#granted: still figurin' it out

[san8ny]

Intermission

Ellie Williams <3

Synopsis: Ellie and you haven’t spoken since highschool, you two never really that close. One day, the all-star hits you up upon getting kicked out. You down to help her steal from her own childhood home or nah?

w.c: 4.1k / warnings include: Ellie is a bit rude in the beginning, some Joel slander, she’s just hella uptight, mutual pining, kissing, she makes out with your hooha, but it’s hot. ;-;

“Am I even doing this right?” you mutter down at the pocket knife you had angled, poorly sharpening it’s blade with the edge of the worn-down whetstone you and Ellie happened to find upon arrival to Joel’s cabins.

She gives you, and both the board, a once-over before turning back to the picture frames lined up on the wall, “Sure.” Rolling your eyes, you throw the knife onto the counter, “You know, I didn’t know he had such a swanky place.”

“Yeah. Reeaal swanky.” She huffs, scrunching her brows in annoyance when the clatter of the knife you’d just thrown doesn’t quiet down immediately, “You find the checkbook yet?”

Ah, the checkbook. You almost forgot she recruited you out here to practically rob her adoptive dad blind.

I mean, fuck, had you had the luck of being in her place— living so lavishly, you’d let the bastard yell at you all he wanted.

Dragging your finger tips across the wooden counter, careful to not splinter them, you push yourself off where you were leaning, and walk towards the stairs, “Doesn’t it make sense for him to like, I don’t know, have it upstairs?”

Ellie runs a hand down her tired face, letting out a huge sigh before turning towards when you stand near the railing, your foot already placed on the first step. Why didn’t she think of that before? She gives you the green light, following behind as you ascend up the stairs. She finds her breath hitched and her eyes closing in further irritation when you suddenly stop, her face parallel with your lower back due to the step-to-height difference.

“Is that you?” You say, a smile stretching on your face as you point towards the meek framed photo that hung above the handrail, depicting a pre-teen Ellie in a science museum tee, Joel slightly crouched behind her with two thumbs up. You almost would have missed the small smile she has in the snapshot had you had nor squinted, “Didn’t know you had a dimple. Do still have it?” You ask, turning down towards where she stood.

“No. Now move.” She huffs, bumping your shoulder as she takes lead, climbing up the rest of the stairs. Rude. Nonetheless, you follow her as you enter into the main hallway. How the hell was a cabin this big? you’re only in it for, like, less than a season— Right? Not like you would know, the fanciest thing you’d ever seen was the time you went to Dina’s Bat Mizvah down at the community center and got to see a chocolate fountain, granted it was years ago, it’s the closest thing you’d ever experienced comparisable to ‘upper echelon.’

She seemingly notices your distant stare, harshly bringing her palms together in a large clap thus pulling you out of your thoughts. Clearly taken aback, you meet her blank gaze, “You take the attic, i’ll take the main bedroom”

“Where—

“Down the hall, to your left. You’ll see the ladder cord hanging.” She cuts you off, already walking away and into one of the many doors you could only assume led to Joel’s bedroom. Okay! This should be easy!

It was not easy.

On your hands and knees, you cough uncontrollably from the dust that blocks insulation. It errupted when you pulled the damn ceiling ladder cord down. All this money and they couldn’t fucking dust it once in a while? Wait, when was the last time this place was even entered? That was the question you asked as you slowly tip-toed up with wide eyes. immediate, you’re met with U-haul boxes, plastic dinosaur figurines and some comics.

In that moment, you smile a bit as you kneel on the floor, grabbing the Stegosaurus and T-rex as you gently knock them against eachother, playing with them.

Though you swear you were being satirical when you began toying with them, you couldn’t help thoughts drift to a younger Ellie playing with these like you were. She’d probably always call dibs on the Carnivore, giving the other person an eyeroll when they cry at how unfair she was being for never giving them a turn at being the razor-bearing predator. ‘Skill issue’ she’s also snicker when the kids run back to their parents.

When you finally put them down after some time, you walk over to one of the several moving boxes. Some tattered, some dirty and some even still closed up. It was wrong for you to have been snooping around her childhood home, sure, but she’s also stealing from her own said home— so you can’t be that bad. Reaching into the closest one near you, you pull out a small velvet belt. One that stroke resemblance to the ones you’d see in the cheesy karate-cop movies your dad had been a fan of. Another, and another and shortly, you have a large array of belts, with at the very bottom of the box containing a small plaque of achievements, ‘Ellie Williams’ printed in fine, gold lettering, ‘Graduate from the Jackson institute of Martial Arts.’

Of course, she was a prodigy at everything. What wasn’t Ellie good at? She’d been your highschool’s valedictorian a couple years back when you both were about to graduate, given the golden chance to speak at the commencing, well, was. That was before passing the chance onto the second runner without a second thought; she claimed she wasn’t the talking type and just casually went about her day, like it wasnt the opportunity most students would have killed for. Students like you, who spent all night and day to even make a dent in the social stratosphere that was highschool.

Given now you both were in your early 20’s, you still hold admiration for Ellie. Maybe that’s why when she randomly called you to hangout after years, you didn’t question it, or even second guess yourself.

How long Ellie had been standing there watching you coo over her baby pictures was something you, and both she couldn’t answer. Originally wanting to smack you on the head or scare you, she couldn’t help but lean against the attic wall, eyeing the way you carefully place her achievements down like they were the most important thing to you.

You’d always been like that since Ellie can recall meeting you. Always so nice, so sensible, always the first one in the room to make light out of nothing. You definitely would have been burnt on the cross or something for just how smiley you were if you were alive back in that day. Ellie found you interesting in ways she couldn’t configure why.

She and Joel had a falling out a couple of weeks ago. He cut her off of all financial support, insisting she get a job or a higher education like her peers were. A few profanities and insults were thrown around, leading eventually to her getting kicked out. Funny. Though she never cared about being embarrassed or the opinions of others, she did feel some sort of seeping humiliation. So, with the money she had, she booked a hotel and called you up. She chuckles when she remembers the first time she sent the address, your hesitancy to type back as you get the wrong, but expected idea,

‘ .’.im not fucking u lol’

‘wth no I got kicked out’

‘OHHH srry!!! D: ‘

The chuckle that hears behind startles, your grip seemingly loosening on the picture frame you had in-hand meeting the floor in cruel shatters. Quiet consumes you both with your hands shaking erratically, “O-oh my god? i’m so sorry, I don’t even know why I did that. fuckfuckfuck!! It was an accident. I can pay for that! Like, i’m so so sorry—l” you frantically plead with her, your eyes alternating from her and the bloody gla—bloody?

“You’re bleeding.” Ellie sighs, softly reaching forward to grab your wrist, pulling you around the mess you caused. You didn’t even realize you were until you felt the blood drip from your ankles down to your shins, staining your bleach-white socks in scarlet droplets.

“I messed up, Ellie, i’m really sorry.”

“Can you like, stop apologizing? It’s fine. Didn’t even know when that picture was taken anyways.”

Somehow, her words worsen your hysteric state, you sinking down back onto your knees as you sob. Oh god, she didn’t even know when that picture was taken meaning it’s that long ago. Ellie stares at you clearly with a panicked look, not really knowing how to comfort you— or anyone for that matter. Again, you were more of the sensible one between them, even if you two hadn’t exactly been all that close growing up in the same town, school and similarly interconnected friend groups. ‘What would you do?’ So, Ellie slightly crouches down, her squeaky sneakers noising as she awkwardly encircles her arms around you. Clearly taken aback by this gesture, you peer up from where your head was buried inbetween your knees and instead, at Ellie, who’s usual laid-back expression is replaced with furrowed brows, her eyes not meeting yours and some reddening on her cheeks. “Y-you’ve seen the picture frames around, man, I see myself all the time. It’s fine.”

You sniffle abit before giving her a coherent answer that isn’t just hiccups, “Im sorry.” She sighs before slightly reaching up to pat your head, “Please stop crying, I think i’m more off-put by your ugly cries than you breaking shit.” That tugs a laugh out of you, pushing Ellie away as she matches your grin. “I mean look, you ruined my tee.” She wasn’t lying, you look down to her white tee and it was absolutely soaked with shed tears belonging to you. You gently run your thumbs over her chest in a bad attempt to wipe your embarassingly smeared mascara off, but it only recieves a small whine from Ellie, who backs away immediately. You’re left confused when she gets up, clearing her voice. “We should continue searching.” With that, she leaves the attic, leaving you up there and with multiple. How could ones demeanor change that often? You almost noticed the sensitivity in her chest.

“Pfft, softie.” You mutter, a smile on your lips as you follow her down. Eventually, Ellie is the one to find the book, it’s placed inbetween some folded jeans. ‘Fuck yeah..’ She bites her chapped lip as she flips through it. Enough pages for her, and a good forged signature she’d mastered when he’d be too lazy to sign her field trip permission slips— guess something did pay off. You stand there with crossed arms, feeling a bit squeamish all of a sudden, like the thought had hit you finally, Ellie is moving away. She notices you when she lifts her gaze up, puzzled with your stance, “I told you it’s okay, the picture frame can be replaced.”

“I don’t want you to move away.”

“What.”

“I won’t repeat myself.” You shake your head defiantly, standing your ground when she towers over you, all these years and when you two have somewhat of a bond, she wants to move away? And maybe yeah, you had it coming, being easily-attached to somehow who’d you’d only started recently hanging out with. “What makes you think I care?” She mocks, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head, she’s almost astonished with your stupidity, why would she have dragged you all the way here to just, stay? Something with the way she says those words churns humility deep in your gut, who were you to even admit that to her? You flail around your arms passively as you back away, a croak in your throat, “Just something I said. You’re a cool person.”

“Right, well, I got the checkbook meaning we can get the hell out. Seeing this place almost makes me want to not drain Joel’s pockets.” She yawns, throwing you the book before retreating into one of the previous rooms, though before, she asks, “Say, where’d we put the keys?”

..

Who had the keys?

Comically enough, sirens began to faintly hear in the back, and your gaze locks onto Ellie’s, “Fuck— find the keys.” She says, running back into the room. How petty was her dad to call the police on them? Well, petty enough to have alarms laying around incase his thieving daughter comes around. You, instantly begin to eye around for them, palms growing clammy at the aspect of being arrested now comes into plan as the sirens grow closer. Finding them, you call out to Ellie who seemingly was already on her way once she heard the jingles of them, “Out the back. You’re gonna run, and not turn back, ‘alright?” She whispers, grabbing you and running towards the kitchen door once the front door is knocked.

Once it’s kicked in, Ellie manages to get out with a groan, definitely a bruiser, but nonetheless, they make it out of the area without getting caught. While she hasn’t broken a sweat yet, you were coughing up a storm like you were earlier, eyes tearing up as you let them out in fits. She gently rubs your back, looking around for where their parked car was, it was a good idea they’d parked so far away- granted it was flawed in multiple ways, it came out in their good favor. Once you’d caught your breath, Ellie hums, “You know where we parked?” You nod, looking around, “Yeah. near the marked tree, you smeared my lipstick over it..” She scrunches her nose to prevent a loud laugh from coming out, your sadness over lipstick being funny to her, “Right. That way.”

You both find the car and enter, ellie starting the car as she backs up and maneuvers around the various tall trees it was parked around before getting onto the main road. You don’t say anything for the majority of the one hour ride, those 60 minutes feeling like the longest ones to Ellie who’s gotten use to your talkitive habits. So when she asks you if you want aux, you shake your head— deflating her mood. She sighs, lighting up a cigarette at the light and rolling down the window. You just lean your head back and rest your eyes, emotions running through that you couldn’t even seem to process. Tiredness, embarrassment of her flat out saying she’d never stay for you, getting almost booked by the police, and just ones you didn’t want to acknowledge at all. You wanted to just, go to sleep.

Ellie, on the otherhand, feels nothing but anxiety gnawing at her. Why does she care so much whether you talk to her or not? She’s never even liked talking, and somehow, the thought of never speaking to you again after this makes her feel nauseous. Would you text her? Call her? Visit her if she left? Would you buy the nearest train ticket if she told you one day to come when she settles into her new place? Or would you just move on? Would you move onto some cooler girl in town to befriend? Some other girl you’d look up to, some other girl who would show you the hidden gems around town you’d been asking her to, Fuck— some other girl you’d give all your affection to. Ellie swerves the car, and had it not been your quick-wit to pull the steering back, she might have crashed the vehicle.

Pulling over, she places her head lightly on the leather wheel while you stare at her in bewilderment, “Are you crazy?! What was that?!” You say with a slight twitch in your eye at her loss of control.

“I don’t want to move away.”

“You literally have to, we’re on the side of the road and your emergency lights aren’t on so.”

“I’ll stay.”

“You can’t, that’s like, against the rules. I don’t know, my permit is expired.” First order of business, obtain a license.

“In Jackson. I’ll stay in Jackson.” She mumbles, lifting her head up to stare at you. This feels like a joke to you, like Ellie might just begin laughing at you when you show the tiniest bit of you of relief. So, you just match her stare, tiling your head. “Why?” Why? What do you mean why? Ellie wants to scream, why don’t you look happy? She’s staying for you.

“Just..wanted to.” She says after a beat or two, pulling the car back onto the road as she nears your house. Giving a curt nod, you look out the window, your knees feeling wobbly like a teenage girl all over again as you suppress asking questions to the clearly disoriented freckled girl. Once on arrival, Ellie expects you to leave and slam that door but instead, you sit there for a bit.

“My mom isn’t here.” You say, chewing your inner-cheek.

“You don’t have a spare key or ‘sum?”

“No no I do, it’s just— want to come in?” You ask her with big eyes, your hands folded on your lap like a child on their best behavior to get something.

“Did your mom bake that pie you got me last time?” She’s referring to the Cherry Pie your mom made last time you two hung out.

“Is the sky blue?” You say, with a smile, trying to lighten the mood that’ll need more than just that to recover.

“It’s grey but I see your point. I’ll go park, leave the front door open.” She smiles when you nod, skipping out of the car and into your home.

When she does so, and enters your door, she’s met with a warm wafting smell of baked goods. Ellie might gave been fairly thin, but she had a nose on her, leading her to the kitchen. You’ve changed out of your dirty clothes, she notices, you now wearing some small pajama shorts and a tanktop. You’re bent over the oven, grabbing the treats out of the pre-heated oven your mother had likely left them in to retain warmth.

“You’ve got to stop doing that.” You mutter, almost dropping the tray of food while Ellie smirks

“Can’t really promise accepting an apology if you dropped those.” She says, walking on over to where you stood by the kitchen island. Something in the way she says that so..flirtatiously, makes you look back at her twice. “Whatever. Do me a favor, take the plates out while I cut the pieces.” Ellie nods, walking over to the several arrays of cabinets. Though, upon doing so, she notices your refrigerator, decorated in colorful magnets, children’s literature and most of all, a picture of you, and an older woman. You were younger, hair a bit longer than you had it now, and a wide grin with your front tooth missing. You couldn’t of been older than 6, Ellie thinks. Smiley.

“This your mom?” she asks, running her fingerpads alongst the smooth film while you hum, nodding. “Yeah, it’s my mom” You say, handing her a slice of piece when she gives you the plate, “You look alike.” Ellie concludes when you two begin walking upstairs to your room.

It was certainly your room, is what the auburnette thinks as she sits on your bed. Messy bedsheets you never got to make, clothes scattered near your closet and other things you never got to clean up when she’d called you up this morning at such an ungodly time to divulge you in on her scheme,

though now, upon her decision to stay in the town, it seemed a bit for nothing. It’d be a funny story to tell with you. With you, she thinks, watching as you chew the treat and sit on the rugged floor as you flip through TV channels. Eventually settling on some show Ellie never knew was still even airing. She quietly sinks from the bed, onto the floor herself, sitting close to you as your gaze stays glued to the blaring screen, flashes of color reflecting onto your face as each scene passes. Ellie finds herseld staring at you, a person she once found so inconspicuous now becoming the very reasoning she stays in a town she hates so much. Whatever you had the girl under needed to be looked at.

“Do you like me?” Is what she wants to ask, but “Do you have a boyfriend?” is what she settles for.

You turn to her, meekly shaking your head. Since when was she sat so close to you?

Ellie nods, looking back at the show to get you to, before asking another question, “Girlfriend?” You shrug, “I mean, I use to talk to this one girl..”You mutter, before Ellie finds herself furthering it, “What happened?”

You sigh, before pointing a finger, “Don’t laugh.” you glare. Ellie smiles, nodding. “She told me she was straight after like 2 days AND THEN, i saw her kissing on Judy.” Ellie snorts, “No fucking way, Judy the librarian?” You nod, burying your face in a nearby throw pillow.

“I need a drink.” You mutter, getting up and leaving the room with Ellie in it. You return shortly after with a bottle of wine and some glasses. The girl groans as she stretches, “Now you’re talking. Pour me some.”

Eventually, the topic heads in the way of relationships once more, with you two telling each other of your awful sex lives in the majority straight town Jackson was as you sip.

As Ellie tells one, you find your eyes feeling heavy, alternating between her green eyes down to her pale pink lips. You nod, poorly attempting to give the illusion you were following along with whatever she was saying. Ellie, herself, wasn’t all that there but she was better. She’d stopped talking long ago and was just moving her lips with no dialogue coming out whatsoever, seeing if you’d ask why she halted her story. She licks her lips, leaning back as she places her glass down on the nightstand near her— jean-clad thighs spread tantalizingly as your gaze drops to them.

Her years of martial arts and track did her well, you admit, hoping it wasn’t obvious you were ogling the girl.

“Were you mad at me earlier?” you whisper, fidgeting with the loose seam of her jeans as you notice the difference in how she was acting at the cabin, and how she is now. Ellie hums, matching your small voice. “I was more so mad at myself.” She answers you, her hand finding where yours toys with a string, “Not at you.”

You nod, not really having anything to say.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally utter, liquid courage taking over as Ellie thumbs your soft hips from where you sit so closely. She gives you a soft ‘yeah’, pulling you onto her lap. You begin by littering feathery pecks along her jaw, her sensitivity earlier when you touched her chest beginning to make sense when goosebumps begin to arise along her pale skin, her nipples hardening as the hair on her neck stands before kissing her deeply.

You two kiss slowly for a while, finding some rhythm as it slowly turns into something else. You gently gasp when Ellie rocks your hips onto her thigh, making you detach from her mouth and straddle it the way she wants you to. The rough texture against her jeans on your soft shorts makes you huff a bit, face burning up as you grip her shoulders.

“You’re my sweet girl, you can do it.” She murmurs lowly, watching you grind all over her, your slick slowly starting to seep onto her denim pants— all like she wanted. You nod, frustrated to the brim of tears when you can’t seem to fuck yourself on her thigh well. Ellie pushes you down, caging your legs in between her hips as she tilts her head back down, "Seems like you're not the only sweet girl wanting my attention.." She smiles as you moan, the heel of her palm placed directly on your touch-starved mound, giving it just enough pressure and angling to make you whine out a small 'Ellie..'

She gives you finally what you want, sliding your shorts to the side and sighs when she sees just what a mess has been waiting for her.

No underwear?

You attempt to leverage yourself by sitting up on your elbows but Ellie pushes you down, hiking your hips up even more with a singular grasp of your shins as she kisses directly on your puffy pussy, your messy sap smearing all over her lips before giving you a grin,

Oh, you'd pay her what she was worth alright. Maybe returning Joel's checkbook can wait after this.

[All credits to the owner of the picture above!! i got it from popipa on pinterest]

[danisdistant]

sunday - spoiling you

[intro blog] | [taglist] | [masterlist]

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

your life inside penacony was nothing special. what mattered to you was the fact that it was safe. you had a roof over your head, money wasn’t an issue, and you were eating well. once you started to date sunday however, your lifestyle quickly began to change.

you found that every time you go out in the dreamscape, you always noticed at least one bloodhound member following you. at one point, you tried to walk up to the bloodhound to try and confront them, but they quickly walked away back to hiding.

since they’re connected to the family, you asked sunday if he knew about their actions. he was slightly embarrassed to reveal the truth, where he ordered for your protection whenever possible. you tried to convince him that you didn’t need that level of protection, where he agreed to call the order off.

in reality, he just hired a better bloodhound member who could keep themselves concealed from your sight.

whenever he can, sunday enjoys to find trinkets and items that remind him of you. he likes to give them to you, while keeping some of them in his office. your bedroom, desk, and office are full of his trinkets. some of these would include plushes, small figurines, etc.

it’s not often that the two of you have time to get out of the pavilion and explore around the dreamscape. at golden hour, sunday enjoys spoiling you buying jewelry and clothes that you liked.

“you’ve my precious. you deserve to be spoiled,” is what he says to you every time you ask why he sometimes get such expensive materials.

some of the jewelry matched his attire. necklaces that would match his piercings. jewels that would match the color of his eyes. clothes that were similar with his color scheme. he did this not only to give you things that reminded you of him, but to also subtly show to the public that you belonged to him.

sunday doesn’t only buy clothes and jewelry, but he enjoys buying your favorite foods. he wants to make sure you’re well fed, while also giving you food you enjoy. as long as it’s not cooked birds or doves… (reluctantly, he’ll still buy it for you if it makes you happy.)

when you’re close enough, sunday will offer you a position in the family. it completely replaced your job, while you get to stay in the pavilion closer with sunday. as a family member, you would also be granted full protection by him and the oak family.

at first, you were overwhelmed by this offer, but sunday wanted to make it very clear that the decision was yours to make. he wouldn’t love you any less if you declined, or needed more time to think. eventually, you agreed to stay with him.

if you’re comfortable enough, and you told sunday that you didn’t mind, he would dedicate an entire event to your birthday, where family members and the public would attend. even robin would show up, singing and giving a speech for your birthday. being good friends with robin, you almost cried from the whole event.

if you rather preferred something more private, sunday would be happy to orchestrate a smaller party instead. he’s still inviting robin, along with other close family members and some of your friends. even without the eyes of the public, you still enjoyed the moment.

while you can’t exactly spoil him back, he still enjoys any quality time the two of you spend together. as soon as you found this out, you would take him to dream’s edge whenever you could. at first, he was curious as to why you were bringing him to a restricted area, but as soon as he saw the view he understood.

on your way back, he gave you a bracelet that matched his halo, as sort of a thank you.

»» ──────ஓ๑ ★ ๑ஓ ────── ««

[creachiergh]

guys, guys, guys. jax isn't an npc; he's a game dev/mod who got trapped in the circus.

i'm sure someone has already put forth this theory, but with the series still being in its early stages, it's hard to say exactly which direction it's going. while i don't think the npc theory is bad, i think it lacks a foundation and is more so the fandom's attempt to justify jax's moral greyness or give him depth where there currently isn't any. i just wanted to share some of my own thoughts about what his deal might be.

firstly, his design, which is honestly just my own speculation but bear with me. i know goose made some jokes about his clothes being farmer's overalls, but when i look at him, i almost get mechanic vibes? like if he wasn't such a prick, he'd be in charge of fixing any bugs that crop up during the adventures, which is pretty much what a moderator does.

speaking of which, he has keys to all the rooms, which is already pretty sketchy in itself, but it makes sense if you consider that he helped make the circus. naturally, he'd have them on hand in case he needed to access any areas of potential danger. to me, it's a bit like having cheat codes, which definitely gives him an upper hand above the other circus members. (but again, it's not like he's ever going to do his job.)

there's also the "figurine thing," which is probably either a throwaway joke or a thinly-veiled attempt at foreshadowing the npcs-- since their models resemble figurines-- but it's still worth noting. if we assume that the "figurine thing" is referring to the npcs-- which it probably isn't, but again, bear with me-- then it shows just how much jax knows about the circus. as far as i remember, none of the other characters have ever brought up the outside of the map, but obviously, if jax made the game, he's going to know its layouts and inner workings like the back of his hand. i won't go so far as to say he's all-knowing, but i'm sure he knows a lot more than he lets on, and i have a feeling we're going to see that in later episodes.

if he really can predict caine's adventures and whatnot, since he designed them, it explains why he's so unfazed by everything that happens at the circus, from zooble getting taken by the gloinks to running into the gloink queen. the only time he really seems to be surprised is when the game glitches-- when the one gloink started bugging out, when kaufmo abstracted, etc.

i think the mod theory explains jax's personality and motivations. when he first arrived at the circus, there might've been a time when he acted more responsibly, fixing all the bugs, trying to stop the abstractions, etc. he could've been caine's right-hand at keeping everything under control. but maybe he slowly gave up these responsibilities when he realized that people were going to get abstracted no matter what, as we can see from the crossed-off doors in the pilot. it's very possible that he became consumed by his mod privileges when he began acting more recklessly and faced zero repercussions for his actions. essentially, he's a step above everyone else in terms of knowledge, awareness, and grants of power-- probably just below caine on the power ladder, though pomni could also rival him as she comes to learn more about the circus. depending on how jax uses his abilities, he could either help everyone find the exit or slowly lead them towards abstraction, and given what goose has said about the future of the series, it's not looking very optimistic for anyone involved.

but what do i know? this theory could be completely nonsensical and riddled with plot holes. i just like to hyperanalyze jokes 🥲

[sunshineandspencer]

Has to be a joke (Iridescent, Part 1)

A/N: I will be writing more based on these two (I'm currently writing a fic but wanted to put the ideas out) and wanted to show their first meeting :) I hope you enjoy <33 also this is set for postprison!spencer, except I'm too much of a wuss to go past season 10, so expect inaccuracies into how that all goes down.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Spencer doesn't like the name of his new partner.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: swearing, spencer is an ass™ (I have no idea I've never done this before sorry)

Parts: Pt2

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

In all the mind-fucking ways that the BAU have slowly tried to help her adjust - by that, her very first case was a misogynistic cannibal that seemed to like her a touch too much - this had to be the worst.

Granted, she is a pushover, and so she agreed to do this, so honestly she brought this upon herself.

Spencer Reid, the man she had been acting as a ‘replacement’ for while he was in prison, was finally coming back. Some might assume, ‘oh- this means you’re going back to cyber crimes right’. A fair enough assumption, and one she had made herself.

However, Emily, her Unit Chief, liked her work so much that she was asked to stay permanently. Of course, blaming the pushover-ness again, she agreed.

Now, not only did she find herself potentially becoming Spencer’s partner but she was tasked with cleaning his desk before he got back.

For the most part, they kept it clean in his absence, but an uptick in cases and zero free time meant that it became neglected. Everyone quickly agreed that the germophobic man would not like to come back from prison to a dusty desk. In comes his new partner, agreeing with a self-depreciative laugh as she stayed behind to dust off the desk and array of personal items.

Not that it’s wholly surprising that she was the one left behind. She is the newest member, had never met Spencer, and a massive sucker.

Just as they walked out JJ mentioned that he had an eidetic memory, so everything had to be put back perfectly or he’d notice. The last thing she wanted was her new partner, the sought after and beloved Doctor Reid, to hate her.

Quietly grumbling to herself as she dusted and set back the third Doctor Who figurine, very nearly done.

But she heard voices from beyond the bullpen and swore. Doing a final sweep with the microfiber cloth and then chucking it behind her onto her desk. Reaching out to spin a pen back into place and stepping back to stand beside her own desk, wondering if she looked as insane as she currently felt.

Thankfully it seemed like they’d had a good drive in, after all, he’s only coming in to get reinstated properly and then he has to take thirty days off. Emily’s rules to make sure that he gets to stay for good.

Nervously, she pulled on a bright smile, lacing her hands together painfully to stop herself from reaching for a handshake. Germaphobe, she reminded herself, don’t offer your fucking hand.

Spencer, as he walked over, must’ve either sensed the pure waves of anxiety crashing off of her, or just profiled his way to the conclusion that she was losing her mind, because he put on a soft and welcoming smile.

Right in character for the man Garcia had painted him out to be.

Once she realised he was waiting, so damn patiently for her to start talking, she blinked softly and seemed to restart with a friendly smile.

“Hi! I uhm.. I was your replacement while you were.. Gone. But they-- Emily, liked me and asked me to stay on as your new partner. I hope that’s alright, I’m still kind of new here.”

Oh thank God he seems like an absolute sweetheart right now, because she honestly couldn’t have been able to cope otherwise. She’s not good with confrontation or high emotions.

“That’s completely fine, as long as you don’t mind an ex-convict.”

This man, immediately, had a giggle bubbling up in her throat. A giggle. She’s a fucking grown woman.

So she stamps it down, to maintain her own image and save face in front of this downright gorgeous man.

“Of course not! I’ve read your work thousands of times, and everyone here has told me so much about you. A little jail time isn’t going to scare me off.”

Soft banter, she can do that, that’s something normal and socially inclined people do. Even with very attractive people that kind of look at them as if they clearly know how they turn people’s brains to mush. Like he’s doing right now.

Penelope and JJ had shown her so many photos of Spencer so that she’d know exactly who she’d be covering for - and then working with. And honestly, she’d been absolutely destroyed by him in sweater vests and looking like he doesn’t know how to use his own limbs. They’d described him as a ‘human bambi’, but clearly they still had rose tinted glasses on.

Because somewhere in the last decade they seemed to have missed the way their little sweater-vest-wearing boy completely grew into a man, and decided to use his Godhood to pick on his new partner.

When she finally stopped thinking about all the ways she was going to murder Garcia for not preparing her for this, she caught movement on his face. His eyebrow raising and the corner of his lips seemingly unable to decide whether or not he wants to smile.

“Wh- What? Sorry, I didn’t.. I didn’t catch that.”

He smiled, clearly fully aware of himself and how he’s destroying her ability to think, and she nervously returned it, wondering how hard she’d have to jump for the floor to crack open and let her drop.

“Your name, angel.”

Angel?! Oh, she’s fucked.

“N-Name? My name? Right, sorry. I’m Maeve Donnelly, but no one really-”

He visibly jolts, small but she’s hyper-aware of his every move right now, and that one certainly didn’t look positive. His eyes finally moved from her face to look up at Emily’s office, and she had to be careful to remind herself to breathe.

When he looks back, all signs of willing friendliness have gone, and suddenly she’s being scowled at, causing a lump to rise in her throat.

Confrontation is a bitch, especially when she doesn’t know what she’s done.

“Your name is Maeve Donnelly? Is this a joke?”

“I- no?” She was the one to flinch this time, by the sound of his voice and just how harshly it met her ribs clack against her lungs. “It’s- It’s my name, what’s wrong with my name?”

Tossing his bag onto his desk, he shoved past her to sit down, and she’s trying to piece together what had happened to make him react like this, completely unprompted. All she did was say her name, he’s the one that asked her to.

Still scowling at her as he starts packing away case files to work on at home, clearly not wanting to be around her anymore.

“What isn’t wrong with your name?! Honestly, if this is your idea of a joke, I don’t think we’ll be together for very long.”

Storming past her again, he starts the walk up to the chief’s office, and she’s slowly coming to terms with the fact that she might not actually have a job after today. Especially when he turned back one last time.

“And I know you touched my fucking desk, my stuff has been moved. Don’t fucking do that again.”

Just like that, as he stormed into Emily’s office and she stayed feeling small and entirely unwelcome by her new partner, she reminisced on the brief moment that she found him attractive and how she’ll never get to feel like that again. Considering he’s a massive arse who just judged her entirely by her name and refused to elaborate.

Damn, at the very least, she won’t have to deal with him for long if he gets his wish of getting her kicked off the BAU, maybe then she can finally go back to cyber crimes.

Want more?! Good!

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 2

Masterlist || Part One || Part Three

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Series Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

You finish making your way through the rest of the museum with a little time to spare. Unfortunately, you barely remember a single thing you looked at. Your thoughts were consumed by one particular gift shop clerk.

When you’ve finished with the last exhibit, you find your feet taking you back to the Ancient Egyptian section.

When you left the shop earlier, you told yourself you wouldn’t be so impulsive. You know where Steven works. You can always clear an hour or two in your schedule and make your way back after running a proper background check. But you can’t stand the thought of waiting.

You’ve never been so impulsive, especially not when inviting people into your life. Not when it comes to letting them so close and paying them to do it.

But you’re drawn to this man—this stranger more than you’ve ever been drawn to anyone else. Part of you wonders if it’s because all the others in the game have specific goals in mind. For most, their personalities were akin to sharks hunting for blood, not looking for anything other than what you and others with wealth could give them.

Not all sugar babies are bad; the ones you were involved with weren’t. You preferred them not to act entitled to you or your money. You needed them to know that just because you could pay for anything they could dream of, it didn’t make them any better than someone else—or better than who they were before they started getting into these arrangements. You need people you actually enjoy being around, spending time with. A connection on some level. Otherwise, what’s the point?

Admittedly, you liked it when they were new to the game and had never had a mommy or daddy before. There’s nothing quite like taking someone and showing them all the good things they deserve. 

You have a feeling Steven will be like that, the light in his eyes shining brighter than any of your previous babies because of the mere random chance of it all and the disbelief that he could have such things.

As the gift shop comes into view, you pray Steven is still there. The museum’s closing in an hour. Depending on when he started his shift, he may already be gone for the day. You don’t think your pounding heart can take it if he isn’t behind the counter or sweeping up another mess.

Stepping inside, you deflate when you don’t see him. In fact, you don’t see anyone. The shop is empty. No Steven, no Donna, or even another employee to be found. Frustrated with yourself for being so disappointed about not finding a stranger, you turn to leave, already reprimanding yourself in your mind for acting like this.

“Oh, hello,” someone calls. You slowly turn back around, relief filling you.

“Hello,” you reply, facing Steven as you try to control your expression. You’re a professional; you should act like it.

“You again!” Then he cringes, face flushing. “Not that I mean that in a bad way. It’s just…usually, people only stop in here the one time, especially after I’ve scared them off.”

“You haven’t scared me off.” You walk up to him, stepping closer than he got to you earlier.

“No?” he asks, confused.

You shake your head. “I said I’d see you around.”

Steven shrugs. “People just say that. They don’t actually mean it.”

“I don’t lie, Steven. When I say something, I mean it.”

He appears flustered then, blinking rapidly in disbelief and looking around the shop like he doesn’t know what to do.

“You erm…” His eyes catch on something. “You didn’t buy anything earlier. Did you want one of the Horus figurines?” He rushes to the display, grabbing one of the birds to hold out to you.

You follow, stepping close. Without taking your eyes off Steven, you take the bird from his hand and put it back onto the display.

“I want to take you to dinner,” you say.

“You do?” Steven asks, a little breathless.

You nod. “When’s your next free evening?”

“Tomorrow,” he quickly answers. Good. You like that he’s not questioning you and is quick to answer.

Smiling, you name a restaurant, one of your favorites. It’s not the most expensive place, but it’s not one Steven would likely visit regularly and probably only on special occasions. You doubt working in a museum gift shop pays very much.

“You’ll be there at six.” You’re not asking, needing to see how well he’ll listen to you.

“I’ll be there at six,” Steven repeats.

“The reservation will be under my name.” You give it to him, which he softly repeats as well.

You take a step back, and Steven sucks in a breath as if it was his first since you decided to stand so close.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Steven.”

“Grant,” he hastily blurts when you turn to leave. “Steven Grant. My name.”

You smile at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Steven Grant.”

You walk into the restaurant precisely at six. Some would say you’re punctual to a fault, but you simply find it to be a common courtesy—though it really isn’t that common.

You don’t like your time being wasted and try not to waste others’. It’s rather disrespectful, in your eyes, to ignore set deadlines or meeting times. There’s a reason that time was chosen, after all.

And even though you’ve technically arrived on time, you consider yourself late. You like arriving at least a few minutes beforehand, but your last meeting of the day ran long. One of the department heads liked the sound of his own voice a little too much and couldn’t seem to get to the point. And that’s not going into how it annoyed you that it couldn’t happen earlier in the day due to so many schedule conflicts between you and all the heads.

You also wanted to be early to see Steven arrive. It would allow you to see what he’s like when he doesn’t know you’re looking. Your oft-requested table gives you an excellent view of the door without being directly in front of it, making whoever you’re eating with search for you and giving you time to examine them before they put on their mask—if they have one.

As you look toward your table, you see Steven already seated. He doesn’t see you, though. He’s too busy fidgeting with his askew tie. The collar of his dress shirt isn’t in any better condition, but despite his outfit, he was able to tame his curly hair fairly well.

You continue to stare as you’re led to the table, but Steven, so lost in his thoughts, doesn’t notice until you’re seated and handed menus.

“Oh!” he exclaims when the menu is put in front of his face. Then he finally looks up and sees you across from him. “You’re here.”

He looks a little stunned, and you smile.

“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well, it’s just… You know.” Steven laughs awkwardly.

“No, I don’t know.” That could mean a hundred different things; you’d rather not guess and pick wrong.

He shifts in his chair, uncomfortable. “I… wasn’t quite sure if this was real, to be honest. Was wondering if I was going to show up just to find out you were having a laugh.” He laughs again, trying to play it off as a joke, but it’s obvious that was a genuine concern for him.

“Has someone done that to you before?” you ask casually, though underneath you silently seethe. It doesn’t make sense to you how someone could be that cruel. It especially irks you that it may have happened to Steven. You already feel protective of him even though he hasn’t even heard your proposition yet, let alone accepted it.

“Not exactly,” Steven says, though he doesn’t look you in the eye and takes a large gulp of water.

You don’t press the subject. “Do you believe me now when I say I don’t lie?”

He meets your eyes then and sets his water down.

“Yeah, I do,” he says softly.

“Good. Remember that.” You don’t want him to forget because you know how your offer will sound when you finally get around to it.

“So what’ll you be having?” you ask, changing your focus to the menu. You’re eyeing your favorite while wondering if you should try something different.

Steven fumbles his menu a little as he opens it. “Do they have anything vegan?”

The question makes your brain short-circuit.

“...I don’t know,” you say apologetically. “I’m sorry. I should have thought to ask—”

“That’s alright,” Steven quickly interrupts. “I can usually find something.

“I still should have been more considerate.” You get like that sometimes, so focused on what you want and how to get it that you…forget others aren’t like you. You don’t do it maliciously, and you try not to be like that at all.

You got excited about Steven. You met him, and in the span of a few minutes, you decided you wanted him. You almost berate yourself again for not doing this the proper way. If you had, you would have known something as basic as his dietary restrictions.

You make a mental note to do better next time.

“Normally, I try to mention it, but…I was a little overwhelmed,” Steven admits. His eyes aren’t downcast at the menu like you had expected. Instead, he meets your eyes easily.

He meant it to be reassuring like it was his fault, but you only end up feeling a twinge of shame.

“I did come on quite strong, didn’t I?” You’re not exactly sorry for it, but you know you’re too much for some people. You’re afraid you’re too much for Steven.

“I liked it.” Steven quickly says before his eyes widen, and his face flushes, embarrassed. You don’t know why; you appreciate the honesty, the words draining the tension from you. You haven’t scared him off yet.

Maybe…maybe he’s afraid he’s too much for you.

“You did?” you ask, needing to be sure Steven wasn’t just saying that. Similar to his assumption that you didn’t actually mean it when you said you wanted to see him again.

“Of course I did.” Steven’s cheeks are still flushed, but he doesn’t hesitate.

“That’s good,” you say, relieved. You smile at Steven, to which he happily returns.

The two of you manage to order dinner. Steven found a quite delicious-sounding pasta dish he could have while you stuck with your favorite, needing the comfort and familiarity of it.

While you wait for the food to arrive, you make small talk. You’re not exactly a fan of it most of the time. It’s tedious, and people tend to say a lot while saying nothing at all because they can’t stand sitting in silence. With Steven, though, it’s not terrible, not to mention necessary. 

The two of you know nothing about each other, and he needs to know where you’re coming from, what you can offer. You start out slowly, talking about your interests and hobbies before moving on to company. You talked about how you started it and how it grew. You don’t say anything about money, not yet. People can be funny when wealth is brought up. And you respect Steven enough to trust that he can figure it out for himself. The prices on the menu, while not the most expensive in the city, are higher than what the average person could comfortably afford on a regular basis. And then there are your clothes, sleek and stylish, quietly saying, ‘I paid money for these.’ There’s even the bag on your arm. If someone isn’t familiar with the brand, should they even make out the logo, they can tell the quality.

To your relief, he seems to take it all in stride. His eyes widened when he seemed to realize what all it meant, but the surprise didn’t linger, his expression didn’t turn predatory, and he didn’t ask the typical “So how much money do you make in a year?” while drooling over what it could mean to be with you.

Over the years, you’ve learned to tame yourself. Never talk too much about yourself all at once and ask questions about the other person at the right time—even if they interrupt you and you can’t finish your thought. Steven, however, never interrupted to talk more about himself, letting you talk as long as you wanted, even prompting you to talk more when you stalled. He even seems to lack your same sense of needing to hold back.

Once he got started on his book collection, his fish, Egypt, he didn’t stop. You let him go, struck by how much he was willing to share about his interests like he wasn’t afraid of what you would think. Or at least, that’s what you thought it was before he stumbled over his words and apologized for talking so much. You didn’t mind. You liked seeing his face light up when he spoke about things he genuinely cared about. It was much nicer than the dull, bored expression most people had when they didn’t know what to talk about.

Dinner hasn’t progressed very far—you’re only halfway through your meal and plan on getting dessert—but you’ve decided. You thought you already had when you couldn’t leave the museum without asking him to dinner, but the more you talk with him, the more you just know.

A part of you thinks you shouldn’t ask and let this be a proper, old-fashioned date. Let yourself have a proper partner.

But then you remember when you’ve tried that in the past. Remember how your heart broke when they all decided they didn’t love you. When they stopped pretending they cared when they weren’t getting what they wanted out of you. Eventually, that was your money once you far surpassed the bar of what would be considered successful for most people.

That was when you decided that if money was all someone wanted from you, that’s what you would give them. Then, they wouldn’t have to pretend to be in love with you, and your overwhelming desire to care for someone could be met. Plus, there was the added bonus of telling someone exactly what you wanted and expected from them, and they obeyed without question. It makes it easier than a regular romantic relationship would be.

You like Steven, but there’s no guarantee he won’t leave you heartbroken if you let him in that way. So no, he can’t be your boyfriend. 

But he can be your sugar baby.

It’s safer that way.

The conversation comes to a lull, and you decide to pounce.

“I have a proposition for you if you’d like to hear it,” you say, suddenly nervous. You’ve never asked a baby to be yours without knowing well in advance that they would say yes.

What will you do if Steven says no? There’s no taking an offer to be someone’s sugar mommy back, no way to laugh it off, and then ask him to be your boyfriend. You’re well aware this isn’t what ordinary people do, so ordinary people have a hard time truly talking about it.

“Yeah? What’s that?” Steven asks, brow furrowed slightly, though there’s a slight smile on his lips.

“I’d like to take care of you if you’d let me.” There, the words are out, and you were even able to look him in the eye when you said it. A small victory in itself for you.

Steven’s smile drops, confusion falling over his face. “Sorry? What do you mean exactly?”

You’ve never had to explain it to someone before. Even the brand-new babies you’ve had knew what they were signing up for when you connected with them.

“I don’t have children or family of any sort, but I like taking care of people. I have more money than I could ever spend in several lifetimes, and yes, while I do donate quite a bit, it’s not the same as giving one person everything they want when they couldn’t have it otherwise.” You pause, but Steven doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at his plate, stunned.

You decide to continue.

“I like you, Steven, and I don’t like very many people, not really. But with you, I know, and I would like to have your company. You would be compensated, obviously, and I could give you anything you’ve ever dreamed of. If you asked for the moon, I would find a way to pay for it if it made you happy.”

You aren’t usually so blatant about showering a new baby with money and gifts, practically begging them to accept what you can give. It mostly kept them from seeing you as a piggy bank and more as a person. But it’s different with Steven.

“That’s…that’s very…” Steven trails off. He keeps shifting nervously in his seat, unable to look at you.

You’ve made him uncomfortable, and your stomach drops. You drop your eyes to your plate, your favorite meal turning sour in your mouth. You wonder if you’ll be able to eat it again after this.

“Like a…like a sugar baby?” Steven whispers as he looks around the restaurant, afraid of being overheard. It makes you wince.

This was a mistake.

“That’s exactly what it is, yes.” There’s no point in trying to sugarcoat it.

Your eyes flick up to meet his before quickly dropping again. You push your food around on your plate, no longer hungry.

“Aren’t I a little old for that?” Steven laughs, sounding a little hysterical.

“Only if I were a pervert who wasn’t interested in anyone over twenty-five,” you say without thinking. You don’t usually speak like that unless you’re with close friends, especially since some of the other mand daddies you associate with do, indeed, only seek those in their twenties. Steven’s reaction has you so distressed you’re starting to lose your filter.

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re not that, then,” he laughs, sounding calmer. Surprised, you finally look up.

Steven looks hesitant, but not like he’s going to run for the hills. Not right now, anyway.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” he asks softly.

“Of course I am.” You don’t look away when you say it. You can’t.

Steven does, though, staring down at his plate and twirling his form in his hand.

“... I’ll need to think about it, obviously,” he says, and you’re shocked, to say the least.

While it’s not a yes, it definitely isn’t the ‘no’ you were starting to expect. Yet.

“You can take however long you need,” you tell him. He doesn’t need to answer you today. You weren’t expecting him to.

Steven nods. “Let’s finish dinner for now, yeah? Unless you want to leave?”

The words make you laugh, no doubt sounding a little hysterical yourself. “I’m surprised you don’t want to!”

“I’m willing to keep an open mind,” he says.

You nod. “That’s all I can ask for.”

The rest of dinner goes fairly smoothly, though there’s a lingering tension in the air, an expectation that had been set yet not met. You decide against dessert. What started as a fun dinner has left you feeling nauseous even though Steven hasn’t outright turned you down.

When the waiter arrives with the black leather booklet holding the check, he hands it directly to you like he knows. He probably does; you’ve brought babies here before. You don’t even think twice, only glancing at the bill that can’t even be considered a blip in your finances before placing a card inside and handing it back.

Steven is fumbling with his wallet all the while.

“I invited you. Dinner’s on me,” you say, figuring he’d take that better than trying to explain how you never intended for him to pay for anything tonight.

“Shouldn’t I…? I mean, I’m the—” Steven cuts himself off at your raised eyebrow. “You know what? Nevermind. Thank you,” he finished quickly, shoving his wallet back into his pocket.

“You’re welcome.”

You both go silent.

“You’re really going to consider it? Because it’s okay to say no right now.” You have to say it. You’d prefer Steven be upfront with you and decline now rather than ghost you, never to speak to you again.

“I don’t know if I want to say no,” Steven admits. “It really is a lot to think about, and it’s not like I know what I’m doing. And I really do like you, so I’m not going to tell you to bugger off just because I wasn’t expecting something like this to happen.”

“You’re not insulted?”

“Should I be? Isn’t the more appropriate response to be flattered?”

“And are you?” you can’t help but ask. 

Steven looks down shyly, his face flushing once again. “I am.”

A smile threatens to spread across your lips, but you try to tame it.

You turn away from him and grab your bag. Digging inside, you pull out the small notebook you keep for notes and a pen. You rip out a page from the notebook and write down your phone number.

“Take your time letting me know,” you say, sliding the paper across the table to Steven.

He stares at it for a moment, perhaps trying to memorize the number, before carefully slipping it into his pocket.

“Do you need a ride home?” you ask, standing, sliding your bag onto your arm.

“N-no, I’ll be alright, thanks,” Steven stammers, quickly standing and bumping the table.

You can’t tell if he’s trying to be polite or distance himself from you. Either way, you want to push the topic, so used to giving your babies everything, asking after their needs, but you don’t. Steven hasn’t agreed, and you don’t want to pressure him into a decision. It’s a choice he has to make for himself, or the relationship will never work.

But there is something else you can do to show him that you care.

“Do you mind if I…?” You gesture toward his tie.

“No?” he answers, clearly not understanding what you’re asking.

You don’t clarify. Instead, you step close and reach for his tie. Steven goes still, his breath catching, as you loosen his tie and fix the collar of his shirt. You straighten it, pulling it down from where Steven had it placed a little too high on his neck. Then you cinch the tie back up, making sure it lays straight, and smooth a hand down it—down his chest—before stepping back. The slight change makes all the difference, making him look more put together than he had just a moment ago.

You want to do that for him more often.

“There.” When you look up, Steven’s pupils are blown wide, his face flushed. “Shall we?”

“Mhmm,” Steven hums, making you smile.

Outside the restaurant, you spot your car, the driver having pulled up to the entrance to wait for you.

“I hope to hear from you, Steven,” you say softly. 

You’ve grown a little too attached, you think. You’ll be devastated if he says no. Even worse, perhaps, if he doesn’t respond at all.

“You will,” he promises with a firm nod.

Taglist: @multific

[the-modern-typewriter]

could you write something about a villain that’s not taken seriously, by the public and other villains? but the hero is the first one to recognize what he’s capable of, and is frightened of him? something spooky, for halloween spirit :)

"You're frightened," the villain said. He'd paused on the opposite side of the small exhibition room, his head tilted curiously to one side.

"Stay back." The hero's voice did not shake, but it was a near thing.

"There are not many who would think to be frightened of me."

The hero said nothing to that. They weren't convinced their voice wouldn't tremble if they tried a second time, and either way their mouth felt too dry to come out with words. They hefted their sword up a little higher instead and tried not to feel ridiculous.

The villain smiled, faintly, at the sight, so it clearly didn't work. He moved a little closer, his gaze roaming between the hero and the artefact behind them like he couldn't quite decide which interested him more. Still, they both knew it was the artefact he had come for.

"But then," the villain murmured. "You're not like the many, are you? Such a pretty little canary."

The hero swallowed. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not. Do you know what canaries are used for?"

The hero's mouth turned, impossibly, dryer.

There were heroes and villains in the world with great physical strength and speed, with dark elemental powers or the ability to creep insidious into the minds of weaker creatures. At first glance, the villain was none of those things. Harmless. A flustered academic in a tweed jacket and slightly scuffed shoes.

Everyone kept telling the hero that the villain was ultimately harmless, but here they both were, in the middle of the night, behind security that none of the other villains had even thought to try and get past. Alone.

"Move aside," the villain said. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I said stay back."

The villain's gift was such that they could touch objects and absorb...traces.

What was a lock when one could touch the keypad and get a flash of fingers moving across its combination a hundred times?

What was an enchanted weapon when cutting the villain with it would simply grant him the use of its enchantment?

And what, when the villain touched something truly powerful, something of the old magic, would that do?

The hero didn't want to find out. They could feel the contained pulse of the old magic behind them even through the glass. Raw. Cavernous. A mere fragment trapped in a small unassuming figurine valued at far less than it was worth.

The villain paused.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" the villain asked. "I thought so. Don't you think it's beautiful?"

"I think I don't want you anywhere near it."

"Do you think you can stop me?" The villain didn't ask it as a threat. He was still affable. Politely interested. Just like he always was, even the face of those who had mocked his theories and his talents as a quiet, weak thing.

The hero swallowed again, convulsively, but it did nothing to get rid of the lump in their throat.

They could sense the old magics, get an instinctual grasp of their purposes, and sure they had an uncanny knack for the old language but...but that was it. They were a researcher. Nothing that would be useful in a fight. Still. They had a sword, even if they didn't entirely know how to use it. How hard could it be to stab and slice if it came down to it?

"Mm." The villain began to slide the gloves off his fingers. "If only someone had believed you."

"If only," the hero replied, hollow, "someone had believed in you."

The villain's grin was a wicked, devastating, intoxicating thing. The hero had never seen anything like it. "They will soon enough."

And then, with a rippling roar of magic absorbed and stolen, they pounced.

[ominoose]

OMG. Your date idea is so cute. I hope you do end up posting it, but no pressure of course. <3 Speaking of blind boxes, I feel like he would enjoy these!: Aaru Garden Ancient Egypt Mythology Series 1 & 2 from KikaGoods and YOKI Travel Round the World Series from Pop Mart. Oh! And I saw these Egyptian themed slimes from @slime.fantasies and I feel like if they had an activity for the children with them, he'd end up giving in to try them all out. Whatadork!<3 (ಥ◡ಥ)

𝐀 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞

Pairing: Steven Grant x GN!Reader Summary: You surprise Steven with a cute trip to Popmart! Warning: None. WC: 533

Ended up being small and kind of a mess but short and sweet ig :)

The date had been your idea. Despite living in London for a decent while, Steven never really shopped about, owed to the museum job and the hassle with discovering his DID and an Egyptian god that he unwillingly worked under. That was all in the past now and since your discovery of Stevens lack of actual activity around London since dating, it became your self-appointed mission to take him out to re-fall in love with his home city.

"Oh wow…" Was all the Brit could say as you led him to Pop Mart. Shelves upon shelves lined with various cute and colourful mini figurines filled the store walls behind the glass windows and large statues of the front. It wasn't too busy, but by London standards that still meant there were a few groups milling around.

He was hesitant to step inside, but once you took the first step with him he was buzzing. Bee-lining to different shelves, oo-ing and ah-ing at the different series of figures, from cute little fairies to weird little monsters in sailor outfits.

If Steven didn't have Marc quietly reminding him they were 'pretty broke' right now the Brit would've filled a basket with all sorts of blind boxes and bags (to which he'd mutter aloud "Sod off Marc this is my date.").

It took you softly convincing him that you could both get two from the same series and have matching ones instead, which he was absolutely ecstatic about, to stop him buying 10. Steven was always a romantic at heart, and had to hold back from matching outfits with you daily.

Steven picked out a Yoki series, a cute little bat featuring different landmarks and World Wonders. It was the Pyramid one that caught his eye, and he couldn't pass up any chance to have a matching little Egyptian figure with you.

Heartbreakingly, no Egyptian figure appeared for either of you. After Steven excitedly popped the box open and tore into the silver baggy, a little red and golden bat sat against the Great Wall of China.

"Just my luck, eh?" He pouted, but the longer he rubbed his thumb over the teeny golden nose and stared at the little stars in the bat's eyes, Steven found himself endeared.

You'd already popped open your box by the time Steven had went through a few stages of grief and presented a blue bat snug in a fluffy hood, hugged by a penguin.

"Oh your one is dead cute! That's adorable. Think they'd make a good couple too?" A toothy grin broke over him as he nudged you playfully, making his little figure give yours a kiss on the head.

"So, I take it you're a fan of the blind boxes then?" You ask with a smile as Steven continues to play with the figure in his palm.

"Absolutely! In-fact, I think we need to do this more often, make a little habit of this date, eh? Make a little collection of wee couples, next time we should do one of those sanrio ones you like!"

Only a month later, Steven's bookcases became a neighbourhood of little couples of woodland creatures, miniature Egyptian deities and sanrio characters. And each morning, Steven always kissed your little figures on the head.

[anto-pops]

A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious. 

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in. 

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out. 

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like. 

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth. 

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call. 

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard. 

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts. 

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him. 

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not. 

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior. 

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions. 

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?” 

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication. 

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him. 

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.” 

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea. 

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.” 

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second. 

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress. 

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?” 

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer. 

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge. 

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those. 

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back. 

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.” 

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.” 

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.” 

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?” 

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?” 

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.” 

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man. 

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet. 

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes. 

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you. 

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life. 

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.” 

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now. 

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.” 

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man. 

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds. 

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too. 

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs. 

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging. 

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh. 

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good. 

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would. 

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets. 

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh. 

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.” 

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.” 

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?” 

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.” 

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic. 

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.” 

Completely idiotic. 

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body. 

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?” 

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.” 

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing. 

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.” 

“…Come again?” 

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.” 

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” 

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.” 

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets. 

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.” 

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze. 

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.” 

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily. 

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request. 

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist. 

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin. 

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it. 

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you. 

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result. 

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.” 

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. 

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end. 

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely. 

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful. 

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed. 

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction. 

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going. 

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step. 

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him. 

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap. 

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.” 

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?” 

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?” 

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood. 

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble. 

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again. 

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath. 

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer. 

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were. 

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further. 

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank. 

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage. 

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath. 

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer. 

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him. 

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was. 

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement. 

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point. 

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

HEAR ME OUT LI!! Image if our little mermaid found a small sculptor of a man,(it could either be a real figure of a man, or just some random dude). And she somehow falls in love with the figure. Like- "this is who i want to be mates with!" "I wonder what he really looks like..!" "Maybe the Gods will be merciful and grant me my wish on seeing him!'

She goes to Orion, asking him if he knows who the guy is while handing him the figure — having heart eyes and all.

Here's one about Viper bc he is forever my fav !! She brings it around with her, talking to it as if its real, even naming it. She drops it one day deep down the dark trenches and has been floating around pouting and even rolling around crying about her only one slipping away from her

(I just love jealous boys!!)

🦪 Anonn!!

Yandere! Male! Deep sea creature x mermaid! Fem! Reader x Human! Male! Hunter

🦪anon again with the amazing asks. Also, Gojo, anyone?

What if: darling finds a figure?

It was a normal day for you.

Well, it was supposed to.

You were just finding more stuff to decorate the trenches, since the decorations you placed were getting a bit stale for your taste.

Not until your hands touched something smooth, yet a bit too complicated for your fingertips. It has long twigs, four of them. A bulbous circle on top yet has weird spikes, and what seems like ridges.

It was buried under the kelp, and with a bit of tugging, you unearthed what seems to be...

"A human... sculpture?"

Your eyes sparkled, looking at this man in front of you.

The color has faded a bit, but you could tell that this man was wearing what seems to be a dark blue, almost black uniform type of outfit. With him, lifting his eye cover revealing gorgeous icy blue eyes. And he had spiky white hair accentuating on how ethereal he look.

"W-wow... Is this..?"

Were humans always this colorful? He looks so handsome.

"Who are you, mister?" A fair blush on your cheeks, you checked around his body to see if there's an indication for who he is. "Nothing? But..."

You were in love with a figurine. How insane is that?

That's what Orion told himself as you swam with him, showing the figurine days after you first found him.

"I found who this guy is." Orion muttered, making you freeze and grin.

"Really?! Oh my god! Who is he?!" You asked, hugging the figurine clsoe to your body. "I must meet him!"

Orion scowled.

He can't believe that he's getting jealous over a figurine of all things.

"Ah, but like, he's unattainable." Orion badmouthed the Gojo figurine in your arms, making you pout. "He's like... A ladies man. You got way too many competitions."

Well, it was true. Gojo Satoru of Jujutsu Kaisen has too many fans, not just from the ladies.

"But still! I want to meet him!" You begged. Your soft, wet eyes filling with tears. "I truly do! H-he may be my mate!"

Orion was now slackjawed. "Excuse me? Mate?"

"Yes! Mate! It's love at first sight. Then maybe, just maybe..." A bashful expression, you gazed longingly at the figure. "He'll fall for me too."

'Gojo, thank your damn ancestors that you're fucking fictional.' Orion gritted his teeth before turning around and entering his yacht, making you flinch from surprise.

"Orion?"

"I'm leaving."

You gasped, totally not expecting this. "But, I still need to know who this man is!"

"I don't care! Procure legs and find him on your own or something!"

Now that stung. You frowned, a bit saddened, angry, and honestly, humiliated by his words.

Annoyed, you turned around and dove down to the trenches, not wanting to see Orion who was regretting his words and beating himself up from being too jealous of a damn fake guy.

Once you got to the trenches, you sniffled.

"He was so mean." You muttered to the figure. "Really! Like he knows it's hard for us mermaids and rare to get legs... Why can't he just help me?"

You hummed, dancing around with the figurine to make yourself cheer up.

"What should I name you... I can't just keep calling you mister..."

You looked at the figurine once more, and was totally enamored by his icy blue eyes.

"I get it! Ice!"

A certain deep sea mermaid almost coughed violently.

You were so bad at naming things.

The same as Viper, he incessantly heard of your whims and whiles about this figurine in front of you. Honestly, it didn't even bother him. But the fact that this guy can be real is getting to his nerves, making him grit his teeth.

He's bad at handling jealousy, and all he could wish is to crush this figurine to smithereens.

"AH!"

And will you look at that, it fell straight to his lap.

It was kind of heavy, in what seems to be a much more intricate figurine that looks like it was too expensive due to the detail placed in it, with the heftiness that made it sink quickly.

Clumsy you tried to place it on a sticking ledge from the trench that's crumbling, and accidentally broke it, making the figurine fall to Viper's lap.

Viper could hear your panicked screeches.

"My man!"

"Oh no! Come back to me!"

"Please... My love..."

Viper rolled his eyes. As if he's gonna give this back to you.

And you're calling this puny figurine your love? How stupid.

With one coil of his tail, the figure broke to pieces, and he let the pieces fall down to the sandy floor, forgetting about it as he heard your lovely soft weeps.

"Viper... Please, if you see a figurine of a white haired human, please give it to me!"

Your desperate pleas did not fall on deaf ears, but Viper only shrugged as he replied.

"I will."

As if he would.

[illusivesoul]

Why Leliana is half dwarf

My hc theory on why Leliana is half dwarf.

The rest of the post is under the cut.

.

1 - Her mom was a servant to an Orlesian noble, and dwarven servants are common in Orlais. Nobles: Don’t be an idiot. How could the Herald of Andraste be a dwarf? Nobles: Maybe it’s just a servant.

The comments Orlesian nobles make towards a dwarf inquisitor in the Winter Palace. 2 - As it's seen in the mission In Hushed Whispers, Leliana has a very strong resistance to the Blight sickness. Dwarves are naturally resistant to the Blight sickness due to their constant proximity to the darkspawn. And in another example, the dwarves of Kal'Sharok have adapted and "become inmune" to the blight disease, similarly to Grey Wardens. So it'd make sense if she had inherited this same resistance from her mom.

3 - She likes nugs and is very passionate and caring about them. Granted, she doesn't want to eat them like all dwarves do, but still, she's the only human (afaik) in the series who has shown so much interest for nugs. Also, following with the possibility of her mom being a dwarf, I wonder if she told her stories or had figurines or something about nugs and thats why she's so fond of them.

4 - She's in awe of Orzammar and really likes the city.

5 - The epilogue for lyrium ghost Leliana in Trespasser very much sounds like the song of the Titans, and the corrupted version of it which its what imo prompts the darkspawn to seek out the Archdemons.

Like this comment that Cole makes about the Titans’s song: “It’s singing. A they that’s an it that’s asleep, but still making music.”

Also, we all know lyrium is a titan’s blood. So a dwarven blooded Leliana becoming a “lyrium ghost” after “dying” could actually be pretty similar to what Valta becomes at the end of The Descent DLC. Also to note is that Valta somehow revived Renn after becoming connected to the Titan and acquiring its “magic”. This could also explain why Leliana returned to life after being killed in the Temple of Sacred Ashes", cause she would have a special connection to lyrium from her dwarven blood.

6 - She has super strong thighs that can break a person's neck. Clear sign of dwarven genes.

Venatori: "You will break!" Leliana: "I will die first! Or you will"

Thanks for reading my very serious theory.

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Kate Bishop x Reader : Kiss Me

Summary: The time has arrived to bring the holiday spirit into your home. Covers the ‘Decorations’ square of Holiday Bingo.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

* * * * * * *

Snow slowly falls from the sky, further covering the ground below, and adding to the vibe you were working to create.

Standing in front of the large windows, you reach into the bag at your side and pull out yet another red snowflake sticker. You take a small step back to look over the expanse of the window, making sure you space out the red and green stickers properly. With the visual confirmation that you have, you step closer again and stick the red snowflake on the glass.

After that, you turn to the box on the table and take out the tangled up string of holiday lights.

“I thought you said you untangled these things.” Your teasingly accusatory tone cuts through the air that, previously, was only filled with the sounds of rummaging and Sleigh Ride by the Nickelodeon Cast.

From downstairs, Kate’s head pops around the corner, eyes a little wide like she’s been caught. She knows that she has when she sees jumbled up cables in your hands.

“Okay, I started to,” she begins her explanation while stepping further into view,“ and I even got a few of them done but my arms got tired and the chords were so long.. so I quit.” Her sentence ends with a pout.

You can’t help but shake your head, a low chuckle falling from your lips as you drop the lights back into the box.

In all fairness, it’s always a hassle to untangle your Christmas lights. Granted, had they been stored properly in the first place, this wouldn’t have been a problem but that’s neither here nor there. 

With the window and landing decorated completely, well, almost completely, you head back down the stairs. Your girlfriend is still standing by the stairs with a pout on her lips.

“It’s okay baby,” you assure her with a gentle hand on her cheek,“ I probably wouldn’t have done them all either.” You run your thumb over her pouty lips and it elicits a smile from her, right before she kisses your thumb.

“You didn’t need them anyway, it looks great.” She says while slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you flush into her side.“ I do think it’s missing something though.”

A frown instantly covers your features and you snap your gaze away from her over to the window and landing. How could something be missing? You were over there for nearly an hour, doing your absolute best to make the space look as festive as possible.

The plan to decorate the apartment was made long before today. In fact, when you moved in with Kate earlier in the year you both discussed your favorite holidays and how you would want to spend them now that you live together. One of your favorites had always been Christmas and decorating was an absolute must.

So, the instant stores started selling decorations, you and your girlfriend were buying them. Bit by bit you acquired all the items you needed to “perfectly” decorate the apartment: garland, stickers, ornaments, lights, a tree, etc. 

With everything ready to go, you woke up this morning on a mission to fully decorate the apartment. After big steaming mugs of hot cocoa, topped with a few too many marshmallows, were made and your Christmas playlist was blasting through the apartment, you began.

Kate’s place being so open was both a challenge and a blessing. It served as a huge blank canvas but the lack of walls meant that certain decorations couldn’t be used.

Still, you made it work. The tree was up in the living/dining room, lights and garland wrapped around it with ornaments spread about on it. Lights were strung up on the wall and the figurines you bought were scattered around on tables and shelves.

Very little was done to the kitchen, just some mini tree figures on the island, mini wreaths on every other cabinet, and a red Christmas themed rug on the floor.

Kate’s archery/workout area just had tinsel and lights strung up around the archway and she hung some ribbons from the shelves.

Then there’s the landing, which you worked on. It was decorated with snowflake stickers on the windows, tinsel looping along the tops of them, while fake snow covered the window sill and the floor below it with mini snowmen and penguins on top. You’d also wrapped some lights and tinsel around the stair railings.

It looks amazing. Perfect even. So you’re confused as to what your girlfriend means.

“Okay no.” You shake your head, looking from Kate to the landing.“ I did an incredible job. There’s nothing miss-”

When you look back at the brunette she’s sporting a smirk, her other arm raised up as she holds a singular mistletoe above your head.

“I think the space could definitely use a few of these.” She whispers with implication.

“Oh? You really think they’ll make a difference?”

The small gap between you two has been gradually closing since she held the mistletoe up, her lips but a whisper away from yours.

“You tell me.” Are her words before she closes that miniscule gap and crashes her lips onto yours.

Hands instantly wrap around her waist as you equally melt into the kiss and her embrace. She drops the mistletoe, freeing her hand so that she can raise it and cup your cheek. 

You feel the corners of her lips quirk up a little as she fights a smile but it inevitably comes up anyway and the second your lips meet her teeth you pull away with a giggle.

Smile still lighting up her face she asks,“ you think it’ll make a difference?”

“Definitely,” you nod, still a little dazed from the kiss.

Kate smirks, pecking your lips softly before she scoops up the mistletoe and moves to hang it from the doorway into her training area.

“Nope, we’re gonna need more.” Grabbing her waist, you pull her back into you," a whole lot more.” You mumble before initiating yet another kiss.

* * * * * * *

Taglist: @owloftheshadows @blackxwidowsxwife @b-5by5 @lostandsearching @iliketozoneout @alotofpockets @storiesofsvu

[asimplearchivist]

‘ 𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓼 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓭 . ’

𝐂𝐇. 𝐈𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [ 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 ] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ☾ ⤏ you manage to impress the boys’ mysterious patron. pairing(s) ☽ steven grant/reader | marc spector/reader | jake lockley/reader word count ☾ 6.8k a/n ☽ ⤏ this took wayyy too long but it’s finally done! now i get to work on the fun pieces since plot is out of the way! the next one should be a chapter taking place between i and ii, featuring the immediate aftermath of steven returning home from cairo! :) ☽ MASTERPOST ☾   ☾ PREVIOUS CHAPTER ⤎ ☥ ⤏ NEXT CHAPTER [TBA] ☽

The first time Steven had met you, it had been strictly by happenstance.

The first time Marc had met you, officially, it had been an accident.

The first time Jake had met you, it had been an inevitability.

The first time you met Khonshu, it was somewhat (if not mostly) expected.

It wasn’t long after you moved in with the boys (a couple of weeks, maybe)—almost a full year after officially beginning to date all three of them. It started with you finding the little Djehuty statuette that Steven had gifted you from Cairo’s backstreet markets turned onto its side where you kept it on the bookshelf over your side of the bed one morning after Jake had already left to start his driving. You had righted it, figuring that it had been knocked over by the bed shifting during the night—sometimes the books fell over because the mattress was propped up right against the shelves, and…well, sometimes things were moved around. Passionately. (Ahem.) You hadn’t given it any further thought beyond that.

…Until it happened again the next morning, anyway. Then the morning after that. And while your relationship with the boys was by no means lacking, you knew for a fact that it wasn’t your (albeit frequent) evening exertions that were upsetting the figurine that consistently.

The fourth morning in a row, you stood at the foot of the bed with your arms folded over your chest and your fingers drumming over your mouth. Steven was rustling around in the bathroom getting ready for his shift at the museum, and when he emerged, still trying to tame his unruly curls, he raised an inquisitive brow at your puzzled expression. “What’s wrong, love?”

You pointed at the statuette. “Poor Thoth keeps getting knocked over. I’m trying to figure out what’s causing it.”

“You don’t think…” He gestured vaguely towards the bed, cheeks darkening as his voice quietened bashfully. “...you know.”

“That’s what I thought at first, too, but it’s been every night recently. You guys were wiped out last night, so...” Your brow furrowed as you looked up into the rafters. “The vents aren’t strong enough to blow it over.”

“Maybe it happens when we swap the driver’s seat. I do know we toss and turn quite a bit.” Steven stepped in behind you, curling himself around your back and hooking his chin over your shoulder to tuck his nose behind your ear. “We can move him if you’re worried he’ll break.”

“Yeah…that’s probably a good idea. I’d hate for his beak to get chipped off or something.” You twisted in Steven’s arms and leaned up into his chest to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He’d gotten away with not shaving again (much to Marc’s chagrin, you were certain), and you caught a whiff of his cologne on his collar as you hugged him tightly. “Let me know if you want to meet up for lunch.”

“Will do, love. Be careful going to class.” He kissed your forehead, lingering just long enough to tempt you to drag him back to bed. “Laters, gators.”

“In a while, crocodile.” You waved him out of the door, then set about getting dressed to head up to the campus. You crawled over the mattress to scoop up the figurine carefully into the cradle of your palm, running your fingertips over the fine, hand-carved glyphs in the base of the polished lapis lazuli. You set it in the windowsill overlooking Steven’s crowded desk amongst your plants, smiling as the sunlight poured over it and cast its silhouette across his papers.

You found it knocked over again when you came home from your classes.

You got there before Steven did, thankfully, with fresh ingredients in tow for supper. You didn’t even notice it until you had put the dish in the oven to bake and wandered past his desk to grab a quick shower. The fallen statuette caught your eye because it was lying prone on top of one of the books Steven had left open, languishing in a trajectory of direct descent from where you’d set it that morning. Almost as if…well. Was the idea so far-fetched?

You had your suspicions, although you had dismissed them as silly at first. Odd, inexplicable, borderline supernatural things had happened in the time since you’d first met Jake. After a week or so of all three personalities getting acquainted with each other, Marc had sat you down to explain their story—the full one, starting with the untimely death of his brother. All the pieces that you had been given or had gathered yourself before then had been woven together that night during the long stretches of silence Marc had to take to organize his thoughts and to compose himself. It took well past midnight to get through it all since dredging up bad memories wore on Marc’s (admittedly limited) emotional threshold in ways you deeply sympathized. Despite the utter bizarreness surrounding the latter half of his life, it all made sense. You had no reasons to doubt him after everything that you’d witnessed since you’d met Steven in the first place.

…Although, the concept of him having served a real life Ancient Egyptian deity had certainly been a tough wad to chew, if you were honest. What you had always considered simple characters in the (supposed) myths related to the Ancient Egyptian pantheon were, in actuality, alive and kicking—and still involved in humanity’s affairs, to an extent (some more than others, obviously). You’d had to reassess all the knowledge you’d learned about the culture, and a long discussion with Steven about such implications had carried throughout most of the next day.

(You had thought it strangely fitting, though, for them to be the avatar of the god of the moon. It suited them in ways you could not express with words…save, perhaps, that white was one of their best colors.)

You weren’t privy to the renegotiation of the terms for their agreement with said deity, since they did it one of the following nights while you slept, but they had told you that morning that they would continue to act as the Moon Knight when time allowed or if pressing situations—strictly local, as they weren’t keen on traveling anymore unless it was strictly necessary—occurred that the rest of the pantheon couldn’t handle. They had been firm in their boundaries, for which you were thankful; hearing about the manipulation that the god had utilized to ensure Marc’s cooperation had made you sick to your stomach, so knowing that they had settled on an exchange that was comfortable for all three of them was an immense relief.

Since then, they only spoke of him like one would their annoying and somewhat demanding boss. You knew that he was condescending, arrogant, and lofty. He complained almost constantly. Steven said he reminded him of a petulant child who never got his way. But, for all that, you still had no idea how Khonshu really was in person, or what he even looked like—and you suspected part of their arrangement might have had something to do with that.

You still blamed the lunar deity for the strong drafts through opened windows that would scatter your papers while you worked on your projects, the blown light bulbs when you stayed up late with the boys, and the eerie shadows, silhouettes, or noises which you witnessed in the middle of the night while suffering with your insomnia, however. You couldn’t see nor hear him like they could, evidently, but you’d figured out rather early on that it could not be a simple coincidence that you had only just started experiencing your first paranormal activities after they had revealed their direct involvement with a primordial, eldritch entity.

Based on how infantile all three of your boys had described him to be, it would not have surprised you one bit to find out that Khonshu was defacing the one monument in the apartment dedicated to another god—even if it was completely unintentional on your part and was only meant for decoration as a sentimental keepsake (though you’d wondered about Steven, being the sneaky little troublemaker he could be when pressed to react to things spitefully).

You took a lingering gander around the apartment from where you stood, squinting into the shadows, but found no signs of the potential otherworldly intruder. Not that he would make himself known to you, you were certain—why would such a superior being stoop so low as to make himself known to a lowly mortal like you, after all? Just because you were in a relationship with his avatar? You found that notion highly unlikely.

With a sigh, you took poor Djehuty and tucked him into one of the upper drawers of Steven’s desk amongst loose papers and things in hopes that he would see no more abuse and left the room to clean up before the boys got home.

Still. If he could be so petty as to knock over such an insignificant bit of merchandise, then you could only imagine what his goals were. To frighten you? You were more intimidated by the thought of him having one wrong interaction with the boys, not with you. You didn’t have as much to lose to his malicious tactics in mental warfare. You were troubled, sure—you’d never dare claim that you were totally sound—but you were acutely and worriedly aware of the fact that Marc’s system was still more precarious than you’d like to openly acknowledge. 

They’d adjusted to each other for the most part. Consulting their therapist had helped immensely—to your great surprise, Jake had taken quite the liking to talking with her despite how closeted he’d acted with you at first. He’d fared better once he was exposed, forced to reveal himself, like you’d expected. Marc had been deeply suspicious and untrusting at first, but Steven had been the first to cross the gap to bridge mutual understanding between the three of them. They bickered endlessly, just like brothers, and now that they were fairly comfortable with each other you found it more endearing than anything. You were glad they were finally getting along…at least until another quibbling argument came up, anyway (although they were rarely serious, fortunately). They could treat each other with the silent treatment like nobody’s business; whoever caused the offense usually would come to you to try to remediate things, but you tried to stay out of their quarrels as tactfully as possible. (You knew it was healthy for them to work through their problems on their own, as their therapist had suggested to you once during one of your occasional requests for advice on how to handle them with care and respect rather than ignorance and disregard—but damn if it wasn’t hard to ignore their puppy-dog eyes.)

But they still had their bad days—everyone did, and with fewer issues and traumas to work through, too. Those were the days you worried about them most: when whoever was fronting was quiet—not from immature sulkiness, but from feeling melancholy about whatever was bothering them. Those were the nights that you guarded them jealously, holding them close and giving them all the extra love they would never readily admit that they needed nor wanted—all for fear that their own personal specter would come and haunt them at the most inopportune of times in his own avidity.

To your distress, it seemed that night would be one of those—you sensed it even before you laid eyes on the man wedging the door open and shuffling through the too-narrow gap he afforded himself. In the middle of divvying out the food onto plates, since he’d texted you when he’d reached the bus stop near the complex so you’d know it was him at the door, you’d glanced over your shoulder to confirm your unfortunate gut feeling.

Chin tucked against his clavicle, Steven went about toeing off his shoes and putting away his things as quietly as possible, almost as if he were afraid to draw your notice or to disturb you. He shed his jacket, shook it out, and hung it up without even looking in your direction.

“Steven,” you said gently, but even that low tone still made him jump and jerk to stare at you with rounded eyes. “Hey, I’m sorry. Are you okay, baby?”

And just like that, what little resolve he seemed to be clinging to crumpled like wet paper. He grabbed at his frazzled hair with both hands and hid his face behind his forearms, already startling to sniffle and shake, clearly overwhelmed and finally having reached the tipping point for the day.

You padded across the floor to him as quickly as you dared, taking care not to make any extra noise or sudden movements, recognizing his reaction and knowing that any sudden stimuli would only worsen his condition. You brushed your fingertips against his elbows to let him know you were there, lightly touched his shoulders with a soft, inquisitive hum. He lowered and opened his arms to make room for you, but he kept his head down until he could bury it into the crook of your neck with a miserable, warbly sound that rent your heart in two.

“Hey, darlin’,” you murmured, gently pulling him into a hug that he returned fiercely, like one would a life preserver. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Y’didn’t,” he mumbled, scruffy lips brushing against your shoulder as his warm breath bloomed over your skin. “Just…had a day, yeah?”

“I’m sorry,” you sympathized. “Was the noise too much again?”

“Yeah. Kids were loud. Teens were louder. Ran into Donna when I was clockin’ out.”

Ah, hell. That always made everything ten times worse. That devil woman epitomized the mountainous stress Steven had felt when he thought he was losing his mind, so when he had the bad luck to bump into her—especially when he was overstimulated—brought a lot of that back to the forefront…to him and to you, both.

You remembered that fateful morning that he’d come to the bookstore seeking solace, how hard it had been to restrict your nigh unignorable concern for him in that state wandering off chasing a lead that sounded like it had been pulled straight out of a spy film, how badly it had upset you to see him so distressed and confused and frustrated—all right before he’d disappeared off the face of the planet for two of the longest weeks of your life and had faced a hell unlike anything you could ever possibly imagine.

“You don’t have to talk it out if you don’t want to,” you told him, reaching up with one hand to run your fingertips through the curls bordering the nape of his neck while the other rubbed circles between his shoulder blades. You rested your chin on his shoulder, too, feeling his rapid heartbeat against your breast with how tightly he was crowded against you. “You want to sit for a minute? Want me to turn some of the lights off?”

“No, I’m…I’m all right. Thank you, love.” He drew in a deep, shaky breath, fingers digging into your back, and released it slowly. “Might wash off first, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” you responded. “Do you need anything in the meantime? A cup of tea?”

He paused, hesitant. “...Chamomile?”

“On it.” You turned your head to press a chaste kiss beneath his ear. “You know that you can always ask me for anything. I don’t mind doing things for you.”

“So you’ve said.” Lots of times, actually, and yet he still didn’t quite seem to believe your generosity. You’d long since learned not to take offense by that incredulity, and he’d gotten much better about accepting it since you’d both admitted your feelings for each other—but he’d been mistreated and disregarded for so long that his old insecurities bubbled back up when he hit a low like this. “Still think I’m incredibly lucky to have you, love.”

“And I’m so very blessed to have you, darlin’.” You leaned back just enough to peer up at his tender, watery eyes through his unruly, tangled curls. Out of habit you reached up to comb them back, even though you both knew they wouldn’t stay there for long. “I switched out the wash, so your favorite sweats are dry. They’re in the top of the drawer.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, smiling softly. He reciprocated the kiss between your brows, lingering there as he subtly smelled your skin and the products perfuming it. “Want to pick somethin’ on the telly in the meantime?” Meaning he wouldn’t mind the noise.

“Sure. I’ll put your plate in the oven so it doesn’t get cold.” You leaned forward and up to catch him in a full, loving kiss before releasing him. “Don’t forget that it’s your treatment night.”

“Right.” He offered you another grin, slightly more relaxed and genuine. Marc and Jake were more fastidious and consistent about tending to their hair than Steven was, since he often needed reminders of what he needed to do to it and when, but you just considered it a part of your job to help keep them looking as gorgeous as ever. “See you in a mo’.”

“Take as long as you need,” you told him, but gave him a wink. “But not too long, or I might join you.”

That managed to coax a boyish little chuckle out of him, and your nerves dissipated for the most part. It didn’t seem like the sensory overload wasn’t as bad tonight as it had been in the past, thankfully. That he was willing to watch some TV was a good sign, although you were already thinking up some lower energy series or movies that wouldn’t push it (or him).

Steven always turned into a cuddle bug when he needed some quiet time, so you made the necessary preparations. You put the kettle on the stove, turned off most of the lights despite his gentle protest, and brought the blanket from the dryer to drape over the couch so you could wrap the both of you up in it. By the time you were getting his cuppa ready, he shuffled back into the main section of the apartment while rubbing his eyes.

“Not sure I can last a full film, love,” he mumbled as you herded him to the couch, setting him down with the blanket over his lap and placing the saucer and cup in his hands. “Somethin’ quick to get us through eatin’, maybe?”

“Sounds good to me. Some of our channels updated.” You bustled back into the kitchen to grab the food, then settled in next to him. “Are you feeling fashion history or archaeology?”

He hummed a bit into his tea, then set it down on the coffee table so he could dig in to the meal you’d prepared. “Fashion. That hand-stitching is so mesmerizin’.”

It also put him to sleep faster than any ASMR he’d ever tried at the peak of his supposed sleepwalking issues—he’d laughed at that realization once you’d introduced him to the genre, shaking his head all while fighting to keep his eyes open.

You leaned over to bump your shoulder against his affectionately as you grabbed the remote and began to scroll through the tabs. “Look, she’s made a Darcy shirt this time. I should make you one, too—course it would probably spend more time on the floor than on you, sadly.”

“All that hard work, just to catch dust,” he mused, eyes glittering with mirth. “I love you.”

“A shame, truly.” You pressed your cheek against his arm as you pressed play. “I love you, too, baby. We’ll hit the hay early tonight so you can recuperate better, okay? I’m tired, too.”

“Yeah.” He nuzzled the top of your head with a low, rumbling sigh of contentment. “Can’t argue with that.”

You forgot to bring up the statuette like you’d planned to.

You had always been a heavy sleeper by nature, growing up never having to share a bed and owning a room all to yourself. Perfect darkness and background noise usually in the form of the AC or thunderstorms on a noisemaker helped to lull you asleep since you were a bit of a chronic night owl. Once you succumbed, though, you slept like a corpse—or so you’d been told.

But when you’d moved in with the boys, you’d faced a long adjustment period. It didn’t help that they were relatively light sleepers—and while Marc struggled the most with night terrors, the others didn’t have an easy go of it, either. Insomnia reared its ugly head at times, and you always tried your best to stay up with them when their body couldn’t shut down, but—more often than not, unfortunately—you ended up drifting off despite your best of efforts. They didn’t seem to mind, though, and Steven had been the most vocal about it; he cited that it was soothing to have you there, even if you were “snoozin’ away,” because it gave them a reason to stay still. Whether you were holding them or vice versa, each one of them had confessed that having you there resting at their side helped them to relax to an extent, even if they didn’t end up catching a wink. You told them once that simply laying there with their eyes closed still gave their body much-needed time to decompress, and their restless frustration seemed to ease after that.

Thankfully your body had finally grown accustomed to sharing a bed with someone else since then—and your quality of rest had even improved by being so close to the men you loved.

Despite their mental struggles, you did wonder why they struggled as much as they did at times because they worked their collective ass off constantly. Two jobs to keep the bills paid plus occasional ventures out into the night at Khonshu’s behest meant that—when their schedules overlapped too frequently for too long—they’d get overloaded and thus severely fatigued faster than what made you comfortable. This often led into the mental breakdowns usually prompted by overstimulation and thus resulted in taxing them beyond what a single night’s rest could manage. 

Poor Steven could barely keep his eyes awake once he fed himself full (and didn’t manage to eat the whole serving, either). He slipped off at some point during the meal, head falling to rest on your shoulder. You almost hadn’t the heart to rouse him again, even if it was to gently coax him to go brush his teeth and settle into bed while you put the dishes in the sink to be washed in the morning. By the time you turned out all the lights, cleaned yourself up, and climbed under the covers, Steven was adamantly futzing with his phone in a plain effort to remain awake—for your sake, likely.

“Want me to put that on the charger?” you asked softly as you crawled closer to him.

He glanced at you, eyes bleary, and nodded as he handed it to you. “Yeah. Thanks, love.”

“Of course.” You took it and twisted onto your side, fumbling for the cord and setting it on the shelf over your side of the bed. You then snuggled up to his side since he opened his arms to you. You maneuvered your pillow to cushion his bicep and you laid your temple there with a contented sigh, curling an arm over his chest and relaxing as his own coiled around you. You tipped your head to kiss his shoulder. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, poppet,” he mumbled, and with a quick peek you saw that his eyelids were already shut. “G’night.”

You smiled softly and stilled. “Good night, boys. See you in the morning.”

Steven hummed, an absentminded sound indicating how close he was to tipping. You weren’t terribly far behind him yourself.

It wasn’t until the faint flicker of a light against your eyelids in the other end of the apartment made you realize you’d dozed off.

You sluggishly lifted your head and blinked rapidly to clear your vision, squinting through the dim into the cavernous room. The bookshelves were arranged in such a way that the majority of the bedroom space was hidden away from the rest of the apartment, but through the narrow gaps between and above the rows upon rows of books you saw only darkness. The few beams of moonlight spilling through the windows offered little in the way of illumination. 

You watched for a moment, confused and dazed and struggling to keep your eyes open. After at least half a minute of not seeing anything, you dropped your head back onto your pillow with a soft sigh. The man next to you snuffled in his sleep, tugging you a bit closer with an indistinct mumble. You closed your eyes with a low, flat hum.

Clack. Thump. Clack. Thump. Clack. Thump.

Your body jolted, neck straining as your head jerked back up. The surge of alarm that coursed through your bloodstream in an instant cleared more of the fog from your mind. You shivered as the temperature of the room seemed to dip. Frissons rocketed over your skin and caused every last hair to stand on end. You braced an elbow beneath you to sit up, apprehensive.

Was that…a silhouette in the dark, or were you seeing things?

The lights flickered again. A looming, eldritch specter cast a shadow over the bed in that split second of clarity that stung your eyes and caused them to water before the room was plunged once more into pitch black. You reached down on instinct, hand lighting on the arm still slung around your waist. Your voice emerged shaky and hoarse, terribly quiet. “Baby.”

Like the result of an incantation, the man lurched. You didn’t dare to tear your eyes away from the now empty space where you swore you had seen a ghost, but your pulse began to thrum in the pit of your throat as he stirred with a grumble. “...Wh’s’it?”

“Tell me I’m not seeing things,” you whispered, so softly that you almost didn’t hear it over the thundering in your ears—was that ringing simply tinnitus or something else?

“What’re you…talking about?” The hand at your abdomen cupped your belly, and you stole a glance down at the heavy-lidded eyes peering up at you bracketed by thick lashes. Marc looked confused, and you wondered at this being the one time that the body seemed to have relaxed enough to enter such a deep sleep…or whether they had simply been that tired.

“Marc,” you breathed, tipping your head forward. “I don’t know, but…I think…is it—?”

A cold chill made you shiver again, and this time you felt Marc’s body stiffen. His hand slipped up to your sternum, fingers spreading over your chest, flat and firm as though ready to pull you down with him. He was still struggling to wake up, you could tell, but the sharp crescents of the white of his sclerae against his umber irises cutting towards the same direction at which you’d been staring was telling enough.

You found yourself holding your breath as he watched for a long, tense moment. His arm flexed, ready to anchor you down. Then he let out a gruff, low huff and croaked, “...You’re not supposed to be here.”

You strained your ears and eyes, trying to pick out any indication of what—or whom—he spoke to, but now you only saw the bookshelves amongst the moonlight and the shadows.

“I don’t care. This was part of our agreement.”

You glanced back at him again in trepidation.

“No. It doesn’t matter. You know that you’re supposed to—” His jaw clicked shut, and you watched the tendon flex at his temple in agitation. He scowled. “You can’t be serious.”

“Marc,” you said softly, stomach twisting.

He squeezed his eyes shut, drew in a deep breath, and held it. You felt his fingertips drum in time over your shirt: one, two, three…then he exhaled slowly. Then he looked up at you. “Got to go, baby,” he murmured, and you saw that he could scarcely still keep his eyes open.

You stared at him for a long moment. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. You frowned at him. “No.”

Marc’s brow softened just slightly as he pressed lightly on your chest. “Hey, it’s fine. Something came up. I’ve got a job to do. I’ve tried not to let it interfere so far, and nothing’s really happened, but there’s—”

“It is in the middle of the fucking night, Marc Spector,” you hissed. “It’s obvious that you’ve all had a day from hell, and you don’t need to be gallivanting across rooftops as exhausted as you are. It would benefit no one if you got hurt in the process, or slipped up and accidentally got someone innocent involved.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” he tried to soothe, tipping his chin up and relaxing his expression. “But it’s not just something that I can let slip by.”

“I think the fuck not,” you muttered, pushing his shoulder down as you sat up and faced the darkened interior of the flat. Your voice grew firm, echoing off the walls. “Khonshu?”

Marc tensed, his fingers coiling around your wrist as he opened his mouth, but you didn’t falter.

“Steven and Jake are working two different jobs to make ends meet since you don’t exactly offer any benefits,” you began tartly, “on top of taking many of their nights to follow you around…God knows where doing God knows what. They’ve had a long week to boot. I respect that you’re trying to keep us all safe in your own weird, misguided little way, but I’m sure putting away petty criminals can wait. If you don’t have a world-ending emergency queued up for them to solve, then I don’t want you to set foot near them again until the weekend is over. They need to get some damned sleep.”

Marc murmured your name, but he was obviously fading fast despite his persistence—a testament to their weariness. You smoothed your palm over the slope of his arm without looking away from the shadows stretched out across the hardwood floors. The eerie, anticipatory silence made you shiver again, the weight of the air in the room threatening to suffocate you.

Marc flinched under your touch at the same time that the lights flickered ominously. His eyes cracked open again—but just barely—and fixed on an otherwise empty portion of the room (closer to the bed, you noticed). His free hand curled into the sheets with whitened knuckles.

You had the distinct impression that someone was staring right at you. The prey-driven portion of your brain, the flight instinct, was screaming at you to cower and duck, hide and wait until the danger passed over. But this was the love of your damned life, and you would sooner die than back down to some dusty ancient deity who felt a little too entitled to the body he inadvertently shared with you, now. So you ground your jaw, held your ground, and trained your glare on the place Marc was watching with bated breath.

You swallowed thickly. “With all due respect,” you said, low and terse, “fuck right back off into the cosmos where you came from, Khonshu. Come back Monday night.”

Marc breathed your name, something like fear couched in his raspy tone.

You waited. No more lights, no more sounds. Then, like taking a breath of fresh air after being underwater, the pressure in the room lifted in a heartbeat—you swore that the temperature rose by several degrees. Your anxiety settled almost instantly, but you only let your guard down once Marc’s rigid frame loosened and sank back into the mattress.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled.

You released a heavy, shaky breath. “He’s gone?”

“Yeah. I didn’t think he’d—”

“I’m tired, honey.” You clamped a hand over your mouth as a yawn forcibly rent your jaw open. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Baby—”

“Marc,” you sighed, just a hint of a whine creeping into the edge of his name. “Please. Just go back to sleep.”

His hands guided you as you settled back down against his chest. He tugged the sheets up and over your shoulder, fingertips brushing the shell of your ear in so doing. He nuzzled into the nape of your neck and let out a sound of disbelief.

“What?” you mumbled, already fading fast after the unexpected adrenaline surge.

“...You didn’t have to do that,” he said softly. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” you returned dryly. “He’s not going to come into my damn house and jerk you around like you don’t belong to someone else.”

Marc’s sleepy chuckle was warm, low, and rumbled against your spine. “He won’t be happy about it.”

“He can go cry to pantheon HR or whatever the hell. I won’t let him walk all over you.”

“I think he’s learned that now.” He laid a gentle, lingering kiss below and behind your ear. “...I love you, baby.”

You leaned back to press the length of your body against his. “I love you, too.”

“I had an interesting conversation this morning, querida.”

You roused, mostly from the voice rumbling in your ear, but also from the lips skimming up the slope of your shoulder and neck. You shivered as the stubble scraped against your sensitive skin, fumbling with a heavy hand behind your head until your fingers wove their way into the meticulously gelled curls brushing the shell of your ear. The resulting sigh that shuddered over your warm flesh sent gooseflesh erupting over your skin.

“Mmm? With whom?” you mumbled, tilting your chin to allow him more room.

“El pájaro de la muerte,” Jake murmured.

Your eyes shot open and you leaned back enough to squint at him through the crust blurring your vision. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to get you guys in trouble, I just wanted—”

“Ssh,” he chuckled, reaching over you to cup a hand around your cheek to draw you into a sweet, chaste kiss. “No one’s in trouble, least of all you or me.”

You frowned, wiping your eyes clean with your fingertips before resting your hand over his. “But…Khonshu isn’t upset?”

“Oh, no, he’s livid.” Jake’s eyes glittered with mischief.

You sat up slowly, glancing across the interior of the apartment with no small amount of trepidation. The tepid morning light steeped through the windows, providing lukewarm gray light that offered little warmth or illumination. So goulish silhouettes were to be seen, no haunting supernatural phenomena to be had.

“He’s not here—off pouting on top of a skyscraper all sulled up, more than likely.”

“I wasn’t trying to butt into your business. I know that it’s…complicated between you two.” Your lips thinned. “I just don’t like that he jerks you boys around, even after you talked things out with him and made an agreement. Supposedly. But I worry about Marc especially.”

“Oh, he knows by now that he’s stuck in here with us, not the other way around.” Jake flashed you a devilish grin and tapped his temple. “I made sure of that. Between Steven and I, he won’t give Marc any more trouble like he used to. That’s why I made it a point to talk to him this morning.”

You gave him a soft smile of relief. As far as he had come—as all of them had come—you still fretted. Needlessly, perhaps, but…well, it was one of your greatest talents.

But despite the fright it had given you, and the agitation you’d felt towards the deity (about whom you couldn’t decide was more realistic an option: that he simply felt he stood too far above you to reveal himself, or that he felt too uneasy to do so…had your bluff worked?), you had to admit to your curiosity—which had arguably piqued since you’d inadvertently interacted with him for the first time on a somewhat official basis.

“...What did he say about me?” you asked him with no small amount of trepidation.

“He said you have ‘too much audacity to contain in one frail mortal body’ and that you ‘would only bring trouble in your wake’. You royally pissed him off.”

Your brows furrowed in concern. “Then why do you look so smug?”

Jake’s grin broke out into a full, beaming smile. “Because I’ve never seen anyone able to get under his skin like that—not even the last guy. He didn’t stop talking about you the whole damn night, kept tossing around threats that he’d send you packing.” He laughed, then, a bright, boyish sound. “I think he likes you.”

“I…how on earth would you get that conclusion?” you questioned dubiously.

“Because I finally told him that you weren’t going anywhere,” Jake said plainly. “You’re our girl—you take care of us, make sure we stay running at top efficiency. If he wanted you gone, then he’d have to find a new avatar, too. He got real quiet after that.”

You shook your head. “...I still don’t see how that could possibly mean that he likes me.”

“Because he told me that you’d make a suitable replacement.” Jake’s eyes twinkled, belying the worry you might have felt knowing that Khonshu would ever consider you to be his ‘fist of vengeance’. “He used that as leverage against Marc while he was still married to Layla, but I’ve learned that Khonshu is very picky about who he chooses to be his fantoche. Only those he thinks have the most potential make the cut. We know better than we used to—you’d have to agree to his terms and conditions for that to happen, and you’re a smart enough cookie to call him on his bullshit, just like Layla did—just like you already have.” He stooped down and nuzzled into your neck, laughter still brimming from his belly. “I told him that he’s going soft.”

You couldn’t say that your peace of mind was any more alleviated than before, or that you understood completely, but as long as a literal ancient god wasn’t threatening the wellbeing of yourself or your lovers, then you supposed you shouldn’t press the issue.

“So…” you started tentatively, “does this mean I have his seal of approval?”

“Not that you needed it in the first place from a dusty old dirtbag like him,” he snorted, pulling back to eye you appreciatively, “but I’d say he likes your spit and vinegar. He did say he was surprised that you didn’t back down from him.”

“I didn’t even see him.” You raised a brow. “Did he really say that?”

“Basically. But the semantics don’t really matter.” Jake nudged your chin with the crook of his finger. His tone deepened. “You stood up to the god of vengeance without flinching once—for our sake. I’d say that you’re deserving of a reward after that.”

Heat crowded your cheeks as your body instinctively responded to the memory of that particular register. And even as he leaned in to pepper kisses along your mandible, fingers closing carefully around your throat to anchor you in place, your mind recalled the one detail that had consequently initiated your exasperation with their patron to start with.

“Will you ask him to stop knocking over the figurine that Steven got me in Cairo?” you complained, making him draw back slightly in surprise. “I don’t want him to break it, but if he does then he’s getting me a new one. It’s special to me.”

“It’s an image of another god,” Jake chuckled, lips curving as he returned his attention to your neck. “Of course he’d be jealous.”

“Jealous?!” you protested, hands falling onto his shoulders. “Why would he be jealous?”

“He’s used to commanding total devotion. Iconography not related to him is offensive.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips found the tender place behind your ear once again. “That sounds like something Steven would say.”

“He did, actually.”

“Steven acted confused about it, though.”

Jake chuckled, wedging himself closer. His hand slipped to the middle of your back so he could leverage you back into the mattress. “Oh, he was, but you know him—he figured it out pretty quick.”

You gave him a dubious look. “Why didn’t he say anything? I was almost convinced I was going crazy.”

“He was being a smug little shit about it. He likes getting under Khonshu’s feathers.”

“He has feathers?”

“Not that I’ve seen—it’s figurative.” He snorted and kissed you. “Now hush and let me do my thing.”

“And here I thought you didn’t like referring to women as objects.”

Jake huffed a laugh and reached for the hem of your sleep shirt.

[dailycharacteroption]

Mind Smith (Pathfinder Second Edition Archetype)

(art by SavvyBanani on DeviantArt)

Creativity is perhaps the greatest treasure of the human mind, a product of imagination that drives one to turn a thought into reality. Without it, ttRPGs would not be possible. Heck, this blog would not be possible both in the fact that I wouldn’t be writing it, and the fact that there would not be the technology to give me a space to do so in the first place.

Of course, creativity requires a lot more than just imagination. It requires materials and at least a basic understanding of how to use them.

But what if you could skip the material step, and create directly from the mind? Literally will something into existence?

While there are plenty of spells  that can do just that, conjure something imagined by the wielder, there are also those that can bring about a weaponized ideal without any magical training. With a thought, they can bring about a figment of a weapon so detailed that it has an effect on reality. Such practitioners, these “mind smiths” can never truly be disarmed, and can prove to be incredible masters of their tulpa weapon.

Now, if you’re at all familiar with the vast ocean of archetypes for First Edition, your mind might be bringing up names like “Mind Blade or Spellblade Magus”, or “Gloomblade Fighter” and the like. And you’d be right to do so, for this archetype certainly does serve as a way to emulate those concepts and more in this edition (though I’d still check out my conversion of the Spellblade to Second Edition on my Patreon).

Of course, the exact specifics of how these warriors create their weapons can vary a lot. They might draw upon quasi-real shadows, or have honed the idea of their weapons through training. Or maybe they were blessed with the ability to do so by some greater will or happenstance. The specifics only really matter for character flavor and story. But for now, let’s see exactly what the archetype can offer.

Naturally, the dedication to this archetype grants the power to create such a weapon, though it’s specifics vary. Some have a smaller, more agile weapon, while other have a larger weapon with reach. Either way, the damage dealt can vary by day. Furthermore, they learn to create a small keepsake such as a bit of jewelry or a small figurine which, while on their person, lets them channel the magic runes on it into their weapon, improving it’s power to be comparable to a real magic weapon.

With a thought, many wielders can briefly shift their projected weapon to a form that acts as a mobility aid, letting them leap further.

Many also infuse their weapon with magical force, making them perfectly suitable for fighting ghostly foes.

Those with the skills can also shape their weapon into useful tools for whatever they are working on, though only one tool at a time, not a whole kit.

As they grow in mastery, many refine the shape of their weapon to emulate a handful of useful quirks to it, such as multiple striking surfaces, an entangling shape, the weight to knock foes back, and so on.

A fun thing about a mental weapon is that breaking it doesn’t do much, but scattering the shards of your weapon can be a deadly attack against multiple foes, shredding them before reforming the weapon.

Some are able to prepare slightly different alternate shapes for their mental weapon, letting them switch to a slightly different fighting style when needed.

Rather than a conical blast, some are also capable to channeling a projectile through their mental weapon, striking from afar.

Others still learn to be able to add a different enchantment to their weapon each day, adding things like flame and frost to the equation as needed.

With enough practice, their weapon can even reflect the properties of cold iron or silver.

Finally, powerful mind smiths can learn to add alignment-based runes, as well as swap out their temporary runes on the fly.

This is a fun archetype if you want your character to never be without a weapon (which does require some finangling if the GM wants to do any scenario in which the party is captured.) It’s also got some fun ways to upgrade and use the weapon in battle. Naturally, martial classes are the best pick here, ranging from fighters and swashbucklers who want a signature weapon with a little pizazz, to champions that channel their righteous might into a blade, to the rogue that always seems unarmed until their not, and even the occasional spellcaster that has a special trick up their sleeve for emergencies (as well as every tool they need for crafting). Either way, their power is certainly fun and impressive.

When playing a character like this, it can be fun to design your mental weapon. Does it resemble a real weapon? Is it a unique creation? Does it have clearly defined edges and design, or is it more of a blurry shape with an all too solid edge or striking surface? Your imagination (and therefore your character’s) is the only guiding factor here.

Ever since seeing one as a young child, Alban has never gotten the image of an elven curve blade out of his mind. The young dromaar tried to recall over and over again every detail of the weapon from his mind, until the time came that he discovered he could project it to his hand. His orcish kin may disdain his choice of shape, but the image of that weapon was a formative experience for him, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

The western reach of Veltala Forest has been overcome with a blight that has given it the name “Skitterwood”. An apt name, as it infests the very trees with eggs that grow at irregular and unnatural rates, resulting in all manner of insectile horrors. However, the guardian druids are fighting back, enlisting the forest’s denizens and wielding spears drawn from their very will against the encroaching horror.

They say that in the temple of the God of Justice in Port Maw, the champions there train in an unusual technique, focusing their idea of justice into the image of a weapon until they can call it forth to strike down the servants of wickedness. However, despite the religious nature of the order, they are open to teaching the technique to others, as long as they prove good of heart.

[justinewt]

Pugna Inter Fratres - THOSE ABOUT TO DIE REWRITE Chapter Five

[THOSE ABOUT TO DIE MASTERLIST]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (08/30/2024)

Summary: Being reunited with her brothers was the best gift Aldea could have ever asked for. Some tensions here and there rose amongst them after things didn't turn the way they expected, especially between Elia and Fonsoa. They disagreed over the way to handle things after something happened to their horses and Andria and Aldea were kind of in the middle of it, but the latter would soon move on from that after that - though momentarily - after the arrival of two numidian women in her home.

Words: 6.9k

Warnings: title means "fight between brothers" // Those about to die spoilers (episode 2 "Trust None"), fluff

The moon was higher in the sky when they reached Aldea’s house. No one was standing outside the front door. Tenax must have dismissed Dacia and Noro already. She and Scorpus climbed a flight of stairs, his toga slightly slipping off his head as he began pounding on the door. Aldea joined her hand at her waist, looking around, waiting for Tenax to come open the door and they finally heard the lock slide open on the other side. They leaned back in surprise when they came to face with Tenax brandishing a butcher knife. He realized it was just Scorpus and Aldea and he lowered the blade, stepping away from the door.

“By the Gods. What are you doing?” The charioteer walked in, looking at his friend as the latter put away the knife. Aldea followed Scorpus inside. The door creaked as she pushed it behind her, and she quickly went in the bedroom to put her cloak away and combed through her hair with her fingers, proceeding to braid them for the night as she glanced at the two men.

“What do you want?” Scorpus pulled out something to show him and she heard a thud as he placed it on the table. Tenax shrugged. “What’s this?”

“One cotter pin, cut halfway through. My racing partner is dead, and I would be if I hadn’t switched rigs.” Tenax walked towards him, picking up the cotter pin to take a closer look. “Was this one of your fixes? Scorpus loses, you collect big. I break a few bones or my neck to make it look real.”

He frowned, putting down the pin, “No, of course it’s not. I told you; I have much bigger plans for the both of us than a few more rigged races.”

“Then find out who sabotaged my rig and kill them.” Tenax acquiesced, letting out a quiet sigh. Aldea slowly approached them upon hearing Scorpus pick up something else from the table, noting how it apparently looked a lot like his horse Incitatus with a chuckle. She saw her husband took a little gold horse figurine from the driver’s hands and dismissing him, telling him to take his winnings on his way out. “Aldea.” He gave her a nod and as he put one foot on the landing, he turned towards Tenax, pointing at him. “Don’t take me for granted.”

“I don’t.” He replied with a tight smile before locking the door and turning to Aldea, shooting up his eyebrows, spreading his arms open in despondence, urging her to explain herself and she knew he wanted to know where she had been and why she was coming home so late. And yet, she still asked a stupid question as if she hadn’t understood. She didn’t think before speaking. “Well?”

“What?”

“Where have you been?”

“I told you. My brothers are in Rome, so Nica took me to them. We attended the race, and I spoke with them before Scorpus offered to walk me home.” She got closer to him and slid her fingers over the collar of his tunic, locking eyes with him. There was a bright smile stretching her lips. “I never thought I’d see them again, and they’re here, in Rome. I can see them everyday now.”

“That’s great, Aldea. I just want to make sure that you’re safe.” He placed a gentle hand on her stomach, and she put her hand on top.

“I am as safe with my brothers as with Dacia and Noro. And Gavros and Scorpus were there too. I'm alway well surrounded.” Their faces had gotten close to the point of being mere inches apart, the tip of their noses rubbed together. They shared a tender kiss, and she went to bed while he left the apartment, having to take care of Scorpus’ sabotaged-rig problem. She slept soundly that night, with no nightmare, dreaming of her youth. She was around 6, compelling a then 8-year-old Fonsoa to play mom and dad with toddler Elia. He had always been such a sweet, angel-looking boy, even more so then with his big eyes, staring at her and following her and Fonsoa everywhere. In the early years of her brother’s life, it was more of an innocent game for her, but she realized over time that ever since he was born, even though she was only 4 then, she had always taken her role very seriously and loved taking care of him. There were only two things she truly loved doing, caring for her baby brother and being with their horses. She was happy with living this life forever.

The memory she relieved in her dream changed, it was a few years later, Elia and she were laughing bubbly, rolling in the tall grass to go down the hill and she woke up. She felt as though she was on cloud nine as she took her time to get out bed and put on her stola and cloak. Those memories put her in a state of absolute peace of mind. She was so used to Tenax being gone the whole night that she didn’t even notice he still wasn’t home, and she left for the Circus Maximus, to meet with her brothers at the stable. It wasn’t the afternoon yet, she would have some more time to spend with the three of them before they had to show the horses to Scorpus later on, and she would be with them then too. She didn’t have to work today as there wasn’t any races or fights, and in any case, if she didn’t want to work one day, Tenax wouldn’t actually care. He only let her work because she wanted to keep herself busy. If she felt like spending the day at home or at the bath or the theatre, she could.

She arrived at the Circus during hora undecimal, about half an hour before noon and they walked together to Tenax’s tavern to eat together. They got quite a few glances as they exchanged in Spanish the whole time, speaking at a fast pace too, as they asked their sister about her life in Rome, how she came to know Tenax – whom they still had yet to meet – and she told them the whole story. She told them how she followed this young sailor she thought she was in love with and got stuck on a merchant’s ship and was sold as a slave upon arriving in Rome, bought by Tenax and made a freedwoman a couple months later. She said the merchant never returned to Rome, keeping it to herself that Tenax had the later killed because of what he had done to Aldea. They would get scared for her, knowing Tenax’s doing, and she would have to reveal details she wanted to keep secret. It wouldn’t do anyone any good to know that she was forced to have intercourse by and with the merchant for over a week and that he broke her collarbone because she tried to fight back. She wasn’t hiding the latter under a cloak for nothing.

“You were sold as a slave?” Elia reacted instantly when Aldea said it, raising his eyebrow in a mix of utter shock, worry and anger.

“It’s okay now, I’m free. Tenax lets me work and do basically anything I want. He only asks me to be careful where I go. Rome can be dangerous.” She took a sip of her wine, looking down at her plate. “But he has over a dozen men working for him, and I know that he asked them to keep an eye out for me so I’m safe anywhere I go.”

“He seems to be a good husband.” Andria noted while Elia squinted his eyes, slightly frowning. He still doubted that whoever was her husband was a good enough husband for his sister and it made her smile amusedly. She gave her older brother a nod. Tenax proved to be a good husband indeed. She went on to tell them about their time as a married couple and it was enough for Fonsoa and Andria to hear that she was happy and well treated, or they wouldn’t have let her go back to Tenax, maybe even dragging her back home to Baetica if she needed to be saved from her marriage, but there was no need, and they could see that. Even Elia understood she was happy in her relationship. And now she had her family with her. It felt as though life was smiling on her once again. Ever since she became her own woman again at the end of summer 75 CE, four years ago, almost only good things happened to her; she eventually got into a relationship with Tenax, they got married and now she was expecting a child, and she was reunited with her brothers. She let it slip, during the conversation, that she was pregnant and the shock on Elia's face, his eyebrows raised as high as possible and his wide eyes, made her burst out laughing. He let his cutlery fall on the table, clattering against the wood.

“What— estás realmente embarazada?” He exclaimed, asking her if she was actually pregnant, grabbing her arm. Fonsoa and Andria chuckled, proceeding to congratulate their sister. Fonsoa, sat next to her, giving her a broad, proud smile, putting his hand on her back.

“Your child will be blessed to have you as a mother.”

“You were a natural.” Andria added, a soft smile on his face.

“You see, Elia, we’ll become uncles. You need to grow up.” He teased him, stretching his arm behind Aldea to push his brother’s shoulder with a chuckle. Elia dodged his hand, leaning to the side and let out a groan, annoyed to het pushed around by his brother. Fonsoa gently squeezed Aldea’s shoulder, insisting that she will be a great mother, and they finished their meal. A few minutes later, during hora quartadecima, a couple hours after they started eating, they met with Gavros at the Blue faction’s stable and prepped the horses for the try out on the tracks. They geared up four of their dozen Andalusians, attaching them to a rig and Andria warmed them up, making them run for a round in the arena. Fonsoa leaned against the door, his arms crossed while Elia, his hands on his hips, was growing impatient and aggravated by Scorpus’ delay. He still wasn’t there, and they had been waiting for what felt like an eternity. Aldea looked at the sun, up in the sky, indicating it must have been hora sedecim, and if she wasn’t home by the next hour, she thought that Tenax was going to wonder what she was doing out there that was making her so busy that she was missing dinner.

“Where is he?” Having to wait so much made Elia snappy. Gavros put his hand on his shoulder, assuring the driver was coming and he did a few seconds later. Scorpus appeared behind them as the chariot was approaching and Andria brought the horses to a halt.

“They’re small, your Andalusians.” He walked past Andria and stepped on the rig.

“It is not their size that makes horses fast. And no whip. They run better without it.” Scorpus still picked up his whip and Elia glared at him as the charioteer drove away. The horses went gradually faster and within seconds they were full on galloping. They saw Scorpus give a few snaps with the whip but eventually putting it away and instead only snapping the reins, his dark curls blown in the wind. Elia’s angry face gave way to a cheerful smile.

“They’re fast.” Gavros noted. After a full drive around the spina, Scorpus slowed down the horses and got off the rig, letting out a sigh of relief. He was clearly more than satisfied with the beasts and immidietaly made an offer to the brothers.

“Twenty thousand serteces for the ten. But… the three of you stay on as stable hands to get the most out of them.” Elia’s smile faded after getting excited at the price he had proposed. While Fonsoa and Andria agreed to it, he didn’t seem that excited anymore and looked upset.

“We agreed to go back!” Aldea’s head twitched. She didn’t know they were supposed to go home. They hadn’t told her yet.

“Elia. Look around. Do you really want to go back?” Andria asked.

“Yes!”

“We’re in Circus Maximus, and this is Scorpus, he’s trying to buy your horses and hire us. And we got out sister back.” Fonsoa stepped towards his brother. Aldea held her arms, crossed over her chest and kind of looked around, seeing Fimbria watching them in the distance. He crossed her gaze as he was leaving and she squinted her eyes, wondering why he had been staring at them. Elia kept on arguin, insisting Scorpus wanted to trap them in Rome, which he called “a sewer of a city” and the high price offered to them for their horses didn’t seem to make him budge.

“I will take the money, but we agreed to come here, sell the horses, find our sister and go back! We found Aldea, we can go back.” She bit her lips, listening to him. She would have gone back with them in a heartbeat if she hadn’t met and fallen in love with Tenax, and she was married now, it wouldn’t feel right to simply ditch him after years together.

“We could really be someone here. Make a name for ourselves.” Andria tried to convince him to change his mind. Elia shook his head, briskly licking his lips. “Horses, as many as you want.”

“I have all the horses I want, back in Baetica.”

“Boys. Scorpus is waiting.” He rose his voice, drawing attention to him. Andria gave him a nod, briefly turning back to his brothers, proposing to vote on the matter. Fonsoa was in, of course but Elia, unable to stay put, restless, refused to vote and walked away, nudging Fonsoa as he left. The latter called out his name and took a few steps after him but stopped himself and turned back to Andria.

“I’ll go talk to him.” Fonsoa softly grabbed his sister’s arm.

“He’ll be fine. He’ll come around.”

“We have a deal.” Andria then declared to Scorpus. The latter extended his hand towards him.

“The little shit stays as well, yes?” Andria acquiesced, giving his hand a firm shake. As he was leaving, he looked over his shoulder at Aldea. He was going to see Tenax at their home and waited for her to decide whether she was coming with him. Fonsoa comfortingly rubbed her back, reassuring her about Elia. She gave her brothers a hug and walked back to the Suburra with Scorpus. He jumped up the stairs and pushed the front door open. It had been left unlocked and he directly went inside. Aldea closed the door behind them. He had basically run down the street and was out of breath.

“I have just driven… the fastest horses in my life.” Tenax glanced over at them, sitting in the kitchen at the dinner table while Claudia served him something to drink. He tilted his head, looking at Aldea as she made her way to the table and sat across from her husband before the plate set up for her. Claudia gave her some food.

“Are you sure?” Scorpus leaned on the table and sighed.

“They’re the horses of Aldea’s brothers… they fly with the wings of Pegasus. So, I bought them. Well, with your money.”

“So you’re in?”

“Of course, I’m in.” Aldea followed him with her eyes, not really knowing what they were talking about as Scorpus walked behind her and grabbed a piece of bread from a bowl. Tenax looked aside, leaning his elbow on the table, bringing his hand to his face, thoughtful. Scorpus eventually left, leaving the couple together to finish eating.

“You were with your brothers?”

“Yes. I spent the day with them. I’ll go see if they’re at their place after. I need to check on Elia. He wasn’t too happy about having to stay in Rome.”

“Elia, that’s your…”

“My little brother. I hope he’ll come around… I’ll try to convince him to stay. He doesn’t like Rome, to say the least.” She sighed through her nose, chewing on her food. Tenax didn’t say much else on the matter of her brother being unhappy in the city. She knew he didn’t want her to leave, but he loved her and no matter how reluctant he would be, he would let her go if she chose to go back, but put down her fork and held his hand, hopefully letting him know she wasn’t planning on leaving. She was set on convincing her brother to stay. She wasn’t about to let go of the boy she raised and watched grow into the handsome young man he was today. “What were you talking about, with Scorpus?”

“Come. I have something to show you.” He stood up, wrapping his fingers around her hand and slightly pulling her towards him. She got up in turn and he led her to the bedroom. After pressing on one of the tiles on the wall, he pushed the hidden door open with his shoulder and briefly let go of her hand to go fetch something in the criss-cross shelves at the back of the small, secret room where he kept all his most valuable items and property titles. There were hundreds of those in those shelves, but Aldea knew about all this and had known for a while so she was a little puzzled what he might have to show her. He grabbed a tube and turned to her with an excited smile.

“What’s this?” Unscrewing one of the ends, he showed a scroll inside.

“500 shares of the Blue Faction.”

“500—” She was shocked. they grabbed onto each other’s shoulder. “What? How did you get your hands on 500 shares of the Blue Faction?”

“Rufus made a round bet at yesterday's race, betting his wife's shares on Scorpus to win in the last to second round.”

“Oh, that’s why he pulled back in the middle of the race and stayed behind until the last round? I knew there was something like this going on but, well,” She chuckled in disebelief. “I didn’t know this was what was at stake. What will you do with it now?”

“I’ll sell it to the highest bidder, and with the money, Scorpus and I can start our own faction.”

“That’s great news.” She caressed his cheek, the tip of her finger brushing of his beard’s hair, and she softly pressed her lips on his. He then closed the secret door and they both left home. She headed for her brother’s place, a couple streets away, while he headed for the Esquiline Hill to go negotiate with Consul Marsus over the 500 shares. They weren’t the lead owners of the blue faction, and he knew they would want to have this advantage over the woman who he and his wife had lost the position to, Caltonia. By buying those shares, they could retrieve their position as lead owners and he was going to use this fact to get the consul to buy those shares, giving him enough money to fund his ambitions. He would still need to get approval from the Aedile Ludi, who was no other than the emperor’s youngest son, Domitian. She wasn’t too worried about it. Her husband could be cunning and had a certain way with words, he would probably get Domitian to approve a fifth faction by the time the next race came around.

Aldea went to see if her brothers could be found in the room, they were renting but the housekeeper apologizes to her and told her she hadn’t seen them come back yet. Aldea returned to her apartment and Tenax returned in the first hour of the night. She wasn’t going to wander around town, pregnant and on her own so she would wait for either of her brothers – she hoped it would be Elia – to come to her instead.

“So? How did it go?” She asked, as Tenax walked in the room. He went straight to grabbing her face and kissing her, letting her know it did go as well as hoped.

“I sold the shares to Consul Marsu, nine thousand serterces.”

“And Domitian? What did he say?” His fingers sipped into her hair, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“I piqued his curiosity. I told him he would have half ownership over the faction, in secret, and that a river of money awaits us.”

“Well, I’m sure he’ll approve your faction. He needs money. He’s been spending the empire’s fortune in every single betting tavern across town. With all the money he’d earn from this, he wouldn’t have to care about his debts anymore.”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, more strongly, as he was thrilled by the thought of finally being able to set his plan in motion and get his own faction. It would get them more money and allow him to sit next to his very own faction’s banner and be somewhat at the same level as the patricians that owned the other four. She didn’t share his ambitions, as she had no such ambitions to begin with, but she supported him in his endeavors and he needed and wanted this, to elevate himself socially, though he would probably not say it in so many words. After all he had been through at the hands of the powerful patricians of the roman empire, it felt, to me, as being a rightful revenge and she would be by his side throughout it. That was one reasons, if not the main one, as to why she couldn’t leave. It felt wrong to abandon and give up on him after the life they had built together, and all they had shared. And they were expecting a child. She couldn’t possibly deprive him of his child, and right to be a father.

She moved away from him, approaching the window as she heard quick steps outside their house. She saw the old woman who watched over Tenax’s property where her brothers were staying. The housekeeper was about to walk through the front door until Aldea called out to her, making her look up.

“You wanted to know when your brothers came home.” Aldea gave her a nod and left, after telling Tenax she wouldn’t be long. She walked to the other insula and as she entered, she could hear them argue in the distance. Because of how clear their voices sounded; she guessed their door was opened. She slowly walked up the stairs.

“Elia, how many times do I have to say it? It’s not forever. We’ll all go back together soon.” Andria tried to calm him down.

“When, exactly? A—After you’re grooms instead of stable hands? After you start driving?”

“Give it a chance. One fortnight, then decide.”

“No.” He was quick with his answer. His mind was still very much made up and he was dead set on leaving Rome. He felt betrayed and lied to, and he told them as much. “You’ve lied to me. Both of you. You never intended to go home. Did you? We said, we come here, sell our horses, find Aldea and go back home.”

“Elia…” She heard Fosnoa sigh. “We sold our horses, and found Aldea. You've been talking about finding her every hour of the day for years. We found her.”

“Yes, and I’m sure she wants to go home too.” She quietly sighed, her hand on the railing as she paused in her tracks.

“Elia, she has built a life here.” Andria said. “She’s married and happy, and she’s with child. You can’t expect her to leave it all behind? Don’t you want to stay here, be close to her?”

“You can’t say that’s not all you’ve wanted, ever since you were a child.”

“Take good care of Ferox.” Elia ignored Fonsoa, turning away from him as he finished packing his things, but he must have seen movement from the corner of his eyes because he turned his head and saw Aldea coming up the stairs. She saw him, mouthing her name and he looked down at his bag, almost shameful of the fact he was getting ready to leave.

“Elia.” She spoke softly, but he avoided looking directly at her, darting glances her way.

“You never intended to go home.” It almost sounded like an accusation. She sighed.

“I never expected I could go home one day. And I met people here, in Rome, that made me love my life here. Elia… please look at me.” She put her hand on his back, and he finally made eye contact with her.

“Do you know how much father’s missed you?” Fonsoa spoke his name, but it didn’t stop Elia from speaking. “First he lost… our mother, and then you. Do you know how much your disappearance destroyed him?”

“Elia. Enough.” Fonsoa rose his voice again, grasping his shoulder, and this time, Elia shut his mouth and went quiet, slightly flaring up his nostrils and shaking his head, freeing his shoulder from Fonsoa with an abrupt shrug. Aldea could see on his face that he felt awful for being mean to her but also that how much he felt hurt and let down by his siblings overshadowed the love he had for them, and especially for his sister.

“Please, Elia. Sleep on it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He wouldn’t look at her and she couldn’t the hurt in her eyes before she turned on her heels and left. As she walked down the stairs, she locked eyes with Fonsoa, still standing in the middle of their room and his eyes told her he was sorry about this. She gave him a soft smile and went back to her home. Tenax opened. He had been waiting for her to go to bed. Seeing she looked down, he stared at her worriedly, caressing her cheek. She took his hand and kissed it. She just wanted to go sleep it off, hoping Elia would at least stay in Rome for the night, or even better, change his mind altogether. The day had started off well and did not end on a high note.

Tenax and Aldea woke up the next morning, got dressed, ate some breakfast quickly and then left, heading together for the Esquiline Hill, hoping to find Scorpus there. But he wasn’t home and so began a search of the neighborhood to find their friend. Aldea stayed on the other side of the street while Tenax went to check if he was in the brothel he frequented but again, he came out of there alone and shrugged, exchanging a glance with his wife. They kept looking and found him at a tailor’s shop, looking at colorful pieces of fabric. Tenax ordered the tailor to get out and he snatched the fabric away from Scorpus after he drapped himself with it and threw it back on the table at the center of the room. Aldea, her hands joined by her waist, waited right by the entrance and could hear them even though Tenax was careful to speak quietly.

“Is this what you call discreet?”

“Word will get out, once we get Domitian’s approval.

“If… we get approval. Come. He’s meeting us at the stables to look at the Andalusians.” Scorpus smirked at the news, patting his shoulder on his way out. As he walked past Aldea, he, as Scorpus does, gave her a flirty look and smile and she shook her head amusedly. Looking back at Tenax as he followed him, Aldea saw his eyes briefly widen in annoyance. They then heade towards the stables of the Circus Maximus and got there about a dozen minutes later. The Blue faction stables’ doors were opened ajar, and they were unpleasantly surprised by what they saw inside. Elia was crouched next to Ferox, Fonsoa and Andria standing nearby. In all the other stalls, the horses were lying on the straw, barely breathing and lethargic. Aldea looked at them in worry while Tenax swore through his gritted teeth.

“Gavros went to get a physician.” Elia told them.

“Why didn’t someone tell me?” They turned around upon hearing Felix’s voice behind them. The young boy came running towards them.

“Domitian, he’s here! Outside!”

Tenax sighed heavily, “As I said… Fuck!” He turned to the brothers. “All right. I’ll divert him. Aldea, I want you out of here.” She wasn’t going to argue with him. He had other other fish to fry – bigger fish. She followed him outside and walked to a piller against which she leaned, seeing him talk with Domitian from the corner of her eyes. He tried to slow him down, to give everyone in the stables, just a little more time to find a quick solution to keep up appearances. On her way out, she heard Scorpus tell everyone to close the stalls’ curtains so they would find a short-term solution. Domitian wasn’t buying whatever Tenax was telling him to keep him out of the stables and he walked inside. She saw Felix come out and Aldea approached but when Domitian turned back to left, she stepped aside, hiding behind the large door. Plebieans bowed as the emperor’s son walked past, followed by Tenax and Scorpus. Before he turned to the other two, all three had their back to her so she slipped inside to go to her brothers. Fonsoa held out his arm, placing his hand on her back, drawing her towards him. Gavros arrived with thr physician and the man with the white beard knelt near the horse, holding a small flame to his eye to take a closer look.

“Augendus, the best there is.” Gavros spoke. “He was once veterinaries for the Greens.”

“You were right, Gavros. Most definitely nightshade.”

“What can you do for them?”

“Bury them.” He shrugged, shaking his head and looked up at Tenax.

“I’m not in the mood for jokes.”

“There’s little you can do. A magnus might say put crows in their stalls for three nights… and use bells to call out the Orci spirits from their livers.” Tenax smirked in disbelief.

“I’m not gonna bet my life on that one. Do what you can.” He then took a step towards the Corsi brothers, glaring and poiting a threatening finger at them. Elia stood up. “No one has seen this. If you tell a single fucking person, you will die in ways you cannot imagine. Do you understand?” Aldea stayed silent as he addressed her brothers. It wasn’t her place to speak, even less to cut him off. She shouldn’t even be in there and was mainly allowed to be present because of her link to the six men inside. Even simpler than that, as his wife, she stayed out of his business, and this was business. The fact it involved her family didn’t matter. she wasn't going to undermine his credibility by speaking when she should remain quiet. “Don't believe my threats to be empty just because you are my wife's brothers. Remember… the only person you have to fear more than Domitian… is me.”

“We understand, sir. We have seen nothing here.” Andria acquiesced. She could tell he was intimidated and took Tenax’s words very seriously, and he was right to do so. A faint smile appeared on his face, like a ray of sunshine managing to break through the clouds momentarily. This was as much a friendly “nice to meet you” smile as it was a threatening “if something happened to Aldea, I’ll kill you” kind of smile. He then motioned for Scorpus and Gavros to follow him outside and left the Corsi in the stables. The poor horses groaned at their feet. Leading his sister along with him, Fonsoa called to his brothers to go talk in private in a stall a little further in the stable.

“All right, little brother, you win. This is getting too dangerous. I say we play along until dark and then slip out of the city.” Aldea frowned, slightly shaking her head. She held her arms, looking around. Elia took his eyes off the ground and glanced at his brother.

“To go where?” Andria asked.

“Anywhere other than here. Home?”

“I’m not gonna leave our horses to die.” Elia argued.

“Now he wants to stay?” Fonsoa smirked in disbelief.

“We have reared these horses since they were foals.” He insisted. “I love them. And I’m not going to leave them behind.”

“The Emperor’s son has seen us.” Andria added. “How far would we get if we run? We have no option. Fonsoa, you said it yourself last night… we can’t expect Aldea to leave the city either. She’s married and with child. I say, we throw in with Scorpus and Tenax.”

“It will be fine if you listen to what Tenax says, Fonsoa.” Aldea then spoke, following Andria as the later walked away. She looked over her shoulder when she heard something slam against wood. Elia was still in the stall, with Fonsoa following in his siblings’ footsteps. She sighed through her nose, quietly. He had been shoved by Fonsoa into the wall of the horse’s stall. She watched her brother walk past her and turned back, going straight to Elia.

“I’m fine.” He said under his breath as she grabbed his shoulder and made him look at her, putting her finger under his chin to lift his head. He softly pushed her hand away and she took a step back to give him some space and sighed before walking to the door where Andria was peeking out, looking at Scorpus, Tenax and Gavros. She arrived as Tenax pointed at her brother, ordering him to keep someone safe and since Scorpus led him away with him, pretending to go fetch some fresh horses, she understood he had sent Andria with Scorpus to go get something. She crossed eyes with her husband after he sent Gavros to get guards to stand.

“Where is my brother going with Scorpus?” Tenax looked around, bringing her towards the wall.

“We’ll talk about this later. Right now, I need to deal with this. I want you to go home.” She stared at him for a few seconds before nodding with a sigh. He saw she wasn’t really pleased to leave so he gave her a comforting look and she walked away. Before she even left the area of the circus, she glanced behind her, thinking of her two brothers and she was surprised to see Fonsoa, carrying a sack, leaving the stables. He didn’t notice her right away, staring into space angrily. She stopped in her tracks and waited for him to look at her which he eventually did as he came closer. He came to a halt.

“Where’s Elia?” At her question, he looked away with an annoyed snort and kept on walking. She called his name and walked with a brisk step to keep up with him. Seeing her struggle, he apologized and slowed down his pace. “Are you leaving?”

“Yes. I’m not spending another night in this city.”

“Fonsoa…” He turned to her, stopping suddenly and grabbed her shoulder.

“You’ve been living with this man for four years? We’ve been here for two days and it’s already getting dangerous. He threatened us.”

“I told you; everyone will be fine as long as you keep this situation to yourself. His threats weren’t empty, but he won’t harm you. He has to be like this. Life in Rome is quite unforgiving.” She tried to explain but he shook his head.

“No. I won't let this be my life, or yours, or my nephew's.”

“You can’t make me leave.” She argued with a scoff, leaning back, starign at him in incredulity.

“Aldea, this man is dangerous.”

“I’m the one living with him, Fonsoa. I know him. I get to say if he’s dangerous. Please, just trust me when I tell you that he’s not.”  She couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with him in the middle of the street and switched to Spanish mid-sentence. They argued all the way home until they stopped by the front door of Aldea’s insula. She looked desperate to convince her brother to change his mind and tired to fight with him.

He sighed, apologizing, “Lo siento, Aldea.”

“Please, reconsider.”

“I’ll see you later.” He gave her a kiss on her temple, and she watched him as he walked away and stood there until he disappeared from her sight, and only then did she enter the insula and get into the apartment where she got to cooking to keep herself busy while Tenax wasn’t home. Claudia came out of her room and proceeded to help her cook, cutting the foodstuffs together in the kitchen by the candlelight. Not long after, the two women stopped when the door suddenly opened, and a young Numidian woman was pushed into the room. Aldea looked at her, squinting her eyes in confusion. Tenax came in after her, closing the door behind her. He asked Claudia and Aldea to leave them and the Spaniard didn’t move for a couple seconds while the housekeeper went back in her room, but after a second look from Tenax, she walked past him and the young woman, glancing at her from the corner of her eyes and she closed the doors behind her, leaving them slightly ajar, peeking out. Tenax stretched out his hand towards the chair, asking the girl to sit but she glared at him, somehow reminding Aldea of herself when she first stepped in his home.

“I said sit.” He pointed at the chair again, with his index finger, the light making his signet ring shine.

“After you take me, sooner or later you will fall asleep, and when you do, I will slit your throat.”

“You’re going to still my throat?” He nodded his head, and she could feel him shoot up his eyebrows in skepticism. The girl gasped as he took a step towards her and grabbed her by the throat. Aldea carefully pushed the door, so as not to make any noise, though she wouldn’t have been punished if he saw she was listening – he expected she would and knew she was – and she approached her ear from the opening as Tenax lowered his voice, speaking closer to the girl.

“I own you. You are my slave.” Aldea frowned, not understanding why he would buy a slave, after not doing so ever since he bought her. He didn’t actually need a slave then; she didn’t know why he would need a slave now. “I can do whatever I want with you.” Someone started pounding on the door. The loud knocking interrupted him and Aldea grabbed the doors handles and opened them entirely, stepping outside of the bedroom as he pulled out his dagger before unlocking the front door and came face to face with another Numidian woman, standing on the landing. Tenax exhaled, seemingly exasperated. “You don’t give up.”

“I’m her mother.” He sighed, inviting her in with a gesture. She rushed towards her daughter, and they threw themselves into each other’s arms. Tenax glanced over his shoulder upon feeling Aldea come up from behind her. The look she gave him was asking for an explanation, but he responded with a wave of the hand, meaning he would deal with her later and he turned to the newcomer as he put away his blade.

“I already told you. She’s not for sale.”

“Everything is for sale. At the right price.”

“Not her.” She stood before her daughter, as if shielding her while Aldea watched Tenax from behind, puzzled by what was going on.

“Why did you buy her?”

“I need to know things about the person who bought your other daughter.” Aldea joined her hands at her waist, nodding to herself, now understanding why he bought a slave out of nowhere.

“I see. You seek to use this daughter as a go-between to my other daughter to spy on your enemy. I have an alternative.”

“I’m listening.”

“I will be your go-between.” She offered. Her daughter parted her lips, about to protest but her mother continued. “But you don’t touch her. And when this is over, whatever it is, you allow me to buy her… at your cost.”

Tenax scoffed, taking a few steps in the woman’s direction, “No. When all this is done, I will consider selling her to you for whatever price I like.”

“I need lodging.” He smiled, amused and chuckled, glancing over his shoulder at Aldea and showed the room at the back of the flat.

“You can stay with your daughter for a couple of nights.” He stressed the last few words and turned around, slipping his hand from Aldea’s shoulder to her back as he led her to bedroom with him. They would finally have some time to talk, just the two of them. Aldea had a lot of things to ask him to clarify the situation. The last thing they heard before he closed the doors behind them was the woman telling them her name, Cala.

[To be continued…]  

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter (SOON)

Published (08/20/2024) by Andrea

[its-all-stardust]

Sugar || 1

Masterlist || Part Two

Steven Grant/Sugar Mommy!Reader

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: You meet Steven in a museum gift shop and feel an instant connection. Before you walk out the door you decide, perhaps against your better judgment, that you need him to be your sugar baby. Now you just need him to let you treat him right.

Author's note: hello and welcome to the most unoriginal title ever. this was originally intended to be a oneshot, but just as I was about to finish what ended up being this first part, I realized that would be impossible (unless I wanted an insanely long oneshot, which i did not). to be honest, i don't have a real plan for this series. i don't expect it to be very long, and there may be some Marc/Reader in the future, but for now, this is just about our boy Steven.

Series note: Set before the events of the Moon Knight series. I haven't decided yet if this is going to be following canon in regards to the powers/Avatar aspect but I'll let you know whenever I decide. Steven is still an alter, Marc still has DID, and assume Marc and Jake are around and know what Steven is getting up to.

It’s not like you were looking for someone when you visited the museum that day. Typically, when you do look for a new baby, you go through the regular channels. Word of mouth, the specific sites—the free ones and the paid ones. You’ve never just seen someone out in the world and thought Them.

It just wasn’t something that was done. It wasn’t something that you do. There’s no way to vet someone you met in person, and you don’t conveniently have all their personal details laid out in a neat format sent directly to you with the results of their background check.

You always thought picking someone you met randomly was a bad idea despite the fact that you haven’t exactly heard horror stories from others in these circles. You suppose it comes to the arrangement being based on trust. And you don’t exactly trust most people.

That is until you laid eyes on Steven, the slightly mousy yet also impertinent gift shop clerk.

You walked into the gift shop looking for a bottle of water. You had spent the last couple of hours wandering the Ancient Egyptian exhibit and needed a break before walking through the rest of the exhibits on display. You don’t know when you’ll next make it to the National Art Gallery, so you figured you’d make a day of it since you didn’t have any meetings to attend or calls to make.

You aren’t exactly impressed with the man when you first walk in. In an attempt to help another customer, he bumped into one of the displays and knocked down some of the figurines, smashing them on the floor.

“I’m so sorry!” he says, falling to his knees to start cleaning up his mess while the woman he was speaking to takes her child by the arm and steps away. But then he seems to change his mind and stands again. Looking over the display, he grabs one of the surviving figurines. “Here, this one’s perfectly fine.”

“That’s okay. I think he changed his mind,” the woman says, gesturing to her son. She then quickly leaves the shop without buying anything.

The man sighs, his shoulders dropping as he sets the figurine down and mutters himself. He then walks away from the mess on the floor to the back room.

When he’s out of sight, you step up to the display. Broken pieces of several figurines depicting a bird of some sort stare up at you helplessly.

You pick up one that appears intact, examining it. Although you just came from the Ancient Egyptian exhibit, you can’t tell which god the white plaster bird is meant to be. To you, it’s simply a bird of prey; its sharp beak and talons give it away, but it lacks any particular godly features.

Finding no fault other than that it’s a rather generic figurine, you set it back on the display with the other surviving merchandise. You’re about to pick up another from the floor, hoping to make the clerk’s job a little easier, when a voice stops you.

“Oh, no, you don’t need to do that.” It’s the clerk, having returned with a broom and dustpan in hand without you noticing.

“Thought you could use a hand, is all,” you say, smiling at him as you step away from the pile of broken figurines.

The man stares at you for a moment, frozen, giving you time to study him.

Curly hair falling over his forehead, large, dark eyes, clean-shaven, and baggy clothes that don’t quite fit him properly. 

Your eyes catch his name tag.

Steven.

All of a sudden, the man—Steven seems to flinch. You see a slight flush to his cheeks before he tilts his head down, hiding his face from view.

“Sorry,” he says as he starts to sweep up bits of several birds, though you’re not sure what he’s apologizing for. “Let me just clean this up, and I’ll be right with you.”

“Thank you,” you say as you wander away to look at the other souvenirs on display. You keep glancing at Steven, though, finding your interest piqued by him. 

“Make a mess again, Stevie?” a woman calls as she walks into the shop.

“You know that’s not my name, Donna,” he says as the woman walks past him into the back room. He follows, though he doesn’t look happy about it.

Steven comes back quickly, now missing the broom and dustpan, and when he spots you, the tension drains out of him, if only slightly.

“Sorry about that. Do you need help with anything?” He steps close to you, though still far enough away to maintain a respectful distance.

You just need your water, and you’ll be back out in the museum in no time. With your tight schedule, you shouldn’t waste a minute if you want to actually enjoy all the exhibits. But something in you, something about Steven, makes you stay.

“Actually, I wanted to ask,” you start as you lead Steven back to the display of figurines. “Who is this even supposed to be? It doesn’t look like one of the gods.” You point to the birds he knocked down.

“Horus, if you can believe it.” He scoffs as if personally offended. “Honestly, I wouldn’t look for anything in this shop to be all that accurate,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

“The gift shop in a popular museum can’t even be bothered to pay for accuracy?” you ask, even though you’re not surprised. The best way for businesses to make quick profit is to sell cheap products for far more than they’re worth.

Steven steps closer, keeping his voice low, not wanting to be overheard.

“My manager, Donna.” He gestures toward the backroom with a jerk of his head. “She’s in charge of ordering everything. When I saw she had picked out these, I tried telling her how inaccurate they were, that nobody would know who it was and have no reason to buy them. All she said was, ‘Nobody’s going to care, Stevie.’” He raises the pitch of his voice, a mocking impression of the woman in the other room.

“But you care.” It’s easy to see how much he does. Not everyone would get so worked up over an overpriced souvenir at a museum gift shop.

“Of course I do!” Steven says emphatically. “It’s why I work here. Well, not here here. Can’t say the gift shop is my favorite, but the museum—” He suddenly stops, cutting himself off as he stares at you.

You would think you’ve done something wrong, except all you’ve done is smile at him, the expression still on your face even now. Then you notice Steven is flushed again, and you can’t help but be pleased at the sight.

“Sorry, I’m just talking your ear off. You should have stopped me,” Steven says with an awkward laugh.

“I don’t mind listening to you speak.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Usually, you’re in better control of yourself, your words. You have to be.

Thankfully, Steven doesn’t find your honesty off-putting as some others have. He laughs again, this time with disbelief and a smile playing on his lips.

“You’re just saying that,” he says.

“You’re getting paid to sell things, Stevie, not to stand around flapping your lips,” Donna says as she walks out of the backroom, a box of merchandise in her arms to restock one of the shelves lining the walls.

“But I am getting paid to be nice to the customers, yeah?” Steven replies. Donna only rolls her eyes, a look he copies when she turns in the other direction.

You like seeing that he isn’t cowed by his frankly rude manager, even if he can’t exactly square up to her, not without likely risking his job.

What’s he like outside the gift shop when he doesn’t have to hold back? When he can say what he wants without being afraid of offending someone?

You push the thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking like that. Thoughts along those lines should be reserved for people you’ve properly vetted.

“Sorry about her. She’s…” Steven whispers, trailing off when he can’t find anything charitable to say.

“A bitch?” you supply. You don’t have to worry about offending Donna.

“Keep your voice down!” he half-heartedly scolds, placing a hand on your arm as he tries to suppress a grin. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but I’d rather not get caught, thank you.”

You’re about to say something else when Steven’s face falls, horror replacing the glee. He quickly snatches his hand away, stepping back as he realizes how close he is to you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He gestures to your arm but quickly drops his hand as if afraid he’ll touch you again.

“It’s okay,” you assure him. “I didn’t mind.” You would have minded if it had been any other man, but Steven…

Stop it.

“You’re sure?” he asks tentatively, looking like a puppy about to be told he’s a good boy, eyes lit up hopefully.

You can feel yourself starting to burn with an overwhelming want.

“Absolutely,” you say, and Steven sighs in palpable relief.

“Oh, good. Still sorry, though. For not thinking and all.”

And though you tried to deny it, you can’t stop thinking that Steven…could be fun. Something alights in you the more you look at him. The different sides you’ve already seen. His helpfulness, his genuine interest, and knowledge about the place he works. The roll of his eyes and complaints about a manager. A man who’ll snark back, but only just enough to keep from getting into trouble. How he spoke to you as if you were friends before the slight mortification hit, and he realized the two of you are nothing but strangers.

You recognize something in him, and it makes you want him. Want to lavish him with affection and praise and gifts. Want him to give that same affection back to you. You want him on your arm. You want to play with him, see what makes him tick.

You want to give him all you’ve never had.

You shouldn’t think about him like this, not when you don’t know anything about him.

But you know enough. Enough to intrigue you. And he intrigues you more than any of the others you’ve been with. None of them have sparked this deep desire, not so instantaneously, not until they worked out exactly what you wanted and played that role. They weren’t like this naturally.

They weren’t like you.

But it has to be a no. You can’t. You have rules.

And yet…

You glance at your watch, the thin band flashing gold on your wrist, the crystal face sparkling up at you in the light.

“I have to get going,” you say regretfully, and Steven looks slightly disappointed. You want to keep talking to him and wipe that look from his face. You have to force yourself to take a step back.

“But I’ll see you around, Stevie.” You’re practically possessed as the nickname rolls from your lips, even though you know, based on his interaction with Donna, that he doesn’t like it.

You just need to see that fire. Need to know what it’s like when it’s directed at you.

“It’s Steven, actually,” he corrects with a slight annoyance that he tries to cover with a smile. He even taps his name tag a little more forcefully than he needs to, as if to make sure you get the point. He may like you well enough to have a chat, but he won’t put up with things that displease him, either.

Oh, he will be so much fun.

You try to smile sweetly at him, but it feels more like a predatory grin spreading across your face. “Sorry. See you around, Steven.”

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Fëanorian Week - Celegorm

And it's not getting better :D Let's hurt Tyelko a little, shall we?

Words: 520

Characters: Celegorm & Nerdanel, Celegorm & Curufin

Prompts: Childhood, Hunting, Strength & Beauty, Nargothrond

Warnings:Sadness, loss, death of a child, doom, bad decisions

Rough, calloused fingers slid fervently along the worn curves of the small figurine, which had melted like ice in the sun over countless years of struggle and strife to the point where it had long since become unrecognisable.

The tiny creature—he couldn’t even remember whether it had originally been a bear or a wolf—was Celegorm’s best-kept secret.

He’d loved animals for as long as he could recall, and it had undoubtedly been in an effort to keep him from sneaking out of the nursery and into the woods that Nerdanel, famous and justly extolled sculptress, had crafted this little companion to soothe his desire for adventure and freedom.

Maybe, he now thought as he rubbed his hidden talisman yet again to strengthen his resolve and quieten the voice of doubt and agony within his mind, it didn’t matter what fey savage beast his mother had had in mind.

A heavy, sturdy child, Celegorm had certainly often reminded her of a bear cub himself as she stood, harried by dark foreboding, beside his crib with a worried frown.

Even in so frivolous an endeavour, Nerdanel had not let herself grow negligent, and it was a shame that his nigh-on superstitious habit of touching the stone doll had irrevocably erased so many of the marvellous details she had carved in meticulous handiwork.

Curufin, stern and solemn, shook his head almost imperceptibly—he might have known or at least guessed with what his solitary brother toyed in the depths of his pocket. Still, he preferred not to bring up their parents if not absolutely necessary for fear that it would irrevocably break their spirits and keep them from pursuing their path with the necessary determination.

Fate was unravelling fast now, and Celegorm was reminded abruptly of the fact that he’d never been good at making sensible decisions. He’d have to blindly rely on his brother’s cold intelligence and the residual maternal magic with which his childhood charm was imbued.

For the first time in his life, Celegorm didn’t feel heartened and comforted by his mother’s craft, though, and he clenched his teeth stubbornly as this last despicable act of disloyalty and betrayal stripped him of every remaining blessing he’d been hitherto granted.

“Are you ready?”

He nodded. What else could he do? They’d soon leave Nargothrond in hopes of salvation and pursuit of inevitable desolation, and—no matter how much any of them wished things to be different—there was nought he could do to change the tide of destiny.

Following his brother, Celegorm considered shortly leaving his most precious treasure to be buried and forgotten along with Finrod’s jewels and the vestiges of their honour, but his fingers wouldn’t unclasp.

In the end, feeling the gentle caress of death falling over him like a ghostly shroud, Celegorm slipped the unidentifiable stone guardian into the pocket of a silver-haired boy who stood, crying noiselessly, over the broken body of his father.

“Mother,” Celegorm mouthed, hoping against all hope that his faithful fetich would manage one more miracle and keep another wild-eyed, fey boy safe in the dangerous darkness of the woods.

-> Masterlist

@feanorianweek, and we go on...