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cevansbrat0007 · 1 day

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Hello, Duchess

Summary: Your first encounter with Bounty Hunter, Ari Levinson, goes worse than you ever could've imagined. Takes place directly after the events in New in Town.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Bickering, Implied Jealousy, Threats of Violence, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari’s P.O.V.

“Can’t believe this town actually has a real live bookstore.” Ari muses as he pulls up in front of the tiny, quaint-looking bookstore. “Fuckin’ wild.” Throwing his truck in park he takes a moment to survey the area, making note of the empty lot.

‘Must not do much business.’ He thinks before climbing out of his vehicle and confidently striding toward the door. Hopefully, the lack of an audience would make things flow a hell of a lot faster. Hell, if you were anything like some of the other women in this town, he’d probably just have to smile and flash his baby blues to convince you to spill your guts.

In fact, he was practically banking on it. Because this wasn’t Ari’s first rodeo – not by a long shot. He’d spent a lot of his life in and out of small towns like Bell’s Creek, which was part of the reason he couldn’t wait to bag his latest bounty and put this place, and its people, in his rearview mirror. Ari reaches for the handle on the door, only to frown when he gets a look at the sign hanging in the window that reads: “sorry, we’re closed”.

Well, that couldn’t be right.

He could’ve sworn that when he’d pressed Mrs. Turner, the First Lady of Calvary Baptist Church, about your whereabouts she’d said he’d be able to find you at your shop. Something about your preferring to work instead of resting and rejoicing on the Lord’s day.

While the bounty hunter supposed he could always try back tomorrow, he was keen to check you off his list. Refusing to admit defeat, he decides to try his luck anyway, only to be surprised when the door opens with a tinkling chime of a bail.

Confused but also now on high alert, Ari takes a tentative step inside as he looks for any sign of life. “Hello?” He calls out, finally allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Instinct has him reaching for his back pocket, checking to make sure he had brought along his firearm.

Just in case.

“Is anybody here?” He tries again, moving further into the shop. The place is clean and well lit, and boasts rack after rack of books. But what’s most impressive is that there doesn’t appear to be a speck of dust anywhere. “Look, I just came by to–”

“We’re closed!” A disembodied voice sounds from the back of the store.

“Yeah, I saw the sign, ma’am…” He clears his throat. “But I think you forgot to lock the door, so I –”

“That means get out!”

“So much for southern hospitality.” Ari grumbles under his breath as he continues on his mission to track down the owner of the voice. “Ma’am, I just wanna talk. And maybe–ahh shit!” He curses when his hip accidentally connects with a half-full rolling cart, sending several of the heavier books crashing to the ground. “Sorry!”

“Did you just break something?!” The voice suddenly screeches. “Don’t make me get my taser.”

“There’s no need for that.” Instead of picking them up, the bounty hunter hastily nudges them aside with his foot. “My name is Ari Levinson, and I’m just here to ask you a couple of questions.”

While this isn’t how the man had expected any of this to go, he’s relieved when he sees a familiar face peek at him from around the corner. A face that happened to be even more beautiful than he initially remembered. Even though it had only been a couple of hours since he’d seen you last.

Damn! It was as if the image of you in that dress taking up space at the other end of the pew was now permanently imprinted into his brain. He'd have to tread lightly here.

Otherwise things could get complicated. Fast.

Your P.O.V

“Pretty sure this is what law enforcement calls trespassing.” You sniff, craning your head around the corner to stare at the man who was taking up entirely too much space in the narrow hallway. Sure said man was easy on the eyes, but you’d be lying if you said you weren’t at least a little concerned about his apparent inability to read.

“I can assure you that’s not what this is.” The lawman holds up his palms in an effort to placate you.

And although you try not to stare, it’s impossible to miss just how big they are – how rough they seemed – with just the right amount of callus. You can’t help but wonder what those hands would feel like on your bare flesh.

“Then what is it?” You ask, struggling to keep your tone short and clipped as you emerge from your hiding place. The last thing you needed was to have this man thinking you were actually attracted to him.

If anything, you considered yourself to be curious. No harm there, right?

“As I said, my name is Ari Levinson. I’m a bounty hunter from just outside Rosewell, New Mexico who also occasionally moonlights as a private investigator.” He tells you, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I just stopped by to ask you a couple of questions. And while I didn’t necessarily mean to intrude, I figured you might appreciate me taking a more delicate approach on account of your relationship with my person of interest.”

Fucking Martin Westbrook. He’d been the bane of your existence ever since you’d first crossed paths back in high school.

“I know you’re looking for Martin.” Annoyed by the very nature of the conversation, you pick up a box, hefting it onto your hip so that you can carry it out to the sales floor. “But I’m not quite sure how much help I can be.”

You brush past him, inwardly smiling when he scrambles to get out of your way. It was a subtle reminder that this was your shop. And you absolutely refused to be intimidated by him or anyone else.

“I’m sure whatever you have to say will be plenty helpful.” He’s quick to reassure you as he turns to follow the path you set. “Provided you’re honest, that is.”

“Did you really just waltz into my shop and call me a liar, Mr. Levinson?”

“I meant no offense.” Ari coughs, scrubbing a weary hand over his bearded jaw. If you were the overly presumptuous type, you might think you’d just managed to fluster the poor man.

Now feeling extra prickly, you drop the box onto the far counter of your cashwrap before turning to face your unwelcome guest. “As you can see, I have a busy day’s work ahead of me. And I was really keen on doing it by myself.” You gesture at the array of other boxes and racks placed around the store. “So if we could get a move on, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Gladly.” He gives a brief look around. “Is there some place maybe where you and I can sit and chat?”

“I’d say here is about as good a place as any.” You tell him as you step behind the counter. Bending down, you snag a bottle of cleaner, along with a couple of rags. If this man insisted on being here, then he would just have to deal with you taking care of your business. “I’m pretty confident in my ability to multitask.”

Nodding along, Ari pulls out a small notepad and pen from his back pocket. “When was the last time you saw Mr. Westbrook?”

You let out a sigh as you begin to spray down your countertops with your all-purpose cleaner. While you supposed you could’ve gone with something a little more industrial, you were partial to the way this particular brand’s products always smelled.

“I don’t know.” You shrug as you bask in the scent of rose and cedar. “Maybe three, four weeks ago.”

“Do you happen to recall the day and time?”

“No. Not really. If I had to ballpark it, I’d guess sometime around the 5th of last month.” You move to the next flat surface, spraying it down just like the last.

“You sure about that?” You try not to let it irk you when you see him take a seat on a nearby step stool out of the corner of your eye.

“As much as I can be.”

“And did Mr. Westbrook happen to give you any indication of where he might be headed?”

“Nope.”

He’d been nervous though. That much you did recall. By the time he’d come to you that night, your old friend had been well beyond spooked.

“Did he give you his reason for leaving?”

“We didn’t…” You trail off, taking a moment to scrub at a particularly stubborn sticky spot that’s marring the wood. “There wasn’t really much time for talking.” You’re so concerned with scrubbing that you miss the way the county hunter’s eyes narrow as he studies you. “He just stopped over to say goodbye.”

And to borrow all the cash you happened to have on hand – to the tune of $500. Enough for a bus ticket and a couple nights in a dirt cheap motel.

“Right.” Ari scoffs, admittedly with a bit more heat than he intends. “Not a lot of time for talking.” He pauses briefly to drag a hand through his shaggy brown locks. “Not sure why I didn’t wanna believe them.”

“Am I sensing a problem, Mr. Levinson?” You hum, tossing your rag to the side in favor of focusing on the rugs.

“I guess I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he kept you in the dark about his plans.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “In my experience, most men like Martin tend to have loose lips around the women they’re fuckin’.”

In that moment, it’s almost as if you can feel the air go out of the room. Just who the fuck did this knuckle-dragging, mouth-breather think he was?

“Excuse me?” Those two little words are spoken through clenched teeth. You’re so taken aback by his brazen accusation that you can scarcely breathe, let alone think.

Ari simply quirks a tawny brow at you, seemingly unaware of the danger he’s just placed himself in. Did he not see how close your hand was to that damned stapler? While it was clear that folks in this town had been running their mouths, they’d apparently neglected to mention that you’d also been the star pitcher for your high school softball team.

“Apologies if I offended your delicate sensibilities, Duchess. But I’ve never been the type to beat around the bush. Besides…” The smug bastard tucks his pen behind his ear. “You have to know that people in this town like to talk.”

Fire simmers hot in your belly, as you come out from behind the register. It takes less than ten seconds for you to bridge the distance between yourself and the cocky lawman. While you might’ve been taught never to raise a hand against anyone, this man was sorely testing every last bit of your patience.

“I want to make one thing very, very clear.” You hiss once you’re finally standing toe-to-toe with the handsome interloper who, of course, makes no room to get up himself. “I have never – not even once – slept with Martin Westbrook. He’s a friend, you backwoods jackass. Something you clearly know nothing about.”

“I get the feeling I struck a nerve.”

And, judging by the newfound tick in his jaw, so had you. Except you had no way of knowing it was because he’d lost a buddy of his own a little while back.

“And I think it’s about time you got the hell out of my shop.” His piercing blue eyes fly to yours, letting you know that you’d managed to surprise him with your heated dismissal.

Good. Because this Ari Levinson fella had officially overstayed his welcome.

“Look, Duchess. I apolo –”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me out of my name, Mr. Levinson. And I’m not sure I appreciate it.” You spit as you take a step backwards with the intention of giving him enough space to stand. “Now, I’ve been nothing but amenable to your rather…invasive questions. But we’re done. So, I’m gonna have to insist that you leave.”

Before you decided he’d make a deserving candidate for death by a thousand paper cuts.

Your pulse continues to thrum in your ears as you watch him rise to his full height – an impressive 6’4 – so that he now towers over you. Perhaps if you weren’t so angry you’d be a little more tempted to allow your mind to wander a little farther into the realm of fantasy.

But not now.

Right now, in this moment, all you wanted was to watch Ari Levinson’s sculpted ass walk right out your front door.

Nodding, the now quiet bounty hunter begins moving in the direction of the entrance. Neither of you say a word as you make that quick walk. In fact, you don’t speak again until Ari’s hand is on the handle.

“For what it's worth…” He blows out a weary breath. “This wasn’t how I meant for this to go.” His eyes find yours, as if imploring you to see the truth in them.

However, instead of responding all you can do is offer up a shrug. Which he, of course, takes as an opportunity to keep going.

“It’s just…the idea of someone like you getting caught up with a piece of slime like Westbrook…” He pauses long enough to open the door and take a tentative step outside. “I guess it bothered me more than I realized.”

His reluctant admission has your stomach tied up in knots, which prompts you to ask the one question you were almost certain you’d regret later:

“And just what do you mean by that?” You do your best to seem unruffled as you awkwardly brace yourself against the doorframe.

“All I’m saying is that you’re out of his league.” Feeling even more confused, you watch as Ari’s lips curve in a faint smile. “And if you didn’t know that before, well, now you do.” His head dips politely as he turns to head towards his truck.

“Guess I’ll see you around, Duchess.” You don’t have to see his face to know that he’s grinning. “Oh, and don’t forget to lock up. Might help with all those unwanted visitors you’ve been havin.”

Ari doesn't need to turn his head to know that you're currently giving him the finger. He can feel it. And all it does it make him smile harder.

END

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animeyanderelover · 2 days

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Could you write “Close your eyes so it’ll hurt less. for Satoru Gojoı with non-sorcerer reader.

It can be nsfw or punishment scenario <3

thanks in advance!

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, overprotective behavior, manipulation, clinginess, isolation, abduction, paranoia, Satoru breaks s/o's wrist

Words: 3.1 k

Prompt 192

'Beauty is deceiving. It hides who the true monster is.'

You couldn't quite recall when and where you had stumbled upon this phrase, if it had been spoken by someone or if you had read it in a book. Most likely because you had never given this analysis much thought when you had received it for the first time. In hindsight, you should have probably given those two sentences much more thought. Perhaps, but only perhaps, then you wouldn't have fallen so easily prey to a man whose powers and appearance resembled old folklore of ancient and powerful gods.

Satoru indeed, as you had learned the longer you had been with him, thought of himself as someone blessed and special. If anyone else would have said those words to you, you would have thought of them as delusional. Yet when Gojo Satoru said those words, they were no mere gloating fantasies. Instead those words were reality, a reality you had been exposed to ever since you had gotten involved with him.

A reality that frightened you and one that you still couldn't comprehend. Worst of all seemed to be that Satoru refused to expose his world to you. You had only pieces of the puzzle, an unfinished picture of the whole situation that left you with a strange mixture of fear and agitation.

"Even if I were to tell you, you wouldn't be able to do anything. I would only scare you unnecessarily."

Partially he had spoken the truth and you knew that. You wouldn't be able to do anything against whatever it was that his world held in store for you. Yet Satoru was mislead in his assumption that keeping the truth from you would spare you from unnecessary stress. It only amplified it as the fear of not knowing had become a familiar chain that restricted your mind. You had started viewing your surroundings with more caution and wariness, unaware what it was you had to look out for but on edge nevertheless. A feeling of constant alert had overcome you whenever you were conscious, one that had cost you.

No longer felt you able to relax or take joy in the simple things. What you didn't know was constantly on your mind, the nagging fear a festering tumor that spread inside your mind the more time you were forced to spend with him.

His constant presence did not do anything to soothe your growing anxiousness. On the contrary, it fueled those feelings inside of your chest only more. It was unclear to you whether he was oblivious to this fact or if he chose to ignore it and if you had to be truthful, you did not know which was worse.

There was only one thing he often felt the urgent need to remind you of.

That he was the good guy.

---

Your hold on the book tightened, your heart clenching in rapidly growing frustration as you tried your best to blend Satoru's presence out of your mind and focus.

"Don't ignore me, (y/n)!" He whined and his voice, one you used to perceive as a pleasant and delightful sound, made you cringe the same way the sound of nails against a chalkboard would have done. It was borderline agonising and you just wanted it to stop. Your jaw clenched, your head pounding as the anger piled on yet you tried to push everything down as you didn't want to lose your composure and, accompanying your composure, the grasp of control over your own emotions.

When you felt soft lips traveling down from your temple to your neck, you shut the book loudly before you stood abruptly up. Your fists were balled to fists as the pounding in your head seemed to intensify. You felt the urge to scream, to cry or to let your feelings vent out in any other way but you knew that you couldn't do that in front of him. Your feet stomped away from the scene in an attempt to get away from him. When you noticed that he stood up and followed you, you had to bite your tongue in your best attempt to not yell at him.

"Am I not even allowed to go to the bathroom alone?" You growled at him before locking the door to the only room where you could have at least a few minutes for yourself. You scowled at the hurt pout he gave you before his face disappeared from your sight. In the very same moment you locked the door, separating you from Satoru, it felt like someone had unlocked your ability to breathe properly again. The air tasted fresher and your chest felt lighter now that you were away from his smothering presence.

You drew water from the tap and splashed the cold liquid against your face in an attempt to soothe the burning pounding that had tormented you for the entire day already. You took those moments to let the silence and appreciated loneliness sink in, your face still buried in your head as you made no attempt to remove it from them.

As much as you would have wanted to stay like this for a while longer, you knew that you only had so much time before Satoru would grow impatient. You'd rather destroy this moment of peace due to your own will rather than to be thrown out of this tranquility by his own actions.

You turned the tap off and dried your face with the towel before you unlocked the door and turned the knob, expecting to hear his voice immediately calling for you or to even see him standing there.

Instead you heard his hushed voice from the living room and although you couldn't clearly hear all of his words, it sounded like he was talking to someone. For a split second you debated whether or not to use this chance to return to the bathroom or go somewhere else. On the other hand you knew too well that he would demand for you as soon as he was finished with this conversation so instead you opted to just head back to the living room as well.

When you peaked inside through the opened door, you could see that he was having a phone call with someone. Brilliant blue eyes darted up as soon as they saw you and a smile graced his lips for a few moments. You could clearly hear how his voice turned to a mere murmur as he suddenly turned his back on you and you knew instantly that the call must have been related to his job which is why he didn't want you to hear what he was hearing. You felt your curiosity urging you to step closer, so close that you would understand everything no matter how silent he might try to talk.

From previous experiences you knew that if you were to try that though, he would end the call instantly and merely tell the other person on the line to text him all the information before hanging up. So you just stood there and waited, feeling the frustration bubble up inside of you again.

As soon as he had ended the call, he turned around to you. A silly pout was on his face as he walked over to you before a dramatic sigh escaped him.

"Seems like I have to head out for a while. Something just came up."

Obviously he was clearly unhappy, you on the other mind felt like your soul was rejuvenating with the mere thought of having a few hours to yourself. Like everything else though, you also were smart enough to not gloat about those news so you gave him a curtly nod as your only response.

Large hands cradled your face as blue eyes looked at you.

"I'll be back as soon as possible. Just wait for me in the meantime, 'kay?"

You didn't return the kiss when you felt warm lips meeting your own but you also knew that with his grip on your face, you couldn't pull away so you just endured the feeling as your body visibly tensed up. Only when you pulled away did you dare to unclench your jaw again, your lips slightly parted as you looked into those otherwordly eyes.

"Maybe I'll buy you something nice if I find something." He continued to speak as he pressed quick kisses against your face as if quickly tanking some affection before he had to leave.

"Would you like something specific."

You merely shook your head.

"Just surprise me."

Really, you couldn't have cared less.

---

Satoru had returned far too quickly for your own taste. On the other hand he might as well have been gone for weeks and you would still bemourn his absence as too short.

With him he had brought bags full with clothes he had bought for you, in high moods as he had asked you to wear some of them so he could see if they would look as good on you as he had hoped them to be when he had wasted his money on them.

In an attempt to delay this event and prevent him from getting handsy, you had insisted on cutting off all the price tags first as you had assured him that you would like to keep everything that he had brought.

So now here you were, searching for the price tags on every piece of clothing before cutting it off with scissors. It was a lot of work but less because it took much physical exertion and more because of the sheer amount the white-haired man had bought.

Really, you could have enjoyed this task though as it was rather nice to do something.

So why couldn't he have just sat back and remained silent instead of touching you and talking to you? You just wanted some time for yourself.

You knew that he was trying to get you to talk to him by annoying you with questions and touches as he simply longed to hear your voice and to force you to interact with him. This was precisely what you didn't want and so you had to silently chant a mandra to calm your nerves as you hung up all the clothes in the wardrobe. You were surprised that you even had any space left considering that you had so many clothes already.

It was tedious to ignore him but you were normally somehow able to pull through with it. However, on this evening Satoru seemed to have finally enough of your dismissive attitude which was why he exactly spoke something that he knew would get your attention.

"I met your friends whilst I was shopping."

You froze, unable to control your reaction as you heard his words. A strange flood of emotions came over you and you caught yourself swallowing audibly as you tried to maintain some sort of control. You had already failed though and you knew that Satoru would try to use it to his advantage.

You wanted to ask him more but you knew that you couldn't as it was exactly what he wanted you to do so with slightly shaky hands you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Obviously he wouldn't drop the subject that easily though.

You felt his warm breath fawning the side of your face as he leaned closer to you, his eyes taking in the way you had pursed your lips and how you had furrowed your eyebrows as you weren't able to hide your feelings. You were missing your friends and family after all and the bastard knew it.

His own feelings rose up as he saw your face but not because he felt pity for you. Instead he felt his jealousy stirring slowly awake as he saw how affected you appeared by merely hearing him mentioning one of your friends. He envied the feelings you reserved only for them without giving him anything at all.

Why was that?

"Satoru..."

Your voice resembled more of a guttural growl when one of his hands grabbed your shoulders, clearly feeling how tensed your muscles were as you slowly cut off more price tags from pieces of clothing, your mind barely held together as you were trying in a last effort to hold back.

His name was spoken as a warning from your side as he knew that you were at your limit and that only from hearing from him about one of your friends. If he would have been a better man, he would have acknowledged how petty and low he was acting right now. However, Gojo Satoru wasn't a good man as jealousy started getting a hold of him.

"They all seemed to have quite a good time without you. It didn't really look like they were bemourning your disappearance. Perhaps you are the only one in the belief that they are missing you as much as you miss them."

You paused for seconds that seemed to stretch more than they should have before you put the shirt you had held in your hand down. Your head turned around as your own eyes met his blue ones. You didn't say anything at first, there wasn't even a trace of anger on your face as if you couldn't believe his words.

Then your pupils started quivering though and he saw how your gaze suddenly got poisoned with anger you had kept buried deep inside of you for the last few weeks.

You acted before you could even think as the one hand that had previously held the scissors suddenly flew towards him, fully committed to stab at least one of those cured blue eyes so that his gaze could never torment you again.

Only that the scissor never reached his eye. No matter what you tried, you couldn't move your hand any further, the sharp edge of the scissor only lingering close to his blue orbs.

It was that inability that caused you to snap out of your spiraling anger as you realised what you had just tried to do. You instantly withdrew your hand, visible shock on your face from your unexpected outburst. You felt your blood pumping through your veins and felt shame and frustration heating up your entire face as you had just lost your temper completely.

You ran your other hand through your hair as you took some shaky breaths to regain your control. When you finally managed to look up again, an apology lingering on your tongue for your reckless action that could have seriously wounded him, you found the words quickly dying down before they could even leave your mouth.

Normally already quite intense blue eyes were staring through you and your soul with a new weight to them that had you breaking out in cold sweat as you felt a cold sensation going down your spine.

You felt no relief when briefly his eyes darted down to look at your other hand which was still clutching the scissors on your palm, although you quickly dropped the object when you noticed his stare.

You flinched when one of his palms wrapped around your wrist and lifted your hand up. At first his touch was soft but within only a few seconds he tightened his hold until it felt like he was squeezing your bones.

You let out a short hiss when you felt the pain as you started squirming uncomfortably, trying to get him to let go of your wrist.

"You were about to stab me."

You shuddered when you heard the icy tone that seemingly matched his hardened and cold stare that he gave you right now, vastly different from what you were used.

You wanted to defend yourself. He had taunted you first and he had been the one who had brought you into such a situation were you would lose your self-control in the first place as you hadn't consciously intended to potentially hurt him seriously.

Yet he didn't let you utter even a single word as he pulled you closer to his body, his other hand gripping your chin and forcing you to look right into those glowing eyes.

"You wouldn't hurt me, right? You care about me after all, even if you don't want to show it."

There was something in his tone that gave you the chills. It wasn't anger or anything similar to that emotion though. It was a tremble, a barely audible tremble of an emotion akin to denial that made him look dangerously much like he was about to break down in front of you. Whatever you had just done, it seemed to have triggered something dangerous inside of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I just lost control of myself for a moment."

You swallowed as you uttered those words quickly, your honest tone only slightly tarnished by the pain you felt as he was still squeezing your wrist. You found your own breath stopping as you looked at his face, praying for whatever had possessed him to stop.

"I knew. You wouldn't want to harm me. It's alright, darling. I forgive you."

You felt no relief when he cooed those words at you as he pulled you closer, giving you a kiss on your forehead. Instead you foud your stomach churning as you felt the stress rising inside of you, warning you that something was about to happen.

"Close your eyes so it'll hurt less."

You knew what he had done when you heard the sound yet you didn't instantly feel the pain. Instead your widened eyes stared into his own blue ones with a mixture of shock and betrayal.

You stumbled back in shock, cradling your broken wrist against your chest as the pulsing and cutting pain finally began to settle in. Tears instantly started to gather in your eyes and cascaded down your cheeks and choked sobs started leaving your lips as you slid down to the ground.

"I know. I know. It must hurt quite a bit."

His voice was sweet and soothing as his arms embraced you, one of his hands wiping away your tears as you continued staring at him with unbridled shock and terror as you felt soft touches on your face from the same hand that had just moments ago broken your wrist as if it was a mere twig.

The fear grew and grew until you felt unable to look into his eyes again, turning your eyes elsewhere as your lips started to wobble.

He had never hurt you before. Perhaps that's why you had felt so entitled to ignore him as he had been only ever acted like a clingy and whiny man around you.

Clearly you had been wrong though.

#yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru

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sequinsmile-x · 3 days

Text

The Games We Play - Chapter 4

She’d survived the very worst a person could, lived through things that still kept her up at night, the screams of other innocent people ringing in her head as sleep evaded her.

She’d survived so much, but she didn’t think she’d survive leading him to his death.

A Hunger Games AU

-x-

Hi friends,

Well, here we are - the final chapter of the most insane fic idea I've had yet. Thanks for all the love on this silly little AU it really means the world.

Please let me know what you think, your comments mean the world <3

-x-

Words: 3.6k

A full list of warnings can be found on the series master list

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

He grunts as the knife enters his chest again, the pain barely there, not matching up with what he thinks it should feel like. He looks up at George, at the crazed look in his eyes, and he knows this is it, that he’d got so close to surviving, so close to fulfilling his promise to Emily, and he’d fallen at the last hurdle.

Emily.

He thinks of her smile, of the way she’d laugh just when he needed to hear it. He thinks of her beauty, not diminished by what she’d survived but enhanced, her endless strength making her impossibly more gorgeous.

He had to make it back to her.

He growls, an animalistic sound escaping him as he surges forward, taking George by surprise as he flips them, the knife scattering out of the other man's hand as he gets the advantage. He hits him, his fists aching and splitting open as he carries on, not stopping as he feels bones crack beneath his knuckles.

He carries on, all the anger he’d ever felt surging through him. Anger at his father. At himself. At the world he found himself living in.

He only stops when he physically can’t do it anymore, his arms giving out from under him as he collapses off of George, who was eerily still, his eyes, one of the only recognisable parts of his face left, staring straight ahead.

Aaron collapses, his head swimming as blood loss catches up with him, his eyes drifting shut as he hears a canon crack in the air around him.

___

He sucks in a panicked breath, his eyes flying open as he looks around him, his body heavy as he tries and fails to sit up.

“Aaron.”

His head snaps to his left, his eyes wide and wild as he looks at Emily, a mix of relief and disbelief painted across her face, “Emily?”

“It’s okay,” she says, still in her seat, seemingly glued to it as she looks him over, her shoulders tight, “You’re okay. You’re in the private wing of the hospital,” she says, looking around them, “I shouldn’t even be here,” she flashes him a quick smile, “Dave can talk anyone into anything.”

He nods, taking in his surroundings a little more now the panic has passed. Everything looked opulent, expensive in a way he never would have been able to imagine before he came to the Capitol. He looks past the open door to his room and sees the nurse sitting at a computer and typing, the clack of the keys clear even from where he is lying in his bed.

“My hearing,” he says, placing his hand over his right ear, “It’s back. After the explosion with Kate…I could barely hear.”

“They restored it for you,” she explains, her smile tight as she sits up straighter in the chair next to his bed, “Nothing but the best for their victor.”

He nods, blinking heavily a few times before shaking his head, trying to dispel the sleepiness that threatened to overtake him, “What else?”

“You have a fair number of scars on your chest,” she says, her eyes fixed on his gown as if she could see his damaged skin through it, “And on your knuckles from where you…” she presses her lips together, the memory of the sound of George’s face giving way under his fists sending a shiver down her spine, “They can get rid of the scars too if you want to. Some people keep them.”

“Did you keep yours?”

His question takes her by surprise, and for a moment she forgot he didn’t know, that in all the nights they shared a bed he’d never seen her without her clothes on, had never seen the constellation of scar tissue that spread across her abdomen. Pink lines and creases that had faded to white, skin that was still numb to the touch and likely always would be.

“Yes,” she says, subconsciously placing her hand over the scar through her shirt, “I kept it.”

He stores the information away for later, not wanting to pry now, but he thinks he’ll make the same decision, not wanting to lose the evidence of what he’d survived.

“What else happened?” He asks, and she frowns, her eyebrows knitting together as she tilts her head and he smiles softly, “You looked like you saw a ghost when I woke up.”

She wonders how she should feel about the fact he can read her so easily, that, despite everything, they’d seemingly picked back up right where they left off when she’d been reaped for her own games and her life had changed forever. She thinks she should hate it, but she doesn’t. She likes that he knows her like that, that he understands her.

It had been so long since she’d felt known.

“Your…” she clears her throat, her teeth clenched as she tries to breathe through the emotion threatening to overwhelm her, “Your heart stopped when they got you out,” her voice shakes a little, “You were dead for almost a minute until they brought you back.”

He frowns and places his hand against his chest, his ribs aching, his entire body on fire from pain that the medication in his system barely dulled, “They brought me back?”

She chokes out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob and she nods, “Yeah, they brought you back.”

“Why?”

His question surprises her, makes her breath catch in her chest as she looks down at her hands, her torn up cuticles something she can focus on instead of him, “Because they need a winner,” she whispers, “None of this works if they don’t have a winner and George died in the arena. So you’re their winner.”

He stares at her, his focus on the way she absolutely avoids looking at him. He can’t help but wonder how she felt when she was in his place. When she was laying in a bed, stitched back together after barely surviving the unthinkable, alone and wondering what came next. He feels selfishly grateful that he has her, that she can guide him through this next part.

“So,” he says, offering her a half smile when she looks at him, “Looks like I’ll be able to take you on a date after all,” he jokes, wanting nothing more than to lighten the mood, to feel anything other than despair for the first time since his brother’s name was called during the reaping.

She scoffs, shaking her head as she crosses her arms over her chest, Dave’s words from just a few days ago weighing heavily on her chest, “I wish it was that simple.”

He frowns at her, lifting his hand from his bed and offering it out to her, grateful when she stands and takes it without any further prompting, as if she was magnetised to him, moving against her will, “What do you mean?”

She isn’t sure how to put it into words. She wanted him, wanted whatever sense of happiness was possible in the reality they lived in, but she knew there would be a cost. She’d always known that, it’s why she’d cut him out of her life until he volunteered for his brother, fate intervening and putting them back firmly in each other's paths. She sighs as she sits on the edge of his bed, his warmth even with the small amount of distance between them intoxicating.

“There will be expectations of us,” she says, her chest hollowed out, aching and empty, ready for the heartbreak she can already feel, the heartbreak she’d endure for the rest of her life if it was what he chooses. She reaches out to push some of his hair out of his face, the strands longer than they usually would be, unkempt from his time in the arena, her fingers ghosting across his forehead. “If we do this. Our life won’t necessarily be our own.”

He catches her hand as she pulls it away from his face, linking their fingers together and squeezing, desperate to keep her close, “What do you mean?”

She looks over her shoulder to make sure they are alone, to check the nurse who was assigned to him wasn’t in earshot. She’d learnt a long time ago that no one could be trusted, that even those who seemed to be her friends here would give away her secrets for free. The only person she did trust, other than Aaron, was Dave. He’d never lied to her, never been anything other than almost painfully honest, their shared burden of what they did year after year something that had bonded them in a way she’s sure she’d collapse without. She leans in and makes sure she talks quietly, her voice low so only he hears her.

“We’ll get married,” she says, a smile flitting across her face at the treacherous hope that flashes in his eyes, something that even what he’d just been through couldn’t kill. She liked to think that would one day be the country’s downfall - the hope that existed between them all no matter what they had done to them. Hope that planted seeds and bloomed even in the darkest of circumstances, its flowers too bright and beautiful to be ignored, “And we won’t…there won’t be a lot of choice,” she says, hoping he’d understand, that he wouldn’t make her say it, “We would be expected to do our duty as victors.”

It’s the desperate look in her eyes that makes it click for him. He thinks of their conversation on the train, the way they’d casually agreed children weren’t on the cards for either of them as they drank liquor he’s sure cost more than his parent’s house. It was a moment in time, something that had led him back to her, his volunteering for his brother a crossroads in his life that had changed everything. A decision that, in the grand scheme of things, hadn’t been that long ago but may as well have happened to a different person.

“Oh,” he says, feeling her hand go slack in his, her expression tight as she starts to pull away, taking his silence and lack of a reaction as confirmation he would change his mind. He holds her hand even tighter, and feels her bones pop against each other, “Well, if there was anyone I’d want to do any of that with, it would be you.”

She scoffs, disbelief catching on every rib as it forces its way out, “Aaron, it’s not that simple,” she says, looking down at their joint hands, his tanned skin from the artificial sun in the arena making hers look even paler than usual, “We’d have to have children. If we didn’t Barnes would punish us, our families.”

“Em-”

She carries on as if he hasn’t spoken, as if she can’t hear him. All of the fears she’d pushed down for years finally burst to the surface, escaping from the box she’d hidden them in because he’d knocked it over, his love and kindness tearing her defences to pieces.

“And as much as I always said I don’t want children, I’d love them. I’d love them so much and then having to send them off to the arena when they turn 12-” she’s cut off as he sits up, groaning at the pain that spreads through his chest, his entire body burning from the points where Foyet had stabbed him, “What are you doing? You’re hurt.”

“I’m trying to hug you,” he says through gritted teeth as she lowers him back down to the bed, her hands firm on his shoulders as she raises an eyebrow at him in disbelief. He breathes through the pain for a moment and then rests his hands on her hips, “Em, I understand what you’re saying,” he says, encouraging her closer, her face close enough that he can feel her breath skipping across his skin, “I know it won’t be easy, but even if we had a kid tomorrow, 12 years is a long time. You never know what could happen.”

She huffs out a laugh and presses her forehead against his, “You think the world is going to change enough between now and then to mean we’d be safe.”

“I think you haven’t even kissed me yet,” he says, his hand on her back, his palm splayed so his fingers sneak under the hem of her shirt, smiling softly as she shivers as his heated skin touches hers, “Everything else will happen as it happens.”

She thinks she should hate him for being so sure, for the hint of optimism she knew time would kill over the next few years, but she can’t bring herself to. Instead, she allows herself to feel the relief that she’d been holding off since she’d arrived at the hospital. It fills her lungs, her chest fully expanding for the first time since she’d last seen him before he went into the arena, and she shakes her head, pressing her forehead against his for a moment before she pulls back, her smile fond as their eyes meet.

She leans in and presses her lips against his, her hand on his cheek to hold him in place, as if he’d rather be anywhere else even if he had the strength to move. It’s everything she’d ever imagined it to be and more as he pulls her closer, his hand insistent on her back as his other one finds its way into her hair, anchoring her to him. He tastes of the sugary medicinal drink she’d been made to have when she first woke up when she won the games, a boost she’d never known the name of, a hint of something she knew must just be him lingering underneath.

He sighs contentedly as she sinks into him, her tongue running across the seam of his lips before he opens his mouth. He’d thought about this moment for so long that it didn’t feel real, almost too good to be true. For a moment he wonders if he really did die in the arena, if this was the last thing his subconscious was doing for him, a moment of heaven before he slipped into darkness.

He knows it’s real the moment she pulls back, a concerned look on her face as he groans in pain, the two of them having got carried away as he pulls her tight to his chest, the pain reverberating throughout his body.

“Sorry,” she says, her hand slipping from his cheek to his throat, the reassuring thump of his pulse against her skin calming her down.

“Never apologise for kissing me,” he replies, encouraging her back in for another kiss, a quick thing stamped against her lips, “But we might have to wait a little while for our date.”

She smiles and nods, resting her forehead against his, taking a moment to breathe him in, “I should get going anyway. Let you rest.”

He shakes his head, “No, stay.”

“Aaron-”

“Please,” he says, wincing as he tries to shift in the bed, making room for her to slide in next to him, “I want you to stay.”

She hesitates, not sure what people would say or think if they found her in his bed, but she realises she doesn’t care. For the first time in years, she doesn’t think about anyone other than herself and she nods, slipping off her shoes before she carefully slips into bed with him, her head on his shoulder as she snuggles into his side. A sense of peace she hadn’t felt since they’d last slept next to each other washes over her and she tilts her head to look up at him.

“I love you,” she says, the words not seeming as heavy as they had on the rooftop the night before the games started. It was no longer something she’d only get to say to him once, no longer a rushed confession borne out of a misunderstanding. It was softer, impossibly more real.

Something she would say to him every day for the rest of her life.

“I love you too,” he replies, kissing the top of her head, tightening his hold on her the best he can with his injuries, “And I’ll spend the rest of my life doing that the best way that I can.”

___

At first, she’s not sure what wakes her up.

She’d never slept well on the train, not from the very first time she’d boarded it. It was eerily quiet given the speed they were travelling and it left her feeling uneasy, a stillness to it all that felt unnatural.

She rolls onto her back and groans, rubbing her hands over her eyes as she considers going to watch the sunrise in the back carriage, and then she hears a moan next to her, drawing her attention to Aaron as he sleeps fitfully. As he thrashes in the bed, his fists clenched at his sides, she knows what woke her up and she sighs sadly. She sits up and turns on the light, folding her legs against her chest and wrapping her arms around them as she watches him, waiting for him to wake up.

The first night he’d been back from the hospital, the same day he’d had his interview with Gideon, she’d tried to wake him up. She’d put her hands on his face and tried to pull him out of it, her words soft and reassuring as she eased him back to her. He’d grabbed her wrist, his grip tight around it, as he woke up, leaving a bruise that hadn’t quite faded yet. He hadn’t forgiven himself, had refused to sleep next to her again until she promised she wouldn’t try to wake him up again, and she hated how he sometimes looked at her.

As if she had something to be afraid of when she was with him.

It feels like an age passes before he wakes up, his chest filling quickly with a breath that’s clearly painful as he sits up, his eyes wild as he yells, his fists clenched so tightly she’s sure he could break the skin on his palms.

“Aaron,” she says quietly, not wanting to startle him. He looks at her so quickly it must pull at his neck, his eyes still wide as they meet hers. She knows that look, she’s seen it on her own face in the small hours of the night as she splashed water on herself in the bathroom after a nightmare. He was in the arena, his mind playing tricks on him even though he was now as safe as he ever would be. “You’re okay. It’s a dream. We’re on the train home.”

“Emily?”

She smiles and nods, shifting closer to him as the fog in his eyes starts to lift. She reaches out and places her hand on his cheek, her heart twisting in her chest as he leans into it, seeking out the affection she always had waiting for him.

“It’s me. I’m right here,” she assures him, shifting closer again until she’s in his lap, something in her stomach easing when he wraps his arms around her and holds her close, “I’m right here.”

He sighs, his eyes drifting closed as he rests his forehead on her temple, taking the chance to breathe her in, to replace the blood he could still smell with the scent of her, “I’m sorry.”

She pulls back and cups his cheek again, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

His eyes drift to her bruised wrist and guilt churns in his gut just like it had every day since he’d woken up to find his first wrapped tightly around it. He clenches his teeth and shakes his head, familiar anger he hadn’t been able to shift since the arena burning through him.

“I don’t know how you can even look at me.”

She frowns as he looks down, avoiding her eye contact. He barely lets go of her though, as if she was the only thing keeping him grounded, so she wraps her arms around his shoulders to hold him close.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” She asks, the moniker slipping free without her meaning it to, her focus on playing with the short hairs at the back of his head, providing comfort in any way she can.

“I hurt you,” he says, his tone flat as he continues to stare at the wall, “I killed people, Em,” he finally pulls away to look at her, “I killed a guy with my bare hands.”

“If you hadn’t, he would have killed you,” she reasons, an edge of desperation to her voice that she ignores, “And I’ve killed people too. It’s the only reason we’re both still here,” she smiles sadly, her hand on his cheek as she holds him in place, “Does that make it hard for you to look at me?”

He shakes his head immediately, his eyebrows furrowing as if the mere idea was ridiculous, “Of course not,” he says emphatically, “Never.”

“Then it’s not going to make it hard for me to look at you,” she says, making a point of reaching for his hand, of smoothing her fingers over the still healing cuts on his knuckles, “We survived,” she looks up at him, making eye contact as she kisses his hand, soothes away the damage both physical and mental, the scars she couldn’t see but knew were there, “We survived, and now we’ve got to try and live. As best as we can,” she kisses him, her lips firm against his, and she barely pulls back, her breath skipping across his face as she speaks, “Together.”

He nods, pulling her closer, his grip on her fierce. She holds him back just as tightly, seeking comfort as easily as she gives it.

“Together.”

-x-

Me to me: you will not write a sequel…you will not write a sequel…

-x-

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#aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotchniss fanfic #hotchniss fan fic #emily prentiss fanfiction #aaron x emily #hotchniss fanfiction #aaron hotchner x emily prentiss #hotchniss

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gggoldfinch · 2 days

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Pls finch just a sip of what youre cookin....please im dying.....a toiny snippet

ANONNN im sorry to tell you but so far it's just outline, no substantial writing yet. I can give you a sneak peek from that outline, however 🤧 Sometimes I have to draft full ideas while writing bullet points and they get away from me 🤡 (which does make it easier to write the final piece bc I can just copy/paste and expand upon ideas from the outline. Just an unsolicited tidbit of info about my writing process lol). Go easy on me 🙏🏻 they're not nearly polished snippets:

He’s dressed like one of those ‘cow-boys’ she’d seen in movies from a time before her grandparents’ great-grandparents. The broad-brim hat on his head is fascinating and she can see small metal stars sticking off the heels of his boots around which vegetables are strewn. The stars jingle when he moves— as he pivots towards her, holding a gun close to his hip, aimed at her gut. It’s small and compact, nothing like her father’s rifle. She isn’t paying attention to his gun, though. Her shocked gasp is uncontainable when his face is revealed from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. Her feet involuntarily bring her a step backward and her face morphs into a mask of intrigue and horror. The man’s skin is taut and gnarled, pink and thick like scar tissue. Her mother’s palm had scarred like that when she’d grabbed the handle of a hot pan and scorched a layer of skin clean off. The triangle of his features is gaunt and harrowing— eyes sunken, an arrowhead-shaped hole where the nose should be. “Well howdy there,” he calls out. His accent isn’t like one she’s ever heard, his syllables elongated and slurred together. He juts the gun out towards her more directly and the patinated silver shines dully in the sunlight.

I guess I'll also note that this one will be in third person (obv), and can be read as either Reader or OFC (I've been moving away from xReaders lately but want to make it palatable...)

Also, hehe,

Later that night she approaches him curiously, cautiously. She decided earlier that the man is exciting and new. He’s dark and mysterious, gruff and hardened by a world she cannot fathom outside her door. His grotesque appearance strangely adds to his allure; she thinks he’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. He's the first man she’s interacted with on her own and as a grown woman— an opportunity to test her curiosity, if he is open to it. She wants his calloused, scarred hands to touch her like the women in the magazine. She stands between his spread knees and takes the hat from the couch cushion beside him, placing it on her own head and meaning it this time.

#goldfinch writes #cooper howard x reader #anon ask

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haydensky01 · 1 day

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[Obey me]: MC falling in love with Diavolo

Summary: The most powerful human, overthinker as every woman is, falling in love with the most powerful demon. No spoilers.

###############################

I remember I do, the first time I appeared here falling from the sky my eyes locked onto his with unwavering intensity. He exuded overwhelming elegance, his presence so immaculate, so radiant, so majestic. While I had yet to be informed of his royal status, it was a truth I instinctively grasped without needing confirmation.

"Skin of sand, eyes of honey, hair of fire" is all that filled my thoughts as his eyes captivated my sight whole.

"Eyes of honey" It's cold. "Eyes of honey" I'm adrift. "Eyes of honey" What strange realm is this?

The room unfamiliar, the faces foreign, the attire surreal. "Eyes of honey... eyes of honey".

Limbs frozen, fists clenched "Eyes of honey... eyes of honey" where am I?

Diavolo: "Welcome to the Devildom MC. .. Oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked are we?"

"Oh... it speaks..."

Diavolo: "My name is Diavolo. I am the ruler of all demons, and all here know of me."

"Eyes of honey... the tolling of bells."

Diavolo: "And someday soon I will be crowned king of the Devildom."

###############################

I read the other day in the RAD Newspaper that the hue of the next king's eyes, Diavolo's, is a unique emblem of his lineage, exceedingly rare even among their kin and the colours found in nature. Liars. Ever since I came here 3 years ago, It is all I see everywhere, all the time, on everything. I could swear my pupils have been coated with eyes of honey, for whenever I close my eyes, his gaze manifests without fail.

I am not naïve; I know what this is. He is undeniably handsome, a prince on the brink of becoming king. He possesses the charm, the intelligence, the chivalry, the wealth, the smile... and the eyes of a man with whom to fall in love. And I am a human raised on fairy tails. The equation might be complex but its result is unmistakable.

However, I am me. And me doesn't like embarrassment, rejection or a three realms worth of attention and gossip. It is the natural course of events to feel deep affection for Eyes of honey. But it is also the right course of events to relegate it to the realm of pre-sleeping fantasies, even if my mind refuses to adhere to this reasonable schedule.

I mean, I do feel the desire to seduce when I am around Lucifer or Mammon or Simeon or Solomon and others. Hell, I even flirted and went on dates. For the same reasons perhaps. Beauty, intelligence, talents, tact... or is it? I don't deny I was unwillingly comparing them to Diavolo all the time, I admit I imagined every flirt and every courtesy as if between me and Diavolo. But it still counts... doesn't it?

I blame this on Diavolo to be frank. Had he not summon me here to witness extraordinary power and charm, I wouldn't have invited him into my fantasies. Had he not call upon me on every events to be its centre. But then again, I AM the exchange student after all. Or perhaps hadn't he showered me with gifts, shown such care, and asked so kindly... He IS the ruler and I AM under his guardianship, aren't I? Had he not protected me so dearly? Again, he IS the most powerful. I don't know, I have no base but I blame him I do. I blame him for it all. And above all, his gravest sin remains... He looked at me with his eyes of honey.

The other night, at the ball, when we danced I could swear it was only the two of us dancing.

In the council room, when his hand brushed against mine, I could feel the heat from his flushed cheeks radiating across the air.

His late-night text and calls asking silly things amongst which is thrown the smallest sentences about how he wishes for me to be with him or for him to be with me. A future king cannot possibly be asking a human about muffins at 3am the eve of a world changing event, right?

The angry rumbling in his chest every time the demons and angels get too cosy with me?

Every time we found ourselves alone his voice carried the weight of a suffocated man in desperation of someone to set his lungs free. The urgency in his voice and the half calls for affection were real. I want them to be real.

Silly silly human. It's rather amusing, isn't it? For every time I tried to initiate even the most innocent flirtations or slightly intimate exchanges, he would deflect or evade. It's almost comical. And if not him, Barbatos or Lucifer would intervene... those sly serpents. Perhaps Barbatos sensed the impending embarrassment through his powers and chose to spare me the humiliation? AAAAHHHHH... This is so mortifying.

Whyyyyy? Why are you doing this to me Diavolo? Does it amuse you to toy with me this way? Spare me the pain and caste me away. For I cannot oblige myself to restrain from you. Be the bigger person, the adult in the room, the king in the kingdom and set me free.

###############################

Tears streamed down her face as she pondered all of this.

Lying on her bed in the dark at the house of lamentation, she was holding her phone above her face.

On the screen, a text conversation was visible, with the name of the correspondent adorned with a yellow heart: "Eyes of honey💛"

The text read:

___________________________________________

Eyes of honey💛: "Your fireworks display tonight was truly spectacular. I had no idea your magical prowess had grown so strong."

MC: "Haha... Thank you. The sky was indeed breathtaking."

Eyes of honey💛: "I am sure it was, but the true beauty was seeing it reflected in your eyes."

___________________________________________

In the chat box, she had typed "I love you" for the first time, acknowledging it as love rather than mere affection. It was the first time she had ever written those words, the first time, despite the consequences of it all, she had seriously considered putting an end to both their agony.

To be sent? To be deleted? Who knows?

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x-liv25-jamieswife · 2 days

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req for how Grayson would celebrate his so’s birthday please! 🩵

grayson celebrating his so's birthday

of course! the s/o can be whatever girl you want it to be (lyra, you, oc, etc). hope you like them <3.

he would wake her up by kissing her all over her face (he does this everyday, but he puts extra effort on her birthday) (nose kisses, forehead kisses, cheek kisses, etc)

he would literally spend thousands of dollars on her gifts and will have put a lot of time making/buying them.

he will compose her a piano piece ever single year. he performs it at night in the piano room when the two of them are alone.

he'll buy the outfit he wants her to wear prior to the birthday (he doesn't force her to wear it though, it's just something he likes doing/likes helping her out)

he'll wake her up with breakfast in bed and a bouquet of flowers (not roses though, he buys the rarest, most expensive flowers he can find)

he definitely sort of makes her birthday a full week/weekend thing. after they celebrate her birthday with the others, they go on a trip to like italy, spain, portugal, etc where they celebrate even more (if you know what i mean...)

he'd paint something for her. idk what it would be but i hc that gray is like the next picasso or some shit

every year, on her birthday, he adds a picture of her to this photo book he has of the two of them.

one year he got her this beautiful white gold necklace/bracelet/earring set (you can imagine it however you want)

he hires someone to do her hair and makeup for her.

other than physical gifts, he also gives her money for a spa day, concert, etc (he sometimes comes along if she wants him to)

the entire house will be decorated from floor to ceiling (the decorations are her favorite color). diamonds and sparkles are fucking everywhere. it makes her feel like a princess.

he also gets her 2491093480 books because she loves reading (or he brings her to the book store and tells her to take all of the books she wants)

they always end up watching a movie at the end of the day bc she loves watching movies/shows.

grayson helps libby bake her cake (libby could do it by herself but grayson wants to help bc its for his gf)

they eat outside during sunset and stay out long after the stars come out. she loves stargazing (they eat with the other brothers, avery, etc but they also have a date night the day after where they do pretty much the same thing)

he makes playlists for her that he thinks sort of sums up her year (idk if this makes sense) or just of songs that remind him of her

he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of her. he'd always be holding her waist or hugging her or smth.

the entire family would end up in front of a bonfire dancing and talking. they'd have a fucking blast. grayson would be holding her in his arms the entire time with his head stuffed in her neck.

he'd do anything she wanted him to do like twerk or pole dance (he only lets her make a fool of himself when its her birthday). she takes advantage of this and makes him do all the crazy shit imaginable.

this one's shorter than my other posts but oh well. i have quite a few requests so some of my next ones may be shorter. anyways, hope you liked them <3.

#the inheritance games #jameson hawthorne #grayson hawthorne #avery grambs #nash hawthorne #xander hawthorne #libby grambs #the grandest game #lyra kane

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lick-me-lennon22 · 3 days

Text

How they'd comfort you after a SH episode

(thank you to anon for this request!! I know this is a sensitive subject for many so I understand the decision to skip this one ❣️ those who choose to read on, I hope you enjoy!)

⚠️⚠️⚠️ TW: SELF-HARM ⚠️⚠️⚠️

John

John is immediately panicked and uneasy at the sight of you this way

he's seen his fair share of blood, but never that of someone he loves so dearly

for once he's at a loss, no longer his usual smooth and confident self

he stumbles over his words and mumbles reassurances under his breath, hoping to provide you some sense of comfort while he gets his thoughts in order

he knows this isn't something he can joke his way around

John cleans and bandages you up, having done the same for himself countless times following the frequent fights of his youth

he gives you one of his T-shirts to borrow and settles onto the bed next to you

he shares his own thoughts and struggles with you, wanting you to feel less alone

John doesn't have much to offer in the way of coping strategies or outlets, as he isn't exactly the best at managing his own emotions

instead he rubs your back and shushes you, rambling and sharing mindless stories to take your mind off of things until you're able to drift off to sleep

Paul

Paul's doe eyes fill with tears at the sight of your fresh wounds, threatening to spill over before he takes a deep breath to calm his nerves

he mentally scolds himself, knowing he has to hold it together so as not to upset his beloved any further

he takes a gentle and nurturing approach the delicate situation at hand, slowly stepping closer to you and placing a comforting hand on your shoulder

Paul offers endless words of reassurance, telling you how beautiful you are and reminding you that you're the light of his life and the strongest person he knows

he helps you clean up if you allow him, gingerly patting your skin with a dampened cloth

he places gentle kisses on your forehead and strokes your hair, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears as he finally lets his own slip down his ruddy cheeks

when you're clean and settled into bed, Paul picks up his guitar and begins to strum

he plays you a soothing melody, hoping the soft chords and lilt of his voice will lull you to sleep so you can rest and recover

George

George approaches the situation with a calm but serious demeanor

he is deeply concerned for you, but understands your pain and doesn't want to push you to open up to him before you're ready

he soaks a washcloth in cool water and dabs it on your skin to clean you up

he'll fetch you a clean set of clothing to make sure you're comfortable and cared for

though he doesn't want to pry, a quiet voice in his head urges him to help you work through your overwhelming emotions

the man of few words suddenly finds much to say, offering wisdom from his own spiritual practices and beliefs

he emphasizes the importance of finding inner peace and grounding yourself before granting you some time to process his words

when you're ready, George walks you through a guided meditation and some mindful breathing techniques, hoping to bring you some peace of mind

Ringo

Ringo is devastated and doesn't quite understand the situation or what may have led you to do this

he wonders how the one he adores so much could ever want to cause such harm to themselves

he offers to do or bring you anything you need, desperate to remedy the situation

he rifles through the bathroom cabinet for bandages, finally coming across a small metal tin

Ringo rushes over to kneel by your side and begins to place the adhesive bandages over your wounds

being the supportive partner he is, he's so blinded by his dedication to caring for you that he doesn't seem to notice the bandages are far too small

when he gets to the fifth one you fail to stifle a laugh, amused by his determination to make them fit

his face lights up when he hears you laugh - the most melodic sound he could ever imagine

he tries to cheer you up with his usual nonsensical Ringo-isms, lightening your mood and easing your worries with talk of silly fantasies and reminders of your happiest memories together

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hunnybunnyburrows · 1 day

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Seeing everyone talk about their lamb oc got me wanting to do the same

Say hello to Vera! Leader and keeper of the small cult village of Ovine!

(reference drawn by the beautiful and amazing @dragonsaltartales )

More about her under the break!

Vera went through a lot in her first 20 years of life before finally being found and put to the blade that placed the story into motion.

At first she was willing to do anything for The One Who Waits, especially if it meant she'd be able to avenge her fallen brethren, her mother, and her own life that the bishops found worth slaying mercilessly. However, when she met who would become her first follow, rescued from the hands of Leshy's zealot followers eager to sacrifice them, a great deal of her anger and hatred left her. All she saw was herself, her mother, her kind, in the sad cowering rabbit before her. From that point on she does all she can to be as kind and compassionate of a leader as she could be.

She's beloved by her following for her gentle hand, sweet voice, and merciful spirit. She isn't stupid or blind though, and punishes trouble makers as the should be. If she can bring peace within her own flock without bloodshed she will do it. (She's only ever been driven to kill a follower in broad day light once. An act she has zero regret over)

Despite how beloved she is none of her following know her name, save for a very select few. (Narinder, a very specific spouse, and her disciples). She is commonly addressed as "My Lady", "Beloved Lamb", or "Her/My Grace". No one knows why she keeps her name to herself.

Living on the lamb (heh) with her mother the first two decades of her life meant she knew a great deal about gathering herbs, crops, making necessities with her own hands, and crafting medicine. Even after achieving godhood, she still does many things by hand.

While crusading Vera enjoys using Daggers and swords, with the heaviest weapons she'd use being the axe or gauntlets. It was her speed and dexterity that kept her alive for so long before being caught, and it's what she still uses to her advantage. She also adores the wide variety of spells she know has on hand.

She always wears a bell on her person in some shape or form, but she most commonly uses the bell and it's ribbon as a hair tie, keeping her long locks neat and out of the way. It's her most prized possession, as it once belonged to her mother. When she was caught she had lost it, but after being brought back by The One Who Waits, he returned it to her as a gift of good faith. She fell head over heels then and there.

And there she is!!! My girl!!!! I love her so much!!!!

Hope you enjoyed show and tell!! Will I do more with her? Maybe...I want to but it honestly took a lot of gathering up nerve to share this ksdfbvjnfd I want to though!!! So bad!!! So maybe!!!

Thank you all for reading!!! Have a good one!!

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl lamb #cotl oc #I really hope you guys like her!!#This was honestly a lot of fun to do #Maybe I will try doing more with my CoTL brain rot

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kangals · 8 hours

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way back in 2014, probably a few weeks or months after you posted that picture of boone with the stick on his head, i checked your blog out and so dearly enjoyed all the dogposting that i followed. i think you were the first dogblr blog i actually followed at the time, but it's been ages and my memory is bad, so i'm not fully sure. it wasn't long before then--2012 i think?--that i had gotten a new dog of my own, a border collie. iirc he and boone were just about the same age.

in 2018 i lost that blog i'd followed you with, and a lot of connections with it. i didn't return until 2021, and when i did, i didn't refollow most of the old blogs; i don't think i even really went looking for them. it took me a while to get back into the swing of using tumblr.

last september, my border collie had a sharp health decline, and i had to say goodbye. it's not the first time i've had to put a pet down, but i think it was the hardest. i'm still not over it. even just typing this now, i feel raw.

then in march or so, i made a new fandom friend who knows you, and i enthusiastically recalled following you before and how much i enjoyed it. i didn't even know about stellina, and now there's kep too! but... i also didn't know you'd lost boone. i followed because i still really enjoy your blog, and i love your collies too. and butters!!! so glad she's still here!

idk what made me look tonight... maybe because i talked about my old border collie with someone today. i went looking for the posts immediately around when you lost boone, because i guess some part of me wanted to know what happened. i spent the better part of an hour (maybe longer?) reading posts from the weeks before the decline, and then the loss, and then the deluge of old boone pictures after, and i've been crying pretty much the whole time just reading your posts and tags about him.

and this is a long and windy way to get to saying thank you. i'm glad you shared your grief, though that seems like a weird thing to say. there's something cathartic about crying over someone else's dog when you still hurt about your own, and knowing you're not alone in that kind of sorrow. boone was such a beautiful boy. i'll never forget that silly post that made me check your blog out in the first place, or the years of posts i stuck around for after. i wish i'd remembered to follow sooner, but the archive is still there, and it's so fun looking through all those old posts about him and his quirks and antics. he was amazing.

sorry for the length of this, i just... really wanted you to know that he touched yet another life, i guess. and i've been so deeply enjoying your posts about stellina and kep. i know it'll be a year soon... i hope there's some peace in how things have gone since he passed, and i hope the anniversary isn't too hard on you. thank you for sharing him with us.

i've been on tumblr for 14 years and this is, genuinely, the nicest ask i think i've ever been sent.

thank you - sincerely. there's been a lot of times over the course of this blog that i've felt like i was oversharing, or talking about pointless things only i cared about. i still so frequently start typing out a post only to stop mid-sentence and delete it because i can't help but think "no one cares about this." possibly it's why i like to talk about my pets so much - they're not me, but i'm the one who knows them best, so i get to say "hey look at this" and ramble and have people say "i'm looking" back. when boone passed, i lost that filter and i poured my grief out into this blog because it was the closest outlet i had. and to have hundreds of people not only acknowledge this but to commiserate, to reassure, to share their own stories - that helped healed me more than i can put into words. it's exactly as you said: there's a catharsis in grieving together.

i am sorry you also had to say goodbye. i wish i could say it gets easier, but i think that would be defeating the point of grief. your grief is your love and damn it if there isn't any act more loving in the world than choosing to say goodbye to an old, loyal dog. you think of how dogs were domesticated tens of thousands of years ago, of how human society and dogs have developed intertwined, of how we have records of ancient greeks and romans carving loving epitaths on their dog's graves, of how a prehistoric dog's skull was found with a bone placed in it's mouth after death, and you wonder if grieving a dog isn't one of the most consistent experiences in the whole of human history that there is.

i'm glad to know that this could bring you some comfort, in some way. it's incredibly touching to know that you kept me and boone in your thoughts for all this time. i am doing ok - i've been reflecting a lot as we approach the one-year mark. i'm not sure if i'll be able to condense those thoughts down into coherent words, but i'll do my best. i hope that my silly little pets continue to bring you some happiness, and that you've found peace with your own grief.

thank you, again - this is extremely touching and means a hell of a lot to me.

#i know exactly what you mean about reading posts about other peoples loss and grieving in camaraderie with them. i do that too #also mayhaps i am nosy sometimes and want to intrude. i cant help my nature to be a looky-loo #which is to say: you should never feel like you are intruding for doing so back to me.

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prismatoxic · 2 days

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being into a ship that is unquestionably not canon nor could ever be canon is so freeing. watching people in different ship fandoms talk about how their ship is TOTALLY CANONICALLY IMPLIED, YOU GUYS exhausts me by proxy.

fandom on the whole, as of late, has been trending towards thinking ships are only valid if they're canon in some way. it worries me when i see people start falling into that trap. it also worries me when people seek validation from canon instead of just... doing what they want to do. the beauty of our relationship with the media we indulge in is that once we're done reading/watching/playing, it's ours to do with as we please. draw fanart, write fanfic, make edits and AMVs and memes. you can do whatever you want; you're not beholden to what canon did or does.

by all means, write meta with your ship goggles on; god knows i do. that's a time-honored fandom tradition. giggle and kick your feet when your guys interact in a notable way canonically. that's also something we've always done. just... don't fall into this pitfall of trying to justify your ship. you don't have to. nobody has to. you can ship whatever you want forever.

have fun, above all else. that's the most important thing.

#tox.txt

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farm-witches-fic-recs · 2 days

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We love a good surprise, like finding money in our pockets or a special sale on eye of newt. But even more than that, we love a plot twist or a fic moment that makes our jaw drop.

Check out these didn't-see-that-coming moments and leave the authors some love!

-----------------

Body Count ( @weathereyehorizon) "I don't really even know how to talk about this one without giving the good stuff away. It's just so fun and clever and funny. It's a mistaken identity matchmaking dream."

The heat between me and you ( @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3) "The tags look misleading if you read them too fast on this one, but the dove is not so dead, nor so dove. It's actually very fun and pretty spicy!"

Let me paint you a picture (houdini74/ @mostlyinthemorning) "The whole premise of this fic is fantastic, but I was very much surprised by the not your typical roles that David and Patrick played. It's all so good!"

Quick and dirty ( @smallumbrella369) "A totally believable version of what happens when David and Patrick decide to stay at Jake's whiskey night."

Rescued by the farmer ( @dinnfameron) "I would pay actual real money to have scene this go down on the show. It's David and Patrick, but with more Harlequin vibes."

Schittier than fiction ( @delilah-mcmuffin) "This is a gem. The premise is great and it's a little bit wacky, but that's what makes the whole thing so perfect."

Start Spreading the News (PandorasDaydream) "The angst was HUGE! Probably the saddest fic I’ve read and certainly the one I cried the most at. HOWEVER, they do get their happily ever after, and it was beautiful so it made the angst worth it. I was surprised at the premise- David and Patrick divorce! But ultimately so satisfying when they reunited after time apart. Such a well written story and for those who love angst fics, this is one of the best there is!"

There it is on the tip of my tongue ( @designatedgrape) "But what about an AU where David is still running RA, but Patrick has a coffee shop across the street? And it's really hot."

#friends of farm witches fic recs #sc fanfic #sc fic rec #schitt's creek fanfic #schitts creek fic #schitt's creek fic #sc fic #david rose #patrick brewer #david x patrick

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princess-leaorgana · 2 days

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What Tieflings Do Chpt. 3

Summary: After the takedown of The Absolute, Zelphie finds her city in need of more help and her home destroyed. She won't stop helping, but who can help her?

Rolan x Tav (Zelphie; ~30y.o AFAB, Sorcerer, Tiefling, not really described physically on purpose <3)

M/F

Author's Note: I fucking love tielfings. Along with this being a budding romance/smut/fluff/word vomit fanfiction, it's also my case study in DnD 5e tieflings, how they act, what sets them apart from humans and devils and elves. That being said, I have a few artistic liberties in here as well where I couldn't find a straight answer, if you'll amuse me.

Warnings - Spoilers for Baldur's Gate 3, alcohol consumption. This bad Larry is another fluff. Don't worry! Also, if you catch the easter egg in this one I'll give you one lil forehead smooch.

Chapter One Chapter Two

One tenday spent in the luxurious wizard’s tower in Baldur’s Gate. The shop was still a little chaotic, but it was open for business and Rolan was hiring out for help. He had Cal and Lia and Zelphie, of course, but Cal and Lia and Zelphie were not learned spellcasters. Zelphie had the best understanding of the Weave, but she couldn’t understand conjuring the Weave manually. Rolan would attempt to spend time with her, teaching her how to read scrolls and tomes, but she was absolutely useless. And during their private lessons, Zelphie was usually very distracted with her strongly budding feelings for her teacher. That absolutely destroyed her concentration. Nothing had yet happened down that road, and it had almost been too long for Zelphie to feel comfortable bringing it up. She left the siblings that day to head out into the city. She had a few things to sell and was in the market for a redecoration for her room. Larroakan’s taste was high class but cold and dark. The room was beautiful, but it needed more love. She hadn’t done anything about it until then as she still had a gnawing feeling in the back of her mind that she wasn’t to stay with the siblings. She would get an occupation of her own and allow the family to be one again. It didn’t seem like that was going to happen. Lia would scold her if she ever brought it up.

Old potions and elixirs and small trinkets she had picked up on the road were sold quickly for decent coin. Anything she had that was impressive she donated to Sorcerer’s Sundries to either use or sell. Rolan fought with her on that, but she insisted it being a complimentary rent for now. Rolan still fought with her.

The streets were still a mess, but a livable one. People were back to life a little. It wasn’t normal, but it wasn’t apocalyptic. After a decent amount of shopping and many compliments from people who recognized her on the street, she headed for some lunch. She hadn’t seen any of the other tieflings since the battle, and she was very ready to see some happy and familiar faces. Lakrissa, an absolute menace of a thief, had gotten a job at The Elfsong Tavern, the nicest spot in the whole city for a pint and relaxation. Zelphie was very excited to see if her friend was there today, and if she had time for a drink. Walking past two hired hands at the entrance, she was met with the most people she had seen at the tavern. Good, she didn’t want any more compliments, she just wanted to be a normal patron. As she made her way to the bar, to order from the barkeeper, Alan, Zelphie stopped as she heard her name shouted.

‘Zelphie! The beautiful hellspawn who saved Baldur’s Gate!’ Lakrissa, the little shit. Zelphie’s nose scrunched as attention in the tavern fell on her. She turned her head to see Lakrissa sitting on a patron’s lap of all places and she was looking right at her, her arm raised in the air. Zelphie got a cheer and shook her head, staring at Lakrissa. ‘The person who buys our hero her first round wins also buying a round for me!’ She announced to roaring laughter. Lakrissa hopped off her perch and walked over to Zelphie. ‘There you are, hero,’ she said and Zelphie sighed.

‘Here I am, thank you for the announcement, pity, you used to be my favorite,’ she said and took an empty seat at the bar. Lakrissa laughed at her. Alan walked over with a glass full of ice and an amber liquid. ‘Hello Alan,’ she greeted the bartender and she gave her a charming smile.

‘Where’ve you been then? I need you to find me that Minsc fellow. Rented a room here after you all left and started fighting for coin in there. He owes me,’ he said and Zelphie laughed.

‘I wish I could say I bear responsibility for Minsc, but I’ll do my best to settle his debt,’ she said and smirked.

‘So, how IS your favorite, hm? Heard you got a room at the wizard’s tower,’ Lakrissa said, sitting next to Zelphie. Zelphie turned back to Lakrissa.

‘I got very lucky, Lia caught me while I was wandering the streets like a tom cat. I could barely stand. My place was absolutely decimated, I’m surprised the tavern is still around,’ she said and took a sip of her drink. Rum. She hissed and looked up at Alan. ‘It’s barely after breakfast,’ she said and Alan just grinned.

‘You are very welcome,’ he said and walked off to help another patron.

‘Come on, tell me, tell me,’ Lakrissa said and shook Zelphie’s leg. She took another sip and laughed.

‘What is there to tell? It’s not like before I wasn’t constantly on the move. I have a big beautiful comfortable bed to sleep in with a roof over my head. I get fed three times a day AND I’m bathing every day. I am living the high life,’ she said and Lakrissa shook her head.

‘Yes, that big beautiful bed, whose is it?’ She asked, leaning in. Zelphie leaned in with her, smirking.

‘Mine,’ she answered and Larkissa scoffed.

‘Either you’re a tease or Cal is a liar,’ she said, straightening up. Zelphie knew what Lakrissa was getting at, if involved Cal. Although nothing had really happened between her and Rolan and she would have liked for something to have happened, Cal was not being subtle at home about trying to get the two closer. She would have loved to be closer to Rolan, of course she would have, but she wouldn’t allow her new home to be ruined by those feelings. She would rather have good friends than anything.

‘Cal is a liar, but who said I’m not a tease?’ Zelphie said and Lakrissa laughed.

‘Oh, there she is. Gods I’m glad you are alright,’ she said and Zelphie smiled at her.

‘The feeling mutual,’ she said softly. The rum was getting to her quicker than she would have liked. ‘How is Alfira?’ She asked and Lakrissa smiled.

‘She’s perfectly fine, a little set back with her big plans, what with the total destruction of the city, your fault,’ she said and Zelphie nodded and laughed.

The two caught up and Zelphie was given a second drink and was quickly feeling silly. Lakrissa was forced to end her little break and Zelphie left the tavern, hungry and drunk. She walked very slowly back to the tower. On her way back, a little gray kitten began to follow her home. Zelphie swayed when she knelt down to pick up the little sweet thing.

‘Oh hello you little fella,’ she said and lifted the kitten in her arms. ‘You must be starving, come let’s fill that belly of yours,’ she said, deciding in her drunken state that she would adopt this little kitten. It clung to her with its little claws and Zelphie cooed down at it. ‘Oh aren’t you sweet?’ She said and rubbed the kitten’s chin. She continued to walk to Sorcerer’s Sundries and she moved out of the way of a very upset looking half-orc. She stumbled into the shop happily, her eyes and all attention still on the kitten.

‘There you are, I almost sent a search party out for you,’ Rolan called from the counter and walked over to her happily.

‘Look what I found Rolan!’ She cried happily and held the kitten up. Rolan’s happy face turned to concern as he looked at the little kitten in Zelphie’s hand. ‘He followed me home, isn’t he sweet?’ She asked and Rolan sighed at her, giving the sweet little kitten a pet.

‘Have you been drinking?’ He asked her, not ready to entertain the topic of the kitten until he squared away why her eyes were so sleepy looking and why she was swaying a little.

‘Yes, Lakrissa made me, but I guess she didn’t really because I did it anyway,’ she said with a snicker. ‘Only two rum drinks, but you know me, cheap date,’ she said and giggled and Rolan smirked a little.

‘I don’t know that about you, in fact,’ he said and she giggled.

‘Yes, because you’ve never taken me on a date,’ she said and poked him in the chest. She was plastered.

‘Alright, alright, up to bed with you, come now,’ he said, escorting her upstairs.

‘I said I was a cheap date, not an easy one,’ she said and barked out a laugh. She leaned on Rolan and held the little kitten close to her. Rolan burned red, but would ignore her. He wrapped an arm around her to keep her upright. She was loving that sensation. She was aware that she was drunk, and as obnoxious as she was, she wouldn’t make him angry. ‘Is it okay that I have a kitten? A little familiar? I can’t have a real one you see, I didn’t go to school,’ she rambled.

‘You’re fine, I’m sure with everything you’ve accomplished a cute kitten wouldn’t be much of a leap in responsibilities.’ He said and Zelphie giggled.

‘You do think he’s cute? Oh good. I always knew you were a cat person. All good people love cats. The real good ones, because dogs are all lovely and good but dogs love you unconditionally. Cats, cats are as smart as people and are choosy, so I say anyone who can get along with a cat is a good person,’ she rambled on and hiccuped. She felt his thumb rub her arm and the warmth and comfort of his touch led her tail to curl around his.

‘Yes, I do think he’s cute,’ Rolan said simply. Zelphie's attention went back to the kitten, who was very happy to be held. Zelphie scratched the little one under his chin. He was a perfectly gray cat with a small tuft of white on his chest. He was going to need a bath.

‘We are going to get you all cleaned up my little one, and we’ll feed your hungry little belly,’ she cooed and stroked the top of the kitten’s head. ‘How has the shop been today, and who was that lady who was leaving the shop so angry when I came in?’ She asked Rolan.

‘Oh, I’m very glad you’ve been off today, the amount of disappointing interviews I’ve had today…’ he said, tutting. He was much more comfortable talking about this sort of thing, others bothering him. ‘The last one, she claimed to be a cleric of Helm. More like a Paladin of Cyric the way she bumbled about. She couldn’t even bring a desert plant back to life. I’m not looking for a prodigy, but if your god doesn’t give you gifts, there is nothing I can do for you,’ he said and chuckled. Zelphie shook her head, Rolan was lying. He would only want the best in his shop. Perfection at the bare minimum. ‘We did find a budding wizard. She’s a bit under motivated, but I’m sure with my teachings she will flourish in no time,’ he told her and Zelphie put on a little pout.

‘Ah, so our lessons are all over? You’ve given up on me?’ She asked him and he looked down at her and laughed at her silly face.

‘Not even a little. I’m going to get you to master prestidigitation one of these days, I promise,’ he told her and she smiled. She hummed and looked back down at the kitten.

‘I’m jealous of your new apprentice, you’re a wonderful teacher,’ she said and Rolan sighed down at her.

‘Oh, do not be jealous. If she doesn’t perform, she’s out. You on the other hand, I’m too stubborn to let you quit,’ he told her and she smiled to herself. Was she jealous of this person she’d never met? A little. Would she keep up whining at Rolan? No. Did she want to? Yes. The pair got to Zelphie’s bedroom and Zelphie walked in, placing the little kitten on her bed.

‘Now, that’s nicer than the streets, isn’t it?’ She asked the little kitten.

‘Did you want help with him? He certainly needs a bath, I’m not even a fan of him being on the bed,’ Rolan said and scooped the kitten back up. Rolan did like cats, which was great for him; the streets of Baldur’s Gate were littered with them. The kitten took to him quickly, purring and rubbed his face hard against Rolan’s hand. Zelphie giggled and removed her bag and outer jacket.

‘I would love some help. And it looks like he loves you Rolan,’ she said and walked over to the pair. ‘Did you have cats growing up?’ She asked and Rolan nodded.

‘Yes, a lot of cats. Mother spoiled me a lot. She called me sensitive. I used to hate it when she referred to me like that. Like I was weak, but I know now what she meant by it,’ he said, still enjoying petting the kitten. ‘She meant that I was sensitive to others. Those smaller or weaker than myself. When someone needed my help,’ he continued and Zelphie’s smile grew.

‘Like me,’ she said softly and Rolan nodded.

‘Yes, you have the exact same instinct as me. You understand people who need help,’ he said and Zelphie shook her head.

‘No, no, I mean, I’m one of those people who needed your help and you gave it so freely,’ she said and walked closer, reaching out to pet the kitten. Rolan looked down at her and raised an eyebrow.

‘It was a privilege to help you, Zelphie. I finally had a way to pay you back for everything you have done for me. And my family,’ he told her honestly. She looked up at him and chewed on her bottom lip a little.

‘And when will this help run out?’ She asked him softly and he raised his eyebrows.

‘I don’t know…’ he whispered after a moment. ‘But when it does, I ask you to help me out once more by continuing to stay here. Because you being here, it’s more…a selfish want than a payback,’ he admitted and Zelphie’s eyes grew. There was another little silent moment and then Rolan looked back down at the kitten. ‘So,’ he cleared his throat and Zelphie’s eyes fluttered a little. She had been lost, sweet words from Rolan and two glasses of straight rum were an easy recipe for a mindless Zelphie. ‘Shall we start with his bath in the sink? You can’t get their ears wet, I think we’ll have better control of that in the sink than the bath,’ he told her and she sobered a little and nodded.

‘Oh, yes, yes, that’s a good idea,’ she said and the two walked to the bathroom together. She turned in the tap and walked to her bath for soap to use on the poor little kitten. She grabbed two towels as well, one for the inevitable mess and the other for the kitten. Rolan tested the water and held the kitten under the water, holding his scruff. The kitten immediately wiggled and cried. ‘Oh, no no, it’s okay, it’s okay little one, you’ll feel so much better,’ Zelphie cooed and helped get the kitten wet quickly and lathered up some soap. Rolan used his free hand to stop the kitten from swatting Zelphie. He was getting a few cuts, but was about as stubborn as the kitten was. The bath was very quick. The vermin and dirt and whatever else was in the little guy was removed and Zelphie scooped him into a towel, wrapping him tight. He kept crying. ‘Now now now, this is better, hm? Nice and warm, oh lucky you,’ she said and walked out of the bathroom, cradling the cat. ‘You can watch me take a bath later, you’ll see it’s not so bad,’ she continued to talk and Rolan walked out with her. ‘Thank you so much for helping. That would have been a fiasco if I had tried it alone,’ she said and Rolan grinned.

‘You did most of the hard work,’ he said and she shook her head.

‘Let me see your hand, cat scratches are awful things,’ she said and he gave her his hand with a little hesitation. She reached out and lifted his hand up, closing her eyes. ‘Te Curo,’ she whispered easily and with a cool blue flash of light, the scratches were gone from his hand as was the growing itching sensation he was getting from the cuts.

‘Well, thank you,’ he said softly and Zelphie smiled up at him.

The pair helped the kitten get as dry as possible and Rolan led Zelphie to the sitting room so the kitten could be in front of a fireplace. Zelphie began a fire as Rolan sat on the floor and let the kitten out of his towel wrapping. The kitten took his freedom happily and shook his body of water and took to licking the rest off.

‘I’m glad it’s still light out, he’ll be dry in no time,’ Zelphie said and sat down next to Rolan.

‘He’s a lucky little thing, finding you of all people,’ he said and looked down at Zelphie who smiled. She felt her own tail curl up happily. She scooted closer to Rolan and with all the liquid courage she had left in her system, she leaned against him gently and looked over at the kitten, who was fervently grooming himself. Rolan froze a little, the feeling of her body against his. She had leaned on him earlier because she was drunk. She was still drunk, wasn’t she? ‘H-how are you feeling?’ He asked her softly and she smiled.

‘I’m perfect,’ she said, meaning it. Was there a little rum floating in her head? A little. Enough to be a little sleepy and a little bold. But not enough to ruin her senses. The screams of a kitten in a bath had sobered her up considerably. But besides that, she was sitting in front of a fire, very close to a person she trusted and adored. Watching a kitten groom himself. She had no complaints. There was another moment of silence before Rolan’s arm coiled around her waist, holding her a little closer. Zelphie’s heart did flips in her chest and her tail found his quickly. She felt Rolan’s lips in her temple before he spoke.

��Yes you are,’ he whispered and Zelphie felt the warm rush again. This time, she wouldn’t let it hang. She turned her head to look at him properly. He was looking right down at her, his yellow glowing eyes, his strong and sharp features. Zelphie wouldn’t remember who moved first or who moved the most. She just knew that both of them had and the pair kissed. Simple as that. Had it been too soon? Had it taken too long for such a simple, lovely little thing? It didn’t matter, it was happening, and Zelphie felt every spark of electricity in her body zap her skin. She refused to break this kiss. She had been wanting to kiss Rolan for a very long time. She felt his hand on her cheek and then the absence of his lips. He placed his forehead on hers. ‘Was that alright?’ He whispered softly and she nodded, a little speechless. He was more than alright, he was everything. She reached up again, needing to be back in their first kiss. A first kiss for lovers, what a dream. He kissed her back and she gave way to a grateful sigh. She felt his fangs against her lips, she could taste him. Her heart was beating terribly quickly.

‘How long have you been hoping to do that?’ She asked him softly, their foreheads and noses still connected. She was no longer drunk from the rum, but drunk from something else entirely. He grinned and nuzzled down against her.

‘A while…a long while,’ he admitted. She giggled in response. ‘Please tell me you’ve felt the same.’

‘Yes, if only you hadn’t hated me so much,’ she said and he laughed.

‘I did hate you, though, I’ve always been a supporter of the fact that hate and love are not mutually exclusive,’ he told her and her heartbeat quickly. He didn’t mean what he just said, of course. He couldn’t have. Love her? Love her. Not like that, certainly. ‘Because I do, I do love you, I cherish you. And I’m a fool for trying to hide it. I only wanted to make you comfortable around me, I…but everyone is so quick to poke and prod at my feelings for you, I wasn’t very good at hiding them,’ he told her. She felt his thumb rub her cheek gently. She could have melted into a puddle.

‘It shows you have respect for me, but you’ve made me comfortable Rolan. I trust you. I-‘ she said quickly and chewed on her cheek. ‘I love you too.’ She finished and looked into his eyes. He was as close as another person could be. She giggled again and he leaned down to kiss her again. Love. Real, trusting and respecting love. She’d never had that before. Love was more than kisses in front of a fireplace, love was bonding, understanding, trusting, wanting, caring. She would count what she and Rolan shared as love. But like lovers, they had that one more inch of feeling. For did she not love Lia and Cal? Yes. Did she love Jaheira and Gale and Shadowheart and Karlach and Wyll? Yes. Rolan was a different love, with that extra special something that made her stomach flip. He was handsome, he had a velvety low voice. He was commanding and mighty stubborn. Zelphie was attracted to him and it was clear, in the very least, that Rolan was also attracted to her. It was very nice to feel him want her. His hand holding her cheek, the other holding her side, holding her close. Possession. She felt fiery. She was all his. She placed a hand on his thigh and she heard him sigh out. She didn’t want to start anything else, but she did want to touch him.

‘Too, too long. You were right. Wizards are stubborn,’ he said and she laughed. ‘I should have done that ages ago, though…I don’t know if it’s stubbornness or the fear that…I was wrong about how you might have felt about me,’ he continued and Zelphie just kept smiling.

‘I’m glad for your new bravery,’ she whispered softly and Rolan took a minute and spoke again.

‘This isn’t all because you’ve been drinking, is it?’ He asked, clearly nervous about asking that. His voice quivered a bit and he was quick with his words.

‘No, but that’s a very kind question. No, listening to him screaming was enough to sober me up,’ she said and glanced at the kitten, who was still quickly attempting to lick himself dry. She laughed at the sweet sight and looked back at Rolan. ‘Like I said, I’ve been feeling a special way about you for a long while now, Rolan. Since the party, actually, back at our camp…’ she said and Rolan’s eyes widened. She laughed again. ‘Well, you were happy and a little silly, it was a very nice side of you to see,’ she said and Rolan’s smile widened.

‘Well, I can’t blame you then,’ he said playfully, Zelphie laughed lightly. ‘But…silly? Mmmm not my favorite word,’ he said and Zelphie laughed.

‘Then don’t act silly when you’ve had too much wine,’ she told him and he chuckled. ‘But you know, I feel very lucky to see a more relaxed side of you,’ she explained and Rolan nodded.

‘If you see me relaxed it's only because of how you make me feel, my dear,’ he told her and she smirked. My dear. It wasn’t the first time he had called her that. It was very sweet, maybe a little too innocent and careful, but too careful was better than too strong.

‘Now that is the best compliment I think anyone has ever paid me,’ she said and he laughed.

‘I don’t believe you, but I’m going to pretend you’re telling the truth,’ he told her and glanced at the kitten. Still going at himself. Poor little thing. ‘What shall we name him then?’ He asked and Zelphie looked at the kitten.

‘Surely Rolan Junior,’ she said and Rolan barked a laugh.

‘No, gods no, please do not call it that,’ he said and Zelphie hummed a laugh. He looked down at her and shook his head. ‘No, I know that look, I forbid it, both you and the kitten will be street urchins again,’ he told her and she laughed. She leaned over and scooped up the kitten who grumbled a little and went back to his grooming.

‘He is as stubborn as you, it appears,’ she said and Rolan smirked.

‘Hush you,’ he said softly and kissed her temple. She leaned back on him. This was very nice.

‘Ronald,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Please don’t,’ he said, his lips still her hair.

‘Rolanda,’ she added.

‘Zelphie.’

Silence passed between the two of them, Zelphie thinking and enjoying the moment, Rolan’s face buried in her hair. What was he thinking about, she wondered. Was he as happy as she was? She hoped he was, for she was very very happy. She continued to think about a good name for the kitten, no more teasing Rolan. After a moment she gasped.

‘What?’ He asked her, as if she had woken him up.

‘Elminster,’ she said and he laughed loudly and looked down at the kitten.

‘That is the most offensive way to honor Mystra’s chosen,’ he said and she grinned and rubbed the top of the kitten’s head. The poor thing was only concerned with drying himself off. Rolan sat up straighter and held his hands near the kitten, his hands beginning to burn hot. They stayed still together and very quickly the cat dried up. Zelphie looked up at Rolan and smiled.

‘Thank you,’ she said and Rolan smiled.

‘Lajy,’ he said simply. Zelphie blinked at him. Lajy was Infernal, Infernal for love. ‘I used love just then to conjure that heat. We should name him Lajy.’ He used love to dry off the kitten, wizards had to use emotions and memories to call upon The Weave, and Rolan has just used love to burn his hands enough. She smiled up at him, feeling as warm and as comfortable as she could be. She leaned back on him and his grip got tighter on her. He held her while she held the little cat.

‘Lajy,’ she repeated and stroked the kitten’s newly cleaned fur. He felt Rolan leaning against her temple again, their horns clinking a bit. Rolan’s horns were incredibly graceful, almost economical in their shape. They were large, but they swept back and up, out of the way. Zelphie’s were less economical. They went up and out. She found it very difficult to lay on her side at night, and with Rolan so close, she wouldn’t move, as if she did, she might take his eye out. They found a perfect position and the nice peaceful moment was only interrupted by the sound of a hungry belly. Rolan would blame it on Lajy.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan x tav #holy rolan empire #rolan bg3

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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 2 days

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Vox being protective of Retro in your stuff is kinda adorable. Plus the whole not wanting them to remember his protective actions or his stumbling works is too.

Poor Retro most likely cant remember all the flustered stumbling over words Vox did when they flirted with him. Plus he must have needed a lot of proposing do overs

Anyway wanted to say you think Retro would ever take Vox to a Hell's version of an aquarium? He's got those sharks after all, I completely think the Goofy TV man we saw watching the final battle would be a goof ball at the aquarium and Retro would surely enjoy seeing that I think.

Thanks for reading my ramblings, hope it gave an idea or two!

The gentle hum of excitement filled the air as Vox and I stepped into the aquarium, the vibrant colors and soothing sounds of the underwater world enveloping us in a sense of wonder and awe. Vox's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as he took in the sights, his excitement infectious.

"Look at that!" Vox exclaimed, pointing eagerly at a tank filled with colorful tropical fish darting to and fro. "Aren't they magnificent?"

I nodded, unable to suppress a smile at his childlike enthusiasm. "They're beautiful," I agreed, my gaze drawn to the shimmering scales and graceful movements of the fish.

It was when we reached the shark exhibit that Vox's excitement reached its peak. His eyes practically lit up with delight as he pressed his face against the glass, watching the sleek predators glide effortlessly through the water.

"Sharks!" Vox exclaimed, his voice filled with awe. "Did you know that they're one of the oldest species on Earth? And look at those teeth! Absolutely fascinating."

“They’re adorable!” I said, admiring them right alongside him.

“Did you know that sharks have been around for more than 400 million years?” He asked, pulling me over to the tank. “That makes them older than dinosaurs!”

“What? No way,” I said with a smile. “You can’t expect me to believe they survived the same apocalypse that wiped out the dinosaurs.”

“Oh, but they did! And, there are over 400 species of sharks, ranging from the tiny dwarf lanternshark to the massive whale shark,” he said with a grin. He was explaining it all so animatedly, with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t help but be intrigued. “As you probably know, sharks have several rows of teeth, and they can lose up to 30,000 teeth in their lifetime.”

“No! No, no, that one has to be a lie,” I said, shaking my head. He laughed and pointed to an infographic that proved me wrong. “What?! Where does it all go????”

“The ocean floor, where’s it turns to sediment, is eroded into sand over time, or fossilized,” Vox said matter of factly. “Oh! And they aren’t even bloodthirsty monsters, either.”

“Well I knew that part,” I said. I looked at the aquarium where a hammerhead seemed to be swimming around. “They’re adorable, they don’t mean any harm. Most shark attacks are purely accidental.”

“Exactly! Some species of sharks, like the great white shark, can detect a single drop of blood in an Olympic-sized swimming pool, but they’re not interested in humans,” he explained. He walked up to the glass and looked at the sharks with me, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me up against him. “Contrary to popular belief, not all sharks are apex predators; some species feed on plankton and small fish. Sharks have an incredible sense of smell, enabling them to detect prey from miles away, which is why they’re such great hunters! If they smell human blood they won’t pursue it, they have better things to do. Fish taste better, and honestly, I can’t blame them.”

“Despite their fearsome reputation, sharks are more threatened by humans than humans are by them, primarily due to overfishing and habitat destruction,” I said, reading off another sign. “Huh. That’s interesting.”

“I know! They’re just the most amazing little things, aren’t they?” He asked, the same big grin on his face. “Did you know that some species of sharks, like the Greenland shark, have incredibly long lifespans, with some individuals living over 400 years?”

I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm, finding myself caught up in his excitement. Together, we spent hours exploring the various exhibits, marveling at the diversity and beauty of the ocean's inhabitants.

“Oh my god!” I squealed and dragged him away from some coconut crabs to look at sea bunnies. “I love them!”

“Ah, I see I’m not the only one with an interest in marine life,” he said with a small laugh. He looked through the glass at the little guys, less excited than he was about sharks, but curious nonetheless. “So, what makes these little guys so interesting?”

“Sea bunnies are a type of sea slug found in the waters of the Indo-Pacific region. They are known for their cute appearance, with fluffy ‘bunny ears’ and a soft, rounded body, as well as vinbrant colours and intricate patterns,” I explained, pointing to a few. “This one is more common, see its white with little black spots? These are the ones people know best.”

“Oh! They look kind of like you,” Vox said with a smile. He looked between my ‘bunny ears’ and the ones the sea bunny had. “Actually, you guys look a lot alike…”

“That’s because I’m a sea bunny demon,” I said with a laugh. I stood right beside the sea bunny in the tank so he could make the comparison. “You know, like how you’re a TV demon and Val is a Moth Demon. Alastors a deer demon, Velvette is a doll demon. I’m a sea bunny!”

“Oh! I hadn’t thought… wow, okay, that makes a lot of sense,” he said with a nod. “So are those actual ears? How does that work?”

“The ‘bunny ears’ are actually sensory organs called rhinophores, which they use to detect chemicals in the water,” I said with a shrug. I reached up and touched my own for a moment. “It’s a trait we share. Not particularly useful since there’s not an ocean in this ring of Hell.”

“Sea bunnies feed on algae, using their radula (a tongue-like organ covered in tiny teeth) to scrape it off rocks and other surfaces,” Vox said, squinting at a sign as he read it off. He turned to me, looking bewildered. “Do you… do you have that?”

“Nope! I don’t have a need for it,” I said with a grin. I dragged him to a different tank with more colorful sea bunnies. “Anyway! Despite their adorable appearance, sea bunnies are toxic. They absorb toxins from the algae they eat and store them in their bodies as a defense against predators,” I said, matter of factly. “It’s super cool! They’re, like, immune to everything! The toxins can be released into the water if a sea bunny is threatened, making them unpalatable or even harmful to predators.”

“Huh,” he said, thinking about it for a moment. “I never made the connection before. Does that mean you’re poisonous?”

“Sometimes, maybe,” I said with a shrug. I paused for a moment and thought about it. “I… actually don’t know. Huh.”

“Well then.”

“Holy shit! Is that a sting ray?” I asked, running over to another tank, immediately distracted again. “I fucking love stingrays!”

Vox followed along with a smile. Despite how he would rather be with the sharks, still talking about them, he was seemingly content looked at the other exhibits with me. As we made our way through the aquarium, Vox's enthusiasm never waned, his childlike wonder infectious. I found myself grinning and laughing right along with him, every step of the way.

#hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #writing #vox x reader #my writing #x reader #thanks anon!

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