to recover, “Well you’re the one who went out of your way to become my friend.”

“I mean, too be fair I was drunk.”

“But still went out of your way to be my friend once you were sober.” You pointed out.

“Hey, drunk me makes good decisions sometimes.” He laughed, looking over at you.

You let out a sigh, watching the white wisps of your breath drift up in the sky, “That’s the thing I’ve never got over.”

“What? Drunk me making interesting decisions?”

“The cold,” You said simply, “I’ve lived here half my life, but the cold still doesn’t make sense to me.”

He laughed, “This is Texas, it’s not nearly as cold as it gets up north. Snow’s much more common for now, up there.”

“I’ve never seen snow. Mama doesn’t like it much,” You laughed, “The first time I really heard about it it sounded so strange.”

Nick smiled, “Lets go up north during winter break then. I know people up there, we can go do winter tourist things.”  

“Winter tourist things?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, “Go ice skating, look at lights, sleigh rides, all that.”

You laughed, “Winter Tourist things.”

~~

A month and a half had passed, your sudden change in feelings toward your only friend on campus had not.

If anything they had just gotten worse, and now, the thing you still couldn’t wrap your head around, you were tossing your suitcase into the back of his car, about to head on your way to the airport, because yes, the Winter Tourist thing stuck.

“Dude, I’m so excited! This is gonna be epic!”

You nodded, “You know, thinking about it, it actually is possible I’ve seen snow, like when I was little. It just never lasted long.”

Nick scrunched up his nose, “Well it’s too late to duck out now!”

“I never said I was ducking out.” You laughed.

~~

The trip had gone pretty well, the snow in the northeast was certainly different than that of Macedonia, but you didn’t think it was all Nick had said it would be.

Still you had enjoyed wandering around the city looking at Christmas lights, attempting to ice skate, and just enjoying each others company.

It seemed like every minute you spent with Nick, you teetered closer to the edge, knowing that by the end of this trip you’d be head over heels for him, if you weren’t already now.

Now you were quietly sitting on the balcony of your hotel room, hands cradled around the warm cup of hot chocolate you’d made, looking out into the swirling darkness above the city.

“You know your gonna freeze if you stay out here.” Nick moved through the door and sat beside you, draping part of a blanket around your shoulders.

“I know.” You sighed.

He looked at you, concerned, “What’s wrong?”

“Νομίζω ότι ερωτεύομαι,” You murmured, a quiet confession, more so to yourself than to him, “και αυτό με τρομάζει.”  (I think I’m falling in love with you... and that terrifies me)

You started to sigh as he looked confused, though only for a moment, because “Τι είναι τόσο τρομακτικό για την αγάπη;” He asked softly. (What’s so scary about love?)

You froze, almost dropping your cup, “ε-ε-ε, εσύ- μιλάς ελληνικά;” (uh- y- uh, you-  you speak Greek?)

“λίγο,” He smiled, “Είσαι ερωτευμένος μαζί μου;“ (A bit... you’re in love with me?)

“λίγο.” (A bit), you breathed, trying to ignore the small space between you seemingly shrink.

“Νομίζω ότι είμαι λίγο ερωτευμένος και εσένα.” He chuckled. (I think I'm a bit in love with you too)

Your breath hitched, and your quickly bridged the small gap between you to kiss him, smiling into it a bit as he kissed back.

“How long?” He asked softly when you pulled apart.

“When you first brought up the trip. You said that you were willing to lose sleep to hang out with me,” You chuckled nervously, “You?”

“Second week of school, you were on the phone with someone, and you smiled back at me,” Nick grinned, “I saw you from across the quad and knew.”

[ragingbookdragon]

What If The Love You Deserve Is Love You Never Find?

Jason Todd x Reader

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Slight Angst

Author's Note: I spent like an hour going through my music to find the perfect song lyric for this. Love me people. Enjoy! -Thorne

**********************************************************************

It’d been complete fate that she’d even met him. A chance of looking up when she was fixing a shirt on a display, gaping as he browsed the racks along the wall, very so often picking something up to examine it before folding it and returning it to its original position.

But even from halfway across the store she could tell he was drop-dead gorgeous, and she slapped the back of her hand across her coworker’s chest. “Dibs.” It was all she said before hurrying towards him, grinning when she heard her friend groan something along the lines of, ‘No fair!’

She cleared her throat as she neared him and he glanced over, giving her a smile. “Good morning,” she greeted. “How are you today?”

“I’m good,” he replied. “How are you?”

“Well, every day is a new day.” She grinned when he laughed. “Is there anything I can help you find, or are you just looking around?”

“Oh, I’m just looking around.”

Nodding, she said, “Alright, well since summer break just started our sales are everything along this wall,” she gestured to the side next to her. “It’s buy one get one free, and so is that wall over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room. “Everything in between is buy two get one free.”

“Sounds good.” He murmured.

“And I’m (Y/N). So if you need any help with anything or want an opinion on anything, just come find me!” she smiled at him and wandered off back towards the registers where her coworker was, and was promptly slapped in the side, causing her to gasp slightly.

“What’s his name and how much money does he make?”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh. “I didn’t ask.”

“You didn’t—you didn’t ask? Why not?” she griped. “That guy’s wearing a Rolex! He’s probably loaded.”

“It could also be a knockoff,” she shot back. “Besides, you gotta wait it out.” (Y/N)’s eyes followed him as he looked up and down the wall of shirts and jackets. “If he comes and asks for help, then he’s interested.”

Her coworker rolled her eyes. “You say that about everyone and they’re only always coming to ask for purchase.”

(Y/N) shrugged. “It’s gotta work one day.”

“You’re hopeless.”

“Probably. But at least—”

“Excuse me,” someone interrupted and they both spun around to see him standing there, a smile on his face as he looked at (Y/N).

“Yes?” she chirped, flashing him a pearly white grin.

“I was wondering if you could help me pick out an outfit?” he asked, and she nodded.

“I’d be glad to help,” shooting her friend a wink as she followed him back towards the wall. “So, is there a particular event you’re going to that calls for a new outfit?” she inquired, taking in the sight of him.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m hanging out with a couple friends later tonight.” He glanced at her. “Wanna show off, you know?”

(Y/N) giggled. “I totally know what you mean.” She crossed her arms. “Alright, well, let’s start with the easiest thing. Favorite colors?”

“Red, white, black, gray, and teal.” He replied.

“Hmm…boots or sneakers?”

“Boots.”

“Jeans or khak—”

“Jeans.” He interrupted with a scandalized expression.

She giggled again. “Just being thorough.” (Y/N) looked him over. He was tall, extremely built and God, his face was beautiful. Strong jaw and cheekbones, tanned skin and dark hair with a small white patch in the front. And his eyes, oh, his eyes were the prettiest teal.

“See something you like?” he flirted with a smirk and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, don’t be cocky, I was just beginning to enjoy this.” He chuckled and she hummed. “I can see you like wearing jackets in eighty degrees so I’m gonna assume you’re more of a ‘suffer the pain for the aesthetic of the look’ type of man?” he nodded. “Okay, you a hoodie or sweatshirt guy?”

He paused, eyeing the displays and remarked, “I’m more a leather jacket type of man.”

(Y/N) nodded. “I can work with that.” She started up the wall. “Based on your body type I’m going to assume you run between a large and an extra-large.” Pausing, she eyed his hips. “Your pants size is probably a large.” She handed him a pair of dark blue jeans and he looked them over.

“Did you just give me jeans with bedazzled-shit on the back pockets?”

She cracked a grin. “Embrace your inner punk rock star, babe.” Shoving a crimson V-neck in his arms, she followed it with a pair of matte-black military style combat boots. “Black or tan leather?”

“Mmm…I have a tan at home,” he murmured, and she nodded.

“Black it is then,” (Y/N) decided, handing him a black leather jacket that closely resembled a bomber style jacket with a gray hood attached. She spun and stepped up to him. “Do you wear jewelry?”

“Mhm,” he said and turned his head. “Got my ears pierced a while back.”

“Have anything against religious imagery?”

He gasped. “And be blasphemous? I would never!”

She chuckled and wandered around a display, picking up a set of small silver earrings with crosses dangling on them, then she handed him a silver block necklace with the engraving, ‘Stay the course, for horizons are chased, but never caught’, and a silver wallet chain. “Your belt is black but I’ve half a mind to find a silver belt buckle to go with it.”

“But I digress,” she said, waving her hand before coming behind him, gently shoving him to the dressing room. “Off you go!”

He laughed, disappearing into the dressing room and she looked over at her coworker, giving her a mouthed, “Oh. My. God. He’s. Hot.”

“Tell me about it!” her friend mouthed back.

“And he smells like heaven!” (Y/N) returned, smiling when the curtain shifted, and he stepped out. Immediately her jaw dropped, and she breathed, “Holy shit.”

He chuckled, sending shivers down her spine and ran a hand through his hair, an action that made her stomach flip when he looked at her with those gorgeous teal eyes. “I take it I’m looking good, huh?”

All she could do was nod and mumble, “I’ll say.” She walked over and gently drug him to the giant mirror on the wall and turned him round so he could see himself. “You’re gonna knock your friends and half the people in this city dead the second they lay eyes on you.”

He reached up and adjusted the silver necklace before tugging at the jacket. “I like it.”

“I’m glad you do,” (Y/N) said, internally sighing in relief. “You’ve got everything for the deals, so let’s head to the register and make this happen, if you’re ready.”

“After you.” He replied, and she waltzed around, tapping at the register when he held up a hand. “Gimme just a minute.” She nodded, watching as he wandered to the displays and plucked a black backpack off the rack and shoved his old clothes and shoes in it, then he picked up a silver ring and slipped it on his finger. He walked back over. “Had to finish off the look.”

(Y/N) smiled. “Well, you’ve picked up two items, so you’ll have to find one more for the deal.”

He leaned his hip against the counter and shot her a flirty grin. “How ‘bout I buy the backpack and the ring and I get your number for free?” she blinked in shock and he added smoothly, “Never know when I’ll need help with another style.”

Her coworker was nudging her in the ribs but all she could do was try and horribly fail at hiding the grin as she rang up his total and flipped over the receipt, quickly scribbling her number down. She handed it to him, and he took it. “Thank you—”

She tugged a little and murmured, “You are going to let me style you for beach days, right?” her eyes followed down his body. “I’d love to help you pick out a nice pair of swim trunks.”

He smirked. “Well I was hoping to ask about underwear too, but I could probably throw in swim trunks as well.” Pulling the receipt from her fingers, he said, “Name’s Jason, by the way.”

“Well, have a good day, Jason.” She flirted, waving as he walked off.

Her coworker shoved her elbow into her ribs, and she gasped. “Holy fuck, it actually worked, and you just scored a really hot fuck.”

(Y/N) sighed dreamily. “Yes, I did.”

***

One “styling” turned into multiple “stylings” and many, many phone calls which turned into brunch and dinner dates with Jason. Which she strictly went to under the belief of styling said man, because falling in love with him spelled heartbreak and she knew it because there was no way someone like him was interested in her at all.

And yet, no matter how much she tried not too, (Y/N) found herself slipping deeper and deeper for him. It scared her, but she figured the easiest thing to do was to get him out on a date of her own and set the line before it was crossed. Which was how she found herself dressed in a 1950’s style floral dress with matching flats with her hair and makeup done, waiting underneath the cherry blossom tree in the Gotham City park.

She brushed her fingers over the fabric at her knee for what seemed like the millionth time, heart fluttering in her chest as she watched the people walk by. A few people had come up to her, either to compliment her outfit or ask her who the picnic was set up for. Jason had texted that he’d be there soon and (Y/N) hoped it would be right then because if she had to tell another guy to scram, she was going to pick everything up and haul ass.

Shaking her head, she focused on the poetry book in front of her, reading over another prose when she heard, “(Y/N)!” She looked up, seeing Jason hurrying towards her, three books in his arms.

She laughed and stood up, meeting him halfway. “Jay, I said bring one book not three.”

“I couldn’t pick. I love Emily Dickinson just as much as I love Walt Whitman and John Keats.” He retorted, setting the books down on the blanket before taking her hands in his, pushing her out to take in the sight of her. “Wow,” he breathed. “You look beautiful, doll.”

(Y/N) flushed, smiling shyly. “Yeah, well…you said something about the fifties, and I had this in the closet.” She nodded to the blanket. “I hope you’re hungry.”

His stomach rumbled in response and his cheeks tinted pink as he sat down. “You didn’t hear that.”

“Hear what?” she repeated with a grin, opening up the basket. “Okay, so I went a little overboard with the food, but who cares.” He chuckled, watching as she pulled out a couple bowls and a tray, then set out two plates for them and some silverware.

“What’s in these?” he asked, opening the lid to one of the bowls. It looked like some kind of pasta salad.

“That one is a BLT pasta salad and the other is fruit salad.” She started unraveling the foil from the platter. “And these are chicken Caesar pitas.” (Y/N) put one on his plate. “I made four just in case you wanted more to eat.”

Jason’s face lit up at all the food and he met her gaze. “You did all this for me?”

(Y/N) smiled and nodded. “Yeah…I hope it’s not too much though.”

“Not at all.” He looked around. “But I do hope you got something to drink in there.”

She giggled and handed him an insulated, stemless wine cup before pulling out a bottle of rosé. “Of course.”

“Thank you, doll,” he said as she poured them their drinks, then he raised his cup. “To us.”

(Y/N) clinked her cup to his. “To us.”

And that slowly turned into the food being eaten and the wine being drunk which ended up with Jason’s head in her lap as he read them his favorite poems, her fingers gently carding through his silky hair. At one point, he’d rested the book on his chest and simply closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of her massaging his scalp. And (Y/N)? She was trying to keep her heard from beating out of her chest.

“Jason?” she murmured softly, and he hummed in return. “Is this real?”

He huffed a laugh and opened his eyes. “Yeah, (Y/N), I think the sky is real.”

She didn’t laugh, merely offering a halfhearted smile towards the open park. “No, Jason, this…us…how you are towards me. The flirting and the touching.” Her eyes were trained on the grass because she could feel his teal gaze boring into her, and if she looked down at him, she knew she’d lose her edge. “I…feel like you care about me…more than a good friend would.”

Swallowing, she assured, “It’s okay if it’s a no…but I wanna know now just to be sure.” (Y/N)’s voice quieted considerably. “It’ll get messy if we don’t figure this out here.” She went silent, refusing to look at Jason as he rose out of her lap and shifted until he was sitting beside her, their thighs brushing against one another.

His hand gently cupped her cheek and he murmured, “Yeah, it’s real. How we feel for each other.”

“Really?” she blinked. “Because you and me? I didn’t wanna assume but I—”

Jason pressed his lips to hers, effectively silencing her and she all but melted into him as she looped her arms around his neck. He smiled against her lips and with his free hand, gently pushed her down onto the blanket, the right side of his body resting on hers as he kissed her.

When they pulled away, he rested his forehead on hers, quipping, “I think you assumed rightly, doll.”

“Jason?” (Y/N) asked.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me again.”

“Yes ma’am.”

***

That single date morphed into something deeper between them, and she could tell Jason was holding back a bit. He was open to love, to having a relationship, but something told (Y/N) that all of the ones he’d ever had either ended in disaster or mutual termination.

That being said, Jason was nothing but a loving boyfriend to her. He was everything that romance books and movies were based on. The guy every girl wanted to be with and (Y/N) had no idea how she got so lucky, but she wasn’t going to question it for fear of waking up from whatever dream this was.

And the first time Jason invited her over to his apartment a few months after they got together, she wasn’t sure who was more nervous about it, but she could tell they were both walking on eggshells around one another, all throughout dinner and when they finally decided to turn in for the night.

She opened the door to the bathroom, letting the steam escape as she stepped out. “Bathroom’s yours.” Jason gave her a quiet ‘thank you’ and moved inside, shutting the door rather quickly.

(Y/N) sighed and sat down on the bed, staring at the door. She couldn’t, for the life of her, figure out why he was uncomfortable with her there. Not wanting to keep the atmosphere going, she rose from the bed and wandered to his closet door, shooting a quick glance towards the bathroom. The shower was still going, and she smirked, opening up the closet.

Jason’s wardrobe was a mixture of T-shirts and leather jackets and suits, and his shoes were either boots or sneakers. All dark, all silk or cotton. She stepped inside the walk-in closet and drew her fingers along the fabric, stopping when she felt a thicker jacket. Bingo. (Y/N) tugged it off the hanger. It was Jason’s red sweatshirt he wore all the time. She practically had to beg him to get out of it when she wanted to put him in something new—he wore it like it was his second skin.

Slipping it on, she slipped back into the bedroom and quietly shut the door just as the shower shut off. Momentarily panicking, she hurried over to the window and leaned against it, staring out at the traffic below. The bathroom door opened and (Y/N)’s heart slammed into her rib-cage when she heard Jason’s breathing stutter when he saw her.

“I hope you don’t mind,” she murmured. “Got a little cold.”

His footsteps padded behind her and his hands rested on her hips. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that snooping in people’s personal belongings isn’t very nice?”

(Y/N) leaned back against his chest, head propping on his shoulder giving her enough space to see his face. “No, but she did teach me to put my big girl panties on when my boyfriend won’t grow a pair.”

Jason cocked a brow, fingers digging into her hips as he challenged, “Is that so?” he tugged her back, pressing his front into her back. “And what exactly am I not growing a pair about?”

“I dunno,” she shrugged. “But something’s bugging you and it’s really screwing with our mood.”

He held her gaze for a moment, then he sighed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I…gotta tell you something, doll.”

(Y/N) blinked and spun around in his arms. “Please don’t tell me you cheated on me.”

“What? God no!” he blurted. “No, I didn’t sleep with anyone.”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, reaching up to cup his cheeks. “You can tell me anything, Jason. I’m not going to get upset.” They stared one another down and he sighed, pulling away before heading to the bed. “Gonna show me you’re a eunuch or something?”

Jason barked a laugh. “You’re hilarious, doll.” He reached under the bed and pulled out a locked box. Setting it on the bed, he pressed his thumb to the little printer, and she watched as it flashed green and the locks flicked. He opened the case and (Y/N)’s eyes widened when she saw the gear inside, the guns on either side of the box, the suit in the middle, and the red helmet sitting on top of it.

“I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure how.” He whispered. “I guess I was scared what you’d think.” (Y/N) said nothing but she reached for the hood and picked it up, taking a seat on the bed as she flipped it over in her hands, examining it.

“Scared of my opinion…or scared of you?” she hinted, and he looked at her from where he knelt, a mix of emotions crossing his mind.

He shook his head and shrugged. “Both.”

She held the hood and with her free hand, gently caressed the lines of it, explaining, “Four years ago, my life was saved by Red Hood.” Jason’s head shot up and he gaped at her. “I was still in high school, coming home from prom when I got in a car accident with my best friend. We were hit by a drunk driver.”

(Y/N) looked at him. “The other driver was DOI, and my friend was unconscious and bleeding severely…I was awake but had broken my femur and clavicle…I couldn’t move, and I was scared.” Her fingers twitched along the cheek of the hood. “And then this mysterious masked man broke the lock on the door and cut my seat-belt. At first I thought he was going to hurt me because he looked menacing.”

She smiled. “But he grabbed my phone in the floorboard and called nine-one-one and then held my hand until an ambulance showed up.” (Y/N) gazed at him. “He kept saying I was going to be okay and that he wasn’t going to leave until I was in a bus and on my way to the hospital.”

Picking the hood up, she leaned over and put it on his head, watching as it beeped and lit up. “Later I heard on the news that he’d been responsible for the gang war between Black Mask and the drug dealers…but he’d successfully managed to get some of the school areas out of poverty and drug usage. And he’d killed a lot of bad people who didn’t deserve to be around.”

(Y/N) pressed her lips to the forehead of his helmet. “I was never scared of you, Jason. Then or now.” He put his head down and she merely smiled softly when he reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly.

They stayed that way for a while until he shifted and pulled the hood off, setting it back in the box. “Thank you, (Y/N),” he whispered, and she nodded, gently brushing her fingers through his hair.

“Of course.” She tugged at a strand and he looked over at her, seeing her eyes solemn. “Just promise me you’ll be careful from now on, and that you’ll come back in one piece.”

Jason snorted. “Will do, doll.”

“Good,” she nodded, then happened to look back in the box. “So…this might not be the best time but…how do you feel about I don’t know…putting the suit on when we go to bed?”

He huffed a laugh and rose, shoving her back onto the bed. “Well, well, Miss (Y/N), aren’t you a kinky vixen.”

“I can’t help it, Jason. Red Hood’s a pretty sexy guy.” She winked. “Say…wanna play cops and robbers sometime?”

“You’re something else,” he purred, and she wiggled underneath him.

“Don’t I know it, babe.”