#Yes I know this absolutely rough and scruffy but hey I did all of this animation all in one day I’m insane.

[loopyarts]

Day 7 free day Aceichiji

For my free day slot, I went insane and made a short scruffy kiss animation for them. :3c

[litgwritersroom]

What if Marisol had two dates when Lurik came in, and was most popular then? Would she be less likely to get tempted by Rocco if she has both Lucas and Henrik on her tail? Also, who would she end up with? This concept has always interested me, so it’ll be great to see someone else’s take.

Hey babe! @mrsbsmooth here!

Firstly, I'm so sorry it's taken us so long to get to this one. It's been sitting in the back of my mind for weeks. Thanks to @i-boop-you for her help on this ask, too!

I've always found Marisol an interesting character, because for someone who seems so driven by logic and reason, she sure seems to follow her vagina a lot.

It's my opinion that:

Even if Henrik & Lucas had actively pursued Marisol, she would still have ended up with Rocco.

I know, I know. But wait.

Here's my rationale:

First, let's look at what Marisol's other (male) Love Interests have in common:

Em pointed out that it's a common trope when writing bisexual female characters, to assume that they like men who are a little bit trash and girls who are a little bit too perfect, and Marisol's definitely been slapped with this.

Think about it - Gary, Graham, and Rocco. She's got an instant attraction with all three of them. She likes the tattoos, a bit of scruff, a bit of ye olde' toxic masculinity - and this is coming from someone who proudly picked Gary on their first playthrough. He's trash, but he's our trash. So we know that she likes them a little rough around the edges.

So she'd like Henrik, right? He's as rugged as they come.

In a word? No. Because I don't think it's just about the rough & scruffy for her. I think that the main thing that attracts her to Graham and Rocco, is that they are actively pursuing her, and they are quite assertive about that fact. Plus, Gary flirts with anything that moves, so that's where he fits in to that.

But Henrik? No way. I just don't see him as being assertive enough for her. Excluding r!Henrik, Henny is a harmless labrador puppy, and Marisol wants a pitbull.

So while she thinks he's hot (because she's got eyes), sorry, Henny, you're not for her.

Okay, so the assertiveness makes sense with Lucas. But he's not exactly rough around the edges?

You're right. Lucas is many things, but rough around the edges is not one of them. The man is so polished that it squeaks when you give him a handjob.

However. Lucas is one of the (read: the #1 IMO) most hyper-masculine guys in the villa. Not in a one of the lads kind of way, though. He's just got all that Daddy/Dom thing going on. Which we know that Graham's also into (rope, sex dungeon in the fort, etc.), so I HC that Marisol's at least a little bit into it.

Lucas & Marisol are also both brilliant, and I think that, intellectually at least, he's one of the only boys who's going to be able to keep up with her. He's also assertive enough to go after her, which, if he did it, she would have absolutely gone for. Plus, don't even get me started on how much the motorbike would get her revved, IYKWIM.

But the key point is that in this universe, Lucas is actively pursuing her. If that was the case, then yes, I think Marisol is definitely going to show significant interest in Lucas.

But would she have gone for Lucas over Rocco?

Ahhh, see this is where it gets tricky. My first thought was yes. Because she's not a fucking idiot. Marisol analyses the shit out of every relationship, so I think it's pretty safe to assume she's doing the same to her own. She's going to be weighing up the pros and cons of each. And if she's looking for love, is she picking the handsome physiotherapist who lives an hour and a half drive away, or is she picking the flighty food-truck guy who lives an hour and a half flight away?

But Marisol's not that shallow!

No, you're right, and she's not thinking about this because of money. She's thinking about it because of values. It's ultimately canon that neither her or Lucas want kids. Which definitely helps.

So what would turn her off Rocco, then?

If anything, the thing that would have turned her off Rocco is that he's actually far more pretentious than Lucas. And yes, I know Lucas is pretty pretentious as far as the real-world use of the term goes.

But in terms of actual pretense? Lucas plays down the impressive things he's done. Rocco straight up lies about things he hasn't. I don't think she'd like that.

Okay, but you seem to be talking her out of going for Rocco. Why would she pick Rocco over Lucas?

Simple. It's almost entirely about trust.

Marisol's not fussed about her guy being flirtatious with other women. We know this, because when Graham flirts with Elisa and Jo (🤢) she's like 'If he's trying to make me jealous, it's not going to work'. Plus the fact that she still wants to be with Rocco after Roccogate... yeah. So it's not that that's going to turn her off him. Trust.

If a guy opens up to her, she loves it. I think, for all her psychoanalysing and pretending to not care about. When you interrupt Graham & Marisol in CA, he's opening up to her about a time when he felt really scared for his crew. And she's eating that shit up like it's his grandmother's dressed crab. Rocco opened up to Marisol about why he dropped out of Uni before he opened up to anyone else in the villa. And it's almost immediately after this that we start seeing her actively going for Rocco.

Lucas... is... sigh. I'll just say it. He's cold. It takes a long time for him to open up to MC, so we should expect it would be the same with Marisol. I actually think that Marisol's psychoanalysing would have prompted a similar reaction in him that it did from Rahim - with frustration, annoyance, and closing the fuck off. And I think, ultimately, this is going to be the thing that turns Marisol off Lucas. Because despite their obvious attraction to each other, I think she would have just gotten frustrated with the fact that he won't let her in.

So that's my take!

I hope this met your expectations, and I'm so sorry again about how long it took me to do! I hope it's not too rambling :)

xxx MrsBSmooth

[kissme-hs]

Torn Strings.2

Author’s note: here’s the awaited part 2 of my previous writing. One thing I wanted to let you all know is that this one is based on my personal feelings. Yes, I am experiencing whatever I’m writing. So I’m trying to put as much emotions as I can in it. Hope you all enjoy. Feedback is appriciated very much.

~Ria

Part 1

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Harry styles

Warnings: 18+ smut, slight age gap, explicit language, fingering, oral sex giving and recieving.

Word count: 2.5k

                                                       ————

“Are you a hoe?”

It’s been a almost a month since Harry slammed the teak wooden door. The loud thud still echoes in your mind of wandering thoughts. To be honest he isn’t the one to be blamed you fell in love. It’s just in his nature, his charm works it’s magic even on those who refused to once give in the feeling of love. That’s just who he is.

And you know, after how ended things last time you shouldn’t be going back to him but it is just the way it is.

So when you texted him on a Saturday evening a month after of no contact-asking if he’d like to hangout since he was back in the town, not too long ago past his sudden outburst he didn’t say no. Pretending forgetting like- anything furious ever happened he showed up on your doorstep dressed up in one of his black sweatpants and navy blue sweater looking completely different from how the world views him. 

And ever since his visit, the circle started again. But this time things changed. He became careful of his actions, making sure to make a move that might end up backfiring on him developing even stronger feelings in your heart for him. He stopped replying to your texts, only messaging you when he wanted to. And other stuff that not only made your heart ache but question your worth, were you so unworthy of to be fallen in love with?

 Despite the toxicity this relationship of yours with Harry brought in your life, there was no stopping. You tried going on dates to check your compatibility with other men but none of them turned out to be like Harry’s. All the men were absolute sweethearts, but you couldn’t find the one that made you feel things like Harry did. The way you could be yourself around him was one of the reasons why you’re beats faster around him.

But when he chose very odd words to describe you, your mind went blurry. Is that what he thought of you? It hasn’t even been 15 minutes, you both still catching your breath from the orgasm.

His lips were hot and heavy on yours as he pushed you back on your bed with a slight force. Lips were never yours he placed his legs on either side of you, his hands travelled up your sides stopping at your shoulders. Fingers dancing delicately on the supple skin of your bare shoulder, his strong tongue gliding in your own with such as ease as your lips smacked together. Biting your lower lip with a tug he pulled away making you arch your back if your soul left your body with the kiss.

As shiver ran down your spine as the back of his ring cladded fingers ran over your skin before pulling down the straps of your cami top kissing the-now complete naked skin of your shoulder. Lips trailing kisses all the way to your neck. A gentle giggle leaving past your lips with the contact of his scruffy cheeks buried in the crook of your neck. You felt him smile over your skin with your hands tangling in his hair-a little wet from the shower he took before driving to you.

“sorry baby”

Pulling away from your neck he tugged on your top, you lifted your arms letting the man take off the piece off clothing. Doing the same with his t-shirt he revealed his tatted-toned chest. Your mouth watering with the thought of having taste of that cock you missed so much. So rolling over you placed your legs on his side seating yourself over his grown bulge over the material of his boxers-his sweats were the first thing that came off when you started palming him while making out.

“I want to get a take of you H.” You whispered in his ear straddling his lap as you kissed down his neck, sucking on the sensitive skin of his neck. He tasted his berries. Sweet and tropical

“Then do it baby. I want you to suck me” he pushed your straddling down lightly hinting you it was time to get to work. You licked his v-line before pulling his boxers down. His hard shaft sprinted up-slapping his lower body as his pink tip leaked with pre-cum.

Biting your lower lip, you grabbed his stiff hard cock giving it a few gentle pumps before licking a stride from bottom to top. He was thick and long and his veins popping out making your panties go damp. Failing miserably when you tried to take him completely in his mouth you gagged pulling away collecting your saliva and bobbing your head up and down his cock.

His hand griping tight enough on your hair to guide your mouth just like he wanted.

“hmm, you take me so good doll. Taking my cock like a filthy little girl you are” he moaned through gritted teeth as he bucked his hips further in your mouth making you gag. You could feel his tip hitting the deepest point it could in your throat. Your eyes leaking tears but you couldn’t care less, as you made a complete mess with your spit on his cock.

Taking him out with a pop you pumped his boner and you felt the twitch in his body which indicated he was close. Determined to make him come you kept pumping him picking up your pace only to pushed away by Harry. Pulling you up to his face level he grabbed your face with his hand and roughly placed you’re his lips on yours. His other hand sliding in your panties as he squished your cheeks before turning your face to his lips were directly hovering your ears.

“I want to fuck you so hard” his words made you whimper as a mewl left your lips. Your body crumbling in his touch and without warning he inserted his one long finger inside your opening, A loud moan escaping your mouth as you laid your head on his shoulder as he pumped his finger, now adding one more opening you a little bit.

With one ease motion he rolled you on your back, your nipples perking up with the sudden exposure to cold air which was no more pressed against a body. Harry placed himself between your legs taking in the aroma of your sex, nose directly over your clothed center. Hooking up his fingers between your pj’s he pulled down the cotton lower along your panties not wanting to waste any more minute and having a taste of you.

It has been a while since he had his mouth on that sweet pussy of yours.

“You smell like heaven darling; I wonder if it tastes even sweeter”

“Why don’t you find out yourself”

Placing his wide tongue on your core he licked from your opening to the clit. His muscular tongue collecting all the juices in one go. Hands spreading your legs wider and pinning your hips down-knowing how you always squirm whenever he goes down on you. He groans as the taste buds on his tongue sensed the sweetness of your pussy. Giving up on being gentle, he gripped your thighs throwing her over your shoulder and licking the pussy mercilessly. Suckling upon the little bundle of nerve, he pushed his tongue inside of you feeling the tightness of your walls.

The eagerness of his licks and sucks on your pussy made your clit throb and soon you were pushing on his head with the building up coil in your belly. Knowing your body like the back of his hand his mouth never left your core as his tongue flicked your clit roughly. He wanted you to cum. He wanted to boost his ego becoming aware of the fact how easily he could make you cum unlike other males you had in your life.

“shhi, I am gonna cum Har- you cut of your own self feeling your body release the orgasm. Your breath heavy and body tired from riding your high you laid there catching some air. Harry laid beside you before his body placed itself over you to finish the unfinished business you started.

“Excuse me?” You replied turning your head to face him who was still looking at the ceiling. Moonlight falling over his perfectly sculpted face as he stared into the oblivious blinking whatever was going through his mind.

“I asked you, are you a hoe?” he answered thinking you didn’t hear him before not knowing it was you giving him second chance to rephrase his question. Seemed like he had no intention of doing so.

“Wh- what makes you say that Harry?” Yes you were hurt, yes you could cry if he wasn’t there. Never ever you have been called a hoe. Been known for the most kind and generous heart yourself the word was completely foreign to you. And you just wished you could forget what it meant but no. You wanted to know what made him ask you such a bizarre question.

“I saw you on a date” He replied finally facing you. His face blank, having no sign of emotion at all.

“I-“

“How can you go on a date when you are fucking me?”

“I did not go on a date harry, It was my colleague. He wanted some help because he was going through a rough patch with his wife” You explained. Your brows scrunches in annoyance. Why did it matter to him at all who you went out with and don’t?

“Also I don’t owe you any explanation of who I go out with and who I don’t. We are just fuck friends like you said so I’d rather have you minding your business.” You said turning to face away from him so he doesn’t see the building up tears in your eyes. He had the audacity to ask you such question under your roof, if it was someone else, he would’ve been out of your house by now but you couldn’t kick him out. And no you did not go on a date with anyone after you rekindled your past relationship you had with Harry.

You were no double standard lady.

“Hey, I’m sorry” he whispered rubbing your shoulder as you hide your face further into the pillow.

“I-I just don’t you to change your feelings for me” his following up sentence made you enraged. Change feelings? He was the one who told you, it was your fault to have feelings for him and now he’s the one who don’t want you changing them either. The confusion he put you in was enough to make you mad. Of course, the feelings you had for him were still there. You were trying your best to fade it away well aware of the fact that future held no possibility of you two being together-in fact he made his point in the same himself. Then why was he scared of you losing your feelings for him?

His words were generating nothing but several questions in your mind, tangling you in the confusion.

“What exactly do you want from me Harry?” You gave up raising your voice as you sat up not caring if your chest wasn’t covered but now bare to him.

“First you go away slamming my door when I tell you I have feelings for you. Blaming me for not knowing better and letting my emotions go. And now when I am trying my best to get rid of the feelings you first, under my roof call me a hoe and then go telling me you don’t want me to change my feelings for you? What kind of fool you’re making of me Harry?!” You questioned his intentions. Shifting to sit up he opened his mouth but nothing came out.

It's like he was caught. He himself didn’t know what he wanted from this relationship of sexual desire that he had with you.

“Oh I’ll tell you, you just want to keep me around so you can have a person you can rely on mentally and sexually when you want to without committing to it. You’re scared of making promises Harry, and when you realized that one day this won’t be what I want anymore leaving you alone you questioned me.” You were spitting nothing but facts.

Yes he was scared that one day you will leave him but wasn’t coming to you just because his body desired yours, but because ever since he left you the day with anger in his eyes. His own self doubted him. Did he really not feel anything towards you? Was it just a fuck or more than it. Trying to find the answers he came to the conclusion of having some sort of feelings for you.

The thought of you happily smiling with someone else wasn’t something he could bear.

But he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for another heartbreak. Call it his naïve side of nature, he presumed it won’t work out, just like it didn’t between him and Camille. But thinking you’re losing feeling for him brough the fear he had buried deep inside, out once again. He couldn’t lose you. Though he did not want to commit, he did not want you to fall out of your feels for him. Maybe it was his toxic nature or selfishness but he wanted you all to himself without making him yours.

You didn’t hold you tears back this time. He deserved to see your tears, as much as he deserved to know that you were hurting. Every day spent with him took a part of you. You wanted harry to see what pain he put you through, how his confused mind messed up with yours.

“I’m just scared” breaking the silence of your sobs he looked at you. The way fat tears faintly rolled down your cheeks made his heart ache, after all, he did care about you.

“Of what?”

“I’ve been hurt in the past and I just don’t want the history to repeat itself once again.”

“how would you know if you don’t give a chance?”

“I don’t have more chances to spare”

“Then I think we should end whatever this craps is” you said wiping the tears with the back of your hand cussing at his selfishness. For the sake of his heart he was willing to break yours. How pathetic.

“Why would you want this to end”

“why don’t you give us a chance”

“I am not ready for a relationship right now”

“I am willing to make this work if you are-?”

“You can’t change my mind”

“Okay then this is the last time I see you, you know the way out” You replied ending the back and forth going conversation. Saying this indeed stung your heart but you lost nothing. Yes, your love for him was deep, but his selfishness was deeper. It wasn’t your job to get him ready for something he isn’t. And in the end if you who’s hurting both ways so why not put a full stop to the ongoing story of no outcome.

This time it was your time to be selfish and choose yourself over a man who wasn’t willing to give in his feelings for his greed, so why should you sacrifice your peace and love over someone who’s going to end up taking the generosity for granted.

And for how long could you do this anyways. After all, all good things come to an end.

[sukifans]

PET • RI • CHOR

[n] pleasant smell that accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather

ZUKO X OC SERIES

SUMMARY: a captured waterbender and the fire prince may sound like an unlikely pair, but kena never much cared about others’ expectations and zuko, well… he was just along for the ride

⏎ MASTERLIST // PROLOGUE ii « PART I » PART II

“Hey, guys! Sorry we’re late,” Kena huffed, throwing herself into a seat. “Did you order already?”

“You’re always late, Sola. We expect it now.” Mona rolled her eyes teasingly.

“We got a pot of oolong,” said Kyali.

“I love oolong!” Jin clapped, sitting down.

Kena wrinkled her nose at the mere suggestion of oolong. “Ew, you know I hate oolong. Why did you do that?”

“Um, maybe because Jin was absolutely right about the cute waiter here being your type and you should definitely flirt with him when you order something else?” Oma said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, Sola. Ask him what his favorite is and then ask him to help you finish since it’s just you drinking it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Kena snorted. “Why do I need to order a whole new pot just to flirt with this guy?”

“Because you wouldn’t do it on your own, just like the guy at the noodle cart.”

“Ugh, he’s weird.”

“He’s hot!”

“He smells like broth, like, all the time!”

“I mean, she has a point.”

“Look, that’s him!” Mona elbowed Kena roughly and she winced, rubbing her arm.

“Ow, Mona!”

“Hush! He’s coming this way!”

Kena looked up as the other girls tittered to see what was indeed a very cute waiter walking towards them holding a tray with a teapot and several cups. He had scruffy-looking black hair, light amber eyes, and a large scar across the left half of his face. Kena couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew him and it almost made her uneasy. Maybe he was from one of the villages she and her mother had visited and was here as a refugee, or maybe she’d just seen him around the city before.

“Here’s your oolong,” he said, sliding the tray onto the table. Kena noted he had a nice voice, which was always a bonus. It was somehow pleasingly rough and low while also smooth as the finest silk.

She almost got away with not saying anything until Jin piped up. “Sorry, our friend Sola here has a question for you!” She elbowed Kena from the other side and Kena kicked her under the table. The waiter turned back to the table and looked at her expectantly. She could feel her cheeks heat up a little under his gaze.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” she stuttered out awkwardly before clearing her throat. “My terrible, awful friends forgot I don’t drink oolong and I’ve never been here before. What do you like?”

The guy looked at her, confusion swirling in his eyes for some reason. Maybe she was familiar to him too, she thought vaguely. “My favorite is the jasmine.”

That surprised her for some reason. “Really?”

“What?”

“You don’t strike me as a jasmine kind of guy.”

“What kind of guy do I strike you as, then?” He asked, raising his eyebrow. She opened her mouth and then closed it again, at a loss for how to respond. It was a dumb thing to say in the first place, honestly.

“Never mind, forget I said anything.” She waved her hand dismissively and flushed a deep red as her friends giggled. “Jasmine sounds great, thank you...” she waited for his name.

“Lee,” he supplied, turning and leaving.

“Thanks, Lee!” she called before dropping her head on the table. The other girls erupted into laughter. “Spirits, I looked like an idiot!”

“No, no! That was good!” Oma choked out amongst her giggles.

“Then why are you all laughing?” This only made them laugh harder. Eventually, they all settled and Kyali wheezed as she patted her distraught friend’s hand.

“It’s okay, Sola. He’s totally into you.”

“How could you possibly know that? He looked at me like I had three heads,” Kena moaned.

“Uh, because he keeps staring over here ever since he left,” Jin whispered conspiratorially, ducking her head. Kena looked over and made brief eye contact with Lee. Both teenagers averted their eyes immediately to play it off and her friends started snickering again.

“You guys are the worst.” Kena buried her face in her hands to hide her blush.

“We’re just trying to set you up with a cute guy to take to the festival!” Oma said.

“I’m so bad at flirting, though!”

“So is he! That’s why it’s a good thing you’re both hot!”

“Jin!” Kena smacked Jin’s arm and, laughing, Jin pushed against her. The push caught Kena off guard and she fell backwards out of her chair, taking someone else down with her with a deafening crash.

“Oh, Sola! I’m so sorry!” Jin cried. Groaning, Kena sat up. Her stomach dropped when she saw Lee on the floor with her.

“Lee! Oh, spirits, I’m sorry! Jin pushed me and I-“ she sucked in a breath through her teeth as she started to notice the scalding tea that drenched the both of them. Lee propped himself up on his elbow, pushing his damp hair out of his eyes. “This tea is really hot. I think I might have some burn salve in my bag. I’m studying medicine and- what’re you looking at?” She paused her rifling through her bag when she noticed him just staring at her, brows furrowed.

“Your hand,” he said, reaching out. A large shard of porcelain from the teapot he’d been carrying was sticking out from the middle of her palm and blood slowly oozed from the wound. Already deep crimson splattered onto the floor, washing away in the puddles of tea. Kena flushed at the way he tenderly inspected her injury, holding her hand in one palm and pulling back her fingers with his other hand.

A stout old man walked out from the back room, looking concerned. Kena felt the same haunting familiarity looking at him that she felt when she first laid eyes on Lee. “What’s going- Lee! What did you do?” He rushed over to the scene of the accident.

“I’m sorry, sir; it was my fault,” babbled Jin. “I pushed my friend and she fell into Lee. Please don’t fire him! We’ll pay for the damages!”

“Fire him?” the old man chuckled. “He’s my nephew. I couldn’t fire him even if I wanted to. Lee, take the poor girl to the back to get fixed up with the first aid kit. I’ll clean up out here.”

Lee almost looked like he wanted to protest but instead he stood and helped Kena to her feet, still holding onto her hand. As he led her to the back room the old man had come from, Kena glanced over her shoulder and saw Kyali giving her a thumbs-up and Oma and Mona hiding giggles while Jin helped pick up pieces of the broken pot. She rolled her eyes and continued walking. Lee sat her down in a folding chair and he bustled around, searching for the medical supplies.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, staring at her hand and wiggling her fingers. “My friends can be... overzealous sometimes.”

“Yes, I picked up on that,” he responded dryly. She bit her lip and looked up at him nervously only to relax when she saw a small smirk on his face. He carried a small box back over to her and sat down across from her in another chair. He gingerly took her hand again and slowly pulled the piece of porcelain from her palm. She hissed, tensing up at the pain. “Sorry,” he murmured as he removed the shard and set it down.

“You’re fine.” He looked up at her, eyebrow cocked, and she blushed. “I mean, it’s fine. Not that you’re not. You are. That’s- um,” she laughed nervously. “I’m gonna shut up now.” The corners of his mouth pulled up and a warm feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. They sat in relative silence as Lee cleaned her cut and bandaged it. The warm feeling only intensified with the way he gently wrapped a strip of fabric around her hand, fingers dancing lightly across her skin. She knew that as a waterbender her body temperature was a little lower than the typical person, but even his delicate grip was unnaturally warm... almost like... but that wasn’t possible. Why would a firebender have a burn across his face? That didn’t make any sense. He did have the look of one, though, she had to admit — dark hair and porcelain-pale skin, not to mention those golden irises that seared her insides with every glance.

“There,” he said, clipping the bandage into place with a pin. She flexed her fingers experimentally.

“Thanks, Lee,” she said. “Did you need anything for your burns? Like I said, I think I might have some salve in my bag.”

“Burns?” He tilted his head, looking confused. She frowned.

“From the tea. It was pretty hot.”

“Oh, no. I don’t think I got much on my skin. Thank you, though.” He dropped her hand and stood, packing the first aid materials back into the small box. She stared down at her palm, fingers of her other hand tracing the meticulous wrappings. After a few moments of silence between them, she finally spoke again.

“So that’s your uncle out there?”

“Yeah, Mushi.”

“Are you guys refugees?” He nodded. “Where from?”

“Around.” He shrugged, face giving away nothing as he looked to her again. She hummed in understanding — a sore subject still, obviously. She stood up to leave.

“Well, thank you again and sorry again. I hope I didn’t make a terrible first impression.”

“I wouldn’t call it terrible,” he chuckled slightly, “just... memorable.”

“That almost sounds worse.” She grimaced exaggeratedly. “I’ll see you around, though. Maybe we can share that pot of jasmine tea.”

His cheeks tinted pink and he looked down at the ground. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

“Bye, Lee.” She gave him a small wave before turning and heading into the main dining room of the teahouse. She hurried over to her friends who were waiting outside and they immediately bombarded her with questions.

“So do you like him?”

“Oh my spirits, she’s totally into him! Look at her blushing!”

“Are you guys gonna go out?”

“Did you kiss him yet? He definitely wanted to kiss you. I could tell.”

“Aw, did he wrap your hand up for you? That’s so cute!”

“Please say you asked him out.”

“Yeah, you didn’t chicken out or anything, right?”

“Guys!” Kena laughed over her babbling friends. “Nothing happened. He just helped me patch up my hand.”

“Sola! You get back in there and ask that cute broody boy out!” Her friends started squabbling again as they pushed her back through the doors of the Pao Family Tea House to confront Lee again. As she stumbled inside, both Lee and Mushi gave her confused looks. She grinned sheepishly as she walked towards them.

“Hi again. I just forgot something,” she said.

“Did you drop something?” asked Mushi. “I’ll help you find it.” The old man wandered back over to the table Kena and her friends had been sitting at, giving his nephew a knowing look before halfheartedly scanning the floor.

“Um, no. Didn’t drop anything. I actually just wanted to ask you something, Lee.” Her face was red-hot as she looked up at him. This boy was making her blush more in a few minutes than she had in her entire life.

“What’s that?” he asked, leaning back on the counter. He was trying to feign nonchalance but in reality he thought his heart might pound out of his chest.

“I just wanted to know if you were busy tomorrow night. There’s a festival and I’d really like it if you could come with me.” She held her hands behind her back so he couldn’t see her nervous fidgeting. Lee almost slipped off the counter, quickly catching himself.

“Oh, uh... I’m sorry, I think I have a shift-“

“No, he doesn’t!” Mushi cut in, interrupting his nephew. “He’d love to go with you!” Lee stared at him with wide eyes and Kena laughed.

“Okay, cool. I’ll met you here at sunset tomorrow, then?”

“He’ll be there,” Mushi responded for him, beaming brightly. Kena couldn’t help but smile back as she bid them goodbye (again) and started to leave. “It’s our lucky day, nephew! You have a date with a lovely young lady and I just found my white lotus Pai Sho tile on the ground over there!”

Kena almost tripped over her feet when she heard Mushi mention Pai Sho. He and his nephew were familiar for a reason — one she could remember now as the memories flooded back.

“Remember, Pai Sho is more than just a game,” Iroh explained to a grumpy Zuko and a mesmerized Kena.

“No it’s not, Uncle!” Zuko whined. Kena elbowed him in the ribs and he yelped dramatically.

“Be nice, Zuko! Once General Iroh teaches us the rules, we can play and I can kick your butt.” She smirked at him and he huffed.

“It’s dumb. It’s all luck!” he said.

“No, it’s all about strategy and thinking ahead,” she said.

“Children please,” Iroh chuckled, interrupting the bickering kids. “You’re both right. Pai Sho cannot be won with just luck or just strategy. You need both, like yin and yang.”

“Like us!” Kena wrapped her arms around her best friend and squeezed him. The boy flushed pink and Iroh grinned at them.

Kena rushed out of the tea house, not even stopping as she passed by her bewildered friends. She had to get home and think this through.

Zuko stared at the doors the girl had disappeared through until his uncle set his hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t be nervous, dear nephew; dates are easy. She seems to like you very much and appears to be quite nice. You’ll have a great time if you just be yourself!”

He shot Iroh a look. “It’s not that, Uncle. It’s just... she seems so familiar.”

“Ah, I see. Perhaps you loved each other in your past lives.” Iroh nodded sagely and Zuko rolled his eyes.

“No, don’t be ridiculous. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her somewhere in this life.”

“We’ve visited many places these past few years, it’s entirely possible she is a refugee from a village we once traveled to.”

He shook his head. “She didn’t seem scared of me. If I had seen her since... leaving... I think she would’ve run in the other direction. I wasn’t exactly traveling as a tourist.”

“Maybe you aren’t as scary as you think you are, Prince Zuko,” Iroh teased. Zuko grumbled under his breath and walked away to clean off a table someone had left, the girl’s face swimming in his mind.

When she got back to her small apartment, she didn’t even greet Fera, a woman a few years older than herself who she’d met in her travels and was currently rooming with, before locking herself in her bedroom. She tossed her bag to the ground and started to pace back and forth in the tiny area that wasn’t occupied by her cot and simple dresser. She paused when Fera knocked at her door.

“Are you alright, Kena?” the woman called through the wood. Kena sighed deeply.

“I’m fine. I just... had a weird day. I’ll tell you about it later, I promise,” she said.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.” Kena sat heavily on the edge of her bed as Fera’s footsteps faded into their kitchen. She dropped her head into her hands and pressed her palms against her eyes, wincing when she remembered the cut from earlier.

It wasn’t possible. It didn’t make any sense. Why in Tui’s name were Zuko and Iroh in Ba Sing Se, pretending to be refugees and working in a tea shop? Were they here to capture her? That couldn’t be it — Zuko’d had the perfect opportunity when they were alone in the back of the tea house. Something major had obviously happened, judging by the scar on his face and his short hair that was very un-Fire Nation. It had been many long years since they’d seen each other and she hadn’t immediately recognized them, so maybe she had lucked out and they didn’t recognize her either and they just happened to be here on other business. She cursed the complete lack of outside news circulation in the city. It was impossible to know if she’d heard nothing about the fire prince because of lack of information or because they were here covertly, on a mission. The last she’d heard about either of them was Iroh pulling out of his siege against the city several years ago, right before she moved into the Lower Ring with Fera and all the other refugees.

Despite her initial anxiety, that warm feeling from earlier was in her gut again. He’d found her, even if he didn’t know it yet. Her best friend was here, so close, in Ba Sing Se. She felt a little giddy when she thought about how they wouldn’t have to meet in secret here. They could sit and talk and hug and just exist together in broad daylight without fear of punishment. Maybe that’s why they were here under aliases — they had finally grown tired of living under Ozai’s thumb.

Kena pushed herself back to sit in the middle of her bed, drawing her knees up to her chest. She allowed herself a small smile as she wrapped her arms around herself. This could be nice, she thought. Zuko and I together again. We always talked about leaving one day and starting new. It was hypothetical back then, but now... we’re already halfway there. We just have to put it all together. Iroh wasn’t part of our original plan but he was nice enough when we were kids, and Zuko adored him. Maybe one day when we earn enough money, Iroh could open his own tea house like Zuko said he used to joke about. Maybe one day we could live like normal people, like everyone else here.

She shook herself out of her reverie. She was getting way too far ahead of herself, considering she still had no idea if they were even here benignly. The girl couldn’t help herself, though — for the first time in years, something warm and bright and pure was bubbling up in her chest; something that felt a little bit like hope.

A/N: ended up being not as long as i thought it’d be, but i’m still pretty happy with it and it seemed like a good place to cut. things start to get ~spicy~ next time, so remember to ask for a tag if you want to stay up to date! i love you !

TAGS: @beifongsss @the-lva-way @lammello @llorom6nnic @idkdude776 @bubblebars @royahllty @mamooska8 @bucky-blogs @youneedmemanidonotneedyou @eridanuswave @rosetheshapeshifter @fantasticchaoticwho @bwndito

[the-hidden-writer]

An Odd Family Tree

A series of snippets from the lives of the FitzSimmons family, set post 7x13. Also, the series of events that leads up to the birth of their grandson.

Available to read on AO3 and FF.net.

Comments make my day!

Chapter 1: Owen

It’s Fitz that first bumps into Owen. Obviously he doesn’t recognise him, but he immediately stands out since there aren’t that many Americans in Inverness.

He’s arguing with the shop lady, of all things.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” The man exclaimed from his position in front of him in the queue. “If you put vegetables outside the store, then someone might get the wrong idea! That someone being me!”

There was something strangely familiar about his tone, but Fitz couldn’t quite place it.

“Look lad,” sighed the nice shop lady, “any other time I would give you the benefit of the doubt. But I’m having a bad day and I really don’t want to deal with bloody Americans right now.”

That’s when Fitz decided to step in, having some experience with bloody Americans. “Is there a problem, Rachel?”

He tried to look intimidating, but he knew he was getting older and that he’d let himself go quite a lot since Alya didn’t require him to constantly play with her. And that had been a good decade or so.

“Oh, Leopold.” Fitz winced at the name. “Would you mind? I’ve had a rough day.”

“Of course.” He answered, because you couldn’t say no to Rachel the shop lady. He glared at the young American and raised his finger like he used to do with Alya. “You come with me, outside, now.”

To his credit, the guy looked kind of sheepish as he followed him outside of the little shop.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t know.” He paused. “Well maybe I had a feeling but I thought I might get away with it.”

Fitz sighed. “At least you’re honest, but trying to take advantage of nice Scottish shop ladies? Really, son?”

“Well I’m sorry Leopold. At least you can tell the guys at bingo that you tried to defend her.” The lad paused again. “I’m sorry that was rude.”

“That’s okay,” Fitz replied, grateful that there were at least some manners left in the world. He outstretched his hand. “Call me Fitz.”

The guy shook his hand with a surprisingly strong grip. “Owen. Owen Shaw.”

And that’s when it hit Fitz like a truck. A truck that, after hitting him, decided to come back and run over him a second time. And then the driver decided to hop out and jump on his mangled body just to make sure he felt something. And boy, did he feel it.

“Shaw?” He managed to whisper, his throat tight and his face as white as a sheet.

“Yeah.” The young man affirmed, and only then did Fitz bother to take a good look at him. He was relatively tall, slender, and had a mop of scruffy dirty-blond hair on his head that was mostly hidden by a cap. He had a sorry excuse for a beard that was really nothing more than long stubble. Honestly, now that he was looking and from what he could remember, he could see the resemblance.

And that's when Fitz went into panic mode, because the universe was miraculously being kind to him, and he didn't want to risk passing up this opportunity.

"Listen, are you here with anyone?" He asked suddenly.

"What, you mean like in Inverness?" Fitz nodded. "Oh uh… nah, my parents are across the pond. My dad's a Brit and told me to go explore good old In-ger-land. I felt like pissing him off so I came to find the Loch Ness Monster instead."

It was at that moment that Fitz realised that the universe had never actually been kind to him. He felt strangely comforted by that fact.

"Well if you're feeling lonely here, why don't you come and have dinner at my house?" He offered, immediately regretting his decision but knowing that Jemma would kill him if he didn't give him a chance. "It's just me, my wife, and my daughter and we'd love to have you. Keep you company and tell you the best tourist sites and stuff."

Owen looked skeptical. "Is being this forward a Scottish thing, or..?"

Fitz put on his sweetest smile. "Yes, absolutely." It was not a Scottish thing, but if it fooled this goon then it was worth the lie. He hoped it would be enough.

"Okay in that case, sure! I've got nothing better to do tonight."

Fitz felt his tense body relax. Was he really that worried about setting his daughter up with this dude?

"Cool." He said. "Come with me then."

As soon as he returned home he rushed into the kitchen to find Jemma peering out of the window at Owen, who was busy admiring the many flowers in their front garden.

“Who’s that?” She asked, nodding towards the man in the garden.

Fitz took in a deep, shaky breath. His eyes wide, he gently took the carrot and peeler from his skeptical wife’s beautiful hands and put them on the marble counter so that he could put his hands in hers.

“That’s Owen. I invited him round for dinner.”

Jemma let out a scoff of disbelief. “Since when are you being social? We don’t know him, and Alya’s never mentioned an Owen.” Her face then hardened and she pulled her hands back so she could place them on her hips. “Are you trying to set up our daughter with a stranger? Because Alya’s old enough to find someone herself, and we can’t look after her forever.”

Trying to calm his nerves, Fitz flapped his arms around as if they would convey what he was trying to say. Sadly, in this case, they didn’t and he would have to actually say what he was simultaneously excited for and dreading.

“No, Jemma, you don’t understand. Th-This is Owen Shaw.”

A beat. Then Jemma gasped.

“Shaw?” She whispered, her face paling. “As in… Shaw, Shaw?”

“Shaw, Shaw.”

And then his wife’s eyes steeled with a determination that he had grown so accustomed to, yet never failed to impress and scare him. She grabbed him by the arm and started to march towards the front door, yelling: “ALYA!”

She then leaned into a speechless Fitz’s ear and whispered “Come on, that man is marrying our daughter.”

“Uh, hi Mrs Fitz?” Owen asked as Jemma dragged him into the garden, smiling a smile that was equal parts friendly and threatening. “I’m Owen. Your husband invited me over, I hope that’s not a problem?”

“Not at all! And please, it’s Jemma.” She said. “The casserole might take another twenty minutes though, so why don’t you go and talk to my daughter? She’s about your age, and I think you two would get on rather well.”

Fitz cringed. His wife was very subtle.

As if on cue, Alya emerged from the front door. “You called, Mum?” Then, after catching sight of the stranger in their garden, “who’s this?”

He sighed. “This is-”

“I’m Owen.” Owen interrupted, leaping towards her. “I’m travelling the world and got called over by your Dad.”

Fitz turned to look at Jemma, mouth gaping open. Jemma whacked him on his arm.

“I’m Alya. I’m a marine biologist.”

Owen’s face lit up. “Oh, like a scientist? That’s so cool! Have you seen the Loch Ness Monster?”

Alya laughed nervously, as unsure as her parents at whether he was being serious or not.

“Alya, why don’t you take Owen inside?” Jemma asked, somehow managing to steer the conversation away from awkwardness. “Keep him company while your Dad and I make dinner.”

“You don’t need two people to make a casserole-” Fitz tried to mumble in protest, but he only received another playful whack on the arm for his troubles.

Their daughter skillfully managed to hide a sigh. “Sure, Mum. This way, Owen.”

Once the pair were out of sight, Jemma immediately turned to Fitz. “Where did you find him?!” She quietly exclaimed.

Fitz shrugged. “He was bothering Rachel the shop lady, and then he told me his name and I panicked and brought him home.” He paused as the adrenaline of first hearing the name wore off and doubt started to softly trickle into his brain. “Oh god, should I have left it alone? What if they were supposed to meet by themselves and I’ve screwed everything up? I-”

Jemma interrupted his rant with a gentle hug.

“Don’t worry,” she assured, softly squeezing his shoulders, “if I’m being honest I’d given up hope that we would ever meet him since the world isn’t ending.”

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten about that.”

She kissed his cheek. “You might’ve just introduced Alya to her soulmate.”

Fitz snorted. “Are we sure that soulmates would be able to create Deke?”

All of a sudden, the couple froze. They hadn’t said that name aloud in years. It was like an unspoken agreement between them, that they would both lock that name and the memories associated with it in the deepest, darkest corner of their hearts. It stayed that way for just over twenty years. They had moved on and had tried to forget.

The worst part was that they had forgotten, and they knew that, from this moment on, they would never be able to forgive themselves.

Jemma sniffed, her eyes beginning to well up with tears, and Fitz pulled her close. They could worry about Owen and the casserole later. For now, they needed to mourn their grandson.

[cursewoodrecap]

Session 22: Five-Dimensional Man-Go

This is a session I’ve been looking forward to for quite some time. I get to introduce three of my favorite characters in the entire campaign. 

In the real world it’s been a while, but this was the session we officially welcomed a new chaos goblin player to the table. And damn, am I glad we did.

Valeria goes to Hoeska’s armor smiths for some upgrades, and accidentally kicks off a goth fashion montage. Her new armor has gorgeous black detailing with purple rose accents, accessorized with a brand-new Shusva-skin bag with matching claw clasp. Gral picks up a fancy Shusva-leather cloak and belt. Shoshana, realizing that a vampire’s castle is basically a Hot Topic, gets some fishnet arm warmers to accompany her fang necklace. We also get some healing potions and hope they aren’t made from lost souls or anything.

Valeria resummons Aethis, who pops back into existence in a burst of glitter that’s entirely incongruous with the local grim aesthetic. Apparently celestial gators are only mildly inconvenienced by fatalities.

As we hitch up the horses to get back on the road, we find out Ser Boris is also preparing to head out. “Woods full of many nasty creatures. Must keep hunting! Maybe I find way down to Barroch, I have heard monsters are attacking workers there.”

Gral perks up at the name of his people’s capitol. “I’m sure the orcs will treat you well. What kind of monsters are they dealing with?”

“Wolves, bears, maybe werewolf? I will find out when I get there! Cursebreakers do not have much of working relationship with orcs, so info is scattered. That is why I must investigate!”

While he heads south into orc territory, we’re gonna go north toward Sturmhearst to look into all the Key nonsense Professor Bjork told us is goin’ down. It’ll be a long trip; it’s on the coast, and we’re well into the heartland of the wood. As we get closer, we’re gonna have to look for new maps, too – the patchwork of safe zones and Curse disasters changes rapidly, and the roads that were passable a month ago might be deathtraps today.

We trek for several blessedly uneventful days. One night, in a region where a sizable number of halflings have settled, we have the fortune of seeing an inn on the horizon as night starts to fall. A sign proclaims the Fusilier’s Rest, a combination winery and inn located on a lush vineyard. Valeria’s kind of suspicious of anything too plant-based right now, but the rest of us totally want a winery tour.

We hitch up our wagon next to a post labeled Valet Parking. Aethis parks themself in the stables. Looking at the place, with its rather low doorframe and quaintly painted décor, we suspect Demish wine snootery instead of weird plant cults.

We duck through the door and take in the scene. It’s on the upscale end of totally normal, with locals sitting around eating and a huge pot of Demish onion soup bubbling on the hearth. The old halfling bartender is wearing pieces of a worn but well-cared-for blue-and-gold uniform. Two polished old pistols hang within reach on the wall, along with a pristine old Fusille musket in a place of honor behind the bar. Shiny medals in a handmade case are proudly displayed atop the bar.

As is D&D protocol, we look around for any notably wacky characters. We find them in the corner: an old man with unkempt white hair and multi-lensed, colorful glasses, engrossed in a game of Man-go against a young human doctor. We know he’s a doctor, because he’s got a stubby-beaked Sturmhearst mask pushed up to expose a tired but friendly face. His coat might once have been a lab coat, but it’s since been patched and sutured together so many times that it’s probably done a full ship-of-Theseus. His right arm is in a makeshift sling, and he’s nursing a small glass of Kevan vodka; probably the closest thing they have to rotgut moonshine in a wine-snob place like this.

We’re like, neat. Let’s eat soup.

Valeria orders a local vineyard wine and chats with the bartender about it. “The man who runs it is a madman; he thinks he can grow good wine grapes in Valdia. But he pays my sister well, she does her best.”

“Oh, don’t listen to René, his sister does marvelous work! No halfling will admit that wine grown outside Demionde will be more than spoiled grape juice,” teases one of the local barflies.

Gral asks Valeria who’s winning the Man-go game. The old man is rambling pleasantly, barely paying attention, and he is absolutely crushing the young doctor. The doctor looks like he’s totally aware he’s being taken to the cleaners, but he’s gonna let the old guy have his fun. As the game draws to a close, the younger man smiles ruefully and hands over a few coins. Meanwhile, the old fella, his eyes magnified to mismatched sizes by his funky glasses, spots our most conspicuous party member.

“Kyr! How’s the wine?” he calls, beckoning her over.

“Quite good actually!” Valeria chirps. “Was that the Kiloni maneuver?”

“Yes, or a variant I picked up somewhere! The Killam maneuver…kilometer…kilowatt? Something of the sort.”

Valeria very much wants to play him, and the old guy’s defeated opponent is happy to trade her his spot. The young man’s propped up leg hits the ground with a suspiciously loud clunk as he vacates his chair for her.

The old man peers up at her, bright-eyed even behind multiple layers of glass. “So what brings a Knight of the Rose here?”

“We’re headed to Sturmhearst, actually!”

“I see! I’ve heard the roads between here and there are pretty tricky to travel, you know.”

“No kidding. Do you have an updated map?”

He snaps his fingers. “No, but I just came from there! I’ve got an old map and I can easily update it for you kids. René is on night watch, I’ll leave it with him so you don’t have to stay up waiting for me to finish it. I know a route that’ll get you there lickety-split and safe as trousers! Now let me guess, you played at the clubs in Aurentium? You have the look about you.”

“Not the clubs, precisely…”

“Ah! Street rules, then!”

Valeria, who played Man-go against literally everyone who would have her, shrugs. “Maybe?”

“René, we’ll need some cups and a dumb hat!” the old man calls.

The young doctor wanders over to the bar and gets a refill, settling down next to Shoshana. “Hey, wanna bet on their game? The old guy’s pretty sharp.”

Shoshana laughs. “Oh, my friend is definitely gonna lose. I’ll put a silver on her, though, out of loyalty.”

It’s an odd game to spectate. Valeria falls behind early on; an insight check shows he’s not cheating, he’s just VERY good. Oh, and also Valeria’s assuming an entirely different set of house rules than this guy, and it’s tripping her up. Wait, are we doing street style, or dock style? Anyway, Valeria’s wearing the dumb hat now. At one point they both spit on the board.

“Y’know, I’ve never seen anyone from Sturmhearst take the mask off,” Shoshana says to her new drinking buddy, watching the game with confusion.

“On the clock, it’d be a safety hazard! But off the clock, eh, it’s fine. Some people get more elitist than me about it, I’m a hometown Valdian through and through.”

(You’re from Joisey, I’m from Joisey! What exit?)

“I haven’t actually been to the university since the Curse started, but I’m heading back to research some stuff I found out up in the Grammelsmarsh swamps. Some real disconcerting stuff regarding undead, and the like. The locals refer to it as the Wailing Wight.”

Shoshana gives him a once-over, rolling a decent Perception. He’s scruffy, though that could mostly be from hard travel, and definitely looks like he’s had a rough time of it. His arm’s in a sling and the little exposed skin Shoshana can see has more than its share of nicks and scars. His gait when he walked over was slightly uneven, one leg making a suspiciously heavy thunk against the wooden floor. Over his shoulder, he’s carrying a long, heavy case sealed with tar for waterproofing.

Hold up. She points to the case. “Do you have an alive guy in there?”

“…Uh.”

“You hesitated, and that’s not great.”

“Uh…no. No, I do not have an alive guy in here,” he says awkwardly.

“Okay, because the last time there was a weird bag, there was a whole-ass dude in there, and it turned into a whole thing.”

“N-no, no no no, there’s no person in the case,” he protests, not quite meeting Shoshana’s judgy cat eyes. He definitely doesn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea, even though the case has started gently twitching.

Meanwhile, old Man-Go man has proved himself quite fluent in Draco-Aquilian, though with an unmistakable mammalian accent. Gral butts into the lively conversation when it winds back to Valdian. “It seems like you’re rather well traveled. What is your profession?”

“Oh, y’know, I go here and there. I’ve been around. There’s so much to see out there!”

Valeria smiles. “I can’t fault you there. Anything in particular you’re looking for?

“I go wherever the winds take me, mostly,” he says, as if Cursewood travel isn’t the most dangerous hobby since they invented pyromancer cookoffs.

Valeria, impressively, only loses the game by a little. The old man jovially shakes her hand and promises to go get started on that map to Sturmhearst for us, springing to his feet with surprising deftness for his age and bustling up toward his room.

Gral and Shoshana, meanwhile, are busy makin’ friends with the doctor guy. “What swamp were you fighting undead in?”

“The Grammelsmarsh? It’s downriver of Mornheim.”

“Ohhh! We heard some, uh, adventurers did a purifying ritual on the river. It might help your situation?”

“That’s great, but…I dunno. Once you mix in swamp gas, things get a lot more interesting.”

“The explosions kind of interesting?”

“…Sometimes.”

The players have noticed that our doctor friend here is, like…not an NPC, there’s another guy at the table (the same player as Isadora! :D), so we start sizing each other up as travel companions.

“You seem like a pretty decent guy,” Gral says, immediately insight checking.

“I mean, you guys seem on the up-and-up too?”

Shoshana winks at him. “Well, I’m not that up-and-up but these two are very diplomatic and important.”

“If you’re also headed up to Sturmhearst, it might make sense for us to travel together? I’m not very quiet,” he admits, knocking on his knee with a clang, “but if you-“

“Hello!” Valeria, hearing clanking, has clanked over loudly to join. “Kyr Valeria Argent, at your service!”

“Uh, hi! I’m Vigdor. I’m a doctor! I mean, you knew that, with the, uh-“ He points to his bird mask. “If you need any balms or salves – I mean, I’m mostly a surgeon, but I know some herbology.”

Is that so! We chat about Dr. Ulmus and Dr. Kjeller. Everyone loves Dr Kjeller!

“I’ve heard of Dr. Kjeller! I haven’t met the guy, but he’s the leading expert on troll physiology. Getting him to come lecture hasn’t worked out so far.”

We ask René the innkeeper about any local threats. Apparently this town’s gotten lucky; the biggest threats recently have just been bandits and one overaggressive badger.

“Oh yeah, one of my cats fought one of those, it went badly,” Shoshana remembers. “For the badger, I mean. I have weird cats.”

(The inn also has cat. His name is Jean Clawed.)

Eventually we all head upstairs. As the night bears on, the girls fall asleep, presumably after painting each other’s toe claws and gossiping. Gral’s still awake, practicing his lute in the rare luxury of a single room, when he pauses. Something doesn’t sound right.

Putting his lute aside, he listens cautiously at the window and feels a deep dread grow in his stomach. The faint scent of ozone drifts in the air. The crickets and night birds have gone dead silent, and in the unsettling quiet he can hear the terrible growling, piping sound he’s heard twice before: once in a house in a hole, and once as Bullbreaker’s expedition faced its destruction.

With great urgency and no volume control, Gral sends a Message to a sleeping Shoshana: “RED ALERT, KEY SHIT’S HERE.” Shoshana wakes up and kicks Valeria.

Gral then sends a Message to our new friend Vigdor, more calmly. “If you have weapons, get them now. Something is happening, it’s going to be dangerous.”

The early warning lets Vigdor and Valeria armor up, Shoshana helping Valeria buckle on the heavy pieces in a hurry. Meanwhile, Gral sprints downstairs, casting Mirror Image as he goes.

René the innkeeper is cleaning his fusille with practiced precision, humming an old marching song. Gral can hear something moving in the kitchen behind the old halfling, so he pops another stealthy Message cantrip. “This is the orc from earlier. I think something bad is in the kitchen – I’ve heard that noise before. Hold on tight to that musket, I’m going in.”

“The back door is locked, I would have heard someone come in,” the old soldier whispers back.

“These things don’t use doors,” Gral hisses.

A 17 Persuasion convinces René, who loads a bullet into his musket. “Where are those friends of yours?”

A heavy clank from upstairs answers that question, as Vigdor and Valeria thud toward the stairs. Gral scopes out the room and sees, on the bar, a big leather map case. The map from the Man-Go guy! Then he peers into the kitchen and, yup, that’s a fleshhound, all right.

Everyone else upstairs bursts into the hall just as a second fleshhound emerges into existence next to them. Shoshana, without hesitation, hits it with a gout of flame. Its strange ethereal flesh solidifies for a moment, but then it shakes itself and charges forward, its displacement energy restored.

Meanwhile, the one downstairs doesn’t aim for Gral or René, trying to run past them. Gral plays a discordant note on his lute, using his Minor Key at the opposite frequency to its vibration and preventing it from displacing, before he strikes. A spectral, scarred orc swings a warhammer down on the creature, Thrice-Burned’s ghost getting some payback as Gral’s blade strikes true.

René takes a shot with his musket and crit-fails, understandably freaked out by the writhing mass of teleporting tentacles, the wild shot careening directly into Gral. Luckily, it only pops a Mirror Image, but everyone upstairs hears a frustrated yell of “NO. FRIEND! ME FRIEND!”

Vigdor dashes past Valeria to the stairs, his previously-motionless arm reaching out of its sling to slap her on the armor with a resounding clash of metal. A silver Jotunn rune glows through the cloth of his sleeve, and she feels Protection from Good and Evil snap into place over her. She takes the cue and stabs the hound, rose vines bursting from her trident and stabbing their long thorns into its oddly flickering flesh.

The pupils on the Eyegis snap to the space behind the beast. Our normal eyes see nothing, but the Key-aligned shield’s eyes see a magical gate, faintly connected to the hound.

As a member of the Order of the Rose, Valeria’s trained to deal with fiendish incursions. This isn’t a portal to the Hells, but she thinks it might get closed similarly. As she charges forward to deal with it, everything seems to move twice as fast as it should: the Key’s spatial distortion has made certain areas the opposite of difficult terrain, where you can move double your speed. Nyoom!

Shoshana zaps it with lightning and heads downstairs to help Gral, who’s being slapped by tentacles. The zapped one flees toward the portal, but Valeria Sentinels and stabs it to death. The downstairs hound gets its tentacles into the real Gral.

Vigdor moves to Gral’s aid, ripping away the last of his sling and clamping a large circular blade to his forearm. With the pull of a ripcord, it loudly whirs into motion. As the Buzzing Butcher slams into the displacer hound with a gory squelch, he asks about sneak attack, like a rogue!

A very, very loud rogue.

Gral breaks away from the hound’s tentacles and looks around. Through the windows, more fleshhounds have appeared outside. The space outside is warped – leaving this inn is going to be very difficult while all this nonsense is going on. The lights of the vineyard seem miles away.

However, Gral realizes, the hound responded to the sound of his lute. And when he used his Minor Key he caught a glimpse of the portal it came through. He begins to play again, using the Minor Key to try to take control of it. The GM allows him to burn a 3rd level spell slot for a colossal roll of 33. He moves the portal inside a wall, to temporarily block anything coming through.

René takes a shot at the remaining hound and misses.

Valeria, upstairs, draws her chained sword and spends a 1st level slot to try to close the portal, the same way paladins close Infernal gateways. The chains of Rack extend from the sword and stitch the portal shut.

(Gral and Valeria each gain inspiration for using Portal Trixx!)

A Thing Occurs at initiative 0, and we hear strange piping coming from the stables. We’re kind of occupied, so we trust Aethis to bite anything that bothers the horses.

Shoshana sprints down the stairs and to the bar. Aw, there’s another flesh hound coming in from the kitchen. Her Chill Touch misses, and the new monster slaps Gral.

Vigdor nyooms through a Zoom, which makes some Really Weird doppler effects happen with his clanky leg and his buzzy arm. He slides across the bar like an action hero and slams his saw down, missing the hound and showering the room in a hail of splinters.

Valeria is still upstairs, and it is LOUD downstairs. She’s gonna dash to get the heck down there and rejoin the festivities.

Gral Phantasmal Forces the new fleshhound, and in its mind, horrible liquid tendrils emerge from the soup pot and constrict around it. The soup rises to the defense of the Fusilier’s Rest!

René gets his wits about him and takes a pistol shot at the nearer fleshhound, tagging it with a bullet and keeping it in place. “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. OUR POLICY IS NO PETS! I will not make an exception for you, you do NOT seem particularly polite!”

The fleshhound grabs the map case off the bar and starts to run for it. René hits it with the butt of his rifle. The second hound can’t attack Vigdor since it’s too busy convincing itself soup isn’t dangerous, so Vigdor’s free to draw his pistol and unload a Sneak Attack bullet into the fleeing hound’s back.

René reloads his musket. It’s been a long time since he’s done it under fire, but the Royal Fusilier Corps of Demionde does not half-ass their training.

The portal the hound’s heading for bisects a wall now, so it might be hard for the hound to get through.  Before it can worry about that, though, it comes face to face with Valeria, who’s ready to rumble. She kills it, dropping the map to the ground, and skitters through the Zoomy Zone to try to trident the second hound. It displaces out of the way.

Gral seizes control of another portal, and this time decides to use it to see what’s going on. He tries to hop out to the stables, where that weird noise is coming from. He enters a weird nether space full of the flickering bodies of fleshhounds, writhing and blinking, which the DM calls the Threshold. Gral accepts psychic damage to see what’s going on, and the patterns become clearer as the Key takes hold temporarily in his brain. These portals all connect to each other and the Threshold at the same time. Whatever’s out in the stables, making that eerie piping noise, is tied to the portals – it can’t fully exist in our realm. So if you close all the portals, it’ll force that thing to leave; if you drive it away, the portals will close. Either way, the Key’s influence on this place will fade.

Oh, and that thing out in the stables? It’s the Lurke r again.

Gral’s old enemy wrests control of the portal back from Gral, who stumbles back out into the inn, reeling from the sudden whammy of Key taint.

Shosha shoots lightning at the nearest hound, which retaliates by leaping through her, disrupting her matter with its own. It’s a highly unpleasant experience. A new hound jumps out of the portal next to Valeria. As Vigdor, Shoshana, and René all attack, Gral shuts another portal with his lute’s magic. “Guys, there’s something horrible in the stables!” he shouts. “If we bust enough portals it’ll go away!”

The Lurker continues to make mysterious dice rolls, but apparently it’s rolling poorly, so we don’t quite find out what it’s up to. It peers through one of the last few portals, only visible to Gral and the Eyegis. It’s hard to get a good look at, fifth-dimensional as it is, but it’s weirdly humanoid, actually? It’s surrounded by floating lanterns and holding some sort of pipe or flute.

(The DM notes that Jean Clawed is awake and doesn’t see why any of this is his business. He’s capable of using the portals; he’s not Key tainted, that’s just how cats are.)

We exchange blows with the remaining hounds, Chromatic Orbs flying and chainsaws buzzing. René bayonets a hound to death, for the honor of all NPCs.

Gral powerslides on his knees across the Zoomy Zone, playing a complicated riff, woobling himself right through the fireplace into the kitchen. He spends another level 3 spell slot to get the portal to dance itself shut. “And that was Through the Fire and Flames!”

René reloads his gun. Shoshana blasts the hound with fire, so Vigdor’s action goes off and he chainsaws it to death, the body and spine getting caught in the spinning chain. FATALITY.

The searing light of Shoshana’s fire casts sharp shadows on the walls of the inn, which begin to writhe and re-form, swirling together into a lithe, snarling feline shape that springs toward the Lurker. It pounces with an odd, broken yowl that’s incredibly familiar – although Valeria and Gral have only ever heard it once, from underneath an overturned laundry basket.

Vigdor, who’s never met a flesh-hound OR a cursecat before, makes an arcana check to figure out what in the seven hells is going on. It seems some sort of entity is thinning the barriers between realities? Its very essence seems to be intermingled with portal; it cannot fully leave the portal or exist in this realm. Like a malevolent, sentient pair of curtains.

He’s like okay, curtains sound like something I can chainsaw. It’s curtains for you, see? (Fun fact: if he rolls 21 or higher on attack roll with chainsaw, he gets sneak attack regardless of other circumstances. Because it’s a goddamn CHAINSAW.)

The Lurker turns its attention directly on us, or at least to the enormous hissing cat hellbent on ruining its day. Gral, still strumming furiously, realizes the Lurker’s only got a couple of portals left. He’s closed a portal already; he’s gonna try to close all of them for good. The DM imposes disadvantage and a brutal pile of psychic damage, but Gral is unphased, hitting a power chord that shakes the entire inn.

The Lurker screeches and reaches for him, the space around Gral beginning to warp, but it’s too late, the portal slamming shut against it. The Zoomy Zones vanish; the portals close, the strange atmosphere fades. The road looks to be the size it was before instead of an endless stretch of packed earth; the vineyard is once again an easy ten-minute walk away.

His big solo complete, Gral sways and collapses unconscious. Valeria runs over and Lays On Hands so he doesn’t die, while Vigdor starts casting Mending on the destroyed bar furniture. Shoshana, meanwhile, just stares dumbstruck at the place where a huge spectral cat is dissipating into shadowy smoke.

“…Schmendrick?”

René is holding himself together, but he’s an old man and it’s been a while since he fought this much. He took a bit of damage; Valeria pat pats him some HP. “Thank you, Kyr. I…I need to check on my other guests. The old man with the Man-Go game, we must find out if he lives.”

Valeria accompanies him upstairs. Rack’s glowing rose vines are still visible, stitching the portal shut; it’s healing more quickly than Valeria’s used to seeing. The door to the old man’s room swings open under Valeria’s cautious knock. The bed is unmade but empty, and the old man’s luggage is gone. The only things left are a generous tip on the counter and his odd multicolored glasses.

As Vigdor steps outside to clean viscera off his chainsaw, Gral scopes out the stables. There’s evidence of disturbed earth around the grounds, but nothing conclusive. Aethis seems to be unbothered.

We reconvene without much to show for our investigation. But we have one last clue: Why were the hounds so interested in the old man’s map? We spread it out on one of the bar tables and crowd around. It’s a map of Valdia, but the path it shows us to take to Sturmhearst makes No Sense. It’s not even contiguous! It tells us to start here and wander north, and then the line cuts off next to some scribbled equations, the route picking up again elsewhere, where he’s drawn a symbol we don’t recognize – and so on, in strange and nonsensical disconnected paths.

Shoshana, on a hunch, puts on the multicolored glasses the old man left behind. Like 3D glasses, they reveal the hidden image. Through the kaleidoscopic lenses, she can see remnants of the Key’s influence all around the inn; the fading Zoomy Zones and closing portals light up in ultraviolet. The map, meanwhile, has gained an entirely new dimension, like a layer of holographs. NOW the shortcuts make sense – they route through other dimensions along the z-axis, with additional symbols and labels giving helpful hints.

To be honest, it does look like a much faster route. And one of the notes says it leads to the “Drowned City” – hey, isn’t that where Bullbreaker ended up? But we’re all rightfully wary of hopping right back into another flesh-hound portal disaster.

We now have the Extradimensional Map and the Stranger’s Glasses.

Oh! The map has a note for us: “Happy Journeys to a fellow master of the game. Your friend, T.T.”

We immediately rifle through our notes and realize he may have been Professor Trevor Twombly, Headmaster of Sturmhearst. Vigdor, did you know that guy?!

Vigdor didn’t recognize him. Maybe the guy looked like Twombly, if you squint? There were a lot of old men at Sturmhearst, and they wear masks most of the time? Also he had distracting glasses? So, like…maybe?

As we bicker, Vigdor snags the glasses off the table and heads to his room, opening up his case and taking a look. The lenses don’t reveal anything new about the object inside.

Unfortunately, the poor rogue didn’t bother to stealth. “Whatcha doin’ in here?” says Valeria, who followed shortly behind.

“Um, just looking at my leg, seeing if anything is weird-“

Valeria immediately checks Vigdor’s lower limbs for wounds. “I can help! An extra pair of hands can always-”

“No, no! I think I’m okay! Really!” he protests. He glances into the case again, clearly torn, and sighs. “Let me explain.”

He lifts a whole human leg out of the case, kicking and twitching.

“This is my leg, and I’m taking it to Sturmhearst. I’m not sure if it’s wholly mine anymore.”

Through his torn pants, Valeria can see a clunky clockwork leg to match his buzz-saw arm.

One player immediately yells “FULL METAL ALCHEMIST.” Another player says it again, in a slightly different voice.

Dr. Vigdor Gavril has joined the party!

[alexhogh7137]

The Battle Between Love and Fire-

Ivar the Boneless × Reader

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The First Time

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Word Count 2.3k

Warnings: mentions of past abuse (rape but not in detail), mostly fluff

When you awoke, Hvitserk was pulling you closer into his chest. You moan as he nudges his face into the crook of your neck. The scruffies on his face tickle a bit, making you wiggle in his arms. Hvitserk chuckles once he knows that you are awake and aware of what he is doing. He knows that you had a rough night with what Ivar did, so he made it his mission to make you wake up with a smile on your face. He rolls you over gently so that you can face him. The dry tears are still on your cheeks and your eyes are bloodshot but he only sees beauty.

"Morning.."

Hvitserk "Hey.."

"I'm sorry that I slept in here last night, I jus-"

Hvitserk "Don't..if I had it my way, you'd be sleeping by my side every night."

"You're too sweet to me, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "No I am not, I just treat you how you deserve to be treated." You smile at him and rub the sleep from your eyes. Hvitserk takes this time to move down in the bed to lay his head on your belly. You smile at the feeling and start to play with his unbraided, blonde locks of hair. He starts to rub small circles on your belly while kissing it here and there.

Hvitserk "She is growing.."

"I know..by the time we have to fight, I will be even bigger." Hvitserk sighs and moves back up towards you. 

Hvitserk "I almost forgot about that."

"I didn't," you chuckle, "but how could I forget? This is my war and mine alone."

Hvitserk "He is your father but you mean so much to a lot of people, my dear. So never think that you are alone in this."

"I know that I'm not alone but it would make me worry less if it was only me going to Wessex."

Hvitserk "Why would you say that?"

"Because if it was just me, I would only have to worry about me...but now that it is you, Ivar...Ubbe all joining this fight..I fear every waking moment that I'm going to lose one of you-" he leans down and kisses your lips to stop your thoughts.

Hvitserk "You're not going to lose any of us, and we are not going to lose you..alright? Only think positive, princess. Do not let fear corrupt your angelic heart."

"I try not to, but it is hard when all you know is fear."

Hvitserk "Well when he is gone, you won't have to live in fear."

"Hvitserk, the fear will stay with me forever. You do not know everything that he has done to me.."

Hvitserk "I don't?"

"..No. Ivar read it in my journal last night. My mother wrote how sorry she was that she couldn't protect me from him..Ivar read it."

Hvitserk "Is that why you came in here last night?"

"Yes. I was not ready for Ivar to know but-"

Hvitserk "He shouldn't have read any of your mother's writing, my love. That is yours and yours alone."

"I know. I told him that it was wrong and that if he does it again, I won't forgive him for a very long time."

Hvitserk "I am sorry Y/n. My brother does not know what his actions will do most of the time."

"I have come to realize that, believe me."

Hvitserk sighs, "Is there anything that I can do?"

"No, thank you though.."

Hvitserk "Do you wish to tell me what happened?" You look into his eyes and take a deep breath before telling him your darkest and deepest secrets that only you, your mother, your father and now Ivar knows. You explained to him that when you reached maturity, your father began to use you for his own sick pleasures. Your poor mother was not good enough for your father's fantasies so when you were old enough to know what to do, he used you. You hated every second of the abuse. Your mother came in a few times, tried to stop him but it only made him hurt you worse while she was made to watch. He even threatened to kill you if you did not obey. Hvitserk tried to hold in the tears when you went into depth of the torture that you went through for years. 

"When I turned eighteen, I told him that now that I was an adult, I absolutely refused to be his puppet...his toy. He didn't touch me for a while after that. My mother defended me through it all but-"

Hvitserk "But..?"

"My mother was killed when I was nineteen. That night, he used me again. After that, he treated me like an actual father. It was like a switch that went off in his head. That is why when I turned twenty, he gave me my dragon eggs."

Hvitserk "...I had no idea sweetheart. I knew of the beatings..not this abuse."

"Yes. So when Harald took me for five days and raped me...I was so scarred from my father that it was almost normal to me."

Hvitserk "gods..-"

"It is true. When I met Ivar, he promised me to love and care for me, treat me with respect and generosity...be gentle and kind. And I was so shocked because I never experienced love like that from a man before." He smiles, "and then he allowed me to be with you...to share me. And you changed my world...my point of view. You have shown me love that I have never experienced before coming to Kattegat. I hope you know that I love you so much, Hvitserk." 

Hvitserk's tears overflow at this time, "I love you too sweetheart." He grabs your face and kisses you softly. You poured your heart into this morning that you no longer feel sadness from the night before, nor do you feel sadness from your past. 

Hvitserk "Thank you for telling me everything Y/n. I promise that I will never hurt you or harm you in any way, I swear it."

"And I do not fear you, my love. I never have." 

Hvitserk smiles, "How about we get ready and get breakfast, yes?"

"Mm good, I am starving." He laughs and picks you up out of bed and twirls you around in the air. He makes you feel on top of the world. 

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

Ivar is sitting next to Ubbe at the table, Torvi next to Ubbe with her daughter beside her. Hvitserk walks ahead of you while you slowly walk while holding the little belly that you have. Ivar looks into your eyes and for some reason, it feels like you are meeting your husband for the first time. It feels like the first time that he saw you and that you saw him. His eyes are sparkling and he looks at you like you are the only woman in the room. You do not know why this moment is occurring but it surely is. 

Ivar "My love?"

"..Yes?"

Ivar "You did not come to bed last night.."

"You know why I did not, Ivar." He lets his head hang.

Ivar "That is right..I have forgotten." Ubbe laughs.

Ubbe "Of course you have!" You sit down next to Ivar, grabbing your water to take a sip before having to talk again.

Ivar "Please tell me that you have forgiven me Y/n."

"...Yes."

Ivar "I love you. You know that? And I am sorry..for all this I do. I'm sorry." He is your husband, he is your love, your best friend, your world. So how could you not forgive him? Maybe your heart is too soft.

"I forgive you Ivar. Just please do not read any further, it is not for your eyes..it is for mine and mine alone."

Ivar slowly nods, "Of course. Would you like to go to our place today?"

"We went there two days ago.."

Ivar "Is that a no?"

"No, of course not. I would love to go."

Ivar "Alright then." He smiles and kisses your hand. Ubbe takes a bite of his food and looks at Torvi. Only for Torvi to sigh, she knows that you are being too kind to Ivar. That you should have let him grovel in it for a bit longer to show him a lesson but she knows that you don't have that in your heart. You look at her and offer her a smile, in return she only whispers I love you.

When you and Ivar arrived to the falls, he pauses and takes a deep breath. 

Ivar "It is like this place is a cure."

"A cure?"

Ivar "For sadness."

"What do you have to be sad about, I have forgiven you."

Ivar "I know what he did to you Y/n. I told you that I knew last night." You do not respond, "I feel your pain..your sadness. I wish that you would have told me sooner."

"I did not have the courage nor the strength to do so. Especially not after king Harald."

Ivar's jaw clenches, "Don't even get me started on that bastard-"

"Not here...not in our place." You place your hand on his chest. You feel his heart start to beat slower as he feels your comfort. His jaw unclenches and his face relaxes.

Ivar "I just wish that none of that happened to you, my sweet."

"You can't change the past, none of us can. We can only live for today and look ahead to our futures."

Ivar "Your words amaze me."

"I have a question to ask you, my beloved." He allows you to ask, "Did you feel that this morning?"

Ivar "Feel what?"

"When I walked out this morning, it felt like-"

Ivar "The first time." He finished your sentence. 

"Yes."

Ivar "Yes, my love. It felt like I was meeting you for the first time. I do not understand why since we are married but I felt it."

"It was as if our spark reignited."

Ivar "I couldn't have said that better myself." He leans down and kisses you. Once again, it felt like the first time. Why does it feel this way? You suppose it does because you were slowly starting to lose the love that you had for Ivar. Given that he has said hurtful things to you since King Harald, and just invaded your privacy. But today, you feel all of your love for your beloved, coming back into your heart.

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

Hvitserk and Ubbe are chatting up a storm about only the gods know while Torvi plays with her kids. Hvitserk is holding little Ragnar in his arms as he bounces him up and down. His little feet balance on his knees as he bounces him in the air, making him giggle loudly. 

Torvi "You are going to be such a good father, Hvitserk."

Hvitserk "Thank you Torvi. Y/n thinks so too."

Torvi "As she should!"

Ubbe "It is as if the gods gave Ivar the thought of sharing you because they knew that your destiny is to be a father, brother."

Hvitserk "I think that to be true. But I love her so much..I do not want you to think that I used her to become a father-"

Ubbe "I never said that. I know how much you love Y/n. I meant no disrespect."

Hvitserk "I know, I love you Ubbe. Thank you for being my brother." They but heads and have their brotherly moment. Hvitserk loves you and cherishes every moment that he has with you, as you do the same. He knows that you are solely Ivar's and his wife and his queen. But he also knows that you are carrying his child, to which he thanks the gods for every waking day. Because if he could choose anyone to be the mother of his child/children he would choose you. 

…

Ivar "I had a vision this morning, my sweet."

"Good or bad?"

Ivar "More beautiful than anything."

"Please tell me!" He giggles as your face lights up. 

Ivar "Well, when I saw you walk out this morning, I saw you like I saw you on our wedding day. In your dress and your flower crown..but you weren't alone."

"I'm confused-"

Ivar "You were holding your daughters hand."

"Oh Ivar-"

Ivar "And she is the most beautiful thing in this world. I looked at my brother and his face was smiling the biggest smile I have ever seen him form. And then I thought to myself...how incredible this moment is for all three of us." You smile as tears form, "I have said it before and I'll say it again..I know that she is not mine, but I will always love her like she is. And I am happy for my brother that he gets to call you the mother of his miracle child."

"I love you."

Ivar "And I love you. I know that I have not been nice lately...I still don't know why I felt like it was a good idea to read your mother's journal. But every time I realize my actions, I feel horrible-"

"You told me this before Ivar. I know, I always forgive you because I love you."

Ivar "I say it because that is how I feel."

"It is okay. Come sit with me." You gesture for him to sit next to you by the falls. When he does, you lean your head on his shoulder and sigh.

"Our place is a cure."

Ivar chuckles, "That it is, my sweetheart." Ivar takes in this moment with a smile on his face and a heavy heart. Knowing that the battle day is coming up fast and he has fears of his own. Praying and hoping for a victory. He loves you more than you could ever know and he needs you even more than that. Yes he has his anger issues but you keep him sane and strong. And most importantly, you are his happiness.

@hvitserkmarcosource @a-mess-of-fandoms @youbloodymadgenius @ivarsgoddess @jzr201 @readsalot73 @ivarzeitgeist @heavenly1927 @saldelys @herestherealproblem @conaionaru

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted (chapter two)

Huge thanks again to @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian! Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you can! 

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Chapters: 1 | 2

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Anyone who came into the Blooming Grove cafe and smelled the unmistakable scent of a freshly baked cherry and strawberry pie would probably think that was nothing but a positive. That the busy chef must have been in a particularly good mood, to fill the small space with such a fresh, sugary and all round lovely scent.

Beau knew better however.

She hadn’t puzzled out the reason why but she knew that cherry and strawberry pie was something Caduceus only made when he was stressed out. She’d smelled it a lot during his shaky first few months, when no one was really sure if the cafe had a future, before people realised the special kind of magic Caduceus imbibed it with that made people feel so at home when they were inside it’s walls. She also smelled it whenever Cad came into work holding a letter, always the same paper, always the same handwriting though she could never make out any words.

And she wouldn’t. She wasn’t a snoop. She just didn’t miss much.

Though she was pretty sure it had something to do with the very large family Cad would talk about often but whom she never saw visiting or calling or anything. Just those letters, one every few months, that would send Cad into a stress baking haze churning out pies but he’d keep it in his apron pocket like he was scared to let it out of his sight.

But today there was no mystery to why there was suddenly a slice of thick, red oozing delightfulness being set in front of her, dusted with sugar with fruit like shiny garnets. It was because of Fjord.

Beau smirked and dug in with her fork, watching Cad zip back and forth across the cafe like an anxious bee. It was just him and her in the cafe right now, it didn’t open for another two hours. Lucky she woke up so early to do her tai chi in the park with her girl. Well, one of her girls. Getting Jester out of bed before ten was a triumph, Yasha was much easier to coerce.

“If you clean up before he gets here, your new assistant ain't going to have anything to do,” she pointed out, around a mouthful of fruit and sugar.

Caduceus jumped guiltily, “I’m just...just doing odds and ends. I want to be able to show him around.”

Beau wasn’t sure how true that was. Everything about Cad except his words showed how unsettled he still was with the idea of being a two person team.

She rolled her eyes and jabbed her fork at him for emphasis, “Look, we know this place is your baby. We know what it means to you. So we absolutely would not have suggested Fjord if he wasn’t going to be perfect for the job! He’s obsessed with being competent, he’s chill with taking orders, he’s a people person, annoyingly organised, fuck this pie is really good, did you do something new?”

“Touch of balsamic vinegar,” Cad said absently, scratching at the little pink wisps of a beard that grew in when he didn’t trim it, “I’m not saying I don’t...he’s your friend so I want him to be my friend too, I’ve got every faith he’s a good guy but…”

“But you’re nervous,” Beau picks the words up for him, “And that’s fine. But you’re going to give this a shot, get used to it, see that it’s a great idea and everything will be fine. Seriously, I think you and Fjord will really get along.”

Cad’s ears flattened against his head and his eyes were big and doubtful, “I’m not so easy to get along with…”

Beau frowned at that, about to protest, when the bell above the door rang out, the door pushing back almost shyly, like it was scared into interrupt. And then there was Fjord, looking slightly more sunburnt and grizzled than he had the last time Beau saw him, dressed in the same ratty hoodie he used to have back in high school. His hair was in the same style, still short and shaved underneath, though part of it had turned white and he’d clearly not been cutting it while on that ship of his. Though he’d found the time to file his tusks down, they were barely visible.

“Hey man!” Beau jumped down and rushed to give him a quick hug and sock him in the arm, “Look who washed up ashore…”

Fjord laughed, aiming a punch in return that she dodged easily, “Well you’ve not changed at all. Such a shame. And this must be Caduceus…”

Beau turned to make her introductions and explain why the scruffy salt smelling individual was the hard worker she’d promised when Cad’s face stopped her. His ears were bolt upright now, jaw a little slack, a very obvious blush even under his grey fur. And his tail was whipping from side to side at a million miles per hour.

Beau smirked, pleasantly surprised. This was starting to look like a two birds, one stone situation.

“Yeah, it is. Fjord, meet Mister Caduceus Clay.”

You’re acting like a teenager.

Cad had told himself that half a hundred times in the last hour and it wasn’t doing any good. His heart was still going like a Madagascan sunset moth finding a grove of Omphalea plants, his face was ridiculously warm and he was going to have to tuck his tail into his dungarees if it didn’t stop or he was going to break a mug.

Yes, Fjord was handsome. Almost ridiculously so. Now he’d acknowledged that, he could move on and refocus on the extreme anxiety he’d been nursing since yesterday that his cafe was going to collapse and he’d broken all his promises to himself and he’d have to go back home with his tail between his legs. That, at least, had been productive.

“Okay, so this is where I keep all the flours,” he continued, showing the half orc around the kitchen, “I, um...I haven’t labelled any of them because I just had them memorised, I’ll fix that…and I’ll have to write down the recipes they go with too, I just memorised those as well…”

Fjord seemed a little alarmed, “Um...yeah, that would help, I think.”

“Have you ever baked before?” Cad asked, leaning against the stainless steel surface, nicked and scaped by years of use.

Fjord sucked on his lower lip, “Well, I know how to make ship rations taste semi okay? But I don’t think that counts as baking.”

Cad had to chuckle, “No but it does sound like a useful life skill. I’m kind of aiming for a higher caliber than ships rations around here.”

“I’ll say, that pie Beau was eating looked to die for.”

Cad felt his ears pick up, “Oh would you like some? I made, um...five this morning. No reason, I just felt like it.”

He was already moving before Fjord could answer, putting a slice on a nice plate, plenty of cream. His new assistant did look distinctly skinny, like he hadn’t been eating properly. They’d need to sort that out.

Fjord seemed bemused at the sudden appearance of a dessert, smiling crookedly, “Thanks! Looks really good.”

“So maybe I’ll focus on the food prep for a little while and you can handle the front of house until you get more comfortable in the kitchen,” Cad tried not to look like he was hovering, waiting eagerly for Fjord’s reaction to his food.

He wasn’t disappointed. Fjord’s eyes widened and he grinned, showing a pair of filed tusks Cad hadn’t noticed before.

“Wow! This is amazing!” he had the most lovely accent, from somewhere in the South, twanging and drawling in places, wandering like a hard to follow path, “I must say, I’ve never eaten anything as nice as that!”

You’re acting like a smitten teenager, stop it. Stop blushing!

“I don’t know about that,” he cleared his throat, tangling his hands in the strings of his apron, “But you’re very kind to say so.”

“I think I’m gonna like working here,” Fjords’ grin was lopsided and full of cheek, just as a dashing pirate’s would be. Then suddenly it faltered, like a curtain had ruffled in the breeze and revealed something completely different, scenery turning out to be nothing but a backdrop on a stage, “I mean, if you’re going to hire me.”

Cad found himself smiling, something stirring in his chest, something separate to the silly crush that had landed so suddenly in his lap, “Any friend of the Nein is my friend too. And I think I’d quite like to work with a friend.”

Fjord tilted his head to one side, looking delighted, “Y’know, that sounds mighty fine to me too.”

Cad’s fur puffed up around his neck, like it did when he was happy. Or startled.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll take you through the plant care schedule. That’s probably the most important thing.”

Fjord looked like he didn’t understand, eyes drifting over all of the greenery in the place. Even in the kitchen there were succulents in the window, the ivy running through the ceiling and the myriad of fresh vegetables and herbs in the greenhouse out the back door that Cad had managed to cram in their tiny courtyard (with a little magic assistance).

“Plant care? Don’t you just...water them?”

Cad started at him for a heartbeat then burst out laughing, Fjord’s expression only getting more confused.

He was going to enjoy it. But it was going to be hard work.

They were halfway through their first day as a two man operation and things were going rather well, as Cad was sternly telling whatever flickers of anxiety still flitted in his chest.

He was in the kitchen, gloves of flour and water pasted up to his elbows, rolling out rough into podgy rectangles. His ears flickered and tail swayed in time with the music, but his ears were listening to something else. Fjord’s voice, still a little jarring to hear when he wasn’t used to it, out at the counter, taking orders and calling them out. He flirted shamelessly, he charmed, he joked and laughed. Beau had been right, he was a people person. Cad had no doubt the tip jar would be bursting at the seams when he next checked it.

“Hey, Caddy!”

Cad turned from his dough to see Fjord in the doorway. His spare apron was clearly too big for the half orc, nearly touching the floor, but he hadn’t had time to make one for him. Tomorrow, he’d do it, now he knew his size.

Even so, with a cloth poking out from the pocket and a pad of paper in his hand and a little pencil behind his ear, Fjord almost looked like he belonged.

“This nice lady’s asking for chamomile and apple tea,” he called over the chatter from the customers beyond, “Whereabouts would that be?”

Cad gave an apologetic smile. Another thing that was apparently unlabelled were the nearly hundreds of tea tins that sat in haphazard rows, making the place look like an apothecary. Something else he needed to do. And maybe he’d actually have the time to now.

“Third shelf down, fourth tin from the left,” Cad closed his eyes to picture it, just to make sure he got it right. Some of the things in those tins were more...experimental blends. He couldn’t imagine them going down very well.

“Gotcha,” Fjord flashed him that grin again, “Thanks Captain.”

“I told you, you don’t have to call me that,” Cad called after him, laughing.

You really, really need to stop.

But the strange thing was, the voice was getting quieter every time. Part of Cad was wondering why he had to stop at all. Wasn’t this part of the reason he’d left the grove- the actual grove? He’d wanted freedom, to see how it felt to be Caduceus rather than just a Clay. He’d wanted some control over his own life and choices.

Maybe there were some choices he hadn’t even known he’d get. Possibilities he hadn’t considered.

Now Cad was smiling as he rolled out his squares of focaccia, ready to sprinkle with cracked pepper and salt and herbs. He’d make an extra for Fjord to take home, maybe he’d like that. Suddenly he wanted to know everything about him, his tastes and likes and dislikes, what he did in his spare time, what he looked like just out of bed.

He was definitely acting like a smitten teenager in the spring. But he didn’t think that was such a bad thing now.

The rest of the day went alright. There were bumps in the road, of course. A tray of croissants got burned when Fjord lost track of himself bussing tables but he was incredibly apologetic and offered to remake them. Not that he had the first clue how to shape them. But maybe Cad could show him?

But it had been an incredibly busy day of rare sunshine and clear skies and Cad didn’t feel like he was running on empty at the end of it. That was certainly a success of some sort.

Members of the Nein had been coming in ones and twos all day to yell in delight at the sight of Fjord, home again. It was nice to see, a missing piece coming back to where it was supposed to be, fitting in like it had never been away. It sat a little melancholic in Cad’s chest, for a reason he was very aware of but didn’t want to think about so he’d pretend he didn’t know. But then he’d get swept up in it, Jester or Molly or Veth bringing him over to share in the happiness and he would feel so much better.

Those had been bright spots in the constant tide of conversation that flowed through the Grove. And now Caduceus was wiping down the surfaces in the kitchen, Fjord out front handling the last of the customers, mostly people swinging by to pick up something for their dinners. The light was heady and orange again, all the light and none of the warmth as the end of the day brought cooler breezes than before, chasing away the lingering heat.

And Cad’s ears picked up again as the conversation changed, as Fjord’s voice changed from the customer service voice he’d easily slipped on that morning. And Cad followed eagerly, only realising when he got to the doorway of the kitchen that there were no members of the Nein left to come see Fjord.

Instead there was an elven woman behind the counter, immediately stunning in appearance with her fountain of red curls, impressive even with them tied in a knot at the nape of her neck. Standing there she seemed so sure, effortless, her posture somehow arrogant and challenging. She was dressed in sea colours, a long scarf wound once round her neck and loosely draped over her shoulders like a snake and her hat would have been ridiculous on anyone else who didn’t wear it with such simple confidence.

Cad’s ears picked up at their continued conversation, Fjord speaking. From behind, he seemed tense, like something had set him on guard.

‘You don’t have to be a jerk, Avantika,” Fjord was saying, “I actually had a really good day. I think I like working here.”

“Well,” the elf’s voice was liquid gold, her accent very different from Fjord’s, “It’ll do. We’ll get you back on the waves soon, dear. No need to convince yourself.”

“I’m not…” Fjord’s voice hardened but then he seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, letting go, “I’m going to close up then I’ll be back at your place. Thanks again for...for letting me stay.”

“Pleasure’s all mine, dear,” the woman seemed to always have other words lurking behind the one’s she spoke, “Don’t be too late. I’m not in the mood to wait up.”

“Right,” his reply was short and clipped, still in the tone of not wanting a fight.

And then he leaned forward, over the counter, and kissed her. Not a long kiss and Fjord’s shoulders stayed tense but there it was. And Cad fled back into the kitchen.

“Remember, don’t be late,” he heard her reply and the click of boots on the wooden bloor, the bell ringing out her departure.

Fjord came in a little while later, apparently not noticing that Cad had been wiping down the same four workbenches for nearly fifty minutes.

“Okay, that’s eight,” he said brightly, like the exchange had never happened, “Gonna teach me how to clear up?”

Cad looked up, his smile thin and tired, “You know, I think I’ve filled your head with enough today. We can cover that tomorrow, why don’t you head out early. I can take care of things here.”

Fjord paused, looking a little dismayed, “I mean...if you’re sure? I really don’t mind.”

Cad cut across his gentle protest before he could talk himself into staying, “It’s only your first day. I’m not looking to scare you off already. Go on, get a good night’s sleep and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Fjord blinked, nodding slowly, “Right. Okay...um, thanks, Cad.”

Cad gave a nod and a non committal wave, turning back to his work.

“I really mean it,” Fjord unwound the ties of his apron, tied in the front just the way Cad had shown him, “I had a great day today and I learned a lot. Thank you.”

Cad made himself look up, really look at Fjord, standing in his kitchen doorway, flour on his sleeves and hair pushed back awkwardly with a bandanna. And he smiled, softer this time.

“You’re welcome, Fjord. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Looking happier, Fjord grabbed the bag he’d come in with and gave him a wave, heading out. And Cad still watched, still smiled. And he felt like an idiot.

I told you so.

[moonblooch]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning : No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Critical Role (Web Series)

Characters: Fjord (Critical Role), Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast, Nott (Critical Role), Mollymauk Tealeaf, Yasha (Critical Role), Beauregard (Critical Role)

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, based loosely around the time of the sequel trilogy, dubious usage of star wars canon slang, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

Language: English

Fjord, Jester and Beau crash land on the planet of Trostenwald and get a whole crew for the price of one mechanic. 

“So Fjord, what exactly are we looking for?” Jester asked.

They were stood in the doorway of a small cantina on Trostenwald, surveying the scattered patrons. The place was fairly empty, though the breakfast rush would likely end that soon; if they could get in and out before that happened.

“Well Jester, I was thinking we need someone to repair our ship.”

She nodded, eyes cast down. “I’m really, really sorry about the ship Fjord.”             

The image of the ground rushing up to meet them flashed through Fjord’s mind.

“It’s fine Jess, I’ve seen worse landings than that. Besides, I’m sure Beau’ll have everything upright by the time we’re back.”

They walked to the counter, where a harried looking human was wiping down every surface with all of the enthusiasm of someone about to finish her shift. She paused, looking up as they approached.

“How can I help you dears? What can I get you?”

“Just some rations for now I’m afraid.” Fjord replied, swinging himself onto a stool. “And some information about the area if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Of course, I’ll sort your food first; you look like you’ve had a hell of a jump to get here.”

Once more Fjord recalled his scream as they shot through the atmosphere.

“You could certainly say that. Speaking of,” he leaded forward, “you wouldn’t happen to know any decent mechanics would you?”

“Rough landing huh? We get plenty of those round here.” She said sliding a ration cube to each of them. “That’ll be five credits love.”

Fjord handed held out a credit chip and she scanned it with a handheld which was probably older than she was.

“As for your mechanic, well, you didn’t hear it from me,” she whispered, leaning in, “but that man in the corner might be your best shot. He’s an offworlder, not guild affiliated or anything; that’s why I’m not telling you this, but I’ve heard that he’s good and doesn’t ask questions. People have been singing his praises since he got here.”

Fjord followed her minute gesture to the corner-booth, where a scruffy looking man was hunched over a mug of caf. He had a lolth-cat sat on the bench next to him which seemed to be doing its best to stick its head into his mug, but had yet so succeed. He appeared to be conversing with someone, out of view from their angle.

“Are you sure?” Jester asked, a little louder than would have been ideal. “He looks like a slythmonger or something.”

“Sure as those tails on your head miss; he fixed the caf-dispenser just this morning. It used to make this awful screeching noise. I don’t know what you’ve got that needs fixing but I’m pretty sure I heard him talking to an Azumel about an old Hunter last night and he seemed to know his stuff.”

Fjord found himself nodding.

“Do you know what his rate is?”

She gave a light shrug.

“He just asked for two decent breakfasts when he fixed the caf machine for me, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“Maybe we could take some food, you know, to get him to talk to us?” Jester suggested. Turning back to the human she asked, “Hey, do you have any feen?”

“I’m afraid not miss, but I’ve got a sack of mallow powder out back that I’ve been trying to shift for ages if you’re after something sweet. It’s yours for ten credits.”

“Done!” Jester replied, brandishing her credit chip. Her freshly forged credit chip, if Fjord recognised it. He held his breath as the scanner ran over it, but seemed to detect nothing amiss.

“Alright then miss, I’ll just go get that for you. If anyone comes in could you let them know I won’t be long?”

At Jester’s nod she slipped through a door behind the bar. Fjord placed a light hand on Jester’s shoulder.

“I’m going to go talk to this guy, alright? Come over when you’ve got the mallow powder.”

Jester nodded again, sending him off with a wave. As Fjord approached, the man at the table seemed to tense up, curling in on himself with each step that Fjord took towards him.

“Excuse me,” Fjord began when he finally drew level with the booth, “d’you mind if I join you for a bit?”

“There are other tables.” Came a voice from the hunched figure sitting across from the man and his lolth-cat. They were small, smaller than most children even, although their voice fairly clearly demonstrated that this was not the case, and had a hood pulled over their face.

“Einfach da, Nott.” The man said, before turning to Fjord. “What is it you were wanting to talk about?”

“Ah, I apologise if I’m interrupting anything. I’m looking for a mechanic and I heard you might be able to help with that.”

“Maybe so, what is it that you need fixing?”

“Well, uh, my crew and I just landed and on our way back to realspace we encountered a few technical issues. I was hoping you’d maybe be able to take a look at them.”

“I would certainly be able to look at it, aber I imagine you would want for me to fix it if there is something wrong.” The man stroked his chin. “I would not be unwilling to do this, but you will understand if I am widerwillig to do this for a person who has not yet introduced themselves.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Fjord held a hand out, “my name’s –”

“Fjord!” Jester called, staggering over to the booth almost entirely hidden behind the colossal sack of mallow powder she was holding. “Look at how much I got us! Do you think we can fit this in the kitchen?”

She set the sack down on the table with an audible thump.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, peering around the sack, “I really like your cat! Can I pet him? What’s he called? Oh, and what’s your name?”

A smile settled across the man’s features.

“You shouldn’t have asked him that.” The hunched figure on the other side of the table groused. “He barely talks about anything except that cat as it is.”

“Hush, you.” The man replied, scratching the lolth-cat behind its ears and turning to face Jester. “His name is Frumpkin, and you can pet him as long as he allows it. My name is Caleb Widogast.”

He offered a hand to Jester, and that was when Fjord noticed that his arms were wrapped almost entirely in medical tape. A few of the pieces were trailing, having come unstuck, and it seemed to be stained in several places, though it was impossible to tell if these were from injuries or the sort of fluids which occurred in machinery.

“I’m Jester.” Jester replied, taking his hand with both of hers. “This is Fjord. Can you please help us with our ship?”

He seemed to consider for a moment.

“I will ansehen it but if you would like for me to fix it then I shall need something in return.”

“What was that word?” Jester asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before, ans-han?”

“Oh.”

Caleb reached into one of the many pockets on his jacket, this one close to the lapel, and pulled out a tiny four-sided pyramid. Each side sported several flickering lights, and a seam along one edge was cracked open just widely enough to reveal the circuits inside. Caleb blew into this, then examined it for a moment. Seeming satisfied he returned it to its correct pocket.

“Malfunctioning translator, sorry.” He said, attention once more on Jester. “It is an old one,  I had to do a lot of the fine-tuning myself, so it can sort of, er, glitch I think is the best word, if I speak too fast or put stress on a word. I do speak Basic, but the dialect I learned to speak is unfortunately rather specific, a translator saves a lot of explaining you know?”

“Oh, I understand.” Jester replied, tapping her headband. “The translator in here makes my voice a little strange too sometimes. And there are some words it just doesn’t get, you know?”

“Absolutely, idioms are a gottsverdamnt nightmare with this thing. As is cursing. What I was trying to say was that I would take a look at your ship and that we could take it from there, yes?”

“Well sure.” Fjord replied. “What’s your price?”

“That would depend on what needs fixing, but my friend and I,” Caleb gestured between himself and Nott, “need safe transport off this planet. It must be discreet. Can you provide that?”

“We can certainly try, where are you reckoning on going?”

“Anywhere in the outer rim.” Nott answered. “Further out than here at least, if not all the way out.”

“We can talk about the specifics when we are in a more private setting.” Caleb added. “But first, I would like to see this ship of yours.”

He drained the last of his caf and stood, still remarkably hunched over (though this was presumably not helped by the fact that the lolth-cat draped itself across his shoulders). Nott scrambled her way onto the table in order to help him strap some sort of pack to his back, allowing Fjord to get a closer look at her.

As widely travelled as he liked to assume that he was, Fjord had to admit that he had never seen anyone who looked quite like she did. Her hooded robe seemed to be covering her almost entirely, but what slivers of skin were visible were green (lighter than his own, but still very much green). Each hand appeared to have four fingers, unless she was wearing unusual gloves, and the lower half of her face was covered by a mask. If Fjord was pushed to guess, he would have said that it was a breath mask, but it was not visibly attached to any kind of tank. Over the top of this mask peered two amber eyes, constantly darting about the room as if she was expecting something to jump out at any second.

Once Nott had secured the final clasp, Caleb gathered up a second bag and slid out of the booth, offering Nott a hand to guide her down from the table.

“Well,” he said, looking to Fjord, “lead on.”

Jester kept up a constant stream of chatter on their way back to the ship, holding the sack of mallow powder in one arm and excitedly gesturing with the other. She stopped when Nott held up a hand.

“We’re being followed.” She hissed, turning slowly to face the direction they had just come from. Fjord followed her gaze, seeing two figures behind them and moving closer with purpose. He felt his hand twitch, almost involuntarily, but managed to keep it still. There was no need for that sort of scene yet.

Of the two figures approaching them, only one could have passed for human. Perhaps they were human, but something about their proportions, the slightly lumbering way that they were moving, suggested otherwise. The other was most likely chiss, though a lot closer to purple than average. They had been talking to their taller companion, but stopped abruptly when they noticed that Fjord was looking at them.

“Well hello there.” They called, slight accent betraying the use of a translator, as they strolled towards their group. “Not to be rude, but I believe that we overheard that you might be heading off planet soon. Got room for two more?”

Fjord fought the urge to close his hand again.

“We can pay.” The larger of the two said, not caring to elaborate.

“And we’re handy with most any weapon you can think up, if you need that sort of thing.” The chiss said, a smirk catching the corners of their mouth. “The name’s Mollymauk by the way, probably should have led with that. Mollymauk Tealeaf, Molly to my friends, and the delightful lady beside me is Yasha.”

Yasha gave them a nod.

“I’m Jester, this is Fjord,” Jester answered before Fjord had a chance to come up with a halfway decent alias, “and this is Caleb and Nott.”

“Why do you need off-world so badly?” Nott asked. “We can’t take someone who’s got troopers after them.”

“I think I’ll decide who I allow on my ship Nott.” Fjord interjected. “But is there anything we oughta know about before we consider your request?”

“We came here with the circus a few days ago, and we need off-world because one of the other performers seemed to think that the locals wouldn’t notice if he ate someone.” Yasha said, in a voice flatter than the statement truly deserved.

“You were travelling with cannibals?” Caleb asked, slowly starting to walk again. Fjord followed suit, noticing Jester and Nott do the same out of the corner of his eye.

Mollymauk shrugged as Yasha and they followed.

“A cannibal, and, in Kylre’s defence, I don’t think it technically counts as cannibalism. It’s not as if the victim was the same species.”

“If you guys were with the circus, does that mean you can do anything cool?” Jester asked, presumably not overly bothered by what was definitely cannibalism, species be doshed.

“Yasha can scream like a fleft-wauf, the resemblance is uncanny. You ever want to see an entire bar of people shit themselves in the space of three seconds? She’s the one for the job.”

Yasha rolled her eyes, which Fjord could now see were a peculiar shade of pink.

“He can tell fortunes.” She said. “I think that’s more impressive.”

“Ooh, how does that work?” Jester asked.

“I attune myself to the Force and reach into the future of the person I’m reading for.” Molly answered.

“That is not how the Force works.” Caleb muttered.

“Oh but it is.” Molly grinned, argument clearly already prepared. “I would know; my ancestors were a secret sect of the Jedi order, I’ve even got the sabres to prove it.”

He swept his coat back to reveal two cylindrical objects, which might have been lightsabres but which Fjord could not see well enough to tell before Nott shot forward to tug the coat closed again.

“Put those away! Are you trying to get us killed?” she hissed, looking about them frantically. “Honestly, you kids these days think just because that di’kut Vessar took out Darth Thordak with one of those things it’s like order sixty six never happened.”

“Folks, could we maybe talk about the particulars when we get back to the ship.” Fjord whispered. “Ain’t exactly a safe conversation topic when we’re out in the open like this; not on a planet this close to the Interior.”

Molly raised his hands in surrender.

“Of course, my apologies.”

They made their way back to the ship without much further trouble, and if Fjord was paying more attention to every Stormtrooper they passed then none of the others remarked on it. What they did remark on, once it came into view, was The Mistake.

The Mistake was a Far*Reach IV PQR, which had been modded to high hell at some point in its younger days. Maker only knew what half the mods had been for; it wasn’t as if any of them worked any more, and nor did most of the guns, hence the name.

“That’s your ship?” Mollymauk asked, eyebrows fast approaching his hairline. “I’ve never seen anything so obviously stolen in my life.”

“We didn’t steal it.” Jester protested.

“Then clearly whoever sold you that thing stole from you.” Caleb shot back. “That thing flies?”

Jester waggled her hand and made an “ehhh” noise.

“Like I said, we encountered a few, uh, technical difficulties on the way down.” Fjord said. “It certainly used to fly.”

“Sweet doshing Maker grant me strength.” Caleb muttered. “You are lucky that I am very familiar with the work of the Loronar Corporation, most mechanics would run screaming from that thing.”

“I still might.” Nott groused.

“I think that this is more of a job for Frumpkin mein freund.”

Before Fjord had had the chance to consider what engineering qualifications a lolth-cat might have, the closest door of The Mistake was flung open, revealing Beau and an alarmingly thick haze of smoke. Her usually black robe was soaked with a splatter of some kind of fluid which seemed to be slowly bleaching the fabric. Her face seemed to have been spared from it, although she did sport the indented outline of goggles around her eyes.

“Might want to leave that for a few ticks.” She called out to them between coughs. “I think something in the engine room just blew up.”

“Good thing we bought a mechanic back with us then.” Fjord replied, wrinkling his nose as the smoke reached them. At this, Beau appeared to notice the group amassed behind him.

“What, all four of them?”

“Just the one with the lolth-cat. One's a package deal with the mechanic and the others want a ride out of here and say that they’ll pay.”

Beau squinted at Caleb as she walked up to them, tilting her head slightly to the side. She leaned into his space, sniffing, even though Fjord knew that humans couldn’t actually use smell to determine anything (and even if they were able to she wouldn’t have been able to smell anything over the smell of the fuel on her clothes). Caleb shrank back, looking down at her with what might have been alarm.

“You sure?” she asked.

“The waitress at the cantina said that he fixed her caf machine.” Jester chirped. “Also she sold us this huge bag of mallow powder.”

“Caf machine is very different from an engine.” Beau’s eyes narrowed even further.

Frumpkin bristled and Caleb’s face suddenly arranged itself into something sterner and he leaned forward once more, inches away from Beau’s face.

“You are not wrong, but the fact that I am able to fix engines qualifies me to fix something much simpler. Whether or not I can fix your engine specifically is something that we will not know until I can look at it, but I would advise that if you want to smell of anything apart from tar-fuel for the rest of your life that you stop leering at me and let me get to work.”

Beau looked down at her clothes.

“Ah, dosh! Hey Jessie, did you see any sort of cleaning station around here?”

“I think there might have been some showers at the cantina, do you want me show you?” Jester replied, handing the mallow powder to Mollymauk, who staggered under the weight for a moment before passing the sack to Yasha.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Can someone bring me some spare clothes?”

“I’ll send one of the others along in a little while, you go get cleaned up.” Fjord assured her.

“Wizard, thanks.” Turning to Caleb she asked, “What was your name again?”

“Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Right, Caleb-Caleb, good to know. You’re gonna need these.” She pulled her goggles off her head and handed them to him. “The light in the engine room has been busted almost as long as we’ve had the thing. Break them and I kill you.”

“Understood.” Caleb replied. “Have you not been able to replace the light? It is a simple fix.”

“Fjord is the only one tall enough, and he won’t go in the engine room because he thinks it’s haunted.” Jester answered him as they turned to leave.

Fjord could see the corners of Nott’s eyes crinkle in what was presumably mirth and did his best to quell the fear that was beginning to establish itself in the pit of his stomach.

“I’d have been less inclined to come to that conclusion if somebody hadn’t hidden in the dark and jumped out at me screaming, Beau.” He called after their retreating backs. Beau flipped him off over her shoulder and he couldn’t help sighing.

“Right, Yasha, Molly. You want to earn passage out of here? You can start by cleaning up the trail of fuel Beau will have left through the ship.” He turned to Caleb and Nott. “I’ll show you where the engine room is, and if you can fix whatever’s in there then you can take the engineer’s quarters for the time you’re with us. Might have to clear it out a bit but we’ll worry about that when we’ve fixed it.”

Caleb gestured to the ship with his spare hand.

“Lead the way.”

Notes: This was based very loosely on this post but veered wildly off in a different direction to the point where I wasn't sure that gifting it would make sense. But if either of the contributors to said post are reading this, please feel free to consider it as such.

I do not own any of the characters or concepts which appear within this fic, I'm sure that I don't need to tell any of you this but please support the actual properties that inspired it (Critical Role and Star Wars).The title is from Weird Al Yankovic's "The Saga Begins", which I also don't own, and I'm sure that you'll already be familiar with, but if not go check that out as well.

[a-confused-turtle]

Even Though You Drive Me Crazy

Fandom: Star Wars

Summary:  Poe and Y/N have known each other for their entire lives. BB-8 gets Poe thinking, and in combination with a rough mission they finally admit what they’ve always known.

Pairing Characters: PoeDameronxSolo!Reader, BB-8, General Organa, mentions of Kylo/Ben

Words: 2100+

Warning: None? Usual space peril?

Author’s Note: I wrote this after re-watching The Force Awakens. Had to quote Leia’s line. I hope this will be received well... I’m still not sure how I feel about The Last Jedi, so many thoughts.

“Dameron!” You yelled with fury as you stormed into the base’s hangar. “You pig headed, scruffy-looking… nerf herder! Where the hell are you?!”

“Woah, sweetheart,” he replied carefully, testing the waters almost.

“Don’t.” You cut in. “And stop eating my lunch. I know it’s you.” Your voice came out so icily, all the other pilots and technicians tip toed around the two of you as if they might step wrong and become the next recipient of your wrath.

He opened his mouth to deny it, but your glare stopped him short. The man should’ve known not to mess with your food, after all he’d known you his entire life. “Whenever I find the time to go visit my favorite princess, she isn’t there. I wait at your station for half an hour with your lunch just staring at me…” The charm in his words would’ve been sickening if you hadn’t a soft spot for him. The Poe Dameron. Your best friend ever since you could remember, and somewhere along the way, the love of your life, though you’d never tell him such a thing…

“Calling me princess is only going to make this worse for you,” you glowered, turning to leave.

He caught your arm with a slight chuckle before you could get far. “Y/N/N, I’m sorry okay. We barely see each other any more and I knew you’d make time for me if you were mad.”

You sighed, conceding, as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Or, you know, you could’ve just said, ‘Hey, Y/N, old buddy, old pal, I miss you. Let’s get lunch.’ and you know what I would’ve said?”

“‘Oh, Poe, I’d love to get lunch with you just so I can stare into your dreamy eyes-’”

A punch from you interrupted however he would’ve ended that ridiculous, yet slightly truthful, sentence.

“Okay, okay,” he chuckled, squeezing your shoulder a little tighter in his own affectionate way, “Y/N/N, beautiful, I miss you. I’ll buy you lunch.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes. “And dinner. You owe me at least two meals…” In truth the beautiful part made your heart skip a beat, not that he actually meant it in the way you wanted.

“Of course, princess,” he affirmed, grinning as he led you back out of the hangar.

Punch.

“Ow! Okay! You see I missed this!” He laughed, holding his gut with his free arm. “You’re so adorable when you’re angry!”

~

“They made up already?”

Leia observed Poe with his arm around you and you smiling while striding passed the bridge.

“I’d never forgive anyone for eating my food…”

“My daughter has a soft spot for that man, even though he drives her crazy,” she answered her assistant.

“Do you mean to say she has romantic feelings for him?” C-3PO inquired.

“They both have those feelings for each other,” she chuckled, completely unaware of the orange and white BB unit near her feet.

The little guy quickly scurried off, rolling under tables and around people to investigate this new idea, that had never occurred to him…

~

BB-8 practically ran over Poe’s feet once he finally said goodbye to you at your office door. Anyone would’ve called it excitement, especially since the droid had just witnessed his master peck you, Y/N Solo, on the cheek. Poe’d always done that when he hugged you, one of the many little things you loved about him…

“Woah, buddy, what’s got you so excited?” Poe laughed, grinning even more than he already was.

A flurry of beeps and clicks emitted from the droid as he rolled in a small circle around his master’s feet.

“Where did you hear that?” Poe hushed the droid, hurrying him away from your door. “BB, stop, General Organa would not say that. Stop.”

The little guy kept beeping excitedly, almost tripping his master with his animated movements.

“BB, shhhh. Of course I care about her! Yes, she’s important to me.” He only hoped no one walking by caught the conversation. “We’re not talking about this anymore.” The droid got him thinking though, what if you actually did…

~

The chilly night air bit at your cheeks and you crossed your arms over your chest in a preemptive strike against the cold. As you walked, your boots quietly clicked on the hangar’s duracrete floor.

You didn’t know if you’d find him in the spot, the one where you both went when you couldn’t sleep, but you hoped…

As you’d done a million times, you climbed the steps to the roof, flipping the small door open. The path led to a small, concealed lookout spot.

“You can’t sleep either?” You whispered and smiled softly, beyond thankful you had that little bit of time to spend with him.

He smiled back thoughtfully with a nod as his eyes caught yours. Those deep brown beauties had a peculiar glow in them, something you couldn’t quite decipher. “Poe?”

“Nothing. Yeah, I can’t either,” he sighed and motioned for you to sit with him.

You gladly accepted the invitation, plopping down next to him and pulling his arm around your shoulder as you leaned against him. That had to be your favorite place in the world. You felt so protected with him and beyond content, as you indulged in his presence, of course that was always until he got you all riled up. “Well you’re not alone.”

For a while the two of you watched the stars in comfortable silence, though you’d never lose yourself gazing at the sky, not like you did when you took in Poe’s enchanting eyes. “You know, we haven’t been to Naboo in such a long time. It’s been ages. We should really go sometime,” you suggested aloud, “Poe are you listening?”

His head snapped toward you at the sound of his name. “What?”

You chuckled. “Distracted are you? What’s on your mind? Besides the next mission of course.”

He shrugged, trying to worm his way out of your question.

“Come on. I know you better than that,” you insisted and sat up to look him square in the eyes, “Remember that time when I saved your ass on Yavin 4? I knew you weren’t watching-”

“And I saved your ass that same day, remember?” Poe countered.

You rolled your eyes. “That’s beside the point. I’m just saying I know you better than I know myself, and I can tell when something’s up.”

Poe found himself watching you again, not paying attention to a thing you were saying. “By that logic shouldn’t you be able to tell what’s up?” He attempted, still deferring the conversation to anything else. He knew he couldn’t lie to you…

“I can’t read minds, Dameron.”

“Can’t you, princess? It seems you can always tell when I’m hungry, you leave your office when I am…” He joked. A smirk crept across his full lips as you laughed in response, eyes lighting up. Just the sound of your laugh, the smile on your face, had Poe grinning wider.

“Coincidence. I have meetings during the day.”

He shook his head, still keeping his eyes on yours. “I don’t accept that. You know me better than I know myself. And everything you do has a purpose.”

“Doesn’t everything you do have a purpose too? Mr. Absolute Commitment to the Resistance?” You questioned and leaned back against him where you toyed with the sleeve of his jacket. Poe didn’t answer, but you hadn’t really meant him too. That was how your conversations went, talking about everything and nothing.

“Do you think we’ll be doing this thirty years from now?” The query just sort of slipped out, something that hadn’t occurred to Poe before. Yet, suddenly the pilot couldn’t get the future out of his head.

You scrunched your eyebrows together in thought, considering and mulling over the concept. “Hopefully not. If we have any luck, The First Order will be gone… But either way, I know you’ll still be stealing my lunch. You even used to do that when we were kids.”

He smiled at your words, unable to express his own thoughts on the matter.

“What would we even do? I mean… The Resistance is our lives.”

“It doesn’t define us though.”

“I suppose that’s true. I don’t know. It’s just such a foreign concept. Happiness, peace, aren’t things we have much of these days,” you countered thoughtfully.

Poe agreed wholeheartedly, but he liked to think eventually you’d all find peaceful existences, happy ones. He knew he’d be happy if you were with him… “We should go to Naboo sometime,” he finally replied, turning his head to lean against yours.

~

You couldn’t shake the nervousness as you walked to the hangar. Normally your mother didn’t allow you on away missions, but for this small intel one she’d finally conceded. It would be quick, in and out. Somehow it still had you nervous as could be.

“Y/N/N,” a familiar voice shouted. He strode up wearing his familiar stealth clothing, hair slightly amiss, but perfectly so, like always.

“Poe!” You grinned, rushing the rest of the way to him.

He gladly scooped you up into a tight hug. “Be safe, okay?” His voice turned serious, but he quickly pecked your cheek and released you once you confirmed.

“You too,” you demanded before the rest of your crew whisked you along to the ship. You looked back as you boarded, Poe still standing where you’d left him. He raised a hand to wave, but your eyes couldn’t make out the expression on his face. You waved back after a moment, worry suddenly overcoming you. Your hand fell over your heart thoughtfully, made he’d glean your meaning from the little gesture. He had to know you loved him, in one way or another.

The doors shut violently once everyone had strapped in. Something felt so final and ominous about it, slowly creeping up your spine and worming its way into your thoughts.

~

By the time you’d made it back to the ship, a little worse for wear, your team had arrived as well, or was heading back. Except for a blaster shot that’d grazed your arm, everything had gone beautifully. You’d gotten the information you’d come for.

Arriving back at the base, your mother corralled you into a tight hug as you disembarked. “Your arm,” she chastised sternly.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you assured her. “How’d everything else go.”

At that question, she fell abruptly silent, still clutching your shoulders protectively.

That silence never meant anything good. “Mom,” you demanded and pulled back to meet her eyes.

“Poe’s been captured,” she whispered, “I think it’s Ben.”

Your jaw went slack and the world spun in a way you never thought it could. In one second, the universe had flipped, morphed into some villainous plot. “No, no…” you mumbled, barely registering anything happening around you. It just couldn’t be real. Accepting the state of your brother had already been difficult enough…

Another pilot escorted you to your room, per your mother’s instructions, not that you particularly noticed. Everything felt so blank, so numb. You had this overwhelming absence of anything really… Just a big, fat nothing, because what was your life without Poe anyway?

~

Your brother couldn’t kill Poe. You’d repeated that over and over again in your head, still not quite wrapping your head around the Ben and Kylo Ren disconnect, or Poe’s capture. But, somehow someone else repeated your thoughts aloud, more or less: “Poe’s alive!”

Once you’d heard the news you dashed to the infirmary faster than light speed. You had to see him and your heart lept out of your chest in gratitude that you could.

Inside the little, white room everything you’d wanted to say suddenly flew right out of your head. Poof. Time seemed to stop when he met your eyes, while you worked to catch your breath from all the running. Then, he rushed the rest of the way to you, taking your cheeks in his hands and enveloping your lips with his.

After a moment you kissed back, melting into him easily.

Your knees buckled and you both sunk to the floor, as close together as possible, his lips never leaving yours. They claimed you and conveyed everything you’d always hoped he’d wanted.

“God dammit, Poe,” you sighed when his lips retreated slowly, lingering before his warmth there dissipated, though his hands held firm on your cheek and at your waist.

He chuckled and brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I love you too, Y/N,” he joked, except a certain seriousness overtook his expression after he’d uttered those five words. He swallowed, deep, brown eyes trained on your Y/E/C ones. “All I could think about was you… I’d always known I loved you, that I love you, but I finally realized I had to tell you… You’re everything to me.”

Your mouth opened to say something and you closed it again, completely speechless. What response could you give to such a moment… “It’s always been you… Even though you drive me crazy, I’m yours, Poe. I love you.”

Tags:  @enniaram

[writersblock2point0]

Walking Dead:  (Named)Reader x Daryl

Warning: mentions of rape. family also dies. 

Daryl sees a walker looking reader in the woods, but doesn’t shoot her. Instead, he brings her back to the farm, where she wakes up and freaks out. 

Huffing, I rested against a tree, the bark digging into my arm as I tried to stay of my feet. The sun was peeking through the trees, but the shade of the leaves didn’t keep the heat away. My body ached, and my legs were sore, and I didn’t know if I was breathing or not. I looked around as I heard a snap, feeling my heart pick up again, I pushed from the tree and drug myself forward. The bushes and low branches were cutting at me, but the pain was not as bad as my feet. I didn’t have shoes, and my dress was torn and discolored by mud and blood.

“Stop!” I froze, swaying as I looked ahead, seeing nothing but green. “Turn around.” The voice was gruff and I realized it was coming from behind me.

I turned around, seeing a man with a large black crossbow up and pointed at me. He looked dirty, as if he’d been out here for days. I gasped as I stumbled backwards, my feet stinging and I cry out as I fell back on my butt, feeling the wet dirt under me. He walks forward, still with his bow and I hold up my hands.

“P-please!” I rasp, throat dry from no use and no water. I shield my face an lower my body to the ground, cowering like a scared dog. “Please, I-I…” His figure blurs, mushing with the swaying trees and blue sky above before everything is dark.

My eyes flutter, and the first thing I see is an open field, grass green and on the hill is a house? A farm. A warm, sweating body is holding me close, and I’m dancing. The world sways, and it takes me a moment to realize I was being carried. I shift, but the hands hold me tighter. My body hurts, and it turns more to move and fight than his grip. My feet are throbbing and my legs are numb, I can’t feel them. It’s like I don’t have legs but I can feel my feet.

“No!” I can’t feel the words, but my mouth is moving. “Pl...please.”

“Daryl?!” I can hear voices from far away, and I crack my eyes open to see people rushing us. My eyes are so heavy I can’t hold them open, it takes me a minute before I can hear clearly. It’s quiet; but I can hear sharp scraping. It’s harsh but I can tell it’s close. I open my eyes, the sun bright and in my face. I flinch back, the bed moving as I slowly sit up. My muscle pull and I wince as my joints pop. The sheets are soft, like the ones at home. Home, Ruth and Papa? I look around, seeing it wasn’t my room.

“Yer wake.” I jump as I turn to my right, seeing a man in a chair with a large hunting knife.

I move away from him, pushing myself from the bed as fresh tears fall from my eyes.

“No! Please!” My voice is rough and I can’t help but choke on air as my throat scratches and rips at itself. “I will do anything please just don’t hurt me! I promise! I don’t want to do that please! I’m sorry I ran! Please! Don’t!” I back away from him as he stands. The knife is up, along with the slab of cement in his other hand. I stare at the knife, wondering if he can throw it like the others.

He slowly puts it on the bed, before backing away. I watch him before taking it, holding it so tight my hands hurt, and it’s heavy in my hands, but I can’t think about that. He could hurt me, take it and hurt me.

“Daryl!” I jump as the door burst open and in comes more men. No! They’re going to hurt me! Like they did them! I press myself into the wall, finding myself in the corner. I hold the knife tighter, closer to me as I realize I’m cornered. The man that came in first was slim with scruffy facial hair. He wore a policeman uniform and I for a moment, wondered if it actually belonged to him. I bet it didn’t! No! Good people don’t live in this world anymore!

The man following him had a shaved head and darker skin, also dirty clothing. Guns, guns and knifes. These men were dangerous.

I looked at Daryl, seeing his eyes were on me and I glared at them. Daryl was the one from before. I knew that now. He had his crossbow on the floor by the chair, but he wasn’t moving for it. They looked at me and the room was silent. They were waiting for me to run. So they can catch me and-

I flinched as the one with the uniform holds up his hand, a ring on his finger. His face softens, and he steps away from me, closer to Daryl and motions for the other man to step back as well.

“Hey, it’s okay.” His voice is low and his tone is gentle, as if talking to a child. “We aren’t going to hurt you, my name’s Rick Grimes, and I’m a policeman. I help people.”

I shake my head, “No.”

“I know you’ve been through something awful, and I can assure you, everything is okay now. You’re perfectly safe with us.” I shake my head, no! Lies! “Daryl, yeah.” He looks to the man from before turning back to me, “he found you in the woods, barely able to stay awake. This is my partner, Shane, he’s a cop too.” I glare at them, shaking my head.

“I ain’t stupid!”

Rick takes a step forward and I hold the knife out, but facing me, watching the three of them tense as their eyes fall to the large hunting knife, just waiting to be embedded in my chest.

I laugh, “What? Don’t like like it when they stay still? When they don’t scream and fight back?!” My voice raises and Rick steps back, his face suddenly different, as if he was just slapped really hard.

“We aren’t like that, I promise you.” I shake my head.

“No,” I sniff, my throat scratching with every word. My hands shake as I try to hold onto the heavy knife, it was so heavy. Why? Why was it so heavy? Was this weight really necessary for a knife? “You lie! They lied! No one’s safe! You’ll take me back!”

“Rick?” I looked to see a woman step through the door, looking concerned with long brown hair and a worried set of eyes. She looks at me and gasps, turning to Rick who holds out his hand.

“This, this is Lori.” Rick speaks quickly, eyes flickering over the both of us. “She’s my wife, and she’s bringing you fresh clothes. See?” Lori clears her throat, walking into the room and in her arms are folded clothes. I furrow my brow, moving away from the door before wincing as my feet scrape the floor. My cuts have opened again, and I can’t run like this. But I will, I have to.

“Sweetheart,” Lori’s voice is kind and light, with a womanly touch to it. Her eyes never leave mine, and she’s holding the clothes out, towards me, and I step away, my back hitting the wall. Nowhere to run. “Can I set these down?” She asks and I don’t answer her, but she takes it as a yes and slowly places them down on the bed. “Can we talk?” She turns to look over her shoulder, “Alone?”

The three nod and quickly leave, and I notice that Daryl has left his crossbow, and I quickly limp the door and shut it with a quick lock. Turning back, I see Lori hasn’t moved. I look her over before fixing my grip on the knife. Protection. Need it. Keep it close.

“Rick is a good man, so is Shane, and Daryl.” She states, nodding at me and I can’t help but see the firmness, the absolute trust she has with these men.

I narrow my eyes at her, “For now. Every man breaks and changes into monsters eventually.” Her eyes widen at my words, “It didn’t take long for most.”

I limp to the window, peering out to see I was in fact on a large farm. It looked familiar, so did the land. And that barn...why did it seem so familiar? I hear the floor creak and spin to see Lori had moved to sit on the bed.

“You’re hurt, and you can barely walk. Sit down and I’ll get Hershel to look at your feet.”

“No.” I state, shaking my head. “No. No.”

“Honey, nothing bad is gunna happen to you. Whatever you went through, it is over. I promise you.” I feel like crying, and I shake my head as I try to hold back my sobs. My body is weak and I sniff as tears roll down my face.

“No, you don’t know that!”

“I know that whoever hurt you ain’t gunna get you again! I know that Rick and Shane, and Daryl and all of us will help and protect you!” Her voice is loud, but I can’t help but hear the gentleness, the way she almost seems to beg me to listen. “Hershel’s a good man, with daughters and friends here on the farm, they’re good people! They helped save my boy and are helping us find our missing girl.” I frown, looking away from her before glancing out the window. A large RV is parked with a set off tents around it, small fireplaces around and I see people moving around. I watch as Rick and Shane, the other man, walk out to speak to a blond woman and an older man with a hat and floral shirt.

“Please, just give us a chance.” She says, and I bite my lip. My body trembles and I back away, feeling tired and drained. She slowly stands, and walks to me. I flinch as she rests her hands on me, gently guiding me to the bed and setting me down. My feet are screaming, and I can’t help but sigh in relief as the pressure is off of them. She smiles at me, brushing hair from my face.

“I’ll get Hershel if you're ready.”

I swallow, feeling more tears pool over and I nod.

She walks to the door and I hear her leave before she comes back. An older gentleman follows her in, along with another woman, who is blond but ain’t the one outside. This one’s hair is all the way back and in a bun. She’s wearing a dress and boots, her smile sweet.

The older man brings a chair in front of me.

His face is grim, and I finally realize why this farm’s so familiar.

“Mr. Greene?”

“I wondered if that was you Jubilee.” I sigh deeply, closing my eyes as I feel my body relax. “Are you feeling up to a check up? I can do more with you awake.” I nod, taking a deep breath to steady my heart and to steel my nerves. “Would it help if we were alone? Or would you rather someone be here with you?” He was so kind, offering me this and I shake my head.

“I wanna be alone. Please.”

The two women leave and it’s just the two of us.

“I can take a gander as to what happened, but I don’t know everything...will you tell me?” He gently pats his thigh, and I place my feet up, allowing him to clean and tend to them. I hiss as he cleans them, but his hands are steady and sure. He’s a good vet, best around here.

I think back to what happened.

“Papa was out, milking the cows. Ruth was hanging clothes up to dry, and Mary was in the house, a-and I was in the barn. I was reading and hiding from the sun. It was hot but nice in the barn. We ain’t seen a sick one for weeks, but Papa always said that if anything were to happen, to stay hidden and don’t come help.” I whimper as he applies ointment to my feet, before wrapping them.

“I heard them, the cars-trucks. They stopped in the driveway. A-and I watched from the barn window. Papa went to greet them, and they just...just attacked him. They didn’t, didn’t kill him. They drug him to the house and I could hear Ruth crying and I heard Mary screaming. There was a gunshot, and I finally got the courage to-to go look.” Tears ran down my face, and I watched as Mr. Greene wrapped my feet in bandages before he tended to the few cuts I had on my legs and arms, also my head.

“They were all inside, a-and I could see from outside. They...were...a boy I knew from school was holding Ruth down while they-they…” I took a deep breath, “One of them was outside and saw me, and I-I tried to run but he tackled me. He hit me and I was out for a few seconds, and he was dragging me into the house. Ruth was...was bleeding really bad a-and wouldn’t move and they got tired of her.” I shudder as I sob rakes through my body.

Mr. Greene seems calm, and I wonder if he’s heard things like this before. Maybe being a doctor, a vet yes, but still a doctor, that he’s good in stressful-emotional-situations.

“Did they hurt you as well? I need to know, if they did I need to check for internal damage.”

I wince and shake my head.

“No, I-I got away. W-when they’d started on Mary I-I took a kitchen knife from the table and stabbed one in the leg, and I ran. I ran! Mr. Greene I left them!” I cried, holding onto his hands as they tried to sooth me. “I left them! I could hear shots and their yelling and I wanted to stay but-”

“It’s over now, sweetheart. If it makes you feel better, I can ask Rick to go see for you. To see if they’re okay.”

I shook my head, “No...it’s gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“I saw the flames, they burned it.” I coughed as my throat burned, too much use and too little water.

“I’ll get you some food and water, you stay here and rest. You aren’t allowed on your feet until I say so.” I nod, watching him leave out the open door before settling back. I closed my eyes, hanging my head as I try and block out the pain. I turn to the door, hearing the floor creak and seeing Daryl in the doorway. His eyes are narrowed, but he stands still, hands free and at his sides.

“I left my crossbow.” His voice is gruff and I nod. He walks in, slow and I see him awkwardly pick it up and place it over his shoulder. He looks at me, as if he wants to say something. “If it makes you feel safer, keep the knife...return it when you feel better.” With that, he leaves and I look down at my side to see his knife is there. I pick it up and turn it in my hands. It’s still heavy, and I quickly hide it under my pillow, hearing Mr. Greene come back.

I stayed inside the house, in the bed they let me use. I had nightmares, almost daily, and I couldn’t help them. I felt horrible, because I always ended up crying in the middle of the night, sleepless and on edge. Every noise, every movement from the shadows in the corner of my eye-the ones never there-always made me jump. I wanted to end this, to end the suffering. But I couldn’t take that road out. It wasn’t an option.

When my feet were better, not healed all the way, but enough I could waddle around I borrowed slippers from Maggie and helped around the house. I got rid of my dress, telling Maggie to burn it. Maggie Greene was a friend from school. Well, not really a best friend, she was older and closer to Mary’s age, while Ruth was Shawn’s age. Maggie was four years older than I, but I always seen her around school and around town. She was nice and kind to me. Beth was younger, but not my very much. I was eighteen.

Mr. Greene said I was healing nicely, but he couldn’t do anything about the wounds on the inside. That was all me. I needed to come to terms with myself. Lori and Carol were nice too, and Lori would do my hair when I wasn’t feeling up to getting out of bed. She was motherly, which is something I ain’t had in a long time. Mama died when I was little, but Papa was the best father he could be with three little girls that ran him in circles.

I didn’t talk to Rick Grimes or his group much, other than Lori and Carol, but even then our conversations were limited. I didn’t trust him, nor Shane. Lori didn’t take it personal, but I could tell it put a small tension on things when I wouldn’t speak to him or the other men in his group. Maggie was seeing that Asian boy, he looked harmless but I still didn’t trust him. No. Nope. I won’t go through it again.

Late one night, when I was able to walk on my own, only a small limp, I woke from a nightmare and made my way outside. The sky was blue and I could see stars and the moon. It shined, bringing a soft glow to the land. I waddled down the steps and past the field, seeing the barn and eyed it before shaking my head. No barns. Remember what happened last time you got into a barn? I held Daryl’s knife in my hand, feeling somewhat safer with it. He said I could give it back, but I haven’t. I didn’t think I would. Mr. Greene wasn’t too keen on guns, but I wouldn’t give this up. No. I needed it. I found myself by the horses, in their barn. They were in their stalls, and I could tell a few were still awake.

“Shh,” I whisper, reaching out to gently run my hand over the hairs on it’s strong neck. The horse nickers and I smile, petting it’s soft nose. “Yeah, see? I’m cool...not dead...or a bad person.”

“What you doin’ out here?” I spin to see a figure in the doorway of the barn. I wouldn’t have been able to tell who, but the crossbow sort of gives him away. Its Daryl, and the fact I can’t see his face makes me uneasy. I step away from the horse, my hand tightening around the knife as I turn to face him.

“I’m…” I look at the horse. “I can’t sleep.” He steps closer, into the barn and stops when he’s beside me.

“You're safe here. Hershel’s made sure of it.” His voice is gruff and I turn away, feeling ashamed that I was unable to hide how I felt from him. I did feel unsafe here, I felt unsafe everywhere. It’s not my fault! How was I supposed to feel with what happened? “You still got my knife?”

I look down and hold it up, “Yeah...here. M’sorry I kept it this long.”

I see his head shake, and if I focused hard enough I could see his eyes.

“Keep it with ya. Need it more than I do.”

I nod, turning it in my hands and look up as a sigh escapes his lips.

“C’mon, ya need to get back inside.” I shrink in as he places a hand on my shoulder, gently leading me out of the stables and to the house. His hand is warm and large, and I relaxed as we slowly made our way to the house.

I stopped when we reached the steps. I didn’t wanna go back inside. I wrapped my arms around myself, and he stopped beside me.

“Go inside.”

I shake my head.

“Why? What’s wrong? Bed not big enough?” It came out harsh, probably more than he meant it and I glared at him.

“It’s fine.” I mutter, turning away from him and I sit myself down. “I don’t expect you to understand how I feel.” I bit each word out, feeling threatened by his harsh words. He rolls his eyes and huffs, turning to walk away. I instantly regretted my actions, and I knew that he wasn’t really trying to harm me. He’s helped me, more than I can repay him for.

I sigh, watching him walk away.

“Wait!” I call out to him, standing and seeing him stop, and turn around. The light of the moon allowed me to see his face, and I saw how he seemed almost impatient. I took a deep breath, “I’m sorry...I-I just…” I sit back down, feeling tired and overwhelmed with trying to explain to him what I was feeling. I rub my face, wiping away tears.

“S’fine.” His voice is low and I looked up at him.

“Will you stay? I don’t wanna sleep yet…” He nods, silently coming to sit beside me. He rests his bow against the steps. His let brushes mine and I move away from him, discreetly, as if I was giving him more room. It was quiet, and I let myself sneak small glances at him. His hair was dark and shaggy, obviously needed a cut but that isn’t really a luxury that we get nowadays.

His clothes, while dirty, were what I expected a rough man to wear. Jeans, boots, a shirt with the sleeves cut off, and a black vest.

I shivered as a breeze passed over us, and I felt as if my skin was so thin I felt the cold wind on my bones. I wore a pair of light blue overalls, ones too small for Maggie and a pink tank top she let me borrow. I wore the slippers, as I didn’t wear any shoes yet. They hurt my feet, and the slippers were patted.

I jumped as something warm was placed over my shoulders. Daryl was giving me his vest, which was oddly warm.

“Thank you.” I said, holding it closer around my shoulders. I peek at him again, seeing his eyes were out on the field, watching the tree line. “Um...Daryl?”

He hums, well more like grunts, in response and I watch his face.

“I...I never thanked you, for you know...not shooting me with your bow. I remember seeing you in the woods. I probably looked like...like one of them a-and, I just want to thank you for not killing me.” I looked over and see his eyes are on me, and I give him a small smile.

He shakes his head, “It wasn’t a big deal, anyone woulda done it.”

I roll my eyes, “No. A lot of people would have just shot me and been on their way. You-you saved me and I’m sorry I thought you were like them.” I look up into his eyes, seeing a small smile on his lips. “It wasn’t nothing.”

That morning, I woke early to the chickens, and to the soft mooing of cows. There is a split moment, that I have every morning, when everything is okay. Nothing’s happened to my family or me, but then it all comes back to me. I always have a peaceful moment, before I remember.

I make my bed, the sun barely up in the sky. I took a shower, washing myself quickly before dressing back in the overalls and shirt. I didn’t wanna take Maggie’s clothes, at least more than I needed to. I bite my lip and shuffle to the dresser, seeing Daryl’s knife and vest. Last night, he made sure I got to bed safely, in the small early hours of the morning. I slip it on, after a moment of thought. Then, I slide the blade into its sheath and attached it to the belt loop on my left side.

I slip on Maggie’s white slippers, and shuffle out of the room, closing the door behind me. The house was quiet, even down stairs, when I saw Patricia up and making breakfast. I smiled at her, while it was forced it was better than nothing.

“I’ll go feed the chickens and stuff.”

“Thank you dear, come back inside and help me with this too?” I nod, walking out and not missing the glance she gave to my attire. I ignored it, and made my way outside. As I descended the steps I noticed Daryl sitting at the bottom of a tree, tinkering with an arrow. I felt a smile grow on my face, and I waddled over to him. He looks up as I kept closer, furrowing his brow before returning to his work.

“What you want?”

I shrug, crossing my arms over my stomach, “I was wondering if you’d be able to help me? It’s just...hard to carry feed and water to the animals.”

He sighs, “I ain’t yer friend.”

I roll my eyes, shaking my head. “Well you're the only one I’ve seen that’s awake and I can’t do it by myself.” He pauses for a moment before getting up, towering over me as he placed his bow on his shoulder and secured his arrow. “Okay, follow me.”

When I led him to the barn, the horses were up and hungry.

“Will you get them fresh water? It’s too heavy for me.” I pointed to the end of the barn, seeing a well and bucket for water. “Use that.”

As he gets water, I carry hay to each pen and then struggle to carry grain. I wince as the weight burns my muscles, and my feet sting as I add more pressure on them.

“Here.” I look up to see Daryl grabbing the large pale, not even sparing me a glance as he takes it. I watch him feed the horses before he turns to me. “What else?”

I give him a smile, “Follow me.”

[olicitysecretsanta]

Up in Flames

@lovejesusarrowavengersblog   Briana

Hope you enjoy this gift Santa made for you and sent to me. Happy holidays, may the new year be filled with Olicity cheer.

@missyriver   River

Felicity was a genius with computers, technology, science, math, and all things pop culture. She graduated from MIT with a master's degree in Cybersecurity and Computer Sciences. She was the head of her IT department and in the running for a promotion to lead a new science and technology department. Felicity had a firm understanding of how things worked but, for the life of her, she couldn't comprehend how the fire got started.

If she was honest with herself she probably would have blamed it on the new Doctor Who Christmas special. There wasn’t a Whovian alive that would miss a Christmas Special. It was just bad timing; yes, Felicity realized the irony, but she craved her Bubbe’s secret latkes recipe that night.

It was Felicity's first Hanukkah without her Bubbe and it felt like she had lost her all over again. Felicity remembered watching her grandmother as she prepared and cooked the food for Hanukkah. The house would fill with laughter as she sung and the delicious smell of homemade food hung in the air. Bubbe had tried to teach Felicity how to cook but soon after quickly dubbed her a kitchen disaster.

Felicity really hadn't felt like celebrating this year but the guilt of disappointing her Bubbe forced her to light the candle, sing her prayers, and attempt to make the beloved latkes.

Everything had been going just as she had planned. Potatoes and onions were prepped with eggs and breadcrumbs were seasoned and carefully patted into shape. While she set her new fry pan on the stove for the oil to heat up, the Doctor Who music drifted over from her TV and she rushed over to watch the opening credits. The next thing she knew the house had filled with dark smoke and the loud shrill buzz of her smoke alarm pierced the air.

Felicity rushed into her kitchen just as the hot flames flashed in the burning pan. Without thinking she grabbed the handle of the pan and screamed as her skin made contact with the searing surface. She dropped her grip on the pan and cradled her hand against her chest while her other hand reached for the lid and attempted to cover the growing flames. Suddenly her brain kicked in as she quickly dropped the lid and rushed to the fire extinguisher.

Her right hand throbbed fiercely with the burning pain. Somewhere in her head, she knew that the pain was a good thing; pain and feeling meant they were partial thickness burns. Her hand would hurt but she hadn’t done serious damage. She tried to hold the extinguisher with her injured hand but quickly found it cumbersome and painful. The flames were hurriedly spreading onto the counter and in a matter of seconds, they had engulfed a dishtowel. Her lungs began to burn and her eyes watered from the smoke that quickly filled the small apartment. Felicity pulled the tab on the extinguisher, aimed toward the flames, squeezed the trigger and swept the foam over her stove and counter.

Loud banging and raised voices came from the front door and she jumped at the disturbance.

“Star City Fire Department, open up!” a voice bellowed.

Felicity dropped the extinguisher and ran to the door as she cradled her hand. She twisted the lock and pulled the door wide open, coughing deeply as the smoke chased after her. Three large men pushed past her in full firefighter glory and two of them rushed to the kitchen with a large silver extinguisher as the third man grabbed her elbow and lead her from the apartment. He carefully maneuvered her outside and sat her down on the baseboard of the fire engine.

The firefighter made sure she was settled before he removed his helmet and oxygen mask. Felicity saw a flash of bright blue eyes, a strong scruffy jaw, and dirty blonde hair before he turned away from her. She tried to thank him but Felicity’s throat was dry and burned like knives had pierced through it. As soon as she opened her mouth a violent coughing fit wracked her body and she tried to catch her breath.

An oxygen mask was quickly slipped over her head and a large, gentle gloved hand rested on her back.

“Try to take slow breaths through your nose. My name is Oliver, I’m a paramedic. Are you hurt anywhere?”

Felicity’s eyes burned and watered so much that she was forced to keep them closed. She nodded and carefully extended her injured hand toward the blurred man that was nothing more than a shape in front of her.  He gently took it and inspected her fingers and palm with delicacy. Felicity shivered when his gloved thumb brushed over her pulse.

“Can you wiggle your fingers? Good. I’m going to clean this up and wrap it. It’s going to be a rough few weeks, especially if you’re right hand dominant. I also need to check and see how your lungs sound. You stopped coughing which is a good sign. The oxygen must be helping, yes?”

His voice was soothing and calm and she felt safe with him among the chaos. Her fear and adrenaline slowly seeped out of her racing heart. He leaned into her personal space, careful not to startle her, and lifted her shirt off her just enough to slip a stethoscope under the soft fabric. Felicity got her first clear look at his face and, completely unprepared, choked on a deep breath. A new round of coughing forced him to sit back as he waited patiently for it to subside. He was gorgeous and could easily be described as a walking fire-fighter fantasy. Meanwhile, here she was, with a singed ponytail, panda slippers, pink flannel pants and a black shirt with a unicorn kitty. Why did this happen to her?

“Are you okay?” he questioned as his eyes ran over with concern.

“Yep, yeah, just feel stupid,” She wheezed between coughs.

He smiled and her heart leaped at the dimples that appeared; of course, he had dimples.  His sexy smile, full lips, and soul gazing eyes were just the icing on the cake.

“Seriously, are you really a firefighter? You look more like you play one on TV.” Felicity stammered.

He chuckled and she shivered again at the deep sound that rumbled from his chest.

“Thank you? And yes, close to five years now actually. Why don’t I get you a blanket? You look a little cold.”

He stepped away from her to open a side compartment along the side of the engine. He muttered quietly to himself before he firmly shut it and opened the rear door of the cab. He soon returned with a dark blue pullover hoodie with the fire department logo on the back and station number over the left pocket and O. Queen embroidered over the right.

“Sorry, it looks like the probie forgot to restock the blankets so this will have to do. You seem to be doing a lot better but I think you should go to the hospital to get some chest x-rays just to be on the safe side. Smoke inhalation can lead to pneumonia and all other kinds of problems down the road. Your hand also needs to be checked by a doctor.”

“No hospitals. The nurses use needles and I hate needles.”

Felicity tugged the oxygen mask off and pulled the large sweatshirt over her blonde head. The delicious smell from the oversized sweatshirt chased away the smoke that lingered around her. Without thinking she snuggled into the shirt and the warmth and comfort it brought. He watched her actions with a half smile and bright eyes.

“It’s true most nurses use needles. I'm even known to use them from time to time. I’m actually pretty..”

“Yeah, I already know you’re pretty,” Felicity muttered under her breath, or so she thought.

He smirked, “...ah pretty good at starting IV’s. If you want me to do that?”

“No, thank you, you’re pretty but not that pretty when it comes to sticking me with needles. Anything else is fine but no needle things.” Felicity waved her hand in his direction.

Oliver’s eyebrows shot up and his eyes widened along with his smile. Felicity’s cheeks flushed and her mouth dropped open as her head quickly started to shake back and forth.

“No, no I don't mean. Oh, Google. I didn’t mean to say or imply. I meant you can umm, stick me with.. Oh god, there is no coming back from that one is there?” He shook his head with a smirk that spread across his entire face and reached his eyes. “Wow, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, I don’t mind when a beautiful woman propositions me.”

“You don’t?” She tilted her head and gazed up at him. “Does it happen often?”

“Not nearly as tempting as your offer.” Oliver grinned softly.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls that try to burn down their apartments. Happy Hanukkah to me, here's a fire and a hot firefighter that flirts. My Bubbe would have absolutely loved this. Of course, she also would have scolded me for even thinking about going near the stove. I have no idea what I was thinking and I’m rambling, I think, I feel like I’m rambling.”

Her teeth started to chatter violently and her body soon began to tremble. Oliver had distracted her from her fear and even the pain in her hand but now the realization that she could have died from trying to cook had begun to sink in. Bubbe had been right; she was a complete disaster in the kitchen. Her mind quickly raced through other possible scenarios of death and loss that hurriedly made its way into her heart.

“Hey, shh don’t cry. Your neighbor called right away and from the glimpse that I saw the damage should be minimal to the apartment. It might take awhile for the smoke smell to clear out but you are alive. That’s a great reason to celebrate Hanukkah.”

Oliver gently placed his hand on her shoulder and tucked a few strands of loose hair over her ear. She sniffled, completely unaware that she had been crying until he mentioned it.

“I just miss my Bubbe. It’s the first year she’s not here and I just wanted to hold on to one of her favorite traditions. Instead, I set fire to my stove and make even more of a mess. So stupid.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. What were you trying to do?”

“Make her latkes. You know the potato fried pancakes? She loved them and I just wanted to make them for her.”

“Do you have her recipe?” Oliver asked as he rubbed her arms to help try and fight the chills that racked her body.

“I have it on my phone, why?”

“I can make them for you. I am a fantastic cook and, well if you’re not going to the hospital,  then someone needs to keep an eye on you.”

“What!? Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. Aren't you working?” Felicity was floored that this guy would even offer to do something like that.

“You can come back to the firehouse. My crew won't mind as long as they get to eat some too. It’s not like you can go back inside tonight. I’d give it a few hours before you try and see the damage. You have insurance right? I can help you with the report if you want too.”

“Really? Are you always this nice?”

“Are you always this hard to ask out?”

“Wait, you're asking me out?”

“Well. I’m asking you to let me cook for you, and spend more time getting to know you so I would think the implication is there.”

“Why?” There’s no way this happens to her. He had to be joking.

“Why not? You have made me laugh more in the last twenty minutes then I have in weeks. I want to hear more about your Bubbe. It’s also not about seeing what you will let me stick in you just so you know, though we can always revisit that.” He grinned at the flush that appeared on her face. “I’d really like to talk with you more and make sure you are okay. You shouldn’t be sad on the Holidays. If I can make you smile for one night then its the only gift I’ll want this year.”

“You’re serious?” He smiled softly again and nodded.

“Why not? Do you have any other plans tonight? I mean unless you have a boyfriend?”

“No plans and no boyfriend. If you're sure then I’m sure.”

“I’m sure.”

A few hours later Felicity got her first taste of Oliver’s rendition of Bubbe’s secret latkes and she was in pure bliss. She told him there was no way he would ever get rid of her now and he chuckled and retorted that he wasn’t trying to. A year later they celebrated their first Hanukkah together and Oliver proposed with a diamond ring placed on a plateful of the treasured latkes.

[fatalis-writes]

s p a c e m a l l | Yondu/Reader SFW

request: How about something where Yondu and the Reader meet when the Reader helps Quill find Yondu after getting lost in the space equivalent of a shopping mall and the two hit it off?

(This is seriously so cute. I decided to set it not long after Yondu first picked Peter up, since it makes more sense to me for an earth kid to get lost in a space mall lol. This also turned out different than i expected oops)

A day at the mall was exactly what you needed after a long week of work. Things had been rough lately, but now you had a chance to just relax and do some much needed retail therapy, and you were determined to have a good time, get something unhealthy from the food court, and buy yourself some new clothes. This mall was absolutely huge, though, one of the biggest in the entire galaxy, and quite frankly, you had no idea where to start searching for shop with anything you would like. 

You were standing in front of a hologram directory, pinching it and zooming in and out over and over while you tried to figure out where to go, when something bumped into your leg. Startled, you looked down to find a funny looking kid with what looked like a weird pair of headphones around his neck. 

“S-Sorry,” he jumped back, also startled by the accidental contact. 

“It’s fine,” you gave a reassuring smile and turned back to the hologram. Weird that a kid would be alone...you hadn’t seen anybody else trying to get to the directory map. Then again, you hadn’t paid a ton of attention. Maybe whoever he was with was close by. 

“Hey, uh...how does this thing work?” he asked, reaching out towards the hologram. 

Okay, that was weird. 

You looked back at him again. “It’s just a hologram.”

“...Right.” he furrowed his brow as he looked at it intently. 

“Where are you trying to go?” you asked. The kid clearly didn’t have any idea what to do. 

“Uh...I’m looking for someone,” he answered. “We got separated. He said he would be on the third floor jewelry store, but...can you help me find it?”

With a small smile, you nodded. “Yeah, sure. Why not.”

-----

Yondu sighed and tutted. WHERE had Quill run off to? He brought the kid along so he could see the mall, not so he could go and get himself lost after two seconds. He figured he would manage to find his way back eventually, though. The little Terran was probably fine. 

The Ravager captain (and Kraglin, though he was more concerned with window shopping) was there to visit the jewelry shop and sell some definitely not illegally obtained gems that Quill had managed to snatch for him on Xandar. He really wasn’t one for malls--he liked shopping, especially for trinkets--so usually on these trips, he would just march into the usual shop, deal with the owner (who didn’t tend to ask questions), and leave again. He didn’t exactly stick out like a sore thumb in an intergalactic mall, but folks did have a tendency to stare whenever they saw a Ravager in their upscale little stores, and he didn’t have the patience for that. 

He was leaving the store a few thousand credits richer when he spotted Quill walking towards him. A little feeling of relief washed over him when he realized that the kid was just fine, all in one piece, no burns or bullet holes in him, but then he saw that the Terran boy wasn’t alone, and that relief turned to confusion. 

“Thanks!” the boy said to you as soon as the jeweler’s was in sight. “That’s him. I should get goi--”

“Who is that?” you asked. You couldn’t help but stare at the rough-and-tough-looking centaurian standing outside. 

“Oh, that’s...”

“Quill!” the centaurian barked, interrupting the kid. “The hell you doin’, boy?”

“I was just helping him get back,” you said, defending the kid as he looked at the floor and guiltily walked toward the blue man. You followed a few steps, wanting to get a better look at him. He was definitely blue, with some kind of red cybernetic thing on top of his otherwise bald head. He was also wearing a jacket and clothes that made you think he was a pretty shady guy, and suddenly, you were wondering what you could’ve possibly gotten into by helping what seemed like a pretty innocent little kid.

“He ain’t in need’a any help,” the centaurian grumbled, looking at the boy. 

“Can we get food?” Quill asked hopefully, seeming pretty unbothered by the gruff tone the man was using. 

“Fine. Go find Kraglin. He’s around here somewhere.”

You were pretty annoyed with that. 

“That’s how you lost him in the first place,” you said as Quill ran off again. 

The man raised an eyebrow. “You lecturin’ me?”

“I’m--no.” you sighed. “Sorry.”

He took a few steps toward you, hands on hips. “Why’d y’bring him back? He could’a found his way.”

“He bumped into me and then he couldn’t figure out the directory,” you explained. “I don’t really have any plans, so...I decided I should help.”

He just rolled his eyes, but something told you he was at least a little grateful. 

“Yondu!” Quill called, returning with a scruffy looking man in a coat that looked a lot like the blue guy’s. “Can we go?”

“Fine, whatever.” Yondu looked back at you. “You tell anybody I’m doin’ this, an’ you will find an arrow through your head. Understood?”

“Doing...what?” you asked, feeling vaguely threatened. You had figured that at this point, you’d be back on your way to window shopping and looking for new shoes. 

“Buyin’ ya a meal as thanks for returnin’ the kid.”

You couldn’t help but smile a little bit at that. Okay, maybe this guy actually did care about the boy. “I won’t tell anyone. Promise.”

He grimaced and just motioned for you to follow. You walked next to him, the kid and the man you assumed was Kraglin falling in behind you. You could feel the stares you were getting from everyone you passed, but they didn’t really bother you until you noticed security guards doing it as well. 

“So...who are you?” you asked somewhat bravely. More like, who the fuck are you that literally everyone at this mall doesn’t trust you?

Yondu turned to look at you as he walked. “Who’s askin’?”

“Uh...I’m y/n,” you smiled awkwardly. 

“Ravagers,” he answered simply. 

“So like...pirates?”

He rolled his eyes. “We ain’t pirates. We just--”

“Steal and do whatever you can for money?” 

When he looked at you again, you could tell he was surprised to find a wry smile on your lips. “Whatchu smilin’ at?”

You couldn’t tell him that you had always wanted to meet a pirate, so instead you just shrugged and kept smiling. “Sounds exciting, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I s’pose,” he sounded a little smug. “Got a borin’ life?”

“Well...a little, I guess,” it was your turn to shrug. “I have a steady job, and this is my first day off in a while. I shouldn’t complain, since I’ve got it a lot better than some people in the galaxy, but sometimes the days start blurring together and...” you trailed off, thinking you had said too much now that Yondu wasn’t looking at you. He probably stopped listening. He was a Ravager, after all, and he probably wasn’t interested in your boring day job.

“An’ what?” he asked suddenly, still not turning to look at you. 

So he was actually listening?

“...And yeah, it gets boring. That’s all.” you finished, looking at the floor as you walked. “I really shouldn’t compla--”

“Ain’t no shame in wishin’ ya had a different life.” he interrupted, setting his jaw. 

When he didn’t talk again until the food court, you had the feeling that you might have fucked up. He only barked a couple orders at the other two and then went and sat down at a table in the corner, and you briefly considered just leaving so you didn’t have to deal with anymore awkward silence. 

Your food was ready a lot faster than what the others ordered, though, and it would be pretty rude to just leave after someone else had bought your lunch, so you walked back with your tray and sat across from him. He was just twiddling his thumbs, staring off into space. 

“Hey, I’m sorry,” you piped up.

“Hm?” he looked at you. “Sorry?”

“For earlier. You seemed upset, so...I’m sorry if I said anything.”

He pursed his lips, trying to decide what to say. “Nothin’ to be sorry for.”

“Then why’ve you been so quiet?”

“Just been thinkin’ is all.” he folded his hands on the table and leaned toward you. “What kinda job you got, darlin’? Anythin’ that’ll really miss ya if ya leave it?”

You couldn’t help but mimic him, and soon you were also leaning forward, elbows on the table as you stared into his red eyes. “Not really, I guess. Just a desk job.”

“Know how to shoot?”

“I’m rusty, but yeah. My home planet requires a few years of civil service, so--”

He grinned, showing all of his jagged teeth. “I think I like ya, girl. Got any pets? Anybody to leave behind?”

You shook your head. “No pets, and I...don’t really talk to my family anymore.”

“Anybody special?” he was staring at you so intensely you thought you might melt.

You just shook your head again. “I’ve been single for years. And I don’t know why I just told you--”

“Yeah, alright,” he interrupted, sitting back and putting his feet up on the table. “I’ll take ya aboard.”

Your heart jumped a little.

You sat back to avoid his boots. “What?”

“Well, I got the space.” his eyes glinted. “An’ I think I like ya, sweetheart. I can teach ya everythin’ you need to know.”

A huge grin spread over your face and you nodded excitedly. “Yes! Yes, I’d love to!”

Yondu grinned back. “Well, then, welcome to the crew, darlin’.”