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k-hotchoisan · 4 months

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mmmmmm been thinkin abt photographer!san right nd he is know for his boudoir photography but his latest client’s got him in a chokehold like god how is she so fuckin sexy nd he can’t focus at all bc fuck all he wants to do is fuck her senseless— HELP

Your wish is my command Angel! Thank you for being patient 😘

As always, enjoy 🩷

snap.

Synopsis: encouraged by your friend, you give boudoir photography a try after recovering from a break up, you find yourself doing more than just be a model.

Genres/warnings: smut, boudoir photographer!San x model!reader, sexual tension, unprotected sex, cream pies, mention of oral

Taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies

“Boudoir photography?” You reiterate. Your friend nods.

“A friend of a friend of a friend tried it recently and apparently she’s been full of confidence. Her boyfriend adores it too!” Your friend squeals.

You scrunch your eyebrows, wondering how semi-nude photos taken by a professional photographer in this niche would boost one’s confidence.

Your friend’s eyes dart to you again, and then your phone pings. You look at the link your friend sent you. It’s a referral code for a promotion. You turn to her, gaze still dripping with skepticism.

“Come on, just try it. You’re a lovely person and you deserve to see it for yourself! Boudoir photography might really help at not being constantly self critical.”

You weren’t an entirely insecure person, and you were sure of that. It’s just that, after the rough break up with your ex, and seeing them move on instantly (like two fuckin weeks) with a new partner, undoubtedly was a gut punch to your self esteem, while you were still stuck grieving over the lost relationship and wasted time.

You’ve heard of boudoir photography, but you’ve never actually understood the concept of it, considering that it was niche, and that you don’t really know the point of it. You glance down at the referral link before deciding to just fuck it and sign up.

San is working overtime again, meticulously editing and touching up the photos. It’s become a natural part of him to almost be a perfectionist, whether when on the ground taking photos of the model or the post editing process. But he never loses the sight of letting the women shine naturally through their photos. After all, in such a niche market, they picked him. Definitely, he has his mix of male boudoir models, but the women evidently take up a higher ratio. He understands that one of the most important aspects of boudoir photography is trust and comfort with his models, which has them coming back for more sessions, sometimes even with their partners.

Setting up his own business in such a niche market was difficult of course, and he’s grateful that he’s managed to make a name for himself. But sometimes he’s grateful that his good looks are an added bonus to drawing in his clients.

His email pings and it makes him pause his work. Maybe he should finish it tomorrow. San glances at the fresh email that sits in his inbox.

An appointment via referral.

He opens it, and looks through the client’s information. At the bottom box for comments, sits a short question.

[Just wondering, what should I expect for my appointment? Is there anything I should prepare?]

He takes a moment before he drafts a reply.

[Hey there! Nice to meet you. I’m Choi San, boudoir photographer of Woodie’s Studios. First of all, thank you for choosing our studio for your boudoir experience!

Regarding your question, come in with an open mind. For what to wear, you may bring a set of clothes/lingerie of whatever you feel confident in.

I don’t bite, I promise!]

He reads the reply a second time before he hits send. It’s not as if it’s the first time he’s gotten questions like these anyway. His train of concentration is broken, so he decides to call it a night.

You reach the opaque door of a clean-looking studio apartment. The sign has San’s studio name and logo imprinted on it, so you’re sure that you are at the right location.

You press the door bell and it chimes a lovely tune. There is a quiet pause, before the door handle clicks and the door itself pulls back. Before you stood a really, no, an insanely good looking, tall male. His glasses rest loosely on the bridge of his nose as his small eyes meet yours. His brunette hair is slightly messy. He wears an expression of confusion at first, but it turns into something unreadable. You think for a spilt second that he may have gotten the wrong client, but your rationale reminds you that you did send him photos of yourself so he’s able to recognise you. You blink once, then twice because you were starting to get lost at how handsome your photographer was.

“Choi San..?” you say, with a small tilt of your head.

Then it’s his turn to blink, and he snaps out of that small trance he seemed to be caught in for a few seconds. Then a smile tugs at the corner of his lips as he greets you.

“Hey! Y/n right? Sorry, was tryna recognise you. I promise I don’t usually take that long to process”, he chuckles, pulling the door wider as he ushers you in, reminding you to switch out your shoes for the apartment slippers.

The hallway San brings you down is brightly lit and spilt into a couple of sections which you assumed one of them would be the photo studio itself. A couple of posters of pin up girls hang on the walls, all of them beautiful and stunning.

He then stops at a glass door and pushes it, to what you assumed to be his office.

“Make yourself comfortable. I’ll get you a cup of tea. Any preferences?”, he gestures. You shake your head as you let yourself sink into the velvet couch, gingerly leaving your bag of clothing beside you. San gives a polite nod and excuses himself to the pantry.

And the moment the door shuts behind him, he tears his glasses off the bridge of his nose and hooks the branch onto his collar.

His hand is placed over his heart.

San has photographed many different women over the course of his career, some breathtakingly beautiful. But none has ever made his heart skip a beat and caused his words to be stuck at the back of his throat, not like you did. He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how you looked like—the pictures you sent served that purpose. Maybe it was the fact that he never expected you to look like that in real life, and for once, he almost doesn’t know how to react. His thoughts are all over the place as he paces into the pantry to prepare your tea. As he’s dipping the tea bag into the piping hot water, he begins feeling self conscious—was his hair too shrivelled? Did he smell bad? Was there something on his face? He tightens his grip on the mug and hastily makes his way back to his office.

San returns, with a smile on his face as he settles the cup onto the coffee table before you, and he joins you, seated on a velvet armchair across you.

“Take your time”, he reassures. “We can start after this, if you’re feeling comfortable, or we can just talk a little to ease your nerves.” It doesn’t take you much to think—you opt for the latter of course.

San laughs and nods. “I get that a lot, especially from first time female clients. It’s valid of course, having a male being your photographer for boudoir can sound off-putting. Perhaps looking at my portfolio might put you slightly at ease?” He reaches out for a large and thick leather-bound photo album. You let it rest on your lap as you receive it with a soft “thank you”, and flip the album open, and you’re instantly awestruck—San’s work spoke for himself. The models were diverse, both in nationalities and body shapes, all equally stunning and sensual in their own expressive ways. The only common denominator was the glint of genuine emotion and confidence reflected in their eyes.

You wonder to yourself—could you look and feel as confident as them? As you skim through the pictures, you feel yourself falling in love with the models as well—their genuine smiles when they do and the gazes they give.

When San catches himself staring at you being absorbed in admiring his portfolios, he feels his cheeks flush and he looks down, wondering what you think of it all.

“I see why you have so many clients. The pictures are gorgeous”, you say, shutting the photo album and handing it back to him. San flashes a sheepish smile and mutters a “thank you” loud enough for you to hear. The silence in the room remains a for awhile as you sip the tea, letting it calm your nerves. You don’t even know it but the person with actual jittery nerves was San himself, a feeling that he never expected to feel since the last time he did was when he started out this business three years ago.

“So… what’s the goal of being a boudoir model, if you don’t mind me asking? Like was it a long time thing you wanted to try or was it something spontaneous?” He asks to break the silence.

“I broke up with my ex recently”, you respond curtly, before taking another sip of the tea. Damn, this is some good ass tea. San blinks at your reply, unsure of what to make out of the bluntness. Before he attempts to reply, you continue, “and my friend sent me a referral to your studio, and I thought to myself, why not? I want to feel confident in my own skin. Also, I think it’s an interesting way of self exploration.” Your gaze meets his, and it’s his turn to look awestruck. You try to ignore the flutter in your chest when he laughs softly, when his smile reaches his eyes. It’s the way that he’s confident of his craft, and it’s making you warm up to him even more.

Your fingertips tap on the mug softly. Your gaze lands on the photobook once more.

“Does taking such risqué pictures affect you when you first started out?” You ask before taking another sip. San ponders about the question for awhile. He has people asking him that before, but for some reason, he wants to be slightly more transparent with you.

“I don’t see about my clients in a sexual way, even if they physically look appealing to me. In the end, self confidence and comfort always comes first, and I think that’s what I enjoy seeing in my clients when they become more comfortable in their own skin. People don’t understand how difficult it is to fully love yourself”, he replies.

That’s when you understand why San’s photography studio had so many recurring clients.

“Why boudoir? I think sensuality and intimacy is a form of art. It’s beautiful—watching people discover parts of themselves they never knew existed and falling in love. You don’t have to be conventionally attractive to be a boudoir model.

The money’s good, of course, but the satisfaction of watching my clients giving me feedback of them realising they deserve to love themselves more, or discovering other sides of themselves is nothing short of rewarding.”

By the time he’s done explaining, you feel a rush of confidence in yourself. It’s only been about ten minutes since the both of you just sat and talked, but you see that he definitely prioritises your comfort before he even begins the sessions. You ball your fingers into a fist, meeting San’s gaze with determination, telling him, “I think I’m ready.”

San’s eyes brighten up. “Great! You can use the bathroom to the left, and I’ll meet you at the photo studio just opposite the office.” He stands up, opening the door for you, and you bow slightly in courtesy as you head to the washroom to change. San’s heart beats faster, wondering what you’re gonna wear for the shoot.

San is fixing the sheets of the bed, then the studio lights at the perfect angle he wants it to be. His heart is still racing as he walks over to the tripod, glancing over at the door from time to time, awaiting for your arrival.

He perks up when he sees you walk in with a bathrobe on and he greets you cheerfully again, trying to hide his excitement.

You wave back with a smile, letting the environment of the photo studio sink in. The basic package for first timers consisted of a bed shoot, so it’s no surprise you see a bed in the middle of the room, covered in white. The bed looks comfy and you giggle to yourself, wondering if you’d end up falling asleep mid-shoot from how nice the bed looks.

“Anytime you’re ready”, San reminds you, carrying the tripod in one hand, his biceps flexing as he does, and it makes you blush slightly, which was ridiculous. Why are you swooning over your handsome photographer carrying the tripod with one arm? Suddenly you’re self conscious again, your fingers clutching against the black bathrobe. It was frustrating that you couldn’t pinpoint exactly what was making you nervous, but you weren’t about to back out.

San continues to adjust his camera on the tripod, and his gaze absentmindedly shifts towards you, and his breath gets stuck in his throat, watching you undress from the bathrobe, revealing a white button up over black lace lingerie. It’s not anything new, but for some reason he can’t seem to tear his eyes off you—the way the panties hugs your hips and the bra cups your breasts, the garter belt hugging your waist and the straps hanging past your panties. He watches you climb onto the bed, eyes shutting briefly as you sink into the mattress with a soft smile.

He’s not confident that he’s able to last through the shoot, not when you’re looking like that.

“Is it too cold here?” San asks, trying to divert his attention from his perverse thoughts. You pop up from the sheets, the collars of the shirt slipping past your shoulders, obviously too big for you. That does nothing to help him with his thoughts.

“No, I think the temperature’s okay. Shall we get started?” You ask, buttoning up your shirt, the white material pathetically sheer that San is able to see the black bra peeking through.

The sight of you in an oversized shirt on, with no pants, just your underwear on is like a meal for San’s eyes. He hides behind the camera to hide his flushing cheeks, only to face your body through the viewfinder, watching you preparing to pose as you position yourself at the end of the bed, turning your body slightly to the side with one leg up, your thighs in full view, with the sleeves of the shirt covering most of your fingers, and your gaze right into the camera lens.

San takes a deep breath. Forty five minutes. He can do this.

“Sure. Ready whenever you are, y/n.”

It turns out to be a very agonising forty five minutes. While the both of you were cracking jokes during the shoot, San finds himself getting more distracted when you gradually remove your shirt, and when your poses grow ever more risqué—at one point you remove your bra and fit your shirt over again, which definitely made San grow very restless when he’s unable to tear his eyes away from your bare chest.

Midway through the shoot, all that swarms his mind is wondering how your body would feel against his, how your bare skin would feel under his hands, what kind of faces you would make when you’re under him.

What kind of noises you would make for him when he fits his cock right into you. He wants to fuck you so hard that your mind goes blank—so good that you’ll never remember your ex.

San blinks, his finger still on the shutter button. He doesn’t know what washed over him, but what he does know is the taut feeling in his pants, and he internally heaves a sigh of relief that he decided to wear cargo pants. Nonetheless, he hopes that it isn’t obvious. Well, it shouldn’t be, as long as you don’t ask for close up shots.

“San! Could you come closer for my close ups?” You call out, letting the collar of your shirt fall off your shoulder once more, revealing your bare shoulders, and reminding him that you were still braless underneath the loose clothing article.

Fuck.

San forces a smile, unlatching his camera and trying to walk normally without letting his erection steal your attention.

He reaches to where you are, reminding himself to stay professional, but when he meets your playful gaze, all he wants to do is pin you down. Your eyes twinkle with allure as you prepare your next pose. You get it now—the confidence that slowly trickles into you after every photo taken. You’ve never realised that you had this side of yourself, not until now, and you love it.

The close up shots only spell another layer of doom for San—he adores the budding confidence that you exude, but it makes it even harder for him to hold back, watching you make sultry expressions and poses close up. Through the viewfinder, his eyes try to focus on taking the photo but he finds himself being entranced by your stare. He counts down, then taking a few shots, not missing the growing smile you had.

San puts his camera away, reaching forward to your face to remove a stray hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear, and his touch is warm on your face. It’s then you realise how physically close San is to you—you smell his cologne and it leaves your mind blank for a spilt second. He’s absorbed in fixing your hair, combing the strays off your face, the sound of his quiet breathing the only thing you hear. You look away, wondering if your heartbeat is loud enough for him to hear, and you hope it isn’t. San gives you a soft smile when his eyes finally meet yours.

He pulls back, preparing to take his camera for the next shot, but his leg gets tangled in the sheets.

Everything happens in a spilt second—his knee that shifts forward at first, pressing against the sheet that has unknowingly tangled around his other leg, then San trying to get up quickly with the tangled leg, realising a little too late by the time he falls right onto the bed.

Right onto you.

He almost squishes you. Almost. But he lands above you, supported by his elbows just in time before his body is in contact with yours.

Your heart races, way too quick for you to even process what just occurred. All knew you was:

One; San is right above you,

Two; his lips are hovering over yours,

Three; you feel something pressing against your pelvis.

And San stares down at you, his heart beating in his ears. He takes in the sight of you below him—eyes looking up at him through fluttered lashes, your heat radiating against his skin, your lips slightly parted in surprise.

As well as the strain in his pants when his eyes instinctively lower to your bare chest, your nipples peeking through your shirt, and that his little problem is just resting right on you.

“I’m sorry”, San whispers, breaking the silence that had hung between the both of you. “This usually doesn’t happen…”

You crack an amused smile. “Usually?”you reiterate teasingly. A tint of red flushes San’s cheeks and his clothed erection presses harder against your bare skin, and it makes you bite your lip.

“Fuck. I mean, this never happens. It’s just.. I’ve never felt this way about my boudoir models…”, he trails off. “I think you’re fucking stunning since you entered the studio, and I think you’re even more stunning now.”

Your heart flutters at his confession and this time, you feel yourself blush. A soft laugh escapes from the male above you when he sees you avoid eye contact from the shyness. His strings of rationale—yelling at him to stay professional—is snapping. He’s not lying. He’s never felt so attracted to any of his models before, until you, and now that he has you trapped under him, he doesn’t want to lose that chance.

“Should we end the session here?” San asks, with a quick glance at your pretty red lips.

Your fingers are playing with the dangling silver chain that he wears. He lets you, waiting for your response before he catches your gaze dances back to meet his again. Your hands shift to caress San’s jaw, and he takes it as a sign to make his move. You inhale softly as you feel his lips press onto yours, and it makes your head spin with glee. He tastes so heavenly, and your legs clench at the feeling that flutters between your thighs.

San slightly presses his body weight onto you, his erection only growing harder against your thigh. But it looks like he’s taking his time.

His fingertips warm your skin, and he lets them slip up your body, until he’s at your chest, barely covered by the sheer cotton material. His thumbs grazes against your nipples, and you gasp in between open mouthed kisses. You feel him smile, and he applies pressure, and the sensation goes right to your pussy.

He pulls back, watching your lip stick smudged, and your eyes dilate. You can’t help but feel entranced by San, and now you’re wondering how his face would look like when he falls apart.

And it makes you excited.

San lulls you back from your thoughts when you feel his lips suck softly against your neck, and now your fingers are playing with his soft locks of hair.

He’s slightly embarrassed at the way he’s growing even harder when he gingerly peels the white shirt away. His hands cup your bare tits, and he lowers himself to your left tit, giving it a couple of hungry licks and sucks, leaving your back arching and your mouth agape from how ticklish his tongue feels as he flicks your nipple. He doesn’t neglect the other nipple, giving it the same attention as he relishes in the way you fall apart for him. When he has his fun of sucking and making sure your nipples swell while you moan and tug his hair, he pulls away.

He sits up, pulls his shirt over his head and you’re left drooling at how chiseled his body looks. San unbuttons his pants and yanks it off, alongside his boxers, and you watch with awe as his cock springs out—hard and heavy against his abdomen. Your panties are tugged off you in no time, and you don’t miss the way his cock twitches when his eyes land on your slick covered cunt.

“You’re gonna be the death of me”, you hear him mutter before he collides his lips against yours once more. You squeal when you feel his fingers press onto your clit, giving it small rubs, watching and soaking your reactions—your whines and whimpers. There is a dull buzz in your mind every time your bundle of nerves get stimulated, and it builds up in your tummy.

“Oh god, you’re getting even wetter”, he sighs, his fingers completely soaked.

“It feels good. So good. Keep doing that”, you whisper, your fingers pressing against his arm. Your moans only grow louder as San picks up the speed on rubbing your clit, and it’s sending you over the edge way quicker than you wanted to.

San lowers himself to your head, and his husky voice vibrates in your ears.

“That’s it, keep coming undone. Let your mind shut off. You look so fucking beautiful like that.”

“San, San, fuck. I’m gonna cum. Oh fuck-“

Your eyes roll back as your orgasm washes over you, your body tensing as pleasure becomes the only thing you know. You barely catch onto the dirty things San is telling you, but you know he’s encouraging you to cum on his fingers like a good girl.

He makes sure he has your orgasm drawn out as long as possible, your mind completely blown out at that point. San sucks off your arousal on his fingers, before giving his cock a few pumps.

“You taste like heaven, babe. I’ll get a taste of that cunt soon, but right now, I really can’t wait”, San huffs, trying to keep himself composed as he slowly fucks his hand.

“San, hurry up, please. I need you, so fucking bad”, you whine, your fingers pulling your wet folds open for him.

His breathing goes heavy at your words. “Damn, the shoot really got you heated,” San teases.

“I can’t help it if my photographer makes me wet”, you reply with a playful smile.

Something seems to snap in San when he hears that—all he’s thinking about is wanting to drive his cock so deep into you that your mind completely blanks out.

So that’s what he does.

San lines up his cock to your entrance and pushes and inch in. His eyes dart to your face, licking the bottom of his lip when he watches your face contort into pleasure. His hands stroke your thighs as he pushes in a couple more inches, soaking in your broken moans as he stretches you out. He forces himself to stay composed despite the fact that you’re squeezing him with your warm and soft walls.

He manages to bury himself right to the hilt and he gasps at how perfectly fitted his cock is in you, an uncontrollable moan escaping his lips when he feels you convulse around his cock.

“San, you’re so big. I’m so filled”, you whimper through glazed eyes, his cock completely cutting off other senses as your thighs tremble. A smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, pretty”, San tells you. Despite that, he waits for your green signal before he pulls out and drives his cock right into you.

Your mind switches off the moment his cock is fucking your pussy, because that’s all that matters. It’s so good. So fucking good.

His hands slither to your wrists, and has them pinned over your head as his cock pistons into you. You swear he’s driving you to be cock dumb by the end of this, but not like you fucking minded anyway.

“Look at you. Growing stupid over my cock already. So fucking adorable.”

You only nod in reply, biting your lip as his cock continues to render you speechless. Now San has completely flooded into the smallest crooks of your mind. San has his mind blank, his eyes darting from your fucked out expression to your bouncing tits.

Your cunt flutters once again and tears are pooling at the corner of eyes. The sounds of wet skin slapping echo around the studio.

“…wanna touch you”, you mutter. Despite the face that you loved that he was holding you down, you are feeling desperate to feel his skin as you dance on the fence of your orgasm. San releases your wrists, and he props himself better as he continues to pound into you, hitting the soft, spongy spot over and over again when he has your legs folded. When his pulls out, his cock is covered in a creamy mess. His head spins and his ego inflates at the thought him being the one who drove you to this point of mind blanking pleasure.

“No, no, I’m gonna cum again. So good. San!” His name leaving your lips as a whine. Your hands are gripping onto the loose unbuttoned sleeves of your shirt. His hands take yours and places them on his on his sides, and he groans at the way you’re clawing him.

“Shit. Fuck!” San curses when you cream on his cock even more on top of your walls hugging him tightly. You let go on his cock with a pleasured sob, legs twitching.

It’s not long before a long drawn out moan San releases as his warm cum completely floods your tight hole. He swears he wants to keep his cock tucked in your pussy because it feels that fucking good.

His face—oh, his fucking face when he orgasms. You barely recover from your second orgasm to watch San fall apart while he empties in your pussy, and it almost drives you to your third orgasm. Almost.

The both of you remain still for a moment, only breathing filling in the silence. Then, San slowly pulls out, watching the way his cum leaks out of your abused hole.

San pulls back, and he realises that he’s never seen a more beautiful sight—you, splayed out in nude, only covered by a measly white shirt that inevitably drives him crazy, with cum leaking out of your pretty hole while your body twitches against the white sheets.

He thinks that it’s a pity that his camera is out of reach, because it’s such a beautiful shot.

You glance at San with a shy smile as he hands you your panties. He hooks the your legs into the panties and pulls it up to your hips. You feel another load stain your panties while your thighs twitch.

San dresses himself quickly and extends his arm for you to take as he leads you off the bed. He knows he’s got extra work to wash the sheets but that’s the least of his worries.

What throws you off is when he pulls you into his arms and kisses your temple.

“I promise I’ve never done to any of my clients”, he reiterates.

“Unprofessional”, you tease, your hands sneaking up his shirt.

“Can’t fucking help it. I never knew fucking an Angel in my studio would be this exhilarating. It makes the thought of washing the bedsheets bearable”, he teases back, letting his fingers tangle in your hair.

Your mind goes completely blank when he tells you to wash out the loads in you, so he’ll fill you up once more when he brings you home, which earns him a slap on the chest. He gestures you to go change up, watching the way you remove your shirt to reveal your bare back, and he makes a mental note to start fucking you from behind.

And back at his place, he does. His eyes are hyper focused on the way your ass bounces on his cock. A loud slap reverberates in his room followed by a whimper.

He stills in you, spilling his load once more into your abused cunt as you cream all over him once again.

Then he has you wrapped up in his arms, peppering you with kisses as you’re teetering off your high.

“Stay over, won’t you?”, San requests, tucking a lock of hair behind your ears. You’re beginning to feel completely enamoured by the male. You nod as you melt into his arms.

San thinks it’s ridiculous how hard and fast he fell for you, but he’s confident that you’re his favourite model, ever.

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sundrop-writes · 2 months

Text

Officially announcing my new series: Careful.

A limited multi-chapter series with Spencer Reid and Fem Reader, featuring angst, smut, and the trope of exes to lovers where Spencer finds out that he is a father four years after you have given birth to his child.

'When you and Spencer broke up, he tried to forget about you. He pushed all of those feelings for you down - until he sees your name on a list of potential victims being hunted by a man who kills single mothers.'

The series will be approximately 40k long in total (spread across six chapters) and will be posted every Friday, starting on March 8th, 2024, and continuing until ending on April 12th, 2024.

THE FIRST CHAPTER IS NOW POSTED!!!

(I am making a posting schedule, and I am gonna try really, really hard to stick to it this time guys.)

The series is already finished in my drafts - it just needs to be edited before posting. However, comments and encouragement are highly appreciated and welcomed throughout this process. The fic will not have a taglist (taglists are not something I do) - if you enjoy the concept or the preview below and you want to know when future chapters are coming out, then you will simply have to follow me here and turn on notifications for this blog, or you can find me on AO3 and subscribe to me there to get emails when this series and it's future chapters are posted.

Below is a short preview of the fic - so if you want to get a better sense of what the fic is about, click through and read it, and hopefully, you will enjoy.

Preview Word Count: 1,800

Warnings: typical Criminal Minds episode warnings; mentions of murder/killing; the reader character is being targeted by a killer and doesn't know it yet; the reader has a young child (a four year old son); the reader is a cis woman who uses she/her pronouns and a has a vagina; emotional angst between Spencer and the reader; the reader and Spencer had a romantic relationship around season 1/season 2 and this is meant to take place around season 6(ish) but you can picture any later version of Spencer you want; the reason that the reader and Spencer broke up is purposefully vague here but it will be fully revealed in the full story; the reader purposefully kept the pregnancy/Spencer's child away from him; Spencer didn't know he had a child out there in the world; there is some smut in this - unprotected penetration (a flashback to how the baby got here); possibly something that could be labelled as a breeding kink; making love/intense passionate sex; I believe that's in for this short part.

...

The team found themselves buried in paper, looking through the preschool applications for anyone who fit the UnSub’s victimology - praying that they would be able to pick out the next victim and get to her before the UnSub did.

“We’re never gonna get through these fast enough, are we?” Prentiss sighed, continuing to sift through the papers.

“We just have to go as fast as we can, and hope the UnSub sticks to his schedule.” Morgan replied. “He has to spend time stalking them, learning their routine. Even if he has chosen his victim by now, he won’t break into the home until he’s fully confident that he won’t be disrupted.”

“And the stalking helps build up the fantasy.” Reid added on. “He romanticizes them from afar, sends them gifts. It adds to his delusions of grandeur and forbidden love. The idea that he’s swooping in to become the perfect father figure for these ‘broken’ families.”

“Plus, most of these applications are from two-parent households.” JJ pointed out. “We can throw out anything with a second applicant on the form, because he’s only targeting single mothers.”

The conversation was easily drowned out for Spencer when he saw it.

It should have been just another page among the sea in his hands, but when he saw those words on the page - that name - it was like a punch to the gut that brought back a flood of memories he thought that he had locked away forever.

It was you.

What the hell were you doing applying for preschools?

Spencer rushed to tear this paper out from the others in the stack in order to read it more carefully.

You had a son.

…

When you answered the knock on your door, you were entirely lost for words, your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

The last thing you were expecting was to find Spencer Reid on your doorstep.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

“Y/N,”

He said your name in that honey-sweet way, and it brought you rocketing back to that awful night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin-wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom - immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and dropped out to fear. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch, and you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

You screeched, your emotions carrying your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was emotion that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You added on with a howl. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove - perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, you weren’t even sure.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

…

You hadn’t taken the news that you were potentially being hunted by a serial killer very well.

Although, strangely enough, that wasn’t even close to being the hot topic when JJ and Spencer got back in the car, watching you pull out of your driveway to attend to something you said was entirely urgent.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply.

…

Eventually - you did sit down and talk things out with Spencer, calmly.

He had a lot of questions, and you tried your best to answer them.

“Can I ask you one more thing?” Spencer asked when it came to the forefront of his mind.

“Sure,” You sighed. “I think we have a few more minutes before you have to go.”

“When did you find out that you were pregnant?” He asked. “Was it - was it before? Or after?”

“After.” You told him. “It - it was about two weeks after. When I took one of those at home tests. And I had already made up my mind that I never wanted to see you again. So just - then and there, I decided that I was gonna raise the kid alone.”

“So - so do you know when-?” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

You already knew what he was going to say.

‘Do you know when he was conceived?’

“No.” You rushed to say.

But it was a lie. You knew.

You felt like you couldn’t tell him the truth about this. If there was one thing you couldn’t afford to do right now, with Spencer Reid sitting at your kitchen table, staring at you with his big, inquisitive, glossy eyes, licking his lips, with his firm jaw set tight in contemplation - you couldn’t afford to go reminiscing with him about the night your son had been conceived.

You had spent a lot of time during your pregnancy thinking. Doing the math. Trying to remember.

And you knew exactly when.

The night was so vivid in your mind.

…

He captured your lips in a smooth, knowing, passionate kiss - you didn’t hesitate to moan into his mouth, and Spencer echoed it right back. He had missed you so much during the day; even though he had seen you less than forty-eight hours before this, he felt decades of yearning in his heart.

When he felt the bare head of his cock bump up against your entrance, smearing your wetness over him, he moaned even harder against your mouth. He pulled away from the kiss with a huff, moving his hand to your hip then as he asked a very important question.

“Do you have a condom?”

It broached the front of his mind, then, that he hadn’t brought one with him.

“You don’t need one.” You breathed out in reply, combing your hand through his hair, raking your nails across his scalp in a way that made his hips unconsciously buck forward.

When he felt more of that warm wetness smear across him, his cock just barely dipping into your heat - he didn’t entirely care to decipher the meaning behind your words. He simply trusted you.

“Please, Spencer.” You begged quietly. “I need you. Just you.”

(Later, when he was looking back on it, he would have guessed that you meant you were taking your oral birth control consistently. But looking back on it now - it was the only time within those last months of your relationship that the two of you didn’t use a condom. You were urging him on, and maybe, at the time - a baby truly was what you had in mind.)

He wasn’t one to deny you anyway. And he certainly wasn’t going to deny himself of this.

He reached down and used a hand around the base of his cock to help line himself up, and gently guided the length of his cock into you.

This was always his favorite part.

The gasp - the lilting moan you let out when his cock first slid into you, the way your thighs flexed around his hips - it was all so perfect. But it was even more perfect without the barrier of a condom in the way.

It was perfect. It was so easy; it all came so naturally between the two of you. It was a perfect rhythm between your bodies that came from knowing each other so well, feeling so at ease with each other.

It wasn’t just out of the visceral need to have him inside of you; it was the pure yearning to feel close to him, to have him as physically close as possible.

With you, so tight and beautiful around him - he didn’t last. He couldn’t.

“Y/N.” He warbled out your name, almost as a warning.

“It’s okay.” You breathed back. “Cum for me. Come on, please.”

Spencer couldn’t resist - not when you said ‘please’.

The sound that came from his chest could only be described as a cry, and any fleeting thought he might have had about pulling out left his brain in a millisecond when he felt your tightness fluttering around him, his hips unconsciously fucking deep into you, his body loving the feeling of being held tightly there while your cunt milked him for all he was worth.

He certainly didn’t miss the sweet moans you let out - the bright eyed awe you started up at him with as you felt his cum fill you up for the first time.

…

It was one of the last good memories you had with Spencer - one of the most perfect pictures you had of who he truly was before he came home from Georgia such a different person, and you had no clue why.

Spencer could instantly see the lie in your body language - how closed off you became, how quickly you rushed to cut off his words. Along with the intense heat reflected in your eyes. You were thinking about that night.

He thought he knew exactly which night you were thinking about, and he was going to call you out on it, make you admit in your own words how perfect that night was, even if the two of you were ruined now, a shadow of what you once were.

But he was disrupted by the sound of his phone ringing.

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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belltari · 6 months

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Happy (early) Halloween!!

I finished editing this today but I couldn't wait until Halloween to post it so here it is, an EXTREMELY self indulgent ghoap sex-in-the-closet Halloween fic.

If you're under 18, you shouldn't be reading it.

warnings & tags: plot with porn (a halloween party, its what the boys deserve), terrible dad jokes, flirty banter, established relationship (I'm imagining that it's still new, like only Price knows and Gaz is putting the pieces together), some dom!ghost tones (nothing too dominant), pleasure dom!Simon (that man just wants Johnny to feel good), public sex (it's a blowjob in a closet), face rutting, cum eating, someone gets called a "good boy" a couple of times

it's about 3 thousand-ish words

This was my first time writing something this explicit, so please keep in mind that I have a lot to learn. The other writers in the cod fandom are excellent teachers and inspire me a great deal.

If you just want to read the porn, start reading after the ' -- '

Anyways, I hope you enjoy and have a great rest of your spooky season!

Approaching the mess hall, Johnny chuckles at the purple and orange 'Happy Halloween!' banner hanging above the doorway, it's very clearly homemade with streaky paint and clumpy glitter making up the words and what looks like an old, tattered tarp as the banner. He wonders if it was a team-building exercise for the recruits, as this whole party was a mixer for them to get to know each other better.

Paper party streamers act as a curtain on the wide doorframe, blocking Johnny's view of the interior of the mess hall, he can feel the bass of the music thumping in his chest and hear cheerful laughter from the other side. Pushing the curtain aside, he steps through to see the short corridor has been decorated. Plastic bats with light-up red eyes hang on strings from the ceiling, jack-o'-lantern string lights flickering along the walls accompanied with signs with sayings like "enter if you dare" and "turn back" written on them. When he gets to the end, he surveys the now-repurposed dining hall, more streamers, banners, and cheap plastic decorations decorate the room. The lights have been turned off and the windows covered, floodlights and spotlights covered with coloured transparent pieces of plastic are the only lights illuminating the room creating a dramatic scene.

Several tables are being used as pumpkin carving stations, one of the recruits is ripping the guts out and complaining about the smell, and another is stabbing their pumpkin with a hunting knife. Gaz is there, dressed as a vampire with a long cape and plastic fangs in his mouth, to supervise. He's laughing with them telling them they need to work on their techniques a bit more when he catches Soap's eye giving him a smile and a quick wave, he returns the gesture and continues scanning the room.

He turns to where the music is coming from, tables cleared from the corner creating a makeshift dancefloor. Recruits dressed as ghouls, goblins, witches, and all sorts of different costumes grind and dance together to the music, drinks in hand, and smiles on their faces. 'No better team bonding than getting absolutely shit-faced together' Soap thinks to himself with a grin across his face. He notices Price standing with a group of other captains and lieutenants, he's got a glass of whiskey in one hand and is using the other to help animate whatever story he's got everyone laughing at. Price is dressed in a tri-corn hat with a tall feather sticking out of the side and a knee-length red coat with gold adornments on the sleeves and lapels. 'Gotta be Captain Morgan' Soap smiles, shaking his head. Price notices him, giving Soap a smile and a quick nod which Soap returns.

Finally, he spots the man he was looking for, his broad back facing away from him. Soap approaches walking up to grab a drink next to Ghost. He has his balaclava rolled up to his nose, a half-eaten cupcake in one hand, and a plate of other confections in the other. "Thought you'd put a little more effort in L.T.." Soap says as twists open the bottle of beer he's picked up and turns to smile at Ghost.

Ghost is wearing his normal skull balaclava and skeletal gloves, but his 'costume' has the addition of a hoodie with the skeletal system of a torso and arms.

"Didn’t put much effort in 'cause my heart just wasn’t in it." Ghost response points to his chest where his heart would be.

Soap snorts. "Bet you've been waiting to say that all night."

"Gotta 'nother one for ya."

"Go on then."

"Why are skeletons so calm?" He pauses. "Because nothing gets under their skin."

"Ugh please no more." Soap says in a playful tone shaking his head.

"What are you supposed to be then?" Ghost asks, pointing to Soap while eating the rest of his cupcake.

"Thought it was obvious? The fluffy tail and ears, the roguishly good looks?" Soap pauses, looking at Ghost with a wolfish grin. "C'mon Ghost, I thought you were good at this?"

Ghost eyes rake over Soap’s form. Starting at his furry-eared headband, then down to his bright red collar around his neck. He pauses there for a second, Soap can see his Adam’s apple bob under his balaclava, before continuing further down to his distressed dress shirt that he’s left open at the top exposing his chest, he’s half tucked in his shirt to his jeans that he often wears on ops, the ones that hug his hips and thighs just right. And between his legs, a dark furry tail hangs ending just above his knees.

"Oh, I see you're one of those yappy little lap dogs."

"Oh aye. I'm very territorial and I never shut up. Watch your ankles L.T., I always go for those." Soap says stepping closer to Ghost. He looks down at the collar he's wearing, lifting his eyes back up, over Johnny's chin, to his smirking lips then setting on his bright blue eyes.

"Hmm" Ghost hums. "And is he a good boy too?" He said as he bites into a ghost-shaped sugar cookie.

"Depends on who's giving the orders, sir." Soap looks up through his lashes at Ghost, taking a swig of his drink.

Ghost looks around to make sure no one is paying any mind to them. When he's sure no one is, he hooks a finger under the collar pulling Soap even closer. He then leans into Soap's ear and whispers "Be a good boy then and go to the utility closet, lock the door, and don't open it until you hear three knocks of a beating heart." He doesn't wait for Johnny to respond before pulling away and walking over to Price, where Gaz has now joined him at the other end of the room.

Soap takes a deep breath, downing the rest of his drink, and grabs another one before joining the rest of 141.

When he approaches, Gaz is in the middle of telling Price about the pumpkin carving recruits and their 'interesting' techniques. But Soap's not listening, he's watching Ghost eat another cookie, licking the crumbs from the corner of his lip, laughing at something Price had said.

Soap's face gets hot, he downs a couple mouthfuls of his beer to try and cool down. "You good, Soap?" Gaz asks smiling at him.

"Aye, but this beer isn't. Has to be the weakest thing I've ever drank."

"It's probably a lot better than at piss tequila you drink." Ghost jokes.

"Think I'll go find ya some then LT. Maybe I can get you to come round to it." Soap winks at Ghost and turns to leave, only to be stopped by another captain holding a camera. "Group shot for the books, boys?" She asks. Soap looks over his shoulder at Price as he answers "Alright, come on then," waving the boys closer.

Price throws his arms over Gaz and Ghost's shoulders, Ghost rolls his balaclava back down over his jaw and Soap takes his place on the end next to him, snaking an arm around his back placing his hand on Ghost's waist.

"Say 'Happy Halloween!" The captain says as she readies to take the picture. Soap throws up the peace sign and the boys say the words the captain wanted when the camera flashes.

She comes over to show them the picture, they all look happy, even Ghost looks like he's smiling under his mask. They deserve a break like this after their last op. They move apart and Soap tells them he is going to find that drink for Ghost and excuses himself.

"Ma'am, could I get a copy of that picture?" Soap taps the captain with the camera on her shoulder on his way out. "Of course, hun! I'll make sure to give Price a few extra copies once I get them printed."

"Cheers!" Soap says raising his bottle in response "Enjoy the rest of your night."

"You too!" She says, giving a short wave to Soap.

'Oh, I will.' Soap thinks as he makes his way out of the mess hall and into the corridor leading to the utility closet Ghost wants him to wait in. He walks as fast as he can without looking suspicious, a tightness growing in his stomach and a heart wanting to break free of his ribs in excited anticipation of what's to come.

Rounding a corner, he meets a group of recruits.

"Leaving the party already Sarg?"

"Don't cha worry I'll be back, I'm only out looking for a little something stronger to drink." Soap responds with a wink as he walks backward down the hall coming to a corner. "You lads better get back there, don't want the captain to catch you out here." He turns the corner, hearing the recruits retreating footsteps as he approaches the utility closet door.

When he's standing in front of the door, he grips the handle, checking both ends of the hallway to make sure he won't be seen entering. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he opens the door and steps inside, reaching to his left to flick on the light and shutting the door behind him locking himself in.

He waits for what feels like ages. He finished the last of his drink a while ago and is now pacing around the small room.

"The things I do for this man." Soap signs. "This is ridiculous, what am I even doing in here?"

He checks his watch, 20 minutes have passed.

He's been waiting in a closet for Ghosts for twenty minutes.

"Oh, I'm so making you pay for this LT." He leans against the wall, readjusting his headband to distract him from the tightness in his pants that has been there for the last 15 minutes.

'Fuck it' he thinks, 'I'm not waiting any longer.' He reaches to palm himself through his jeans, moaning at the feeling of finally being touched. His briefs are wet with precum and creating a slick surface that his cock twitches against earning another sign from him. He reaches into his shirt to grab his nipple when a knock from the door startles him.

Knock-knock

Soap takes two long strides to the door, unlocking it and flinging it open. Ghost pushes his way in, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Jesus Simon, I thought you were going to make me wait here all night," Johnny says moving to stand chest to chest with Simon. He places one hand on Simon's waist and moves his other to take off Simon's mask.

Simon grabs his wrist and moves away. "Thought you were being a good boy? Think you need to learn some patience."

"My patience ran out 15 minutes ago." Johnny groans, freeing his wrist and ripping Simon’s mask off, throwing it somewhere on the floor behind him. His hair is an absolute mess, sticking up in all directions and a smirk is plaster across his face, he's looking down at Johnny hungerly.

Johnny smashes his lips onto Simon's in a desperate sloppy kiss, tongue and saliva pushing into Simon's mouth. A moan escapes Johnny. Simon reaches one of his hands up to the back of Johnny's head, caressing his nape first then gripping the back of his mohawk to deepen the kiss.

Johnny pulls away breathing hard when Simon's other hand touches his cock through his jeans. "Fuuuuck" he moans into Simon's neck, placing several open-mouthed kisses there and bringing his hands to wrap around Simon's broad back grabbing fist fulls of his hoodie.

Johnny ruts against Simon's hand earning a chuckle from Simon, "Desperation looks good on you, Johnny."

"Can think of a couple other things that might look even better."

Simon pulls away from Johnny, placing a hand on his chest pushing him away, "Stay." He says as looks down at him with half-lidded eyes. His gaze wanders down Johnny's face to the collar he wears on his neck, then to his chest that heaves in excitement, shirt half unbuttoned showing off his well-defined pecs that are covered in dark hair. Simon takes his hand and brushes Johnny's shirt where he knows his nipple sits underneath, drawing a shutter out of him. He smiles, looking up to Johnny's eyes that are already staring back at him. Simon looks down to see Johnny has clenched his fists that hang by his sides and sees that he's straining against his jeans, a wet spot has formed where the head of his cock has been twitching, wishing to be free from the confines of his jeans.

"You gonna me show how good you are?" He asks Johnny.

"Simon, please I-"

Simon walks Johnny backward until his back meets the shelf full of cleaning supplies behind them, shaking when they collide with it. Simon goes to plant a kiss on Johnny's mouth when Johnny tries to meet him halfway, "Ah-ah, I said stay" he scolds as he grabs Johnny's jaw with a firm grip. He places a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, then on the scar on his chin, and then one more on the pulse on his neck, he can feel it racing under his lips.

He suddenly pulls away and crouches down to settle on his knees in front of Johnny. Simon reaches for Johnny's belt unbuckling it, he unbuttons his jeans pulling them and his boxer briefs halfway down his thighs in one fluid motion, letting Johnny's cock spring free in front of his face.

A string of precum hangs from the half-covered head of his cock, creating a string that connects to the inside of his briefs. It twitches and another pearl forms under Simon's gaze. The pearl drops to the floor when Simon's gloved hand connects with his shaft, slowly moving his foreskin back to reveal his glistening, swollen head.

"Ahh, fuck" Johnny sighs, throwing his head back to smack against the self with a bang, knocking over a couple of the bottles.

"Careful, Johnny. Need to stay quiet, don't want anyone finding us do ya?" Simon teases as he starts lazily stroking his cock. He gets a hiss from Johnny, as he slides his gloved hand down his shaft to the base, creating a rough sensation for Johnny.

Simon's hand slides back up to his leaking head, thumb going to Johnny's frenulum drawing agonizingly slow circles on it. Simon looks up at Johnny to see his face contorted in pleasure with the overstimulation he's causing and that his headband has been knocked out of place. He brings his other hand to grip Johnny's balls, pulling them down gently. Johnny's chest heaves in when he releases a heavy breath, his hand shooting out to grip the edge of the shelf he's leaning on, his other hand hovering over Simon's head, hesitating to grip his hair. He looks down to Simon for permission, to which Simon responds by releasing his hand from Johnny's cock and catching it on his tongue.

"Yer gonna kill me." He breathes, getting a open-mouthed grin out of Simon. He wraps his lips around him before sucking on his head, flicking his tongue on the underside.

"Simon." Johnny warns.

Simon sinks his whole cock into his mouth, nose pushing into Johnny's pubic bone, a burning feeling in the back of his throat. He sticks his tongue out to caress his balls while he starts messaging them with his hand. Drool drops into his palm helping ease the rough feeling of his glove for Johnny. He slides Johnny's cock out of his mouth to take a deep breath.

"Think yer enjoying this more than me." Johnny chuckles at Simon looking down at the saliva dripping from his wet lips. Simon only looks up at him in response before pulling his cock back into his mouth, sucking and bobbing up and down his cock with a relentless pace this time. He never breaks eye contact with Johnny as he starts playing with his balls and moving his forefinger to brush against his taint. This makes Johnny buck forward deep into Simon's mouth and grip his own pec, wanting to place pressure on his nipple. Simon pulls Johnny's hand away, ripping his shirt open making a couple of the buttons fly free. He finds Johnny's nipple and pinches. Hard.

"I'm- I’m gunna-!" Johnny pants out. Bucking forward once again, pushing his cock farther down Simon’s throat, making his eyes water.

Simon can feel him twitching and pulsing inside his throat. He pulls his head away quickly just as Johnny starts to come, he tastes it briefly on his tongue before releasing his cock with a pop and feels Johnny's cum land on his face. One release squirts up his cheek stopping on his cheekbone and another across the bridge of his nose just missing his eye. More oozes out as Johnny grips the sides of Simon’s head to rut through his orgasm, rubbing and grinding his cock against Simon's face, his balls slapping against his jaw with a wet sticky sound. Simon closes one of his eyes as Johnny’s cock gets dangerously close to it, even more cum is leaking out of the tip as Johnny overstimulates himself. When he stops, he's breathing hard and hunching over, shaking from his orgasm, his cock jumps against the bridge of Simon’s nose. The cum pooled there drips down his face and over his chin, dripping onto his neck and disappearing under his shirt.

"Good boy." Simon says as he pats Johnny's thigh.

"Lemme be even better than,” he says, as he unsteadily crouches down in front of Simon, “and help clean you up." He sticks his tongue out, licking the cum off Simon’s neck, trailing up to his chin, then up and over his cheek. After he's collected it all in his mouth he kisses Simon, holding eye contact when he pushes it into his mouth with his tongue, smiling when he accepts it. Johnny pulls away, looking very impressed with himself, a string of saliva connects them and Simon swallows what he’s given him. Wiping his mouth with the back of this hand, Simon stands them both up, pulling Johnny's pants up, tucking him back in his briefs, and making his best attempt to fix his shirt.

Johnny places an arm around Simon's neck pulling him into a sweet tender kiss. "Let's get you sorted then." He smiles into Simon's lips, he reaches underneath his hoodie to brush along Simon’s abdomen, running his fingers through his happy trail, flattening his hand to slide into the top of his cargo pants.

Simon pulls away slightly, reaching up to fix Johnny’s fluffy-eared headband. "You know I don't need that."

"I know" he pauses "but I want too," Johnny whispers into his cheek. "I'll come to your room later. This time you'll have to wait for me." He smirks looking up at him.

"I'll be waiting." Simon kisses Johnny one last time, then steps out of his reach, picking up his discarded mask from the floor and slipping it over his head back into place. He grabs Soap's long-forgotten empty bottle and says, "Wait five minutes before leaving, yeah?"

"I know, Ghost. This isn't my first time." He smiles.

"And remember that piss tequila you were supposed to be findin'."

"You won't be callin' it that by the end of the night."

"Mmm, I doubt that." Ghost opens the door quietly to listen for anyone outside, when he hears nothing, he looks back at Soap over his shoulder and nods a 'see you' then steps out closing the door behind him.

Soap takes in a deep breath. 'Think I gotta start wearing a collar more often.' He thinks. 'Maybe I should start wearing the throat mic again?'

#ghost has a sweet tooth and i wont hear otherwise #price and gaz are here but they play a small part so imma not tag em #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #bell writes

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apoptoses · 1 year

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What does your editing process look like? Asking because I tend to just try to get everything perfect as I’m writing and then I’ll proofread before posting, it hasn’t really occurred to me to edit after I’m done

Editing as you write, for me, means getting nothing done. I've tried it and I spend ages on the same paragraph and then I get frustrated and quit haha

I use the Stephen King method of writing and editing. I sit down, start writing, and just keep going without stopping until I'm done with the scene or just mentally drained and done for the day. No going back and reading when I just put down, no pausing. If I don't know what I want them to say immediately I just type (SOME STUFF HERE) and keep banging away with what I know will come next.

Then once the whole thing is done (and I mean the whole thing, if it's gonna be a 50k fic I want all 50k out and DONE) I go back. I read the thing from start to finish without changing a single thing, just reading. That's how I figure out where the plot holes are, or if some theme doesn't get carried through to the end.

I also do this thing where I kinda sit back and unfocus my eyes and look at the shape of the text. Do I have like five huge blocks of writing one after the other? Do I have a ton of super short 2 sentence paragraphs all in a row? I check the 'shape' of the text to see how things flow, and if there's a super huge chunk of heavy reading I note that I need to either add some short stuff in between or edit those paragraphs down.

Any ideas I have at this point I make notes of but I don't start the edit immediately. I walk away for the rest of the night and then come back the next day.

THEN. Step 3. The REAL edit. I read and edit as I go, adding stuff in, taking stuff out, deleting scenes or noting where I need to add a scene/transition. Again, super important, go through all the way from start to finish and try not to jump around because that only leads to confusion.

Once that's done I walk away from the thing for at least a few days and try to forget about it until I feel about ready to post.

The night before I wanna post it I'll scan through one more time, make any last second edits and fix any typos. Paste it into AO3. Save as a draft.

Now if it's truly done, then the next day when I want to post it hitting the post button will be a breeze. If I feel any hesitation? I do one last pass, because that's my gut telling me something is missing/wrong. My gut has always been right.

It sounds super involved but on a fic under 10k it's no problem, it's a matter of taking little one hour chunks over the course of a couple days.

For something big like Blood Sanation, scrivener has been a godsend (THANK YOU everyone who bought me a ko-fi, I got the program and I love it ♥) Putting each scene into its own document keeps me from getting lost in the fic and lets me edit the scenes one at a time.

It's all about making the process small manageable chunks! I'm just burnt out on it from dealing with Blood Sanation and having like four other wips ready for edits at the same time haha

Lemme know if you have any other questions! I love sharing and helping with writing stuff.

#apoptoses answers

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bitletsanddrabbles · 1 year

Text

WIP Whatevaaaaaaaaaargh!

Awhile ago I decided that i wasn’t going to post any more Island of the Gays snippets, no matter how much inspiration I got from @alex51324 ‘s work, simply because my brain has been having too damn much fun lately going “OOO! Inspiration for a SHORT piece!” then, as soon as I have three paragraphs, insisting that the short balloon out to twice the length and then wandering off to play with dandelions rather than write it.

It’s frustrating and pointless.

HOWEVER. I have just reached my 50k goal for NANO and let me tell you, 50k has never felt less satisfying. I don’t know what it is this year, but everything just feels flat as a road kill flatworm. So since this thing, which has been pestering me off and on for I don’t know how long to be written, and was, in fact, what got me over the finish line, I’mma post a bit.

Is it good? Not really. It’s a rough draft, so it needs editing. I need to reread the entire story to get people right. Rouse in particular is probably all kinds of off kilter. But it’s a THING, damnit, and I can, so I’m going to. So there.

As if he didn’t have one himself, Thomas thought, but none-the-less produced his own lighter. Once he’d lit the other man’s fag for him, he decided he’d better get one for himself. Something told him that whatever this was about, he wasn’t going to particularly like it. When he’d taken a lungful of smoke and breathed it out without the other man starting an actual conversation, Thomas decided that he’d better take the initiative or else Gordon really was going to wind up doing the entire paper himself. “Look, Rouse, what is this about?”

The other man was leaning against the stone wall that went along the edge of the road, helping to keep the bluff in place during high storms. He tilted his head back, staring up at the sky, and said, calm as you please, “According to certain people we’ve talked to, you have a bit of a past with the Duke of Crowborough.”

Thomas was suddenly very happy for the cigarette. Warily he answered, “Yes.”

“What would you say to his coming here?”

The question caught Thomas like a blow to the gut. If he’d had smoke in his mouth, he’d have choked like a novice. “Here?” he demanded. “I’d say no, absolutely not. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

“You don’t,” the other man informed him, blowing out a plume of smoke.

Thomas stared. Two years and he’d started to feel settled. To feel safe. Now the doctors were going to drop Phillip into his life? “Damn it, Rouse, I am not leaving this island, I was here first!”

Rouse chuckled, although there wasn’t any humour to it. “Well, glad to hear that, and not just because you’d take our tobacconist with you.”

“You’re serious.” Thomas wasn’t sure he’d ever hated anyone so much as he hated Rouse right then, except maybe Phillip himself. Even Carson hadn’t left him wanting to punch something this badly. Then something hit him. “Oh God. The VIP. He’s going to be here next week?”

“Calm down,” the other man replied, still studying the sky, and Thomas was vaguely aware he’d shouted that last bit. “It won’t be next week, it’ll be the week after. Maybe the week after that. There are things to attend to on the mainland. We gave told you at the paper now so there’d be lots of time for people to get used to the idea.”

The words coming out of the other man’s mouth refused to make any form of coherent sense. “What, you mean you’re giving us his name for the paper?” he half spat.

“Yes.”

“Why? You never do that!” Everything about the situation was so irregular that Thomas half expected the other man to say it was a joke, except this was Rouse. He’d never be that sadistic.

“Look, Thomas,” Rouse sighed, finally looking down and meeting Thomas’s gaze. “You’re hardly the only man on this island who’s going to be less than pleased to see His Grace. Hell, I’m none too happy about it, and I’ve only heard about the man. I think Lord Hexham’s the only one who knows him hasn’t reached for a proverbial pitch fork when we told him about it. We’re giving everyone as much time to come to terms with it as possible.”

“But there’s nothing you can do to stop it?” Thomas asked, feeling deeply betrayed. After all, Rouse had fought the idea of Lord Hexham coming here, and he was one of the nicest toffs Thomas had ever run across! Still a toff, of course, but at least willing to chip in where needed, and he didn’t look down his nose at you. And the other man had still insisted that if they were going to take him, they had to take Gordon. Now though… Thomas couldn’t see behind the scenes, but it seemed like he was giving up without a whimper. From what they’d been told, there wasn’t even another working class bloke coming to balance things.

To his utter shock, the other man replied, “I’m not trying to stop it. Not this time. He maybe a toff and an utter ass, but…” Rouse paused, taking a smoke, then shook his head. “I’m a psychologist, Thomas. I can’t just say no this go around. There’s more to it.”

“What more could there be?” Letting go of his temper and his volume both, Thomas flat out started screaming, his fists balling at his side. “Damn it all, Rouse, do not tell me you’re letting bloody Phillip out here without telling me why!”

His protest earned him a worn out look. “Do you want me to start telling details of your life to anyone who asks?” Rouse countered. “All I can tell you is that he’s not coming willingly.”

Thomas didn’t buy it for a second. “And how do you force a Duke?”

Rouse shook his head, still not divulging any further information. “Look, I’m not asking you to be happy with it. I’m not asking anyone to be happy with it. I’m just giving you warning and asking that you not punch him the second he arrives, all right?” His expression became very pointed. “If you do, there will be consequences.”

Consequences. For punching fucking Phillip. No man on earth deserved punching more, but naturally Thomas would get in trouble if he did. There was proof that even on the Island, some things never changed. “Right,” he spat, eyes narrowing. He forced his fists to unclench. “Noted. May I go now, Doctor?” He threw the title like an insult.

Rouse eyed him for a moment, then sighed and shrugged. “Yeah, you may go.”

“Thank you.” Thomas spun on his heel and stalked away from the other man. The entire trip back to the print shop he kept remembering things. Phillip’s laugh. Phillip’s smile. The way Phillip kissed him.

The sight of his letter’s going up in smoke.

The look on Phillip’s face when he asked if Thomas wanted to stay.

Why?

Why after all of these years was fucking Phillip being brought back into his life?

Dr. L. would do it for the money, Thomas knew, except Phillip didn’t have money. Not unless he’d gotten married and his wife died and left all of her millions to him. Assuming there was something of her millions left and it hadn’t all been spent on the estate.

But why Rouse? Why the fucking hell would the island’s representative of the working class welcome Phillip with open fucking arms? And why would they tell everyone it was happening, but not why it was happening?

Thomas slammed the door of the press open hard enough to rattle the hinges, stalking through the front room and giving the inner door the same treatment. Gordon must have heard the first slam, because he was already half way through the room when Thomas made his entrance.

The younger man took a quick step back. “Here now, wot the hell are you het up about? We’ve got a paper to finish.”

“Fuck the paper,” Thomas spat, earning himself a gobsmacked look. “Fuck the paper and while we’re at it, fuck Rouse! Come on, leave that. We’re going to the pub.” He didn’t even check the time to make certain they’d be open. For this, Tully would let him in as a friend, and probably give him as much whiskey as he wanted.

#downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction #thomas barrow #frank rouse #terrance gordon #the duke of crowborough #wip #island of the gays #fanfiction of fanfiction #fighting frustration tooth and nail here

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csmeaner · 2 years

Text

Guessing If You'll Connect to an OC

Long post, hope it helps somebody anyway. Maybe Mod Shit can put this one under a Read More if Tumblr has those?

How often have we seen, “I just couldn’t connect!” in CS? Some of these people are looking for any excuse to fodder, but some of them are genuine. If you’ve got the time, you can raise the chances of grabbing an OC you’ll connect to. I’ve used this method several times already. It's amazing how well it’s worked. It’s a useful tool to have when dealing with FOMO or general shopping addiction, so please let me pass it on to you. You can figure out how to modify it for almost anything you’re addicted to buying.

(This also works if you’re debating whether or not to put a character up for trade.)

The idea

You are going to write some bare bones detail about this OC as if you already owned them. If you’re an artist, you’ll also draw as well. Do not use Toyhouse or any other site with fancy formatting. You don’t want to spend all day making a fancy profile for something you might not even like. You also might love-bomb yourself into loving the character and, when that honeymoon period ends…

DeviantArt’s stash is very good for this purpose. It’s private (you don’t risk people thinking you’re a thief) and easy to work with.

Come into this with the mindset of: “If I get this character, I will never be able to get rid of them for a fair offer. Nobody will offer money, and people will only offer shitty bucket fill adopts for trades.” This will help drive you to figure out if you want these pixels with all your heart.

Write a short profile

In DA Stash (or wherever you decide to do this), upload an image of the character you want to buy. Give them a name. If you can’t come up with a name for them just yet, that’s a yellow flag, but not that unusual. You should have at least a tentative name by the time you’re finished writing.

Add a description beneath the image with the following layout:

–Physical Appearance

–Personality/Non-Physical Details

–Intro Text

Beneath each, write short notes about this character. Don’t write entire paragraphs with the exception of very short story summaries. No real world-building should occur; however, it’s fine to make a few remarks about it (ex: “A western fantasy world that’s been invaded by aliens”).

Don’t get bogged down in minute details. Write enough to give you a feel for who and what this character is, and what they stand for.

You might get super lucky and have major ideas. There’s a good chance you’ll connect. Complete the entire exercise just in case your enthusiasm wanes.

“Intro Text” could also be termed “Flavor Text”. It’s a maximum of 6 - 8 sentences that expands on who this character is. If you can tie them in with others you already own and love, that raises the chance the newbie is a good fit for you.

Coming back to edit is fine. It may even be a good sign–your brain is cooking stuff up for you.

If you can’t come up with many details, or you feel lukewarm in general, leave it for an hour, come back, and check again. If you’re still lukewarm, hard pass. You don’t want this character, you want pretty pixels to stare at or fodder, with regrets.

————————

Example of a profile:

Physical Appearance

-Very short

-Wears bridge piercings

-Tattoos optional

Personality/Non-Physical Details

-Sensitive about his height

-Motto for life is, “no guts, no glory”

-No brains, just go

-Lives in the Territories, a high fantasy world where magical creatures are mysteriously going extinct. When CharacterIAlreadyOwn approaches CharacterName in desperation, the two end up on a wild adventure that will uncover a secret the Territories Kings have been hiding for generations.

Intro Text

A feisty, adventure-loving fellow with a bit of a selfish streak. CharacterName is motivated mainly by gold and beautiful women, but there’s a good heart in him somewhere. Probably in his nuts, because he seems to think mainly with his second head.

Even if you don’t draw, just try this

Even if you aren’t a visual artist, sketching will help you get a feel for your character, but you can skip this if you feel that strongly about it.

Quickly sketch a head shot, a half body, and a full body. Draw quickly, but not carelessly. You want to get an idea of how this character feels beneath your pencil/pen. Copying poses from photo references is fine. Do not use a pre-existing base or copy someone else’s work. You want to see what this character feels like in your style and under your pencil/pen, not someone else’s!

If drawing feels arduous and you’re a visual artist, red flag. Let’s be honest: this poor thing is just gonna rot on your hard drive or in your TH. It’s harder to judge if you normally don’t draw. You’ll have to rely more on your profile.

At this point, you should have a decent feel as to whether or not you want this character. Walk away for another hour, spend a little time daydreaming about the character based on the profile and sketches you created, then return to your work.

If you aren’t at least 90% sure (be honest with yourself!) you like this character, chances are you won’t connect. Hard pass.

Remember: it’s better to miss out than be that person saddled with a bunch of expensive junk. In the case of CS, a lot of people have begun to complain about how difficult it is to offload characters for fair offers. This is a function of people getting sick of CS and CS being over-valued. So in some cases, the mindset of “I’m stuck with this dude/lady/eldritch abomination forever” may be correct.

There will always be something nice out there. You won’t die if you pass on some of them.

#submission #help #a big thanks since if people at least thought a biiit more they wouldn't impulse buy so much

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heartofspells · 2 years

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YAY. It's so much fun! Okay okay okay, my love, could I please get 19, 28 and 44 pretty pretty please.

They always are, aren't they? And of course you can, sweetie!

19. Do you edit your fics after you write them, or do you prefer to just hit post and run (because it’s someone else’s problem now)?

Short answer: yes (mostly; sometimes i got lazy and would just post with a note warning it was unedited, but that was rare)

Long answer: Yes. I have always scoured my writing before posting, reading over it several times, searching out things I've missed. BUT NOW!!! I have a beta. She bullied me into it, don't let her lie and tell you differently (but she's fantastic and i'm thrilled by and with her)

28. How do you deal with writing pressure (ie: pressure to update, negative comments, deadlines, etc)?

When I first got back into writing and starting diving into multi-chaptered things, the pressure was a lot, even though I always told myself not to stress. I inevitably did every time. I set my own self up for failure. I know how my life is, how my mind works, but I'd set a specific day of the week for updates and then fall behind on the actual writing part, scrambling to finish on time like there was something tremendous riding on it, life or death. I've stopped that now. No posting dates. The chapters come when they come. And when it takes a while, I feel guilty, but I remind myself that this is meant to be fun and a way to keep my sanity, not lose it.

Also, I'm terrible with deadlines. Don't talk to me about those. I panic at the very word. 😅

As for negative comments, I've honestly been incredibly lucky with that so far (especially seeing what other people have or are dealing with). I've not had many, and the ones that could veer slightly negative are mostly just personal opinions and views on what I've included. But for the things I sometimes write, I'm a little astounded it hasn't happened more and with much more force. But I'm waiting for when it inevitably starts. If it does, I'll handle it like an adult. It might sting a bit, but I've got thick skin. I'll either respond as I see fit, or ignore it.

44. Rant about something writing related.

So I am tired. Like, indescribably tired. It's been a long day and I've just finished writing something...incredibly difficult that's left me a bit wrung dry. Which is probably the worst time to ask me to rant about anything because the fingers and brain are loose, leaving little restraint. But on that note:

Let's talk about the writing of difficult things for a minute. Because I have questions. Questions probably no one can answer and they're mostly rhetorical, but questions nonetheless.

You sit down to write something. You've got it all planned out, know exactly how it's going to go, written it all in your head beforehand. It's mostly light, or maybe just a little angsty. You're passionate about it. You want to write it. But when you get there, the struggle comes. That fight for words you know but won't emerge. They're there, like trying to speak, something on the tip of your tongue, but you can't quite grasp it, can't make it release itself and make itself known.

But you sit down to write something just as planned that's just...gut-wrenching, heart-tearing, something that shreds you to pieces from the inside out. You know it's going to happen, you're ready for it, you prepare, or you think you do, but you're never quite prepared enough. But still, those words, they just flow. You can't stop, fingers flying over the page or the keys like they have a mind of their own. You sink into it, the worst possible things, the most unimaginable, painful, ripping atrocities, and there it is, so easy.

Why is that?

Send me something from this writer ask!

#fanfic writer asks #ask #answer #mal tag

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sinceileftyoublog · 1 year

Text

Heather Trost Interview: Processing Descent Through Creativity

BY JORDAN MAINZER

Many pandemic records, no matter how positive they may seem on the surface, nonetheless leak a creeping sense of dread, or at least the unease of the unknown. Heather Trost’s Desert Flowers (Ba Da Bing!) is not one of those records. Maybe it helped that it was technically Trost’s second record finished during COVID, the first being 2020′s Petrichor. But centering around the very idea of oases, growth in a place that’s not supposed to support it, Desert Flowers finds utopia in familial comforts, dreams, and nature, no matter how imperfect. If the psychedelia its name suggests, connotes an overabundance of idealism, the album itself is anything but, marked by determined language and tactile instrumentation.

Desert Flowers simply flows. Opener “Frog and Toad are Friends” is the warm-up sci-fi surf instrumental. “The Devil Never Sleeps” is menacing for a moment only as a reminder for Trost to listen to her gut, her vocals otherwise carried by buzzing guitars and rolling drums. “Blue Fish”, whose arpeggiated wobbly synth line appeared as a motif in Peter Strickland’s film Flux Gourmet, is based on Trost’s dream of a blue fish, thrashing about in a bird’s mouth, speaking to her. “You Always Gave Me Succor” references a childhood encounter with a coyote. Throughout Desert Flowers, Trost doesn’t attempt to explain her relationship with flora and fauna; rather, she finds solace marveling at their very existence.

During our phone conversation last fall, Trost radiated the same enthusiasm for the natural world that appears on Desert Flowers. We went off on minutes-long tangents about our favorite local wildlife refuges, and further talked about her relationship to literature from Greek mythology to, yes, the Frog and Toad series. Read our conversation below, edited for length and clarity.

Since I Left You: Are desert flowers a metaphor for creating during a global pandemic?

Heather Trost: Yeah, I think so. Because I grew up in the desert, I have a lot of desert metaphors rolling around my brain, and the pandemic was a social desert but an opportunity. Obviously, I would have preferred not to have all the death and suffering of the pandemic, but it helped my creative process to have the time and the space to really sink in, be with myself, and write the lyrics and the melodies in a way that was unhindered by the normal business of life.

SILY: A lot of folks, whether they lived in an urban or rural environment, got a newfound appreciation for and became more connected to nature during the pandemic. Do you feel like that happened to you, especially as it pertains to your music?

HT: I’ve always been really connected to nature, but I had the time and space to take walks or be by a river or go to the mountains or go camping. It definitely helped.

SILY: What’s your relationship to the Frog and Toad book series?

HT: It’s a beautiful book [series]. I actually didn’t discover it until I was an adult, but I fell in love with these two characters. Toad is this ornery character who needs a lot of help coming out of his [shell,] and Frog is so carefree and filled with joy. He’s just like, “Look, Toad, it’s spring! Here are some cookies!” He’s so sweet. I feel like they’re the perfect friends.

SILY: Do you follow the Twitter account that every 3 hours Tweets out random lines from the book?

HT: [gasps] No!

SILY: It’s such a funny juxtaposition on the timeline with the hellish political posts or whatever you normally see. Like you say, it’s so carefree and matter-of-fact. A lot of those lines are simple observations and funny because of it. There’s no opinion.

HT: It’s just, “Time to get out of bed.” I’m definitely gonna have to follow that.

SILY: How did your song end up as a motif in Flux Gourmet?

HT: Peter Strickland is a very distinct filmmaker. He was part of this compilation of short horror films that A Hawk and a Hacksaw composed the music for. He made a music video for us for our last record. He came to us with Flux Gourmet, which is almost this incredible inside joke that he lets everybody in on. He was in a band like the characters in the movie, noise musicians that create sounds while cooking. It’s almost autobiographical. He has this amazing ability to create these worlds. I was writing “Blue Fish” when he approached us to do a song for the film, so I took the main theme and created different remixes of it for different scenes in the film.

SILY: Had you seen the film before sending in your music?

HT: Yes. He gave us an early version of the film, and [A Hawk and a Hacksaw and life partner] Jeremy [Barnes] and I fit it to the different scenes and created mixes for the different parts of the film where the music was used.

SILY: Was “Blue Fish” finished at the time?

HT: It was almost finished.

SILY: Did the experience of doing the work for Flux Gourmet influence the final version of the song?

HT: A little bit. It helped visualize the sonic world more concretely, in a way. It was like this dialogue back and forth between the film and the song.

SILY: What about the word “succor” made you choose it for “You Always Gave Me Succor”? You don’t often see that word in popular music.

HT: I wrote the chorus years ago, “You always gave me succor.” At the time, I was going through a lot of healing with my relationship with my mom. My mom is great, and I love her, but moms are not perfect, so it was this idea that even though she wasn’t always able to be there for me, she would always be able to give me succor if I needed comfort. One of my earliest memories is her giving me baby Tylenol when I was little. I was thinking about that, and it developed into this more archetypal mother, mother earth thing that we can take comfort in.

That then reminded me of a time when I was 9 and camping in her backyard. I woke up and looked out the tent, and there was a coyote feet from our tent. We locked eyes. It was this electric current between myself and this coyote. Time stopped, and everything dissolved. I had this deep moment with this wild animal. That always kind of stayed with me. I see the coyote as a psychopomp, this guide to the unconscious and the underworld. It’s always been an important symbol to me.

SILY: Do you connect the experience of the coyote with your mom?

HT: I do because it happened when I was so young. It was this early memory, like the early memory of her giving me comfort. It was a moment where I realized you can find the same kind of solace and comfort in other creatures besides my mom.

SILY: I assume the following track, “Despoina”, is named after the Greek goddess. What’s your relationship with that mythology in general?

HT: When I wrote “Despoina”, I was reading about the myth of Persephone. There’s a line in the song, “May the grave of your suffering be buried at long last and descend like Persephone / She turns each tear into a seed.” This idea that, like Persephone, you can go into the underworld. In the myth, she eats 6 pomegranate seeds, which ties her to Hades, and she has to stay there for 6 months, which is why the Greeks believe fall and winter happen. I think it kind of goes along with the idea of creating in a global pandemic or situation where sometimes you have to go into the underworld to mine. You take these bitter seeds and turn them into something of your soul or something creative that comes out. I use those moments of descent and process them through my creativity. That myth really corresponds to moments of grief and sadness in our own lives.

SILY: Do you have a favorite track on here?

HT: “Sandcastles”, and I really like “Blue Fish” too.

SILY: “Sandcastles” is pretty groovy, and the line about “Humanity’s violent creations” melting “back into the mountain and the oceans,” also reminds me of the pandemic on a smaller scale, like when wildlife was appearing in places it hadn’t been in forever.

HT: Definitely!

SILY: What’s the story behind the cover art?

HT: It’s actually a closeup of a mural that my friend Nanibah Chacon painted. The mural is actually at a wildlife refuge near my house. The larger picture is a picture of these animals and children together in a beautiful scene with flowers and wildlife that I like to go to a lot and be in nature.

SILY: What else is next for you in the short and long term?

HT: I definitely want to play shows around this record. I’m hoping to do some touring. I’m always writing songs, so I’ve already started working on new ones. We’ll see: I’ll probably start recording in a little bit. Maybe another record? Maybe an EP? I’m not sure yet.

SILY: Anything you’ve been reading, watching, or listening to lately that’s caught your attention?

HT: “The Debutante” is based on the Leonora Carrington short story of the same title. I read her novel The Hearing Trumpet and then discovered her short stories and wrote that song. I’ve been watching Reservation Dogs. I really Hollie Cook’s record Happy Hour. I’ve been jamming that a lot recently. I recently bought this really funny record, The Zodiac: Cosmic Sounds. It’s music that Mort Garson composed for the twelve zodiac signs. Jeremy looked it up online, and realized members of the Wrecking Crew played on it. Unfortunately, it gets ruined by this guy Jacques Wilson citing poetry about the Zodiac signs over it. The music is so amazing.

youtube

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heniareth · 3 years

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I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

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And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

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dinogoofy · 3 years

Text

Scorpion/GN!Reader.

Might kiss you, might rip out your guts.- part one

If you think you've read this before, you've read the earlier version! I've edited and changed enough of the story to need a new post about it, so here it is!

A short summary would be that this is a enemies to friends to lovers fic between a winged reader and Hanzo Hasashi. It will be split in 2 or 3 parts!

I also feel like I should clarify that Hanzo is only referred to as Scorpion because the reader does not know his name until the next part.

MAJOR TW FOR DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE

You could still remember it.

The arena. The smell of the blood, the stench of death. The bodies you saw wheeled out in masses of champions. Blood spattered weapons and walls. A picture was clear in your mind of the horror you felt. Of the anxiety and fear you had to push down every moment you remained in that coliseum. After all the training you had been through, nothing could've prepared you for this.

Being a renowned half breed, one of earthrelm and outworld, you and all your feathered glory was never under the radar of the Gods. After spending your life in earthrelm with your mother, Raiden believed that he could trust you. He had tracked you down and informed you of the details months earlier. Asked you to ready yourself the best you could, earthrealm couldn't lose this. And there you were, stalking the hallways before your battle.

You were nervous. Who wouldn't be? You were a hunter, not a fighter. You tracked your targets from the sky, taking them down before they had a chance to truly fight back. Your fighting style had never been meant for a closed in fight like this. You had almost told Raiden no for that reason, but with the fate of Earthrealm in as the prize, you couldn't do so with a clean conscience.

You remember the little girl, the servant who was being harassed by a separate contestant. One that was sure to die, if you got your hands on him at least. You had separated him from her, roughing him up just a bit so that he'd run off. Keeping at least one person out of harm's way. You had no idea of the powerful ally you had just made.

When the arena was ready for you, it was safe to say that it was more than a bit overwhelming. The cheers deafened you, the bright white outside blinding your first steps out of the dark corridors. You had splayed your wings wide, trying to make yourself look bigger than you were. You kept your head high as your enemy entered the arena.

When scorpion's form stalked into the arena, your stomach had dropped. He was confident. He knew he was going to win. You hoped you didn't look as afraid as you were. He was a renowned powerhouse. Strength, agility, he had it all. You were at a disadvantage, the huge wings that sprouted from your back becoming a curse. It was nothing you couldn't handle however, you had been in tighter spaces than this.

Hadn't you?

The fight started quickly. You weaved out of his range and dodged his attacks. It was wearing you down. After narrowly missing a particularly nasty kick, you knew you couldn't keep this up for forever. Lifting yourself into the air to try and get an upper hand was easy. You circled the arena around him, preparing to swoop down on him from a nose-dive when-

"GET OVER HERE!" The blade pierced though your right wing, through the muscle and into the bone. A scream of pain ripped through your throat as you were yanked back onto the ground.

A string of explicit words left your mouth as the blade was yanked out. You got your feet just in time for Scorpion to charge at you again. You couldn't dodge this time. He managed to land a punch, but when you blocked the second you had a horrific realization that you were too close to him. There was no chance to evade the attacks easily now, he could just yank you back to where you were. You blocked his blows as best you could, landing a few hits of your own, when he reached a hand out and grabbed your wing.

The excruciating pain had burned itself into your memory. His hand lit up in flames in a split second, charring your wings. You cried out in pain, trying to push him off of you, but he remained unmoveable. Your wing caught fire, and the flames tickled and singed the feathers of the other one.

The pain was all you could think about as your lifeline burned and faded, and you hardly noticed when his blade ripped through your throat. He dropped you to the floor, the fire starting to burn out all the while you gasped and gurgled for air.

It went black quicker than you expected. You had died. What a pitiful ending. Slaughtered in the arena, killed while fighting a pathetic fight. All your years of training, and still you weren't good enough.

The first breath that came back to you felt awful.

The room was quiet. Muffled cheers and screaming was heard from outside the dark brick walls. You brought a hand up to your throat, wincing from the pain that erupted from the charred wing as you stretched. The wound was closed. It was healed. Small, delicate hands steadied you as you sat up. Kind brown eyes watched you with concern. It was the servant girl from earlier. You tried to speak, but let out a horrendous series of coughs. You took a deep breath when they finally stopped.

"I… I thought I was… What happened?" She gave you a tight-lipped smile, showing you her blood covered hands. Runes were carved into her skin. The child had revived you with a magic you couldn't recognize. Your intreage turned to concern as you reached out for her. Holding her hands gently.

You never learned how she knew such powerful magic, and you didn't press her about it. In fact, she never spoke. The servant girl beckoned you to follow her, and led you through tunnels underneath the raging battlefield. Twist after turn, corridor after another, she stopped at a small, empty room.

Three, dead end entryways sat in the circular surroundings. The small girl sat down, giving you a smile, before plucking a sharp, glass dip pen out of her pockets. Out of all the horrors you had seen, your stomach churned and wanted to revolt at the sight of the kind girl cutting along her hands.

Stroke after stroke, she created runes on the backs of her hands, connected them to the ones on her palms and intertwined their meanings. When she had finished, she pocketed the pen again. You went to call out to her, to ask if she was alright, but the words died in your throat as she slammed her hands onto the floor.

With a bright flash, blood ran from her hands, trailing across the floor in dripping, intricate lines. The streams of blood ran straight up the corners of the doorways, lining all three. She sighed deeply and the center doorway lit up.

It was a portal. To home. To earthrealm.

It was beautiful. The chance to leave it all behind. To go home. To rest and recover and… and live.

You couldn't leave her like this. Not without a thank you. Not without something of worth. The girl looks up at you as you move to stand in front of her, hands glued to the floor. She smiles, and in a raspy, broken, almost intelligible string of noises, she speaks.

"F… feather…?" You teared up at the sorry sound of the sweet girl's voice. And knelt down to her, careful of the lines of blood. With a wince, you plucked a feather from your one, good wing, one the size of her forearm. You gently set it in her lap, but she shook her head.

You understood what she meant. With a shaky breath, you finally look over at your charred, destroyed wing. The pain was easy to ignore as long as you avoided the sight. But know there was no ignorance, no pretending it never happened. Your bad wing twitched in a motion that had you crying out in pain, but amongst the remaining, once soft down that fell, a single, black, ashy, sooty, burnt feather fell to your knees. You gingerly pick it up, and give her a skeptical look before setting it in her lap with the other. She smiles again, softly. And bows her head to you.

You turned to look back at her after you stepped through the portal. She finally stands, and bows to you again as the portal closes.

You never saw her again. In fact, you never saw Outworld again. But even though you didn't believe that a feather offering would ever be enough to thank her, you did not forsake her gift to you. It took years for your wing to heal, for the feathers to grow back. A patch of scarred skin still remained where Scorpion's hand had touched you, but with the addition of many different salves and medicines gifted to you by kind strangers, the fluffy, beautiful feathers returned to you. Flight, However. Was harder to take back.

You read almost every book you could find- created every exercise, every lesson you would need. But the burns left behind nerve damage along with the scars. It hurt to move the places that weren't numb. But you couldn't lose this. You couldn't lose your flight. It was the one thing you would refuse to give up. Eventually, and you did mean eventually, you had it back. You were a little wobbly, sure, but once you got up there… once you got in the sky, floating along the wind currents, relaxing in the cool air… It was almost like you have never lost the ability in the first place.

You never fought again. Nor did Raiden ever ask you too. You imagined he still believed that you were dead, but it was none of your concern anymore. You left that life behind. It took years to heal both emotionally and physically from what happened, and in the meantime you realized that the life you had before… it really wasn't for you. You didn't want that pain again. Didn't want the chance to have everything taken from you again.

You sighed, flipping onto your back to glide along with the wind, wingspan on full display. You had taken up traveling after you had learned to fly again. Hopping country to country, island to island, exploring the beauty of your own realm. But all this traveling had started to wear away at you. You longed for home. For your old friends. For family. But you refused to settle back down, traveling despite your homesickness. You'd find a place eventually, but only once you had seen the world. You didn't want to die a second time without experiencing all the lands had to offer.

This time, you didn't actually know where you were traveling to. You had just been cruising along the wind current, relaxing in the sky. The lands below were lush and beautiful, the sky a cloudy grey. A nice, cloudy day had always been your favorite to fly in. Days like these being a kind reminder of the days you were young, and energetic, and still learning the sky. You close your eyes, breathing in the fresh air, the tenseness in your back completely disappearing as you glide. For a moment, all you felt was peace.

Your heart rate spiked as a scream sounded off in the distance. Your wings faltered, and you bobbed in the air. Regaining your steady glide after a moment. You frantically searched the ground, shaky hands flexing into fists. You spotted a Cliffside, eyes immediately focusing in on the small form hanging onto the edge.

It became harder to focus. You started to panic at the sight of a small boy holding on for dear life. One of his hands slipped away, and you flinched, almost dropping into a dive by reflex, but you had to stop and think as his final hand remained.

You debated with yourself on if you could carry him, or if trying would kill you both. He would die from that kind of fall. You could die from that kind of fall. Could your bad wing take it? You didn't know, but you were running out of time. You dropped into a nosedive as his strength gave out.

The adrenaline almost put you into autopilot, the wind against your face becoming your only sensation. You hadn't gone this speed in years. The base of your bad wing started to tingle at the thought, reminding you of just how numb the rest of it was.

Stop. Calm down. You can do this.

Your panic cooled into a still determination as you grew closer. The boy faced up towards you, eyes wide and panicked and scared. You fought the wind with your arms, finally looping around his waist.

You caught the little boy just 20 feet from the ground. He clung onto your shirt tightly as you started to slow, wings struggling to lift you up after how fast you were falling, after a few, difficult, sore, flaps of your powerful wings, your weight slowly carried you into the gravelly ground below the cliff in a heavy thump. Your knees buckled at the landing, and you cradled the boy underneath you as you collapsed onto your elbows, panting for breath. Your wings surrounded the two of you like a limp cage.

Your bad wing twitched as you struggled to relax it again, and the soreness started to set in. Shit. You really should've practiced that dive in your self-taught physical therapy. Then again, you never thought you'd have to do that ever again.

"Are you ok?" A little voice asked. You opened your eyes to peer at the scared, worried face underneath you. You tried your best to muster a tired, pained smile, and sat up, letting him go. He didn't move far, crouching beside you. You realized that he couldn't have been much older than a six year old.

"I'm fine. I just need a moment…" You mumbled. "Where are your parents, kiddo?" He frowned for a moment, sitting down beside you with his knees underneath him.

"My grandmaster is somewhere in the forest, " He gestured towards the lush greenery of the field around him. "-but I think I might have to search for him." He said, glancing up at the cliff. You nodded in response. Grandmaster huh? You analyzed his clothes. A ninja in training maybe, you didn't know how you hadn't seen it before.

"Don't worry. I'll help you." You smiled up at him while splaying and retracting the bad wing back and forth. After a tense moment, you collected yourself. Making sure that your bag was still secure on you after the fall, and standing. The bad wing drooping limply while the other folded behind you. The boy stood with you, gazing at your wings with wide eyes. You chuckled at his curiosity, holding out a hand for him to take. He stared at it for a moment, and then back up at you.

"Well? Let's go find him." You nudged your hand forward again, and he smiled, taking your hand. You smiled back at him, trying hard not to grimace at the painful soreness of your wing.

Glancing around, you managed to pick out landmarks you had noticed while flying. Creating a path in your mind of how you could make it back up to that shady, tree covered cliff, you tugged the boys hand lightly. He quietly followed beside you as you walked.

You wandered away from the gravely clearing and into the forest around. Helping the child pick his way through the bushes. The short journey took only about twenty minutes. Mostly consisting of following the edges of the cliff until you could find a slope, and a path that he recognized.

He only let go of your hand when the two of you had to climb a steep side of the path. He quickly scaled it, turning towards you. You smiled up at him, stretching your wings to boost yourself up there out of reflex, but you stopped. Wincing at the soreness once again. The boy looked at you quizzically, and you shook your head at him. You slowly climbed the slope, and continued on. Soon enough, you were moving through the flat patch of shady, woody, land just before the Cliffside clearing. The boy took your hand again.

"Thank you." He said softly. You smiled at him again, squeezing his hand, but not speaking. "...I'm Takeda." You were taken aback for a second, and determined whether or nor you should be giving the child your name. It couldn't hurt, could it? Your voice cut clear through the silent woods as you spoke.

"My name is..."

You started to trail off as a man silently emerged from the brush on Takeda's side, knives at the ready for just a moment. His eyes locked with yours, and then widened. Shocked at the sight of you, his defense faltered a bit, but still remained. You, on the other hand, bristled. Huge wings defensively folding around you and the boy.

You wished it was rage that invoked such a reaction, but it was fear. Your eyes stinged with watery tears that you desperately tried to keep under control.

"Takeda, get back." You commanded, pulling him closer to you by his hand. Takeda tried to speak, but you couldn't hear what he was saying. The awful flashes of memory, the smell, the pain, all of it was running through your mind. Your bad wing twitched and almost retracted back into your body, but you painfully forced it still, desperate to protect Takeda.

"I'm not here to fight you, and I'm certainly not here to hurt Takeda." Scorpion spoke, gaze soft. He hesitated for a moment, but sheathed his weapons. He held his hands out to show you that there were no tricks. Bullshit. You didn't back down, keeping an angry stare set squarely on him. You could see it in his eyes that he knew that you weren't convinced. Takeda quickly put himself between you two, and you almost reached out to yank him back.

"This is my grandmaster," He spoke in a loud voice. Your eyes widened, flickering back and forth between him and Scorpion. It didn't seem like he was lying, he didn't seem like the kind of kid who would lie- but a child being trained by the deadliest member of the Shirai Ryu? You looked squarely at Scorpion with suspicion, looking him up and down. Your defensive demeanor never let down for a moment. You scowled at him, but when Takeda came back over to you, and reached up for your hands again…

You gave Scorpion a warning look, and relaxed your wings. Feathers smoothing out and wings folding behind your back. You squeezed Takeda's hands gently.

"I thought you were dead?" Scorpion's voice was clear and unwavering, but the question portrayed more than his voice would give away.

"I wonder why." You spit the words like venom. Your bad wing twitched again, this time it felt a little more painful than the twitches normally did. You hissed as you held it still. Takeda frowned, looking like he was about to tear up himself. Scorpion's face fell in a guilty look. This supposed new persona of his had to be a trick. Takeda turned to face his grandmaster. Speaking a few quiet words to him in Japanese that you didn't understand. You were to focused on the pain in your wing to care anyway.

You gazed fondly at the little boy, and sighed. It was clear to see that he was indeed Scorpion's student. You were no longer needed. You inwardly scolded yourself for becoming so attached to the boy so quickly. Sure, you had been longing for a connection… for a family… but this, this was not the place, nor the time.

You looked around, the clearing and cliffside edge was close enough that you could see it through the trees. In an almost dejected manner, you started to make your way over to it. The cliff would provide a great spot to make returning to the sky much easier.

"Will you be able to fly?" Takeda's voice called out to you. You stop in your tracks, turning just slightly so that you could see him, and stretched your wings. You winced as you did, the movement bringing back the soreness and pain you had glimpsed while climbing the slope earlier. You pressed your lips together, only glancing at Takeda before looking back at the sky that shone between the leaves.

If you couldn't leave, where would you go? You certainly couldn't stay here. Not with that Man. Not with Scorpion.

"The Shirai Ryu will extend our kindness to you, if you will accept it." You side-eyed Scorpion as he spoke. Fully prepared to decline before you saw the worried look on Takeda's face. You fully turned towards the two, wings low behind you.

"What does that 'kindness' entail exactly?" Your voice came out just above a whisper, but the malice behind it remained. Scorpion's serious face was a contrast to his student's.

"I am offering you shelter at the fire gardens until you have re-gained your strength." You looked at the boy, and then back at the man who killed you, and then at the sky. Who should you trust? Takeda? Or your own broken body? If you took a fall-

You took a deep breath, bit your fear back, and approached Scorpion and Takeda.

#scorpion x reader #hanzo hasashi #scorpion #scorpion imagines #mk scorpion #mkx #mk imagine #mk x reader #mortal kombat x reader #enemies to lovers #if you are still reading the tags i applaud you #part 2 is coming soon i promise

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actual-fucking-clown · 3 years

Text

Take your time then.

Aizawa x gender neutral reader

Story under the cut :)

Unedited but like edited but still not properly edited :)

Hope you enjoy!!!

a/n: it’s been a hot min since I’ve written a fic. I think the last time i was 14 and it was shit and on wattpad. Ha. I hate myself. N e way, I was recently writing some shit for an au me and my friend thought up and in the back of my mind I was like, “you should start writing fics again bc this is kinda fun”, soo lo and behold I made a post asking if anyone would be interested, shared a little too much personal shit in it but whatever, and have now decided to write this mother fucker. (3/25/21)

a/n: not sure if anyone will care about this series of a/n’s but I’m just chronicling thoughts ig. rewriting rn bc my first draft was short and ass. Also I’m thinking about opening requests after this is posted, will go into detail in a diff post maybe. (3/28/21)

a/n: deleted everything, rewriting. I just want to make something that might be decent and if I can give that feeling, y’know those chills you get when you read something utterly gorgeous, but I’m bad at writing. sadge (3/28/21, like several hours later)

a/n: ugh (4/1/21)

a/n: ugh pt 2 electric boogaloo. I can’t seem to move forward with the writing. I realized something like this might happen bc to solve a problem feelings need to be discussed and I fucking hate doing that so you can see where I’m fucking up lmaooooo (4/2/21)

a/n: I read angst to fuel my writing brain. So, read some angst, finally writing agian. This first section is probs as long as the story itself LMFAO(4/5/21)

Started: (3/25/21) Finished: (4/5/21)

Warnings: uh angst, curse words, like a lot, (i saw someone else put this as a warning, do I actually need it?), avoiding problems instead of actually facing them, mentions of shit so-so parenting, mentions of not being able to live up to high expectations, y’know, the works

Synopsis: Aizawa takes in Eri without running it by you first and expects you to be okay with it. That’s funny. He was wrong.

Can I preface this with a thought? I’m going to anyway,

all the fics I read paint him as the sweetest partner and I’m sure he is but I think they miss out on how blunt he is and his whole “Mr. Rationality” thing. So as much as I adore him I think there are situations that he’d be a bit more colder towards, a bit more straightforward about. Maybe even like a bit insensitive about but maybe bc he doesn’t have the full picture or something. so I guess this is another warning but aizawa is a little insensitive in the beginning (but like not really but kinda. it’s complicated)

Rain pattered softly against the window. The smell of some old random Bath and Bodyworks candle you’d dug out from a box you’d never bothered to unpack smothered the room. Some Netflix show idly played on a low volume on your computer, you’d lost interest in watching tv awhile ago. You needed a break. After the eventful month you’d been having you really needed this.

Now of course your whole year so far had been eventful. What with all the villain attacks on you and Shouta’s class and the kidnapping of one of your students, to just dealing with the more mundane problems with your students. No. You had no problem with that. The villains, although not easy, were something you were trained to handle. The smaller problems with your students weren’t arduous either, after all you weren’t too much older than them.

When reflecting on your situation, from and outside perspective it could be seen as the straw the broke the camels back, which sure, makes sense. After all, you’re bound to be stressed out by everything else, so why would this seemingly insignificant thing weigh heavier than a villain attack? Well if that is the situation why does this single straw feel like it weighs a ton? This is not that. This is not culmination of the events of this year draining the life from you. This is something entirely different. A panic inducing life change that completely took you by surprise mixed with your inability to actually face your problems.

You don’t blame them. You can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong. A child. A small, probably mentally scarred child is your problem. Well not her personally but the fear taking care of her instills in you. Despite working in the field that you do, you cannot for the life of you handle actual children. Sure you’re a little awkward with your class but at least they’re young adults and (vaguely) mature and independent to a certain extent. The fact that your long term boyfriend just came back one day, small child in tow and said “Hey I’ve gotta look after this one now” not verbatim obviously, for a lack of better words, fucked you up. He basically solo adopted a kid and, let’s be honest, he probably expected you to help out. But how could you? How could this man look at you and think “I want this person to help me raise an already fucked up child?” Ok sure, he doesn’t at first give off the “I’m totally father figure material” vibe but in the end he is extremely competent. You on the other hand, not so much.

You’d never been good with children. Tried your best to steer clear of them. Didn’t matter the place, didn’t matter who’s kid, you couldn’t handle them. You would just stand there, awkwardly, not entirely sure of what to do and petrified that there was the possibility of making some mistake which would upset the child and then oh wow look, your head got chopped right of your shoulders. That’s hyperbole of course but it does sum up the insurmountable fear that overcomes you whenever you have to deal with a child. So considering the fact that your long term boyfriend had suddenly decided to adopt and not at least warn you, didn’t sit right with you.

So, the best and most obvious choice, was to avoid your problem. Avoid Shouta, avoid Eri. Avoid the mention of them and you, avoid it all. And honestly you’d done pretty well so far. You were able to have as little contact with them as possible considering the close proximity of your living quarters in the teacher’s dorms. After all they were legally supposed to give you two separate rooms but you never actually used yours, well until now. You were living it up honestly. Did you feel awful? Of course. He is your boyfriend after all and you were sure Eri doesn’t deserve your cold shoulder but this is probably for the best. What could you offer her? You weren’t sure that you were a good role model for her or anyone for that matter. What did you know about raising kids? it’s not like you had parents to set a proper example for you. Of course they might have shown you what not to do but where do you go from there? Is shit like that really avoidable? You don’t want to be like them. You strive to be better but what if you can’t be. There’s also the added bonus of the fact that raising a kid seems taxing on a relationship. Now matter how strong you were sure that the stress of a kid could break a relationship down that then festers into something toxic and unrecognizable. You didn’t want that. God you couldn’t let that happen. No. This was definitely for the better.

Of course Aizawa didn’t feel the same. He was confused on why his partner had been so blatantly avoiding him. Did he do something wrong? He doesn’t remember doing anything that might’ve upset you. So why now? Why pull away now? He had to get down to the bottom of this but catching you was the hard part. You had been taking on more work, offering more assistance to the other teachers, picking up extra patrols, doing everything and anything to stay away from Shouta. It took him a month but he finally caught up to you. You were tired, worn out he knew that. Instead of loading yourself with work you’d decided to hole yourself up in your room. It was now or never.

You were pulled out of your peace at the sound of a few gentle knocks to your door. You really didn’t want to get it. You honestly couldn’t be bothered.

“(N/n)? Are you in there?” He hadn’t gotten it wrong right? He hadn’t been too distracted earlier and missed you leaving right?

“What’s up?” You hummed from your place by the window, not bothering to actually open the door.

“Can I come in?” Shouta asked, voice soft. You could barely hear him above the patter of the rain and the low humming of your laptop.

“Uh, no, kinda busy. Got loads of work to do. Need to focus, sorry. Maybe later?” You hesitantly spoke. Not sure if you were convincing enough.

Apparently you weren’t.

He sighed. “It’s been “later” for an entire month. Please (Y/n) just let me in. Whatever this is we can talk it out.” You had predicted that eventually Shouta would start to try to crack down on whatever the issue was but you didn’t expect it so soon.

“Uh...no?” You tried, hoping that maybe he’d just give up but that wasn’t Shouta.

“No, you don’t get that option, now please, open the door.” Although it was still soft his voice had taken a more stern tone.

“Oh no I’m dead. I guess I can’t open the door. What a shame. I guess the only way to talk with me now is in the pits of hell.” You quipped, trying to lessen the tension that already ran thick.

“(Y/n).” Aizawa sighed.

“Jeez fine. Talk about pushy.” You quipped once more to no avail.

Opening the door you were met with, well exactly what you expected. He stood there, arms crossed, a stern yet gentle look in his eyes, his lips pulled into a slight frown.

“Come in.” You mumbled as you stepped further into your room.

“So tell me. What’s wrong?” The sentence stirred so much. Of course you wanted to tell him. You wanted to spill your guts to the man you loved in hopes of comfort but you just can’t. You know you’ll just scare him off. You know you’ll make things worse.

So you stay silent.

He says nothing as he grabs your hands gently and leads you over to your bed. He sits the two of you down on the edge, muting the movie on the laptop sitting behind him.

“You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you right?” Shouta sent you a warm smile.

You weren’t very comfortable with discussing your feelings sometimes, it mostly stemmed from the fact that you never really could discuss them with anyone growing up which made it harder to confide in anyone now, as at this point bottling things up was a habit. But this was also just something that you were sure that you couldn’t talk about.

Silence answered him once again.

Now he took sometime to think about his approach, think about what could’ve happened that made you pull away. What did he do that was different from his norm? He was genuinely stumped and the fact that you weren’t helping him confused him even more.

You decided to take this time to lament the situation too. What was he going to do? Should you actually tell him or play it off? If you play it off will he still insist that something is wrong? If you tell him will he leave you? If you don’t tell him will he leave you? You risked a glance at him, he was still deep in thought.

Why did you have to adopt this fucking kid without at least warning me?

“What?” Your head shot up at the sound of his shocked voice.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused.

“Eri’s the problem...?” He spoke slowly, not entirely sure if he’d heard you right.

“Did I say that out loud?” You squeaked.

“I’m pretty sure you mumbled something along the lines of “why’d you have to adopt that fucking kid”.” Shouta said, unsure if he’d heard wrong. Wanting to have heard wrong.

“No no no no no no! It’s not like that! I mean it is like that but not like that!” You frantically waved your hands in hopes of defusing the situation.

The way he looked at you made you want to cry. You felt horrible. You felt like the biggest asshole in the world and, at this point you probably were. He looked at you with such a look of heartbreak and disappointment and confusion it made you sick to your stomach. You felt light-headed and started shaking. You were right. You were right. You were always right. God why did you have to be right! Why did you have to be like this? Scared of raising a fucking child! It was asinine and irrational and you could probably move past it but thanks to your stupid fucking brain you just sealed your fate.

You scooted away from him still waving your hands frantically as no’s tumbled endlessly from your lips. You tried sputtering an apology, anything so that he wouldn’t look at you like that but nothing stuck. Nothing was comprehensible. Nothing worked. Nothing would work. Nothing will work. You were hopeless. It was hopeless.

“If it isn’t like how it seems then tell it to me straight.” Shouta finally spoke up.

You took a second to come down from your panic. You steeled your nerves as much as possible before you spoke.

“Um well, I have nothing against her it’s just that a little heads up would’ve been nice? I’m not all that great with kids so this is just kind of weird is all.” You were purposefully being vague in hopes that he’d understand what you meant and also maybe drop it.

“Not great with kids? You’re literally a teacher.” He pointed out.

“Yeah you know but she’s like a kid kid and let’s be honest I’m not too great with the students either.” You awkward laughed. So he wasn’t getting it.

“Wha-you’re fine with the students and I’m sure you’ll be fine with Eri, there was no reason to avoid me over this.” Shouta sighed. As good as he was with dealing with people, he was equally as shit. Or maybe it was just the fact that you gave him very little to work with. It was probably a bit of both. Still his dismissiveness was not helping you right now.

“No, no, no, no. I think I’ll stay here. Uh, good luck with your parenthood escapades and sorry to leave you high and dry like this but that’s going to have to be a no from me.” You rambled. He seemed to be getting a little tired of this.

“(Y/n) stop being irrational. She’s not even our kid I’m just looking after her for now. Why are you being difficult? I told you you were fine with the students and you’ll be fine with Eri, what else do you want to hear?” Shouta grumbled.

“Well uh I don’t know, uh...” You trailed off, this seemed to be going in a direction you really didn’t want it to go. A slight hostility settling in the air.

At your lack of a proper answer he clicked his tongue. He took a moment to reassess the situation. There had to be something he was missing. After all you were getting really worked up but if you weren’t going to talk to him there was nothing he could do. He shook his head before running a frustrated hand through his hair.

“(Y/n), please, please, just be honest with me. Whatever it is that’s bothering you, you can tell me. But I won’t be able to understand if you don’t.” Aizawa sighed, deciding that getting worked up about this was not the way to go, especially when you seemed to be especially distraught.

“Uh, god the thing is I don’t know entirely what to say to put the shitshow in my head into perspective.” You mumbled, trying desperately to figure out what to say that could clear the air but nothing seemed to be coherent enough.

“Take your time.” He decided that this was the best approach to things, making sure neither party got too worked up lest this turn into a fight.

The rain continued to patter softly against the window and your candle continued to burn an slightly off floral-ish scent. A deafening silence hung in the air because even though he was being as patient as possible some of his frustration leaked through, it was bound to though so you couldn’t exactly blame him. After all, you were probably equally as frustrated with yourself too.

“I’m just not good in a position like this. I’m not good with kids, especially someone like Eri who’s already so broken. You have that nurturing nature, it comes natural to you but I’m not on that level. I don’t know the first thing about caring for a child let alone one as already traumatized as her. I’d fuck it up and only make things worse. I don’t want you to reassure me that I’ll be okay with her, I want you to understand that I’m not comfortable with this and that it might take me awhile to come around. I’m sure I sound like the biggest asshole ever but please understand that this just isn’t something I’m ready for.” You had rambled a bit, you were aware of that, but it was the only way that you could properly express your feelings without making things too complicated.

Aizawa said nothing. Trying to figure out how to go about things.

Was he upset? Yeah, you two, even after several long years of being together, hadn’t discussed moving forward in your relationship in depth. And if he’d tried you seemed content with the point you two were at so he left it be, no reason to try and move forward when what you had was already fine the way it was. But recently he’d been craving more. Some mornings, when he’d be the first to wake, he’d study your features in the soft light of the sunrise and wonder what it’d be like to properly settle down with you. Get married, start a family, all that jazz. He’d taken in Eri only because it was the most rational decision. His quirk would be good for quelling hers had it ever gotten out of hand. But it also seemed to quell his musings of something more with you. He had imagined you being a good parental figure for the little girl and it made his heart flutter and his stomach explode with butterflies. But now seeing that that wasn’t what you wanted and how you weren’t ready for it, it stung. But in the end, he loved you. He’d easily give his life for you. So, if that meant waiting he’d wait. He’d wait a million years if he had to. He could do it.

Once again he spoke,

“Take your time then. I can wait.”

Tagslist?: @captainchrisstan (I think you said you wanted to be tagged but I’m also just small brained lol If u didn’t want to and I misinterpreted things just let me know :) )

#bnha x reader #mha xreader #aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa #my first fic #mha #bnha

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

Text

🔥The Angelus Mortis (1/2)🔥

A/N: Hey everyone, I’m back! I apologize for the really long wait but I wanted to try something different where, instead of posting one story at a time as soon as I finish it, I wrote five stories and then I went back and edited them in the order I wrote them. It took so long because I’ve been writing a ton in the past week. Hopefully I can make up for the long wait by giving you guys several stories in the next few days or so. Thank you so much for the support on “Scalding”, I was not expecting it but it makes my really happy to know you guys liked it ❤️. Now, without further ado, here is my next Levi x Reader fic!

Warning: This one is super long so I actually had to split it up into two parts so it wouldn’t be such a huge pill to swallow. I will post the next chapter asap though, so keep an eye out for part two!

Summary: Erwin finds a dangerous assassin in the Underground while Levi is on a solo mission.

~~~

Erwin sighed and rubbed his temples to try to dispel the headache that was already building there, the message from the Military Police on his desk, mocking him. He glared at it, his eyes scanning over the words again.

Gods they were so incapable. He would never voice his frustrations aloud, but he wished, for once, they could deal with their own issues. Fight their own battles without having to drag the Survey Corps back to do all of the hard work for them.

Despite his annoyance, Erwin would not have normally been so frustrated, but this situation was different than usual due to the fact that Captain Levi was gone from the base. He had been sent off on a solo mission to get some more information for Erwin on the movements of the violent gangsters that were fighting with one of the Military Police branches.

“What’s today’s headache about?” The loud, chipper voice of his girlfriend, Hanji, made him look up and grunt at her and the stack of finished reports she held in her arms.

“Oh, I just received a message from the Commander of the Military Police. There is a dangerous assassin who has been cutting down the MP’s that venture into the Underground. Apparently, this guy is impossible to catch and incredibly ruthless, known to leave pieces of the soldiers around for the officers to find later. They want us to go down there and find them, put an end to them before they wipe out an entire regiment.”

Hanji leaned her hip against Erwin’s desk and raised her eyebrow at her partner as she listened to the gruesome things the assassin had done.

“Holy shit…, who are you going to send? Levi is on that solo mission,” Hanji said.

“Yeah that’s the problem,” Erwin responded. “I’m going to have to be the one to go. I’m not going to send someone who will lose their life on this mission. There is no need to waste lives on something as trivial as catching this guy. Also, if he’s impossible to catch, the only one other than me who has enough experience with the ODM gear to navigate the Underground would be Levi, who you pointed out is not here at the moment.”

“Well, I’m coming with you then,” Hanji said. “Someone will need to watch your back, and be there to bring you back to the surface if you end up getting your ass handed to you.”

Erwin smiled at her as he shook his head.

“I’m not going to lose this fight.”

“Oh ho ho, tough guy! Such confidence, I can’t wait to watch your ass hit the ground when that assassin shows you a couple of choice moves,” Hanji chortled.

“Your obsession with my ass is noted. Now go get ready, we are leaving in an hour,” Erwin said, his eyes twinkling as he teased her.

Hanji’s laughter bounced around the halls as she exited his office to pack her things and prepare for the trip to the Underground.

__________________________

Levi grumbled lowly to himself as he nursed a glass of whiskey, his silver eyes appraising the other people in the bar in annoyance. The Captain was not normally one to drink, especially back at the base, but after having to deal with some of the most annoying people on the planet, he felt as if he deserved to relax a little.

At least neither Erwin nor Hanji were with him. That was one of the only reasons he was able to convince himself to go into the old bar; not having to worry about Erwin pressuring him to loosen up, or Hanji trying to wrestle secrets about his life out of him while he was drunk.

Levi took a sip from his glass. The alcohol slid down his throat, leaving a fiery trail in its wake to settle in his stomach, the warmth spreading throughout his gut. The whiskey was starting to loosen the headache that was holding his skull captive, allowing the usually stoic Captain to settle a bit more in his seat, enjoying the relative silence of the dingy establishment.

All day he had been forced to fight with violent gangsters, helping one of the Military Police branches arrest the most aggressive ones and scaring away the others. The whole day had been a loud, frustrating, exhausting experience, making Levi almost miss his normal expeditions outside the walls with the Titans. At least it was his last day in this shit hole, finally able to return to the base in the morning now that all of the criminals had been successfully rounded up.

Thinking about the men and women he had helped put away that day, combined with the alcohol that was circulating through his system, made his mind stray back to memories from his Underground days. For the most part, he tried to forget about his past, thoughts about his time down there, only bringing up bitter emotions. It was like reliving a nightmare over and over again.

He huffed as he tried to lead his train of thought elsewhere to no avail, his mind flooding with images from his childhood, his struggle as he and his friends fought for survival. His mind even dragged up a foggy image of a beautiful face from the dregs of his past before he quickly diverted his train of thought, refusing to think about that face, that loving smile.

Levi didn’t know if he was lucky or unlucky when his spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the appearance of a woman. She wearing a severe red dress that pushed her cleavage up so her breasts were almost spilling out over the top, her lips pursed as she sat herself across from him.

Levi refrained from groaning aloud in frustration, wanting absolutely nothing to do with the woman in front of him, but also recognizing that a tiny part of him was grateful for her intrusion, distracting him from sinking further into the dark memories of his past. Now, he just had to figure out how to shrug this woman off as she leaned forward, so obviously trying to get into his pants he was surprised there was not a ‘FUCK ME’ sign strapped to her chest.

Levi scowled and pulled away from her when she went to touch his arm. To his annoyance, the woman laughed instead of moving away, her eyes sparkling with barely disguised lust as she looked him up and down.

“Look, I’m not interested,” Levi said bluntly.

“Come on, handsome, it won’t hurt for you to relax, why don’t we ditch this joint?” the woman purred.

Levi rolled his eyes so hard he was worried he’d strained something. The situation reminded him of all of the times Hanji had tried to set him up, ignoring his protests and forcing him to meet women from all walks of life despite the fact that he turned them all down without a second thought. It bothered him to no end, not only because it was annoying as hell, but also because there was only one person he had ever given his heart to, and she was gone. Nobody could ever replace her, it didn’t matter that she wasn't around to love him anymore, he refused to be with anyone else.

He figured some people would probably see this as childish, but he didn’t care. To him, he didn’t have a heart left to give, the organ dying with his lost love all those years ago.

“Not interested.”

The woman pouted but moved closer still, practically leaning into him despite his grimace of disgust.

“You don’t mean that, baby, you look like you could use a good time. Here, let me help you. I know exactly how to make you feel better. Have you ever felt the stars? Because you’re about to…,” the woman said boldly, her hand slowly drifting downward.

Levi stood up so fast he almost knocked the table over. His glare was fierce as he slammed his empty whiskey glass on the table. Piercing her with his sharp gaze, Levi snarled lowly at her.

“Not. Interested.”

Grabbing his cloak, Levi stormed out of the bar in even worse spirits than before, memories of the face that haunted his dreams floating across his mind to tease at the edges of his broken heart. Growling to himself, Levi was only grateful that he was leaving in the morning as his feet carried him back to the shitty inn he was staying in for the duration of the mission.

____________________________

This was a bad idea. Scratch that, this was a horrible idea. Erwin laid on the filthy street of the Underground, hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, holding his hand to his shoulder where a dagger was lodged, gritting his teeth as he fought back the bile that rose in his throat at the pain swelling in his body.

He had no idea where Hanji was, the pair having been separated when they were attacked out of nowhere. Erwin realized now as he lay in the dirt that he had severely underestimated this man, the assassin who got hired to kill the most powerful soldiers and officers in the military. He had read about his strength, but even with that information, he had not expected the fight to be so overwhelming.

This man was dangerous. Very dangerous. Erwin knew from the reports that the killer worked alone, using wit and cold, calculated cunning to attack in ways that not even the veteran soldiers had seen before.

Erwin’s thoughts were suddenly cut short when he heard a pained shriek, one he immediately knew to be Hanji, and watched in horror as a figure slowly came around the corner, holding the limp form of his comrade in his grip.

Hanji let out another pained noise as the figure threw her right at Erwin, the Squad Leader hitting her Commander, causing them both to grunt. Looking down, Erwin saw that Hanji had a long gash down her side, but it didn’t look very deep and she didn’t seem to have any more wounds other than some bruising. A warning.

Erwin managed to hide his nearly imperceptible sigh of relief at the thought that this assassin was considering sparing them if they only left him alone. He knew that he could never leave the assassin alone forever, but if it gave them the chance to get to safety, he could come back another time with reinforcements. It was only one man. A very powerful man, but a man nonetheless, he wasn’t invincible.

Forcing down the whimper that bubbled in his throat when Hanji moved against his shoulder, shifting the blade in his flesh, Erwin locked his eyes on the figure that was still watching them, the darkness of the alley covering any distinguishable features. The only thing Erwin was able to make out was that the figure looked smaller than he imagined. But the seasoned Commander wasn’t stupid enough to determine his threat level based on size, not when one of his best friends was Levi Ackerman, one of the shortest yet deadliest men alive.

The pair tensed when the figure suddenly started towards them, his arm reaching back to procure a wickedly sharp sword from underneath his black cloak. Erwin’s mind scrambled for a plan but he came up blank, his mind ceasing all thoughts when the figure suddenly charged them, sword held aloft.

Erwin and Hanji closed their eyes, clutching each other as the killer came for them, both of them waiting for the quick sting of pain before death, waiting for their remains to be scattered around the Underground like Easter eggs for their friends to find when they came back to their empty offices and cold beds.

Erwin sucked in a breath when he felt the cold, harsh tip of the sword touch his throat but slowly opened his eyes after a moment when the feeling stayed there, the blade hovering just above his delicate wind pipe.

From this distance, Erwin could tell that the assassin was wearing a mask in the shape of a wolf over his face, his body poised to strike as he hovered over the pair of senior officers, his breathing labored.

“Are you Commander Erwin?” The man suddenly asked, the voice deep and distorted thanks to the mask.

Erwin contemplated lying for a second, but knew he didn’t really have a choice in the matter when the man pressed the tip of their blade a little bit harder against his flesh, even causing a pinprick of blood to bubble up from under the steel point.

“Yes.”

The man hesitated for a moment. It was almost as if he were remembering something, Erwin’s name bringing up memories from another time. The Commander had no fucking clue what that could mean for them, but he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to find out.

The assassin opened his mouth to say something when all of a sudden, several ropes were thrown from the darkness, catching the killer by surprise. He leaped out of the way, dodging the ropes at a speed that could only be rivaled by Captain Levi, almost making it out onto the street before he ran headfirst into a trap of chains, the metal clinking as it wrapped around his lithe form and tightened, forcing his arms to snap to his sides and his legs to buckle.

Erwin and Hanji scrambled into a standing position and smiled in joyful surprise as a familiar Mike, Nanaba, and Moblit rounded the corner. Erwin sighed in relief and Hanji let loose a little cheer as the three other veteran officers surrounded their quarry. The pair had no idea how their friends had found them or even why they had thought to follow them, but neither cared as relief filled their systems.

The assassin snarled at them and continued to struggle against their bounds, his mask making the words coming from his mouth sound nearly animalistic in nature.

“Fuck you!” The assassin roared, somehow finding the energy to fight harder as the veterans leaned down to detain the criminal. The soldiers ignored the assassin as he continued spewing profanities while they made their way towards the stairs, their mission complete.

___________________________

Erwin blinked in utter shock as he stared at the assassin through the bars of the cell they had shoved him in underneath the Survey Corps HQ.

Only, it wasn’t a him.

Erwin could only gawk as the reality of the situation settled in, his eyes roving over the assassin’s (h/l) (h/c) hair, feminine curves, and beautifully angled face. The strongest assassin in the Underground, the one that had been dubbed The Angelus Mortis, The Angel of Death, was a woman.

He never doubted that women were strong, he trained and fought beside a whole legion of strong, battleworn women that could take down anyone in a heartbeat any day. But this woman had come from the Underground. While not impossible to gain strength in the Underground, most women, and many men for that matter, that lived in that cesspool merely ended up rotting away, their legs destroyed by the lack of sunlight and their bodies wracked with disease. Even if a woman managed to avoid the severe malnourishment, most of them were forced into brothels to be used by the wealthy merchants and nobles who decided to flaunt their wealth in the poorest part of their cities.

But this woman had fought. She had fought like an animal, a wolf, as her mask had suggested. She had used her impressive intelligence and strategic mind to avoid getting caught, all while clawing her way to the top of the food chain, making herself such a feared symbol that nobody would touch her. She was cold and vicious but not at all feral, her mind sharp and her eyes clear as she stared right back at the giant blonde Commander, her gaze never drifting from his.

Erwin leaned back as he appraised her. He could tell that despite her strength, her body was severely malnourished and neglected, the lack of proper food and water paired with the intense physical labor she pushed herself through every day, rendered her body weak and thin. Erwin could tell right away that if she were given the proper commodities and nursed back to health, she would be stunning and very powerful.

He had to think about this carefully. He had sent in an after action report to the MP’s telling them that the Survey Corps had done their dirty work for them, and they had already responded with a message telling him to bring her to one of their prison cells the next morning to be tortured to death for her crimes. He knew she probably deserved a punishment like that, she had killed a lot of soldiers, but he felt a strange tugging on his heart, like he knew, deep down, that there was more to her story, something that would make her worth much more than a street rat to be thrown to the dogs.

He had no idea why but he wanted her in the Survey Corps. He knew that she was dangerous, knew that most people would call her insane and then call him insane if he brought this up. But he felt something, like he knew that if he didn’t get her into the military, they would be losing something priceless.

“Are you going to keep staring at me like a perverted fuck or are you going to tell me when I’m being taken away?”

Erwin’s eyes snapped to hers from where they had drifted to her ribs, which were jutting out of her chest prominently.

“I knew you were going to be testy, sassy even, maybe downright insane, but I didn’t expect someone so close to death to be so confident,” Erwin said, a smirk teasing the corner of his lips.

The assassin rolled her eyes.

“I’m from the Underground, idiot, death is always a constant companion on your shoulder. I’m not scared of death, scared of the torture before death, maybe, if I decide I care enough, but not of death.”

“Is that why you killed all of those people? Because death is your friend?” Erwin asked.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“That is what you said.”

“I only said it is something I am used to, the constant threat of death and suffering, not that I enjoy it. Death is not my friend,” She growled with a sharp glare in his direction.

“So why did you kill all of those soldiers? Besides being hired to, I mean. I’d understand your motivations a little more if you had started killing other people who lived in the Underground, to give yourself an advantage, but you chose soldiers.”

The assassin was silent for a minute, breaking his gaze for the first time since he had come down to see her. He could’ve sworn her gaze clouded over slightly, as if she were remembering painful memories, but the fog in her gaze was gone as quickly as it appeared, making Erwin question whether it was even there to begin with.

“That’s personal,” she said after a heavy pause.

“They didn’t compliment your outfit?” Erwin teased, flashing a smile in her direction when she snarled at him.

“Fuck you.”

“Alright fine,” Erwin said. “Why did you ask about me? About my name?”

“That’s personal too.”

“Well you’ve got to answer at least some of my questions.”

“Why should I care about you and your inquiries?” She asked, leaning against the wall and crossing her arms in a way that reminded Erwin so much of Levi he almost smiled.

“Because it might guarantee you your life,” Erwin said.

“Who says I care about living?”

Erwin was silent for a moment this time as he scanned her with his bright blue eyes again, really taking her in. She was something, he could say that. She was unlike anyone he had ever met before. Even Levi, with his similar distrusting nature and sharp, piercing gaze was never this witty, never this sassy.

“I say you do,” Erwin said.

“Oh really? And what makes you the authority on that?”

“Nothing. You are the authority on yourself, on your emotions and instincts. I am merely an observer in this matter. I can see it in your eyes, I can read it in your posture and spot it even in the methods of your actions. In why you became an assassin, and the best one at that.”

She stayed quiet, watching him.

“I know you want to live. I don’t know anything about the personal shit that went down between you and the Military Police but I’m assuming that whatever it was was crippling, which was why you went to such drastic measures to make it to the top, to do whatever it took to make them hurt and scream. Why you never even attempted to hide the bodies. I know some people claim it was because you are cocky or egotistical, but I know better.”

Erwin leaned forward, his eyes glinting in the dull golden light of the lantern hanging on the wall. The assassin again said nothing but she never stopped watching him, playing into this game they had started, dancing on hot coals.

“Just from the fact that you did all of that. That you chose to fight back against your grief rather than succumb to it, rotting away in a forgettable corner of the Underground, shows me that you want to live. That you want to give yourself a purpose to cover up whatever loss you have felt in the past, and use it to fuel your own future.”

The assassin’s eyes narrowed on him as she pushed away from the stone wall of the cell. “I’m impressed.”

“Not quite so much of an idiot anymore, right?”

She glared at him and the smirk that spread across his face.

“(Y/N).”

“What?”

“My name is (Y/N).”

255 notes · View notes

heyitsani · 3 years

Text

When the Dark of the Night Comes Alive

Word Count: 9214

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Zombies? But you don’t really see them except one part

Pairing: Jason Todd/Dick Grayson, Roy Harper/Koriand’r

Summary: It's been three years since the world went to hell and zombies became a thing of reality and not just fiction. While out on a supply run with his usual crew, Jason picks up a stray that will change the course of everything.

Notes: This was supposed to be for JayDick Week, but life happened and I wasn't able to finish it. It's still technically not finished since there's an epilogue coming. But I wanted to post those two separately. So here is the main part of the story. Enjoy!

Also, I did next to no editing on this. I'll go back and clean it up. So sorry for any mistakes.

You can also read it on AO3 here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jayjay,” the familiar voice rasped. “Jayjay you need to remember, okay? Don’t forget.”

“Don’t forget what, Mama?”

“Don’t forget that the cure is in the blood. Don’t forget. The angels, they said it. They said you would know. You would do it. Don’t forget.”

“I don’t understand, Mama.”

“Don’t forget, Jayjay. The cure is in the blood.”

“Boss,” a firm, but quiet voice broke through the hazy dreamlike memory, a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. Blinking up, Jason let his eyes adjust to the dark room enough to see one of his men leaning over him. Since it was still night, that meant something had happened or was happening.

Sitting up, he ran a hand over his face. “What is it?” Kyle gave him a curious look before he straightened and glanced over his shoulder. “Rayner, the fuck is it?”

“Someone’s in the house.” That snapped Jason to full alert and he immediately stood to his feet, quietly grabbing his gun that was sitting next to his sleeping bag. “We didn’t engage, they’re in the kitchen.” Which meant they were probably hungry. Not surprising given the state of the world the past few years, but it was still a dangerous headspace to be in. Desperate enough and you would probably easily kill the first person who had food to steal.

He was curious how the person had managed to slip pass their watch, but that was a question for another time. First, he had to deal with whoever it was that had stumbled upon the exact house he and his crew were staying in for the night. Which meant he was walking down the stairs, trying to make no noise to give away the fact that someone else was in the house.

He gave a nod to Rose, who was crouched behind a chair in the living room, watching whoever it was with her gun in hand. And whoever it was had no qualms about being quiet because Jason could hear the person shoving things around as they searched.

With a careful click, Jason pulled the safety off his gun but keeping the barrel pointed at the ground, glancing around the corner to see the back of what looked like a man from the short cut hair in the back and the cut of his body hidden beneath the black leather jacket and dark jeans. From what he could see, Jason couldn’t make out any weapons and for that he was glad. He didn’t particularly enjoy fighting with those who were not infected.

“Show me your hands,” he growled, raising the gun to aim at the man who was crouched near the ground as he dug through a cabinet. “Now,” he ordered when the person made no attempt to move. There was a huff followed by two hands raising in the air, both empty. “Stand up and turn around slowly.” With a grace that Jason wasn’t sure he had ever seen before, he watched the figure ease themselves upright and spin slowly, as requested. And then Jason was face to face with the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

And he wished that were an exaggeration.

But the hair that was cut short in the back, hung in the man’s eyes in the front. Eyes that even in the dark, Jason could tell were a startling blue. Cheekbones that would probably cut glass, and miles upon miles of golden skin. And though the leather jacket added bulk to his form it didn’t take away from the lean, strong line of his body beneath it. It had been a long time since Jason had felt so attracted to someone right off the bat, but damn if he didn’t want to lower his gun just on the man’s looks alone.

“Who are you?” Jason asked instead of following his instincts. He had people to protect.

“Name’s Dick.” Jason waited for more, but when nothing else came he gave an annoyed sigh.

Dropping the gun down to his side, he clicked the safety back on but didn’t tuck it away like he would have if the threat were eliminated. He watched Dick regard his motions curiously, head tilting to the side. And though Jason dropped his weapon, Dick kept his hands up almost in appeasement. But something told Jason he didn’t exactly need a weapon to take down a man. “What are you doing here, Dick? Are there others with you?”

“I’d like to think it’s pretty obvious what I was doing,” the man said with raised eyebrows. “And as for the other question, just me. Been just me for a while now.” With narrowed eyes, Jason looked him over and wondered why he didn’t look worse for the wear then. He looked almost…healthy. It wasn’t how solos usually looked when they came across them.

“Suspect, Boss,” Kyle muttered behind him and Jason just grunted. He got what the man was implying, it was suspicious. But something told Jason to trust Dick. Something deep in his core said it was okay, just this once, to follow his gut. Not that his gut had ever been wrong in the past.

“At ease,” he called out to the three others in various places behind him. Tucking the gun into the back of his pants, he relaxed his shoulders and watched Dick carefully lower his arms. But the fact that he hadn’t dropped eye contact with Jason put the man at ease. He wasn’t looking for others to jump in and help him. Rarely did pairs or groups mean good people. Jason had never had luck with anyone riding in pairs or more. “I’m Jason,” he said, moving forward and holding out a hand. Dick took the offered hand and gave it a firm shake, Jason tried not to think about the power he could feel in the grip. Instead, he released it and turned to the others. “That’s Kyle, Biz, and Rose. Don’t let her name fool you, she’ll lay you out in a heartbeat.”

Dick gave the others a nod, eyes lingering on Rose curiously and Jason resisted the urge to sigh. Men always thought they stood a chance with her and then they realized that she was too big a handful for them. For once, he had been hoping to come across a man who didn’t look at Rose that way. He glanced over at Rose to see her watching him just as carefully.

“I know your father,” Dick said suddenly, and Jason whipped his head to look back at him, finding him still looking at Rose. Jason felt himself frowning as he turned to look at Rose again and found her standing there with wide eyes. Her reaction was curious enough but the fact that a supposed stranger had a connection to one of his crew, that was suspicious.

“Like I said…” Kyle spoke up before heading back up the stairs to most likely resume his watch from the second story window that looked out onto the street below.

Rose didn’t move for a moment and Jason took a step toward her but then she was brushing past him and heading over to the newcomer. Jason kept his distance as he watched the pair whisper to one another. He was tempted to move closer and try and catch some of the conversation, but he knew better than to push something Rose didn’t want to talk about. All he knew was her father and her were estranged and that he was “dead to her”.

He wondered what kind of relationship Dick had had with someone Rose so thoroughly hated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, Kyle said the stray you picked up should have a spotter.” Jason looked up from his work to see his best friend Roy walking into the lab. “Said he didn’t trust the situation that brought him to us. And said you went about it in a way that wasn’t normal for you. He also mentioned that he knows Rose’s dad, who none of us know anything about except that he’s bad news.”

“Oh, is that all Kyle said?”

Roy let out a snort and Jason just rolled his eyes. “I told him to fuck off and that you’ve never put this camp at risk.” Jason just shrugged, because what could he say? Roy was right. He wouldn’t risk the people they were charged with keeping safe. Not even for a pretty face. “But want to tell me why he thinks you’re thinking with your dick and not your head?”

“Cause I turned him down for a quick fuck the night before Dick stumbled into the same house as us and he’s pissed,” Jason admitted. Pulling his glasses off, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sat down on the stool behind him. “And I don’t want to hear it,” he said, pointing his glasses at Roy. Who held both his hands up in a placating motion, despite the amused twinkle in his eye. “Fuck you.”

“Oh, come on,” Roy laughed, leaning both his arms onto the counter where Jason had various vials and a few microscopes out. “I’m not that big of a dick to rub your face in the fact that I was right about him being a clingy bastard who doesn’t understand the no strings attached rules.”

“Fucking shit, Harper. Just couldn’t resist, could you?”

“Nope.” Roy laughed and Jason shook his head, letting out a chuckle of his own. “But seriously, he’s acting like a jealous ex-lover and that means he picked up on something.”

Jason put his glasses back on and pointedly didn’t respond, leaning back to look at the slides on the scope in front of him before jotting down some notes in his notebook.

“Jay.”

“Fuck off.”

“He is definitely a good-looking man.” Jason continued to ignore him despite knowing he was playing right into Roy’s hand. “And helpful. Kory said he immediately jumped in to help with some of the new buildings and asked around to see how he could help the others.” Jason only grunted in response. He liked knowing the man wanted to pull his own weight without having to be asked to do it. “He also asked if he could be on the crew that goes out to scavenge next.” That was curious, enough so that Jason actually looked over at Roy. “Strange for someone to want to go out so soon, huh? Of course, it was only after hearing that you were the one who always lead those ventures.”

“Got a point here, Harper? I’m working on something for your wife, and I doubt she’d appreciate me taking longer because of you.”

Roy just laughed.

“Seriously, Roy. What are you implying here?”

“Just that maybe you should get out of the lab and take a walk around the East Bend. Might find something a bit more enticing than…Rayner.” And though the implication was heavy, Roy didn’t wait around to make sure Jason understood. He simply turned and headed back out the way he came, leaving Jason to wonder what the fuck he was thinking making Roy his best friend.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Supplies are good boss,” Kyle commented as he and Biz presented the checklists they were tasked with every week to make sure each division of the compound had enough to get them through the next month. Though it was overly cautious, Jason liked the men to check every two weeks to be sure everyone had what they needed. In the beginning there had been too many times when their supplies had run out and they had desperately gone on supply runs that had ended in someone’s death or near-death. They had come a long way in the three years they had been in this location.

But still Jason liked to be sure they didn’t get in a bad spot again. “What about Kory? Did she say she needed any supplies for the upcoming frosts? It’s getting to be that time of year and she needs to protect the plants on the West rooftop.”

“I can answer that,” a voice sounded near the entrance of his lab and Jason couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Dick filling his doorway. “Roy is currently helping reenforce the plant beds, but he and I have been building greenhouse structures to erect around them before the frosts actually hit. We should have them done in the next day or so.” The man walked further into the room and Jason ignored the way Kyle seemed to tense up next to him as he did.

Dick didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care. Whatever it was, Jason wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Instead he took the paper that Dick held out to him. “What’s this?”

“A list from Kory. She said you’d know what to do with it.” Jason furrowed his brow as he unfolded the paper and read Kory’s elegant handwriting. Fertilizer. Yeah, he definitely knew what she needed. He knew he had everything, but he was running low on a few things. And that meant a supply run in the next couple of weeks.

“Thanks Dick,” Jason gave the man a nod as he folded up the paper again and looked over at Kyle, who was watching Dick with narrowed eyes. Jason could see Biz regarding the interaction curiously, but knew the man would keep his thoughts to himself for the time being. “Rayner, we’re going to need to do a run in the next two weeks. You and Rose can plan out the route while Dick, Biz and I get the packs together.” That snapped Kyle’s attention away from Dick. And though Jason knew exactly what the man was thinking, he simply raised an eyebrow as a challenge.

“Sure thing. You’re the boss,” Kyle grumbled before grabbing the lists in front of his and heading toward the door. Jason sighed at the sight of Dick jerking when Kyle bumped into him on his way past, rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

But it was Dick’s reaction that was curious. The man watched Kyle go with a thoughtful look on his face before turning back to smile at Jason. “I could help him and Rose, if you like? Show them where I was before I found you all. There had been a few pods of infected that had infested some of the surrounding cities and towns.” And though Jason thought that was smart, he knew better than to antagonize Kyle that way.

“Nah, Biz and I could use the help. Packing for five is more complicated than packing for four. We’ll get started tomorrow. It’ll take Kyle and Rose a few days to get the plan worked out and I have a few projects to finish before we head out.” He waved the paper from Kory as proof. Dick seemed to take it all in stride, nodding and glancing around the lab.

“I’ll head back out then. Biz, Roy and I could use some muscle,” Dick smiled at the large man and Biz chuckled before clapping Jason on the back and heading toward the door. “See you later, Jay,” Dick called out over his shoulder as they headed out, sending a smirk to the man before walking out.

Remaining in his spot at the table, Jason sighed and shook his head. He wasn’t sure bringing Dick along on a supply run that Kyle was on was a good idea but he had to admit that he wanted the newest addition to join them. He had been enjoying the time he had been spending getting to know the raven haired man. The way it seemed like everything was a brand new experience and how he found joy in the simplest of things. It was a refreshing take on life, one Jason hadn’t seen in a very long time. And though Kyle was still trying his cards, Jason had to admit that his sights had settled on Dick and didn’t seem to want to stray.

Which made things a lot more complicated than Jason wanted to admit. The casual thing with Kyle had brought a mess to his feet. But he didn’t want casual with Dick. No, there was just something about the man that had him wanting to stay up late talking about the stupidest of things. Or laughing over more coffee with sleep-mused hair and wrinkles clothes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted that with someone. It should have worried or frightened him, but it just made him hopeful.

“Eh Boss!” Jason sighed at the sound of someone calling for him from outside and pushed the thoughts of Dick away so he could handle whatever it was that he was needed for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason watched from a distance as Dick and Rose spoke to each other near one of the more abandoned areas of the compound. It had been a complete accident that he had stumbled across them, having just gone out for a walk around the perimeter for some fresh air after having been cooped up in the lab for the past couple of hours. It was late afternoon and the majority of the citizens of the compound were finishing up their daily tasks and preparing for dinner.

But Dick and Rose were clearly in a serious conversation.

And that made Jason wonder if this had something to do with Rose’s father. He hadn’t gotten the chance to bring it up to the woman when they had met up to discuss the next trip beyond the walls earlier. But he had planned on it before they had packed to leave. Because it the curiosity was killing him.

And he wanted to know more about something Rose always kept so close to her chest. No one knew anything about her family. Or her past before the virus. No one except Dick.

“Jason!” Dick turned, smiling brightly at him. Jason narrowed his eyes slightly and looked between the pair before raising a brow at Rose. He rolled his eyes when she shut her features down and went blank. The universal Rose sign that she wasn’t saying shit. “Enjoying some fresh air? Rose and I were just talking about the possibility of setting up a training ground out here. I saw Roy has some weapons that people might benefit in learning.”

Closing the distance between him and the two of them, Jason looked out over the open field. He had always assumed they would expand the gardens out here when they outgrew the rooftops Kory had established. But he could see the idea having merit. “I mean, you can ask him. It’s his specialty. He worked security before the outbreak and his adoptive father was big on the bow.”

Rose gave a grunt before Jason watched her and Dick exchange a look he couldn’t decipher and she turned to leave without saying anything to either of them.

“Is that really what you two were discussing?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Not even close,” he said. “I just know Rose well enough to know she plays her cards pretty close to the chest. And the fact that you know her dad takes a little of that power away from her.” Jason watched Dick’s face darken slightly, his smile turning to a frown as the shadow passed over his features. “So, he’s really that bad.”

Dick pursed his lips and looked out into the distance, looking like he was considering how to answer that. “He is…he has caused a lot of harm. But the harm he caused was…” Dick paused and Jason wondered if he was about to be lied to. “It was how it was supposed to happen.” Jason frowned. How the hell was harm ever supposed to be what should happen? “It is hard to explain, but Rose is right to hate her father.”

“You know that makes absolutely no sense, right?” Dick hummed and turned, starting to walk back toward the main part of the compound. Jason took a moment to study the man before hurrying to join him.

“It is not my story to tell.” He wanted to growl in frustration. He just couldn’t understand why people couldn’t just say the truth and be done with it. “I will tell you my own experiences with Slade have been uncomfortable and ones I would very much like to forget ever happened. At his core, he has the potential to be a good man, but he has been corrupted and it has changed the man Rose knew into the man I know.”

And even though Dick didn’t say what he meant by the word “uncomfortable”, Jason had a pretty good idea what it meant. And it made his blood boil.

“I won’t push,” Jason promised as they made their way back into the center of the community, “but if you need to talk…” He saw Dick look at him out of the corner of his eye but kept his forward and allowed the man his emotional space.

“You are an extraordinary man, Jason Todd. You are a gift to this world.”

Furrowing his brow at the odd choice in wording, Jason looked over at Dick and found him looking skyward. The image he presented, head back with his raven hair having fallen out of his eyes and golden skin practically glowing under the late afternoon sun, Jason would have sworn he was angelic.

“Dick!” A voice from somewhere called out for the man, pulling both their attentions.

“Hey Tim,” Dick smiled before looking over to Jason. “I’ll see you at dinner, I’m sure.” Nodding his head in response, he watched Dick walk away to talk to the young man who had called for him. He observed Dick throw an arm around Tim’s shoulders and lead him away, chatting animatedly. Such a contrast to how he had been speaking with Rose just moments ago.

But Jason knew when he wasn’t going to get his way. So he told himself to drop it and headed back to his lab to get a bit more work in before the call for dinner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you ever tried drawing the blood of an infected?” Dick asked as he sat down across from Jason with his plate of food. It was such a random question, but something about it made him pause. Something familiar about it. Dick must have assumed his silence was confusion and waved a hand. “I mean, do you know what the disease looks like when you see it on a molecular level? Kory said you’re the resident expert on this sort of thing.”

Straightening up in his chair, Jason furrowed his brow. “It is and I have. I have samples of it in the lab. Something about what you said…” It was one of those moments where something was right on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t figure out what it was for the life of him.

But there was definitely something he was supposed to be remembering that lined up with this.

“Wow, I can’t tell you the last time I had pasta and meatballs,” Dick muttered, taking another bite of his food. When Jason looked at him, the man had a spot of sauce at the corner of his mouth and without pausing to think of how epically awkward he would make things, he reached across the table and thumbed the sauce away. It wasn’t until his thumb was in his mouth that he noticed Dick’s eyes had gone wide and a faint blush had spread across his cheeks.

“Uh…sorry.” Jason gave a shrug and ducked his head in embarrassment, cursing himself for not thinking.

He only looked up when Dick cleared his throat and reached for his drink. “So…the blood.” Jason nodded as he watched Dick drink his water, ignoring what the sight of the man’s Adam’s apple bobbing did to his stomach. Or lower regions. “Have you ever isolated the virus?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve got some slides. The thing is,” Jason latched onto the subject like air, “it needs a host. None of the cells have survived for long without blood to latch onto. It was one of the first things I tried to do. If I could isolate it then I could reverse it, right?” Dick leaned forward and nodded, listening more intently than anyone outside of Kory ever did. “But it dies too quickly to do it.”

He watched Dick’s eyes narrow and brows merge together, almost as if he was suspicious of something. But then the look smoothed out and he looked back down at his plate to fork another bite. “Well, have you ever tried to attach it to fresh blood? Like draw a vial of your own and see how the virus latches on? I’m not a scientist, but maybe it has more to do with blocking the progress than reversing the damage.”

The cure is in the blood, Jayjay.

Jason’s hand froze with his own fork halfway to his mouth when the voice of his mother filled his mind. For years he listened to her drug induced rambling about some cure and how the blood was important. He made promise after promise to never forget because the angels had told her that he needed to know that. That he specifically had needed to know the cure is in the blood. But why did Dick’s idea make him remember that?

“Jason?” Looking across the table at Dick, he found the man frowning in concern. “You okay? Did I step on your toes? I really don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s just something someone said once. Ignore me.”

Pushing to his feet, Jason shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I…” He glanced around the room for a head of fiery red curls, zeroing in on them at the far end of the room. “I need to go. Thanks, Dick!” He grabbed his plate and quickly handed it over to one of the people on kitchen duty for the day before rushing over to Kory. “I need you in the lab,” he breathed out, sending Roy an apologetic look for interrupting their dinner. The man just frowned, and Kory stood without questioning the request.

“I’ll take care of it, Babe,” Roy said when Kory went to pick up her tray. Jason started heading out as they said their goodbyes, knowing Kory would catch up with him.

“What is it that you need?” She asked when she appeared next to him just as he was heading outside. He shook his head, not sure if he even knew the answer to that.

Digging into his pocket, he pulled out a piece of crumpled paper and a pen he kept with him at all times, and tried to write as he walked. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Dick just said something to me and I’m not even sure what it means. But I know it means something.” He scribbled a formula down and passed it over to Kory, who looked at it before looking back to him with a raised brow. “I know! I know it looks crazy, but maybe…”

He scratched the back of his neck as they walked, thinking of drawing his own blood and some of Kory’s to do a side by side. Maybe watching the virus latch to different samples at the same time would reveal something. But something inside him told him it had to be his own blood.

The cure is in the blood, Jayjay.

He knew his mother had told him that on multiple occasions, but how could she have known about all of this? She had died so many years before he had even decided to pursue biology as his field of study. There’s no way she could have. It didn’t make sense.

“I know your idea face when I see it, Jason,” Kory interrupted his thoughts. “You are rarely wrong when an idea hits you. Do not smother it because you don’t yet understand it. I trust your instincts. Whatever you need.”

“Thanks, Kor. This one is going to be a dozey.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hope I’m not interrupting,” a familiar voice broke through his writing, pulling his attention from the calculations to see Dick walking into his lab. Jason couldn’t help but smile at the man as he made his way over, hands in his pockets and glancing around at all the various equipment Jason had out to run the most recent round of experiments. “It’s been a few days since I’ve seen you, so I thought I’d check and make sure you’re still being fed and watered appropriately as humans need to survive.”

Snorting out a laugh, Jason set his pencil down and removed his glasses. “Kory and Roy both make sure I get my three-square meals a day and stay hydrated. Though, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take over a shift or two.” Dick paused for a moment before continuing to close the distance between them, stopping on the opposite side of the desk Jason was currently using. Jason watched his eyes scan over the pages spread out over the desk, head tilting as he paused to read one in particular before moving onto the next. “Do you understand any of it?” He asked curiously.

Dick hummed and shook his head before leaning a hip against the desk. “I am not a person of science,” he admitted. Jason had a feeling that was the case, given the way Dick had presented him with the idea. As if it had been someone else’s and his imagination had just run with it. But he had been right. Or mostly right, at least. “The human mind is an incredible place, isn’t it? A mass of tissue and electricity running the show.”

Jason let out a surprised laugh. “That’s….that’s definitely one way to describe it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone put it so plainly.”

“But at the base that’s all a human is, isn’t it? Ruled by a mess of electrical currents up here,” Dick tapped his temple and flicked his eyebrow upward. Jason supposed he was right and gave a nod. It was curious when you tried to think about it, but he doubted anyone would ever really know how a human really functions at their core.

“Have you had success then?”

Looking down at his papers for a moment before looking back to Dick, Jason nodded. “Yes, but not in the way you’re probably thinking. There’s something in my own blood that seems to repel the virus. But when I drew Kory and Roy’s blood, the reaction wasn’t the same.” Jason shifted through his papers to find the ones where the findings were noted. “There is something within my own blood that seems to fight the virus. An enzyme maybe? I’m not sure. But if I can figure it out, I can try to reproduce it. And if I can reproduce it…”

“You can mass produce it.”

“Exactly!” Jason smiled, giddy at the prospect. “A cure. It could be a cure. Not for those who have already turned but for those who have been bitten? It could prevent them from turning. It could be a miracle.”

The smile on Dick’s face looked almost relieved and Jason wanted to question him about it, but then there was that fondness that had become so familiar in his gaze and Jason couldn’t help the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“I suppose I should leave you to it then,” Dick spoke softly, his fingers tapping the papers in front of Jason. “You have a race to save.” Jason laughed and shook his head, the hope bubbling up inside of him at the prospect of being able to do this for humanity. “You’re a gift, Jason Todd. Don’t ever forget that.” And though Dick had said those words a few times before, they seemed to have a different meaning this time. Almost like Dick had known this would be the outcome all along. But the man was gone before he could bother to ask him about that comment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How do you test it? Do we just have someone get bitten and then see if it works?” Roy asked as he zipped up Jason’s bag for the supply run that was leaving in a few minutes. Jason had been slacking on his pack but thankfully Roy had noticed and taken care of it, since Jason’s mind was obviously elsewhere.

With a shrug, Jason took the pack. “I have no clue. It works on the blood samples. The virus is completely gone on infected blood. But unless someone just happens to get bitten, I won’t have a human test subject for a while.”

“But it works on the samples?”

“Completely gone, Roy,” Jason confirmed. He pulled the pack onto his back and walked with his best friend over to where Rose, Biz, Kyle and Dick were waiting for him. “Like a fucking miracle. I almost want to get myself bitten to see it work in a human body. But from the samples, I’m not even sure the virus would work on me at all.”

“And it’s not fucking worth putting you at risk.” Jason knew Roy was right. Just the four people waiting for him a few paces away were enough of a reason. But they weren’t the only reason. Too many people counted on him for various things. And he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to lose what little family he had managed to patch together.

And he didn’t want to never get the chance to shoot his shot with Dick. Not that he had any plans on that account, but eventually. Once his mind wasn’t over occupied with this cure.

“Ready to go, Boss?” Kyle called out, looking at him impatiently. Jason rolled his eyes and gave a wave of his hand.

“Take care of them all while I’m gone.” Roy gave Jason a nod before they exchanged their customary hug.

Jason had fallen in step next to Dick when Roy called out, “Don’t get too distracted out there, Jay! You know what I mean.” When Jason turned and threw a glare at the man, he wasn’t surprised to see Roy laughing. So Jason simply threw a middle finger up at him and turned back around.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Dick! Oh god.” Jason went running the moment Kyle took out the last of the zombies surrounding him and Dick, who was now on his knees with a hand pressed to the junction of neck and shoulder. He had been too far away from the other man when they had ended up surrounded thanks to a backfire on the car Dick and Kyle were attempting to get running. Too far away to stop the zombie from sneaking up on the two men and taking a bite out of Dick’s shoulder.

Falling to his own knees, Jason looked at Dick with wide eyes. For having been bitten, the man looked far too calm. If anything, he just seemed annoyed. “Dick?” Jason rasped, reaching out to pull his hand away from the wound so he could see if it actually broke skin or not. Crimson red told him all he needed to know. “Fuck. Fuck! We have to go now. Can this drive?!” He looked desperately up at Kyle who had his eyes locked on the wound.

“Boss?”

“Kyle! Can the car get us back to the compound?”

“Yeah….but….”

Jason ignored whatever it was the other man was going to say and turned back to Dick, tearing a sleeve off his shirt and folding it up to press against the wound. “You gotta keep pressure on it. We’ll get you back home, to the lab. The cure works. I know it does. We’ll get it in you in time.” He grabbed Dick’s hand and pressed it back over the wound to hold the cloth down.

Dick looked at him with furrowed brows and tilted his head and the sigh made something clench in Jason’s chest. That weird confusion that Dick always seemed to have whenever something normal seemed to happen. “I’ll be fine.” Now it was Jason’s turn to be confused.

“You were bitten Dick. It broke the skin; we have to get you back. Come on,” he ordered, pushing to his feet and tugging Dick up with him. “Get the others,” Jason told Kyle who looked like he was about to argue with him. But Jason just growled out, “Now.” And the other man gave a curt nod before running off to collect Rose and Biz. “It takes at least a few hours for the fever to show up but we won’t be back to the compound before morning if we drive through the night. So you just…you gotta hold on, okay?”

“I promise I’ll be fine, Jay,” Dick spoke softly, his gaze taking an amused look to it. And damnit if Jason didn’t hate how not seriously he was taking this situation. “I promise.”

“You will be because we’ll get you back to the lab in time.” Dick smiled at that and sighed, leaving Jason to wonder what the hell was wrong with the man. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t something they could just brush aside and yet he was acting like he wasn’t hours away from becoming one of them.

Like Jason wasn’t hours away from losing yet another person he loved.

“Boss,” Kyle’s voice broke through his internal panic. Turning to see the man standing a few feet away with Biz and Rose right behind him, Jason raised a brow. “Gotta talk to you real quick. They’ll get the car packed.” Jason huffed a breath out through his nose and followed the other man, glancing back at Dick to see Rose taking a look at the bite and speaking lowly to the man. Once they seemed to be out of earshot, Kyle stopped and turned to face Jason. And Jason did not like the look on his face. “We can’t take him with us. You know we don’t have enough time even if we had enough gas to get us through the night.”

“No.”

Kyle sighed and looked over Jason’s shoulder before looking back to him. “Jason, I know you don’t want to hear this. I know you want to save him. But what are we supposed to do when he turns in the middle of the drive? What then?”

“I’m not leaving him, Rayner. I can save him. I know I can. I have the cure. We’re wasting time discussing this. Let’s go. Now.” And despite knowing Kyle had a good point, he knew he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t leave Dick behind to become one of them. And he couldn’t kill him before the bite took just to put him out of his misery. Shaking his head, he turned and walked back to the car where Rose and Biz had already taken up two of the seats and Dick was leaning against the outside.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dragging Dick into his lab and shoving him down onto the exam table, Jason rushed around and gathered the supplies he needed to administer the injection. He didn’t know how Dick hadn’t developed the fever yet, but he wasn’t going to waste any time. Dumping everything on the table next to Dick, he tugged the leather jacket off Dick and pushed the sleeve of his gray shirt up.

“Jason, stop,” Dick spoke softly, ducking his head down but Jason ignored him. “Jay. Stop.” His voice took on a firmer tone and it was enough to cause Jason to pause and look up at him. “I’m fine. I don’t need this. Don’t waste it.”

Jaw dropping, Jason stood frozen with an empty syringe in hand ready to draw Dick’s blood before he injected the cure so he could have a sample before and after. “You are not fine! Why are you not taking this seriously?!”

He watched Dick sigh and moved back when Dick nudged at him so he could get off the table. Without dropping eye contact, Dick tugged the collar of his shirt away from where the bite was and revealed skin only blemished with dried blood.

But no bite.

“What?” Jason dropped the syringe and lunged forward to examine the skin more closely. “How is this possible? There was a bite here! We all saw it!” Kyle had told him to leave Dick behind for crying out loud. Looking back to Dick’s face, Jason shook his head. “This is not possible.”

“It is.”

“No, it isn’t. No one is immune! No one! We would have heard about it.” Dick frowned and Jason watched as he tugged his shirt off, revealing far more golden skin than anyone should have ever been allowed to have. And if the circumstances had been different, Jason would be thanking the powers that be for this display of a man. But he was freaking out. “Dick-what-?” He watched Dick move around the table and reveal his back, which was covered in the most beautiful wing tattoo Jason had ever seen. Brilliant white wings, so vibrant Jason wasn’t sure how the artist had managed to make it stand out so vividly on his golden complexion, that looked as though they had been dipped in blue dye at the tips and the color had crept up the feathers to fade into the white. And somehow the wings were drawn in such a way that they almost seemed to flutter with Dick’s muscle movements.

Then Dick’s long fingers were brushing up the back of his neck where three symbols were drawn and he was muttering words in a language Jason had never heard but thought felt right. But before he could dive into why that might have been, he was stepping back and grabbing the table behind him as a flash of white seemed to center from Dick and a pair of wings that matched the tattoo were springing forth from the man’s back. Jason gasped at the sight of the massive wings that spread out wide, as if stretching, and then relaxed as Dick turned to face him again.

“This is why.”

But Jason still didn’t understand. All he knew was that Dick suddenly had wings and Jason was questioning his sanity even more. Maybe he had been the one who had been bitten. Maybe he was losing his mind after all this time. But he could feel his heartbeat in his ears and that was enough to tell him this was really happening. “What are you?” He managed to gasp.

“I am Seraph.”

“You’re an angel?” Jason questioned, mind trying to grasp what was happening here. “Of course you are.” He thought about all the things that had happened since he had met Dick in that kitchen all those months ago. “So much is making sense right now.”

Dick tilted his head to the side and watched Jason as he processed. Jason ignored the man for a moment, stepping away from the table he had been clinging to so he could pace and process. The weird comments, acting as though he had never done common activities, or eaten certain foods. So much of it made so much more sense.

“Jason,” Dick’s voice called to him and Jason paused his pacing, frowning at the almost melodic sound of the man’s voice now. Looking over at Dick, Jason let his eyes trail over the expanse of the large wings behind him, from just brushing the floor with the blue feathers to standing high above his head in stark white.

But the sound of a door banging open stopped him from saying anything, pulling both of their attentions to Rose rushing through the door. “Oh!” She paused, eyes wide as she looked at Dick.

“Rose,” Jason stepped forward to keep her from rushing out of there because he got the feeling that Dick didn’t necessarily want everyone to know what exactly he was.

“So you told him. I told you you wouldn’t be able to keep it hidden much longer.” Stopping mid stride, Jason looked from Rose to Dick and then back again. Turning to look at Jason, Rose shrugged a shoulder and gathered up her hair, turning to show him the back of her neck. The symbols there were similar to the ones on Dick’s and Jason felt his world bottom out again. “I’m not Seraph, but I am Nephilim,” she explained as she dropped her hair and turned back to face him. “And so are you.”

He heard Dick sigh behind him, but Jason felt frozen again. He was what? She was what?

“I hadn’t gotten to that yet,” Dick murmured and appeared next to Jason. Allowing himself to be turned, Jason looked into the sapphire eyes he thought he had known so well. “What Rose is so tactlessly telling you, is that your father was like me. Just as her own father is Seraph as well. That is how I know him. He was close to my ranks before he fell.”

Rose’s snort was telling. “He didn’t fall. He plummeted.”

“Wait, my father?” Jason thought of the man he had known. The drunk who beat his mother until Jason was old enough to pull the man’s attention from her to himself. He remembered waiting each night for him to come home and lay into him. Until one night he stopped coming home. And neither he nor his mother ever knew what happened to Willis Todd.

“Willis was not of my ranks but was tempted to fall by a very bewitching demon. He promised him power and wealth. But gave him neither,” Dick told Jason, placing both his hands on his shoulders. “We are not meant to sire children with mortals because the transfer of power can have detrimental effects on the human who carries the child. Your mother was addicted to drugs, was she not?” Jason nodded. “That was how she drowned out the voices. The ones who whispered about your destiny. Rose’s mother…”

“She died of cancer.” Glancing over at her, Jason tried to read her expression but wasn’t sure what it said. The woman was so good at keeping her emotions to herself, he always failed to really grasp what she was thinking.

Looking back to Dick, Jason furrowed his brows as he tried to comprehend what was being told to him. “I don’t have the symbols,” was what his brain decided to spit out instead. Dick smiled and he could hear Rose chuckle next to him. “What?”

“They are not something Nephilim are born with on the surface. You have to bring them forth,” Dick explained. “The creator gives them to their Seraph, but only a Seraph can show a Nephilim how to bring their own forth.”

“Wait. What do you mean my destiny?” Jason demanded, mind finally grasping onto that piece of information.

He watched Dick sigh and send a look to Rose that had her rolling her eyes and leaving without a word. Or sound. Jason made a mental note to ask her about that skill. “It’s time we have a very serious talk, Jason. Shall we go somewhere we won’t be interrupted again?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So let me get this straight,” Jason said, pacing the length of his room as Dick sat leaning against the headboard of his bed. “Rose’s dad is the one responsible for the virus? The creator told all of you that one would need to fall and release the virus in order to save humanity?”

“In the broadest of terms, yes.”

“How is killing us like this, saving us?”

“Your planet was dying. It would not survive much more in way of population. Your atmosphere had begun to crumble, and drastic measures were needed.” Jason scowled at that. How could Dick just be so blasé about the death of billions of people? He’s not human, a part of his mind reminded him. But even though he only had Rose to compare to, Dick seemed more human than Rose. “Some of us were against the idea. That there had to be another way, but Slade volunteered before the discussions could go further.”

Shaking his head, Jason paced the length of the room one more time before dropping down in the chair at his desk. “This is a lot.” Dick nodded but remained silent and Jason was thankful. Because even though he was glad Dick was answering his questions, he didn’t want the man to try and sway his opinion into the positive side of things just yet. He needed to examine the situation from all angles. He needed to see all possible outcomes to this before he came to a conclusion. “Was it part of the creator’s plan for you to find me?”

“No.”

Jason waited for more, but when he was met with nothing but silence, he looked at Dick with a raised eyebrow. But the man, angel whatever, seemed to miss what he was silently asking him to expand upon and it just made Jason sigh. Almost in fondness. Almost.

“If it was not in their plan, why are you here?”

“I broke ranks because humanity has suffered more than enough, and you are the cure to that suffering.” He watched Dick sit up and look at him seriously, almost uncomfortably so. “I have watched you for years, since before the outbreak. I knew of you long before you were even born. I have been tasked with protecting humanity for centuries because our creator is not the “God” so many believe in. They are kind, loving, and they do not require worship or devotion. But they also want you to have the will to choose what path you take.

“You are a good species at the core, despite those who have been whispered to by the demons of the world. You would have come across the answer for the cure on your own, but it would have been a few years from now after having lost far too many and those closest.” Jason’s mind flashed to Roy and Kory, knowing that’s exactly who Dick was referring to. Deep in his soul, he knew it was them. And he couldn’t help but feel so incredibly grateful that Dick had gone against his kind to prevent that. “You have lost enough. Everyone has lost enough.”

Taking in the words, Jason dropped down into his desk chair with a sigh. It was a heavy weight, knowing that he had been the key to fixing this all along and that if Dick hadn’t prompted the idea that day in the mess hall then he would have taken a while longer to figure it all out. He could have saved millions but he was supposed to have allowed countless more die before he made the sure. Dick allowed that. Dick disobeyed his orders because he didn’t want anymore suffering, he didn’t want Jason to endure anymore suffering.

Dick had chosen him over his own kind. “Will you be punished?”

“Perhaps,” Dick shrugged. “But perhaps mercy shall be gifted to me because I wanted mercy for mankind.”

Jason didn’t like the idea that Dick could be harmed because he had chosen kindness over indifference. He didn’t know what it meant to be Seraph and how it impacted basic human emotions and instincts, but he knew Dick. And he knew Dick loved people. The way he laughed with Tim while they discussed various topics. The way he worked with Kory in the gardens, singing soft songs in a language Jason now knew to be angelic. The way he walked side by side with Roy and discussed the best way to protect those within their gates and walls. People he was now invested in just as much as the rest of them.

“And if you aren’t granted mercy?”

There was silence and Jason watched Dick sit there, eyes narrowed and a furrowed brow marring the beauty of the angel. “Then I suppose I will be left to walk the earth among the people of this planet and protect you from within your ranks.” The lines smoothed out on his face and Dick gave him a smile that was brittle, but honest. “I do not feel my duty will change should the creator choose to remove me from my service to them. I will still wish to protect those who cannot protect themselves. It is all I have known.”

“You will always be welcome here,” Jason offered without pausing to think about it. If he thought about it, he would never say it and regret would burn bright. “With me.”

He tried not to fidget under the intense gaze that Dick turned on him, but it was difficult. The depths of the sapphire eyes spoke volumes and while Jason loved to look at them, the intensity made him a bit nervous. “Despite the lies?”

“I don’t appreciate the lies, but I understand them. Well,” he let out a chuckle, “as best as my human mind can.”

Dick’s smile was almost blinding.

“Your mind can understand much more than even you will ever know.” The blush that colored Jason’s cheeks was no something he was proud of, but he knew it was something he couldn’t exactly control. “You are a gift. Don’t ever let anyone try to tell you differently, Jason Todd.” He had gotten used to hearing Dick use those words in his regards, but now he supposed he finally understood exactly what it was he meant. He was a gift, or his blood was.

“What happens now?” Jason asked curiously, watching Dick lean back against the headboard again. Jason let his eyes trail over the other man, enjoying the sight of him so comfortable in Jason’s space. It felt right. It looked right.

But the look on Dick’s face pulled him out of those fuzzy thoughts. “I need to go.”

“What?”

“Now that you have uncovered the cure, I need to return to my ranks. I need to face my punishment, if there is to be one.”

But Jason didn’t want him to leave. Not when he still hadn’t gotten around to making any kind of move. Could he really just let Dick walk out of his life, potentially for good, without even trying? Did Dick even have any interest in him? Was he just seeing things that he wanted to be there.

“I would like to stay though. I would abandon my ranks for good, if I could convince myself it was the right thing.” Dick’s gaze turned to Jason and he found himself getting lost in the intensity of the sapphire eyes. Intensity that told Jason he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t imagining things and he wasn’t the only one who wanted. “I will return though. If you’ll have me.”

Nodding, Jason tried to say something in response, but he couldn’t form the right words. Not when those eyes were still looking at him like that. Not when his heart was pounding so loudly in his chest that he was certain it would either burst from within or Dick would point out how loud it was.

“I will be gone before morning, but I will be back.”

And Jason hoped that Dick wasn’t just telling him that to make him feel better. He really hoped it.

#jaydick #jason todd #dick grayson #roy harper #koriand'r #kyle rayner #rose wilson #slade wilson #tim drake #jaydick zombie au #angels/demons

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mollymarymarie · 3 years

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hi there i was wondering how did you get into writing? were you always a kid who liked writing or did you grow into it as you grew up?

ps. do u have any tips on how to write better for school purposes

oh gosh, hi friend! this is a QUESTION. i am definitely going to be wordy on this ask, too, so forgive me in advance. i love telling stories and i am also a narcissist, so i love telling stories about me.

i got into writing because i loved reading. as a kid, i would CONSTANTLY fall asleep reading books. i have an uncle who was an author and we always connected (even as i got older, he liked Harry Potter, he liked Futurama, he liked the NERDY KID stuff i liked). when i was nine-ish, i distinctly remember writing a short story about a kid and his dog on this ancient program on my mom's computer and printed it out ON A DOT MATRIX PRINTER (that's how old I am) so that I could show it to my uncle because i wanted to write like him.

BUT i didn't get into fanfic until i was fifteen or sixteen (this is a whole story and i'm proud of it so get ready). i was IN LOVE with the Lord of the Rings movies - knew all the cast members birthdays, could quote all the behind the scenes (I can still quote Galadriel's intro on the Extended Edition Fellowship). because of this, I was a member of a Dominic Monaghan fansite. the girls on this site wrote collective fanfic on the message boards. each girl would add their own chapters (one girl was obsessed with the band HIM and I picked up that obsession, still feel so nostalgic listening to Sweet Pandemonium, remembering how dial-up internet loaded Ville Valo's voice one note at a time and i was FUCKING SMITTEN friend).

i decided i wanted to do that. i started a fanfic (literally feel free to throw things at me) about JOHN MAYER and it was totally a self-insert fic with me and my friends as OCs. As my obsessions changed, so did the love interests (i ended up with Benji from Good Charlotte) and the whole thing was like a BAD SOAP OPERA

i continued writing stories about girls dating the boys in the bands I listened to. One about Sebastian LeFebvre from Simple Plan, one about Adam Lazzara from Taking Back Sunday, one about Tony Lovato from Mest. All with my own OCs (less self-insert now)

when i got married (at nineteen by the way, don't necessarily recommend it but it's sort of normal to do that in the south, plus he was my best friend from high school, and anyway we're still married thirteen years later), i stopped writing fic because i thought it was "childish" and because i was writing about boys i had crushes on and i thought it was ... idk disrespectful to my husband to have a crush on anyone else but him (i still have a crush on him, but i can also simultaneously have a crush on dev patel okay), so i moved to fiction. I completed my own novel in a few years but never published it.

THEN ALL HECK BROKE LOOSE WHEN THE AVENGERS MOVIE CAME OUT. I wrote a Loki fanfic (never finished, never published). but i realized writing about fictional characters was WAY more satisfying (and made me feel less creepy) than writing for actual human beings, so I started writing for Marvel characters (mostly just Bucky, which then became Stucky)

at this point, i had never read harry potter (i went to private school, they taught us it would turn us into satanists and it was banned lol), so when i became an adult, i was like I'M GONNA FUCKING WATCH HARRY POTTER YOU DUMB BITCHES (i have a lot of religious trauma because of my school so this was a big fuck you to them). I FELL IN LOVE WITH THIS DAMN STORY. i went in knowing who would die, but not when. And when Sirius died RIGHT AFTER SAYING TO HARRY "Good one, James!" I CRIIIIIED

anyway, around then, i found Ao3, had posted some Bucky fics, was reading a lot of other HP fics and stumbled across Wolfstar. at first, it was WHAT REMUS AND SIRIUS??? BUT DIDN'T REMUS MARRY TONKS??? but i read one. and then another. and then another. and read the books and rewatched the movies and thought WOW WHAT THE FUCK THOSE TWO DUDES OBVIOUSLY LOVE EACH OTHER

anyway, here we are, 28 wolfstar fics later because i discovered that i could keep writing stories about these same two dudes in different ways and different situations and different lives, and i also found a community of friends who are super supportive and equally as talented in writing those same two dudes (and their friends).

the only tips i have for writing better is just KEEP DOING IT. even if you think you have no talent (i certainly didn't, my first fics were HOT GARBAGE), even if you think other people write better than you (there will always be talented people out there who you compare yourself to, i still do this). AND WRITE FOR YOURSELF. i've said this so many times, but write the way YOU want, write in the style YOU want to read, write the stories YOU want to read. technically speaking, I'm probably NOT a good writer, but i like my stories. And there will always be other people who like your stories, too.

AND READ. read all the fanfic you want. take note of the styles you like, the authors you like, the plots you like, the twists you like. and WHY you like those things. figure out why that sentence hit you in your gut so hard, why this fic made you cry, why that character makes you angry. conveying emotion is what makes stories powerful.

And find your niche. find the thing you WANT to write for, and write for it. i don't give a shit if it's a Rick and Morty crossover with Powerpuff Girls. you do you. for example, my first fic was mostly canon-compliant but i MUCH prefer AUs now because i can write these characters in whatever way suits my story.

p.s. i knew i was gonna get wordy i'm so sorrryyyyyyy

p.s.s (or is it p.p.s??) i'm happy to talk one on one about this stuff! though i'm probably far from the best teacher, i am a good listener!

#i got an ask!#thanks FRIEND!#oh god i talked too much about myself again #i just really wanted to tell that story about how i started writing fic #because it is embarrassing and silly #but its real though you know??#and it proves that i used to SUCCCK at writing #like i was terrible #i mean that so literally #the first line of my first fic is SO CRINGY #hopefully i've improved since then #but if i did it was only through practice #i hate to say it like that #OH ALSO #this might be kind of pretentious too #but i think poetry and songwriting helped me out a lot #because i'm the kind of person that rhymes things #so you have to figure out how to say what you want to say #in short pieces that rhyme #and i think it sort of helped me figure out how to pack an emotional punch in a small amount of words #lol except now i say lots of words for the same effect #i'm looking back at this answer and it's so long i'm so sorry

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henryandalex · 4 years

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***Magnus and Alec are husbands. Yes, this needed to be said because CAN YOU BELIEVE? :’) But also, yes, it’s really been that long since the latest Malec fic rec. I’m sorry. It’s... yeah. Although if you also miss Malec every second of every day, reading fanfics at least helps a little.

I tried to collect a nice mix again so I hope you will enjoy this 9th (!!!) edition of my Malec fanfic rec posts. As usual, I enjoy making them and rec’ing you fics but these posts take a looooot of time so please, please, please reblog, like and spread the word so that I see you enjoy these and these posts are helpful. It motivates to do a new one in the future if y’all are interested. Thank you

And now, have fun discovering, reading, and loving those Malec fics. And leave a kudo and comment for those authors while you’re on it. We all love appreciation and need validation. :)***

previous Malec fic recs: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

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42 NORTH 71 WEST by @lecrit [ M | AU | 62.1k | complete ]

Alec sometimes wonders why he ever decided to pursue a career in politics. Magnus sometimes questions whether pursuing his dream of becoming an actor was worth it.

Those two facts are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 21.3k | complete ]

Alec pulls up to the gold intercom positioned at the enormous front gates. Like everything owned by the obscenely wealthy, they’re proportioned for both for giants and giant egos.

He’d hoped this would be easier, less gut-churning work than protecting diplomats and foreign dignitaries, some guilty of truly terrible things, but being a bodyguard for a coddled popstar who can’t even be bothered with basic safety isn’t his idea of a good time.

---

Magnus is a popstar and Alec is his reluctant bodyguard. The bodyguard au in epistolary form. Image-heavy.

HIGHER THAN THE BIG TREES by @carmenlire [ E | AU | 242k | complete ]

Alec loves his job. He’s been touring since he was sixteen. He’s stayed in dozens of countries over the years, learned enough of their languages to get a beer in his hand and a man in his bed. The road is as much his home as the townhouse on the Upper West Side. He’s as comfortable in cheap hotel rooms with scratchy linens and glaring lights as he is in his penthouse that overlooks Central Park with its silk sheets and the constant hum of the city that never sleeps. Alec works hard and that hard work has paid off. He just finished his latest sold-out world tour and by all rights, he should be on top of the world. But the mental pressure of celebrity is getting to Alec and he doesn't trust his footing. He's stuck where most people would kill to be and he just wants to know what his next move should be. Enter Magnus Bane. A history professor at Columbia University, Magnus is content with his friends, his classes, and the occasional warm body in his bed. But he's been feeling stagnant, looking for the next chapter in his life to begin. If only he knew what Alec would bring his way.

THE SECRET OF THE SECRET SANTA by @notcrypticbutcoy [ T | AU | 12.7k | complete ]

As busy doctors with busy schedules, Magnus and Alec have danced around their feelings for each other for years, much to the chagrin of their friends. This Christmas, Simon decides it’s time for an intervention-in the form of a shamelessly rigged secret santa.

Or: In which Simon rigs the secret santa, Magnus and Alec flirt over nerdy doctor things, and are both a little bit oblivious.

RUMOR HAS IT by @lecrit [ M | AU | 12.9k | complete ]

Magnus widens his eyes at him, silently asking him to just give him this one. Alec simply curves one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows in response, a simple gesture that carries the weight of a call for challenge. “Looks like you’re gonna have to postpone your wedding for now,” Maia giggles next to him. Magnus huffs, flexing his jaw. “Oh, it’s on, Lightwood,” he mouths at him.

Or the one where Alec and Magnus are both after the same guy, but end up falling for each other instead.

CIGARETTE by j__writes [ T | AU | 3.1k | complete ]

His relationship with Magnus Bane had been nothing short of frustrating.

Frustrating in the worst of ways. Frustrating in the best of ways.

ABSOLUTELY ABYSMAL by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.8k | complete ]

The first time Alec sees Magnus wearing lipstick he wants to do filthy things to him. Magnus isn't exactly opposed to this.

A ROYAL AFFAIR by j__writes [ M | AU | 38.8k | complete ]

Prince meets professor and it's love at first sight. Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for him, the beautiful professor doesn't know his boyfriend's a prince.

HEAVEN IS A TASTE ON EARTH by @alittlebriton [ T | AU | 20.7k | complete ]

Making a birthday cake for the renowned chef Magnus Bane is a hard enough task – made harder still by the fact his girlfriend doesn’t seem to know Magnus’ likes or dislikes at all. Alec Lightwood, maker of some of the finest cakes in Brooklyn, is up to the challenge, even if he can’t take his eyes off the birthday boy. But as Alec and Magnus grow closer, could it be that the missing ingredient is true love?

LOVE & OTHER DRUGS by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 2k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #1 ]

Rising rockstar Magnus Bane’s life is all about sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll - it's an old cliché, but sometimes the clichés are true. And Alec Lightwood, a bassist from another band, is a drug Magnus can't get enough of - even if he knows that like any drug, he's sinking deeper with every hit he takes, and that this is killing him slowly and painfully.

Because this is just about sex, and Alexander doesn't love him back.

OUR LOVE IS A HARSH CHORD by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 21.9k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #2 ]

Magnus lives in two worlds: one of blinding stage lights and the thunder of the adoring crowd stomping its feet to the rhythm of his music; and one of the darkness offstage, a blur of lonely hotel rooms, one-night stands, drugs, and the sting of whiskey.

Magnus lives in two worlds, both of them stark, bleak, empty - until Alec Lightwood comes along, and everything falls apart.

MELTING MOLTEN by @raininginadelaide [ E | 4k | complete ]

The training scene in the show was their second attempt. The first time, Alec showed even less restraint.

SUPPORT SYSTEM by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 122.8k | complete | Support System #1 ]

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with.

PAGING DR. LIGHTWOOD-BANE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 4.4k | complete ]

Alec scowls. “I’m not on rotation this weekend-- I’m not even on call-- and we decided to make the most out of it.”

“We,” Maia asks, brows inching towards her hair line. “Who’s we?”

“My husband and I,” he mutters and he rolls his eyes as it's like a bomb’s been detonated in the middle of the table.

Simon screeches, “What,” and even Jace and Isabelle are looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re married?”

Or, the one where everybody finds out

TRUTH OR DARE? by @atowncalledmalec [ E | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Two small-town cops, partners, Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane, have somehow pulled desk duty on the graveyard shift. Bored out of their minds and finding a lie detector machine, the chance of winning a $50 bet and being able to ask the questions they've always wanted to ask is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Alec gets a little more than he bargained for though when the machine betrays him at every turn. And so does Magnus.

EVERYTHING I DIDN’T KNOW I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS by @la-muerta [ T | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Alec got his Christmas shopping done months ago - but he should have known that Jace would mess it all up for him. Now he's out braving the crowds on Christmas Eve trying to find a toy that's sold out everywhere for his son, and as it turns out, he's not the only desperate single father out there who will stop at nothing to get his hands on that last toy in the shops.

CERTAIN PERKS by quill_and_ink [ E | 5.5k | complete ]

"You never have to prove yourself to me."

Shadowhunters are being murdered and mutilated. The Clave is getting desperate to find the culprit, but Alec has to believe there's another way. He won't let this end his relationship with Magnus - he refuses to accept that, and he'll do whatever he can to protect them.

Based on the dialogue and actions from "Shadowhunters" Episode 2x13: "Those of Demon Blood"

THE TRUTH UNTOLD by @carmenlire [ not rated | 4.4k | complete ]

Magnus closes his eyes and leans into the feelings that wrap around him. They’re two of the most powerful men in the New York shadow world. It makes his chest ache sometimes, the knowledge that they may never be able to take their relationship public, that he won’t ever be able to kiss Alec on a sunny day in the city, that they can’t hold hands as they walk through Central Park, that whenever they do see each other in public it’s always in an official capacity and they’re relegated to formal greetings while their eyes try to say everything they can’t.

He’d still take this over not having Alec, though. That Magnus knows without a doubt.

ANYTHING YOU SAY by @milominderbindered [ M | AU | 117k | complete ]

Detective Alec Lightwood likes his job. He likes the order of it, likes helping people, likes that he gets to work with Jace and that Izzy is always right downstairs in the morgue too. He's wanted to be a cop ever since he was a kid, just like his parents before him, and now he's living that dream. His life should be perfect.

There's just one problem. Their precinct has just gotten a new forensic expert -- Magnus Bane.

And honestly, he's so cute that Alec's kind of losing his mind.

EMISSARY OF SIN by @insiemes [ M | AU | 97.6k | complete ]

Alec Lightwood, the Clave's top protection agent, is called upon to guard the life of his mortal enemy - one of the world's most notorious hitmen, Magnus Bane.

SHOOT TO KISS by @dantes-wombat [ M | 5k | complete ]

As far as dates go, this one's a bit more weapons-centered than Magnus expected - but also a lot sexier.

IF YOU’VE GOT THE MONEY, I’VE GOT THE TIME by j__writes [ T | AU | 73.4k | complete ]

Alec has made plenty of questionable choices, as Izzy likes to so kindly remind him. Asking Magnus to be his fake boyfriend and then offering to pay him? That, right there, he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. And he wasn’t. But Magnus is really nice and really fucking hot, and if Alec gets to pretend to be his boyfriend then… win - win, right?

ANONYMOROUS by @superficialpeasant [ E | AU | 10.6k | complete ]

When one of Clary’s art exhibition performers drops out last minute, Alec steps in to help. Unfortunately that also means he’ll be having sex with a stranger in public.

DATE NIGHT by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ G | 562 | complete ]

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Alec says. “The angles in pool are just like archery. I have a natural advantage.”

“Pretty sure I beat you the first time we played,” Magnus says, taking a sip of his martini. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, so at home in a relationship.

That is, until Alec started winning.

HARDER THAN THE LIQUOR I POUR by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 6.5k | complete ]

The bartender considers him for a moment before holding out the hand that was over his just a second before. “I’m Magnus, bartender extraordinaire. While I certainly wouldn’t mind calling you pretty boy for the rest of the evening, I think it only fair that you share your name, too. Don’t you?”

Slowly, Alec reaches out and grasps Magnus’s hand in a poor imitation of a handshake. He meets Magnus’s eyes and knows they both know that this is a mere prelude for what’s to come.

“Alec,” he says slowly and watches as Magnus’s smile deepens.

“Well, Alec, my shift ends in an hour. Wait for me?”

CREAM by @ohfreckle [ E | 3.4k | complete ]

Sometimes Magnus likes to wear panties.

“Are you kidding? You look amazing!” Alec wishes he were more eloquent, that he could miraculously find the words and praise to express how fucking hot Magnus is with his little panties on.

SAY IT by @ilovealeclightwood [ E | 4k | complete ]

“I want you,” Magnus pressed his lips to Alec’s neck, the sensation of his lips against the deflect rune making Alec shudder again.

“To admit,” Magnus continued, pausing to run his tongue over the length of the rune, sending sparks of pleasure through Alec and making him try to jerk his hips up again.

“That I was right.” Magnus pulled away from his neck to look down at him and it took a second for what he meant to click with Alec.

---

Or, Magnus and Alec solve petty arguments in a sensable, responsible manner

ALL NIGHT (OR A HUNDRED YEARS) by @hourglassmermaid [ T | 4.3k | complete ]

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Raphael,” Magnus chastises. “You know I take care of my friends.”

Friends. The word stings more than kuri venom; it lingers far longer than any demon attack ever could. It lingers in Alec’s mind when he’s tossing and turning at night imagining what they could have been if Alec hadn’t been such a coward all those years ago. It lingers in his heart whenever they’re alone, and Alec swears he sees a glimmer of those feelings Magnus must have buried long ago. And it lingers in his soul whenever they work together as allies, as leaders, as partners, because they really are compatible in all the ways that count.

But none of that matters, because they’re just friends.

---

Alec and Magnus are colleagues — maybe even friends. Definitely allies. Alec's content, with his life, his career, and even his (lack of) relationships, but sometimes when Magnus sits beside him, Alec may or may not cease to function. It's okay; he's okay.

I SAW PAPA KISSING SANTA CLAUS by j__writes [ G | AU | 3.3k | complete ]

“I heard a noise and so I snuck out. He didn’t see me but I saw him. I saw Santa and then I saw Papa and he kissed Santa, Raf.”

LIKE NOBODY ELSE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 3.7k | complete ]

Simon’s been Alec’s assistant for the past three years. Alec was a hard ass, no doubt about it. He had exacting standards, a perpetually sardonic expression, and Simon had literally never seen the man smile.

Lightwood had exploded onto the scene ten years ago and in that time, he’s made a name for himself that no one else could rival. He might not be well liked but everyone-- even his enemies-- respected Lightwood.

Or, Simon is Alec's secretary and doesn't realize just how little he knows about his boss until he solves a mystery.

SEXY SNAPSHOTS by @tobythewise [ E | AU | 2.8k | complete ]

“Anything interesting on there?” Alec asks, a teasing note in his voice as he nods at the camera. “Anything sexy?" “Not at the moment.” Magnus raises his brow. “Wanna change that?” OR The one where Magnus and Alec explore what it's like to have sexy times while snapping sexy pictures of each other.

PUNDAMENTALS OF OFFICE RIVALRY by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 3.8k | complete ]

When Magnus and Alexander get off on the wrong foot at the start of their internship, Magnus takes it upon himself to annoy Alec at every turn.

WORSE THINGS THAN BEING IN LOVE by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.6k | complete ]

Their wedding was everything they had ever dared to dream of. But perhaps their wedding night was just as special.

CRYPTIDS OF BROOKLYN by @alexanderlightweight [ M | AU | 2.3k | complete ]

For all the rather redundant and overused jokes made about lawyers and sharks, never was such a comparison or joke made concerning Alec Lightwood, as there was one glaring difference between the two ruthless predators.

Sharks smiled, Alec Lightwood didn’t.

ZERO COMPLAINTS by @aemiliafawn [ E | 3.3k | complete ]

Usually when someone wakes Magnus up before sunrise they'd have to face his wrath – however since Alec decides to make it actually worthwhile for the exhausted warlock, Magnus finds he doesn't mind making an exception just once.

HAHA JUST KIDDING... UNLESS? by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 2.5k | complete ]

"You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

TAKE IT EASY by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 18.2k | complete ]

Alec signs up for a session with a professional male dominant, just a one-time thing to satisfy his curiosity. It most definitely doesn't end up being just a one-time thing.

THE LONELY HEARTS HOTLINE by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 40.6k | complete ]

“Hey there,” Alec says in the lowest, sexiest voice he can manage. It sounds vaguely disinterested but some people get off on that.

“Hi,” the voice says.

“Ready to have some fun?”

The voice makes a small, sad noise.

“Or not?” Alec tries hastily. He gets paid regardless of what they're talking about. “We can just chat for a while.”

“What’s your name,” the voice says finally.

“Uh, Chad,” Alec says. He was drunk when he picked his name, just as he was drunk when he answered the job wanted ad. He should have picked something sexy like Tristan, but he’s forever Chad now, the douchiest phone sex operator in history. He balances his bowl of macaroni carefully on his stomach and sneaks a quick bite.

“You don’t sound like a Chad,” the voice says doubtfully.

“Why the hell not?” Alec says before he can stop himself, mouth full of pasta.

“--are you eating?”

“No,” Alec lies and swallows.

---

Alec is a bored phone sex operator. Bafflingly, Magnus just wants to talk about music.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN by @lecrit [ E | AU | 104.3k | complete | To Build A Home #1 ]

When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana to handle his late mother's will, he doesn't expect to be forced to stay there for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the countryside.

It quickly appears that he is going to go through six months of living hell.

The fact that he hates the local veterinarian on sight isn't helping.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN: EXTRAS by @lecrit [ E | AU | 12.6k | complete | To Build A Home #2 ]

A combination of extras for Bright Lights, Small Town.

EARTH’S MIGHTIEST HEROES by @lecrit [ M | AU | 141.9k | complete | Avengers Assemble #3 ]

The thing is… Their plans have a history of not going accordingly so when they finally do, maybe they build a confidence a bit too quickly. Breaking Magnus out turns out to be indeed a formality. Selling the ruby, too. So what could possibly go wrong now?

In which our team of misfits has to deal with the consequences of messing with a dangerous man and again, everything goes according to plan. Or not.

COLOR ME BLUE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 18.8k | complete ]

Christmas is his favorite time of the year but Alec has barely had time to buy presents let alone enjoy the holiday season. December seems to have lasted the blink of an eye and Alec's shoulders hunch as he realizes morosely that most of this year is a blur of emergencies and rounds and consultations.

His gaze snags on a bakery display as he walks past. The window is dressed with multicolored lights and garland wrapping around the edges. The display case is full and Alec’s mouth waters just at the sight.

Without conscious thought, Alec is reaching for the door to Bane's Bakery, eager to see if the interior is just as whimsical and welcoming as the outside.

#malec #malec fic #malec fic rec #malec fanfic #shadowhunters #fic rec #fanfic #otp: look what i have waiting for me

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