#one thing about me: if a person loves cats then i almost certainly like them

[overtake]

Max: mentions cats

Me: 🧎‍♀️🫶🙏🏼💕🥰😊💓😻❤️‍🔥🫦🤌💖

[theeoriginals]

could you do elijah with a catwoman type of reader? she likes the finer things, she's flirty/loves the chase, and whatever else you think fits! maybe they've been seeing each other secretly (like when katherine/elijah were doing it secretly in tvd lmao) OR they meet for the first time (e.g., she steals something from him and gets caught but gets away and she's hints at seeing him again next time) this is so specific but do whatever you want with it!!

cat and mouse | elijah mikaelson

author's note; this was so fun thank u for requesting <3

warnings: witch!female!reader, tension, abruptish ending bc I didn't know how to drag it out more, brief shapeshifting but I like barely touch on it, because it's sort of inconsequential to the story. reader is close with Klaus, but it's purely platonic! honestly could class this at love at first sight, with how I wrote elijah. fluff, just some heavy make outs, nothing too graphic. reader is flirty and confident!! no use of y/n!

There’s an inherent seductiveness to wearing a mask. It’s almost more vulnerable than just showing your face, because you have to rely on your words, your wit, to get the job done. Of course, there isn’t any specific job she’s needing to get done tonight, but she tries to never attend these sorts of things without a personal mission of some kind.

She gets bored, is the thing. 

Even though she's got everything she could ever want and more, she gets bored and she can't help what happens after that. It's a bad habit, she knows. Her friends always laugh, hiding their smirks and smiles behind her hands when they come over and see the newest shiny thing that wasn't there before. When they hear of a shadow that terrorizes people, seemingly at random. 

It's harmless, though. She's never hurt anyone by doing it. She just laughs a little and maybe she stays the night with some of them, and gets what she wants and more. Cures that boredom in a few different ways. 

It’s started to creep in again, that feeling. It’s why she’s here in the first place. Klaus is a friend, but she tries to keep out of his hijinks for her own safety. Most people here in New Orleans know better than to pledge loyalty to the hybrid, because no one around him is safe for long, even his own family. 

That’s the premise of tonight’s party, according to Klaus. Reuniting his family for what seems like the hundredth time. She feels it’s starting to lose its emotional impact, what with how many times he’s daggered and undaggered them, treating them like they’re pets or something. But she doesn’t voice any of this to Klaus, because she’s smarter than that, and she isn’t equipped to deal with the thousands of years of family drama between the Originals. 

It seems odd to have a masquerade ball as a welcome home party, but she digresses. It’s pointless to question his motives, and it causes her more of a headache than anything. It’s easier to just enjoy herself, and even easier than that to try and find a cure to her boredom. 

It's starting to settle in like a fog of some sort, except it's not hazy or particularly tiring, it's more like steam. Like a hot sauna, soaking the surface of her skin, leaving her panting, thirsty. 

So she leaves the relative safety of the open bar, and lifts her chin up, keeping her shoulders in a stiff line so that people move for her, because she certainly won’t move for them. 

She’s nearly through the dance floor when she’s stopped by a firm hand on her wrist, and her arm is extended with the light tug just before she twists around, braced to deal with whatever idiot has grabbed her. 

She stops short at the sight of the man, only half of his face covered by a mask unlike hers that shields everything real about her except her eyes. 

There’s a smirk on his lips, like he’s amused by something, but she can’t fathom what by. “Excuse me?” She raises a brow, incredulous expression hidden by the mask on her face. It’s rather flimsy, overall, but the rhinestones placed strategically around it juxtapose the sleek black dress draped over her frame, making her appear as nothing more than a shadow. 

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?” 

The voice is unfamiliar, and she loathes the thought that a stranger is teaching her with such familiarity. “I wasn’t aware it mattered,” She gestures vaguely with her other hand, reminding herself of the rather loose grip he has on her wrist. “The party will go on without me, I’m sure.” 

The man ducks his head in a conceding nod, but the smirk on his face has done nothing but get bigger the longer she entertains this odd interaction. “You’ve hardly danced all night.” 

She knows he can’t see the twist of curiosity on her face, but her body must portray it anyways, because he’s immediately elaborating. 

“I’ve had my eye on you,” He says, accented voice a lulling drawl. She’s sure it would put anyone under a spell, given the chance. “I couldn’t let you leave without getting at least one dance, and perhaps your name.” 

“Awfully presumptuous of you,” She notes, though she closes a bit of the distance between them, suddenly interested in the proposition. “I’ll give you a dance, but you’ll have to convince me for a name. I don’t give that out to strangers.” 

He nods again, pulling her to him, closing the rest of the distance between them. “Of course,” 

It’s easy to fall into step with him, practically painted against his chest, there’s no real rhythm to what they’re doing, but it’s working. She’s staring into his eyes from behind the shadowy mask, and he’s looking into hers, like he’ll get every answer he wants from them. 

“So,” He starts, blinking slowly like he doesn’t want to spare a split second from them just in case he misses something. “Do you know anyone here, or are you just here by word of mouth?” 

“I’m familiar with the host,” She says carefully, noticing the way his eyes darken with a hint of surprise. “He’s a friend. I do business with him, sometimes.” 

He seems to see the deeper meaning behind her words. “I wasn’t aware he had many friends of your variety these days,” 

“Oh, he doesn’t,” She says, smirking beneath the mask at the short chuckle that leaves him. “But I suppose there’s an exception to everything. It works for us. I’m still alive, after all. Not many can usually say that after dealing with him.” 

The man’s mouth twists wryly. “I can’t disagree with that.” 

“You’ve obviously got something in common with him, too,” She notes plainly, leveling the playing field between them about information they can peel out of each other without really saying anything. “Perhaps he has more friends than either of us are aware of.” 

“He’s got plenty of secrets up his sleeves, I’m sure of that.” 

He turns them suddenly, hand spanning across the open back of her dress, and she can’t stop the quiet gasp that spills from her lips, hopefully muffled by the mask, though the slight twitch of his fingers against the bare skin of her back says he heard it loud and clear. 

“If I give you my name, may I have yours?” She asks suddenly, aware of the song playing for their dance coming to an end sooner, rather than later. “A fair trade.” 

“I am nothing if not fair,” 

She hums, though she partially doubts his words. He’s shown in the past few minutes that he can play any game she plays, just as easily. 

They dip into the shadows for a moment, ducking out of the colorful lights flashing on the makeshift dance floor, and she makes a decision quickly.

She lays her hand flat against his chest, skating her nails along the pieces of his suit as she slides up his neck and to his jaw, moving fast to push the mask off his face as her other hand rips her own off. 

She doesn’t give him time to blink, or get a real look at her face before she’s smashing their lips together, squeezing her eyes shut as he backs her further into the darkness. She twists them just before they hit the wall, relishing in the way his breath is knocked from his lungs. It doesn’t seem to bother him for long, because he’s drawing her back in, sighing against her lips like she’s just breathed life back into him. 

She skirts her hands all around his lithe frame, feeling the muscles that tense under her touch, hidden but not unnoticeable by the lines of his tailored suit. She drags her nails up under his jacket, rustling the neatly tucked fabric, and pulls her lips away from his mouth to drop down to his jaw, flicking a sharp canine against his jaw and delighting in the choked off noise that breaks from his throat. 

She hides her face in the curve of his throat, leaving marks that disappear almost immediately as she makes them. Panting for breath, she clenches her hands where they lay on his waist. ���What’s your name?” 

He licks his spit-swollen lips, head thrown back against the wall as he tries to collect what little of himself he’s got left. “Elijah,” 

“Elijah,” She echoes, tongue curling prettily around the syllables of his name. “Elijah.” 

“Yours,” He says, calloused fingers digging into the exposed skin from her dress. “What’s your name?” 

“My name,” She says, pressing her lips to the shell of his ear, smile practically audible. “Is a secret.” 

Before Elijah can even let out his next breath, every point of pleasure she’s got on him disappears, and he’s left feeling abruptly cold. He rips his eyes open, blinking as they adjust to the bleak lighting, and his chest heaves as he looks around for any piece of that mask, or that dress. Strains his ears to hear the breath of her voice, the pulse that drowned out every song playing. 

She’s nowhere to be found. Elijah tries to be annoyed, but a smile grows on his lips and he can’t help but slump against the wall as he attempts to fix his suit where it’s been tugged at and wrinkled amidst their brief burst of passion. 

A smear of lipstick lingers on his skin, and her intoxicating scent drifts in the natural breeze. 

His curiosity is a dangerous thing. 

────── 

She sets out on a familiar path, forgoing her flesh tones and simpering smiles for four legs and a sleek black coat. She covers more ground like this, makes her way to the Quarter and past all of the usual mess happening. No one really looks twice at her in this form– it's how she prefers things, for the most part. 

There's a specific brand of chaos that she's seeking, and she hears the familiar echo of the man's voice as she approaches the compound. If she could smirk like this, she would, but as it is, all she can do is reveal the two sharp fangs that hang down onto the sides of her mouth and pick up her pace ever so slightly. 

The door to his study is open and she sees him pacing back and forth, talking loudly to no one in particular. She isn't sure if there's other people in the house right now, but it certainly wouldn't be the first time she caught Klaus talking to himself. 

He seems to notice her just as she leaps onto his desk, shuffling the stack of stationary sitting atop it. 

"Oh, good, and now you're here to bother me," He stops his pacing, turning to face the black cat sitting primly on the desk. "What is it you want?" 

She stares blankly at him and he rolls his eyes, face set in that familiar glare that's basically tattooed on his features. 

"I don't know why you bother with this," He gestures at her, rolling his eyes again. "The sooner you're in a form I can actually speak to, the sooner I can get you out of my house and back into the Quarter, wreaking havoc on those who have wronged me." 

She can't help the sudden desire she has to irritate him just a bit more, so she bats a leg out and kicks a ceramic figurine off the edge of his desk, watching his fists clench at his sides frustratedly as it shatters. 

Yawning dramatically, she flicks her tail out and perches on the edge of his desk, shaking off the sudden change in appearance as he glares at her, entirely unamused by the whole act. 

"What do you want?" 

She huffs, ever so dramatic, and pushes off his desk, walking around him to drape her arms over his shoulders and dig her chin into the muscles there. 

"I'm bored, Klaus. And nobody likes it when I get bored." 

He sighs, entirely put upon at her dramatics. "What do you suggest I do about that?" 

"What's got you so tense? Maybe I can help with that, hm?" She tries, digging her nails into his skin through the fabric of his shirt. 

"My generosity has come back to haunt me," 

His words earn an immediate laugh from her and she peels herself off of his back, walking across the study to throw herself down onto the couch, laying an arm over her eyes. "Oh, yes, your generosity, which you are so well known for. What have you done now?" 

“Must everything be my fault? It could very well be someone else, you know,” 

She lifts her arm from her face, giving him an entirely unamused look that he dutifully ignores. 

“You know,” He starts again, earning a quiet groan from her that he ignores just as easily. “I undaggered my siblings because I thought they would be less upset with me after all this time. I threw them a party! I gave them access to as many humans as I could!” 

“Oh, I know– how could anyone ever hold a grudge for being stuck in a box for hundreds of years because their brother didn’t want to have a moral compass?” 

He glares at her and she pushes up from the couch, stretching her limbs as she goes. “How about you just let them be mad at you, and you give me the name of one of those people who have supposedly wronged you?” 

Klaus sighs, but he gives in easily, just like she knew he would. It’s why they work so well together. He can’t resist her inherent desire to make a mess. 

────── 

The Quarter is as lively as ever, but the energy is always different when the sun goes down. She likes it better this way, when the tourists have returned to their hotel rooms, scared off by enough local legends that they don’t dare wander too far in fear of being sucked into some magical nightmare. 

She likes when the nocturnal things come out to play, because it means there’s so much less attention on her, and what she’s doing. It makes it easier to get things done, this way. 

She’s nursing a drink at the bar in Rousseau’s, unable to resist the draw this place has for witches and vampires alike. It’s mostly seen as a neutral ground, because no one’s willing to risk a place to get good food and drinks over a turf war. 

She’s been making eyes at a boy across the room, quickly looking away when he catches her eye, hiding a bashful smile in her drink. It’s a fun game to play, and it grows easier with every passing minute to lure them in. Even if there’s something off about her, they can’t resist it. Like a mouse walking straight into a trap, just for a bite of the cheese. 

It doesn’t take much longer for the boy, Ethan, to approach her. He’s got a smirk on his face, and he’s obviously under the impression that this is a sure thing. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but,” He shifts, setting his drink down on the bar next to hers. “I saw you looking at me from over here.” 

She swirls the straw in her drink around a few times, looking up at him from beneath her lashes. “Is that all it took? Me looking at you?” 

He chuckles, moving to stand more directly in front of her. “Well, you seemed a little lonely, sitting here all by yourself,” 

She sits up in her seat, smirking. “Are you going to fix that for me?” 

“That will be all, thank you, Ethan.” The strikingly familiar voice comes from behind her, and she instantly slumps in her seat, a wry, defeated smile twisting onto her lips despite how much she tries to stop it. 

The boy in front of her straightens up, defensive at the sudden rejection, but as soon as he sees who it is standing behind her, he backs down. His eyes flicker to her, and she flutters her finger in a wave, dismissing him easily as the man quickly takes his place standing before her. 

“That wasn’t very kind of you, Elijah,” She says, taking a sip of her drink. “I was doing business with him. Your brother’s business.”

“You were a very difficult woman to find, do you know that?” 

She raises her glass to him in a mocking toast. “And yet here you are,” 

“Is that what my brother considers business these days? Usually that sort of exchange was reserved for his closest confidants,” 

“A good businessman is always adapting,” She shrugs, watching his eyes roam her face, committing every part of it to memory. “Did you find me for any particular reason, Elijah? Or am I just honored to have the company of an Original,” 

“You stole my watch,” He says, looking anything but upset. “And a button, of all things. Now, the button I’m less worried about, but the watch is an antique.” 

She hums, eyes narrowing at his easy going demeanor. “You spent all this time tracking me down over an antique watch? Forgive me for my assumptions, but I don’t believe that.” 

He nods, still smiling fondly, like she hasn’t been almost entirely antagonistic to him since their first meeting. “I also want your name.” 

“Surely you know my name by now,” She says, huffing a disbelieving laugh. “You couldn’t have found me otherwise.” 

“I do,” He nods again. “But I want to hear it from you. A fair trade, and all.” 

She heaves a sigh, pushing to her feet off the chair to stand before him, once again practically glued to the front of him. “A man of your word, I see,” 

He hums an agreeing noise. “Even when we have nothing else, we have our word. I’m also not one to go back on a deal. I don’t like loose ends.” 

“That’s a shame, I love loose ends,” She grins widely, earning a chuckle from him that says he’s nothing but charmed. “Follow me.” 

She gestures towards the door, and Elijah is quick to fall into step behind her, though she isn’t sure if it’s her past disappearing act or something else that has him so keen to do as she says. 

They step outside into the humid, but cooling air, and she glances up at the pale moon above them, feeling every bit of warmth from it that one would get from the sun. 

“I’m curious to know how you found me,” She says, looking at him as he walks beside her down the mostly-empty sidewalks. 

He sighs, pushing his hands into the pockets of his suit pants, looking every bit as pressed and pretty as he did at the party. “I thought about asking around at first, of course, but I figured if you wouldn’t even share your name with me, the second you caught wind of someone asking about you, you’d become harder to find.” 

“Smart man,” 

He hums, and smiles. “My brother, his girlfriend, is a witch. I asked her for a favor. You left your mask at the party, so,” 

“Foiled by a simple tracking spell,” She says, putting on an air of defeat that has him chuckling, her following suit shortly after. “I appreciate your tenacity, Mr. Mikaelson. Not many want to play my games,” 

“Is that what it was, then? A game?” 

“Of sorts,” She says, coming to a stop at the steps that lead up to her little apartment. “It’d be quite bold of me to play a game of cat and mouse with an Original, don’t you think?” 

He steps closer to her, eyes narrowing as he tilts his head, examining her. “I think that you seem to know quite a bit about me and my family, but I’ve just barely scratched the surface of you.” 

She steps closer to him, the tips of her shoes hitting his. “I do owe you my name, don’t I?” 

“A deal’s a deal,” 

She echoes his words softly, already pressing up on her toes to meet him halfway. “A deal’s a deal.” 

There’s much less fervor in this kiss than the last, but no lack of passion. It seems to strike them both breathless, and she finds herself leaning into him, wrapping a hand around the end of his neatly knotted tie to pull him in impossibly closer. 

A split second later, she forces herself to pull away, sighing shakily as she looks into his lustful, deep gaze. She whispers her name quietly, watching his pupils blow out as it carries between them. He echoes it back, just as quietly, and she nods, hand still wrapped in his tie, where his are still clutching her waist, keeping her from running again. 

“Is that all, then?” She asks, voice still a whisper, like she’s afraid to break whatever has settled between them. “A deal’s a deal.” 

“What’s that you said earlier?” He sighs, chest heaving with the breath. “A businessman is always adapting.” 

He pulls her back into him, catching the corner of her mouth with his lips before he realigns, barely parting for a second to press repeated kisses to her soft lips that taste like the sugary drink she’d had at the bar. “Besides,” He breathes in between kisses. “You still have my watch.” 

She laughs into the next kiss, and it spills out into the night, making him let out his own laugh that sounds just as utterly besotted as hers. 

He forgets about the watch. But by the time he remembers it, he figures there’s no harm in letting her keep it. If only to have an excuse to see her again. 

[thepaintedlady00]

Cursed

Part 1 | Part 3

The Cursed Meeting

Helllooooo!!! It's been a hot minute y'all! 😅 I swear I've been working on the huge list of projects I have and hopefully I'll be able to start posting more regularly once I get things to a spot I'm comfortable with. Until then I wanted to (finally) share part 2 of the Cursed series. I know a lot of people have been waiting for this since part 1 was posted, sorry it took me so long 😅 Hopefully the following parts won't be so far apart. I hope you all enjoy part 2! I know I'm absolutely falling in love with this story 😊

The music was loud, too loud for you to find anything to enjoy about it. You'd found that it all sounded the same if the volume was high enough. Still, you danced just as you promised your friends you would when you'd caved under the mountain of their endless pleas.

“Come on, you never come to the club with us!” Vivian had whined.

“You skipped out on my birthday party last year, remember? You owe me!” Alison added.

“It won't be as fun if it's not all of us,” Bree finished with a flutter of her big teary green eyes and staring back at all of them, shoving through your front door you suddenly couldn't get the words out of your mouth. 

As you dodged sweaty body after sweaty body you silently cursed yourself—no thanks, guys. I'm not feeling it tonight, sorry! It would have been so easy! Yet here you were, the only one wearing pants that fit you, deaf, and covered in other people's sweat. Just how you'd wanted to spend your night off.

A body shoved you to the left, your face landing dead center into another person's chest. The chill that swept over you brought goosebumps to your flesh as the distantly familiar smell of poppies and lavender washed over you. Mortified, you quickly tripped over your own feet to step away from the blurred figure with a very embarrassing squeal of “I'm sorry!” As you scurried towards the door.

The chilled night air offered you some relief as the noise faded behind the thick door to the alley behind the club. To the left, you saw a few huddled groups passing a cigarette between them, but as you pressed your back against the cold brick you couldn't bring yourself to care. It was quiet and right now that was all that mattered. 

You were a simple person. You liked the quiet of your apartment. You liked your books and your soft music and your simple job at the flower shop across the street. It was predictable. Safe. And you liked safe. You liked it more than anything, or, almost anything.

A thud drew your attention to the right where a small cat had fallen from its perch along the dumpster and quickly skittered beneath it. Everything else faded away as you dropped to the dirty pavement in the alley and met the small felines frightened eyes. 

“Hello,” you’d whispered as you flattened yourself against the pavement.

The cat hissed back at you, curling in on itself.

“You shouldn’t be out here all by yourself,” you said as you slowly let your hand drift closer, hoping it would somehow be able to sense you meant it no harm if it could smell you. The scratch was immediate, but the sting had not deterred you. With a sigh, you retracted your arm and began thinking of other ways to gain the little creature's trust.

Entirely unbeknownst to you, this cat would lead to the end of your predictable, safe simplicity. Fates threads pulled taut around you like a noose as the ink of Destiny’s pages dried.

*

Dream didn't know why he'd agreed to this. His sister had pulled him from his important work and somehow talked him into accompanying her to The Waking World to be among the humans. Again. Though he couldn't complain about the first time now that he'd - unwillingly - admitted that Hob Gadling was his friend, he could certainly complain about this.

The lights were dim and the humans congregating here were even more so. If he'd not been an anthropomorphic personification he was certain his hearing would have been lost after enduring the loud ruckus droning through the speakers the humans had hanging from every wall and light fixture. And if that wasn't bad enough there were people. So. Many. People. The crowd of undulating humans looked like a sea from the stairs he hovered in front of.

“Come on,” Death urged from the bottom step, hovering on the precipice of the endless carnal abyss.

“Absolutely not,” Dream grumbled.

She huffed, cocking a hip and holding out her hand to him. “You promised you'd try it.”

“That was before I knew you meant to writhe with the mortals in this…” He looked around with a sneer of disgust, “cesspool.”

“It's a club, Dream,” his sister corrected with a bright smile. “And it's meant to be fun.”

Fun? He felt insulted on behalf of anyone who thought this chaos was fun. With a sneer set upon his face, Dream relented. He had promised, after all. The reward for this was almost instantaneous. His feet flattened against the floor among the moving bodies of mortals, Death happily venturing forward into the masses without trouble, yet the moment he’d moved to lift his foot a body slammed into his own. 

He held in the disgruntled noise as a small, feminine form grasped onto his coat for a moment to find her footing. He noted how different she looked from the rest - or rather, how her clothes seemed to actually fit her. It was but a moment, a fleeting one, that she’d been pressed against him before she lifted her eyes and stumbled away from him with a bumbling, “I’m sorry!”

Death was not easy to find, as she’d moved deep within the crowd. But, when he finally found her she was beaming at him with that look of hers. “She was cute.”

“Can we be done with this place?” Dream asked, bypassing her statement entirely.

“We’ve only just gotten here.”

“And yet I’ve my fill of it for the next century.”

With a glare, his sister shook her head, “Fine. We’ll go. But, next time you come with me I intend to get a dance out of you.”

Dream scoffed as they turned to make their way out of the crowd. “That is unlikely.”

“Unlikely things happen all the time little brother,” she assured him as she led them out a different door than they’d come in at.

He rolled his eyes and greeted the quiet that awaited them as they stepped outside. Whatever humans had been lingering in the alley took one look at him and quietly departed. It was normal, he supposed, their ability to sense the otherness of him. Death had been walking among the humans before he’d even existed, and more so in recent times, she’d been warmer to them than he had. All mortals beheld him with a reverent fear of the nightmares they saw within his dark starlit eyes and he’d been grateful that this was the case on most occasions, though he did sometimes feel a twinge of something far beneath him. Disappointment.

“Come on little one,” a voice cooed to the side of the alley. His head turned, eyes casting down to the pavement beside mountains of garbage where a girl was lying, one arm extended beneath the garbage bin. Her hair fell over her shoulder, onto the filthy ground, yet she didn’t seem to care about the dirt and grime as she shuffled closer to the garbage. “It’s going to be a cold night. We should find you somewhere warm, don’t you think?”

A hiss echoed to his superior ears and piqued his interest. Stepping away from Death’s side, Dream of the Endless moved to stand closer to the girl until the feline beneath the dumpster could see his sleek black boots. Fear radiated off the animal, twisting its thoughts and perception of the world around it. Through the cat's eyes, the girl looked like one of his nightmares, dark eyes and clawed hands. This is not reality, Dream spoke to it.

The cat, sensing the power of the famed Dream Lord, quickly darted out from beneath the dumpster and ran into his boots. Its eyes were wide and its bony stomach moved with its quickened breaths as it gazed up at Dream in awe and fear. Before he could urge the small creature to calm it darted away toward the mouth of the alley. The girl stumbled to her feet, rushing past him after the cat as he darted out into the road. “Wait!”

Headlights caught in its eyes, flashing for a moment as the small thing froze in either shock, fear, or fatigue. Dream began to turn his head, not wanting to watch the scene undoubtedly about to unfold, but then he saw the girl step out into the road and couldn’t help but stare at her as she curled her body around the cat like a protective cocoon. He’d seen humans behave in every manner of ways, but so rarely did he see them prepared to sacrifice their own safety to shield the innocence still left in the world from harm. 

Dream didn’t notice Death take a step toward them, he didn’t notice anything as his feet moved of their own accord until he too stood in the street beside the girl and the cat she cradled. The car honked and the headlights drew closer as he took the girl by her shoulders and moved her out of harm's way.

*

Well, your night certainly wasn’t going as you’d hoped. You should have stayed home. You should have left the club as soon as you were able to. You should have done a lot of things differently, and yet there you were on your knees in the middle of the road hunched over the stray cat that hissed and clawed at you as you shielded it from the car speeding towards you both. It would be just your luck that the one night you strayed from your simple little life would also be your last.

It all happened so fast that you didn’t even really know if it was real or not. Cold hands pulled you up by your shoulders and soft fabric wove around you as you were pulled into the body of a stranger and turned away from the car as it blazed past. The sound of the tires squealing and honking died out as it vanished into the night. Was this Death? You wondered, cradling the angry cat tighter in your arms as the smell of poppies and lavender engulfed you.

A pale hand settled over the cat's head and the creature calmed beneath it. You followed that hand up, your racing mind taking in every detail of your savior far quicker than it could even process them. He was tall, towering over you like some giant made of midnight and moonlight. You could feel the muscle that lined his thin frame, and see his strength in the way he held himself high, higher than everyone else. His skin was pale, glowing in the night like a precious gemstone, and contrasted against his ink-black hair that messily framed his perfect face. His high cheekbones and strong jawline made his face the most beautiful you’d ever seen, putting even the marble statues of ancient sculptors to shame, but it was his eyes of deep sapphire blue that enchanted you.

The cat purred as the stranger gently stroked its mangled fur with a slight frown. “Are you injured?”

“No,” you answered without thinking, drawing the stranger's eyes to your own and nearly causing your heart to stop in your chest. He looked at you curiously, as if he hadn’t expected you to answer him, and as your mind caught up to everything else you quickly realized he might not have been speaking to you at all. The cat was, still in your arms. “Oh,” you sighed, casting your eyes down far from his burning gaze as heat rose to your cheeks. “You meant the cat.”

Just as you’d opened your mouth, ready to assure the stranger standing far too close that the cat seemed unharmed his hand lifted from the creature's fur and gently tucked a stray piece of your hair behind your ear. Perhaps it was the shock of it all that gave you the courage to meet his gaze again, or maybe it was just that enchanting pull he seemed to have, either way, you found yourself staring into his eyes counting the stars within them as he spoke again in that voice softer than silk, “Are you injured?”

“No,” you said again, softer this time, as you glanced back at the road, the shock of it all seemingly catching up to you as a chill swept through your body. You’d been closer to Death now than ever before - in more ways than you even knew. Yet, the only words you could stumble out to your savior were, “You’re really fast.”

Idiot, you scolded internally.

The stranger, however, chuckled. “I am simply glad you and your friend are safe.”

Friend? Right. The cat. You pulled the too-thin creature closer, quickly examining the scabby skin and the missing chunks of fur. “Oh, you poor thing.”

Though the cat now accepted your hold on it more comfortably, the bite marks and scratches that marred your arms burned in the chilled night air. You tried not to take it so personally, after all, what mattered was the cat was safe now. You weren’t an expert in caring for animals, but you’d taken in many strays before this one and done your best to give them a long, happy, healthy life. If the ornery creature would allow it, you intended to do the same now.

As if the stranger could somehow read your thoughts - could hear the mental notes you took of the condition of the cat's skin and wounded ears and fleas - he asked, his tone one of utter disbelief, “You truly intend to care for this creature?”

Looking back up at him your brows furrowed. “Of course I do.”

“After all the trouble it’s caused you?”

You laughed then, shaking your head with a modest shrug. “There are few things in this life that don’t cause trouble. Besides, it’s not the cat's fault. It was scared, probably rightfully so after all it’s been through.”

He said nothing more as a woman with beauty that matched his stepped beside him and looked at you with a curious sort of smile. She felt familiar, her face one you’d sworn you’d seen before, the sound of her voice one you somehow knew before even hearing it. “And you said the night was going to be dull.”

The stranger rolled his eyes and glared at her. “One eventful moment does not erase the senselessness of this outing.”

A sudden feeling of embarrassment filled you as you realized just how close you stood to the man who had saved you - the man you did not know. This is probably his girlfriend, your thoughts betrayed you, making that feeling amplify as you nervously took a step back, nearly tripping over the curb. The stranger caught you effortlessly, a cold look of confusion marring his stoic face as you shrugged off his touch and found your footing. “I should go. I’ve caused you enough trouble.” You turned, hurrying away before turning around again and offering the only thing you could think of to repay the kindness he’d shown you, a smile. “Thank you, for… being fast.”

Before he could reply you were practically running away, your face burning hot and your gut twisted in embarrassment. Idiot!

*

Dream watched the girl flee, the image of her soft lips curved upwards stuck in his head. Mortals rarely smiled when they saw him, they often feared him the moment they laid eyes on him, but not this mortal it would seem. She’d been shy, and timid, but not afraid.

Death leaned against him, watching the human fade into the night. “That was interesting. So, you gonna follow her? Get her name?”

“Yes,” he’d said without thinking, quickly rectifying his mistake by fixing his coat and shrugging his sister off him to give her a bland look. “To ensure she truly does not mean to harm the creature.”

Her grin was more smug than he’d seen in eons as Death nodded, “Of course.”

The two siblings eventually bid one another farewell and as Dream returned to his realm to sit upon his throne Matthew had just arrived at the correct apartment. He’d peered in through the windows, finding the girl hunched over the bathtub with the cat flailing in her arms as she rinsed out its fur and diligently combed the bugs within it. The task had taken her hours, and after she’d attempted to dry the cat's fur the creature had taken refuge beneath her couch as she tended to the cuts on her arms.

Dream watched as the girl lay down on her floor, much as she had in the alley, offering what assurance she could to the cat. Humans were confusing creatures, so much so that Dream of the Endless often found himself gladly staying far from them. This human seemed different, though, intriguing and sincere… something he’d not experienced in well over a century. And so, the mighty Dream Lord found himself in the library, pouring over every book he could find depicting the girl's dreams and nightmares, learning all he could about her until he could no longer deny the urge to see her once again.

[tightjeansjavi]

Cigarettes & Feelings

Part One (+18)

“I always fall for the things that will hurt me.”

(Javi Peña x f! reader)

A/N: so uhh this originally was going to be one part and then I got to writing it and I was like uh oh…and now 🫠 here we are! This is going to be a 2-3 parter at the least. *sigh* here we go again!

~word count: 1.6k~

Summary: Agent Peña, Bogotá’s infamous playboy. Has he met his match when he meets you, the US Embassy’s newest receptionist.

Warnings: Javi is a douche, cocky typical playboy, thinks that he can sleep with anything on legs, huge ego, kinda mean, doesn’t take well to you bruising his ego, fear of intimacy, would rather flee the scene than face his feelings, denial of feelings, flirting, banter, some sexual tension? (If you squint) reader doesn’t take any of his shit, still finds him attractive but heard the talk of his reputation, definitely going to turn into a game of cat and mouse, eventual smut, angst, unrequited feelings, heartbreak, pining, unestablished relationship, no use of (y/n) only description is that you’re an American no physical descriptions used.(+18) minors dni!

Agent Peña Playlist:

Bogotá, Colombia 1988

When you accepted the position to be a receptionist at the US Embassy in Bogotá, Colombia. You were thrilled to be leaving the states finally. You had desires to travel the world, meet new people, create new experiences, fall in love? Nah, that would be far too cliche, especially for an American. Your first day in the office was bombarded with the other receptionists warning you about a specific DEA agent; Javier Peña. Bogotá’s well known playboy. Frequent brothel customer, tool, has a bit of an anger problem, devilishly handsome, can break your heart with just a kiss, Javier Peña.

Agent Peña had slept his way through Bogotá. Coworkers, sex workers, married women, naive American girls, informants. Even men found themselves falling for Javi’s addictive charm. As soon as you were informed of the DEA agents' consistent conquests, you were going to do everything in your power to not fall for his charm. You were going to do your absolute best to not fall into his deadly trap. No matter how handsome, how beautiful his pools of brown eyes enticed you, you would not cave. The cord could only withstand so much pressure before it ultimately snaps, right?

Javier embraced all kinds of women into his sheets. He was unshy in the bedroom, and that's why it came as no surprise to him that almost every woman in Bogotá knew his name, and they knew the kind of lover he was. His lovers would be left in a sweet, sticky sex stained gaze. Javi’s presence would linger on their bodies, their clothes, their sheets for days to come. Cigarette smoke, musk, inducing cologne, would envelop their bodies in a comforting warmth. When his scent no longer lingered, they would be left craving more. Javier couldn’t blame them, not really. He took a sense of pride in knowing he was more than an adequate lover in the bedroom. Outside of the bedroom? Well, that's where the playboy reputation came about. Javier didn’t date. He didn’t develop crushes and he certainly didn’t fall in love.

To protect the women he slept with feelings, and his own, he strictly stuck to one night stands. No matter how good the sex was, no matter if he felt a connection, an ounce of intimacy, he fled each time. He had a few slip ups here and there. He was only human after all. He craved human touch just as much as the next person. He learned quickly from his mistakes and his heart was even more closed off than before. Locked away in a steel cage, and buried deep within in the ground. He threw the key away and swore to never unlock it.

When you showed up to the office for the first time, Javi’s breath was stolen from his lungs the second he laid his eyes on you. He had encountered countless beautiful women, from all over the world. Why were you any different? Why was his heart racing? Why did his unnecessarily tight shirt suddenly feel even tighter? Why was he profusely sweating? What the hell was happening to him?

“Who is that?” He found himself asking Murphy, with a cigarette pursed between his soft lips. The smoke was slowly curling around his face, obscuring you from his view momentarily.

Steve glanced up from his typewriter as he followed Javi’s gaze to the receptionists area in the office. He raised a brow before chuckling, “New meat from the states. It’s her first day, so you better be nice, Peña.” he teasingly warned his colleague.

Javi quirked his brow up as he looked over at Steve. He scoffed under his breath, eyes rolling slightly. “American, huh? Who says I wasn’t gonna be nice in the first place Murphy? You think so highly of me.” His tone was sarcastic as he leaned back in his chair, taking a drag from his cigarette.

Steve gave him an ‘are you serious?’ look before he pulled the sheet of paper from the top of the typewriter to start on a fresh page. “You’re not the most welcoming to anyone unless you wanna sleep with them, Javier.”

“¿Me estás llamando puta? You fucking hillbilly.” Javi chuckled.

“Just telling you how it is Peña.” Murphy responded with a disinterested shrug.

“Who says that I don’t wanna sleep with her? All the more reason for me to be nice.” He crossed his arms behind his head, leaning back with a knowing smirk.

Steve wasted no time to crumble up a piece of paper and chuck it right at Javier’s head.

“You are such an unbelievable fucking pig sometimes, you know that Javi?”

“Bogotá’s most irresistible Playboy.” Javi responded humorlessly.

Unbeknownst to the two DEA agents, you were watching their interaction from afar. You couldn’t help it. Javier was stupidly handsome. You were only appreciating the way his lips wrapped around the cigarette pursed between them so effortlessly. How the hell did one man make smoking look so goddamn attractive? A light, airy giggle slipped past your lips before you could stop it from happening.

Javi’s head whipped all the way around when he heard your sweet giggle. It tickled his eardrums in the best way possible. He wasted no time to ash his cigarette into the ashtray nearby on his desk before he was rising from his desk chair, shooting Murphy a playful wink before he strode over to your little cubicle.

You did your best to look busy, and act inconspicuous when two tan, muscular forearms were visible in your peripheral vision. Your manicured nails were quickly typing away on the typewriter. Javi’s scent was overwhelming, intoxicating and a tad irritating. The mix of lingering cigarette smoke, and an unidentifiable cologne, was a dangerous combination.

“Is there something you find to be particularly amusing sweetheart?” Javier nearly purred the pet name out past his sinful lips.

“Not at all, Agent Peña.” You were quick to respond without looking up from the keyboard. You were feeling slightly flustered, but you’d be damned to let him know that.

“Javier.” He corrected you. “My name is Javier but you, my dear, can call me anything you’d like.” He was still leaning over your small desk space. His stupid broad shoulders were casting a shadow over you from the overhead fluorescent lighting.

“Uh huh. That’s nice Agent Pena. I’m kinda busy right now, so is there something important that you need? If not, I'd appreciate it if you left me alone so I can focus on my job. Thank you so much.” The tone you responded with was flat, unamused to say the least.

Javier was taken aback momentarily by your distaste towards him. He was used to women twirling their hair, giggling, fluttering their lashes at him and flirting right back without a care in the world. What he realized then, was that he was gonna have to try a little harder..or give up entirely. He might have just met his match without even realizing it.

“My apologies, miss. I just wanted to come over and introduce myself.”

“I don’t think an introduction is necessary, Javier. I’m fully aware of your reputation around the office, and the city. Now, can you please take your hands off my desk? It’s rude to tower over someone like that.” You finished typing before pulling the paper off the typewriter and stood up, finally meeting his eye contact.

“Ah. Of course, the mindless office gossip from the Embassy’s finest receptionists.” He leaned in slightly, his stance still intimidating nonetheless. You got a small whiff of his cologne, and a peek at the glistening tan skin below the two open buttons on his stupid tight shirt. “Isn’t it rude to judge a book by its cover before you have even opened it, cariño?”

“I’m sorry? I think I'm going to take the word of multiple women in the office over yours Javier.” You challenged back as you stepped out from behind your cubicle with a manila folder in hand. “Here is that phone conversation between La Quica and one of the informants you slept with. Looks like you have a date later, Peña.” You shoved the folder into his broad chest before walking away, heels clicking on the smooth tile.

Javi felt his mouth go dry as you shoved the folder into his chest. He watched as you walked away, eyes zoning in on the slight sway of your hips. His ego wasn’t just bruised, oh no no. You had completely torn him a fucking new one. His knuckles tightened and flexed over the material of the folder, bending it slightly. His eyes averted to the other receptionists who were quietly typing away. He wondered if they all had told you about his reputation, or if it was a specific receptionist. Either way, he was going to find out one way or another.

He stopped at Valentina’s desk, leaning over the expanse of it. The same way he did at your own cubicle. “Val, was it you querida?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Javi.” The young receptionist glanced up at him briefly, before looking back down at the keyboard.

“Mhm. I’d suggest that you find new plans for Friday night.” He pushed himself up off her desk before he walked away, like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

Murphy had the biggest fucking smirk on his face when his colleague returned to his desk and immediately grabbed a cigarette before tossing the box into the desk drawer and slammed it shut.

“Damn. She really had you by the balls, huh Peña?” Murphy did his best to hide his chuckling, but it was hard not to. It wasn’t everyday that he got to see Javi turned down like that.

“Don’t you fucking start with me, you fucking hillbilly.” Javier responded in a snappy tone as he quickly lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter down onto his desk without a care in the world.

“Ouch.” Murphy clutched his hand to his chest in faux pain to which Javi responded by flipping him off.

Yeah, you had ruffled his feathers pretty fucking good. That was for damn sure.

Translation: ¿Me estás llamando puta?

“Are you calling me a whore?”

_______________________

Tag list: @chaotic-mystery @peterhollandkait @pedgeitopascal @userpedros @pedrospartner @korynnekorynne @kirsteng42 @yazsos @last-girl @amanitacowboy @lovers-liability @tinygarbage @777-wonders @dinsdjrn @myrealmofchaos @loquaciousferret @pedrostories

[artful-aries]

Hello, I loved your oblivious reader confession request!!

Would you mind doing the same question but for Pantalone and Ayato?

Please stay hydrated (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠❤

It is a STRUGGLE for me to drink anything let alone water simply bc I am dumb. But thank you for the sentiment!!! I hope you enjoy this

Confessing To An Oblivious Crush (Pantalone, Ayato)

Pantalone

He’s a bit of a flirt when it comes to the right person, he’s always going to give you special looks, grazing touches, and subtle winks, all of which will fly completely over your head

Needless to say, he’s a little bit stunned when you act so casually around him as though he hasn’t been throwing enough money at you to make anyone flustered. You are flustered to a degree, but not in the way that he wants you to be. You just think of him as nice, a sentiment he almost abhors

Pantalone doesn’t think himself as a particularly cruel man by any means, but the last thing he wants you to think of when you think of him is nice. Seductive? That’s his ultimate goal. Reckless? He certainly can be when it comes to things he wants. Sleazy? He’ll take it if it means you actually realize he wants you. But nice? Nice is for your average, mundane man, and he is anything but that

The subtle dance around your obliviousness is fun for the first few weeks, but he begins to grow just a tad bit impatient as time goes on

He briefly considers buying advertisements in all of the newspapers in Teyvat to announce his feelings for you, but he figures that would go over your head too, likely chalking it up to some strange prank of his, as if he were ever the type to play juvenile pranks in the first place

When monetary sentiments fail to catch your attention, Pantalone shifts gears and gets more touchy. He won’t be inappropriate, but he always manages to find a way to have his hand linger on your shoulder, or his chest graze your back as he scoots by you

It’s in this subtlety that he realizes his efforts are futile, and he has to bite back his pride when you ask him why he’s been so clumsy lately

Pantalone will not stop his efforts until you have returned his feelings or rejected him outright; even if you were to reject him, he would likely just double down and try to win you over even more. When he sees something he likes, he won’t stop until he gets it

Eventually, he grows tired of waiting and just calls you into his office one day, borderline cornering you as he stares down at you with a smirk and announces his feelings for you

He won’t let you leave until he at least gets confirmation that you understand exactly what he means. No, he doesn’t just like you as a colleague or friend, his heart burns for you

When you admit that you feel the same, Pantalone feels a sense of accomplishment, feeling like he is one step closer to being the man who has it all

You are certainly his sweetest conquest so far, and he can’t wait to grow even closer to you in order to see just how much this boon is worth

Ayato

He almost prefers the oblivious types, not only for the cat and mouse like game both of you will take part in even though it’s without your knowledge, but also for the genuine honesty that these types of people often display

It provides almost a sense of mental stimulation for him to piece you together like a puzzle, finding out what buttons to press and how in order to get the reactions he relishes in

You also save him the headache if wondering what you’re thinking or what your goals are; it’s painfully obvious that you have no idea that you have attracted the attention of the head of the Kamisato Clan

He is never cruel or unfair, but he’s certainly not without mischievousness as he flirts shamelessly with you

As much as he would love to spend quality time with you, Ayato is extremely busy, so he makes up for this by sending you lots of thoughtful gifts (gifts so nice that you clearly wouldn’t buy them for anyone else other than someone you deeply cared about)

When he does get to spend time with you, near endless words of praise will flow from his lips, some of his compliments purposefully worded as innuendos solely to watch how you blush and squirm

Ayato finds it remarkable that you can get so flustered at his words yet somehow not realize he is being completely serious. But that just adds more layers to this game of his

He flirts and pulls back, repeating this pattern with various intensity to see how you react, but he will stop if this ends up upsetting you somehow

As his feelings grow more serious, he begins to take a more genuine, straightforward approach with his feelings for you. To his amazement, you still act as clueless as ever despite him talking at length about how he thought you would make a good partner for someone (it’s him, he’s someone)

This will end up pulling a genuine laugh out of him, one that would likely leave you confused because you hadn’t said anything particularly funny

When you ask him about it, Ayato will come clean and say that he found it absolutely adorable how oblivious you were to his advancements

If somehow you were still confused as to what he meant, he would gently take your hand and kiss the back of it, looking up at you with smoldering eyes and asking you if that answered your question

[cambion-companion]

I cannot concentrate on my work (ironically as a TA writing up my phd thesis) because I read your intelligence 8 tav x raphael fics and now I am shaken to the core and all I wanna do is daydream about being a clueless little slut in the house of hoep

please saer can I have some more

hahaha I'm so glad that brain worm took root, intelligence 8 Tav is delightful. I also wanted to incorporate this lovely ask as well and express my gratitude for the support you all have given me this month. All is well! Enjoy a drabble with a Tav/reader utterly oblivious to the true nature of a cambion...to them he's just a tiefling with wings! how cool!

Raphael + reader (gn) drabble

(I'll probably write another that's more romantic/cute but this was too funny to pass up)

"You have an uncanny talent at getting into the most outlandish situations." Raphael pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, inhaling a deep breath.

You looked around at the decadent room he'd rented for himself, steam rising from two baths and flower petals ornamenting the lush red carpet. "I wouldn't think a devil-guy would be the sort to have tulips thrown about."

"Roses." Raphael corrected, his hand clasping firm about your upper arm just in time to save you from slipping on the wet tile and braining yourself. "I would wager a hefty sum of gold your mind does not entertain too many thoughts at one time."

"Thank you." You murmured, touched. You allowed him to escort you to safety upon a chair and watched with vague interest at how his lips twisted in bemusement. "I should thank you for saving my bacon back there. Wasn't expecting to survive that. But Shart always gets Withers to bring me back when we run out of those glowy scroll things."

"I do believe I sense a migraine coming on." Raphael squeezed his eyes shut briefly before crossing to pour you both a glass of dark brown alcohol.

You took the fancy crystal glass and downed the drink with gusto, only realizing your mistake when the scorching whiskey had passed into your gullet, and you burst into a coughing fit. Raphael sighed and gave you a solid couple thumps on your back as you struggled to breath. "There now. Death by imbibing spirits too eagerly is no way to enter the afterlife. Not until you've served your purpose, at least."

"What?"

"I'm concerned for your well-being, dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve. "That's really nice of you, Raph." He winced at the nickname but just barely managed to keep a pleasant neutral expression. "I don't know why everyone else threw such a fit about you, you're not a bad dude."

"I'm flattered." Raphael almost felt a sense of annoyance at how easy this was. He enjoyed a challenge, and this mortal was certainly not bringing it. He drained his glass fluidly and returned it with a clink to the table. "Now, your person is more or less stable for the time being."

You looked around, checking behind you. "What person?"

"Your body has been plucked from the peril you so naively flounced into." Raphael clarified, a slight edge to his words now, he was running low on patience. "Be a good mouse and run along, fetch me the crown and we can part ways amicably."

"I never imagined mice to be much good at fetching." You mused, rising to your feet as Raphael practically pushed you from his room. "That seems more a dog's forte. Oh, we have a most wonderful dog back at camp-"

The door closed in your face, so close it almost clipped your nose. You stared at the dark wood for a moment, then smiled and shrugged. You spoke a little louder so he would be able to hear through it. "His name is Scratch! What was I saying? Oh yes, dogs fetch crowns and balls better than mice! Maybe keep that in mind when giving people animal nicknames!"

No answer.

He must have gone to take a nap. You were sure cambions probably did that often since they seemed to act much like cats in every other way.

Smiling to yourself you departed, convinced that you and Raphael were now bosom friends.

[paintedmage]

Reupdating my Yu-Gi-Oh Future Headcanons list AGAIN XD

All my headcanons are from the Duel Monsters portion of the series, most of which are influenced by the anime and personal thoughts and ideas.

Atem has a thing for anything strawberry. Strawberry drinks, baked goods, artisan goods, you name it. If it's got strawberry, Atem will almost certainly eat it. Even as Yami, he would take over Yugi's body sometimes to enjoy strawberry flavors(Yugi thought it was silly but also was happy Yami had something he liked)

Of course, my headcanon of Kaiba treating Yugi like a second little brother after Atem departs. Seriously, Yugi becoming an unofficial Kaiba brother because of Seto's love for Atem and feeling bad that Yugi doesn't have his own big brother now is something that feeds me life.

Atem's last name is Sennen. His full name is Atem Yami Sennen

Kaiba's full name is Seto Ryuuki Kaiba. Sometimes Atem calls Seto by his middle name, and Seto loves how whispery and velvety Atem says it.

Kaiba and Mokuba's birth surname is Konami. Their parents names were Sara Rose Vinciani and Akira Seto Konami(called Aki for short)

Seto and Mokuba's mother was an Italian immigrated to Japan. Her mother was pureblooded Italian and her father Egyptian. Their father had a Japanese mother and father, the father having a Mexican father. The brothers will occasionally celebrate traditions from Mexico, Italy, and Egypt as a way to maintain a connection to their happier past and those early memories that still bring them comfort.

Kaiba and Atem are 100% gay and demi, Yugi is bisexual and nonbinary(goes by he/they pronouns)

Kaiba and Atem are both intersex, Kaiba's intersex biology allows for childbearing, but it's not something he likes to think about or really wants, as pregnancy means a loss of control over his own body, and Kaiba can't imagine not having control.

Atem eventually returns through magic nonsense and everyone is overjoyed to have him back (Yugi and Kaiba especially, for their own reasons)

Kaiba has a cat. Her name is Zahra and he adopts her from a shelter not long after the Ceremonial Duel, telling Mokuba things are feeling a bit lonely and maybe a pet would help make their home a little less empty. Despite his cold exterior, Kaiba loves animals and would adopt every single one from every shelter in the world if he could.

Atem loves cats and hits it off with Zahra(Kaiba doesn't like that he's no longer her favorite person but Atem spoils her as much as he does so he supposes its fine), and for some reason, strays gravitate towards him and he occasionally comes home with a new cat in his arms, announcing. "Ryuuki, another one chose me!", and Kaiba just goes with it, loving how the mansion staff are now always kept on their toes by the MANY cats now running amok.

Kaiba's favorite of Atem's little cat herd(also called a clutter) is Luna, a pretty tortoiseshell with golden eyes and dainty white paws. She gets attached to him rather than Atem(much to Kaiba's delight)

Later down the line, Kaiba finds an abandoned corgi puppy. Unable to ignore the creature, he takes her home to Atem and their many cats. They name her Duchess as she quickly becomes a spoiled pup.

Yugi and Marik are a couple. I just think they're cute together. They'd eventually have a son(Kaiba helps them create their son by taking Yugi and Marik's DNA and making the baby in a tube in his lab. Because I'm absolutely certain Kaiba could do that sort of thing if he tried) and name him Atemu, after Atem. Because Yugi just loves his brother so much. (cue Uncle Atem shedding tears of joy), and when Atemu is 2, they have twins; a son and daughter named Toki and Tera.

Atem and Kaiba get married and Atem 100% is in charge of wedding planning cause he has better tastes than Kaiba when it comes to this sort of thing. And Atem convinces Seto to let him wear a dress for the wedding. Kaiba becomes Seto Kaiba-Sennen.

Kaiba and Atem eventually have twins unplanned, a daughter named Kaida and a son named Yami, both taking Atem's last name of Sennen. The pregnancy is full of complications for Kaiba due to his unique situation, and the changes to his body cause a lot of dysphoria, but Atem is always there for him when things get rough, knowing that Seto can get through this with the strength and grace he applies daily.

At Atem's insistence, Kaiba seeks therapy for all his trauma he's endured throughout his life. He doesn't like it, but admits it helps him in the long run, saying his head is less fucked up than it used to be.

Joey becomes a KC Security Officer because he's "A good guard dog", according to Kaiba.

Tea becomes a successful dancer on Broadway, landing many lead roles. Yugi and friends are glad to see her follow her dreams, and occasionally, Kaiba will sponsor musicals and plays that Tea is in, his way of showing his friendship.

Tristan opens a martial arts and self defense studio, wanting to teach others how to protect themselves and the ones they care about.

Bakura begins to work for the museum, and always manages to rope Atem into helping during his free time, as Atem WAS an ancient Pharaoh.

Atem works graphic design for Kaiba Corp (he's a surprisingly good artist)

Yugi works at Kaiba Corp for the game development division. Sometimes he brings Atemu and Toki into the office with him, and he tries to coordinate dates where Kaida and Yami are brought in when Seto and Atem come to work so their kids can bond with each other. (Yugi wants his sons to have a deep connection with their cousins asap.)

Atemu looks a lot like his namesake uncle, thanks to the combo of Yugi's hair and Marik's complexion, but his eyes are Marik's lavender. Toki and Tera are pale like Yugi with soft, sandy-colored hair like Marik, and Yugi's amethyst eyes.

Kaida looks a lot like her father Atem, bearing his tri-tone hair, although the ends of hers are blue instead of red, she bears his darker complexion, and the shape of her eyes is quite similar to his. She gets Seto's blue eyes. Yami, however, is a mini Seto Kaiba with Atem's purple eyes. (the little guy has already mastered the 'Kaiba scowl')

Later down the line, Atem and Kaiba have two more kids. Ryuuki and Sara. Both kids have Atem's dark complexion. Sara's hair is black and wavy and she has Kaiba's blue eyes. Ryuuki, however, much like his brother Yami, has Kaiba's brown hair and Atem's amethyst eyes.

a couple years after Sara's birth, another pair of twins blesses their family. Noctis and Koyo. Both are piebald, but it's much more prominent on Noctis, whereas Koyo's piebald is a tiny, heart-shaped spot on his forehead. Noctis was named for the night he was born in, and Koyo for the red leaves of the autumn season that welcomed him and his brother.

And a few years after, Atem and Kaiba welcome their final child. Samira. She's much more quiet and reserved than all her siblings, and is partially deaf in one ear. However she is treated no different than her siblings and is loved by everyone who meets her, charmed by her gentle demeanor and kindness

People often ask Kaiba why he had so many children when he was uncertain of being a parent in the first place. His answer is simple; "I'm having the family myself and my brother didn't have growing up; a big, happy family that loves and cares for each other."

Mokuba absolutely adores his nieces and nephews, being sure to talk about them to anyone who will listen(or is forced to). He also spoils them whenever he can, wanting to give Kaida, Sara, Ryuuki Yami, Noctis, Koyo, and Samira the whole world, wanting them to have a childhood full of certainty and light, unlike what he and Seto had. Uncle Mokuba ftw.

Kaiba rebrands Kaiba Corporation to Sennen Corporation.

Joey eventually finds a nice girl and hooks up with her, and Atem, being a former Pharaoh, officiates Joey's wedding.

Joey soon becomes a dad, having four kids. Jack, Jana, Kaden, and Jacob. The little ones are a handful, having Joey's spirit and knack for trouble. And Kaiba says "Wheeler, the world had enough of you, why'd you add four more?" the first time he meets the kids. However is is quite fond of them, as his children have friends to grow up with.

Joey also has a dog. Well, it's more his wife's dog than his. A white Shiba Inu by the name of Sundae, who makes herself the official babysitter of Joey's four kids.

[mephistopheleswasrobbed]

GMMTV 2025 Riding the Wave first thoughts

We have 15 or 16 BLs, 2 GLs, one mixed het and BL and 1!!! het series. GMMTV really said we don't give a shit about straight people anymore and I'm so here for it.

Dare You to Death: Messy teen slasher meets murder mystery BL. Feels a little bit like two stories mushed together in the pilot trailer but very interesting concept. I'm quite neutral about JoongDunk but the story looks fun. Will almost certainly be watching.

Head 2 Head: Bad Buddy with fashion design students who are also car racers and one of them has visions of the future? There's a lot happening but tbh none of it really caught my attention. Haven't seen SkyKeen before and JavaSurf are new so I have zero opinions on them. I'll wait for the official trailer to make a decision about this one.

Burnout Syndrome: Love triangle kinda but make it serious. Directed by Nuchy, looks a bit darker and mature. OffGun + Dew as second lead looks intriguing especially because there seemed to be more romance shown between Dew and Gun than Off and Gun. This will probably be good. Not necessarily hyped but will definitely watch.

I Love "A Lot Of" You: The only exclusive BG show in this lineup about a guy trying to make all 5 personalities of a girl fall in love with him. Nanon and Mind of 4Eve. Looks very good actually. But it's a straight romance and so far I haven't seen anything that would make me watch anyway. Will probably not watch.

Whale Store xoxo: Down on her luck grocery store owner meets manic pixie dream girl errand girl. Happy for MilkLove to have graduated from school, MewnichJune with history looks promising. Not necessarily hyped but will definitely watch.

Only Friends: Dream On: Season 2 of Only Friends, this time centered around a theatre production. EarthMix as exes, JossGawin and OhmLeng. This is all I ever wanted. I'm so here for this. I would watch anything with EarthMix without hesitation but this has me extremely hyped. Will definitely watch.

That Summer: Troublemaker meets amnesiac prince in seaside setting. Neutral about WinnySatang, looking forward to NeoMint, hyped about MondRyu. Looks good but doesn't really catch me. Will probably be watching for Mond in a BL role finally.

My Romance Scammer: Two rich boys marrying scammers. They are making full use of marriage equality already. JuniorMark look good, Gmmtv went for OhmFluke and it's hilarious, they also look good. Looks like fun. Will almost certainly be watching.

Melody of Secrets: Mystery with murders and unreliable memories. Gives Hannibal vibes a little. (Which doesn't really work in its favour because Hannibal is on another level) Not a ForceBook fan but the plot seems interesting. Will wait for official trailer but probably watch for the fandom speculation.

Love You Teacher: Elementary school teacher who hates kids has to care for his amnesiac, age-regressed partner. Directed by Dome. Looks very fun. PearthSanta look good. They're gonna have to walk a fine line here with the whole age regression thing but I trust in Dome. Will be watching.

MU-TE-LUV: 7 Stories centered around Thai supersticious activity. Too many people in this for me to list. Will wait to see how much the stories are intertwined or if they're all separate from each other. Looks like fun. Definitely seated for the Fluke, Lego, Yacht, Neo story, the two BL stories didn't really catch my attention, some of the straight ones seemed more interesting. Will wait for official trailer for anything except the FLYN part which I'm super excited for.

Cat for Cash: Debt collector can understand cats, helps new owner to manage cat cafe. Family drama happens. I like FirstKhao but tbh the trailer bored me a little. (Pls don't kill me FK stans). Will wait for official trailer, might binge after it's done.

Girl Rules: Jojo directing basically Only Friends lesbian edition. Although mostly MilkLove and NamtanFilm seem to be mixed up, ViewMim seem to be doing their own thing. Gmmtv turning up the heat on the GL side. This looks very fun, I'm here for it. Will watch.

Boys in Love: Three high school couples and some gay teachers to round it out. Don't know any of these kids and tbh didn't even realise until the end that there were three couples. Looks like a nice high school BL, but I'm probably too old for this. Will probably watch for Podd and Papang.

My Magic Prophecy: Doctor x fortune teller with some mystery and escaping to the country side. JimmySea romance storyline didn't really catch me but the mystery plot seems interesting. 2 seconds of TeeFranc look intriguing. Will wait for official trailer but will probably watch for the mystery.

A Dog and a Plane: Scruffy first responder x prim flight attendant who's getting cheated on by his pilot boyfriend. This looks extremely fun. TayNew and MarcPoom has me seated. Jojo directing again. Second most hyped show for me. Will definitely watch.

Me and Thee: Teaching an out of touch mafia boss how to court someone. Looks like a lot of fun. PondPhuwin seem to alternate between uni and mafia, good for them. Directed by X. Will almost definitely be watching.

Wu: Probably BL but could also be bromance, the Pilot wasn't definitive but from the discussion afterwards I'm leaning towards BL. Either way, down on his luck athlete fated to protect supernatural fortune teller kinda guy. This story seems to be in its early developement stage still but SkyNani/NaniSky has my full attention and what we've seen of the concept so far looks very promising. Looking forward to this. Will be watching.

Memoir of Rati: Period BL, translator of French diplomats falls in love with some sort of nobleman. IFYLITA vibes. GreatInn are a perfect fit for a period BL. AouBoom look promising as well. Personally not a big period drama enjoyer but this looks very good. Will almost definitely be watching.

Ticket to Heaven: Return of Aof, based on real events, slight period + heavy christianity. Aof is angling for his next award with this one. Looks very good, more queer cinema than BL. Not the biggest fan of GeminiFourth but they're talented and this will be really good probably. Have to watch it for my ultimate bias Aof, anyway. Will be watching.

Overall thoughts: 16 out of 20 BL is crazy, so much for the fear that Gmmtv will switch to focus on bromance. Would have liked some more GL but what we're getting looks good. In general this lineup has me very excited. There's not a single pilot that made me instantly say "Nope" this time. Even the one single straight show which I'll probably skip, looks very good. We're getting a good variety of genres and moods as well. Also not a single remake afaict.

The new BL trend for 2025 seems to be superstition and mystery. I'm very happy with that.

All shows in order of my hypedness:

Extremely hyped:

Only Friends: Dream On

A Dog and a Plane

Excited:

Girl Rules

Wu

Me and Thee

Love You Teacher

Not really excited but looking forward to because it will most likely be good:

Burnout Syndrome

Ticket to Heaven

Memoir of Roti

This will be fun:

Dare You to Death

MU-TE-LUV (this is an average, only FLYN would be a lot higher, the rest without them would be lower)

My Romance Scammer

Whale Store xoxo

That Summer

Looks interesting enough:

Boys in Love

Melody of Secrets

My Magic Prophecy

Cat for Cash

Head 2 Head

I'm happy for the het show enjoyers because this looks really good but I don't really care:

I Love "A Lot Of" You

[unholybacon355]

Melting

Sana x Dahyun

Word Count: 2.1k 

A/N: No, I don't just write about Jihyo ahahahah, and also... Thanks to the persons who helped me this time, you know who you are but i still don't know if i have permission to named you. Anyways, enjoy it.

It was quite a compromising situation, at least seen from Dahyun's perspective. OK yes. She was sitting on the sofa, which was quite normal, nothing out of the ordinary, but it was what was between her and the sofa that made the difference. Or rather, who stood between Dahyun and the piece of furniture.

Sitting on the couch, and obviously under Dubu, was Sana. Or was it Dahyun who was over her? Interesting question, for which the Korean did not have an answer right now. The important thing was that the body of the Japanese rather than getting in the way, what she did was support Dahyun's weight. Because for God sake, at this precise moment she wasn't able to stay upright, much less stand up.

The sweat on her back made the skin stick to Sana's breasts, even when her pleasure forced her to arch a little she could feel the other girl's body against hers. The soft mounds of her pressing against her flesh, and even the stiff buttons that crowned them digging into her back. But the truth was, she didn't have much time to think about it right now.

Sana's hands ran over her body in a skillful way. Oh!, those hands that she loved so much but she did not dare to admit it. The hands paying special attention to her chest, kneading Dahyun's breasts like a cat kneading her bed; while her fingers played with the Korean girl's rigid nipples. Oh, those wonderful hands. However, her mouth was not far behind, depositing small kisses behind the ear of the minor, or sucking along her neck. She even sometimes licked the thin layer of sweat that began to accumulate on Dubu, since the temperature had risen a lot in the room. Especially since they had undressed.

How everything had happened was something they didn't want to think about, they only had each other in this wonderful moment. All Dahyun understood was that now things had changed and neither of them had to hide what she felt anymore. Certainly an important issue to have reached the way they were now. Sana completely naked and Dahyun only keeping the lower part of her underwear. The Japanese sitting on the sofa and the Korean over her with her back to her. The older one hands running through the body of the younger one and giving her as much pleasure as possible.

In any case, the truth was that for Sana this was not a difficult task. Dahyun had fantasized so many times about those wonderful hands running over her body, that practically the moment the fingertips of the older one touched her pale skin, she melted without remedy.

Dahyun looked down and saw Sana's hands playing with her chest. Seeing those gorgeous veiny hands grabbing her tits only made her wetter, if that was even possible at this point. Clearly her underwear was already ruined, but she couldn't care less about that now. All she wanted was to replace that sodden garment with her stark nakedness. Giving Sana access to the most intimate corners of her body, exposing as much skin as possible for her skilled hands to roam.

Somehow their minds seemed to be connected as the Japanese released one of Dahyun's breasts to make her hand go down the minor's body. She traced the shape of her muscles with a finger, outlining every inch of an impatient Dahyun's abdomen. The action only contributed to get small moans from the Korean. Luckily they were alone in the apartment and no one could hear them, but that didn't make it any less embarrassing. After all she was almost naked on top of hers, until recently her best friend, begging for more of her touch.

“Dahyun-aaah. You look really needy for my hands.” A small nervous giggle accompanied Sana's lewd words, as if she felt embarrassed after saying them. Of course, this was not reflected in her actions, since her left hand continued to play with the corresponding breast of the minor; while her right hand was now fully resting on Dahyun's abdomen.

Dubu's body seemed to burn where Sana's palm rested, making the temperature of her abs skyrocket. Torturously descending in a march so slow that it seemed to Dahyun that she was not even moving. Setting her body on fire and increasing the temperature where Dahyun needed that hand the most.

The kissing and sucking never stopped on her neck, on her ear and jaw, even on her shoulder. But she needed them somewhere else, maybe on her tits or where even Sana's hands hadn't reached yet. However she was sure that she was not going to get that today, the Japanese were not going to give her that privilege tonight. She still began to rock her hips back and forth, in a pathetic attempt to get some friction where she was depriving her. Which only guarantees a new nervous and seductive giggle from the other girl. “Dahyun-aaah. Are you so needy?"

Finally Sana's fingers reached the edge of her underwear, and to the younger girl's surprise the other girl continued to descend over the garment until she placed her hand directly on Dahyun's crotch. Moisture was now soaking through Sana's fingers, covering them in a thin, sticky film. As expected the underwear was completely ruined and offered virtually no protection as Sana began drawing circles directly over Dahyun's most sensitive part. Even so, it prevented her from what she longed for right now, what she wanted madly and what she had imagined so many times in the past.

It was clear that Dahyun wanted, and she couldn't hide it anymore, Sana's fingers inside her. Those precious fingers that had her so crazy, so madly in love in secret. To be honest, she wasn't just in love with her fingers, but with the whole thing. With her gestures, with her giggle, with the way she looked at her, with her skin tone, with how defined her muscles were lately, with how kind and caring she was with everybody. How she cared for her and how she was a little jealous of her when there was someone potentially “Dangerous” around Dahyun. Of all those little details that apparently no one else could see, because otherwise she couldn't imagine how the whole world wasn't madly in love with Minatozaki Sana. But it was those hands and her fine fingers that kept her awake. The same fingers that for some devious reason were now so close, but not yet inside her.

Sana kept drawing circles on Dahyun's flooded intimacy, without stopping the kisses on the neck or caresses on the chest. Doing everything at a pace and with a coordination that invited one to imagine that she, too, had been wanting this for a long time. As if both of them had finally given free rein to all her fantasies. Fantasies where they abandoned their masks of sweet and adorable people, and gave themselves up to more mundane and adult desires.

A muffled gasp from her own mouth brought Dahyun back to reality. Sana's intrusive hand had finally ventured into the innermost reaches of her being, slipping under her underwear. She could feel her wet fingers playing with the sensitive bud that was her clit, giving her a pleasure she never thought she could have. Her deft digits rolled the sensitive organ in a dance she hoped would never end, drawing more moans from her mouth. This time perfectly audible, loud and real as the love she felt for the girl who was giving her so much pleasure.

She wanted to tell her something, return her caresses in some way, but it was really difficult for her to speak. Instead of words all that came out of her mouth were moans and gasps, maybe a couple of letters together but nothing more. Right now she was nothing more than clay being molded by Sana's skilled hands. She wasn't able to articulate any words, so she had no reliable way to let the other girl know how much she enjoyed her touch. Though certainly the moans, the way she writhed, and how wet she was were surely giving her a clue as to what she was feeling right now.

Then nothing more than a gasp that filled her lungs with air and stopped her breathing for a few seconds, could show what she had felt when Sana finally invaded her. When she finally could feel those fingers making their way through her sensitive flesh moistened by so many external caresses. She rested her head on the Japanese woman's shoulder with her eyes tightly closed and her lips parted wide. As if she was going to scream at any moment, but no sound came out of her mouth. She was gasping for air even though her lungs were full, and the world was spinning and she felt like she was going to fall even though she was sitting firmly on top of Sana.

She looked down, where her legs were open and the Japanese's hand merged with her body. She looked with the hope of finally after so many fantasies to see those fingers of hers entering her and leaving herself. Hoping to see what she had dreamed of for so long. But fate was cruel and despite the fact that she was living it, her own underwear prevented her from seeing it. That long-ruined garment already covered Sana's hand and kept that beautiful sight away from her eyes. She was only able to see the fabric moving as if it were echoes of Sana's fingers. Nothing more than a shadow show that kept her away from the light.

Still what she felt was wonderful. If when she touched her abdomen her muscles seemed to burn, now they were close to melting point. She felt such heat in the center of her that she didn't understand how things around her didn't spontaneously combust. How was it that this room was not engulfed by the flames of her passion as the two of them did. They were certainly questions that had no answers and she had better things to think about right now.

In constant swing of the fingers inside her, in addition to the caresses in the rest of her body, they were throwing her to her limit. Her legs couldn't take any more tension, her feet only rested on the tips of her fingers making her carry all her weight against Sana. The temperature rose to unimaginable extremes throughout her body, every last one of her muscles seemed about to burn. It was hard for her to breathe normally, and thinking was an almost impossible task for her. Her mind was flooded by everything the Japanese woman made her feel, so there was only room for pleasure in her head. She felt so hot, as if her small body was wrapped in a heavy blanket that made her feel hotter and hotter.

Now her entire body was trembling, being run through by spasms that emanated from her crotch to the rhythm of Sana's fingers. Tremors ran through her, altering her body chemistry. That added to the high temperature that it had reached had ended up clouding her senses, throwing her beyond all limits known to her. She was totally overwhelmed by the thousands of sensations she felt in every fiber of her body. As if she were in the center of a whirlwind of pleasure.

And so without warning her muscles clenched one last time, throwing her into the abyss of climax. Feeling how she came in Sana's hand while she rested her head on the Japanese's shoulder one more time. Feeling an overwhelming relief and exhaustion at the same time throughout her body.

The Japanese woman helped her ride her orgasm by moving her fingers slower and slower until they came to a complete stop, and hugging her tightly with her other arm. Once the spasms ended she managed to lean back on the sofa and put the tired Dahyun next to her. The Korean could only react by hugging her by her waist and hiding her head on the japanese chest. There were too many things to talk about, too many things to say, but this was not the time. They both had to rest, and judging by Dahyun's calm and rhythmic breathing, she had already fallen asleep.

“Rest Dahyun-ah. You did very well ”Then Sana also hugged her before kissing the top of her head affectionately, and the two of them fell asleep on the sofa in the living room. Tired but happy beyond limits. Both with a wide smile on their faces.

[slicznymartwy]

stand by your man

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

tags: first meetings, cannibalism, thomas hewitt wears a face in this one guys, canon-typical violence, misogyny, slut shaming, fluff and angst, ambiguous/open ending, i mean to me its happy but yk, bad guys win sort of ending notes: second person pov – cis fem reader with some defined traits (tall, midsized, long hair). everything else is up to interpretation. i'm sorry if this fic seems really cruel towards thomas :( i love him i promise

read on ao3

Humid felt like an understatement on a day like today. Walking inside your little wooden shack felt like swimming in pond water, thick and stagnant. The morning wasn’t so bad but, before lunchtime, you had thrown open every window on the chance that a breeze would sweep through, even if it was only for a moment.

But there’s no wind today, which leads you and your old orange cat sitting like panting dogs out on the front porch. Your stomach growls, but you can’t imagine getting up and cooking for yourself like this. You want some soda fountain ice cream, but downtown is a long walk and the drugstore has been closed down for a few months anyhow.

Groaning, you roll onto your side and daydream about frothy root beer floats. You’re so deep in your fantasy that you hardly notice when your cat scrambles onto her feet, faster than summer lightning, and books it out the dusty yard on the heels of a field mouse.

“Goddamn it, Peanut,” you say to nobody, watching her go with a disappointed sigh. She must’ve been starving to run like that in this heat. You watch her go and go until she runs into the grass. Then you don’t see her at all.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but it’s certainly been long enough for your selfish cat to have had its snack and returned.

“Peanut?” you call out, sitting up. She’s nowhere to be seen, not even in the shady live oak a stone’s throw from the house. You stand up and walk out towards the grass, feet burning on the sun-exposed dust.

“Here, kitty kitty!” you call out, looking for movement in the fields. There is none, so you cup your mouth and try again, louder. “Here, kitty kitty! C’mere, Peanut!”

Nothing but the buzzing bugs.

Your little housecat wasn’t made for the Texan wilderness. She was getting old and preferred to spend her days napping in whatever spot was the coolest.

Wading into the tall grass, you almost want to forget about ever having a cat, but you know you could never. You love Peanut, even if she gets on your nerves.

The fields are droning with critters that you can’t even see. It’s like they’re all complaining about the heat, and you find yourself agreeing with them. You wish you had grabbed some shoes before heading out, but you’re already this far – besides, if you return home now, you’re sure you won’t want to keep looking.

You don’t know how long you walk, but the sun is high over your head when you find an old wooden fence. Trees line the property on the other side, and it sure is tempting to hide under those pretty green leaves for a while, but you’re getting more worried the longer you look for your cat. Maybe a dog or a snake got to her first.

You hop up onto the fence and swing a leg over, then the other. Standing on the bottom rung, you hold onto the post for balance. Cupping your mouth with your free hand, you shout out into the field, “Peanut!”

Thomas was bored.

They had guests two days ago, but Thomas was already finished separating meat from bone and cartilage. Before that, it had been almost two weeks since their last visitors, and he thinks he got a little too excited at the prospect of getting to butcher something.

They weren’t even handsome enough to keep. The whole thing felt like a waste.

It’s a hot day, but Thomas doesn’t mind it. It not much, but walking in the shade at least gets the sun off of him. The oaks circle their home, and he can walk in on one end and come out on the other, pretty much in the same place. He’s curious today, though.

No meat at home. He might as well walk as far as his legs will take him.

The leaves sway and rustle together quietly when the wind comes by, but even then the air feels thick. Thomas trudges along, looking for something he doesn’t know about yet. There’s movement in the brush, but he can see it’s just a fat orange cat. It bolts when Thomas stomps past it, running into a clearing of tall grass. Thomas keeps on going, searching.

Hearing a shout, he knows he’s found it.

The noise was far, but not too far to walk towards. The sound keeps repeating, and it’s a female sounding voice; today’s his lucky day since he didn’t bring anything with him. She might go kicking and screaming, but it shouldn’t be too hard to throw an unsuspecting woman over his shoulder and carry her to the basement.

Reaching the tree line, the brush and the tree limbs part to reveal you.

Tall and full bodied, he sees your legs first. They’re pressed together as you stand on his fence, and your dress rides up as you bend forward at the waist.

“Peanut!” you yell, and he realizes it’s what you’ve been yelling the whole time. You curse under your breath and wipe at your forehead. Your hair is long and it’s loose, falling down your back past your shoulders. You’re sweaty and you don’t wear any shoes. Thomas watches your curiously.

You must have given up on whatever you were doing, because you step down from the fence and lean on it, putting your forehead on your folded arms. Thomas stares. You don’t look like the usual kind of guest.

Guests were usually tourists, and although Thomas couldn’t place you, he could tell that you were local. You wore a house dress like Momma, and you didn’t wear shoes outside. You were a Texas girl, Thomas realized.

He’s not sure the last time he met a real Texas girl. Probably not since he stopped going to the doctor in town, and that was when he was still a little kid.

Thomas was torn. He’s never killed townsfolk before. Meat is meat, the annoying little Charlie in his head hollered at him, but his Momma was in there too, telling him that there wasn’t anything left of their town. Shouldn’t he try to keep their town alive? Wouldn’t that make Momma happy?

He’s still debating with himself when you turn around and startle. He’s expecting you to scream and run away from him, but you don’t. You close your eyes, cover your chest, and sigh heavily.

“I am so sorry, mister. I thought it was just me and the June bugs out here today,” you say, opening your eyes again.

You smile at him, and Thomas feels like someone’s nailed his feet to the dirt. You watch Thomas as he watches you. Your smile falls a little bit, and Thomas knows why. He was expecting it, anyways.

“I’m sorry if I’m trespassing, mister, really. It’s just that I live out that way and my cat ran away this morning. I’ve been looking everywhere for her, I thought I could get a better look of the field from up on the fence,” you explain, gesturing behind yourself as you talk. Thomas likes the way your hair moves when you turn, and even though it’s wet with sweat, Thomas's fingers itch to stroke it out of your face.

He's no genius, but he can tell you’re worried. You’re making the same worried face Uncle Monty makes when Uncle Charlie was yelling at him. He was gonna walk anyways, he tells himself, as he gestures for you to follow him.

You look surprised, but you hurry to his side as Thomas starts striding through the trees. You sigh once you’re in the shade.

“Hell of a day, today. Even the shade is hot enough to fry an egg,” you say, walking behind him. You were taller than the other girls that came around here, but still only came up to his chin. He wasn’t gonna bother waiting for you to catch up, one way or another, and strode forward.

Your daddy always used to say that you could talk a gate off its hinges, but walking with this enormous stranger, you found yourself all out of words.

He cut a massive and daunting figure, especially with that dark mask covering his nose and mouth. His clothes were dirty, with brownish reddish stains covering him and his butcher’s apron. His dark curls were unruly and stuck together from sweat underneath the straps and buckles of his muzzle.

There was no better word for what he looked like than mean, but that never scared you off before. Your grandpa was a mean-looking man too, but he was also the sweetest man you’d ever known. You just wished the guy would talk to you too, that’s all. Maybe that would make the twisty nerves in your stomach go away.

Just as your mind starts getting creative about where the stranger could be taking you, he continues past the tree shade to an open field. The grass is still tall here, but it makes rolling waves on top of mounds of dirt.

“Guess here’s a good place to look,” you say, and you trudge forward in the tall grass. The dirt is cool between your toes, and you make little clinking noises with your tongue, interrupted by the occasional, “here, kitty.”

Thomas leaves your side to look on his own. The grass here is thick, and the holes make for some nice shade. Probably pretty nice for a little critter looking to get out of the heat.

You’re bent over, inspecting one of the holes, when you hear a familiar grumpy meow. You shoot back up, glancing down in the tall grass before your eyes land on the masked giant. In his arms is your fat orange cat, looking very displeased about being out in the sunshine.

“Peanut! You found Peanut!” you cry, jumping for joy before running to his side. The man stands there, frozen in place, while you take the cat from his arms and kiss her little forehead.

“Naughty girl, running away from home like that,” you scold, patting the spot above her tail like a faux spank. It barely even lands on her, but she still meows in annoyance. You laugh a little bit and look up at the man who’s already looking at you. Your smile softens as relief makes way for gratitude.

“Thank you, mister. You’ve got no idea how much this little guy means to me. How can I repay you?” you ask, holding on tighter to your cat so she can’t jump from your arms.

He doesn’t answer. You bite your lip.

“You free tomorrow?” you change your question. The man pauses before nodding. “Meet me by the fence again, okay? Same time as today.” The man watches you blankly, but the fact that he’s helped you already puts you more at ease. You smile at him and nod with a sense of finality.

“Thanks again. I’m gonna get out of your hair now.” He stands in the sun, and as you retreat back to the shade for your journey home, you can feel his eyes on you until you’re hidden by the trees.

“He seems nice,” you say to Peanut, who cries out pitifully at being carried. It’s gonna be a long walk home, you realize, as she squirms in your arms to break free again.

Thomas isn’t stupid, no matter what people like to say about him. All things considered, though, he feels pretty stupid standing behind the oak tree nearest to your meeting spot by the fence.

He knew you were coming this time. He could have brought his chainsaw, and if that was too heavy, he could have easily grabbed a hammer or his hook. He could’ve even kept them in his pocket, if he wanted to keep his hands free for the hour long journey.

Instead, he stood weaponless behind a tree, nervous to see you again.

His heartbeat races when he hears footsteps coming from the other side of the fence. He’s finally made up his mind to turn around and leave when you finally spot him. He sees a flash of your smile before forcing his eyes to the dirt.

“Hi, mister,” you say, and just like yesterday, his feet don’t really work. “Sorry if I’m a little late, it’s only ‘cuz I was pulling this out the oven.” He looks over at you and sees the brown basket in your arms, a plaid napkin covering whatever was inside.

Thomas nears you, noticing how your long hair was pulled away from your face into a braid that disappeared behind your back. You wore the same dress, but Thomas liked the way it looked on you. It clung to your chest and loosened around your hips, but the material was thin enough that it stuck to your sweaty legs just slightly.

His attention was forced back to the basket when you put it against his chest. With an empty brain, he grabbed it with both hands from the bottom.

“It’s water pie. My nana used to make it during the Great Depression. Kinda feels like that again nowadays, huh?” you say.

You smile as you say it, but it doesn’t feel like your big smiles, like the kind you gave him when he found your cat, or like how you smiled when you saw him behind the tree.

Thomas opens the napkin to see a still warm pie in the basket, glossy with a mix of white and yellow. He’s never heard of water pie, but Momma didn’t get the chance to make a lot of desserts these days.

He walks to the shady tree, wiping a hand on his apron, and sits heavily with his back to the tree. He has to look over his shoulder to find you, and you’re still standing by the fence.

Annoyed that you’re so far away, he quickly gestures for you to join him.

You give him one of your real big smiles and jump over the fence before sitting next to him, back also to the tree. He watches you take a dull butter knife from the basket and slice the pie up. You look up at him, and he looks down at you.

“Do you eat with that on?” you ask.

Thomas shakes his head. He keeps staring at her.

“Wanna take it off?” you ask next.

Thomas shakes his head again on instinct, but once he stops, he takes another look at the pie. He remembers it being warm still. His head nods once, the movement miniscule like he doesn’t want to admit it.

“I’ll look away if it makes you feel better. Swear I won’t look,” you say. Thomas breathes weird and turns away from her before reaching up to take it off.

You hear the buckles being undone and take it as your cue to turn away from the man.

It’s another hot day today, but you wouldn’t have missed your impromptu visit even if the fields were burning. Sure, the man might be odd, but he was mysterious as all get out and you longed to know more about him. It felt a little bit like you were a school girl again, crushing on a cute boy from your class, but it didn’t matter; you promised him repayment, and you always tried your hardest to make good on your word.

You reach behind yourself blindly for a piece from the basket and accidently brush against his hand.

“Oops, I’m sorry,” you say with a little laugh, eyes trained ahead at the fence.

He takes a piece, then you take the slice next to his.

The filling is sticky and gooey, but it stuck together solid when you picked it up. You eat it slowly, savoring the memories that came with the taste, as well as the gentle breeze that picks up under the leaves.

You debate with yourself for some time about grabbing another slice but, figuring he probably wasn’t looking your way, you reach behind yourself and touch the ceramic pie dish instead. You run your hand in a circle and all you feel are crumbs.

“Well gee, mister, I’d’ve made two if I knew you’d be so hungry!” you said cheerfully, grinning as you brought your finger up to your mouth to lick it clean. It wasn’t exactly true, since you barely had the ingredients for one, but he probably already knew that, the town being in the state that it is. “I’m glad you liked it. An empty pie dish is a great compliment.”

You can hear the buckles of his mask again and keep busy by reaching for the basket behind you, folding the napkin back up. It’s pleasantly quiet before the question that’s been at the tip of your tongue since meeting the man finally springs out.

“What’s your name, mister?” you ask, still not looking at him. He doesn’t respond, and you risk glancing back at him. His mask is on, but he doesn’t look at you. It occurs to you that maybe the guy just can’t talk.

Opening the napkin again, you take out the knife and use the rounded tip to write in the dirt. It’s awkward and it’s none too pretty, but your name is clear enough to read. You look to him with a smile and hold the knife out to him, handle first.

He looks between the knife and your name on the ground before carefully taking it from your hand. You already knew his hands were massive but seeing the difference so plainly before your eyes made you blush. Tearing your gaze away from his appendages, you watch the dirt instead as he spells his name out. He writes it thickly, his muscles gouging out the dirt easily with a dull rounded tip. Thomas.

You glance up at him, and when your eyes meet, it feels like electricity.

“It’s nice to meet you, Thomas,” you say. You don’t expect an answer, but he nods anyways.

The sun was past its peak when you finally stood, brushing off your dress. Thomas met you at the fence after you had jumped over it again, basket swinging on your arm. You asked him if he could meet again tomorrow, promising another dessert.

He told himself to say no. He couldn’t picture hurting you the way he did when he first saw you, but he knew this wouldn’t be any good. He’s not the type to make friends, especially not with pretty ladies. It must be his heart controlling his neck muscles because he nodded instead. At least he got to see that smile again.

And so, he met with you again. And then again the day after. Then even the day after that one.

It was only a matter of time before his uncles and Momma realize he’s been out of the house for most of the day, but only Charlie says something about it during their family dinner. He’s loud in Thomas’ ear, and Thomas keeps his head down avoid looking at him. It makes him feel better to call him Charlie in his head. Not Hoyt. Just stupid drunk Charlie.

“You better focus on your work, boy,” Charlie threatens, steak knife pointing at him from across the table.

Thomas goes down to meet you the next day, anyways.

“Hi, Tommy,” you chirp happily, straddling the fence before hopping onto the other side. Thomas liked that you started calling him that, but he doesn’t let himself show it.

He rubs his hands on his apron to get the nerves out of his system and gives a little wave with his first free hand. You don’t have a basket today, but Thomas doesn’t mind. He’s just glad to see you.

“How’s your day treating you so far?” you ask, like you always do. Thomas shrugs, like he always does too. “Peanut misses you, I think. She wants to come with me, but always stops on the porch.”

Thomas thinks about the orange cat again. He wants to tell her that it probably just misses you, since it had been glaring at Thomas from your arms that day. Instead, he just tilts his head at you, not knowing how to gesture all that with his arms.

It’s easy to listen to you. Even when you leave open ended questions, you don’t make Thomas feel pressured to respond. He’d long since given up on pantomiming since he was a teenager, but people still annoyingly waited for his responses. You talked to him like he was an adult, and you never complained about having to deal with him.

You’re talking now, something about Peanut pushing things off counters, and all Thomas can feel is gladness. It’s been a long time since he felt it so strongly, so innocently. He kind of feels like a little kid again, sitting shoulder to shoulder with you under the shady tree in the summertime.

When he touches your hand, you cut yourself off and look up at him. It startles him a little bit, because he realizes that he had nothing he really wanted to tell you. He just wanted to touch you.

“You doing okay?” you ask him, putting your other hand on top of his. Thomas looks down at your hands and nods. He’s doing better than okay. He wants to keep feeling your soft skin on his hand.

“You sure? Looks like somethings on your mind,” you say, sounding sorry. Thomas struggles with how to tell you, which he’s sure you notice. He suddenly takes your hand in his and flips it so that your palm is facing up and your smooth delicate wrist is visible. With his calloused dirty finger, he starts to spell.

“What are you doing?” you say, standing a little straighter and watching how he made the same shape again and again. “Are you… is that a K?”

Thomas nods quickly, looking at you for a split second before focusing down again and drawing a straight line.

“That’s an I. K-I…” you look at him attentively as he gathers his courage. He writes the next two letters quickly in succession. He does it once more before you look up at him, your pretty eyes wide and shinning. “S-S. Kiss.”

Thomas is sure his face is flushed, but he nods. There’s no backing out of it now.

“Oh, Tommy,” you say, and your confusion melts into a smile. “Of course, I’ll kiss you.”

He’s still hunched over from writing on your arm, so the hand you put on his cheek doesn’t have to work much to guide him towards your lips. You’re ready to lean in when your lip brushes against his mask. You laugh softly, running your hand down from his hair to stroke along his covered cheek.

“Can you take this off?” you ask softly.

Thomas shakes his head quickly, covering your hand with his as if you might try to rip it off of him anyways. He knows you wouldn’t, but he can’t think about risking it. Not when you’re so close.

You bite your lip as you think. His own lips move under the mask, imaging what it would be like to touch yours with his. He wishes he was normal. He wishes he had one of his real masks on.

You guide him down lower and tilt your face higher up, and Thomas can feel your lips on his forehead. His eyes close instinctually. He trusts you.

You kiss the spot between his eyebrows next, and he sighs shakily. His hands move your waist, holding you gently.

Then, you kiss the bridge of his nose, and your bottom lips must brush against the edge of his mask. His stomach turns at himself, but he pushes the feeling away.

Your lips follow along the edge of the mask, kissing on the little bit of skin showing under his left eye. When you kiss his temple, your hand moves to cup the back of his head and he shudders.

“I hope you’ll trust me enough, one day,” you say softly, and he practically bends in half to hide his face in your neck. He doesn’t cry, but his throat feels tight like he might. He swallows it all back. He shakes his head softly in the crook of your shoulder, wishing he could correct you. He would bare himself to you completely today if he didn’t think you would run screaming. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to handle that.

Your hands are a soft but persistent pressure on his shoulders. When he straightens up again, he looks down at you.

You lean up suddenly, lip slotting against his mask. Your top lip brushes between his. You taste like sugar and summer air. The kiss is done quickly, but Thomas can’t open his eyes yet. He licks his lips where yours just touched him and commits the taste to memory.

“You still in there?” you ask after a long moment, and Thomas opens his eyes to see you smiling playfully at him.

Thomas smiles when he nods, and stops nodding when you lean in to kiss him again.

He’s never felt so light in his life, having said goodbye to you at the fence after another hour of listening. You even kissed him goodbye, lips touching briefly through the mask as you stood on opposite sides of the fence.

Thomas promised you tomorrow, nodding at your request to see each other again.

His good mood lasts until he gets close enough to the house to hear shouting. He sees Charlie flailing his arms like a mad man by the back of the house, yelling Thomas’s name.

“Where in the ever-loving fuck have you been?” he shouted by the garage, spit flying. Thomas hurried his gait as he neared them. Charlie was bleeding from a wound on his forehead. He steeled himself for what the furious man would sling at him next. “I’ve been screaming for you for the past fucking two hours. Jesus fucking Christ, Thomas! You know, I defend you when people call you names, but maybe you are slow. Just how fucking gone are you up there, huh?!”

Thomas glares at the dirt, imagines pushing his thumbs into Charlie’s eyes until he can’t scream anymore.

“I can’t even look at you, you fucking disappointment. I brought home two stupid as fuck tree-humpers for you, and this is how you repay me? Look at what they did to me. Look!” he grabs Thomas’ apron and shakes him, and Charlie makes him look at the cut on his head. It’s nothing, Thomas has seen him give himself worse when he’s drunk.

“Go get your toy and mow those fuckers down. They’re not getting far, not after what I done to one of them,” he mutters, looking down the dirt road where Thomas can see the distant figures of two limping people. Sighing, Thomas takes off after them, grabbing a hammer from one of the junk piles by the garage.

He didn’t think about you until well into the early morning. He is taking a break from his work, sitting outside while the rest of the family slept in their bedrooms. Blood coated his apron, and he sat on the wide porch with a heavy sigh. He thought about you, wondered how someone so nice could ever want somebody like him.

Thomas was not stupid. He knew murdering people was wrong, just like he knew he was wrong for liking it so much. And he knew he was wrong for liking you.

Rubbing his new face with both hands, he hauled himself up to walk back to the basement. He readjusted the eyeholes as he walked – he had made them too small this time. He’d have to fix that before he did anything else.

Thomas is only one step away from the trees when Charlie hollers his name from the back porch. Thomas sets his jaw and looks over his shoulder to see his uncle gesturing and shouting at him. He can’t make sense of what he’s saying, and he doesn’t really care to. He doesn’t let up, though, so Thomas forces himself to turn back around and trudge back to the house.

He stands in front of Charlie silently.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he demands. Thomas has no way of answering, even if he wanted to. His arms cross thickly over his chest instead.

Charlie glowers at him, and Thomas’ stare is just as dark.

“You listen to me, boy. Now, I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, but I think I had good reason to be cross with you. Your family needs you here, Thomas. We need you to keep us safe. What if something happened to your momma?”

Thomas’ eyes glance at the house, where he knew his momma was resting comfortably. Still, the thought unnerved him. Looking back at Charlie, he sees the self-satisfied look on his face, like he knows he won.

“Be a good guard dog and guard the fucking house. Please.”

Thomas’ jaw tightened. He thought about you, walking from your home to see him. Thought about what you might’ve brought, although he wouldn’t care either way as long as you were there. But Charlie had a point. What if Charlie brought guests and they tried to hurt one of them? What if they hurt Momma?

A frustrated noise left his throat and he stomped away from Charlie back to his basement. He couldn’t think straight. The damn sun shined too brightly, and it made his head hurt. Slamming the door to the basement shut, he welcomes the darkness and sets his sights on his unfinished projects.

He only rises from his basement when the sun starts to set. A walk through the house tells Thomas he’s alone, the other members dispersing to be on their own too.

He’d been sad, passing the time while thinking about you getting stood up. Sadness in his chest, he walked to the fence anyways. He might feel better if he could just look at it and imagine how you look in your pretty dress.

At the end of his trek, he freezes as he passes the last low hanging branch. There you are, laying unconscious by the oak tree. He rushes to your side and hesitates helplessly before kneeling next to you. He holds onto your shoulders and tries to shake you awake, harsher and harsher as you don’t wake up. He’s beginning to panic when you suddenly open your eyes with a gasp. You stare up at Thomas with wide eyes. They shine in the white Texan moonlight.

“Thomas?” you whisper.

“What time is it?”  You sit up and Thomas stays next to you, arms awkwardly hovering around you like you might fall asleep again. He’s breathing hard like he’s been running. “Is it nighttime already?”

Thomas nods, sighing finally once he catches his breath. Head low, he touches your arm and drags his hand down past your elbow to catch your hand. His brows are drawn, and despite his size, he seems to shrink as he clutches you like something delicate that might blow out of his hold.

He looks up when you touch his chin, gently guiding him to meet your eye.

“You okay? Did something happen?” you ask him. Thomas just shakes his head, squeezing your hand in his. He carefully turns your arm over, revealing your wrist. There, he writes down four letters. S-O-R-Y.

“Sorry? Oh, bubba, you don’t have to be sorry,” you murmur, smiling at him. “I needed a little nap, anyways. C’mere.” You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him in for a little hug. He melts into you, forehead pressed against the crook of your neck.

“Sweet boy,” you murmur, hand rubbing down his spine. “It’s okay. You’re alright.”

“I should start on back,” you say after a few silent moments, your hand still rubbing comforting circles on his back. Thomas stiffens and pulls away, and he won’t meet your gaze. You don’t want to part from him tonight, you realize.

When he glances at you, you’re biting your lip.

“Unless you know somewhere we can spend the night?” you suggest softly. Thomas’s face is blank as he thinks about it, but he soon stands up and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he hauls you up, leading the way through the trees. You like how he holds your hand, all encompassing and pleasantly warm in the breezy night air.

He brings you to a barn, standing alone in an empty field. It looks out of use, but bales of hay still line some of the walls, as well as some common tools for the land. You don’t bother looking around too much – you only have eyes for your Tommy. He stands in the barn, looking around for the best spot to lay down. You know it’s wherever he is, his wide chest looks like it’ll be a softer pillow than what you have at home.

“Tommy, c’mere,” you say, finding a bed of dry hay that looks cleaner than the rest. You sit down first, laying back in the rustling fodder. Your eyes meet his as you stretch your arms above your head.

Thomas stands above you. His eyes are dark.

“Lay down with me,” you speak softly. Thomas glances out the open barn doors for a moment before giving up on whatever battle was going on through his mind. You watch him unfasten his dirty apron and hang it off one of the half stables beside them. He lays down beside you, his heavy weight making the pile unsteady. You fall into him with a little laugh, a steadying hand on his chest.

“Oops,” you say with a little smile. You’re surprised to see Thomas return it. He has such a handsome smile; you wish he would smile more for you.

Leaning up, you kiss him through his mask, hands coming up to hold his face.

He exhales heavily, it almost sounds like a moan. He tries to kiss you back, but it’s impossible through the thick leather. Sighing  softly, you kiss his temple and forehead instead, trying not to seem too frantic. It’s difficult, though, as you feel your body make you aware just how badly its craving Thomas.

“Please, Tommy. Please. I wanna kiss you. Please take it off,” you whisper, lips brushing against his tanned skin.

Thomas goes stiff hearing his pleas and pulls away. You watch him go with a pout. He turns away from you slightly.

“Thomas,” you say softly. He turns away further. Sighing quietly, you touch his shoulder. “Tommy. You know it don’t matter to me how you look. Not one bit. I’m always gonna think you’re my handsome guy.”

Thomas shakes his head, but you don’t give up. Kneeling, you hug him from behind, arms wrapping up to his shoulders from underneath his arms.

“I mean it, Tommy.” You put your forehead on his warm back. “I would never think bad about you. Hell, you could kill someone and I’d find a way to defend you,” you say with a little teasing smile. You feel Thomas put his hand on your forearm, gentle and unmoving.

“I could keep my eyes closed,” you suggest quietly. Thomas turns at that and looks at you with imploring eyes. You smile at him, small and secret, and free an arm to cup his cheek. You kiss the bridge of his nose just above his mask before pulling away.

You sit up and turn away from him partially, eyes closing and hands coming up to cover your eyes. “Ok, Tommy. I’m ready.”

In the dark, you rely on sounds. It’s quiet for a moment, and then you hear the buckle of the mask being undone. You exhale shakily, your heart beating near out of your chest. He must have set it down on the ground beside them because you can feel his hands on you, one on your elbow and the other covering your hands just over your eyes.

You’ve never really been described as small, but you feel it next to him. Even without vision, his presence alone towers over you. It should be intimidating, but it only makes you feel safe.

Your lips part and you drop your hands, letting Thomas touch your face directly. It’s even better since you can now put your hands around his back and hold him close.

Despite his size, he kisses you timidly, like he’s shy you’ll shatter into pieces with too much force applied. His touch is so gentle, even as he crowds you. You kiss him back passionately, encouraging him silently with your enthusiasm. You suddenly long to be naked in front of him, to let him blindfold you and use you however he needs. You know he’d be careful with you if this is how he kisses.

“Tommy,” you murmur between kisses, hands fisting in his shirt. “Tommy, I think I love you.”

Thomas can’t answer you, but he kisses you again and again like he’s saying the same.

Weeks pass. The summer turns into autumn, but the heat doesn’t go anywhere. Thomas can’t meet every day, but he wishes he could. Tourists come by from time to time, and everyone in the family does their part to make ends meet.

You’re all alone out here, he knows from your late-night talks. On evenings where neither of you had anything to do the next morning, you and Thomas would walk together to the barn. You always clung to his arm once the building was in sight, glancing up at him from time to time with your shiny eyes. He’s pretty sure you were both a little nervous everytime, but it was a good kind of nervous. He didn’t know there could be a good kind until he met you.

Thomas holds you on the hay pile, more comfortable now with a blanket you brought from home thrown over the mound. You’re naked, and Thomas likes your soft cool skin against his own. Although you’re both covered in sweat, the night is cool and comfortable, and Thomas likes the way you rub your hand slowly across his chest.

When your stomach growls, Thomas glances at you.

“Sorry,” you say. You smile, but it looks sad. “Just hungry. It’s been hard finding stuff to eat with the town being empty.” He knows the feeling well.

He takes your arm from where it’s resting on his stomach and gently twists your wrist towards himself. H-O-M-E, he spells.

“Mine?” you ask softly, head cocking to the side.

Thomas shakes his head and points to himself.

“Yours? What about it?” you ask softly, looking up from your wrist.

F-O-O-D, he spells next. Your eyes go wide.

“Oh, Tommy. You’re too kind to me,” you say softly, and Tommy lets go of your arm so that you can hug him.

His arms instinctually go around your waist, holding you close. He wants to tell you that he’s not just being kind. He would give everything he owns to you if what he owned was worth giving. He kicks himself mentally for not thinking about getting you some food sooner, though.

“Can we go tomorrow?” you ask. He wants to bring you there today, but there won’t be any food this late. He nods, hands running down your back slowly. He can feel his rough callouses catch on your smooth skin, but you don’t flinch or move away. You never have from him. He wants you, more than he wants to butcher, more than he wants to help his family.

“I should go home,” you say. The sky is dark, but the moon is large and bright in the sky, like the sun. Thomas shakes his head.

“No?” you say, laughing a little bit. You lean back and cup his cheeks over his mask. When you smile down at him, he imagines the touch of your lips against his own. On your back, he draws four letters, S-T-A-Y.

“All night?” you ask, pushing some hair off his forehead.

He nods, eyes stuck to your lips, so close but impossible to reach in that moment.

“Won’t your family be looking for you?” you wonder. You rub your thumb along his eyebrow, soothing him into shutting his eyes.

Thomas shakes his head slightly at the question, not wanting to knock your hands off him. He’s sure Charlie will be mad, but he doesn’t care. How could he when he has you in his arms.

“In that case,” you start, moving your legs apart to straddle his hips, “I suppose I’ve got you all to myself.” Thomas watches you closely as you run your hands down his chest and past his stomach, settling just above his open belt. Neither of you get very much sleep that night.

In the morning, he takes you by the hand as he leads you through the front door. The house is quiet despite its size, which makes it seem like it should be teeming with activity and sound. The outside is grey and dusty, same as the front foyer where you stand beside Thomas. You glance around, giving him a nervous smile when you finally hear footsteps coming from the other room.

“Thomas Hewitt, where have you been all night! You had us worried sick!” an older lady says, coming through the doorway. She’s short and plump, with tendrils of her grey hair framing her face, and her glasses make her look like a schoolteacher. She stops when she sees you, clearly surprised. “Oh! You brought company!”

You smile at her, stepping forward as she comes to meet you. She grins at you and takes your hands in her own.

“Hi, ma’am. It’s nice to meet you,” you say, introducing yourself with your name.

“Oh, the manners on this one! Usually, our guests are a little more ornery!” she says to Thomas, laughing. You don’t understand what she means, but you smile graciously as she tries to lead you back to the room she was in. You start to follow her, but stumble against Thomas as he blocks your way. He shakes his head at her.

“No?” the lady questions. She looks confused, but Thomas shakes his head again. He takes your hands from her, and then you feel his arm around your shoulder, keeping you at his side. “Thomas? What on earth is going on with you?”

You’re just as confused, but you don’t want to get in between a family dispute. You look up at Thomas, waiting to see what he does next.

“Is she why you didn’t come home last night?” the woman asks. A cold sweat blooms on the back of your neck with her face falls completely, turning into a blank mask. You’ve only just met her, but you can hardly recognize her from the woman that took your hands.

“I’m Thomas’ girlfriend,” you say, your voice smaller than you intended. You try to clear your throat politely. “I care about him very much, ma’am.”

You gasp when the woman turns on you, her finger pointed at your face as she snaps, “I don’t know how you tricked my son into falling for your tricks, you whore! Hoyt!” Thomas grunts, and the noise startles you – you’ve never heard the man make a sound louder than a labored breath before. Thomas pushes you behind his back and away from who must be his mother.

“No, I’m not a whore,” you say, but your voice is so meek under her disapproving stare. You clutch onto Thomas’ arm, and you can feel his tense muscles.

Someone stomps down the stairs then, an older man in a sheriff’s uniform. Seeing the pistol on his belt, you start to shake.

“And who do we have here?” the man drawls – Hoyt, your mind supplies,

Thomas shakes his head vigorously and stands in front of you completely now, shielding you from his mother and the Sheriff.

“She says she’s Tommy’s girlfriend!” his mother cries, as if she was grieving. The man barks a laugh at that, loud and unbelieving.

“A girlfriend, Tommy! That’s where you’ve been running off to all these weeks! How much he owe you, trollop? Because he ain’t got no money to give,” the man mocks meanly, guffawing as he tries to walk around Thomas to get a better look. You shrink behind Thomas as he does his best to keep you hidden away. “Bet you found her trying to hitch a ride off the highway.”

“I lived in this town my whole life, sir. I swear I’m no hussy,” you say, voice weak and muffled against Thomas’s back.

“Oh, yeah? That mean you two are in love or something?” he says, managing to grab your forearm and pull you out from behind Thomas. You shout in pain as you’re pulled between the two men, causing Thomas to let go of you. Without your shield, you’re faced with the old man and his drunk breath. You cringe away from him when he leans into you, inspecting you like you’re just a thing.

“Just get her out of here,” Thomas’ mother mourns.

“I ain’t no hussy!” you sob, eyes closed as tears start to escape your lashes. The old man laughs in your face, and he shakes you with his grip on your arm.

“Hear that, Momma? She ain’t no hussy! So, you sleep with Tommy for free?”

“I love him,” you sob, face crumpling as you feel yourself finally break. You wish you understood what you did wrong by these people. Thomas tries to break you and Hoyt apart, but the man shoves him away despite being smaller than him.

“Love? You love him?” Hoyt almost screams with laughter. “Does she even know what you do, Tommy? She ever see you without that mask on?

“Why don’t you go ahead and take it off? Take it off, Thomas! Shouldn’t your girlfriend know what you look like?” he turns you in his arms, forcing you to face Thomas. Your heartbreaks for him, and you see Thomas duck his head down low, arms bent by his stomach as he anxiously fidgets his hands.

“Stop it, leave him alone!” you sob, trying to wrench yourself out of the man’s hold.

“Why? Don’t you wanna see what he looks like? Pretty thing like you should have a handsome boyfriend to go along with it, huh?” Desperate, you look behind you to see Thomas’s mother watching the scene unfold with a handkerchief under her nose. You cry out when the man shakes you again, his grip unforgiving for such an old man.

“You know what? Why don’t we give your girlfriend here a tour, huh Tommy? What do you say?” Hoyt asks, but he doesn’t wait for an answer when he starts to drag you out through the front door and down the porch steps.

You stumble down them, almost falling out of the man’s arms, but he forces you upright again before going around to the back of the house. Thomas follows you both, and you can see the frantic way he tries to grab for you but hesitates. Even now, you know your sweet Tommy is afraid to hurt you, but you wish he would rip you out from Hoyt’s grip and stand up for himself.

At the cellar door, Hoyt lets go of one arm to push open the wooden door. You can’t see beyond where the sunlight hits the steps.

“Don’t be shy. Go see,” Hoyt says, before you’re pushed down the steps. You shout as you fall, managing to cover your head with your hands, but your body throbs in pain once you land on the cold concrete below.

You weep at his cruelty, curling in on yourself to hide away from the next blow. Instead, you can hear Thomas’s heavy footsteps down the wooden steps. His thick arms wrap around you, and he holds you tightly to his chest.

“Tommy,” you sob, pushing your face into his chest.

“Tell her, Tommy! Tell her what you do! Share your family pride!” Charlie shouts, laughing at them.

“That’s enough,” Luda Mae says quietly from somewhere behind him.

“Show her who you really are, boy, then see if she loves you,” Charlie says. Then he slams the door to the basement shut, leaving them both in darkness.

“Tommy,” you whimper through your tears, starting to lift your head out from his chest. You’re stopped by Thomas’s large hand cupping the back of your head, keeping you close. You can’t see the room, but it smells like blood and rot, and it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t ask him because he won’t be able to explain anyways. Hoyt’s words echo in your mind, and even if it makes no sense, you can understand that something is wrong here. But Thomas holds you and rocks you like a child until you have no more tears to give.

You wake up when the setting sun turns the sky orange. You rub your eyes and sit up, suddenly aware that you’re in an unfamiliar place. No one is around. Looking around the room, you see it’s a simple bedroom, with threadbare sheets. The only furniture besides your bed is a nightstand and a dresser with a missing drawer.

“Tommy?” you say out loud, but you don’t hear anything in response. You stand up and go downstairs, realizing as you enter the foyer that you’re still at Thomas’s house.

In the kitchen is the same woman from before.

“Oh, hi, darling. I figured you’d wake up soon. I realize I never introduced myself. I’m Tommy’s momma,” she says, like she wasn’t accusing you of something terrible earlier in the day. You smile weakly at her. You want to ask where Tommy is. You want to go home.

“Why don’t you sit down? You missed supper but I’ve got some leftovers still on the stove.”

You hesitate, but finally make your way to the kitchen table. Your stomach growls at the promise of food as you sit.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry for before.”

“Nonsense. I don’t think any of us understood how much you meant to our Tommy.”

You smile and start to eat when she puts the bowl in front of you.

“Where is Tommy?” you ask, looking up at her.

“Working,” she sighs, smiling at you. “We had guests come by in the afternoon.”

“Like a bed and breakfast?” you ask naively. She laughs at you, right to your face.

“You’re a funny one, girl. I see why Thomas likes you. Pretty and with a good sense of humor.”

You smile, laughing shakily as you eat some of the stew. You can’t tell if it’s pork, beef, or rabbit.

“I want to see Tommy. Where can I find him?” you try again.

“He’s working, sweetheart. He made it very clear he don’t want you in the basement anymore.”

Flashes of the basement make you dizzy, and you shake your head.

“I want to go home,” you whisper, dropping your spoon in the bowl and holding your face with both hands.

She sighs gently and puts her hand on top of your head. She rubs your hair flat gingerly.

“Oh, baby. You are home. Everything’s gonna be alright now. You’ve got us to take care of you.” She lets go of you and gets back to her work from before you came down. “You just let Tommy blow off some steam first. He and Hoyt got into a little fight after he brought you to bed. Nothing for you to worry about.”

You swallow thickly as you look around the grey kitchen. You wonder what kind of work Thomas could be doing in that basement with his guests. You look at the bowl of food in front of you.

You’re so hungry.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

[mjrtaurus]

It hadn’t been his idea.

Even if they subdued a man like Garp now, there were no guarantees he’d stay that way.

So while Kuzan had been nursing his wounds from the fight with his former mentor, his fellow captains had found that guarantee.

He heard her before he saw her, her voice cursing out as his captain laughed echoed down the halls.

He wanted nothing more than to avoid her but since anyone that went into her cell came back with black eyes and busted fingers, he had nominated to deliver her dinner and do a little intimidation. Show her what happens when you mess with a Yonko's crew.

She was staring at him through the small bar window as he fumbled the keys, unblinking and unwavering. Despite being in an underground holding room held as a bargaining chip to pirates, she sat perfectly straight and was the picture of calm.

Too calm.

He activated his devil fruit, just to lower the temperature enough..

Yup, she’s breathing.

And still staring. Has she blinked this entire time?

He slipped what he hoped was an easy grin on his face. “You didn’t have to bang-up our recruits like that.”

He was met with silence.

“We’ve got plenty of em sure but it’s moral damaging if they can get their asses handed to them by someone at death's door.”

She remained silent.

“Or was should I say was at death’s door! Look at you, alive and well! All those years I spent at an empty coffin, I shoulda just headed to the land of the Giants! Boy, you Monkey D's sure do love leaving for no reason!”

Well that one certainly got a reaction. She sat up straighter somehow and looked sick.

Serves her right anyhow, she never told him about not actually being dead. Did Garp know? Did Dragon? Did the kid? Had they all been meeting up over the years, laughing at him? Mocking him? Looking down on him for thinking he could belong with them.

Well, it didn’t matter now.

A low rumble echoed throughout the cell, Kuzan chuckled (or at least he tried to. It sounded like something was crawling up his throat and dying with each jump of his shoulders.)

“I almost forgot. Eat up! You’ll be no use to anyone if you die of hunger here.”

He thrust the sandwich and can of juice on the table.

“I'm not the only one who’s hungry here.”

He quirked a brow and leaned back against the wall.

(She sounds the same too. Warm and stern but fair, always fair.)

“I know you have that whole ‘warrior pride’ thing going on but I can feel your stomach from here.”

Then a second grumble came out, though admittedly it sounded more like a cat being strangled than anything a person could make.

Kuzan felt a dark flush creeping up his face as he began waving his hand back and forth dismissively.

“Alright, you caught me. I’m hungry during dinner time. Yknow I’m so surprised they didn’t hire you as a detective with those master sleuthing skills- what are you doing?”

She had gotten up from the dingy mattress and sat down where that dreaded sandwich was. She gently unwrapped it before carefully splitting it down the middle and leaving half in the tinfoil it came in, sliding it towards the other chair. Towards him.

“I’ll only eat if you join me.”

He scoffed, there was no way she was serious.

They engage in a small staring contest before he makes a show of sitting down and tucking in.

The staring didn’t really stop, even now that he was maybe 5 feet away from her. He could feel it, the way her heart broke more and more every time she glanced.

(She had always seemed overly worried about him, wishing him safety on each and every mission even if it was just a simple retrieval. She told him that the world had its cruel habit of taking without remorse. She didn’t want him to be taken too.)

He wiped the crumbs down his pant leg, nudging the can closer to her and stood up. He feared what would happen if he stayed any longer.

“I’m not letting you go just cause you shared a sandwich. Whatever appeal to me you were going for isn't going to work. I’m not the same little boy that you invited over to your little Sunday dinners.”

She was back to silence.

“I’m not gonna go easy on Garp, Strawhat, hell Dragon's not our target but my hours are much more flexible now, I can certainly carve out some time and give him a little visit. So it’s best for all parties involved if you behave yourself.”

The temperature only continued to drop the more he spoke, ice coating the stone walls. Despite that, her resolve seemed to only harden. She didn’t even shiver.

He turned on his heel, waving behind him as he made strides toward the door.

“Don’t make me have to come back here. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies, yknow?”

“Kuzan..”

He paused, his hand hovering just about the door handle. Looking over his shoulder the former admiral knew this was it. Her next words would no doubt be used to curse him out as well.

“Before you leave there’s something I need you to hear.”

She’d say how she wished she’d never met him, never opened her home or her heart to him.

“That no matter what I will..”

Never forgive him, never let him forget how he hurt her and her family. He deserved it. he knew he deserved it but the ache in his chest refused to ease anyway.

“Love you Kuzan. Even if you don’t recognize yourself I always will. Even if you believe yourself undeserving of love, I will continue to love. Even now, as you walk down a path you don’t recognize and act foolishly, I pray you remember there will always be a home for you.”

The next day, assassins and mercenaries swarmed Kuzan, asking with badly contained bloodlust, how he had tamed the wife of The Fist. She had returned both the breakfast and lunch couriers without incident apparently. He didn’t answer, pushing past them, his eyes burning.

He needs plausible deniability here. If she suddenly just escapes in the night, too many people would suspect him. And he couldn’t leave, he couldn’t go with her. He… he was too scared to.

He would have to be careful. Very, very careful. Blackbeard was not a force to be taken lightly, not now, not ever.

He needed to make a few calls. Do some planning.

The Revs already had bad blood with Blackbeard’s crew. The assault on Baltigo had limited numbers of casualties, yes, but for someone to know that much was disturbing. It made Teach a big problem.

Kuzan’s guess is they’re setting out to collect on the Cross Guild bounty for Garp first, then headed to Sabaody to see if the market would take an aging sky islander. It wasn’t about the money for Teach, this couldn’t be stated enough. No, this was all about notoriety. This was about ruffling feathers, pun not intended. They needed to act fast.

Hurricanes aren’t the biggest surprise on the island where they decided to make port at, so when the tide went out from under them in the reverse storm surge, spoils and cargo were hurriedly being moved ashore to higher ground in the handful of hours they had, most valuable to least. This included prisoners. This included one Monkey D Urpi and Monkey D Garp, who are high profile.

The storm surge came in, tossed the Saber of Xebec around like driftwood. It was a good thing they’d emptied her holds, they all thought.

But then something else was heard in the howling of the wind. Thunder.

Anyone who knows anything about hurricanes is that once within the wall, thunderstorms aren’t all that common. The horizontal wind-shear of the cyclones tear the relatively vertical structure of a thunderstorm apart like blades to a banner. It just… doesn’t happen to this intensity.

Then a cry goes up from the watchmen. Something big- really, really big- just swooped down and grabbed up a handful of prisoners and disappeared back into the violent gray haze of the storm. Not a sound, not a whisper, not a wingbeat. And then it happened again. And again. And again. And again.

With the chaos of the storm and the attack happening all at once, not even Teach could pin down the threat with Observation Haki. There was too much going on, too many questions, too much fear… they had to take shelter and cut their losses.

And when the eye wall broke, and they passed through to the eerie still heart of the storm, there wasn’t anyone left that they’d had chained up. Not pirates, not revs, not civilians, not anyone. All they had left to account for it was the deafening silence, and the maelstrom on all sides like high gray walls. And feathers. Big black feathers the length of a sword and the width of a grown man’s hand, glossy with a green iridescence that Kuzan had only seen present in Dragon’s shaggy hair.

All they could do was take shelter again as the opposite wall of the hurricane came closing in.

[dreamerofvalyria]

Omg omg omg omg I just read both of your Deamon AU fics???? They are so good!! And beautifully written!!!

please please if not too much trouble, can I please request for that Au?? Maybe like all of 141 meeting each other and Deamon’s for the first time?? I picture Gaz has some kind of bird like a mourning dove or a humming bird and Price has a stronger dog breed- like a Shepard of a sheep bearding dog — y know something protective?

UGH I LOVE THIS AUUU A

((sorry if you aren’t taking requests on this, I just wanna say it’s the best thing I’ve read💕💕💕))

Requests are always open! (I just might take a while because I'm slow af lol)

I wanted to get this out this weekend just passed, but I got a fresh 'rona shot on Friday and it took me out with more precision than a sniper bolt to the face jfc. I absolutely adore the thought of Gaz with a little birb (a pretty one ofc), but I'd actually already picked something out for him, so I hope you like it almost as much as your idea. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: John Price has hand picked every member of his Task Force carefully to create the perfect team we have today, even if it hasn't always felt like that.

Notes: Written from Price's POV reflecting on the team's past.

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Simon "Ghost" Riley

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Prev | Next

Taglist: @heyitsropi

The first time John met Simon, he was only that, Simon Riley. The Ghost was yet to exist, and in his place, was a young man still full of life. He was friendly enough to the men close to him, but with a weariness toward anyone unknown.  

That caution, of course, extended toward John in the early few days. The first few times they interacted, he was strictly professional, his daemon even more so. The panther would stalk along beside her human, remaining in silence throughout all discussions, coming and leaving as quietly as a shadow. 

But over time, the younger man gradually began to settle. Simon certainly wasn’t the only person in the military to suffer from a rather poor childhood riddled with trauma and pain, and his team were kind enough to never push him too far. He would always maintain a slight distance between himself and the rest of the men on his squad, but he was often quick to smile and joke with them, telling what very well could have been the worst “dad jokes” known to man.  

Both Simon and Elanor seemed to revel in the pained groans his terrible jokes could invoke, smiling innocently as if not understanding why everyone was so upset. It wasn’t a surprise to learn that Simon had a younger brother, he certainly had the annoying-older-brother act nailed down perfectly.  

After a few good missions together, Simon was less reluctant to talk about his family with John in the room, discussing what he planned to get his nephew for Christmas, where he wanted to take his mum out for lunch during leave, and how he was going to get Tommy back for getting a stain on his ManU jersey.  

Simon was a good man and a great soldier, and John was disappointed when the time came for him to return to his own unit. John was to travel up north toward Herefordshire and Simon was to meet with some of their American contacts to help root out a cartel down in Mexico.  

Ghost was not the same person as Simon. He had the same daemon, the same brown eyes, but he was not Simon. He lacked the underlying gentleness in his eyes, and he’d grown to be cold and closed off toward everyone around him, friend or foe.  

If Simon’s daemon had been quiet before, she was dead silent now. Liz would trot over to the cat with a slowly wagging tail and try to greet her, but the panther would just look at her, before slinking off to go rejoin her human. It was heartbreaking to see a daemon who had only just started to come out of her shell become so walled off again.  

Sometimes he wouldn’t even see the animal in the same room and couldn’t help wondering where the daemon could have vanished to. Just seeing a daemon so far away from its human sent a shiver down John’s spine whenever he thought about it, his fingers instinctively curling themselves into the soft fur of his own.  

The reports he had seen about what had happened to Simon to create this Ghost, some of them first-hand from Simon’s own therapist, sent his stomach rolling uncomfortably, and the parts about their treatment of Elanor? He had sweat beading his forehead and Liz pulled into his lap. The rough collie did her best to comfort him, but he could feel her own distress at just the thought of such a thing happening.  

It took well over half a year before Ghost and Elanor were comfortable with turning their backs on John and Liz, and several before they were comfortable working alongside them. The Ghost and his daemon worked alone, but John and Liz were gradually, slowly, at the rate of a melting glacier, becoming an exception to the rule.  

This made it particularly difficult when Ghost was introduced to Soap.  

John MacTavish was, and still is, a loud and confident man. He doesn’t tolerate nonsense and will proudly stand behind his own personal morals and beliefs, even if it’s to the detriment of his professional career. He stands for what’s right, regardless of the consequences, and he’s entirely unapologetic of that fact.  

Soap’s daemon, Gwen, is a perfect match for him. A honey badger, just as unconcerned with the thoughts and feelings of others, and entirely fearless, even when up against daemons easily twice her size. They share a fierce aggression that would have most shaking in their boots, and John has seen firsthand even lions fleeing from their warpath.  

To say that Soap was a bit... much... for Ghost would be an understatement. Soap is so openly friendly with every team he works with, both verbally and physically, and his rather emotional responses to things seem to constantly have the masked soldier on edge.  

Since their first meeting, Soap has learned to reign in his emotions and has matured greatly with the help of experience and the guiding hands of more seasoned soldiers. But several years ago, fresh out of SAS selection, he was far too much for a quiet Ghost who could hardly stand having even John working with him at the best of times.  

While their first meeting didn’t exactly go swimmingly, it ended amicably enough since Soap didn’t seem to take Ghost’s reluctance to socialise to heart. Meanwhile, Ghost just appeared glad to have a break from spending time around someone so bright and bubbly, almost immediately vanishing on a solo mission for a week.  

Kyle was a much safer bet for working alongside Ghost. The young man, while inexperienced, was the top of his class and always eager to learn more. He was like a sponge, soaking up every little piece of advice he’s given and doing his best to apply it to his work. He always asks the right questions at the right times, and always thinks on his words before speaking.  

His daemon, a friendly marbled polecat by the name of Milly, was the first daemon Elanor was willing to open up to. She wasn’t insistent like many of the other daemons in the military, providing the panther with plenty of space, but always choosing to sit beside her, greeting her with a happy chirp. These simple greetings were eventually returned with small nods or pleasant rumbles, and over time, and two daemons fell into the rhythm of being at one another’s side.  

Gaz was always seeking out new things to learn and Ghost had plenty to teach. No matter how difficult the lesson, he would always have the determination to see it through to the end, and his mature, competent nature was gradually winning over the stubborn lieutenant. On the rare occasion where Kyle wasn’t with John, he could be confident that Ghost would have the younger man’s back.  

But Gaz brought more than plain professionalism to their team, he also brought the fun, youthful spark that the group had been missing. His sassy remarks during OPs and cheeky behaviour off the field was worming its way under Ghost’s thick skin, and John could see it in the way his lieutenant began to offer banter of his own in return.  

It was like watching a grizzled old dog interacting with a friendly young pup, slowly relearning what it meant to actually enjoy life here and there. Sometimes Ghost still needed that time to be alone with Elanor, but Kyle and Milly were drawing them out of the dark and back into the light again.  

More often than not the two could be found sitting peacefully together, doing nothing but enjoying the company of their fellow brother in arms. Whether it was eating meals together in private where others wouldn’t see Ghost removing part of his mask, running on the track first thing in the morning to wake themselves up, or claiming the bench under the old tree where they could discuss upcoming schedules or laugh at the young recruits just learning to walk, it was all done by each other's side.  

John could see the pride in Ghost’s eyes whenever Gaz managed to get an upper hand on him in training, he could see how Elanor now greeted Milly with a gentle headbutt, how trust was building between them and their team was solidifying into something unbreakable. Gaz was a loyal man, almost to a fault, but he had awarded that loyalty to John and Ghost and, in return, had been given it back tenfold. 

But the team was yet to be complete, and it wouldn’t be, not until John MacTavish joined them.  

John was admittedly still not certain how well Ghost would take to working so closely with Soap after finding the other man a tad overwhelming the first time, but with Liz’s encouragement and seeing how much Ghost was beginning to come out of his shell, he had no choice but to commit to the selection. Soap’s file reported nothing but constant rapid improvement. He was a talented, driven man, and precisely someone John wanted on his new task force.  

The offer was sent out and immediately accepted.  

Soap and Gaz were, understandably, complete menaces. Two young men eager to prove themselves and have a little fun while they’re at it. They’re thick as thieves and both just as determined to inconvenience John as much as possible while dodging reprimands like the plague. “A bunch of children” he’d called them one day, earning a grunt of agreement from Ghost, Liz and Elanor sharing a look of endless suffering. 

As for the relationship between Ghost and Soap, the best John was hoping for was for them to learn to accept one another, even if that was just enough to be able to put their best foot forward during missions. And it worked well enough, until Las Almas happened. Until Sheperd happened. 

Until Simon happened.  

Years of hiding away, and suddenly it wasn’t Ghost standing before him. It was Simon.  

Soap was looking right at him, and Simon was looking right back.  

Something had changed between them. From the report he got from the two soldiers about the events that transpired he couldn’t tell what, but it was clearly something significant. It had changed them from work colleagues to something far more dangerous. A better man would have nipped it in the bud before it had the change to potentially ruin them, but John has never claimed to be a good man, good men don’t last long in their line of work.  

If he and Gaz are a good team, Ghost and Soap are unstoppable.  

When they think he’s not looking, John has caught how Gwen excitedly jumps around Elanor’s body, learning against the dangerous predator and covering her with affectionate licks. More surprising, is how Elanor returns the behaviour, nipping playfully at the badger’s feet and tussling about on the carpet like a pair of kittens.  

It isn’t until he sees Soap’s bare hand brush through Elanor’s fur that he knows the depth of what they are to one another.  

He just hopes he hasn’t made a horrible mistake.  

[theeoriginals]

klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does. 

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as. 

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah. 

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it. 

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.” 

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,” 

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,” 

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.” 

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,” 

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.” 

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.” 

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace. 

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly. 

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,” 

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.” 

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief. 

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.” 

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos. 

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet. 

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him. 

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday. 

Regrets a lot of things, too. 

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone. 

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her. 

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second. 

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?” 

────── 

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to. 

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy. 

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it. 

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly. 

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times. 

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow. 

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake. 

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse. 

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins. 

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped. 

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows. 

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity. 

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him. 

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal. 

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too. 

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place. 

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it. 

It’s embarrassing more than anything else. 

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case. 

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water. 

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit. 

────── 

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.” 

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it. 

“What about you?” 

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?” 

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again. 

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.” 

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,” 

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?” 

“You,” 

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth. 

“Me? What about me?” 

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.” 

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–” 

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t. 

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?” 

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat. 

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him. 

He rears back like she’s slapped him. 

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really. 

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.” 

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking. 

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve. 

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–” 

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her. 

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.” 

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle. 

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,” 

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,” 

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.” 

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him. 

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?” 

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” 

“Forever,” 

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.” 

[ducky531]

Appraise Love (Wb Pirates x Reader fanfic) Chapter 1

Ohhh, look at me posting another chapter for this! Somehow, this is something I took better to in comparison to my cat story (go figure, lol.) Anyways, a couple of things to know going into this chapter: 1. The customer name 'Badeaux' actually translates to the Occitan meaning of 'stupid' and 'gullible'. This was on purpose, lol. 2. I head canon Rakuyo to have heavy Arabic/Egyptian and German influence, and Juzo to have more Hispanic/ Mexican influence. (Rakuyo's uses a flail. They were used frequently in Germany and Egypt, and his attire for some reason reminds me of a lot of the colors used during Egypt. Not to mention some of their clothes were more loose fitting/flowy. In Juzo's canon information (or the wiki on him), it's actually mentioned that his armor is inspired by Aztec warriors or at least closely resembles them, hence the Hispanic head canon.) 3. In One Piece, Buccaneers have been confirmed as a race.(at least from what I've found, This might change with more of the research I do into this project, lol.) HOWEVER, while they have been confirmed, I do believe that there are/ were two people confirmed to be buccaneers, and Whitebeard had been one of them. Ok, I think that about covers it for the head canons/ information I did research on for this chapter. I think all of the gemstone information is also correct. (If it's not and you're a huge nerd that's a lot more savvy in this than I am, please tell me so I can correct it-)

For Chapter 0: please go here! ____________ Word Count: 3575 ____________ ‘Snap. Snap. Snap.’ The crude hand that had waved in front of your vacant gaze had been going for a while now. It was only when the snapping started that your mind had even returned to reality in the first place. A little disappointed that you were ripped from the wandering adventure your thoughts were leading you on to get away from the suffocating gloominess within the shop, your gaze finally focused on the person in front of you. Well, you tried to, anyway. Still trying to tie your imagination back to where you were anchored in the world, you remained silently transfixed on the man before you. He was alone, that much was for sure, yet the shop wasn’t occupied by just him. Just outside your field of vision, there were three others there. By their stature, you figure the three were also me. Odd, given that this ‘was’ a jewelry place. More men had seemed to come through on days in comparison to women.

Ah, but you couldn’t afford the luxury to note all of your customers at the moment, for the man standing at the counter seemed to grow more and more restless.

“Hellloooo? Anyone home?” His words came out as sharp, though they were hollow. Most of the customer’s anger usually was. Staring blankly at the man for a moment longer only seemed to irritate him much further than he already had been.

“Are you going to help me, or do I need to report this to your boss?” The idea of the man waiting outside of the boss’s door for days had seemed amusing, and you were almost tempted to test that. But alas, that wasn’t going to do your own bills any favors.

“Apologies, sir.” You started in. “I was just distracted.” Despite the upfront bitterness the man had shown you, your tone remained friendly and inviting. Even if you felt like snapping back at the man, you always reminded yourself of the ‘one’ helpful piece of advice that your boss had told you: you catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar. Even with the kindness you displayed, the guy had only crossed his arms, his scowl deepening.

“Mhmm, I’m sure.” Sarcasm was what he had retorted with. Greeaatttt, he seemed like he was going to make this a pleasant transaction. You took the moment to look the man over. He did seem like trouble. Well, he certainly dressed like it. A lilac colored dress shirt tucked neatly into a pair of white slacks was held together by a gaudy black belt. The golden buckle itself seemed bigger than anything he could offer, but there again most men that waltzed in dressed to the nines never could offer much fulfillment outside of being a sugar daddy for most women. You couldn’t see exactly what kind of shoes he wore from behind the counter, but did it really matter? The rest of the outfit was enough to tell you he came from the ritzy part of town. Unfortunately for you, that also meant that he was going to be a difficult customer. Usually people from the nicer end of town always came in trying to swindle the shop- as if they needed more money than they already had.

Truth be known, if it weren’t for the other people in the shop, you’d have turned the man away right then and there, all it would’ve taken was a simple excuse of ‘we’re closing for break’ or ‘come back later, I have a meeting with the boss to attend to’. But no. The shop just HAD to be busy at that very moment. Taking what little energy you had mentally stored away for tougher customers, you finally decided to move the transaction along.

“How may I be of assistance today?” Your tone remained chipper, a smile starting to form. It didn’t seem to be enough to waver the man’s bitterness, for he simply scoffed. Reaching into the pocket of his pants, the man was quick to slam the item down on the counter. You had internally winced at the noise, praying he hadn’t cracked the glass counter since it’d most likely come out of your check- especially since the boss was famous for that trick, taking from your supposed ‘pay balance’ when ‘things happened on your shift’. Thankfully when he drew his hand back, the counter had been saved. Atop it sat a ring. A gorgeous one at that.

“This.” His tone was blunt, the sharp edge still prominent in his voice.

“Ok…” You started yet again, your smile still remaining as you carefully moved your hand to gently pick up the ring.

“What is it you’re looking to do with this today?” Briefly looking up to him, you focused back on the piece of jewelry itself. 

“I want you to take it back and give me a refund.” He snapped, his arms crossing. His patience had begun to run thin. As it had been said before, the ring was gorgeous. And as much as you’d have loved to give the man money back on the ring…you couldn’t. Unlike the rest of the jewelry in the shop, this ring was unique. The ring itself had a slimmer bezel. It wasn’t anything fancy. But with the color of gold the bezel was, you were certain that it was top of the line. Yet, what was the most breathtaking part was the stone that was in the center of it all. An apatite. Against the teal of the stone, the gold had stood out but not taken the attention from the gem itself. And that was exactly the problem.

“I see…” Your voice seemed uncertain. There was a small voice in the back of your head saying that this was an opportunity to get a piece of jewelry such as this, that buying it and selling it for more could’ve very well have saved the place from going under for another month or so, but the facts stood before you. After gently placing the ring back on the counter, you returned your attention back to the bitter man.

“I’m afraid sir, we can’t accept this back as is. Unless we have a record of your receipt on file, we can’t take this back.” The man had seemed as if you were threatening to take his first born.

“And why, pray tell, is that?” His snippy tone seemed to only reflect the anger he was trying to keep under wraps.

“Well, for starters, we don’t sell jewelry with Apatite.”

“And why the hell not?! It’s a ring, is it not?” Snapping at you, all you could do was allow a soft sigh to escape you. Oh, how you wished you could’ve chewed this man up and spit him back out, but keeping your cool, you only carried on.

“I understand your frustration, sir. But we cannot accept jewelry back that we did not sell. This bezel is clearly made up of a higher gold concentration than we offer here, as well as the gem itself. Due to how fragile Apatite is, and due to how costly it can get trying to remake certain pieces that shatter and crack during the sculpting process, we do not sell nor buy jewelry including it.”

“That isn’t fair! I bought this ring from you people fair and square!” The man’s persistence might've been admirable, even for a scam, but even so, the only thing it was doing was grating your last nerve.

“If you insist you have, I can at least check our receipt logs…What’s the last name?” Briefly turning your back to the counter, you moved to dive beneath the counters for the crates of alphabetized files.

“It’s Badeaux.” As sharp as ever, he kept glowering at your actions while his own patience began to run thinner than before. After a moment of looking through the B fields, you had resurfaced once more.

“I’m sorry, sir. But we don’t have a file for you on hand. If you’d like, I do have some of the local island’s jewelers on file, so I can ring some of-”

“This is utter bullshit!” He spat at you, slamming his fist down on the counter.

“I understand your frustrations sir, but please-”

“Screw this, it ain’t even worth the money anymore. Just take it and choke on it for all I care!” The loud ‘clank’ that broke the ‘mostly’ serene silence of the shop had been from the ring making contact with the safety glasses you wore. As tacky and bulky as they were, you were grateful for them just then. The man had turned on his heel, letting the door slam on his way out. Once more, you couldn’t help the sigh that had escaped you.

“I swear, this job isn’t worth what I get paid on days.” The thought had escaped you with no filter, though did it really matter? No one else was around.

“Oh, I bet.” The voice of reason mused back. Allowing the comfortable smile to return, you simply decided to take a moment from-

Wait a minute…you didn’t have a voice of reason. Well, you did, just not one that talked back so…well…vividly. Just as the smile dropped, your gaze casually turned to the side. Upon first glance, you found yourself staring back at a pair of partially lidded eyes. It was only then that you realized.

“Ah, sorry sir! How, uhm, may I help you?” After quickly standing up straight and feeling a bit embarrassed over the remark shared aloud, it was only then you had remembered the other three men that had been perusing the different counters in the shop. In response, the man let out a light hearted chuckle. He held his hands up in a mock defense, the gesture seeming to do wonders to pacify the sudden embarrassment and anxious atmosphere.

“Whoa, whoa, cool it, Sparky. We’re not here to cause any problems.” His voice was gentle, soothing almost. The way he spoke seemed to hide no ulterior motive. That was good at least. To be quite frank, it was hard to believe that the group was there for anything other than genuine interest in the shop. Perhaps they were adventurers?

“We just had some questions, that’s all.” As the man spoke, you took note of his attire. Much like the last man, this one also had a purple shirt. Though unlike the first, he had been worn in a more casual manner. The way he kept it unbuttoned exposed the tattoo that embellished his chest and the muscles he had. Around his waist was a blue sash, along with a decorative belt that- somehow- topped the last man’s. From what you could tell, it seemed like he was wearing blue jeans of some kind, though again, from where you stood, you couldn’t quite tell if that was the case or not. Atop his head was a tuft of messy blond hair. To you, it did look a bit comical since no one really had come through with such a hairstyle before, but you must’ve figured the poor guy probably got enough trash talk for it. All in all, he had a much more laid back nature about him, something you couldn’t quite place, but something that seemed to be trustworthy for the time being.

Taking a moment to glance at the other two over his shoulder, You made note of the other two. One was a far burlier looking man, his frame towered the other two easily. A much more tan complexion had adorned him, the shade of red that the armor plates he wore seemed to pop more against him. From where he was, his back had been to you, so very little was able to be made out on his face. However, you could tell from just his stature alone that he was definitely not someone to be messed with. The other seemed a lot more enthused about the different pieces of jewelry within the cases. His back had also been to you, but what little you could make out from him was the messy blond locks he wore in dreads, as well as the cream colored jacket. Though, it did look more yellow than white.

In a way, you felt a little bad for the more excited man out of the two. All there were beneath the glass casings were boxes of different rings bunched together. Maybe before they left, you could at least pull them out of the casing and let him rummage through them? It wasn’t like your boss would care so long as none of them had gone missing. For now, though, they were here for genuine business, so suggesting the idea was off the table for now. Returning your attention to the first shaggier man of the trio, you recomposed yourself from the startle he gave you.

“Very well. What is it you’re looking for help with today?” Asking the question, the man had seemed a little stumped. ‘Please don’t be trying to rob the place…please don’t be trying to rob the place.’ The thought crossed your mind as the man stalled in giving his response.

“Well, it’s a bit…complicated.” He started in. He took note of the way you watched him before taking a step back.

“My bad, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He reassured, his tone remaining insouciant. Oddly enough, you couldn’t help but take his word. Clearing his throat, he briefly turned to look over his shoulder at the other two.

“I myself am not very savvy with these kinds of things. But Rakuyo over there…” Speaking the last of his words loud enough for the other two to hear, the more eccentric man had quickly turned his head towards the two of you. Motioning the other over, the blond allowed a casual smile to form.

“I’ll let you talk to him, you’ll get a lot further since he’s more adverse in what we’re looking for.” With the blond taking a step back, the man- who you presumed was Rakuyo- stepped forward in his place. A bright smile adorned his features. Despite his energy, the laid back atmosphere of the interaction had remained.

“Hey, Shug.” The man replied. Though the nickname had already had you turning your nose up, something told you that was just something he called most women. At least it didn’t seem like he was trying to hit on you. With a simple ‘hello’ in return, you refocused your attention back to the conversation at hand.

“So, your friend here tells me that you’re more equipped with what it is you three are in for today?” You started in, your tone remaining as friendly as before. Earning a chuckle in response, the man nodded.

“I suppose that’s true to an extent.” Remaining light-hearted in the exchanged banter, the man continued.

“We were actually in to see if there would be any way you could resize or replicate a ring to request.” He started in. It took a moment for you to actually regroup yourself. It was a bit shocking, actually. For the first time in months, someone was GENUINELY INTERESTED in requesting service. Quickly gathering your wits, you had finally nodded.

“O-of course we do! Though we cannot offer a free resizing service with rings not sold here, we still can, depending on the condition of the ring itself. Pricing would mostly rely on the gemstones preferred for the ring.” The man had listened to your explanation, his features seeming to light up.

“Really? Well then, that answered quite a bit.” He mused, his words sounding as though they were mostly directed towards himself. When he refocused on you once more, his smile seemed to grow.

“I suppose that leaves us with a couple other questions, Hun.” For once, you could feel the corner of your lips tug upwards in a more genuine smile the more the conversation progressed. The three men had, for once, not been thugs- which was surprising given the same symbol they all adorned on different parts of themselves. You could’ve sworn you had seen it somewhere before, but remembering  where had eluded you. The conversation had gone from asking about the gemstones local to the island to the rarity and cost of others that were hard to get. At the end of the day, their request hadn’t seemed that complex. It was nothing more than a simple thicker bezel for a man with a single holder for garnet embedded into the ring itself. At the end of the day, it wasn’t something that would cost any of the three of them a fortune, outside of the third man who had remained in the back, neither of the two you spoke to seemed like they would’ve had a larger ring size. If you dared say, you didn’t think making it would’ve broken the bank for the third man either.

“Right then, I’ll be sure to put the order down and get the supplies ordered for you then.” You chimed. Rummaging through the boxes behind the counter, you pulled out a small notepad. On each page seemed to be an order ticket of sorts. As you began to work away at writing down all of the order information, you carried on with the conversation.

“I think I have just about everything here I need. I’m only missing the ring size.” The question had only earned an awkward silence from the three. Rakuyo was the first to pipe up after being unable to take the silence.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking. What…sizes do you go up to?” Briefly stopping your scribbling, your gaze had turned up to look at him. When he had seemed a bit nervous in the manner, you turned to the other two. The first had seemed just as nervous, even the bigger gut out of the three seemed to have some pause in his stoic demeanor. Oh, they were serious. Standing up right once more, you started with another explanation.

“Well, at the moment we can only make up to a size 15. However, we can make additional sizes to accommodate different groups, such as giants and other larger groups. Most requests like this are done upon request, but the problem with them is that they may take a bit more time outside of the usual week. Would you happen to know the ring size off the top of your head?” Looking between the three men, each of them had seemed baffled for an answer. Taking that as a ‘no’, you ducked back under the desk to rummage around for a simple stack of papers.

“That’s alright if you’re unsure. We do have different sizing for each kind of person.” You started in. Pointing to the first set of sizes, you kept your focus on the page.

“These ones are mostly for humans. Don’t mind any of these numbers, it’s just for us back here to know what the bezel width would be. Over in this column,” Your finger circles the furthest set of numbers to the right, “is what you’d need to know. Down here are for Fishmen. Again, You don’t have to worry about any of these, this just tells us where we’d need to cut the bezel in order to assure it causes its owner any discomfort against the webbing in their hands./ Most mermaids and mermen do fall within human measurements, but there are a few that do have occasional sizing outs-”

“I don’t mean to be rude and cut you short, but why do the numbers have such a significant jump between these two groups?” The first man had piped up, pointing to a spot in which the whole section had been scribbled out.

“Ah, that.” You simply stated.

“Well, that was the sizing for buccaneers, but unfortunately, they haven’t been around in years. Most of the tools that we have for them aren’t kept on location. We still have them, of course, for the few odd folk that do have sizes that fall in that range, but that…would…” When your gaze had turned to look up at the three, each of them had seemed as though they had just witnessed a miracle. Raising a brow a bit, you kept your gaze flickering between the three of them.

“Is something the matter?” After you spoke, the peppier man had placed his hands on the counter, leaning over a bit.

“Do you realize what you’ve just done?!” He spoke. Taking a few steps back, you watched the man’s shock quickly contort into a wide grin.

“M…my job?” You spoke, uncertainty prominent in your tone.

“Well, yes, but no.” He finished, allowing him to place his feet back on the ground.

“Ma’am, you don’t realize just how long we’ve been looking for someone that has the equipment to make a ring for a buccaneer.” For the first time, the third man finally spoke. Your mouth had opened to speak, but you found the words stalling in your throat.

“...I beg your pardon?” The words had left unfiltered. Baffled by their wording, you figured that maybe they were simply just stating that whoever the ring was for was just unlucky enough to have sizing that fell within the buccaneer range. Yet, something told you that wasn’t the case.

Surely, it was just a misfortune, right? I mean…buccaneers had been extinct at this point…hadn’t they?

[itsladykit]

I'd love to hear about your friends actually

If you like.

I am an introvert, mostly, and generally prefer having a small, close circle of friends than a larger one. And that's pretty much what I have. I have more online friends than in person friends, in part because that kind of relationship is easier for me to manage--to borrow a phrase from the disabled community, sometimes I don't have spoons for in-person interactions. (So being single, and living alone truly is ideal for me.)

Online friends I've primarily gathered from fandom spaces. Generally there's a "courting" period of sharing memes and easy one on one interactions, before more intimate (that is meant wholly platonically, not at all sexually, but is the most appropriate word) relationships were cultivated. To be frank, I often find these online relationships somewhat more rewarding than in person relationships. (That is likely due to me personally. I know I mask around my irl friends, and I know that limits how much of myself I give to the relationship. They're fine people, but definitely more normal than I am. I'm the "weird" friend, but tolerably weird so far as they can see.)

I'm aware this wouldn't be ideal for most people. That's why I was hesitant to share, because you could easily twist my life into a loveless stereotype of what it means to be aro. "Oh, no spouse, then? No kids? Most of their friendships are online? Ah. Oh, yes, naturally they have cats--and a good thing, too. They'd be so lonely otherwise."

And that's the nice stereotype. I won't give air to the unkind stereotypes.

The thing is, loneliness is an internal experience. I enjoy solitude. I like having total ownership of my space, my life (almost: must care for the cats, you know). It allows me a degree of whimsy and spontaneity I don't think I'd allow myself otherwise. (Concrete meaning: I decorate however I like. I go on sudden trips and don't wait to see if anyone else will come. I go on extended trips on my own, and don't even ask if anyone wants to join me because I want to be alone.)

How could I possibly be lonely when I feel so fucking free?

I do feel loved. I have tight bonds with my family and the friends I've gathered. I cherish them, and I think at least a few cherish me. It might sound conceited, but I also love myself. And I genuinely think that's the most important thing. I'm certainly not perfect--there are things I'd change if I could, and some of those things are changing, if slowly.

But I love myself enough to feed the parts of me that need to be fed--spending time in nature, cultivating my hobbies and my arts, letting myself time to be me without performing for other people. Simply existing in the world, as myself, and feeling joy.

I'm afraid this may not have been what you wanted to hear. However, if I have any pearls of wisdom to impart about being aro while living in this world, it's this: loneliness is subjective. Don't judge yourself by another's standards. If you're happy as you are, give yourself space to live that joy, and don't allow others' judgement to diminish it.

Prev post for context.

[jeannereames]

Do you think alexander considered hephaistion his alter-ego?

"He, too, is Alexander"

Did Alexander think of Hephaistion as his alter-ego? Quite possibly—but not by that term. For one thing, “alter-ego” is Latin, and we find it first used in writing by Cicero, although it may have been (quite possibly was) in common parlance prior.

The concept did appear to exist in Greek, but the tendency to apply it to Alexander and Hephaistion owes chiefly to two attestations. The first is the recorded meeting between Alexander, Hephaistion, and Sisygambus, wherein he supposedly said, of Hephaistion, "He, too, is Alexander." The other concerns a quip attributed to Aristotle, mentioned in Diogenes Laertus that friendship is one soul in two bodies—but this not found Aristotle's surviving works, despite a longish passage on friendship in his Nikomachian Ethics.

Without being unduly cynical, we must always take exact phrasing with a grain of salt. I think there's very little we can be certain Alexander said. Same problem with Aristotle, unless you're reading his actual writings, and even some of those are dubious, such as the infamous Ath Pol, or Constitution of the Athenians. We typically distinguish these as “pseudo-Aristotle.” (So if you see “pseudo-”some-name, that means the work is attributed to that person but almost certainly not actually written by him/her.)

So, as part of my usual ‘Let me ‘splain you why you can’t trust that story/saying…,’ let’s play some dating games here.

First, Cicero is our initial attested use of “alter ego,” in a letter to his friend Atticus, that dates the phrase to somewhere between 68-44, or middle of the first century BCE. Maybe we can push it back a little earlier to the early first century, but I’d be uncomfortable pushing it further without solid evidence. Popular terms change. Anybody call a fashionable (male) person, “That cool cat…” these days—except as a bit of a joke? I didn’t think so. 😉 But “cool” itself is otherwise still in common use. So we have to be careful about when terms are popular.

Now, the story of Alexander before Sysigamgus is best known from Curtius (3.12.16-17), but Diodoros also relates it (17.37.5-6), and so does Arrian (2.12.3-8)—although with a caveat. He says it doesn’t appear in his trusted sources (Aristoboulos or Ptolemy) but he tells it anyway, apparently because he approves of the actions in it.

We don’t know where it comes from. Maybe Kleitarchos? Possibly Kallisthenes? It does not appear in either Plutarch’s bio of Alexander or his Moralia, although normally he loved these sorts of anecdotes. There’s a good reason, however, that Plutarch doesn’t tell it (see below). Justin is just too short. (It also appears in abbreviated form in a couple of later Roman sources, Valerius Maximus and Dio Chrysostom. So it was clearly popular in the rhetorician crowd.)

So, what are the words attributed to Alexander? Diodoros’ Greek is kai gar kai outos Alexandros estin: “and for also this [man] Alexander is” (6). Arrian renders it kai gar ekeinon einai Alexandron: “and for that man is Alexander” (7). Curtius puts it, albeit in Latin, nam et hic Alexander est: “for he also Alexander is” (17). Yes, I rendered those into English pretty exactly, even if it sounds a bit funny. First, it helps show how every translation is an interpretation, but also allows us to watch the parsing itself.

None of them is exactly the same, even if the meaning is the same. That’s a good reminder we don’t have his exact phrasing!

Assuming the event even happened.

Why should we doubt it? Aside from Arrian’s skepticism?

This story feels a LOT like a classic lesson in proper clemency. I’ve talked about the importance of clemency before. The bulk of this tale is meant to show a chivalrous Alexander early in his career, before he fell victim to divine aspirations and the lure of that nasty Oriental Luxury <tm>. See what a good guy he was?! Plutarch, in his take, insists not only did Alexander not rape the royal women, he wouldn’t even look at the women. That’s probably why he doesn’t tell this story, because going to their tent absolutely IS looking at them, donchaknow. It’s even funnier because it’s Plutarch who tells us Statiera died in childbirth well, well after that baby could have been Darius’s. (Consistency? What consistency? Pfff.)

My point here is that the story may very well have been fabricated to make a MORAL point of how to be an honorable victor—whether in the era of the Successors (which grew increasingly bloody and vicious), or in the later Roman period. It would also provide a perfect example for Curtius to contrast with Alexander’s later Asian debauchery.

You may be wondering, But why would they make up an entire story like that? Wouldn’t people know?

Um, to prove my point I give you…Twitter, QAnon, and whatever quote is being attributed (wrongly) to Samuel L. Jackson this week. The more often people hear something, even a lie, the more likely they are to believe it’s true. Arrian’s other stories of after-Issos events has Leonnatos going to talk to the women, not Alexander (and Hephaistion). Of course, it’s entirely possible Leonnatos went the first evening, while Alexander and Hephaistion went the next morning. It even makes a certain amount of sense that he’d visit the royal women. So, the bare-bones of the encounter may be true, but mistaken identities and all those speeches were likely put in people’s mouths later.

Incidentally, there’s a pun in the line, as alex-andros translates to “protector of men.” So Hephaistion is also a protector of men. Romans and Greeks ate up that sort of word-play.

As for the Aristotle titbit…Diogenes Laertus reports a list of “sayings” (aphorisms) attributed to various philosophers. For Aristotle, one is: “To the query, ‘What is a friend?’ his reply was, ‘A single soul dwelling in two bodies’” (5.20). I’ve seen people claim he was referencing Alexander and Hephaistion. There’s absolutely no reason to assume that except romanticism and an Alexander-centric view. In our surviving writings by Aristotle, he barely mentions Alexander.* Shock, I know. 😂 But Alexander wasn’t at the forefront of his mind.

Additionally, as I said above, we have a longish bit on friendship in the Nikomachian Ethics, where that definition doesn’t appear, although nothing he says about true friendship in it contradicts the quote, either. But “Sayings of…” were a popular form of literature in antiquity, and sometimes a clever quip got attributed to more than one person! Maybe Aristotle did say that, but it’s not in actual writings about friendship by Aristotle. Aristotle’s writings on friendship are rather more complex; he lists three types of friendship in Book VIII.

Anyway, this little in-depth study is meant to help folks see how complicated it can be, to get back to what ALEXANDER himself said, thought, or even did.

Yet one thing ALL the sources agree upon: Hephaistion was Alexander’s favorite, not just (or even primarily) as a commander, but as a person. I’ve never read any claim to the contrary, and I have (quite literally) read everything in the ancient sources that concerns Hephaistion (and most everything that concerns Alexander too).

So, while it’s impossible to say that Alexander considered Hephaistion an “alter-ego,” or ever called him “Alexander too,” you can rest assured that every ancient source agrees that Hephaistion was dearer to Alexander than anybody else, maybe even including his own mother.

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* 391a2: his “On the Universe” treatise opens with a reference to “Alexander,” who I think it’s safe to assume is the king. And 1420a5, is “Rhetoric to Alexander”--except that treatise is widely understood (even in the medieval world) to be bogus: e.g., a "pseudo-Aristotle" text. Plus Alexander is mentioned in a couple fragments.