#but he is nothing if not true to god's word
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˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Caught ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
✧˖°. Summary: You get caught riding the hellrider.
✧˖°. Content: NSFW - Creampie - Penis In Vag - Breeding - Giving Zevlor All The Love - Begging - Masturbation - Big Dick Zevy
✧˖°. Ship: Zevlor x F!Tav/Reader
Notes: I’ve had this idea for a while now that Aradin goes to confess his feelings to you only to find you straddling the hellspawn he loathes. Please enjoy xoxo
As you returned from the goblin camp a gentle breeze of the evening brushed through the grove, stirring the leaves as you stepped through the groves gate. Your return from the goblin camp was nothing short of a miracle, considering the dangers that lurked beyond the grove, so of course you came back with some injuries. It was inevitable considering there were so many beasts…
Your return from the goblin camp had been met with relief and concern from her the tieflings whom you aided. Zevlor, of course, had been among them. His features taut with guilt… It was he who had spoken so passionately of the need to clear the path to Baldur's Gate. It was he who had asked for help. The weight of his words are what made you jump into action, and now, the consequence of that decision marked your skin… His eyes never once leaving the bandages wrapped amongst your arm…
The evening soon began to buzz with low conversations and the evening songs of the cicadas. You scanned the grove for the commander you had grown fond of, eager to tell him of the battles you faced and how you were thankful to be able to return to him- erm to the grove… But Zevlor was nowhere to be found.
“Looking for Zevlor?” Tilly asked with a smile, but it soon faded into a frown,“He was looking for you, but he... he just left shortly after you returned. He seemed upset. Went out that way,” she said, pointing towards the woods that skirted the grove.
You looked back to her, then to the woods, then to her again, a look of confusion crossing your features, “Why would he-? Thank you Tilly, I appreciate you telling me where he went.”
Tilly smiled yet again, “I hope everything's alright. He's been so stressed out lately, he could use the company. Just... go easy on him, okay?” she gave a subtle wink before turning away to return to the others.
A blush spread across your cheeks, “I-i will.” Is all you could muster up as you left towards where she pointed.
It didn't take you long to find him, though you were sure he was purposely making it harder for anyone to find him. You could see the guilt in his face as he sat on a fallen tree trunk, his gaze set on the sunset.
“Zevlor? Why are you out here all alone?” Your voice was so soft, filled with concern as you approached the commander.
Zevlor's head sunk, his eyes never meeting yours, “I'm terribly sorry, Tav," he began, his voice thick with regret, “What happened to you today... I can't help but feel responsible. If I was stronger, if I wasn't so afraid to leave my people unprotected...”
You stepped forward, closing the distance between the two of you. Reaching out, your fingers gently tilting his chin so he had to look at you. “It's okay,”your eyes never leaving his, a small smile appearing on your lips, “You shouldn’t worry. I wanted to do this for your people… I wanted to do it for you.” Your thumb grazed along his bottom lip, his skin was warm beneath your fingertips, your other hand gently stroking the side of his face, your voice low and breathy, “I'd do anything for you... Zevlor”
You looked like a true goddess, the light of the setting sun illuminated your features, the breeze causing a few strands of your hair to come undone from the rest. Your hand was so soft against his cheek. Your lips were glossed, and those eyes of yours, by the gods they were so genuine and filled with a passion he hadn’t seen in a long time. He was drawn in, leaning into your touch, his lips parted as he spoke, “Tav... I- you-“
Cupping his face, “it’s okay,” you whispered softly before your lips met his.
…
Aradin had heard about your successful return, how you had managed to fight your way through the goblin camp. His heart swelled with relief and something else, something deeper that had been fermenting in the shadow of his thoughts for quite some time now since meeting you.
The adventurer sought you out, his eyes scanning the familiar hellspawn faces of the grove… Bloody horns were the reason you had returned with an injury. Their hell leader being the one that tricked you to do his dirty work for him…Aradin’s jaw tensed at the thought. He had heard about how Zevlor had sent you out on your own. He had heard how the commander had not even the slightest intention of joining you, and Aradin's blood boiled. Him and the other tieflings didn’t belong here, they were better off chained up and sent back to the hells of which they came.
“Bloody hellspawns, they shouldn't even be here, they're nothin but trouble." He muttered under his breath as his eyes scanned the grove once more, searching for you.
Nothing. You were nowhere to be found.
His anger was growing, his patience dwindling, when suddenly he realized that perhaps you left the grove again. The thought of you out there, in the danger of the forest alone, “hells…” he cursed before storming towards the woods.
Aradin didn’t have to venture too far outside the grove before he heard a scream, your scream to be exact. His feet moved quickly as his heart pounded, fearing the worst. Aradin's heart sank as he approached the source of the scream, he just now remembered that the damn hellspawn named Zevlor wasn’t in the grove either. Images of your bloody body on the ground next to the tielfing flooded his thoughts and in seconds he had his blade ready.
Rage fueled his movements, when suddenly, his eyes fell on you. There you were, in the arms of the one he loathed the most, Zevlor. The coward who didn't deserve someone like you.
You were straddling him, his ridged cock halfway buried inside you, your body glistening with sweat.
“Z~Zevlor~!” Your moans were soft, your back arched as you bounced on his cock, your fingers buried in the tieflings tussled hair, “fu-please! I- You~ s’big~”
The hellrider groaned, his claws digging into the plump flesh of your ass as he helped you ride his cock. Your name falling from his lips, “Tav-“ his hips snapping to meet yours, causing his thick length to bottom out.
“S’big~ s-so meaty~” you whimper, your pussy fluttering around his shaft, your body shivering in his grasp. The sight of the two of you like this had Aradin’s cock painfully hard. He could see everything, your slick arousal dripping down Zevlor's veiny cock, how your sloppy cunt gripped the hellrider’s cock as you lifted your hips… And oh how you looked so fucked out as your hair clung to your face.
“H-hells…," Zevlor moans, his chest rising and falling as he watches you pleasure yourself on his cock.
“Zev~ please~” You beg, your nails digging into his shoulder, your body aching for release, “I-I wanna cum!” Tearspricked the corners of your eyes as you cried out, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix so good, “W-wan’ you~ cum n’side till’ preg-nant” you gasp, your thighs trembling.
Aradin couldn't help but stare at the way your juices squirted from your pussy, watching the way the slick pooled and clung to the tieflings sack. Fuck, he had never seen such a slutty cunt, nor had he ever imagined a woman, let alone you would crave the seed of a hellspawn.
He was torn.
Torn between the need to tear you off Zevlor and have his way with you, and the need to just fuck himself senseless at the sight of your debauchery.
“Fuck!” He growled, his hand palming his hardened length through his trousers, the need to pleasure himself becoming a priority.
Zevlor's breathing became heavier, “D-don’t say such thing- m-my dear-“ he lifted you up, your back hitting the forest floor softly. A small whimper leaving your lips as his cock left your cunt, his hands moving to the back of your knees, spreading you wide, before pressing his tip to your quivering hole, “an old soul such as me- would only dream of such a thing. T-this- I don't- deserve-“
Your hand reached up, cupping his face, a smile pulling at your swollen lips, "Y-you deserve it, d-deserve everything~” your leg slid up the side of his hip, hooking over his waist, the back of your ankle resting against his ass, your hand gripping one of his horns, pulling him down so that his lips were hovering over yours, “make me yours~” your voice was like silk, your eyes half lidded, a look of pure lust consuming you.
A groan rumbled in the back of his throat, “I can only pray you never grow tired of this worn tiefling,” his tongue snaking out to lick at his fangs, his body trembling. With a tender smile, his cock was pressing into you once more, his hips snapping, the entirety of his girth filling your pussy in a single thrust, a loud gasp leaving you.
“N-never~!”
Aradin bit his bottom lip, his cock aching in his hand, the sight before him had him panting, his eyes fixated on your face.
You threw your head back, mouth hanging open as Zevlor stretched you, his size was impressive. Despite riding him for what felt like hours your cunt still wasn’t adjusted to him. Your legs quivered, your back arched off the forest floor, your free hand gripping the dirt and leaves as the commander began pounding into your sloppy cunt. His tail wrapping around one of your legs, “you have such a sweet voice, moan for me again my dear.”
You obliged, “Don't stop~ Zev~lor~”
His grip tightening, his pace fast and relentless, just how you wanted it. Every snap of his hips drives his cock deeper, making your eyes roll back in your head and your body shake. Each time his thick veins and ridges rub over the over sensitive bundle of nerves within you, a wave of pleasure crashes over your mind, wiping out any coherent thoughts.
It felt like he was stirring up your insides, making a mess of your guts and marking you as his just as you begged.
“Cu-Cum~ n’side pwfh’lease!”
Aradin grunted, he could feel his own release building.
“O-Oh gods, Tav,” Zevlor moaned, his pace becoming sloppy, his balls tightening. The sight of you, a complete mess, begging for a him to fill you, it was almost enough to push him over the edge, until he saw your injured arm… “i- Tav- I can’t- I don-t deserv-“
Your body tensed, your cunt squeezing his cock, milking him for his seed, “I-I love you~”
Zevlor’s eyes widened, “Wh-what? T-Trul~ argh~!” his cock throbbing inside of you, his cum flooding your womb. Those words were all it took…
You trembled beneath him, your own climax washing over you, “love you Zevlor~!!!!
Aradin gasped, his seed spilling from his cock and into his hands and onto the forest flooring… He watched as the hellspawn kept himself from falling on top of you, his hands on either side of your head. His eyes shut tight as he continued to cum, his face a deeper red than normal, fangs bared, his hips slowly rocking. He watched as the tiefling’s spent cock slowly slipped from you, his seed leaking from your gaping hole. You looked absolutely spent, your skin slick with sweat, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath.
He could hear your whimpers, how you were begging the commander to not leave you, to hold you. How could he deny you such a thing? He watched as Zevlor pulled you into his lap, his tail wrapped around you protectively. The hellspawn held you close, his lips kissing along your face, whispering words Aradin couldn't make out, before his lips pressed to yours.
Aradin stood there, unable to move, his body weak from his release, his heart feeling heavy in his chest.
You were in love with a devil, and it was clear this devil wouldn’t let you go, spilling his seed into you till you were good and pregnant.
He watched as Zevlor and you buried your faces into one another, the way he was holding you so tenderly, the way his tail flicked every so often, the way you clung to him… Even if Aradin wanted to jump out and point his sword at the tiefling , there was no way in hells you’d allow it.
A bitter chuckle left him, before he turned and made his way back towards the grove, his hands covered in his seed. He couldn't help but feel like he had been the real fool this entire time, he was so sure he would be the one to claim your heart, not a cowardly hellspawn.
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#zevlor#bg3 smut#zevlor bg3#bg3 Zevlor#zevlor x tav#zevlor x reader#Aradin#aradin bg3#bg3 Aradin#zevlor nation
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May Prompts (28)
Day 27 here. Start from the beginning here.
Empty
He stares at the empty box.
Sherlock isn’t saying anything.
Sherlock opened the gift a good two minutes ago and still hasn’t said a word.
He watched Sherlock for the first minute or so, and saw only a blank expression. So now, he stares at the empty box because he’s terrified about what that blank expression means.
God, he had been so relieved that this was finally happening. His plan coming to fruition. He wanted to wait until Rosie was having her nap for obvious reasons but the past few hours have been excruciating. To be honest, it had taken quite a bit of will power not to thrust the gift in Sherlock’s face the second they arrived at Baker Street.
The hopeful glances from Molly this afternoon hadn’t helped.
But, he made it. And a few minutes ago, Sherlock removed the paper, opened the box, and pulled out the silent violin, various accessories and case. And then said nothing.
So, John is staring at the empty box. He was wrong, the wait this afternoon was a cake walk compared to this.
Finally, after another minute of silence, he looks up tentatively. He lets out a quiet sigh of relief at what he sees.
Sherlock, standing perfectly still, staring at the instrument in his hand.
This is an expression he’s seen before—back when he asked Sherlock to be his best man. It’s a sort of far away look that means Sherlock isn’t angry or busy thinking of how to weasel his way out of this conversation. It’s a look that means Sherlock has made a deduction he can’t quite believe.
It’s time to force Sherlock to say that deduction out loud. Make it real.
“Happy birthday, finally. What do you think?”
“It’s a silent violin.”
“Yes.”
“Top of the line. The London Philharmonic violinists use these to practice.”
“That’s what I was told.”
“You like when I play my violin.”
“Very much.”
“And Rosie loves it.”
“Yes.”
“So, this isn’t a gift for when you are here during the day.”
“Course not, you have your Strat.”
“And, if there is no one to disturb, I can play my Strat at night.”
“True.”
“Mrs. Hudson can’t hear it from her flat.”
“Hmmm.”
“I would only need a silent violin if there was someone else here at night. Sleeping.”
“Yes.”
“Your old room—it’s Rosie’s now.”
“Absolutely.”
“We made that decision during the rebuild. A child’s room. She naps there sometimes. Plays there a lot.”
“Yes, she loves it.”
“Your old bed and dresser are gone. The room upstairs just has a little toddler bed and that child-sized table and chairs. And toys.”
“That’s true.”
“Plus the bookshelf Mycroft made but pretended he bought. All the books he filled it with.”
“Yes. It’s the perfect room for her.
“We could fit a little dresser in there but not much else.”
“No. That’s all she needs though.”
“You can’t sleep there. Couldn’t sleep there.”
“No, it’s Rosie’s room.”
“You can’t sleep on the couch in here either. It would have been awful for your shoulder before your fall. Now it’s out of the question.”
“Agreed.”
“If Rosie is sleeping here regularly, I could use the silent violin so I don’t wake her.”
“Yes. Every night.”
“But that means you would be sleeping here too.”
“Of course.”
“You would need to sleep in a bed. That only leaves one option.”
A deep breath. “Correct.”
“Well, two options. But, you would never ask me to move from here.”
“Course not. This is your home.”
A pause.
“People would talk.”
“Good. I’d expect no less.”
Another pause.
“You have assumed I am gay for some time now.”
“Yes. Is that assumption correct?”
“Yes.” A sharp inhale. “I have assumed you are not entirely straight from the beginning.”
“I think that’s a fair way of putting it.”
“You rebuked people when they assumed we were a couple.”
“I did. Years ago. Haven’t for some time now. You said you were married to your work, but that’s not true anymore either, is it?” He knows he needs to push Sherlock, just a bit.
It works. Sherlock shakes his head, as if coming out of a daze. “I … what’s that?”
He blushes. Sherlock has spotted the case. Was that too sentimental? “It’s errr…the case. For the violin.”
Sherlock slowly runs his hands over it. “It’s her handprint.”
“Errr … yeah. I know pink isn’t exactly your thing, but I let her pick.”
“Her hand is so small.”
“Yeah. But soon it won’t be.” He takes a deep breath. “Thought it would be a nice snapshot of how small she was when she moved in. Because I hope we’ll be here for … well, as long as you’re here.” In for a penny. “If you’ll have us. If you’ll have me.” He smiles. “If there’s space for me in the room down the hall. ‘Cause you’re it for me, Sherlock. I think you always have been.” A feeling of relief washes over him. Whatever happens, at least it’s all in the open now. At least the box is empty.
A long pause. “I think I am going to faint,” Sherlock finally says and then promptly crumbles to the floor.
@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias
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okay. bare with me. here's the thought. doing non sexual things in a sexual context. Or sexual things in a non sexual context. Let me elaborate with the main 4 LI's.
warning: piss is included for one of em, but it's at the end so u can skip it if you want.
Late at night, when most of the orphanage has went to bed and all the lights are out lest Bailey shows up to shout expletives; a bright screen illuminates your face. Robin's, too, though less so with the way he's got you situated on his lap, the low drone from the video game filling the room does very little to hide his huffed breaths heaved from behind you. Brushing up against your neck, your back to his chest; it's rather warm, isn't it? Both of his arms wrapped loosely around your waist, controller in his twitching hands resting between your legs. You're so soft, did you know that? Completely exposed and trembling against him, letting out little gasps for air and bitten back moans. Gotta stay quiet, he'd reminded you. The late night gaming session paired with his head buried in the crook of your neck, half closed eyes just barely focusing on the blurry screen in a half hearted attempt to pass the next level, cock buried deep in your squishy cunt for you to squirm on. It's his favourite way to game, he decides, forcing you to endure cockwarming him as some sort of private game only he can play with you. Even if you can't be as loud as he'd like to make you, feeling you struggle to sit still enough for him to win the game is addictive, drooling over your sensitive neck in mutual frustration. The casual setting just getting to him when he's balls deep in you, struggling himself. Who will win, do you think?
Though he'd never encourage it, seeing your pretty face show up in the library as you skip classes to be with him is secretly Sydney's favourite sight. Reading time, right? That, similarly, is his favourite time of day. Pulling out a new book, getting you situated on a seat in a hidden corner of the library with him by your side, pressed shoulder to shoulder so that you can see the words too. It's fun getting to read with you, not just because he enjoys experiencing new things with you, a shared interest in literature is a good way to spend some time together, he thinks. But also, more selfishly, because the cute way you shift in your seat as he pushes another finger into your little cunt is by far the best part of it all, no? Slowly, almost lazily, fucking his fingers into you. One by one, never missing a beat in the story as he finger fucks in and out of you idly, cock straining in his dress pants from the blatantly loud squelch your cunt makes in the relatively quiet library. Curling his fingers against your sweet spot when he's knuckle deep, only taking a break from the story to gently remind you to hush, you're in the library, when you start to moan a little too loud for his liking. He can't help but to tease you!
Kylar can't seem to focus on anything useful when you ask him how his day was, finding it difficult to keep his lewd expressions contained when you're bouncing on his cock so well like that. His tummy filled with butterflies at the way you seem to act so... Casual, as if you weren't riding him into the sheets below right now, his nervous fingers digging into your hips with a thick gulp. He can never answer you appropriately when you take to engaging in small talk while fucking him, his voice coming out all strained and broken. F-fine, he usually responds with; regardless of if that's true or not. It's just, well... Fuck, he feels so fucking stupid when you circle your hips on his lap like that, eyelashes fluttering shut as you continue to talk absentmindedly. Like you couldn't care less for his answer, God that's so hot. What did you do today, Kylar? as you drag your hips forward, grinding your pretty puffy clit against his pelvis, still yet looking unbothered by the way his cock throbs inside of you. I, uh... I don't know, nothing? he answers with a moan, back arching off the sheets when you drag your hips back down his pulsing cock. Did you at least eat well today? you ask nonchalantly, and his mind is so fucking blank from the inane conversation and bland tone you adopt that he hasn't even got the chance to warn you of his approaching orgasm before he shoots a load inside of you, cheeks red hot at the realisation that he's came to mere chitchat. That's how much he loves you, gasping a quick no to answer your previous unimportant question as you effortlessly milk him with a bored expression.
He knew you'd be in here like clockwork, waiting for him to show up like how he always does every morning before classes start. The mundanity of it all is exciting to Whitney, swinging the bathroom stall open to find you standing where you should be, toying with the hem of your shirt in assumed giddiness for the daily ritual. So normal is the routine, in fact, that he no longer has to prompt you into pulling your skirt up for him, the sight of your no panties aiding his fat cock to harden as he whips it out above the toilet. There's no need to use it though, is there? Stroking himself once or twice to make sure he's fully hard, enough to easily glide his twitching tip into your tight little hole just in time, too. You should be thankful he refuses to use the bathroom at home, dealing with the uncomfortable pressure in his tummy all the way to school just for you. A quite hiss escaping him at the warm feeling that immediately wraps around him, little cunt instantly coaxing piss to stream out from his erection as if begging to be used. His own personal toilet, wrapping an arm around your back to keep you pressed snug against him, unable to stop the barely there humps inside of you as he pisses, emptying himself into his favourite hole. Huffing right against your ear as he bends his upper body into you, marking your insides with his piss, just keeping the freaks away from my slut, he reminds you. And it's a long piss too, some of it dripping from your filled up hole to coat his cock, dribbling down to the actual toilet under you as he finishes with a shaky sigh. And that's all he ever does, pulling out to gently dab himself clean now that's he's done pissing. See ya in an hour or somethin' he taps your cheek twice before leaving, ready to start his day now that he's emptied himself.
#dol#dol smut#degrees of lewdity smut#degrees of lewdity#whitney the bully#kylar the loner#robin the orphan#sydney the faithful smut#sydney the fallen#idk which sydney to tag u make ur mind up lmao
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(Lil snippet of the Goth!Nico/Surfer!Percy fic inspired by the beautiful amazing incredible art by @neo-kid-funk !! It's definitely going to be much longer, but I hope you enjoy this for now!!)
(under read more bc it's more than 1k words lol)
~~~
“He's here again”.
Jason didn't even turn around to see what Nico was referring to with those words - at that point it was such a common occurrence that it wasn't really necessary. Still, Nico felt a little offended at his friends' dismissal.
“Jason”, he said, almost in a whine. “He's here again”.
Now finally (though with a smile and a roll of his eyes) Jason did turn around to look at the current source of all of Nico's troubles and the main character of many of his dreams.
Dark hair, tall, all tan skin and toned muscles, swim trunks hanging way too low on his hips - all in all, the most handsome man Nico had ever seen, and he couldn't keep his eyes off him.
Nico looked at him coming out of the water holding onto his surfing board as if it weighted nothing (and Nico knew that wasn't true, he had almost collapsed under the weight of one once), a hand going up to card through his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He looked so beautiful and at home in the water Nico couldn't help but feel like he was some sort of sea god.
He was too far away to see it now, but he knew that even his eyes were the color of the sea.
What is he even so hot for?
As ridiculous as it sounded, Nico could feel himself blush just looking at him. Yet there was something (everything really) about him that was so magnetic it made it impossible to tear his eyes away - really, at this point Nico spent most of his shifts at the beach kiosk looking at him; he wasn't sure if it was a blessing or a curse that that man came to the beach so often.
Percy.
He only knew the name because he had heard a girl calling him (was that his girlfriend? God, Nico really hoped she wasn't), and obviously not because he had had the courage of talking to him outside of the small exchanges whenever Percy came to buy something.
He kept following him with his eyes, teeth absentmindedly biting his lips, playing with the rings there.
He was so busy thinking and trying to stare without making it too obvious that he almost missed it when Jason said: “Looks like he's coming here”.
Nico jumped out of his skin. “What!? No, Jason, please please, you take his order, please”.
Another roll of his eyes and another fond smile that Nico had seen all too many times. “Nico”, Jason said. “It's your chance. Talk to him!”
Nico shook his head vehemently. He could already feel his heart starting to pound in his chest and his cheeks grow hot. “No way. He's going to smile at me! I'm a weak man Jason, don't do this to me”.
An obnoxious laugh reminded Nico that Leo was there too - he was so caught up in thinking about Percy that he had completely forgotten about him; but of course there he was, sprawled on the counter as if he belonged there (and with how much time he spent there even without working with them, it might as well have been). “Goth-boy, you're on a beach wearing a black t-shirt under the august scorching sun - you're anything but weak, man, you can do it”.
“Oh shut up Leo, we all know you're no better than me - remind me how long it took you to talk to Jason?”, Nico shot back.
He wasn't looking at his friends though, his eyes still drawn to where Percy was - and yes, Jason was right and he was definitely coming there.
Nico's heart was beating absurdly fast; it really was ridiculous how much he liked a boy he barely knew. But he did - oh god, he really did. Percy was handsome and bright and had the most beautiful smile Nico had ever seen.
And Nico was just a boy who looked very out of place on a beach.
Still playing nervously with his lip rings, he took off his hair tie and fixed his ponytail. Did his hair look good? He hoped so at least.
What did Percy think about him? Did he even have an opinion on him? Or was he just the weird kid working at the kiosk? Probably.
“Don't deflect Nico, Leo is right”, Jason said, cutting through his line of thought. “And don't worry you look good”.
“As cute and charming as always, man!”, Leo added, and maybe from someone who didn't know him it could have sounded teasing but at this point Nico knew him well enough to recognize the honesty in his smile as he did a thumbs up to show his support. “Just smile and he'll fall for you in a second”.
Nico scoffed at that, but appreciated the sentiment.
It was probably too much hoping that Percy would even look his way, let alone anything more than that.
Jason nudged his shoulder, once again taking him away from his thoughts. “Really, you're all good”, he said. “Now get ready to take his order”.
The next second, Nico found himself staring into a pair of sea-green eyes so deep and mesmerizing he was sure he was drowning in them, could almost feel the water filling up his lungs; and if that wasn't enough, a smile so bright it could rival the sun came with them, effectively cutting off the last bit of breath. Oh it was so unfair.
And he wasn't wearing a shirt - of course he wasn't, they were on a beach and he had just come out of the water five minutes ago. His tanned skin seemed to shine under the sun, water was still dripping from his hair and Nico had to use all of his willpower to not follow with his eyes the little droplets' way down his neck and collarbone.
It was more than unfair, and it was definitely a curse.
“Hi, can I get you anything?”
Thank god he was so used to his job that he could sound natural enough saying that even while panicking on the inside.
Even without looking at them, Nico could feel his friends almost laughing at him; he would have been offended if he weren’t so busy trying to survive the moment. Percy really was way too handsome and hot for Nico’s sanity.
Don’t stare at him, he berated himself, it’s not polite to stare at customers. He’ll think you’re weird.
Oh god, he needed a smoke as soon as possible. If he kept biting on his lip like that he would end up biting his lip ring away.
“Huh”, Percy seemed to think about it for a second. “Can I have the same blue drink from last time? You remember?”
Nico did remember. It had been the longest conversation he had ever had with Percy (the longest and most intense five minutes of his life until now), with the surfer asking for some kind of blue drink, and Nico trying his best to understand and make it for him - he had managed to, in the end, and then had proceeded to think non stop for days about the happy smile Percy had gifted him.
For some reason, the way Percy said “you remember?” made Nico’s insides melt, a swarm of frantic screaming butterflies flying in chaos in his stomach. Like it was something between the two of them, something they shared.
Nico had never felt more ridiculous in his life.
“Yeah, I remember”, he managed to say, and in a way it was a relief to turn around and get to work. Part of him wanted to drag it out as long as possible just to make Percy stay a little longer; at the same time, though, part of him wanted this to be over as soon as possible just so he could finally go back to breathing.
“Great!”, Percy said with a smile, like Nico had just told him the best news of the day.
It was such a peculiar request, “can i get a blue drink” - no flavor or anything, just a blue drink. It was weird and endearing at the same time, and it left Nico wanting to know more about it, more about Percy. He wondered how many other weird and endearing things like that Percy did.
“You like it that much?”, he found himself asking, his mouth moving before his brain even registered it.
Another blinding smile. Nico was so weak.
“Everything tastes better if it’s blue”, Percy said with such conviction that he almost made it sound like that made any sense.
It made Nico stop, and then he couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped his lips.
“Does it?”, he asked, smiling back, as he handed Percy his drink.
Percy nodded. “Of course. You should try it sometimes”.
The butterflies were going absolutely crazy in Nico’s stomach, so much he almost forgot to take the money Percy was giving him. “Maybe I will”, he said.
“Thanks for the drink, Nico”.
For an instant, Nico’s brain went blank except for a mantra of he knows my name, oh god he knows my name. Then he remembered he was wearing a nametag, so of course he did.
Idiot.
“Have a nice day”, he said through the lump in his throat.
“You too!”, Percy said and went to leave. He seemed to think back on it though, because he turned toward Nico again, holding out his right hand to him. “I’m Percy, by the way”.
It felt like looking at himself from the outside, like it was happening to someone else, as Nico shook his hand. It was warm and big, and Nico wanted to hold onto it. “Nice to meet you”.
Percy smiled, big and bright and happy, and Nico smiled back.
“See you next time, Nico”.
Nico stared at him as he left and went back to his friends, pretty sure everything that had just happened must have been a dream.
#percy jackson#percy jackson and the olympians#nico di angelo#pjo#percico#nicercy#pernico#my fics#percy jackon and the olympians#throwing a lil bit of valgrace in this bc why not#also throwing the much needed friendship btwn nico and leo bc yes.#im having SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS!!#last time i wrote an au was like ten years ago and guess what? it was a percico fic lmak#btw spoiler but Percy is already just as head over heels for nico as nico is for him#love me some good old mutual pining 😌
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Was talking with @seiya234 about Sam Vimes and the idea that seems to come up in some fan circles with some regularity that after his death, Vimes will become the 'God of Coppering' or in some other way some part of him will continue to protect the city/the Watch after his death. She mentioned that she thought the idea was kind of king-ish - the whole idea "that someone will keep swooping in and saving the day" - and that Vimes would haaaaaate that, and I agree.
However. It's true. Part of Sam Vimes will keep protecting Ankh-Morpork long after he dies.
It's the part of him he gave to Carrot, the part that Carrot uses to check himself every time he starts to get frustrated with the limitations of what he can do as a Watchman and wishes he could just - make people be better.
It's the part of him he gave to Angua, the quiet faith that of course the beast within can be brought to heel, of course it's never easy but it's always worth it.
It's the part of him he gave to A. E. Pessimal, a small dull man living a small dull life whose eyes were opened wide one terrifying night to how much of a difference one small dull man's small dull life can make to the great churning wheels of the world.
It's the part of him he gave to the grags and to Mr. Shine, the proof that the truth is worth digging for and worth hauling up into the light, that it's possible to look beyond hatred and mistrust.
It's the part of him he gave to William de Worde, the knowledge that nothing is really worth doing unless someone, somewhere, would really much rather you weren't doing it.
It's the part of him he gave to Reg Shoe, that keeps Reg believing in the necessity of fighting for a better world even when it seems absurd and impossible and foolish to try.
It's the part of him he gave to Sham Harga, who knows every now and then, a man just needs some burnt crispy bits.
It's the part of him he gave to any number of strangers in the street, a sense of what fairness and justice can look like, even in something as small as a night patrol.
It's the part of him he gave to Sybil, the very best part of himself.
And it's everything of himself that he gave to Young Sam, who has a chance now to make his own impressions on a thousand thousand lives.
It's not just A part of Sam Vimes that will linger after his death, protecting the city he loved and hated in equal parts, the city that was his. It's a thousand thousand parts, that he left behind sometimes aware, sometimes intentionally, sometimes without even realising. And it's not something inherent within Sam Vimes and Sam Vimes alone, not something special about him or that only he could do. It's what everyone does, leaves parts and pieces of themselves behind. A thousand thousand parts of Sam Vimes are still out there, still saving the city, little by little, in quiet unglamourous ways, day after day after day.
If anything can be saved by a part of someone who's gone, it's like this.
And I think Sam Vimes would be proud of that.
(And also swear about it quite a lot when he realises this also implies that technically he's a factor in the lives of crime that some of the many, many people he's arrested over his long career have gone on to lead, but alas. We don't get to choose ALL the ripples we make in the world.)
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daylight - one
jj maybank x fem!reader | part 1 of the daylight series | read prologue here
content warnings: none
word count: 3.5k.
blurb: when your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, a stranger stops to help. It isn't until later that you realise why he seems so familiar.
It’s dusk, around eight at night, when you’re driving home. The dying sunlight is compensated by sparse street lamps. There weren’t many people in this area: houses or shops or anything of the sort. You glance down at your satnav. Still new to the area, all the streets look the same. All the houses do too, for that matter - at least those on the Cut. You’d ventured into Figure Eight last week on foot, camera in hand, and promptly turned back around. The Kooks were far from inviting; eyed you up like bait, practically snarling under breath at the sight of you. The houses were huge, stupid things compared to the two bedroom shack you and your parents had moved into. No, the Cut felt more welcoming. The people were genuine and real. Friendly and helpful, even if they had an edge.
“So…” Your friend Mimsy’s voice through the hands-free speakerphone brings you out of your daydreams. “How is it? Found any hot surfer bros yet?”
You laugh. “Sorry to break your heart but no, not yet.”
“Girl! What the hell have you been doing?” Mimsy scolds.
“I’ve been busy!”
“With what? Wallowing in self pity? Pining after my company?”
“Oh my God, how did you know?” you sarcastically return. “My life is just empty without you around, Mimsy.”
“Damn straight it is,” she mumbles.
Rolling your eyes, you continue down the street. “I’m looking for a side hustle to get some extra cash.”
“God, you’re so boring sometimes, you know that?”
You snigger. “How else do you want me to afford flights to Vancouver? It’s my only way to get back there and see you again. Unless you want me to hitchhike.”
“Nuh-uh! I just listened to the craziest story about hitchhiking! It's this guy called the ‘Glove Guy’ who roams Halifax and–”
“Mimsy,” you interrupt, “what’s our agreement?”
She’s quiet a moment, sighs and says, “one true crime story a day.”
“Mhm. And didn’t we already talk about Ted Bundy?”
“...yes.”
“I rest my case,” you say.
“Look, I’m just saying that if you have to get a job, maybe try and be the official photographer for the lifeguards or something.”
“Mimsy…”
“Then you can ogle at hot guys all day, catch a tan and get paid for it!”
Through Mimsy’s chatter and your stifled laughter, the engine makes a troubling rumble. With that, the whole car shudders. The steering wheel shivers in your grip and your stomach drops, panic rising. Smoke pummels out the hood. Clouds your vision.
“Oh fuck!”
“What? What is it?”
“I gotta call you back!” you blurt, hanging up in a hurry.
You take a fleeting glance in the mirrors and swerve off the road, shutting off the engine. The smoke makes you cough, catching in your lungs.
“Oh shit! Oh shit!” you continue to cuss, grabbing your phone, scrambling to get your keys out the ignition. Swinging the door open, you throw yourself out of the car and run away, scared it might catch on fire or even explode.
As you gape at it, chest heaving, you’re relieved to see the smoke is dying down with the engine shut off. Sighing, you plant your hands on your hips and look up and down. Nobody. Nothing. Not a gas station or a shop you can dash in for help. Hell, any shops would probably be closed either way. You reply to Mimsy’s frantic texts with a brief explanation and then contemplate calling your parents. Before you can, the sound of another car approaching catches your attention. It’s a campervan. Brown paint which is mostly chipped and peeling; stickers decorate the sides and windows. It’s well-loved and well-worn. There’s a guy driving, about your age from the looks, and he’s slowing down at the sight of you and your abandoned car.
He pulls up. Your skin prickles nervously. It’s lonely around here. The engine shuts off and you watch as he jumps out the car and saunters over, hands in his short pockets.
“You a’right?”
“Yeah,” you lie.
He quirks a brow and glances at your still steaming vehicle. “You sure ‘bout that?”
“I, uh,” you follow his line of sight and flail your arm uselessly at it. “Well, no. I kinda broke down.”
“Ah.” He wanders over to your car and whistles. “She’s smokin’, huh?”
“Yeah,” you nervously laugh, following. You keep a comfortable distance between the two of you.
He heads to the car hood. Glancing at you, he asks, “you mind?” whilst gesturing down to it. You shrug yes. He pops the hood and laughs through his coughs, fanning his face free of the smoke.
“Goddamn. The hell happened?”
“I don’t know. It just blew up on me out of nowhere,” you reply, coming over.
He pulls a rag out of one of his pockets and wafts it over the engine. As he checks out the engine, you do the same to him.
Donned in a grey t-shirt, graphic decal on the back mostly faded, and a pair of black cargo shorts and boots, he looks the image of Kildare County. His dark blonde hair is kept under a red cap. It’s fraying on the lip. A shark tooth necklace hangs around his neck, rings decorate a few of his fingers, and several string and beaded bracelets adorn his left hand. He’s good looking, even in the low visibility of the night. There’s also something strangely familiar about him. Almost like you’ve seen him before.
He meddles with something, nodding. You snap your eyes back up to his face from his well-kept figure just in time as he looks at you. “It’s the radiator. Seems to have overheated or detached or some shit. I mean, whatever happened has completely busted the thing.”
You raise your brows. “That supposed to mean something to me?”
Laughing, he shrugs and gestures at the mechanics. “In simple terms? The thing’s a goner. You’re gonna need a new part on it.”
“So I can’t drive it?”
“Nope. Not ‘til you get it fixed,” he replies.
You pinch the bridge of your nose and exhale deeply. “Fucking great.”
“I mean, there’s a garage not far from here. They’ll probably fix her up for you no problem. Have her good to go for Tuesday.”
“Tuesday!? I thought you said it just needs a new part?”
He takes off his cap, revealing a head of messy hair. Raking a hand through it, he says, “well, yeah, but you’re gonna need the part first. They might have to order it in and stuff.”
“Well, great,” you grumble. You pace away from the car and take your frustrations out by kicking the tyre. “That’s just great.”
“Look, if you want I can give you a tow.” Looking at him, he shrugs. “The garage ain’t far so it’ll be fine to take it using the Twinkie.”
“The who?”
He laughs at himself, shaking his head. “Sorry, uh, that’s what we call the campervan.”
“Oh. Right.”
You look around and take in the situation. It’s dark, isolated, and your phone is on 5% (thanks for that, Mimsy). Calling insurance and a tow company is only going to bump up your bill. Besides, this guy seems genuine. Non-threatening. You can practically hear Mimsy screaming at you from across the continent: so was Ted Bundy! Eyeing him up, you assure yourself you could probably take him if you really had to, and trust your female intuition and gut.
“Alright. Only if it’s close.”
“It is, I swear. I know the owner, Barry," he says. He pulls out his phone and types something on the screen. Then, he approaches with maps open, showing the garage. It’s true: it is nearby. Ten minutes max. “I mean, if you prefer I can just call you a tow or a cab or something.”
“No, no, it’s fine,” you say. You close the hood shut and shake your head, laughing. “Can’t believe my Goddamn luck.”
The guy laughs too. In your peripheral, you see him extend a hand to you. “I’m JJ.”
Shaking his hand, you introduce yourself. Then the two of you spend the next five or so minutes sorting out attaching your car to his van. He does most of the heavy lifting, almost jumping at the chance to flex his strength (not that you were complaining) and you do as he asks. Fasten this here; steer this whilst I push. Eventually, you’re good to go. He offers you the front or the back and you opt for the front. Mimsy is probably having an aneurysm about now.
The campervan smells of weed, damp and a dying air freshener. The front seats are red leather. It’s soft and supple and comfortable, and you hitch a leg up and rest one arm on the window ledge, watching the world pass by as JJ drives. The radio is humming out a Mac Miller song and it fills the semi-awkward silence.
“So, what’s with the accent?” JJ asks.
“What’d you mean?”
“I mean, you ain’t from round here, right?” JJ asks, glancing between yourself and the road.
Smiling, you reply, “Yeah, I’m not.”
“Where you from then? Midwest? East Coast?”
“Vancouver.”
“Vancouver? As in Canada Vancouver?” JJ checks, eyes growing wide.
You laugh quietly and nod. “Yep. As in Canada Vancouver.”
“God damn. You’re pretty far from home,” he laughs.
“Well, not anymore,” you reply, voice turning sombre. “We moved here.”
“In May? Pretty shitty time to move.”
“Tell me about it,” you mumble, looking back out the window. It hadn’t been your idea. In fact, you’d protested loudly against it.
“So, how you finding Kildare so far? Wait, scratch that - how you finding North Carolina?”
“Um…alright. You guys have pretty good waves here and the weed’s pretty good so at least there’s that.”
“Now you’re speaking my language,” JJ grins.
You laugh at that, feeling yourself relax more and more as the conversation continues. “Yeah, I think it’s the only thing getting me through.”
Love Lost fills the quiet that comes. You glance at JJ. He drives with one hand on the wheel, holding it by the top in his fist. The streetlamps sneak through the windows and highlight his features in flashes. And it’s in one of those flashes, when his handsome profile is illuminated, that you suddenly realise why you recognise him.
The kegger.
You quickly look away. Your eyes grow wide. Did he recognise you? Did he even remember that?
“I heard Vancouver’s pretty as fuck though,” JJ says, unaware of your quiet panic. “Pretty gorgeous scenery and shit, right?”
“Mhm,” you hum, heart ticking nervously. “You ever been?”
“Nah. Never left the States before.”
“Not even Canada?”
“Too far,” he shrugs. “Couldn’t dish out that kinda cash.”
“I hear you,” you say. “My friend Mimsy really wants me to go back this summer but I don’t know if I’m gonna be able to make enough in time to afford flights and stuff.”
“That blows,” JJ mumbles.
The conversation comes to a natural close when the garage comes into sight. Its neon sign shines bright in the dark like the beacon of a lighthouse. JJ pulls in and shuts off the engine. You linger in the car a moment to catch your breath whilst he looks at unhooking the tow gear.
It doesn’t seem he remembered you or that mortifying moment at the kegger. At least, if he did, he’s acting like he didn’t. So…That’s good, right? You can just move past the whole thing. Besides, it’s not like you were doing anything that weird. You took plenty of pictures that night (though everyone else was in pairs or groups) and it was a public get-together. It wasn’t like you were halfway up a tree and peeping through his window.
You jump at the sound of rapping on the passenger window. JJ’s stood there, frowning in confusion.
“You comin’?”
“Oh, yeah. Yeah,” you mumble, unbuckling your seatbelt and climbing out the van. You follow him into the shop.
A burly man sits behind the counter. He’s watching a sports game on a crackling television, drinking a beer shamelessly on the job. At the sound of the bell chiming above the door, he glances over. He seems to recognise JJ.
“Hey, Barry,” JJ grins.
“Hey there, kid,” Barry's gruff voice returns.
They share a bro-style hug and you awkwardly side by him near the counter. JJ plants a friendly hand on your shoulder.
“My friend here had her radiator blow-up on her just now. She needs it fixing up stat. Any chance you could get a push on it?”
“Just the radiator?” Barry checks, glancing between yourself and JJ.
JJ nods. “Yes, sir. I checked it out and it’s just overheated or some crap. A new one and I swear it’ll be good as new.”
“Hm…” Barry contemplates. He glances at the clock and the sports game and cringes. “I don’t know, kid. It’s late and I’ve had a long day. It’s a lot of extra work that I could just get done tomorrow.”
“Oh, come on, Barry,” JJ argues cordially. “How many times have me and my old man helped you out?”
“Your old man stole fifty bucks from me,” Barry grunts.
Your eyes dart down to the floor, lips pursing. Yikes.
JJ falters for only a moment. “Alright, well, forget that then. How many times have I helped out? I mean, I’ll pick up a shift or two if you want? Get you some new parts or something?”
Barry sighs. He looks to you again and you smile politely, hoping your nerves don’t show. He’s a scary looking guy. He could probably crush you with one fist. Both his arms are covered in sleeves of tattoos. He’s missing several teeth and there’s a teardrop tattooed below his left eye.
“She’s new to the County,” JJ feels the need to add. “Gotta show some good hospitality, right?”
With that, Barry relents. He gets to his feet and trudges to the window to eye up your car.
“What kinda car is it?”
You tell him, reeling off as much information as you can recall. He nods, back to you, and sighs again.
“Well, I think I do got a part back here for that, actually. I ain’t making any promises though,” Barry says. He heads into the back with that, leaving you and JJ in the store. The moment the older man is out of sight, JJ grins at you.
“Am I good or what?”
“Why are you helping me so much?” you find yourself asking.
JJ seems surprised by the question but not offended. “Dunno, really. You seem nice. And I always kinda wanted to be a knight in shining armour.”
“So that makes me, what? The damsel in distress?” you joke.
He paces the store leisurely, eyeing up car parts and accessories. “Suppose so. You’re from a far away land so you’re already half way there.”
You laugh. Glancing around the store, you find yourself drawn to the pinboard behind the counter. It’s cluttered with posters, deals, business cards, receipts, reminders and a calendar. Amidst it is pictures and thank you notes from children. One picture catches your eye. It’s of Barry, a few years younger, with a little girl.
“She’s cute,” you smile.
JJ joins you and follows your gaze. He smiles too, though it seems sad. “Yeah, that was his kid. She died about a year back now.”
“Wait, really?” you frown.
Sighing, JJ nods and looks to you. “Freak car accident. Poor kid drowned. Her mom too. Lost his wife and kid in the same day.”
“Shit,” you whisper, looking back at the photo. Your heart tugs at the thought and you feel guilty for judging him by his cover. You had your problems with your parents but you couldn’t imagine them gone from your life.
Barry returns to the store, car part in hand. JJ clasps his hands and tosses them above his head.
“Barry, you fucking g.”
“Alright. Alright, don’t kiss my ass too much, Maybank,” Barry quips. He heads for the door. “There’s soda in the fridge. You kids help yourself.”
With that, he grabs his toolkit and heads out to your car. JJ doesn’t need to be told twice. Whilst you feel rude for intruding on this man’s evening, JJ is happy to revel in the hospitality. He tosses a can at you before grabbing one for himself. You follow him out the back. The light from the store overflows onto the sheltered concrete. There’s two plastic garden chairs back here with a busy ashtray on the floor. JJ relaxes in one of the seats and you copy.
“You known Barry long?”
“Him and my dad go way back,” JJ replies, sipping his soda. “I used to come here all the time as a kid.”
“Sounds like they’re not on great terms right now, huh?” you say.
JJ sips his drink and shrugs, looking out to the abyss of greenery surrounding the garage. “Pretty standard for my dad. Kinda his M.O.”
You get the feeling that you hit a sensitive spot. Sipping your soda, you switch topics.
“So what do you guys do for fun around here, then?”
“Surf. Fish. Smoke,” JJ lists. “Sometimes we go to a kegger at the beach and stuff. You been to one yet?”
You wonder if he’s trying to rat you out but when you look at him, you see no sign. “Yeah, I went to one. I didn’t stick around very long though. Didn’t know anyone and felt kinda awkward.”
“That’s fair,” JJ says. He pulls a vape out of his pocket and takes a hit, and it’s like the nicotine gives him an idea. He turns to you, renewed energy. “Oh shit! You should come with my lot!”
“Hm?”
“My friends. You’d get along great with them, swear down,” JJ tells you. “You fish?”
“I can but I don’t exactly relish the opportunity.”
“Alright, well, that’s gonna change,” JJ says, making you laugh. “You surf too, right?”
“Mhm,” you nod. Vancouver had a good surf scene. You and Mimsy used to spend hours on the beach and in the waves, although part of the appeal for your friend was the surfer bros. They were her kryptonite.
“Well, it’s settled. You’re coming to the next hang we have,” JJ tells you with a grin.
He relaxes back in his chair and takes another hit of his vape. It smells like blue raspberry. As you watch him, you find yourself laughing.
“Alright, seriously,” you say. “Why the hell are you being so nice to me?”
“I told you: you seem nice.”
“Okay, but seriously,” you repeat.
JJ studies his vape for a moment and a knowing smile comes to his face. Chuckling, he sighs and relents, looking back to you. “Alright. You’re fuckin' hot. Sue me.”
You bark out a laugh. JJ cracks up too.
“What!? You asked!”
“No, no, I did,” you laugh, catching your breath. “That’s fair. I had that coming.”
“It’s just like you’re exactly my type. Kinda freaky really,” JJ continues. It seems that now the cat is out of the bag, he might as well let it roam free. “Like you’re smokin' hot and you surf and shit. And you got a dope accent, it's kinda exotic.”
“Since when was Canada exotic?” you laugh, rolling your eyes.
JJ shrugs with a boyish grin. His eyes stay trained on you. “I dunno. Since I met you, I guess.”
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t affected. JJ’s attraction hadn’t passed you by and, in truth, he was just your type as well. Confidence that borders on cocky: handy and hunky, but not in a steroid-style way…Maybe Mimsy wasn’t the only one who had a thing for surfer boys. To cool yourself from the intensity of his gaze, you take a sip of your soda.
“I just weren’t gonna say anything cause, you know, I didn’t wanna freak you out,” JJ admits.
“Freak me out? How so?”
“Random guy, random area. Alone?” he replies. Sheepish, he shrugs. “Might be kinda creepy.”
You catch his drift. Shrugging, you flash him a smile. “Nah, you didn’t freak me out. You’re not too bad to look at yourself.”
“Gee, don’t hold back,” JJ sarcastically returns. You laugh. “Look, you ain’t gotta say anythin' about it. I think you should still come hang with me and my friends, whether you’re madly in love with me or not.”
“Wow, are you confident?” you chuckle incredulously.
JJ grins. “Charming, ain’t it?”
“One word for it,” you return. You debate his offer and come to a conclusion pretty quick. Lord knows you could do with some friends, and if his gang were anything like himself, you could see yourself getting along just fine. “But yeah, I’d be down to hang with you and your friends.”
“Sweet.” JJ holds his can out for a toast. “Then let me be the first to say, welcome to Kildare.”
You clink your can against his with a small laugh and the two of you drink. Maybe your new life won’t be as boring as you first thought.
part two coming soon!
taglist:
princesssuki21 |
#jj#jj maybank#jj x reader#jj maybank x reader#obx#outerbanks#outer banks#obx series#outer banks series#outerbanks series#obx fic#outer banks fic#outerbanks fic#jj fic#jj maybank fic#jj x reader fic#jj maybank x reader fic#jj x reader series#jj maybank x reader series
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Some fluff w Koushi maybe?🫶
koushi realizing barista!reader is pretty cute
thanks for the request! this was a cute and refreshing prompt for me <3 much love!!
warnings. none
info. sfw / fluff / college!au / coffeeshop!au / simple but cute / suga wears cardigans / timeskip!suga / like imagine english teacher suga pulling a stretchy cardigan over himself ugh so cute / 630 words
links. haikyuu collection. masterlist. requests open. my ao3
"Good morning!" A gentle voice blessed your ears.
You smiled without looking up from the register.
Mr. Cardigan's ritual began. Glance over the menu, top-right to the espresso drinks, consider getting a decaf-- of course he won't go with the decaf, it was 7:40 and he was already tapping his foot to get to his 8 a.m class. Then he would decide on his tried and true as if it were a brand new idea:
"Double espresso, steamed milk, sweetened with honey."
He was wearing a face of mild shock, a touch of embarrassment, when you looked up from the order you already input.
"Oh, shit--," You laughed, warm at your slip-up, "I'm so sorry."
"Nono, it's- it's fine," He sported a similar color.
After a moment's hesitation, he chuckled and gave you his card.
Your Monday, Wednesday, Friday shift lined up with everyone who had a MWF 8 a.m (+9, 9:30, 10:00, and 10:30, regrettably). He was one of the few you cared to remember since he was such a cutie and he usually tipped you well.
"It's been a long morning, I get it," He graced you with a smooth forgiveness.
You sighed, relieved, and agreed wholeheartedly.
Spring semester was right at the close. Most were coming in to the Business building's little ground-level cafe early or late to cram for finals. He stayed consistent throughout the past few months, though, with his 7:40 sharp arrival.
7:44 if there was a line, but that was Mondays. Fridays weren't as busy because so many people skipped. But reliable Mr. Cardigan never missed a class.
"Almost done, though," You handed him his card back and spun the tip screen around for him, expecting nothing this time.
"Thank god," He tapped for No Receipt and closed his wallet.
He stood at the counter with his hands crossed in front of him to wait for his drink.
He never noticed how pretty your hands were before today. He looked down at his own kinda stumpy fingers. Then he watched -careful not to come across as creepy- at how gingerly you held the mug to the steam wand while screwing the filter in place.
The urge to talk to you nudged at the back of his throat, but he fell silent when you flipped the switch on.
The espresso machine was always a little too loud to talk over.
It was a graceful background noise to those who studied in this lobby, and a good backdrop to stay quiet to.
This time, he didn't feel as though your usual exchange was natural anymore. He wanted to talk, but didn't know quite how. The usual 4-minute wait felt like ages, but today he wasn't keen on leaving until he spoke to you again.
Your eyes flitted over his when you turned towards the lobby side for the honey.
His broad shoulders tensed and he turned his head to take false interest in some of the artwork on the walls. He didn't realize he was staring so hard.
He wondered how long you had been paying attention to him. If was just habit, or maybe a fondness had been growing and he was always too tired to notice anything other than how well you made his drink.
Now it was impossible not to overthink your friendly customer-service smile, or the smiley face you always put on the side of his cup.
Say something!
He repeated it so many times that his mind had been made unintentionally blank when you held the cup up for him to take over the counter.
"Good luck with finals," You said softly.
When he reached for his latte, your fingertips brushed for the tiniest moment. An intense heat crept up the back of his neck.
A shaky, "You, too," was all he could manage.
masterlist.
requests open.
#x reader#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#takesone#haikyu fluff#hq x reader#suga x reader#suga haikyuu#koushi sugawara#sugawara x reader#sugawara koushi#sugawara kōshi#sugawara fluff#sugawara x reader fluff#suga x reader fluff#koushi x reader fluff#koshi sugawara#koshi sugawara x reader#koshi sugawara x reader fluff#x reader fluff#fluff#haikyuu x reader fluff#coffeshop au#college au
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Hello! Not sure if you'll respond but I thought I'd ask about it anyway.
Would you happen to know of any fics with a very complex characterization of Draco and Harry with a bit of gut wrenching situations? Preferably older D&H after the war. I'm even open to tragedy, even cheating(?) and just something that is out of the ordinary. I know I'm shit at explaining this but, I'm just like, craving a fic that has adult problems, where one/both of them are at a moment of life where things are complex. Maybe H left D a while ago and married someone else, and then after a few years he sees him again and is just lost in a haze of "what if I hadn’t?" or "what to do with myself now?" because getting back with him isn’t easy? I'm sorry for this weird messy ask but you are the first person who came to my mind who I thought could help me out? Sorry for rambling so much! It's definitely alright if you can't find anything like this of course! Have a great day!
What an interesting ask, anon! I’m a bit picky with gut-wrenching themes but I do love myself a thought-provoking, mature fic. It’s about the implications and complications amirite 🤌🏼 this list is a personal take so I’m not sure it is what you’re looking for, but here are some fics that came to mind when I read your ask. Pls mind the tags before jumping in. I’d be very curious to see what my followers rec too!
Kissed by Pie (M, 12k)
Draco Malfoy was attacked by a rogue Dementor on the night of his Azkaban release. He self-exiled to Muggle London and opened a late-night chocolate shop called Kissed.
Poor Unfortunate Souls by DoubleApple (E, 19k)
Draco is a potioneer. Harry is trying to save his sex-challenged marriage. Everything is a mess, but at least there's an octopus in the lobby.
Unfinished Business by cupiscent (E, 20k)
Ten years after the War ends, Harry and Draco still haven't got their act together. But maybe it's not too late.
Stain of Silence by brummell (E, 28k)
After the war, Draco serves out his sentence in Harry Potter's house.
He Who Must Not Be Normal by lettered (E, 41k)
Potter has fame and fortune and posh clothes and all he wants is a simple life. Draco has a flat and a cat and a steady job and all he wants is a complicated life. Which makes you think this story has something exciting like body-swapping, but it doesn’t.
On One's Knees by pir8fancier (E, 34k)
The war is over and to the victors go the spoils. If you are triggered by infidelity, this is not the fic for you.
REVOLVEVLOVER by firethesound, zeitgeistic (E, 46k)
The work Harry does is justifiable. It’s justice. He works for his country, and his country is a republic—the magical side, anyway. It’s not laudable work, it’s not work he’s proud of, but it’s necessary work. Harry has always taken the necessary jobs that no one else has the stomach for. It’s just that he’s never deciphered a kill sheet and seen Draco Malfoy’s name on it.
Nightingale by michi_thekiller (NC-17, 60k)
God loved the birds and invented trees. Man loved the birds and invented cages. -Jacques Deval
Super Rich Kids by trishjames (E, 81k)
Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of thieving cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.
Merlin Works in Mysterious Ways by lordhellebore (M, 82k)
When Harry is forced to form a Blood Bond with Draco Malfoy under threat of death, he thinks his future will consist of a cold home and sexual frustration. But when a group of left-over Death Eaters decides to stir trouble, their lives change completely – and it takes them both some years to figure out whether it’s for better or for worse.
Danse Russe by Frayach (E, 140k)
True Love. Soul Mates. They're just words until put to the test. Harry and Draco have a bond that was forged in the hell of the post-war years and pulled them both back from an abyss of nihilism and self-destruction. Nothing can break it, or so they believed. But True Love can demand sacrifices too great to bear and deeds too terrible to justify.
Plus 2 fics I haven’t read but can vouch for the authors as I’m very familiar with their work:
Unhook the Stars by jad (E, 70k)
Seventy-thousand words of pornographic discourse between two boys-turned-men that still haven't learned how to communicate like normal people – with words.
Freedom to be by Quicksilvermaid (E, 170k)
Harry Potter is the Boy Who Lived. 12 years after the war, he's become the Boy Who Lived For Everyone Else. He has the perfect wife. The perfect house. The perfect job. The perfect friends. Only nothing feels perfect.
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a love so cruel, it's a sin.
rafayel x mc (they/them | GN reader)
god of the tides, forbidden sea timeline
word count: ~1.5k
tw: angst, blood, murder, stabbing, major character death
summary: love will be the downfall of lemuria. rafayel has heard this one too many times and thought of it as a bunch of rubbish words, not that he would ever fall for someone, right? how can someone fall when all they have been taught is to protect and rule over an entire civilization. he would have a horrible wake up call that forces him to choose... his people, or them.
writer's note: this is the first time i'm using they/them, so if you see any mistakes or me using feminine pronouns, please excuse it. i'll look through this again at a later time. anyways, i hope you all enjoy this because phew... it's been a while since i posted something like this and oof. just stashing it.
to kiss a lemurian is to grant the human the ability to breathe underwater.
they remembered something in the myths they read through the duration before the day they were to be sacrificed to satisfy the sea god and keep the lands safe from the god’s rage. so they had already accepted their faith; however, of course that acceptance washes away like the waves crashing against the ship that held the offerings and them.
rafayel, annoyed by the humans, could only scoff as he overheard the men speaking about what the sacrifice and offerings will do for the sea god. all rubbish.
and he thinks they’re no better than the rubbish he was brought up to believe in or rather place his duties upon.
to protect and rule over the entire civilization of lemuria.
love would be the downfall of lemuria.
suppose the seas are lucky that rafayel had no inkling when it came to love. it was hard to even form some understanding with the concept when it was never introduced. his devout follower shouldn’t have anything to do with him possibly falling in love with them. they were just a tool for the elders (such as himself) to ensure the survivability of lemuria.
the elders never truly cared for anything else other than their sea god and lemuria.
and rafayel had no inkling as to why he would save the human, perhaps it was to get back at the humans for the misconceptions about sacrifices and to appease the angry god or perhaps he was so desperate to find a devout follower just to get elder amund off his back about the prophecy. regardless, he now had the human with him, but he didn’t know how much they were going to mean to him.
the elders saw it immediately the moment rafayel brought the human into one of the rooms rather than in some cellar below the palace. they see the way rafayel looks at his newfound devout follower and what was once something innocent and nothing derived from feelings within they had made sure rafayel would never experience to make the ceremony run as smooth as possible.
the past transgressions of the prior sea god were beginning to show in rafayel and the elders have then since begun panicking. somewhere in the cracks of the prophecy on the slate spells the tragedy of a god falling in love with a human and the downfall of lemuria would commence.
it was hidden underneath the gold paint that was near impossible to wash off, so no one, but the elders knew of the mistakes that were made and what had to be done in order to ensure the fall of lemuria will never come true.
that is why rafayel’s teachings had nothing to do with falling in love. if anything, they would deter him from even looking into the subject.
“what exactly is love, elder amund?”
“something that will bring down the entirety of the civilization we have lived with for many years.”
“is it truly that horrible?”
“love blinds you from your duties. it pulls you into the depths of nothingness—a facade of something beautiful that evidently makes you forget your people. you... forget who you are.”
rafayel thinks thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit, but then again, the concept of love never crosses his mind. if he were to pursue such a thing, it would be to spite the elders. and so he thought that was exactly what he would be doing.
until it wasn’t just out of spite, but out of feelings that they managed to pull from him. it is shared between glances towards one another, the subtle brush of rafayel’s fingers against theirs, and the fleeting kisses the god would steal from them.
it is only a tragedy when the god loves a human back.
rafayel figured out what the elders were planning to do. the day he brought the human back to the surface under the guise of having them show him what the sunrise looks like, he meant to keep them there and not to return to lemuria, but little did rafayel know that the elders had already spoken to them about the truth of the ceremony.
how rafayel needs their heart otherwise he and the rest of lemuria would be turned to seafoam and all its glory would crumble to ruins. they agreed to continue the ceremony unbeknownst to the god himself. that is until something his devout follower stated made him aware that they were willing to give their heart just for him to continue his duties.
his duties he never wanted to begin with.
and it is then that he utterly despises, not only the elders, but his existence in general.
the night comes to where all hell is let loose.
rafayel had made it clear to the elders that he would not abide to prophecy and surely there is some other way to maintain the entirety of lemuria without having to cut the heart of a human out of their chest.
“it is rubbish.”
“it is the prophecy, rafayel!”
“then i refuse to do so... i—”
“do not speak it, those words should not be carried through the currents.”
rafayel pauses with a smirk on his face. “i love them. i will not take their heart even if they are willing to do so.”
“rafayel!”
but rafayel was already gone and meeting with his now lover, holding them close and cupping their face. they share a kiss and then more, limbs tangled between the sheets as they proclaim their love to one another. neither of the two lovers knew of the horrors that would come after their first and last time intertwined both in body and soul.
that would be their final night together. spoken secrets between the two, the pinnacle of lemuria’s impending downfall.
it comes too quickly and rafayel is enraged by his foolishness. he is too late when he meets with them again. he already felt something off. the way they smiled at him wasn’t the way he remembered them doing so. it felt distant, as if something else was controlling them. they weren’t the person he had allowed himself to fall for.
“rafayel, my love... come closer. i’ve missed you. i need you.” they whisper with a knife behind their back. “let us leave this place and live together happily. would you not like that, my lord?”
“you—” he shakes his head, but his feet move. his body yearned for theirs, there’s a scent he catches from them, oddly enough through the currents of the water that pushes against them, their clothes flowing by it and he couldn’t help but continue the steps towards, almost as if hypnotized as he gets closer to to them before stops before them. “this is not you.”
“or perhaps... you never know who i truly was. did you not wish to take my heart for the sake of all of lemuria? how foolish, rafayel. you are utterly fool—”
they stop the moment rafayel grabbed their face and pressed his lips hard against theirs as if somewhere in the back of his head, that kiss would break whatever spell the elders had placed upon her. “come back to me.” he whispers, desperately as he clings onto them. “come back to me, and we will escape this place. just me and you—”
but his efforts are proven futile; his lack of ascension to godhood did not match the ancient powers of the elders who have lived much longer than he has. their magic is far more potent than anything he was able to conjure. and he knows this the moment he feels a dagger—his dagger—stabbed through his chest. the blade twists and pulls, repeatedly. he lost count after the first few stabs and yet he holds onto them tighter.
“i will not... i cannot kill you like they wish for me to do... my love, my devout follower... my... my beloved pearl.” he speaks weakly, between harsh breaths.
but he watches as his lover’s face twists into something foreign to him. the look in their eyes lost to the spell and he watches as their resolve slips.
they’re laughing.
they’re taunting.
“oh, rafayel, help me! help me! save me from this wretched curse placed upon me!” they giggle with a mocking tone that pierces through rafayel's chest until he finds himself collapsed on the floor.
he couldn’t understand if this was their true nature or the nature of the spell, but he feels the pain intensifying even more as his lover’s face contorts to something of sheer insanity. they flee the palace and the wake of their rampage, shrills coming from within the palace walls carry through his ears. and his final moments punctuated by the elders filing into the room.
“we tried to help you, sea god.”
“those who go against what is written in the prophecy must be punished.”
“this is what lemuria becomes because of your betrayal.”
“this is your fault.”
“you chose them over your people; you chose love... and love will be the downfall of lemuria.”
the words ring in his mind as visions of lemurians being slaughtered fills his head and the last of it was the beginning and ending to the lemurian civilization and whalefall city brought to ruins with the rest of lemuria soon to follow suit.
all because he had chosen love. and tragedy spares no one, not even the gods.
#not beta read btw#blood#stabbing#murder#major character death#angst#rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel lnd#lnd rafayel#rafayel lnds#lnds rafayel#rafayel l&ds#l&ds rafayel#love an ddeepspace#lnd#lnds#l&ds#rafayel x reader#reader x rafayel#lnds drabbles
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Their First Thought About You
Aegon: Your personality is just as enchanting as your appearance - you are both kind and intelligent, always eager to learn and experience new things. Your courage and loyalty are unmatched, as well as your passion for helping those in need. Your strength and resilience would have made even the greatest warriors envious. In you, he finds a true partner – someone who balances his strengths and weaknesses with your own, someone who understands him in a way no one else ever could.
Aemond: Your skin is soft like silk but strong like Valyrian steel, and your every move is as elegant as the dances of a dragon. Whenever you speak, he could listen to your tales for all time, even the most poetic songs of Westeros could not measure up to your voice. He would lay his head on the softest of pillows if it meant he could spend just one single night with you.
Jacaerys: Like an intricate painting crafted by the gods themselves, every inch of you is perfect. Even the Gods would be envious of your divine beauty, and the stars in the night sky wish to dance upon your skin. Her gentle voice makes even the Seven Kingdoms fall silent in awe.
Lucerys: His first thought on you, is that you are a great beauty and a pleasure to be around. He admires your strength and grace, and he loves the way you look at him, with your beautiful eyes.
Rhaenyra: She loves your eyes that shine like gemstones in the sunlight. Your smile could light up even the darkest room, and your laugh is the most beautiful sound she has ever heard. She loves that you're intelligent and witty, with a sharp mind and a quick tongue. You are not just a pretty face, but a powerful force to be reckoned with. She is honored to know you and she would do anything to make you smile.
Daemon: He adores the way you turn away shyly when you share a glance, and your fierce competitiveness when sparring… he could go on and on for days about you. Your conversations are like music to his ears, he hangs on to every word you utter, every story you share- even though you're the most beautiful person in, possibly, the entire world.
Alicent: When you smiled at her, it was like time stood still and all she could see was you. Your eyes sparkled like the ocean on a sunny day, and your hair glowed like the moon on a cloudless night. Your voice was like a soothing melody, and your laugh was the most melodious sound she had ever heard. In your presence, she felt like nothing else in the world mattered.
Helena: Every moment she spends with you is a moment she will forever cherish. When you laugh, your joy is music to her ears. When you're upset, she wants to hold you tightly and whisper sweet words. You're intelligent beyond measure, and could easily rule over the Seven Kingdoms if you desired. She would go insane if you weren't there because you are her other half.
Harwin: That you have the most captivating eyes he's ever seen, they reflect the stars of the night sky. You have a fierce and strong demeanor, but a kind soul. He can't take his eyes off you whenever he stares at you, your beauty hypnotizes him. You're the first person he thinks of when he wakes up, and the last one he thinks of at night. You're everything he's ever hoped for and desired.
Cregan: When you speak, your voice is like a symphony of the purest silk and your scent is like an intoxicating fragrance that leaves him in a trance. Your every move is like a dance, and each breath you take is a melody that whispers secrets of the universe. Your every glance is like a bolt of lightning, setting his soul ablaze with an undying fire.
Criston: You had long captivated him from the very first time you'd spoken. With your flowing wave of soft hair and tantalizing eyes, he found himself utterly entranced by your beauty and charm. He often found himself lost in thought, wondering what secrets lie beneath your captivating facade.
#aegon targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen x reader#jacaerys velaryon x reader#lucerys velaryon x reader#rhaenyra targaryen x reader#daemon targaryen x reader#alicent hightower x reader#helena targaryen x reader#ser harwin strong x reader#cregan stark x reader#ser criston cole x reader#house of the dragon#hotd
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Ranni and the Tarnished's Children
So, I've been replaying Elden Ring, getting hyped for Shadow of the Erdtree, so I wanted to imagine what children Ranni and the Tarnished might have. If you believe they're physically incapable then just imagine they magicked them up with God-Powers or something.
ONTO THE KIDS!
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Blaiddyd (pronounced: Bly-thid) (Translated: Wolf Lord).
Named for his uncle Blaidd the Half Wolf, Blaiddyd is the eldest Demigod child of Ranni and her Consort. Tall and blonde, he actually takes after his uncle Radahn quite a bit, being loud, friendly, and boisterous. In Build terms, he's an STR/Faith build, drawing on his faith in his parents rather than in any of the Gods like the Golden Order.
Blaiddyd has an intensely protective streak for his younger siblings and is generally an outgoing and friendly guy. But he does have a wolf's temper and can be a devil in the battlefield, entering something like a Berserker rage.
Blaiddyd fights with the Claymore and his Incantations, especially the Black Flame incantations of the Godskins using the Godslayer's Seal. Both his parents are a bit concerned about his interest in those arts. However, in serious situations, he uses the Sacred Relic Sword, entrusted to him by his parents as a show of trust and faith.
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Rhiannon (pronounced: Ree-anne-on) (translated: Great Queen)
Named for her grandmother, Rennala of the Full Moon, Rhiannon is actually one of a set of twins. A quiet and reserved girl with pale skin and the red hair of her mother's true form, Rhiannon prefers her actions to speak over her words. She's a DEX/Faith build, relying on speed and incantations and her faith in her family to see her through.
While naturally taciturn, she is actually quite shy as well, and has a hard time speaking to other. She is a Demigod, like Blaiddyd, and often proves the more level headed one when she commands on the battlefield with her brother.
Rhiannon prefers spears and knives in combat, using Incantations only to bolster her already remarkable agility and dexterity. She prefers the Cross-Naginata if she had to choose, and also uses the Dragon Communion Seal as those are the incantations she prefers to use and is renown as something of a Dragon Hunter for it. But in dire circumstances she uses the Bolt of Gransax.
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Idris (translated: Ardent Lord)
Named for his uncle Iji, Idris is a brilliant scholar of a Demigod, spending most of his time perusing ancient texts and tomes, seeking new and fascinating magics. He is the twin of Rhiannon, though his sister feels more kinship with Blaiddyd than Idris, though that suits him fine, as Idris enjoys his solitude.
A tall and lean brunette, Idris is fascinated by magic, especially Death Sorceries, and retains a frustration at his mother for her refusal to allow him to study the Rune of Death to further his research in the field, though he secretly relishes the challenge of working without it.
While not much of a fighter, Idris uses his grandmother's Regal Scepter for his casting, and a Carian Crystal Dagger is her really must get dirty with it.
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Mairwen (translated: Blessed Love)
Mairwen, named for the Kindling Maiden Melina who guided her father on his journey, Mairwen is not a Demigod.
She is an Empyrean. A candidate for Godhood. Her mother's heir.
Mairwen is an albino with white hair and eyes, and almost completely mute, save whispering to her parents and siblings when she feels she has something important to say. She's the youngest of the family, and yet perhaps the most powerful, as befitting a God in Bud. Her scarlet pure white eyes see to see everything and nothing at once.
Mairwen is a master of Faith and Intelligence, using sorcery and incantations in equal measure using Azur's Glintstone Staff and the Erdtree Seal, given to her by her father after a secret conversation. But should the occasion call for it, she unleashes the Sword of Night and Flame, and shows her foes true terror.
#incorrect super smash bros#Elden Ring#Soulsborne#Shadow Soulsborne Ring#Ranni#Lunar Princess Ranni#Tarnished#The Tarnished#Ranni x Tarnished#Rennala#rennala queen of the full moon#rennala of the full moon#OC#OCs#Claymore#Godslayer's Seal#Sacred Relic Sword#Sorcery#Magic#Fantasy#Demigod#Empyrean#Shadow of the Erdtree
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Are we just gonna ignore the ticking time bomb which is the truth about Lucifer's fall (eventually) coming out? What would or why would it happen? Or would Uriel and the other old angels take that one to the grave?
lucifer's fall is a now complicated narrative - anything written in uriel's books on the matter is obviously false, fabricated as god directed him to do so, but the memories of the angels from that time have been repeatedly put into question, making it difficult for even those directly involved in the war to now say what happened in those days. compounding this is the simple fact that god is seen as infallible and so, therefor, as the end authority on what the truth really is. uriel doesn't have access to thoughts, but god does. to this end, if god tells them all the lucifer had designs to take over his throne, that he was scheming, jealous, wicked, it must be so. lucifer's words, his public stance against god, were nothing more than lip service - he is the father of lies and used deception to his ends. at first, it's difficult for those who knew him to believe even if god's word must be so. yet, as time goes on, as they forget lucifer, as they forget his boundless love and his endless passion, they begin to accept it, believe in it, and ultimately hold it as gospel. because of their closeness, the archangels do hold private reservations, with michael's being the worst and resulting in the manifestation of his dogmatic adherence to god, but otherwise...it is widely accepted and adopted as true, even for those who were a part of the war. unfortunately, hell has access to the testaments.
now the testaments. aren't that important to v1. the history of this place isn't of particular interest to it and it largely puts them out of its mind after quickly reading and filing them away. however, gabriel will ultimately have to reach a true point of reckoning and deconstruction of his faith - he has reflected on god's world and its falsehoods, in his fall he has reveled for a time in rebelling against it and everything he was under it, but once the turbulence slows, he needs to actually confront himself as an angel that has lost its faith in god. and i think during that time, with all its suffering, its hate, its grief, v1 directs him toward the testaments it nearly threw in its trash bin. he deserves to see the truth as god himself wrote it rather than be an abandoned child left guessing. and while they hold a myriad of hard truths for gabriel to process, the truth of lucifer is devastating. he questioned the existence of hell, he questioned the validity of its purpose, and for that he was cast out. because god didn't have an answer. when gabriel sifts through the haze of eons, digs under the story as told by god, pushes past the severe punishments they all endured under the guise of rooting out any more like lucifer (used, in no small part, to make them all hate him, to make it seem as though their agony was caused by lucifer instead of god), he can remember him in parts. it's so hard to undo the damage done, all the deception, punishments, and threats god used to make them all weapons against lucifer, but now as a fallen angel, gabriel is faithless just enough to find his way to his own real memories.
they aren't strong. they barely cling to the corners of his mind after so much battering. but he remembers what it felt like in lucifer's presence, the warmth and jubilation of his experience. he radiated love and his words poured forth that love, his brilliance shared with all that joined to him. the pieces are broken, but i think this, paired with working up his courage to actually seek lucifer out and seeing his fate, would set gabriel on a campaign to finally pull his memory out of the shit god callously cast it into and force heaven to really see who they still cleave to. he deserves that much, though he may be now warped beyond recognition like so many of the angels that fell with him. and while he can do little to fight for this directly, his main goal is to make his siblings see what he does. they will all be VERY resistant to his attempts, but it would likely be uriel who is the first to admit to falsehoods in this narrative - he's written enough edited content to know god directed him to lie in his histories, so he accepts it the easiest. the other two prove much more difficult - raphael wants little to do with the conversation and michael is incredibly volatile at the idea. and gabriel knows why. he understands it. raphael is kind, he is so gentle-hearted the truth is too terrible to swallow - and, selfishly, he wants peace and harmony. this would disrupt the comfort he and all of heaven has left, and his main directive is always, always to make things comfortable. michael is just as obvious, he has combated this in his own soul for all this time, tearing apart from the inside out over the idea that lucifer may not have deserved his awful punishment and how holding that belief made him some kind of apostate in his own mind. so any mention of it sends him into a rage, proclaiming his hatred for lucifer and condemning gabriel's own hell-twisted mind for contorting the truth so.
the only way they could be convinced is to read the testaments for themselves and be sure it is god's word (hard to deny i think, as i hc they are written in the language of heaven which nothing in hell can reproduce...and v1 must actually interpret it for gabriel, as the words burn his eyes and nauseate him, so could come from no infernal source) raphael recoils from it, retreating into prayer as though that could change the words in front of him. uriel is....resigned yet ashamed, like he always knew this to be true and feels his hand in perpetuating it for all this time. but in reality, michael's determination is the most important - he is still the prince of heaven regardless of his current state, and so is now their highest authority. and he sees the words. he sees himself. he sees all this has come to, the kingdom of god as the banner he carried and his broken little family gathered around him. in spite of themselves, they want him to say something. but god's word is his word. he reads it for what it is and michael, always so legal, always so literal, can interpret it only one way. he grasps at his scripture, yet the closest crime worthy of hell he can attribute it to, accusing the work of the holy spirit to be evil, hardly fits. he would be twisting canon's meaning and lucifer's words, as he only questioned. he just asked. it could be a sin to ask...but never a sin that couldn't be repented. the more he thinks on it in measured silence, the more he knows he's inserting ambiguity where there is none. god transposed his guilt onto lucifer, knowing it was wrong. and michael can't go against the word of god.
he will determine with raphael and uriel how best to tell heaven. and he will finally undo his chains
#not that michael's determination here doesn't. spark immediate debate lol#but he is nothing if not true to god's word#and i like to think this begins to MAJORLY release michael from his role of wrath-bearer and back into his mercy#a lot. goes into why he decides this too#v2. the ferryman. gabriel in his fall. his own existential and physical deterioration#SORRY i didn't get into the actual what would happen part#but the fallout would require a lot of my rambling too lol#heaven would be in an absolute tumult!!! michael heretic arc#cake answers#lucifer#fallen gabriel#michael#raphael#uriel#rise and fall au
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Yeah, people like to think that (adult) Jason’s snarky, cutting, and unapologetic post crisis characterization and the (mostly) “watered down”, docile personality he’s had from N52/rebirth onwards are irreconcilable, and that the shift was just an editorial decision with the intent of marketing him as a “likeable” hero.
While that last part might be true, have they considered that textually it makes perfect sense that being consistently in contact with an abuser just does that to a person. Wears them down until they feel like nothing but a husk, without any discernible direction or opinions of their own. If it isn’t completely burnt out yet, they (consciously or unconsciously) suppress that part of themselves that thinks independently either for self-preservation or to keep the peace. Considering anyone, even “mentally strong” people could fall victim to mental abuse, it’s actually pretty realistic imo.
#kelseethe#like what do you mean the shift ‘makes no sense’#have you even met Bruce#he is a hell pit of darkness that sucks the life out of everyone who cares enough about him to put up with all of his problems#okay maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration but#even the most headstrong of people would wither away if they spent years trying to love and care for someone as volatile as him#that much is true#in other words I think Gotham war should be a wake up call for Jason and he should start doing everything in his power to fuck with Bruce#And then cut him off entirely#though nothing he could come up with would hold a candle to Bruce ‘God of torture’ Wayne#Bruce’s actions actually make perfect sense#You become so obsessed and fixated with torture and you genuinely glorify it#To the point that’s all you know how to do even when you’re trying to do good#this is magnificent I love it#and will continue to so long as Jason is fucking fuming after this#anyway even at his most extreme Jason was never a terrorist-level threat lol#like you know there’s a difference between#‘I'm going to do what I want and you're going to accept it. you can keep doing whatever it is you convince yourself is right though’#and seeing someone who disagrees with you then spending years wanting and trying to destroy their ability to disagree as a whole#right?#and yikes. with the power and resources someone like Bruce has? so dangerous.
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i don't know how to be merely acquaintances when we used to be friends. or i think we used to be. i don't know how to yearn for a simple hello when you've been heaping your affection on me months ago, and i don't know how to talk to you when you won't say anything. when suddenly it's all about me. you know i have nothing to say, you know my brain is void of everything but horribleness and i cannot tell you about my day because i don't even know about my day. i cannot tell you about my day when i know you won't listen, when i know you'll apply your philosophy to my world and don't believe me when i say that everything is terrible. i don't know how to be the person you seem to think i am, or the person you want in your life. i don't know if you want anyone else in your life now that you're in love and sappy, found another recipient for your affections, leaving me empty and wounded and yearning.
you said you missed me. said it many times, while i was gone. now i'm back, have been back, and i wonder how you missed me, why you missed me, when you won't talk to me. i think you mistook missing for worrying. i think you mistook caring for a feeling of obligation. i think you like missing me more than talking to me.
and i think i can't breathe with how much that hurts
#how do you miss me when you won't talk to me? how do you like me so much and then go to just. not?#how did i let you in when i try so hard not to let people do that because i know that once they get past the walls all i'll be left with#is the idea of them rotting and withering inside me. polluting the space i create to keep myself safe.#why does everyone leave? leave in silence too. leaving behind so many questions and so many words engraved in my brain#i am so tired of *grieving* when those i grieve are still alive and well and thriving and i'm reminded that it's versions of myself#that i'm grieving instead. how do you grieve yourself? how do you not fucking fall apart over it?#just. fucking talk to me. don't make it be true that all i'll ever be is nothingness and the memory of someone you liked once#but never never never liked enough#i'm so so cold already. i'm a shell. i want to be warm again but it always leaves me so hollow and hurting#i grieve the dio who was warm. i grieve them i miss them i am so so angry that he had to leave. to hide. with no way out#i'm happy for you. i'm happy you're happy. but you're no better than anyone else and it makes me want to run away again#but i have nowhere else to run and no one else to be. and it's so fucked that it doesn't matter who i am i'll never be enough#for someone to just. stay. to see me and to stay. to hear me and to sit and listen and just. just fucking stay.#maybe i'm not worth staying for. maybe there's nothing to know nothing to hear nothing to see nothing to listen to nothing to find#maybe all i'll ever get is one/two good months paid for with a lifetime of grief. and i'm at the point where i don't want the good months#anymore with you or anyone else who tears down these walls with affection that is so endlessly addictive and leaves me yearning.#on the off chance that it will keep the grief away too. but that's the thing about grief isn't it? it's here to stay. unlike you#god this is so fucked up and i'll delete this later but for now i just need to. let it out. poe said i should make a side blog for the grie#but poe's not there anymore. poe has stopped starting fires. so this goes on main until shame makes me take it down#blah#personal#not st
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I'm a big advocate of just blocking and moving on when seeing bad takes about your interests but that's mostly because I rarely travel outside the small circle of artists and mutuals I follow and ohhhh boy after having seen the worst take about a beloved blorbo I suddenly understand everything, it was like a redditer overtook my body and I almost went into a rage as I resisted the urge to "um actually" and type up an entire essay in ops comment section but I persevered. Are you all proud of me.
#im mostly being hyperbolic but gosh#it's still eating me up inside so i will continue to complain about it here in the tags lol#so just scroll away if you don't wanna see me complain about things that don't matter<3#anyway i just saw someone say how karlach worked dorna slaver and would still be working for him if he hadn't betrayed her#implying she was only against gortash because his actions directly affected her#when FIRST IF ALL SHE WAS AN ORPHANED CHILD WHO WAS MANIPULATED BY HIM#AND SHE EVEN SAID IN HER OWN WORDS THAT SHE NEVER WOULD HAVE WORKED FOR GORTASG IS SHE HAD KNOWN WHO HE TRULY WAS#SHE WAS A KID AND WORKED FOR AN AWFUL MAN AND MOST LIKELY DID SOME PRETTY MESSED UP THINGS FOR HIM THIS IS TRUE#BUT SHE WAS A CHILD AND SHE LOOKED UP TO HIM WHILE HE MANIPULATED HER SO SHE WOULD ALWAYS PROTECT HIM AND DO WHAT HE SAID WITHOUT QUESTION#then he sold her to zariel and it wasn't until it was too late did she realize how evil gortash was#im unsure if she new he was a slaver when working for him but since she was a kid with nothing it's not like she's going to fully commit to#being a morally upstanding citizen when she literally couldn't afford it#saying karlach was only against gortash because his action affected her is BLATANTLY WRONG#she has flaws and is a deeply written characters and she cares so much about other people thats on of the reasons she worked with gortash#she cared about him and he used that to his advantage#okay rant over i love u karlach im sorry people refuse to look into your charcter beyond surface level assumptions </3#babbles#dear god there are so many typos. i aint retyping all that shit tho good luck deciphering that#i say as if anyone is gonna read it sjkdkf
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i think it would be a lot easier to examine the morality and effectiveness of setrákus' cause (spoiler alert: It's Bad), and the irl worldviews/rhetoric it's critiquing, if the books came out and acknowledged that the entity:
a) is working from the exact same fundamental principles, just glowier and prettier and has Nicer Neighborhoods about it, and ultimately gets away with it, and
b) in its own right is just plain fucking evil
#lorien legacies#setrákus ra#LL entity#there is a MAJOR running theme in this series of poisonous 'help' being offered by people who position themselves as Selflessly Benevolent#and wanting nothing more than to pile you with generous gifts out of the goodness of their hearts#too-good-to-be-true offers when you need them most#they just need one little thing from you. they just need you to do the work of spreading their Help for them.#whether through direct violent subjugation (hi loric history!); or cutting off their options so they get more and more desperate#until they have no option but to give in. until they have no choice but to suffer and die or Choose Peace#or through just y'know terraforming the entire fcking planet and changing the biology of its sapient inhabitants to make them Better#without asking a single person on it first let alone any of the humans#it shows up with setrákus; it shows up with what five goes through; it shows up with mogpro; and it shows up with the entity#but the entity and the loric acting in its name are The Actually Benevolent Ones This Time You Guys#and they don't even show ANY harmful effects from past instances of garde pulling ancient-aliens shit to ~help advance human cultures~#the moral of the story should have followed through on 'power does not make you a god'#and taken the next step to 'if any objectively sapient being with the agency to tangibly affect the world; in a way you cannot opt out of'#'tries to position themself as a god because they are powerful; or should be powerful'#'tie on a bib and eat them'#i have a lot of words in me about this and it really sank in when i realized the way sandor talks about life on lorien under the entity#and the culture around it sound E E R I L Y like how five talks about ethan and the mogs when he's being groomed and indoctrinated#lorien was some warren of the shining snares shit back in the day and it's both fascinating and absolutely chilling#your neighborhood isn't less racist because it has breweries and brick pizza ovens etc etc#ANYWAY#LL tag#LL crit tag#the crit files
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