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bisexualiteaa · 3 days

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Sugar, Oh Honey Honey

AN: OKAY HEAR ME OUT! HEAR ME OUT! I was scrolling through here and stumbled this wonderful gif posted by @the-casual-cat of Barry Sloane and it got me and @expirednukacola thinking…what if that scene, but with Cooper or Hancock? 👀 I started with Hancock, but if y’all would like, I will absolutely do a version with Cooper next! Hope y’all enjoy!

CW: FLUFF! Slight OOC Hancock, established relationship, slight deviation from the game, cursing, kissing, make out, slight suggestive theme, implied seggs, briefly proofread, possible spelling/grammar errors.

The gif in question 😮‍💨🥵🤤

You and Hancock were off exploring the commonwealth, out to gather some supplies for your next trip and maybe some goods to sell in trade for ammo and chems. It was a rather successful trip, didn’t stumble across anything too crazy, but you gathered enough food, stimpacks, ammo, and other useful items to bring with you to keep you stocked when the time came that you would both hit the road again. As the sun began to set along the wastes, you looked to the sky, feeling the damp humidity hang within the air as dark clouds started to accumulate in the sky. A radstorm was coming, and coming quick with the way the wind started to pick up. Unfortunately that meant your return to Goodneighbor for the night would likely be too dangerous. So instead, you both set on the look out for a place with a good roof, or as good as they get anymore anyway, and not holed up by any raiders. You both did the best you could to try and find something as fast as you could, but unfortunately you couldn’t quite beat the rain before it began to drizzle. Hancock offered you his signature tri-corn hat to keep your head and your hair protected from the harsh, radiated rain water. You smiled, accepting his offer and placing it on your head, thanking him for it as you both continued your search.

“Ya look pretty cute like that, sunshine. Might just have to let you steal it from me more often” he complimented, almost unable to take his eyes off of you, making you giggle softly. It had been a while since the last time he really got to spend any quality time with you, so he couldn’t help himself in the way he drank you in like the tallest glass of water this side of the desert. He was snapped from his thoughts when you stopped in place, finally stumbling across a house that looked like it would be sturdy enough to hold out in as the storm passed. One that had a nice roof that wasn’t too terribly beat up compared to the rest, had no fire or light of any kind coming from it to indicate anyone was using it for shelter. It was perfect, just what you both had been looking for. You grabbed his hand before quickly leading him inside the house.

There was a routine you both had when you scavenge places for supplies and find somewhere to hole up for the night out in the commonwealth. You would both split up, one person inspecting one half of the house, and one person taking the other. Inspecting every room, behind every door, every nook and cranny you could think of to ensure there were no traps, and no people here that would be angry to find unknowing trespassers. Once the house was thoroughly swept to ensure there was no threat, you made your way into the kitchen. A taller, yellow box resting on the counter caught your eye. You gasped excitedly, finding it to be a well intact box of your favorite cereal from before the bombs fell. Sugar Bombs, ironically enough. “Holy shit! I didn’t know there were any of these that were still around!” You said in shock, picking up the box to inspect it. You knew it was well past its sell by date by now, but in that moment the state of the actual contents inside didn’t matter to you, seeing the box was enough to bring you back to that nostalgic place of a time before the war. Hancock was still off in another room, collecting what things he could manage to find before he heard you, wondering what it was you were going on about. “What’d you find that’s got you so excited, sunshine?” Hancock asked, genuinely curious as he came back into the kitchen, seeing a box clutched in your hands. “Only my favorite cereal of ALL time!” You said, smiling excitedly as you turned around to face him, holding out the box of cereal to show him what you had been so ecstatic about. He loved the way that some of the smallest things brought you joy, even in hard times like these. In the wasteland there wasn’t much to be happy about, between the awful creatures and people trying to kill and maim you around every corner, to the stifling heat and radiation ready to bake you the moment you stepped outside. Not much made people happy to be alive anymore. It was nice to see you find happiness in something, and he had to admit, the fact that it was over something as simple and small as a box of your once favorite cereal, was even cuter. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched to his thin, irradiated lips as you looked so overjoyed.

“Sugar Bombs! 100% of your daily value of sugar” you quoted the slogan everyone knew, from the box and the commercials they used to advertise on TV about them. “These things were the shit back then. Best way to get a shit ton of sugar in your diet to start the morning off right” you said through a laugh, recalling some good memories of spending weekends and mornings before school on the couch enjoying a bowl as you watched whatever was on the TV at the time. How you would happily kick your feet with every bite. “Did you ever try them, John?” You asked him, genuinely curious but he was far too entertained by the way that the box was still clutched in your hand like you’d found a long lost treasure. “Yeah, I tried ‘em once. I remember them being stale but it was the only thing around I could get my hands on” he said with a chuckle. “I used to eat the fuck out of these as a kid. Good and stale. Not sure I’d do the same now but it’s at least cool to see and reminisce on” you said. He loved learning new things about you, especially about your past. He always felt like he talked too much about himself and his own past, so it was nice to get bits and pieces of yours now and again. It’s why he loved moments like this where it was just the two of you, it felt almost intimate in a way. “Yeah, they’re good and all but…I’m already lookin’ at 100% of my daily value of sugar right here” Hancock said with a sly grin, making a bashful blush rise to your cheeks before you smiled. “Speaking of, that reminds me…” he spoke, slipping his arms around your waist to pull you close to him as you still held onto the box of cereal in one hand. You smiled up at him dreamily, charmed by his smooth moves and charming words as he looked down at you, absolutely love struck. He adored the sight of you in his hat, he really did need to lend it to you more often, but more so than that, he adored being here with you. “I haven’t had my daily value of sugar from you yet. What’dya say we fix that?” He asked, his low, gravelly tone dipping even lower at the prospect of his question.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, a soft giggle escaping you before looping your arms around his neck. His free hand came to rest on your cheek gently as he leaned in, pulling you to him and into a sweet kiss. You smiled and hummed into it in delight, always loving the feel of his rough skin against your own, the way just a kiss from him could ignite a fire in your core. Your body acted on pure instinct and need, as your free hand moved to rest just beneath his jaw, both of you doing all you could to keep the other close. When you had time alone like this, distance was the last thing you wanted between you. Soon your once soft and innocent kiss took a more intimate turn. Your hand slid down from his jaw, gently cascading down the front of his frilly white undershirt before looping around his waist, pulling him against you to effectively rid of any space standing between you. If there was one thing he loved about you that made you different from most, was that you were a woman who made it known what she wanted. He was honored to know that in this moment, and in all other moments down the road, that he was what you wanted. That out of all the people who populate the surface, it was him you chose. He’ll never truly understand why or what you see, but it made him happy and he considered himself a lucky ghoul nonetheless. You felt his larger hands begin to do the same to you, one resting on your back, keeping you to him, and the other trailing down your side before pulling you against him by the fabric of your shirt. There was need laced in the kiss, evident by the way your hands roamed each other’s bodies. It was heated, passionate, and something you normally didn’t get to share outside of the safety of his room at the old state house. Out here, there was a sort of thrill to it. You both smiled into your deepened kiss as you dropped the box of cereal to the ground, in favor of allowing your hands to properly roam underneath the fabric of his red coat. Hancock tapped the back of your thigh, a signal that he wanted to pick you up. As he did, his hands rested on your ass, holding you up before placing you down on the kitchen counter behind you without breaking the kiss. It was skillful almost, and you were always surprised by his strength, how he lifted you so effortlessly as if you weighed nothing in his hands. The position you were now in made it quite evident where the night was going to be leading, but you certainly didn’t mind. A night of passion with Hancock was always wonderful, and he couldn’t be happier that it was with the woman he loved most in this wasteland existence.

#fallout #fallout x reader #cooper howard #asks #john hancock x reader smut #john hancock x reader #john hancock #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 #gif #barry sloane

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uriekukistan · 1 day

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In Defense of Shoko in 261

to be so honest, i’m really doing my best not to come off angry while talking about this. but to me this conversation is not just about shoko, but about the way women are treated in media, and especially in shounen manga in general.

people are upset about the way shoko reacted, or rather didn’t react, to yuuta’s plan because it seemed too unemotional and uncaring. if she had shown emotion or protested, people would still be upset because she would be seen as unable to do the necessary thing in a time of crisis due to her feminine emotions or whatever.

this is the dilemma of not just female characters, but real life women. there’s never a right reaction.

additionally i feel that some of the things being said about her are expecting her to only exist as support for gojo, and not as her own character, which i see way too often with female characters in shounen manga.

in any case, i stand by my cancelled wife, and here’s my defense of her. spoilers below the cut.

Since when has Shoko ever been outwardly emotional like that?

if shoko is upset about yuuta using gojo’s body as a weapon, there is just no way she would outwardly object or show any signs that she’s upset. that’s not who she is and she’s shown that. there have been several times where she’s not displayed the emotion one would expect from her, so why would that change now?

when shoko sees geto, one of her closest friends, if not her closest, for the first time after finding out that he massacred an entire village, you would expect her to be feeling a slew of emotions. maybe confusion, maybe anger, maybe hurt, maybe betrayal. maybe even concern for her friend.

but shoko acts like it’s no big deal at all. she’s just seeing her close friend on a regular day. because she’s not the type to get outwardly emotional. whatever she’s feeling right now is kept somewhere else entirely, far away from the surface.

additionally, in the scene where everyone got frustrated that gojo didn’t react about nanami, we have this from shoko.

talking about geto. not reacting. guys shoko is just not a reactive person like that, and that’s totally fine. a lot of people are like this (including myself but thats not the point)

but that doesn’t mean the emotions don’t exist, or that shoko has no way of reacting or coping or showing that she’s going through anything at all. one way is through smoking.

smoking is something shoko picks up again before the shibuya incident, when the entire jujutsu world is growing more stressed with the increased presence of special grades, particularly the disaster curses, the incident at the goodwill event…and at shibuya, the situation was very high stress, yet she keeps a cool demeanour. the only sign that she’s upset at all is that every time she’s shown, she’s smoking.

the only times we’ve seen shoko’s feelings, it’s been completely internal. the most notable being this scene:

this is the most emotional we’ve ever seen shoko, and if you’ll notice, she’s completely alone.

shoko keeps her feelings well hidden from everyone, so it’d be completely against her character to outwardly show if she was upset by yuuta’s plan.

Since when has Shoko shied away from questionable medical/jujutsu practices?

shoko was eager to dissect yuuji after he “died” like it was some sort of science project and not a human being…please note im saying this as a completely neutral statement, this is not to say whether shoko is a good or bad person, just that she is and how she is.

sure, it’s a bit questionable that she’s looking at a dead teenager on her table and wondering what information she can get out of him, but at the same time, there could be useful information in yuuji’s biology that shows what makes him a successful vessel, at least as far as shoko is aware. useful knowledge that could be used to find another suitable vessel to continue killing sukuna’s power, one finger at a time.

she even says to gojo “who do you think i am?” when he tells her to make her examination of yuuji worth it, implying that this is a trait that those around her are aware of.

she’s practical and methodical, logically thinking rather than emotionally thinking, but most importantly, she’s not the type to display her feelings.

she’s exactly the type to understand the reasoning behind yuuta’s plan and accept it as a logical last ditch effort, and she’s also the type to store her true feelings about it away to process over a cigarette (or several) at a more convenient time. asking her to do anything else would be asking her to change as a character.

i hope this doesn’t come across as me being unsympathetic to gojo’s dehumanization and being turned into a weapon, i think it’s upsetting for sure (but i respect the narrative choice, i think it’s an interesting way to bring out themes). mostly, i think that shoko, both by the narrative and by the fandom, is only perceived in geto & gojo’s shadow, and i wanted to draw attention to her as a person.

i’m sick of reading the “shoko’s a cold-hearted traitor” comments on different platforms bc i think it’s not true, and i think asking her to act differently removes her autonomy as a character and forces her to be nothing but a supporting role to gojo, rather than her own character.

hopefully this makes some sense dkskld

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jjk 261 #shoko ieiri #jjk shoko #ieri shoko #gojo satoru

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green-eyedfirework · 2 days

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“No.”

“Bruce—”

“Absolutely not. Do you have any idea what you’re proposing?”

“It’s not a proposal,” Dick said with a calm he didn’t feel. He’d already numbed himself to the idea. “I am not asking you, Bruce. I’m telling you.”

“I am not letting my son walk straight into the hands of someone who wants him dead,” Bruce snapped, eyes flashing, as he shoved upright from the council table.

“And I,” Dick replied levelly, meeting Bruce’s gaze, “am not letting someone else suffer for a war I caused.”

Bruce shook his head, deflating slightly as his expression pinched. “You didn’t cause it, Dick,” he said quietly. “It was a set-up. You know this. King Slade knows this.”

Dick’s mouth firmed to a thin line. It didn’t matter if Slade knew now that his son had been captured by extremists and tortured until he was a weapon aimed at Gotham. It was still Dick’s sword that had ended his life. “I killed him,” Dick said softly. “I killed Prince Grant and Slade will never forget that.” Never forgive that, never mind the grudging treaty created when Hive’s treachery had come to light. “I will not let someone else take my place as a target of his rage.”

No one trusted the treaty. Not in Gotham, not in Defiance. The hostage exchange was the only thing grounding the flimsy sheet of paper—one noble from Defiance, one noble from Gotham, each with a permanent stay in the other kingdom’s court.

“Dick,” Bruce said slowly, “you’re the Crown Prince.”

“I’ve been removed from the succession,” Dick said, half-shrugging. “Your advisors won’t let you reinstate me.” Hot-headed, impetuous, reckless—whatever Bruce believed, Dick had started a war by killing a prince, and several nobles in Gotham had never wanted the son of aerialists to ascend to the throne.

“Dick—”

“You can’t stop me,” Dick crossed his arms. This was his mess, and he was going to clean it up, whether Bruce liked it or not.

Bruce slumped back into his chair, and buried his head in his hands. “Dick,” he said quietly, “please.”

“I’m sorry, Bruce,” Dick said, equally quiet. “But I can’t watch someone else take my place.”

Bruce let out a slow, shuddering breath. Finally, he spoke, “You won’t go as a prince.”

“What?”

“You won’t go as a prince. Under your real name. King Slade has never seen you—” That was true, once Bruce had realized why an army was at their border, Dick had been carefully guarded. “He won’t know who you are. We can make up a minor noble family for you. A lordship on the other side of Gotham.”

“But—”

“Dick,” Bruce looked him in the eyes, his face grave and pale. “He despises you. And I will not send my son to his death, do you understand?”

Dick nodded mutely, the words ringing in his head.

He despises you.

And Slade had every right to.

~#~

It was safe to say that Slade wasn’t in a good mood. Hadn’t been in a good mood since he’d received word that his firstborn was dead, and his initial fury had receded to an ever-simmering flame of rage, a perpetual bad temper that sent everyone fleeing.

If he’d had his way, he would’ve razed Gotham to the ground and stuck every member of its royal family on a pike before he stopped. Unfortunately, King Bruce had managed to find evidence that the terrorist group Hive had been involved, muddying the facts to claim that Prince Richard had merely been acting in self-defense, and it had been enough to sour Slade’s kingdom on a costly war.

So now he was supposed to play nice with the kingdom his son had died in, signing a treaty that wasn’t worth the paper and ink, biding his time until he could have his revenge. Gotham was sticking to its best behavior for the time being and Prince Richard had vanished after he’d been removed from the line of succession, leaving Slade uselessly seething.

He glared at Wintergreen as he approached the throne. “Is that it?” he asked, gesturing to the near-empty throne room. “No petitioners to hear today?” Very few dared to show up, all of them showing a healthy fear of his temper.

“The Lord of Owlcourt has arrived,” Wintergreen said. Right. Their noble hostage. Slade had sent Drakon to Gotham days ago with careful instructions to watch and listen but do nothing unprovoked. He doubted that Gotham would give him an easy excuse to go to war, the kingdom wasn’t as cutthroat as its neighbors.

With the exception of its reckless prince.

“And I have to be here for that?” He didn’t want to greet whatever sacrificial lamb Gotham had sent, he didn’t even want to acknowledge that they existed. As minor a lord as they could find, most likely, or maybe even a merchant willing to play at being a lord for a generous payout to his family. According to Wintergreen, Owlcourt had been a royal territory until very recently, which meant that Gotham had magicked this lordship out of thin air.

Wintergreen gave him a sharp look, but didn’t start the long lecture Slade was half-expecting. Everyone was treating him like he was a piece of fucking glass, and Slade dearly wanted a fight. Wanted to draw his sword and hack away until everyone that would hurt him, hurt his children, were dead.

In his imaginings, the bodies all had dark hair and golden crowns.

“The Lord of Owlcourt,” the guards announced as they opened the doors, and Slade got his first look at the noble.

Young, younger than Slade had been expecting, dark-haired and light-eyed, expression steady as he flicked his gaze around the room, not shivering or scared. Slade flicked a glance at Wintergreen to make sure he wasn’t overthinking things. His steward had his mouth pressed into a thin line, eyes narrowed.

Slade wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be a taunt or a deliberate provocation, but if they wanted him to lose his composure, they’d have to try harder than sending a lookalike of their prince.

“Your Majesty,” the lordling dipped into a low bow. Lower than a lord to a foreign king usually bowed. The idea that they’d foisted a lordship on some random commoner was looking more and more likely. “My name is Dick Grayson, and I’m—”

“The Lord of Owlcourt, yes, we did receive the message,” Slade said, cutting him off. He made no attempt to hide his glower as Grayson straightened. “Neither of us need to pretend this is anything but what it is.” His noble hostage could rot in a tower for all Slade cared. “You will obey our rules. You will not leave the castle without permission. You want anything, you will ask Wintergreen and he’ll see if it’s necessary.” His steward inclined his head as Grayson darted a glance at him. “If you’re on anything less than your best behavior,” Slade paused, scanning the young lordling’s face. Wariness aplenty, but no outright fear. “There will be consequences.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” Grayson dropped into another bow. Someone should teach him some etiquette before the whole court figured out he wasn’t a noble. “Thank you for your hospit—”

Slade got up from the throne and walked out before he could finish. The pleasantries had been met, and he had no intention of getting closer to a Gotham lord. Especially not one who looked so similar to the man that killed his son.

This time, when Slade dreamed of destroying his enemies and venting his grief, the corpses looked like the young Lord of Owlcourt.

~#~

Dick had half been expecting them to throw him in the dungeons and was pleasantly surprised when he was led to a room. Nowhere near as large as his quarters in Gotham, and the simplicity was clearly intended as a slight, but the room had a writing desk and a window, and didn’t seem overly cold.

“Your trunk will be brought up after it’s searched,” the steward said—Wintergreen, Dick remembered, cold eyes watching him with eerie intensity. “Anything we deem too dangerous to let you have will be destroyed.”

Dick took a breath and nodded. He hadn’t brought anything valuable with him, had correctly assumed that Defiance wouldn’t treat his possessions with any sort of courtesy.

“It should go without saying, but your best option is to keep your head down,” Wintergreen said sharply. “Do not test the King’s temper. War has been narrowly avoided, I suggest you try not to court it again.”

Don’t flinch, Dick chanted mentally in his head. Wintergreen didn’t know who he was talking to. Didn’t know how accurate his words really were.

“If there is something you require, you come to me. You will not be assigned a chaperone or a guard, and you will be stopped if trying to enter a restricted area. Meals will be served in the Great Hall, the library is open if you wish to read, and the training areas are usually empty in early morning. You will not be allowed sharpened weapons.”

That was more freedom than Dick had expected. There weren’t bars on the windows and the door appeared to lock from the inside.

“Do you have any questions?” Wintergreen asked, tone perfunctory. Dick shook his head, throat still dry from his interaction with the King.

“Very well,” Wintergreen inclined his head. “Lord Grayson.” He swept from the room before Dick could breathe through the sting of the title. No longer a prince. Never a prince again.

He’d half been prepared for his disguise to fall apart the moment he’d reached the castle’s gates. The steward’s eyes had narrowed dangerously when he’d seen him, and Dick had seen the way King Slade’s expression had flickered with surprise before cooling. They might not have seen him before, but clearly they’d heard of his appearance.

He’d thought about dying his hair, but he couldn’t bank on getting the materials to keep it up in Defiance. His only shield was a name lost to time and the prayer that they wouldn’t put it together.

Dick sank down into the chair and exhaled slowly.

It had worked.

~#~

Unfortunately, the Lord of Owlcourt was a model guest. He’d made no demur over his sword and dagger being seized, no protest at being forced to file a formal request for every additional piece of furniture for his rooms, no complaint at being ordered to attend every meal in the Great Hall.

The last had been Wintergreen’s idea. If it was up to Slade, he would’ve locked Grayson in a cell and thrown away the key, but Wintergreen had pointed out that Slade had sworn to treat the hostage with courtesy.

So Grayson had a decent set of rooms in the guest wing, had meals with everyone else, was allowed to roam the castle without fear of retaliation. It helped that he was an unrecognizable face—Slade didn’t doubt that Grayson had fought in the war, his hands bore sword calluses, but no one in Slade’s court had any personal animosity with the young lordling.

It also helped that the Lord of Owlcourt was charming.

~#~ ~#~

Slade turned back when he reached the door, and had to fight his twitching lips. Dick had spread out on the bed, curling up in the warmth Slade had left behind, and had pulled the blankets over his head to block out the sun.

Not a morning bird, then, but a cat. Slade shook his head as he left his room, and refused to call the emotion fondness. He wasn’t getting fond of the Lord of Owlcourt.

And what if you are? a tiny voice asked in his head.

…And what if he was. Dick was from Gotham, true, but he would be staying permanently in Slade’s court. No one had heard of Owlcourt in Defiance, so it wouldn’t ruffle any feathers amongst his court. And—and Slade couldn’t spend the rest of his life wrapped up in misery.

Dick was amusing, and a challenge. Smart and fierce and bold. Good at politics too. He was everything Slade looked for in a partner, and Slade had to admit that what was supposed to be a temporary relief had turned into a more permanent arrangement.

He recalled the way blue eyes sparkled as Slade pinned Dick to the bed, dark hair ruffled by the pillows—as much as Slade detested the underhandedness of the Waynes, Slade wouldn’t have gotten this if they hadn’t tried to provoke him.

For a moment, Slade tried to imagine what it would’ve been like if they’d actually sent over Prince Richard. If Slade, or someone else, didn’t kill him, Richard would’ve probably spent the entire time locked up in his rooms, perhaps plotting how to murder the rest of them in their sleep. There was certainly no way they would’ve ended up sleeping together.

The very thought was ridiculous. As if Prince Richard would’ve ever—

“I volunteered.”

“My cousin. She’s a tutor for the youngest prince.”

“I learned swordsmanship from the very best, Your Majesty.”

Slade came to a stop in the middle of the corridor.

No.

That was—impossible.

No one would ever—

Dick, on his knees, almost trembling, and the snarl of what did they teach in Gotham, that he thought Slade would ever do such a thing forestalled by his fury for the young lordling, what kind of royal family sent someone to sacrifice everything for their mistakes?

“The King is a good man,” Dick sighed, “And his family are good people.”

“It’s my duty,” Dick said quietly, “For my kingdom.”

My.

But no king would ever send his heir as hostage if there was another choice. No father would ever send his son to someone who wanted him dead.

Slade was being ridiculous. Dick was just a noble’s bastard son with a passing resemblance to the Crown Prince of Gotham.

…Dick was a short form of Richard.

~#~

“It’s a pity,” Slade said softly, “That we don’t have Prince Richard to explain away this one too.”

The courtiers laughed. Dick didn’t.

Slade was staring directly at him.

~#~ ~#~

Dick laced his fingers around the cup, and took another sip. It was refreshing. It was water. It was something to do that wasn’t looking up at Slade, because he didn’t think he could handle looking up at Slade right now.

He’d been ready, when he approached the castle, for his paper-thin disguise to fall apart. For Slade to kill him where he stood, and know that at least in death he kept his kingdom safe. He—he had not been prepared to watch Slade’s face twist into hate after softening, after he knew what Slade looked like grinning sharp and victorious, or solemn, or sleepily content with the early morning sun splayed over his face. It…hurt.

Dick took another small sip of water. The cup was already three-quarters empty. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could drag this out.

The door opened again, and Dick’s fingers tightened on the cup. The boots in front of him jerked, and turned to face the newcomer, but Dick didn’t look up. It wouldn’t make a difference.

“Wintergreen,” Slade said flatly, sounding both confused and displeased at once.

“Slade,” the steward answered in the same flat tone, “And here I was half-expecting he’d already be dead.”

Dick raised his head, bewildered. The way Wintergreen had said that—

“You knew?” Oh, Slade sounded furious now. “Since when?”

Wintergreen didn’t seem the slightest bit bothered by his king’s agitation, instead studying Dick as Slade growled. “A week or so after his arrival. Before you, I wager.” Dick’s stomach twisted—how long had Slade known? Dick hadn’t noticed any sudden difference in him, anything to suggest that he knew Dick was the person that had killed his son.

Before sleeping with him?

After?

“How?” Slade demanded.

“I already told you of my findings regarding Owlcourt,” Wintergreen said mildly, “But if he was some merchant’s son or a farmer, no amount of drilling in manners would’ve been able to replicate being raised a noble. So that must mean he’s a noble. But then why hide his real title, why give him some random royal territory?” Wintergreen shrugged lightly, “If he looks so much like the prince, then perhaps he is the prince.”

“And you didn’t tell me,” Slade bit back. Dick took another quiet sip of water.

“No, Slade, I didn’t tell you, because you would’ve killed him,” Wintergreen snapped back, “And started another war, hostage or not, by murdering Gotham’s Crown Prince.”

“I’m not,” rang out into sudden silence. Dick winced, but—but he couldn’t stay silent forever. “I’m not the Crown Prince,” he said quietly.

Slade and Wintergreen were both staring at him now. Dick fought the urge to hide.

“We just went over this,” Slade began, but Dick cut him off.

“No, not—I was the Crown Prince. I’m not anymore.”

Slade narrowed his eyes, but it was Wintergreen who spoke. “What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The council,” Dick explained, “One of their conditions was that my adoption be revoked.” Bruce had been furious, but his court had agreed that it was an elegant solution—if a prince had not slaughtered a prince, the consequence would never have been war—and by that time, Dick had already made up his mind to go so it had been a moot point. “So I’m not. A prince or a Wayne. I—Owlcourt is a royal territory, yes, but I have a claim to it, through my great-grandfather. My name was Grayson, before Bruce adopted me. It—wasn’t a lie.”

Slade and Wintergreen were staring at him, silent. Dick swallowed, and bowed his head.

“But it’s a deliberate omission,” Dick said quietly, “I understand why you’re angry.” Still two sips of water left in the cup, but Dick put it down, before shifting forward to fold onto his knees. “Killing me won’t start a war,” Dick almost whispered, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Another stretching silence, before boots came closer. “Out of curiosity,” Slade said, his voice level, “How long did you think you’d get away with it?”

Dick—didn’t know. There had always been an end date in sight. All he could do was push it another day away. “Hopefully long enough that tensions would’ve died down,” Dick said quietly, because he was still a hostage, and if Slade killed him without provocation, the treaty would be in turmoil. Too soon after the war, and angry, grieving people might seize the opportunity to attack again.

Slade made an irritated sound. “I’m not going to kill you,” he snapped, one boot nudging his knee, “Get up.”

Dick processed the order before he processed the statement, so he stuttered halfway up, nearly falling back down before he recovered and straightened fully. Slade wasn’t looking at him, but his face was set in a glower. Wintergreen looked…mildly amused. Or satisfied.

#my snippets #sladick #royalty au #royal hostage #identity reveal #snippets from various parts of the story #self sacrifice #mistaken identity

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crilbyte · 2 days

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💚🎙️Hunted🎙️💚

~Reader x Human!Alastor🪓

Part 1 𖦹 Part 2 𖦹 Part 3 𖦹 Part 4 𖦹 Part 5

Summary: You go to a speakeasy a friend told you about to escape the problems in your life only to meet a very interesting person, a radio personality that you know... And he immediately seems taken by you.

Warnings/Promises for series: 18+, slow burn, abusive relationship, cheating, alcohol, physical and sexual abuse, murder, cannibalism, oral sex (m & f receiving), noncon, forced pregnancy, miscarriage/abortion

Warnings/Promises for Part 1: 16+, slow burn, abusive relationship, cheating, alcohol, physical abuse

Alastor's ever present and charming grin parted as he spoke his silky words into the mic of his radio booth.

"And with that, we've come to the end of my segment today~. Tune in tomorrow for all the latest local news~!" Alastor finished for the day, and he went off air, taking off his headphones.

"Ah, another successful day... but what will tonight bring~?” Alastor purred as he got ready and left to the streets.

He goes to his regular speakeasy after his shift at the radio station. Mimzy is there, chipper as usual, as well as the other regulars. But there's someone new here today as well. A young woman. She looks down.

"Ah, a fresh face."

You sit at the bar with your chin resting on your hand, one finger tracing the rim of your glass.

Alastor slides onto the barstool beside you, his eyes never leaving you. He leans in, seemingly intrigued by your presence. "What brings you to this little establishment, my dear?"

You startle a little, seemingly lost in your own world before his arrival. "Oh! hello," you begin, looking around to be sure he’s speaking to you.

Alastor chuckles, the sound low and rich as he turns his gaze towards you, "You seemed to be a thousand miles away, my dear. And I do hope that's not the case~"

"Oh, I suppose I was," You say with a blush and a giggle. "I heard from a friend that this place was good so I thought I'd come and try the selection. she wasn't wrong.'' Your voice is bubbly, but he can sense the sadness hidden underneath. You compel him.

Alastor's gaze softens as he listens to the sweetness in your voice, seemingly captivated by your presence. The hidden sadness doesn't escape him, and he reaches out to gently cover your hand with his own, offering a warm smile.

You find yourself blushing again at the sudden intimate contact. "Oh, u- um... How rude of me, I never even asked your name?"

Alastor chuckles softly, removing his hand from yours as he notices the blush on your cheeks. He offers you a dazzling smile, the warmth in his eyes seeming genuine. "Forgive me for being ill-mannered." he bows, leaning in closer, his voice low and smooth. "I'm Alastor, my dear."

"Alas...oh!" You straighten and cover your mouth with the tips of your fingers. "I thought I recognized your voice!" You say excitedly.

Alastor grins at your reaction, his eyes twinkling with mirth at your enthusiasm. "You've heard of me?" he chuckles softly, leaning in closer once more. "I must admit, that's a rare thing around here..."

"Yes!" You smile, the gloom in your eyes clearing. "From your radio show! I listen every chance I get!"

Alastor's eyes twinkle with delight, his lips curling into a wide grin. "Ah, my dear! I do love it when someone recognizes me for my art." he chuckles, reaching to pat your hand gently.

"Oh goodness me, I'm making a fool of myself," you say, covering your mouth again and looking at the floor, embarrassed.

"A fool? far from it." Alastor laughs lightly, the gentle, teasing sound filling the air around you. He leans closer once more, tilting your chin up with his hand so that you meet his gaze. "Never apologize for showing your true self." he says softly, eyes full of warmth and sincerity.

You stare back into his eyes, enraptured. "Then... then I won't," you respond.

Alastor smiles warmly at you, his hand carefully tracing your jawline. "I'm glad to hear that." he murmurs, staring into your eyes with an intensity that makes your heart race. He leans in closer, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you...

You feel your stomach clench, every nerve in your body seeming to alight, just before he pulls back and begins speaking again in his boisterous manner.

Alastor pulls back, taking a deep breath to regain his composure. "Ah, I do hope I didn't make you uncomfortable." he says with a wry grin, patting your leg reassuringly. "I do have a tendency to get carried away sometimes."

"N-no! Not at all. In fact it's been a very long time since anyone has taken an interest in me, for my appearance or otherwise,” you answer shyly. "Not to say that you find me attractive, I wouldn't assume! Oh, shoot..." you cover your face with your hands. Why can't you speak like a normal person!?

Alastor releases a hearty laugh at your outburst, his hand reaching out to gently tap your arm through the fabric of your sleeve. "Do not be so flustered, my dear." he says warmly, voice smoothing away your embarrassment just as easily as his touch does.

You peek over your hands at his grin and find it soothing somehow. "I'm unsure why I find it so difficult to talk to you..." you admit.

Alastor raises an eyebrow, teasing lightly. "Perhaps you are attracted to me, hmm?" he murmurs, lips quirking in a knowing smile. "I jest, of course." His tone is warm and lighthearted, though his eyes glimmer with something more.

"I didn't think that was in question," you say before your eyes widen at the realization of what you just admitted. The blush that is seemingly becoming permanent returns and you scoot your glass of whiskey away from you. "Perhaps I should slow down..."

Alastor smiles, the sight of you blushing making him inexplicably pleased. "Please don't stop on my account." He takes another sip of his drink, watching you with a mix of amusement and genuine interest. "I'm rather enjoying the flattery."

"Well at least there's that," you say with a giggle, picking up your drink to cheers him. "Then perhaps, instead, I'll double down."

Alastor laughs, a deep, genuine sound that radiates warmth. "Now that sounds like a challenge!" He chinks his glass against yours, taking a drink before leaning back and eyeing you with a twinkle in his eye. "Do tell me more about yourself, my dear."

You talk for a good while, him talking about his radio show while you talk about your hobby of gardening and plants. Behind too long you've found yourself relaxed. He seems genuinely interested in your hobbies, smiling as you excitedly go on. You find yourself returning his smile with a genuine one, squeezing his hand gently.

"Are you here most nights?" you ask eventually.

"I could be." Alastor smiles back at you, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. You don't seem afraid of him, Even in the slightest, and it amuses him. He was not about to let you go. "It all depends on my mood. Why?" He laughs softly, leaning back in his seat.

"Because I'd like to come back and see you," you answer, your eyes never straying from his.

His smile widens as he watches you, obviously pleased by your response. It takes a lot to shock him, but you manage it easily, and he finds himself inexplicably drawn to you "Oh really?" He says, raising an eyebrow at you and leaning forward in his seat."

"If it doesn't bother you of course." You smile your first actual smile of the night.

His smile becomes genuine in response, and he shakes his head. "Not at all. I'm always happy to have company... Especially when it's as charming as yours." He says teasingly, raising your hand to his lips and placing a kiss where your pulse flutters.

You feel your heart race at the contact. His lips are soft against your hand. "W- well, I must be going!" you say hurriedly, turning to hide your blush.

He lets go of your hand reluctantly, standing up as well and following you to the door. "Of course." He says softly, his eyes gleaming with amusement at your reaction. He had been planning on getting you alone... But seeing you like this was just as enjoyable.

You turn as he opens the door for you. "Will you be here tomorrow night?" you ask.

He smiles, and leans down to whisper in your ear. "If you want me to be." He says, his voice sending shivers down your spine. He was enjoying your reactions to him.. and it sounded like you enjoyed his teasing just as much. "I'll be expecting you."

With an excited smile, you nod, turning and walking into the night. "I'll see you then!" You wiggle your fingers in a wave goodbye.

He chuckles and waves as well, watching you leave with a fond smile on his face. As soon as you're out of sight, however, he closes the door, turning to lean against it with a predatory smile. "Oh, this is going to be interesting..."

He feels a smack on his arm and looks down to see Mimzy standing there with a towel in hand, as well as a suspicious smirk on her face. "And who was that?" she asks teasingly.

He glances down at Mimzy, his lips quirking up into a smirk of his own. "A little doe." He says nonchalantly, walking back to his seat. "A very interesting little doe indeed." There was never a need for honesty around Mimzy, considering she found out everything anyway.

"Oooh...!" she coos, following him and walking behind the bar. He smiles as she walks up her little step stool in order to refill his glass, tiny thing that she was. "You got a new victim?" she whispers, but not quietly enough for his comfort.

He glares at her over his shoulder, before returning to his relaxed position. He wasn't that worried about it; considering Mimzy never spilled secrets she accidentally found out. But he still wasn't too happy with her whispers. "Shh.”

With a playful sigh, Mimzy rolls her eyes and goes back to attending to other customers.

The next night, you find yourself back at the speakeasy, hoping Alastor is there, only to be quite happy to see him waiting at the bar once more. This becomes a routine. Every few days you show up, always after dark, and stay till around midnight. You talk with Alastor and a few times he even asks you to dance.

Tonight you arrive to find him playing the piano and join him, singing an accompaniment. Of which he seemed to quite enjoy, before walking you to the bar and ordering your usuals. The night is going wonderfully until he notices something peculiar. While Alastor is idly tracing patterns on the table with his finger, he spots a faint tan line on your left ring finger.

"Ah, it seems I stumbled upon a rather interesting fact," His voice suddenly has a dangerous undertone, all traces of amusement gone.

You perk at his statement. "Oh? and so what would that be?" you ask playfully.

Alastor's eyes narrow, the shift sudden and startling. "Well, my dear... It seems you are married." His voice is low, sinister, and his gaze becomes intense as he watches you for a reaction.

With a startled expression, you look down to your hand, covering it and pulling it into your lap. "Oh, shoot. What time is it?" You quickly look up at the clock. "Oh... oh no. I have to go." you say after noticing it's almost morning.

Alastor watches you as you glance at the clock, then back at him. "Leaving in such a hurry?" His voice is calm, but his eyes are cold, watching your every move. "I trust I did not scare you away?" He asks with a knowing smirk.

"Oh!" you turn to him, with a sad look, taking his hands gingerly in yours. "No, no. I promise you, that isn't it. I... I greatly enjoyed your company."

Alastor raises an eyebrow, but he lets you take his hands. "Then why the sudden rush?" He asks calmly, studying you carefully, trying to see if you're lying to him. He hates being played the fool.

You look back at the clock, the worry on your face, evident. "I-I have to be back home. I'm expected,” you explain, not a lie, but not the full truth either.

His gaze sharpens, but he remains outwardly calm. "I see. A pity." He says softly, withdrawing his hands from yours. "Then until next time... Please do take care." He adds with a sly smile, making it sound almost like a threat.

As he watches you leave, regret stitching into the corners of God eyes, he hears a squeaky little voice chime in.

"Oooh! And here I thought you weren't a fan of the girlies?" she teased, sliding his now full glass back to him with a grin.

He chuckles lightly at her teasing, taking the glass of alcohol graciously before continuing his relaxed position. "Everyone has an achille's heel... And this doe here... seems to be mine." The way he speaks of her has a possessive edge to it... "There's something about this one. She's... different."

"Alastor!" the tiny woman gasps as she covers her mouth. "Do you actually like this girl? I was only kidding?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes, leaning forward on the counter to get closer to Mimzy. "Yes, she's... special. And I have reasons to like her." He says in a hushed voice. "Aside from all of her... obvious qualities."

"Al, in all the years I've known you, the most interest you've shown in the opposite sex was wondering how different they might be when you're... well... hunting." she says with large air quotes, not wanting to give away too much. not that anyone was listening.

He chuckles lightly, his eyes lighting up and his lips quirking up in a small smile. "Yes... Well... Sometimes change is nice." He takes a sip of his alcohol, before continuing. "But she is not like that. And..."

"And...?" Mimzy asks, quirking an eyebrow and leaning her questionably large bosom onto the bar.

He gives a mischievous glare towards the door where you left from, squinting. "And she has secrets. I still find myself wanting to hunt her... but not in the usual way."

"Oh? and in what way do you then?" she asks.

He takes another sip of his drink, swirling the liquid around in the glass. "I want to find out more about her. I have a hunch that she isn't what she seems to be at first glance..."

"Huh. Well, I can tell you what I know about her, if you're interested," Mimzy teases, wiping down the bar with a very forced nonchalant expression.

He looks up at her, his eyes narrowing. "I might be." He leans forward again, placing his elbows on the counter.

"Well... as far as I know she's not from this side of town. She's likely from the richer side. So be careful." Mimzy's eyes give a warning look. "People on that side of the tracks tend to be noticed when they go missing, dear."

He sighs, finishing his drink in one gulp. "Yes... I have figured that much out myself. But she is a very interesting woman... and quite beautiful too." He stands up, tossing a few coins on the counter for tip. He then turns to you with a charming smile. "And don't worry. I don't plan on her disappearing. At least not yet."

Over a week goes by with no sign of you. He comes every night still, hoping that night is the one you reappear. Mimzy teases him for his interest, insisting it's romantic, but he shuts her down. He’s never once had any interest in romance, that isn't what this is. Right?

He clenches his jaw at Mimzy's words, letting out a sigh. He takes a seat at the bar, ordering his usual drink. "It's not like that... I just have an interest in finding her is all." *

"And keeping her all to yourself?" she says with a smirk.

He lets out a grumble. Mimzy was lucky to be considered a friend, anyone else who'd think to speak to him like that wouldn't show up for their next birthday.

Alastor's gaze intensifies at her words. He takes a sip of his drink, trying to suppress his frustration and annoyance. "If found, she will be my target... for a time. But that is neither here nor there at the moment. I need to find her first."

"Well today's your lucky day, loverboy." he looks up at her questioningly to see her looking pointedly at the door. As he follows her gaze he sees you entering, scanning the room as though looking for something.

His heart races as his eyes follow hers to the door. His grip tightens around his drink glass, causing the edges to crack under his touch. "Finally..." He watches you for a moment, taking in your appearance before he sets his glass down and stands up. "I'll be back."

"Good luck!" Mimzy cheers, before watching him go. But he doesn’t care, he’s too interested in how your eyes light up the moment they catch sight of him.

"Alastor!" you call out excitedly, running to him and taking his hands in your own.

He catches his breath as you call his name. He smiles, trying to keep his excitement contained. "Hello..." He says softly, taking your hands in his own. His heart races under your touch, almost forgetting himself for a moment. "I know! I'm so sorry! I couldn't get away until today," You begin to explain.

He nods, understanding your reasons for disappearing. He leads you to a quiet booth in the corner of the room, away from prying eyes.

"I've been looking for you…” he admits, not wanting to let go of your hand.

"But as a radio personality, you must meet so many people...?" you ask, having a hard time believing him. "There must be infinitely more interesting people in your life than me?"

He chuckles lightly, shaking his head. "No, I can honestly say that you are different." His tone is sincere, and he looks at you with admiration. "You're more... real, than most people I meet... and I can't seem to get enough of you."

You blush deeply and smile, tucking your hair behind your ear. "You're just saying that."

He takes a moment to let his words sink in before responding, his gaze never leaving yours. "No, I'm not." His tone is gentle, almost soothing, as if he's trying to convince you of his sincerity. "You seem to have a certain spark about you..." He reaches out to tuck the strand of hair back behind your ear again, his eyes never leaving yours.

You seem stunned at this, your eyes wide and unable to find your voice. His smile only falters when he notices you’re wearing more makeup over one cheek than the other. With a swipe of his thumb he reveals it to be true, and underneath is a slightly more red spot than your skin. A healing bruise. It's then that he notices you’re also wearing a shawl, despite it being the middle of June and much too hot for it.

His smile fades and his stare intensifies, taking in your appearance, his expression darkens with concern. "What happened here?" He asks quietly, tilting your chin up to examine the bruise further, his other hand reaching for your shawl to remove it.

You let out a yelp as he pulls it off your shoulders, worry flooding your expression. He can clearly see handprint shaped bruises on your upper arms that you'd been hiding underneath it.

His expression turns grave as he takes in the sight of the bruises on your arms. He gently places the shawl back around your shoulders, covering you up. "Who did this to you?" His tone is now deadly serious, his eyes never leaving yours.

"No one, it's nothing," you say, trying to downplay the severity of the sight before him. but he catches you fiddling with your left hand, nervously twisting at a ring that isn't there.

His eyes narrow, picking up on your nervous tic instantly. "Don't lie to me, little doe. Something has clearly happened to you, and I want to know who did this." His voice is low, dangerous even, as he stares you down unblinkingly. "Your husband?"

Your eyes widen and he sees you straighten at the guess. Dead on, he assumes.

His jaw clenches, anger visibly rising within him as he stares you down, the tension between them palpable. After what feels like an eternity, he speaks. "He will die." He says with a frightening calmness.

"No!" you cry out, taking his trembling fist in your hands.

His eyes shoot up to meet yours, but he doesn't pull away at your touch. Instead, his eyes soften ever so slightly at the look of panic and fear in your own. "He's hurt you, repeatedly." He says, his voice strained with suppressed rage. "Marks like this are never the first."

"It's not what you think, really. Please." He can tell from your tone, pleading, that you’re lying, that you just want to avoid confrontation.

His eyes bore into yours, searching for the truth. He can tell you're lying, but he doesn't call you out on it. His jaw clenches again and his grip tightens around your hands gently. *One day, little doe. One day.* He promises to himself. After a long moment of silence, as his eyes bore into your own, he sighs.

"I will pretend to believe you." He says, the rage once again hidden beneath layers of charm and sophistication. "But know this little doe, if he ever touches you like that again..."

Something flares in you and you stand quickly. "I don't believe it's any of your business?" You say with a forcefulness he didn't think you had in you.

His eyes flash with a hint of amusement. He rises to stand before you, close, but not touching. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. "I make it my business when someone I've taken a liking to is being abused, little doe."

You take in a sharp breath at the word 'abuse' and he senses you've not truly come to terms with it all yet. With a huff, you turn to leave, but he stands.

Gently, but insistently, he takes hold of your arm. His grip is firm, but not bruising, and he holds your gaze with soft, sincere eyes. "Please, stay." He says, his voice kind and genuine."

"Alastor, you speak out of turn," you say quietly, not turning to face him. "You spoke ill of my husband to my face."

"I speak the truth, little doe. I do not approve of how he treats you." He says with conviction. "I dislike him, and I'm not afraid to admit it." His voice is full of confidence, the edge of anger not having disappeared.

"You don't even know my husband. you don't even truly know me?" you say under your breath.

His grip loosens at your words, a hint of disappointment appearing in his gaze. "You are correct. I do not know him, nor have I known you for very long. But the bruises on your arm and the fear in your eyes tell me all that I need to know. Please, little doe, do not make excuses for him. Not when it comes to this." His tone is passionate and sincere.

You pull your hand from his grasp. "I'm sorry. I must return home," you say, beginning to walk towards the door again, all without ever looking at him.

"No." He wraps an arm around your waist, holding you tightly as if protecting you from further harm. "Do not defend him. Do not defend this," he says, a hand gently touching your arm where one of the bruises hides just beneath your shawl.

You blush at his sudden embrace, pinching your eyes shut tightly before pulling away from him once more and making a mad dash for the exit.

He watches you go, a look of concern on his face. He doesn't stop you from leaving, knowing that any further resistance would only result in causing more harm. He sighs heavily and turns away, his hands clenched tightly into fists as if holding back a surge of emotion.

"Well that was certainly something," he hears Mimzy's voice say from behind him. "What happened here?"

"I've found my prey," Alastor says menacingly under his breath.

"Oh, so you're going hunting for her after all?" she asks with a cute edge to the curiosity in her voice.

"No. I will not hunt her," he says, his voice softer now. As he speaks, he gazes down at the floor, as if lost in thought. "I'll be hunting her husband."

I'm very excited for this. I've got this one totally planned out and it's spicy! I hope you enjoy.

Credit to the artists at the top, Human Alastor & Human & demon Alastor

Taglist: @twizzie-lairs @shadowqueen1318 @honestlyshamelesskid @cinnermon @liveontelevision

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waynes-multiverse · 3 days

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Polaris – Chapter 4

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, so many flashbacks, more awkwardness, more funerals, more drinking, more murder, some fluff and a sprinkle of smut too

Word Count: 6.3k

A/N: Life got a little busy, so I've been a bit absent recently, but I'm so happy and grateful you guys are enjoying this series so far! All your sweet comments really put a smile on my face during all the chaotic and exhausting times 🥹🤍

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 4: Rewind

A tequila hangover required copious amounts of coffee to battle the raging headache you felt. Your eyes stung when they met the blinding sun this morning, not even your darkest pair of shades bringing much relief.

Your whole body ached, a welcoming soreness between your weak and wobbly legs as you stalked inside the little bakery and coffee shop on Main Street USA. Beau had already scolded you for calling it that, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Helena’s sheriff then had sent you here for your morning coffee run, hoping this way you’d avoid the questioning and curious stares of Jenny and Cassie. Needless to say, you had never made it to Cassie’s place last night. Beau had been very convincing (and successful) in making you stay.

Hands, lips, teeth, and tongue – you clenched at the thought alone, cursing yourself for soaking through your fresh underwear. How good were your chances for a quickie during lunch break in his office if you promised to thoroughly lock his goddamn door this time?

“Y/N, hey.” Carla’s voice made you flinch and pulled you from your naughty reverie – about her ex-husband no less.

Had you mentioned how much you hated small towns?

“Hey, Carla,” you greeted her with a flushed smile, hoping you hid your blushed cheeks and fluster well. You definitely felt caught with your hand in the cookie jar, although it was thankfully impossible for her to read your mind.

Was there no safe place to quietly get coffee in this goddamn village?

“Listen, Y/N, again, I’m so sorry about yesterday,” she apologized and nervously fumbled with her coffee cup in her hands, her gaze focusing on her heels.

Carla was usually confidence personified. She was strong-willed, assertive, and dauntless – all the traits that made her a fierce and excellent lawyer and a force to be reckoned with in court. It was rare for her to lower her head, so you knew she must really be trying to make amends.

“No, don’t be. Like I said, we’re good,” you assured her and swallowed the lump of embarrassment down your throat. “I get it. I really do. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I never meant for any of this to happen, you know?”

You never had gotten a chance to say it before. You had always felt bad for the way the two of you had left things. Carla was by far not your closest friend, but the tight friendship between both your husbands and the nature of your jobs had forced you to spend time together occasionally. You’d meet at barbecues on the weekends, drinks after work, and life events like Emily’s middle school graduation. You never meant to betray her. You never meant to hurt her. And you never meant for your friendship to implode like it did.

“I know. It’s okay, really,” Carla said. “I already told Beau this yesterday, but I want him to be happy. That goes for you, too. I found my happiness after the divorce. At least for a while…”

Upon her sad look, you gave her a sympathetic smile. You knew she wasn’t married to Avery for long, but that didn’t matter. You understood better than anyone what it was like to lose someone you loved.

“Hey, if you ever need someone to talk, call me, okay? I feel like I owe you a whole pitcher of margaritas,” you offered with a chuckle.

She returned your kindness with a soft smile. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that.”

“Well, if this ain’t interestingly awkward.”

Both you and Carla turned to Beau in surprise as he strolled through the doors of the coffee shop. Leave it to him to voice the uncomfortableness of the situation out loud.

“Hey, uhm… you,” you said with wide eyes and fist-bumped his arm. Obviously, you weren’t equipped to handle awkwardness very smoothly, either.

Beau sent you a tight-lipped smile that barely hid his amusement. “Do I need to pull out the sheriff’s badge here, or are you two good?”

“We’re good,” you assured him.

“Oh, relax, Beau,” Carla told him with an amused laugh and patted his shoulder in passing on her way out of the shop. “Don’t kid yourself. You could not handle either one of us, anyway.”

“Probably true,” Beau quipped in agreement as Carla waved you goodbye.

Beau waited till the door safely closed behind his ex before tilting his head at you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You really good?”

“No!” you exclaimed frustratedly.

Laughing, he slung his arms around you and pulled you against his chest. Embarrassed, you buried your face in his shirt, clasping it with your palms for good measure.

“Tomorrow I’m getting coffee in the next town over. I really hate small towns,” you grumbled.

“So, I’m guessin’ you’re not a big fan of staying after the case is over, huh?” he asked carefully and rubbed his beard.

Truthfully, you hadn’t thought about it until now. But Beau clearly had as he nervously chewed his lower lip and waited for your answer.

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes. “Well, uhm… Montana doesn’t have a field office. The next one’s in Utah, and I hate Utah.”

“Yeah, everyone does. It’s Utah,” Beau agreed jokingly. “Could always work here. Sheriff’s Department could use someone like you.”

You snorted. “Yeah, not gonna happen. You’re not gonna be the boss of me. That’ll have to stay a fantasy of yours.”

“Too bad. It was a good one,” he retorted with a cheeky smile and wiggled his eyebrows. Then, he became more serious. He scratched the nape of his neck in an anxious gesture. “But look, uhm, I was about to retire anyway, so I’m just putting that on the table, okay?”

“Alright, good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You smiled softly up at him, thinking it was cute he wanted to follow you wherever you went. He’d never handled your relationship so open and secure before. In the past, everything always dangled in the air – his feelings, your future. Unlike the North Star, nothing was fixed.

You had always been a flag he’d never preferred to wave.

You let out a small sigh and pecked his lips. “But this case is far from over, so we’ve got time to figure it out, okay?”

He nodded, a bit more relieved at your answer. “Okay.”

August 2020

Beau rubbed his face clean as best as he could. His eyes were red and stung, his vision blurry as he stepped out of the church’s back room on shaky bow legs. He had to talk to you and make things right. He felt like he not only failed you but also his best friend. Again.

The funeral guests filtered out of the church one by one as he trudged down the red-carpeted aisle. Beau could feel their stares and judgments on him. He knew he looked like the biggest mess, his suit and tie in disarray, tousled hair, and bloodshot eyes. How many of them blamed him for his partner’s death?

“Dad?” Emily’s voice made his heart ache as his thirteen-year-old daughter looked at him with a mix of worry and disenchantment. He barely resembled the father she’d known all her life and held high on a pedestal.

“Emily, honey, go wait in the car,” Carla told her swiftly, taking immediate note of her husband’s disheveled status.

“But Mom–”

“Now, Emily,” Carla ordered more firmly and watched her daughter quietly leave the church.

“Have you seen Y/N?” Beau asked, trying his best to swallow any shame he felt down. He hated that his family had to see him like this. The disappointment and hurt were visible as clear as day in both their faces.

“You gotta be kidding me…” Carla scoffed in anger and disbelief, a part of her hardly grasping the current state of her husband. “Where the hell were you, Beau? Jesus, you reek! Have you been drinking?”

“I already went through this today, okay? I don’t need a replay,” he replied flatly, every part of him hating how she looked at him. “Have you seen Y/N or not?”

“Beau, what’s going on with you? Just talk to me, please,” Carla pleaded with him as the anger subsided, concern etched into her brow. “What happened during that shootout?”

Beau ran a hand over his face, his head spinning and his eyes burning. “I can’t do this right now. Just take Em home, okay?” he told her and pushed past her.

“Where are you going? Beau!” Carla called after him, but he stubbornly headed out the door to the parking lot.

Fortunately, you still hadn’t left, but what he was seeing didn’t put him more at ease. He watched as you put a clip into your gun, a duffel bag hurriedly packed with clothes lying in the trunk of your SUV.

You threw your black pumps carelessly into the backseat before slipping into a pair of worn jeans under your black dress, which you discarded next, leaving you momentarily in only a black satin bra. He averted his gaze and tried not to stare, even though you had your back turned to him, and he couldn’t see much anyway. Still, his heartbeat quickened as he approached you, while you pulled a white t-shirt over your head and tied your wavy hair into a ponytail.

“What are you doing?” Beau asked, the feeling in the pit of his stomach and the determination in your eyes already giving him a good guess.

“What does it look like? I’m going after them,” you said sternly and tied the laces on your boots. “DEA is going down to Mexico in a couple of weeks. Cody’s leading a task force. I fought my way in. They wanna scope out some locations tomorrow.”

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, just look at you! You’re not going after them alone in this state,” Beau snapped, throwing his arms up in utter incredulity. His gut ordered him to protect you no matter the cost. He owed as much to his dead partner to look out for you. It was a constant debt in his mind.

“My state?” You cocked an eyebrow and snorted caustically, shaking your head at him. “Have you fucking looked at yourself recently? Compared to you, I’m fine. And I also won’t be alone.”

“You’re not fine,” Beau gritted with anger in his eyes and worry in his heart. “We’re all fucking far from fine. You’re gonna get yourself killed like this!”

“I don’t have time for this right now,” you brushed him off with a roll of your eyes and slammed the trunk shut, hurrying to the driver’s side. But a rough grab of your arm stopped you in your tracks and made you spin and glare at Beau.

“Dammit, Y/N!”

Your features softened when you saw the desperation in his look. “I need to do this, Beau,” you insisted calmly and looked deeply into his watery eyes. Tears filled your gaze and threatened to choke you. “I want them to pay for what they’ve done to him. They can’t get away with it.”

His grip on your arm loosened before he let you go completely. He ran a palm over his face and carded it through his messy hair.

“Fine,” he barked resolutely, the despair replaced by determination. “But I’m coming with you. You’re not doing this alone.”

“What, so you can get me killed, too?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as soon as the words rushed out and pinched the bridge of your nose. Immediate regret flooded your veins.

When you finally dared to glance at him, he looked hurt and averted his gaze to the burning asphalt below. He smacked his lips, head bobbing. It felt like you had just thrown an ax to his heart, whipped him, bludgeoned him with a baseball bat, and shot him in the knee – all at once.

“Beau, I’m so sorry.” You could see in his eyes that your apology already came too late. He was spiraling, blaming himself for Randy’s death. “I know it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t mean it like that. I just-… It’s been a long day.”

“Nope, no, you’re right. Don’t apologize,” he rebuffed your efforts to patch the wound you’d opened with a dark chuckle. You felt like utter shit. “I let him down. If it weren’t for me, he’d still be alive, so…”

“Beau, don’t do this. He wouldn’t want you to. And neither do I for that matter…” You reached out and clasped his hand reassuringly. But it didn’t feel like it was enough, so you wrapped your arms around him, too, and pulled him into a hug.

Beau was frozen for a moment when he felt your body pressed flush against his before he wrapped his arms around you as well and held you tightly. Carefully, he rested his chin on top of your head, the scent of your shampoo winding its way to his nose. And for a mere second, he let go and allowed himself to be comforted, soothing warmth spreading throughout his body.

“I gotta go,” you said quietly as you released him. But Beau held onto your hand with his for a heartbeat before realizing the strangeness of his touch and withdrew his arm quickly with a clear of his throat, fingers ripping apart at the seams.

“Lemme come with you. Lemme help,” he stated.

“Beau, no offense, but you’re a mess,” you said with gentle honesty. “Can you even walk a straight line? Stand on one leg and touch the tip of your nose? Recite the alphabet backwards?”

He actually snorted at that, his lips forming a small smile. “Fair enough,” he conceded. “I’ll get better. Promise, okay? Just please… I need this, too.”

As you stared at him, you heaved a deep sigh. “Fine, get in,” you relented and gestured with your chin to the passenger’s side of your car. “But let’s hit a Denny’s first. Get some goddamn coffee and toast into you. Maybe a shower would help, too.”

Beau chuckled a little at that, nodding. “Yes, ma’am.”

February 2012

Randy groaned loudly as he passed Beau the football, letting his head fall back between his shoulder blades. “Ugh, I can’t believe the Captain agreed to give the case to the stupid FBI. It was our case, man. We almost had the guy!”

“Yeah, I know. But hey, we could still follow our own leads. Solve it before the feds do. What’s Harper gonna do?” Beau suggested with a cocky smirk.

“I don’t know. Suspend us? Fire us? Just to name a few,” Randy quipped sarcastically and threw his partner a raised look.

Beau scoffed playfully and rolled his eyes. “Always by the book. You’re no fun,” he said with a teasing smile.

“Well, I can still bash the feds who are stealing this case from us. It’s probably some dumb asshole in a suit and sunglasses,” Randy joked and laughed, not noticing Beau’s facial expression change as he lowered his gaze to the floor, lips pursing.

You cleared your throat behind the chuckling detective, causing him to turn around and blink up at you.

“Well, I’m an asshole. I can admit as much. Definitely not dumb, though. I hate suits, and I don’t wear sunglasses indoors. Only douchebags do that,” you quipped and sent him a complacent smile upon his wide-eyed stare. Then, you arched a brow at the guy. “And stealing, really? You guys haven’t made progress on the case for weeks. Probably because you keep playing football instead of working.”

“Whoa, hey!” Beau threw in, furrowing his brow. “It’s a brainstorming technique, okay?”

“Yeah, for dumbasses,” you retorted. “Did you already get a concussion? Would explain a few things, mainly how you screwed up this case so much. It’s not rocket science, boys.”

“Okay, listen, missy. We did not screw up this case. We have leads, alright?” Beau argued fervently and took a step closer to you, his shoulders tensing as he was only inches away from your face.

You had the urge to tiptoe just to keep up with him for a proper face-off. He was tall, gigantic really, and now you were left to glare more or less into his chest.

“Who? The buyer for the jeweler? It wasn’t him. I already checked him out,” you said dismissively and could tell by Beau’s frown that it indeed had been his only lead. You then glanced at his partner. “Is he gonna say something or just stare? It’s not helping to refute my concussion theory, you know?”

Beau knitted his brow and shot his partner a look. As soon as he realized what was going on, he rolled his eyes and sighed. His best friend was running hot for Agent Hostile. Granted, you did look very sexy with all that fire burning in your eyes.

“Ey, Randy!” Beau snapped his fingers in front of his partner and hauled him from his surely naughty daydream.

“Uhm… I’m Randy,” he told you, dumbfounded.

Your eyebrows shot up to your hairline, your mouth itched to smile in amusement. “Wow, okay… Does that come with a last name?”

Randy still gave you that same vacant and infatuated stare in his hazel eyes. “You can call me whatever you want.” He sent you an insecure smile with a halfway shrug.

“Oh, can I call you a moron?” you countered snappily.

Amused, Beau actually snorted into his shoulder as he dipped his head, but then decided to step in for his best friend. “Okay, c’mon, leave him be.”

“Look, just gimme the file, and I’ll be outta your hair,” you submitted your peace offering, which Beau accepted, handing you the folder.

“Uh… drinks?” Randy looked up at you hopefully, like a shelter puppy waiting to be adopted. You honestly found his fluster quite endearing.

“Is he asking me out?” you checked with Beau, a smile playing on your lips.

“I think so.” Beau chuckled and nodded. “Look, uh–”

“Y/N,” you provided, noticing him fumble for a name.

“Y/N,” he repeated with a warm smile that reached his green eyes. “Maybe we got off on the wrong foot here. We could help you with the case. We know it better than anyone. Could save you some work.”

You smirked slightly, recognizing what he was doing. First of all, he wanted in on the case, clearly having a hard time letting go. You knew the type all too well. Sometimes people in law enforcement behaved like bratty toddlers when it came to cases – they all hated sharing their toys, but you knew how to play nice. And secondly, Beau wanted to ensure you got to spend more time with his partner – the perfect wingman. He deserved a medal for his efforts.

You lifted a knowing eyebrow at him. “Didn’t your captain already say no?”

“But what d’you say, darlin’?” He shot you a mischievous grin.

“You’re a troublemaker,” you noted and received an acknowledging shrug in return. “Are you gonna behave, Ferris Bueller?”

“Yes, ma’am. Hand on my red-blooded and beating heart,” Beau promised charmingly and did as advertised, placing his palm on his chest like he was swearing a Boy Scout oath.

Rolling your eyes, you groaned and caved. “Fine. I’ll talk to your captain. You guys can come along, I guess.”

Beau handed you their card with their numbers on it before you disappeared out of the station again. Comfortingly, he patted his partner’s back as soon as you had left, Randy still staring after your goddamn shadow.

“I wanna marry her,” Randy sighed dreamily.

“Whoa… Moving way too fast here, buddy,” Beau tried to rein him in. “Maybe try speaking a straight sentence to her first.”

“I can’t. I’m in love with her. She’s the one.”

“She called you a moron,” Beau countered and crossed his arms over his chest, although he kind of understood where Randy was coming from. If he hadn’t been married, he would’ve given you his best shot as well.

“That only made me love her more,” Randy insisted.

Sighing theatrically, Beau rolled his eyes back. “Dear Lord, help me…”

Randy then went on a long tangent about everything he loved about you. The words he’d been missing when you were around suddenly spilled out of him. And while Beau acted annoyed, he smiled internally for his friend’s happiness. He’d never seen him before like this.

June 2013

“Oh God, I think I’m gonna puke,” Randy said and swallowed what felt like bile in his throat. With his hands on his hips, he took a deep breath, but it did nothing to calm his nerves. “Can you give me that trash can?”

Beau handed him the bin next to him with an amused chuckle. “Alright, but just remember – no matter what you do, don’t puke on the suit.”

Randy scowled at him, panic taking over as he nervously paced the fancy dressing room. “Not in the mood for jokes right now, man,” he huffed.

Beau laughed heartily and raised his hands in surrender. He got up from his seat on the small and uncomfortable sofa and patted his friend on the back, squeezing his shoulders encouragingly. “Okay, calm down. Everything will work out fine. Why are you so nervous anyway? Is this you having cold feet? Should I do somethin’? Start a getaway car?”

Taken aback by the suggestion, Randy’s brow furrowed, close to offended. “What? No! I love Y/N. I can’t wait to marry her,” he stated with absolute certainty. “I just-… I don’t wanna stand up there and, you know, look like a moron. I want today to be perfect for her.”

Beau snorted a laugh. “Alright, you won’t, okay? That’s what I’m here for. If you do somethin’ stupid up there, I’m gonna distract everyone with somethin’ stupider. That’s basically my duty as best man.”

“Yeah, Y/N’s gonna love that,” Randy quipped sarcastically and chuckled. But the lighthearted distraction didn’t last long before his nerves burned through him again. “You think I can make her happy?”

Beau smiled at him warmly. “The way she looks at you, you already are. Trust me.”

“Okay, good.” Randy nodded in relief. “‘Cause sometimes I really wonder how I got so lucky. I swear I didn’t speak in straight sentences for, like, the first three dates.”

“Oh, I remember.” Beau snorted.

“Man, were you this nervous, too, when you married Carla? I swear this is killing me,” Randy asked with his wildly beating heart in his throat. “I think I’m having a heart attack… Or a stroke. My head keeps spinning. Is that normal? Doesn’t feel normal…”

Beau hesitated for a moment before he nodded with a light swallow. “Yeah, sure. Everyone’s nervous,” he assured his partner, although the truth was a little different.

Carla was already pregnant when they tied the knot, so they did the right thing to appease their parents. But sometimes, Beau wished they would’ve waited. He could tell Carla did, too. They were both young. She had still been in law school, chasing her degree, and Beau had barely finished police academy and had still been working patrol.

Sure, he was nervous on his wedding day, but it wasn’t a puking-your-guts-out-and-jittering-to-your-bones kind of nervous. But Beau loved his family more than words could say and wouldn’t trade his daughter for anything.

“Hey, uh, can you ask Y/N about the marriage certificate? I’m supposed to give it to the officiant or something,” Randy said with a confused brow, scratching his sweaty neck.

“Yeah, of course. Be right back,” Beau replied with a saluting gesture and strutted to the door, encouragingly patting Randy’s shoulder once more on the way out. “Try not to soil yourself,” he teased, chuckling.

Beau then strolled down the lavish hallway of the five-star hotel and stopped in front of your dressing room door. He knocked twice and heard a “Come in!” bounce through. But when he opened the door and peeked his head carefully inside, he wasn’t prepared for the sight that greeted him.

“Wow… uh…” Beau’s forest-green eyes went wide as he blinked at you. He was rendered completely speechless. How did he turn into Randy so quickly?

As you sat in front of your vanity, you glanced at him over your naked shoulder before you stood up and greeted him with a bright smile.

Your white dress hugged your curves perfectly, strapless but with a bit of cleavage, giving a perfect view of your clavicle and shoulder blades. It wasn’t one of those puffy princess dresses. It was smooth, uncomplicated, and delicate just like you.

You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” Beau repeated and felt like a moron. He cleared his throat to haul himself out of his shameless staring and tried to recover his composure. “You look beautiful, Y/N.”

“Thanks.” You beamed with blushed cheeks. “You think Randy’s gonna like it?”

Beau smiled kindly, unable to take his eyes off of you. “Yeah, he’s gonna love it. It’s gonna make him even more nervous,” he replied, chuckling.

But your brow creased in concern, your lips parting. “He’s nervous?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry,” Beau swiftly brushed your concerns away, “He’s nervous in a good way. No cold feet or anythin’ like it. He might just pass out and puke at the altar when you walk out. That’s all. Maybe some stuttering, too.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “That’s all, huh?” you teased. “Kinda like when we first met then,” you remembered fondly. “Or our first three dates, too, I guess.”

Musingly, Beau pursed his lips, his head bobbing in thought. “Hey, uh, can I just ask… Why did you keep going out with him? I mean, like you said he didn’t really speak for the first three dates. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a good-looking guy, but, you know, you’re, well… you.”

You snorted lightly and cast your gaze down as your cheeks flushed even deeper red. “Thank you, I guess? But, uhm, to answer your question – I kinda liked that he was so flustered. It was endearingly sweet,” you replied and smiled to yourself at the memory. “‘Sides, every time he did say something, it was oddly complimenting. He’s also the only guy who ever bought me flowers after our first night together. It came with an extensive ‘thank you’ card.”

“Oh, Randy, you sweet little idiot…” Beau sighed affectionately.

“He never told you that?” you asked curiously.

“Ha, no. For obvious reasons.” Beau laughed. “But hey, it’s great material for my best man speech later.”

“Oh God,” you groaned playfully and laughed. “Just so you know, though, I’m gonna cut you off after fifteen minutes.”

Beau threw his head back, laughing loudly. “Alright, I hear ya. Your loss, though.”

You watched him for a moment when your laughs quieted down. He scratched his bearded chin, gazing down at his feet and making no efforts to move.

“Beau?”

“Hm?” His eyes found your arched eyebrow.

“Did you come here for a reason or just to chitchat?” you asked with curious amusement. He seemed obviously lost.

“Oh, uh, right! I’m supposed to ask you about the marriage certificate and the officiant thingy,” he remembered.

You smiled. “Tell Randy it’s already taken care of. He doesn’t have to worry about anything, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll-, uhm, I’ll do that,” Beau said and awkwardly cleared his throat, walking to the door.

“Oh, and Beau?” He spun on his heel when you called his name. “Make sure Randy doesn’t puke on his suit.”

An amused smile shaped on his lips at that, and he nodded. “Oh, I’m on it. Trust me.”

When Beau left your room and wandered down the hallway again, a weird sting plagued his heart. Deciding it was a feeling he didn’t particularly care for, he pushed it deep down, not even admitting his true thoughts to himself under duress and torture.

He’d feel like an ass if he ever did.

Beau looked up from his files on his desk when a knock ripped him from his reverie. It was already getting dark outside, the sun setting behind the mountains. He smiled up at you from his chair when you peeked your head inside.

“Hey, Jenny and I are back from the crime scene,” you informed him as you stepped inside his office, closing the door behind you.

“And?”

“It’s definitely the woman from the video,” you confirmed sadly.

“We got a name yet?” Beau asked, his face stern, concern and compassion carved into every crease.

“Yeah, Addison Hughes. Husband reported her missing four days ago in Jefferson County. I already talked to the sheriff there. They’re handing us over the case,” you told him and noticed his suspiciously cocked brow.

“Uh-oh, I know what that means,” he quipped teasingly. “Were you nice?”

You gasped in mock-disbelief at his accusation. “What d’you mean? I’m always nice.”

Beau snorted in amusement. “Uh-huh, that means no…”

“Wha-… Anyways,” you continued with a clear of your throat and a playful little glare at him, “Jenny and I talked to Mr. Hughes afterwards. He didn’t wanna admit that he cheated at first, but Jenny and I kinda went in on him till he fessed up.”

“Poor fella…” Beau muttered under his breath.

“Hm? What?”

“Nothin’. I said nothing.” He shook his head and gave you an innocent smile, but it didn’t stop your eyes from narrowing at him.

“Careful,” you warned and ambled over to his side of the desk. He pushed his chair back, making room for you between his thighs. “You don’t wanna defend a cheater. He got his wife killed. I have little sympathy for that.”

“Well, he’s definitely an ass for cheating, but even you gotta admit he didn’t really kill her. That’s still on the psycho running around out there,” Beau argued, placing his hands on your hips and pulling you closer to him. You involuntarily clenched when his face was in front of your crotch.

“Fine,” you conceded with a roll of your eyes, sliding your hands up his arms till they locked around his neck.

“‘Sides, I kinda get how quickly a mistake can happen, you know?” he said thoughtfully.

You arched your brow. “Do you mean me with that?”

Beau’s eyes widened, immediately shaking his head. “What, no! I mean, yeah, a little,” he stammered. Your frown deepened. “Not like that, obviously. Just remembered some stuff today… But we never cheated. I know that.”

“Do you?” you questioned rhetorically.

“I do,” he assured you and took your hands in his, kissing your knuckles in an attempt to soothe you. “Just sometimes feels like I betrayed him, you know?”

“I know. I get that. But you did nothing wrong, okay? You did not seduce me and steal me away from him, nor did you take advantage of me when I was a vulnerable and grieving widow. I’m a grown-ass woman. I make my own choices. And I chose you like you chose me. After Randy’s death and all those months in Mexico, I fell in love with you, too.”

A coy smile clawed at his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you idiot,” you confirmed, your smiles matching.

He then pulled you onto his lap and claimed your lips in deep passion. You straddled his thighs and rocked against him, feeling the blooming erection in his jeans rub against your clothed cunt.

You unbuckled his belt and opened the zipper, Beau pushing down his jeans over his ass a little. Supporting one palm on his shoulder, your other hand climbed inside his boxers and grasped his dick. You thumbed his head and dribbled a few drops of spit down on his cock before moving your hand down his shaft, spreading it like lube on his velvety skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling back against the backrest. With hooded eyes drunk with lust, one hand snaked under your shirt and pulled down the cup of your bra, palming and massaging your breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Your moan of pleasure was his reward as you pumped him with a tightening grip.

Both of you jerked up, however, as the door to his office suddenly flung wide open. Beau and you froze in your place, your fingers still wrapped around his cock, but luckily, neither of you was fully naked and your back hid most of the explicits. To your visitor, it just looked like an intense and very heated make-out session.

As you peeled your gaze over your shoulder, you recognized a woman in her mid-thirties who covered her eyes and quickly retreated through the door.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry. I’ll wait outside,” she excused and shut the door behind her again.

Beau gaped at you, green eyes wide in disbelief. “Y/N, did you not lock the door?”

You clasped your mouth with both hands, shaking your head with pupils as blown wide as his. “No, I thought everyone had already left when I came in here.”

“That’s the second time in three days,” he reminded you scoldingly. “Three days, Y/N! Twice!”

“I know! I’m sorry,” you whispered apologetically, still in shock, but a laugh of amusement escaped your throat. “Who was that lady?”

“I don’t know.” Beau’s brow furrowed in the same questioning manner as yours.

The two of you then sorted yourselves quickly, pulling pants back on and smoothing out shirts. You then stepped outside the office, where your female visitor was still waiting in the hallway.

“Uh, so sorry for that little, uhm…” Beau stopped mid-sentence, clueless on how to proceed and describe the scene while still sounding professional. “Anyways, how can I help you, darlin’?”

You threw him a small sideways glare at that and crossed your arms over your chest, Beau giving you one of his charming “can’t be helped” shrugs. Did he have to put so much flirt into it?

“Oh, uh, I apologize. I should’ve knocked,” the woman replied with a keen giggle, her cheeks blushing in fluster. She cleared her throat and regained her composure, introducing herself. “My name is Diane Newton. I’m the new DA for the Lewis and Clark Sheriff’s Department. I got assigned the serial killer case and wanted to look through your files on it. See what you’ve got so far.”

“Oh, uhm, sure,” Beau spluttered and swallowed the lump in his throat, his mind jumping back into work mode. Of course, it had to be the new prosecutor to find him with his pants down in his office. What a great first impression.

“Hi, uh, Sheriff Beau Arlen. Nice to meet you,” he said and reached out his hand for a shake. He then glanced at you. “This is actually Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N. She’s leading that case,” he introduced you before he nervously chuckled. “She’s, uh, my girlfriend. That’s why we, uhm… Wouldn’t want you to think that we-… I do this all the time.”

“No worries and no judgment here,” she said and waved off his concerns. “What you do after hours is completely your business.”

“Well, uhm, how about I show you the files now?” you offered and ushered her to your desk in the main room of the station.

“Oh, that’d be great!”

You threw Beau a wide-eyed look over your shoulder as you walked down the hall, mouthing “Why would you say that?” with a chiding shake of your head.

Beau only twitched his shoulders in a comical apology like a cartoon character and swiftly disappeared back into his office.

Diane stayed for two more hours before finally leaving. You went over every victim in Montana with her, not sparing any excruciating details, and told her a little about the other victims in the other states as well. By the end, you were exhausted and almost fell asleep at your desk, your head resting on the pile of files with closed eyes.

Just a few minutes…

“C’mon, let’s go home. You’re tapped out,” you heard Beau’s deep voice and soon felt his grasp around your arm, hoisting you gently to your feet.

You slung your arms around his neck and tiredly rested your head on his warm, broad chest, listening to his heartbeat underneath. He’d always been the best pillow. “Mmm, I don’t have a home here,” you murmured sleepily.

“Well, you know what they say, home is where the heart is, and I’m going back to my trailer, so…” He shrugged and grinned down at you.

“You’re such a dork,” you quipped. As you looked up at him, you bit your bottom lip. “You introduced me as your girlfriend earlier.”

He licked his smirking lips. “Well, you are my girlfriend.” His brow then creased momentarily. His insecurity was somewhat cute, you thought. “Right?”

You beamed and nodded, giggling. “Yes,” you confirmed and tiptoed up to plant a sweet kiss on his lips to seal it.

“How about before we go home, we finish what we started in my office,” he suggested cheekily and added, “I’ll even teach you how to lock a damn door.”

You snorted a small laugh and gave him another gentle kiss, this one lasting a bit longer and swinging with promise. “Alright. Teach me, Sheriff,” you agreed and smoothed your palms up his chest, smirking up at him.

“Oh, this just took a turn. Now, I know what I’m gonna do with you.” He chuckled wickedly and scooped you up in his arms, bolting down the hallway to his office as you squealed and giggled.

Chapter 5: Illicit Affairs – MAY 29

Will they ever learn? Probably not... 😆 We've had some juicy flashbacks these week... Past scenes that include Randy always make me sad 😭

More murder stuff and flashbacks next week! See ya 🫶

(Also I've been a bit slow with comments these days. It's been crazy busy life things, but I hope I can catch up with everything this weekend 🤍)

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weaveandwood · 2 days

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Weave and Woods Chapter 11: The Timelessness of Lovers

Gale/Named Tav | Slow Burn | NSFW | Read on AO3 | Entire Work

Summary:

Under an aurora-lit sky, Gale and Auroria confess their feelings for each other

“Thinking about Mystra’s demand?” Her brows furrowed as they always did when Mystra was brought up, especially after Elminster came with his missive. “Yes.” He paused. “I must admit it is always on my mind. More so now even than before. To know that I’ve found you, and that you are in love with me as I am in love with you only to - ” His voice caught in his throat as tears formed in his eyes. “Only to have to leave you in a few days’ time…I must admit I am more terrified now than I was at the beginning of the night. I do not want to lose you, Ora. I do not want to leave you.” He smiled softly, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pictured what life could have been like with her in his tower, walking through the market each week, sunsets on the balcony, watching the Midwinter fireworks together. She grasped his hand. “Then don’t, Gale. Stay with me. Live. Live with me.” She kissed him again, her own tears mingling with his. “Let’s live.”

AN: This is my favorite scene of Act 2, and the whole game so far. I hope I was able to do it justice while making it my own. NSFW! Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex

Crafting an illusion was like composing a piece of music. One needed to take into consideration every layer - every piece of the orchestra needed to be successful on its own and work together as a whole to create a harmonious explosion of sounds. Illusions were similar. Every part of a convincing illusion needed to be perfect - one thing out of place, and the whole composition falls apart.

Gale was a master at creating illusions, or at least he had been until his unceremonious fall from favor and his body became a host for both a sliver of the Karsite Weave and a mind flayer parasite. He had been unable to create grand illusions since, though he had noticed his abilities strengthening as time had progressed, especially once the charm was placed on the orb to stabilize it. Evocation spells were his specialty, what he was known for, what was nurtured during his time as Chosen of Mystra - it was true there was nothing more useful than a fireball for a battle, but illusory spells were his true love, his passion. Manipulating the Weave in this way made him feel closer to an artist, a poet, or a musician than a warrior. He wanted to use his magic to bring beauty and wonder to the world.

He needed his illusions to be perfect tonight. Tonight was the night he was going to tell Ora that he loved her. He had wanted to shout it from the rooftops of the Last Light Inn after kissing her the previous night, he wanted to whisper it in her ear as she slept peacefully, he wanted to say it that morning when she forced him to go to his tent after sitting outside hers all night, he wanted to yell it in celebration when they worked on spells during the afternoon and she finally cracked Spike Growth after days of attempts on her own.

Every artist needs their muse, and she was his. He channeled the Weave from his spot far enough away from their campsite to afford privacy. As the power hummed through his body, he thought of Ora. How she made him feel, how he felt with her, what reminded him of her - beauty and warmth and goodness. The threat of Moonrise Towers and Mystra’s demand settled over him but did not cause him to abandon his plans. He had to tell her. He squared his shoulders and got to work.

******

“Hello, I’m here on behalf of Gale of Waterdeep!” The cheerful silvered mirror image of Gale said to Auroria as she walked up to his tent before going to bed for the night. “He wishes to extend you an invitation to a private conversation. Would you care to join him? From the portion of his mind that is open to me, it is a matter most urgent.”

“Well, when you put it like that, I don’t think I’m in a position to decline,” she said, her mind already racing with worry. Was the orb acting up again? Had he set his mind to following through with Mystra’s demand of his sacrifice? Would she no longer have the chance of saving him? The thought of losing him caused her heart to race, her stomach to drop, and threatened to bring tears to her eyes as she started down the path pointed out by Gale’s mirror image. Surely it couldn’t be something so serious - he had been in such a good mood after she made him sleep and then again after he helped her figure out what she was doing wrong when attempting to cast her newest spell. He had jumped up and thrown his arms around her when the ground started to erupt with spikes and thorns. She thought he might kiss her again, or at least she had hoped he would, but he pulled away and said something about needing to go read something to find her next spell. She hadn’t seen him since.

The path through the thick forest led to a clearing bordered by a few downed trees and rocky formations. In the middle of it on a plush blanket sat Gale, intensely focused. She looked past him and up to the sky and gasped softly. Instead of the dim, colorless grey they had grown accustomed to over these past days there was a bright shining aurora, all shades of vibrant purple and green dancing across it. Stars sparkled in the distance and the grass in the clearing looked as green as it did in the forests where she grew up. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She stood at the edge of the clearing, watching Gale place more stars in the sky and let the tears that had gathered now freely fall down her face. How could a man who creates such beauty even think about sacrificing himself for what a goddess calls forgiveness? Her panic threatened to overwhelm her. She loved him. She couldn’t lose him. She had to tell him. Tonight. She wiped the tears from her face and walked over to sit on the blanket beside him.

“I love this time of night,” he said softly, taking her hand in his, a movement that had become so natural for the both of them over the past weeks. “There’s a reverent silence that accompanies the peak of darkness, when you think the dawn will never break.” He threaded his fingers through hers and as he turned to look at her, she could have sworn the look on his face matched the one she had given the sky moments ago. He waved his free hand at his illusion. “The cradle of eternity…the timelessness of lovers.”

Auroria smiled softly and looked up at the sky, her eyes wide as the lights danced and the stars twinkled. “This is beautiful, Gale. I’ve never seen the sky do this - you’d almost forget we were in the Shadow Cursed Lands,” she said with breathless wonder.

He looked at the sky again. “It’s veiled, kept at arm’s length for now. This isn’t something I can do often in my present condition, but tonight is different. I feel the weight of Mystra’s demand on me, and with us going to Moonrise Towers tomorrow to infiltrate it, I can’t help but feel this may be one of my last nights alive. I wanted it to be under a canopy of beauty and wonder. And with company to match.”

Auroria frowned, hearing the sadness in his tone as if he had decided his fate. This is my last chance.

“Is this truly, truly what you want? To sacrifice yourself for Mystra’s forgiveness?”

“My untimely death is all but assured. My days on this plane have been numbered since I opened that damned book. Would you not want your death to mean something?” He sighed. “I will admit I am terrified, no matter how well I try to conceal it.” He nodded, grim resolution on his face. “Better to meet the inevitable on my own terms.”

Auroria felt warm tears fall down her cheeks again as she nodded. “So you’ve decided, then.” She tried to wipe them away with the back of her hand but they wouldn’t stop coming, so she just let them fall. It was always easy for her to show her emotions with Gale.

He looked over at her, touching her chin with a hooked finger, turning her face to his. “You know, one moment with you would satisfy me for a lifetime. And you’ve given me so many moments, enough for infinite lifetimes. I’m happy you came out here to share this with me. I know it’s not real…but I created this all for you. You were the inspiration for all of this.”

“For me?” She gasped, her eyes snapping to his. “All of this? Why?”

He smiled softly at her. “You must know that you’re…that you’re special to me, Ora.”

Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her breathing quickened. What was he saying? Could he feel the same? She thought, a small flicker of hope warming inside her.

He dropped his hand, going back to looking at the aurora for a short while in silence, a wistful look in his eyes. Finally, he spoke again. “If things were different, if we were home, I would take the time to do things properly. To say everything better. To give you everything you deserve, and more. But time is short.”

He turned to face her again. His eyes were bright and shining with unshed tears.

“I am in love with you.”

Everything faded away from Auroria at that moment. There was only the two of them - there was no shadow curse, there was no Absolute, no tadpole, no orb, no Mystra. No wizard, no ranger. There was just Gale and just Auroria. Two people who managed to find each other despite the fact that their paths never should have crossed. Two people who loved each other despite everything thrown against them.

“I’m in love with you, too, Gale.”

******

Externally, Gale played it cool as he chuckled. “That’s a relief. It would be a shame to spend my final hours making an ass of myself.” Internally, he was in a state of disbelief. Ora was in love with him! He had wanted this, hoped she’d feel the same way as he did, but did not believe it possible that someone so fierce, so brave, with so much to live for would fall in love with him, not how he was now. Not with the orb, not with Mystra’s charge, not with his imminent demise.

She leaned into him and kissed him, quieting his thoughts for the first time in what felt like years as he kissed her back softly. It felt different from their kiss the night before - less desperate, more real. He smiled as she broke the kiss.

“You’re a good kisser,” she smiled back at him.

“And you are a bad liar,” he laughed out loud. “I was basically a hermit for some time before I met you, remember?”

“From one recluse to another, you’re a good kisser,” she said before she kissed him again, her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. Her lips parted and his tongue slid against hers as they kissed much like the vision she shared with him all those weeks ago when they were connected through the Weave. A vision he never thought he’d be able to act upon. He broke the kiss and put one hand against her cheek, looking at her beautiful face as she smiled at him, his eyes flicking back and forth between hers, taking in the lush green that seemed to radiate even in the dark of the night with a golden glow. She loves me.

He wanted the night to be perfect. To show her all he could do with the Weave, their bodies and souls intertwining and bonding within its gentle fibers. He stood up excitedly, taking her hand and helping her up from the ground. “What do you say to the perfect night in Waterdeep for our first date?” He smiled.

“I have always heard that Waterdeep is an exceptional city, though I can’t quite remember who told me that,” she teased. “Show me.”

He waved his hand, a faint purple glow enveloping the two of them. The aurora was replaced by his study in his tower. His favorite place in the entire universe - well, until he met Ora. Now his favorite place was by her side. Everything was just as he remembered it, even the messy assortment of parchments on the desk. The piano in the corner, the stacks and stacks of books. He could smell the paper if he concentrated hard enough. He looked back at Ora, who was taking it all in, her eyes wide and her mouth open in awe.

“This is your study?” She asked. “It feels like I’m looking directly into your soul, all books and academia.” She smiled.

She looked so at home in his study. He couldn’t wait to show her the real thing, after - No.

He interrupted his own thoughts. After? There would be no after, not for him. This was more than likely the last time he would ever lay eyes on his beloved study, his beloved tower, his beloved city, and it was all an illusion. Snap out of it. He wanted to show her all he could of him, of his life, before it all ended much, much too soon.

“It is. The center of my universe. Now, for something even better.” He waved his hands, the doors to the balcony opening, the sun setting into the horizon, setting the sea awash in a fiery orange blaze, the entire illusion taking on a warm glow. As Ora stepped out onto the balcony, the sunset lit her up. Her hair burned even more coppery, the light made her eyes look even more green, even her freckles seemed to stand out more. Waterdeep suited her. Still, as he looked out over the horizon, melancholy washed over him. He missed his home. He was thankful to the tadpole for bringing him to Ora, but…he would never come home again. He would never see Tara or his mother again. Never walk the streets, never visit the market, never watch the ships sail from the docks. The sound of pages ruffling brought him back to the present.

“You’ve found my favorite spot. I would sometimes find myself out here from evening to night to daybreak, lost in words.”

“Up all night reading? What a rebel,” she laughed as she kept flicking through the pages of the book. “What’s this book?” she asked, handing it to him.

He laughed and took the book from her, one he had placed there on purpose. “This is The Art of the Night - about a newlywed king and queen’s first thousand nights together. They turned everything into an art - conversation, the exploration and acceptance of the self and the other, the art of the body, the night itself.” Here goes. “I say we take a page from their book.”

Ora raised an eyebrow at him. “Leave it to you to seduce someone with a book.” Gods, he loved how she teased him. She knew him so well. “But…I don’t see a bed.”

“The stars will be our bed. There are endless worlds out there, countless ways to declare love. Let me show you more,” he said. He wanted to show her all of the wonders of the universe, let her feel his love in infinite ways, not just within the confines of their mortal flesh.

She put her hand on his face, looking at him adoringly. “I want to be with you, not a fantasy, not an illusion. I am in love with Gale.”

He paused. “Are you sure? I could use the Weave to make us feel sensations beyond our reckoning. I could wow you. I want to wow you, Ora.”

She smiled, taking his hands in hers. “This isn’t a test, Gale. You don’t have to impress me with these grand gestures to show off your abilities. I’m no goddess. I am in love with you .”

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers. “Yes, you are, Ora. Trust me, I would know.” He snapped his fingers, placing them back in the forest by camp, the aurora still dancing across the sky, the stars sparkling just for them. “Let’s do it your way then - the old ways. As long as it’s with you.”

She kissed him as he waved his hand, conjuring a large bed. “For your comfort, of course.”

She laughed then. “I have been living in the wilds for almost my entire life, I’m pretty sure this bed is for your comfort.” She walked over to it, kicked off her slippers and climbed on, patting the mattress next to her. “Though, you will not hear me complain.”

He smiled and walked to the bed, climbing onto it next to her, his calm exterior belying the chaos within him. His heart was racing with anticipation and his brain was moving a million miles a minute. It had been so long since he had been with anyone physically, since before becoming Mystra’s lover. Could he live up to her expectations? Would this all be a waste of time? Why did he even confess his feelings to her when he was just going to die in a few days time? His breathing picked up as he balanced on the knife’s edge of panic.

“Gale?” He felt a warm touch on his hand. Ora . “Gale, come back to me,” she said, placing a tender kiss on his cheek, then a soft kiss on his lips. She was a balm to him - his mind quieted again, focusing only on her. He kissed her back and placed a hand on the side of her face, his thumb gently running over her cheek.

“I apologize. My mind momentarily was…elsewhere. I am here now.”

“Thinking about Mystra’s demand?” Her brows furrowed as they always did when Mystra was brought up, especially after Elminster came with his missive.

“Yes.” He paused. “I must admit it is always on my mind. More so now even than before. To know that I’ve found you, and that you are in love with me as I am in love with you only to - ” His voice caught in his throat as tears formed in his eyes. “Only to have to leave you in a few days’ time…I must admit I am more terrified now than I was at the beginning of the night. I do not want to lose you, Ora. I do not want to leave you.” He smiled softly, tears spilling down his cheeks as he pictured what life could have been like with her in his tower, walking through the market each week, sunsets on the balcony, watching the Midwinter fireworks together.

She grasped his hand. “Then don’t, Gale. Stay with me. Live. Live with me.” She kissed him again, her own tears mingling with his. “Let’s live.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, holding on to her hands tightly. She made it seem so simple, to just live . That she alone could defy a goddess’ machinations and find a way to circumvent his fate. Perhaps she could. He opened his eyes and found her staring at him, full of concern. This was not the direction he wanted this evening to go, and yet it only made him fall deeper in love with her. Made him want her even more, if that was possible. Made him want to believe the impossible.

Stay. Live. Could I?

“Live,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper.

Could I?

He kissed her deeply, pulling her close to him. Their tongues slid together again, finding a rhythm of push and pull as their hands roamed each other’s bodies, discovering a new closeness that they had been on the edge of for weeks now. She smelled faintly like the peppermint balm she massaged on her sore muscles after a long day of fighting or training. His fierce ranger. Her hands found their way to the bottom of his soft velvet tunic and grasped it, starting to pull it up. He broke the kiss to reach down and slid it off over his head.

“Hells Gale, you’ve been hiding all of this? Doesn’t seem fair, really, to keep this secret,” she teased as she saw him without so much as an undershirt on for the first time, her eyes moving down the lean athletic build of his body and fine covering of hair on his chest and stomach. She reached down to the hem of her own sleep tunic, pulling it over her head. The filtered moonlight cast a pale silvery glow on her breasts and her nipples started to pebble and harden against the slight chill in the late night air.

“I could say the same to you,” he said playfully in return. The scar on her cheek continued down past her collarbone almost to her left nipple, some areas thicker than others. He reached out and traced it with his fingers, pressing kisses into it as he followed his fingers with his mouth. A story for another time. Her breathing quickened as he reached his destination, taking the hard nipple in his mouth, sucking on it lightly as she gasped.

Something in the air changed, a new electricity charged between them.

“You’re so beautiful, Ora,” he said before moving to the other breast, giving it the attention it deserved. Her hands went to his head, running her fingers through his hair as she arched her back, pressing herself closer to him.

“I want you, Gale,” She said, her voice thick with lust.

“And you’ll have me before the night is done,” he smiled against her soft skin, toying at her nipple with his tongue before pressing a hand to her chest, laying her back on the bed. His hands went to the waistband of her leggings, his fingers slipping inside and rubbing along the softness of her stomach. “I want to watch you come undone for me first.” She lifted her hips to help him easily slide the fabric off her legs. He kissed each inch of newly bared skin as he pulled them off of her before discarding them on the ground beside the bed.

He looked at her in wonder as she laid before him, fully bared. So beautiful, so perfect. She propped herself up on her elbows, tilting her head to the side. “Everything okay?”

He smiled. “Everything is perfect. How did I get so lucky?” He kissed her ankle. “You are so stunning.” He kissed her knee. “I will never be able to fully tell you just how heavenly you look right now lying in front of me with nothing on, illuminated by moonlight. My divine Ora.” He wanted to worship her, to bow down at the altar of her body for the rest of his time on this plane. He kissed her thigh, higher and higher as he placed himself between her legs, spreading them and baring her sweet center to him. He could resist no longer. He looked up at her from between her legs as he flattened his tongue and tasted her for the first time. Her moan was an answer to the prayers on his lips and music to his ears, her taste was the sweetest nectar. He hooked his arms under her thighs, pulling her down to his mouth as he flicked her sensitive bundle of nerves with his tongue before sealing his mouth over it, sucking softly.

Her hips started to rock against his face as he hummed against her, sending vibrations through her body. He teased at her entrance with a finger, reveling in how warm and wet she was as he touched her. For him. Because of him. He paid special attention to that sensitive spot inside he remembered women liking from his dalliances years ago, before Mystra. No. No thoughts of Mystra tonight.

He turned his mind back to Ora, this beautiful, writhing woman who lay before him, who wanted him, who loved him. He added a second finger and moved them faster, in and out, his firm tongue working her in tandem as he devoured her. She had moved her hands to his head, her nails delightfully scratching his scalp as waves of pleasure washed over her and she began to unravel. He was relentless in the pursuit of her undoing, keeping a steady pace with both his hand and his tongue as she cried out his name and he felt her pulse as she reached her peak and crashed over. He crawled over her, kissing up her stomach to her breasts again, taking each one into his mouth before moving up to her neck. He finally kissed her lips, impossibly turned on as she kissed him back, tasting herself on him.

“My turn,” she said, smiling against his mouth as she pushed him onto his back, his desire clearly evident. She rubbed at his erection gently over his pants as she kissed his neck. Gods, I forgot how good that feels, he thought. He felt her starting to pull his pants down, and he lifted his hips off the bed to help her just as she did for him earlier. He was suddenly conscious about his body, wondering if it would be pleasing to her. His physical form hadn’t been important in matters of desire in so long, coming back to it made him feel like he was a teenager again, full of nerves and anticipation of learning what he liked. She wrapped her hand around him. He definitely liked that.

“Gods, Ora,” He inhaled sharply as she touched him, the first mortal touch he had had in years. She kissed his orb marking softly, then traced down the line of his stomach with kisses. What was she….oh. OH.

He rose up on his elbows, looking at her. “Ora, I don’t…are you sure? Please, don’t feel like you have to.”

She smiled at him, her eyes soft. “Let me give you the pleasure you gave me. We are equals here, in this bed, in this relationship. No one is above the other. Besides, I enjoy doing this, just like you do. Let me take care of you. Allow me this,” she said as she leaned down, taking the tip of him in her mouth, sucking gently.

Gale saw stars. He grasped at the bedsheets, the pleasure and desire coursing through him stronger than anything he had felt in so long, setting him ablaze. She took him deeper into her mouth, her head and hand working him in rhythm as she hummed against his hardness. His hips started to rock, moving with her as he moaned loudly. At this rate, it would not be long before he finished, and he wanted his first time to be inside her.

“Ora, I need to be inside you, please,” he practically begged. He was at the mercy of her, of his new goddess. “Please, let me.”

“I want you, Gale,” she said.

“Come here,” he smiled, guiding her up to him, a finger hooked under her chin as he kissed her deeply, laying her back on the bed. “I want to watch you, see you when I finish inside you,” he whispered in her ear before kissing her again.

He used his thigh to spread her legs, running his fingers across her slick entrance before holding himself to her. His heart was pounding. He knew this was a line they could never uncross. It was a line he knew with absolute certainty he wanted to cross, but he had to be sure it was the same for her.

“Are you sure you want this, Ora? Do you want me?” He looked her in the eyes, his tip pressed against her. He needed to hear her say it.

“I want you,” she repeated, closing her eyes and moaning softly as he pressed in, sinking into her.

Every thought left his head as he felt her give around him, all warm and soft velvet against his hardness. He closed his eyes as he fully seated himself within her, staying still for a moment, reacquainting himself with this feeling - how had he ever derided this as “just” pleasures of the mortal flesh? This was everything. This was better than anything metaphysical. She had converted him. Astral pleasure could no longer compare to this. This was real.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, whispering his adoration to her. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing her close, their bodies in complete contact as he began to thrust into her with slow, deep rolls of his hips, feeling every inch of her as he pulled almost all the way out and pressed fully back in again. Ora wrapped her arms around his back, her fingertips digging into his skin.

He pulled back, settling up on his knees between her legs. She looked so perfect laid out on her back before him, his length sheathed deep inside her. He continued his same slow rhythm, thrusting back into her a little harder than before, watching where their bodies joined in awe and wonder.

“Gale…you feel so…so good,” she moaned, her hands moving to his thighs, holding on to him, rocking her hips to meet his.

“You feel better than any heavens, Ora. Better than I could have imagined all those nights I thought about taking you, imagining doing this with you.” He said, remembering the nights in his tent after his orb was stabilized where he pictured Ora in a similar position to the one she was currently in as he used his hand to pleasure himself. It didn’t even compare.

He couldn’t hold back any longer, Desire, lust, and the discovery of how good sex with her could be drove him. He moved her legs so her feet were on his shoulders, and started thrusting into her deeper, faster. He kissed her calf, her ankle, the side of her foot, punctuating each kiss with a soft “I love you.”

His fingers dug into her hips as he grasped them to lift them up, allowing him to get even deeper inside her. He needed to be as deep as possible, as close to her as possible. He watched her. Her cheeks were flushed, her breasts bounced, her back arched against the bed as he hit a spot that drove her wild. He had once thought watching her fight was like watching an opera. Watching her while making love was like viewing the finest art.

“I’m so close,” she panted. He felt her tightening around him, getting close as his own precipice drew near.

“Come for me, Ora. I want to hear you call my name while I’m buried inside you,” he said as he reached between them and began rubbing her at her most sensitive spot, feeling her hips jerk at the slight touch. He felt her tighten around him, the feeling drawing him even closer as the fire in his abdomen grew hotter. “But look at me when you do.”

She opened her eyes, and just the sight of them darkened with desire almost sent him over the edge right then and there.

She cried out, his name on her lips as her body froze and then shattered around him. He felt her shudder and pulse as her orgasm rocked through her. He kept thrusting through it, harder, faster, lost to his own finish as she held onto his arms tightly, her nails slightly digging in.

He felt his abdomen tighten. He maintained eye contact and drove himself into her one last time as she nodded and writhed underneath him before he felt himself fill her with his own release, crying out her name loudly for all the gods to hear. Panting, he stayed buried within her as his orgasm shuddered through him. She was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and most of her hair was loosened from her twisted ponytail, and he could only imagine he looked similar. She looked so beautifully undone.

Finally he pulled out of her, instantly feeling cold without her warmth enveloping him. He was changed, wholly and truly. He was a different man from earlier this evening. He crawled beside her and dropped to the bed, planting a kiss on her shoulder.

“I love you, Ora.”

“I love you, Gale.”

******

Auroria curled into Gale, resting her head on his chest as they both came down from such blissful heights. She traced the lines of the orb marking as he lazily ran his fingers up and down her back. She felt herself drifting off to sleep when she heard it, the faintest whisper.

“I will stay with you. I will live.”

#gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #gale fanfiction #gale x tav #gale x f!tav #gale x auroria #woodweave #weave and woods fic #weave and woods #bg3 ao3 #my writing

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malarkgirlypop · 21 hours

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Easy Men Pranksters

How easy company men prank

Richard Winters:

I feel like he would do the most unnoticeable prank, like move an item one inch to the side. I'm sure he would think it was funny, he would've seen someone do it on facebook reels lmao. He tries it on Nix, who does not notice. But every time Nix walks into the room, Dick has a good chuckle to himself, knowing what he did.

Lewis Nixon:

He would throw a party and say he put out spiked punch. Turns out is wasn't spiked punch, just normal juice and fruit. He just wanted to weed out the fake bitches who pretend to get drunk. But that's not the true reason he did the prank. No way is he sharing his collection of alcohol, if you want to get drunk BYO.

Harry Welsh:

I think he would try to prank Lew and Dick. When they are hanging out without him, he calls the house and asks if the fridge is running. But jokes on him, he didn't turn off caller ID. "Harry, please stop calling the house. If you want to come over, just come over." Tries to pretend it wasn't him that called. He tried to convince Kitty to prank call the house so he doesn't look suspicious, but again forgot to turn off caller ID and it's his phone she has.

Ronald Speirs:

Leaves a horse head in the persons bed. Doesn't know the difference between a death threat and a prank.

"You should've seen his face."

"Speirs he had a heart attack."

"Yeah, ahaha, classic."

Please don't let this man prank.

Carwood Lipton:

The most harmless prankster. Like you don't get the prank. He has to explain it.

"Come over to the window and look at all these deer!"

"Where?"

"Got you!!"

"What?"

"You've been punked son!"

"I'm confused."

"There were never deer!!"

Oh Lip no. That's so bad. BOOOOO ahahah.

George Luz:

Loves getting pranked more than pranking. But he always is trying to get people to prank him, so he never get tricked. 100% would sneak into your house and replace all of your family photos with just pictures of himself. He has especially gone to JCpenney to get those hilarious awkward family photos, but it's all just him duplicated. It's a family of Luz's!

Joe Toye:

He's a mean prankster. One of those guys who has fake bugs and insects and tricks you into looking at what's in his hands. Also will hide around the house in the dark just to scare you. You're so used to it, that when you come home you have to scope out each room, only to find he actually went out for a drink and you're home alone. You call him and tell him what you have just done for the past hour and he thinks it's the funniest thing he has ever heard. Will definitely brag about it to the boys.

Bill Guarnere:

Classic prankster. Cling wrap on the toilet, cling wrap in the door way, putting everything in jello, wrapping the room in tinfoil. Causes the most mayhem and the biggest clean ups. He spends more time on the prank than the reaction is worth. Spent a whole night putting post it notes on your car, only to find out it was the neighbours and now they are pissed.

Joe Liebgott:

100% buy you those fake lotto tickets and let you believe it for the longest time. He would get Web countless times with it. Every time the man falls for it and Lieb just finds it so funny. He let's Web call all of his family members every time he "wins". It happens so often that the family members on the phone know it's a prank and try to explain it to him.

David Webster:

None of his pranks have ever been successful. OR when he does pull pranks he accidentally gets himself. He does the cling wrap on the toilet, forgets about it, pees all over the ground. Fills a room with water cups, forgets about it and walks into said room and tips over all of the cups. Like this man just can't win. Poor guy.

Buck Compton:

The only prank he does in the warm bucket prank. He is convinced it will work every time. It never does. He literally does tests, he's so invested on getting it to work. It's basically become an experiment for him. He tries out different water temps, different vessels he puts the water in, how deep he puts the hand in the water. He has a little notebooks of each time he has tried the prank and the method he used.

Eugene Roe:

He's a cute prankster. He opens two boxes of cereal and switches the bags. So you think you are getting lucky charms, but instead you get frosted flakes. Gene thinks it is the funniest thing seeing sleepy Babe questioning every thing in existence as frosted flakes appear out of the lucky charms box. Babe still being half asleep just shrugs and tucks into his breakfast. Gene has to explain the prank to him later.

Babe Heffron:

Does the, "oh yeah I put premium air into the tires." To Gene. Gene is losing his mind, thinking babe paid $100 for air. Also has a bunch of fake items, like vomit and dog poo that he gets Gene with all the time. "Gene the cats puked all over the lap top!!" Poor Gene is stressed to the max with Babe lmao.

Don, Skip and Penk:

The trio is trioing. If there is one group that is forever pranking, it's these lot. Whether it's each other or their friends, they are always down for a cheeky prank. Fill a room with ball pit balls, foam, balloons. Breaks into your house and turn it into a full out haunted house. These boys are hard out, it's go big or go home. Nothing is off the table, they will invest life savings into a good prank. Watch your backs they are after you, they will punk you. They seriously talk about starting and producing their own punked series. 100% has a prank youtube channel that blows up.

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codenamesazanka · 2 days

Text

dark post-canon. The War is over. Heroes have won. It's time to rebuild. Except--

The new Hero Public Safety Commission immediately gets down to work. Rebuild an even stronger Tartarus; add a self-destruct system so that if Villains ever try to break in or out again, just kill them all. More intense Quirk Counseling for all children who even the slightest bit act out of the norm; catch them before they can put on a mask. Suppress any news of the heteromorph riot - that will only stroke more division. Parade the Hero Kids out as The Greatest Heroes, and really wring every bit of wholesome success story out of them - interviews, merch, candy shaped in their likeness. This will help restart the economy. They can even export Hero goods out of the country since they're globally recognized heroes.

As the plans are drawn out, the kids are at first uncomfortable, gradually turning horrified. This wasn't what they fought for. This is going to make things worse. Todoroki wants his brother to be able to stay with his family, not be isolated and locked away even more. Uraraka protests that quirk counseling alienates kids, makes them feel like freaks who can't share their pain. (Also, they are not letting her keep her promise of giving Toga blood.) Shoji says that it's because news never come out of the rural areas that no one thought to help the heteromorphs; it's because their pain and grief came out that light can shine on them. And Deku-- well, the war brought to surface so many problems. They can't just smile and pretend it's all fine after all that destruction. All For One and Shigaraki showed him how there are such lonely, empty people out there, whose pain can run wild - they should be helping those people, instead of focusing even more on the glory of Heroes.

The new HPSC waves away their protests. They're extremely grateful for the kids for helping them win the war. Though... what they're saying sounds like sympathy for the Villains that created this mess. Sounds like saving Villains, which... they really wished the kids hadn't done that. It wasn't part of the battle plan. It was nice and all, but so risky! Not all Villains are so easily changed. They saved... what, two villains out of the hundreds that were involved in the war? Statistically, that's useless. Anyways, look at Deku. He killed AFO and Shigaraki, and it's all for the better.

Plus, the UA kids are still that - children. They haven't even graduated from 10th grade. What do they know about maintaining and leading society? Do they have any concrete ideas about things like policies and development? Specific enactable agendas?

The plans keep getting drawn, without any of the kids' input, if they had any in the first place. Future's coming fast, and it's looking like everything is going back to the way it used to be - except the way it used to be is exactly what led to the war. Something needs to be done. They need change; they need real reform.

So somehow Deku ends up in front of Mr. Compress.

Mr. Compress congrats Deku on the Heroes winning. Sarcastically thanks him for killing off his leader and imprisoning all his friends. Tells him to go away, an old man needs his rest. Deku asks for help, and Mr. Compress insults him. Deku says he's heard of Harima, and how he was a folk hero, stealing not because he was a Villain for his own gain, and helping people not because he was a Hero in it for the wealthy or fame. If Mr. Compress is Harima's great-great-grandson and following his will, shouldn't Mr. Compress help try to change things for the better?

Mr. Compress doesn't see the point. He tells Deku that Harima tried to change things by, yes, stealing to send a message, but did his best to minimize harm; tried to do good by redistributing his spoils. He was popular and loved by the people, just like a Hero, but hated by the powers that be, and so ended up being labeled a just a thief and Villain in the history books, his reformation was never achieved that way.

Which is why Mr. Compress threw his hat in with the League. Shigaraki was his greatest bet on changing society, but it seemed it just didn't work out. Harima couldn't change things; even someone like Shigaraki couldn't change things; if someone like Shigaraki existed and still can't change things, what's the use?

And besides, Deku went and killed Shigaraki. He did what was always done - defeating villains. But suddenly now he cares? After the damage is done? Why should Mr. Compress care about helping him at all.

...

then idk. got stuck. no idea how Deku's going to get out of this one without doing something radical. maybe even something villainous. But I think the Compress + Deku dynamic can be interesting.

#nalslastworkingbraincell

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wolfpawzjakey · 3 days

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Stay-at-home dad Percy.

What is your opinion and thoughts?

Seriously, this boy deserves peace, a cozy home life full of patchwork and baking.

THIS! I’m late to this one but I was so tickled by this idea because, yes, please god give this man his time to be a house husband and stay at home dad.

When the super young baby stages are over and Percy is okay’ed to return to demigod work and start leaving his daughter with daycare workers, he’s suddenly pulled by two strong forces. He actually… doesn’t quite trust leaving his daughter with strangers. Sue him, but he’s been through way too many silly things, he instantly goes to the absolute horror of, “oh my god, Jason, what if someone or something takes her???!??!!”. But the other side tugs hard too, he’s always known a life of working his ass off, working so hard he’s nearly died many times. He bases his self worth entirely on success that he’s made for himself, who really is Percy Jackson without the duties he fulfills for the gods and others. It’s so stressful Jason finds him up at night, pacing back and forth between which side of the scale he wants to live on. Work hard, be bullied by the gods, possibly die but die for the greater good, like he’s always done. Or stay home, finally just exist, make sure their little one grows up coddled and safe and protected.

He settles for the latter, keeping his eyes on their daughter settles the uprising that’s been torturing him in his chest since his parental leave had ended. In short months following, he’s picked up patchwork (shitty, but it’s getting there), baking (much better, he would bake with his mother when the circumstances were safe enough), and other little hobbies in between and honestly, he’d never been more sure about a thing in his life. Percy Jackson, from hero to homemaker and loving every bit of it.

Don’t get him wrong, he and Jason keep up with training on the back end, having someone watch the kiddo. He hopes with his whole life nothing will ever pull him away from the life he has now, but being rusty would be the worst thing to be in the world he lived in.

Homemaker Percy mwah mwah mwah

He’ll still kick ur ass but he’ll do it with the new frilly baby blue checkered apron he got just to be an ass and tease Jason with :)

#percy jackson #jason grace #jercy #jason x percy #pjo #hoo #toa #pawz replies #asks

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moistvonlipwig · 16 hours

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can i do the same thing to you i did to sssammich and upend all the -corps on your desk or is that too greedy 🥴

looping in @yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere since it's easier to do these all in one post ! alphabetical order for funsies under the cut:

agentcorp - no...idk what to say really except the vibes are off for me. sorry chyler </3 i know you wanted to kiss katie so bad. i think alex and lena have similarities & differences (just like every character does with every other character lol) but i personally feel like their specific similarities & differences would cause them to either enable each other's worst aspects or to butt heads constantly. just my onion i know many people disagree and that's fine. also the triple hit of alex trying to nuke lena and justifying it by twisting all her previous good deeds to make them sound bad, lying about it to her face while asking for her help, and then not advocating for her to get her memories back and even encouraging kara to deceive her once again all in quick succession in s5 -- all of which got swept under the rug in s6 -- really soured me on the friendship s4 had built up between them. so i'm not even really a fan of their friendship. tragique :(

braincorp - they are my brotp <333 i don't ship them romantically at all but actually their relationship is probably my favorite relationship on the show period. it helps that they are my 2 fave characters lol but also they are so smart and so bitchy together and i love them <333 brainy is so ride or die for lena even when she gives him literally the worst advice anyone has ever given anyone else in the history of the world and lena feels safe with brainy to express how she really feels and they are kindred spirits. also the parallel to the comics dynamic between brainiac & lex luthor [which should've made it to the show!!! where was the original brainiac???] is poetic. braincorp 4 life !!!

dreamcorp - again i don't ship them at all but it's so bonkers that developing this relationship wasn't more of a priority for the writers. little sisters with asshole siblings who blame themselves for their mother's deaths (and also have magic powers i guess thanks s6 🥴)...the scenes write themselves! or so you would think. i liked that they had some rapport in s6 but also ngl it cracked me up in 6x07 when nia called lena "family" i was like girl this is your first onscreen conversation ever 😭 you are colleagues at best...oh well. i like the idea of them becoming found family though. i don't see the superfriends as a found family (they are actually this cool thing called 'friends' instead) but nia & lena specifically i think could come to lean on each other in a sisterly way.

guardiancorp - so as i've mentioned part of what really piqued my interest in guardiancorp was the reveal that james had 16 scars from lex yet he was able to look past that to see lena for who she was not just as lex's little sister. james as clark's best friend and lena as lex's sister are kind of inherently tied together by the superman/lex drama and i'm interested in how they can work through that to love each other anyway. one thing i find interesting about them is that they are deeply different in ways that could set them at odds -- lena is a luthor, james is team super; lena is a white woman, james is a black man; lena is morally flexible, james is much more morally steadfast/rigid -- yet they are able to find solidarity and common ground with each other despite those things and have each other's backs. a lot of people like to point to the scene where lena & james are completely out of sync at game night as evidence that they were never really right for each other, but the thing i always remember is that lena wanted to practice with him afterwards. she wanted to put in the work. that's actually very romantic to me. another thing i like is how protective they are of each other; morgan edge might call james lena's bodyguard and james might take a bullet for her and dangle morgan edge off a building for her but lena is also HIS bodyguard who would make deals with the DA for him and poison her mother for him. they're each other's guardians. also they are capable of being so powerful and bitchy together like when they went to confront morgan edge in 3x09 that was sooo funny and iconic. i do wish the show built them up better and let us see their friendship properly develop in 3a instead of having them flirt in a couple scenes and then not interact for 4 episodes and then have kara & sam hamfistedly tell us they have chemistry. if i were writing season 3 i would give them a slower build and probably not have them kiss until the balcony scene in 3x17. but oh well. if wishes were horses i would have lots of horses. i wouldn't even know what to do with all those horses. so it's a good thing wishes aren't horses, if you think about it.

kellycorp / goldencorp (that's the name i just came up with now that i am advocating for) - i quite like this idea because it's a kelly ship i can actually get invested in. hooray <3 i think kelly would be good for lena and, crucially, i think lena would be good for kelly. they both are more 'outsiders' to the superfriends than the other members are, as evinced by the two of them being the last to know supergirl's identity, and i think they could bond over that. i could see kelly feeling comfortable being displeased/angry with lena in a way she maybe doesn't with the other superfriends, while also holding space for lena's emotions in a way Certain Other People Who Shall Remain Nameless aren't always very good at. and i could also see lena really enjoying spoiling kelly with her wealth and kelly being kind of into it. also the fact that the showrunners seemed weirdly allergic to putting azie and katie into scenes together, meanwhile azie and katie were supposedly constantly flirting on set and working overtime to try and sneak goldencorp crumbs into the background, suggests to me that their chemistry was so palpable and powerful that TPTB were scared of letting them loose lest the fandom descend even further into ship wars. ...ok that last part is just a silly little conspiracy theory that i made up so please don't repeat it as fact or even as plausible speculation but also why Did the showrunners keep them apart so much 🤔 makes you think !

mirrorcorp [mirrorverse iris/lena aka a ship i invented] - so if you've never seen the flash you are probably thinking: who is mirrorverse iris??? i'm so glad you asked. mirrorverse iris is a clone of iris from the mirror realm which is NOT an 'evil universe' a la star trek, it is instead a world literally inside mirrors. mirrorverse iris was essentially created by mirror monarch (don't ask) for the purpose of infiltrating the normal world. she spends an arc impersonating the real iris and is similar in some ways but is also angrier, more ruthless, and more impulsive. in her last episode she figures out that she wants to be her own person and live life on her own terms not mirror monarch's and she defies mirror monarch during a fight with barry and then she dies. don't like that she died i wish she'd stuck around she was an epic character. but anyway this arc takes place in season 6b of the flash which you guessed it coincides with season 5b of supergirl. so my pitch is that instead of teaming up with lex to continue project nonsense lena goes on a sojourn to central city and meets mirrorverse iris who is impersonating real iris and undergoing an existential crisis/crisis of conscience. and the two bond and become friends. and then mirrorverse iris doesn't die and she and lena have to figure out who they want to be for themselves not just for the people who created them or tried to mold them in their image. and then they kiss about it idk just saying it could be good!

nationalcitydistrictattorneycorp - i mean. you've seen the scene. possibly the most sexually charged scene in the entire show. unclear to me why both actresses decided to play it that way but ok queens !

peggycorp - not my thing but i respect the warriors 👍

reigncorp - sam is imo the best & healthiest friend lena could ask for -- actually the best & healthiest friend anyone on this show could ask for -- but i don't really think their relationship is improved or made more interesting by them dating. i do think they have hooked up in the past and they decided they were better off as friends.

rojascorp - i'm not a rojascorp shipper actually but i believe in their beliefs...andrea and lena definitely dated, i see them as exes who still have affection for each other & sexual tension, i'm just not interested in the idea of them getting back together. if anything i actually worry that andrea might be too deferential to lena? i think she sees herself as deeply indebted to lena and -- whether you're looking at the pre-crisis more interesting timeline where she directly has blood on her hands or the post-crisis less interesting timeline where she tried to kill supergirl & accidentally put william in the line of fire -- i think she has a lot of guilt and she views lena as a moral authority in contrast to her morally 'tarnished' view of herself. which is interesting & juicy because most characters don't view lena that way. but i don't know that it's a great dynamic for a romance.

spheercorp - jack is sweet and rahul kohli is pretty. here endeth my thoughts on spheercorp. ...ok i guess i can say a little more which is that like rojascorp i prefer them as exes/bffs to them getting back together. i also will say that, while i think jack's death contributed to a disturbing trend on the show of killing off south asian characters, i do actually rather like it as a character beat for lena. i enjoy seeing him pop up in fics but in the show itself i think him dying is kind of a better story. sorry jacky :(

supercorp - i mean i think the premise alone is kind of epic and awesome. a super and a luthor but they're in love. like that's just plain cool. plus think of the awkward family dinners! i am always here for ships that will generate awkward family dinners. i also think they have a lot of great comedy scenes together which is always a plus to me shipping-wise, i like ships with a comedic bent. but there's also a lot of juicy drama/tragedy/gay divorce with them too which is also good of course. as a big fan of dramatic irony i like the secret/reveal as a storytelling device i just wish they handled it better post-5x01 (i think 4x22 and 5x01 actually kind of nailed it ngl). i like that they both used each other's kryptonite on the other person and yet they were able to forgive that and love the other person anyway. i mean the actual in-show process of forgiveness was wack but the idea is spicy. and i like that, as kara herself (clunkily) put it in the finale, they really do challenge each other and push each other to be better. as i've mentioned before theirs is a relationship where actions have consequences and where every scene they have matters and affects later scenes, which is unlike.....well, most relationships on the show, frankly. i also tend to think their scenes are just generally better-written and have more subtext (and i'm not just talking about the gay kind) and interesting things going on in them than most of the rest of the show's scenes. for all my many gripes about how s5 & s6 handled their fallout and then kind of just papered over it with platitudes, i still think their relationship is one of the best parts of the show and it's still the major thing that keeps me on the hook.

#if i missed any. well. assume i don't care about it enough to write up a paragraph lol #sideguitars #up up and away

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