#i was openly told by TWO men i worked with to my face and had two text me and one ring me back at my hotel room

[lyrasjordan]

.

[cloakedsparrow]

Bruce is Tim’s Biological Father AU idea #5

Janet wasn’t in any rush to get married, but being a young woman with a steady boyfriend from a well off family, naturally everyone kept asking when she and Jack were going to take the next step. Janet always remarked that she was happy with the relationship as it was; that she was focused on her career goals; that she and Jack were letting things move organically.

In her presence, Jack always gave similar answers. One day, when he didn’t realize she was in hearing range, he joked with some peers about not wanting to settle until he’d explored all his options. She let him know she’d heard him and told him to feel free to explore his options and that she’d do the same. He pulled a med student; a barista; a couple administrative assistants: young women who were very sweet and equally boring. She pulled men like the Davenport heir, Adrian Veidt,John Constantine (she’d been a Mucous Membrane fan in college), and Bruce Wayne. Realizing he was going to lose the most impressive woman he’d likely ever know, Jack told her he wanted to get back together and proposed shortly after.

When Janet learned she was pregnant with Tim (and what the due and conception date ranges were), she knew right away who the father was. As they’d been split up at the time, Jack couldn’t hold it against her. However, he didn’t want Bruce involved in their marriage (he was a bit jealous of the man). Janet didn’t want anyone telling her what to do with her son, so she agreed not to tell him.

It was always something of an open secret among the Drakes (Jack, Janet, Tim, and Janet’s father who died when Tim was little) that Tim was Bruce’s child. They never talked about it. Ever. Not even to confirm it to Tim who just kinda worked it out for himself. Janet always suspected that Tim knew but again, they never spoke of it.

After he intervened on Bruce’s spectacular breakdown following Jason’s death, Tim assumed it was the same in the Wayne household. After all, Batman was considered by many to be the world’s greatest detective. Alfred and Dick were certainly no slouches in the investigation department either. Of course, they’d figured it out for themselves just like Tim had.

And, just like the Drakes, of course they didn’t openly acknowledge the fact.

It wasn’t until Bruce returned with news that he had a son with Talia that Tim finally acknowledged it, thinking Bruce would get the joke because he already knew.

“If you had a nickel for every illegitimate child you had, you’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot, but it’s still weird that it happened twice.”

“…”

“Especially with you being, like, the master of preparations and contingency plans.”

“…”

“It’s just weird, is all.”

“Who else do you think is my child?”

“…”

“…”

“Oh, shit, you have no idea.”

“No idea about who?”

“This whole time, you- Crap.”

“Tim.”

“Crap.”

“Tim.”

“Give me a minute, I think I’m having a nervous breakdown.”

“You look completely calm.”

“Yeah, well, my nervous face and my calm face are the same.”

“…”

“…”

“Tim?”

“Not that I want any details, but, uh, do you remember sleeping with my mother?”

Bruce was not expecting that response but he quickly does, in fact, remember having sex with Janet. He then connects the dots to the joke that started the current conversations and does some quick math.

“Sleeve up. We’re drawing blood.”

Sitting down in shock for a minute as the paternity results stare him in the face, Bruce realizes that Tim’s reactions suggest Tim knew and assumed Bruce knew and that just goes in a loop in his head for a bit: all this time his son thought he knew.

He’d sent Tim home to an empty house or overseas to train with strangers, and the boy had gone, thinking that was his father knowingly sending him away.

He’d been dismissive the one time Tim commented on his parents always extending their trips or otherwise fighting, and the boy had kept his silence, thinking that was his father knowingly leaving him in that environment.

He’d given Tim back to Jack when he woke from his coma, and the boy had gone, thinking that was his father making a deliberate choice to give him up.

He’d let Jack take Robin from Tim (and keep him from seeing him) in exchange for his silence on Bruce’s identity as Batman, and the boy had agreed, thinking that was his father sacrificing him for his secret.

He’d offered to adopt Tim after Jack’s murder, and the boy had turned him down, thinking that was his father refusing to publicly acknowledge their true relationship.

He’d helped Tim solidify the records on his fake uncle and the boy had accepted the help, thinking that was his father knowingly passing him off to some stranger.

Tim had been prepared to move into the stable apartment after his fake uncle died, until Bruce brought up the adoption again, and the boy agreed, thinking that was his father telling him their relationship had to remain a secret.

The joy of realizing that Tim was truly his warred with concern over the fact that his son thought such behavior was not only acceptable from a father, but should be accepted quietly.

He’s has no idea how he’s going to fix that, but he’s Batman, he’ll work it out.

[atinylittlepain]

Apothecary - Chapter Two

joel miller x witchy!reader

series masterlist

everyone's got something to say about her, and Joel doesn't know what to make of it. when he returns the favor he owes her, he tries to get some answers up in the mountains and away from the wagging tongues of Jackson.

warnings | 18+ angst, mentions of death, spooky-ooky vibes, people being superstitious dickheads

a/n | thank you all for the love on the first part of this series! i just got so excited i couldn't help but write the second part :) keep letting me know what you think, my inbox is always open and i love to hear from you!

.................................

“My son had a cough since he was two years old. She cured it with whatever she keeps bubbling on that stove of hers.”

“I had a rash that just wouldn’t go away. She gave me a balm that cleared it right up. A godsend, really.”

“Wouldn’t be alive today if she hadn’t nursed me back to health with all those herbs and plants she tends to.” 

“She talks to animals. Calmed a bucking colt with a whisper– I saw it myself!”

“I heard that infected don’t even notice her. Just walk right past her. That ain’t human, if you ask me.”

“That cat of hers spies on people and brings all their secrets back to her. You can’t tell me that’s a normal cat, not with the way it stares at folks.”

“Some of the women say they’ve seen her out in the middle of the night, dancing naked in her backyard whenever it’s a full moon.”

“I don’t know about dancing naked, but I have seen some strange lights coming from her shop on my way home from the Tipsy Bison. Lord knows what she gets up to in there.”

“She curses men. Lures them up into the mountains and puts them under her spell. But they always end up dead.”

“Dead?”

“As a doornail. It ain’t a coincidence that any man that crosses paths with her seems to wind up with one really unlucky patrol shift. Luck’s got nothing to do with it, lemme tell you.” 

Even though Tommy told him to forget about it, Joel’s been doing a bit of recon, asking people around town about her, and every new anecdote only further confuses him. It seems like everyone’s got some sort of opinion about the resident witch.

It has shocked him, really, how openly folks call her that. Even the ones that speak highly of her. He had asked Ellie about what she had heard one day after she came home from her classes at the community school. She had shrugged, a knowing grin on her face

“Well, she sure helped me out, old man. But yeah, my friends say their moms call her a lot worse names than witch. Personally, I think it’s fucking cool. D’you think she can fly around on a broom like in the movies?” Joel had not been particularly amused by that question.

He’s not sure what to make of any of it. Some people call her a saint. Others call her the devil incarnate. But there does seem to be a general consensus that any man that sets her in his sights is doomed to meet a timely demise.

It’s been two weeks since he saw her at the town market, and he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of her since. According to Maria, she’s been busy with a flare-up of some sort of stomach bug in the community, making house calls and – Joel supposes – working her magic. 

He can’t figure out why he even cares. After all, he’s only met the woman once. But he can’t seem to shake her out of his thoughts, replaying their meeting over and over in his head, particularly the moment she had said Sarah’s name with such certainty.

He finds himself rolling all this over in his mind most nights, sitting out on his front porch as the summer sun turns to thick liquid over the mountains. It’s in such a position that he finally sees her again, approaching his house with a tired smile on her face.

“Hey there, stranger.” She walks up the first step to his porch, leaning against the wooden beam as she speaks. He can’t help the way his eyes trail over her, a pair of coveralls like the kind mechanics used to wear pulled distractingly taut around the swell of her hips and a cloth bag slung over her shoulder, the tops of jars and bottles peeking out of it. When his eyes finally slip back up to her face, the quirk of her eyebrows lets him know that she totally clocked him checking her out, and he has to clear his throat, swallowing his embarrassment before he responds.

“Um, hey– hi. I, uh, haven’t seen you around lately.” She tilts her head at him, smile simmering down to a crooked smirk.

“I’ve been a little busy with all the– y’know, vomiting and diarrhea around town. But I think folks are finally out of the woods now.” Joel has to wonder to himself how she can still manage to look pretty while talking about vomiting and diarrhea.

“How exactly do you help– with that?” Her smile broadens.

“For the stuff coming out the top end, peppermint oil mostly. Ginger is king, but I’ve only got so much of it cultivating at the shop. For the problem down below, you just gotta push fluids and tell them it’ll pass.” 

“Can I ask– how do you know this stuff?” 

“Most of what I know comes from my mom. She was a lady of the plants, knew just about everything about anything that grows.” Fondness laces through her words, a soft smile as she tells him this, and he finds himself mirroring her expression.

“Lady of the plants– that’s a new one to me.” 

“Well, it’s better than witch, right?” Joel’s smile falls, but she just laughs.

“So I take it you’ve heard the rumors about me?” He’s not sure how to respond, a thickness settling in his throat and ice prickling the back of his neck. His voice comes out a bit hoarse when he does finally answer.

“Heard a lot of things about you. Not really sure what to believe though.” Her smile screws up at that, eyes crinkling as she looks at him.

“Why don’t you just ask me what you’re wondering then? Get it straight from the source.” She crosses her arms over her chest, the unbuttoned snaps of her coveralls splaying open to reveal the edge of a white tank-top, the suggestion of cleavage drawing Joel’s eyes before he can help it. He swallows hard, eyes darting back up to hers.

“Is it– I mean– are you?”

“Am I what?” She wants to hear him say it, he can tell by the ghosting curve of her lips. The word feels silly coming out of his mouth.

“Are you a– a witch?” Her smile goes practically radioactive at that, big and bright as she throws her head back in a laugh. She looks back at him, her lips pursed, eyes narrowed.

“Oh yeah, certified. Got the black cat to prove it and everything.” As if on cue, Stevie jumps up onto the railing of the porch, making Joel jump in his seat. She stifles a giggle behind her hand, Stevie nuzzling against her arm that’s wrapped around the porch beam. Joel huffs.

“Look, it seems like everyone’s got something to say about you. But I’m not the kind of guy to buy into a bunch of bullshit rumors.” She hums at that.

“Oh, no? What kind of guy are you then, Joel?” 

“The kind that likes to work things out for himself.” 

“Is that what this is? You working me out?” 

“Sure am trying to.” She sucks her teeth, squinting at him.

“And?” Joel sighs.

“And– I’m thinking it’s gonna take me a while to reach any kind of conclusion.” She nods lightly at that, smiling at Stevie as scratches under the cat’s chin.

“Hmm, alright. You let me know when you reach your conclusion then.” A thick blink of silence falls between them, and Joel finds himself unable to tear his eyes away from hers, only breaking when she lets out a sigh.

“I didn’t just come over here to give you a hard time. Was actually hoping to cash in on that favor you owe me.” He sits up a little straighter at that, nodding.

“Alright, when did you wanna go out– I mean– not– go out– like– not like a–” She laughs, silencing his floundering. 

“I know what you meant. And I was thinking the end of this week? Do you have time on Friday?” 

“Uh-huh, yep. That’s my day off.” Her face falls.

“Oh, I don’t wanna take up your day off, I’m–”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m happy to help, really.” Her frown softens into a suggestion of a smile, and she nods.

“Well, alright. Thank you, Joel. You good to meet at the gates that morning?” 

“I’ll be there, darlin. Sounds like a plan.” She grins.

“Until then, Joel.” She turns, hopping down from the porch step, before glancing over her shoulder to look at him.

“Oh, and don’t worry. I’m not gonna curse you. Not yet at least.” It’s so unexpected, he ends up choking on an inhale, but his coughing doesn’t drown out the sound of her laugh as she slinks away from his house. He’s so busy watching her saunter off that he doesn’t notice the cat jumping down from the railing, startling him when she starts twining between his legs. Stevie looks up at him, yellow eyes unblinking, as if she’s expecting something from him. He tentatively leans forward, holding out his open hand which the cat sniffs at before nudging her head into his palm, a low purr vibrating through her body. 

“You gonna go tell her all my secrets, Stevie?” The cat looks up at him, head tilted. A little too human-like for Joel’s taste. She lets out a small mrrp, before going back to twining between his legs, sleek spine arching up into Joel’s hand. Then, just as quickly as she had appeared, she pads off down the steps of his porch and out into the night. 

…

“Rumor has it you’re helping a certain lady out with some work up in the mountains tomorrow.” Joel huffs at his brother’s cocked eyebrow and crooked smirk.  He takes a sharp swig of his drink before responding.

“Owe her a favor, that's all. And before you tell me I’m not gonna come back alive, I’ve already heard that from four other people this week.” That gets a laugh out of Tommy, his eyes glancing around the bar before focusing back on Joel. 

“Nah, you’ll come back alive. It’s the days after when they always end up dead.” 

“You serious?” Tommy shrugs.

“There’s been a couple of guys, sure. But if you ask me, that has more to do with the stories people believe than it does with her. What we believe, we create, brother. The mind is a powerful thing.” He punctuates his words with a tap of his fingers to his temple. Joel grumbles.

“Yeah, yeah, alright, wise ass. But you’re telling me there really have been men who’ve–”

“It’s all coincidence, Joel. Like I said, there have been a few guys who started chasing after her. Went up into the mountains with her, y’know, all romantic and shit. And then, well, it seems like every time, only a few days later, they wound up dead. But in every instance, it was a bad patrol shift that got them. S’just coincidence that it happened after they got with her.”

“How many coincidences?” Tommy sighs.

“Four. In the last four years or so.” Joel feels his brows lift at that.

“That’s a lot of fucking coincidences, Tommy.” Tommy shrugs.

“Look, folks always talk about how horrible it is that all these men died. And it is. But no one thinks to mention what that must have done to her. To like someone? Hell, maybe even love someone? And then not only have them taken away from you, but to then be blamed for it too? It’s fucking atrocious, man.” When Tommy finishes speaking, silence falls between them, Joel a bit stunned by the clear compassion Tommy speaks with about her.

“Why d’you even care? Why not join the crowd, huh?” Tommy frowns at that, twirling his liquor in his glass rather than looking at his brother.

“I didn’t tell you this– I mean, why would I? But, Maria had a pretty difficult pregnancy.” He takes a sharp inhale before continuing to speak.

“We weren’t sure if– if the baby– if we were gonna be ok. And she was there for us, through it all.” Joel can see the tears pooling in his brother’s eyes, glinting in the low light of the bar when he finally looks at him.

“I don’t know if we’d have our boy today if it hadn’t been for her. So yeah, I care about her. And I’ll side with her every time. And most folks will too, when push comes to shove. She’s done a lot for this community. But it’s easy to spread poison behind people’s backs. So that’s what they do.” Tommy sits back on his stool, sighing deeply.

“Suppose a lot of the men see her as a challenge, y’know? Steal a cursed kiss and live to tell the tale, or some bullshit like that. And the women see the men pining after her, and they don’t like that one bit. Either way, they talk, way more than they should.” Tommy throws back the last of his drink, wincing at the burn. Joel, meanwhile, is still trying to process everything his brother just told him.

“So should I tell the kid to start planning my funeral, or what?” Tommy laughs, shaking his head.

“Nah, I think you’re too much of a stubborn ass to let a rinky-dink curse sway you. Besides, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.” Joel squints at his brother.

“Why’s that?” 

“You said you’re just doing a favor for her. She might not even like you enough to curse you, brother.”

…

Joel doesn’t sleep at all that night. His mind works over what Tommy told him again and again, trying to reach some sort of conclusion about everything he’s learned, and coming up short every time. He shuffles out in the early morning light, eyes bleary as he nears the gate. She, however, is chipper as anything, smiling broadly when she sees him.

“Hey there, you ready to go?” He nods, grumbling out a quiet affirmation, and then they’re off.

Most of the morning is spent in silence, hiking up into the mountains. Joel knows that it’s not infected they have to worry about, not out here. But raiders are a whole other story, so he keeps a steady hand on his rifle slung over his shoulder, letting her lead them a few paces ahead of him. 

“You’re quiet this morning.” She glances at him over her shoulder as she speaks, eyebrow lifted.

“I’m thinking.” 

“About?” He huffs, stopping where he stands in the underbrush of the woods. When she realizes he’s no longer following, she turns back around, hands on her hips as she looks at him.

“I just– I wish you’d give me some straight answers here. I’ve heard something different about you from just about everyone in town– and I’m not sure if I believe any of it. Just– please.” Her brow is furrowed, eyes squinted at him as she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“What do you want from me, Joel?” He swallows hard, eyes glancing around the thick trees before looking back at her.

“The truth– I want the truth.” She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest.

“You’re gonna have to be a bit more specific than that.” He has to laugh out of frustration at this little game they’re playing, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a low curse before focusing back on her.

“Alright, I’ll be specific. All those men that died. A lot of folks around town are convinced that you had something to do with it. S’that true?” When she speaks, Joel’s taken aback by her tone, her usual lightness replaced by a steeled stoicism.

“I had nothing to do with that. Any of it. The only curse that was on those men was their own goddamn minds buying into the town bullshit.” He’s inclined to believe her, judging by her unwavering gaze and the sure tilt of her chin as she speaks, but there’s still more that he needs to know.

“But you are– different. Aren’t you?” That coaxes a smile out of her, and she steps a bit closer to him.

“Different.” She says the word like a challenge, and he nods, taking his own steps closer to her.

“Is that your conclusion, Joel?” Both of them have their arms crossed over their chests, and they now stand so close that their forearms lightly brush.

“Starting to think I ain’t ever gonna reach a conclusion about you, darlin.” Her eyes crinkle, smile threatening to crook into a full-blown grin.

“Would that be such a bad thing? No conclusion?” It’s like magnets, the way their faces tilt, subtle shifts toward one another until he can feel the light air of her exhale across his mouth. He hums, a low sound in his chest.

“I think I’ll live.” He can practically feel the stretch of her grin at his words.

“I think you will too.” It happens as easily as a tide rolling in, languid in the way their lips slip together. His hands find the sweep of her jaw, pulling her in deeper, her palms splaying over his chest. He’s a little surprised when she swipes her tongue over the curve of his bottom lip, coaxing him open and tangling even closer with him. A woman has never taken charge like this with him, and it’s making his head spin. When she does pull away, he’s only a little embarrassed by the way he chases after her lips, stuttering into some sort of composure when she grins at him.

“For the record, you’re not wrong.” Not entirely sure what she means, he frowns at her, shaking his head. She laughs.

“I am different, Joel.”

“That wasn’t just a lucky guess, was it? About– about Sarah?” Her eyes soften, features dropping into a sad understanding. She slides her palms up from his chest to twine behind his neck. 

“No, it wasn’t.” 

…

“This is lemon balm.” She glances over her shoulder at him from where she’s crouched down, thumbing at a cropping of large, waxy leaves. He’s learned the names of more plants today than he could ever remember, though he still nods when she shows him a new one like he has any clue what it is.

“What do you use that for?” 

“You dry it, and then you can brew tea with it. It’s calming– helps with sleep and stress. Or you can mix it into salve to treat cold sores. Though not many people in Jackson come to me with that problem.” She clips several leaves from the plant, carefully tucking them into her pack and slinging it over her shoulder as she stands back up. 

They’ve been out all day, moving through the woods as she collects various plant snippings, explaining each one to him, how to use it and what its use is. And between them, a silent understanding has settled, even though Joel hasn’t asked anymore questions about her. But he knows that Tommy was right. Whatever she is, she’s a good one.

“We oughta head back soon. Sun’s starting to set.” She nods, wiping her hands off on the front of her jeans, and they easily step into stride with one another. They spend most of the hike back in a comfortable silence. Joel finds himself wanting to say something, ask something more, but always hesitating, mind hazy from the heat of the day, and from the stamped memory of the kiss they shared. Even if it was cursed, he reckons that he wouldn’t mind that.

“Joel? I want to say thank you.” He glances at her walking alongside him, the quick-fading light casting syrupy shadows across her features. He has to blink a few times to keep himself from staring.

“No need for thanks. I was happy to repay the favor.” 

“No, that’s– that’s not what I meant. I mean– thank you for coming out today with me, I appreciate it. But– I wanted to thank you for– thinking for yourself– about me.” That makes him stop in his stride, turning to fully look at her as she does the same. They’ve just crested a hill, the gates of Jackson coming into view, and her eyes keep glancing back toward it, a nervous crease between her brows.

“It’s just– you’re right– I know everyone has something to say about me. And I guess I don’t have too many friends because of it. Most folks make up their minds about me before they even talk to me. So, thank you– for not doing that.” His chest twists at her words, the worried look scrunched across her face. He’d like to take the pain away that’s clear in her expression. And then, that tightness in his chest grows for a different reason, as he realizes that he’s already in far too deep with her. He has to clear his throat to shake away the thickening feeling, tentatively reaching his hand out to her, his fingers skating over the faint dip of her collarbone. He can see her breath catch at his touch, and he revels in it, letting his hand trail down her arm until their fingers are tangling together.

“You shouldn’t have to thank me for that. Whatever may or may not be true about you– no one deserves that. I just– why do you help them– when they treat you the way they do?” She sighs, squeezing his hand in hers, and giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.

“Because it’s what I’m good at. I always wanted to help people– and that’s what I get to do. Even if some of them are fucking dicks about it.” Her crassness catches him off guard, pulling a stuttering laugh from his chest as she grins. But she’s all seriousness again, clearing her throat, her brow pulling down.

“Suppose I should warn you now that they’ll talk about you too– if you stick around me. And I don’t blame you if you don’t want–” He’s heard enough, and does something entirely too bold by closing the distance between them to steal another kiss, her wide eyes meeting his when he pulls away.

“Don’t care what any of ‘em have to say about me, or about you. They can talk all they want, darlin.” He can feel the relief in her sigh. She nods, giving his hand one final squeeze before breaking away, continuing the walk back to town. 

When they get back inside the gates, she offers him a small smile, her hands fidgeting with the straps of her pack.

“Thank you again. I really appreciated your help.” 

“Like I said, it was no–”

“Well, well, well– what do we have here? Looks like she’s got Miller under her spell, boys!” The change in her demeanor is instant, face scrunching up as they both turn to see where the commentary is coming from. Joel recognizes the man, Mason, if he remembers right, and a small group of other guys he knows from past patrol meetings. They’ve all got a similar sneer across their faces, eyes zeroed in on her, and he has to fight the urge to step in front of her to get them to stop looking at her like that.

“Guess we better get another coffin ready, huh? Hate to break it to you, Miller. She may be pretty, but she ain’t nothing but bad news.” Joel’s fists clench at his sides, and as the men break into another howl of laughter, his feet start moving toward them before his brain can catch up. But she’s quick to step in front of him, hands pressing into his chest and eyes fierce.

“Don’t– it’s not worth it.” It’s immediate, the calm that washes over him with her words, though he still glares over her shoulder at the men, whose laughter has only escalated.

“Awww, she got you good, man! Hey, witchy-poo! What kinda magic you got working on Miller to have him so whipped?” And with that, Joel is ready to bash their heads in all over again, though she holds him back with her palms firm against the front of his shirt. 

“Joel, it’s fine. They’re harmless, really.” He glances at the men one more time before finally focusing back on her, huffing as he nods. She gives him what she can of a smile, worry still pressed between her brows. 

“I’ll see you soon, ok?” His hands flex at his sides, wanting more than anything to tuck her under his arm and walk off together, but he settles for another nod, and a whispered acquiescence. She’s gone in a blink, walking off to the hollering of the men behind her. Before he can do something stupid, Joel heads off in the opposite direction toward the Tipsy Bison. He needs a fucking drink.

…

Joel is nursing his second tumbler of whiskey when just about the last person he’d like to see sidles up next to him at the bar. 

“Miller.” Mason sits down on the stool next to him, but Joel keeps his eyes on his swirling glass. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry for giving you a hard time out there. But I’m trying to help you out.” Joel rests his elbows on the bar, glancing briefly at Mason.

“Don’t remember asking for your help, man.” Mason laughs, turning on his stool to fully face Joel, a stupid grin across his face.

“Well then you don’t know her as well as we all do. I meant what I said, y’know. She’s bad news.” Joel’s starting to feel that anger creeping up his throat, angling himself just slightly in Mason’s direction to get a good look at him.

“Son, I’ve heard enough stories this week to have a pretty good idea of just how full of shit you all are. I thought this was a community of decent people, really. But after being told one too many times about some ridiculous curse, I realize you’re nothing but fools and cowards.” Mason laughs again, and Joel’s a blink away from slapping the sound right out of his mouth. 

“I’m not talking about that bullshit curse.” Joel squints at him.

“Come again?” 

“That curse you’re referring to? I agree with you that it’s town nonsense. But that’s not what I’m talking about.” When Joel stays silent, Mason’s mouth stretches into a smile.

“She may not be sending men to their graves, but she ain’t so innocent either. See, she likes to meddle.”

“Meddle?” Mason nods.

“In other people’s business. Sure, she helps folks all the time. But that’s not all she’s doing in that shop of hers.” Joel huffs, getting tired of the way this man seems to be stringing him along.

“Talk plainly, son. It’s getting late.” Mason barks out a laugh, sliding off his stool before laying a hand on Joel’s shoulder, a squinted smile on his face.

“Why don’t you go see what she’s got cooking up in that kitchen of hers in the middle of the night. Because I can tell you right now, it ain’t fucking tea.”

[blissfullyapillow]

“Okokok” or “Lalala”

My interpretation of various genshin men being “Okokok” or “Lalala” 

notes: Trying a new format, ngl guys I’ve been going through it lately (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭, mainly fluff but Tartaglia’s part is mildly spicy 

wc: 5,365~

Back to Main Masterlist

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

“Okokok”

Baizhu, Diluc, Dottore, Zhongli, Tartaglia, Xiao

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Baizhu ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘♡༓♡∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘♡༓♡∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘♡༓♡∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘♡༓♡∘∙⋆

♡ Surprisingly a tease.

♡ He’s pretty and he knows it. He’s not afraid to use his looks as a means of persuasion.

“I promise I’ll rest soon. I’m almost done.” His soft voice betrays just how tired he is, yet the deep stare he gives you as his lashes flutter have the words “Okay, five more minutes” leaving your lips faster than you’d like.

As he finishes his work for the day you undo his braid. He makes a startled sound of surprise as he continues to work. He knows he won’t be able to extend his time any longer after successfully doing so twice already.

Your hands begin to braid his hair. He involuntarily shivers at the pleasant feeling of your fingers in his hair.

He manages to finish his work just as you're at the end of his braid. You help him clean up and close Bubu Pharmacy for the day, and as you’re walking home you ask if the two of you can take a detour tonight.

He’s tired, and he almost asks if you can go on this detour another night, but the stars in your eyes and the way you’re holding onto his arm causes him to say “Okay, but only for a short while.”

Huh.

Looks like he’s not the only one who knows how to use his stunning looks to his advantage.

He follows you to a secluded area on a hill, and he looks to the sky in awe alongside you.

It’s a full moon, and the stars are clearly visible tonight without a single cloud in the sky.

As you continue to look at the stars he subtly shifts his gaze to your face. As your eyes glimmer with profound emotion, the truth reveals itself to Baizhu. 

He realizes he can see the stars anytime he wants.

“It’s getting late, it’s time we rest. Sleep is vital to your health, you know.” Baizhu ushers you away from gazing at the beautiful sky with a teasing lit to his voice.

“But I remember when you told me that you’re usually too tired to come here and see the stars at night. You said the other night when you had enough energy to come here it was raining, so you just went home…” He glances at you as he intertwines your arms together once more, and he chuckles at the adorable pout on your lips.

“Yes, I did say that. However, I recently came to the realization that I could see the stars whenever I wish since you’re always by my side.” He enjoys the way your eyes widen in surprise as you quickly decipher the meaning of his words.

Just in case you don’t come to the correct conclusion, Baizhu clues you in. He leans forward to press a kiss against your now closed eyelids.

Before you can open your mouth to speak Baizhu announces your shared arrival home. 

“Oh, would you look at that. We’re home.” You can only chuckle as he opens the door for you, and you follow him into the comfort of your shared abode.

Diluc ☆.｡.:*ヽ

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

♡ This man is definitely “okokok”

♡Anytime it rains, he always has an umbrella for you to use. He doesn’t need one, but he always has one on him in case you need it.

♡ Whenever he makes a new drink he’ll have you taste it before he releases it to the public. If you don’t like alcohol he’ll make a virgin version for you to try if you still want to taste it.

“Diluc, rest your head here.”  He’s silent for a moment, openly contemplating whether he wants to do what you asked of him.

It isn’t long before he comes to a decision. He moves to stand in front of you, and you motion for him to sit in front of you.

His expression is absolutely adorable as he fulfills your request with a sigh of false exasperation.

“Honestly..” He begins to say, but he’s silent once your hands are in his hair. He visibly shudders as your fingers comb through his thick red strands. You get to work on your usual self care night time routine with Diluc. 

First, you comb through the tangled strands of his hair. You know he enjoys this part the most, but he refuses to acknowledge it whenever you ask him. Once you’ve combed out all the tangles, you usher him up to follow you to the bathroom.

“Do we really have to do this every night?” He asks this as he leans his face closer to you, allowing you to place the face mask on him. 

“Yup. Stop complaining when we both know you enjoy this. Now, come cuddle with me.” Diluc is happy you put the face mask on him already so you can’t see how flustered your words make him. He dutifully follows you to the area of your choice, which is the couch tonight, and he doesn’t voice a single complaint as you pull his body towards you.

He sighs in content as he rests his head on your shoulder, careful not to smudge the face mask. You’ve scolded him countless times for resting his head there with a face mask on, but somehow he always manages not to smudge it so you let it slide.

As you two sit in silence, enjoying the warmth your bodies provide, Diluc quietly begins to tell you about his day. You comment when he pauses to hear your thoughts, and you pride yourself on getting a chuckle out of him when you tell him a joke. 

It feels like hours pass before the timer goes off. When you tell Diluc to get up, he groans as he begrudgingly follows your command. “Can we go to bed after this?” Diluc’s voice is unusually soft as you lead him to the bathroom. You giggle at how cute he sounds.

He’s perfectly still for you as you follow the instructions for removing the face mask. As Diluc washes his face you return to your shared bedroom to hand his clothes to Adelinde to be washed for tomorrow. 

When he returns from the bathroom he looks refreshed and ready for bed; his eyes are noticeably droopy, and he yawns into his hand. 

Diluc joins you in bed, and he wastes no time in cuddling up to you as he places his face in the crook of your neck. 

“Goodnight, love.” His whisper, combined with his lips pressed against the skin of your neck, causes a shiver to go down your spine. You run your fingers through his hair as you reply, “Goodnight, my love. Sleep well.” He’s asleep moments after you wish him goodnight, and it isn’t long before you follow suit.

You’re both asleep in each other’s arms soon after.

Dottore * ੈ♡‧₊˚

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚

♡ How did you get this man to be in a relationship with you? Are you sure it’s him and not one of his clones?

♡ Well if you weren’t sure before, you are now. After all, he wouldn't stop grumbling over the inconvenience of losing his clones due to ‘a fair trade with the dendro archon’ for weeks. 

Will gives you crumbs of kindness to keep you hooked.

That is, until he finds himself buying your favorite treat for you at the nearest grocery store. You ran into his arms crying after a bad day, and he has to do something to cheer you up. He was disgusted by the tears streaming down your cheeks, and aggravated that the source of your angst was another human being. 

As he quickly makes his way back to you, your favorite treat in hand, he suddenly stops walking as his anxious thoughts of you come to a halt. He’s come to the unfortunate realization that you’re not the only one in love. 

He’s a busy man with things to do and places to be, yet he finds himself content holding you in his arms as your tears slowly subside upon his return. 

He hates the way his cheeks warm when you finally smile as you eat the treat he most definitely did not go out of his way to retrieve for you. 

He silently contemplates if he ever felt this way for another person before as you make yourself comfortable in his arms.

He decides it doesn’t matter as he sneaks a picture of your sleepy face, with your cheeks squished against his chest and droopy eyes struggling to stay open.

Hm.

Maybe he enjoys your company more than he lets on.

♡ He will begrudgingly happily go along with whatever you ask of him. His annoyance and snarky comments are only for show.

“Dottore, hold my hand.” “And why should I waste my precious time heeding your childish request? I have research subjects I need to test on, and I need both of my hands available to do so.” You roll your eyes as he slips his hand into yours, even as he continues to complain and ridicule your request. 

Good thing a kiss never fails to shut him up.

You relish the rare flustered look he gives you when you pull away, and you internally swoon when he chases after your lips.

Speaking of expressions, has he ever shown his face to others beside you?

Zhongli * ੈ♡‧₊˚

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

♡ You’re still struggling to solve the mystery of where this man gets all his money from.

♡ There’s no way Zhongli has the funds to be buying you all the extravagant gifts that he does, but somehow your room is full of gifts. All of the finest quality.

He’s a calming presence beside you wherever you two go, and you love to close your eyes as he tells you facts about something that has caught your interest.

You may or may not go out of your way to think of things to ask him, things that you know only he’ll know being the Geo Archon. 

Just so you can hear his voice.

As you two are walking side by side around Liyue Harbor, you decide to ask him something so you can listen to him talk. You slip up and ask him something that’s virtually common knowledge to the people of Teyvat. His eyebrows rise in question. You anxiously hope he doesn’t catch on as he remains silent.

It takes a moment before his facial expression changes, almost like something registered for him. You realize he’s finally caught on to the truth behind your endless slew of questions. You can only hope he isn’t offended by your actions. 

Zhongli starts chuckling, and soon he’s hunched over and slapping his knee in amusement.  

You start laughing at the sight of Zhongli bent over and slapping his knee like an old man, but you don’t tell him that.

Zhongli literally has tears in his eyes as his laughter continues. Since he’s bent down, you move closer to him before you press a kiss to the unshed tears on his pretty lashes.

He awkwardly coughs as he suddenly stops laughing; your actions clearly fluster him. His face is as red as a Jueyun chili, and you adore the sight of him in this state. Oh, the tips of his ears are red too. Wait, is he.. shuffling his feet?

Aww.

His hand searches for yours, so you waste no time in fitting your hand in his. He squeezes your hand as he straightens himself. 

You squeeze his hand back as he begins to tell you everything he knows about your very obvious topic of conversation.

You take note of the way his eyes soften as he looks at you, and a warm smile presents itself on your lips. His eyes follow the curve of your lips with a gentle smile of his own. 

Oh, he loves you more than you’ll ever know.

Tartaglia ✧˖°.

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

♡ Surprisingly really serious??

♡ Once he’s closer to you he drops his whole ‘happy go lucky’ act since he feels he can be himself around you without judgment.

♡ He’s still friendly and silly at times, but it’s significantly less than the front he puts on for others.

He almost hates the way his heart lurches as you finish getting a bath ready for him.

“Come.”

He’s silent as he obeys your command. He sits on the edge of the tub as you do your usual scan of his body for any new cuts, bruises or scars.

“Has this one always been here?” You suspiciously eye a cut that, yes, has been there for two days now. He recalls you scolding him when you initially discovered it.

“Actually, it has-“ The rest of his sentence gets caught in his throat when he feels the press of your lips against his skin. You mindlessly trace the scar with your finger as your beautiful orbs stare into his.

“Are you okay, Ajax? You seem a bit.. out of it tonight.”

A lump forms in his throat at your question. His emotions threaten to spill over as he gives a shaky exhale. He’s not sure how you can tell he’s had a rough day today, but he’s thankful for your keen eyes.

“Join me tonight?” It’s almost as if your clothes magically come off as you usher him into the welcoming bath. 

He steps in first, and you’re right behind him. Your arms wrap around him as your fingers locate the scar they were previously tracing.

“Want me to wash your hair?” You reach over to grab the shampoo bottle, already knowing what his answer will be.

As you gently rub the shampoo into his hair he closes his eyes in bliss.

He always appreciates your doting.

So it’s no surprise that once you two exit the bath, you open your shared bedroom to an overflowing pile of expensive gifts ranging from clothes to a physical copy of the newest video game, if that’s something you’re into.

“Ajax.” Your stern tone only causes his grin to grow larger. “I have to show my appreciation for you in some way.” His playful tone is quite adorable, but you push that thought to the side. 

“Ajax-“ He stops your scolding with a passionate kiss to your lips as he wraps his arms around you to bring you closer. 

“Well, there is another way.”

He loves the knowing look you give him. “Oh really? You might have to show me, I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

He loves the way you shiver as he presses a kiss below your ear. “Gladly.”

Xiao ༺♡༻

Reader is implied to be afraid of heights. If you aren’t afraid of heights, imagine it’s high enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊

♡ Bro’s touch starved.

♡ King of hand holding and innocent touches.

♡ He loves to caress your thigh as he rests his head on your shoulder, watching on with whatever you’re doing.

If you happen to be on your phone and you scroll past a cute couple video, he tells you to scroll back to it so you two can watch it together.

Will shyly suggest you two do whatever couple trend is going on, but make it seem like you were the one who asked.

“I know humans love their silly trends. You don’t have to look at me like that, we can do it. I’m only doing this for you, you know.” He even sighs as he says it, making it seem like you’re really forcing his hand when he’s the one taking the initiative.

You honestly don’t mind and find it adorable.

Although some trends he’ll hesitate to do, especially if they’re a bit more hands on.

“Do I really have to guess what flavor this is?” He’s asking this as he leans in to kiss you, his cheeks blossoming into a hue that’s as red as a rose.

Despite his obvious hesitance, he enjoys any and all “incomprehensible” fun human past times you two do together.

Cue going to an amusement park as Xiao somehow wins all the rigged games and all the oversized stuffed animals you could ever ask for.

When he rides roller coasters with you his face becomes more expressive the more intense the roller coaster is. You love the subtle wide eyes he’ll make or the clench of his jaw as you two go barreling down the coasters’ track with the other riders.

Your favorite part of the whole day is when you two go on the ferris wheel.

I know, cliche, but it’s the feels good warm butterflies in your chest cliche.

When you two reach the top it stops, and as much as you’d love to enjoy the beautiful orange and purple hues of the sky your heart is pounding in your chest.

You look anywhere but down, eyes darting left and right.

Xiao huffs in annoyance, and when you turn to look at him he’s walking over to you from across the small pod.

“How could I forget? Humans and their weak minded fear of heights.” Before you can retort his comment with a snarky reply, he’s beside you and pulling you into his arms.

You muffle a weak “sorry” against his chest, and his response is a heartfelt sigh. 

When he presses a sweet kiss against your hair, your heart pounds for a different reason. 

“Be quiet. I like holding you like this. I don’t need the sunset with you here in my arms.” Although he probably wasn’t intending to be romantic, your cheeks warm and a giddy giggle escapes you.

Que the adorable sight of two idiots holding each other as the ferris wheel makes its slow descent down, the orange hues of the sky faded long ago, as the stars glimmer and wink in the romantic night sky.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ˳༄꠶ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

“Lalala”

Alhaitham, Kaveh, Ayato, Wanderer, Albedo

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── ·

Alhaitham ✧˖°.

Listen, I know Alhaitham would be an “okokok” person in a relationship. Just let me indulge in my delusions for a moment, okay?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

♡ Alhaitham has never been in a relationship before; he’s a busy and productive man who has things to do. He goes home early to be alone and read in relative peace.

♡That is, until he got to know you.

Alhaitham doesn’t see himself as the romantic type, yet he finds himself doing simple acts of service for you without a second thought.

Do you wake up completely exhausted after studying all night? A steaming cup of coffee is gently placed into your tired hands as soon as you greet Alhaitham. You don’t like coffee? Alhaitham substitutes it for something that’s more your taste.

You’ll find fluffy blankets draped over your previously slumped figure on cold nights, your papers neatly organized after a quick bathroom break, and even little note cards placed on your belongings with encouraging words.

It took you multiple instances of these caring acts of kindness before you realized Alhaitham was the one behind them.

The notecards are what gave him away.

You thought you were being delusional as usual when you recognized Alhaitham’s handwriting on one of the note cards, despite sparsely seeing it. You confront him about the little note cards you've been seeing despite your apprehension of him behind the person behind these kind acts. 

Lo and behold, a few conversations and a study date later, Alhaitham is your dedicated boyfriend. Although he’s different than you thought he’d be in a relationship. 

In a good way, of course!

During a late night stroll in Sumeru, Alhaitham gently intertwines his hand with yours. When you look at him in surprise, he looks away with an obvious redness to his cheeks.

In another instance, Alhaitham walked in on you dozing off over your study notes. “I thought you said you were going to study all night, no interruptions?” Alhaitham’s teasing voice against your ear catches you off guard, but what really surprises you is the lingering kiss he presses underneath your ear.

With your study partner Kaveh gawking at him from the other side of the table.

This time around, Alhaitham’s head is resting on your chest as his tall figure is basically sprawled across your lap. It’s honestly adorable, but if anyone were to see this scene with their own eyes they’d probably think they’re hallucinating. Surely there’s no way the Akademiya’s scribe would behave this way, right?

Well they’d be proven wrong, and quite quickly.

Alhaitham reads his book without a care in the world as his head rests on your chest, flipping a page to continue reading out loud to you. “Honestly Alhaitham, I didn’t expect you to be so… openly affectionate like this in a relationship.” You hope your words don’t come across as offensive, but this is Alhaitham you’re talking to; You're not worried.

Alhaitham’s silent for a moment before he looks into your eyes. Your heart skips a beat at the swirling emotions you see in them, a rare sight for a man like Alhaitham.

“I feel at ease when you’re around, and I love many aspects about you, including your flaws. Why should I be bothered to conceal these feelings? Doing that won’t get me anywhere. Only a fool would hesitate to show how much they love and care about their partner.” Alhaitham’s words are concise and brutally honest, yet it’s as if he’s serenading you with a romantic ballad.

In a trance, you hardly register the way he presses a sweet kiss to your lips before he continues to read out loud to you, distracting you from your many assignments as he originally intended.

…

Oh.

“Okay.” Is the only breathy response you’re capable of. 

You don’t miss the smirk on his lips when he hears your response.

This time, you’re the one who kisses him.

Kaveh ♡˗ˏ✎*. ˚

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺

♡ Putting Kaveh anywhere other than lalala wouldn’t feel right.

♡ Kaveh, the hopeless romantic who smothers you with affection like it’s his job.

♡ Kaveh, who’s somehow always up before you to make you breakfast and ensure you have everything you need for the day.

♡ Kaveh, who pepper's your face with sweet kisses before you walk out the door in the morning and when you return home for the evening.

♡ He was a blushing mess when he asked you out, and his face was an adorable display of elation when you happily agreed to be his partner.

Now, Kaveh rests his head on your shoulders as he peers at the video you’re watching on your phone. “Honestly if that were me I would have broken up with him by now. Did you see the way he rolled his eyes as he let go of their hand? How disgraceful.” Kaveh clicks his tongue as he criticizes the male lead. 

You burst into a fit of laughter when Kaveh begins to cheer the male’s partner on for dumping a glass of wine over his head.

“He doesn’t understand how lucky he is to have someone care for him so deeply and intimately.” Your words strike a chord in Kaveh, and he reaches over you to pause the video.

“Wait, what do you mean by that?” Kaveh’s worried tone reaches your ears. You’re quick to turn around and press a loving kiss to his lips to dispel his worries.

“What I mean is, I’m lucky to have you in my life. You’re a ray of sunshine on my sunniest and darkest of days. I can only hope I make you feel as loved and cherished as you make me feel Kaveh. I’m the luckiest person in the whole of Teyvat to be able to wake up to your pretty snores.” Kaveh blushes as he scoffs in indignation. “Snores? I do not snore. Even if I did, you're wise to realize they’d be the prettiest snores you’ve ever heard. They wouldn’t be as obnoxiously infuriating as, say Alhaitham’s, would sound.” 

You chuckle at Kaveh’s indignation, before your chuckles quickly morph into uncontrollable giggles as Alhaitham chooses that moment to return home.

Unfortunately for Kaveh, Alhaitham heard his name being said. As Alhaitham questions Kaveh on your topic of conversation, Kaveh's fingers trace imaginary hearts on the back of your hand.

You enjoy the sound of surprise Kaveh makes when you grasp his hand to place a kiss against each of his fingertips.

Thankfully Alhaitham takes the hint to leave the two of you alone, and you two spend the rest of the day in each other’s arms, enjoying the irreplaceable warmth your bodies provide each other. 

Ayato❀

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

♡ To be the partner of Kamisato Ayato is a blessing in and of itself.

♡ Waking up to his pretty face resting beside you is now your favorite way to start your day.

♡ You love the way he’s always one step ahead of you. When you suddenly remember you forgot to bring an important item, Ayato’s calming you down with hushed whispers of love as he hands you the item in question.

You groan in annoyance as you put the paper in your hand down. You’ve been craving your favorite snack since this morning, and it’s getting harder and harder to resist the craving. You come to the conclusion that it’s worth putting your work down to get it, and at that moment Ayato enters the room.

It’s almost creepy how Ayato walks into your shared room with said food item you are currently craving.

You love how Ayato’s not afraid to kiss you in front of his retainers, and how he often brags about your achievements to others in front of you.

“Thank you for your hard work. Oh, speaking of hard work, my partner successfully completed that assignment I told you they were so worried about. Haha I know, they were worried over nothing. I’m quite proud of how far they’ve come. They even- my, what’s got you so riled up?” Ayato knowingly teases you when you approach him with a flustered expression, dismissing the retainer's soft chuckles and fond expression as they watch the two of you.

Ayato’s not one to shy away from cuddles and spending time together. No matter how busy his schedule is, he always makes time each and every day to spend with you.

 Whenever you’re together Ayato always has some part of him touching you. Whether that be his hand against the small of your back, his chin on your shoulder, or even his hands tangled in your hair, he’s always touching you.

When asked about this habit of his, he’ll simply respond, “It brings me a sense of comfort.”

Whenever Ayato’s seen with you, he’s the physical embodiment of  “…and all of the stars and infinite galaxies could be found in the vast beauty of their eyes. All it takes is one look at their partner, and their eyes shine like the sun's first rays of dawn.”

Wanderer *ੈ✩‧₊˚

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ─── ───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰ ───

♡ You fell first but he fell harder… and when he did fall, oh boy.

♡ He’s severely touch starved.

He’ll make any excuse to cuddle and be physically close to you. “This pillow isn’t fluffy enough and it’s hurting my neck. Move closer so I rest my head on your chest.” “But my chest isn’t fluffy???”

“I’ve never been in a romantic relationship before, and I need practice.” “Practice holding hands? That seems pretty straightforward to me-” “Silence.” You only watch in amusement as he averts his gaze, shyly holding your hand.

He looks so cute like this, you know you have to take a picture. As he’s preoccupied with avoiding your gaze, you deftly maneuver your phone in one hand and open the camera app. You snap an adorable photo of him.

Unfortunately for you, your phone flash was on.

You talk your way out of deleting the picture by agreeing to take a selfie with him.

When the alarm on his phone wakes you up the next morning you tap his phone to turn it off. You stare at his phone in shock as it lights up. His lock-screen is the selfie you two took together a few hours ago.

♡ Will literally do the sweetest and most heartfelt gestures without being asked, and then get defensive about it when it clearly makes you happy.

You wake up to a bouquet of flowers and breakfast in bed. Wanderer’s silence as you stare at him says all the tender words he struggles to voice.

When your eyes water and a wobbly smile presents itself on your lips, he clenches his jaw and rolls his eyes.

“I returned home late last night and missed the opportunity to fall asleep beside you. I figured you’d appreciate this sweet gesture, but clearly your mind is too addled with sleep to properly thank me. ..Wipe those tears away, they’re unsightly.”

He’s the one who gently wipes your tears away without complaint. 

As he presses a chaste kiss against your lips, you tell yourself you chose the right man to be your partner.

Bonus: If you ask for him to pray with you to whichever deity you follow, including the archons, he will. Despite believing in no deity or higher being, he’ll happily pray with you since he knows it’s an important aspect of your life. He’ll respect that and pray with you. It’s no big deal; he enjoys the thankful expression you have anyway. Don’t worry, he knows he doesn’t have to, but he chooses to do so with you because he wants to. Plus, he gets a free favor out of it every time. What he uses that favor on differs each time, but it’s always a good result for the both of you. 

Albedo ｡･

.・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜✭・..・。.・゜

♡ Albedo is known to not be the most.. expressive individual, yet he has no trouble expressing his love for you, consistently and with the same amount of fervor every time.

♡ Overall he’s the best partner you could ask for. He's your safe space, and you’re his.

♡ Albedo’s experiments are of utmost importance to him, so when an emergency arises that you need assistance with, it warms your heart when he stops his experiment mid way through to help you.

“I’m sorry I asked for your help while you were in the middle of an experiment. I couldn’t reach anyone else, and-” Albedo stops your hysterics with a tight hug and a kiss against the crown of your hair.

“You’re just as, if not more important to me than any of my experiments. Please, don’t hesitate to contact me at any given time, even if it’s not an emergency. I’ll always welcome the opportunity to hear your lovely voice, although I’d prefer if you didn’t sound so distressed.”

“Hey, ‘bedo, you’re zoning out again.” “Oh, my apologies. Here, I’ve completed it.” He hands you yet another sketch of yourself. Your features are beautifully depicted to be looking off into the distance, with dragonspine serving as a mystical background.

“You could sell these you know. You’d make a lot of Mora.” Albedo looks at you with clear offense in his eyes. “The day I sell my drawings of you is the day I stop loving you, and that’s a day that will never come to pass. Come, the temperatures are dropping and I’ve gathered enough starsilver for my next experiment.”

Your heart skips a beat as your hands effortlessly find each other’s. Albedo’s flushed cheeks are prominent as he presses a kiss against the back of your hand.

“Oh, there you are. I made you hot chocolate, the temperatures are lower than normal… Do you want to cuddle?” When your response is an immediate “yes” Albedo wastes no time in guiding you to a comfortable area and tangling your limbs together.

Don’t worry, you’re still able to drink the hot chocolate. 

[chaifootsteps]

I’ve heard this a lot from the fandom after apology tour

“Blitzø and stolas were both so protective of each other at the party even though they were fighting, shows how in love they really are”

I thought so many people said it so it must be true. I rewatched the episode and—Did I miss something? Gen question. Stolas was horrible to him. He smirked at the idea of blitzø getting “fucking murdered”shoved a sheet in his face, into a corner, yelled at him openly and told him to go home, then slobbered all over someone else. And blitzø said he’s never seen stolas so drunk, realising he’s an alcoholic. Blitzø self deprecates heavily to build stolas up so he stops crying. Then Stolas finds some other object to flatter him. Some fans even said “Notice how they both drink heavily and throw themselves at other men when they fight, they were made for each other!”

Are we….romanticising being an alcoholic now? They trigger each others alcoholism so…they should be together?

Remember in Bojack, when he and Diane were alone in each others houses, after Cordovia and post fracking incident, all they did was isolate, drink, skip work, bemoan how pointless life is and encourage each other to wallow and be more depressed. That’s how I see these guys future relationship. It also says a lot to me that when they were on that “””date””” stolas’ first suggestion was to get extremely drunk on wine red and white, and champagne. After they become “canon” Octavia leaves and stolas moves in (under duress) he’s just going to drink the whole time. And poor Loona will have to take care of both of them when drink.

It sort of looks from leaks that the message was “be careful what you wish for” and that running off with his childhood fantasy means losing Via. Theres a shot where Octavia disappears behind ice, leaving stolas reflection, then he collapses and we see Blitzs face. As if asking Stolas "was it worth it?" That could be brilliant if the message was "dont betray the people who already love you to chase after someone else's love"

I sent a similar anon a while back with the suggestion of replacing the anti depressants Via shoves in his hand with the imp doll in his portrait symbolising Blitzo. A lifeless smiling bed companion in a silly bowtie. That makes Octavias line "have a great fucking life with him, dad." more impactful. As if saying "if youd rather stay being a child playing with your little toys than be my dad with me as the child, fine. Go do that."

Sometimes it genuinely does seem like these people are watching a completely different show, or maybe blacking out and making up a different show.

If I shipped Stolitz -- and I used too -- I would have been horrified at Apology Tour, and a lot of people were. Here are two characters you want to see in a loving relationship that improves both their lives, are promised it's coming, and all they do is scream, shit-talk one another, drink heavily, throw themselves at other people, and talk about how miserable they make each other.

I think even comparing them to BoJack and Diane's relationship is giving them too much credit, because BoJack and Diane had fun and cared about each other's well-being somewhat. I see together Stolas and Blitzo as this, but not funny.

[more-mara]

Little Carlando a/b/o drabble

Read below!

Carlos hated these stupid social events, it always turned into a boasting fest with Alphas posturing at any given opportunity.

“Yeah, so I told him either he accepts the deal or one of us would be walking out with a limb missing,” One of the Alphas said, Carlos didn’t even bother to remember his name but his scent was bitter and Carlos tired not to openly show his distaste towards him. The rest of the group erupted into laughter- Carlos found himself chuckling awkwardly as to not seem out of place despite not actually finding anything particularly amusing.

Carlos took a sip of his drink, trying to get his bearings on the current conversation.

“Your omega is perfect, I can only imagine having one so obedient,” One of the men said, directing it at the bitter smelling Alpha.

“Ah yes, he’s a sweet little thing isn’t he?” The man replied, nodding his head across the room at a younger looking boy. Carlos could tell by his scent that he was an omega- a mated one at that.

“Does as he’s told I assume?” The other man asked with a wicked smirk.

“Of course, I wouldn’t accept anything else,” The bitter Alpha replied, a similarly sickening smile plastered across his face. Carlos felt himself frowning.

“Lando! Come here,” The alpha shouted, clicking his fingers in the direction of the Omega. The boys body snapped up to attention immediately before he scurried over to the Alphas side, a tight smile on his face as he silently greeted the group. The Alpha wrapped a possessive hand around the boy- Landos waist, pulling him closer.

“He’s a beauty, isn’t he?” The alpha said proudly, squeezing Landos hip to emphasise his point. Carlos could tell that the boy was uncomfortable, squirming little in the hold.

“I take it he stays home with the pups while you’re at work?” Another of the men asked.

“No pups yet, we’ve been…unsuccessful,” The Alpha said, an almost angry expression settling on his features. Lando looked a little frightened, his scent shifting to something more anxious.

“Oh? I would have thought an omega as perfect as him would be easily bred,” One of the men enquired and Carlos almost choked at the sheer lack of humanity these men had. Not only were they speaking about Lando as if he were an object but they were acting as if he wasn’t right there in front of them.

“Yes, I thought so too,” The Alpha said through gritted teeth. No one else seemed to notice, or maybe they didn’t care, but Carlos saw how the Alpha was poking at Lando ribs, causing the boy to wince a little at the pressure.

Carlos couldn’t help but survey Lando, he was in all ways beautiful but Carlos’ gaze was stuck on the two puncture holes on his neck- his mating mark. Carlos let his eyes skim across the exposed skin but halted immediately when he saw a patch of purple peaking out from under the neckline of his shirt.

Lando was looking up at him now, and his eyes widened when he realised what Carlos was staring at. He began to tug at his shirt, trying his best to hide what was obviously a bruise. Carlos could smell how Landos scent filled with fear.

“M-may I be excused?” Lando asked, voice barely above a whisper as he looked up at the Alpha, blatant fear flashing across his face.

“We’re in the middle of a conversation Lando, have some manners,” The Alpha replied, his face showing something a little sinister.

“Perhaps he could fetch me another drink, mine is empty and I cannot be expected to work my way around a kitchen by myself,” Carlos spoke up, directing it at the Alpha. He felt his skin crawl from the words he was speaking- of course he knew how to fill up his own drink but Carlos knew that these kind of Alphas were the type to expect omegas to do all the housework while they sat on their asses doing nothing.

The Alphas eyes widened with joy as he smiled at Carlos.

“Ah, another traditional Alpha I see…very well, go on Lando, don’t keep him waiting, show him where the drinks are,”

Lando looked down at his feet, making a move to walk towards the kitchen, Carlos went to follow him but was stopped briefly by a strong hand on his arm.

“I like what you stand for, so that’s why I’m going to offer you this- you can do what you like with him, just don’t leave any marks,” The Alpha said with a wink and Carlos felt like he wanted to throw up at the implications but he just flashed the man a smile before following Lando.

[maggie-stormborn]

"Daenys I Targaryen" by @wweskywalker for my fanfiction "Truly the Mother of Dragons" 🔥 Thank you again for your amazing work on these commissions!

.

.

The youngest of the triplets and second born daughter of Daenerys I Targaryen was the dark haired Daenys. Save a single lock of silver, her hair was that of her father - a dark and curly mane that grew longer as she grew older. But her resemblance to her mother was undeniably apparent to all who saw her - a dark haired Daenerys born again, the same violet eyes, the same shaped face, even her voice sounded like that of the Dragon Queen.

Daenys was named for Daenys the Dreamer, of House Targaryen of Valyria of Old, and like her name sake, was a Dreamer - she was said to live halfway between this world and the that of the Gods, and walk amongst visions like like a shepherd does their flock. She was bound to the she-dragon, Dreamflame - a stunning violet and shining copper beast that had been Daenys' companion since her own birth. Daenys, while bound to Dreamflame, was also unusually close with all the hatchlings - even Daenyxes and Nightweaver, who were to be bound to Rhaenyra and Aemon, would respond to her calls and commands. She would speak and sing to the dragons, and it was said hers was the fairest voice in an age or more - but whether this was due to her vocal ability, or the way her ethereal tones themselves that calmed the dragons and men alike, was unclear to those who heard tell of it elsewhere. She would come to hatch more than a score of dragon eggs in her lifetime, and would be credited with more discoveries of secrets lost from House Targaryen than any has or likely will be again - whether due to long lost discoveries on Dragonstone, her dragon dreams, or possibly, as some small folk guessed, told to her by the dragons themselves.

Daenys was usually adorned in intricately stitched violet gowns, or sometimes white ones, and wore jewelry of bright silver with amethysts, sapphires, and pearls. She had several rings she always wore, including the silver and pearl ring of her late mother, and another with stones matching the Valyrian hatchlings eggs that was gifted to her by the Red Priestess, Mekarie.

Daenys would only train with a bow, seeking the truest aim she could muster, and while avoiding violence at the same time. She openly detested hand-to-hand combat and training, but she would eventually carry a hidden dagger to quell the concerns of her siblings, who worried about her peaceful nature making her a target for their foes. A bejeweled and newly forged Valyrian steel blade designed by Rhaenyra and Aemon, it was crafted by one of two living smiths in the world still able to forge it. They gifted it to her on her 12th name day, and she named it "Dragon's Claw".

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 🎃💦 ∘₊✧ 𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝟚 ✧₊∘

|| ︶꒦꒷𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕥𝕠𝕓𝕖𝕣 𝕞𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥꒷꒦︶ | main masterlist ||

@absurdthirst's Kinktober 2023 Prompts

Day 2: Frottage, Sexual Frustration, Virginity

𝐀 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠

| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x FEDRA!Comandante Veracruz | RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT: 973 (yay I did it!) | CONTENT: frottage, power dynamics, degradation, Sir kink, failed attempt at sexual coercion, dark!Joel | SYNOPSIS: What happens when a FEDRA officer working his way up the command ladder makes the grave error of crossing Joel Miller?

Joel’s heaving breaths echoed roughly in the brick alleyway. The coarse scrape of the FEDRA officers back against the jagged wall should’ve been the loudest thing unless they wanted to get themselves caught and censured.

“Stop makin’ so much fuckin’ noise,” Joel grunted as he thrusted himself into the cradle of hands that enveloped his cock against the other. 

Both tips were steadily weeping precum, and Joel was going to be furious if his partner couldn’t keep it down for long enough that they could both get their release.

“I’m–uuhhhhnnn, I’m f-fucking… AHH,” Veracruz groaned, picking up the pace of his hips as he fucked himself against Joel’s cock faster. 

“If you don’t shut your goddamn mouth, I will break your jaw and shove my cock in there to make you quiet,” Joel warned.

Veracruz panted and smiled as he tilted his head against the wall. His thrusts never faltered. “Not when you need my security clearance for your little smuggling trips,” he taunted back.

Joel’s hand barely covered the span of Comandante Veracruz’s throat, but he had enough purchase to get his point across. He began squeezing hard and watched as the smug look slipped from his partner’s face.

“I’ve killed better men for much less than what you’re messin’ with right now,” Joel snapped. He slammed his hips forward until their bodies were flush. “So I suggest you keep those hands real tight while I fuck ‘em, or I’m gonna have your ass so wrecked your dumbass FEDRA buddies are gonna be askin’ you all week why you’re walkin’ and sittin’ funny,” he seethed.

“Fuck,” he gasped. His cock twitched at the thought.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Joel sneered when he felt the bodily response to his threats. “You wanna give me ‘n Tess a hard time, try to fuckin’ blackmail me into suckin’ your dick, and now look at ya. Tryna act like you’re still in control.”

Veracruz’s nostrils flared at the challenge. He had in fact intended for this to go differently. Possibly coercing a handjob or blowjob out of Joel. Maybe getting Tess involved the next time. He’d made the rookie mistake of underestimating Joel Miller, simply because he was about 15 years older and weaker than Veracruz himself – or so he’d thought. His lips pursed with the disgrace of having been bested.

Joel openly laughed in his face. “Little boy wants to play war general, huh? Thinkin’ he’s got the biggest dick to swing.”

Joel’s thrusting picks up pace as he grabs two rough fistfuls of hair on either side of Veracruz’s head, mussing the gelled back and neatly combed style. He winces at the manhandling and bites back the choked whimper of pain – a last ditch effort to salvage what little ego and self-respect he had left after his botched effort of dominating Joel.

Joel’s brow furrows in pleasure. Thwarting Veracruz’s attempts to blackmail him and Tess was always going to happen, but he hadn’t expected the nice addition of blowing his load all over some too big for his britches FEDRA prick who no doubt had successfully conned, assaulted, raped, and god knows what else to other residents in the QZ who found themselves in his sights.

“Get on the ground,” he snaps, yanking the fistfuls of hair downward.

Veracruz moans at the pain but does as he’s told. He’s already way in over his head. He should’ve listened to his fellow unit officers when they cautioned him against fucking with Joel Miller or his partner Tess. He should’ve heeded their warnings that Joel wasn’t the type of guy to take threats lightly, and he certainly wasn’t the forgiving type.

Hands splayed in the dirt to keep himself upright, Veracruz glances up to find Joel’s face a mixture of fury and ecstasy. He’s jerking himself quickly with his free hand leaning against the wall.

“Don’t fuckin’ move,” he snaps.

“Yes, Sir,” Veracruz nods, slipping too easily into the honorifics that FEDRA drilled into their soldier’s heads when addressing their superiors.

“Fuckin’ pathetic,” Joel jeers with a dark smile. His mouth opens as his face contorts. He leans over Veracruz and watches as his cum drenches his face and hair. He pumps himself until he’s completely empty and tucks himself back into his jeans.

“Wipe it up across your face ‘n fix your stupid fuckin’ hair with my cum, you worthless piece of shit,” Joel snaps.

Veracruz swallows hard and rubs his hands on his face. He works Joel’s cum through his hair and smooths it down like he does every morning.

“Good as new,” Joel taunts with a nasty grin. 

He bends at the waist to leave his departing words. “I’m not even gonna warn ya about tryna fuck with me again. You already know I won’t hesitate to fuck you on all fours and blow your brains out from the back when I’m pumpin’ ya full of my cum. But if I hear even a fuckin’ whisper of you tryna get in the way of me ‘n Tess’s business, I’m gonna make an example outta you for all your other

FEDRA buddies. We clear?”

Veracruz nods curtly and tries to control his breathing. He’s still rock hard and hasn’t come yet.

“Yes,” he replies quickly.

Joel tilts his head expectantly, the twisted glimmer in his eyes letting Veracruz know this man had a much darker past than he’d ever know. He understands what Joel wants from him now.

“Yes, Sir,” he agrees quietly.

“That’s what I thought,” Joel murmurs. “Have fun washin’ me outta your hair tonight, you useless cumrag.” He draws up a swell of saliva and spits it directly onto Veracruz’s face. He turns and walks off without another word.

Veracruz wipes it from his face and uses it to finish pleasuring himself, spilling onto the ground with a pitiful whimper.

[mlm-werewolf]

The first time we held hands was before we were dating. Under the cover of darkness in a cinema with friends, hiding behind the thinly veiled excuse of a scary movie. I could feel the strength in his fingers as they laced between my own. Every crack, every groove, every callus, a story of hard work etched across his skin, and it was strange.

We’d met a few weeks earlier, the only two men in a sociology class, a class he wasn’t even enrolled in. We’d met on a whim but after an hour of my incomprehensible musing on the world being entertained as if they were more than the ramblings of a mad man I left with a new number saved to my contacts.

We started going on runs together. I always talked big game and he was never afraid to leave me in the dust, my breath stolen for one reason or another. Always pushing to run further, run faster, redefine my boundaries. As our relationship grew and developed that feeling of exploring new limits became a running theme.

-

The first time we kissed it was in the middle of the woods, we’d long given up on following the well trodden paths in favour of forging our own way through the underbrush trusting that’d we’d find our way through together. Nothing made me feel more lost than when his lips touched mine and I was met with an unfamiliar strength. I felt that tell tale spark run through me but as I brought my hands down to rest on his hips I hesitated. We both knew the steps to this dance without having to think yet we’d only been taught to lead, never to follow. When our same steps came together it was more reminiscent of a fight than a dance.

Later we’d laugh about how we’d each thought the other was straight, guilty of repeating the stereotypes that had kept us both constrained by society. Our masculinity bonded us, I’d spend hours sitting on his workshop floor watching as he’d use his tools and his talents to turn trash into trinkets. In turn he’d let me drag him along to my hockey games, a bright spot for me to turn to in the stands in a season characterised by loss. It stung less when I knew he’d be there regardless of the outcome.

In the same way it brought us closer, our masculinity also kept us apart. I’d been openly queer for longer than I’d ever been in the closet when we met, dated more men than women. Yet when faced with him I was at a loss, is it possible to have a sexuality crisis when you’ve been confident in your identity for over a decade? Gender roles are so deeply entrenched in relationships that they prevail even when they’re not applicable. I was used to being the fixer, the provider, the rock. He was a rock too and as we came together I was worried that we’d chip away at one another.

-

The first time I spent the night my stomach had twisted itself into a web of overthinking and words failed as my throat was dry like sandpaper. We slept on opposite edges of the mattress, arms stretched out spanning the chasm of sheets between us clinging to the warmth of one another’s hands. He was the first to move as he so often was. I had been tugged across the mattress in an easy movement, my face hidden in his neck and arm slung across my back. As our breathing rhythms synchronised I could feel my carefully donned armour start to splinter. Just for those few hours as we lay side by side I could just dream.

As the light broke through the blinds, warm rays stretching out like tendrils laying claim to the walls he dug his fingers into a lapse in my armour and tore. He tore into the metal as if it were paper, no regard for my carefully crafted protections. He tore into the scar tissue that marred my skin like seams of coal meandering alone a cliff side. He tore through flesh and bone and kept tearing until I was broken down to the barest parts of my humanity. And as I lay there I found solace on the brink. Brick by brick he built me back up, moulding me like clay, an alter of worship carved by his will.

-

The first time I told someone it was my dad. I remember prefacing the admission with the words ‘you know how I can’t be normal about anything?’ to which he laughed and agreed. I told him about the wonderful man I’d met. How nice it was to share hobbies. How nice it is to be challenged. How nice it is to let someone else share the weight for a few hours. I remember it was the first time I’d called him my boyfriend and it became a little bit more normal.

A few days later I told my sister, we’d been sitting in the sun having brunch. I’d been wearing clothes from the day before thrown on hastily still creased front he night they’d spent crumpled on his living room floor. My mind had been working overtime and the thoughts came tumbling from my lips before they were fully formed. I told her how scared I was to buy him flowers. How scared I was to reach for his hand outside the sanctity of his bed. How scared I was that one day my rough edges and chapped lips would lose their novelty, traded in favour for familiarity.

It was inevitable but when the time came that I didn’t tell someone the omission hurts in the way a physical blow could never. We were out country, buying the bed I hoped would become ours. As I shook hands with the old farmer - I don’t know if it was fear or habit - I found myself reaching for the word friends. So often you hear the phrase ‘date your best friend.’ but there is a steep learning curve when ‘bro’ comes more naturally than ‘babe’.

-

The first time he said I love you it felt like a salve to soothe the burning admission he didn’t know how to treat me. I wasn’t ready to hear it. The second time he said it was an easy confession with no guise and no obligation to respond. Nonetheless I felt like I was about to lose a staring competition with an eighteen-wheeler. He keeps saying it despite my wringing hands and awkward silence but it slowly becomes less strange.

The first time I’m brave enough to say it back I think too much and can’t make myself say the words. I was never a practical person, always a fan of taking the scenic route. So instead I leave them hidden between the lines of prose and hope I can capture the feeling

[blueicequeen19]

Dirty Hot Pogue Pt. 7

Warnings: mentions of abortion, parental angst, implied mental health issues, no smut in this one.

Series ML

No one tells you how to deal with heartbreak. They don't tell you how to deal with public humiliation. Or disappointed parents. No tells you how to pick up the pieces when you're spiraling, looking for anything to numb the pain. Some people use sex or drugs or alcohol. Others pretend. They pretend nothing happened. They pretend they don't care while burying every crippling emotion that might kill them if they don't.

So that's what I did. I told my parents I was going through a phase and I needed time away from OBX. My mother and I spent two weeks in Europe after I threw my phone in the ocean, cutting my ties off from the outside world. It didn't stop my ability to dream and lust over a certain blonde. No matter what I did, I always saw his face in every shaggy haired blonde I saw. So I made it a point to avoid blondes. Then it was guys with blue eyes. Eventually it became guys in general. The thought of kissing someone, let alone flirting, made me sick to my stomach. Time away from OBX only made the sickness that is JJ Maybank stronger. I wanted to see him. I wanted to know what he was doing. Who he was talking to. Was he okay?

But I couldn't move on if I was constantly worried about him so I took up a hobby. Every time I started to think about him, I'd go for a run or read a book. I made myself okay. I did what I needed to in order to survive without him. I knew I was incredibly insecure but hearing him tell me that they didn't work out because she would always be a Kook, hit too close to home. It was almost like deja vu. Who were we kidding? I'd never have anything with him that wasn't physical. We wouldn't be able to get married and start a family. My family would never allow it. We would be miserable and doomed to fail anyway. I did the right thing. I pursued this and I had to be the one to end it.

So after I got back to OBX, I stepped back into my old life like I'd never left. Summer was over and everyone went back to school. I made sure to stay on Figure Eight and I busied myself with online schooling and running. I made amends with my parents and I even gave my Kook "best friend" permission to see Bryce, although I know they were already sleeping together. I never once see him or his friends. My life easily becomes a routine of pleasing my parents, school, running, and hiding on Figure Eight. I stay away from parties and I stay away from men.

Although, most of the guys my age that are still here whisper "Pogue Slut" every time they see me. Like they can sleep with Pogues but I can't. I'm eight weeks into my self recovery, enjoying a backyard BBQ with my parents and a few of the neighbors when the smell of cooked meat as my stomach turning so violently, I barely make it to my mothers favorite rose bush before I'm emptying my stomach.

At first, I think it's the champagne as I try to hold my hair back and my mother comes to my aid. Well, she's more concerned about her plant but she awkwardly pats me on the back as some sort of comfort. But then, as she's ushering me inside I hear someone mention the word "pregnant" and I quickly lock eyes with two girls my age who are whispering together while openly judging me with their eyes. I glare at them over my shoulder as my mother attempts to hide me inside. I can hardly think, let alone breathe as she guides me upstairs, muttering plans that I can't quiet make out.

"We have to take care of this." She gets me to my bedroom, taking out her phone and calling someone.

"What are you talking about?" I ask. Everything is running together in my mind. I'm on birth control. I can't be.. It's just the champagne. That BBQ did smell terrible. Why is everyone making a big deal?

"Hello? Dr Thornton? Yes, this is Y/F/N's mother. I need to schedule an abortion." My eyes widen in disbelief, my mothers frantic words into the phone fade out as I turn and empty my stomach again.

"You're 22 weeks." The final nail in my coffin as the ultrasound tech turns the screen, letting me see the life forming inside me. Apparently, my birth control expired. I'd ignored the phone call from the doctor and all the unprotected sex finally caught up with me.

"You're sure?" My mother demands, making me grit my teeth as the tech awkwardly nods and shows her the screen, the baby's size being evidence enough. I couldn't believe what I was seeing as the baby kicked and moved in every direction. They said I should start feeling it anyday.

"So it's too late to have an abortion."

"Mom!" I sit up abruptly, the tech scooting back as I debate throwing something at my mother.

"Y/N, don't you scream at me. Do you even know who's child this is? Do you realize what you've done? You've humiliated me in front of the entire town!" Her words are like a knife to the heart, cutting my walls down all over again. She was worried about herself. About her reputation. Not me.

"I know who the father is." I say calmly, wiping away stray tears.

"How? I saw you in Europe flirting with all those guys. Anyone of them could--."

"I didn't sleep with a single one of them! I was just talking! I was being friendly. I was trying to have some nice adult conversations that didn't revolve around what a fuck up I am!"

"Y/N--."

"Get out! GET OUT!" I scream, just as the door opens and a nurse escorts my mother out. I lay back on the table, crying harder than I ever had in my life. It's not until the tech offers me a box of tissues that I laugh awkwardly, drying my tears and snot before she continues with the rest of the exam.

"Would you like to know the sex?" She asks, handing me the pictures she's printed out. Tears start to fall again at the distinct face in the picture. The face belonging to the baby inside me. I could already see his features in the baby. The uncanny resemblance has me already knowing what the gender is.

"Yes."

I show up at JJ's house, hoping like hell his dad's not here when he suddenly emerges out of the back door. It's late, my car packed full of my belongings after my parents promptly kicked me out for not agreeing to give the baby up for adoption. JJ was my next stop. Seeing him again had all those unresolved feelings rushing back. I wanted to beg him to forgive me. I wanted to apologize but this wasn't about me. This was about our baby. JJ was the father and deserved to know. He deserved to have a say.

"Are you lost?" JJ snaps, as I step out of the car. Apparently, all the running I'd taken up had toned me down quite a bit so I wasn't showing yet. I had a slight curve from the side but that was it. No one would believe I was pregnant despite being over halfway. So I wasn't giving it away as I slowly approached him on his back porch. Plus, he wouldn't believe me without proof.

"No. I'm exactly where I need to be." I exhale hard, ready to just rip the band aid off when a leggy brunette emerges from the door just as I pull the ultrasound pictures from my pocket. My eyes lock on her but JJ's lock on what's in my hand. My first thought is to immediately retreat. He's moved on. He won't want a family with me but I quickly snap out of it when he snatches the pictures from my hand.

"What the fuck is this, Y/N?" JJ gasps, his blue eyes wide as he searches the pictures. The girl leans in close, obviously not concerned with me before she purses her lips while nodding as she examines the pictures too. Anger washes over me. How dare some skank lean over him and openly examine ultrasounds of my baby.

"Congrats, cuz." It's like a bucket of water is poured on me as she claps him on the back and steps off the porch, grabbing a bike I hadn't seen and riding off.

Cuz. She was his cousin.

"Y/N, answer me. Is this--are you--." JJ's frantic blue eyes meet mine and I can't do anything but nod, tears streaming down my face.

"This says you're 22 weeks. Why didn't you--."

"I just found out." I sob, sinking down on the porch step as I bury my face in my hands. Thanks to the pregnancy, I found out I'm also extremely hormonal.

"It's a--."

"Yes." JJ slowly sits down next to me. I glance over at him, seeing the slight smirk on his face as he slowly shakes his head before looking at my packed car.

"Parents kicked you out, huh?"

"Yea."

"Mine too." JJ sighs, leaning back on his hands and stretching his legs out in front of him. "I just put a down payment on a one bedroom apartment."

"I don't have any money." I murmur, the tears threatening to fall again. I was pregnant with no parents, no money, and no place to live. I was hopeless. The warmth of JJ's hand finds mine and he squeezes.

"Welcome to the Pogue life, baby." I sniffle, squeezing his hand back when his brows pinch together and he withdraws his hand.

“Look, we will figure this out but I don’t trust you. I can’t just welcome you back with open arms just because your life is a dumpster fire. I’m not a last resort. I told you that from the beginning.” I nod, absorbing his words as I take a deep breath, exhaling my old life.

“I love you, JJ. I have since the beginning. I’m sorry it’s taken all this for me to tell you. We can figure this out together but I want you to know that I love you and I’m all in. Whether you are or not.”

[jossambird]

Rooted in your love - P5: Melodies of their hearts

Cardinal Copia x F!Reader - Primo x F!Reader, Secondo x F!Reader, Terzo x F!Reader

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Hanahaki Disease and all that comes with that (choking, being sick, acceptance of death, etc), Eventual Smut, Eventual 18+ acts, Angst, Unrequited Love... or is it. Older men accidentally falling in love.

Summary: You couldn't pinpoint when exactly you had fallen in love with the newly arrived Cardinal, but one was certain: you had Hanahaki disease.

Chapter Summary: Primo reflects on his growing feelings towards you after saving you from eternal slumber. Secondo finds himself unwillingly having to deal with Terzo’s baseless claims and fear of your upcoming fate. You dream of a hidden mausoleum, which calls for you.

AO3 Link - Part 1 🌿 - Part 2 🌿 - Part 3 🌿 - Part 4 🌿 - Part 6 🌿

.

.

Copia couldn’t remember how exactly he had found himself walking towards Papa Emeritus I’s chambers at 2am in the morning.

While normally hauled up in his own chambers working on translations and scripts, the Cardinal had instead found himself thinking of you and solely of you, rendering him unable to continue any kind of work he had set upon himself. He doubted he was alone in such a situation, if he were to go off of the hushed words being whispered between Siblings (albeit for different reasons entirely).

The Abbey was practically aflame with rumors and gossip flying left and right about what had happened to you, and most of all, about what Papa Emeritus III had said.

‘Are you my fratello’s Prime Mover?’

Ever since the words had graced the world out from between Terzo’s lips, the six simple words seemed to haunt him, as did the clear worry on Papa Secondo’s face as you’d fainted into his ready embrace. Never had Copia seen such raw emotion plastered so openly upon the second Emeritus son’s face, his usual displeased scowl absent.

But surely Terzo’s words were baseless, unfounded. Yes, of course they were, Copia told himself as he paced the hallways, insides coiling anxiously within him. Terzo of all people would have known, had you been chosen to become the cold and serious Papa Emeritus II’s Prime Mover… wouldn’t he?

The very idea of being chosen to be a Papa’s Prime Mover… Siblings dreamed of obtaining such a position, throwing themselves at each respective Papa’s feet in hopes of attracting their attention and adoration. None had ever even been graced with such promises of becoming a Prime Mover..

That is, until earlier today, as the bond you shared with Secondo became apparent to all present, furthering the one of the assumptions the Cardinal had made of your relationship with the two eldest Emeritus sons.

The memory of watching Secondo’s silent form seat itself beside you for Breakfast felt burnt behind Copia’s retinas, remembering how attentive the Papa had seemed to be as he listened to you speak. Many times had he crossed paths with Papa Emeritus II, none of which had been entirely pleasant encounters, yet here the same man had sat alongside you, almost appearing to be a complete opposite of what many saw him to be.

Was he cursed? Cursed to forever reach out for you, yet always finding himself one step behind the Emeritus men that the Olde One had blessed?

It had been Papa Primo, however, that had been the first to strike his hammer into Copia’s metaphorical coffin, severing the academic ties he’d always been ever so grateful of sharing with you. Copia still cringed as he remembered his mismatched eyes sweeping across the classroom the next day after hearing that you would no longer attend his classes, anguish settling inside his bones at the reminder that you would no longer illuminate his days with your dazzling smile.

And no matter how painstakingly close he’d come to touching your beautiful face with his ungloved hands that night in the kitchen, it was the very intimacy of Papa Secondo’s touch that plagued Copia’s thoughts as he paced the Abbey’s halls.

How could a man such as himself ever be enough to a being of unearthly beauty such as you? How could he ever be enough compared to the powerful men of the Church you inhabited?

Had you ever thought of him as he had thought of you? Had you spent your nights in bed such as he had, hands working your body over and over until you fell over the precipice that was bliss, his name at the tip of your tongue? Or had you ever laid your eyes upon him, wondering what it would feel like to awaken beside him, fingers carding through his hair?

For Copia, it had always only ever been you; it had always been you who had graced his days, you who lit up any room you entered, you who captivated his attention and thoughts.

Little had he known that that morning, all three dissimilar-eyed gazes present had been glued to your radiant expression, watching as you softly spoke to the Papa at your side, enchanting them in ways they couldn’t articulate-

The sudden apparition of a body within his line of sight pulled the Cardinal from his thoughts, jumping at the presence before him. The Special Ghoul, also known as Phil, stood before him, a singular clawed hand lifted in a mock wave.

“What may I do for you, Cardinal Copia?” Came the Ghoul’s low voice behind his mask, emerald green eyes staring back at the man before him.

Any semblance of confidence Copia had felt inside him suddenly evaporated at the sight of Papa Emeritus I’s closed chamber doors.

“O-Oh, I was eh.. sì, trouble sleeping…”

With that, Cardinal Copia returned to his chambers for the night, tossing and turning as dreams of your gravestone tormented him.

——————————————————

Primo sighed, hands stained with dried blood- your dried blood, blood that had spilt onto his fingers as he had tried to help you, fingers prying into your mouth to remove the flower that had lodged itself in your throat, just like a mortician would a corpse. How grim of a thought, the first Emeritus son told himself, hands still remaining at his side as he gazed down at your now sleeping form.

He knew not if your disease was progressing quickly or slowly; the last records of a known Hanahaki Disease death within their Satanic church had been decades ago, and the known cases outside of the Church were too far and few in between. The thought of you being turned into a lab-rat had haunted him since he’d found you all those weeks ago, deciding that very night that he would tend to you until the very end.. Your end, be it by surgically removing said flowers, or be it by your passing.

How had a normal woman such as you contracted such a thing?

Primo scoffed, instantly resenting his own thoughts. No, you weren’t a ‘normal’ woman, you were anything but, infact; the grace and kindness you exuded were of levels unimaginable, your care unending. Even now, as you fought for your life, you sought only to spare them the pain that would surely haunt them come the day your last breath would leave you. Even now, as you lay dying, you held no animosity towards the halfwitted Cardinal you so desperately loved.

He was certainly not blind to the changes your presence had brought to their lives, changing them in ways they had not imagined or anticipated.

Just like a flower budding from between the concrete slabs of Life, you had pierced through the veil of their darkened hearts.

Primo thought back to the sight he had beheld some nights ago, Secondo’s half naked form weeping, remembering the sight of his younger brother clutching at the scarf you had accidentally left behind. When he’d helped you all those weeks ago, Secondo clearly hadn’t anticipated the emotions you would seemingly bring forth like an expert harpist who plucked at their instrument’s strings; it seemed as if your very fingers had plucked at the strings of his heart, expertly playing a tune the middle Emeritus son had forgotten he knew.

And he? The elder Papa almost scoffed once more, were it not for the feeling of his heart erratically beating against his ribs.

Lust had always been a sin he knew how to deal with. In positions of power such as theirs, true love like the love you held for the oblivious Cardinal came rarely. Instead, all they found from their partners was .. lust and practically nothing more. Too many times had it been lust for their name, lust for their power, lust for the being their lovers believed them all to be. Hidden behind lustful words had always been secret agendas and secret wants, always hoping to gain their favors, always needing something. He shuddered at the thought, glad he had done away with such… empty meetings of the flesh.

But love?

He had thought himself too old for love and childish little crushes that teenagers harbored… and yet, here he stood, gazing down at you, heart selfishly yearning that perhaps it had been him you had fallen in love with, him that you had flowered internally for.

That very thought brought forth another thought he had tried countless times to ride himself of: Had he not stumbled upon you that very first night, choking on bloodied petals, would he ever have known of all this? Of your pain? Of your heartache? Of the way you cried in your sleep, sometimes waking in a panic, unable to calm until either he (or most recently Secondo) helped you relax, playing with you at the game you had ‘persuaded’ them into purchasing? Or would you have been alone, alone and afraid, fearing that each morning you awoke, that it would be your last?

You shifted on his bed, pulling Primo from his somber thoughts as worry flared within the dissimilar-eyed man for a moment as he gazed down at you, preparing himself to aid you in any way needed. Though, nothing came as you instead rolled onto your side, face burrowing deeper into his opulent red pillow, black sheets framing you beautifully. Even now, as Primo fretted for your health, you were a vision to behold, lips parted as you breathed in slowly, a sign he had successfully aided you as best as he could.

The first Emeritus son allowed him to smile, hand moving to grab his armchair before pulling it to your bedside, seating himself slowly with a groan, bones tiredly aching. You stirred once more, hands grabbing at the extra pillow he usually kept for himself when you slept within his chambers. You pulled it to your form, sighing deeply as you held it close, remaining peacefully asleep.

No, perhaps you didn’t love him in the same way you loved the blind Cardinal, but you did love him all the same, Primo thought, eyes shutting slowly as to finally nap.

——————————————————

Afternoon turned into Evening, Evening into Night, with no sightings or appearances whatsoever from the eldest Emeritus son.

Rumors and ill-mannered words had spread like wildfire within the Abbey’s walls, preventing Papa Emeritus II from seeking out his elder brother for any news of your recovery.

No, instead, Secondo found himself being forced to do the very thing he hated more than sitting through his padre’s rambling speeches about Sister Imperator: meetings with the other Higher Clergy members.

It was, of course, sadly to be expected; the word that Papa Emeritus II had perhaps finally found his Prime Mover had spread faster than a forest fire on a dry July day, members from neighboring Church factions racing to congratulate him on the marvelous news (perhaps in hope of gaining the AntiPope’s favor, should they need it in the future).

Oh what a wall they had all hit upon arriving, many accidentally bearing witness to a sight none had anticipated: there, shaking with what could only be assumed to be silent rage, had been Secondo, fists tightly closed as if ready to strike again at the man that barely stood a few feet away from him. Ghouls of both Papas had successfully separated Secondo’s enraged form from the visibly stunned Terzo, but the damage had already been wrought, on both sides.

Now, as Night began to turn into Morning once more, silence following him like a plague, Secondo frustratedly paced within his chambers, mind unable to free itself from the image of your panicked eyes boring into his very being, unable to free itself of your shaking fingers grasping at his chasuble, fear mounting-

The skull-faced man growled, hand colliding angrily onto his marbled kitchen counter. Tired was he of the mental hoops his mind seemed eager to run him through tonight of all nights, wondering distantly if perhaps this was what insanity felt like. Try as he might to calm down and sleep, he found he could not. He felt as though he had failed you in some way, failed to protect you, failed to save you.

Would you still be okay right now, had he not arrived at your door that very morning, asking you to accompany him to Unholy Breakfast under the guise of ‘seeing what pigs slop they served’?

He knew of the food they served to simple Siblings and Ghouls; it, of course, was not slop, but after hearing from Primo that you had steadily began eating less and less, most likely due to the increasing number of flowers beginning to bloom within you, Secondo had desperately found himself lying through his teeth, knowing it would incite inside you a burning need to prove him wrong and to shower praise onto the chef Sister in charge of Breakfast.

‘Oh- Papa Secondo!’ You had whispered out, surprised at his harsh words as your hand rushed forward to tap him softly like you usually did when scolding him. ‘Allow me a moment to get dressed! I promise you, you will adore Sister Mara’s Eggs Benedict! And if afterwards you decide that you don’t, Ill- Well, I don’t know what I'll do but that can be arranged after!’

Had the Olde One punished him for lying to a dying woman? Was this to be his punishment, forever remembering the way your dazzling eyes lit up as you’d tasted your breakfast?

This morning had been the first time Siblings and Ghouls alike had seen the two of you together-

He felt like choking at the sudden realization of what you would hear once you awoke.

Would the rumors of him using you hurt you as much as they hurt him? Of using your body for his own pleasure, only seeming as worried as he had been for your health due to his want to keep his ‘Plaything’ alive? Both you and he knew that was far from the case; how would you react to hearing that the people you rubbed shoulders with daily thought you to simply be a notch in his proverbial belt, like so many had been before you?

You had always seemed unbothered of his sexual reputation, so why did the rumors bother him? Why did they claw at his very heart, feeling the need to shield you from the callous words the people around you would most likely whisper, perhaps thinking to give you advice on how to best please him?

The second Emeritus son suddenly found himself loathing the sexual reputation he had obtained himself. It nearly felt like a mask, a mask that had remained glued upon his skin for so long that he no longer knew how to remove it. The day he had helped you, he remembered having forgotten of the mask that practically plagued him all his life, almost as if your very presence had removed it, revealing to yourself the man underneath so few had ever fully seen, that so few had ever wanted to see.

What had it been that had quelled his rage that day? Had it been your wide beautiful (and fearful) eyes? Had it been the sudden realization that you were the most stunning thing he had ever seen, despite the fact that he had never seen you grace the ministry’s halls before? Or had it been the second realization that had hit him, that he had only just found you, yet you were already fading away?

All at once, Secondo felt sick, heart racing as synapses fired to life within his mind.

With you, he had never been Papa Emeritus II, the Papa that loved alcohol and drugs alike, the Papa that spent his days and nights fucking or being sucked off by Siblings and people he barely knew, the Papa that happily exalted harsh punishments like a human breathed.

No, with you, he had simply been Secondo, a man. Secondo, the one that had wrecked half your little Animal Crossing Island you had spent days working on. Secondo, the friend…

Once his clock rung 7am, Secondo decided he had had enough, exiting his chambers to make the usually short walk to his brother’s chambers.

His heart yearned to hear your beautiful saccharine laughter instead of all of this- of any of this, for that matter.

——————————————————

Before you… was a mausoleum. Decrepit, broken down, hollow. Moss had grown between the cracks of what was once beautifully carved out art fit for kings, but now, all that was left was moss and mold and cracked marble. Why did such a building exist on the Church’s grounds? Why had you never seen it? Why did it call to you, as if pulling your soul forward out of its confides within your body, calling for you to rest?

You could practically feel the cold of the concrete seep into your naked feet as you hesitantly stepped forward, the hairs on your arm raising in warning, perhaps even rising from the fear coiling in your gut.

Something laid inside.. it called to you, beckoned you, roared your name like an injured animal yowled for it’s mother-

——————————————————

Primo knew he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he felt to be startled awake at the sound of Secondo’s uncharacteristically soft knocks, but he was, groaning as he attempted to sit up from the uncomfortable position he had seemingly moved into during his sleep on his armchair. You remained silent as ever, eyes shut as your softly breathed in and out, reassuring the man beside you that you were still safe.

Quick Italian words could be heard outside of his door as Primo moved towards it, Secondo’s tone appearing to verge onto apparent worry.

Swiftly did his brother’s words cease as the eldest Emeritus son opened his chamber doors, coming face to face with a disheveled looking Secondo. His eyes nearly bloodshot red, face bare except for the visible scuffs of paint he had failed to completely wash off. Whatever words Primo had thought to say died upon his tongue, quickly pulling his brother inside.

“Fratello, are you al-“ The eldest of the two tried to speak first, mouth shutting closed as the man before him exuded anxiety and nerves, just as he had done while half naked in his chambers. Everything clicked into place within Primo’s mind, features softening as Secondo visibly attempted to reel himself in from crumbling before his brother’s eyes, for a second time.

“How is she? Is she alive?” Secondo tried, appearing unable to gaze into Primo’s opened bedroom door, as if fearing what he would see inside.

“Yes, she is safe for now, although she is still asleep. You may go in and see her, if you’d like.” Primo softly answered, lips tilting up as he watched the usually bitter man he knew to be his brother swiftly turn on his heel, eagerly walking towards your bedside.

Once there, Secondo simply stared at your sleeping form, eyebrows knitting together. Silence once more enveloped the room as both men observed you, one’s gaze more critical than the other.

“I.. apologize for not coming earlier-“

“You have nothing to apologize for, Secondo. You were busy. She knows.” Primo cut off the man before him, knowing that none of what Secondo had been forced to do had been his fault, nor in his power to stop. Papa or not, such things required immediate discussion, no matter how unfounded or not they were… including the words Terzo had casually thrown into the air.

“Has news of her condition-“

“No.” Came Secondo’s short curt reply, fingers curling tightly. It was only then did Primo look down, noticing the blood upon his brother’s bruised knuckles.

“They were too preoccupied organizing a fucking Prime Mover ritual to worry of the woman herself.”

The words Secondo spat out with anger equally pained Primo, knowing how callous and cruel the High Ranking members of clergy could be, all in the name of spreading the Dark Lord’s name and for the Emeritus bloodline to continue. It almost threatened to swallow him whole, imagining the turmoil you’d have been faced with had you been obligated to be eternally tied to another man then the one you loved.

“You know… she sleeps like you.” Primo spoke into the silence that had built, sharp eyes watching as Secondo bristled, shoulders tensing but never retracting his eyes from your sleeping form.

“And how exactly is it that I sleep?” Secondo could have yelled the words and they would have sounded as quiet as he’d spoken them, throat constricting around each syllable he spoke.

“Lonely.”

Primo expected no reply, acting blind to the sight of Secondo sitting down at your bedside, shoulders shaking quietly in defeat.

“Dol- Y/N.. Please, come back to us.”

If someone had asked him a year ago to describe what the word Silence meant to him, he would have said Peaceful. Perfect. Relax.

Now, as he sat beside your slumbering form, the only words that rang through Secondo’s mind were Eerie. Cold. Loud. Yes, that was exactly what it felt like; the quietness that surrounded you was loud, loud and discomforting, as if the quietness itself knew that your voice beautifully filled its space.

And just like an expert harpist that struck at their instruments' cords, unknowing of the hearts they had moved with their melodic tune, you remained asleep, unknowing of the hearts bleeding at your very side.

Tag List: @emogrl4lyfe @starbentfool @nikolaiology @s0ggyrats @sirianisrock @sharksausages @moonlit-masquerade @heisenboi-writer @memento-mora @copiasghoulfriend @songbirdemerald-blog @nanamunath

(If I have forgotten to tag you or if you would like to be tagged, please shoot me a message via Asks or simply comment below!💖)

[myloveforhergoeson]

ch 32 proof of life post

Princess Diana may have popularized the revenge dress, but Roxy theorized women had been using clothing as a means of retribution for ages because as she stared at the outfit she’d put together in the mirror of the Rocque Record’s wash room, she could hardly believe she owned such a deadly combination of items. 

Dressing with James in mind was one thing. Dressing to piss James off was something else entirely. 

The clothing was, at its core, armor… Or that’s what Roxy told herself when she slid on her oversized Hole t-shirt that morning and paired it with the shortest pair of shorts she owned. When it skirted a few inches down her thighs, it hardly looked like she was wearing anything underneath, save for the fishnets she was sure to add underneath her bottoms. 

Whenever they hung out in her room, it was easy to catch his eyes wandering to the hundreds of magazine cut out posters plastered across her boring beige bedroom walls. His gaze lingering on images of Avril Lavigne or Pete Wentz spoke volumes to his girlfriend, even if he’d turn right around and talk about more conventional celebrities. 

In addition to the clothes, she popped on her chunkiest gold earrings and bracelets, leaving her charm necklace dangling around the cut top of the shirt sliding off one of her shoulders, a pair of black boots from the back of her closet, and braided a purple bandana into her hair. Pairing it all with the smokiest eyeshadow and sharpest eyeliner she could, Roxy had felt confident enough to leave her apartment and walk to work alone, iPod shuffled on her Riot Grrrl playlist. After everything that had occurred last night, she wanted James to know exactly what he was missing out on until he wised up and apologized to her. 

But of course, this plan required them to be in the same room, which sounded less than appealing to the girl, who was almost sure she might break into tears at the sight of him again as she remembered all the horrible things they’d said to each other at the party the night before. 

It’s not like she’d been a saint to her friends either. The entire party had been a swirling vortex of bad vibes across the board. Roxy didn’t think any one of them had made it out of there feeling any better than they had before they’d attended. 

But, if her friends wanted her to be the bad guy - Take the fall for trying to heal her past pain and make nice with those who had hurt her - that was fine. She could be the bad guy. None of them had any clue how contentious she could be; The punk look might have been an act she put on playing shows with Brand New Day, but the attitude was something she’d learned over many, many years. 

An attitude she displayed openly, throwing the doors to recording room A open and strolling inside. There, she found Kelly and the boys looking through the glass into the studio, while Gustavo sat on one of the plush couches in the back of the room, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly over his chest. The red paint on the walls matched the color growing on his face.

None of the boys spared her a glance as she moved to stand beside Kelly, though Kendall very obviously checked the black watch fastened around his wrist. Their assistant was over 20 minutes late to work. 

God, he’s so fucking annoying.

“Try a ‘G,’” she heard over the speakers, accompanied by some piano chords, and she realized there were more people present - Two men in the middle of the studio, one in casual clothing borrowing one of the many acoustic guitars Gustavo had on hand and the other in a royal blue suit sat at the large, grand piano. 

“Did you rent out the studio again?” Roxy asked, turning to face Kelly, who was sat behind the controls, as she popped her large, star-shaped sunglasses on her head and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Because I’ve got some songs to work on and I really hate strangers in my workspace.” 

Maybe she could avoid working with the band all together if her words were cuttng enough.

She didn’t respond before the man in the suit countered, “No, how about no ‘G?’” over the speakers.

Messing with a few of the buttons in front of her, Kelly didn’t bother to look up as she shared, “That is Daryl and Jam Box. Rocque Records’ new songwriters.”

The assistant’s blood ran cold, goosebumps shooting up her arms. “Excuse me?”

Now it made a little more sense why her boss was sulking in the corner like a kid in time out.

The world of professional songwriters was vast, especially in one of the major music capitals of the world, and off the top of her head, Roxy could think of at least five songs the duo had written that had hit number one across various different music charts. Right now, Daryl and Jam Box were some of the best composers money could buy… As long as they stopped fighting long enough to bounce ideas off of each other. 

They’d been featured in a Pop Tiger article last month; Roxy had read it out loud as she was curled in James’ lap on the orange couch in 2-J, likening them to the Gallagher brothers.  

Before anyone could offer up a better explanation at the talent scout’s confession, Griffin popped up from behind the glass, giving her friends a good scare. If she hadn’t been so worked up about being in the small space with the band after their heated exchange and trying to understand why Big Time Rush needed new songwriters, she might have laughed as they nearly jumped out of their skin.

“I’m releasing a deluxe edition of your album!” The white-haired man announced, sweeping his arms in a wide arc as a bright smile pulled at his lips. “I want the bonus track to have a fresh new sound, especially since Miss Somerset is looking into expanding her horizons at Galactic Records.”

The assistant froze, her tight grip on the plastic handle of her guitar case causing her fingers to go numb as she felt every set of eyes in the room land on her. She had planned on telling them about the offer, once she stewed in her anger long enough and worked up the courage to apologize to Logan and Carlos for what she had said last night. Now, Griffin had robbed her of the chance to share her news, giving the boys one more reason to be upset with her. 

Someone cleared their throat, James, she was pretty sure, but no one said anything, waiting for her to expand on the CEO’s statement. 

“Who told you about that?” Roxy questioned, setting her guitar down and confirming his words, but not sharing any more on the subject than she had to. The only person she’d mentioned the job offer she’d received from Chelsea Northrop to was Dani, and they certainly weren’t dialing up the businessman to gossip over the phone like teenagers at a sleepover. 

Griffin’s toothly smile remained, “Corporate espionage is only illegal if you get caught! That’s why I have a handful of operatives at every major record label in the city.”

For a moment, Roxy weighed the pros and cons of reporting her boss to the FBI. That might make her decision to continue working for Rocque Records much easier to make. 

“Oh…” Logan said after a moment, high pitch tone indicating a hint of fear in his speech. “A deluxe album… That’s, um,” His eyes shifted to the assistant like he was going to say something, but he glanced away just as quickly. “That’s why Gustavo is pouting.”

It appeared as though he was ready to breeze past what Griffin had said about his assistant, but the other three boys looked his way, narrowed eyes and furrowed brows suggesting they didn’t feel the same. 

No one had the chance to voice their opinion, however, as the black leather couch Gustavo was sitting on squeaked as he shifted uncomfortably. Arms drew tight across his chest. “I’m not pouting! You’re pouting!”

Roxy definitely wasn’t pouting, but she did sense the telltale signs of anger begin to prickle under her skin. One of her hands ran down her bandana’d braid, and she noticed James turn in the complete opposite direction, palm wiping down his face. At the very least, she knew her outfit plan was beginning to get to him, and that somewhat quelled her ire as a small ounce of satisfaction swelled in her chest. 

“Everyone uses other songwriters, you two.” Somehow Griffin was in the control room with everyone now, appearing right at Gustavo’s side as the man continued to brood on the couch. “Katy Perry… Maroon 5… and Daryl and Jam Box are the hottest songwriters out there!”

On any other day, James would have been behind his girlfriend, hand snaking around her hip, breath ghosting the shell of her ear as he murmured how hot of a songwriter she was. Instead, all he had to say was, “…Aren’t they the ones who fight a lot?” 

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the two men still engaging in a meaningless argument in the studio. Apparently, he didn’t have anything to say about his girlfriend’s possible new job development either.

“The song’s called ‘Wings of a Dove!’” Daryl shrieked, lifting his leg from the stool he’d been sitting on and kicking Jam Box square in the back, knocking the suit clad man off of the small black bench at the piano. 

Despite falling straight to the ground, in a matter of seconds, Jam Box was back on his feet, winding his hand back to throw a wicked right hook his partner’s way. “No, it’s called ‘Love from Above!’”

Now it was Daryl’s turn to be knocked from his seat, him and his guitar landing so hard the wooden floor the assistant could feel the impact in her bones. An empty hollow thud echoed from the guitar’s sound hole, ringing in her ears. 

At least when Gustavo and I fight, it’s about meaningful things…

“It needs more guitar!” Daryl fought back, picking up the instrument from where it had fallen off his lap. Once he regained his footing, he gripped the neck of the guitar and swung it at Jam Box’s head, sending him tumbling face down onto the ivory piano keys with an incredibly sour note, scratching at everyone’s ears. 

Back up in a flash, considering the two of them seemed to fight constantly, Jam Box lunged toward his partner, capturing him by the lapel of his jacket and threw him toward one of the red walls of the studio where Kelly had set up a nice refreshment table. “You need your morning coffee!”

With a crash, the table was broken in half, Daryl’s backside completely doused with the brown liquid and mashed breakfast pastries that had been present on the tabletop. 

As Daryl recovered, catching Jam Box around the arm and throwing him into the drum kit Gustavo had set up for the recording band, Roxy wondered if this truly was the most efficient method of songwriting with another person. She and Gustavo weren’t immune to getting into spats here and there, arguing about lyric placement or assigning parts to the boys quite often, but they hadn’t written a number-one record together quite yet. 

In fact, of the three songwriters in the room, she was the only one without a chart-topper to her name. Daryl, Jam Box, and Gustavo all seemed to wear their emotions on their sleeve, not quelling or holding anything back both inside and out of the writer's room. 

Huh… Maybe they’re on to something… The girl thought, glancing over to her friends who flinched the moment Daryl threw Jam Box’s face into the glass partition and dragged his cheek along the entire length of the window and back. 

Originally, she’d hoped to find some time to apologize to them for what she’d said last night to smooth over any hurt feelings… But that was at the expense of her own emotions as well. She was still upset with Kendall for yelling, furious with James for his insinuation that she was still into Mag. Poor Carlos and Logan had just gotten caught in the crossfire. And now at work, the company’s borderline insane CEO was trying to replace her, take away the job she’d been striving toward her entire life, all because she’d received an offer to work elsewhere. 

Maybe Griffin had expected her to start screaming her head off, pulling all her unrecorded songs out of her notebook, cramming the boys into the recording booth, and giving them a whole other b-side to their first album before the new songwriters could finish even one track. Scramble, prove her loyalty, and work twice as hard as ever before. 

Roxy had been through far too much in the last few days to play any more games. Again and again, she’d been thrown through the wringer; Going through the motions as other people’s words and actions dictated her overall mood and well-being.

Today was going to be a different story. 

I’m integral to this company. Roxy affirmed. Big Time Rush needs me. If they want me to stick around, they’ll fight for me.

Crossing her arms, mulling over her decision not to play into Griffin’s plan, she barely noticed the two songwriters roll themselves in a frenzy into the recording booth, and then, all the way into the control room. 

Roxy might have been mowed down entirely, had it not been for Carlos’ quick thinking and equally quick reflexes, allowing him to wrap his hand around her arm and jerk his assistant out of the small room as the sofa Gustavo had been taking refuge on was overturned. 

Now, with everyone out in the lounge area, the two men continued to tear each other apart, horrible sounds of crashes and bangs and booms filled their ears, leading Roxy to worry just how much she’d be expected to clean up later. 

Would Chelsea Northrop ever use me like a maid?

[phoenixs-fandoms-and-writings]

Working With the Bookstore Across the Street

Fandom: Harry Potter (fuck JKR)

Characters: James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, GN!reader

Plot: you open a new business and have thought of what could hopefully be a brilliant business collaboration idea with the bookstore across the street.

Notes: screw JKR and her beliefs. Trans rights are human rights.

This was written based on Day 14’s Mundane AU/Fantasy AU prompt from @flufftober 2024.

Flufftober 2024 Masterlist - General Masterlist

I do not give permission to anyone to repost or translate any of my stories. I also do not give anyone permission to feed my stories through AI or to be posted to any third party website or app. If anyone sees any of my work posted anywhere but here or my AO3 (simplyreflected), then it has been posted without permission.

Read on AO3 here.

You opened your own new coffee shop in town. You loved baking, so you would make baked goods for the shop. This morning, you saw the owners of the bookstore across the street go into their store. Thankfully it was before you opened, so you turned to your co-worker to ask her to open the store without you if you weren’t back in time.

You went across the street and knocked on the door, waiting for someone to come.

One of the men opened the door, and said “we’re closed. Come back-”

You smiled as you interrupted him and said, “I own the coffee shop across the street. I have a business collaboration idea I wanted to run by the owner.”

He smirked, “who said I don’t own the store?”

“I didn’t. I just said whoever owned the store. It could be you or one of your co-workers or all of you.”

He chuckled and opened the door, “come on in.”

You followed him inside and he introduced himself and his two friends, which meant you got a good look at the three of them, and they were gorgeous.

“I’m Sirius,” he pointed to himself. He was classically handsome, his hair tied in a bun with a pen in the middle of it and stormy grey eyes.

“That’s Remus,” pointing to the man behind the counter. He was ruggedly handsome and even though he had a couple of scars on his face you felt a kind aura emanating from him.

“And that is James,” he pointed to the man sitting beside Remus and was openly staring at you. He had god-like beauty, with messy curls adorning his head and glasses framing his warm hazel eyes.

All three of them made butterflies form in your stomach. You blushed as you introduced yourself and told them, “I have a business proposal for you. A joint idea. Someone buys a book from here and you give them a coupon to my store for a drink. And vice versa. It could be a good way to drum up business for both of us.”

As Remus started to open his mouth, you added, “I wouldn’t expect you to help my business without trying anything, of course. I brought you a list of the drinks and baked goods we serve, including our signature ones. I’ve also added the info about them in case you’re allergic to anything. Just let me know and I can bring them to you later or tomorrow morning, if you want a caffeine boost.”

“Love, in the morning would be spectacular,” James told you as you handed them all the lists. “And I could never say no to a special delivery from a beautiful person.”

[mariana-oconnor]

The Solitary Cyclist pt 2

Last time we met Violet Smith, Watson was horny on main, she was smart and working as a music teacher in an isolated house being romantically pursued by two mysterious men who claimed to have known her long lost uncle and also claimed that he was dead. One of whom was just openly a dickhead, the other of whom was being creepy in a more socially acceptable manner (a la Mr Rochester).

Then there was a ghost cyclist who was following her down one specific stretch of road over and over again and disappearing.

Oh yeah, and she's romantically entangled with a young man called Cyril, which currently appears to be quite separate from all the rest of the shenanigans.

I have read this before, so I'm not going to speculate because while I can't remember all the details I can remember enough that anything I say will be coloured by my own memories.

Watson, in an unusual display of faith from Holmes, has been entrusted with a solo stakeout.

It had been deserted when I left it, but now I saw a cyclist riding down it from the opposite direction to that in which I had come. He was clad in a dark suit, and I saw that he had a black beard. On reaching the end of the Charlington grounds he sprang from his machine and led it through a gap in the hedge, disappearing from my view.

So he's coming from the direction of the house she works at. I guess it's lucky that Watson got there before him. Also if I ever want to hide my identity, I'll just get a big fake black beard and clearly no one will pay any attention to the rest of my face.

Reminds me of the first episode of White Collar.

This entire adventure is actually very slapstick when looked at the right way. Also super creepy because stalking, but the whole 'coming early, wearing a fake beard, stuffing his bike into the yew hedge, then jumping back into the hedge quickly so she doesn't see him.

She looked back at him and slowed her pace. He slowed also. She stopped. He at once stopped too, keeping two hundred yards behind her. Her next movement was as unexpected as it was spirited. She suddenly whisked her wheels round and dashed straight at him! He was as quick as she, however, and darted off in desperate flight. Presently she came back up the road again, her head haughtily in the air, not deigning to take any further notice of her silent attendant.

Like this bit, pure slapstick humour, even down to her at the end pretending that none of it even happened. Nothing to see here. Everything is under control. Lalalalalaaa.

However, it seemed to me that I had done a fairly good morning's work, and I walked back in high spirits to Farnham.

Honestly, Watson, I feel like you deserve a prize for not just running in to grab the guy. Although I feel like that might have solved the mystery more quickly. But did you succeed in observing the things that Holmes would want to be observed.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes listened with attention to the long report which I was able to present to him that evening, but it did not elicit that word of curt praise which I had hoped for and should have valued. On the contrary, his austere face was even more severe than usual as he commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not.

... apparently not. Poor Watson, just all perked up, tail wagging, thinking he's done an excellent job and patting himself on the back. But no... I hate to say I told you so, but you are a fictional character, so I don't actually hate it that much.

Maybe you should have just grabbed him.

“What should I have done?” I cried, with some heat. “Gone to the nearest public-house."

If in doubt, go to the pub. Or have a cup of tea. Those are the two universal British solutions (neither of which works for me, but I am quite bad at being British in a lot of ways). Or you could have pretended to be a tramp looking for a new pair of shoes, that seems to work for Holmes.

"Well, well, my dear sir, don't look so depressed."

Holmes: Tells Watson very emphatically that he has done a terrible job.

Watson: 😭

Holmes: Why are you so sad???

Holmes can go from extremely emotionally intelligent to utterly clueless in a heartbeat.

“I am sure that you will respect my confidence, Mr. Holmes, when I tell you that my place here has become difficult owing to the fact that my employer has proposed marriage to me. I am convinced that his feelings are most deep and most honourable."

No. Just no. These guys, they need to stop. Also, excellent demonstration of why this is never a good idea, because a refusal is always going to make continued work difficult. Even if you say 'nothing will change, your employment in no way hinges on this', there's no putting that cat back in the bag.

We knew it was coming, though.

"Williamson is a white-bearded man, and he lives alone with a small staff of servants at the Hall. There is some rumour that he is or has been a clergyman; but one or two incidents of his short residence at the Hall struck me as peculiarly unecclesiastical. I have already made some inquiries at a clerical agency, and they tell me that there was a man of that name in orders whose career has been a singularly dark one."

So the kind of a man who would marry a woman against her will? That kind of a clergyman?

"...especially one gentleman with a red moustache, Mr. Woodley by name, who was always there..."

"He ended a string of abuse by a vicious back-hander which I failed to entirely avoid. The next few minutes were delicious. It was a straight left against a slogging ruffian. I emerged as you see me. Mr. Woodley went home in a cart."

Holmes pulling a 'You should see the other guy.'

Also, I'm not sure we have the same definition of delicious. Unless you like the taste of blood.

"Mr. Carruthers has got a trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road, if there ever were any dangers, are now over."

Yes, but is it a trap.

"...the reappearance of that odious man, Mr. Woodley. He was always hideous, but he looks more awful than ever now, for he appears to have had an accident and he is much disfigured."

You should really see the other guy.

"How can Mr. Carruthers endure such a creature for a moment?"

Because he's as bad or worse. We've talked about this, Violet. If he's still hanging around with a guy that rapey then the only logical conclusion is that he doesn't see rape as something that would end a friendship. If someone's friend sexually assaults you and they continue to hang around with that person while professing to love you, then that means they aren't a good person.

I confess that I had not up to now taken a very serious view of the case, which had seemed to me rather grotesque and bizarre than dangerous. That a man should lie in wait for and follow a very handsome woman is no unheard-of thing, and if he had so little audacity that he not only dared not address her, but even fled from her approach, he was not a very formidable assailant. The ruffian Woodley was a very different person, but, except on one occasion, he had not molested our client, and now he visited the house of Carruthers without intruding upon her presence.

Watson... I'm not angry, I'm just disappointed.

This is so... 'That a man should lie in wait for and follow a very handsome woman is no unheard-of thing'. The amount of yikes in that statement alone is enough for an entire paragraph, but then the rest of it is just... 😬

Woodley only assaulted her once! The guy on the bike doesn't even try to talk to her! Clearly they're not that dangerous. Watson. Watson... no. Just no. Buddy, c'mon.

It was the severity of Holmes's manner and the fact that he slipped a revolver into his pocket before leaving our rooms which impressed me with the feeling that tragedy might prove to lurk behind this curious train of events.

I'm glad someone is taking this seriously. Also, you already told us this had a tragic ending right at the start, so thanks for the reminder.

*Impending Doom Intensifies*

At the same instant an empty dog-cart, the horse cantering, the reins trailing, appeared round the curve of the road and rattled swiftly towards us.

Alas, it was both a trap and a trap.

"It's abduction, Watson—abduction! Murder! Heaven knows what! Block the road! Stop the horse! That's right. Now, jump in, and let us see if I can repair the consequences of my own blunder.”

What a place for a cliffhanger.

[batsyforyou]

Of Elves and Men Part 3

Warnings: I refer you to part 1

Pairing: Beleg x reader

It was on a breezy afternoon when you were walking the halls of your manor. Bjorn, your headstrong and loyal bodyguard, walked with you chatting quietly about the guard rotations when a maidservant came scurrying up to you. 

“Pardon me for the interruption,” she bowed, “but the courier came and left this for you.” Quickly she passed you a sealed envelope with a red wax seal. “He was told that it was urgent.” 

You smiled politely thanking her and sent her on her way. 

Curious about what could be in the letter you ripped open the seal, taking out several folded papers, your eyes scanning each line. 

  “I do not see why you want to go back.” Thomas leaned against your window as you packed. “You have a birthday celebration being planned for next month and I am not sure you’d make it back in time.” 

You rolled your eyes, placing another rolled up shirt in your bag. “Oh, please Thomas, I’ll be back before the guests even start to arrive. And if for some reason I am delayed my party will simply travel during the night some days as well.” 

“Still, it is not a good idea. What if something happens to you while on the road? What then?” 

“That’s why I am bringing Bjorn. Bjorn hand-picked each man for this trip, and he says that they are trustworthy.”

“Hmph.” 

“My friends just wish to see me Thomas, is that such a crime?” 

He scoffed. “My trust in others has dwindled over the years and I hesitate to allow you out of my sight.” 

You took to folding another tunic and looked at him. He wasn’t looking at you and his face seemed troubled, his lips pinched, and brows furrowed. 

“Is this about what happened to Arthur?”

He meets your eyes. “Only a little. I do not wish for the same fate to befall you.” 

“And it won’t.”

“You cannot make that promise, my dear.” 

“Thomas, I promise to be diligent. I am just going home with servants at my beck and call and five trusted swordsmen and Bjorn. Tell me, what danger am I in?” 

He snuffed the toe of his boot into the rug. “I am quite sure Lord Arthur thought the same. As did I once upon a time.” 

Tying off your bag you walked to him and gave your friend a tight embrace. He greedily took your affection squeezing your sides and waist with strength you didn’t know he had. He sighed, “I am ordering you not to leave Bjorn’s company, that is the least you can do for me.” 

You smiled; voice muffled by his shoulder. “I can agree to that.” 

You arrived at your once humble abode by sunset, the servants who attended to your home waiting for you by the road. 

Hopping off your horse with a sore bum a woman approached you, “My liege it is good to see you again.” 

This woman seemed familiar to you, but you could not place her face. You smiled though unconcerned, you’d met many faces these past two years, and you were sure you would meet many more. “It’s a pleasure but remind me where have I seen you?” 

The woman smirked a playful expression crossing her features, “I attended to you at the Inn after Lord Arthur’s death. When you came into power, I quit my work at the Inn and asked for work under you. Sir Thomas sent me here to your home. It has been a great honor to me and my family to watch over your home while you’ve been away. Come, dinner is ready, and we’ve made up your room.” 

She beckoned you inside and you followed her like a lost dove. Bjorn glared at everything that moved and barked orders to his men following close behind you. The occasional chicken running across his feet. 

Bjorn was a strong man fit for the battlefield. He was tall and muscular and lacked hair on his head, but his beard was strong. There were few who openly challenged him and he took great pride, and pleasure, in displaying his strength. But every once and a while, when you would watch him train in the courtyard with the others. You noticed that on the days the giggling maidens watched on the sidelines he’d exaggerate his strength and skill mostly for their benefit. Though he would never admit it. 

Stepping past the threshold you felt tears prickle your eyes. Everything was so familiar; it all looked the same as you left it. You sniffed the air smelling chicken and what you thought to be apple pie. 

It was wonderful to be home again.

You took your scarf and hat and hung them on the rack making your way to the kitchen. The woman who greeted you stood by the counter plating your plate. “Here, why don’t you take a seat, I will bring it to you.” 

You agreed and walked to the table, it wasn’t far, but it felt miles away. You looked at the seats unsure where to sit. The memories found in these chairs were so strong that you felt like you were hallucinating. You could see Arthur sitting sick in his chair eating slowly, Thomas frowning and staring into his mug, your mother and father sitting across from each other and fighting about father’s failed attempts at being successful as a merchant. 

You swallowed, choosing to sit in the empty seat in your memories. As soon as you sat comfortably in your chair the woman placed the steaming plate in front of you. “What is your name?” You asked. 

She smiled, “I am Johanne.”

“Johanne. Will you sit with me?” 

As graceful as she was at the Inn, she sat beside you. “Was your journey difficult?” 

You blew on your food and shook your head, “No. It was as boring as it was the first time.” 

You listened to your mother spring from her chair, “I should have never married you! We will die poor, and our child will know hunger thanks to you!” 

“Isabeau!”  

Somewhere a door slammed. 

Bjorn sat in front of you chasing Arthur’s ghost away with a plate in front of him. “The weather had delayed us by a day. To make it back in time we will have to leave a day earlier than planned to make up for it.” 

You sighed. 

Johanne looked to Bjorn. “What is your name and why do you travel with our Y/n?” 

Bjorn dropped the fork from his lips and glared at her, “Woman, why do you question me? I am tired and want to eat in peace.” He lifted his fork.

Johanne cocked her head seemingly unfazed by his scowl, “I simply wish to know whom I am speaking with.” 

Bjorn grumbled lowering his fork again and you hid your smile behind your cup. “I am Y/n’s personal guard and the men we brought with us are of Y/n’s guard as well.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

You suppress a laugh. 

He scowled at her and pointedly shoved his food into his mouth. 

“Thank you for making dinner Johanne and please tell the others as well. The food is delicious.” 

She beamed at you, placing her hand on your shoulder in her excitement. “Thank you, my liege! I will be sure to pass on the compliment.” 

You made quick work of your food listening to Johanne bicker with Bjorn. Once finished Johanne tried to take your plate but you waved her away and placed your empty dish by the sink.

“Thank you again for dinner Johanne, it was very good.” 

She smiled, her chest puffing with pride. “It was no problem, is there anything else I can do for you?” 

“Can you prepare me a place by the fire? I am going to change, I’ll be back soon.” 

On your way out you heard Johanne whisper. 

“See, that is twice they have thanked me. Clearly, I am the favorite.”

You laughed quietly at Bjorn’s annoyed sigh tracing your fingers on the walls of your home heading for your father’s study. 

Turning the knob, you looked and saw your father’s hunched over form at his desk. He was writing away with a gray feathered quill and mumbling to himself. 

Your heart clenched, slowly you moved to the cabinet beside the desk. On it was the very same quill and ink jar he used. You picked up the jar thumbing its side as you watched him, tears coming to your eyes. 

You missed him.  

Sniffing you put the jar by the unused quill. 

Shutting the door, you headed up stairs to your room. Your servants had put the bags you had brought with you on the bed and the curtains had been drawn back. Staring at the blue covers you felt your heart skip a beat as a body began to rise from the bed covered in the sheets. In a panic you threw the bags to the floor and grabbed the bed by its corners and pushed. Shoving the bed to the clear other side of the room and against the wall. 

And the figure disappeared. 

You sighed, placing a hand to your racing heart. After a moment to calm down you quickly changed into your night clothes and pulled a robe over top.  You went to join the others downstairs. Johanne was quietly working on her crochet and Bjorn stood leaning against the windowpane looking out. You sat in your favorite chair noticing that your comfort book and some tea was on the coffee table. 

“Thank you, Johanne! How did you know I loved this book?” 

She smiled, shooting Bjorn a look you couldn’t catch but Bjorn rolled his eyes. “Just a hunch my liege.” 

“She scoured through your entire bookshelf looking for the most worn book you have.” 

“Bjorn!” She cried, her head snapping to him. 

You laughed, “Thank you Bjorn. What is it you’re working on Johanne?” 

She huffed and glared at Bjorn from the corner of her eye who pretended not to see her. “I am making you a hood and scarf. I thought you could use it.” 

You smiled flipping open your book and thanked her for her efforts. Despite knowing that whatever you needed and wanted you could easily afford and that you brought many such things with you for this trip. But a handmade gift with well intent was always welcomed. 

  Johanne started to hum a tune while Bjorn and his men stood watch. And the evening passed peacefully. 

A loud crash went throughout the house jolting you awake.

Scanning the room, you found not a soul. 

You were alone.

“Bjorn?” You called. 

You got to your feet heading for the kitchen.

“Bjorn?” 

Finding no one there you listened to the wind and the trees scrap and slam against the house and windows outside. You heard a thump by the stairs. “Johanne?” 

You stepped closer to the noise, afraid, goosebumps crossing your arms. 

“Hello?” 

You stop at the threshold of the kitchen, unable to see the stairs, but the hallway was empty. A shiver raced down your spine and you shuttered unwilling to go further. 

“Bjorn? Johanne? . . . Anyone? This isn’t funny, you know.” 

You inch a little closer, your heart pounding, “Thomas is going to hang you for this.” 

You cross the threshold. 

A hand reached out and grabbed you by the shoulder. You scream as you are slammed against the wall, strong hands gripping you painfully tight. 

You raised your fists to defend yourself but was quickly slammed back into the wall and you cried out in pain. You looked up and shrieked in terror. 

A rotted face you couldn’t recognize was there before you. 

You scream, slamming your fists against its chest fighting to get away!

 “Let go of me! Get off! Get off of me!”

It shakes you again, “It isn’t what you think! It isn’t worth it!” 

You upturn your palm and strike its nose. It stumbles back but not by much; you break free and dash for the door. A hand grabs your arm and yanks you back. Facing the creature face to face, you could smell its rancid breath, maggots crawling out its eyes and dropping onto your skin as you scream. 

“Don’t follow me.” 

You shoot awake in your bed, a scream caught stuck in your throat. Panting you felt sweat drip from your brow, and you scurry up the bed, gripping your sheets tight. You look about the room searching for the monster, but your eyes find nothing. Not even a shadow was out of place.

You relax a little at the realization. 

It was only a dream.

Part 4

Masterlist

[sjsmith56]

A Matter of Honour - Chapter 33, Lord Buchanan

Summary: Quin asks Lord Buchanan to act as his general of the army they have raised. Telling Ileana about it is difficult. As the soldiers from the other lords arrive to begin battle training, Quin chooses the banner of his army.

Length: 4.3 K

Characters: Quin, Lord and Lady Buchanan, Lord Fury.

Warnings: Minors DNI; contains sexual content which is unsuitable for readers under the age of 18.

<<Chapter 32

🗡️ ✨

On their journey to Baroness Blackstone's estate Quin turned to Lord Buchanan.  There was much he wanted to say but every time he tried to say the words his heart filled his throat and prevented his voice from working.  Finally, he stopped and sat in his saddle waiting for Buchanan to stop also.  As the older man waited ahead with a puzzled expression on his face Quin finally found his opportunity.

"There is much that I owe to you," he said, urging his horse forward.  "You have already done so much for me that I feel hesitant to ask for more.  I am not battle tested.  I have the skills and the will to put myself into danger but my knowledge of tactics is dismal.  If I do not succeed in acquiring a general with experience the army I lead will surely fail.  Your own garrison of soldiers have extolled your virtues as a soldier and a commander.  Will you, Lord Buchanan, accompany me back to my home, as the commander of my forces?"

"I had already determined that my place would be with you," said Buchanan carefully.  "It will be a delicate matter to discuss with my wife, so full of child already.  When we married we only had our wedding night before I left for battle on the morn.  She did not complain openly but I know she wept bitter tears after my departure.  When my inner wolf reclaimed me she wept for me then, fearing I would not return.  I will go with you but if I perish I beg that you make the journey back to my home with my body so that I may lay next to my father and be near my wife always."

"It will not come to that," protested Quin.  "I pledge all of my will to keeping you alive so that you return to your wife and child, for they are precious to me also.  Being the reason for your death would devastate me.  I thank you, sir, for believing in me."

Nothing more was said after that and they soon arrived at Baroness Blackstone's estate where Lord Falcon and the Baroness awaited them.  Both men dismounted and took their saddlebags.  Isabella looked at Quin softly, greeting him with a kiss to the cheek.

"I thought to punish you for exposing your secret before we had agreed but I know these are exceptional times, Quin," she said thoughtfully.  "Yes, I have agreed to the terms of your negotiator's proposal and although I will retain my title for the near future I will give it up when I join you in your kingdom.  Furthermore Coulson has agreed to lead 100 men for your army, for by all accounts it is a sizeable force you will be taking with you.  Come, both of you, refresh yourselves then join Lord Falcon and me for the details of this most extraordinary past week."

"She knew?" said Buchanan.  "When? How?”

"At the second day of the festival in your estate," said Quin.  "I told her when I begged for her hand in the formal language.  She asked me frankly if I was truly a common man and I revealed the complete truth.  To be fair I was tired of deceiving her, not when I would be asking her to trust in me.  She accepted me shortly after and we agreed to keep it between us.  I fear I may have given her an unfair advantage in the negotiations but she is, as you said before of women in this land, my equal in every way."

"Then you have three of the strongest foundations in a marriage," said Buchanan.  "Love, honesty, and trust.  With those you will be happy."

After quickly washing the dust of the journey from their faces and necks the two men met with Falcon and Isabella in the dining hall.  A small spread was laid out for them to help themselves to what was available.  After chewing their food a few moments Falcon looked at Buchanan.

"You had frank words with Lord Fury at your estate prior to your leaving," he stated. "He is a formidable statesman but I found his honesty refreshing.  Nothing was couched in flowery phrases or subtlety.  We actually concluded the negotiations in just four days.  Then he spent another day telling me of the situation in King David's kingdom.  Quin, did Lady Falcon apprise you of the 50 men I pledged?  Bren will bring them to Buchanan's estate soon to begin training with his men."

"Aye, sir, she did," replied Quin.  "I thank you most kindly.  Once my mother and sisters have arrived here in safety I hope to marry and have several days with Isabella alone before we leave.  Lord Buchanan has agreed to be my general and will decide on a rendezvous point for all the assorted companies to meet."

"Does Lady Buchanan know?" asked Falcon, surprised along with Isabella that Buchanan would agree to this.

"No, and I beg you not to say anything," he replied.  "It should come from me.  I consider this part of Quin's education in how to be a king.  He must learn what it is to be in battle.  Although Bren and Coulson have committed to being part of the force I felt obligated to finish what I started with him.  Thus, I will go with him."

"Very well," said Falcon, sounding unconvinced.  "I will do my part in making sure she is safe, although I am sure Rhodes, Wallis and the good doctor will support her as well.  Now, as to the terms of the negotiations.  Quin, your father has agreed to settle 100 lbs of gold on the Baroness as her bride price, as well as the title to a coffee plantation which is already being developed and expected to produce coffee in the next season.  As per your instructions there will also be a rose garden created as a personal wedding present from you to your bride, and the royal gardener is developing a new rose to be called Princess Isabella which will form the showpiece in that garden.  The Baroness will receive a monthly income of 500 gold coins, a carriage to be drawn by four matched horses, all clothing as required.  Out of her own funds which will accompany Baroness Blackstone, in lieu of a dowry, she will fund the establishment of a women's guard, starting with 50 women who she will choose from those who apply, the establishment of a school for children of the palace staff, and will bring four horses from her stables, two mares and two stallions to be added to the royal stables.  The Baroness may also bring personal staff with her such as a dresser, dressmaker, etc.  If the Baroness conceives a child she will receive 1000 gold coins for a son, and 750 gold coins for a daughter.  In return the Baroness insists that her husband, the Prince will bed with her every night, and promise not to engage a mistress.  I think you two both wrote this in because it was in both of your proposals.  Lord Fury was not amused but I think he admired the intent."

The two young lovers grinned at each other as it was something they both desired to be part of the contract, as much to declare openly that this was a love match. There were other minor housekeeping items which Falcon listed off but as Isabella had requested much was offered to her to give up her title.  Because of the impending civil war she would stay at her estate, still managing it until the war was won.  If victory wasn't won by Quin and his father, she would retain her title because the contract would be declared void.  If Quin managed to escape and return to these lands he would be her consort, as if he were a common man.  Their children would inherit her estate.  Quin signed his name to this copy of the contract then he and Lord Buchanan prepared to leave in order to arrive at his estate before nightfall.  As they both came out to the courtyard and their rested horses Quin saw Coulson standing nearby.  Approaching him he offered his hand to the man.

"Thank you for agreeing to join in defending my father's kingdom," said Quin.  "It means much to have a man of your character at my back."

"That night when you came out of the same bower where the Baroness had been you said she should be a queen," replied Coulson, accepting Quin's hand.  "It puzzled me that a low born man would say such a thing.  You also defended her honour well when comments were made about her the following day.  I watched you and realized there was more to you than I first thought.  That you were a prince never entered my mind but I look at this as protecting my mistress's husband."

"Regardless, thank you," laughed Quin.  "You are a man of honour."

Coulson bowed and Quin mounted his horse, leaving with Buchanan.  An hour and a half later they arrived at the Buchanan estate and were greeted by Lady Buchanan and Lord Fury.  Buchanan kissed his wife and bowed to Fury, who bowed back.

"Word has reached us that you have an army your Highness," said Fury.  "Over 1000 men committed.  I return early in the morning to journey to my own estate and gather my garrison.  Your Dr. Banner was so kind to allow me use of the ham radio and contact the Abilene site of the super computer directly.  Duke Walker has assembled a force of more than 3000 with more to come from the lawless lands.  Your father and allied lords have 3500.  Your force could be the difference."

"Come, bathe and change your clothes," said Ileana.  "My Lord, I would speak with you, in private."

Buchanan looked sharply at her, knowing the tone of her voice was not pleased.  He left Quin with Lord Fury, as he still had to sign that copy of the marriage contract, and followed his wife into their chambers.  As he closed the door she turned to him.

"Lord Fury is under the impression you will be going with Quin and his army," she said, her voice trembling slightly.  "Why would he think such a thing?"

"Because he is right," said Buchanan, wearily.  "In a perfect world Quin would have a general he could rely on but he doesn't.  He has several garrison commanders with battle experience, and likely the majority of his force will be comprised of eager recruits.  If Quin is to succeed as a king he needs to learn to command.  As his foster father that is my duty to teach him and it cannot be done in a courtyard in a matter of weeks."

"What about me?" cried Ileana.  "What of our children, your own flesh and blood children, if you are killed?"

"You will be taken care of," said Buchanan, distinctly.  "By everyone on this estate, by my foster brother, by Lord Falcon and countless others.  You will be in control of the estate until Livia comes of age then it would go to her as first born, regardless of whether you carry a son or not.  I made damned sure to put that into my instructions for the estate in the event of my death."

"But I wouldn't have you," she said in a ragged whisper.  "I would be alone."

"You are a fine woman," said Buchanan, approaching her carefully.  "There are many who admire you and could make you happy.  I would want you to be happy."

"But they wouldn't be you," she said, looking up to him in agony.

"It tears me apart as well," he admitted then he clasped her to his chest before smothering her mouth with a deep kiss. 

Together they kissed as they frantically undressed each other.  Then Buchanan lay Ileana on the bed and desperately kissed and caressed her before entering her in a passionate moment of pure lust felt by both of them.  Trying to be mindful of the baby Buchanan tried not to be forceful but Ileana swore at him.

"If you're going to fuck me, then fuck me, James," she said then grabbed his head to force a deep kiss on him.

With a low growl he pulled out, turned her over and entered from behind.  "Do not speak to me that way, wife!" he yelled as he thrust himself into her hard.  "If you wish me to fuck you like a mistress the least you could do is keep quiet while I do it!"

Ileana would have answered him but he had brought her to the brink and she was now gasping and crying out in her passion.  Her cries brought him to the edge as well.  As she made her final cry Buchanan came and emptied himself into her.  When he had finished he draped himself over Ileana then gently helped her on to her side and spooned her from behind.  He felt the shuddering breaths she took, attempting not to cry out loud but he felt the need himself.

"Forgive me my love," he cried, as the tears came from his eyes.  "If I had a choice I would not leave you this way.  But my honour dictates that I must go with the boy and complete what I set out to do with him.  Surely you must understand it."

"I do understand it," she cried back, as she grasped his hands to her breasts desperately.  "It still frightens me.  Ever since you disappeared into the forest and became your wolf I have dreaded the possibility of you dying while you are away from me.  It consumes me.  I cannot live without you."

"Then I will return," said Buchanan.  "I swear to you that I will come back to you."

Ileana wept for some time as Buchanan attempted to sooth her but it was only when she turned back to him and he drew her into his arms that she began to feel comforted.  Even then when it came time to appear for dinner she was still too emotional to dress and accompany her husband.  Reluctantly he left her there and instructed her dresser Beth to draw a lavender bath for Lady Buchanan and dress her for sleeping.  After dressing himself he attended dinner alone and passed on her apologies.

"I fear I may have voiced my anticipation of you acting as the Prince's general," said Lord Fury.  "My apologies if that is what sent Lady Buchanan to her bed.  It was not my intention."

"My wife fears my early death while away from home," said Buchanan by way of explanation.  "As a modern woman she is not used to the military demands on my honour.  She fears for my safety and that I will not return to witness the birth of our second child."

"I have vowed to keep Lord Buchanan safe so he may return to his wife and child," said Quin. "Surely that must comfort her."

Bruce, also in attendance at the meal smiled grimly.  "She is pregnant and has just learned her husband goes to battle again and not for the first time," he stated.  "Comfort will be difficult for her to accept for a while."

"You mentioned you had contact using the ham radio, Lord Fury," said Buchanan, reluctant to speak of his wife in her absence.  "What news of your Queen and her daughters?  What of the super computer?"

"The Queen and her daughters are on a ship already, along with the super computer," said Fury.  "It was disassembled by the modern scientists and they also accompany it here.  As women of science, they would have been imprisoned or worse if Duke Walker seized control.  It only made sense to send them into asylum as well."

"I fear for the safety of all modern women in the kingdom," said Quin.  "My father's cousin has always voiced his distaste for our acceptance of them.  To him they are servants of the dark one."

"Many are fleeing," said Fury.  "Some have gone west over the mountains towards the western ocean, to California, as it was known in their worlds, was a place of acceptance for many who were different.  But most follow the coast and are coming in this direction along that route.  You may encounter them on your way down.  I seek a token from you both to send a long distance messenger falcon who will seek out your scent if war is declared while you are still en route."

"King Steven is appropriating a large enough warehouse at the port to accommodate the super computer," interjected Bruce.  "He already has several engineers working to build a cooling system using geothermal and solar power, which will also power the unit.  I may have to go there to assist in the installation, as the pieces are heavy."

"It won't be at risk from the ocean there?" asked Buchanan.

"No, it will be in a warehouse set well back from the shore," replied the giant. 

The four men talked well into the evening of many things related to the coming war and how it would affect many kingdoms, not just this one.  It was late when they bade each other goodnight, although Quin had left just before 10 pm, still committed to following his curfew while living in the garrison.  Buchanan undressed and learned from Tom that it took some time before Lady Buchanan slept.   He slipped quietly under the covers behind her, mindful not to disturb her.  During the night he felt her cool hands on his chest and roused himself to her touch.  She placed herself within his arms, laying her head on top of her hands.

"Ileana, my love," he whispered to her, wondering if she was awake.

"I'm sorry," she whispered back.  "I was so upset with all of it.  It turned me, a member of the Queen's Guard, into a blubbering mess of hormones."

"No, don't apologize for voicing your fears," said Buchanan, raising himself on one elbow.  "Everything you said to me was valid.  It is a difficult time for many but mostly for you.  You will have to take on so much in my absence but I have faith in you and your abilities.  I could not trust anyone else to manage the estate in my absence."

"I will try," promised Ileana.  "I will probably cry myself to sleep every night but I will do my duty as well."

Buchanan leaned over her and kissed her tenderly then brought her close into his arms again.  This time sleep came quickly for them both.  In the morning, when they awakened, Ileana dressed for breakfast and accompanied Buchanan out to the courtyard where Fury, who had eaten earlier, was preparing to ride to the palace and accompany the diplomatic couriers on the overland route back to the Western Plains kingdom.  Quin had already given him a token for the messenger falcon.  Buchanan gave him one as well and bade him a good trip.  Fury looked seriously at Quin for a moment, trying to impress upon him the gravity of the situation one final time.

"Marry the Baroness as soon as your mother and sisters arrive, I beg of you," said the statesman.  "Take the time you need to know your bride then come as quickly as you can.  I will post men at radios in select places in the northern portion of the kingdom and send updates to them when I can.  Their locations will be marked by your father's mark with my own beneath it.  Check in with them to know how the battles fare for I expect the war to be underway by the time you arrive." He took one more moment. "When you go through the Oklahoma wilderness, take heed of your heritage and use it judiciously. It may serve you well there."

Fury added nothing more to that cryptic ending but offered his arm to Buchanan and received his in return.  Then he bowed deeply to Quin receiving a hand on his shoulder from the young prince.  He mounted his horse and rode off, accompanied by two of his men who had made the journey with him.  Quin watched until he was out of sight then turned to Buchanan.

"I will eat with the soldiers who have committed to my cause," he said firmly.  "From now on I owe them my attention.  Commander Rhodes has suggested I be fitted for battle leathers as soon as possible so I will meet with the uniform master after breakfast.  Forgive me for not joining you on your rounds as I believe my focus now should be on increasing my battle skills."

"I agree," said Buchanan.  "I will breakfast with my Lady, then join you after.  There is much I would share with you."

Quin strode back to the garrison holding himself with purpose as he walked.  Ileana watched him and looked to Buchanan.  "We have a saying in my world," she said.  "They grow up so fast.  Just two weeks ago he and the other two young recruits who are his best friends, were laughing and chasing each other with a horse dropping.  Now he prepares to lead an army to war."

"He has grown," agreed Buchanan as he took Ileana's hand and they went into the castle.  Down in the kitchen Livia was seated eating her breakfast, accompanied by Mary.  Cook laid a place for both of them and served Buchanan a hearty breakfast but Ileana wished just for something to settle her stomach, a boiled egg and toasted bread with coffee filled generously with milk.  When Buchanan finished eating he took his leave, kissing both Ileana and Livia before returning to the garrison to begin the battle training that the company would need.

Throughout the morning the sounds of heavy training echoed from the garrison yard.  Ileana watched from the roof, not wanting to be a distraction to either Buchanan or Quin.  Mid morning saw the arrival of the volunteers from Baroness Blackstone and Baroness Romanoff, wishing to begin their training with Buchanan as soon as possible.  It became necessary to double and even triple the accommodations and word reached her ears that Quin had asked both Liam and Edward to bunk with him, as both had volunteered to accompany their friend to secure his kingdom.  While she was pleased to hear that the friendship remained strong she was also troubled that two so young would willingly put themselves into danger against a much more experienced force.  Buchanan came back to the castle for lunch, seeming pleased with how the training was going. 

"Quin already has the respect of the men," he said.  "His own battle skills are excellent but he takes instruction from the older soldiers seriously and it has engaged them to share their knowledge with the younger volunteers.  Many have paired off and are hard at work learning the necessities of fighting in battle."

"How are they at accepting his higher status?" asked Ileana.

"He refuses to be addressed as a prince," replied Buchanan.  "They may call him Torres or Quin if they are acquainted but he announced that until the war is fought and won he is not a prince, just another soldier who will ride at their head.  Both Bren and Coulson have commented that he has natural leadership abilities.  I thank the stars for providing two such capable veterans as themselves.  Their steady temperaments will go a long way to moulding these young men into capable soldiers."

Livia chose that moment to shriek in joy as Sky reached up and took a morsel from her hand.  He did it so gently that one would think he had been a pampered lap dog from the moment of his birth instead of a wild creature who chose to live amongst humans.  Sky gazed in adoration at the child often and both Ileana and Buchanan wondered if she had inherited the inner wolf of her father.

"Did the seamstress come to find you for instructions on Quin's banner?" asked Ileana. 

"She did and spoke with him during his fitting for his battle leathers," replied Buchanan.  "According to records they found in his kingdom the area was known in ancient times as Texas, the Lone Star state.  He has chosen the North Star at the top of his banner followed by the constellation it is part of just below.  At the bottom is a coyote, a wild dog smaller than a wolf but just as smart and cunning.  She was also there to take measurements for his wedding garb, promising it will be completed before the week ends."

As soon as lunch was finished Buchanan took his leave again, kissing Ileana and Livia, then returned to the garrison where the decision was made to begin training the recruits to use the Queen's pistol.  The plan was to assemble near the palace when the word was given and outfit as many as possible with the firearm.   Everyone would take the ammunition with them so they had a good supply.  It was unknown what firearms Walker's force would have but Quin had advised Buchanan that the lawless ones always seemed to have them on their person when they engaged with them in past encounters.  It was the lawless ones that concerned Buchanan the most as they were the wild cards.  They were men used to living unconstrained and that made them more dangerous than any other adversary.

Chapter 34>>

Series Masterlist

Please support the author by reblogging