#this is my weakest writing i fear

[mochinomnoms]

if you're still accepting random asks and such while you're bored-- i'd love to see something about kalim! if you want to go the extra mile, i'd eat UP anything you have for that one free use thing you mentioned awhile back...

I don't think I got the strength for something fully smutty rn, but I can do a bit of suggestiveness~ also cw for my use of arabic i still cannot figure out a good source for terms of endearment and shit

Being the one and only spouse of the head of the Asim family was a privilege that was exclusive to you for the last few generations. From what you gathered from your new mothers-in-law, three to be exact, the Asims were notorious for being indulgent and needy, more so as lovers.

“They're spoiled!” Farah laughed, her voice having a soft, sweet sound to it. She was currently on the phone with you as your other two mothers were tending to Kalim's younger siblings.

“Practically insatiable, trust me when I tell you, habibi, that my son is going to tire you out. He's practically his father's twin—”

“Aaah!”

“...Habibi? Are you alright? What was that?”

You clenched the phone in your hand, the other tightening in Kalim's hair as licked his lips clean from your fluids. Your darling husband nuzzled into your thigh, pressing soft, sweet kisses in contrast to what his hand was currently doing to you. Or inside you, was a more apt description.

“I'm...fine, just—ACK!” You choked on a high-pitched moan as Kalim bit into your hip, kissing the dull mark in apology as he trailed more kisses up your belly to your torso as he pushed your shirt up and up.

“Are you sure? You sound like you're in pain—”

Like plucking a round, plump grape from the vine, Kalim delicately plucked the phone out of your hand as you buried your face in his neck in embarrassment.

“Hi Mama!” Kalim cheerily greeted his mother, still going at you like he knew just the right buttons to push to make you melt. In his defense, Kalim could be very good at things if you let him practice enough. And he'd practiced on you, thoroughly.

“They're a bit busy at the moment, I'll have them call you back later, okay? Bye!”

You could make out the concerned voice of Farah raising her voice at him as Kalim hung up, still blissfully smiling.

“K-Kalim, you can't just—Uugh—hang up on your—fuck.”

You let out pathetic, soft whines as you clutched onto Kalim's shoulders and dug your nails into the silk fabric he wore. Cutely, the color and pattern matched your own, or at least the one that he'd slipped off of you earlier while you'd been on the phone.

“It's okay, I just needed you for a little bit, just a little bit!” Kalim whined, burying his head into your neck and fluttering kisses again.

“Aren't you tired from last night? This morning? After lunch?”

Kalim pulled away, a cute pout on his lips as he shook his head.

“Never could be tired of you, Albi! Now come on, it'll be real quick this time, I promise!”

Taking a deep breath, you sighed, face going warm as he gave you a lovestruck smile. Finally, he took the hand that was working you back and licked it clean, with you staring.

You really should've given him more credit back in school, he could be cheeky when he wanted to.

Though, with how sweetly who looked at you with those deep red eyes, so full of love, you can't help but want to indulge the spoiled man in any and every way possible. It was no wonder that Jamil's always mildly disliked you.

“Fine, but we go back to the bedroom, I still have a crick in my neck from when you took me over the table—AH!”

You yelped as Kalim excitedly dragged you to the bedroom, again, for the nth time today.

I pray that I can walk after this time, I don't want to deal with another round of servants attending to me cause my legs are jelly.

[lowkeyerror]

Guidance

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal x Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Notes: Near death experience, pre-cannon, I think it’s mostly spoiler free be wary,

Summary: You are thought to be the weakest member of your coven. After hearing it so often you begin to believe it. It’s not until you encounter a mysterious woman in the woods, that you get a glimpse of you true power.

An: 2 parter & part 2 should be up in a matter of minutes 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️. Hope you like this one. I'm really just free writing these as they come up in my head

Part 2 | Masterlist

You were the weakest in your coven. The others were miles ahead of you when it came to actually using magic. However no one knew as much about it as you did.

You spent your time reading hoping to come across something that would wake your full potential but you found nothing.

Your coven bullied you relentlessly for your shortcomings. You heard their harsh words every time you failed a task. You heard it when you were left to clean up after them. You heard it when they would ditch you in the woods claiming it would build merit.

“This isn’t funny you guys, it’s dark please,” you call through the trees.

No one answers, not that you expect them to. You try to cast a light spell just enough to hold it in your hand, but you fail.

You start to hear noises in the woods surrounding you. Quickly you turn your back and take a defensive stance. You feel the hairs stand up against the back of your neck, and a light sweat begin to coat your forehead.

“I- I am armed,” you lie trying to reason with the darkness

When a figure steps out, you feel yourself start to shake. It was hard to see, but the hooded figure was illuminated by the soft light of the moon.

She was beautiful, something unnatural like you’ve never seen before. The warmth in her face, the faint rosy tones of her cheeks, the deep luxury of expensive leather in her eyes. She has stunned you into silence.

“You’re freezing,” is the only thing she says to you.

In your fear you hadn’t noticed the cold bite of the night. However as the stranger points it out you can feel a numbness start to take a place in your body.

“My coven… they like to play tricks on me like this,” you cast your gaze down, afraid to look into her eyes.

“That’s not very funny,” she speaks gently.

You raise your gaze to look at her, “It’s because I’m the weakest member. I can’t even cast a simple spell to light a path.”

The mystery woman shakes her head , “I don't think that’s true.”

She removes her cloak and drapes it over your shoulder.

“You’ll freeze miss,” you try to reason with her, but she just chuckles.

“Give me your hand,” she commands.

You hesitate but place your hand in hers. She lays your palm up flat.

“What are you do-”

“Think of something warm, like a blanket or a coat,” she guides you.

“Ok,” you mumble following her directions.

She praises you, “Very good, now move from warm to hot. Think of the blistering sun or an oven or… fire.”

When she says fire she can already see the ball growing in your hand. She looks over to see if you’re witnessing your power, but your eyes are closed.

“Now what? Hello?”

You open your eyes and the woman had vanished. Your eyes lock on the ball of fire illuminating from your hand. You had never been able to do something like this before.

With the stranger’s cloak around you and the ball of fire in your hand you were able to find your way back to the coven. You snuffed out the fireball before getting too close to the cabins.

“That’s a new record Y/n, we almost didn’t think you’d make it back,” one of the bullies snickers.

Instead of entertaining them with a stutter filled response like you usually do, you just walk past them. The woman from the woods still in your mind. You look at your hand that held the fire ball. Was she responsible for it, or could you do it on your own.

You do just like she instructed. Thinking of something warm and then hot. This time watching as your fingertips began to glow and fire danced in your palm.

Maybe you had been letting the words of the others get to you. Perhaps you had power just like theirs hidden somewhere underneath all of that doubt.

You decided that you would press the limits of your powers until your knowledge matched your ability. As soon as you began believing in yourself, the power seemed to surge through you.

You kept the woman’s cloak as you trained your powers. Often sneaking off in the night to teach yourself as your coven still believed you to be a weakling.

It’s a few months later, when your powers are much more refined that you grow tired of the teasing. You’re certain that you are more powerful than the other members of the coven.

“Hey Y/ln,” you turn at the sound of your last name.

A ball of mud thuds against your face and the sound of laughter rings in your ears. You try to calm yourself down as your anger begins to rise.

“Look she’s going to cry.”

“Chin up Y/n, you’re too old for tears.”

“I’m sure there’s a spell you can’t use that would be helpful right now.”

You felt hot all over. Like the rage was boiling your blood. Your fists were clenched together at your side. You felt the mud harden over your face before cracking off like it was a rock.

“Who threw it?” Your voice is low.

The laughter has stopped. They all look at you paralyzed with fear. You were on fire from your head to your toes. Pupils engulfed in flames.

“WHO THREW IT?” You repeat louder.

“We were just teasing Y/n, restrain yourself.”

You take a deep breath, and for a moment the flames die down.

“Freak,” someone mumbles.

That’s all it takes for you to shoot the fire out of your hand towards your coven members. Most of them moved out of the way.

The one’s who were too slow, did not have the time to scream. They were piles of ashes almost instantly. The others yell in their place, tears streaming down.

Their cries do something to pull you from your rage. You begin blinking rapidly. Your body feels empty on the inside, warmth was no longer there replaced by a bone chilling cold.

You pass out. When your coven sisters were aware that weren’t getting up again, they ran. They ran all the way to the mother of your coven to tell her what you did. They decided you would die for your actions.

When you gained consciousness you found yourself in a large glass. On the opposite side of the glass were your peers. You tried talking to them but none of them responded.

You weren’t truly panicking until the water started to flood into the sides of the glass. You began to bang on the glass, it did not relent. The water was ice cold as it started to climb up your legs.

“Please, please,” you beg them, tears streaming down your face.

“You never belonged in this coven, even with power, you are still a weakling,” the mother of the coven spat at you.

You felt your insides begin to burn again, but the cold water feels like it's putting out the fire. The water begins to rise. The higher it rises the more you fight against the execution.

Water begins to fill your lungs and you cough. It only makes more water enter your body. You begin to loose consciousness this time noting you won’t be waking again.

Your eyes flutter and before they close, you see a large flash of purple. You hear the glass tank you’re in begin to crack. You’re back is against the ground and your eyes are wide open.

“Is she breathing?”

“Do CPR.”

“Rio, I don't even know this gi-"

“DO THE CPR, AGATHA.”

Soon Agatha begins doing chest compressions on you. She hears a very feint heart beat. She moves to mouth to mouth. She tries to blow air into your lungs 2 or 3 times.

Eventually you start coughing, and she gains some distance.

“Are you alright bunny?”

You shake your head trying to clear the ringing.

“How did you?”

Your eyes begin to focus. You see the lifeless bodies of your coven members behind her. It makes you scramble back away from the woman.

“Hey, hey take it easy. They were trying to kill you, I did the right thing,” the woman tries to rationalize with you.

“What's your name?” You attempt to scramble to your feet.

“ Agatha Harkness. I’m not going to hurt you,” she stays in place eyes boring into yours.

Your eyes shift to the bodies once more, “How can I be sure?”

“She’s not going to hurt you, Y/n,” that voice was familiar to you.

You look behind you to see the woman you had come across in the forest. Seeing her in the daylight brings a brighter hue to your already flush cheeks. You begin to cough again.

“You- you put the fire in my hand,” you sputter.

She shakes her head, “That fire was inside of you, long before we crossed paths my sweet.”

“How did you find me?”

Agatha laughs, “Tell her how you found her Rio. Who you really are?”

Rio glares at Agatha, “Shut up, Agatha.”

“Who are you?” You whisper.

“I am Death,” she states.

You look at her waiting for her to say sike. To admit that this was some cruel joke, but she doesn't. Instead she just looks at you with her doe eyes.

“Let’s get you dry, bunny” Agatha says and with a flick of her hand, your clothes are dry.

“You wear my cloak.”

You pull it closer to your body, “ Keeps me warm.”

“I have been… drawn to you for some reason Y/n. You could've easily froze to death that night we met. You were so close, but then I interfered. It wasn’t your time yet. So I decided to offer you warmth.”

You stare up at her, “You must be mistaken. I am not… there’s nothing special about me. Especially nothing good enough to have Death save my life.”

“What did you do too have your whole coven turn against you?”

You stutter, “I- I got upset.”

Rio pushes you to further explain, “And what happened when you got upset?”

Your jaw twitches, “I started to feel hot on the inside.”

“And then what, bunny?”

You feel the fire roaring numbly inside of you, “I was covered it in fire. I shot it at them for teasing me. Some… some of them didn't move quick enough. ”

You begin to hyperventilate as the reality of your actions set in. You had killed people, their blood on your hands. Technically your entire coven was dead because of you.

“Deep breaths,” Agatha sits in front of you guiding you through the breaths. “Don’t feel ashamed for doing what you had to do for survival. It's not always about who is the strongest or even who is the smartest, it’s about who survives.”

“But for the record you were more powerful and smarter than all of them, “ Rio shares.

“I don't understand,” you look between the two women.

“Y/n, you are an elemental witch. It’s like a green witch on steroids,” Agatha explains.

You scoff, “Just because I made a fireball, anybody can do that.”

“You just said you were engulfed in flames,” Rio counters.

“Well that's just fire there are other elements,” you say, sure of your words.

Agatha nods, “Indeed there are, but you’ve only tried to play with fire. Give me your hand.”

Just like you had done months ago with Rio, you give Agatha your hand. She holds it face up with her own under yours.

“Now what?”

“Think of a flower. Any kind of flower. Be sure in the details. How long is the stem, does it have leaves on it? How big is the flower, is it multicolored?”

You follow Agatha’s instructions and easily enough a flower is sprouting out of your hand.

“How curious?” Rio glances at the flower you’ve made.

“What?” You ask gently pulling the flower from your palm.

“You made a Rio Dipladenia,” Agatha speaks breathless for a moment.

You furrow your brows, “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not. That flower, I created it for Agatha, so it’s quite the coincidence that you would think to make it,” Rio informs you.

A blush spreads across your face, “Oh, would you… do you want the flower, Agatha?”

Agatha’s eyes snap to Rio before settling on you, “You’re adorable, doll.”

“I agree, too adorable to be wandering the forest alone and untrained. Come with us Y/n, we will help you reach your full potential,” Rio insists.

You look between the two for a moment, contemplating. You had nothing. Your coven was dead, your powers were unpredictable at best, and you couldn’t stand the thought of being alone.

You slowly nod, “Ok.”

“Good choice, bunny.”

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Character Development

Rick Riordan's Writing Tips

Rick Riordan:

Character development is paramount for me. I firmly believe that plot and character development must occur simultaneously. Plot cannot be left to chance. Neither can characters be automatons who carry out actions envisioned in the author's master plan. Below are some things I try to keep in mind when developing my characters:

RICK RIORDAN'S TOP 5 TIPS ON CHARACTER

Define a character first through action, second through dialog and description, never through explanation.

A character should be primarily defined by the choices he makes, and the actions he takes.

How does he respond to violence?

How does he respond to love?

Secondly, a character must be vividly but deftly describe through his speech, and through the initial view you give the reader.

Never stop to explain who a character is when we can watch him in action and decide for ourselves.

Be impressionist rather than realistic.

Describe characters as Dickens did – with a single deft stroke.

A laundry list of physical traits is realistic, but it is neither memorable nor compelling.

A jarring metaphor for the character, or a focus on one mannerism or physical trait, can be very compelling.

Example: She was a human tornado.

Do not be afraid to use real people as models, but do not be constricted by your models.

It is very natural to use parts of ourselves or the people we know when creating characters.

Do not be afraid to do this because someone might get mad at you.

At the same time, let your character develop.

Do not force them to do what the real-life model would do.

Characters seldom end up exactly like the real people they are based on.

The reader does not have to be told everything you know about the character.

It may be critically important to you that your character has blue eyes, or went to Texas A&M.

But if these details have no part in the story, the reader will not care.

Leave them in your subconscious.

If you are having trouble figuring out a character, fill out a character profile, or do some journaling in that character's voice.

Your character must act, not simply be acted upon.

We care about characters because we are interested in the choices they make.

We want to boo the villain, cheer the hero, and cry with frustration when the tragic figure makes the wrong move.

A character who does not act, but simply receives information and is acted upon by outside forces, is not a character who will compel the reader.

Remember, plot is what the characters do next.

If the characters do not create the plot, the plot is hollow.

Here's a character profile worksheet I sometimes fill out if I'm having trouble understanding a particular character I've created:

Character Profile

Name:

Height:

Age in story:

Birthplace:

Hair color, length, style:

Race/nationality:

Regional influences:

Accent: (include voice, style of speech, slang, signature phrases or words)

Religion:

Marital status:

Scars or other notable physical attributes:

Handicaps: (emotional, physical, mental)

Athletic? Inactive? Overall health?

Style of dress:

Favorite colors:

How does the character feel about his/her appearance?

Brothers/sisters:

Relationship with parents:

Memories about childhood:

Educational background: (street smart? Formal? Does he/she read?)

Work experience:

Occupation:

Where does the character live now? Describe home (emotional atmosphere as well as physical)

Neat or messy?

Sexual preferences/morals/activities:

Women friends/men friends:

Pets?

Enemies? Why?

Basic nature:

Personality traits (shy, outgoing, domineering, doormat, honest, kind, sense of humor):

Strongest trait:

Weakest trait:

What does the character fear?

What is the character proud of?

What is the character ashamed of?

Outlook on life (optimistic, pessimistic, cynic, idealist)

Ambitions:

Politics:

How does the character see himself/herself?

How is the character seen by others?

Do you like this person? Why or why not?

Will readers like or dislike?

Most important thing to know about this character:

Present problem:

How it will get worse:

What is the character's goal in the story?

What traits will help/hurt the character in achieving this goal?

What makes the character different from similar characters?

Why will readers remember this character vividly?

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[mikodrawnnarratives]

Have some art + fic rn cuz i had this idea plaguing me for a whlie in my first playthrough of the game and i needed to have it realized.

I don't want to edit my writing just yet so i'll do that later, but for now have some mentally unstable Siffrin 👍

I'll come up with a title ltr, prob when i edit this and post to ao3 (so if this gets reblogs just check out the og post for latest ver.)

For now the warnings you should know of are just character death, lots of Siff hating himself, and i think suicide ideation? I wrote this a few hours ago n still don't want to go back just yet but basically its nothing that doesn't already exist in the game

Fic starts under the cut! Roughly 2000 words

(edit: i forgor some colors don't exist/can't be seen 🤡, fixed now!)

Siffrin can’t seem to fall asleep at all anymore. The night right before the loops he can only pretend to get some rest before facing the king. He isn’t quite sure what the reason is. Being stuck in one place for too long? Useless? His urges to reach out for Isa’s touch that keep him awake at night, yearning for connection that is immediately are followed by disgust in himself?  The pure exhaustion at the thought of repeating the next day again? None seem to be the answer. Maybe its a combination.

He only knows that he’s exhausted. Exhausted, yet unable to rest. Even if he were able, would he want to risk what ever dream or nightmare his head might concoct? A blend of memories and deaths to remind him that he can’t escape?

Not being able to sleep makes them worse at the loops too unfortunately. They got along fine for the first few loops after his first sleepless night, though the mistakes ramped up. They cursed their body, cursed themself for being so weak. Simple and stupid mistakes getting them killed via boulder when they forgot and slip of the hand resulting in the weakest of Sadnesses offing him.

Loop of course taunted about his failures, like they always do. He couldn’t fully blame them, knowing deep down he deserved it. There was a pull he sometimes had though, to rest with them, even for just a little bit. He’s hung out with them before, when it gets overwhelming, never for very long. Despite that, to actually sleep with them is a different story. Different vulnerability that, he wasn’t comfortable with. Too weak, he didn’t need another thing for Loop to tease him about. No matter how tempting it would be to sit in the tree and doze off. He wouldn’t doubt that, if he could rest at this point, he would doze off until the next loop.

He can’t have that. He can’t let his family die again.

The next loop began, the stage set, and Siff opened his eye, despite every ache in their body telling them not too. They can’t listen to their body right now though. They need to travel the entire house in the next few loops for anything he might have missed before. One more sweep. 

He carries out his lines, plays the role he’s meant, rehearsing the other actor’s lines in his head before they speak up. Familiar steps, expressions, directions. When they get to Isabeau, they slip up again, Isa’s concern blooms. But they’ve seen this before. It’ll be fine. Their gut twists at forcing Isa to be concerned, but theres a warmth in it too. That Isa cares. Cares about them. It’s strange, when Odile gets close to the truth, stars when she FINDS OUT the truth, there isn’t any warmth. Just, fear. But knowing Isa won’t find out, just cares and makes them promise to talk about it at a time they know won’t come, it’s a guilty pleasure. At least, for now. Before it becomes meshed with all the other lines Siffrin has come to expect from The Fighter.

While navigation the House like normal, they slip up occasionally, interacting with objects that spark Odile’s concern. They don’t bother reversing the mistakes, he hasn’t slipped up that much. There’s no way she could know. Siff crumbled on the first floor at the counter they jabbed themself into again. Unable to see it and always stupidly forgetting to be cautious there. Stupid. 

And they kept making mistakes. Their exhaustion pulling at their body, their nerves eating them alive. There’s no warmth with new lines of concern from their actors. Just spikes of panic followed by their attempts to reassure them. To continue on.

By the final snack stop before the King, their actor’s change the script again. Siffrin tensed, their hand tracing the handle of their dagger in case of emergency. Odile… odile doesn’t call out suspicious connections to time craft this time. Everyone just.. Just asks him to nap.

The third floor they had fumbled the most, their quick grabs at the keys became more clumsy against his will. His hands can’t stop shaking. The aches won’t cease their whining in his body. Change, of course they noticed, they aren’t blind. The script is similar, repeating the words that simultaneously warm his body and send nausea through it. They’re a family. They care.

Absently, Siffrin notes Mira’s asking him if he’ll accept a comb, again. At least that’s familiar. At least one of them new the script to stick to. And, he really wouldn’t mind it again. The loops reset his hair back to the tangled and knotted mess it was when he startled back to awareness in Dormont. Everytime. Sometimes they briefly wondered if Mirabelle would comb their hair out back in town too. They would never ask though.

Their family quietly chated as Mirabelle combed through his hair. Gently, dare they think lovingly. Careful not to hurt him. Like he’s fragile and weak. Pathetic. They are pathetic aren’t they. For wanting this. Selfish for forcing them. Their hands continued to tremble, as much as Siff tried to suppress it.

The Fighter changes the script first. First to notice. Notice a slip up. They tense, not for any particular reason just, they don’t know this script. The Fighter’s face is concerned but softens. Isa. Isa asked hesitantly it he could see their hands. Siff let him, letting their pathetic shaking hands be engulfed in Isa’s large ones. He hesitantly rubs their knuckles, Mira continues to brush the tangles out of their hair. Siff’s eyelid got heavier, their body screaming to just let go, just relax. They haven’t reached the king yet, the head housemaid, they can’t yet. 

When they heard Odile close her book, another off script action, they jolted up and looked her way. Odile was about to speak up, but hesitated at their startled form. Her concerned and piercing expression remained.

“Siffrin, did you get any rest at all last night?”

They stop and meekly speak up, “I slept..”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Siffrin grimaced, tensing up. “I got.. Some rest. Why do you ask?”

“The fumbling around and absent performance don’t suggest you did.”

She had them there. Their fingers twitch as they internally remind themselves their dagger is still on their person. Even if their hands are occupied with being held by Isa’s. They take a breath.

The other actors contribute, sharing their nerves about facing the King. Needing to be ready before confronting the Threat, that could be their final standing place. No. No they won’t fail. They won’t die here. He might, but he won’t let his family.

Odile is actually the first to suggest Siffrin rest before they face the King. They can’t have any weak links before such a moment. Weak members. Weak. They were clumsy this loop. Their other family members share in the sentiment. They probably think he’s weak too. Their concerned smiles are hard to say no to though. The aches and exhaustion overwhelming his body probably wouldn’t let him refuse such an opportunity either. Surely. Surely they went through the first couple floors quick enough that another fifteen minutes before the king wouldn’t be too long. Right?

It’s a thought that didn’t seem to cross his family member’s faces when he gave into their requests and laid down. Mira scooted over, getting started on the next clump of tangled hair. Isa offered his lap as a pillow, and Siffrin’s slow mind just. Accepts the request. Not noting the dark shade flooding The Fighter’s face as they dragged their body to his lap, their head and partial upper body relaxing immediately. They rest their head on their blind side, one hand interlaced with The Fighter’s, behind them Mira finishing off the last of their tangles. The concern from their family’s faces hasn’t completely disappeared, but it’s eased. And that is enough to release the remaining tension in his body. It’s enough. 

Their family makes a few jokes that their brain muffles. Some laughing. Bonnie’s working on their snacks in the corner, still. They’ll be ready when they wake up. Their legs adjusted and placed in someone else’s lap, they think. Whoever it was, rubs circles into their calf. His eyelid grows heavier, their breathes come easy. Deep breaths. Someone rubs their back. 

It’s nice. Really.. really nice. One could easily forget they were even about to face the King at all. Face the end. They close their eyelid. It’s warm. One breath in. And out. Just.. just a quick nap. Where they are loved. They.. they are loved right? This is what this means… at least right now…

Yeah. They hope this is right.

Sleep engulfs them for the first time in several loops and their breaths slow.

The chatting continues around him, not lacking some glances exchanged between the adults in the room. But mostly, just relief fills the air. Mira stayed by Siffrin’s side, threading her fingers through his now completely combed out hair. The flush in Isabeau’s cheeks still hadn’t fully left, every movement reminding him of his crush resting so peacefully in his lap. Like a sleeping cat that once it has claimed you as it’s cushion, you are bound by the universe to not move for any reason. Odile didn’t pass up the opportunity to tease him, met with Isa’s shushing and hushed whisper “what if he wakes up and hears you!!”

Siff had done a lot today, and everyone would have assumed he was completely calm about fighting the king if not for his uncharacteristic clumsiness. Mirabelle supposed it made sense though. A night of rough sleep right before facing the most dangerous threat facing the country? That would make anyone mess up.

After another twenty minutes, Bonnie comes over with the freshly prepared snacks. Made extra special since they were more ahead of schedule than expected. Last hurrah before the king, everyone needed to be at their best.

Mirabelle smiles, heading over to were Bonnie had announced the snacks. Isa attempts to move but flounders at the idea of moving Siff. Mirabelle giggles at his flushing face as Odile moves their legs out of their lap. Well, time to end their nap she supposes. Their sleepy family member probably won’t be too thrilled about waking up but it is snack time.

Mirabelle collects her choice of snack and crouches over to Siff, moving their hat from where it had obscured their resting expression. Isa looked both upset to have the time his crush sleeps on their lap come to an end, and relieved. He lets out a chuckle as Mira gently shakes their shoulder.

“Time to wake up, Siffrin! Bonnie has snacks for everyone.” Mira moves a few hairs out of their face. “Siffrin?”

Isabeau adjusts, and joins in. “Siff? Sorry to wake you bud but..” He pauses, seeing Mirabelle’s face shift. Odile’s gaze sharpens as Mirabelle’s leans over them, placing her ear to their chest.

“They- th-they aren’t” Mira cries out. “They aren’t breathing! No no no-” 

Isabeau moves Siffrin off his lap with shaking hands. Odile rushes over to their side, checking their wrist and neck for a pulse. Bonnie’s face crumbles in the corner, alarm replacing the happy air.

Isabeau shakes Siffrin’s still body, Mirabelle readies a heal craft as Odile begins to try resuscitating them.

but 

the 

world

goes

blank

Siffrin first feels the gentle breeze around them. The grass moving in tune, sometimes brushing up against the small areas their clothes don’t cover. They hear Mirabelle in the distance and when they open their eyes, she’s right above them, apologetic for waking them. Siffrin blinks. It’s been a while since Mira’s been the one to wake them up. 

“Good morning! Well, more like good afternoon, I gue- wow. Are you okay?”

That’s new. Why would her lines-

“You’re crying.. Is something wrong, Siffrin?”

He blinks and brings a hand to his face. Sure enough, his cheek is stained with tears. He doesn’t remember crying, he just woke up too. From..

“Must’ve happened in my sleep” He says absently.

Mira frowns, “Oh no! What did you dream about…?”

Siffrin shrugs and repeats lines he remembers that will reassure her the quickest. She sighs and returns back to town. They’ll be waiting for him.

He takes a moment to think about what happened in the last loop. He.. doesn’t remember dying. Must have been when he went to sleep. That. That probably should worry him, that falling asleep could end a loop, but he doesn’t feel any regret about it. Actually, it’d be nice if all his loops ended like that. Just, dying with his loved ones around. It would take too long though, even if it could happen again. This loop needs to be faster. Last loop they didn’t even reach the king, and they have questions. 

He grumbles as he sits up, a part of him yearning to go back to that warmth. Oh if only the universe could have let it be permanent. A permanent death that didn’t even hurt. That’s wishful thinking though, the universe isn’t so kind. And they have work to do, his family- actors. They need what he knows. He can’t rest forever yet.

The show must go on.

[gothicflowers]

Domestic Price headcanons!! ON MY HANDS AND KNEES!!!

Domestic!Price x F!reader

WARNING MDNI (+18 ONLY)

Warnings : tooth rotting fluff, some sexual references.

Word Count: ? So many

Sorry this took me forever to write, the past month has been insane. But things are finally getting better and I’m feeling creative.

Domestic!Price isn’t someone that many are familiar with. Especially those he works with. When price joined the military he was a teen who was in the punk scene and he couldn’t hold a job for more than a month. The man was running from the cops and passed out at random houses half the week. By six pm there was liquor on his breath. His dear mom had enough one day and kicked him out. When he stumbled through the front door she had a suitcase full of his good clothes packed and handed him a small amount of cash. He told her he didn’t care and he didn’t need her. After two months of couch surfing and working odd end jobs for cash he seen something about enlisting in the military. Free housing, consistent pay and a uniform. John knew he could pick up girls easily with a uniform on, easier than his charming personality already could.

Six months later he’s in basic training regretting his decision to join. He came into basic training more out of shape than he thought. He hates reading and is having to study and sit through classes when he’s not being drilled. But by week five somehow he’s leading the class. Perfect scores on test, marksmanship skills are undeniably good, and maybe that mandatory haircut doesn’t look too bad.

He graduated top of his academy class with flying colors. Five years later price has slowed worked his way up the chain. He’s still a cocky bastard but nobody can deny his knowledge of strategies and tactics. He’s a hard ass to new guys but ensures they are well trained, after all John is a firm believer that you’re only as good as your weakest guy.

After two years of being in he realized his mom was right. So on one of his days off he showed up to his moms with flowers and sweets and apologized and thanked her for giving him the push he needed. Even if he didn’t realize it at the time.

John Price has finally got his life together. But he’s still a playboy who doesn’t see the point in setting down with a nice lady. He has time right?

Before he knows it LT John Price in his early thirties. Nobody to come home to every night actually sucks. Too much beer gives him a headache and he’s not much for parties anymore. He’s picked up a few hobbies like leather-working and fishing, but there is still a void in his life. Price is… alone.

John didn’t fear commitment, but young John didn’t see how keeping a woman by his side would benefit him then. John wishes he could go back in time and smack himself for all the times he turned down sweet kind women who wanted to settle down. He broke so many hearts, all because he thought he had time.

That’s when he starts daydreaming. Thoughts of walking through the front door and being greeted by his lover and maybe even a dog or two. Summers nights stargazing rather than slouched on the couch with a beer in hand. Having purpose, a life outside of his job. So he put the effort into making a dating profile and goes on a few dates. A few horrible dates. So he deleted the profile and slowly gave up.

Then one day you cashed into his life, well... technically he did.

Literally.

John wasn’t paying attention while backing his car out at the supermarket and backed right into your car. Your bumper was deeply scratched and your taillight cracked. You both pulled back into your parking spaces to look at the damage. Before you knew it the idiot driver that backed into you was next to you profusely apologizing. The man had tired eyes and looked defeated at his careless actions. You couldn’t deny that the idiot was incredibly handsome.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked in my mirror and I didn’t and I-“ John rambled.

“Don’t worry, this car has more scratches than I care to count” you replied giggling.

John was clearly struggling to talk as he was distracted by your beautiful face “I completely busted that taillight. Ma’am I’m so sorry. I can get my insurance and we can get this sorted”

“Well it’s a rather old car, so I have a better proposition” you smiled watching the mountain of a man remove his beanie to rub his hair.

“What would that be” he asked.

You smirked “Well there is a cafe on the corner. You look like you could use a coffee and so could I. We go have a nice cup, sit down like old friends and chat. Look online for a taillight replacement instead of getting insurance involved”.

You pleasantly surprised John and he agreed to your idea. Firstly because he hates dealing with paperwork and secondly because this beautiful creature wanted to actually talk to him. Somehow you two just clicked.After two hours of nonstop chatting and learning about each other John received a call from work demanding him to come in on his day off. Unfortunately closing your time together.

“Well I quite enjoyed this. And if you’re comfortable with it I can install that taillight when it comes in. I would hate for you to do it yourself. And maybe after I can take you out to dinner” John said, getting a little shy with his last sentence. He was praying he didn’t misinterpret and scare you off.

“What a gentleman. I would love that” you eagerly answered. You wrote down your number for him on a napkin.

(000)-000-0000

Y/N xoxo

A broken taillight is the beginning of Domestic!Price

About a week later John arrived on your doorstep with a bouquet of flowers, a tool bag and a new taillight. He was a tad bit nervous hoping to make a good impression.

Domestic!Price is the definition of chivalry.

He opens all doors for you and is quick to lend you his coat if you show the slightest signs of a chill.

Before you know it John brings you fresh flowers every week. Your grandmother always told you the stronger the intentions the longer the flowers will last. And the flowers John brings you live for what seems like an eternity.

As much as John wants to move fast he forces himself to slow his pace. He feels the need to prove he’s the gentleman you deserve. Especially after learning about your shitty dating experiences.

Even when he brought you home from your first date he only left with a kiss. Granted it was a long passionate kiss, but just a kiss. He’d desperately wanted to tear your clothes off in that moment, but didn’t want to give off the impression that he expected it. He said goodnight and left. You were kinda shocked that you two didn’t fuck, you took an everything shower and had lingerie under your outfit. But it was actually refreshing to find a man that was satisfied with just a kiss. He wasn’t putting on an act the whole night to get lucky, he was genuinely interested in you.

His good morning texts always arrive to your phone around 5:45AM. John did warn you beforehand that he frequently is away from his phone during meetings and trainings so you never worry about him ignoring or long awaited responses.

John will wake up before you regardless of the day. He’s usually found making coffee/tea and breakfast somewhere around 08:30. He usually brings it all up to bed on a tray. Heaven forbid he lets you lift a finger this early. Every morning you both snuggle with your coffee and listen to the birds chirping outside the window.

Domestic!Price is not very good at cooking, breakfast and desserts are the only things you let him make. Mostly because he’s surprisingly good at making them. You always tell him if he leaves the military he should be a pastry chef. Price likes comfort food, hardy meals that almost make him fall asleep afterwards. He’s in denial about gaining 15 pounds since he met you. But he feels that the extra pounds are just the extra love you gave him to carry around. He had to go down a notch on his belt because he’s got a little love handle to him now. You feed him well.

Football is his thing. Price is very passionate about it but thankfully he’s calm about it, he knows you don’t do well with yelling in the house. Usually takes you to a couple games a season. You two have matching jerseys, yes he had them custom made.

He hates messy. When he first joined the military he had two roommates that never picked up after themselves, neither did he. Until one day he found a molded plate in between the couch cushions, he started to become a clean freak after that. He moved out a few months later when his roommate’s wouldn’t clean up their mess.

Nowadays Domestic!Price loves a clean home. He made a chore list for both of you. He always helps you with your chores despite you telling him to relax. He loves candles and the smell of fresh sheets. Price wasn’t very organized before he met you, thankfully you managed to get the home organized and he can find everything now.

IKEA who? Never head of her. Domestic!price likes wood working. The kitchen table, cabinets, china hutch and so much more was all hand made by price. But the most elaborate thing he’s ever made? The bed frame. It has some… flair as he called it when it was finally put together. The frame has secret pockets for rope to be tied to. Specifically so he can tie you down. And let’s not forget that makeup vanity he made you, that mirror is a lockable cabinet containing a whirlwind of things. Vibes, clamps, ropes, differently shaped dildos, paddles, you name it it’s in there. Why is there two smoke alarms in your bedroom? Well… one of the is just a cover for that ceiling hook so he can suspend you.

Domestic price doesn’t mind vanilla sex. Lots of times you two disregard the kinky objects and are just wrapped in a passionate embrace. John’s not one for staying quiet, both of you could be heard from the front door when you’re together. He will be soundproofing the room if you two decide on kids.

Speaking of kids this man has the biggest breeding kink known to man. It’s not seeing his cum dripping out of your hole that fuels the fire in his belly. It’s the sheer thought of you both sitting around the dinner table with your kids asking each other about their day. Dance recitals and little league games. Watching you being a loving parent and having everything you need. That’s what he desires out of life.

Domestic!Price craves domestic life. Where there’s no threat, no bogeyman in the closet, no sound of gunfire, there’s just you two and the home you created.

John always drives, you’re a passenger princess. If it’s a nice day he takes you out for a drive in his classic car he restored himself. Windows down while 2000’s dad rock plays. Speaking of music he likes to collect vinyls. His collection grew heavily when he started buying records that you like. He plays Fleetwood Mac’s Rumors album weekly.

Domestic!Price likes slow dancing with the lights dimmed late at night. He’s a fan of 70’s music and it’s his usual go to for dancing. His father heavily influenced his music taste.

Price doesn’t care for the term boyfriend. After about a month of you two dating he promoted himself to husband. John said boyfriend “sounds childish at our age” when you asked sweetly what that was about when he introduced himself to your coworkers. He said he wouldn’t do it again if it made you uncomfortable to which you promptly said you liked it and much preferred the idea of being his wife rather than his girlfriend. That night he started looking at rings.

He went through your jewelry taking note if you wore gold or silver more. What types of jewelry styles interested you. The man was on a mission for the perfect ring. And what doesn’t it matter if you two have only been together two months? His grandparents met and married after three months and they were the definition of true love.

And yes he did propose at only four months. It was better than you could have imagined. He planned a whole weekend getaway and you never suspected it. He had rented a private boat for you two and brought champagne and charcuterie. He proposed a toast to you two and got down on one knee. You were both crying tears of joy when you said yes.

Unlike most men who buy their significant other jewelry he doesn’t buy you stones. Pearls, he buys you pearls. Expensive ones too. There’s just something about them on your neck that drives him wild. He hasn’t made the connection but it feeds into his housewife kink. There is something about him coming home from a long day and seeing you in a dress wearing those peals and an apron. A hot meal and the table is already set. You take his coat off and asking him about his day. Perfection.

Domestic!Price doesn’t share much about work. You know what he does and the stresses. He listened to your advice and does some therapy to help deal with his stress levels and the things he’s gone through. He slowly starts thinking about transferring to a job that won’t put him in the field.

He invited the boys over for dinner and his men were quite shocked. John didn’t give them much notice or anything really other than “don’t be late”.

Gaz who showed up in a tracksuit was under the impression this was a boys night with pizza and beer was shocked to arrive at a beautiful home with a perfect garden of roses. Ghost knew of your existence quite well as price loves to talk about your cooking and how much he misses you when they deploy. Soap… well… he said some things in Gaelic that you didn’t understand but surely they were those of surprise. Soap felt like a dumbass for wearing jeans and a cutoff tee.

John met them at the door and welcomed them in. The boys were rather impressed by the decor and how cozy it looked. The men half expected the home to be bare as they never took price as one for decor. But the biggest shock to Soap and Gaz was you, a woman slightly younger than Price who was in cooking in the kitchen is a pretty dress, heels and pearls. Even though Ghost was aware of your existence he was floored at how Price could pull such a beautiful woman.

Price proudly introduced you with his are around you lower back. After pleasantries they all offered to help you finish cooking, to which you laughed and said no. Even price shook his head because he knows you have your process of cooking and don’t like extra hands because it overwhelms you. And when you brought them a tray of neatly made drinks you have sworn Soap about died. No wonder Price always comes to work in a good mood, he’s got a pretty bird like you at home.

After seeing what his captains life is like outside of work it gave him some hope, maybe it’s possible to have a stable relationship with this job. Soap made a joke about “sharing”. That was the first time Price ever thought of beating Soap into the ground. Price is too proud of the life he daydreamed about to let another man or woman come into the picture. Just the thought of losing you or your lips kissing anyone but his will send him into a spiral. You’re his world. His to love, fuck, and protect.

Domestic!Price likes to slow down when he’s not at work. Life at a slower pace is more enjoyable. He can take in the sweet moments and the sunshine. He slowly starts bringing Simon and the boys around more and they too realize this.

Domestic!price doesn’t fully understand social media. He isn’t on any, most because of his job. Plus he doesn’t like how fake people are on it. He lets you post pictures of you two together but his face is always uniquely hidden, for your own protection of course. The first picture you posted of you two was actually from your wedding. You both walked together hand in hand as he was kissing your temple. After that you received several calls and texts from old friends and distant relatives asking when did you get married? Who is he? Where did you two meet?

Speaking of yours and prices wedding domestic Price was very involved in the planning. He found the most beautiful venue and really liked picking florals. I mean this man went over budget because he wanted the most elegant and elaborate flower arrangements. If you have any cultural customs John was very adamant that your customs would be met to your specifications.

Unfortunately John’s family is a handful and wanted to plan the wedding, his mother thought it was her big day. John sat her down and had a long conversation about boundaries and respect towards his soon to be wife. She actually apologized as she didn’t realize how much she was overstepping. Your mother was shocked that John was very involved with the planning, but it made her adore him even more.

You both have relatively large families but decided to keep the guests list under sixty people. Only close family and friends. This ruffled some feathers but it made for a perfect day. John is very good at controlling his emotions but when he seen you walk down the aisle his eyes welled with tears.

Domestic!Price can’t wear his ring to work. He wanted to tattoo a ring or your name somewhere on him but still feared it could be used as easy leverage. So he has a large chest tattoo that incorporates your favorite flowers and bird. In fact he starts slowing getting tattoos about you. It’s his way of keeping you with him when he’s gone.

[turtletaubwrites]

Numbers Game ~ Part 9

Anything?

Numbers Game Masterlist

Pairings: Cross Guild x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4515

Ao3 Link

Ongoing Series Playlist: Youtube Music Link | Youtube Link

Summary: These dangerous men give you what you asked for. So you ask for a little more.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Swearing, Smut, Established Relationship, Manipulation, Humiliation, Pet Names, Power Imbalance, Cross Guild boys are VILLAINS, Possessive Behavior, Teasing, Threats, Size Difference, Dom Dracule Mihawk, Cuckolding, Daddy Kink, Overstimulation, Hair-Pulling, Degradation, Threesome - F/M/M, Threats of Violence, Choking, Masturbation, PIV Sex, Unprotected Sex (Be safe out there!), Orgasm Control, Multiple Orgasms, Spit, Sex Toys, Anal Play, Large Cock, Blowjobs, Shameless Smut, Anal, Double Penetration, Knifeplay, (hook play?), Aftercare

A/N: Heeyyy, so this was meant to be the conclusion of this "one shot." I really hope you enjoy this filthy chapter! I will be pausing this series to catch up on my other projects, so I hope this is a satisfying place for a little break, but I do plan on playing around with these little fiends some more! (Let's be real though, I might just write the next part tomorrow because I have zero control over my feral brain 😅)

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Wait.”

You were still frozen after Mihawk’s filthy command, so Crocodile’s deep voice just gave you a reason to be still. 

“What are we waiting for, sandman? You told me to stretch–”

“You’ve been hogging all the fun, swordsman,” Crocodile huffed as he stood from the couch.

The massive room narrowed down until all you could see was his veiny, overwhelming cock.

The large man looked down at you with knowing eyes as your mouth went dry. That impressive length bobbed above your head as he moved toward the edge of the coffee table. He went to his knees, and your breath hitched as he started to cage you in.

“I just want a little taste,” Crocodile teased, his deep voice sending chills through you. 

He dug his fingers into your hip until you cried out, but he kept his eyes on Mihawk.

“You’ll still have plenty of work to do. I just wanna fuck my pretty girl’s ass with my tongue before you get it all stretched out.”

The moan that left your lips was almost frightening. It didn’t help that Mihawk was laughing while Crocodile’s one hand flipped you over. That hand was so strong, so big, and suddenly you were flat on your stomach on that coffee table, Crocodile’s fur coat surely wrecked at this point. 

You weren’t sure what you were expecting next, but the heavy smack of his huge cock hitting your ass was not it. Another desperate moan escaped you, and you subconsciously tried to crawl away from that threat. 

Your struggle brought a very different threat to your throat.

Sharp. 

A sharp prick of metal made you gasp, all of your forward movement halted. Any struggle away from that heavy, veiny weapon he wielded would have you skewered on the hook curled around your throat. 

“Baby girl,” Crocodile growled, leaning over to brush the hair from your face while his hook stayed in its lethal position. 

“Didn’t you promise Daddy that you could take it?”

A pathetic whimper started, but got trapped in your throat as the movement pressed against that piercing hook.

He stroked that big hand down your back and the meat of your ass a few times while he let out a soothing hum. As soothing as a sound could be with a deadly weapon at your weakest point.

He started to thrust across your skin slowly, and that thick, warm flesh rubbing between your cheeks to your lower back had you clenching with fear and anticipation. And through it all, your body reacted, dripping with need.

Crocodile thrust a little harder until the heavy slap of his balls met your wet cunt. He moved his hook just in time before you speared yourself on that cold metal while you cried out for him. 

“Shh, sweetheart. Don’t you trust me,” he asked as he peppered kisses down your back, removing that heavy threat of him from your skin.

All you could manage was a weak moan that almost sounded like, ‘yeah.’

“Don’t be scared,” he breathed over you, his vicious fingers reaching under your hips as he forced your ass into the air. 

“How about you hold onto this, huh? Hold it tight while I make my sweet girl feel so good.”

With your upper body still pressed into his coat, Crocodile stretched his long arm forward until you could wrap your left hand around that golden hook. 

He left kisses on your lower back, and smoothed his hand over your ass, lifted up toward him, like an offering for its new owner. 

That’s what this is. They’ll take care of me. Because they own me.

Again, your mind tried to fight. It tried to fight to be terrified, disgusted, angry.

But your body had its own plan. The thought of this frightening man owning every fucking inch of you had your body sighing, going limp and loose, pushing your ass up higher for him. 

“Mm, there’s my sweet girl.”

His long, warm tongue licked a stripe from your clit to your ass before he pulled one of your cheeks aside, and started circling that tight ring of muscle with that large tongue. 

The noises leaving your throat were unrecognizable, animalistic, as he wasted no time in shoving that thick tongue into your tight ass. 

It was too much, and it was too fucking good.

Especially when he brought one of those damn fingers to circle your clit.

“Fuuuckk, Daddy…” 

“Mm, what is it babydoll,” he teased, removing that intrusive, delicious tongue. 

“Does my little girl like Daddy’s tongue in her ass?”

“Mmhm,” you begged, writhing your body to make him keep going.

His laughter vibrated through you as he kept going. His fingers teased your clit expertly, while that tongue invaded you, twisting, shoving, curling around until you came. 

You cried out as you fell apart again, as he shoved his tongue so fucking deep while your body convulsed. Every insane orgasm they ripped from you kept pulling you under.

You hadn’t realized you’d been moaning the word ‘daddy’ until your breathing started to calm, his lips leaving warm kisses along your lower back. 

“Told you she was a good girl,” Crocodile teased as he pulled away from you. “Our sweet girl’s ass just milked my tongue like her life depended on it.”

“Really,” Mihawk drawled, his voice moving closer, “because that sounds like something a slut would do.”

The insult from his filthy mouth sounded like the highest of praise, and it brought another moan from you. 

Crocodile huffed as Mihawk traced his hands along your face and back. 

“Our little rabbit is only a slut for us though, right? Our pretty, precious slut that comes just for us?”

“Mmhm,” you breathed out, trying to push yourself up.

“Such a good girl,” he teased as he pressed down on your upper back to keep you in position. “Time to get you ready. I know how much you’ve been waiting, darling.”

He was behind you now, trailing fingers up your thighs before teasing your folds with his swollen length, bringing his breathy name to your lips.

He chuckled as he entered you slowly, your fingers clutching at the coat beneath you. He started a slow pace, tracing his fingers around the meat of your ass until you were twitching. 

The cool drip of liquid onto your asshole made you clench, and the press of the plug that followed had you shaking, groaning with pleasure. He teased and played with you slowly, stretching you out bit by bit as he pushed it further into you. The tight, almost stinging feeling had your eyes rolling back as it filled you more and more.

Mihawk kept that slow rhythm with his cock and the toy, making you lost in sensation until his taunting voice brought you back.

“I've got some questions, little rabbit, and I expect honest answers. Can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Good. I’ve just been curious about something. Since you were so desperate for us to fuck you the day we arrived, I had to wonder if your needs weren’t being met.”

It wasn’t a question, so you didn’t answer. But if you opened your eyes, you knew you’d see Buggy on that green chair. 

“Did you enjoy letting that clown fuck you?”

When you paused, he pushed the plug in just a little more, making you cry out your ‘yes.’

“Interesting. Did you ever let him into this lovely, tight ass of yours?”

“Yes.” 

“Let’s see,” he teased, bringing more wild noises from you as he stretched you further. “What else would I like to know… How about, did he ever let our sweet rabbit fuck anything into his ass?”

Your eyes fluttered open to see Buggy watching you, his mouth hanging wide.

“Yes.”

“Mm, what a giving lover you are. Such a shame he didn’t treat you right.”

He pressed the plug fully into you now, and didn’t give you time to stop thrashing before his lube covered fingers teased around his cock.

“What are–”

“Stretching you out, darling. You saw Sir Crocodile’s cock, didn’t you? Just take a deep breath…”

Mihawk’s fingers pressed into you, stretching your pussy next to his already impressive cock. It was overwhelming, the fullness you felt left you panting. 

“I think I have one more question for now,” he mused, fucking you slowly open.

“Does the clown’s cock detach, and fly around like all his other bits? Does it function like that?”

You didn’t think it was possible for your skin to flush even more, but you felt your face burning.

The pause you took elicited a deep thrust that had you whimpering.

“Yes, it does. It works.”

His deep laughter hummed through you, before he removed himself, and the plug, leaving you empty. 

Strong hands lifted you gently, and you relaxed against him.

A contented sigh left you as he kissed you from your temple down to the crook of your neck, his facial hair tickling as you failed to push him away. 

Mihawk nipped playfully at your neck, leaving you giggling. As terrifying as this man was, he could be fucking cute when he wasn’t trying scare you.

“Here we go, rabbit,” he rasped in your ear, nibbling on it before he went on. “I can’t wait to watch you break on our cocks, pretty thing.”

Your shaky hands tried to cling to his shoulders as he sat you on the couch, your feet resting on Crocodiles lap.

Right next to his glistening cock, covered in lube, and waiting for you.

“Come on, sweet girl,” his deep voice beckoned, “come sit on Daddy’s lap.”

Mihawk chuckled at you again from his spot on the table while you were frozen. You didn’t even mean to stay still, you were just overwhelmed. 

“We’ll start nice and slow, sweetheart. I know you can take it.”

How can his voice seem so sweet, even with the thread of danger riding just underneath?

Crocodile’s voice helped you move, and you reached for his offered hand and hook. Sitting on his thighs with his pulsing need between you, you basked under his gaze. 

Again, there was still that feeling of being an object, a prized possession. But the way his eyes roamed over every inch of you had you shivering. Like you were stunning, precious.

The cool metal of his hook stroked your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed at the no longer unwanted sensation. 

“Put your hands on my shoulders, babydoll. I’ll help you.”

You obeyed, your hands still trembling as he guided you to hover slightly above him.

“Let me feel ya just a little, sugar.”

His husky voice gave you chills as you lowered just enough.

He rubbed his tip through your folds, pressing against your sensitive clit, until you had to fight to stay steady.

“So pretty when you dance for me.”

Your eyes had closed as his words rolled over you, but they snapped back to him as he lined himself up. 

“Be a good girl, and breathe for me, alright?”

Now that he was pressed at your entrance, already feeling huge before he was even inside you, he brought his large hand to your waist. It didn’t hurt, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to escape that firm grip unless he let you. 

He kept stroking the back of that hook along your skin as he told you to relax.

Your eyes went wide as you started to take him in, your fingers clawing into his shoulders. You’d never been with anyone this big before and it felt intense, the tip of him invading you as you tried to pull away.

That firm grip of his kept your hips in place while he watched you squirm, digging his fingers in hard until you looked at him.

“Quit fighting. You said you could take it, sweet girl. I don’t like liars.”

His soothing smile would have had more effect if he hadn’t coupled it with those words, and his hook around your neck. Another chain to hold you in place.

“If you don’t breathe, it’s gonna hurt worse. You don’t want Daddy to hurt you, huh?”

You tried to focus on breathing, but a smirk touched his lips that stopped your breath again.

“Mm, but you liked pain, didn’t you,” he taunted, still holding your body at the very tip of him. “Would that help you out, sugar?”

The point of his hook scraped lightly across your lower back, your eyes rolling as you gasped in pleasure from the teasing pain.

That brought out a desperate cry as your body shoved itself further down his shaft from your writhing movement. 

Mihawk was chuckling behind you again while Crocodile showered you with praise.

“Look how well you’re doing for me, baby. That was so good, your pussy feels like heaven, sweetheart.”

Your fingers were digging into his arms as you tried to get used to the stretch. Then his fingers dug into your waist again, and his dark eyes burned into you.

“That’s enough waiting. You know you can take it now, pretty girl. Either you do it, or I’ll do it for you.”

Frozen again, you gasped as he wrapped the hook back around your neck.

“Don’t keep me waiting.”

His growl rolled through your skin, and you started to slide yourself onto him. Your legs had gotten wobbly from sitting above him like that, and he was kind enough to hold you up by the waist when you shook, almost falling down his length. 

The tight, burning stretch of him stole your thoughts. He filled you up more and more, until you took in almost all of him, whimpering in his lap with tears in your eyes. 

“Such a good girl,” he moaned softly as he leaned down to kiss your temple. “You feel me filling you up so good, huh, sweetheart?”

All you managed were whimpers, pathetic fingers grasping at the muscles of his massive chest.

Pleased laughter rumbled through him as he gripped your waist again.

“Just relax, babydoll. I’ll do the rest.”

Your body clenched and tightened around his as he started to move you up and down. Even one handed, he had no trouble lifting and sliding your body while you broke apart, shaking and moaning for him. 

Your grasping hands reached up to hang onto his hook, holding it in place around your neck, and clawing uselessly into the metal.

More praise left his lips as he started slow, but soon you were screaming as he bounced you on his cock, finally forcing your body all the way down until you were filled to the brim. 

“Fuck yes, my perfect fucking girl,” Crocodile moaned between that brutal bouncing. “Knew you could take it all, baby. So proud of you.”

You whimpered when he took his hook away, reaching for something else to cling to. 

Instead, you felt lips and teeth along your neck, sending a pulse of heat right to your core.

The painful stretch of the man beneath you was still overwhelming, but it was also incredible. You were already so close, and Mihawk’s teasing touches had you throwing your head back.

“I thought I might have missed it, but it doesn’t look like you’ve broken her just yet,” Mihawk spoke over you as his hands played along your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples to make you thrash again.

“She’s almost there. Our sweet girl can handle a lot, can’t you, baby.”

“Mmhm,” you managed, trying and failing to help him move you as he fucked you like a doll.

“Alright, little rabbit,” Mihawk breathed along your ear, “I’m going to take you now, just like you wanted. Remember, darling?”

His hands roamed your body, before trapping your hands in one of his. The press of his chest against your back was like fire, heating every part of you. Crocodile slowed, a deep hum moving through him as Mihawk's attention made your body squeeze onto his even more.

“Remember these sweet little fingers trying to please you? When what you really wanted was to be our little treasure? To let us fuck you dumb?”

His words alone would have made you cry out, but he chased those words by stuffing his wicked fingers into your ass, lube letting him slide in easily. 

“Do you still want that? Does our pretty pet want us to fuck her full until she’s dripping with come?”

So much. It was all so much. You could hardly think. 

“Please.”

These two dangerous men both let out deep, satisfied laughs, and you ate it up. 

You wanted them. You wanted it all.

This feels so fucking good.

Mihawk pressed the tip of that thick cock into your ass, reaching his skilled fingers around to your clit.

You came before he’d pushed halfway in, and he used your spasming body as an excuse to sheathe himself fully, ripping screams from your throat. 

Mihawk pushed you forward until you were panting on Crocodile’s chest, while he set one foot on the couch beside the larger man’s thighs to get better leverage. 

You hardly heard their praise through your orgasm as your entire body was focused on the sensation of being full.

“Pretty girl,” Crocodile rasped, helping Mihawk move your body over theirs with his hand on your hip. “Taking us so well. Gonna take care of you, baby.”

Your nod against his chest was probably lost in the heavy thrusts taking you over, making you theirs. 

“He’s right, little darling,” Mihawk purred, wrapping his free hand around your chest to pull you toward him again, arching your back. “I’ve never met such a magnificently filthy rabbit like you. I’m going to make sure you get every sick thing this delicious body craves.”

He kissed your cheek, the sounds of his promise, and his rough breathing, bringing you close to the edge again.

“Pl–”

He took away the fingers at your clit, needy whimpers bringing fresh tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t fret, love. Just answer my questions.”

You nodded desperately, the pressure of their cocks even more intense without his skilled fingers against that needy bundle of nerves. 

“Would you like all three of your pretty holes stuffed full of come?”

A whine left your lips, not understanding.

“What are you doing, swordsman,” Crocodile questioned, his growl almost breathy as he kept shoving into you. 

“Just giving our pet everything she wants,” he taunted, nipping your ear again. “Would you like that clown's cock down your throat while we fuck our come into you?”

A stifled moan floated from behind you, but you couldn’t try to look as Crocodile’s hook touched your cheek. 

That beautiful, frightening man looked down at you, and fear ripped through you again. 

What do they want me to say?

“I don’t like liars, sweet girl. Answer his question.”

They both slowed and paused inside you, your body aching with the need for them to just move. 

“Come on, vixen,” Mihawk coaxed, “it’s a simple–”

“Yes,” you gasped, hoping they wouldn’t punish either of you. 

“You heard her, clown. You should be grateful our little rabbit is so generous.”

The breath you’d been holding came out in a filthy moan as they both started fucking you again, Mihawk’s fingers going back to where you needed them. 

“Hurry up, clown,” Crocodile threatened, his breathing getting ragged again as he bounced you up and down. Your body felt the slide of every thick vein along your clenching walls. 

“If you don’t put your pathetic dick in our sweet girl's mouth right now you won’t be getting it ba–”

If you weren’t almost completely fucked out, you might have giggled at the sight of Buggy’s heavy cock flying in the air above your head, circling for a moment as if afraid to get too close. 

You opened your mouth, letting out a moan that was all the invitation he needed. 

Buggy shoved in harder than he normally does at first, and you felt him pause, as if he hadn’t meant to be that rough. He let you adjust, and you noticed the salty taste of cum along his length. It was more than precum, and it seemed like he’d failed to wipe off all the come he must have spilled in his clothes while he watched you getting fucked.

That thought, that taste, and that force of him down your throat did you in. 

No more thoughts. No more worries or fears. Nothing but these three cocks throbbing inside you, taking you, molding your body to fit theirs. 

A vague awareness you still had on reality noticed your muffled, choked screams, your body thrashing until firm hands held you in place, a hook around your neck, fingers pulling at your hair. 

Sweet praise, vulgar grunts, and the wet, slapping and squelching sounds of your body being used filled the air.

“My sweet girl…”

“My little rabbit…”

“My pretty star…”

You almost didn’t hear that last soft voice before his come spilled down your throat, your hands grasping at someone’s skin while your eyes fluttered.

He left your mouth, floating away while you licked your lips. 

“You ready to fill our girl, Crocodile? I think she’s waited long enough.”

Mihawk’s fingers danced on your clit even faster, and the feeling of their cocks rubbing against each other through the thin, sensitive flesh inside you brought drool to your lips.

“Let’s take care of her,” Crocodile’s voice seemed to threaten, the jolting of his hook around your neck bringing your heavy lidded eyes to his. 

You couldn’t keep your eyes on his for long. 

Not as you felt both of them throbbing, their thrusts slowing and staggering, and their deep moans vibrating through you.

“Such a good girl, taking my come. Fuck, baby…”

“My greedy little pet, you like us fucking you dumb? Get used to it, darling. You feel him filling you, unf, filling you up? Take mine too, rabbit. Fuck, milk our cocks just like that…”

One more orgasm tore through you, like your body was made to suck them up, to devour them. 

Feeling their achingly hot ropes of come pouring into you was one more sensation on a pile of others tonight that you never knew you needed. But now you needed to have it again. 

After all your thrashing and screaming had ceased, gentle hands laid you onto that warm expanse of chest. 

The emptiness was abrupt and painful, and Crocodile gave you soothing noises and praise while Mihawk trailed fingers down your skin.

“Crocodile, you really should get a look at how beautiful she is. Forget jewelry, our little treasure deserves to be dripping with come everyday.”

His pleased voice was close to you, and you twitched as he left soft kisses along your lower back. 

“I’ll have plenty of chances to see her like that. Let’s take our pretty girl to get cleaned up. Clown, go make sure there’s enough towels in my room.”

“Why your room,” Mihawk questioned, as you heard the door to the lounge open and close. 

“I had my own bed brought in,” Crocodile said, his deep voice making you sleepy as you felt it through his chest. “It’s got more than enough room for the three of us. Unless you’d prefer to sleep alone?”

“Not at all. I doubt the bath will be large enough, although I suppose you prefer showers,” Mihawk mused as you heard the distinctive sound of wine filling his glass. 

Soft whimpers left your throat as your wrecked body tried to knock you out. Crocodile just ran that huge hand down your back, shushing and soothing you until the door opened again. 

“Darling, is there anything else you need besides a shower,” Mihawk asked, sitting beside Crocodile to stroke his fingers through your hair. “We’re bringing water, and wine, but let us know if you’re hungry. Our little rabbit put in a lot of work tonight.”

“You need anything, sweetheart?”

Both of their voices offering to care for you sent chills over your skin, and you moaned softly as your body twitched. 

“Please, just…”

Mihawk brought your fingers to his lips, another soft kiss making you sigh.

“Please, keep touching me.”

“Mm, my pleasure,” he purred, leaving another gentle kiss to your knuckles. “Let’s get you cleaned up. 

Mihawk wrapped you in that ruined coat before carrying you down the long hallway, bringing you into Crocodile’s suite as you heard the large man’s voice echoing in the hall. 

“Sit by the door, clown. I want you here in case our girl needs anything.”

A small noise escaped your throat, but Mihawk just kissed your forehead, carrying you away.

“Can you stand for a moment, love? You can hang onto the counter.”

This cruel, terrifying swordsman set you gently onto the bathroom floor, took that heavy coat from your shoulders, and knelt at your feet. He brought a damp washcloth to your skin, handling you with so much gentleness that it made your head swim.

Until he looked up at you with a wicked smirk, and opened that mouth of his.

“Look at my slutty little rabbit, dripping come all the way down to the floor.”

Your body tightened, and your knees went weak as you tried to catch yourself on the counter. 

Mihawk just laughed, carrying you to the large shower.

“I’ll hold her,” Crocodile demanded, removing his hook to set on the counter. “You wash her.”

You couldn't be sure, but it seemed like Crocodile didn’t take off that hook in front of many people. 

Mihawk set you in his arms before starting the shower, bringing his dangerous fingers back to you as he washed you with care.

“Don't push our girl anymore tonight,” Crocodile growled as Mihawk’s fingers trailed lower.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he purred.

You might have fallen asleep as they took turns holding you to wash themselves, hardly noticing them dry your skin as you yawned, their deep voices holding a conversation that you couldn’t understand. 

What you could understand was their touch that never left you. The smooth, soothing motions of hands along your back. The warm press of lips against your temple, your shoulder. Those strong arms and hands carrying you to the huge bed. Warm bodies sliding in next to yours, surrounding you.

“Need anything else, sweetheart?”

“Hm,” you perked up, feeling so good, so relaxed.

Your eyes opened just enough for you to see the door, and the clown that sat on a chair beside it. 

“Anything,” you whined, writhing as the warmth of their skin made you shiver with pleasure. 

“She was very good, Crocodile,” Mihawk teased, nuzzling against your ear until you squirmed.

“Alright. What does my sweet girl want?”

There was just enough energy in your body to feel fear, but you were too tired to care. You probably should have asked for something else. 

Tilting your head back and forth to see their frightening faces, you hoped they wouldn’t be angry. Almost had hope that they might even listen. 

“I want you to be nicer to Buggy.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you so much for joining me on this wild ride! That was the longest sex scene of all time 😅 This has been a blast to write with all of you screaming at me in the comments. Please don't murder me for the break, lol

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @caniseethefourthsword | @hey-august | @chaoticqueen33 | @destinationmars | @novakitten0901 | @h0n3y-l3m0n05 | @dorky-birdie | @szired | @pinejayy | @laws-wife-things

Part 10

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[hungermakesmonsters]

Devotion & Desire

Chapter One

Plot summary : When you, a lone omega, move in across the hall from alpha Bucky Barnes, he knows that his life is about to get a lot more complicated, but he has no idea just how much you’re going to turn his life upside down. You’re both devoted to fixing your past mistakes, but will desire for something more get the better of you?

Pairing : Alpha!Bucky Barnes x Omega!Reader

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] All chapters will contain the usual omegaverse and A/B/O tropes, and explicit smut. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 6.2k

A/N : this is my first time writing Bucky and writing omegaverse, sorry if anything doesn't meet the usual standards of the genre.

MASTER LIST

Chapter One

You were shivering and he hated what that did to him.

Soaked clothes clung to your figure, leaving nothing to the imagination and betraying every little shiver.

He watched you fumble with your soaked purse for your phone, and heard your frustration a moment later as your call quickly cut out. You shook it, wiped the wet screen on your damp blouse, but he knew that wasn’t going to help matters. Judging from the state of you, the phone was waterlogged and you’d be lucky to get it working again.

You leaned back against your apartment door, kicking it with your heel, letting out the weakest string of cuss words he’d ever heard. It was almost adorable.

All the while, he was pressed against his apartment door, eye to the peephole, watching it all unfold. It wasn’t so much that he was spying on you. No, Bucky liked to think that he was making your life easier. You were such a timid little thing and, ever since you’d moved in across the hall, he’d done everything he could to be a good alpha and not make you uncomfortable.

He’d seen how skittish you were the first time your paths had crossed; him leaving his apartment, just as you were getting home from the grocery store, shock causing you to fumble and drop your bags. You’d barely been able to maintain eye contact as he handed you your Cookie Crunch cereal. 

Of course, he didn’t hold it against you - how could he? You were an omega with no reason to trust him, and he knew it couldn’t be easy for you; being the only omega in the building, living across from the only alpha.

So, he’d taken to keeping an eye on you, making sure there were no more accidental meetings in the hallway and that you had no reason to fear him.

But now you were shivering and soaked from the storm raging outside, no coat over the blouse-skirt uniform you wore to work at Gracie’s diner. Had you walked three blocks in the rain without an umbrella? Hadn’t anyone tried to stop you? He found himself overwhelmed by the urge to help you, protect you and, before he realised he was doing it, he was slowly opening the door.

He couldn’t leave you out there, cold and shivering.

Your eyes widened and you shrank back a little. Bucky tried his best to give a friendly smile, making sure not to make any sudden moves or get any closer.

“Hey,” he said softly, “are you okay?”

“I -” your voice came out barely more than a shy whisper, “- I got locked out.”

“Did you call Glenn?” He asked, even though he knew you couldn’t, even though he knew your phone had died before you’d managed to get through to the building manager.

“My phone died,” you told him, holding it up as if you thought he might not believe you.

“Do you want me to call him for you?” He asked and you gave a timid nod. For a second he looked ready to turn and head back into his apartment for his phone, but then he saw you pull your arms around yourself, trembling even more violently. “Do you want to come in and get warm while you wait?”

He watched your eyes drop and let you take a few seconds to consider your options. It was late, far too late to go disturbing any of your beta neighbours and, he knew just how easy it was for omegas like you to get sick.

After a few seconds, you nodded.

“Okay,” he said softly, stepping back, giving you space to move into his apartment.

Your arms wrapped tighter around your body as you stepped over the threshold. He watched your nose twitch, obviously feeling a little overwhelmed by his scent.

“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure you as he slowly shut the door, “you’re safe, I promise. Wait here, I’ll grab you something warm.”

He didn’t wait for you to answer before quickly moving further into his apartment, heading into his bedroom. He was already starting to understand why the other residents of the building had taken to calling you little mouse. It turned his stomach upside down to think about how apprehensive you were and what might have happened to you to cause it.

You were still in the exact spot where he’d left you, still trembling and hugging yourself tight, clothes dripping on the carpet. (Though he quickly regretted looking down and seeing the way the drips from your clothes were running down your bare legs to your little white socks.)

“Here, you can borrow these,” he told you, handing you a dark hoodie and pair of sweatpants. “They might be a little big, but they’re warm.”

After taking them, you were ushered into the bathroom to dry yourself off and change, while he went to call the building manager. And, when you reemerged five minutes later, it took every ounce of restraint he had not to laugh at the sight of you, drowning in his clothes. He gave you space, waving a hand towards the sofa, indicating that you could sit if you wanted to.

You took a seat, peached on the very edge of the sofa.

“I’m Bucky, by the way,” he told you, realising that you hadn’t been officially introduced, even though he was sure you already knew his name like he knew yours. 

You responded with your own name, then; “thank you for helping me.”

“That’s okay,” he replied before taking a very obvious pause, giving you an uncertain look. “I have some bad news though; it’s Glenn’s night off. He won’t be back until the morning.”

“Oh.”

He watched as you glanced around nervously.

“I told him you could stay here,” Bucky told you. You both knew that you didn’t have any other choice, so you didn’t bother to try and argue. All you offered was a little nod. “Are you hungry? I was gonna order a pizza.”

“I - I like pizza,” you told him, managing to force a smile to your lips.

It took some coaxing from him, but he found out what pizza you liked and ordered it. Then he put the TV on for you, there was some weird baking program on but you seemed happy enough with it, so he left it on. If anything, the background noise seemed to settle you a little and, after a while, you finally sat back on the sofa, almost disappearing in his hoodie.

“Are you warm enough?” He asked when he noticed you pulling the hood up and snuggling into it.

“I am now.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh, the sort of sound he didn’t make very often and you caught him looking at you with a gentle sort of smile. He couldn’t help it, there was just something so cute about you in that moment, though he almost felt bad the moment he noticed you shyly start to chew on your lip.

“So,” he started, not sure what he wanted to ask, just wanting to make conversation and hopefully set you a little more at ease with him, “what made you move here?”

“After the blip I was staying in an omega-only building, but when everyone came back, the building’s original owner put up the rent,” you shrugged.

He gave a knowing nod. It wasn’t easy for omegas, while there were laws to protect them against discrimination, because of their monthly heat cycles and how prone they were to getting sick, it was hard for them to hold down well-paid jobs. He assumed that was why you worked at the diner, where shifts could be planned and swapped easily.

“I guess it must be weird for you living here with mostly betas... and me...” 

While he knew what it was like for him to have to live across the hall from you, he could only imagine how it felt for you. Alphas tended to learn at a young age to control themselves and to ignore day to day stimulus, but he knew omega’s had it worse, that their senses were heightened beyond even alphas. He’d catch your scent in the hallway from time to time, and he was certain you’d catch his. 

“It’s okay. Everyone’s been really nice, and -” you hesitated shyly, “- and you’re being nice now.”

He didn’t ask what you meant by now. Bucky knew better than anyone what he could be like, how his gruff, withdrawn and sarcastic attitude could make people uncomfortable.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an omega, and I -”

A sudden knock that the door startled you enough to make Bucky wince, completely losing his train of thought. He gave you an uncomfortable look before standing and heading to the door, muttering about how it must be the pizza.

Five minutes later, you were both sitting on his sofa, eating pizza. He made awkward small talk, asking if the food was okay, telling you a little about the pizzeria and how he’d found it a couple of months back and, little by little, your responses got slightly less reluctant. Eventually, you seemed to realise that you were safe and that he wasn’t going to hurt you. He wasn’t sure when or why that became important to him, but the last thing he wanted was for you to feel unsafe around him.

Life had to be hard enough for a lone omega without your alpha neighbour making it worse. And, besides, surely it would be easier for the both of you if you weren’t constantly jumping at each other’s shadows.

Before he could say anything, he noticed you looking at his vibranium hand. Or rather, trying really hard not to look at his hand. It hadn’t even crossed his mind that he wasn’t wearing his gloves - why would he when he was sitting on his own sofa?

“It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, “you can ask.”

Shame flashed on your face and he could tell you were uncomfortable. “Did you have an accident?”

“Yeah, a very long time ago.”

“Oh, well... I’m glad you’re okay...”

For a moment he felt his lips almost pull into a smile, any discomfort he’d felt instantly washing away with your words.

“I, uh, heard you like to draw?” It came out more like a question and had you looking at him seeming a little confused.

“Yeah, a little,” you answered. “I’m not very good though. Who told you?”

“Nikki from downstairs,” he explained and you gave a little nod. “Her and Jade really seem to like you, they’re always talking about you.”

It made you smile, and that smile settled him a little. It was going better than he’d dared to hope and you no longer seemed afraid of him. In fact, you started volunteering information without being prompted. 

“They’ve both been really nice,” you told him, “they asked me to go out with them on Friday when I get off work.”

He smiled. “Girls night out?”

“Yeah, though... well, it’s been a really long time since I went on a night out...”

Bucky gave a knowing nod, knowing it probably wasn’t easy for you as an unclaimed omega.

“I’m sure Niikki and Jade will look out for you,” he reassured you.

Conversation from there got a little easier; he told you that he grew up in Brooklyn and that he’d been in the army, and you told him about work and how you’d seen him in Gracie’s Diner a couple of times. You’d never served him, Gracie had rules about that. She was an elderly, take-no-shit sort of woman, and was one of the few employers you’d come across who genuinely went out of her way to look out for the omega’s working for her.

After the conversation reached a natural conclusion, Bucky got up, gathering the dirty plates and the pizza box, and headed for the kitchen. He didn’t even realise that you’d followed after until he turned to find you standing there, and almost jumped out of his skin.

“Sorry,” you almost recoiled at his shock, “I just - can I have a glass of water?”

He looked at you for a moment, completely taken aback - it wasn’t often that anyone managed to sneak up on him - then he shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

“Yeah sure,” he handed you a glass, biting back a laugh, “now I get when they call you mouse, you’re so quiet.”

You let out a little laugh, shyly dropping your gaze as you moved around him to the sink. Bucky bit his lip, catching your scent as you stepped past him, and he instantly hated himself for how much he enjoyed your sweet smell.

His eyes followed you as you returned to the sofa, took a drink, and then let out the cutest little yawn he’d ever seen.

“Tired?” He asked, moving back towards you, but not sitting down.

“A little,” you shrug. “The dinner rush at Gracie’s was really hectic.”

He gave an understanding nod before starting to think about the sleeping arrangements. Under normal circumstances, he might have offered you his bed but, even if he changed the sheets that he rarely slept on, he was certain being in his bedroom would overwhelm your omega senses.

“I can get you some bedding and you can sleep on the sofa?” He offered, looking at you and then looking at the sofa, certain it was big enough for you to get a comfortable night’s sleep.

You glanced at your watch, seeming almost embarrassed when you realised it was only 10pm.

“You don’t have to yet -” you started to protest.

“It’s fine, really,” Bucky told you with a gentle smile.

You gave a couple more weak protests as he went to grab you some pillows and a blanket, but you still got to your feet and helped him set up a little makeshift bed on the sofa for you. He then paused, taking in the sight of you, drowning in his clothes.

“Are you gonna be warm enough?”

At just the mention you seemed to snuggle further into his oversized hoodie.

“I’ll be fine,” you said with a sweet smile before fighting back another yawn. “Thank you, Bucky.”

After some awkward shuffling about, making sure you had everything you needed, telling you to help yourself if you needed another drink, and giving you the TV remote, Bucky finally left you to get some sleep.

He felt awful for making you sleep on the sofa, but there was really no way you would have been comfortable in his room. It was still early, at least by his standards, but he grabbed his sheet and pillow and settled himself on the floor by the window, content to read for a few hours before trying to get some sleep.

He didn’t stir until around 2am a hazy nightmare ripping him from sleep. For a few minutes he sat, trying to calm his racing heart before realising that he needed to use the bathroom, and that was going to mean sneaking past you.

It took ten minutes for him to build up the nerve to try to sneak to the bathroom without disturbing you. Moving slowly, he crept from his bedroom and slowly made his way through the den towards the bathroom, but he couldn’t help but stop and look at your sleeping form. Somehow you seemed even smaller when you were sleeping, tightly curled up on your side, your face hidden somewhere in the hood of his hoodie.

For a few seconds, he lingered, listening to the soft sound of your breathing before starting to feel a little bit creepy, but it was nothing compared to how he felt when he finally reached the bathroom.

Once the door was closed and locked behind him, he was immediately overwhelmed by your sweet scent left on the towel you’d used to dry yourself and the damp clothes you’d left neatly folded on the radiator. He hated himself for the way his cock twitched and the way he lifted the towel to his nose.

Your scent stirred something in him that he hadn’t felt in years, a sort of longing that left him feeling uncertain, fighting against the urge to go to you and -

Fuck.

He didn’t know what he wanted to do. His cock twitched again at the thought of burying his face against your neck and pressing his nose to your gland. A wildly inappropriate thought that had his alpha urges starting to stir, wanting to claim you as his.

That thought made him feel worse; there you were, finally letting your guard down and starting to trust him and all he could think about was how good your tight little body would feel wrapped around his cock...

He felt like he was losing his mind.

It was your scent, the fact he hadn’t been this close to an omega in years and, now, it felt like you were everywhere.

He grimaced as he took a piss, then he started to pace, not wanting to have to sneak back past you when he was at half-mast. But the longer he stayed in the bathroom, the more your sweet omega scent got to him, driving him crazy.

Gritting his teeth, and hating himself more than ever, he reached into his sweatpants and started to stroke his aching cock. His free hand reached for your damp blouse and held it to his face, and he lost himself in thoughts of you. It wasn’t long before he was coming all over his hand, barely biting back his desperate grunts of pleasure, muffling them with your blouse.

Then, finally, he was able to sneak back to his room and spend the night thinking about how much of an asshole he was.

The next morning he got up early, sneaking past the little curled up bundle on the sofa and letting himself out of the apartment. He managed to get your key from the building manager and make it back upstairs before you woke, and you seemed more than happy to get out of there as quickly as possible once you were awake.

You did stop to give him a thank you hug, and Bucky damn near asked you to stay but, thankfully, you didn’t seem to want to linger.

Once you were gone, he went through his apartment, opening all the windows, trying to get rid of your intoxicating smell before heading out for the day.

The next day he came home to find a box in front of his apartment door. On top of it, there was an envelope with his name in large, looping letters, and beneath it was a bundle of clothing. The clothes you had borrowed. Cautiously, he reached for the envelope, opening it to find a thank you card from you. You had signed your name followed by three little x’s.

Opening the box, he realised it was an apple pie from Gracie’s, the sweet smell of sugar and cinnamon filling his nose, but it was the scent coming from the clothes you borrowed that really got to him. His cock twitched just at the thought and had him quickly unlocking the door to his apartment, wanting to get inside and try to get himself under control again.

Over the next few days, he did his best to avoid you, knowing it was best for both of you if he kept his distance, but fate seemed to have other plans.

First it was in the hallway, you leaving for an evening shift at the diner just as he was getting home; you smiled and made small talk, asking how he was and if he’d enjoyed the apple pie. Somehow it ended with him offering to walk you to work and then offering to meet you to walk you home. He insisted despite you telling him that he didn’t have to. The streets of New York late at night just weren’t safe for an unclaimed omega on her own. And, despite his discomfort, he knew he’d never forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He saw the looks he got as he waited outside Gracie’s for you, the smirks and the smiles, and the look of embarrassment that fell over your face when Gracie whispered something to you. But that didn’t stop it becoming a regular thing over the next two weeks.

Then there was laundry night, a night that had been a tactical affair for Bucky for as long as he’d lived in the building; every Wednesday after nine when no one else was around. But there you were, chatting with Nikki from downstairs who’d decided to follow you to catch up with the gossip.

He was about to turn back and slip away unnoticed, until -

“Hey Bucky,” Nikki called out.

He forced a smile to his lips and raised his hand in an awkward wave as he approached, and you gave him that shy little smile that always made his heart beat a little faster. He watched as Nikki’s eyes moved from him to you and back again, a barely suppressed grin tugging at her lips.

“We were just talking about my birthday on Friday,” she told him, giving you a sly little glance, “you should come out with us.”

“I don’t think so,” he shrugged, quickly focusing his attention on getting his laundry in the washer so he could get out of there as quickly as possible. 

“Come on Bucky, we need a big scary alpha to make sure the other alpha’s leave mouse alone,” Nikki continued.

If he hadn’t looked at you, he wouldn’t have noticed your sudden discomfort or the way you were chewing the inside of your cheek. Clearly there was more to Nikki’s comment than she was letting on.

“What other alphas?” He asked.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, “it doesn’t matter.”

If Nikki noticed your discomfort, she certainly didn’t let it stop her from explaining; “last week some douchebag alpha spent half the night bothering her.”

“What?” He barely managed to rein in his annoyance, the instinct that told him you were to be protected, that you were some weak and helpless thing.

“Asshole kept asking when her heat was and if she needed company,” Nikki continued.

“He was just drunk, it wasn’t that bad,” you sighed.

“You’re too nice for your own good, mouse,” Nikki told you, shaking her head. “If me and Jade hadn’t been there...”

She didn’t need to say it. It wasn’t a secret how some alphas could be, how some didn’t want to take no for an answer, especially since the blip; so many of them returned to find their omega had moved on with their lives or, some, moved on without their omegas. But, just because the world was a mess, Bucky didn’t think you deserved to have to deal with some prick of an alpha who didn’t respect your boundaries. 

You let out a sigh and gave a weak shrug. “Maybe I shouldn’t go if you think it’s gonna cause problems...”

“What? No, that’s now why I’m saying, you have to -” 

“I can probably come for a couple of hours,” Bucky offered. He hated how dejected you looked, hated that you felt like you had to miss out on having fun with your friends because you didn’t feel safe.

“Really?” You asked, trying to hold back the smile that was desperate to spread across your face.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “but just for a couple of hours.”

Nikki reached over, giving him a playful punch on the arm. “You’re the best, Bucky.”

Fortunately for him, ten minutes later, the pair of you were done with your laundry and he was left to sit in relative silence with his book, wondering just how much he was going to regret agreeing to go out with you.

(A lot. The answer was a lot.)

He opted to meet you all at the bar about half an hour after everyone got there, managing to slip in unnoticed and take up at the bar, out of the way, but able to keep an eye on things, watching you on the dancefloor. That was why he was there; he was just making sure no one harassed you or tried to ruin your night. But he didn’t stay undiscovered for long.

You smiled as your eyes met his, leaning against the bar, waiting for your drink. He watched, not sure whether to be impressed or concerned as you knocked back a tequila shot and washed it down with a mouthful of beer. Your nose wrinkled at the taste, but he didn’t say anything until you purposefully looked his way again.

“What?” You asked him, noticing how he was watching you.

“What?” He repeated.

You moved closer to his side, your smile widening.

“You were watching me.”

“It’s just - you’re really not what I thought,” he told you, awkwardly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His stomach knotted the moment you started to frown, it was almost enough to make him wince.

“You’re just... you’re not like other omegas,” The moment he said it, Bucky seemed to realise how it sounded. Grimacing, he fumbled over an explanation. “I mean, you’re different from other omegas and tonight you just seem - I don’t know, I just feel like I’m seeing a new side of you.”

Your eyebrow rose and you just stared at him, lost for words.

“I’m sorry,” he tried again, “It’s just been a long time since I -”

“Talked to another human being?” You offered before cracking a smile.

“Yeah, something like that,” he said, giving a little smile of his own and falling silent.

He hoped that the conversation was over and that you’d return to the dancefloor, but you didn’t. Instead you stood right there, carrying on the awkward silence until the song changed and you had a terrible idea.

“D’you maybe wanna come dance?” You offered and he quickly flashed you a look that could only be described as pure fear. He shook his head, watching in horror as you reached for his arm and started to tug. You knew you couldn’t move him, but that didn’t stop you from trying. “C’mon, stop being a party-pooper.”

He let you struggle for a moment, hoping beyond hope that you’d get bored but, when you didn’t, he let out a sigh and knocked back his beer before getting to his feet. 

Your grin spread from ear to ear as you tugged him onto the dancefloor, ignoring the fact that his expression was stuck somewhere between amused and terrified. He didn’t dance. In fact, he pretty much just stood there awkwardly  until you grabbed his arms and forced some movement into his body, all while biting your lip and trying to stifle your laughter.

After a couple of songs he let you pull him back towards the bar with everyone else for another round of shots, chasing your tequila with beer again. He tried to take the opportunity to slink back to his seat, but the moment he started edging away, your arm wrapped around his, forcing him into the conversation.

When everyone returned to the dancefloor, you pulled him along with you, your hand dropping to hold his and squeezing tighter.

The music got more lively as the night went on and, as the bar started to fill, you found yourself moving closer and closer, until your body was pressed against his.

You barely seemed to notice your proximity to him, but Bucky noticed. His arm moved around your waist, keeping you safe from being jostled by other dancers and making sure the other alphas around knew that you were off-limits. He watched you as you lost yourself in the music and enjoyed the night.

At some point your hand ended you on his chest, and you were close enough that every sway of your hips had you brushing against him. Despite how crowded the room was, all he could smell was your sweet scent.

Every slow, deep breath he took, trying to keep himself in check, made it worse. And, when you leaned against him completely, looking up at him, he almost lost his mind.

“D’you want to get out of here?” You asked him.

The rational part of his mind told him that you meant you wanted to go home; the club was noisy and full, and it was probably wreaking havoc on your sensitive omega senses but, for a moment, he dared to hope that it meant more.

“Sure,” he told you with a smile.

As you made your way outside, he kept his arm around you, helping you navigate the crowd until you were finally outside in the cool night air. You decided to walk home and Bucky was honestly glad of the relative quiet of the New York streets versus the noise of the bar, and he was happy to walk side by side with you, only sparing you the occasional glance and smile.

“What?” You asked when you caught one of those smiles.

“Nothing,” he shook his head.

You nudged him with your elbow. “Tell me.”

“I was just thinking about the first time we met,” he explained, shaking his head, “you were so timid.”

“That was before I got to know you,” you shrugged. “I thought you were just the grumpy alpha who lived across the hall.”

“Grumpy?” He looked at you, offended.

“Very grumpy,” you smiled.

“And now?”

You looked at him, shyly biting your lip and fighting back a smile.

“Still deciding,” you answered playfully.

Bucky held the door open for you as you made your way into your building, grinning and giggling as you both boarded the elevator to the fourth floor.

It wasn’t long before you came to a stop outside of your apartment, and he watched you, waiting for you to open the door and slip inside, wanting to know that you were home safe and sound. 

Instead you looked at him for a moment before surging forward and pressing your lips to his. You lingered for a few seconds while he was completely paralysed by shock. When you pulled back, you bit your lip nervously, obviously forcing yourself to maintain eye contact while Bucky came to terms with what you’d just done.

“You’ve been drinking,” he said softly, and it was hard to tell if he was trying to let you down gently, or trying to talk himself out of doing something he might regret.

“Not a lot,” you answered, rising up to press another kiss to the corner of his mouth while your hands gripped his jacket.

“I don’t want to do anything you’ll regret...”

“I won’t regret it. I’ve wanted this for weeks,” you told him, pressing against him and feeling his arm slip around your waist. “Ever since I first caught your scent in the hallway... I thought it was gonna trigger my heat...”

A low rumble sounded in the back of his throat and the arm around your waist pulled tighter.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, this time not bothering to hide the way he was breathing in your sweet scent, the smell that had been haunting him for weeks.

You looked up, your pupils already dilated with arousal, staring at him in a way that had his last shred of control fraying completely. You bit your lip as you nodded, and that was all he needed from you.

Bucky fumbled for his keys, barely loosening his hold on you as he led you into his apartment, turning to kiss you the second the door was shut. He groaned as you whimpered against his lips, eagerly pressing against him, clinging to his jacket as he picked you up and carried you towards his bedroom. The kiss broke and your face pressed against his neck, letting out another little moan as you inhaled his scent.

His arms tightened around you, his alpha instincts desperate to take over, as he sat on the edge of his bed, you on his lap. He kissed you again, groaning against your lips as he felt your hips starting to rock against his. After shrugging out of his jacket and pulling off his gloves, he started to pull open your blouse, his hands trailing over every newly exposed inch of skin.

Your hands tugged at his shirt, urging it up over his head, and his heart almost stopped when he saw the way you were looking at him, drinking in the sight of him. You ran a hand down his chest and over the defined ridges of his abs before reaching the buckle of his belt. Looking up, you held his gaze as you slowly unbuckled him and started to work on the fastening.

Another noise sounded in the back of his throat, something barely restrained, something that wanted, needed. And you didn’t disappoint. Your hand slipped into his jeans and wrapped around his cock, pulling it out so you could start to stroke it. His breath caught when your eyes met his, glassy with need, your omega instincts starting to take control. You kissed him again, desperate and eager, as your hand worked up and down the length of his cock.

You surprised him when you pulled away, when you dropped to your knees in front of him and started to tug his pants and boxers down. Bucky lifted himself, helping you drag them down to his ankles.

He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you how perfect you looked as you looked up at him, as your hand gripped his cock again, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead he reached for you, cupping your cheek tenderly before letting his fingers slip down to your neck to ghost over your mating gland. A soft moan escaped you and there was a palpable spike in your arousal, the whole room seeming to fill with your sweet scent. 

Bucky breathed deeply, taking it all in, letting out a groan of his own when he realised there was another scent in the air; the tart scent of your slick.

Before he could even think, you started to nuzzle against his thigh gland, rubbing yourself against him scenting him while also coating yourself in his musk. You were giving yourself to him so completely, and there was nothing more arousing to him.

Your hand started to move again, slipping up and down his cock, causing a pearly glob of precum to form on his tip, and he about damn-near lost his mind when you leaned forward to lick it up. His tip continued to leak as you looked up at him through your lashes and started to take him into your mouth.

The tart smell of slick only seemed to get thicker as you started to suck him, slowly taking more and more of him into your mouth, until he felt himself nudge the back of your throat. Your eyes watered but remained fixed on his, lips pulling back before sinking down again.

It wasn’t until his head dropped back that Bucky realised his mistake.

You moved so suddenly, your lips pulling away from him, your hand reaching for your boot.

He saw the knife just in time to stop it from piercing his chest, his vibranium arm catching your wrist and twisting it. 

You struggled against him, jaw clenched, any sign of arousal now completely gone from your face despite the way the smell of it still hung in the air.

“What the fuck?” He demanded, gripping you tight.

You didn’t answer save for letting out a sound of indignation and anger, pure rage on your face as you struggled against him. He wasn’t going to let you go until he got some answers, until he figured out just what the fuck was going on.

But you threw a punch, then another, first catching him on the cheek before getting him square in the nose. It was enough of a distraction to cause him to loosen his grip, and that was all you needed.

Pulling away, you sprinted from his room. He tried to follow after and almost tripped, running and pulling his pants up as he went. 

You left his apartment and darted into your own, locking the door behind you. 

By the time he’d kicked the door down, you were already halfway down the fire escape. He climbed out of the window, ready to follow, watching as you had to jump down to the street below, falling awkwardly. He started after you but then he stopped, knowing that there was nothing he could do; despite the hour, there were too many people around, and if a sweet little omega like you started screaming about the big scary alpha, no one was going to believe his side of things.

Swearing under his breath, he turned and headed back to his apartment, pulling out his phone. One way or another, he was going to find you and he was going to find out what the fuck was going on. 

End Note : anyone new to my fics... sorry for the twist, it's just what I do 😅 So, yeah, this is my first time writing omegaverse and my first time writing Bucky. It's set post Falcon and the Winter Solider and post blip. Will I follow canon strictly? Probably not. Anyway, if you've read this far, thanks so much for checking this out! I don't have a set upload schedule for this fic, but I'm going to try to update it at least once a month.

If you'd like to be tagged in future chapters, let me know!

[demonic0angel]

Haunted Paintings Sketches!

Part one

I hope you enjoy the sketches I made of the paintings!

Also! You’re free to use my ideas (please give credit ofc) if you’d like, bc I REALLY don’t think I’ll write this one, no matter how much I want to. It’s just too much and I’ve already got 3 unfinished fics and several other series to write for. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a submission! You can also DM if you’d like!

TW: mentions of suicide, murder, depression, mental illness, just really dark, creepy stuff bc these are haunted paintings and they torment people :/ no scary drawings tho! I only described them (click for clarity)

Jazz:

Description: Jazz is sitting at a table in the middle of a flower garden with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She looks tranquil and is dressed formally. On the table are a few plates, a plate of cookies, a bookmark, an opened envelope and a bloody butter knife, and a teapot that is slightly out of view.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, watercolor, and pencils

Focus: Jazz amidst the flowers

Inspirations:

• The Queen of Hearts from “Alice in Wonderland”

• Galna from “Mairimashita! Iruma-kun”

Location: She used to be in the home of a random crime lord in Gotham for intimidation purposes. She was kept in the crime lord’s office before being relocated into Wayne Manor, where she sits in the hall across from the library.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where her tea is filled with blood and the roses would be replaced with decapitated heads. The sky would turn dark red and the ground would be a pool of blood. Jazz would smile and look at the viewer with shark-like fangs and hollowed out eyes.

+ The tea she drinks is Darjeeling and the cookies are chocolate chip.

+ Although Jazz is the weakest painting, her effects are deadlier, more painful, and longer lasting than the others if her victims survive.

+ She causes paranoia and dizzy spells. Her effects are rather weak compared to the others, but when spending enough time with her, victims can also display symptoms of scurvy, which cannot be cured.

+ She was the first one I drew and also the easiest to plan. I just love her so much, she’s one of my comfort characters so it’s not hard for me to find ideas for her 😭

Valerie:

Description: Valerie stands in the middle of a dark, foggy forest, wearing a long dress and pressed close to a tree as if she is about to hide behind it. A branch covers her face and the trees around her curve into a circle with multiple holes within them. There is a Fenton thermos in the background on the floor and an axe in front of Valerie, sticking into the tree and oozing something.

Use of mediums: pencils and watercolor paint

Focus: Her hidden face

Inspirations:

• The Son of Man by René Magritte

• The Beast from “Over the Garden Wall”

Location: She was kept in the back of an art museum, but the director has been hoping for someone to buy her and get rid of her, since he cannot handle the strain of having her inside of the gallery. Now she stands near the door to the entrance of Wayne Manor, a silent and deadly sentry.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would have her surroundings to turned into the entrance to a mouth or an intestine, red, fleshy, and bloody. There would be bones littering the floor everywhere and Valerie herself would become bloody and stained, with her face still hidden. Tortured faces would be seen through the fog.

+ The holes on the trees sometimes leak a mysterious substance.

+ Valerie is not the weakest, but she is not that powerful. However, she does amplify the others’ effects to fatal degrees.

+ She causes paranoia and auditory hallucinations, often causing her victims to feel as though they are being watched relentlessly, which cannot go away. Eventually, her victims will shut themselves into their rooms and starve to death from the fear.

+ She and Tucker had switched ideas, but I had to trash them. I never got the opportunity to draw those ideas because I struggled so much with Tucker that when I eventually got inspiration for Valerie, I just went with it. I’m quite happy with Valerie’s portrait now.

Dani:

Description: Dani, dressed formally, sits at the head of a table with a large painting and curtains behind her. She holds a fork and a knife over a pig head. Her gaze is downward and she looks like she’s frowning softly. The dinner table is messy with three other dishes and a knocked over bottle of wine.

Use of mediums: oil paint and oil pastels

Focus: Dani holding the fork and knife

Inspirations:

• Rosie’s Tea Party by Mark Ryden

• “Spirited Away” (specifically that one scene where Chihiro’s parents eat the food)

Location: She was hidden by Vlad and kept safe with him. He keeps her in his office, where he can watch her. He only recently found her again, and he was determined to watch over her. Now she stays in the Wayne Manor's dining room, but often changes her position to be next to everyone else in the bedroom hallway.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where all of her food dishes would be replaced by very obviously human parts, especially with the pig head becoming a human head. The curtains would turn to blood dripping down the wall and Dani would be smiling, taking a direct bite of the human head that was in front of her with her fork and knife.

+ The dishes she eats in the painting are: pig head, vulture thigh, lamprey eels, and sheep brain.

+ Her at the dining table is meant to signify greed and gluttony, 2 of the most simplest sins.

+ She causes great feelings of hunger and paranoia in others. When spending too much time with her, some victims turn to self-cannibalism to sate their never ending starvation.

+ Originally, both her and Dan’s ideas were switched, so Dan would’ve been the one feasting and Dani would’ve been the one looking at her reflection. However, I switched them around because I felt like it would’ve been spookier. I even finished the drawing with Dan and everything, but then I just erased him and drew in Dani 😓

Dan:

Description: Dan is standing in front of a mirror, glancing behind his shoulder, while his reflection shows something different: him looking at everyone else and the door behind him by looking at the mirror. The party guests are all wearing masks and there are chandeliers on the ceiling. The party looks vaguely fancy, but messy with secrets.

Use of mediums: Oil paints

Focus: His reflection

Inspirations:

• Jeff Lee Johnson and his art

Location: He was kept in a locked safe within a rich person’s house in Italy. He had to been wrecking havoc on the nerves of everyone around him, but he is now safe and happy in Wayne Manor, where he is kept in the office to the entrance of the Batcave.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form would have all of the party guests dead, but their eyes would face the viewer. Dan's reflection would also be dead, but his actual self would be the same, only with an eerie smile as his eyes follow the viewer. In the doorway would be the figure of Danny. Blood would cover the entire floor and walls, but nobody would react to it.

+ Dan keeps his own masquerade mask in his pocket.

+ The woman who is directly staring at him is supposed to look like Maddie.

+ He causes viewers intense mood swings and long, often violent mania episodes or mind-numbing depression episodes. Those who keep staring at him will gain the feeling of being watched and haunted, often with visual hallucinations, resulting in losing their mind from fear and then killing others in their terror and panic.

+ I tried so hard to make Dan as handsome as possible. I think I pulled it off bc I’m a little bit in love with him ong, but I also kinda have to be bc I draw him so often

Tucker:

Description: Tucker is in the back shot of a desert, with his back towards the viewer, staring at a large skeleton that is seemingly climbing over a large sand dune. The skeleton has flowers in its eyes, and its hand reaches over the horizon. There is a single sun in the sky and an arm holding a pocket watch sticks out of the sand close to the viewer.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, pens, and pencils

Focus: The large skull

Inspirations:

• JT Music (specifically their JT album covers)

• The Giant God Warrior from “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”

• “Dune”

Location: He was originally kept in one of the rooms within the GIW headquarters. Now, he is kept within Wayne Manor, and stays in the theater room, where he whispers to the Wayne residents what movies he wants to watch. Sometimes, he moves to the garage.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is one where the skull becomes covered in meat and flesh, oozing blood and tar while the sand turns red. The scene turns to darkness, and more limbs would sprout from the ground. Tucker would be nothing but a pile of flayed skin, crumpled into the sand.

+ GIW agents were unable to experiment on him, since he would purposefully cause machinery to misfire and slowly corrode his surroundings.

+ His painting is meant to be a little comic book-esque with one of his mediums being ink, but I felt like that wouldn’t be a PAINTing, so nvm

+ He causes visual hallucinations, hypovolemia, headaches, blindness, and osteoporosis :). Often, when his victims are autopsied, sand and salt can be found within all of their organs. He emits so much radiation that he can wear down the materials of the place he is stored in.

+ I DREW HIM THREE DIFFERENT TIMES OML, FIRST IT WAS HIM IN A WORKSHOP, THEN IT WAS HIM IN A MARSH, THIS IS THE FINAL PICTURE I CANNOTTTT IM DONE

Sam:

Description: Sam stands on top of a small, grassy hill with a path leading to a grave and an angel statue on top of it, close enough that she is blocking it. Around the hill are pomegranate trees and hanging corpses. There is no sun, but there are clouds as Sam stands with her back to the viewers in a long goth-styled dress.

Use of mediums: paper, glue, acrylic paint

Focus: Her standing on the hill

Inspirations:

• This Reddit picture of a liminal garden

• A mix of weirdcore and dreamcore aesthetics

Location: She was tossed into the ocean by her parents when they first saw her, but she later washed up on an island and now the animals and plants there act erratically and strangely. Finally, she was relocated to Wayne Manor, where she hangs on a wall within the greenhouse, happily watching over the plants there.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where eyes would replace all of the pomegranates, staring at the viewer. The paper used to make her would become flesh textured and bloody, and Sam would appear abnormal, broken into pieces and cracked, turning around and smiling at the viewer with shark-like teeth. The grass would become hairy skin and the sky would become red, with swirls and more eyes.

+ Sam's "painting" is actually made of mostly paper, since it is a collage. It is a bit touched up by paint and all of the materials used are vegan and ethically sourced, though they do change.

+ The flora and fauna in the island she landed on have mutated so much that they’re basically mindless. They protect Sam relentlessly.

+ She causes general insanity and relentless symptoms in her victims, such as paranoia, intense episodes of mania and depression, itchiness that can result in self harm, and violent, unexplained behavior in animals and plants. She also emits so much radiation that she can cause sporadic DNA mutations, resulting in several forms of cancer and mental instability, often resulting in victims becoming inhuman and monstrous forms of themselves.

+ Originally, Sam’s portrait was supposed to be in a garden, but I wanted it more “liminal space” themed, and I think I got it right. I think it’s really simple, but I also feel like if I was able to create it in real life, it would be more interesting because it is a collage of paper and paint.

Danny:

Description: a picture of black blotches and scribbles with muddy and red stains. Any features besides the ornate frame is hidden underneath the stains.

Use of mediums: pencils, ink, charcoal, tar, blood

Focus: His crying

Inspirations:

• SCP-035 (“The Possessive Mask”)

• The Anguished Man by an unknown artist (it’s a haunted irl painting!)

• Bendy and the Ink Machine

Location: He was cloning himself in order to jump through universes to find his family. In the current universe, he was with the League of Shadows before he was found and brought back to the Wayne Manor. He is in the hallway with the bedrooms of the Wayne residents.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is technically his normal form because he cannot turn it off. Once he is happy again, his normal form would be one with him and his family, smiling and happy. Until then, he haunts the minds of others and ravages their sanity.

+ He’s been traveling all over the multiverse in order to find his family. Coincidentally, they’ve all been in the same world for some time.

+ He screams all day and night for his family. It’s so bad that Danny has destroyed thousands of worlds in his grief.

+ He causes the worst of all symptoms, often causing the viewers who look at him to go insane and kill themselves or others, even if it is only a few seconds. Even those who stay in the same room next door to him are consumed with suicidal thoughts and intense moments of psychosis. Those who have survived encountering him and have some semblance of mind left say that he “cries” relentlessly. His paintings leak a black substance that corrodes the place around him.

+ Literally all I did for this picture was scribble in my notes app, take a screenshot, and then scribble some more on photos LMAO

Extra notes:

+ Jazz, Dani, and Dan showing their face while Sam, Tucker, and Valerie hiding theirs is intentional. Danny is a mix of both, because he actually IS showing his face, but you can’t see it past the black and red.

+ Every painting has a flower inside of it, specifically a carnation, which are often funeral flowers, and can mean gratitude, remembrance, love, and affection.

+ Every painting also has a mention or appearance of Danny in it.

+ I also tried to put hints of bad omens or signs of death within every painting. Some examples are Dani’s painting with the chopsticks sticking out of the bowl (a sign of bad luck and death), or Dan’s painting, where a woman is being strangled in the background and another is being killed.

+ All of the paintings generally have an ability to teleport to places nearby and can actually snatch up viewers to shove them into their domain. This can be a defensive mechanism (the paintings protect the Bats) or an offensive ability (they pull victims in and kill them). They also all have weapons on them that are hidden or not so hidden.

+ I struggled a lot with ideas and how to get started on some characters because I just had so many, and I wanted it to be creepy, but not noticeably creepy, like most paintings. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t able to use some of my planned ideas from inspirations of actual haunted paintings.

+ Discarded inspirations: The Rain Woman by Svetlana Telets (my favorite!! Please look it up if you can!!), this picture I saw on Reddit of a sheep being stuck under ice with its back exposed, a workshop idea with Tucker, and Dani and “Daughter of Evil” with mirrors and everything.

+ The world where Danny and co., come from is different from the world they’re currently in. It’s like a world where some people are the same, but others are not. Example: the GIW, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad exist, but Danny and Jazz never made it past their childhood. So basically a What-If world or something.

+ Their backstories are somewhat undecided, but basically, something dangerous happened to them in their home dimension and it was so bad that Danny captured all of their souls and put them into paintings so they would live (with the help of Clockwork). However, by doing this, he scattered their souls and paintings throughout the universes and he went crazy from it, and turned himself into a painting too so he could find them. Now his cloned paintings travel and sends itself to other worlds to find his family again, often leading to their destruction from his power.

Or something? Lol

[phoenixkaptain]

My favourite part of Dick Grayson as a character is that he is never afraid of Bruce.

Like, Jason has his fear of disappointing him, Tim is a bit intimidated and has his hero worship, Damian fears that Bruce’ll kick him out the way he thinks Talia did, but Dick?

Dick is so unconcerned about Bruce at every possible moment. Even the earliest comics had Dick calling Bruce lame to his face. Dick works with Bruce and his partner for years and they understand each other on a deep level and Dick multiple times calls Bruce a fucking square.

Dick does not tell Bruce anything. He does not write home. If Bruce wasn’t in the room with him when Dick got called to go somewhere, I’m pretty sure Dick would not have informed Bruce that he was even leaving, let alone where he was going. The Teen Titans joined the Peace Corps, they were in Washington for at least a few days being trained, and Bruce finds out that Robin joined the Peace Corps from a newspaper. Dick does not tell him anything.

Dick and Bruce have such a fascinating relationship to me because Dick really doesn’t treat Bruce as his dad so much as he treats him like a particularly obnoxious older brother. Bruce treats Dick like his little baby bird who he cares about and doesn’t want to get hurt, but Dick is over there like “ugh, Bruce is so overdramatic” while he nearly drowns for the fifth time.

In early Teen Titans, there’s no question that Robin is physically the weakest member. Aqualad and Wonder Girl both have super strength, Kid Flash’s speed means that he doesn’t need super strength, but Robin is by far the easiest to capture. He gets caught very consistently through the early issues, albeit people can only catch him if they take him off guard, but it’s a lot easier to catch him off guard in early comics. Robin is the brains of the group, the others look to him for direction and depend on him to make plans that will work and panic when Robin gets nabbed because what will they do without Robin??

Robin gets captured a lot in early Batman comics too. Robin is the ultimate damsel, but he’s never really in very much distress? Like, Bruce and the Teen Titans are distressed, but Robin just looks maybe a bit surprised and bored. Robin never seems to take his own mortality into account when he does things, meanwhile literally everyone else does.

Dick only ever really gets annoyed with Bruce. He bever gets mad at his teammates, even when they question his ability. For the most part, Dick doesn’t even respond when they underestimate him to his face. I have no idea what’s going on in Dick’s head, but he isn’t a part of Aqualad and Kid Flash finding each other and him annoying in their first team ups and he never gets upset when they don’t believe in him.

Then, on the other hand, Bruce calls the music Dick is listening to noise, and Dick immediately is annoyed. Dick and Bruce having a turbulent relationship is more apparent later on in the comics, but Bruce is truly the only one in all the galaxies who gets under Dick’s skin as much as he does.

And it’s funny because fandom likes to paint Dick as bitter that Bruce didn’t adopt him, while I think Dick would have blown his top if Bruce even tried to adopt him. Dick had parents, he never views Bruce as a parental figure. Don’t get me wrong, Dick loves Bruce. Bruce does so much for Dick and Bruce is protective of him and Bruce is open about his affection, but Dick just doesn’t view him as his father.

I really think Dick views Bruce as more like a guard dog than a father. He talks so casually to Bruce, but he’s more formal to other adults. He complains about Bruce not trusting him, but doesn’t care when his teammates don’t trust him either. He views the rich billionaire vigilante who can take down a god in a fight as fucking lame.

Their relationship is amazing. They get along great. They’re a perfect duo, they work in tandem, they’re absolutely unstoppable together. If Bruce talks too much Dick will roll his eyes. They trust each other with their life. Dick is never telling Bruce anything. Bruce says “I guess I can spare Robin for a minute” and Dick is like “I would be perfectly content to never return home for the rest of my days.”

Of all the Robins, Dick is absolutely the one who respects Bruce the least. He loves the guy, but he just canNOT take him seriously.

(Do you think it was the time Bruce sent a box of bats to someone? Or the times Bruce gets captured and has to be rescued by his damsel side-kick? Or the way Bruce is like an overprotective mother, coming this close to reminding Robin to wash behind his ears? Or the way Bruce lets Robin say whatever he wants and never gets upset or offended or even hurt?

Or, maybe, Batman tripped on his cape once, and Dick just can never forget.)

[senualothbrok]

Come What May

Summary: On what Gale believes is his last night alive, you cannot give him your body. But there are countless ways to declare love, and infinite ways to express it.

An alternative act 2 romance scene, featuring a Tav who is a cleric of Ilmater. "Come What May" is a song from "Moulin Rouge".

AO3 link

Non-18+. Angst with a happy ending.

Trigger warnings: references to prostitution (Tav's mother), sexual trauma, grief/bereavement, graphic depictions of illness, Gale's suicidal ideation.

A/N: This fic is a response to the anon who requested an alternative act 2 romance scene between Gale and a Tav who wants to save intimacy for after marriage. I feel that I should apologise because I am clearly incapable of writing a straightforwardly sweet/romantic piece which does not involve trauma and angst of some sort. I have no idea why this happened, please forgive me.

Please note the trigger warnings and exercise self-care. It is, however, angst with a happy ending.

I highly recommend listening to "Come What May" from Moulin Rouge during/after you read this.

I deliberated over whether to post this. It feels like my weakest work, and I feel slightly ashamed about it. I'm still not sure if it's good enough to post, but decided to bite the bullet because I wanted to give it to the anon who reached out. I really hope it does bring some comfort and enjoyment to someone out there.

I cannot thank my dear friends @inglorionamy-ammy and @dekariosclan enough for being truly wonderful beta readers and helping me with some major edits on this piece. Thank you and I am forever grateful for your kind hearts and keen minds.

“I’m in love with you.”

There is anguish in Gale’s eyes. His voice trembles with fear and urgency. You feel it all, a sunbeam shooting through the blue-green haze he has conjured around you. For you. 

You gaze at him, breathless. Nothing compares, not even the beauty and wonder of his creation. When Gale looks at you, you do not feel dread, that ancient squirming beneath your skin. He is not the lumbering colossus of your nightmares, leaving a trail of whimpering bruises on your mother’s flesh. When he is near, you feel a yearning to draw closer, not away. You had never thought that possible with a man.

In that moment, you are possessed by a wild terror. An agonising thought that he will slip through your fingers, as though he never was. His last night alive. 

Your heart surges, and you cannot stop it. You answer without thinking.

“I’m in love with you too.”

Panic seizes you. Your admission is a sacred boundary crossed. A bulwark broken. You have the urge to bolt before all is lost.

But then Gale’s face lifts. It radiates with a smile, and all at once, you are beaming with the knowledge that you are the cause. Fleetingly, you let yourself imagine the miracle of seeing that smile again and again for the rest of your days. It is not a leering grin from which you flee, nor a repulsed grimace from which you hide. Sometimes, in his presence, there is something about solitude that no longer feels like safety, but loss. It bewilders you.

He huffs out a laugh, and you are mesmerised by the curl of his eyelashes, delicate as butterfly wings. 

“That’s a relief. It’d be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.”

There is a flame in his eyes that sets you alight. You cannot look away. You do not want to. Something swollen simmers in the space between you, just as it had that night when the Weave had made you one. 

He dips towards you. You are drifting towards him, dizzy from his scent. It is like nothing you have breathed before. There is no trace of sourness, no stale grease. It is sandalwood and leather, scrolls and soap. You are entranced by the plump curve of Gale’s lips, the soft earth of his eyes. In your mind, you see the smooth curve of his shoulders, broad and welcoming. His feather light fingers turning a page, like a sculptor’s touch on setting clay. 

The glaring marks on your mother’s neck, withering into wounds. The blood of her scabs, pooling in her navel.

You flinch.

Confusion flits across his features. You shift away.

“I'm sorry,” you manage. “I can't.”

You are winded by his spasm of hurt, a storm of despair, rejection, doubt. Part of you wishes you did not have this gift, this curse of Ilmater - to read others’ pain, to feel others' suffering so deeply it becomes your own. And you know, as you reel from the chains you cannot shed, that you should say no more. But you cannot bear it. You cannot let him suffer from a lie.

“I love you,” you choke. “But I can't.”

His brows steeple. He is silent. The thought that he does not believe you is a torment. You cannot be another loss, another reason for him to believe his life means nothing. To convince himself there is no one who would mourn his death. 

The words spill out as though you are clutching, searching. 

“I made a vow.” 

He sucks in a sharp breath. “A vow.” His gaze darkens. “You're promised to another.”

“No.” You jerk your head, frantic. “No. It’s not that…” 

He stiffens, as though he is braced for a blow. That he would expect harm from you is devastating.

“I made a promise to Ilmater,” you confess. “I can't be… intimate with anyone. Not like that.”

His eyes widen. You notice that there are flecks of gold in the brown of his irises, flaring with surprise. You fumble for proof, excuses, anything to skirt around the edge of it. The scar inside you that no one but Brother Rogier has seen. Your burden, your wound. Yours and yours alone.

“It keeps me safe.” You sound frenetic. “So that I can heal. I can't be charmed, or harmed by phantasm. Ilmater protects me from–”

It is ridiculous. You feel it as you speak. To suggest that such feeble protections would keep you from the magnitude of his love, when he is certain he will soon be dust and ash. Insulting. You are ashamed.

Disbelief curdles in the tight line of his lips. 

“Please. There’s no need for that.” He looks away. “You have a compassionate heart. That much is clear. But there's no need to go to such lengths to spare what remains of my pride.”

You stare at him, bereft. “Gale–”

“I understand perfectly.” His voice is broken glass. “And I would never force my heart on someone who doesn't reciprocate my affections, no matter how pitiful I may appear.”

He turns his back to you. You can no longer see his face. This is the right thing, you tell yourself. The good thing. He will walk away, and you will remain intact. Safe. You will endure. 

But a frenzy has come over you. As you watch the sagging of his shoulders, the clenching of his hands, you realise that you do not want it. You do not want this sacrifice, this secret. 

You want him.

You have never wanted anything so much.

You lurch forward. He spins around at the desperate questing of your fingers, lacing into his. You fall to your knees, pressing his hand to your heart. Recognition sparks in his eyes as your tadpole brushes against his.

“Please,” you whisper. “Let me show you.”

****

She used to be beautiful, you thought, kneeling there beside her. You stared at the welts marring her olive skin, her scarlet hair flaking to rust. There was a sore on your mother's thigh, weeping with pus, and you looked away when Brother Rogier pressed on it, ashamed at your squeamishness. 

You had seen far worse, waiting in dark alleyways and side streets while she heaved, clamped against the wall by some hooded giant, or kneeling as a grunting shadow loomed over her. You had never felt disgust or shock, only vague impatience, as you watched her finish and rearrange her skirts. Coins jangled in her pockets as she took your hand, bounding towards the promise of candlelight in the distance.  Later on those nights, she would hold you close in a warm bed, lulling you to sleep with whispered songs. With a full stomach and a formless hope, you ignored the greasy stench of strangers’ sweat which she could never shed.

It angered you, how nauseous you felt, as you listened to the bubbling crackle of your mother's breathing. You were only ten, but you were no longer a child, and you knew her moments were numbered. To feel disgust as she lay there, leaking into a peeling pallet, a guttering flame - it was the greatest betrayal. A sin you could never forgive. When Brother Rogier covered your mother's modesty with his usual gentleness, you started to cry. 

You had been suspicious of him at first, stooped and shrouded in his tattered grey robe. You had never met a priest of Ilmater. All you could see was his bald head, so shiny it looked wet, and the backs of his calloused hands, hairy as a beast’s. When he first took hold of your mother after her collapse, you screamed.

But he did not scold or strike you. He spoke to you softly, as an equal, not a child. 

“I want nothing from your mother, or from you,” he said. “I have sworn a vow of chastity.”

He had crouched to look you in the eye. It was a dignity you had never been given before, as the ugly runt of a streetwalker. It made you feel like he truly saw you, in a way that no one but your mother did.

“It means I will never take a woman or a man. She is safe with me. And so are you.”

And you were. With him, you felt safe. He was the only other person who would touch her, when  the sickness ravaged her body and her mind.  He tended to her in the temple with poultices and prayers, giving you food, water and shelter. She was well beyond thanking him by then, all speech and thought swallowed up in decay. Yet when her fire was snuffed out, he was the one who stood with you, cleaning her for burial. He was the one who anointed her so carefully, so reverently, for a return to Ilmater’s embrace.

“Ilmater sees you,” Brother Rogier had said. “He bears your suffering.”

And as you wept into your mother's cold, hard hands, with Brother Rogier steadfast beside you, you thought of every stranger who sucked and thrust your mother's beauty out of her. You thought of their relentless claws in the darkness, and Brother Rogier’s tender fingers in the light. You thought of your life, broken and empty, but for Ilmater's unexpected kindness.

And you made a promise. You promised you would never give your body as your mother had. All that you were, all that you had, you vowed to give to the Crying, Broken God, the one who stood with you and endured.

****

There is a tiny scar near his temple, framed by a dew drop of a mole. You had never noticed them before. As you lie facing him, cocooned in the illusion of the lush grass beneath and the boundless night above, you drink in every pore of his bronze-kissed face, every shadow that lifts as his gaze roams over you. You feel it like a caress, drifting over the patches and blemishes marring your skin, and for the first time in your life, you do not feel the need to hide them. 

“Tav.” His voice is so low, you strain to hear it. “I’m so sorry.”

He draws closer. He has seen the gaping hole inside you, and he remains. You can feel his longing to comfort, his desire to heal. It is a familiar urge, your second nature. It would be a gift, if you could accept his reassurance. If you could rest in his embrace. If only.

He senses your hesitation. Abruptly, he pauses, his fingers hovering above yours.

“Is this… alright?” Worry twists his features. “Are you comfortable with–”

“It’s alright.” 

He gestures between you. “Because if it makes you feel uncomfortable, I can–”

“It doesn’t.” 

He frowns, questioning, fretting. 

“I'm sorry.” You look down. “I'm sorry I can't…”

He jolts. Your breath hitches as his fingers find the point of your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I love you.” His brow quivers. “There are countless ways to declare love. Infinite ways to express it. The joining of bodies, the pleasures of the flesh…they're but one stitch in a vast tapestry. My love for you goes far deeper, burns far brighter.”

You gaze at him, motionless. When you speak again, your voice is torn.

“I want to. With you. One day, when I’m not...” 

You grimace as the images flash through your mind. The weeping scratches on your mother’s breast. The oily sheen on her calloused skin. You try to blink them away.

“When I can, I want to.”

He nods slowly, firmly. He shines, as though there are no more shadows between you. That there never could be.

“It’s different with you.” You try to explain. “When I’m with you, I don’t have to hide. When I’m close to you, I feel…safe.”

You know it is not enough, but it is all you have. You can only give him the truth, no more, no less.

“You’re not like the others,” you say finally. “I… want to be with you. To…touch you.”

You clasp his hand. There is the faintest glow of lavender that trails down the muscles of his neck, a glinting sliver of his chest through the opening of his robe. You look at him with concern. He grimaces slightly. You think you see a trace of embarrassment, but you are not sure. 

“I - ah –” 

His mouth opens, closes. He struggles for words.

“Is it hurting?” You wince. “We can try that poultice again, I have some in my–”

“I’m alright,” he huffs. “I’m quite alright, Tav.”

“Are you in pain?”

“Not…quite.” He shakes his head. “Not now. It’s–”

He bites his lip. There is a strange silence, as though you have reached a frontier you cannot pass. And yet, the intensity of his gaze draws you, like a thread tethering your soul to his. Your fingers follow its path, hovering over the dark ring at his centre. He tilts his head, and almost imperceptibly, he nods.

His eyelids flutter at your touch. The lines of the orb feel like a scar, a stitch sinking into his skin. There is a coldness to the purple pulse under your fingers. You notice that Gale has stopped breathing. You draw back.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No,” he answers immediately. His lips are parted. You catch the wet glimmer of his tongue. “Not at all.”

He clears his throat. You swallow. For a moment, you cannot look at each other. He runs his hand through his hair, while you fuss at your tunic. A hushed heat falls over you, and as if on cue, you both roll onto your backs, fixing your gazes on the celestial canvas. 

It is quiet for a long time. And then your hand returns to his, as if it belongs there. You trace the grooves on his palm, as he caresses the callouses of your knuckles.

“I would wait an eternity for you.” His voice is rough, fractured. “If only I could…but the orb, the fate Mystra demands of me–”

“You don’t deserve this,” you choke.

He scoffs, a burst of anger and disgust. “I was foolish. Selfish. It was unconscionable. I endangered everyone around me–”

You spin back to him. “You don’t deserve this, Gale. Not this. Not her abandonment and punishment. Not any of it.”

He stares at you. There is both a hardening and a softening in him as he wrestles with your words. You understand. You know how it feels to grapple with a burden, haunted by whether you can ever lay it down. Plagued by whether you should.

A tangle of hair falls into your eyes. Slowly, tentatively, he reaches up to tuck it behind your ear. Your skin tingles from the ghost of his touch.

“I could never tire of looking at your face,” he breathes. “Hearing your voice, seeing you smile. Watching you laugh. Being with you, basking in the miracle of your presence.” He closes his eyes, as if committing you to memory. “When the time comes, this is what I’ll picture. Only you.”

The sorrow of his smile floods you. The resolution, the resignation in it. All at once, you are drowning. He gasps, flinching forwards. 

“Please.” His thumb draws gentle circles on your cheek, brushing away your falling tears. “My love, please don't cry.”

He speaks with a tortured awe, as though no one has ever wept from his pain. 

“I would never want to bring you grief. Only joy. Beauty. Happiness and wonder.”

“Then don't do it.” You try to stifle your sobs. “We can work this out together. You don’t have to die.”

You cup his flickering hand against your skin. 

“Any goddess who would ask you to do this isn’t worthy of your love. You're worth more than any mistakes you’ve made. So much more than this cruel forgiveness. You’re… everything.”

Ilmater would never ask this. He would see Gale, his regrets, his triumphs, his goodness and kindness. His love. Ilmater would bear his suffering as his own. He would walk with Gale through the roses and the thorns. You wish you could make him see.

But he does not see it. “Please don't cry,” is all he says, as he wipes away your tears. 

***

“What's your happiest memory?” 

It feels like a deflection at first. A misguided focus on your sorrow instead of his own. You do not want to back down. You want to convince him that Mystra is wrong, that he deserves to live, that he should endure. But there is a plea in his question, a ragged insistence, and you cannot refuse him.

You close your eyes as you consider. 

“My mother loved to sing,” you start. “When she sang, it was like time stood still. Her voice was so beautiful… I can’t describe it, but I remember it. Everything about her was beautiful… until she got sick.”

You feel your mother’s crimson waves, wrapped like a veil around you. The cradle of her arms, so thin and willowy, yet strong as spider silk. 

“Just before she got sick, my mother took me to a tavern to see Red Millie. A singer - you won’t have heard of her, but she was a celebrity around our parts. The barkeep took one look at us and tried to throw us out, but we managed to hide away at the back.”

You remember your glee, sneaking with your mother through the gaps in the crowd, shrouded in shadows. There was a whimsy, a spirit within your mother that no amount of degradation and destitution could ever kill. Not until the very end.

Gale’s jaw clenches. “Blind prejudice. Needless cruelty, to deny such simple pleasures to a woman and her child. What I wouldn’t do to give that fool a piece of my mind.” 

A tide of tenderness washes over you. You squeeze his hand. 

“It wouldn’t have changed anything. But thank you.” 

Reluctantly, he eases. His anger moves you in a way you cannot describe. You are reminded of how Brother Rogier chased off the boys that spat and threw stones at you, as though there was nothing that mattered more than your dignity. 

“It was incredible, anyway,” you go on. “My first time at a real show. It was the only time I saw my mother’s face light up like that. Red Millie had red hair just like hers, and a voice that could bring warriors to their knees. And that night, she sang this song, a song I’ll never forget.”

It takes you unawares, how clearly you can still hear it. How it echoes inside you like a temple bell.

“Afterwards, my mother looked at me like she’d never done before. She was smiling, and there were tears in her eyes, and she held me so tightly I thought she would never let me go.”

Your chest heaves. She is a bottomless ache. You struggle to find your breath.

“What was the song?” Gale asks softly. 

The grasp of his hand stills you. No one but Brother Rogier has ever heard you sing. You have always thought your song fragile, brittle, like thawing ice. It has always been a secret part of yourself, set aside for your mother and Ilmater alone. But when Gale asks, it is a foregone conclusion. Something you give him freely and without reservation.

And so, with your tears mirrored in his eyes, you sing him your mother’s song.

“Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place

Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace

Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste

It all revolves around you

And there's no mountain too high

No river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather

And stars may collide

But I love you

Until the end of time

Come what may

I will love you

Until my dying day”

****

“Come.” He stands suddenly, lithe with determination. “I want to show you something.”

He reaches down to you, and when you take his hand, the world around you dissolves into a whirl of blinding light. You stumble, but with his fingers intertwined in yours, there is no space inside you for trepidation. There is only wonder.

He strides forward. You gasp as a vista of oak, marble, and vellum streams from his free hand. Not for the first time, you are enthralled by Gale in his element, working miracles from the Weave. You marvel at the sculptures and paintings that appear around you, the plush seats and ornate walls enlivened by the spines of a thousand books.  Within this sanctuary of deep reds and gilded greens, open tomes and scribbled notes gleam in the glow of the fireplace. All you see and feel and smell is Gale.

“This is my home in Waterdeep. The centre of my universe.”

You stand speechless, taking it all in - the gift of Gale’s trust, the purity of his love as he bears his soul to you. With a flourish, Gale leads you towards an intricately carved piano that waits in the corner of the room. 

“This is beautiful, Gale.”

You are referring to all of it - Gale's art, his home and haven, Gale himself. But Gale beams down at the piano with a special focus.

“It was my mother's.” 

His thumb grazes its elaborate markings. There is such a delicacy in the gesture. An act of worship.

“She gave it to me, when I finally got my act together and moved into my own place. What a day of joy and mourning that was.” 

He chuckles, brimming with memories. You wish you could see them all.

“She was a marvellous pianist, back in the day, when her fingers were nimbler. Truly exceptional. She was no wizard, but to hear her play–”

His hands dance, fervent with admiration.

“She played with such passion, such unparalleled mastery, that her music had a magic of its own.”

He gestures to the bench in front of the piano. As you sit, your thigh brushes against his. His fingers trail idly over the keys.

“It was always a treat as a child, to perch here beside her and watch her play. No matter how much of a menace I'd been, how exhausted she was from the endless havoc I wreaked and all the questions about the universe I demanded she answer. No matter how incandescent she was with me for burning this or summoning that…” 

He gives a huff of affection. 

“She would still invite me to sit beside her and listen. Every time.”

Gale's smile illuminates every part of him. It is a smile like no other, a fixed star in an endless night. 

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

He bobs his head. “Indeed. Formidable, and fearsome, and wonderful. You would like her. And she would adore you.”

There is an instant before he holds your gaze - a flurry of his fingers, a low murmur. And then, the piano bursts into life with a familiar song that shatters your heart into a thousand pieces before restoring them one by one, sealed in gold.

You are shaking. “Gale,” you whisper through tears. “The song–”

He takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. You feel it all - the roughness, the smoothness, the swelling storm, the steady sea. There is so much more you want to tell each other, things that spill over the seams of speech, lapping at the edges of all your empty spaces. In this moment, you do not need it. You simply listen.

****

You are sitting on the balcony. Framed by golden shafts of sunlight, he looks like a vision from your dreams, real and unreal at the same time. You know everything around you is an illusion, a haze of yearning and remembrance. Yet it is truer than anything you have ever seen or felt, greater than all your nightmares, the spectres of the past. It is his world, melting into yours, making you one.

“My favourite spot.” 

He pats the velvet seat beneath you. Dust motes shimmer in the rising air.

“Many times, evening turned to night and back to daybreak once more while I sat here, lost in words.”

He looks out into the horizon, the shifting waves and seagulls soaring overhead. You are reminded that he has created all of this from memory. The undulations of the arches before you, the chiselled grooves of the stone floor beneath you. The bustling docks and well worn buildings of Waterdeep in the distance. The empty wine glasses on the table, reflecting the setting sun. You feel the love and longing in his creation. You see the mourning in his frown, the dark determination in the twisting of his mouth. A farewell. 

“You'll come back here,” you tell him. “When this is all over. You'll be back.”

He turns back to you. There is a faltering, a crack in his conviction. You hope, with every ardent prayer within you, that it is enough.

Your hand seeks his. “What's your happiest memory?”

A fleeting surprise passes over his features, but there is no hesitation. 

“This,” he says. “Now. Being here with you.”

You are taken aback by the force of his sincerity, the gratitude that glistens in his gaze. Of all his accolades, all his many accomplishments and adventures, of all the people he has loved and lain with, this is what he cherishes most. You, bruised and battered as you are. Only you.

“And for you, I’ll wait.” He clasps both of your hands in his. “I'll wait for as long as it takes. A thousand years could pass, and I'd still be here, waiting.” His lips curl. “If you'll still have me, that is.”

You cannot help but laugh at his unexpected pun, and the hint of pride in it. Your cheeks flush with the implication of his smirk. It takes you a beat to register what he has said. When you do, you halt.

“Is that a promise?”

He freezes. Desperately, you search his face.

“It's a promise.” You surge forward. “You're going to wait till the day I can give myself to you completely, mind, body and soul. You're going to live.”

He looks down at his hands, wrapped up in yours. You can feel the roiling inside him, the relentless battle between hope and sacrifice. And when his eyes meet yours again, you are overcome by a love that blazes through everything hidden and broken within you. 

There is the ghost of a nod, and his hair skims your neck as you reach for him. When your lips find his, he trembles, his hands questing, coming to rest at the small of your back. You cup his cheeks, and the caress of his tongue against yours is a prayer answered. A vow.

In the warmth of his embrace, you watch the weary sun take its dive into the sea. He holds you close, and as the piano whispers your mother’s song, you let the gentle rhythm of his breaths lull you into sleep.

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

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[weirdsht]

Disillusioned 13 . Insecurity, My Old Friend

a/n: you know how some artist can't choose an artstyle? that's me with my writing...

tags: insecurities, self-deprecating thoughts, anxiety and depression if you squint really hard, author typed this with one hand because my dog was sleeping on the other one so more spelling and grammar mistakes ahead

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are currently closed but my ask are still open (read pinned)

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There’s still a lot of things _____ doesn’t know. A lot of knowledge they have been deprived of because their old family didn’t deem them worthy to learn.

However

Despite all the things they don’t know they do know 2 things.

1. Their powers are useless in combat

2. In terms of offensive and physical abilities they’re the weakest

_____ knew these facts for a long time. They know that their role is outside combat. They know that what they must do is heal and support the people fighting on the front lines.

If it was the _____ of before they would be content with how things currently are.

If it was the _____ of before maybe they’ll even be proud.

But the _____ of before is different from the _____ of now.

So so different.

For once they’ve embraced the greed in their heart.

“I don’t think what you feel is greed, you just feel that way because that’s what they made you believe.”

This was what Rosalyn once told _____ when they disclosed their feelings and fears.

“What if you’re greedy? You’re following a trashy young master, it would be weirder if you didn’t become greedy.”

Was Cale’s response during one of their late-night talks.

In turn, they became more greedy.

Greedy for knowledge. Greedy for friends. Greedy for compliments.

Greedy for power.

But not the kind of power the nobles and royals are fighting for. _____ has no interest in ruling or influencing anything.

What they are greedy for is a power that will protect their family from harm. Power that can repel the enemies coming at them left and right.

An offensive power to put it bluntly.

They know it’s unneeded. They know that their group is already so strong.

They know it well.

But still

Still

Envy rushes through their body when they see the Tiger Tribe training in Harris Village.

Envy rushes through their body as they see everyone else in the underground villa get stronger.

Envy rushes through their body whenever Cale comes back with a new power.

Envy rushes through their body as stronger people join their family.

Envy rushes through their body every time they see the Sun God Twins.

Because what they have is the real deal. Even if Jack is only a half saint his still very powerful compared to the petty blessing _____ got. Even if Hannah is a fake holy maiden she’s still a swordmaster.

And that fills their body with envy.

_____ knows what they feel is wrong. That it isn’t right. _____ knows that they must be happy because this means that everyone in their group is more than capable.

They’re happy. They really are.

But at the same time, they can’t push those negative thoughts away.

Can’t push the nagging feeling that they’re useless. A baggage.

That was why when Cale was formulating a plan for his agenda in the Paerun Kingdom, _____ specifically asked to be left out. To be left at home.

Asking was nerve-wracking. It was the first time they had asked anything for themselves. It was a simple request, but they could feel how clammy their hands had become as they spoke. How fast their heart was beating.

Luckily Cale agreed.

Well, he was shocked that _____ made a request. It was obvious that he was planning on bringing the healer with him. But he agreed since it was the first time the _____ had asked for anything.

And so Cale’s group departed for Paerun Kingdom leaving _____ behind.

It felt odd but at the same time it didn’t

It wasn’t that odd because the two already experienced being apart when the redhead went to the empire.

Nonetheless, they were so used to seeing each other at every waking hour that it felt odd not to do so.

_____ decides to dwell on those feelings later.

For now, the healer intends to research if there’s a way to make their power stronger.

So they start reading every book and document about the Sun God and its blessings.

During the day they would study the books the Count and Countess gave them. Would learn more about territory work and noble etiquette. Then in the evenings, they would research as much as possible about the Sun God.

The healer poured blood, sweat, and tears every day. They did in the hopes that there would be the slightest clue about their powers.

This made everyone in the villa worried. Because sometimes they wouldn’t come out for days on end. Sometimes they would only come out to ask for help with their bleeding nose. Sometimes they would even knock only to see the healer passed out on their desk.

It made everyone worried.

And _____ knew that they were worried.

But they can’t stop. Not when they haven’t found the slightest clue yet.

Not when they still felt so useless.

So they pushed through. They continued their studies in the morning and then researched more in the evenings. They went from researching the Sun God and its blessing to reading about healing powers in general and learning more about human anatomy.

But still, nothing happened.

So _____ pushed themself harder.

Maybe they weren’t just putting in enough effort. Maybe they weren’t pushing themself enough.

A dangerous mindset and self-blame that lead to them being sick. Leads to nights of insomnia. To them losing appetite. In some cases, they would even get brain fog and then they would feel more irritated because of that brain fog.

Despite everything they never stopped. They just pushed themself to work even harder. Blaming the fruitlessness of their research to their inadequacy.

Then one day it ceased.

Not everything of course, but before they knew it they were working less. They didn’t even know how it began. However, they knew who had caused it.

Ron

_____ didn’t know when, but one day they woke up and Ron was serving them.

He was busy doing the tasks Cale assigned to him, but whenever he had free time, he would serve _____. He would serve the Medicus as he would Cale.

And the healer has no idea why that is.

At first, they questioned it. Questioned what they did to deserve Ron’s pampering. Questioned why would Ron do such a thing when his already so busy.

“Young master Cale isn’t here and this old man’s heart feels sad that I can’t serve him.”

Poor, sweet, and slightly gullible _____ believed Ron’s woes and benign smiles.

And so Ron began making sure that the healer wasn’t working themself to death.

Before _____ knew it they were sleeping early, eating on time, going on walks, and just having more work-life balance.

Sometimes when they work they feel like they can feel Ron’s piercing gaze, but when they turn around the servant is all smiles so they ignore it.

Days passed like that.

Over that short period, _____ became better at handling territory work and is now fluent in noble etiquette.

Their knowledge of human anatomy has also increased. It helped them use their powers more efficiently.

But they made no progress with researching their power itself.

They’ve read hundreds of books but none of them had something even remotely similar to the healer’s abilities.

All of them just consisted of normal healing powers or purification powers. Nothing about absorption or transfer.

“If healer-nim can’t find anything, what about try creating your own?”

Ron didn’t know where those words of motivation would lead to.

He didn’t know that those words would bloom into something dangerous.

One night, a day after Ron encouraged the crestfallen _____, the healer tossed and turned in their bed unable to sleep. As they did they remembered Ron’s words and decided to try it out.

Creating something of their own.

Creating what they want to happen with their powers.

And so the healer did just that.

When they put their mind to it, theories and possibilities started flowing naturally. They started thinking of all sorts of things that they could do with their powers. Until one stood out.

Reverse Healing

Out of all the things they thought of it was the most logical one.

Instead of transferring their vitality, _____ would transfer their wounds. Maybe they could even absorb the enemies' vitality instead of their wounds.

_____ is smart, they became even smarter after the books and tutoring the Henituse family provided.

They were smart enough to calculate the possibilities.

The Medicus would physically test it out but it wasn’t possible. There’s no one to test it out on as there are no enemies in the villa and everyone refuses to let them wander in the forest of darkness. Especially now that Cale, Raon, and Choi Han, their main ‘protectors’, are not home.

Plus they became busy with something else.

The day _____ is meeting Cale is nearing.

That takes priority above everything.

[dragonfly0808]

Covens and Foils

So a little smth that yet again, I didn’t have quite enough time to include in s3 but that in the latest chapter might’ve shined through a bit is that I really wanted Shirley’s coven to be a bit of a foil and/or parallel to the Trix

The plan was to have it be Icy-Juliette, Stormy-Yena and of course, the most obvious perhaps Darcy-Shirley

Starting with Darcy-Shirley, they are both mind witches and literally grew up together, with Darcy helping Riven do what it took to keep them all alive. They are both mind witches and it was what Darcy became that pushed Shirley to want to do something different with her powers

Darcy manipulates and uses her power to trick and decieve people. Shirley goes the opposite route, learning how to help people. Darcy focuses on nightmares and nausea and bringing out the fear and the worst in people. Shirley focuses on dreams and real memories, on comforting and explores the boundries of her power

Now, Stormy and Yena. This is the weakest since Yena was meant to have more screentime in s3 that never happened. But they’re both elemental witches. Stormy has a focus on air and lightning, Yena focuses on water.

Stormy has a deep-rooted wish for chaos, she’s impulsive and violent and just wants to rule the world. Yena is a Healer, she has a maternal streak and, while being very capable of fighting, she prefers to take a seat back and focus on the simpler things in life. Yena would totally vibe to Shuffle of Love, Stormy is more Perfect Revenge ya know what i’m saying?

Finally, Icy and Juliette. The witches touched by dark magic and the eldest of their respective covens.

Icy’s family has a history with dark magic, for Juliette, she nearly becomes a proxy for Darkar, and some of that magic remains in her very veins, infecting every part of her.

Icy doesn’t learn from the past and her family’s tragic history, she goes after the Flame and is the main instigator of the Trix’s first crimes. Meanwhile, Juliette had no choice in being kidnapped and nearly becoming a proxy, however, she chooses to use the dark magic that remains in her to become an expert curse-breaker and understand blood magic, which may have a negative reputation, but that Juliette manages to use for some good.

They’re both determined to protect their respective covens, feeling responsible as the eldest. The difference is that Icy fails and Juliette succeeds.

Icy sets in motion the events that eventually lead to her coven falling apart by becoming obsessed with the idea of the Dragon Flame. Juliette refusing to see herself as ‘tainted’ by dark magic and choosing to use if for good as much as she can sets the precident of how her coven views magic, with Juliette becoming an expert in blood magic and hexes and Shirley using mind magic to help people

Anyways, I’ll stop ranting. This was just some of the brainrot in my head while writing s3 that didn’t quite make it to the final cut

[slackerlifewhere]

The female characters

As usual, this post might have SPOILERS about the first volume of TCF so if you don't want to see this, please don't continue. Thanks!

___

There's this problem I've noticed as a reader of several novels. It's the reason why I skipped or dropped a lot of novels that disappointed me despite their good plot.

The female characters are either barely in the story, they suck, or turned into a harem member.

Most authors don't know how to write women unless they're the same gender. And while I have no problems with male characters, it's sad that if you see a movie, anime, manga, or novel, the results are either of the three mentioned above☝️.

But TCF managed to surprise me yet again.

Like I said in my previous post,

I did not have high expectations for this novel when I first started reading it. I just wanted to read something because I was bored.

So imagine my surprise when a lot of female characters started appearing everywhere in this novel. While some have minor roles like Amiru, Violan, and Lily, most of them are relevant to the plot. Something that is lacking in most novels. They're not one-dimensional characters but are instead given depth by the author.

Violan and Lily

Violan and Lily, who barely show up in the story because we're focused on Cale's point of view, have their own backstories and goals. Their roles are simple but it's enough that you'll be able to remember their names unlike those characters that are easily forgettable.

You'll be able to remember that Violan loves art and wants to help her husband and family as a wife, mother, and countess. She's very intelligent and even appears to be in equal footing with her husband. She's just as important as Deruth in their territory. If you remember how she appeared when Clopeh attacked them, you can see that despite her worry and anger for Cale's poor state, she appeared calm and was willing to stand by his side despite the danger she faces.

Lily on the other hand wants to be a swordsman to help her brothers protect their territory. I find her small interactions with Cale so adorable because of how much Cale respects her and her dream. She is brave and hard-working, unwilling to stay behind while her brothers do everything. She even grew stronger later in the novel. The fact that she was raised to be confident about her skills and herself is a good sign that Deruth and Violan did not care about gender roles and I just find this awesome.

Witira

Another example is the manhwa.

Let me first mention that I don't read the manhwa. I like it but I prefer the novel. I feel like their thoughts and opinions aren't always shown properly compared to when you read the novel.

But when I first saw Witira illustrated in the manhwa, my first thought was "she looks strong". The fact that I noticed how strong she is just by how she exudes confidence and power amazed me. Her personality is already obvious just by how she talks and moves.

In the novel, Cale likens himself to a shrimp while standing next to them, Raon, and Toonka. He knows that he's the weakest in the group and was quick to hide when Toonka jumped into a fight with Witira. He also thought that Toonka is stupid for trying to fight with Witira.

But what I appreciate about Witira is her care for her brother. She was so ready to interrogate Cale about Paseton and her brother had to calm her to calm down.

Before I wax poetry about how cool Witira is, here is the summary of the women that made an impact in the story.

There's Rosalyn who left her position as a princess to be a powerful mage. There's Mary, an innocent necromancer with a tragic background and Tasha who is a dark elf that wants to support her nephew despite the disgust and fear aimed at their race.

The others, while not often seen, are just as important because of their connection to other characters. Cage wants to be excommunicated and protect Taylor (something she failed to do in the original story) and is connected to the God of Death. Litana is a queen who wants to protect her Jungle from Adin and Arm. And Jopis wants her family and kingdom back from Elisneh.

There's also Cotton but to be honest, she's the one of the few female characters that I barely know about aside from her actions in Endable and connection to the God of War. I'm wondering if she'll show up more in the second volume.

Mary

She's a quiet character but she's my favorite among all the characters. When she first appeared in the novel, she didn't have much presence. It was only when she was brought above the City of Death/Life that she became more than a pitiful necromancer who was hated and feared just because she wanted to survive, like her parents wanted her to do before they died.

She may look naive at first because she spent most of her life in the underground city, but she later proves how powerful and kind she is.

Instead of hating the world that hated her, she moved past that and just wanted to protect the people she sees as her family and friends. Her backstory is sad but it didn't stop her from seeking happiness even if she became a necromancer.

She's one of the strongest characters in my eyes and I'm happy to see her slowly gain confidence in herself.

Hannah and Elisneh

But out of all the women, Hannah and Elisneh are the ones who surprised me the most.

Hannah was originally an antagonist. She fought against Cale and his group before she was betrayed by Arm. And she was about to die if Cale, Litana, Cage, and Mary did not save her. Instead of completely changing her character, she still remains bloodthirsty but has a softer side because of her brother and Cale.

She develops in a way that I did not expect. I actually thought she would be another Redika because of her obsession with blood and would later die as an extra character but she proved me wrong. She instead fights Arm with her brother and the group. I believe she's as strong as Rosalyn but I don't remember (I have to re-read the novel).

She doesn't care about the scars left on her by the dead mana and keeps it as a reminder of the betrayal she and her twin faced, proving she doesn't care how people who fear dead mana look at her.

Elisneh on the other hand, remains an antagonist against Jopis. She was originally supposed to "save" the Jungle but judging on how her kingdom turned out (like a storage for dead mana and stuck in an illusion), I can make a guess that she would've done the same with the Jungle had Cale not helped Litana before.

She's an antagonist that left a deep impression on me because of how static she is as a character. She remains focused on her greed and thirst for power and it's nice to see that not all antagonists in the story are turned into allies or kind people. She's strong enough that it took a whole group to defeat her.

On

And last but not the least is On.

She is not as vocal as Hong and Raon but she is the most mature out of all the kids. She is very sharp and knows what Cale thinks of himself and the people around him. She didn't initially trust Cale and I like that. She notices how stupid Cale can be at times and seems exasperated by him. She can still be childish just like her siblings from time to time but her determination to become stronger against the Fog Cat Tribe and Arm shows how much she and Hong had faced before arriving in the Henituse territory.

I understand some readers don't like the involvement of children in TCF because it's bad for the kids to be in war against a strong organization. BUT readers forget that this is a different world with different ways of thinking. These kids are from the Fog Cat Tribe, beastmen who can fight and are prepared for it. They have abilities that normal humans don't and they need to train those abilities if they want to survive in a world full of strong people and wars.

Her being involved in battles makes her feel proud of how strong she became, something she didn't feel when she was in her tribe. Because she's a mutant, her tribe made her feel bad about herself and was ready to kill her and Hong. She needs encouragement and praises that they're not useless or weak. She doesn't need to be coddled and she knows this.

She's smart enough to know that she and her siblings will only be safe with Cale and his group. Even in the war, their only involvement was spreading a poisonous fog so they could hide their presence from the enemy and Cale could hide his ancient powers from the greedy nobles. Aside from that, they weren't fighting in the war. They entered, used their abilities, and left.

Their tribe is good at being stealthy and it's why Ron wants to train these kids. They're good as potential assassins if they want to become one.

I might make a different post about the kids but this is all I have to say about On for now.

Respect

Another reason why I love this novel is because Cale treats these people with respect, regardless of their race, history, and gender.

He doesn't stop them from becoming stronger and instead encourages them to be what they want to be. He respects their failures and strengths. He doesn't coddle them nor does he find them weaker because they're women.

That's why I respect the author. Instead of writing them as side characters existing to make men stronger, the author made me feel amazed at all these strong women, regardless if they're normal or a fighter.

___

I can write more about these characters like Rosalyn and Tasha but I'll just end it here because I might just summarize the whole novel at this point 😅

[seriesxwriting]

I was rewatching season 4 of tvd and I thought of a fic idea 🤭 I’m thinking when Damon is teaching Jeremy to be a hunter at the cabin and Klaus shows up, Jeremy and Elena’s sister (the reader) is also there for like moral support or something 🤷‍♀️ But later that night after everyone’s asleep she decides to go skinny dipping in the lake and Klaus catches her…

Thank you so much for your request, I’m so sorry it took so long for me to write I’ve been immensely busy. I hope it was worth the wait <33

Just one night <3

W klaus Mikaelson

Warnings- swearing, kissing, skinny dipping?

Summary- request <3

Series- The vampire diaries (tvd)

“Y/n, get back in the house” Elena shook her head as I stepped over the doorframe. I scrunched my face up with confusion and looked around for a split second. “Get back in the house” she hissed giving me no time, pushing me by my shoulder and backing me into the house with her body. We ended up in the living room before I hurriedly pushed her hand off me.

“What the hell are you doing!” I protested blinking quickly at her. She nodded to the kitchen hinting for me to follow her there. When we landed she lifted the tap up so it was running. Diverting any vampires hearing. “Klaus is here” she whispered in a low tone. My eyes widened. A million thoughts raced through my head. “What? Surely not- whys he here?” “I don’t know” she tutted getting out her phone.

I saw her swipe onto Damon’s name and start typing too fast for me to read. “Is Damon sorting it out?” I questioned, she let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know” she replied clearly stressed out about the situation but still managing to piss me off. “They were just kinda staring at each other- then Jeremy told me to find you” she added once she saw I was getting annoyed at the little Information I was receiving.

“He has some unhealthy pull towards you- I’ve noticed it- so has Damon” she eyeballed me “of course anything Damon thinks you think” I rolled my eyes taking no notice of what she was saying. Klaus had never hurt me physically, anytime we came to a stand off he’d avoid me or try and sweet talk me into leaving. But it wasn’t anything ‘unhealthy’. “Oh don’t start y/n” she scoffed rolling her eyes at me again. “We are just looking out for you”.

“You always say that” I muttered avoiding her eye contact. “Because I’m trying to stress it” she threw her hands out but kept her voice down nonetheless. At this point I was done with the conversation and slammed my hand on the tap before walking towards the door. “Y/n!” She cried running after me. As soon as I got to the door klaus appeared in front of me having vampires ran to the door. “Hello love, thought you’d be in here” he smiled with that famous look of his.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t melt on the spot. “What are you doing here?” I narrowed my eyes at me but used a questioning tone. “Came to see how Jeremy was getting on with his training- clearly not very well” klaus laughed and looked over his left shoulder. My brother was lying in a pile of logs and Damon was helping to pull them off him. Elena gasped at the sight and I could see fear in her brown eyes. “Klaus you have to leave”.

“Oh come on, it’s just a little bit of practice on a real vampire, Damon’s hardly made it over a century- and you- are a poor excuse for a vampire” he chuckled to Elena before making eye contact with me. “You’d make a good vampire” “you need to go- you’re not making the atmosphere very nice” I folded my arms leaning against the wall. “Well I was hoping you’d invite me in for tea but I can clearly see that isn’t your plan”.

“You knew I wouldn’t!” Elena protested shaking her head frowning at him. “Yes that’s why I wasn’t talking to you sweetheart” he condescendingly answered with a flick of a side eye in her direction. “What because I’m human? You thought you’d prey on the weakest link?” I replied jerking my head back. “If you think you’re the weakest link in this delusional team then you yourself are delusional y/n” he raised an eyebrow at me becoming all serious. I swallowed nervously and felt as the butterflies fluttered about.

“Klaus!” Jeremy yelled at the top of his lungs, he was red in the face but didn’t look at all injured. His hand was clasping a wooden stake. “I’ve made him angry” klaus winked at me and then jokingly put his hands up fakely surrendering. “Okay okay- I’ll leave, see you later my love” he grinned at me before vamp running off into the woods away from the group. Damon vamp ran to the door and stood there as Elena met him half way. “Are you okay?” He asked under his breath looking into her eyes. I rolled mine and walked off into the house.

That had been the most interesting part of this trip, apart from Jeremy the odd few times sitting Damon on his ass. I loved to watch that man lose sometimes. I wondered off to my bedroom and shut myself in most of the night thinking about what happened. What klaus had said. I even thought over and over again about how he said I’d be a ‘good vampire’. I also thought of elena’s words, his ‘pull’ towards me.

It kept me up most of the night. I was a deep over thinker, always had been and I’m sure I always will be. It ate me up sometimes, now was one of them times. When eventually it got to two am I decided it was time to forget about the situation. So I dragged myself out of bed and snuck out of the cabin to go down to the water. This was one of my happy places. It was just beautiful especially at night. I sat down on the grass in my gym shorts and vest top watching the ripples. I had crocs on too but no jacket. It wasn’t cold, there was no wind either.

I decided I wanted to get into the water and couldn’t be asked to walk back and get my swimsuit. No one was around, it’s not like anyone could see me, so I stripped and ran into the water laughing to myself. I swam on my back, did some hair flicks and summersaults underwater. Before just floating on the water looking at the stars.

“I’ve been around for a thousand years but this is by far my favourite sight”. I whipped around seeing klaus standing on land just watching me swim in front of him. “Klaus!” I gasped literally jumping. “You can’t creep up on people in the pitch black” I tutted with an eye roll. “You’re such a feisty one- no one ever talks to me like that not without consequences” he chuckled still watching me though I was just standing in the water at this point covering myself “Consequences? What like how you killed my aunt?” I jerked my head back, I wasn’t usually this narky with him but that comment pissed me off.

He put his hands up and smiled “I didn’t mean to offend love” “you didn’t offend me- you pissed me off klaus”. He looked at my blank face and my arms crossed my chest. “I’m not sorry I killed you aunt- thats selfish, but my power now is mind blowing and I’d never give it up- but I’m sorry it was your aunt and I’m sorry your wrapped up in this because I don’t want to hurt you” he told me truthfully. Klaus took a seat where my clothes were he eyed them before smirking at me.

“I believe that” I nodded swiming slightly closer ignoring his flirtatious smirk. “I don’t know why- you haven’t given me a reason to trust you- all you do is fight with Elenas boys”. “Mm well I think I have- I’ve never directly hurt you, love” “it doesn’t matter klaus- you’ve caused me pain- a lot of it- but for some reason see a difference side of you sometimes- times like now, if we weren’t in the middle of a war and it would complicate anything, you might have been the guy I came up to in the bar” I told him with a smile coming to the side of the land now, he’d shuffled to get closer to me.

“Well if you ask me I’d tell you the war didn’t matter- and if you came over to me at that bar you’d never leave my side y/n, we’d rule the world together” klaus told me with no sign of a joke. His face was completely neutral. “I…” klaus looked at me stuttering, I didn’t know what to say back. “No one would ever hurt you again- no one would leave you out, you’d be under my protection we’d be untouchable together” he whispered down to me. “You said you see a different side of me- well I see a different side to you y/n, I’ve tried to ignore it but it’s so prominent”.

“I can’t be with you klaus” I shook my head, he looked away from me for a second sighing. I pulled his face back towards me and whispered “but that doesn’t mean I can’t see what it would be like to be with you for a night” I smiled softly. He returned it. Before smashing his lips on me. I might have just made the biggest mistake of my life inviting this man into the water with me. Or it could be the best night of my life. But right now I didn’t care about the consequences.

I had him all to myself.

Klaus mikealson masterlist

Tvd masterlist

All series masterlist

Masterlist of masterlists

[4ng3l-shortc4k3]

Sickening Ecstasy

Yandere!god x m!reader

Cw: angst w/o comfort, gore, blood, murder, slight sadism, sibling mention

A/n: oh boy I messed up the first time so have this one to make up for it!! I slightly cried while writing this. Attachments to my characters is a curse </333

While Solomon was someone who had people worshiping his every step.. Asher was a different tale. As the second oldest out of their family he was cursed with being tasked on luck. It was easier said than done as the poor god became a victim of his responsibility. Poor thing would stumble about and injure himself practically making a fool of himself to the mortals.

Nobody wanted to be around him. Why would they? Unfortunate victims would be thrown around as he deeply apologized each time it happened. He was a magnet for trouble but nobody could resist his easy-going smiles and kind words. Out of all the others, he was one of the nicest gods around. How he and Solomon were related was always a mystery since the two had such differing personalities and looked nothing alike.

Asher was the sweet god. The nicest god. The helpless one who caused more trouble to himself than to anyone else. The pitiful one.. but that was simply the surface. Underneath such a caring persona laid something more sinister, more darker that only a select few would know.

All his victims would end up dead. Butchered up and left to rot away in a secret bunker. They'd be pulled in through his lovely persona and then at their weakest, would be snatched away to never be seen again. He found a sick joy out of seeing their crying faces. They would never stop begging to be freed, making tempting promises to keep his secret, but then these cries would be replaced with terror as he slit their throat. Gurgling their last cries of hope until their life dimmed out. It gave him a high he could never get enough of. He always wanted more of it. Choosing his victims carefully making sure he got the ones who made the most reactions.

That's how he got you. You were so easy to trick when he came across you. All he had to do was let his bad luck act up causing him to stumble onto you. He apologized and let his stare linger as you gently helped him up. He watched as you asked if he was okay, whether he should fetch him something to drink. Politely declining, he instead chose to take you out as a way to make up for the trouble.

Asher mused in delight at how quick you were to trust him. Because why would anyone ever doubt the sweet god with flattering intentions? It was simple. A few words and actions and you were wrapped around his pinky.

That's how he got you to go on more than one date with him. What he didn't expect was to end up falling in love. He couldn't stop the way his mind would linger back to you. You were all he could focus on. Your laugh. Your sweet smile. Your lingering touches. It was all you.

He couldn't stand the way you accepted him so easily into your life. Couldn't you see the ugly monster hiding inside? It ripping at the seams as he soon distanced himself away. He couldn't be with someone as perfect as you. Someone who had no troubles in life. Not a thing to be concerned about. He needed to stop before that monster would take you away too.

Then it happened. One day, you stumbled upon his secret when your worry overtook all sense of precaution. He flinched at your touch, refused to talk to you, avoided you, and all you wanted to do was comfort him. So you followed him. Just to see where he'd go that made him jittery with nerves.

All you saw were bodies. Some old, some new but all heavily disfigured beyond recognition. Some were missing their eyes while others didn't have limbs. Then those missing parts were found on shelves. All proudly displayed for only Asher to see.. but now you were looking at them as well.

Asher didn't want you here. Not now. Certainly not like this. You knew now and the way you looked at him with fear shattered his heart. He couldn't let the secret get out. He had no other choice. Why couldn't you see that he was doing this to protect you?! You needed to stop crying before he lost it.

Please understand he didn't mean for you to find out. He would have never dared to lure you here. You were too special to be left rotting here. So please understand him. He never wanted to gag you because you couldn't stop screaming. He never meant to squeeze your throat until you could no longer breathe. You shouldn't have died so carelessly and so young. You shouldn't have been this selfless especially to a monster like him.

No, you were supposed to be with him. Love him and give him those fuzzy feelings he adored. Do silly dates and bask in one's presence until the day ended. Talk meaningless topics and kiss each other silly. Perhaps one day have a wedding.. but he was a fool and there was nothing left for him to have.

Now look at what you did. You're making him cry. You're not supposed to be doing that. You should have soothed him and rubbed circles on his back until he was calm. Then you would have taken him out of the stupid bunker and towards your shared home. You would have wrapped him in a blanket and make his favorite food. Talk some random topic until he finally joined along. Maybe laugh and make jokes about the bodies despite it being too early to do so. But you were dead and he was all alone. Nothing could be done. Nothing at all..

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in BG3: Chapter 2

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 2: Now that all the companions are gathered it's time to move on to the druid's grove.

Link to AO3

A/N: Thank you to everyone giving part one love! <3 The more I write this the more I fall in love with my own Tav lol.

Lae’zel was just as arrogant when rescued as she was in the game, but surprisingly she was the one to suggest ditching a couple of party members.  It’s too conspicuous to travel with so many, so Tav made the decision to send two on to make camp nearby.  And of all the people to send, he sent away Shadowheart and Gale.  They each questioned the decision but headed off soon enough. 

You wonder why he chose to keep you, clearly the weakest link.  You wonder those thoughts aloud when you approach the Emerald Grove and hear Aradin demanding entry, and the goblin assault begins.

“Hardly the time for those questions,” Astarion answers.  

“Just stay back,” Tav warns.  “And get your dagger out.”

You stand atop the small hill across from the gate, two goblins on the stair-like cliffside and climbing up, while Tav and Lae’zel jump down to help those at the gate.  Astarion has his bow drawn and sends an arrow to the closest goblin’s face—it goes down with a heavy thud, body tumbling into the other one knocking him down long enough for the vampire to pull out a dagger and start stabbing.

You do as Tav says and pull your own dagger from your boot..  What once felt large in your hand now seems incomparably small when facing a group of goblins.  

And there’s no turns here.  The goblins aren’t about to wait patiently for you to stick your blade into them.  The fray is nothing but chaos until a young man in a red coat jumps down from the top of the gate, rapier in hand.  That stills the goblins enough for you to make sense of some of the battle.

Tav and Aradin have taken down two goblins themselves while Lae’zel thrusts her sword into the bugbears chest—another two goblins are felled by Astarion and the female archer, and then the last of them are taken out by Wyll’s Arms of Hadar.  The green and black tendrils erupt from the ground, draining the nearest creatures of life before fading back into the dirt.  All the while you stood behind Astarion holding the tiniest dagger known to Faerun.

You take careful steps to the edge of the cliff, avoiding any spilled blood, and look at the carnage below.  Astarion moves up to the ledge below where you stand, saying something that sounds like “good to have you in the group” but you don’t pay him any mind.  There’s too much blood rushing in your ears to hear his snark, and that phantom limb has grown friends as it reaches towards the dead that surround you. 

Take, something whispers, take what is yours.

Take take take take! 

It repeats in your mind as the body nearest you twitches, legs twisting as if alive but stills as soon as Astarion pulls the arrow from its face.  The squelch of sputtering blood is enough to draw you from your trance, facing Astarion.  

“What did you say?”  Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“A sheltered one, aren’t you?” he asks.  He thinks you’re scared of the bodies, the violence.  You nod, because he’s not technically wrong.  Those limbs retract and that little voice that demanded something of you vanishes.  Let them all think you’re scared of the blood, because that’s what the trill in your chest was, wasn’t it?  Fear.

“I’ll get used to it,” you say more to yourself than Astarion.   You stow your blade back in your boot, noticing that Tav is leaping between the goblin bodies and searching them for loot.  His tail wags in the air as he bends to scavenge each corpse, eagerness on display.  

“I would have almost guessed you were excited by the way you gripped that dagger.”  Astarion holds a hand out to you.  He’s a ledge below you, waiting to help you down despite the attitude you hear in his tone.  Or maybe not attitude but…accusation?  No. That doesn’t fit him.  But neither does helping a stranger down a rocky cliff, yet there he is holding out a hand.

You stupidly stare at his pale hand, pondering its purpose.  He sighs with a roll of his eyes before he grabs your hand and tugs.  “Come along then, all the scary goblins are dead.”

You let him lead you down the cliffside, his hand actually…warm?  Well, nothing llike the heavy warmth of Tav, but still comforting as you pass the dead.  Astarion swaps holding your hand with his left rather than right as you reach the bottom, placing his now free hand on your back to guide you on the last large descent.  

“There now,” he says, all fake smile and fake emotion, “safe and sound.”

His words are directed at Tav, who is still searching the last body.  Ah, he’s endearing himself to Tav.  Help the person the leader is helping, because you’re stuck with them anyway, and you’ll look better to the group overall and be less suspicious should anything unsavoury happen to them.   The memory of critically failing your rolls when he fed on your Tav comes to mind and you make a mental note to keep your dagger very close at night.

Astarion lets go of your hand once Tav deems you safe enough.  You give him a small thanks and receive that fake smile in return.  You can’t bring yourself to smile back, knowing what you know.

“Hurry inside!” a tiefling shouts from atop the gate.  Zevlor.  “Before more of them come!”

“Here,” Tav says excitedly.  He pushes his hands towards you, a staff laying gently on both palms as if this were an offering to his better.  The top of the staff is decorated with some poor creature's skull and assorted bones.  A fox, maybe?  No matter, its bones have now been shaped and tied together along the smooth wooden staff like some sort of talisman.  As you take it Tav adds, “It may not be what you’re used to, but it should help you channel your magic.”

Your brows raise—he was more perceptive than you thought a barbarian would be.  Even if he was assuming you could use magic, and were having trouble doing so.

You notice there are small clear crystals dangling from some of the stones, and two large cut pieces of amethyst within the eye sockets of the skull.  The more you look at the staff the more you see how finely it’s been crafted—hardly the work of goblins.  

“Thanks,” you say.  You twirl it in your fingers, watching the crystals sparkle in the light and feeling a comforting chill fall over you.  Almost like stepping into the shade on a hot summer day. 

Tav’s tail swishes back and forth at your approval.  “Let’s get inside before they change their mind.”

Inside the grove Aradin and Zevlor are already arguing.  Like with Astarion’s false cries for help, Tav is quick to move ahead and get into the thick of things.  You can hear a woman crying above the gate—Arka, mourning the loss of her brother.  You block it out as much as possible, along with the voice in your head that whispers, Take.

You watch Tav settle the argument without any fists flying, then Aradin and what’s left of his crew storms off.

Zevlor and Tav exchange a few words, but your attention is on the spaciousness of the grove itself.  It looked so small on a computer screen, but now you can appreciate the majesty of it; the smell of the forest, the way the wind comes from down in The Hollow and wraps you in a safe cocoon.  It would be so peaceful if not for the scared tieflings, and the angry druids, and of course the rats you know aren’t really rats.

“Goblin got ya?” Zevlor says to Tav with a bit of surprise.  “You should talk to Nettie—she’s not as profound as Halsin but she can take a look at you.  While you’re there maybe you could talk Kagha out of this Rite of Thorns.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Tav replies.

“We’re messengers now?”  Astarion has no qualms complaining directly in front of the one making the desperate request.

Without thinking you give him a quick elbow to the ribs.  You hiss, “Be nice!”

Astarion is so taken aback by your assault he can only baulk at you, eyes wide.  You try to keep your face as neutral as possible while you stand next to him, ignoring his stare in your peripheral vision.  Tav snickers at your actions, and that in itself is enough to keep Astarion at bay.  You imagine a die in your mind, the big number one mocking you as you try to push away the thought of Astarion feeding on you in the dead of night.  

You felt a glare directed at the back of your head as you followed Tav and Lae’zel down the hill and into The Hollow. It could be your imagination, but there was a particular weight to Astarion’s gaze whenever you looked back at him.  Still, you stood by your decision and kept your chin up.  

Tav stops to talk to the three siblings, successfully convincing them to stay and help the other tieflings.  You all take the boarded path towards the back of the cave where Aradin and his crew sit, and there you spot Meli, a young tiefling refugee, about to pickpocket Barth for his mothers locket.  You wonder if you should stop him but it’s Tav that steps up and sets a hand on the boy's shoulder, surprising Meli and you.  Tav squats down and whispers something in the boy's ear—whatever it was it has Meli smiling and darting off, locket all but forgotten. 

“What was that?” Barth asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Just telling him he should challenge himself,” Tav answers.  He doesn’t elaborate and instead goes right into questioning the trio about Halsin.  

You listen as they discuss the wizard in Baldur's Gate and the Nightsong when you feel the faintest touch at your hip.  You glance to your right to find Meli dashing off, and the weight of the bag beneath your coat gone.

“Hey!” you shout.  Meli doesn’t even turn around as he runs out of sight beyond the bend.

Astarion chuckles.  

You spin towards him standing behind you, where he would have had an uninterrupted view of you getting pickpocketed.  

“Really?” you question.  

Astarion shrugs in response, one arm crossed over his torso while he waves his other hand up as if to say, “What can you do?”  

You don’t even know what you lost but the embarrassment of being robbed, with witnesses, brings a heat to your cheeks.  Frowning, or maybe just pouting, you hurry after Meli.  At least you know where they are.

You pass by the siblings that have made their way down, past Dammon, and the two older women of which neither were human, to get to the kids’ hideout.  You wonder if Mol would be kind enough to return your things as you go over the different events that could give you her favour.  

You’re ready to beg, honestly, for a look at what you lost at the very least.  For all you know your entire identity is in that bag that you haven’t had a moment to investigate. But that gets put on the back burner when you hear a woman yell, “Shut up!  Just shut up!”

“Arka, please,” a man says.  You turn to your left, spotting Arka and a male tieflings whose name escapes you in the makeshift prison.  She’s already got her crossbow aimed at the goblin Sazza.  You swear under your breath as you look back at the others, Tav still engaged in conversation with Aradin and Lae’zel talking to Remira.  The only one that watches you now is Astarion, all the other tieflings around you minding their own worries.  You bounce on your heels, unsure if you have time to get Tav before Arka takes her shot.  When you hear the goblin taunt her about losing her nerve you decide you can’t wait, and dash into the prison.

“Here it comes you little—“

There’s a lot you could do to stop Arka.  You could shout, “Stop!” or “Help!” or hit her with your new staff.  But none of that happens.  Instead you let out a puff of air that’s supposed to be words, drop the staff, and dive to stop the arrow from penetrating the goblins skull.  It works…mostly.

You see blood splash onto Sazza’s face before you feel the pain.  When you land, the collision with the ground vibrates through your body before you feel the shock of the arrow that now penetrates through your right hand.

If it wasn’t for your plush coat, you would have felt the gravel digging into your hip.  You can certainly feel it on your right thigh, the small slide along the ground enough to grind the rocks against your body.  Your right arm is bent at the elbow with your hand in the air, head down as you try to take stock of all the different things you’re feeling in that moment.

Embarrassment from being robbed, pain all along the right side of your body, a piercing burn in the palm of your hand, and more embarrassment that you didn’t just smack Arka with your staff because that is literally what it is for.

The three beings that surround you stay silent, as if they too cannot believe you just did that.  You’re lucky the arrow is thin and crudely made—a stronger one would have probably gone through your hand and into Sazza’s eye.

“Oh, my,” comes Astarion’s lilting voice, “it seems I missed the show.”

Weakly, you raise your head and turn to face him, body relaxing onto the ground.  He stands in the doorway of the prison, a finger to his lips as he grins at your valiant display of courage.  Not everyone would do what you did!  Not everyone was so reckless as to risk their life for a goblin that would kill them just for fun.  Yes…that was a special kind of stupid.  Your face burns again as Sazza laughs loudly.

“Looks like the Absolute sent me a saviour,” she says, voice scratchy and mocking.  It’s directed at you just as much as it is Arka.

Arka growls.  “Why did you do that?!”

You cough away the dust you’d been breathing in and straighten on the ground.  There are a few responses you can give, but the honest truth isn’t one of them.   You’d let her kill Sazza before, multiple times—sometimes you skipped the scene all together!  But…when it’s no longer a game something in your soul drives you to stop it.  All you’re left to do is shrug and shake your head.

Arka glares at you as you lift yourself to your feet.  You’re shaking again like when you’d first woken up, except this time there’s a clear reason why.  The arrow through your hand is forcing your body to pump out heavy doses of adrenaline, and if not for the arrow you’d probably be bleeding profusely.  It still drops down your forearm as you hold it above your waist.

“She’s a prisoner,” you finally relent, “she’s not here to be killed.  She could have useful intel on the goblin camp.”

Sazza huffs at the idea of her giving up her tribe.  You ignore the goblin and watch Arka bite her bottom lip and storm away.   The male tiefling—what the hells was his name again?— bows his head as thanks before following her.

Astarion moves out of the way to avoid any misdirected rage from Arka.  As he approaches you he says, “I see you’re one of those self-sacrificing types.”

“No, just stupid,” you reply.  

A sudden puff of a laugh comes from him and when you try to meet his eyes you find him looking away from you, a smile hidden beneath one hand.  “That’s another way of putting it.”

He doesn’t come too close to you as you observe the wound.  While it hurts, it’s not as bad as you thought a piercing wound would be.  Not that you thought much about that, anyway.  You flipped your hand around, observing the wound carefully—should you just pull the arrow out?  You recall how difficult it had been to get Gale out of the sigil and think better of doing the task yourself.  You hold your bloody hand towards Astarion.  “Do you mind? I won’t be able to do it myself.”

Whatever he’s thinking is kept to himself, his mouth still and eyes unwavering as they survey your face.  

“Why don’t we find you that healer?” he suggests.  “I’m sure this Nettie will get you fixed up and ready to dive in front of a fire arrow in no time.”

When you only nod Astarion adds, “I feel this should go without saying, but don’t jump in front of a fire arrow.  Unless it’s to save me, at which point, follow your instincts, darling.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to hide your growing smile.  He called you darling.  It sounded so much sweeter with those red eyes on you than it ever had in game.  You let the smile out and laugh.  “No promises, but I think I’m okay with losing a bit of blood for you.”

“Oh my goodness!” 

You and Astarion look to the doorway to see Auntie Ethel standing there, mock worry on her face.  It really did look genuine though, if you didn’t know what she is.  She is a much better actor than Astarion.

“You poor thing,” she says, hurrying to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, observing your injury.  “What happened?  Oh, no matter, I’ll get this treated.  Come with me, petal.”

Despite her frail appearance, Auntie Ethel is able to strong-arm you out of the makeshift prison.  She makes a fuss the whole way to her little cove within the cave.  You’re careful to avoid looking for Arka, and to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes as the woman makes a fuss over you.  You can’t hear Astarion’s steps but you know he’s following, if only by the icy grip that reaches out from the back of your head.

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