#having to settle with simply watching them with an ache that set deep into his bones.

[sinclarify]

shoutout to the jacksons diary fanfic i wrote in december 2022 that was just a oneshot highlighting david's feelings for exer and how they fill him with such guilt and shame and that his feelings would never be reciprocated that was made completely obsolete just a few months later when they kissed homo style in the middle of the night in the pouring rain ummmmmmmm.. so what does this mean does this mean i literally just bought ratatouille for NOTHING

[whorefordean]

ghostface smut i wrote on my break at work, anyone? ps this is very short

tw: recording poundtown, dubcon?, maybe a slight corruption kink?, threats lowkey, also unedited so any mistakes are allowed to be laughed at (if you can’t tell i hate labeling tw bc i suck at it. my apologies, dearie)

mdni 18+

“what would your friends think if they saw you like this?” ghostface mumbles into your ear. you can barely hear him over the sounds of slapping skin and your own moans. he’s thrusting into you so hard that you’re jerked forward each time his hips meet your ass. if his bicep hadn’t been nestled directly against your throat, locking you in place, you’re sure you’d be knocking against the wall by now.

“don’t,” you whimper, eyes rolling after a rather deep thrust. his cock fills you so perfectly, and you know you should beg him to stop. but you couldn’t. not when he felt so fucking good, and definitely not when you were the one who provoked him.

that stupid phone call three weeks ago had fucked with your head so bad, that you ended up with a killer’s cock buried so deep inside your aching pussy that you weren’t sure how you’d ever allow another man to fuck you again. there was simply no way that any man could give you this much pleasure again unless it was him.

the hand that had been resting on your bare hip retracts, and he leans over your, reaching toward the nightstand to grab your phone. the angle pushes his dick deeper, causing you to cry out as tears prickle your eyes with how far he’s pushing into you. your mouth is wide open, and your eyes are lulling shut as the tip of his cock nudges against your g spot.

the masked man chuckles as you grasp at his arm around your throat, nails prickling his skin.

“gonna make me bleed? hm? we both know i’m better at it,” he grunts into your ear as he settles back into his earlier position, phone now directly in front of your face. you can’t be bothered to care anymore when the flash comes on because he’s jerked your hips back to switch angles again.

“let them know how good i’m ruining this innocent little cunt,” he groans, quickening his pace as he shoves the camera in your face. you’re too far gone to object, and he laughs at you for it.

moans and whimpers echo through the room. ghostface sets the camera up on your nightstand, giving the perfect view of him using you. you pry your eyes open to look back at his masked face, tears and drool wetting your face.

“mm, there she is,” he rumbles. his arm loosens around your neck.

“please. they can’t know,” you whimper, hoping the words don’t reach the mic on your phone.

“oh, that’s too bad. because everybody in this town is gonna watch you fall apart on my cock while you beg for more,” he threatens.

unfortunately for you, he’s not lying. his gloved hand reaches down to toy with your clit. that mixed with his raspy threats have you toppling over the edge within minutes.

“smile, darlin,” he whispers in your ear as your eyes roll while you cum on his cock. the video stops and he snaps a quick photo, the flash adding another dizzying sensation.

ghostface fills you with his cum, laughing darkly as he pulls out, leaving a trail of his release in his wake. he snaps another photo—this time of your used cunt— and let’s out a hum of approval.

“can’t wait to show them how well you suck my cock,” he whispers. his threads one hand in your hair while the other slips his mask up just enough to press a rough kiss against your lips.

[arminsumi]

Hii can we pls get an extremely smitten in love like love sick gojo pls?????

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤

A/N: ABSOLUTELY!! 🥰

Wc ≈ 1.7k

Pairing: GOJO Satoru x f.reader

Summary: the annoying popular boy at college has his heart set on you 😌💕

Warnings; it's a little cheesy

There’s a white-haired boy that always, always sits next to you in every single class. He’s got the looks that kill, one-of-a-kind features, almost too pretty to be on earth; the kind of boy that makes even teachers stutter in the middle of their lecture simply because of his presence.

So many girls fawn over him, like he’s the rockstar of your college with a bunch of groupies following wherever he goes.

And that ticks off one reason you don’t like Gojo Satoru.

The other reasons? To narrow it down; he’s an arrogant cocky flirty bastard who will not stop asking you out to parties and dates. Persistent and determined to make you crack and finally fall for him. Relentless and fast in his pursuit of your heart no matter how far it runs – he’s gonna getcha, he knows it, it’s just a matter of time.

He’s never felt this deeply or intensely. It makes his head spin. When you walk in the room, when you speak, when he sees your name on an attendee list… it has him feeling tingly and lightheaded. Even getting a text from you makes him jump; he replies in two seconds and pouts when you leave him on read. He even complains to his mom and Suguru about you.

This boy is the walking symptoms of lovesick.

But he’s in heavy denial about it. No, no – he’s not obsessed, you’re obsessed. He’s not crushing on you; you’re crushing on him. He’s not chasing you; you’re chasing him. He doesn’t wanna kiss you, you wanna kiss him.

“You have such a fat crush on me.” He smirks, talking unashamedly loudly so everyone who’s passing down the columned corridor can hear.

You sigh. “No I don't, Gojo.”

“It’s Satoru to you,” he winks, “And anyways, you’re not busy this afternoon, yeah?”

“Actually I am – ”

“Great! Let’s go out.”

Your whole face spells how frustrated you are.

“Oh my god…” you sigh, getting up for your next class which was in two minutes – Gojo took up all your time. Your friends had long slipped away after he gave them a glare, snickering as they did because they thought the whole thing between you and him was hilarious.

His long legs strode next to you down the corridor.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To class.” you replied.

“Let me walk you there.” he offered eagerly.

“Thanks, but there’s really no need.” you replied.

He looked at you like a sad puppy, so you gave in. “Oh my god, fine then.”

“Ask me nicely.”

“What!” you looked at him incredulously, “You’re the one who – oh my god never mind. Walk me to class, Gojo.”

He grinned in satisfaction. You almost wanted to smack him.

“It’s Satoru.” He corrected.

“I’m not calling you that. We’re not friends.” You said.

“Gosh, you’re breaking my heart!” he jokes, but deep down he was a little cut by that. You could tell by how he said no more smart remarks. He was silent.

You slid into your seat, watching your professor prepare the sliding whiteboards with awful scribbles of calculus. Gojo slid right next to you, settling his smart ass down a little closer than last time. He was aching to get closer to you in any way he could.

“I need a pen.” He whispered under his breath to you as soon as the lecture began.

“Seriously? Again? Where do you keep putting the ones I give you, up your ass?”

He smirked at you. Pretty blue eyes peaked over the rims of his sunglasses. You weren’t the only one to notice that he had them on indoors; the professor glanced over and immediately reprimanded him.

“Gojo, glasses off indoors, please. Don’t make me keep reminding you.” She said.

Gojo grumbled and reluctantly took them off, setting them down on the desk. You’d already began hastily scribbling notes, but all Gojo managed to do for the first ten or fifteen minutes of the lecture was drum his borrowed pen on his empty spiralbound notebook. He stole thirsted glances of you out of the corner of his eyes.

At some point his attention solely focused on you.

He observed you intently; the way you held your pen, the pace at which you write, your handwriting, how you leaned over just enough for your breasts to lightly squish against the desk.

“Hey.” He whispered to you.

You looked at him bemusedly. Ah, here he goes again. Fifteen minutes in and he has something to say to you.

“Can I copy your notes?” he asked.

“Seriously?” you whisper-shouted. The professor was so deep into her lecture about calculus that she didn’t notice Gojo starting to chat you up.

Asking to copy your notes was just his entry into flirting; what followed next was “I like your handwriting” and “so about that date…” and “there’s a party at my place this weekend…” and “wanna ditch this class together?”

“Satoru,” you said, “shut up, please.”

He shut up, not because you asked him to – he would have gone on and on despite your wishes, but you called his name. That took him aback so much so that he actually had to recompose himself and sit back, take in a breath, think for a bit. The way you pronounced his name had him in pieces.

Now came the part of the lecture where Satoru started making you laugh. You tried so hard not to, you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction – but he had a good humour, you couldn’t deny a few breathy laughs here or there.

His unwavering stare was so distracting. That and the fact he kicked his feet up on the desk. He took them down when the professor turned around, and then resumed his lazy position as soon as she turned back to the whiteboard.

“Satoru,” you began, “How is it that you never take notes and still pass?”

He shrugged. “I’m a prodigy. You’re sitting next to a real genius.”

You regretted asking.

He felt bad, so he gave you a small honest answer. “I cram at night.”

“Ah, I see.”

“Would be nice to have a study buddy…” he suggested.

“No.”

“But wouldn’t it be nice? Let’s study in the library later.”

“No – ”

“Okay! I’ll meet ya there!” he smiled decisively, choosing to ignore your decline.

The class concluded, and Gojo lingered by your desk waiting for you to pack up. Some lovestruck girls always approached him at that point, and he held small talk with them. He absolutely let their compliments fuel his ego.

You tried to take advantage of the fact he was distracted by them so you could slip out of the lecture theatre unnoticed. But he had good eyes.

“Oh, gotta go. Bye.” He said hastily, eyes locked on you like you were his target. He practically tumbled down the desk levels to get to you.

Just as you disappeared beyond the door, he caught up with you, lanky body colliding with yours on ‘accident’. You thought it was deliberate, but it really was an accident – he was so clumsy around you. He threw you a lopsided, apologetic smile.

That familiar sad puppy expression developed on his features as you walked quickly down the corridor and ignored him. Inside, you were bitter about how he bathed in those girl’s attention.

He had his hands behind his back. A peculiar thing – he usually walked like he owned the place with his hands swinging like a model on a runway. You stopped abruptly in your tracks when you noticed his deflated behavior. He bumped into you again.

“Hey…”

“Sorry.” He muttered apologetically.

“… wanna get lunch together, after studying?” you offered, feeling bad for how you ignored him the whole walk to the library.

His eyes lit up. “Yeah! Yeah… uh, yes.” He almost choked. “Absolutely.”

After that, he had a pep in his step as he followed you into the library.

Studying with him was super unproductive. He kept teasing your face, pinching your cheeks and ears to get your attention and then when he had it, he started rambling about something.

Then he pulled giggles out of you. He did such goofy, stupid things.

“Look.” He said, so you looked away from your textbook.

You shook your head.

He had balanced a book on his head and bit his borrowed pen between his pearly whites.

“Don’t put my pen in your mouth! I don’t want your germs.” You said.

He grinned.

You had to admit… that was an attractive smile. The way his Addam’s apple subtly shifted. The way his eyes lit up. The way his eyes creased.

He took the book off his head and the pen out of his mouth.

“You don’t want my germs?” he pouted jokingly.

“No, no way.”

“How are we ever gonna kiss?”

“E – excuse m – what? Huh?”

Gojo giggled. He threw that in just to see your reaction.

“You sooo wanna kiss me.” He teased.

“Uh… I don’t…” you swallowed.

“You’re such a bad liar.” He said, his tone shifting into a genuinely serious one.

“I’m not lying. I’d never kiss you.” You spoke.

“Yeah?”

He brought his face closer to you. So close you could see the subtle freckles on his pale cheeks.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Gojo asked, peering at your soul with his eyes.

You stuttered, too stunned to response. What would you do? It was a genuine question, you could tell by the tone of his voice and look in his eyes. He really wanted to know.

“I don’t know…” you responded.

“Have you thought about it at all?” he asked. A slight nervousness shook his vocals. There was the smallest of voice cracks as he said ‘thought’.

Should you have been honest? You were looking into his eyes contemplatively. Was he trying to trick you? Was he gonna get an answer out of your lips and then humiliate you with it?

You just bit the bullet and said it.

“Yeah, I guess I have.”

His eyes searched for any hints that you were kidding. You got his heart thumping, his blood rushing around so hard he felt dizzy.

It looked like he wanted to kiss you really badly, but your phone went off and ruined the moment completely. The lovey air dissolved between you and him and he wished it hadn't.

While you hastily took your phone call, you noticed out of the corner of your eyes that Gojo had a boyish blush on his face.

Reblogs n' comments help a lot!! 💗😙

Visit my library ?

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

If it's okay with you can you continue the series where Gojo was giver the reader "lessons." I love that series so much, you did an amazing job writing it😭 I would love to see more parts of that series.

I'm so glad you're enjoying them! However I believe I may be running out of ideas for lessons, so I may have to call this one the last part of the series. But you are still more than welcome to request anything else, my friend.

Title: A Hands on Lesson: Lesson 3 (A continuation from Lesson Two)

Characters: Gojo x m!reader

Contains: light BDSM, blindfolding, fingering, praise/degradation, pet names(love), orgasm control/denial

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI

Reblogs > likes

"Alright, are you all situated?" Satoru's voice after moments of silence settled your nerves, your position, however, not helping.

Your head rested on a couple soft pillows, eyes once again shielded with Satoru's signature eyecloth(you both had agreed it was a thrilling addition to the sessions), and arms gently tied behind you as your lower half was propped on a support foam pillow to help keep you up without getting tired. The perfect doggy style position for a novice like you, posed in a way where Satoru could properly teach you.

Speaking of...

"I-I'm alright. But...uh...w-what's...the lesson this time?"

Satoru's fingers gently brushed up your bare leg, the limb flinching from the touch. They glided up from the spot, leaving your skin already aching for more of his touch.

"Let's see..." The way Satoru spoke was like he was counting on his fingers. "You handled receving and giving a handjob, excelled in giving a blowjob...now..." Pausing, it felt like his presence was gone, but he simply positioned himself by your exposed ear, causing you to gasp softly from the change of position. "Now...The lesson is taking me, and controlling yourself...~"

As he initially listed the tasks you had done, your face grew redder with every one, embarrased by the words alone, but you didn't dare speak against him, unsure of when the game has started. Between sessions, he had teased before how he wouldn't tell you when he'd start, but you would know, so he insisted you keep on your best behavior. He also reminded you that the safeword would always apply, no matter whether or not he was in his role or not.

As you were in your thoughts, something cold pressed against your awaiting hole. One of Satoru's fingers, coated with lube, was prodding at the tight rings, as if urging you to open.

"Now just relax, alright? Otherwise the rest of this will hurt."

Putting all trust into him, you did as he suggested, your body relaxing against the soft pillows below you. Thanks to that, paired with the lube, Satoru was able to slip the one finger inside, causing you to tense once again before returning to your relaxed position.

"Good boy~ I promise this will make everything feel much better..."

His movements were slow and careful, easing himself in and out of you. The sensation was strange but not unwelcome. On occasion, you let out an audible breath, especially as Satoru hit a deep spot inside, and with every little sound you made, he would praise you.

As he felt it was easy to move a single finger, he soon paired it with another, your hips suddenly grinding against the support pillow in tandem with his motions. Your moans were a bit louder than earlier, a smirk growing on Satoru's lips.

"Oh, look at you. So desperate, huh?"

His tone of voice told you he had long slipped into his role, setting your body aflame. He watched as your hips continued to gyrate, your cock pressing against the edge of the pillow for him to view. Your hands clenched into fists, nails digging into your skin from merely two fingers. Your actions would soon come to a stop as Satoru's also halted.

"Did I say you could move?"

His voice wasn't dark, but it was definitely a warning. Panting lightly, you shook your head, swallowing down pooling saliva from the side of your mouth.

"N-No, sir."

"Good. Stay still."

With that said, he resumed his actions, curling his fingers around, spreading them, thrusting them. You were lost in this light bliss for what felt like awhile, the two fingers having stretched you enough for them to have plenty of room. Within time, he stopped once more, but with less time in between than last. A third finger joined, and the stretch burned lightly, though it was quickly shrouded with pleasure as he moved once more.

"Fuck...~ Look at you. Three fingers? How much of a slut are you~?" The word sent a jolt to your cock, precum having already began leaking from the tip. You weren't expecting it, but you weren't complaining; it felt thrilling.

As you were reeling from the new sensation, Satoru spoke once more.

"What, can't talk anymore? Is this all it takes to ruin you~?"

You were brought back to reality, lightly shaking your head once more. "N-No, I'm sorry." A sudden thrust of his fingers caused you to cry out, your hips subconsciously grinding against the pillow once more. You were quick to realize your mistake. "N-No sir!"

"Hah...~ Good boy. You learn quick~"

His fingers then left you, leaving you empty with a soft whine. Satoru didn't keep you waiting, and you felt hands spread your cheeks, a larger object prodding your stretched and aching hole. He asked if you were ready, and with your consenting nod, Satoru filled you, your ass taking him down to the hilt thanks to the stretching. As he let out a groan, you had let out a blissful cry, fighting the urge to grind your hips once more.

"F-Fuck~ God you feel amazing. I knew you could take my cock like this." Your body shook with anticipation, patiently waiting for Satoru to move. Noting this, he pressed his chest to your back, his warm skin coming into contact with your blazing body. "Are you ready, love?"

One extra reassurance, but honestly, despite how respectful it was, it was unneeded. You nodded nearly the moment he stopped speaking. You had been ready the moment he entered you. Sitting up, Satoru placed a firm but gentle hand on the back of your neck as he began to cycle his hips into you, the movements almost precise. His hand placement, his movements, all of it nearly made you lose it, your cock throbbing painfully against the pillow. You needed a touch, friction, anything. You were desperate to the point you started to grind your hips again.

The action didn't go unnoticed, Satoru slightly increasing his speed as he watched.

"Nngh...~ Yeah you're desperate...~ Can't...last a moment of fun without w-wanting your cock touched, huh?"

Your eyes were rolling under the blindfold, nails digging into your palms. His hand placement only grew in firmness, not by a lot, but it felt like it was the only thing keeping you mentally in place, like a leash keeping you connected.

Without an answer, Satoru simply continued his thrusts, degranding phrases of how dirty you were slipping out only to be replaced with praises of your work, of taking it as well as you were.

All of it was enough to tighten the coil in your stomach, your moans pitching in sound. It was a familiar feeling, one you were able to proclaim.

"G-Gonna...cum~! S-Satoru--S-Sir I--"

"No."

The denial brought you back down, your body shaking with the urge to already let loose. "P-Please!"

It didn't help that Satoru's movements hadn't stopped. You were about to burst, yet he insisted on continuing.

"Y-You cum when I say. That's part of the lesson~" His voice was breathy. "Don't move o-on your own...a-and don't cum. You can do that, right~?"

"S-Satoru, please!"

At your plea, the movements stopped, and your approaching orgasm would gradually leave.

"Alright, then I'll stop...~" Satoru's voice wasn't upset, but teasing. If you couldn't handle it, he'd stop, leaving you there to lose your orgasm. His hands now resting on your bound hands, not to untie them, but to simply rest there.

"N-No, Sato--S-Sir I...I-I can handle it, please!"

You really were desperate to have him move inside, but he would ignore your pleas until he figured enough time had gone by.

"Still feel like you have to cum?"

Realizing it wasn't there, you groaned softly, shaking your head.

Gently gripping the binds, he used your arms as a leverage, using it to pull you closer to him to bury deeper into you. Just as you were before he stopped moving, you were quick to fall back into the mess you were, your ass clenching around his cock, as if begging him not to stop again. It didn't take long for your orgasm to return, in which you'd announce it once more.

"J-Just hold off a bit longer," Satoru breathed, repositioning himself to once again press his body into you. His hands rested on your shoulders, not in a way to press you down, but another leverage spot for him. This way, he could focus on his hips, losing himself inside of you in a sticky mess. You tried your best to hold off, but it only inched closer.

"S-Sir, I-I can't! I-I need to cum--!"

As if answering your prayers, Satoru replied, "C-Cum with me~!"

Another moment more and you would have came without his permission. Before your mind went white, you thanked the gods for the reprieve, cum roping out from your cock onto the pillow as your body shook with bliss. You let out heavy, moan-filled panting as your felt your ass fill with Satoru's cum, feeling Satoru himself pant heavily against you with soft groans of each release.

You had to admit, Satoru was an excellent teacher. You'd be sure to tell him that whenever you'd awaken from this experience.

[mintmatcha]

can we get some rouge facts? pretty please 🤲🏼 she’s v interesting and i know nothing about d&d so i’m a little clueless about her role in the team. love your world building btw

— 🪐

cw: cisfem reader, reader has a set background and personality, MENTIONS OF GROOMING AND ABUSE!

"Why don't you join them?"

The fiddle swelling and dips and the dancers do the same. You watch where your friends have blended into the crowd, their elbows crooked into the arms of strangers as they prance about. The alcohol has wiped away their inhibitions, but only strengthened yours.

Obsidian has left his partner on the dance floor and returned to you, arm outstretched. He must have seen you watching him and misunderstood that forlorn look in your eyes as something else.

"I'm alright here," you dismiss with a laugh.

"Let me teach you." Obi gestures again, "Or is our fearless leader afraid of the dance floor?"

He hums along to the song, hitting none of the correct notes. Even when he's making mistakes, he's undeniably charming.

"I'm okay, really." You try to laugh again, but the sound is tight in your throat. The crowd spins and laughs and jeers and the sound of it all stuffs your ears. Obsidian steps towards you, closer than a friend should be, with a chuckle on his lips.

"I insist."

Your stomach sours a bit and you aren't sure why. This is familiar in ways you don't want to admit. "Obi, not tonight."

"I simply wish to dance with the most beautiful girl in the room," His fingers loosely wrap around your wrist, but the pressure makes your mouth go dry. There's an ache, deep in the narrow of your bones, radiating out as he lightly tugs, "Come, it will be-"

You rip your hand from his with all the force you can muster. It's much too forceful-- you end up smacking yourself and knocking over your stein. Beer fizzs and bubbles across the waxed bartop, spilling down and over your legs.

"I said no." Your voice aches with the way to rips from you, "Why does no one listen to me when I say no?"

Obi's face drops. Green eyes wide with shock, he simply watches as you push off from your stool and weave out through the crowd. You bump elbows with a poor halfing halfway out the door, only offering the briefest of apologies.

The crisp night air brings you a bit of clarity, but it aches in your lungs. The cotton of your shirt suddenly feels much too tight and you cant help but tug on the edges to free yourself.

You're aware of being followed. It's like a stray dog, tailing behind you just fair enough to avoid any possibility of retribution. He continues until you stop and settle, sitting in the dew soaked grass. It doesn't matter- you're already soaked.

Obsidian stays quiet for a while, rubbing his sleeve against his nose sheepishly.

"Can I sit with you?" he says after a while.

You glance up at the dragonborn. The spot he rubbed is significantly shinier than the rest of his scales, catching the moon shine as he speaks. Your anxious settles just a bit at that; it even tugs a smile onto your face. You pat the ground next to you and the man settles down on to his knees.

"I am sorry," Obi says after a moment, "I should not have pushed you."

You're very aware that wasn't a normal reaction. The shame makes your stomach curl. "It's alright."

"Clearly, it was not." He rubs his snout again, "I should have listened to you."

He places his hand gently on to your thigh- no pressure, just reassurance. "I'll listen now, if you want to speak about it."

The truth is heavy on your tongue. You know better than to speak of it, and yet:

"Adam saved me. I know that," you say carefully. Your husband is always the elephant in the room, waiting to be addressed, "He took me off of the street and gave me a place to live. I'd be nothing without him-- I know that."

Obsidian prickles a bit at that, just the slightest flash of teeth, but he doesn't interrupt.

"He'd bring me to galas. The prettiest dances you've ever seen. I'd wear the nicest dress I could find and he would dance with me until my feet bled from those god-awful shoes." You flex your foot. The thick leather boot barely gives to the pressure.

"I hated them. I hated every minute," you say, "I'd beg him to let me stay home. I'd //beg.//"

You close a hand around your own wrist. Your body has changed over the years, almost to the point of unfamiliarity, but the pressure of a palm against the inside of your wrist always snaps you back to the brittle age of eighteen.

"And he still made you go?"

Eighteen was the first time you started measuring your steps, walking in the shadows to avoid drawing his attention. Eighteen was the first time love felt sour on your lips.

"All anyone would ever say to me was that I was so lucky to be his wife. How he loved me so much." You take Obi's hand from your leg and intertwine your fingers with his. The span and width of his grip are so much different than anyone else you've ever known. "And all I wanted to do was tell them how scared I was of him.'"

"Why didn't you?" He's asking, but its not a question. It's a door, open just enough to let you keep going. "Someone surely would have listened."

"Where would I have gone?" You almost laugh at how ridiculously pathetic you sound. "I didn't have friends, and he was the closest thing I ever had to a father -"

Obi's grip stiffens, and you know you'd made a mistake. His eyes narrow and he knows//.

"Father?" he repeats, voice dark, yet trying to stay even, "He wasn't-- you--- what do you mean by father?"

Those sharp, kind eyes watch you, unblinking, as if he closes his eyes, you'll disappear.

"What do you mean by that, my dear?" he repeats, much softer.

The bar behind you clambors with din, the night is rich with the cicada song, and yet you feel like the world is so, so quiet. All of your words feel earshakingly loud.

"He didn't pursue me romantically until I was eighteen," you whisper, "But Adam took me into his home when I was thirteen."

You brace for what's coming. The anger, the disgust. By the time you realize you've closed your eyes, the silence has stretched out too far. It takes an effort to look at him and face the music.

Obi doesn't seem mad, he's just... sad.

"You were just a child." His voice is so brittle, "I-- Why didn't anyone protect you?"

You wish you knew the answer.

[wordy-little-witch]

If there was one thing he absolutely fucking hated, it was a lack of meticulous control. One may think that was the antithesis of a private who made a name for himself with weaponized whimsy and catastrophic collateral, wrong though they were. Life was a meticulous dance, choreographed and studied from his earliest years. To know was to survive, he learned early on, earlier still than the year he spent with a captain, a crew, a brother. He had plans to make it, to live, to thrive - no matter the cost.

It had been in his years of relative peace, East Blue Big Fish as his profession, when it all began crashing, burning, and imploding.

He clung to what he could in the suddenly tumultuous waters. It was bittersweet, the way he seemed to shed his skin with the passage of the Twin Peaks. Making contact with Crocus was a point of refusal, pain still raw and jagged even decades later. The moment the Big Top settled into the chaotic waters of the Grandline, he felt something dead, something buried, something never forgotten despite his efforts - it stirred, it woke, and Buggy breathed.

His crew was ready for this. He was certain of it, despite their blundering ways; they were ready, because he refused to let anyone join the ranks if they lacked the drive to survive. It was easy to coach them gently through Haki drills, to twist the formulas and create something new, something grand. He was not a monster, and only mortals filled his crew. They were easily snuffed out - which made their survival all the more telling with each passing year.

Buggy was a meticulous, obsessive planner - he needed to have a backup for every backup, an escape for every single angle. His anxiety was unmatched, and his paranoia was limitless. Despite it keeping him alive, it had an unfortunate tendency to kick into overdrive, leaving him to stagger, fall and suffer in its frenzied wake.

It was this which Buggy found himself ensnared in early one summer morning. The Guild was bustling, running on the fruits of the clown's manic labor. Days had bled together, he admitted silently to himself, and time had seemed to dilate again, leaving him uncertain of what, exactly, had all been done. His sporadic notes were not much help either. All he could gather was that there were likely some serious hype, some dawning plot, and a lot of screaming from himself. He definitely overdid it again.

Sipping his tea, he frowned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There was a weight in his lap, a lavender maned head pinning him to the chair by his window. He'd long since learned not to argue with Ritchie Watch - even if he split himself to escape, the lion would find his feet and chase him down regardless. It was easier to simply wait him out, Buggy mused, scratching at an ear. Luckily, it seemed the feline's sixth sense was attuned primarily to fevers - once his own dropped suitably, it was smooth sailing.

Soulful brown eyes peeked up from beneath pastel hair, and Ritchie yawned, nuzzling closer to Buggy's stomach. The captain sipped his honeyed tea with a slight smile, petting fondly over his head. The cloak draped loosely around his shoulders slipped slightly as he shifted, deep violet pooling around his bicep. The mug in his hand was black, peonies etched into it around the handle with a glossy ruby finish to the petals. The teapot on the table was partially filled with a particular blend he favored when his vocal cords flared up, honey to the side in a dainty little set, unbecoming of pirates but painfully cute as well.

Buggy sighed silently, his throat aching, voice gone, head mildly dizzy. This fucking sucked... but at least he wasn't alone.

At least here, despite it all, he was loved.

[pecanwriter]

The Elephant King and The Tiger Prince

Themes: shifter world (non-A/B/O), fantasy setting, immobility

Word: 3886

Part: 1/1

“Halt in the name of Dharma, The Elephant King!”

Two Elephant Guards emerged out of the thick jungle onto the path. As all elephant shifters, they were big-bellied and thick-limbed. In their animal forms, two more emerged, their enormous elephant legs shaking the earth as they stepped onto the path. The two in human forms pointed sharp spears at the approaching tiger.

“Halt!” One of them repeated as the tiger drew near.

It stopped. The stripes on its back began to glow brightly, soon the light radiating from them was so bright the Elephant Guard covered their eyes. When the light subsided, it revealed a young man, dark-skinned and dark-haired, with a sharp face and wild, gold eyes. He threw himself down in a bow, his forehead hitting the dirt.

“I am Prince Ravindra of the Tiger People. I beg for the aid of the Elephant King.”

The guards looked at each other in puzzlement, even the jungle seemed to have settled into a dumbfounded silence. After a moment of stillness, they lowered their spears.

*

Ravindra watched with mild fascination how the Guard’s fat belly swung and jiggled with every step. He knew that because of the sheer size of their animal forms Elephant shifters had to store the additional bulk on them even in human forms; apparently, they used up so much primal magic to shift that if they were skinny they would simply expire.

He knew that, and yet it was shocking to see soldiers be this fat. In his land, every Tiger Soldier was nimble, with tight, lean muscles. All tiger shifters were like that, even the elderly. The only other shifters he’d ever encountered were Eagles, Langurs and Avocets, all of which were lean and swift in their human forms. He couldn’t help but think of the Elephants as lazy seeing their large bellies and saggy, soft limbs. But he had no choice, he was desperate.

They led him into the city. It was hidden deep in the heart of the jungle, surrounded by a low wall. If an enemy was determined, they could easily scale it and enter. But nobody ever attempted such a deed; Elephants were a peaceful people but turned deadly in a fight.

He marvelled at the city. It was enormous, overflowing with abundance, every person well-fed, well-dressed and happy. Ravindra’s heart ached with longing, seeing how the Elephant King’s subjects seemed to have everything they could ever desire.

When their small party arrived at the palace gates Ravindra was shocked to see how modest it was. It was still an enormous palace of white stone, of course, but it wasn’t even half as lavish as he imagined such a prosperous King would have.

“You are entering into the presence of The Elephant King.” announced an enormous doorman as he swung the heavy doors of the Throne Room inwards.

Ravindra stepped inside, body burning with urgency.

The Elephant people he’d seen so far were all thick and sturdy, but none were close to their King’s size. Ravindra stared at the enormous man splayed on a low cushioned divan. He was so fat his lardy belly hand off the side of the divan, his legs were like swollen tree trunks, arms like overstuffed sausages… His round face was encased in a thick roll of fat in place of a neck. He was surprisingly young for such a prosperous ruler and, loath though Ravindra was to admit it, quite handsome. His eyes were those of an elephant; large orange-brown irises incase in a black sclera and shrouded in a fan of impressively long lashes.

Ravindra, realising he was staring, threw himself to the ground, his forehead hitting the stone floor. “King Dharma, Oh, Great Elephant Lord! I am Prince Ravindra, I come to beg for your aid.” He stayed on the floor, waiting with bated breath.

“Welcome, dear Prince, please stand.” The Elephant King said in a low, smooth voice. He had such a soothing, gentle manner of speaking that Ravindra was immediately put at ease.

He stood and was once again faced with the sight of the enormously fat man. He couldn’t help but wonder how such a man could be as great a leader as everyone claimed him to be.

“What troubles you, prince?” King Dharma asked, urging him closer. Ravindra lowered himself onto a cushioned seat on the opposite side of the low table overflowing with food.

“The Tiger King is dead.” He said.

The previously stoic face of King Dharma cracked a little with surprise. His brow furrowed with something that looked eerily like compassion.

“My condolences for your loss, Prince.”

“I am the one to slay my father.”

There was silence. A nearby guard raised his spear but the King waved him down.

“Is that so?” He asked, looking at Ravindra from under his heavy lashes.

“My father was a madman. A tyrant. He ran our people into the ground, he neglected the cultivation of the land…” Ravindra swallowed bitterly, his heart aching in anger “The land of the Tiger People is barren. We have nothing. There is no food, no prey, we are… We are starving, my people are dying. I had no choice, to save my people, I had to kill him.” He bit his cheek, looking down at his lap.

The King was silent for a while and when Ravindra dared look up, he found the man looking back at him with a surprisingly soft expression.

“Is that how you got this…?” He asked, gesturing to Ravindra’s scar that spanned from the side of his nose, all across his cheekbone and taking off the tip of his right ear.

He nodded.

“What would you ask of me, brave prince?”

“You are the master of a prosperous, rich land. I beg of you to aid my people, to feed them until they can once again feed themselves. In exchange, I am prepared to give you anything you desire.” He bowed so deeply he hit the table with his forehead.

“Please, stop bowing.” The King’s chest rumbled with a soft chuckle.

Ravindra straightened, swallowing anxiously.

“I will save your people, Tiger Prince.”

Ravindra couldn’t help himself, he bowed again, the dishes on the table giving a loud clang as his forehead collided with the wood.

The King’s rumbling laugh filled the room.

“Sit up, Prince.”

“My gratitude is boundless, King Dharma. What price do you ask?”

“You.” The king said, a twinkle in his gentle eyes.

“I don’t understand…” Ravindra searched his face in confusion.

“You said it yourself, Prince, the land is barren. Your people will not survive if they stay there. I can feed them, but what good would that do? They will still be unable to support themselves, enriching the land and making it fertile again will take decades, if not centuries. I have land in abundance and mine are peaceful people. I will accept them as my subjects. They will be free to settle and work in the Elephant Kingdom as equals. But my price is your hand in marriage.”

Ravindra stared at the Elephant King. To marry this enormous man, to share his bed? But this was an offer beyond any generosity he could have hoped for. His people would live! Not only would they live, they would survive. There was only one answer he could give.

“I accept your offer, Oh, Elephant King.”

*

Ravindra swallowed heavily, peering in the mirror. His plump elephant aid connected the chain going from his nose ring to his ear with the elaborate golden earring hung there. He was wearing a traditional Elephant wedding garb. A mundu, a bottom garment made of a long white cloth wrapped around his waist. The fabric had beautiful, intricate golden borders. Another piece of cloth with similar golden elements was resting on his shoulders and flowing along his arms. He was also wearing a tight, beautifully woven belt cinching his waist; a symbol of an outsider being accepted by the Elephant Kingdom. His chest was bare but for a heavy, gold necklace. Matching bracelets clang on his wrists and ankles.

“You look beautiful, Your Highness.” The aid said, gently dabbing gold powder over his eyes and lips.

Ravindra didn’t disagree, he wasn’t a particularly vain man, but he had to admit he looked handsome in the Elephant wedding attire. That was the only problem. He was wearing Elephant wedding attire. For his wedding. His wedding with the Elephant King.

He was led through the palace and barely registered any of it, his mind in a foggy, uncertain haze. Before he knew it, Ravindra was entering the Elephant Temple. It was stuffed with people. There were mainly elephant shifters but there were also dozens of tiger shifters. His people.

He walked to the centre, where his future husband waited. He was wearing similar clothes to Ravindra, only with less golden jewellery, safe for his crown and nose ring. Ravindra couldn’t help staring at the enormous stomach hanging over the waist of the King’s mundu; he was so enormously fat his dark, soft flesh seemed like it was melting off, sagging low and heavy, pulled down by its own mass.

The High Elephant Priest raised her hands high in the air and the ceremony began. In a moment, he would be wed.

*

Ravindra flopped onto his back, all four paws in the air. The morning sun was warm and he purred contentedly.

“Ehrm, Your Highness…” someone cleared their throat.

Ravindra’s eyes snapped open and he saw his elephant aid, Rohit, bow low, trying very hard not to look at him.

He shifted swiftly, covering himself with a thin blanket.

“Yes, Rohit?”

“The King requests your presence for breakfast.”

“I’ll be there momentarily.”

Rohit bowed low and scurried away.

It’s been a week since the marriage ceremony. Ravindra thought the King would want to consummate their marriage immediately and expect him to share his bed every night, but it was not so. Ravindra got his own beautiful room and so far all the King expected of him was to have breakfast and dinner with him.

Ravindra put on a long tunic and loose trousers, he adorned his ankles and wrists with golden bracelets signifying his Royal marital status and made his way to the King’s dining terrace.

“Good morning, Ravindra.” The King smiled at him warmly, already finishing off his first, and definitely not last, plate of food.

“Good morning, Your Highness.” He bowed, taking his seat.

“I hope you had a good night?”

“Yes, thank you.”

The King let out a small sigh. He stopped eating. A sight Ravindra witnessed so rarely that he looked up at him in surprise.

“You don’t like me very much, do you, Ravindra?”

He looked away, embarrassed.

“I’m trying to understand why.” The King continued in his smooth, deep voice. “Do you think I’m not a just ruler?”

“No!” Ravindra looked up urgently “You are an amazing king, a fantastic ruler!”

“Then what is the matter?”

Ravindra couldn’t stop himself from glancing at the enormous expanse of belly pooling in The King's lap. He looked away again, pouring himself a cup of tea to have something to occupy his hands.

“Really..?” The King said sadly “I must say I am quite disappointed in you, Ravindra.”

“Disappointed?”

“You can’t accept me just because of my size?”

He felt shame heat his face.

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see how someone who can barely walk can defend his Kingdom.”

“My Kingdom is strong” The Elephant King said and his deep voice had an edge that wasn’t there before. He was angry. Ravindra tensed up, staring at the shaky surface of his tea. “My Kingdom is stronger than yours ever was” He continues “I cultivate positive connections of mutual benefit with all the surrounding lands, I have no enemies. My people are happy and long for nothing. They pay taxes, but unlike other rulers, who hoard their wealth, I spend the money they pay me in taxes on giving back to my people. On improving the safety of my cities and villages, improving the roads. Nobody in my kingdom works themselves into the ground to survive. They work hard, but they don’t slave away for a piece of fruit. They work hard and they live in abundance and safety in return. Can you say the same about your own people? People who were famished and riddled with diseases when my kingdom took them in. Did they not all receive housing and resources? Did I not provide for those who were too weak to work and employ those who were ready for labour? Did I not do that?”

“You did, My King,” Ravindra said, his mouth dry like sand.

“I am a good King, My Consort. I am a good ruler and, dare I say, I think I at least try to be a good man. Did I treat you poorly in any way since you’ve come here? Did I disrespect you in any way?”

“No!” Ravindra said, his face burning. He looked up a the king pleadingly “You are gracious beyond belief to me, I thank you for it, My King…”

The Elephant King smiles sadly.

“And yet you disregard all of that, you disregard who I am and what I do, you are cold and distant just because of the way I look.”

Ravindra wanted to cry, rage and shame overcoming him completely. He hung his head low.

“I ask just one thing of you, My Consort. Try to be more open-minded. Try to see past people’s bodies and into their hearts. Try to see into my heart.”

He looked up, finding the King's eyes full of longing and pain.

God, what has he done? How could he be so ungrateful and cold towards this amazing man who did nothing but shower him with compassion and understanding since the day he begged for his help?

Moved by shame and urgency, Ravindra shot up from his seat, falling to his knees by the King’s side. He took his big, soft hand and kissed the dimpled knuckles gently.

“Forgive me, My King. I am a despicable man.”

The King pulled his hand away and for a moment Ravindra thought he was pulling away, but soon the hand came to caress his cheek.

“I am your husband, please, call me Dharma.”

Ravindra smiled hesitantly.

“Forgive me, Dharma. I am a naive fool of a cat.”

Dharma gave a rumbling chuckle.

“I only ask for you to learn to reserve your judgement until you get to know someone, not just assume who they are because of the size of their belly. Can you do that?”

“I will try, I promise.”

Dharma smiled at him and Ravindra felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Sit down, Ravindra, eat. You barely ate for the past week.”

“I was… Preoccupied with my thoughts.” He sat on the cushion next to Dharma, as opposed to the one on the opposite side of the table.

“Eat, husband, you might discover that food has a sweeter taste when you open your heart.”

Ravindra startled at that strange remark but when he looked at Dharma he was already back to his plate. He examined his husband for a moment. He wasn’t that much older than Ravindra, and yet, there was so much wisdom in him, so much compassion. It was true, he realised, what Dharma said before; he was a good man. Yes, he was fat, but was that such a bad thing, really? And why? He traced the soft curves of Dharma’s body with his gaze. Somehow they suited him, Ravindra realised. He had a soft heart and a soft body to go with it. Had he been muscular, or lean like Ravindra, it would be at odds with his calm, gentle character.

Without thinking, he reached out to grab Dharma’s hand, the one that wasn’t preoccupied with eating. The King was startled, dropping a piece of fruit and looking at him.

Ravindra smiled and Dharma smiled back brilliantly, squeezing his hand.

“What should I eat first?” Ravindra asked.

*

The fabric groaned and Ravindra frowned. There was a banquet planned for the evening; some wealthy pangolin merchants were coming to the city to negotiate trade agreements and Dharma requested he wear his best, including the beautiful embroidered waist cincher he wore at their wedding.

But the belt would not close. Not only would it not close, but it was nowhere near encompassing his waist, there were at least two entire palm-lengths between the opposite rows of loops and buttons. Ravindra looked in the mirror and was surprised to see his abdomen changed from what he remembered it to be. There was a definite, soft roundness around his midriff. As he looked at himself now, he realised his entire body was softer all over; but it wasn’t as noticeable as the roundness of his stomach.

“Are you quite ready, Ravindra?” Dharma waddled into the room, his enormous gut on full display, as was the custom.

“I don’t think I can wear this” He confessed, demonstrating by wrapping the waist cincher around himself.

Dharma gave him an adoring smile.

“I told you, my love, food has a sweeter taste when you open your heart.”

Ravindra was much shorter, and so he wrapped his arms around Dharma’s soft neck, pulling him down for a kiss. He pressed himself against his husband’s soft body.

“Is my softening gut a tribute to the King then?” He asked, his stomach fluttering with an unexplainable excitement.

“It is.” Dharma agreed, kissing him again.

*

Ravindra was panting; he shifted and got out for a run in the King’s private garden, but after only a few minutes, he was utterly exhausted. His muscles ached and his stomach sagged, swaying in between his back legs and obstructing his movements. Feeling like he could run no more, he plopped down in the grass, rolling to his side and panting. The sun was pleasantly heating his fur and with a gentle purr, he drifted into a much-deserved nap.

Something was poking him and when he opened his eyes he found himself splayed in the grass, being poked by a trunk of the most magnificent elephant. His heart leapt with joy at the sight of him. He pushed the trunk away with his paw playfully.

Dharma let out an amused huff and shifted. Ravindra did the same. Almost immediately, two servants scurried over with blankets and pillows for them to rest on.

“Bring something to eat, My Consort looks famished,” Dharma said, his fat body settling against the pillows.

Ravindra lay down gratefully, allowing his own body to melt into the pillows. He looked down at his soft breasts and large, sagging belly with satisfaction. His tribute to the King. He’d never imagined he would grow so large, and yet here he was, nearly as fat as Dharma, who was the biggest, strongest elephant in the land, his bulk more a necessity than indulgence. Ravindra’s body on the other hand? Oh, that was pure indulgence. There was no more suffering and fear for the survival of his people, no enemies were threatening their joined Kingdoms. There was nothing for Ravindra to do but cultivate his marriage. And cultivate he did. He ate for the pleasure of his husband, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t his own pleasure also. Ravindra could not be satiated, there were no more days where he felt full, and he found he could always eat more. And he wanted to do so, Gods, did he want to! His and Dharma’s meals lasted for hours, both rejoicing in each other’s company and in the food they consumed. And when Dharma was busy tending to their Kingdom, Ravindra had Rohit bringing in a steady supply of snacks all day long, until at dinner he sat with his husband to eat for hours once more.

*

“My Love, I must attend a council meeting momentarily, but please, don’t waste any of this wonderful food,” Dharma said, hefting his enormous bulk to standing. He placed a kiss on the top of Ravindra’s head and slowly waddled off their private terrace. They’d been having one of their wonderful long breakfasts until a messenger from the council came to call on the King’s attention.

Ravindra looked at the table still overflowing with food, his mouth watering at the sight of the gorgeous treats; candied fruits, thick milky desserts, sweet honey-drizzled wonderfulness… “Rohit, fill a plate for me, would you?” He asked.

“Of course, King Consort!” His aid hastened to take his last plate from him and begin another.

Ravindra had grown too large to reach the table over his enormous bulk, but thankfully his aid was always there for him.

He received the plate gratefully. Setting it on top of his massive stomach he started eating with relish. They continued this until the table was almost completely empty, save for the few things Ravindra didn’t like; they weren’t sweet enough.

Rubbing his enormous belly contentedly for a moment he sat there, admiring how solid and big he’d become for his King. The blinding light filled the terrace as he shifted; these days walking on two feet was entirely too taxing, and so Ravindra preferred to move around in his animal form.

He slowly began his laborious trek to the bed. His overstuffed, enormously round stomach dragged on the ground, his fat-encased paws shaking and jiggling with every movement.

*

“Where’s the King Consort?” a dignitary from the distant Leopard Kingdom asked one of the Elephant courtiers.

“He will be rolled out in a moment.” She replied, slurping up a juicy piece of fruit.

“Rolled out?”

“There.” The elephant shifter gestured to the Great Hall doors as they pulled open.

“Ravindra, King Consort of the Elephant Kingdom!” The door guard announced loudly. Two elephant shifters in their animal forms appeared, they were pulling a low platform, outfitted with wheels. On it lay stacks of pillows and against them lay a man so enormously fat it took the Leopard Dignitary a moment to take the unbelievable sight in. The King Consort was a mountain of flesh, his belly pooling in front of him and taking up a sizeable portion of the platform, his hips spreading so wide to the sides they were almost spilling over the edges. He lay back relaxed, smiling demurely as his enormous accumulation of flesh shook and jiggled with the movements of the platform. The elephant shifters rolled him right up to the table beside the King.

The King took the Consort’s overstuffed hand and pressed a kiss to it. The look in his eyes was so full of love and overflowing with adoration that the Leopard dignitary looked away, feeling like they were intruding on something private.

“Welcome, all!” The King’s deep voice filled the Great Hall. “Thank you all for coming to join us, for tonight is a special celebration. My beloved, the love of my life and the light of this land, King Consort Ravindra, is celebrating his birth day!”

A ruckus of applause filled the room and the King laughed heartily.

“Thank you! Now, eat, my dear guests! May you find that food tastes that much sweeter when you open your hearts to love.” He said, no longer addressing the crowd, but gazing deep into his husband’s eyes.

[whxtedreams]

Chapter 9 - The Miller Brothers

Summary

Present: Lunch with the Millers

Past: You first arrive in Jackson

CW: Mentions of loss, arguments.

WC // 7,626

Now

The following week's events are a painful and excruciating period as you struggle to regain your emotional footing and find a way to move forward with your life again. The grief and the pain from the loss continues to feel like a knife twisting and shredding your heart into a million pieces with every reminder that the happiness has melted away. You find a dull ache settling deep within your bones and the thought of finding comfort in anything other than what you've lost, simply feels impossible.

Though each passing day brings a sense of progress from your depressive episode and the dull ache continues to soften over the course of the week, the pain and the grief still lingers and you doubt that it will ever fully go away. Over the past few months, you’ve been on a loop. Just as you find yourself amble to enjoy life again, something reminds you of her and everything comes crashing down again. 

You often find yourself with a distant look on your face when your mind wanders and you notice that Joel is perceptive enough to see it. You appreciate the understanding that he displays and you also know that he has been through his own struggles before and can empathise with your pain.Though he's not sure exactly what thoughts are swirling in your mind on these occasions, he simply offers you a reassuring and understanding smile, letting you know he's there if you need him.

Joel's presence in your life is one that you’ve become to appreciate and rely upon. Whether it's simply a gentle squeeze to the shoulder or a side hug, the comfort and warmth of his touch has become a constant and reassuring presence in your life.

Since he found you detached from the world in your bathroom, Joel has become softer with you. Always finding an excuse to touch you. The touch of his leg brushing against yours as you eat together at the tiny kitchen table in the cabin or the subtle physical intimacy of your shoulders touching as you lay by the lake, reminds you of how comfortable you've become with him. You feel safe and secure in his presence and you're content in letting him draw you closer to him as you learn to enjoy and trust his affection and the bond that you two have developed.

Joel has also begun to bring packed snacks that he sets up by the river for the two of you to lay on and relax in each other's company after patrol and before you have to return to Jackson. However, once Maria had to radio in when neither of you returned back on the night you both passed out by the lake, you made sure to not allow yourself to get so relaxed again.

You find yourself now sitting in Tommy's backyard at his outdoor dining table, your legs crossed on the chair as you watch Ellie and her friend Dina laying down in the grass. You've met Dina on a few occasions when Annabel brought her over after their classes before, but their friendship barely had time to blossom before… Anway, Dina saw you as she walked in with Ellie earlier in the morning and she gave you a sympathetic smile and wave, which you returned in earnest. 

She seems like a nice girl.

You lean your head on your knees and glance over at Tommy by the barbeque, his back to you. Neither of you have really spoken much to each other since the night you spent at Joel's and you can't help but wonder if something had happened between the brothers the following morning, but neither of them will talk about it. It's clear that something has changed between them, and you have a lingering feeling that you were the cause of it.

You had once tried to ask Joel while you guys were doing one of your normal patrol walks together, but he evaded the question and made a topic change to the subject of how to acquire honey. You had also tried to ask Tommy about it one night when you ventured over to have dinner with him and Maria, but he too gave you a topic change and asked how you were feeling. Neither one of them seemed willing to elaborate or discuss the situation further and you're starting to wonder if they will ever really tell you what happened between them that morning.

Maria's hand on your shoulder manages to shake you from your thoughts as she leans over you to place a salad down on the table. You manage a small smile in response as she looks down at you and squeezes your shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, he hasn’t told me why they’re not talking.” Her soft voice reaches into your ears and you nod in understanding at her words that she hasn't been told why they're not talking either. It does make you feel slightly better to know that you're not the only one in the dark when it comes to the situation between the two brothers.

As Maria retreats back into the house, you turn your head away from the entrance and take in the surroundings of the backyard. You're feeling a bit out of place now that everything's suddenly become so quiet besides the bickering of the two girls across the yard, with Maria being the only one to really acknowledge you so far. Usually, your attention would be drawn to Annabel in a situation like this, but the seat beside you remains empty. You begin to stare at the empty seat blankly before it's pulled out of the way and Joel finally sits down next to you.

As the familiar presence of his company finally takes its place beside you, you're pleased and amused that he's late. Joel apologises and you can't help but soften into a smile as you accept his apology. As he closes the gap between you two, he explains that he didn’t want to come and you softly laugh at his reasoning to be late. It's not entirely unexpected coming from him, but it's still a pleasant sight to see him back to his usual attitude and demeanour without any obvious sign of the lingering tension between him and tommy.

"Yeah? What made you change your mind?" You ask in a soft tone, your voice tinged with a playful teasing in its cadence. Joel leans back into his chair as you ask this question and he looks over at you with a grin. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he answers your question after a brief moment of consideration, 

"Couldn't let you deal with Tommy all on your own, could I?" Joel says in a playful tone, his voice teasing as he lightly nudges your shoulder with his elbow. You shake your head and a soft laugh escapes your lips as you smile at the attempt of teasing. It's nice to see the usual playful side of Joel back again, at least for this moment.

You allow yourself to sink into a comfortable back and forth conversation with Joel, avoiding all topics of his brother. The sounds of meat grilling and the girls laughing on the grass are merely background noise to your ears. You're completely focused on Joel, giving your full attention to him and listening intently to him as he begins to talk about wanting to make a guitar.

Joel tells you that he has finally moved Ellie into the garage and is starting to think about making her old room into something for himself. He specifically brings up your suggestion on converting it into a woodworking room for him so that he can have a space to tinker and build things, which lights up your face as he mentions it. Joel mirrors your bright expression and a warm grin crosses his face as you find that he agrees with your idea.

“What do you think?” He asks.  

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” You reply, your head resting on your knees as you smile up at him.

"Lunch is served!" Tommy's voice breaks into your conversation and you look up to see him arrive with a plate of meat. He places it down on the table in front of you, disrupting the conversation between you and Joel.. You look over the plate that has been presented to you and look up at Tommy as he frowns at Joel. “Didn’t think you were coming.” he mutters. 

Joel grunts in response to Tommy's comment and turns his attention to Ellie who jumps up from the ground with her friend, racing towards the food. She reaches the table and her eyes widen and her expression lights up as she spots the plates of food that has been placed out for them to eat.

Ellie exclaims "Fuck yeah!" as she hurries to take a seat next to Joel and claims her spot at the table. Dinna softly giggles at her outburst and takes a far more relaxed approach, calmly sitting on the opposite side of the table from her with a smile on her face.

Ellie.” Joel utters her name in a warning with a sigh at her reaction and Ellie responds with a simple point towards the food, as if that explains her outburst in that her excitement at the sight of the food warranted her enthusiasm. Joel shakes his head in mild annoyance as he looks over at you and shrugs, "teenagers" he mutters with a roll of his eyes.

Tommy has settled across the table from you while Maria sits between her husband and Dinna as Ellie grabs a fork and picks up the biggest steak. Ellie's eyes seem bigger than her stomach as the large steak sits on her plate. She starts digging into the steak, biting off huge mouthfuls before she pauses to chew, reaching for her cup and taking a drink of water to wash it down. 

Joel openly stares at Ellie as she devours the large steak, a small smile washing over his face as he looks at the girl. He continues to watch her in amusement, clearly finding her behaviour to be endearing and amusing. Joel finally breaks his stare before leaning over to dish up his own plate, a small smile still plastered on his face.  

If an outsider were to look at the table, they would see Ellie's undivided attention focused on eating her food as quickly as she can. They would also notice the amused and adoring look on Joel's face as you smile at him. They would also notice Maria nudging Tommy and telling him to lighten up as Dina laughs at Ellie and her enthusiasm. 

As everyone starts to push their plates away and Ellie lays on the floor groaning in a state of food-coma, you softly pull out a map from your jeans pocket and slide it over the table to Tommy. Tommy waits for Maria to stand and excuse herself before he picks the folded paper and realises what it is, briefly examining the map before nodding his acknowledgement.  

"I found papers in the church mentioning a town on the other side of Missouri River, a high school they're working out of." You pull out another folded-up paper from your pocket, handing the letters over to Tommy who examines them with a deep frown, his mind processing this information.

"Maria won't like us going that far, you know that." Tommy dryly states, his words indicating that his wife won't appreciate the idea of you two venturing out that far. His head is bent over as he flips the papers around, his eyes never really meeting yours. The frown remains etched on his features as his thoughts shift towards Maria and her probable reaction.

Maria has reluctantly allowed Tommy to accompany you on your quest for vengeance, knowing that he needed it just as much as you did. As the hunt began to move further and further away from Jackson, however, she began to object. Tommy had gone with you regardless, and while Maria resented you for this, she understood that Tommy needed this to make peace with his past and overcome his own grief of losing Annabel.

"I'll go alone." You reply in a confident manner as his head snaps up. The table grows silent with every pair of eyes upon you. Instead of sinking back into a shy and withdrawn state, you sit up straight and continue to meet his eyes. There is no hesitation or uncertainty as you repeat yourself, standing firm to your decision.

Tommy rises from his seat, leaning over the table and points his finger at you, his tone serving as enough of a warning. 'Like hell you will,' The intensity of his expression and tone leaves no doubt as to how serious he was, his firm stance demonstrating his authority. There is no room for discussion or debate, his words ending the conversation before it could even begin.

Joel stands from the table and your eyes shift towards him, your head snapping in his direction, surprised by this sudden change of pace. The tension in the air builds as the brothers glare at each other across the dinner table. Tommy's glare is unwavering in its intensity while Joel remains just as intense with his gaze, seemingly determined to not let his brother win this staring contest.

Maria's voice rings out from the back porch and sends a sudden chill up your spine. "Inside." Her voice commands, demanding. No one at the table budges from their positions. She once again makes her demand as she says, " Now ." 

Tommy pulls his glare from Joel, his attention shifting towards you. Joel begins to move but Tommy stops him with a warning look and orders,"You stay here." He says with a tone that's almost a growl. Joel's eyes narrow but he does as he's told, sitting back in his seat at the table as Tommy turns to face you. "You, inside." He orders in a harsh tone before storming up the stairs past Maria.

You slowly push your chair backward as you rise at Joel's questioning look. He grabs your wrist in a gentle grip but his eyes betray a sense of concern as he continues to look into yours.

You okay?

You smile down at Joel and nod to him as a reassurance that you'll be fine on your own as you walk away from the dining table, his hand slipping from yours. As you walk up the stairs past Maria, she quietly guides you into the dining room. He is pacing when you first enter the room, but he comes to an abrupt stop when he spots you. 

You flinch at the sharp, loud sound of Tommy slamming his hand down on the table. This sudden reaction is more startling than you had anticipated and it takes a few seconds to process this sudden bout of aggression. Tommy's expression is dark as he stares at you, the anger and intensity of his glare makes you feel a bit anxious. He hasn't quite frightened you yet, but he's close and the air is thick with the tense atmosphere his demeanour brings to the room.

“You go on one more suicide mission like the church, and I will lock you up and make sure you never leave Jackson again,” he threatens, his intensity suggesting that he means every word, tone becoming serious and dark as he issues the warning. His eyes search your face for any hint of rebellion as he tightens his jaw, and his glare deepens.

You rarely see Tommy in this state, specifically directed towards you.

You tear your eyes from Tommy and find yourself looking at Maria as she stands in the doorway. Her expression is equally stern as she nods in agreement with Tommy's words. Maria only further amplifies the seriousness of the moment as she adds to her husband's words, "You're going to get yourself killed." You stare at Maria in shock and dismay as Tommy continues to stare at you in a hard and intense manner.

"Okay so Tommy comes with me." You reply with firm confidence. Maria's expression remains rigid and unyielding as you look back at Tommy for confirmation. Instead of answering, Tommy's eyes dart away from yours and he remains silent. Your frustration grows as you look back to Maria, feeling as though your friend won't back you up on this.

"Tommy's not going with you anymore." Maria's tone is firm, unyielding, and decisive as she declares this fact with the confidence in her voice. Your body feels like it goes cold as all hopes of Tommy backing up your stance are shattered. your attention shifts towards Tommy, who still won't meet your eyes. No. This isn't happening. You feel as though you can't breathe. This isn't something you had anticipated at all and you feel utterly hopeless right now. 

"Is that true?" Your voice breaks as you choke on your words. Tommy's eyes remain averted from yours, still refusing to meet your gaze. It just seems wrong to have your closest friend and family turn his back on you now, after everything you've been through together and how far you've come in avenging Annabel. "Tommy, look at me!" You demand, frustration coursing through you as you demand his attention. Your emotions are on the verge of tears as your anger spikes, your heart racing with each new beat and your body shaking slightly in rage. 

"It's too far. We need you here. Maria needs me here. We can't keep running out, because one day – one of us won't come back." Tommy's reply hits you hard and the truth in his words make it all the more clear why he's made his decision.

"What happened to You and I?" You question angrily, pointing a finger at Tommy as he avoids your gaze. You continue to express your dismay as your voice grows louder and angrier with every word you speak. "You promised me. You said we would find them together, make them pay for what they did to Annabel. What happened? You don’t care anymore? Is that it?" Your fury is palpable and no longer contained within a small space as you continue to verbally assault your friend with these accusative words.

"Of course I care." Tommy responds with a snap, finally meeting your angry and hateful gaze with his own. Your chest heaves with anger as you stare at him with nothing but contempt and rage. There is little room left for forgiveness and understanding here and that only fuels your anger more. You feel as though you cannot move an inch from your spot, your fury has completely taken over your senses at this point.

“Then act like it.” 

"I'll go with her." Joel interjects and all eyes shift from Tommy to him as he stands beside Maria in the doorway. You feel the tension in the room relax ever so slightly with his words, glad that at least one of you is still willing to go with you. However, you can just as quickly feel that same tension return to the room as Tommy and Joel exchange glances with one another.

“You’re not a part of this.” Tommy snaps.

“She’s going to go even if you don’t let her, Tommy. You want her to go alone or with me? Since you’re so adamant you’re not going.” Joel snaps back at his brother.

"You’re not taking her anywhere. She's staying in Jackson where it's safe." Tommy shoots back, his words dismissive and the tone firm as he waves off Joel's offer. He pushes himself away from the table and crosses his arms as he shoots Joel a harsh look.

Your mouth drops in disbelief, your anger temporarily fading in the face of Tommy's bold statement. You quickly regroup your defences and respond with a firm declaration, "I'm going with Joel." These words are spoken with a complete disregard for how Tommy responds or reacts to your decision. You've made up your mind and you will not be swayed on this. No matter what Tommy says, he will not prevent you from going on this journey with Joel now.

“That’s settled then.” Maria lets out a resigned sigh as she stands from the wall she was leaning on, seemingly settling this argument once and for all. Tommy begins to speak again, but she shakes her head at him to cease his protests. Tommy seems to understand her message and the outcome of the discussion, as he storms passes you without another word, exiting the room.

"I should probably go." You softly say as you stare down at your feet, feeling a bit lost and overwhelmed with all that just happened. You can't even look anyone in the eye after the heated and emotional exchange that took place moments prior. Before anyone has a chance to reply you make your exit, leaving the room in dead silence as you quietly depart. 

You sit by Annabel's grave, the late afternoon sky turning orange and the sun receding downwards with each passing moment. Your back rests against the tombstone set over her final resting place on this earth, the fresh flower held in your hand a perfect testament to the beauty of her soul. You remain there for what feels like an eternity, lost in your own thoughts and memories as you stare up above and watch the sky grow darker with the encroaching night.   

You find yourself musing over Tommy, his bold audacity to try and restrain you to the confines of Jackson. You feel stuck and suffocated by the very walls in which you reside. This feeling of being trapped makes you feel as though your skin is too tight. The thought of letting the cult go without justice for their crimes burns at your soul. Annabel's death and the senseless cruelty by which she was killed cannot be left unanswered.

You can’t let them live, not when she's laying six feet under you. 

And if Tommy wont come with you, Joel will.

You begin to make your way around the streets, guided by the glow from the fairlights strung from the buildings that light your path. The soft shine of these lights brings you some comfort, reminding you of the life you once had before everything changed. Before death began to follow everyone around like a hawk. 

You allow yourself to wander the town, letting your mind wander while your body instinctively carries you through the familiar walkways. You find yourself on Tommy's doorstep once again, a place you frequently end up when seeking an escape from your own mind. However, this afternoon’s argument, it feels wrong to be here. As your hand reaches for the front door to knock it feels heavier and harder than it ever has before. 

"I need you here!" You hear from the other side of the door as Maria's voice echoes through the thick wooden barrier. You feel your hand instinctively lower away from the door and take a single step back.

"You know if I don't go with her, she'll get herself killed." Tommy responds, his tone firm as he continues to argue with Maria. You hear his boots moving from one room to another, the steady tapping making the intensity of the argument even clearer. You feel as though you are eavesdropping on a heated discussion that should be private, but you remain outside the house and try your best to hear what else they may be saying. “Anna was like a daughter to me, I can’t lose her too.”

"Joel said he would go with her." Maria replies to Tommy's words, speaking with a tone that displays her concern for you but also frustration with her husband. It's clear that this argument is becoming quite the intense and serious predicament for both of them, but your ears only catch short snippets of their words coming from behind the locked door.

"I don't trust Joel with her, I don't trust anyone with her." Tommy retorts, standing his ground. You close your eyes and try to take another step away, but Maria stops you in your tracks with her next words as you struggle to comprehend what is being said inside.

"You need to be here for your own child." Maria's shout echoes through the door and the sudden halt to Tommy's pacing causes you to be equally speechless. Your breath catches in your throat once more, the intensity of the situation rising exponentially with each passing moment that this heated exchange continues to escalate.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.” 

Maria is pregnant. 

Tommy is going to be a father.

With your mind in a whirl, your feet move before you can hear another word and your feet race down their steps and back home. You realise there was no other option; Neither Tommy or Joel are going with you. You are going alone. You were okay with taking Tommy from his wife on your hunt, but a child? You can’t do that. And Joel, taking him away from his niece or nephew, you can’t do that either. You can’t let them choose between your revenge and their family. 

You move before you can hear another word from Maria or Tommy, escaping the situation as your feet race down the stairs and back home. You have come to the realisation that there is no more discussion to be had. Neither Tommy or Joel will come with you on this excursion and you can't bring yourself to tear either of them away from their families for such a dangerous venture. Joel has Ellie to look after and Tommy now has his wife alongside their unborn child.

You can’t bring yourself to tear them from their families to find vengeance for the loss of yours.

Because what if they don’t come back. What if Ellie loses Joel, or Tommy’s child loses their father.

This is your fight and yours alone.

You return home and prepare for the trip, organising everything you need into your backpack. Once you are finished packing the required supplies for the journey, you change into your usual patrol clothing. You don't opt to wear shorts this time around, opting for jeans instead so that you may have more pockets to tuck away weapons and other necessities. You run down to the garage, unlocking the lockers and taking out your holsters. You buckle your weapon holsters onto your thighs and hips, adjusting them so that they sit snugly against your clothes and your weapons rest comfortably within.

Finally, you reach for your knives and firearms, carefully packing them into their respective slots on your body before locking it back up.

You tear a piece of paper and write Tommy a note. You lean against your kitchen counter, deciding to just write sorry on the paper and leaving it on the fridge. 

If you make it back alive, Tommy is going to kill you himself. 

You take a final look around your home, unsure whether or not you will return. Your eyes sweep up and down the familiar room, taking in everything you will leave behind if your mission proves fatal. You breathe in the lingering scent of your surroundings, memories of home and safety filling your thoughts as you look at this living space that you may never return to.

For Annabel. 

You sling your bag around your shoulders and rest the strap of your rifle just above it. You managed to steal a baseball bat from the weapons storage room a couple of weeks back, as you had broken too many bats prior and had been officially banned from signing them out from the collection. You snuck into the arsenal at night while the guard was fast asleep, successfully stealing the bat and avoiding Maria’s disappointment of stealing. You smile to yourself as you grip the bat securely in your hand before leaving your home to embark on this risky endeavour.

You reach the gates of the stable, the calm and quiet of the night settling around you as you approach your regular horse. You reach up to gently caress her mane and the horse nuzzles you in response, as if she knows and understands the journey you are about to embark on.  

“Had a feeling you'd run off.” The unexpected and rough voice suddenly interrupts your actions and you abruptly spin on your feet to face the person speaking. As you look at the man emerging from the shadows of the stable, your expression softens when the light of the street lamp finally reaches his face.

Joel .

You look at Joel as you lift the saddle from the wooden fence, your voice filled with confusion. "What are you doing here?" You ask him as he leans over the same fence. 

"Making sure you don't do something stupid." Joel replies with an exasperated sigh as he grabs a saddle and moves to the horse beside yours.

"What about Ellie?" You reply, raising an important question to Joel as you proceed to strap a number of your belongings to the saddle of your horse. You are careful to secure these necessities with firm straps so that your ride is as smooth and comfortable as possible. You take some of the burden off your own back by transferring the weight to the saddle of your horse, an effort to conserve strength and energy as you embark on this journey that could take a number of days, if not weeks if something goes wrong.

“She’ll be fine. She got her friends and told her to go to Tommy or Maria if she needs anything.” Joel answers your question with an assurance that Ellie will be taken care of in his absence. He begins to lead your horse by the reins, making preparations to depart as you finish securing the last few items to the saddle.

You nod in response to Joel's comment regarding Ellie, glad to hear that she is being well taken care of. You pause for a moment to stroke your horse's mane, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity with her presence. You follow Joel's lead as he moves the horses out of the stable, asking him a serious question. "You sure you want to do this?"

You want to tell him about the conversation you overheard, about the news that he's going to be an uncle. It feels wrong though, to tell him at a time like this when he's preparing to possibly never come back. You don't feel comfortable sharing with him this significant information about his future while he is focused so singularly on ensuring yours. It’s not your news to share, you think as you exit the stable.

He pauses just outside the stable as he ascends the saddle of his own horse, his gaze fixated on you as you climb onto your own mount. He meets your eyes with a stern look and firmly states his words that provide you with a measure of reassurance as you both prepare to venture forth together. "I told you I'd go with you, didn't I?" The words are spoken with strength and conviction, and you feel a measure of confidence with his presence at your side.

You offer a playful and humorous reply to Joel's comment, nudging your horse forward as you move into a light trot beside him. "I guess I get to finally see you in action then." 

“The person I am out there is not the same person I am in here." Joel warns, drawing a look of curiosity from you as you raise your eyebrow in response.

You chuckle softly in response to Joel's warning, already knowing all too well the darker sides that lie beneath the surface of each of you. You both keep certain sides buried and hidden while you're in a familiar and comfortable setting such as home, but the outside world is a darker and more unforgiving landscape. There is no doubt that you both will have to tap into your less desirable traits and sides and reveal them while on your mission, so his warning is not one that bears any surprise for you.

“I know, and I’m okay with that.” You softly reply back. 

Before

Mid Winter 2019

As you arrive in Jackson you find yourself mesmerised by the beauty of the town draped in white. The snowfall has a peaceful appearance, bringing about a tranquil serenity to the air. The warmth of the fire pits scattered in the streets adds to the ambiance, as the people gather in groups to enjoy one another's company. You stare up at the fairy lights wrapped around the various poles and trees in the main streets, finding the sight to be breathtakingly beautiful and infinitely calming. It is something you have not seen since the outbreak, and it stirs a sense of wonderment within you.

You reach out to grab Annabel's arm, only to have her dart out of your reach and dive into the snow, attempting to make a snow angel. You turn in disbelief at the unexpected change in situation, only to find Tommy laughing beside you as he gestures for you to relax. He takes your outstretched hand and carefully interlocks your arms together, the warmth of his grip a reminder of his calming presence. "You can relax, she’s safe here." He smiles down at you, attempting to pacify your nerves as you find the town to be a much calmer environment than your typical surroundings.

"How can you be so sure?" You nervously ask, your eyes darting around the street to take in the sights and sounds that are unfamiliar to you. The warmth of Tommy's grip still resting firmly on your arm provides a small measure of comfort, but you are unable to fully relax or trust that the people, town, or environment is as safe and secure as he claims it to be.

Tommy's gentle touch upon your face causes your gaze to meet his own and you find yourself unable to resist the comforting yet intense power behind his eyes. You stare at him for a moment and he softly asks, "Do you trust me?" You are momentarily taken off-guard by the directness of his statement, but you cannot help but notice how his presence soothes you and makes your nerves settle a bit. You give a slight nod, indicating that even in a strange place like this you can still trust in him.

"More than anything." Your answer is true and honest, and his smile is small but reassuring. You do find that you could trust him more than practically anyone else at this moment. The gentle and calming way he is speaking to you instils a sense of comfort despite being in a new place.  

“Then trust me, Sunshine.” 

“You must be Tommy!” A woman greets Tommy with a warm and confident smile upon her face as she reaches her hands out to shake his own. Tommy releases your arm and you feel a sense of loss and insecurity as you feel disconnected from his reassuring presence. He responds to the woman confidently and enthusiastically, reaching out to meet her hand with his own and returning her smile.

Tommy nods his head excitedly to the woman, clearly pleased to be making her acquaintance. He motions to you and Annabel and introduces you both with his words. "And you must be Maria, it is lovely to finally meet you as well. Thank you for taking us in,  I hope it's ok that I've brought some friends." Tommy asks as he gestures to you and Annabel.

Maria returns his enthusiasm and warmth with a genuine smile, her eyes settling on you with a welcoming and friendly expression.

“Of course. Let’s get you all settled into a house, get a fire going.” She proposes before shouting towards a group of people standing around a firepit. She excuses herself for a moment, explaining she needs to get some things prepared for your house and she steps away.

"A house?" Annabel interjects abruptly, her eyes filling with an air of sheer shock and disbelief. "Like a real house?" She asks, her voice filled with excitement and enthusiasm. Tommy responds to her with a simple nod, which only seems to add to her disbelief as she stares at him with eyes wide and her mouth slightly agape. “No way.” 

Tommy laughs and wraps his arms around her in his hug, using his hands to warm her body in the snowy weather. "Yes, way." He responds confidently, finding his statement validated by her evident shock and awe at the sight of the town and its inhabitants. He pulls her in tight with his embrace and speaks again, "Told you this place was cool." 

Tommy's smile grows broader as he continues to see how genuinely astonished she is by their surroundings, clearly thrilled that he was able to introduce her to this town and provide her with a safe space to stay. He gently strokes her back as she gazes up at him in awe and whispers,“I’m so glad you found us.” which softens his expression and stirs a sense of pride within him. 

Tommy looks over at you and beckons you forward, inviting you to join the hug and be a part of this special moment. You roll your eyes playfully before stepping forward to join the embrace, finding yourself pulled into the embrace and your bodies huddled together in the warmth. You feel a sense of security and safety within Tommy's embrace, as he reassures you both with his words, and even seemingly himself as he looks down at the three of you together in the snow. "We're safe now." He repeats his words quietly as he holds you close. 

As you venture along the streets with Tommy and Maria leading the way, you ask Maria if it would be possible for you to move into one of the houses on the edges of town. She nods in understanding and walks you and Annabel in front of a two-story house, its facade covered in a fine layer of snow that blankets the exterior and adds to its quiet charm. Maria motions to the house and says, "You can have this one if you like.”

Annabel's reaction to the house is filled with a mixture of awe and wonderment, and her excitement is infectious as she stares up at the two-story mansion. Maria smiles at the girl's awe-inspired expression before turning back to Tommy. 

Maria notes that the furniture inside the house is limited, but she also mentions that more can be found in the town centre should you wish to decorate and make it more homey. You thank her for her guidance and kindness and follow Annabel as she runs up the porch stairs and into the house with reckless abandon.

You glance back briefly towards Tommy and Maria as you trail after Annabel. As you look back towards them, you catch a glimpse of a brief moment of embarrassment and shyness on Tommy's face, his blush making it evident that something has transpired between them. He gazes at you briefly, his eyes widening as if caught.

"Hmm, Maria huh?" You tease him with a playful tone, a light and gentle mockery directed at the shy and embarrassed look that crossed his face when talking to Maria. As he walks past you and into the house, you find it difficult to not chuckle at his reaction. 

"Shut up." He mumbles in reply, his voice conveying a mild sense of irritation at your playful teasing and mockery. You follow him into the house, taking in the interior together with him. You observe the sparsely furnished interior, noticing the lack of furniture that Maria had mentioned and thinking of the additional work you'll have to undertake in order to make this place feel more cosy and homey.

Annabel runs down the stairs, her body moving with such a lack of caution that causes you to flinch in anticipation of her falling and causing injury. She jumps at the final few steps and manages to find her footing on the floor without incident, and she quickly shoots you a pleading look as she asks, "Can I have my own room?"

"Of course you can." Tommy nods in agreement, his tone carrying a gentle and kind demeanor as he readily agrees to Annabel's request. She quickly smiles back at him and runs upstairs, no doubt eager to begin decorating her new room and make it a place of privacy and warmth where she can relax and feel comfortable.

The sound of her footsteps echoes around the halls and you hear her running between rooms briefly before eventually finding herself in the room of her choice which must be satisfactory and to her liking. Your ears are greeted by a boisterous shout coming from upstairs, Annabel's voice carrying a mixture of amusement and excitement as she calls dibs on the room of her choice. 

You both glance down from where you had been staring at the roof and find yourselves smiling towards each other.The two of you share a gentle and light-hearted laugh as your eyes meet and you find yourselves sharing a mutual appreciation for this lively and spirited young girl.

Feeling neither comfortable nor safe enough to sleep separately, Tommy sets up a mattress in the living room beside the fire, moving the coffee table from the room. The living room is certainly the most convenient and comfortable place to sleep for the time being as it offers the option of warming yourself in the glow of the fire as well as staying close to each other for the sake of comfort and safety.

Annabel had scoffed, declaring that she would sleep upstairs in her new room rather than staying downstairs with the two of you. You understand and respect her stubbornness and her desire to settle into her new room as quickly as possible, but you cannot lie that the prospect of her being far away from the two of you does make you feel a bit uneasy and worried.

"Bets are that she's down here with us within the hour." Tommy confidently declares, clearly wagering that Annabel will not be able to resist the urge to come downstairs and be with the two of you in the living room rather than settle for sleeping alone. You echo his declaration with a playful chuckle as you get comfortable under the blankets on the mattress.

Tommy settles under the blankets beside you, your head resting on his shoulder as his breath brushes against your hair and offers a soothing and comforting feeling. The warmth of your closeness and the warmth of the fire around you create a cosy and inviting atmosphere that is relaxing and calming. You hold conversation for a while, your voices echoing and amplifying in the confines of the room, and as the fire burns low you find yourself slowly and gradually drifting towards sleep with comfort and relief washing over you.

As if on cue, the sound of Annabel's footsteps echo down the stairs and you find her body appearing in the archwayway of the living room. “Told you," Tommy chuckles ans you gently nudge him in the ribs, a lighthearted and playful jab at his previous declaration for the bet.

"I'm not scared or nothin'!" Annabel mumbles with a slight air of indignation despite her words not carrying much conviction as she crosses her arms over her chest and attempts to present a tough and stoic exterior in the face of your teasing. Her words are undermined by the way she looks a bit sheepish and nervous, her eyes wandering nervously and her body language betraying her feelings of uncomfortability and insecurity despite her claims otherwise.

You lean on your elbows and raise a hand to her, smiling in a gesture of reassurance and comfort as you beckon her over to you. She moves across the room and climbs under the covers beside you, finding that your body provides her with a sense of warmth and safety that she seeks. She nestles into your side and takes a deep breath and allows her body to relax as her legs wrap around yours.

"We're safe." Tommy whispers again, but this time you cannot help but notice a shift in both his tone and his expression as you can tell that his words are more for himself than they are about reassuring you or Annabel. 

You reach down and take his hand in yours, your fingers entwining with his as the glow of the fire fills the room with a warm and soothing light and provides a comforting and inviting setting. He gazes over at you, his eyes finding your own as you gently squeeze his hand in a reassuring gesture, and he closes his eyes as a sigh escapes his lips. You repeat his own words back to him, and he relaxes a little more, as if he is relieved to be comforted instead of solely comforting and reassuring others.

“We’re safe.” He repeats. 

And this time, you believe him. Truly believe him. 

How wrong you were to believe such foolish things.  

Chapter 10

Notes

this was a bit of a filler, leading up to the next stage of the story where you start hunting the cult with Joel.

Not really much to say about this chapter, excpet I swear Tommy means well.

Divider by the beautiful saradika

[johnslittlespoon]

Find the Word

Rules: Share snippets of your work containing each of the words the previous poster selected for you (optional addition: if you can't find the word in your WIPs, or you simply don't have any WIPs, you can just write a sentence around the word)

thank you @nicijones AND @counting0nit for the tag aaa, this is gonna be a long post because double the words oops <3 My Words: arrange, prisoner, world, risk / hurt, shining (or shiny), comfort, scent Your Words: heart, choke, teeth, sun

Arrange:

Gale lets his elbows fold beneath him when John pulls him closer, pressing the back of his head to the mattress, arching into John’s hands like he conducts the way his muscles contract, like he arranges the curve of his spine, pulling puppet strings as one of Gale’s hands finds his dark curls. [collab pwp wip]

Prisoner:

John thinks that Icarus would be jealous, if he knew how close he was able to stand next to the sun. He knows one day he’ll go too far and the wax will start to melt, a prisoner of his own making, but for now he lifts his face to Gale’s glow and worships. [yad(iym) john's pov wip]

World:

Curt feels like there’s nothing in the world that can make him feel fully stated in that moment, nothing that can dull the craving deep in the pit of his stomach for more, nothing that can quell the urge to be known and touched and seen inside and out by the two men he calls his own. [the fuse to my fire – ao3]

Risk:

John slips his thumb over Gale’s bottom lip, pressing down on it to part his lips, opening his own just enough to exhale diluted smoke into Gale’s mouth. Their lips don’t touch– Gale’s too skittish to risk that, and John’s not sure he’d be able to keep himself together if he got a taste of what he’s been aching for. But the noise of surprise Gale makes so close to his face sends him reeling, almost coughing on the smoke at the same moment Gale does. [breathe me in (exhale slow) – ao3]

Hurt:

John’s hand just barely settles with uncharacteristic softness on his jaw before Gale gently pushes him away, keeping his eyes kind, resting his hand on his arm for a beat longer than necessary before he drops it. His heart thumps in his chest when John opens his eyes, hurt and confusion and frustration painted clear on his face as he stares at Gale, disoriented. [you're a dog (i'm your man) – ao3]

Shining:

"Can I get your name, pretty thing?" The stranger asks, teeth catching the club's pulsating lights when he smiles. Curt can see the blond watching the two of them from where he leans against the bar, and his interest is piqued by this unorthodox duo. "Maybe," Curt hums, pretending to think before he makes his counter–offer. "Buy me a drink first?" He tilts his chin up, coyly batting his mascara–clumped lashes at the brunet, feeling a thrill run through him when his boldness has the man's eyes shining. [curtbuckbucky nightclub au wip]

Comfort:

Something is pushing at Gale's arm, and he huffs, rolling onto his stomach and tucking his limbs in closer to his body. But the nudging is persistent, dragging him fully from the comfort of sleep, and he almost jumps out of his skin when he squints into the dark, not expecting to be greeted by another set of eyes looking back at him. “Christ, John,” he breathes out, running a hand down his face. John just looks at him blearily, tugging expectantly at his blanket, and Gale stares back. [i don't wanna be alone tonight – ao3]

Scent:

Sometimes Gale worries that if it weren’t for him coaxing John back to their barracks every evening, he’d sit out on the wing of a plane all night, like a loyal dog waiting at the front door for his man to come home, unmoving until his bones locked into place. He’s drunk almost every time Gale clambers up through the cockpit to sit quietly with him that first week back, but Gale doesn’t mention it, hiding the way his nose wrinkles at the scent of whiskey, or vodka, or rum, whatever his vice of choice is each night. [you're a dog (i'm your man) – ao3]

that was such a struggle but so fun lol. <3 tagging @air-exec, @eternallytired17, @triggerlil, @bcolfanfic, and whoever else hasn't been tagged yet/wants to participate! :-)

[duraznita-frescante]

hi!

is it possible that you could do an agere oneshot where scar gets chronic pains and regresses with a mumbo cg? /nf

🌱 — "to be loved (is to be seen)"

⇒ regressor! scar & cg! mumbo

⇒ word count: 1.3k

...

🌿 — this was the very first request sent in and my first ever time doing a writing per a request so thank sm!!! i hope i did okay with the prompt, i tried my best drawing from different sources on living with chronic pain so i really hope i did it justice with the right amount of sensitivity and respect. i love writing for cgmumbo so i hope you enjoy my writing of him as well. thank you!!!

(also also my computer kept changing mumbo to mambo so a really hope i caught all of those LMAO)

The idea of flaking out once again on a plan set weeks ago forced this rolling feeling in his stomach. Was that dread? He’ll go with dread. Scar was dreading the idea of telling his friends that he couldn’t build with them today despite being one of the ones to pitch the idea in the first place.

But standing in the middle of his kitchen, he could barely will the strength to make himself a proper meal. Or even one at all.

A soft whine bubbled up from throat and he rubbed his face as the deep-set thrumming of his joints came to a brief crescendo before simply sitting on the cold tile. His head thumped gently on the cabinet behind him and he wondered if he could get away with sitting here all day, letting the tile cool down his aching legs. The pattering of little feet quickly dismissed that idea though, he turned his head just as Jellie rounded the corner, an indigent meow filling the air and hitting sharply against his ears.

“Hi, Jellie,” Scar greeted with a smile as she came over, butting her head across his knee and up to his waist, leaving her soft grey fur on his pyjama pants in her wake. Eventually, she settled in his lap, this time to meow directly into his face. “I know I’m supposed to message someone by now,” he says quietly, letting his hand run down her back, another meow follows.

“But asking him is hard…” he whined as Jellie jumped out of his lap and bumped her body against the cabinet next to him that she knew held her cans of food. The idea of popping open a can made his fingers ache. “But Jellie needs breakfast…” Scar concluded, watching as Jellie paced the kitchen to better project her demands for breakfast.

He pulled out his communicator and typed out a message to the lesser of two evils. Evils, in this case, was breaking the news to his friends that he was having a bad pain day or telling Mumbo the same. He needed Mumbo first, for Jellie of course. What with how his fingers ached as they did, opening a tab can would not go too well for him.

[GoodTimesWithScar] come o ver [GoodTimesWithScar] jellie is askin for you

It didn’t take long at all for Scar to hear his front door creak open and the familiar light footsteps of Mumbo Jumbo, slightly clicky from the dress shoes that he insists are comfortable for everyday wear.

To someone unfamiliar with Scar and his fluctuating pain levels, the sight upon entering the kitchen might’ve been concerning. One might think he’d fallen, maybe they would fuss over him and insist they check him over for injury. And in some distant past that was Mumbo as well– that was everyone who’d joined in those early days. But now Mumbo knew, and all of his friends on the server knew, this wasn’t an ordeal that needed to be dealt with urgency and pity.

“Bad pain day?” he asked with a reassuring smile, squatting down to Scar’s level. Scar confirmed with a soft huff that might’ve been a chuckle or indication of pain. It didn’t really matter, they both knew what it meant. Scar held out a tin can that he managed to get out of the cabinet while waiting for Mumbo.

“Fingers too bendy ‘n Jellie hasn’ had b’eakfast,” He slurred out, his mind relaxing at just the sight of his caregiver. “Open, please?”

“Of course,” Mumbo took it gently and spoke as he peeled off the metal top and placed it to the side for Jellie to enjoy, “And what about Scar, has he had breakfast?”

A definite shake of the head that threw Scar’s fringe over his eyes was what he got in response.

Mumbo chuckled lightly and Scar grinned at the sound, letting his hair be pushed to the side to make way for the kiss pressed onto his forehead. Those same hands settled on either side of his face, holding him.

“I think…” Mumbo drew out in that exaggerated way that he knew made a little Scar hang on to every word, “It is a wonderful day for a bedroom picnic, what do you think?” Bedroom picnic was this fun activity that the duo made up many moons ago in which you bring everything entertaining and enough snacks to last you the day into somewhere comfy, usually a bedroom, and stay there. It was reserved for days like these when being anything but stationary was far too laborious on Scar’s body. He could spend the day napping and being small in between to try and ignore the aches.

“I can’t! I’m ‘posed to help Gri and ‘mpulse to build today and– and I don’t want them to be mad at me,” Scar pulled himself from Mumbo’s gentle hold and oh did that hurt Mumbo more than it should have.

“What? Why would they be mad?” In Mumbo’s anxiety-ridden mind, thoughts of the worst flooded his brain. Had Grian or Impulse said something rude? By mistake or otherwise? Did someone else say something rude? Someone new? Had Mumbo himself said something off and he didn’t even notice?

“I just– I said that I could an’…an’ I can but I can’t even though I p’omised,” Scar rambled on half coherently and just like that, those irrational thoughts drained from his mind. Yes, of course. Of course Scar wasn’t upset over what anyone else would have said, he’s had a lifetime of experience to tell him that what others say about him doesn’t matter. But it seems he’s in his head today and this is clearly something that’s been on his mind for a while. To Mumbo, there were a few options on how to handle this.

The first, well, wasn’t viable and would not even happen now that he was here. The first option would be to just let Scar exert his body with the idea that he had to in order to please his friends, an option that could only happen if Scar were in the headspace for it– read, an adult headspace that was at suboptimal mental health.

But Scar isn’t entirely an adult right now and as young as he is right now, he doesn’t have the mental power right now for the nuance of overexerting himself for the sake of others. If he did, he would not have called for Mumbo in the first place.

“I see…” Then there was the second option, “Well, those two in particular know Scar very well,” Mumbo continued, “and I think they’d be very sad if they knew their best friend was hurting because of them, hm?” Play into Scar’s endless sympathy. Nobody can be sad on Scar’s watch, be it while he’s big or little, everyone must be happy. He designed and built a whole theme park for the sole purpose of seeing his friends happy.

And it worked like a charm

“I don’t want Gri to be sad!” He exclaimed loudly, the idea of his best friend being gloomy just unbearable.

“Just… Grian?” Mumbo couldn’t help himself, he had to tease a little bit if Scar was going to cling to one idea at a time.

“Or Impulse!” Scar tacked on as well, the lighthearted jab flying over his head.

“Gosh, I don’t want them sad either, now that I think of it,” Mumbo pretended to fret, knowing just how much the little one needed some dramatics to get the whole message. “And if a hurting Scar makes them sad…” he trailed off, looking off to the side with a finger on his chin.

“I know! A Scar that’s not hurtin’ will—will make them happy!”

And with a little bit of storytelling logic, Mumbo is victorious in fixing this issue without a single tear shed.

“What a clever lad, I think that will make them very happy,” he says softly, letting himself fall away from the exaggerated way of speaking. “Let’s head back to bed and then tell them this great news together, yeah?” Mumbo stood from his space on the floor and extended a hand toward Scar. In response, the younger raised both of his arms in silent request.

And who was Mumbo to deny him?

[the-type-a]

Duncney Week 2023

(9•15) Day 6: Protective

AO3 | FanFic | TikTok | Twt

Testing the Limit

(Read under break)

Courtney periodically looked past the pages she read to the man standing by the window. His arms were crossed as he scanned the room before settling on her. He gave her a flirtatious smirk, which she returned with a vulgar gesture. She missed her old bodyguard but couldn’t say anything because her Papá was the one who hired everyone. Her old bodyguard minded his damn business and did his job correctly. This new guy? All he was good for was giving her a major migraine on a daily basis.

Her muscles ached from the pure irritation this man gave her. Courtney rolled her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She focused on her book while waiting for the family room to be unoccupied. In reality, Courtney should have been in her room, far away from whatever was happening behind the closed doors, but she refused to feel afraid in her own house.

Courtney Rosales was the daughter of a wealthy man, Mateo Rosales, whose business ran deep underground, earning him several enemies. Her new bodyguard, Duncan Robustelli, was apparently the only vile man smart enough to complete her Papá’s extensive boot camp. Ever since Duncan set foot in her home, he had taunted her and called her a ridiculous pet name. On top of that, he had simply refused to wear the uniform her Papá had given him.

He’s quick on his feet and knows how to hold his own. The words her Papá said to her echoed in her mind. Courtney had tested that statement on her own. She had sent alarming messages to Duncan, hoping he would barge into the room to prove why he was given the position– but he never did. In fact, Duncan would walk in casually and raise his eyebrow at her. As if he knew she was testing him and refused to give in to her stupid games. She prayed to God she was never in real danger if that was how he would react.

“You’re a shit bodyguard.” She mumbled.

Duncan laughed as he stepped toward her, the natural light that gave her the perfect reading setup being drowned out by his shadow. “And you’re a shit client.”

Her book snapped shut as she looked over her shoulder, her nose scrunching up at him. He smelled like mint and firewood, but she would never tell him so. “You could always save us both some misery and quit.”

“And by quitting, that would mean what exactly?” Duncan teased as he leaned down to her level. His breath tickled the back of her neck. “Oh right, it would give you satisfaction that I walked away. I think I’ll pass.”

“I wish I could fire you.”

“You’d miss me too much, Princess.”

Heavy thuds shook the ground before them as Courtney turned fully around to remind him what her name was. Duncan moved so fast Courtney barely noticed the doors swinging open with random people running out holding onto fresh wounds. Before she could even scream, Duncan had her securely behind him as he whipped out a gun to finish off whatever was left of these men. Courtney screwed her eyes shut and held her hands over her ears, waiting for the awful popping sound the gun would release, but nothing came. She took a peek and instantly regretted it. Bodies were sprawled across the floor, pooling in their own dark blood as her Papá casually walked and inspected one of the men on the ground.

She realized why Duncan’s gun had not sounded off as she watched him tuck it back into his waistband—a silencer. Everything had happened within a matter of seconds. Courtney didn’t know how to handle the heat racing up her neck at the thought of almost being a target to these men. This is why you stay away, her mind screamed at her.

Duncan’s body concealed her perfectly as more guards rushed into the foyer and into the room. They ordered Duncan to keep watch as they cleaned up the mess and then shut the door. Courtney’s Papá nodded at Duncan before turning towards his room to clean himself up. Only then did Duncan move aside. His hands were immediately on her; Courtney would have slapped him if she hadn’t realized Duncan’s hands weren’t feeling her up but making sure she was intact.

His palms were cold against her skin as he inspected her arms, neck, and face, but Courtney swore her skin turned darker with every touch.

“Wh– you saved me?”

“It’s my job.”

“You could have died!”

Duncan finally let his hands fall to his side. He took a deep breath to get his thoughts right. He had been in this position plenty of times but with Courtney? Something in him knew he would have massacred the entire house if anything happened to her.

“You could have died.”

Something sparked within those icy eyes that froze Courtney’s mind. Maybe he wasn’t such a terrible guy after all.

[contreparry]

Happy Friday! For DADWC, how about “I like this, being so close to you”?

I really felt like writing some pre-Fenders today for @dadrunkwriting!

It was a pleasant evening. The breeze was warm and carried the promise of summer with it. The salty smell of the sea hung in the air alongside the scent of sun-baked earth, and even as the sun began to sink below Kirkwall's rooftops and the bay the heat of the day lingered on his skin.

Fenris flopped down under the twisted branches of a tall tree with deep green, leathery leaves and melted into sweet-smelling grass and soft upturned earth in the little garden behind Hawke's manor. The sun and mild temperatures did much to soothe the full-body aches and pains of the lyrium coursing through him. It would never not hurt, but it was far more bearable than it was this past winter. The season's cold and icy winds often felt as if they would tear his body apart.

But today was pleasant. Warm. He felt content as he lay sprawled out in the grass, a rare enough feeling he was happy to indulge in. Fenris had nowhere to be and no pressing business to see to, and simply lying about was rather luxurious. He was in such a good mood, in fact, that even his present company was welcome.

"I think I've uncovered why you hate cats," Anders announced without preamble, which was typical of Anders. Fenris lifted one eyelid slowly and watched as the man settled down in the grass beside him. His fingers- restless, long and spindly like a spider's legs- plucked a long strand of grass from the earth and began to twist it around and around.

"Oh?"

"It's because you're rather cat-like," Anders explained. "You move like one when you fight, at least."

"Graceful?" It was almost a compliment, especially when he took Anders' appreciation of all things feline into account. But this was Anders, after all, and he had some point he wanted to make, so Fenris braced himself for a long-winded, twisting conversation that was bound to leave him utterly baffled.

"Jumpy. You pounce," Anders retorted. "And you want everything to be just right, you know. You're picky. And a bit snobbish. Never seen a man turn his nose up to fish the way you do." Anders sighed and leaned back until his back was pressed against the rough bark of the tree. His head was tipped back, and the rays of the setting sun struck strands of his hair and nudged the blond strands closer to a shade of pale red. Pretty.

"We all have our preferences," Fenris said. "Though these observations are diverting, I hardly see how this pertains to my opinion on cats."

"I'm getting to it! So you're jumpy, picky, reserved- you're like a cat, is my point. The neighborhood lord of cats. So you hate other cats because they're a threat to your position at the top of the hierarchy. The cat hierarchy, that is," Anders declared proudly, and his triumphant grin was almost charming. Fenris almost wanted to laugh, but he managed to turn the half-formed chuckle into a sigh.

"Bizarre," he finally announced. Fenris watched as Anders' smile twisted into a scowl- a pout, even, which only made Fenris want to laugh even more. Anders' expressiveness was one of his more charming attributes.

"I'm not wrong," Anders exclaimed. "I know I'm not wrong!"

"Your entire hypothesis hinges on the belief that I dislike cats," Fenris said slowly, opening his eyes fully and twisting his head slightly to the side so he might best observe Anders and his ever-shifting expressions. Anders was indignant, puffed up and defiant, and Fenris took some delight in prodding him in a light-hearted manner. He took delight in many things that were once forbidden.

This was the truth that lay at the heart of things: Fenris liked arguing, and Anders was so easy to argue with. There was a delightful, almost rhythmic pattern to their spats that made Fenris think of a good brawl- or a dance. Step forward, step back, turn, clasp hands, turn faster and faster until the world faded away-

Fighting with Anders was fun until one of them struck too hard and drew blood. But this sort of fight was easy. The stakes were low. It didn't truly matter. Arguing with Anders on this matter was safe.

"It's a fair assumption to make. You're obviously a fan of dogs," Anders replied pointedly. "You dote on Hawke's mabari." He was twisting grass in his fingers again, more and more blades falling to his nervous energy as he worked the grass blades into a ring.

"A fair assumption. but a wrong one. I rather like cats," Fenris said. "They're independent hunters. Graceful. Good at surviving." And his observations on cats were far more complimentary than Anders', Fenris noted smugly.

"... ugh. Just when I think I have you figured out. To think we have something in common," Anders grumbled, and he bent his head to focus on twisting more grass into the ring forming in his hands. It fell silent between them, but it was the pleasant sort of silence that happened when you had nothing left to say but didn't want to part ways quite yet. Fenris watched as the ring in Anders' hands changed shape, transforming into a tiny basket that could hang off of his pinkie. It was strange to watch hands that could hold a man's body together with magic and force of will or cast fireballs and throw lightning instead weave blades of grass back and forth to craft something as delicate and small as a basket.

Just when he thought he had Anders figured out... Fenris turned his head back to stare up into the rapidly darkening sky.

"“I like this, being so close to you," Fenris said suddenly. "You're fun to argue with."

"You think it's fun?" Anders asked. There was a tremble in that question that made Fenris hesitate. It was true that he liked arguing with Anders. It was easy. Bombastic. Thrilling. But he also liked that Anders didn't try to placate him or retreat. So this softness, this fragility, was new. He had to be careful with things that were new.

"I like keeping my wits honed. You make for an adequate whetstone," Fenris replied. He kept his voice even to maintain a cautious balance between casual and sincere. Not too much. They hurt each other too often in their carelessness, and at this moment Fenris didn't want to cause hurt. Not on a day like this. And since Anders was so good as to lower his guard and be honest, Fenris thought it best to take a chance and be open in turn.

"But this... this is good as well. It's nice to find something in common," Fenris added. "It's good to not be alone."

"I- yes. It is, isn't it?" Anders said, and Fenris slowly shut his eyes and smiled.

"Yes," he agreed. "It is."

[wisp-of-chaos]

OC Kiss Week 2024 - Day 3

Day 3's prompt was "Sunrise". This prompt got a little shorter than the previous ones but is packed with some conflicing emotions!

Once again, this features my OC and that of a friend, who are illithids and don't really have a mouth and instead use soft headbutts to express their affection.

"Sunrise" is set 2 years after "Rain". Enjoy either here, under the cut or over at Ao3!

Day 3 - Sunrise

Vlassk and Larik were still tightly tangled into each others arms when the sun rose the next morning.

Their tentacles were curling and lazily stroking each other as their minds slowly but steadily returned to full consciousness. The first thing Vlassk noticed was the soft brush of content happiness seeping from Larik’s mind into his own and prompting his tentacles to curl up with a smile.

Humming quietly, he shuffled closer and nuzzled his face against Larik’s chest; soaking up all his warmth and the tender feeling of closeness. Of belonging.

He remembered their night together fondly. How they had held each other as they made love under the stars, their bodies and minds connected as a whole as they moved with the rhythm of the waves and whispered sweet nothings at each other. The way they had kissed and gasped and thought together. What a perfect fit they had been, as if precisely made for each other. How badly Vlassk had wanted to tell Larik that he loved him, and yet …

… yet he had pushed that particular thought down and locked it far, far away. For no matter how much Larik meant to him and how painful it was to even entertain the idea of a future without him, he deserved so much better than him.

He deserved someone that wasn’t broken and shattered and packing too many issues to count or even remember. Larik deserved someone that wouldn’t tumble down a panic attack when touched the wrong way or a wrong word was said; who wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night and weep uncontrollably and reach for the hairpin hidden beneath his pillow to bury into his skin to make the memories and pain go away.

He deserved someone normal and fine and whole. Someone, that wasn’t Vlassk.

A deep, heavy ache settled over Vlassk’s mind and heart at that thought and made his eyes burn and sting, yet he didn’t allow the forming tears to spill. He breathed; slow and shaky and forced those feelings into the depths of his heart alongside those three words he was dying to say and simultaneously scared to do so. Those words were dangerous and held great power; and once said he wouldn’t be able to take them back. Wouldn’t be able to contain them.

Vlassk’s vision blurred and his breath quivered but he stubbornly refused himself to express his rising emotions.Not here, he told his heart and turned to glance at Larik’s sleeping, relaxed face; his smile hesitantly returning. Not now.

He listened to his breathing as he watched him, memorizing each and every beloved detail about his face and felt melancholy wrapping around his mind like a warm, rough blanket; trying to soothe but only making things worse.

He remembered the previous night and how perfect everything had been. If only that night wouldn’t have ended. If only the sun wouldn’t be rising and destroying this pretty little lie of a happy, careless life at Larik’s side. But Vlassk had made a promise to himself the previous day when Mar’reen had taken the kids home to give the both of them some privacy; when their hands had brushed and their eyes met and their desire rose.

Only this once, Vlassk had told himself as he surrendered to both Larik and his own feelings. Only for today I will allow myself to give in to the fantasy of love.

And now, it was time to adhere to this promise, no matter how painful or hard it was. He simply couldn’t permit Larik to be bound to his pathetic self; to his many problems and issues and shortcomings. To his defects and failures.

No, he reassured himself with a sharp pull inside his chest, this is for the best. Larik deserves better than this. Better than me. He deserves a happiness without burden.

Untangling an arm, Vlassk gave Larik’s face a gentle caress and felt another stab at his heart when he leaned into the touch and purred approvingly before slowly blinking his eyes open and greeting him with a sleepy smile.

“Good morning, my siren”, he said and nuzzled into the hand cupping his cheek and nearly broke the control over his emotions when he added: “I had a beautiful dream last night.”

Vlassk’s heart cracked yet he forced himself to smile and avoided Larik seeing his eyes growing damp by leaning in and pressing his head against his in a soft and bittersweet kiss. “Yeah”, he said and heard his heart splintering into a million pieces as he tried to prolong their last kiss as much as possible, “me too.”

[per-oceanum]

Bathing Rituals

Word Count: 965

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Pure smut. <3

ㅤ⠀Alone; blessedly so. A sigh spilled free from his lips, molten gold gaze focused on carefully removing the prosthetic *first*. It was a good prosthetic in truth, never budging unless great force were to be exerted. Thumb slipped beneath gold, brushing against the internal layer of silicone that helped hold it in place, loosening the grip. The hook ( and second hook, and knife… ) fell to the bed with a soft ‘clunk’ sound. Fingers rose, brushing against scarred skin, massaging carefully as his mind began to wander.

ㅤ⠀A bath. A bath would be nice. Yes; something to help relax the aching muscles within his back, to drain away the stress. He moved slowly, toeing off the black dress shoes first ( leather, shined to perfection ) before pushing them to the side. Following the shoes was the suit jacket, unbuttoned with a quick, simple movement from his fingers before the tailored jacket ( black, emerald silk lining specifically ) slipped from his shoulders to fall into a hamper. Laundry would be dealt with later. His steps brought him into the en suit bathroom- large, larger than a bathroom had any right being.

ㅤ⠀ㅤ⠀[ Fit for a King, for a God. ]

ㅤ⠀Belt. It had taken quite a bit of figuring out at first how to both put on and take it off with one hand, but he’d gotten the action down well enough for it to have become muscle memory. He didn’t even watch as he removed it, unbuckling and drawing it from the belt loops with a soft, sharp ‘snap’. No, his mind was wandering once more; how frustrated he’d been as of late. Stressed, even. That wasn’t good- and a damn shame that there wasn’t anyone there who could help relieve him of this stress. That’s fine; he’d handle it on his own.

ㅤ⠀One after another, the buttons of his shirt were undone, baring tanned, scarred skin to the golden light of the bathroom. With a tug, the ends of his shirt were pulled free from the waistband of his trousers. Hanging loosely open, he took a moment to study himself, fingers reaching up to brush against jagged scars. “Crocodile teeth for a Crocodile,” Ivankov had joked after his surgery, after the scars had begun to heal. A chuckle rumbled free from deep within as he shook his head, turning his attention to his rings. One after another, they were removed, until a neat little pile of rings sat upon the marble counter. Shirt slipping from shoulders, he padded over to the deep, in-ground soaking tub. With a quick flick of the wrist, the water began to pour from the spout.

ㅤ⠀Turning away, he unceremoniously removed his trousers, letting the black fabric pool around his ankles, followed swiftly by his underwear. Stepping out, he leaned down to pull off his socks. Finally bare. Elio sighed as he reached back to rub at the base of his neck, grimacing at the tension knots he felt. Perhaps a visit to Milorad would be due soon- a massage could do him some good. Or company, for that matter.

ㅤ⠀Fuck, he needed to get laid.

ㅤ⠀The sound of water splashing as the tub filled echoed against the walls as Elio reached over, dropping in a dollop of scented oil. Teakwood, he believed it to be. Nothing too strong, but enough to help relax him. Ah- towels, those were necessary. He nabbed two- one for the floor, one for himself, and set them aside. His robe was already hung beside the shower, thankfully. At last, he stepped down into the soaking tub with a soft hiss at the heat that greeted him. Easing down, back against the marble wall, he settled in; the water was deep, lapping against his collar bones, but it was a rare luxury he could afford once in a while.

ㅤ⠀Reaching over, the water was turned off, leaving the room to fall relatively quiet. Gold gaze slid shut as Elio allowed his mind to shut off, to simply relax. Even so- it wouldn’t stop, the way his mind continued to wander down alleys and avenues. Thighs pressed tighter, as if that could alleviate what was beginning to grow. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he muttered, lips curving into a deep frown. Ah, the issues of having a healthy libido…

ㅤ⠀Readjusting, his thighs spread to allow fingers to brush between, eliciting a soft gasp. Two birds, one stone. Starting with soft touches against his dick, he bit down on his lip. No particular face swam into view within his mind, thankfully- no, this was just him, just his own hand, his own seeking fingers. A stuttered breath exhaled as he adjusted his grip, thumb resting on one side, index on the other as he began to rock into the touch, jerking himself off. If he’d planned this better, he’d have brought something in with him to fill himself with, to avoid the aching emptiness that came with this.

ㅤ⠀“There we go,” Elio groaned, head tilting back, jaw dropping to allow harsh pants to spill forth. “That’s good, that’s good,” he praised the air, brow furrowing as his legs bent at the knees, baring himself. Inquisitive fingers dipped lower, teasing his entrance, though not diving in. Not now, not here. They returned to his twitching cock, dragging out a ragged hiss as his hips jerked in his grasp. “Oh, Gods,” the whine spilled free as he chased his high, stomach tensing. Closer, closer- with a soft growl, he came, rutting into his fist to draw out the pleasure as he twitched against his grasp.

ㅤ⠀The afterglow settled across him, muscles feeling more like jelly and less like musculature. A small, satisfied smirk curved his lips as he panted, slowly catching his breath. Yes- a bath had certainly been exactly what he’d needed, it seemed.

[enasallavellan]

Chapter 4

Serafina sees firsthand the destruction the darkspawn can cause and finally meets the other wardens and recruits.

Author's note: So I've been feeling a lot better lately. I'm slowly getting over a bout of pneumonia, and I'm keeping solids down. Debating rather or not to still go forward with the endoscopy or not - it's pretty damn expensive, and if I'm getting better it may not be needed. On the other hand, the medications I'm on might not be actually helping the root cause. I'd still appreciate any ko-fi donations (link at the bottom) or tips as all the medical bills have piled sky high, and I haven't been able to work since the first few days of May.

As the road faded, Duncan warned Serafina to be careful. Grass gave way to rocks and pebbles, and the once-even trail tilted upward. Serafina supposed that was one good thing about going up and down stairs all day - she easily kept pace with Duncan.

But further along, the trail took an odd turn.

Fallen trees, blackened and twisted, littered the area, and the once-thick brush seemed to have melted to the ground, leaving heaps of slimy refuse.

"Darkspawn." Duncan said gravely, "This land won't be usable for generations."

"The Darkspawn did all this?" Serafina asked in disbelief.

Duncan paused, coming to a stop. "They poison everything they touch. Look..." He kneeled down and pointed at one of the fallen trees. "I know this trail well. I've walked it many times." He shook his head. "Many of these trees are a type of oak—a particularly stubborn one. It's a struggle to cut them down and an even bigger fight to kill them. Some say fire only makes them grow."

Serafina surveyed the area, feeling a sudden eerie silence. "And the Darkspawn did all that?"

"With just a touch," Duncan replied, standing up straight. "Now you understand why we must eliminate this threat."

The silence felt louder than Duncan's voice, and a shiver ran up Serafina's spine.

"Come," Duncan said. "We should hurry. I want to leave this forest as much as you do."

The silence lingered for a while, even after they moved away from the blighted forest and entered a valley. Serafina never realized how beautiful a rocky outcrop could be—the windswept grass and scrub brush were a vast improvement from where they had just been.

"We're getting close to the meeting point," Duncan said, pointing ahead. "That's where your fellow Wardens are."

Serafina nodded, but her eyes were fixed on her own boots. Duncan allowed another moment of silence before she mustered the courage to ask, "How...?"

A sudden chill ran through her when he turned to look at her, and she quickly closed her mouth.

Duncan's voice softened as if speaking to an injured animal. "It's alright. What do you want to know? Soon enough, you'll be one of us."

She began to twist the scarf around her fingers. The light from the setting sun revealed the bits of stray fibers that had been fraying over the years, and again the ache settled deep. The fabric no longer whispered feather-soft over her skin. Instead, it whispered more akin to someone ill, throat raspy and rough. Even still, the comfort brought by the fabric embracing her fingers -

"Serafina?"

She nearly shouted as her heart jumped into her throat.

What was she doing?

She slowly moved her eyes, fighting against the drag of sudden panic to look at Duncan. He was watching her, eyes squinted, and brow creased in obvious concern. After another second, his features smoothed as he reassured, "It's alright." Then, as though the last moment had never happened, he repeated, "What would you like to know? You'll be one of us soon enough."

"I'm sorry." It was automatic - she had obviously done something wrong. 

Duncan simply shook his head again, "You have nothing to apologize for. Ask your question."

Again, the fabric muttered over her skin as she dared, "How many?"

"How many other Wardens?" Duncan asked.

She shook her head, eyes still downcast but detangling the scarf from her fingers, "No… other women."

"Of course." He said, "The group you'll spend most of your time with during this mission has seven…" He paused and said, "They'll help you adjust, and I wager you'll have friends of all kinds."

Again, an automatic nod.

"It will take time." He said, "But you are in no danger from your fellow Wardens." He did lean down to look at her closer, "That, I can promise you."

She wished she could believe him.

It wasn't long before they could hear the sounds of a camp ahead - men talking and a terrible clanging of weapons and shouting. She looked up at Duncan in concern, but he seemed unaffected by the noise but offered a smile, "Training, no doubt. You'll be with them soon."

"What can I do?" The unconscious thought slipped past her lips, and she felt the blood run hot in her face.

Duncan didn't seem to notice, "You might be surprised by what you can do. And once we have you a staff, you can do much more."

Finally, the tight path opened into the valley proper, revealing the camp below. It seemed more permanent than the camps she and Duncan had made, with multiple fires and many people milling about... A few horses were munching on grass here and there, and the entire area was dotted with clusters of tents.

Tents.

Tens where she would be expected to sleep.

Her eyes scanned the group below, her heart speeding a bit more with every person. Some laughed, some chatted, and further off, groups could be seen sparring, yelling loudly as they did. 

"Are you ready?" He asked.

Twenty-seven men, she counted. Twenty-seven if you took Duncan into account. Twenty-seven possible threats, twenty-seven sets of grabbing hands. And with each man she counted, she felt the air leaving her lungs. Suddenly, Duncan's voice quieted, fading a bit, "I'm sure Warden Robin will take you under her wing no sooner does she see you." 

Her head bobbed with an automatic agreement, but her gaze remained fixed on the camp below. She couldn't tear her eyes away from the bustling activity, the distant sounds of laughter and clashing weapons, and the sight of men and their camaraderie. With a deep breath, she looked towards the other woman again.

Maybe she'd be safe.

Then again…

There had been other women in the arl's home. Women in the alienage. But she wasn't safe there either. They watched, shook their heads, made sad faces, and whispered among themselves how it was such a shame - but they were so relieved that it wasn't them suffering. Even Nell, for all her kindness and warmth, couldn't help her.

Best not to rely on it.

"Serafina?"

Duncan's voice jerked her back to reality, and to her surprise, they were both nearing the edge of the camp. Her throat felt tight, her tongue swollen as Duncan introduced her o the others, her eyes darting download when she felt their gaze.

"This is Serafina - our newest recruit." He motioned from one person to the other, voice going softer with every name. They were all looking at her, watching her, sizing her up. Even when she looked down, the heat of their gazes burned into her neck, and she felt her shoulders hunch.

“Serafina? Serafina?”  

The voice was higher than the rest, safer. She dared a look upward and was surprised to see a smiling face. Full-cheeked and bright-eyed, the woman spoke softly, "Thank the Maker for you. It's good to see Duncan bring along someone with a brain and hygiene - no offense Duncan."

"I'm sure you'll be relieved to have the company of another of your kind."

"We aren't aliens, Duncan." She sighed.

That same rumbling laughter echoed in his chest as he nodded, "And as for your fellow recruits, they're training with Warden Ethlam and Warden Fisher." He pointed to the group that still sparred beyond, "Do you see the smaller man, elven like you?" 

She squinted at them, picking out one of them with a staff strapped to his back, a blue tabard making him stand apart from the other recruits.

"He'll begin instructing you in your magic training for now. Depending on how you two get on, he might be willing to stay on until he feels your readying."

She nodded.

"Duncan," Robin said, "If it's okay, I'm going to go ahead and get her set up. She can meet the other recruits over dinner."

He nodded, "Of course - but if I could have a moment before you leave." He motioned for her to follow him.

Robin gently touched Serafina's shoulder, "I'll be right back." 

And with that, she left her with all the others.

There were a few blurry moments of questions that she couldn't remember how to even answer, much less how she eventually chose to.

"Maker, do you people always have to crowd the recruits?" Robin asked when she returned, playfully shoving one of the others away, "Ignore the amazing clueless wonders - they have no manners." She ignored the returning ribbing, instead turning back to Serafina, "Come on, I'll help you get your pack settled."

She followed, stealing glances behind her at the group of men.

"They're harmless." She said, "If any of them do anything you don't like, either tell them to stop it or come get me. They can be idiots."

She nodded mutely.

"But they won't hurt you." She reassured, "They might say stupid shit, but I don't know any of the Wardens here who do or say something if they knew it would upset." She slowed to a stop at one of the tents, "Want to help me over this? I can't deal with Clyde's snoring anymore." She quickly took it down, "And let me guess - Duncan hasn't taught you how to pitch your own tent yet?"

She shook her head.

"Thought so." They continued to walk away from the others, past the worn-down dirt and flattened grass of the main camp, "How about here? Might be far enough away to not have to hear it - or Maker, smell it. You'd think there were no rivers or creeks or lakes or some sort of place for them to wash their socks out every few weeks."

Serafina felt herself smile a bit.

"Here." Robin handed her a rolled-up canvas. It was heavier than she expected, like the winter blankets she would put on the Arl and his family's beds. Suddenly, the fabric in her arms felt like cold, sweaty hands.  

Waterproofing. That's all it was. That was the strange texture. It wasn't cold skin or winter blankets. It was like the cloaks she would wear during Antivan's rainy season, where day in and day out, there was nothing but rain and wind and clouds. Her cloak had been more smooth and not nearly as heavy. She used to love walking in the rain, dry in the cloak her friend had bought her and surrounded by the torrent of rain and wind. It was always an odd time of year when people stayed indoors for everything except essentials, and the running joke was at least half the population of Antiva were born nine months after the rainy season. Piovere bambinos - rain babies. She had been cone, born in the early few months of the year. If she was right, her cousin was one as well, as well as some of the other kitchen girls. She knew that Marta and-

"See?" 

Robin's voice jerked her out of her thoughts, and she saw the bones of the tent standing upright in front of her. Again, she had missed the entirety of the demonstration, and she could feel Robin's expectations shriveling up. But instead, she simply smiled, "That's alright, you'll need to do it to really get a knack for it - here, I'll help you."

It was easier than just watching. With Robin's constant stream of instruction, step by step, her mind wasn't able to wander so much. Soon enough, her own tent's bones had been raised, and Robin helped her with the canvas, showing her where to tie it to the posts and ensure it was all secure.  

And there it was.

Her first victory.

Her first tent.

That promptly fell over.

"It's alright, it takes practice," Robin said with a pleasant laugh, "If you want, we can share for now, and you can get more practice on the way to Ostagar - by then, you'll be an expert, I wager."

She looked at the pile of canvas and posts in front of her, then to Robin's pristine tent beside it.  

"Getting cold anyway." She added warmly.

Serafina felt a very small smile as she nodded, "It'd like that."

Robing grinned, "Great!" She took Serafina's pack and put it in her tent, "Duncan tells me you're a mage - a healer to boot!"

It seemed an odd time to talk about boots.

"To… boot?" She asked uncertainly.

"It's an expression." She explained, "It just means that we need mages - but we especially need healers - to boot."

"To boot." She repeated, "As though to say, it was a sunny day, and warm… to boot?"

Robin laughed, "That's it." She pointed to the man Duncan had indicated to her, "See the grumpy one? That's Ethlam, he's the only mage Warden we have right now, but we do have a recruit - I heard he's been recruited through the circle." She leaned forward, "He's a bit of a grouch, but he won't hurt you either. He'll help you learn to use a staff - one should be waiting for us at Ostagar when you arrive." She nudged her, "And if somebody crosses a line and needs a good whack," She added, slapping the ground, "You can just smack them with it."

Serafina titled her head to the side, "So I don't have to go to a circle?"

"Mages are free with the Grey Wardens." She said, "Bloody good - Cricles, rotten places I've heard."

"I wasn't afraid of them until I came to Ferelden." She said.

"You weren't afraid of them in… Antiva, I'm guessing?"

She shook her head, "Templars… they don't quite have as strong of a grip in Antiva - especially ones controlled by the Crows -" She cut herself off, saying instead, "They're..."

"A network of spies and assassins." Duncan finished, "I'm aware - we have some in the Grey Wardens?"

That caught Serafina off guard, "You have Crows in the Grew Wardens?"

He nodded, "Former Crows might be a better choice of words."

A little spark of hope lit itself - would that mean...

"Well, they raided a Crow nest." She felt her hands start to tremble as she continued, moving to adjust her sleeves to keep them busy. "A lot of the different houses organized to do the same to them... they've left -" She stumbled a bit, "They've left the Crows mostly alone."

Duncan's gaze was unwavering, "And they left you alone."

Her heart started to race, and she looked away, "I wasn't a Crow... I was born in the nest and worked in the kitchen."

"I see." There was no judgment on his face, and he said it with the same tone one might respond to a much more mundane past. 

"I promise, that's not going to happen." She said firmly, "You're safe from it all with us. No templars, no circles. You're safe."

The world blurred with that word.

 "And hey." Robin's voice was gentle as she touched her hand, a strangely comforting gesture, "You and me? I have a feeling we'll be good friends, and friends protect each other. Sound good?"

Serafina rubbed at her eyes, hoping to wipe the tears away before Robin could see them, "You… really think that?"

"Definitely." Robin said, "So, I'll break the face of anyone who bothers you, and you heal me up when I'm done fighting them."

For the first time in a very long time, Serfaina felt herself laugh.

Robin squeezed her hand, "I've got your back." After a few seconds of thought, Serafina nodded, "Thank you, Robin."

"Any time - now let's get some food, I'm starving." She stood up, pulling Serafina up, "And you need to eat seconds and thirds for a while. You'll feel better once you get some regular meals in you."

"Never had much to eat." She said, following her.

Robin chuckled, "Oh, trust me. They feed us well."  

Robin continued on Serafina's right side, putting herself between her and the men. She laughed and joked as though it was a mere chance, it was clear she was acting as a barrier. She steered Serafina to a spot at the end. After a quick reintroduction between Serafina and the other Wardens, Duncan introduced her to the other recruits. First, he motioned to a woman with rosy blonde hair wrapped into a tight bun, "Lady Alice Cousland of Ferelden."

The woman smiled warmly, "Well, it would seem the women now outnumber the men." 

Beside her, a dwarf with exceptionally bright eyes laughed, "Seems the Grey Wardens have wisened up, eh?" She extended her hand, "Henrietta Brosca - scheming do-gooder."

Serafina hesitantly shook it, the other woman's grip strong and sure."

"Prince Ulrich Aeducan, of Orzammar." A fair-haired dwarf said, giving a sort of half-bow to avoid getting up, "Stone-met."

An elven man piped up next, grinning so wide that his tattoo wrinkled around his eyes, "Andaran atish'a. I've never met an elf from the human cities. Is it really truly awful?"

Yes. 

It was truly awful.

But instead, she said, "It can be difficult sometimes."

"You had to say that?" A robed woman asked.

The elven man waved her away, "It's a legitimate question." 

"It's a rude question." She argued, dark eyes glinting.

Henrietta let out a dramatic groan, "Bicker, bitch, and bellyache."

"And the snake and fennec of the group." Duncan said, "Hanin Mahariel of the Dalish Sabrae Clan, and Cosette Amell of the Order of Magi.

"Not anymore, thank the Maker." Cosette said with a weak smile.

"I'm -" Serafina cut herself off, "Never mind, sorry."

"Speak your mind." Duncan encouraged.

Serafina settled her eyes on the fire, focusing on a particularly bright coal, "I'm a mage as well. But I never went to a Circle."

Cosette sat up, "You're an apostate?"

She counted the sparks that sputtered from the coal before answering, "What does that mean?"

"That you managed to avoid the templars." Alice explained.

Serafina nodded.

Duncan then nodded to the last recruit, a scruffy-looking man with a glint in his eye, "And finally, Recruit Daveth of Denerim." He turned to the group, "This is Serafina Tabris, also of Denerim."

Serafina forced her head up enough to look at each person quickly, forcing a smile.

Hanin had moved from his spot on a rock, instead reclining in the grass, "You two know each other?" 

Daveth's answer came quickly, "I highly doubt that." His eyes looked Serafina up and down as he spoke, "I certainly wouldn't forget a face like that."

Robin snorted, "Well, if it's about faces, then she might have just forgotten about you."

There were some appreciative laughs at the jab, and Robin took over introductions, "Remember Warden Fisher and Warden Warden Ethlam working with the new recruits?" She asked, "This is Warden Ethlam - he'll begin with your magical training and staff technique."

Slight and tall, Ethlam leaned on his staff, "Well met."

"Technique?" Daveth rested his chin in his hand, "Don't you just point and wiggle your fingers?"

"Blast and blast until you can't blast no more." One Warden chuckled, "Then smack when you can't use no more magic."

"It's a bit more complicated than that." Ethlam grumbled.

Serafina's thoughts accidentally turned into words before she could stop herself, "Even though I'm…" 

There was a long pause as every face turned to face her. Finally, she managed, "Even though I'm a healing mage?"

"Doesn't matter." Ethlam said, "All you need is to be a mage, and you can funnel magic through the staff and use it to attack."

She swallowed, head bobbing in a silent nod.

Ethlam shook his head, "No need for all that. We'll start tomorrow. You'll have plenty of time to ask questions then." He tilted his bowl back, drinking broth and getting up, "Speaking of, Cosette, I want to take a look at what you can do without having others nearby run the risk of getting set on fire."

One of the recruits scrambled up, a big grin on his face.

"Don't get cocky." Ethlam said, "Wiggling your fingers at books in the Circle is nothing compared to what you're going to deal with when we get to Ostagar."

"Is it -" Again, Serafina attempted to cut the words off, but at the insistent gaze of the others, she continued, "Is it really going to be that bad?"

"It's a blight, right?" Henrietta asked, "Never a good thing when that's going on."

Cosette asked “We’ve seen the archdemon, then?”

Duncan shook his head, "Not that I'm aware of."

"Then how can we be so sure?" Amell asked.

"Because they've been flooding into the deep roads closer to Orzamar than they have since the last blight. Henrietta said, "Sodding surfacers. We fight the darkspawn every day, but not a single one of you cares until they start knocking on your door."

"Excuse me?" Cosette started.

 "I think that's enough talk for the night." Duncan interrupted, "We still have ten days before we reach Ostagar. We should get plenty of rest while we're able."

The group lumbered up, making their way toward their tents.

"Come on." Robin said, "I'm going to go take a bath while we have a clean body of water."

Serafina sighed out, "Maker, a bath would be wonderful."

"You can use my soaps." She said, "They're probably a little nicer on the skin than whatever Duncan gave you."

She smiled, "I'd like that."

"Alright, I'm going to get - hey, Melchior!"

A man glanced up.

"Come stand guard!" Robin called, leaning over to Serafina, "Don't worry, he doesn't like girls."

"I prefer the company of other gentlemen." He said as he came over.

"Other gentlemen?" Robin snickered.

"I am a gentleman!" He argued, "Watching out for you two, aren't I?"

Robin heaved a sigh, "He is kind of great." She tossed Serafina a small bag, "And if he bothers you, say the word - and know I can throw a rock very accurately."

"Why is it always violence with you?" Melchior asked in an exaggerated whine.

"Oh, only when you deserve it." She said, "Come on, Fina."

She caught up with Robin, standing close to her as they walked.

"He's a good one." Robin promised, "Honestly, we could ask any of them to stand guard, and they'd be respectful. Now, some would still yell things and act like they were looking to be annoying, but they wouldn't actually do it."

Serafina nodded, hands twisting again. The red scarf ran between her fingers as she twisted it around them. Funny, how silk stayed cool and so-

Suddenly, her sense snapped back to reality at the vagally fatty smell. The bottom of her vision was obscured by the lumpy block of soap under her nose.

"There you are." Robin said brightly, "Floated off for a second there."

She went red, "Sorry."

Robing shook her head, "No, don't apologize for sort of thing. Now, come on, Melchior is way back there, and he's facing away. Let's get cleaned up, yeah?" Then, she gasped as she added, "Oh, can I -" But she cut herself off, "Never mind."

She looked behind her once before taking off her clothes, looking behind her every few seconds to ensure Melchior's back was still turned. "What is it?"

She waved dismissively, "Don't worry about it."

"Are you -" The following words came out in a gasp, forced out of her by the cold water, "Sure?"

"Sure." Robin replied, "It was one of those childish thoughts we all get."

Serafina grabbed the soap and rubbed it over her skin. The scent was softer than what she used in the alienage and felt less harsh and gritty. But it was still a far cry from the soothing, pleasant-smelling soap that was so common in Antiva. 

Another pang for her homeland thumped against her ribcage.

Serafina took the soap to her hair. She tried to be gentle, but she realized it might take some time between the harsh soap and the sheer amount of hair to wash.

"Oh, I can't stand it!" Robin laughed, "I don't care if it's childish - Can I braid your hair?"

The request took a moment to process, "You want to braid my hair?"

"Of course I do! Just look at it!" 

Serafina frowned a bit, scooping some of her long hair floating around her and examining it.

Nothing had changed. Still a dull, murky sort of brown. 

"Antivans have such pretty thick hair." Robin rubbed her hand over her short cropped hair, "Mine was so wild and curly, I just cut t off - but yours!"

Serafina frowned at her hair, "Not... really."

Robin threw her clothes aside, cursing and complaining as she went into the water, "Can't talk. Too cold. Shit."

"Why do you think I started right away?" Serafina asked before submerging to rinse the soap out.

Robin gritted her teeth against the cold, "My mouth taking over wins the day again." 

Luckily, the base campfires were still burning, so they could warm up before returning to Robin's tent.

"So…?" Robin asked, fingers wiggling in anticipation, "Can I?"

Already, Serafina felt a remarkable familiarity with Robin - it had been a long time since the last time she had felt the beginning of a friendship with anyone so quickly. And she was grinning so wide, eyes bright with excitement, that Serafina was happy to nod and say, "If you want to."

Robing laughed and clapped her hands in a surprisingly girlish manner, drawing a laugh from Serafina.

It was good to have a friend again.

Read the full fic from the beginning at my A03 here!

If you’re willing and able, feel free to donate to my ko-fi or drop a tip in the jar to help me afford my many medications to keep the crazy at bay!

[69misato69]

setâre ✦ kaeya x childe — sfw

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It's a night just like any other.

Kaeya is knelt by the campfire, fueling it further so the flames can combat the blistering cold that creeps up on them. 

Not that Childe minds.

He lays on the snow half-naked, showing no signs of discomfort as he dries his hair. 

Kaeya believes that a frozen lake is frozen for a reason, but Childe can’t resist cracking the ice and taking a dip before they set up camp every single time. 

He takes a deep breath. Exhaustion washes over them both, legs nearly giving out from hiking and hunting all day and bones aching from the cold. 

When Kaeya is finally content with the intensity of the flames, he scoots closer to Childe and lifts his head to lay it on his lap. 

Damp, ginger locks wet his pants as the moon rises. 

Kaeya cups his cheek.

Warmth eventually swallows them both.

Words are unneeded. Distant howls and the crackling of the fire fill the silence as Childe looks up at him with droopy eyes.  

At moments like these, Childe always wonders if Kaeya knows how much he adores him.

The captain has many virtues, but seeing the beauty in his own ways is sadly not one of them. 

It's understandable, given how much weight he carries on his shoulders. No matter how much Childe tries its best to ease it, he knows that not a second passes without Kaeya sinking under the burden.

It's easy to get carried away when everyone expects so much of you. When the world crushes you to its very core, when the waves engulf you as you drift into nothingness, a vast ocean cluttered with misery. 

Kaeya loses his way often.

Like a sailor pushing his way out of the waves enraged with roaring thunder. He holds a compass that never seems to pull him out of the depths.

He sinks as the thread that holds him together unravels and floats to the surface.

All Kaeya can do is watch it elude him and force his eyes open while he begins to lose feeling in his limbs. 

Darkness falls and Kaeya’s heart travels back into the rib cage of a kid abandoned in the middle of nowhere. 

He clutches the toy he simply can’t ever fall asleep without.

What good is it without his own bed? Without being cosseted in loving arms and rocked gently to sleep as a lullaby fills his ears, what is it but a piece of cloth stuffed with feathers?

Home feels far away. It has been discarded just like him. Even if he miraculously washes up on shore, there is nothing left there to fill his hollowed out soul. 

Though, even as he drowns in the depths of the unforgiving ocean, whenever Kaeya looks up, a star always shines down on him. 

Light seeps into his soul, the clouds vanish on sight as thunder quiets down. 

Nothing but an enticing calmness. 

Kaeya holds it inside his palm kindly like a wilting flower, cautious and tender, and allows it to warm him up. 

It sprouts and blossoms along his numb hands and corroding heart, holds him by the shoulders and pulls him close. 

Leaves a loving peck on his lips and Kaeya tastes the night sky with the tip of his tongue. 

Childe loves him like a shore enamored with the sea. Fascinated by the storms brewing inside him and pacified by the soothing waves that wash up on its skin.

Loving Kaeya is coming home. It's taking off your shoes and taking a bath. It's settling in your cozy bed comfortably and drifting to sleep, thinking of all that excites you. 

It’s making up stories until they tire you out and waking up with puffy, glossy eyes. 

Childe doesn’t need much.

A lazy afternoon nap in Kaeya’s arms or a picnic on a cliff. Playing with the dogs that climb their legs every time they walk through their turf.

Closing his eyes and leaning back at Kaeya’s chest blissfully as they soak in the water. 

It’s more than enough. 

Kaeya doesn't have to be anything. The strength that everyone expects of him, Childe doesn’t.

To him, Kaeya is the only thing that makes sense amidst the chaos of his mind. 

With one kiss, he dissolves the sorrow and drowns the worries.

He feels lost, but with Kaeya a bit more found. As if it’s the head pat of a stranger that feeds the stray cats every night or a ship’s anchor that performs its crucial task silently. 

Kaeya can't hear any of that without his heart racing in his chest when even a simple ‘I love you’ is enough to have him shy away from Childe’s gaze. 

Only when darkness veils his face can he lay on Childe's chest and listen to him whisper in his ear all that made him fall in love with Kaeya.

He watches with tearful eyes as gentle fingers card through his hair and affection drips from the lips he's addicted to kissing. 

It never gets easier to hear that he is worthy, but Kaeya is smitten with a man that will never stop reminding him. 

short and loosely inspired by the poem 'another birth' by forugh, i hope you enjoyed !