#anyway. they tried to teach me how to use it. they took extra individual time trying to teach me. until eventually they just gave up

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

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[pasteloctoz]

Day 3 of Redacted “What Ifs”- Mafia au (part two)

(LONG POST- the first two paragraphs were copy and pasted from part one)

So this was very widely requested, which I was NOT opposed to. Except for the fact that the only couple I had in mind was Gavin and FL. SO- Imma try to explain how I have the main groups set up first, then I’ll explain the individual character’s roles, and after that, I'll Explain how each of the couples met.

The Damn Crew is their own group of freelance mercenaries (Ik I’m so funny). They don’t belong to any clans or packs, they just get hired for different jobs and collect their money. The Shaw Pack is one of the bigger mafia groups as well as The Solaire Clan. Usually, packs and clans don’t get along with each other that well (woah werewolf and vampire drama) but, when David was a kid, Gabe established a peaceful friendship with The Solaire Clan (Gabe and William were buddies).

Also- I’m very sorry for procrastinating. It was the first week of summer for me and I was either very busy or sleeping off the burnout. Enjoy part two!

The Damn Crew was last time, today is The Shaw Pack.

Milo- Whether He’s in his wolf form or not, this man is RUTHLESS to whoever he comes across. He’s protective of his pack and doesn’t trust anyone (a lot less than he does in the og storyline). He prefers his wolf form, though he only gets to use it on certain occasions for jobs. Apart from being emotionless on the job, he’s his usual self in any other situation. After warming up to SH, he would be the biggest softie around them. Personally, I’d think that he would shift a lot more at home since he likes it better. So I can just imagine Milo and SH cuddling with Milo in wolf form and SH buried in his fur.

Sweetheart- Okay so I genuinely can’t see them being anything BUT a badass. Even more, than they are in the og storyline. I’d see them as a spy or hitman instead of a detective. Unlike other hitmen, they’d want to find out more about their target before they pursue anything. They're the kind of people to be in it to make the world better. The money is an added bonus to them. Usually, if they find nothing about the person, they'll let the person know anonymously that someone has it out for them. Otherwise, they'll quickly and quietly make work of their target. Ofc, they're the silent killer type- c'mon they're a stealth!

Asher- He works more on selling the goods. Ofc he'll help organize hitmen and send people off to be taken care of, but for the most part, he makes sure that the things he's selling go to where they need to go. Otherwise, he leads a fairly normal life. For the most part, he prefers to keep Baabe and his job separate. The first person in the pack to know abt him and Baabe was David because- hello? Davids the alpha!??!? Ofc he'd be the only one to know for a while. Only once Milo shared he had a partner in the business, Asher shared he also had a partner with the rest of the pack.

Baaabe- They lead a pretty normal life, they work an office job and have a few jobs on the side. Because of how many jobs they have and the fact they're still in college working towards a doctor's degree in teaching, they're always high on caffeine. It took meeting Asher for them to quit one of their jobs and actually get some sleep. Though, they still try to sneak in a few extra hours of work time. Asher usually finds out and then they both fall asleep on the couch together.

David- The man is pretty much his original character, except a lot colder. That’s honestly all the character’s personalities for this one but, it's fine I'm not being redundant (I hope). Anyways, he's the same guy around his pack with the tsundere asshole vibes. To business partners, he tries not to show any weakness. Best way to say this is that this man has got walls put all the way up to anyone except his pack. Though, around William it’s different. The Solaire clan has been like a second family to him and the pack, especially since Gabe passed. David might be a little more distant to William than he was to his dad, but both he and William tell each other almost everything. To say the least, William is like a second dad without even trying. He’d never replace Gabe, nor would he want to, but when the other needs them, they’ll be there.

Angel- This mf is like the oblivious kinda guy that walks into traffic but instead of cars, it's the mafia. Their friends are somewhat in the business, and therefore Angel is always getting themselves into the stupidest shit. The funny thing is- they’re always very oddly calm about it. 

“Yo, wake up, we kidnapped you”

“Huh? Oh. cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna scream or something?”

“Nah, this happens pretty regularly. I have a presentation tomorrow so I can’t go damaging my pretty lungs.”

Once they meet David, though the conversation goes more like this:

“Hey kid, wake up, we’re gonna kill you”

“Hahaha very funny.”

“Wha- You’re not scared?”

“I’m sorry man, but you fucked up.”

“What do you mean?”

“You mess with me, you mess with the alpha of the Shaw pack.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not unless you call the man standing behind you an omega.”

Milo and SH are gonna be the narratives for today! I thought for these posts I’d write little narratives for you guys just like I did on the last one so here you go!

Milo and Sweetheart(you)-

It’s been a few weeks since you were offered a recent job. It paid a lot, so you found yourself interested. Why would someone pay such a bounty for a singular guy? You had spent countless hours researching, stalking, and watching him. He was a werewolf. You know that much, but whether he was an innocent caught up in some shit or belonged to the Shaw pack you didn’t know.

The Shaw pack was one of the most famous packs in Dahlia. Not only were they famous in Dahlia, but also among the mafia. They were pretty good at keeping their members, except the main family, secret from the public’s eye. Only second best to the Solaire clan. Though, considering William Solaire only had two progeny and a few hundred more years of experience than David Shaw, it made sense.

You thought to yourself while waiting in his apartment. You knew how to get into places without needing a key, so it wasn’t much of a hassle to get in. Ready for him to come home you held your gun at your waist, “Maybe I got here too early…” you thought as you floated slightly over the floor. If you weren’t able to float around, you’d fall right through the floor. Surprisingly, the werewolf didn’t live with his pack, which made it easier to catch him alone. Though, it also made it harder to get into his apartment since he was on the 5th floor. It was challenging- to say the least- to sit in an elevator while incorporeal.

Finally, you heard the jingling of keys and the lock rattle a few times before the door opened. On instinct, you went Intangible, you were used to not being seen. That was your first mistake, you had given yourself away. He looked around and you got a glimpse of his expression. Poker face. You thought, “It’s now or never,” and pressed your gun against his forehead as you became tangible again. “Milo Greer, are you a part of the Shaw Pack?”

“Who the fuck are you?” Shit. He had the same adorably pissed face he usually wore when out and about.

“Answer the question,” you stared at him with the straightest face you could, “and I’ll decide whether or not to kill you.”

“Why should I?” Of course, he’s the type to push his luck with you.

“Because I have a gun pressed against your forehead, I’m skilled at stealth magic, and I might be armed with even more than just a gun.”

“You’re a stealth?” He smirked at you, you couldn’t tell how he felt about the situation.

You pressed the gun against his forehead, and he finally put his hands up, “Answer the. Fucking. Question.”

“Who's. Asking.”

You sighed, he wouldn’t give up. “If you NEED to know, I’m a hitman. But luckily for an asshole like you, I prefer to do a little research on my targets before I go ahead and kill them,” you watched the rest of him if he tried anything, “Right now, I’m deciding whether or not you’re guilty of the little crimes against a pack that my client accuses you of.”

“I’ve done a lot of things, what pack specifically?” He spoke so calmly… damn his accent was soothing.

“Can’t say. They applied anonymously. Now you need to answer my question.”

He sighed, “Yes. I am a member of the Shaw Pack.”

You could tell he was bracing himself for it, but you pulled away, getting an alcohol wipe from your pocket and hastily wiping the gun off. There was a moment of silence before you looked at him and turned around toward the door.

“Hold up,” you paused mid-step, “You’re not gonna say anything? No explanation?”

“I think it’s pretty clear,” you spoke to him, eager to leave.

“Really? Well then, why don’t you explain to me why the hell you broke into my apartment?”

You sighed again, “Like I said, Someone asked me to kill you, but I respect your pack. So, I gave you a second chance.”

He smirked, “For me? You shouldn’t have!” The sarcastic remark made you want to tell him to fuck off, but something about his expression stopped you.

“You’re not special, I do this for every target. Now can I go?”

“Fine,” you turned around and made your way to the door, “But, if you find out who’s targeting my pack, update me, sweetheart.”

You felt your face flush, but like the entire time you had been talking to him, you stayed calm, “Can’t promise anything, asshole. Though… you’re not too bad yourself,” you turned around and phased through the door. What had you just started? You didn’t know, nor did you really care. This was new and exciting. You couldn’t wait to see what this would turn into.

Asher and Baaabe-

They’d have a pretty normal meeting. Maaaybe it’s exactly the same way they met in the og story, but I’d like to think they met at a coffee shop. Typical, ik, but just hear me out- So, Baabe works at the coffee shop part-time, and Asher likes making coffee runs for the pack every once in a while. By the fifth time, Baabe had memorized the orders everyone usually got and as soon as Asher walked in, Baabe had already rung his order up. After a while, they began to mutually flirt with each other and Asher got Baabe’s number. It took a while for them to find a good day for a date because both of their schedules are insane, but when they finally did, they got to know each other better. Specifically, Asher decided to tell them all about the Shaw pack and that he was a werewolf. This man did not hesitate one bit once they were alone either. (It’s why we love him though)

David and Angel-

Angel being the dumbass they are is always getting into shit because of a past with a few hitmen or whatever. So, when David and Angel meet, it’s a little chaotic. Angel seems way too calm and that freaks David out. This time Angel actually gets hurt and is scared stiff since, miraculously, that's never happened before. David finds them hiding, with a shot leg after everything is over with, and reluctantly takes them to his house. Angel had been in and out of conscience for a while after that. The week or so following that, David and Angel got to know each other and Angel got to see David’s soft side. Eventually, they had to part ways, but Angel eventually found ways to see David more and scored a date with him. From there it’s pretty much the same, with Angel being a dumbass every once in a while and getting caught by a hitman or two again.

THAT'S ALL JESUS THAT TOOK A WHILE

Again, really sorry for this coming so late, things got really crazy there for a second and if I wanted to post part two I really shoulda started with the Solaire clan but whatever- HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED THIS HAVE A GREAT DAY :DDDDD

[bazzybelle]

Magical Equality Within The World of Mages

I’ve been thinking a lot since I finished reading Any Way The Wind Blows, and there are SO many things that I still need to process. I took my time with reading it, I’ve listened to the audiobook and I plan on re-reading it several times, once I move into my new house and have THAT stress done and over with. I cannot wait to re-read it on my back porch with some iced tea and a notebook to annotate and comment on pretty much everything that gave me feelings.

But for now, there is one massive issue that I want to address, and it plays into the plot for all three books.

Warning for those who have not read Any Way The Wind Blows, this post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution. I am tagging this appropriately, but adding an extra warning just in case.

Huge thanks to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for reading this over and making sure I didn't sound like a rambling mess.

The World of Mages is an incredibly toxic place! This is especially true for anyone who isn’t a magical powerhouse, or stupid rich.

I’m going to not focus on the obvious socio-economic bullshit, because I’m not familiar enough with the British class system to properly comment on it. But if anyone wants to add onto this with a whole meta like that, please do so!

Instead, I’m going to focus on magic use and how detrimental it can be to grow up in this world if you aren’t one of the few who are blessed with the RIGHT kind of magic (I say right kind of magic for a reason, and I’m going to come back to that). I want to focus my attention on three characters (two of whom were drawn into Smith-Richard’s fake promises, and one who was just fed up with it all): Martin Bunce, Daphne Grimm, and Agatha Wellbelove.

1) Martin Bunce: We first hear about Martin Bunce in Carry On. He’s Penny’s dad, a renowned scholar and is leading a team researching the effects of the Insidious Humdrum. He’s a highly respected individual, in his own right. Penny adores him, she only speaks his praises, and I get the feeling she gets along better with Martin, then she does with Mitali. When Penny needs help with Shep’s curse, she trusts her dad to help her after her mother flat out refuses.

While Martin is respected in the community, he isn’t a magical powerhouse. In fact, he isn’t very powerful at all. Baz makes a cheeky little comment about how he must have come from mundanity with a name like “Bunce”, and he doesn’t teach any magical classes at Watford, he focuses mainly on Linguistics.

Professor Bunce is one of the people taken in by Smith-Richard’s message, and I’m kind of glad he is. It shows that Smith-Richard’s message can reach anyone, even someone as scholarly and learned as Martin. Martin Bunce is intelligent, loving, devoted, and the apple of his family’s eye. But, when push comes to shove, all that does not matter because in the end, he isn’t as magically powerful as his wife and kids. How many times has Martin been compared to his wife? How many times has he been compared to his kids? What was it like going to Watford and having to hear about how you barely scraped by in the magical classes? His whole family is obsessed with magic, his daughter's best friend is the Most Powerful Mage. Martin is constantly surrounded by people making comments about power and magic and being strong enough as a magician.

That stuff stays with you... So when you see someone performing magic that can pull you to your full potential, of COURSE you grab onto it and hope that it’s a real thing.

Something interesting to note here; Towards the end of AWTWB, Martin casts a drinking spell, and Baz makes a comment about anyone who could cast that spell in quick succession doesn’t need a power-up. Now, was Martin truly not powerful, or did he just not have the right type of magic? Could he have been a better magician if he was able to find the right situations where his magic responded better? If he was allowed to learn in a way where his magic could have reached its full potential, without the use of a horrible curse?

I have a teaching background, and I’ve worked with a lot of kids in Inclusive Education. I’ve had to differentiate practically all of my lesson plans so that all the kids in my classroom would understand the lesson and be able to reach the goals outlined for them. Admittedly, it’s been a while since I’ve taught, but I look at stuff like this in the World of Mages and my teaching ear perks up.

2) Agatha Wellbelove: Another person who comes to mind, especially with not having the right kind of magic is Agatha Wellbelove. Agatha does not see herself as a very strong magician. She tells Simon that magic for her is like holding a muscle. Pair that up with a mother who is OBSESSED with magic and power and who’s got the most power, and which magical matches will bring about powerful children, and you get someone who becomes resentful of the whole effing thing! I’m not even going to touch the whole “dating the Chosen One” thing because that’s a whole other can of worms.

When we first meet Agatha, she’s already fed up with magic, and wants nothing to do with it, and I can’t say I blame her. She spends all of Wayward Son running away from magic, and meandering through life, being still so unsure of herself and of her place in the world. She calls herself a poor excuse for a magician, yet she manages to save both herself and Penny from the NowNext by summoning fire! That’s a huge flipping deal! Not everyone can do that, yet Agatha is able to summon the power inside herself to do so! Imagine the wonderful magic she could have done if she was taught in a way that spoke to her.

In AWTWB, she is the ONLY person who is able to get through to the Goats. Her magic seems to be connected to nature (if I had to guess). The Dryad, all the way back in Carry On, tells Simon that she and the others find Agatha “peaceful”. That’s her magic. Agatha was able to come full circle by finding peace with the magic she has. She was able to find a place for it. What’s sad is that she felt the need to run away and not want to have it in her life anymore. Her magic is beautiful, yet not enough.

3) Daphne Grimm: So, this is the character that stood out to me the most. Daphne is the reason I even wanted to write this commentary. Those of you who know me, know that I adore this character. Partly because, I’m obsessed with the idea that Baz has people looking out for him and who care about him.

Anyway, Ms. Daphne Grimm is the apple of my eye essentially. I love her, I adore her, and she is treated SO UNFAIRLY by the World of Mages.

What do we know about Daphne? She is Baz’s stepmum, and has four kids with Malcolm. From the first book, there are snarky little comments about Daphne’s lack or power and magic. Baz himself makes a shitty comment about how Daphne’s “blood is as thin as gruel”, even though Daphne goes out of her way to make sure he’s got food sent to his room. She’s extra careful in making sure Baz feels safe in his own home. She suggests to Malcolm that Baz should see a therapist for everything he’s been through, making her the ONLY parent who not only acknowledges her child’s trauma, but tries to do something about it!

She is a GOOD mom!

Ok, we know that Baz wears a ton of masks of indifference in Carry On, and he softens up tremendously in Wayward Son, calling her lovely while teaching him to drive a car.

We learn a lot about Daphne in Any Way The Wind Blows. Namely that Fiona has some pretty nasty opinions about her. (That comment about her kids not being legitimate, and that she’s as “thick headed as she is thin blooded”. Now, imagine you’re Daphne, and the widower of the Great Natasha Pitch asks to marry you. That’s already some MASSIVE shoes to fill. You accept, and you do the best you can, taking care of his son and being a positive presence in his life, meanwhile going to all these posh functions where EVERYONE talks about power and magic. Then to have the sister of your husband’s first wife make snarky comments about your level of power and magic.

That stuff sticks with you.

Daphne doesn’t want her kids going to Watford, the ONLY magical school in the UK (as far as we know). She wants her children to succeed and be known for everything they are capable of doing, instead of being ridiculed for all the ways they’ll come up short. According to Baz, the only reason Daphne graduated from Watford was because she was smart enough to pass every exam (yet, Fiona still makes snarky comments about her intelligence).

Daphne is well aware of how painful it can be to live in the World of Mages and not be a powerhouse magician. Like Martin, she takes matters into her own hands and seeks out a way to make herself more powerful.

It is heartbreaking to look at these three amazing, beloved characters, and think about the suffering they have had to endure by their peers. Both Daphne and Martin get frustrated when those around them question their choice to follow Smith-Richards, stating “you don’t know what it’s like”. Luckily for Daphne, Baz makes an effort to actually understand her, and doesn’t judge her. Even when Fiona mocks her, Baz defends his stepmum. When Daphne berates herself and compares herself to Natasha, Baz reflects on how Natasha would have killed him (something Daphne would NEVER do to any of her children).

We know that Watford did not allow magical creatures, or differently-abled magicians (I use this term for a reason) to study there until the Mage came around and allowed everyone into Watford. This was a great thing, because now, every magical child was given the opportunity to learn how to speak with magic.

However, it should not have stopped there. I spoke earlier on differentiation and on finding the right place for everyone’s magic. What if magicians like Martin, and Daphne, and Agatha are all powerful in their own right, and they just haven’t found their place where their magic fits? Instead of finding the right way to teach these magicians, they are left to struggle and ultimately resent their magic and the magic of the world around them.

Do I hear a social commentary on the state of standardized education? I can’t really comment on the British Educational System, nor the American one, as I am Canadian. What I can say, from my own experience in Canadian classrooms, is that for all the talk we do on making education inclusive, there is still a big push from higher ups for high grades and standardized testing. If any of my followers are British or American and care to share your two cents, feel free to do so. Let’s keep the conversation going!

I think this post might have gotten away from me. I think my point was to act as a defense for people like Daphne and Martin who found themselves fished into a scam all for the promise of feeling like they are enough in their world. I also wanted to defend people like Agatha, who did all she could to run away from all of it, only to find the place where she (and her magic) belonged.

I remember having this discussion on Discord, and one of the points that came up was that maybe The Greatest Threat to the World of Mages was this deeply ingrained prejudice over magicians with different sorts of magic. Magicians who need that extra bit of help to find their way.

We’ve seen in this series how these prejudices can threaten to split the World of Mages apart, and it looks like magicians like Penny, Baz, and Agatha are learning from these mistakes. Only time (and us fanfiction writers) will tell how they end up shaping their world for the future generations.

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader Part 6

A/N: Part 6 is here lovelies! And I hope you all are doing well! 💕

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

Warnings: language

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

That night you had went to bed early, only to awaken at the crack of dawn the next morning. Today was the day of your performance. You layed there in bed beneath the sheets for a moment with your hands resting on your stomach, staring at the ceiling and pondering on yesterday’s events. Your anxiety had almost cost you your identity, and you did not want that to happen again.

You got out of bed, adjusting your eyes to the dark room and slowly placed your weight on the wooden floor, being careful not to wake Charlotte. You slipped out of your nightgown and into a simple light cotton dress, not even bothering to put on a corset or stockings. You tied a leather belt around your waist before reaching under your pillow to grab your Colt revolver, putting it in your holster. You might need it in case any threatening situation arised. You threw on your lightweight overcoat and left it unbuttoned before lacing up your boots and grabbing your wicker basket, you threw in your Wuthering heights copy and some apples for a light snack.

You carefully opened the door, taking one last look at Charlotte’s sleeping figure before closing it behind you. You exited the inn and glanced around outside, breathing in the cool morning air and relieved to see that no one was up and about yet. You walked a mile out in search of an isolated area with shady trees until you stumbled upon a meadow filled with bluebonnets and Indian paintbrushes. Your eyes lit up at the sight of it and a smile appeared on your face. It was beautiful. The way the flowers spread across the field with the few scattered trees and the morning sun’s rays just barely peeking out over the horizon. It looked like a painting. You eyed the closest tree that stood by itself and made a little jog towards it, your free hair flowing behind you as you ran your fingers along the grass and the flowers. This moment right here reminded you of the very few fortunate days you had as a child when your mother would take you out on a picnic to the english countryside because your father was away on urgent matters. It was a chance to escape the cold stone walls of the castle while he was away. You missed running through the meadows while she chased you around, both of you giggling from delight, free from your father’s tyrannical presence.

When you met your destination, you put your basket down by the tree and took off your boots before plopping down on the grass, taking out your book and reading it as you held it above you. You layed there for a while, your hair splayed out behind you and the skirt of your dress hitched up to your knees, lost in your book, the soft grass, the sweet scent of the flowers, and the cool morning breeze. You’d occasionally stick your bare feet out above the grass, stretching out your legs and toes.

Half an hour of peacefulness had passed by until you heard the sound of hooves in the distance. Your senses became heightened as you sat up, whipping your head around to see a horse in the distance coming in your direction. The rider was hidden from view from where you were crouched down, making you nervous as you backed up against the tree, your hand gripping your colt in case this was some sort of attack. The horse came to a sudden stop before you and turned, allowing you to finally see the rider. It was the same gentleman from yesterday.

“You.” You narrowed your eyes at him while standing up with a balled fist. You were still gripping your pistol and had half a mind to not just hit him with it right there.

“Ma’am.” He tilted his hat at you, his face darkened by the shade his hat provided.

“You’ve damn near ran me over. You know that?”

Bloody plonker.

“Well you look fine to me.”

“And if you had gone a few inces closer I wouldn’t have been fine.” You huffed out, your breathing affected by the thrill of getting nearly trampled over or murdered by a bandit. You didn’t know which was worse.

The man let out a chuckle, shaking his head before eyeing your hand that still clutched the grip of your pistol. “Don’t worry. I’m not gonna hurt ya.”

“And what? I’m supposed to magically believe you?” You scoffed.

“Well you’re welcome to shoot me if I do something to offend you.”

You stood there for a second, making yourself look as if you were contemplating the thought. “Does that include verbal offenses?”

He chuckled again at your remark, dismounting his horse and tying the reins up. “You’ve got quite the attitude on you, you know that? You come from a dishonest place or something?”

You watched him wearily, lowing your guard down. “Dishonest is one way to put it. More like a dodgy hell hole if you ask me.” You thought about all the times you had to fend for yourself against the worst scum of men and even women in the past, especially in the Middle Ages. Only difference was you wielded a sword then instead of a revolver. If there was one thing you had to thank your father for, it was for raising you like a son and teaching you the art of war and the sword. “What are the likes of you doing about here anyways?”

“Well, what’s a lady like you doin round these parts all by yourself at this time of day?” He looked at you.

It was then you had just remembered you weren’t wearing a corset which meant. Shite. Your Belisha Beacons were cage-free. You let in a sharp intake of air and quickly buttoned up your jacket before he’d notice, covering up your chest to add an extra layer to your cotton dress. You were silently praying the wind wouldn’t blow up your skirt and reveal your short drawers and your lack of petticoats and stockings or else you might as well shoot yourself from embarrassment. You almost cursed yourself for a lack of proper dressing and daring to go out like this. But, he just had to show up didn’t he.

“You didn’t answer my question.” You looked up at him, finally noticing his features and my goodness. You didn’t want to admit it but he nearly took your breath away. You found yourself staring at him. That golden blonde hair that looked soft to the touch, the tanned skin, that face, and my goodness those green eyes. You quickly changed your expression into a stern one as he looked at you. You hoped he didn’t catch you staring at him like some toad at a fly. Him being pretty means nothing.

“Neither did you.” He remarks.

“Well I believe I was the one to ask a question first. Now go on, explain yourself.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “You’re not following me are you?”

“No ma’am. Just doing my patrol. Now, what are you doing out here?”

“............reading. As if it’s any of your business.” You lifted your chin before turning away and sitting down with your back against the tree, adjusting your skirt to cover your legs.

“Out here by yourself?”

“Obviously.” You rolled your eyes.

You sat there and glanced up at him still standing there like some kind of meerkat. “Well? Are you just going to stand there and watch the grass grow or are you going to have a seat? It’s not like you’re going to leave me be anytime soon.”

“Is there anywhere you specifically want me to sit, princess?”

You raised a brow at the nickname, wanting to smack that smug look right off his mug.“Whichever pleases you.” You wave your hand about before muttering to yourself. “Bloody fucking hell.”

The man smirked before taking his hat off, sitting down beside you and leaning against the big tree as well. You side glanced at him before scooting away just an inch. He chuckled at your little movement, shaking his head as he rested his arm on his bent knee, fiddling with a strand of grass in his hand.

There was a bit of silence between you two. Your eyes roamed everywhere else but him while his would occasionally glance in your direction. This situation was awkward for you.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked him as you pulled your basket closer to you and pulled out your gloves, putting them on for precaution. You could feel him watching you with curiosity as you did so.

“Jasper Whitlock ma’am.” He bowed his head to you.

“How long have you been a major?”

“You know my rank?” He quirked his brow at you.

“Well you are wearing a uniform with insignia aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Just making sure.”

Jasper sat there with his brows furrowed as he studied your face before popping a question. “You seem to know a lot. You’re always reading. You some kind of genius?”

“Well.” You scoffed. “I wouldn’t quite call myself a genius. Though I have met many in the past. Very interesting individuals I must say. What on earth bothered you to ask a question such as that?”

“I don’t know.” He stared at you. “Your eyes.”

You looked at him gobsmacked before letting out a confused laugh. “My eyes?”

“Well.” Jasper tried to explain himself, feeling embarrassed while straightening up a bit. “When I was younger my ma used to tell me how you could read people’s eyes. How some held wisdom behind them.”

You nodded your head with approval, a small smirk playing on your lips. “Your mother sounds like a wise woman. Though, it completely baffles me that you a ninny like you would be her son.”

“Ninny?” He cocked his head back from the word. “Is that some kind of insult?”

“I’ll let you figure that out on your own.” You gave a short smile before reaching into your basket to grab an apple, holding it out for him.

Jasper studied the apple in your hand before looking up at your blank expression, his brow raised playfully in suspicion. “That’s not poisoned is it?”

“.............maybe.”

“Well that’s not a very encouraging answer.”

“If I wanted you dead you’d already be.”

“Well my apologies Lady Macbeth. I guess I’ll take your word for it. If anything happens-“

“Don’t worry. No one will know.”

“Okay. Here goes.” Jasper chuckled at your strange sense of humor before taking the apple from your gloved hands.

His fingers lingered there on your palm for a brief moment. And even though you were wearing your gloves, you couldn’t help but feel a shiver run down your spine. A part of you wondered what it would feel like if you weren’t wearing your gloves, just your bare hand against his. You stared into his eyes and a blush started to creep on your cheeks before you pulled your hand hastily away, turning your head away from him. You were in complete shambles.

“I’m sorry.” Jasper gave you a pained look as you had your back to him. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“No. You’re quite alright.” You composed yourself before pulling out your pocket watch from your coat pocket, glancing at the time. “Shite. In fact, it’s my fault. I should get going. I have a performance later and I do not want to be wasting your time and mine.”

“Wasting my time?” Jasper sat up once he saw you hurriedly packing your things. “Ma’am, I assure you, you weren’t wasting my time. I enjoyed your company.”

“Well you shouldn’t.” You stood up with your basket as Jasper followed you right after. “I’m sure you have far more important matters to attend to, Major. Good day.”

You turned to walk away only to have Jasper at your heel, making you close your eyes in frustration.

“Wait! At least let me take you safely back to town.”

“No thank you. I managed to get here on my own and I am more than possitive I can make my way back.” You gave him a polite smile before going your way, not even bothering to look back.

Jasper stood there by the tree next to his horse, his heartstrings being pulled at as he watched you disappear from sight. He didn’t know why you reacted in such a harsh way, especially when you seemed to have eased up a bit around him. But he wanted to understand, more than anything.

You marched on back to the inn, wiping away at the lone tear that dare to fall from the corner of your eye. You were upset, filled with distress and fueled with anger for yourself. You had promised yourself not to give in to such feelings and yet here you were. Conversing with a dashing gentleman whom you have found to be tolerable and risking everything being at a close proximity with him. You knew more than anyone the dangers of becoming close with a mortal. You knew more than anyone, what would happen if you were to merely touch a person with your bare hand. You knew more than anyone, that the most simple form of affection, a touch of a hand, a caress on the cheek, a kiss, could never be possible for you.

Tag List: @smileygirl08 @peachyevergreen @Lustdere @moonlights27 @krazykatkay456 @buckysjuicyplums @oi-itsemily @ahahanofanks @iberandom @bittergomez @holyhumorliteraturelight @bells3333 @ashdab2611 @toomanybandstocare @lilithknight1111 @cricketlicket @5sosfanforever2001 @justine-en @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem @shakespeareanbooty @pancake-pages @elisemurphy06 @ineffabledears @bella-stenbakken @seraphpheonix @trickylittlewitch @twilightrox @hobodolly @big-galaxy-chaos @mega-ultra-so-awesome-it-hurts @mikariell95 @decaffeinated--fangirl @lovestomanyfandoms @fairyunhappy @chaoticsimptown @hanster1998 @coricosplays @secretpickleprofessordean @itsbqueenthings @theweasleythatgotintoslytherin @corpseism @yourlocalelf @eternallysleepyteen @thecrazytealady @marvel-kpop-twilight @leeleehale

[syndianites]

A Queen Serve and Protects

Chapter Six

First Chapter –> Last Chapter –> Current –> Next Chapter TBA! Summary:

Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe’s character could have developed] ——————————————————————————————

Pollen tapped the tablet pen on the table. School had ended and the duo was officially home.

“Chloe,” Pollen began. “It has come to my attention that you don’t do your own work.”

“So?” Chloe nonchalantly replied, crossing one leg over the other from where she sat on the chaise in front of Pollen.

Pollen tried not to roll her eyes. “So, I want you to learn how to be self-sufficient.”

Chloe scoffed. “I am plenty self-sufficient.”

“Really?” Pollen had a sweet smile on her face. “Then prove it.”

:readmore:

Before Chloe could make any remark, Polle flew over to her school bag. It looked more like a purse, honestly, with how much makeup and accessories she had stashed away inside. Seriously, what did you need an extra pair of heels for?

Pollen shook off the thought and grabbed the binder Chloe used for class, as well as her homework folder. Brining both items back to the table, she flipped the folder open. She pulled out the first sheet of homework she saw- something math related- and waved a paw at it.

Chloe gave her a dumbfounded look. “You want me to do that? Sabrina normally does.”

Pollen raised an eyebrow.

“Ugh, fine, I get it.” Chloe grumbled. “What does doing my own work have to do with being self-sufficient anyway?”

“When was the last time you did your own school work.”

“Ughhhh!”

Letting out a little giggle, Pollen decided to make a compromise, “For every question you get correct, I’ll let you ask a question about the Bee miraculous and its powers. However!” Pollen held a paw up before Chloe could get too excited, “For each you get wrong, you have to listen to some history and background on the miraculous.”

“Ooo-kay? How is that a loss for me? I still get to know what I want to know,” Chloe replied.

If only the poor girl knew.

Pollen beamed. “I’m glad you asked! You know how much you love our ‘Bee Nice’ Sessions?”

Chloe groaned.

“Anything I tell you will come along with lessons. I will tell you tales that are important for a number of reasons. And you have to sit through all of them!”

Chloe’s eye twitched. That sounded excruciating. Buuuut, she did want to know more about what powers the Bee miraculous could give her. It was just a simple math worksheet. Surely, it couldn’t be that hard. So Chloe took out a blank sheet of paper and began working.

She was wrong. So, so wrong. Chloe was by no means a bad student. She got solid B’s and pleased her daddy enough with her grades to get by. Did she need to have a study session with Sabrina before each test or quiz to get the contents down? Yes.

But that was all pish-posh. She figured if she could pick up enough for a test or quiz a day before it, she could do homework with no problem. Apparently, she hadn’t been giving Sabrina enough credit. That girl made it so much easier than this.

It didn’t help that her notes were a total disaster. Half-finished sentences, unclear instructions, and a clear lack of interest in each page. For a moment Chloe cursed her own apathy. She wanted to know more, damnit! 

By the time she finished she felt exhausted. Pollen, ever chipper, hummed as she looked through each question. She procured a pen and started making marks. That was a lot of red. Oh GOD, there was so much red.

Pollen tapped the pen to her chin in thought. Giving a nod, she wrote a score at the top of her sheet.

6/15. 

That was just under half! And that meant she would have failed had it been a test. Chloe resisted the urge to hit her head on the table. She could not afford to be forced into tutoring. Again.

Despite Chloe’s despair, Pollen was excited. This was better than she was expecting! Sure, she had been hoping for closer to a 75% or 80%, but Chloe at least had the idea down.

Plus this meant she could drill some more lessons into her charge.

Rubbing her paws together, she addressed Chloe. “Alright. Since it is almost an even split, let’s go back and forth with questions and history. I’ll start with a history lesson first, since you missed more than you got correct. But since I’m feeling nice, I’ll give you a choice here: Would you rather hear some history about my previous holders first, or about all the miraculous as a whole?”

“Your past wielders, of course! I need to know who would be so lucky to use the same miraculous as moi.” Chloe flipped her hair back to accentuate her point.

Pollen huffed. Nonetheless, she thought back to her past holders, humming all the while. Who would be the best to start with to help Chloe learn? 

She smiled as someone came to mind. “Now, before we start, I should say that we aren’t always deployed to battle some great evil. Sometimes, we are let out into the world to help inspire something. For me, I either inspire Order and Control. Or, when that gets to be too much, I inspire freedom from Order and Control.”

“Wait,” Chloe interrupted. “Why would you go against your whole Order thing?”

“I thought you wanted to talk about past wielders first,” Pollen brought a paw up to her lips to hide a smile. “To get into that would mean I would have to talk about all the miraculous.”

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Tell me the basics about all the miraculous first. But! You better tell me about your past users after!” Chloe conceded, pouting at the little god.

Pollen started again. “Like I said, we don’t always need a great evil to fight. At their core, each miraculous is meant to balance out their respective aspects. Tikki- Ladybug’s kwami- is the kwami of Light and Creation, for example. She is largely put out into the world to inspire new ideas and innovation.”

Chloe scrunched her nose in confusion. “Didn’t you say you also get put out to stop Order and Control? Why would you ever want to stop Light and Creation?”

“Well,” Pollen looked off to the side. “You can’t endlessly create. Tikki works on a more individual scale. She inspires Light and Creation in people as individuals. I, however, inspire Order and Subj- Control in a much larger scheme. After all, a bee’s focus is on the hive, isn’t it?”

“In any case, sometimes people burn themselves out when creating too much or spreading too much light. If you give and give and give, what is left for you? Nothing. And those left with nothing often crumble and fall apart- or worse. Tikki, when she is needed to, can either help her holder ease off themselves or help their holder teach others to let go of such demanding responsibility.”

Chloe nodded slowly. That… sort of made sense. “So it’s like when Adr- a friend of mine kept being happy and smiling even after his mother died to help others stop being sad. Because he wanted others to feel ‘lighter’” She made finger quotes, “Despite the tragedy that happened?”

“Yes, that could be a good example,” Pollen agreed. “If your friend gave away all his light and such to others, it could burn him out and leave him feeling empty and cold. Though, in this case I would lean more into the Peacock- he worked to give good emotion to others to cover their grief. But we’ll get there in a moment.”

“Plagg, Chat Noir’s kwami, is Tikki’s counterpart. He is the kwami of Dark and Destruction.” Pollen stopped as Chloe seemed to ponder that.

“If he is all about dark and destruction, wouldn’t that make him more likely to be evil?” Chloe mused.

Pollen, for her part, wasn’t bothered by the question. “If I am all about order and control, wouldn’t I be more likely to use and abuse people?”

Chloe bit her lip, but shook her head no.

“Exactly. Just because that is what we represent it does not mean we are prone to be good or evil. In the balance of all things, there IS no good and evil. Really, it just comes down to what a certain group likes or dislikes, or how a person’s morals are aligned.”

“Okay, no, Hawkmoth is totally evil. There is no doubt about that. How could taking control of others and using their emotions to turn them into monsters be seen as a good thing?” Chloe didn’t like the idea of Hawkmoth being in the ‘right’ at all. It went against everything he had done to Paris.

“Well,” Polled offered, “Does Hawkmoth see himself as evil?”

Chloe sat back in her seat. If movies were anything to go by, he probably didn’t. She sighed and motioned Pollen to continue

Pollen pushed on. “In any case, Plagg is often put into the world to ruin things. Surprising, isn’t it? But sometimes the best things are made in the ashes of destruction. Growing from losing things is important for many people. Like how your friend lost his mom- he likely felt sad and lost. But if he grew from that? He could learn to see that others will have his back and he can lean on them. Even in the hard times.”

Chloe looked away from Pollen. She was right, sort of. When Adrien’s mom died, Chloe had been there trying her best to cheer him up. Did it really work? No. But she helped him escape the house and run around the city with her, and watch stupid cartoons and shows, and sometimes, just sometimes, get him to smile.

“But losing your mom isn’t a good thing!” Chloe snapped back. “That devastated my friend and his family.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I painted it as such. Loss is a horrible thing to endure. But I wanted to make a connection to something you mentioned.” Pollen bowed her head. “Destruction is rarely a happy thing. But, a more positive example would be something more metaphorical- the destruction of insecurities, or breaking a bad relationship, or- or bashing down a wall so you can open up a room to have more space!”

Sighing, Pollen shook her head. “It is far too easy to see Dark and Destruction as a bad thing. Darkness can be used to hide when you don’t feel safe. Or it can be used to tone down how bright something is when you feel blinded. It can also be used as a complement and give things more depth.”

“Of course, Plagg has also been put out to tame destruction. Have you ever heard the phrase ‘fighting fire with fire’? It’s the idea that you fight destruction with destruction. But he can also help people see their bad habits, or the things that hurt them, and get them to reign them in and stop themselves before it’s too late.”

“Okay, sure, that makes sense. But didn’t you just describe Tikki and Plagg as opposites anyway? Light and Dark, Creation and Destruction? Why do they need to get people to go against their aspect when the other IS the opposite?” Chloe butt in.

Pollen brightened. “That’s technically later in this lesson, but I can touch on it now. You’ve likely noticed that Ladybug and Chat Noir came together as a pair, correct?” At Chloe’s nod, she continued. “That is because they are like Yin and Yang- opposites that complete each other. While other kwamis do have opposites, none quite work the same as Tikki and Plagg. They were once a single being- one that was the kwami of Balance.”

“Well,” Pollen rubbed her cheek, “They weren’t a kwami, per se. But that is too much to explain for right now. You recall how Hawkmoth’s goal is to get the Ladybug and Black Cat miraculous?”

“Of course, that’s all he ever talks about when he akumatizes someone!”

“Well, that’s because when you combine the two into one you can have any wish granted.”

“What!” Chloe slammed her hands down on the coffee table, startling Pollen. “That’s horrible! I mean, the power is cool, but if Hawkmoth got his grubby hands on that wish who knows what he would wish for!” 

“Exactly! But there’s a catch with that- whatever you wish for will have an equal and opposite consequence. If you wished for someone to come back to life? Someone else must die. If you want to have all the power in the world? Everyone else must become powerless. These may sound simple, but the gravity is just as dire as the wish would be grand.”

Chloe fell back. “So, if I- well, if I wished for my mom to love me..?”

“It depends,” Pollen shrugged. “Maybe everyone else around you would hate you. Maybe your father would stop loving you. Or, in a more subtle fashion, she wouldn’t love the real you, just a facsimile of you. Whoever she thinks you are. Sure, there are ways to make a wish that has a mostly positive outcome- for the one making the wish- but the consequence will always hurt someone. Even if it has to be a lot of someones.”

The two fell into silence after that declaration. It was a heavy thought. What could drive someone to want to change something so badly they would be willing to suffer or let others suffer for it? How cold hearted must you be? 

The whole thing baffled Chloe. She could just ring her father and have what she wanted with no consequence. Could she imagine doing something so drastic as to ruin someone’s life to make hers better?

Instead of voicing any of this, Chloe leaned forward. “So tell me about the other miraculous…”

[seasonofthewicth]

quarantine questions

AN: this was inspired by the incredible @highqueenofelfhame ‘s fic everyone’s favourite teacher (which you can find here xxx and I 100% recommend). I absolutely adore that fic and couldn’t help but write my own spin on teacher Rowan and Aelin. 

p.s. one day I will write Aelin as something other than a teacher, today is just not that day. 

p.p.s. this isn’t a proposal fic I just can’t think of titles. Anyway, enjoy!

word count: ~2.2k

part 2 - part 3

------ 

Aelin loved her job, she really did, but Gods did quarantine make it difficult.

Normally she loved seeing the kids, they were great fun, and most of them wanted to learn and wanted to be in her classroom which meant the environment was positive and enjoyable. Even the kids that didn’t want to be there could usually be won over with a few tricks or promises of treats, which was always rewarding.

The interactions with the kids were what made her get up in the morning, the reason she had become a teacher in the first place was to satisfy her desire to help nurture children and to help them grow. But then the global pandemic had hit and the access to her students was reduced.

Not only did she have to adapt to trying to teach her lessons online, working out how the content could be explained using only her voice and a computer screen had pushed her in ways she hadn’t expected. While it was satisfying when she figured things out Aelin knew her lessons over zoom weren’t up to her usual standard.

That was the reason she had let her students know she would be at her desktop for an extra half an hour every day after school usually finished, for them to come to her if they had any problems or anything they wanted her to go through with them. Normally she would have operated her open-classroom-door policy, but a virtual replacement would have to do.

A good number of her students had taken up her offer of extra time to go through problems with her in the few weeks since she had started it, some came in groups for extra explanation for her lessons or some came individually for personal guidance.

As the clock struck 3:30 she joined the zoom call to wait for any students to join. It wasn’t long before a notification popped up telling her a student was requesting access to the call.

“Hello,” She called once the student had entered the call.

“Hey Miss G.” The student on the call was a young girl named Evangeline. 

Evangeline was an enthusiastic student and always tried her best. She sometimes struggled with the content, but her perseverance was what gave Aelin such a soft spot for her.

“Hey Evangeline, what can I do for you today?” She asked, making sure her tone was upbeat enough to invite questions.

“I just have a few questions about your lesson today I was hoping we could go through them?”

“Of course,” She said, grabbing her notepad and pen in case she needed to do any drawing of diagrams to aid her explanation, or make any notes for herself.

It didn’t take her long to go through Evangeline’s list of questions, they were all genuine and thought provoking, and it made Aelin smile knowing Evangeline had thought deeply about her teaching.

“Is that everything for today?” She asked capping her pen. “How are all the rest of your classes going?”

Evangeline took a deep breath, looking down below her computer screen and Aelin’s stomach turned nervously.

“They’re okay…” She started. “Most of them are fine, Spanish is even going well, it’s just Maths.”

Aelin shuffled where she sat, hoping the conversation wasn’t going where she thought it was as her student continued.

“I’m in Mr Whitethorn’s class, and his teaching in our lessons is fine, I’m just really struggling with the assignments. The class is huge too, so I don’t like to speak when I don’t get something.”

Mr Whitethorn.

Mr Rowan Whitethorn.

Aelin’s boyfriend of three years, not that Evangeline knew that, who was currently sitting in the room next door where he had been teaching his own zoom classes for the past few weeks.

She had met Rowan when she joined the school almost four years ago, she was newly qualified and nervous for her first proper teaching job. She had made friends quickly within her own department, the other history teachers Yrene and Elide were great fun and always up for a raucous night of drinking with Aelin. They had taken her under their wings when Aelin first started, which had led to her meeting Rowan.

The school was one of the largest in their district, meaning the different departments didn’t often mix, but one night Elide had brought along her boyfriend Lorcan, another maths teacher, who brought along his co-worker Rowan.

Rowan Whitethorn had not been what Aelin had expected. She remembered seeing him in the halls at school, dressed smartly in his button down and slacks, square framed glasses hiding most of his face.

In the bar Rowan Whitethorn had looked like a god. His tightly-fitted t-shirt highlighting his strongly-built arms and allowing her a long look at his intricate tattoo stretching down one of his arms that had previously been hidden. His silver hair shining in the bright lights as he towered over her to greet Elide.

He had flashed her a grin as he had taken the seat next to her and introduced himself and Aelin had been gone. Hooked on his slanted smile and the twinkle in his shining green eyes.

They had got along well all night, and he had bid her farewell with a chaste kiss on the cheek. The next morning she swallowed her pride and asked Elide if she could pass along his number. Elide had only replied with a phone number and a smirking emoji.

From there their relationship had been simple, but not boring. He drew out her fire and she loved him for it.

They had kept their relationship hidden at school, which had proven difficult once the quarantine kicked in and they had to hide the fact that their zoom lessons were taking place in the same house.

Aelin sighed, her attention only briefly drawn away from her student. “I’m sorry to hear that, Evangeline. Have you tried contacting Mr Whitethorn separately to let him know that you’re struggling? I’m sure he’d be more than willing to help you if he knew.”

She knew her boyfriend would be horrified to find out that a student was struggling and had been too shy to ask for help.

“No,” The young girl started, still blushing. “I’m not really sure what I would say.”

“I could help you draft an email if you wanted?” Aelin offered immediately and let out a soft sigh of relief as Evangeline nodded enthusiastically.

-----

Once her call with Evangeline had finished where Aelin had helped her to compose a draft email to Mr Whitethorn she shut her computer and left her office. She padded into the living room where she found her boyfriend lounging on the sofa, dressed in a pair of light grey sweats and a Doranelle University sweatshirt. 

Seeing him dressed so casually in their home sent a warm jolt through her chest, and an only slightly lesser rush of warmth headed somewhere slightly lower through her at the sight of him.

She flopped down next to him and burrowed her nose into his neck, breathing in his pine and snow scent.

“Hello, you.” His voice was soft as he pecked a kiss onto her cheek. “How was your day?”

She laughed, tilting her head up to face him. It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen him today; they coordinated their breaks to see each other throughout the days.

“Fine,” She said with a sly smile. “I helped one of my students draft an email for her ever so wonderful maths teacher, Mr Whitethorn, to ask for some extra help.”

“Oh Gods,” He laughed, a loud and bright sound, and tucked an arm around her shoulders pulling her in tight. “What a nightmare. He sounds like a great teacher to me.”

She snorted. “And modest.”

He poked her side. “I think he’ll get back to them tomorrow, he’s busy now anyway.”

With that he pressed a more meaningful kiss to her cheek and peppered them all the way down until his lips were pressed against her own. She leaned into the kiss, twisting her fingers through his thick hair to pull him closer towards herself.

It was incredible how he still managed to ignite her blood with a kiss, her skin burned where he touched. He slid his hands down her sides, tucking one into the crook of her knee and hitching her leg up over his own.

After a few minutes she managed to draw herself back for a breath. “He is very busy.” She pressed one last kiss against his lips. “Cooking his beautiful girlfriend her dinner. She’s very hungry.”

He growled, face pressed tightly against her neck and nipped the skin lightly with his teeth, a promise for later, but stood up, nonetheless. He held his hand out for hers and tugged her up to follow him to the kitchen.

-----

She knew Rowan had seen Evangeline’s email, and had arranged his own one-to-one session with her over zoom to go through her questions. They mostly tried to stay out of each other’s teaching, knowing that everyone had different styles and used different techniques, but they shared general pieces of information about their roles and their students.

She knew Evangeline was feeling better about his class now, she’d told her a couple of weeks later in another one of her post-school hours drop ins that she had spoken with him and he had offered her guidance on the assignment.

She also told Aelin that Mr Whitethorn had opened up the chat facility for students who weren’t confident in speaking aloud to ask questions during his lessons. Aelin had to bury her smirk at the comment, hiding the fact that Aelin herself had made that suggestion to a worried Rowan.

She was currently on an extended drop in session with around fifteen of her students going through one of the larger pieces of coursework she was setting for the class. She had tried to avoid setting large pieces of assessed work throughout the pandemic as she knew how difficult it was to work from home and she understood that not all students had a level playing field when working from home, but this one had been unavoidable.

This session had run way past the time she had allocated for it; they were over an hour into the half-hour time slot she normally used at the end of the day for the sessions.

She was listening to her students’ discussions of their ideas for the coursework, she encouraged group work and collaboration as long as the final pieces of work were completed independently.

She nodded along silently, until she heard a voice from behind her.

“Aelin, are you coming—” Rowan’s voice cut off as he froze in the doorway. 

She gasped, whirling in her seat, aware of the students on her call falling silent.

Her eyes flew back to her computer screen to check the small square in the corner that showed what her students could see of her.

Rowan was clearly well inside the frame where he stood behind her, frozen with his hand on the door handle, his mouth hanging open in an exaggerated o-shape.

She turned back towards him, her own eyes as wide as his as they met, neither knowing what to say or how they could explain his presence in her house with anything other than the truth. She knew there were too many students on her session for this to stay a secret too, the news would spread along the student network in no time.

Rowan’s mouth snapped shut and he began to inch backwards to where he had come from, but he was interrupted by a voice.

“Hey Mr Whitethorn.” Evangeline’s voice was clear over the zoom call, and it snapped Aelin out of her stupor.

“Hey guys,” Rowan’s voice was croaky. “I’ll just be—”

“Mr Whitethorn will be going now.” At her raised eyebrows he raised his hands in apology and crept back out of the room, pulling the door closed softly behind himself.

Aelin dropped her forehead to her hands and puffed out a laugh, before glancing back up at her screen.

At least five of her students were visibly on their mobiles, tapping away. Those who weren’t all wore mischievous grins. This was mortifying.

“I know why he was so helpful after our chat now Miss G.” Evangeline’s voice was smug even over the video call.

“Yes, well. Sorry about that, anyway, moving on.” She could move past this; she would move past this.

----

She left the room once the call with her students was finished, most of the awkwardness had cleared by the time the call had ended, but she had no doubt that there wasn’t a single student in the school who wouldn’t have heard about this by the next day.

She collapsed onto the sofa, her face buried in a pillow next to where Rowan sat, looking down at her sheepishly.

“I’m so sorry Aelin.”

She let out a muffled scream before taking a deep breath and looking up at him, a wonky smile spreading across her face.

“It’s not your fault,” She told him. “It’s this rutting quarantine.”

------ 

In regard to tags, I have so far assumed that anyone who has previously asked to be tagged had requested specifically for my new girl au fic, if you want to be added to a general tag list for things like this please let me know!

[fanfoolishness]

Finding the Way (The Mandalorian)

(Cara Dune & Din Djarin.  After the events of The Rescue, Din Djarin could use a friend.  Cara Dune doesn’t know what it means to be a Mandalorian, but some things are universal.  Friendship, angst, alcohol, religious questioning.  ~2400 words.)

***

She found Din Djarin alone, after the Jedi left with the child.

Cara wasn’t sure exactly when he’d slipped away from the bridge; there’d been a lot happening.  Bo-Katan and Kosca had been deep in conversation about their next destination, Fennec was pinging Boba to set up a rendezvous, and she’d busied herself with gagging the unconscious Moff and stowing him away in a corner with extra restraints.  The bastard had a lot to answer for.

In all that, though, she hadn’t wanted to look at the Mandalorian without his helmet.  It had felt too private, too close, to watch his goodbye with the kid.  Once the Jedi left, it seemed he’d taken advantage of her inattention.  

Without a ship, though, he hadn’t gone far.  He’d only been missing for fifteen minutes or so when she realized and started searching for him on the security console.  She gave a hasty request for the others to watch the Moff -- not as if Bo-Katan would let him try anything else -- and took the lift downstairs.  

She found him the next floor down from the bridge, inside the officers’ mess.  The half-opened door was scored with blaster fire; likely Din’s work when the doors wouldn’t open for him.  She peered in through the half-opened door, glancing away when she saw his mussed brown hair, a glimpse of his face.  She still wasn’t used to it, and still wasn’t sure if it was okay for her to see him like this.

“It’s me,” she called, rapping on the door with her knuckles.  Surprising a Mandalorian was a surefire way to an early grave.  “Can I come in?”

His voice sounded strange without the mechanical filter.  Human.  Almost small.  “Do what you want.”

That was encouraging, at least.  He wasn’t kicking her out entirely.  

She entered the room, rolling her eyes at Imperial waste.  Real wood paneling lined the walls, and instead of the spartan standard issue bench tables in the rank-and-file’s mess, individual tables with sleek surfaces and cushioned chairs dotted the room.  Gideon himself must have taken meals here.  

Din sat at the bar at the back of the room.  There was a half-drunk cup of liquor beside him, his helmet resting next to it, its visor turned away from him. 

“So… you okay?” Cara hazarded, taking the seat beside him.  It looked like he’d made a decent dent in a slim bottle of aged Corellian whiskey. Only the best for the officers, of course.  This stuff went for big credits in the Core, enough so that she’d never tasted it herself.

“I’m fine.”  He didn’t look at her.  He just stared straight ahead at the wall, brown eyes fixed on nothing in particular.  From the corner of her eye she could see the color of his face seemed off, red and blotchy in places.  Hell.  He’d been crying.

Her stomach twisted.  “Look… I’m sorry about the kid.  I know that had to be hard.”

He was silent for a moment.  When he spoke again, his voice was strained.  “Grogu.”

“Sorry?”

“I found another Jedi a few weeks back.  She said she couldn’t train him, but she was able to talk to him, mind to mind.  He told her about his life before I found him.  His name is Grogu.”

“Huh.  Grogu.” She chuckled.  “It’s cute.  Suits him.”

A slight dip of his head, angled toward her.  He was very still.  She could see a muscle in his cheek twitching. 

Blast.  She was no good at this crap.  She fished around for something to say, something that could help.  Maybe she could get him to talk; listening might be easier.  “You’re sure you’re fine?  Because you don’t look fine.” 

“I needed to help him find a Jedi,” Din said hoarsely.  “I did what I was tasked to do.  This is the W—“

But he cut himself off, turning his face away from her. His whole head moved to the side to shift his gaze, remnants of long years wearing a helmet.  Every martial style had its tells, and she could see the differences between the ways Bo-Katan and Koska moved, and how the man beside her moved and battled.  He was different from them, in fundamental ways, but she wasn’t sure why they could remove their helmets and he couldn’t.  Until he did.

Cara shook her head.  Think of something helpful.  You can do this.  “He’s gonna be okay, you know,” she said suddenly.  “I know who that was.  We droppers heard rumors during the war that a powerful Jedi took out the Emperor on Endor.  It has to be him.  Skywalker.  What other Jedi would fly in here in an X-Wing?”

“Good,” said Din.  He still wouldn’t look at her.  “So the Imps will never take him again.”

“I’d like to see them try.  I never knew a Jedi could do that,” said Cara.  She’d heard stories, of course, but stories were one thing.  Proof was another.  “I’m just glad he was on our side.”

Din turned back to facing forward, jaw tensed.  He nodded, a tight gesture that somehow seemed too broad for him.  Without the helmet, it was disconcerting to see emotions popping up on his face, vanishing as quickly as they came -- sorrow, pain, shame.  It almost would have been funny if it wasn’t so hard to look at.  Live your life in a helmet, guess you never have to learn to control your face.

She took a guess at the emotion that flicked past, marked in the set of his eyes, the downturned lines at his mouth.  “I’m sure you’ll see him again.”

“Maybe,” he said, and his gloved hands clenched on the table surface.  He reached out and took a drink.

“I didn’t know you drank,” she said.

“I don’t.”  His throat worked as he swallowed and drained the glass.

Oh.  “Right.”  

She reached out and took the bottle from him, pulling back a long slug on it.  It burned, clean and fierce, but it was strong stuff.  No wonder it sold for the price it did; she was surprised he wasn’t slurring already.  “Be careful with this stuff, then.  It’s not for lightweights.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said, then lapsed again into quiet.

Like talking to a durasteel wall, she thought.  “Look, I wanted to make sure you were okay.  That was rough up there.  I just -- if you want to talk about it, or something, I can listen.”  She leaned back in her chair, taking another drink of whiskey.  It seared.  “That’s all I’m trying to say.”

He turned toward her, canting his whole head instead of just moving his eyes.  There it was again, the tell that he’d lived in his helmet for a long, long time.  He took a deep breath, but he still couldn’t make eye contact with her.

“I know he has to do this.  I can’t teach him, not the way he needs.  I have -- I had to let him go,” he said.  The words sounded well-practiced, like he’d said them many times before.  

“I know,” she said.  “I’m so sorry.”  She tried a small smile, though her eyes watered suddenly.  “He -- Grogu -- he was crazy about you, you know?”

A slight shrug, shoulders scarcely moving.

“Well, he was.  Looked up to you like anything.  You guys have a bond.” 

“I did what I could for him,” said Din, closing his eyes.  “I hope it’s enough.”

“It is,” said Cara fiercely.  “You loved him, man.  No kid could ask for more than that.”

He was silent, and when he opened his eyes again, she could see that they were damp.

She swallowed, took another drink, unsure of what to say.  The quiet filled the space around them, a weighty, crushing thing.

Eventually she forced herself to speak again, casting around for something to say.  “So….  They’re making arrangements upstairs.  We’ll be rendezvousing with Fett soon, but you’re always welcome on Nevarro, too. Greef was heartbroken when I told him the Imps had the kid again, so I know he’d want to help you now.  Have you thought about where you want to go?”

“I don’t know.”  He turned away again, shoulders squaring beneath his armor.

“Well, if you don’t want to stay planetside for a while, it sounds like those other Mandalorians want your help. Honestly, if anyone could take back Mandalore, I’d put even credits on them. And on you.  Dank farrik, you even have that sword now.”

“I don’t want it,” he bit out.

“Yeah, I heard.  But you have it.  May as well use it, right?  Why give up a tactical advantage?” asked Cara.   “Sounds like it belongs in the hands of a Mandalorian anyway.”

“All the more reason for me not to wield it,” said Din, and there was something sour, something wrong, in the way his face twisted.

She stared at him, raising her eyebrows.  “What?  Wait. Are you saying —“

“I broke the Creed.  I showed my face,” he said, his voice cracking.  “I had a choice, and this is what I chose.  I am no longer worthy of my beskar.”

Cara tried wrapping her mind around it, remembered dragging him in from the battlefield, his blood hot and slick on her hand, the panic in his voice when she tried to remove his helmet to save his life.  “You chose to show your face to your child who needed you.  You did the right thing for you both.”  It didn’t make sense to her.  “I thought your people wanted to help foundlings.  Well, you helped him!”

“It is forbidden,” he forced out.

“You’re still a Mandalorian—”

Anger, grief, pain, rapid-fire flashes in his eyes and face, every muscle tensing for battle.  “You have never sworn the Creed.  You know nothing about it!”  

She bristled, fighting the urge to say something harsh, or worse, throw a punch at him to knock the sense back into him.  Beside her he was breathing harder, chest visibly rising and falling rapidly.  She bit her lip.  

“Okay, okay, maybe I don’t know what it’s like to be a Mandalorian,” Cara admitted sharply, lifting her hands to calm him.  “But I do know what it’s like to turn away from something you spent your whole life believing.  Alderaan had no army, remember?”

He breathed a little slower.  The flush of red in his face receded.  “You never told me why you became a soldier.  I assumed, after what happened --”

Her mouth twisted.  “Close, but not exactly.  I started seeing what my people couldn’t, before it happened.  The Empire was rising and people were dying.  Diplomacy stopped working a long time ago.  When I told my family I had to fight, even if that meant killing, they turned their backs on me.”

“They were blind,” said Din.  “The Imps weren’t going to stop expanding with peaceful protest.”

“Maybe,” she said.  This was the hard part.  The part that had taken her years to understand, that she was still trying to figure out.  “I think now… we wanted the same thing.  We just saw different paths to peace.  They thought pacifism was the way.  I saw the Empire killing people, terrorizing them, and that wasn’t peace.  I had to fight for peace to even begin to exist.”  She wiped her cheek, fingertips brushing over the tattooed Tear.  “So I was offworld, trying to become a new recruit, when the Empire showed Alderaan what they thought about peaceful resistance.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a tight, painful smile.  “But the thing is, Mando, I’m still Alderaanian.  No one can take that away from me but me.  Not the Empire, not my family, not the royal house of Alderaan.  Even if my family didn’t understand why I did what I did, I knew I was fighting to bring peace.  That’s what makes me Alderaanian.”  No matter what.

He gazed at the beskar helmet, shining beneath the overhead lights.  Its black visor was an empty void, disconnected from its bearer.

She let out a bark of a laugh, blinking away tears.  “I don’t know, man.  It’s your life.  Your Way.  But if your Way won’t let you show your face to your own kid when he needs you, maybe some of those rules should change.  If you still feel like a Mandalorian, I think that’s what makes you one, and not what anybody else says.”

He closed his eyes, hanging his head slightly.  He shifted in his seat with a small clink, one armored arm now resting against his helmet.  “I don’t know what I am now.”

Cara took another drink from the bottle, finishing the last of the whiskey.  “We’ve got two women up there who’d kill you in a heartbeat if you said they weren’t Mandalorian, and they show their faces clear as day.”  She shrugged.  “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to them about some of this stuff.  You could put it together with the old Way and make something new, something that feels right.  But for what it’s worth, Mando… you’ll always be a Mandalorian in my eyes.”  She clapped a hand over his shoulder, the beskar cool beneath her palm.

“It’s not --”  He struggled, mouth thinning, before he let out a long breath.  “That’s very kind,” he said slowly. He turned his head to look at her at last, searching her face.  He looked strangely vulnerable like this, far more so than he had dying in the dust of Nevarro. 

She nodded, attempting to smile, her mouth not quite getting there.  “Well, it’s true.”  

His face shifted into uncertainty.  “Perhaps the Way of the Mandalore is not… the only way to be a Mandalorian.”  He looked down at his helmet and swallowed.  “I’ll speak with the others, at least.”

“It’ll take time,” Cara said softly.  “You don’t have to figure it out right away.  Just… maybe hang on to your armor for a while, that’s all.”

He was quiet.  “Thank you.  Truly.”

“Sure,” Cara said, nudging him with her shoulder and giving him a quick smile.  “Any time.  After all, what are friends for?”    She leaned over the counter, pulling down another bottle of Corellian whiskey and grabbing an empty glass.  “What do you say to a toast?”

A dry chuckle.  “Sure.  You’ll have to tell me if I’m doing it right.  I’ve never done this before.”

“I think you’ll get the idea.”  She poured them each a glass, and raised hers high until it caught the light.  “To Grogu.”

The edges of his mouth turned up, just slightly.  Just enough.  He raised his glass to clink to hers, his brown eyes bright, his voice warm.  “To Grogu.”  

The whiskey burned in her throat, clean and pure.  To finding the Way.

[madsdefencesquad]

another kevison fanfic none of you asked for (also on ao3):

[Thread] Who's the nicest celeb you've met in real life?

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Kevin Pearson. Was an extra for one of his movies and couldn’t be any nicer. Chatted with us even though technically you weren’t supposed to. He joked around a lot and showed us pics of his family. Real top bloke.

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I met this guy once on vacation in Italy. We were at a table next to him and my newborn was screaming bloody murder, mom was in the bathroom. Couldn’t quite calm my son and I was getting real embarrassed with the loud noise. Some of the waiters came over to their table to ask if they wanted to move but Kevin shut them down immediately. Actually got a bit cross that they even suggested it. His wife suggested to rock my baby on the side to make him stop and he did! She knows a few tricks having twins and stuff. Also shared that joy/misery thing of being first time parents. Anyway, they left first (they got there earlier) and we learned after that they paid for our meals too. Couldn’t believe it.

replied: Wow. That’s the so fucking nice of them.

replied: Yeah made my wife cry haha

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I’ve heard only good things about him too! My mom lives in Philly and his brother was running for city council a few years back and he was there and took photos with all the Korean mamas including my own and my grandma! apparently he smells really expensive :P

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Didn’t know that I was fully chatting up his wife at Starbucks until I saw a pic of them at the premiere for one of his movies. I’d be embarrassed by my god she was fantastic! 10/10 would’ve gone for it if I wasnt such a potato

replied: And wasn’t married.

replied: That too

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My daughter was an extra on one of his movies and says he’s the nicest guy and “such a dad” lol! And her dad’s a real “dad” dad so for her to say that about a famous actor is funny

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I used to teach his kids in my kindergarten class. Daughter’s wicked smart. I can tell you all the mothers would have a fit every time he’d come by to pick them up and if it’s not his wife or them together, it’s him. Very hands on. I’d say that counts for nice.

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Rocked out to a Lady Gaga show with him and his wife in Vegas. His wife and I are practically best friends now! We’re on first name basis ;)

replied: Sounds fun! What were they there for if you don’t mind me asking? Coz isn’t he like sober now?

replied to a reply: I think it was for a niece’s birthday or something? Couldn’t remember, was pretty wild night :P And I didn’t see any drinks.Even his wife wasn’t drinking I think? They were literally there to enjoy Gaga like the rest of us

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I love hearing stories about him like this because it always looks like he’s such a pretentious pretty boy jerk especially back in the day

replied: Getting your life sorted can change a man

replied to a reply: Yeah he’s pretty mellowed out since getting sober. He’s had that DUI and rehab stint but now he’s a real family man and seems to love his wife very much. Good for him.

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Doesn’t he remind you of George Clooney? Got married late and had boy girl twins and is loving life!

replied: True!!

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Not sure if everybody knows but his wife Madison is pretty big in the interior design space especially coz she like pretty much runs their fam construction business. I follow her on Insta and I know everyone has a crush on Kevin but I’d pick her over him any day!

replied: OMG YES SAME! She puts together these amazing DIY palettes and I’m obsessed! I’d also pick her over him any day even just to pick her brain

replied to a reply: She also recommends the best books!!!

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My mom’s in the planning side of construction and met his wife in West Chester. She did a presentation and afterwards her and my mom shared parenting tips like they’re in some mom club. Apparently she was the sweetest and her babies are adorable and also Kevin calls a lot lol

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Met him at the airport, wife’s a huge fan of the manny so sucked my gut to ask for a pic. When he found out it’s for the missus, he recorded a special vid saying his iconic line. Missus was over the moon. Real good fella

replied: MANNY SAY WHAAATTTTT

replied: That’s so nice

replied: He did for my mom as well! All the moms love him!

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Kevin Pearson helped re-build my grandparents’ burned down convenience store. Couldn’t thank him enough even if I tried

replied: Wow, that’s real generous. How are the grandparents?

replied to a reply: Thanks! They’re over the moon. They have a house near the area but gran said he’d come by with his kids from time to time. Even if gran didn’t want to, they always insisted to pay for whatever the kids wanted.

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Delivered the cake for his uncle (grandpa’s?) wedding and he gave a seriously generous tip. Oh and his wife packed me pigs in the blanket.

replied: Pigs in the blanket?! What in the middle school

replied: Apparently it was the uncle/grandad’s favorite or something and they double ordered. But who cares free food!

replied to a reply: Did it come with ketchup?

replied to a reply: Hot, wrapped in foil and handful of ketchup packets. I felt like one of the kids

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Not him but his brother who’s like a big shot in politics right now. Real top guy and had the best laugh

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This doesn’t sound real but I’ve bumped into him literally five times over the past year he’ll probably think I’m some stalker. Rarely saw him without his family and once his kid threw a ball at me. He apologised but c’mon you either throw a ball or bounce it no big deal. Besides, that kid has David Beckham’s kids manners. Real like English folk polite it’s insane

replied: That’s always nice to hear that celebrity kids aren’t spoiled brats. We know a few good of them are

replied to a reply: Celebrity kids are different from kid celebrities though

replied to a reply: Didn’t say they were the same? Just saying that for a kid of someone so rich and famous you’d think they’d be a bit more spoiled but they weren’t at all and was beyond respectful and that’s a testament to the parents.

replied to a reply: Agree. I’ve met this particular celebrity’s kids and mind you they’re teens now but god they were just awful and pretentious. Even more than their famous parent which is saying something

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Not him but I did meet that actress that was so embarrassingly flirty around him during the press conference of hat film he did a few years back. She’s a real bitch and so fake and I’m so glad she’s been dropped from the sequel

replied: Oh god yeah I remember her. She was so obnoxious laughing at everything he said like stfu it’s not that funny!!!! The secondhand embarrassment watching her and him being all polite about it *chills*

replied: She’s the worst. No talent

replied to a reply: I was an extra for some scenes in that movie and she was WAY worse and such a diva for someone unknown. Kevin’s a real nice guy though and just let her be. He talks about his wife and kids a lot but she would not take a hint!

replied to a reply: That is just embarrassing

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Alright story time. Was working as a barista at a cafe and it was one of those really shitty days. He came in, ordered and waited and was all nice and took some pics with fans. Anyway, like I said shitty day so I mixed up his coffee order and got him two lattes instead of cappuccinos. Mind you, it was a busy asf day as well and I was the only one making coffees. He comes over and tells me and I apologise but by this time my manager’s already all up on my ass for serving Kevin Pearson incorrectly. He kept apologising to him and berating me till Kevin himself stepped in and told the manager off. But like calmly and stuff like it’s no big deal and people make mistakes whatever and I kid you fucking not he apologised to me too and said I was doing a good job. He probably won’t know how much that meant to me after an already shitty as day but it did. I made sure to make him the best fucking cappuccinos

replied: I’ve met him in irl too and he is this!

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I saw him sitting at a cafe with his daughter. Super nice. Asked him if I could get an autograph for my mom who’s a huge fan. He asked me some questions about her and wrote a really nice autograph, for her. His daughter stuck one of her stickers on there too and my mom loved that even more. I told him where she works (at a grocers) and he went out of his way to shop there the next day and made a point to look for her and chat. Great, great dude

replied: That is so fucking cool man. And your mom must’ve been so happy!

replied to a reply: She was over the moon! She loves his wife too! Apparently she was even chattier than Kevin haha

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Met him at the airport. I was an employee and he had some TSA questions. Genuinely nice and friendly, chatted for about 15min. After he was set, we shook hands, he had his kids say thank you individually with a high five. Adorable. His wife was super nice and friendly too. Very good social interaction, would participate again

[aerialcedrick]

PINTEREST | MUSINGS | INTRO | TASKS

[ DA’VINCHI, HE/HIM, CIS MAN ]  —  [ CEDRICK CHANDLER ]  is a grandchild of  [ HERMES & EROS ]  with the power of  [ ENHANCED SPEED & WING MANIFESTATION ] .  they were born in  [ 1998 ]  and have been in nemean lion since  [ 2016 ] .  with the change, they [ ARE TRAINING IN ]  the  [ HERO ]  role which makes sense since they’re usually  [ LIFTING WEIGHTS OR TEACHING YOUNGER NEMEAN LION KIDS SPORTS ] .  if you’d like to meet them try the  [ SUN ]  building .  

GENERAL

Full Name: Cedrick Chandler  Nickname(s): Ricki  Age: 23  Date of Birth: December 13, 1998  Hometown: Baltimore, Maryland

FAMILY

Parents: Jenelle Chandler (mother) & Leroy Chandler Sr. (father, non-biological), Hermes (grandparent) Eros (grandparent) Sibling(s): Leroy “Roy/Junior” Chandler Jr. 16, Zeke “Zee” Chandler 9 (younger brothers, non-demigods)  Pet(s): Female Doberman Pinscher named Kahlúa    Family’s Financial Status: Middle Class

BIOGRAPHY

Ricki’s parents had him young. Jenelle, a child of Hermes, had chosen to live a life separate from her godly relatives. She had the power of omnilingualism and was studying foreign policy in undergrad, keeping the secrets of her skills to herself. College is the time for experimenting, and a threesome with a child of Eros left Jenelle and Leroy with a baby they didn’t know what to do with. Jenelle took a leave of absence from school to carry but never returned and Leroy finished his degree. The couple tried to look at Ricki’s conception as an act of love, something they both took part in, and decided against a paternity test in favor of raising him as their own. 

Ricki was 6 by the time Junior was born and wasn’t showing any signs of being a demigod. His speed felt like a gift and they put him in sports young, having played little league, soccer, and eventually running track in high school. Jenelle had a feeling he’d inherited his speed from her lineage, but never put that pressure on Ricki. Ricki was always a popular, likable guy and is incredibly close to his father. He loves kids and would do anything for his little brothers. He was a gifted athlete and though the Chandlers knew his skills were likely genetic, from Hermes, they chose to keep their kids out of the know.

Junior year of high school was when his wings were discovered. An uncontrollable itching in his back made him claw and scrape at his skin, unaware what the issue was. A few x-rays showed wings growing under his skin. That’s when his parents looked at each other and realized the truth: Ricki was not Leroy’s son. 

It took Ricki a long time to process this but he tried not to be distant, instead spending more time at the gym and hanging out with friends as a distraction. He started cutting class and lingering at the mall with the wrong crowd, even started stealing and getting into trouble. The day his parents told him they were sending him to NL he almost caused a riot. He’d worked hard, and having to admit that work wasn’t his own felt stolen. If it was up to him, he’d ignore the stretch in his back as long as he could.

When he got to NL he finally began embracing his powers out of a need to make an impression and show off. He liked being fast and knew with the right training from the right people he could be faster, better. Something about becoming a hero made him feel strong and important and special and he liked that. He got closer to Hermes, but still struggled to get close to Eros, and didn’t make any immediate efforts to work with his wings.

The growing pains got so bad that half way into coming to Nemean Lion Ricki started taking pain killers to help with the pain, but they made him distant and spacey. He didn’t take them long enough to form any strong reliance, and is going into this year trying to embrace his wings and learn to control them. He hopes to ask to shadow Levi, finally ready to take charge of his power. He wants to be proud, to learn how to soar. Also, he kinda can’t graduate from the hero track until he does.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Da’Vinchi  Height: 6 ft 3 in  Style/Aesthetic: Athletic, track jackets, varsity jacket, jeans, basketball shorts, cleans up nice and always has his chain on. Has his ears pieced and one either has a silver hoop, little diamond, or hanging cross. Always has a fresh fade and always clean shaven.  Extras: Ricki is a HUGE sneaker head, the type to stand in line early when a special pair drops, and has a section in his room where some never worn sneakers are on display. He buys really expensive running shoes and has a few custom pairs he wears on special occasions. He’s serious about his kicks. Also he gets manicures with a clear coat so his nails are always on point/clean and he’s best friends with his manicure lady.

PERSONALITY

Positive Traits: charming, outgoing, approachable, compassionate, understanding, hardworking, optimistic, fair-minded, honest, spontaneous Negative Traits: inconsistent, reckless, overly confident, occasional bursts of anger, forgetful    Hobbies: Collecting sneakers, playing sports, he’s a bit of a show off, going to the gym, hanging out/needs to be around people  Habits: forgetful/will sometimes agree to double plans, has a hard time not moving and has a LOT of energy so if he’s still too long you’ll catch him bouncing his leg or pacing. Has issues with focusing for too long and has a short attention span. Over exerts himself.

EXTRA

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius  Temperament: Sanguine. Sanguines tend to be more extroverted and enjoy being part of a crowd; they find that being social, outgoing, and charismatic is easy to accomplish. Individuals with this personality have a hard time doing nothing and engage in more risk seeking behavior.  Moral Alignment: Neutral Good

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

Hometown friends/family friends 

Best friends/Good friends met at NL. Ricki is really social and definitely rolls with a few crews

A ride-or-die. I imagine Ricki has a lot of friends and is friends with almost everyone because he’ll go up and talk to anyone but he needs at least one day 1. I imagine Ricki has a close main crew that has a group chat and acts up together and would love to get a few chars together (4 or 5) to make that friend group dynamic a thing. Bonus: giant text threads hehe

Someone he’s super protective over, he would pull up in a second.

Additionally, someone who is super protective of him.

Others on the hero track he can train with.

A few enemies. I imagine some people think he’s annoying or a bit of a show off, he’s that kid that’s good at most things. Past friends who are current frenemies! Some friendly or unfriendly competition. Ricki doesn’t always feel the need to prove himself but unfortunately he never backs down from a challenge because he’s not a little bitch so he WILL agree to stupid dangerous shit.

People that were close to him when he was taking a lot of painkillers and would recognize a similar shift in his behavior.

Romances. Past flings or partners, someone who has a crush on him, someone he has a crush on, give me all of it! An almost-something-now-nothing. A friend who wants to use him to make someone else jealous but he’s in on it. Your char is his friend and he doesn’t like their partner/he’s your partners friend but your char doesn’t like him! Past lovers to friends, past lovers to enemies (bad breakup, now it’s all attitude). FWB. ALL OF IT. Ricki isn’t necessarily a player but he’s not that committal. He’s the type that comes off as boyfriend material but then forgets to text back and skips dates to train and then wanna act confused when you’re mad. Then he go and buy you ice cream and flash you his smile and you let him inside anyway.

Roommates/apartment mates in the sun building! 

Anything and everything!! Ricki is super versatile.

[oneofyatosfollowers]

Yatori Week 2021- Day 7

@yatoriweek2021

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32090953/chapters/79500055

Fanfiction: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13905660/1/Yatori-Week-2021

It was a natural law in this world that humans were connected by ties. 

Individuals connected to one another through spiritual bonds, their relationship in it’s very essence. Most of these bonds are created as a person goes through life: best friends, bosses, classmates. There were only a handful of relationships that are decided before an individual is born into the world. The most suspenseful and life changing bond a person had no control over was who they fell in love with. Their soulmate. It was someone they were guaranteed to meet and whose existence was the only solid evidence of bonds people had. Unlike every other tie a person develops, an individual is given a hint about the bond before it’s ever really tied. Once the individual turns 16, the first words their soulmate will say to them appear as an unerasable mark on the person’s body. It is the only designation of the tie the two are destined to share. While a soulmate bond can never be broken, if they die, a new soulmate is matched to the individual. The words disappear as new words form elsewhere on the skin.

The entire thing was romanticized by society, especially newly turned-sixteen year olds. Of course Hiyori was no exception. She wasn’t as vociferous as her other female classmates but that didn’t mean Hiyori wasn’t excited the morning after her sixteenth birthday and searched her body. Which is why when she finally found the word, neatly scrawled out on the soft part of her arm, Hiyori’s entire future came crashing down around her.

“Hiyori!” Yama whined, “come on, why can’t you just show us what it says!” Her friend insisted during lunch break. It’s been over a month since Hiyori turned sixteen and since then she has put makeup on her arm every day. Thankfully this was not an uncommon practice, most people covered the words for their future soulmate for various reasons. Unfortunately, Hiyori’s reason was one of the more unsavory ones. Not that she could ever tell anyone that.

“Because Yama! It’s a- it’s a surprise! I want to be the only one who knows when I meet him. It has to stay a secret,” Hiyori answered. As her friends swooned and sighed she subconsciously tucked her arm against her stomach, taking care not to let the make-up rub off.

“Of course, it’s much more romantic that way! Lots of people do it,” Ami agreed. They giggled and turned the conversation to other stories of cute soulmate meetings. What Hiyori told them was common, it was natural for people to want to get to know their soulmate before telling others close to them. Part of Hiyori, on the other hand, would rather not meet her soulmate at all. She frowned at her arm later that day in the bathroom. It was best to re-apply makeup every four hours. There was some leeway with the rules of the universe. It wasn’t just the first ‘word’ that was written on the skin, it was more like the first sentence. For Yama, she had “You like that band too?” scrawled on her back while Ami just had “Excuse me, miss” on her hip. Hiyori only had one word. One word that would not disappear until he said it to her. That wasn’t the thing that bothered her. Despite hearing about the wonders love did for a person, how it felt, Hiyori did not want to fall for someone who’s first word to her is going to be “boobs.”

---

Yato stepped out of the convenience store with a sigh. He could already hear Yukine complaining about microwave food for dinner but pay has been rather tight this month. Since he never graduated highschool, despite self-teaching most subjects, Yato’s job opportunities were far and few in between. As such he could only do odd jobs around town and whatever else he could sweet-talk his way into. The past month was the convenience store during the day and bartending at night and on weekends; while next week he would spend his time window washing and move the convenience store to the night shift. They were lucky they decided to room with Kazuma at college and help split the rent and fees, but taking care of a teenager when you were barely 23 was a handful in various ways. Still, Yato didn’t regret it. He considered himself to be a rather lonely and standoff-ish person- having been raised by a violent, manipulating man- and Yukine was the same. Raising him was the least Yato could do with his sorry life; that way at least Yukine could feel better about meeting whoever he was destined for.

As Yato continued down the street he swerved around giggling couples and happy families. Part of him wanted to gag and roll his eyes, but that part was very old and small compared to the rest of him. The majority of him just glanced at them with blank eyes and a melancholy sigh, still unbelieving of the concept and its power. It wasn’t that he didn’t have one, of course he did. Yato just didn’t believe that- whoever they were- would truly love him as he was and would live happily ever after with him. Yato was aware he wasn’t the type of guy parents wanted their daughter or son to bring home, if his frequent homeless was anything to go by. Bad luck and misfortune followed Yato around like the plague to the point where Yato felt sorry for the person forcibly tied to him.

“I’m home!” Yato called into the house. He would have to pull himself out of his funk before Yukine got concerned. As he took his shoes off, Yato dug around in his pocket for the extra change he collected and let them clink into the glass bottle on the table. Kazuma was still working on his masters, which meant they would be able to live in this nice place for at least another couple years. The money in the bottle was originally for Yato’s proper education which then transferred to Yukine’s college fund. Of course that was still up for argument but they would need a place to live eventually. With another sigh, Yato walked into the kitchen to see Kazuma and Yukine eating a healthier looking meal.

“Welcome back,” Kazuma greeted. The third seat at the table had a plate with larger portions on it, steam coming from the top.

“How was work?” Yukine asked around his food.

“Don’t choke,” Yato immediately switched into mother-hen mode which caused the kid to roll his eyes.

“Rough day?” Kazuma asked as he watched Yato put the instant food away.

“Not really,” Yato shrugged. It was true, nothing particularly happened today but maybe that was the problem.

“Still haven’t talked to your soulmate, huh?” Yukine snickered. From across the table, Kazuma chided him but Yato just rolled up the newest edition of Yukine’s favorite magazine he picked up and whacked him lightly on the head.

“Well we can’t all be like Mr. Asked-Out-My-Soulmate-The-Moment-I-Turned-Sixteen over here,” Yato thumbed over to Kazuma who just stuck his nose in the air.

“I knew it was her before-hand. I could just tell.” He insisted.

“Yeah, well, knowing Yato he’s going to end up as one of those people who don’t meet their soulmate until they’re 80,” Yukine scoffed, “and with first words like that I wouldn’t want to anyway.”

“Yukine!” Kazuma hissed. Yato just waved him off, the kid didn’t mean any harm.

“You better be careful. You know they say it’s bad to make fun of another’s soulmate, especially when you haven’t gotten yours yet,” Yato grinned at the kid who happily took the gift.

“I thought a soulmate was chosen when you were born?” Yukine huffed.

“Hmm that’s up to the gods,” Yato sang, “two more years, two more years.” He held up a peace sign at the fourteen year old who just huffed again and opened the magazine.

“Yato,” Kazuma said as he walked by, though it was unclear what he was going to say. Not in the mood for pity, Yato just winked.

“I’m going to hop in the shower real quick.” He scampered off down the hall just as Kazuma and Yukine got into their bickering match. Yukine didn’t understand why Kazuma was so iffy with soulmates around Yato and that was understandable. There were many reasons as to why that the kid didn’t know. For one, Yato was the one who got Kazuma to his soulmate, introduced them in fact, but that was a story for another day.

Once the shut door cut off their voices, Yato sighed again and started to undress. First he took off his ascot, which revealed the words on the side of his neck, then his shirt which revealed his empty naval. Yes, Yato did have a soulmate, but the one that claimed his neck was different than the one he once had. One glance at his phone, and the date, revealed the reason he had been so down: it was the anniversary of his original soulmate’s death. Regardless of the fact that it had been years, or that Yato had lost track of the date, the loss of a soulmate was something he felt annually whether he acknowledged it or not. That very fact was one of the only reasons Yato still believed in the power of ties.

In the mirror, Yato’s eyes traced the empty skin under his belly button like he had done when he was younger. When he turned 16 he spent the entire night wide awake, waiting for the fabled words to appear. He remembered being so happy when they did, running to the bathroom much like this one to read the words “Aren’t The Cherry Blossoms Beautiful?” He had dreamed about the day he would meet her, spending most of his time hanging around sakura trees and attending festivals. He wondered what she would look like, what she would be like, what his words to her were. With a sentence like that, she sounded kind. The words made him want to be kind too, they were his saving grace that could never go away no matter how much his father tried. But then, just as quietly as they appeared, they disappeared. After six months. He had been frantic, panicked, pulling and tugging at his skin until it turned red, running down stairs with tears rolling down his face. Kazuma was there for him but even he could sense the effect it had on Yato.

“They must have died,” his father had said, “that’s what happens.” The picture of Yato’s mother hung on the wall.

“You’ll get a new one eventually,” he checked his wrist to look at his own second soulmate, “but whether or not you choose to remain loyal to the first is up to you. The gods are fickle that way.”

Shaking his head of the memory, Yato forced his eyes up to his new future. He refused to become miserable like his father, taking out his loss on the children a soulmate’s love produced. Yato would be kind to his soulmate and treat her like the precious blessing she was. At least, that’s what Yato told himself. When the new words appeared one morning on his neck years later- showing how much younger his soulmate was- his sister had laughed. She said that the gods made a mistake with the first and that he was destined to be with a gyaru. What even was a “Jungle Savate” anyway? At the time he had done a quick google search, the words were the name of a wrestling move, and Yukine laughed that he would fall in love with a beefy wrestler. Of course Kazuma said that there were wrestling schools across the country and that a spunky fighter would match Yato perfectly. Either way, Yato may or may not have gone to the supposed wrestling schools once or twice. Even thought about signing up if it weren’t so expensive. But Yato had long since decided to focus on taking care of himself and Yukine, allowing the soulmate to appear naturally.

“Gyarus aren't that bad anyway,” Yato muttered to himself in the shower.

“Just keep telling yourself that!” Yukine hollered from the hall.

“Yukine!” Kazuma gasped loudly. Despite himself, Yato chuckled and decided that whatever makeup skills he learned from his sister would be put to good use.

---

Even though soulmates were the biggest event in a high schoolers’ life, there were other landmarks that were also exciting to experience. The major event coming up for Hiyori was the culture festival. Since she wasn’t in any club, she would be helpling her class put together a cafe. She had been sent to the home-ec room to grab some essentials and was on her way back to the classroom when Ami came running down the hall.

“Hiyori! Hiyori!” She called, arms waving. This was rather odd for the no-nonsense girl to do so Hiyori stopped immediately. Her friend ran up to her with a breathless smile.

“Yama just found her soulmate!” Ami exclaimed.

“Really?” Hiyori gasped. With a nod, Ami ran back to the classroom with Hiyori closely behind. Entering the room, the entire class was still in applause for the new couple, taking turns congratulating them as they gushed over the event. Yama was not so shamefully showing off her now empty back while the young man standing next to her showed off a blank calf. He was tall with short black hair and a kind smile.

“Awe I missed it,” Hiyori sighed good-naturedly. She giggled with Ami regardless.

“His name is Abe! He’s in the grade ahead of us which is why she’s never seen him before! Turns out he was looking for his friend and accidentally walked into the wrong classroom. What a coincidence, huh?” Ami gushed.

“Seriously,” Hiyori gasped with awe, “that’s all it takes huh?” They mused for a moment before approaching their best friend and giving their congratulations. The merriment went on for about ten minutes before the teacher gently nudged the class back to work and Abe back to class. The two made plans for a date that night and Yama waved him goodbye. As Hiyori was directed to where she should put her things, she noticed even the window-wiping guy was applauding her friend. While the class continued to work, Yama went on about the event to Hiyori and Ami non-stop. Behind her the window man swayed back and forth on his elevated bench.

“So yeah, I just bumped into him and he saw my phone key chain and-” Yama’s chattering was cut off by loud laughter. A group of the more rowdy group of boys were slacking on their work in favor of snickering with the window cleaner. The teacher had left some time ago which allowed the man to splash suds on the glass and draw rather inappropriate images.

“Ugh,” Ami scoffed, “honestly some boys never grow up. It’s like they're looking at their future’s reflection.” With another roll of their eyes, Hiyori’s friends went back to their project while Hiyori kept watching. The minor pity and disgust she felt for the man quickly faded when he wiped the drawing away and instead continued on with his work. Instead of the regular rhythmic wiping he had been doing before, the man felt he still had an audience to put on a show for. With a new splash of soap, the man twirled the wiper with his fingers, tossing it in the air before spinning it along the glass. Even Hiyori found herself in awe as he kept it spinning along the window, seemingly on its own, while he pulled out a second one that moved at lightning speed to clean up after it. While he made quick work of the window, keeping the students who watched entranced, Hiyori found herself looking past the theatrics and the barrier at the man.

He was young, like someone who should be in college with her brother not washing windows in the middle of a weekday. He had nondescript black hair, white tee-shirt, scarf, and paint stained jeans with sneakers. His eyes, on the other hand, were something Hiyori had to stare at. From her spot within the classroom, Hiyori could tell how piercing they were. They were blue, bright blue that sharply stood out against the clear sky behind him like day time stars. They were amused, crinked by his slight smirk as he continued his dance, yet Hiyori felt they weren’t as bright as they could be. Even with the tiredness, or lack of happiness, she thought the man felt, his performance devolved into actual dancing with his wipers and water. He didn’t seem to notice most of the students went back to ignoring him but the perfect pigeon he managed to shape with the water had Hiyori sputtering out a laugh.

“Ooo Hiyori! Laughing at the attractive window man with the wet t-shirt? What would your mother say?” Yama suddenly teased, “not that I blame you.” They looked at the man together, Hiyori’s eyes catching onto the ropes holding up the bench.

“Yama, you literally just found your soulmate,” Ami huffed at her. They dissolved into giggles as the window washer did a backflip and landed heavily on the metal seat, the ropes holding him up stretching under the stress.

“Hiyori? Hiyori!” Ami’s called after her as Hiyori sprang to her feet. Hiyori ignored them and rushed to the back of the class, pushing her way through the group of boys to the window. By now the man had noticed her and stopped his dancing, but behind him one of the ropes was starting to unravel, unnoticed by everyone else.

“Oi! Iki!”

“What the hell?” The boys sounded in alarm as Hiyori unlocked the window and threw it open. It slid out of the way with a harsh clatter just as the rope untied itself. For a moment, Hiyori was face to face with the blue-eyed man, expressions a mirror image of intense fear. The connection between their gaze was shattered as he started to fall and Hiyori lurched her hand out to him, not noticing the way her knee was slipping off the edge.

Hiyori shut her eyes as she fell through the air, the fall seemed to take forever yet was over in an instant. As the wind whipped through her hair, roaring against her ears, Hiyori’s outstretched hand accomplished it’s task of grabbing onto his shirt. It was something she failed to notice, just as she didn’t notice the way his arms wrapped protectively around her, latching her against his chest to try and cushion her fall.

In a second, they fell to the ground with a harsh thud, Hiyori’s entire body jolting from the impact. It knocked the wind out of her. Hiyori kept her eyes screwed shut and she tried to breathe in and out, a tear squeezing from her eye. Somewhere she heard people shouting along with the groan of the man she pushed. Eventually she tried to get up, blinking away the spots in her vision as her balled fists pushed against whatever they were holding. She only made it a couple inches forward before the adrenaline and shock caused her arms to give out and she fell back down.

“Hiyori!” Yama cried from above.

“Hiyori, are you alright?” Ami exclaimed. More shouting came from above and Hiyori opted not to try and lift herself up.

“Yeah I’m fine!” She called. Which was surprisingly true. They only fell from the second story window but Hiyori figured something would be broken. It was then that the mass under her groaned and Hiyori realized the reason behind her lack of injuries. With a gasp she looked down, unable to actually see the man she was completely laying on top of. Her mouth opened and closed as Hiyori struggled to ask if he was okay, or apologize, or berrade him for dancing while suspended in the air. The man, however, was quicker to get in control of his limbs and frantically tapped her sides and shoulder. She could feel him fight the same battle as her, taking in a breath so deep, Hiyori felt herself rise.

“Boobs,” he wheezed. Hiyori heard herself squawk as her body temperature boiled from her feet to her head. The window washer batted her shoulder again, a little harder. This time Hiyori felt his mouth move, hot and gasping against her chest.

“Heavy. Can’t breathe,” he gasped. With another noise that sounded between a yelp of embarrassment and a cry of outrage, Hiyori was finally able to scramble off him. She couldn’t go far, just able to sit next to him with her arms wrapped around her top. With knitted brows, Hiyori watched him gasp for air like he just endured CPR. It was then that Hiyori realized three things. One, this man called her heavy; Two, she almost suffocated him with her breasts in front of the school; Three, he was her soulmate. With another gasp he forced himself to a sitting position, his fingers kneading his forehead as he groaned.

“Did someone get a teacher?”

“Are they okay? That girl just jumped out of the window!”

“Did he just say ‘boobs’?” The student chatter from the open windows finally flooded into Hiyori’s senses. Mortified, the arms wrapped around her breasts hugged them tighter against her. In her panic she stood sharply, stumbling for a second before catching herself. The action caught his attention and those bright blue eyes whipped up to her.

“Hey, are you okay?” He asked, concerned, “what were you thinking jumping out of the window like that?” It was as if he didn’t notice the bench that once suspended him in the air was now lopsided tilting down towards a nasty fall. The absolute nerve of him! The insult, the sexual harassment, the absolute lack of brain cells! Hiyori felt the steam from her fury and embarrassment cause her teeth to grind under the pressure. She seethed as the man before her- her soulmate no less- was just blinking up at her with honest worry, unaware that she was a smoking gun ready to fire. Hiyori didn’t even have time to think about this being the first thing she said to him as she pivoted her back foot.

“Jungle,” Hiyori lashed her leg out, “Savate!” With a twist of her body and an absolutely perfect form, the top of her foot landed squarely along the light blue targets. His eyes only had time to widen before his head was sent harshly back down to the ground. It took a couple of heaving breaths for Hiyori to realize- rather proudly- the man was knocked out cold. Then it took until after the teachers arrived, followed by the paramedics accepting Hiyori’s request to bring them to her parent’s hospital, for her to realize what her first words to her soulmate were.

---

When Yato came to, he could already feel the smile on his face. It was rather confusing at first, his brain couldn’t come up with the answer as to why he was happy. But when a white light blinded his retinas, Yato figured he must be in heaven. Before he could send an honest apology to his soulmate for kicking the bucket so easily, he heard the voice of another- less angelic- little angel.

“If you’re going to wake up just do it already, stop moaning like you’re dying,” sassed Yukine from somewhere at his side.

“Yukine please! He’s concussed with broken ribs and has a cracked rib cage,” Kazuma fretted from the other side. Smile already in place, Yato could only huff a laugh and rub his eyes. The headache had settled in but Yato forced himself to blink away the lights, eying the concerned way his friends were leaning forward. Even with Yukine’s scowl and glare Yato could clearly see the blonde’s red-rimmed eyes. The image was always adorable, the kid tended to be a cry baby, but Yato remembered he was smiling for another reason.

His soulmate. A spunky, feisty, beautiful young woman who was just as kind hearted as he had hoped. It was a bit off-putting that she was still a highschool student- laws covering soulmates would make Yato look a little better- but Yato figured she must have recently turned 16. It made him feel better that she had no problem cracking him across the face with one hell of a kick when he was out of line, not that he did it on purpose. Still, he owed it to her to go talk to her. He wanted to go talk to her! And make sure he was remembering correctly and it wasn’t the concussion talking. Looking around, Yato was in a hospital bed, that was for sure. Under a thin white blanket on a raised mattress. The LED lights showed that they were the only ones in the room, that no other beds were lined up next to him. Come to think of it, the room was ridiculously nice. Far too nice for anything in their budget. Maybe he really was in heaven and these were just fake roommates.

“Where am I?” Yato asked. His question was met with silence as Yukine and Kazuma shared a concerned look from across the bed sheets. Suddenly, Yukine slipped his hand into Yato’s and his big, baby eyes grew shiny with concern.

“Yato?” Yukine asked, “do you remember us?” He said it so honestly, so gently, that Yato’s expression dropped into shock. Biting his lip, Yato realized he had a golden opportunity here but there were more important things to do than making his kid cry.

“I don’t have amnesia, Yukine. I still remember the little munchkin that mooches off of my side gigs,” Yato snorted, squeezing their hands. With a grin, Yato and Kazuma snickered as Yukine hissed and tossed their hands off to the side.

“That was some fall though! I heard you saved a girl that jumped after you?” Kazuma said.

“She did jump!” Yukine gasped, “or did you grab her?” He accused with narrow eyes.

“I did not! She tried to grab me and we both fell,” Yato explained. So his memory wasn’t screwy. The first thing that girl said to him was ‘Jungle Savate’ the same as that famous kick. Even better! The first word he said to her was...was…

“What is it? Are you in pain?” Kazuma fretted when Yato groaned and let his head fall back against the pillow.

“What about her? Did she get hurt?” Yato asked, eyes closed.

“No actually. They put her down the hall and she walked away without any bruises,” Kazuma said, “in fact it was her that insisted on coming to this hospital. Apparently she has family here, which is why they put you up for free.”

“For free really?” Yukine blinked.

“Yeah, I was talking to the doctor. He was really grateful. On behalf of the family I guess.” Kazuma shrugged.

“Well that’s really nice of her,” Yato sighed, a smile growing back on his face. She truly was kind, and seemed to come from a loving, equally kind family. Yato made a vow to worship the ground she walked on. Before Yato could open his mouth to inform his friends about the amazing, life-changing, discovery he made in such an in-characterly unlucky way, they heard a group of girls down the hall.

“Are you sure you should be moving around, Hiyori?” One voice echoed. Yato’s heart leaped in his throat and his mouth clicked shut.

“Yeah Hiyori, and why do you even want to see this pervert anyway?” Another comment sounded even closer and stabbed Yato right through the heart. They were easily heard by the rest of the room and Yukine gave Yato a shoulder pat filled with mock sympathy. There was some harsh sushing from the group of gossiping girls as they approached his room.

“Cause he saved my life and got hurt that’s why,” a familiar voice whispered. It took a couple moments before a trio of highschool girls entered Yato’s hospital room, taking a moment to whisper about his name. They walked in like they owned the place, like they were going to kick Yato out of their lunch table. In the middle, Yato’s soulmate led the other two. She fit his memory perfectly, long brown hair with round brown eyes. Now that she didn’t have a look of absolute fear and panic, Yato noticed her eyes had specks of mahogany within their depths. He could stare at them for hours and happily get lost. Unfortunately, she still had a look of nervous anxiety and Yato was reminded of the elephant between them.

“Um, hello! Are you, um, the guy who was washing our windows?” The girl with the shortest hair asked.

“Yes I am,” Yato smiled, “and you can just call me Yato.” He let his eyes move from her to his soulmate, keeping his smile as tamed as he could.

“Thank you for saving our dear Hiyori!” The girl wailed, the other one with glasses comforting her. Hiyori suddenly seemed to straighten out slightly and Yato caught her pressing the inside of his arm against her side. From what he could see, the skin was empty, and he didn’t have to look to know his neck was just as clear. It seemed the short haired girl wasn’t the only one with bravery, as his soulmate cleared her throat and steeled herself.

“Hello Yato, my name is Hiyori Iki. It’s nice to meet you.” She came to stand next to Yukine, her eyes never releasing Yato from her gaze, and she stuck out her hand. Yato let his eyes flicker to the perfectly manicured hand then back up to her. Amusement curled his lips and sparked his eyes. But he just snorted and took the offered greeting.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I heard you are alright, is that true?” Yato asked. As happy as he was, the thought of his soulmate getting hurt because of him didn’t sit right. His question seemed to surprise her, shock shooting up her arm and spreading a pretty pink across her cheeks.

“Oh, um, yes, I’m alright. Thank you,” she sputtered, pulling her hand back. The room watched as they stared at each other, Yato’s grin only growing, the more red he watched spread across her face. Yato ignored the very intense way Kazuma was staring at his empty neck, watching their interaction with his famous meticulousness.

“What is wrong with you,” Yukine suddenly growled from his chair. This caught Hiyori’s attention and she looked at the blonde like she just noticed he was there. The little shyster was quick to slap on that adorable smile.

“Thank you for helping this guy out with the medical bills. He’s the type to insist he’s fine until he falls over dead!” Yukine tried to joke but Hiyori looked rather concerned.

“Ah!” Yato leaped forward only for his battered ribcage to knock the wind out of him. Yato wheezed as pain shot through his bones but when he saw the pretty Hiyori reach out in concern, he forced another wobbly smile. The last thing he wanted was for her to think he didn’t believe in self care, or worse, that he was dirt poor. Which he was.

“He’s only joking! Of course I go to the doctor! Just not one as nice as this,” Yato quickly said, “but yes, thank you for your generosity and please thank your family for me too. Let me know if they need anything. Anything at all!” His smile was the largest it’s been his entire life and a laughter bubbled up from his throat. Yato could feel the entire room looking at him like the concussion caused serious brain damage but he didn’t care. Hopefully they would write off the stray tears as part of his joy.

“Oh, well, I’m sure my parents don’t need window washing?” Hiyori, the sweet angel, tried. It was clear she was uncomfortable, her friends as well. Thankfully, Kazuma got over himself and became the ever so level headed friend. Standing up, Kazuma cleared his throat.

“My name is Kazuma and this is Yukine, we are Yato’s roommates and very close friends. We also wanted to thank you and your family for all your help,” Kazuma said, “and if I may, what Yato forgot to say is that he’s a man of many trades. A handyman if you will. So if your parents needed any sort of repairs done, he would be more than happy to do them for free.” His words smoothed over the tension in the room and Yato found himself sighing along with everyone else.

“Oh, well, thank you, I’ll let them know.” Hiyori said.

“You’ll need my number!” Yato suddenly gasped. The room’s air suddenly turned sour but this time Hiyori just blinked at him. There were a couple seconds where she said nothing. She didn’t look uncomfortable, just thoughtful, she held his gaze evenly with just as much knowing.

“Sure,” she eventually said. Her friends looked shocked at her, along with Yukine, but Kazuma just pushed his glasses with his finger to hide his smile.

“If you would, Yukine,” Yato pressed. When the kid did nothing but look at Yato like he just squashed a spider with his bare hands on his homework, Yato cleared his throat and pointed his head in the young lady’s direction. The kid scoffed and didn’t even bother trying to hide his eye roll but Yato considered it a win that he pulled his backpack onto his lap and took out one of Yato’s business cards.

“Oh! Thank you!” Hiyori took it a bit too happily. Then, to everyone’s shock, she took out her phone and started typing into it. Yato was eliated, so much so that his grin grew so wide his mouth started to open. Before he realized it, he was doing the one thing he shouldn’t: talking. From his side, Kazuma adopted a look of horror.

“Just don’t put me in your phone as the boob guy, alright?” Yato laughed again. His eyes were shut so he didn’t see the people surrounding him collectively flinch. The card was crumpled in the girl’s fist as she started vibrating with that mortified-fueled fury.

“Jungle Savate!” Her voice shocked his heart and it thudded happily while his head mourned the sudden impact. She really was incredible, for her foot to not only reach his face from that height but to hit the exact same spot as before. At least this time she didn’t knock him out again, but he wasn’t fully conscious when she spun around with a huff and walked away.

“Geez, what's your problem? You’re so creepy,” Yukine said, failing to hide his snickering.

“I’m in love,” Yato swooned, his sigh sounded a little more loopy than it should. The young men at his sides scoffed but for different reasons.

“You’re messed up is what you are. She’s in highschool. You just took too many hits to the head,” Yukine rolled his eyes so hard he didn’t see Kazuma making gestures to his neck and Yato’s neck. So, in his lull, Yato decided to help the kid out.

“She’s my soulmate.”

“Hah. Yeah,” Yukine peaked out the hallway and let his eyes wander up expensive shoes, long legs, swaying hips, a highschool uniform, and smooth hair, “sure she is.”

[flowercrown-bard]

A new us will begin (10/ ?)

word count: 6k

AO3

part 1   / part 2 / part 3  / part 4  / part 5 / part 6  / part 7 / part 8 / part 9 / part 11

Slowly, the snow began to thaw as winter melted into spring.

Dandy had only asked him to stay for the cold months. There had never been any talk of Geralt staying any longer than that.

He did it anyway. No one mentioned it and maybe it was just Geralt’s imagination, but when the first flowers bloomed and Geralt was still with the troupe, the smiles they gave him were warmer and when Nadine hugged him one morning, before he went away for a bit for an easy contract, it felt like a hug that welcomed him to the family.

It took a while to convince Dandy that the contracts Geralt took while the others performed, were nowhere near as dangerous as his fight with the skullwarg. It took even longer until Dandy’s worry for him turned into giddy curiosity.

Dandy kept insisting that Geralt had to give him all the details of his hunts, so that he could stop worrying about him. Geralt gladly obliged.

There was a fluttering in Geralt’s chest like a bird’s wings, when Dandy first announced that he was going to write another play, this one about monsters and witchers.

Watching him work was like watching the sky change colours when the sun rose. Breathtaking, no matter how often he got to witness it.

Sometimes, Dandy dictated the lines his mind created to Geralt or one of the other players. Other times, he wrote them down himself, in a scrip that Geralt had never seen before. The rest of the troupe knew how to read it though, for Nadine read over Dandy’s scripts with a critical eye and gave suggestions where she saw fit.

More and more often, Dandy also asked Geralt for his opinion on what he was writing. His mouth formed a surprised “Oh” when Geralt reminded him that he didn’t know how to read what Dandy wrote.

From then on, Geralt spent most of their evenings after the performances or the fight scene rehearsals with Dandy, who taught him patiently how to read the way he did.

“Here,” Dandy said, when he was satisfied with Geralt’s progress on recognising individual letters. Out of a pocket in his coat, he produced a single sheet of paper and handed it to Geralt. “This was the first thing I ever wrote.”

Geralt hesitated, before unfolding the paper carefully. “You always carry this with you?”

Dandy hummed in affirmation. “I almost left it for my parents to keep. They were so proud when I finally learned to write and read. My mother actually cried and my father hugged me so tightly I thought he was going to break my back.”

A soft smile spread across Dandy’s lips and his fingers gently ran over the paper, tracing the word he had written there decades ago.

It did something strange to Geralt’s chest. “Why did you keep it then?”

“As a reminder. Of my parents.”

Geralt’s hands clenched and unclenched, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry,” he said finally, placing one hand over Dandy’s. “I know you never mention them, but…if you want to talk about it…”

Dandy’s sudden laughter startled Geralt.

“Oh, no no, they aren’t dead or anything like that.” Dandy turned his hand to guide Geralt’s fingers to the thing he had written there. “Here, read that.”

Geralt did as he was told. “Leon Nowak, Baron of Whitecoast?” Geralt looked up at Dandy to see if he had read it correctly. Dandy beamed and pressed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek. It was a fleeting little peck, nothing more, but Geralt wished it would linger, wished he could just lean down and steal a real kiss from Dandy.

Instead he ran his fingers over the name again.

“Who is that?” Geralt asked.

“Oh.” Dandy waved his hand around, accidentally – or perhaps not so accidentally – swatting Geralt’s chest in the process. “That’s me.”

Geralt’s brows shot up. “You’re a baron? I thought you said you weren’t rich?”

“Well, it’s true. I’m not. My parents are.”

Geralt’s jaw clenched. “They didn’t disinherit you, did they? Because you’re…”

“No. Gods, no they would never do that.” Dandy looked affronted by the very notion. “If I wrote them a letter asking for money, they wouldn’t hesitate to send me a small fortune They even offered the troupe their patronage, should we ever be in need of it.” He let out a small, content sigh. “But I don’t want that. Don’t get me wrong, having money is nice and I love visiting them and not sleeping in a wagon or an inn for once. But I like earning my own coin. Even if it’s not nearly as much as they could give me.”

Geralt gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re good at acting. You seem happy when you’re on stage.”

“I am.” Pride tinged his voice that made Geralt’s heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. “It’s really important to me being able to do that.” He let out a short laugh. “I can’t say my parents weren’t worried when I announced that I wanted to travel, but they have supported me every step along the way until I could support myself.”

Geralt ran his fingers over the bumps and dots that were Dandy’s name once more. “They taught you how to write.”

“Eh, not exactly. They had no idea that this kind of script even existed. But they have wealth and influence and they love me enough to use it to get me the best tutor they could find. A sorceress, if you can believe it.”

Geralt’s breath hitched. “What? Sorceresses don’t just become tutors. They are at court or work for the lodge or –“

“Yeah, believe me, I have no idea why Philippa agreed to teach me.”

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat and his blood turning cold. “Philippa Eilhart?”

Dandy drew back in surprise. “You have heard of her?”

“I know her.” I asked her if reincarnation could be possible. I asked her if you could still be alive.

A strange expression flickered over Dandy’s face. “That makes a lot of sense, actually. She talked about you a lot. I always wondered by she kept insisting that should I meet a witcher I should go with him.”

Geralt’s mind was racing, unable to grasp what Dandy was saying.

“She said…that’s why you reacted like that when you found out I was a witcher.” The realisation hit Geralt like a punch, leaving him breathless. “When I told you who I was, you said you needed to think, but you didn’t hesitate to ask me to come back.”

Dandy scooted closer again. “I did. But, Geralt, believe me, I didn’t just ask you to come back because Philippa had told me to. I mean, that was a part of it, sure, but I also wanted to get to know you. And I’m glad I did.”

“I-yeah. I’m glad too.” His thumb caressed Dandy’s knuckles, a soft, soothing motion that was more for Geralt’s benefit than Dandy’s. There was too much to think about, too much he didn’t understand. How long had Philippa known that Geralt’s theory of the reincarnation had been true? And why had she agreed to tutor Dandy without telling anyone who he was?

Knowing that the sorceress had a hand in Dandy’s life, perhaps even orchestrating the way his life would go, left Geralt with a sense of unease. Especially since it was Philippa. The sorceress had never done him any intentional harm, but not once in the long time they have known each other, had she been open about her goals, always playing a different game than anybody else.

“Geralt?” Dandy asked tentatively, when Geralt had been quiet for too long.

Geralt forced himself to snap out of his crushing thoughts and put as much teasing as he could in his voice as he said, “I just have one more question. Why Dandy? Out of all the new names you could have chosen for yourself, why this?”

Dandy let out a bark of laughter, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “I know. It’s a terrible name. In my defence, I didn’t exactly come up with it myself. Technically.”

Geralt chuckled. “It’s not a terrible name. I think it suits you.”

Dandy poked a finger in Geralt’s side with a little growl. “Don’t let Mika hear you say that or I’ll never get to hear the end of it.”

Geralt gave a questioning grunt to which Dandy replied with an overly dramatic sigh.

“You see, when I joined the troupe, I wanted to give myself a stage name.”

“Naturally.”

“Exactly! Good to know we’re on the same page.” Dandy stopped poking Geralt, instead sprawling his fingers across Geralt’s side. “I wanted to call myself Dandelion. You know, sort of as a little wink to my given name. Dande-Leon, as it were.”

Geralt didn’t even try to supress the snort. “That’s a terrible pun.”

“Ah the others agree with you there. No one appreciates my remarkable wit and humour.” He let out an exaggerated sigh. “They kept teasing me about being all posh and a dandy when I first joined and somehow that name stuck. Oh, you wouldn’t believe how indignant I was when they started calling me Dandy, but…it was also nice. I’ve never really had friends that would tease me before. Maybe it was because no one wanted to piss off a baron or maybe they thought they needed to be extra careful with me because I’m blind. But the way the troupe talks to me and teases me…it makes me feel like I really, truly belonge.” He nuzzled closer into Geralt and Geralt wasn’t sure if he imagined the stifled sniffle. “And to be fair, Dandelion probably wouldn’t have been the best name.”

“I think it would be a fitting name,” Geralt said softly, stroking Dandy’s hair soothingly. “It’s always the yellow flowers with you, isn’t it?”

The words escaped him without thinking. Dandy’s brows furrowed in confusion, but then he snorted.

“I wouldn’t know about that, now, would I?” He tightened his hold on Geralt.

Geralt hummed in contemplation. “It still fits. My friend always used to wish on Dandelions. Just small things that would come true anyway. ‘I wish for the next performance to go well.’ Or ‘I wish that Roach will start recognising me as a friend and stop trying to bite my fingers.’”

Dandy’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Those sound like great wishes. Did they come true?”

“Hmm. He always said they did. But I am pretty sure he just snuck Roach treats behind my back until she started liking him.”

“Sounds like a wise man. If Roach didn’t already love me, I might have tried the same thing. But why would Dandelion be fitting for me then?”

“Because being here with you is everything I could have wished for.”

“You did it!” Dandy beamed with pride. “You read your first play!”

Geralt grunted, but Dandy’s joy was contagious. “With a lot of corrections and help from you. And it was a short play.”

“So?” Dandy nudged Geralt with his shoulder. “You still did it. I can’t believe you really learned to read like that for me.”

“It’s important to you.”

“It is,” Dandy agreed softly, before a sly grin spread over his face. “Now that you’re able to read my scripts, you will be able to learn the lines for your first role.” Mirth brightening his voice and he twirled his cane in excitement.

Geralt made a noise not unlike a startled horse. “My role? I don’t think so.”

“Ah, but my dearest Geralt,” Dandy drawled his name and leaned forward with a shit eating grin. “You promised me you’d play with me if I joined your lessons.” That cheeky bastard.

“I meant the lute.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I don’t have a lute.” He nudged Geralt playfully. “Now come on. I’d love to see you act.”

Geralt put up some more token resistance, but he still joined one mock-rehearsal the players put on, all of them cheering for Geralt to join them and read the lines of the witcher-character.

He felt ridiculous, trying to mimic the actors’ dramatic gestures and way of speaking. It hadn’t taken long until everyone agreed to never have Geralt act on an actual stage, but between his laughter, Dandy assured Geralt, that that was the funniest performance Dandy had ever had the pleasure to listen to.

From then on, the only times that Geralt read lines and tried his hand at acting, was when he helped Dandy practice his own lines by reading the other parts.

Geralt closed his eyes and hummed softly, as Dandy played with his hair.

It was a peaceful moment. Had anyone told Geralt a couple of months ago that he would get to have such moments again, he would have laughed in their face.

And yet, here he was, with Dandy, the man he fell in love with more with each day they spent together. Every morning when he woke up holding Dandy close, his heart felt like it would beat out of his chest. Every time, Dandy laughed at Geralt reading his lines, Geralt wanted to taste that laugh with a kiss. Every time Geralt practiced reading the script Dandy had taught him and Dandy squeezed his shoulder with pride, the words ‘I love you’ burned on Geralt’s lips, begging to be spoken. He thought maybe, Dandy already knew.

It was moments like these, that Geralt was sure that he knew Dandy felt the same way, telling him with each touch he gifted Geralt and each word spoken softly between them.

It felt simultaneously strange, so familiar and right, lying with his head in Dandy’s lap, as if he belonged there.

The soft tug on his hair was soothing and nearly enough to lull him to sleep, but Geralt fought his heavy eyelids, unwilling to let this moment be taken away from him by sleep.

Softly, Dandy hummed the melody of the lullaby Geralt had taught him. It was a little off, since Geralt himself hadn’t been able to sing it right, but the melody was just as tender and tearing at his heart as it always had been.

Eventually, the song faded.

“What’s on your mind?” Dandy asked quietly, his fingers never stopping.

Geralt hummed quietly. “Who says that something’s on my mind?”

“There always is.” Dandy’s voice was full of fondness.

“Thinking about you.”

“A very good thing to think about,” Dandy teased and he tugged lightly on Geralt’s hair for emphasis.

Geralt didn’t know if it was the comforting feeling of Dandy touching him or the tone of his voice that loosened Geralt’s tongue and make him ask the question that had been burning at the back of his mind for months.

“Where did you get the inspiration for that play? The one about the pirate?”

Dandy’s hands stilled.

Months ago, Geralt would have begged him silently, please, remember me. Please remember that you loved me.

Now though, that voice inside his head was quiet. Geralt awaited Dandy’s answer with mere curiosity and not that desperation from before. Dandy didn’t need to remember his former feelings for him. It was enough that he was trusting Geralt and holding him dear enough to lie with him as they did now. Even if it turned out that it wasn’t what it had been before, it wouldn’t be any less perfect for it.

“I don’t know,” Dandy said finally. “It just came to me. Sometimes you just start writing and have no control over what comes out and it just felt right, writing that.”

Strangely, Geralt’s heart didn’t sink at that admission. Instead, he gave an acknowledging hum.

“Inspiration is a strange thing,” Geralt repeated what he had said once before, decades ago, when Jaskier had tried to explain to him why exactly it was so inspiring about watching Geralt fight.

Dandy let out a quiet laugh and resumed his ministrations.

“It sure is. And lately, I’ve found that I am chockfull of inspiration.”

Celebrating Belleteyn with the troupe was even more opulent than the festivities Jaskier had always dragged him too. And yet, it was nothing compared to the celebration that came about a week later.

The players pulled all the stops to make Dandy’s birthday truly unforgettable. With food, music and wine to spare, it would have been hard to believe that they were not-so-humble actors instead of nobles, if it weren’t for their total disregard of manners as they celebrated.

Dandy was blossoming in the attention like a flower in the sun. He was filled with so much palpable happiness that Geralt didn’t have the heart to refuse when Dandy grabbed his hand and asked him for a dance. It wasn’t one of those complicated danced with far too many steps to remember, that Jaskier had loved so much. It was but two people swaying in place, holding each other close. Geralt wasn’t sure if Dandy had chosen this dance because learning the steps to any of the elaborate dances was exhausting work for him, or because he liked holding Geralt close just as much as Geralt loved being near him.

That feeling in his chest was warm and fuzzy while they swayed and when Dandy rested his head against Geralt’s chest, he was sure he must hear his heart fluttering. Dandy’s hands on Geralt’s shoulders wandered a bit, playing with his hair and Geralt’s hands on his waist twitched in response, tugging him impossibly closer.

They slowed until they were barely moving anymore. Geralt couldn’t tell which one of them brought the dance to a halt first. All he could focus on was Dandy’s closeness.

Ever so slowly, Dandy lifted his head off Geralt’s chest, one of the hands leaving their place on Geralt’s shoulders and wandering up to cup Geralt’s cheeks.

Geralt leaned into the touch, like a drowning man leaning onto a piece of wood to keep him afloat. In this moment, he knew Dandy’s touch was the only thing keeping him from drifting away, from drowning in the miserable life he had led before Dandy.

“Geralt,” On Dandy’s lips, his name sounded almost like a plea, like a whisper of awe. “Thank you. For being here with me.”

“No place I’d rather be.” He had never meant anything more in his life. A soft smile spread across his lips. “My Dandelion.”

A small gasp escaped Dandy. His hand slowly trailed down until his thumb brushed against the corner of Geralt’s lips.

It wasn’t enough. Geralt wanted more, more, everything. He wanted Dandy. He wanted him to know that he was everything to Geralt.

Had their faces always been that close or had one of them moved closer?

Geralt’s heart sped up when Dandy tilted his head up a little. He was so close. All Geralt had to do was lean forward and capture Dandy’s lips in his.

“Geralt.” This time there was no mistaking that it was a plea.

They were so close that their breaths mingled. Geralt leaned forward and –

He froze, just before their lips could touch. He couldn’t do this. Not now. Not like this, with Dandy trusting him so openly to not even have his cane with him, just Geralt to guide him. But he couldn’t trust Geralt. Not when he lied and kept secrets and pretended that they were nothing more than two men who had found each other out of pure chance when there was something so much bigger and more terrible going on.

He pulled back and pretended that his heart didn’t shatter when Dandy’s face fell.

“I think we should join the others again,” Geralt said, his voice rough. “I’m sure Kara is sick of playing that slow song by now.”

“Oh,” Dandy said, his lips pressed into a thin smile that couldn’t hide his disappointment. “Yeah. You’re right. Still got a birthday to celebrate.”

Geralt led Dandy the few steps back from the makeshift dancefloor to the other players.

It shouldn’t have hurt when Dandy let go of Geralt and grabbed his cane again. The ache in Geralt’s chest dulled to a numb throb as Mika whisked Dandy away and brought back the smile that Geralt had stolen from Dandy.

Seeing Dandy happy again – singing and joking with his friends, letting them show him how much he meant to them – was beautiful, but Geralt couldn’t keep dark thoughts from creeping up at him.

He did his best not to let them show, to put cheer into his voice or not speak at all when it became too much, but Dandy noticed anyway. Of course he did.

Dandy didn’t mention it in front of the others, but he did take Geralt’s hand in his, holding it tightly and running his thumb over Geralt’s knuckles in a comforting gesture that soothed Geralt’s whirling thoughts, even though it wasn’t enough to fully keep them at bay.

“Do you want to get away for a while?” Dandy whispered, while Mika and Kara challenged each other to a drinking contest under the shouts and hollers of the others. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. I just don’t want you to feel bad.”

Geralt’s throat grew tight. “I don’t want to ruin this for you. This celebration is yours, you should enjoy it.”

“I’d enjoy it much more if I knew you were comfortable too.” Dandy squeezed his hand. “It’s fine if this is all a bit too much for you. I don’t mind going somewhere quieter. You know I love being alone with you just as much as I do being the centre of attention.”

“It’s not- it’s not that. It being too loud and too much. I-“ His voice broke off. He couldn’t say it. Not here, not while his friends were cheerful and happy.

Dandy let him take his time but Geralt could read the burning question on Dandy’s face. If it’s not too loud and too much, am I the reason why you’re miserable?

When Geralt didn’t continue, he tugged lightly at his hand. Geralt followed without any resistance, as he always would.

They didn’t walk far, simply putting some distance between the celebrating actors and themselves. They were still close enough to hear the cheering and singing, but it became background noise, same as the wind in the trees or the birds flying up above.

They sat down in the grass, Dandy laying his cane across his lap and pulling Geralt close, until his head leaned against Dandy’s shoulder.

A tremble went through Geralt’s body, as Dandy put an arm around his waist and held him tightly. So often, it was Geralt holding Dandy protectively, whether it was in his sleep or when sitting next to each other while talking. So rarely did Geralt get to feel like he was the protected one, like he didn’t need to carry the weight of the world on his own shoulder. But here Dandy was, offering to share the weight or at least have Geralt tell him just how heavy it was.

And so he did. The words came haltingly, as if a rope around his neck grew tighter with every attempt to speak. Dandy waited patiently for him to gather the courage to share his burden.

When he finally did, it felt both like he could breathe again freely for the first time that day, and as if the words were cutting into his own flesh.

“Today is the anniversary of a…friend’s death.”

Dandy stilled, his only movement came from his free hand plucking out grass nervously.

“Jaskier?” He asked, hesitating.

Geralt blanched. “How do you know that name?”

Dandy’s hand on his waist twitched. “It’s the name you said when you were hurt.” His voice was tight, but soft. “I don’t know if you recognised anything around you, but that’s the name you called out then.” He hesitated. “You say his name in your sleep too sometimes. Did you know that?”

Geralt’s mouth went dry. “I…what?”

A strange smile appeared on Dandy’s lips, too small to be a real one. “Just before you fall asleep. And sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, because you pulled me closer. You always ask me not to leave. And you always call me Jaskier.” The smile was still on his face, but now the stinging scent of salt pierced the air. “He must have been really important to you.”

“He was,” Geralt said quietly. “So are you.”

“But not like him.” Dandy let out a strained laugh that held no humour. “I don’t… I shouldn’t say that. Especially not today. I’m sorry. I should be comforting you. I didn’t mean to…to make it about me.”

“It’s always been about you.” Geralt only realised how his carelessly spoken words must have sounded, when Dandy winced and his hand retreated. Geralt’s hand shot out to stop him from pulling away. “Not like that. It…it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?”

Geralt’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s not Jaskier who died that day. Not exactly.”

Different expressions flickered over Dandy’s face, as if he couldn’t decide which reaction to settle on. Finally, the uncertainty and confusion won out.

“What do you mean?”

An iron fist enclosed Geralt’s heart, squeezed until he thought he would burst. He couldn’t tell Dandy. He couldn’t put that knowledge, that burden, that pressure on him.

But with every second that Geralt hesitated, something crumbled in Dandy’s expression more and more. Geralt couldn’t begin to imagine what was going on in Dandy’s head, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be anything good.

Jaskier had sometimes cried in Geralt’s arms, thinking he wasn’t good enough, he was too loud, too much, too annoying for anyone to like him enough to stay with him for more than a night.

Yarrow had sounded so broken when he had asked Geralt to be his friend and then he had died alone.

Dandy was his own person, with his own struggles. And with his own doubts and the doubts of all the lives before pressing down on him. Geralt ruining his birthday, the day that should be a celebration of Dandy and nothing else, must have only made things worse.

The only thing Geralt could do to try and make this right, was tell him the truth and hope he didn’t destroy Dandy’s life with it.

He took a shaky breath.

“There was someone else. His name was Yarrow. He was…” Jaskier. You. “someone I met on Belleteyn.”

“Oh.” Dandy’s brows drew together. “You met during the feast of lovers. Is that what he was to you then?”

“No. I think he could have been. Or maybe we could have just been friends. Anything would have been better than what really happened.” When Geralt broke off, trying to find the right words, Dandy remained quiet, giving him all the time he needed. Time. The one thing Geralt hadn’t had with Yarrow. “We met in prison. I- We were both alone. He asked me to be his friend. I gave him some light and – I said we weren’t friends.”

Dandy’s breath hitched.

“Geralt,” he said slowly, a palpable tension in his voice. His body was rigid, not daring to move a single muscle. “You asked me about my first play. Geralt, why did you ask me about that play?”

Geralt closed his eyes, focussing all of his attention on Dandy’s hand in his, praying it wouldn’t be the last time that he would get to hold it, knowing that there was little chance Dandy wouldn’t tear it away when he knew what Geralt had hidden from him all this time.

“Because Yarrow and I were friends. In a different life.” His smile turned bitter as he quoted the final line of the play. “Long before I ever met Yarrow – lifetimes before – I was friends with Jaskier.”

“Friends?”

Geralt winced. “First and foremost friends. But also so much more.” His voice broke and he was sure Dandy could feel the tremor of his hand. “And when he died… I couldn’t let go of him. Somehow he came back to me, only the gods know why. He wasn’t the same, but he was. Yarrow wasn’t a bard. He was an artist. But he was Jaskier.”

When he opened his eyes again and glanced at Dandy, afraid what he would find, he saw Dandy’s lips tremble. “Geralt. Why did you call out Jaskier’s name when you were hurt? It was… it wasn’t just you being delirious, was it.”

“No.” Geralt’s throat grew tight, the noose around his neck becoming tighter with every word and yet, he kept going. “When I woke up, I thought I saw him. It was you, of course, but…”

“But it was also him.” Dandy’s voice was completely void of emotion. “Geralt, you don’t think that I’m Jaskier, do you?”

It wasn’t a question. Not really.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered.

This was it. This was when Dandy would pull away his hand as if burned and tell Geralt to leave.

Instead, Dandy’s hand tightened its hold on Geralt, clutching him almost hard enough to hurt.

“What are you sorry for?” Dandy asked carefully.

Geralt looked away, unable to watch Dandy’s face twist in anger.

“I’m sorry because I couldn’t save them. Jaskier, Yarrow, all the other ones. They…they all died. I could have prevented it, I could have done something, but I didn’t even know who they were and then I saw you and –  I couldn’t let you die. Not again.”

Dandy’s face did something complicated. The hand not held in Geralt grasped his cane so tightly that Geralt could see the white of his knuckles.

“Geralt, please answer this honestly. Why did you agree to stay with me?” He blinked furiously, but the salt smell only got stronger. “Is it just because I look like him? Because a play I wrote was similar to something that happened to you? Because while you’re with me you can imagine that I’m someone else, someone more important to you?”

“Dandy.” The name tasted like a storm on his tongue, waiting to get unleashed. “You are important to me.”

“Then why? If you think I’m Jaskier and you loved him – if I am important to you, why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Because I love you.”

There was no storm. Only the frightening calm, the fear of what was to come, the terror of having already destroyed all there was.

Geralt’s breath came ragged, while Dandy stilled completely.

“I love you,” Geralt repeated, his voice breaking on the last word. “Which is why I can’t kiss you and lie to you.”

“Because... you only love me because I am him?” Dandy looked so small, so helpless.

Geralt closed his eyes, letting his face fall. “That’s exactly what I was afraid of. That you would think that.”

“It’s not the truth then? You didn’t love Jaskier?”

“I did,” Geralt said sincerely. “I always will. I would have loved him in any lifetime. But I also love you. For being you.”

Geralt shifted so that he was no longer sitting next to Dandy, but facing him.

“I love watching you go on stage and silence an audience with your performance. I love listening to you sing with your friends, as if music was more beautiful to you when shared. I love that you still hum that lullaby for me all on your own, even if you still get the melody wrong.” His voice became thick with emotion, but he couldn’t let himself stop. Not before Dandy knew it all. If he still decided to leave then, at least he would know what Geralt saw when he looked at him. “I love that you fiddle with your cane when you’re nervous or content. I love that you wear ridiculous hats and curl your hair. Jaskier did none of those things. And I love them still, because they are a part of who you are, my Dandelion.”

He prayed Dandy would still be his after this. His friend, if nothing else. Because no matter what, Geralt would always be Dandy’s.

Hesitantly, his free hand came up to Dandy’s face, hovering just above it, close enough that Dandy would be able to feel its heat. For a terrifying moment, Geralt thought Dandy would jerk away, but then he leaned into the touch, turning his head just enough to press a kiss against Geralt’s palm.

“Dandelion…” The name was naught but a breath on Geralt’s lips. A breath like the one a drowning man sucked in when he realised that he was saved.

“Are you sure?” Dandy asked softly.

“That I love you? I have never been so sure of anything in my life.”

“That I’m Jaskier. I- please, Geralt, I need to know that you are absolutely certain.”

“I am. I’m sorry.” Even while he said it, he could see Dandy think of every interaction they ever had, viewing it all in a new light. Dandy’s lips parted and Geralt could practically see the pieces of Dandy’s life slot into place, creating the same picture Geralt had seen since he had met him.

Philippa telling Jaskier to go with Geralt, should he ever meet him. The inexplicable burst of inspiration that had driven him to write his first play. The nearly immediate trust he had put in Geralt. The rhythm he sometimes tapped out and that Geralt just so happened to recognise.

Perhaps there were more puzzle pieces that Geralt had never seen. Strange memories that Dandy had never shared with him but that made more sense now than they ever had.

Whatever details of his life Dandy was thinking about, Geralt could see the moment the uncertainty changed into total conviction. For some reason Geralt couldn’t dare explain, Dandy didn’t draw back, didn’t yell at him, didn’t push him away. Instead, something soft and warm spread across his face; the sun breaking through the stormclouds.

“And you love me.”

“With all my heart.”

“And when I die, I will come back to you again?”

Geralt’s insides went cold. “Dandy, don’t- I’m not going to let you die.“

Dandy’s quiet laugh interrupted him. “That’s sweet, but I’m afraid it’s inevitable. Just, tell me. Will I come back?”

A muscle twitched in Geralt’s jaw. “I think so. I’m sorry, I don’t know why or how, but somehow we are bound to each other. You always come back and sooner or later I find you.”

“That’s good. I would hate for the man I love to be alone again.”

“Dandy –“

He never got to finish what he was going to say, for Dandy let go of the cane, finding the back of Geralt’s neck again and bringing him closer to him.

Their first kiss was little more than a tentative brush of lips against each other, Dandy searching him and Geralt not quite believing what was happening, not yet understanding that he could have this.

Dandy pulled back again, just enough to be able to speak. “Geralt? Just to make this clear, I love you too. I love that you saw me at my most vulnerable but you still don’t think that I need help in everything I do. I love that you are a terrible storyteller and an even worse actor. I love that you tell me of your contracts and help me with rehearsals even so. I love the way your scars feel beneath my fingers and I love the way you don’t let me go in the mornings, even when you wake up first.” He drew in a breath and pressed their foreheads together. “I love that you can love me for me.”

Geralt let out a wet laugh, unable to blink back the burning in his eyes or fight down the tightness in his chest.

“You just had to make a better declaration of love than I did,” he said, too full of emotion to even attempt a teasing tone.

“Of course.” Dandy darted forward, stealing another kiss that felt more like a gift. “You know I can’t let a chance to be dramatic pass by.”

Geralt hummed, his hands tracing Dandy’s face, his thumb caressing his bottom lip.

“And that’s another thing I love about you.”

“Careful,” Dandy said teasingly, pressing a kiss against Geralt’s thumb. “If you keep making such dramatic declarations yourself, I might consider putting you on stage again in the role of a lover.”

“The point of theatre is that it isn’t real,” Geralt repeated Dandy’s favourite opinion. “This is real.”

Dandy surged forward, pressing a sweet kiss against Geralt’s lips.

“It’s better than any play I could ever write.”

[imaginesfora3]

It’s About the DRAMA [Sumeragi Tenma]

(Another commission by an awesome person who is endlessly patient with me! There’s a second part that has smut in it that I’ll be posting at a later date. Please enjoy! And if anyone would like to commission me, please message me over tumblr so I can give you my details~)

After the spring plays production, you thought it would be smooth sailing when it came time for the summer troupes.

You had managed to gather enough people, all of who had interesting characters, but you’d dealt with that before, right? Part of being a director was overcoming the challenges and obstacles that were presented even if you never knew exactly what would be thrown your way. You were eager to help these young actors learn how to grow, to see them on stage with your own eyes after you watched them put their blood, sweat, and tears into practice. At least, you felt that way about every single one of them aside from their leader, the one who had the most acting experience and who you thought would have an easier time.

You and Tenma hadn’t exactly started off on the wrong foot but it was made apparent to him from the beginning that you weren’t one to be trifled with, quickly shutting down anything rude or demeaning he had to say to his fellow troupe members. Tenma had never worked alongside someone like you as most others were just used to putting up with his attitude and accepting him for who he was but you had no intentions of doing so. You called him out, you criticized when necessary, you proved every day that you were seeing him as he wanted to be seen, not movie star Sumeragi Tenma but newbie to the stage Sumeragi Tenma. As much as he felt like you put your foot down on his actions more so than any of the others in the troupe it made him crave your praise knowing it would be genuine and not just because of his reputation.

Tenma wanted to do good.

He wanted to impress you.

But why did it seem so damn hard to do?

“We need to talk.” Tenma cringed at your tone of voice, immediately feeling like a child who was about to be scolded by their mother. His own mother had hardly taken that tone with him as she wasn’t in his daily life often enough to do so but he’d heard it from the TV moms who he acted alongside. He bit his lip to keep himself from showing his discontent verbally, simply nodding his head and following you out of the room where the rest of the summer troupe were practicing.

“Tenma…” He already knew what you were about to say from the mildly annoyed look on your face and the way your arms were crossed, but that’s not all that was there. There was concern, too, some worry that perhaps maybe Tenma wasn’t suited for the stage life after all and that set him off.

“If they don’t listen to the advice I give then what’s the point!” He threw his hands up, trying to keep his voice even but knowing the two of you were likely being eavesdropped on anyway. “I don’t think they’re completely unredeemable but…!”

“Have you considered changing the tone of your voice when you’re delivering your advice? Or even thinking about the way they perceive it when you’re barking orders at them? Tenma, you’ve got talent and you’ve got plenty of potential, no one is doubting that. But you have to realize you’re part of a team now. Why do you always think you have to do everything on your own?”

Because he’d always done things alone. He’d been independent since he was young, he had to be as he was left to his own devices and then when his own acting career began, he was thrown into a world of adults that forced him to grow up quicker than he’d like. He mimicked the way the others around him talked, the way they treated each other, and he’d never been reprimanded by anyone the same way that you were. He can tell that it’s not out of anger, that it’s not that you have something against him personally, but that he’s holding himself back by not allowing himself to make connections with everyone he’s acting alongside including you.

“Sometimes they might not understand how important your words are or they think you’re just looking down on them when you’re not, and when that happens, I’ll be there to support you Tenma.” He’s all too aware of the hand you’re putting on his shoulder now but he makes the extra effort to keep looking into your eyes, though he can’t say that calms him down. All he can think about is how he’d never had someone clash with him like this before, how he’d never had someone willing to tell him what he needed to hear rather than what he wanted to. To have you not only want to do that for him but also acknowledging his talent, saying that you wanted him to stay as summer troupes leader, it spoke volumes. “Now stop acting like a spoiled brat and go be a leader!”

Tenma scoffed at your clear teasing, thinking about how cute the mischievous smile on your face looked right now, “Yeah, yeah. Takes one to know one.”

Tenma returned to practice that night a new man, willing to listen to the other troupe members and learn how to help them on an individual level. He found that they were people with passions much like him, people who loved acting and wanted to throw themselves in, and he found himself a little proud that, when he actually opened his eyes and stopped being so angry for no reason, he found they appreciated his acting skills more than he’d first realized. He knows he never would’ve changed if he hadn’t met you, if you hadn’t been the person who was willing to stand up to him, and for that he’s forever grateful. The words you said to him that day, that you’ll be standing behind him when he needed you, meant more than anything.

Tenma just didn’t realize how far down the rabbit hole he’d gone.

The summer troupe didn’t find many moments to rest as they were on an advanced schedule as it was, trying to pack practice into just about every spare moment they had. But you’d scolded them more than once on pushing pi too far, Tenma included, which is why this little movie night had been thrown together. Tenma figured it could be a teaching moment even if it was technically downtime, knowing a few tips and tricks that could be translated over into stage acting when they popped up; he’s actually happy that even Yuki agreed to sit down with the rest of them, perhaps he’d even be able to teach him a thing or two and get some praise from you for a job well done.

The movie was your standard romantic comedy but the dynamics of the characters had always been interesting, and he found the others were picking out bits and pieces that they identified with. The movie and acting talk had Tenma opening his mouth more than usual, explaining how certain scenes were acted out and what might’ve been going through the actors head while said scene was going on; it was a lot different than acting on stage but the groundwork is what helped Tenma flourish, so hopefully he could translate the same thing to his team. Things got quieter when the more romantic bits popped up with everyone watching quietly, waiting for the scene’s end to chatter about the chemistry between the two characters on screen.

“…Doesn’t that remind you a bit of something?” Yuki piped up, glancing at Tenma from the corner of his eye but looking away when Tenma turned to him with an annoyed expression. Was he trying to call him out on something?

“You’re totally right!” Kazunari laughed, turning back to grin up at Tenma. “Man, it’s just like you and…!”

“Don’t say it!” Tenma growled out, already knowing where this was heading and wanting to cut it off before it went too far. He’d already been teased relentlessly and called a whipped dog by Yuki for how often he tried to avoid arguments with you now, he didn’t need to add more fuel to the fire by having to defend himself from these accusations. Plus, why was it any of their business if he felt some type of way about you? Clearly things wouldn’t work out considering you were older than him and probably not interested in some kid but… He was getting too far into his head now, a blush rising to his cheeks as the possibility of getting to be your boyfriend flashed before his eyes. This was not going to go the way he wanted it to.

“Sorry Tenten! You’re very obvi about it, you know? I can’t blame you~”

“I’m getting a drink,” Yuki suddenly announced as he stood up from the couch, “I’ll be back.”

Without the main instigator there to start another fight about Tenma’s unspoken feelings he finds himself relaxing as Kazunari’s attention is turned to Misumi, who was changing positions rapidly to find the most comfortable way to lay on the ground. He watched with minor amusement even if he pretended to be annoyed with their antics, knowing he cared about them all far more than he wanted to let on. Perhaps Kazunari did have a point, maybe his feelings for you were really obvious, but again he wonders if that even matters. If he confessed to you right now what would you say? Would you be shocked to hear it or would you nod as though you’d known all along? He disliked getting caught in fantasy situations but this is one that had plagued his thoughts while he was curled up in bed at night, and with no one to shake him from them, it invaded his mind now, too.

A few minutes pass before Yuki returns with his juice in hand.

“You took a while,” Tenma grumbled, “We want to finish this movie tonight.”

“Sorry, I was busy talking with the director. She was getting herself something to eat.”

Tenma doesn’t recognize he’s being baited at all because his thoughts are still almost solely on you, about you, and he realized that he missed you. It had been a few hours since he’d last seen you at dinner but he could spend all day by your side without getting tired of you, in fact, he’d prefer to do that. He gets antsy in his seat as he doesn’t want to pause the movie yet again but what if you were in there still? He could casually chat with you, see how you feel about how everyone’s coming along, ask if you’re starting to appreciate what a great leader he is for his troupe…

“I-I’m kinda thirsty. Just keep watching without me, I’ll be back.”

“…Why didn’t you just ask me when I went in there a second ago?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t get me anything, brat.”

A fair point but a smirk found its way to Yuki’s face and he kept his mouth shut for the time being despite the variety of snarky comments that wanted to spill out. This fight was better saved for later tonight when the two were alone in their room as Kazunari and Misumi continued to be distracting. Tenma returned from the kitchen a few moments later without a drink and looking rather sullen, refusing to meet Yuki’s eye even as the boy verbally snickered at his downtrodden expression.

“Where’s your drink?” Kazunari asked innocently, head tilted so he could look back at Tenma.

“Nothing I wanted to drink in there. Shut up and pay attention to the movie.”

Tenma was in a sour mood the rest of the night and felt incredibly grateful when it was time for bed, ready to be done with reality and get lost in the dram world where things were exactly as they should be. It was unfortunate for him that Yuki was his roommate as there was no such thing as peace for him. No safe retreat for him to curl up in and think about all the things that he wished could come true, to think about your happy face after he performed perfectly in this play, maybe you’d even give him a kiss on the cheek as congratulations for being so successful-

“I finally figured out why a hack like you chose to stay with a group like Mankai.” Tenma knew it was going to be the start of another fight but his emotions got the better of him as they always did and he whipped his head over to glare at his younger roommate who was still casually getting ready for bed. “I didn’t know cougars were your type.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”

“This is exactly why you’re a hack, hack! You can’t even hide your feelings for her. Going into the kitchen right after I said she was in there… You really thought that was true?” Yuki scoffed as he made his way into his own bed. “Whatever… There’s no point in arguing with someone as deep in denial as you. Not like you have a chance anyway. Goodnight.”

Tenma wanted to argue but his heart ached at the truth in Yuki’s words, his mouth hanging open even as the lights in the room were turned off and Yuki’s breathing evened out. He wanted to argue until he was blue in the face that he didn’t have romantic feelings for you, that being around you definitely wasn’t the highlight of his day, and that having you as his director was certainly not one of the best things that had ever happened to him. But how could he fight against the truth? The worst part was he was painfully aware of how he felt, of how much his daydreams helped him get through each new day where you weren’t his,  of how fruitless this situation felt due to all the differences that divided you. The heart wants what the heart wants is a saying that now plagued him daily.

The next day only proved to be worse.

Hearing that his father had found out all about his joining the Mankai Company left him in a worse mood than usual, and he had no intentions of backing down. He’d worked so hard, he’d started to bond with you and the members, and despite the short amount of time he’d spent around all of you he didn’t want to imagine a life without Mankai in it. His words were confident as he told everyone in the troupe that he’d convince his father one way or the other but in reality, he knew his father was as stubborn as he was when it came down to it. There might be some drastic measures Tenma had to make to get his point across but he couldn’t leave you like this. He couldn’t make you scramble to find someone without even half the talent he had.

It went better than expected.

When he’d stormed back to the house later that night he hadn’t expected to see you waiting up for him and he internally panicked, not wanting you to see the new black eye he was sporting. He and his father had gotten into it, the fighting becoming so passionate even his mother couldn’t separate them. The punch had shocked him to his very core but he didn’t let it deter him, still determined to not let his hard work all be for nothing. Tenma had walked out of that house with his father cursing at him, perhaps even hoping Tenma would fail just to prove a point, but he tried not to let that get to him. He got to go home back to you and that was enough to keep his body moving despite how exhausted he was.

“Tenma!” Your eyes widened as they immediately found the wound on his face, “What happened with your dad?!”

“He punched me. Hard.”

“I can tell, thanks!” You grabbed ahold of his arm and pulled him into the kitchen, settling him down into a seat as you listened to the rest of his story while looking for the first aid kit. He didn’t think it was a big deal at all but you seemed incredibly worried about him, fretting over his well-being while cursing his dad under your breath. Tenma had nearly laughed when he heard you mention something along the lines of ‘I’ll punch him in the face and see how he likes it’ but he worked hard to keep a straight face, finding that extra hard to do once you were seated in front of him and scanning his face again.

Tenma felt like his heart might beat right out of his chest with how closely you’re scrutinizing him, an odd weight settling itself on his chest after all that had just happened. His father’s physical punch hadn’t hurt nearly as much as the emotional impact it had on him, the only thing able to distract him from that pain right now being you. You were doting over every little bruise and cut on his face, fingers brushing against his skin. His heart fluttered hard in his chest and he tried not to show his discomfort on his face as the feelings you were bubbling closer to the surface. Every touch sent electricity through his veins and finally, finally, it became far too much for him to handle.

“I’m not a kid, I can take care of myself!” He insisted, pushing your hands away and refusing to look at your face; he knew you’d be giving him a disapproving glare for his outburst when he’d let you dote over him for this long.

“If you’re not a kid why are you acting so damn childish, Tenma? What are you trying to prove here?”

He wanted to prove that he was a man, that he was strong and that he could take care of himself. Who would want a boyfriend who couldn’t say those things? Who would want a boyfriend with so many familial issues he was actually so touch-starved that even the simplest of your touches nearly brought him to tears? He bit down on his lip hard and you could see all that he was going through, the pain on his face translating over quite well. You wanted to continue what you were doing but there was no point in pushing Tenma’s boundaries more, not when you’d already made so much progress with him. You sighed in defeat but reached over to grab the ice pack from the fridge, brushing his hair out of the way and placing it on his cheek where the punch had landed.

“Just put the ice on your face and be quiet,” Your tone is one that tells Tenma you have no intention of backing down no matter how much he rejects your care and he can’t tell if you’re doing this out of obligation or genuine worry for him. He knows which option he wants more than anything but denied that you’d ever feel such a way about him, also denying his own disappointment that he already saw you as being unreachable. He’d never felt so close yet so far from a person before in his life but everything about you seemed to keep him drawn in, refusing to let his heart move on.

Time healed all wounds, didn’t it?

In the end, Tenma hoped that these unwelcome feelings would make themselves scarce, that perhaps it was just a puppy love that would fade away with time.

He didn’t realize how wrong he was.

[spagbol99]

Heyy happy FFWF! You’re amazing and I love your fics! So, my brain just decided to remind me of one of your posts from a while ago where you gave us a snippet of a fic you’re currently writing (it was the seven-sentence challenge I think) and I got curious about it again. Is it something you’re still working on? If it is, would it be possible to get another sneak peek to satisfy our irondad cravings? I’m sending some sunshine your way, hope you have an awesome day!☀️

Hiya!  Happy FFWF!

I am indeed still working on my BioDad fic.  I am about 90K written but I won't lie, I’m struggling a bit.  I think a lot of it has to do with wanting it to be good enough- it doesn't feel like it has the same flow like I had with A Peter Parker Problem.  I mean, I think what I have is ok but I want it to be as better (- sorry couldn't resist a Homecoming pun..!).  So I prob need to get out of my own head about it.  Anyway, that really isn't what you asked me, is it?!  Can you have another sneak peek?  Yes you can!  Ok, you know how long winded I am so it’s more of a half a chapter rather than a snippet - oh well!

----

                                                  Peter

“Peter, Boss would like to see you in his workshop.” FRIDAY’s voice filtered down from above.

Peter looked up towards where it had emanated from, worrying his lips between his teeth.

Why did Mr Stark want him to go down there?

Peter had retreated back to his room after they had said their goodbyes to Harley.  The weekend had turned out much better than he had expected.  He’d actually enjoyed himself and not felt like he was taking up space in the Penthouse.  They’d tinkered about with tech and watched movies.  Mr Stark was so much more relaxed in the workshop.  He couldn’t deny that it’d been fascinating to see the man in his element.  He’d left the two teenagers to do their own thing at one point, but Peter’s eyes had been drawn to the man as he worked: watching him work with holographic schematics with singular focus.

Peter put down his pen on top of the homework packet that he was working on and headed towards the workshop.

Sweat started to pool under his armpits as the doors to the room swished open as soon as he was in front of them; no need to knock or announce his arrival.  

He tentatively followed the sound of metal on metal and as he turned the corner, he could see Mr Stark was working a sheet of a thin alloy into – well he wasn’t sure what, but something else.  There was a bead of sweat running down the side of his face, and his hands were oily.

The banging stopped for a moment, and Peter cleared his throat.

Mr Stark twisted towards the noise, pulling his safety visor up when he saw who it was and sending Peter a warm smile.

“You, um, wanted to see me, sir?”

Tony took the visor off completely now and headed towards him, picking up and rag and wiping his hands as he did.

“Yeah kid, I did.  It’s about borrowing the tools.”

Peter straightened up.  Shit, he was in trouble.  He looked at the floor and put his hands in his pockets.

“I’m sorry.  FRIDAY said you wouldn’t mind, but I should have asked you directly.  It won’t happen again, sir.”

“Oh no, that’s not what I meant…” Mr Stark’s face crumpled.  “My tools are your tools.  It’s just, I figured it’s safer if you use them in here.  So, I set you up with your own workstation in here, you know, so you can have a proper area to create.”

Peter stared at him.  He’d never had his own place before.  A million possibilities went through his mind.

“It’s just over here…”

He followed Mr Stark a few steps to where there was indeed a cleared off desk.

“I figured you might like a holo projector too.”

Peter’s eyes widened as Mr Stark opened it up.  

“I set you up your own server so you can save your work easily.  You can talk to FRIDAY just as you’ve seen me do and she’ll help with any calculations or, well, anything you require.”

Peter continued gaping, as Tony jotted something into the holo and a rotating gauntlet came into view.  “I took the liberty of putting this on here for you to practice getting used to working with the system.”

Peter stepped forward straight away.  This was the coolest thing ever.  He pushed his fingers forward and grabbed a piece of the floating gauntlet in his hands, pulling it apart in a motion that he’d seen Mr Stark doing yesterday.  The image separated out into the component parts.  He moved the pieces around with no more than a flick of his wrist.  God, the whole system was so intuitive, it was incredible.

Peter spent a few moments engrossed before he realised that Mr Stark was standing there watching him.

“Oh, thank you, this is awesome.  Th-thanks.”

He saw Mr Stark moving slowly, no doubt on purpose, to place his hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.   It felt warm and secure.  It had been a while since he’d felt such a gentle, warm gesture from an adult.  He turned his attention back to the hologram; trying to keep his cheeks from burning but knowing he probably wouldn’t succeed.

Mr Stark’s hand retreated and he did too.

“Um, Mr Stark?”

The man turned around with a hopeful expression.

“I, uh, don’t suppose you have time to show me how it all works.”  Peter chewed the inside of his mouth.  He didn’t need help, not really.

Mr Stark let out the biggest smile that Peter had seen since he arrived, and he came and stood next to him.

“Yeah, sure bud.  All the time in the world.”

                                                   Tony

Tony’s heart had taken a while to calm down.  He’d been in a lot of high pressure situations in his lifetime.  Literal life and death situations; Afghanistan, the wormhole and yet here his heart had been hammering just as much as it had then.  At least that is what it felt like to him.  Hell, the kid could probably hear it from where he was stood next to him.

He was stood shoulder to shoulder with his son.  Just that thought alone was enough to make his stomach flip – though this time in a good way.  His heart rate gradually began to decline, and he tried really hard to keep the ridiculous smile off of his face.

Being so close to him, hearing him talk.  And God, he was so fucking smart.  He seemed to want to hide it, but then he’d start to get excited, and Tony could see the inquisitiveness and joy in him.  It was there, had been all along, there just hadn’t been the chance to push it out from behind the sheer fear the kid must be feeling about this whole new situation, this whole new identity that he had.

Tony knew that they should have talked about it all directly by now.  But the kid was so on edge, he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.  

Social Services had reminded him that one of the major conditions of their breaking protocol was Tony’s agreement that Peter would attend Counselling sessions – both individual and family sessions.  They were set up to start next week – it was just down to Tony to tell him.  Tony looked over at him, as Peter studied some calculations, his dark eyes intent on the numbers in front of him, knocking a pencil against his lips as he did.  Not today.

This whole weekend had been incredible – he’d be sure to send Harley a fat gift for his part in that.  He’d made it all so effortless.  So Keener would be getting a gift and an extra bump in his college fund too.  But if the weekend had been good, then this afternoon had been perfect.  

Tony hadn’t been too sure how the offering of the worktable would go down.  It could quite possibly have been met with the same polite distance Peter had shown him since he got here.  He was sure he was being totally transparent.  Having the worktable in here meant spending time with him.  He wasn’t sure that was what Peter wanted.  But then, he’d just been about to leave him to it, not wanting to hang around applying pressure and Peter had reached out to him.  Peter didn’t need guidance on the system – not really, that much was obvious in the first five minutes - so Tony could only surmise that Peter wanted to spend time with him.  He’d asked about Tony’s old projects and tentatively asked Tony to show him them.  Which was how they came to be elbow deep in giving DUM-E a proper tune up.  Self-admittedly, Peter wasn’t as up with mechanical engineering, so it gave Tony the opportunity to teach him – something that he had always imagined that he’d have the opportunity to do with his son.

Peter’s head lifted and a moment later Tony heard the tell-tale click of Pepper’s heels.

“Tony!”  Pepper’s voice called.  And oh yes, that was her pissed off tone.

“Over here,” he called back cheerfully.

“So you are here!”  Her voice was starting to grow louder as she got closer.  “You can’t just mute FRIDAY and include me in that; we had a meeting, what was so…”

Pepper had made it to where they were and stopped still, her eyes training from him to Peter and back again.

“Sorry Pep, forgot about that meeting.”  Tony couldn’t help but smile at her with what he hoped was a ‘look at this, don’t mess this up’ vibe.

Pepper’s mouth was open but before she could say anything, Peter did.

“Sorry Miss Potts, I asked Mr Stark to show me how DUM-E worked…” Peter seemed to hunch in on himself.

“That’s no problem.  Tony appointed me as CEO specifically so he didn’t have to deal with meetings, if I remember correctly,”  Pepper said, sending him a warm smile.

“That was one reason.”

“I suppose it is pointless of me to ask if either of you have stopped to eat whilst you have been down here?”

Tony looked at Peter, who looked back.

“Erm…”

Pepper rolled her eyes.  “Tony, it’s 8pm and he hasn’t eaten!”

“Oh, sorry kid…”

“I didn’t even notice the time, I was so focussed,” Peter said sheepishly.  

“Oh no, now there are two of you.” Pepper put a hand to her forehead.  “I’ll go and order something in whilst you finish up and wash up.  Pizza ok, Peter?”

“Yes, Miss Potts.  Thank you.”

With that she turned on her heel and was off.

Tony looked to Peter who looked a little chastised.

“You did good, kid.  If you hadn’t been here, she’d have had my head.”  Tony grinned and Peter seemed to push a little smile out.  “Shall we get cleaned up?”

Peter looked down at the robot in front of them as he twisted his hands together.  “We are about ready to close him up, right?  I don’t like to leave him all hanging out.  Can we just finish it off, sir?”  

Tony shifted his weight back.

“How about we make a deal?  You stop calling me ‘sir’, and we can finish DUM-E off.”

Peter looked up at him, a look of uncertainty in his face.  Was it so hard to not call your own father ‘sir’?  Had his parents or uncle been so formal?  Or was it something else?  The words emotional distance floated into his mind – huh- maybe he had paid some attention during his past therapy sessions.

“Ok,” he said softly.  

“Great,” Tony gently knocked his shoulder into Peter’s without thinking too much about it and was rewarded with a smile.  “Let’s get this guy back on the road.”

----

Thanks for the ask!  

[literaphobe]

Im so sorry...is your sister a minor

yeah she’s 17. i really don’t blame her it just sucks. anyway i think i needed to work through this but its also way too long so 

lol like that was supposed to be my birthday gift but it has now become a romantic getaway for a man and his gf (who is 18 years younger than him) and my sister and one of her friends. at like. one of the most expensive hotels in the country. the same man who guilted me into giving private tutoring to 8 students at a time while i was a student because he apparently is super poor and has no money and no job. (i started tutoring for extra money and to just. have a job. because he has also given me shit about that before too. if i don’t have a job i’m like a useless baby child who he can never trust to be responsible for her own life. turns out that was just a load of bullshit to trap me. and yeah i was teaching 8-9 students at some point and i think i was like telling him hey i don’t know if this is a good idea. its a little crazy. and he was like no u should keep doing it. its money u should just earn it. we aren’t doing great financially and at some point we might need ur help paying for ur sister’s tutoring classes. and so i did and it hurt me SO much last semester. + covid but also. it was tutoring mostly lmao) 

anyway i just. the thought of everything made me cry a lot in the shower lol. like that. quiet cry where u are sobbing uncontrollably but u have to mute it as much as possible so that ur mother who’s washing dishes in the kitchen doesn’t hear it

today we had some ikea furniture delivered. and i was assembling it. and my mom told me “when we were married i was always the one putting together the IKEA furniture. ur dad would always get frustrated and give up” and then in the shower i realized that’s exactly how my dad treats me lmao. i am.... his ikea furniture

so like. i can actually trace the most recent incident of abuse i faced from him back to when. i allowed him to “help” me with my university degree transfer issues. u know. because i couldn’t do the coding degree he pressured me into doing. and wanted to do something else (i could’ve gone to my uni open house w my friends. who ended up entering the arts faculty. and i WANTED to do psychology in the arts faculty too. but my dad and his gf were there. and they just. told me if i did that i would have no future and no job prospects when i graduated. which is SO fucking funny because both of them individually. their grades were super fucking shit and they were never good enough to get into the school that i did. so they had no fucking business telling me what i should or shouldn’t do. but i didn’t know that because they lied to me. my dad lied to me about so many things to scare me into thinking i couldn’t do anything. and at this point in my life. they were still monitoring my internet usage. and there were restrictions set on my phone. mere. months. before i was meant to be a university student. even getting restrictions off my phone was a big fight i had to have. i bought my own laptop with money i made from this f&b job because i knew if i waited for them to get one for me i would be waiting forever. and i was just so fucking scared of them so i got a. ‘practical’ degree. and then slid off my adhd meds because even that felt like part of the trap they kept me in for years) 

i decided i wanted to do linguistics and become a linguistics major but my school wasn’t letting me. and it had been a year. so i let him and my mom get involved. which i had SUCH a bad feeling about. an awful awful bad feeling. i was right lmao. i should’ve known his involvement wouldn’t have done shit and would also. set me up for yet another Major Traumatic Incident. which i have spent the entirety of 2020 trying to avoid. do you know how stressful and tiring it feels to just like. every moment around ur own father is u just trying to walk on eggshells praying and hoping that nothing bad will happen. i tried so hard and it fell apart in the end anyway. he couldn’t fix this problem so he took it out on me

my school essentially texted us back saying “we get a shit load of transfer requests every year, even from students from other schools. ur grades from the classes u took aren’t good enough to justify a transfer” and like they were right. i had been off my meds. various things in life had happened. my commute situation wasn’t helping matters either (to and from was 2 hours each) and it has just. not been great. grandad passed away like 2 weeks ago or something at that point. which. may have been an underlying cause for the situation. or maybe he was always going to blow up at me and get violent and crazy. idk

anyway. i guess u could say it is ‘my fault’ for cutting off contact w my father n not speaking to him. but also. he threatened to throw me into a mental institute. and also. violently refused to let me leave the house so he could keep yelling at me. he physically would not let me. i yelled at him to just let me go but he implied that he would actually hurt me if i tried to get past him again. and he said all sorts of shit like he can be crazy too and he can be crazier than me which is something he’s said before. what triggered me to leave was. ok so in the beginning he was giving me the same thing he has yelled at me about over the years. i am super super fucking smart but i waste it all away on purpose and refuse to get my shit together and that’s somehow a personal attack on him. i can’t remember most of it by now. but anyway. i was tearing up and keeping absolutely quiet just waiting for it to be over so i could leave and go to another room. but then he started to. yell at me for crying. its so fucking ironic and weird because in a separate previous incident i was complaining about my school and how much it all was. and i was barely raising my voice but he was like woah woah stop being so emotional!!! as if he doesn’t regularly scream and shout and punch walls or whatever the fuck over the SMALLEST bullshit. anyway. he started to scold me for crying. and then he said ‘if you go out in the future and get a job are you going to cry like this too when ur boss scolds you? or are you acting like this because i’m family and you think its okay?’ as if. i have never had a job. as if i have never had to deal with a boss. bro i swear to fucking god. i am dead to most things now because of him. he can’t do shit. but. in the moment i found this so ridiculous and just SO fucking stupid that i left. i had had enough. i started laughing and i walked out and went to grab my bag so i could go. i didn’t. get very far obviously. and when my dad started threatening me i genuinely thought i was going to die. he was so angry and deranged that i thought he was going to murder me. my heart was going just. so so so fast. even tho i was just standing there. and i told him he was terrifying me (to which he said “GOOD”) and i just NEEDED to get out of this situation and get some space (to which he said “NO” repeatedly). he refused to admit that he would use actual violence to prevent me from leaving the house. he told me he would NEVER let me leave. which was fucking ridiculous. i stay at his house. 2 days out of the fucking week. he literally shoved me backwards so hard when i was trying to leave and he wanted to stop me. he also refused to admit that he used violence or was planning to use violence. i tried to point out this flaw in his logic to him. i said ur going to hurt me. he said no. i said ok then if ur not going to hurt me then let me walk past you and leave the house. he also said no again. and then our cousins rang the door at some point. so then he started to come to his senses. he was like. ‘the reason i don’t want to let you leave is because i’m afraid you’ll hurt yourself.’ which was so fucking stupid. i have NEVER threatened to hurt myself in front of him. i have never shared ANY thoughts of self harm in front of him. he’s the one who would get into massive fights w his dad and threaten to jump out of the window in anger (and i don’t even mean when he was younger. he would fight with his 93 year old dad. fucking stupid bitch). i made this clear to him that i was never ever planning on hurting myself. and then he said fine and let me leave. meaning i had to answer the door to my cousins in tears while he got to walk back to his room and lock himself in

he also. at some point during this argument, told me there would be consequences to me leaving. i guess i know those consequences now lmao. and like. i went home to my moms house. my cousins walked me there. i still haven’t told them. idk if my dad told them. my dad texted me to gaslight me. said that when he said he was going to put me in a mental hospital he meant it as a friendly suggestion because of ‘the state i was in’. and that it ‘wasn’t meant as a threat’ and like. oof. healthy suggestions aren’t meant to be yelled. anyway. i might be texting him. just to inform him about developments and to like. i guess set boundaries maybe. idk. i can’t carry on like this. i hate him and am terrified of him but. cutting him out of my life is basically inviting ostracism from his side of the family. and it’s putting so much stress on me. so. lol

[gryphonablaze]

headcanon that the borderlands games take place in the superdistant future so earth did exist and that’s why they still call things ‘tesla coils’ even tho they probably haven’t a remote clue who the heck tesla was. 

all of gaige’s pop culture references and fourth wall breaks make technical sense. she’s just like

so like if earth was long abandoned or whatever after humans spread throughout the universe in the style of the Peopling of the Earth chapter in a world history textbook,, .......

some extra shenaniganery below the cut

on a note you might think unrelated, the time gap between portal one and portal two is spectacularly ambiguous. 

A SMALL PERSUASIVE ESSAY ON THE SUBJECT OF HOW IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO TELL THE MAGNITUDE OF THE TIME GAP BETWEEN THE FIRST AND SECOND PORTAL GAMES. SCROLL TO THE NEXT HEADER TO SKIP

the facility being overrun with plants? could have taken five years. could have taken ten. could have taken literal tens of thousands; we don’t know how well secured the facility was against the outside world, how long it took for things to deteriorate without GLaDOS’s maintenance. Or even how long it took for them to start falling apart! If the place were virtually vacuum sealed, it wouldn’t be impossible for the things inside to take an extremely long time to break down. There is, however, a datamined line that mentions in passing ‘50,000 years.’ However, by nature of being datamined and not actually used, the degree of how canon that may be is extremely debatable So ultimately, we don’t have any realistic or reliable way to say how long it’s been. The only thing we know with certainty is the maximum number of years being about seven to eight billion, only because the sun hasn’t yet died and consumed the earth. 

There is, of course, the fact that Chell was woken up by the facility running out of power. Aperture is powered by a nuclear generator. The average lifespan of an american nuclear generator is about forty years. But depending on the general stability of the materials used and the way it was constructed, it could theoretically last incredibly long--stars, after all, are giant nuclear reactors. Considering the person Cave Johnson was, he would probably not have assembled a nuclear reactor properly. However, with GLaDOS’s incredible expanse of knowledge and her strong distaste of mismanagement, clearly shown when she deprecates the way Wheatley fails to care for the facility, it is very reasonable to assume she would have fixed all of the dreadful mistakes, and more than likely further optimized the generator to a degree far beyond any human could have engineered. So much like every other aspect of the facility, it is virtually impossible to tell  how much time it took for the generator to reach the point of producing so little power that it was forced to wake Chell from her stasis. Because it certainly had not reached the end of its actual lifespan of course, because when GLaDOS was resurrected, she was very quickly able to restore its function. 

Finally, in the ‘community test chamber’ part of portal two, Cave Johnson states that an infinite number of similar alternative universes exist. This means that anything--any fanfiction, any AU, every individual playthrough by different people with its miniscule differences of having pressed a button before or after activating a switch, even a person’s dream, if it is related to Portal, is canon. So even if there is no way with the information in the game to prove how long Chell was in stasis, anyone can write a fanfiction, offer ‘proof’ of the time passed, and call it canon. Therefor, the statements I’m about to make are perfectly reasonable and have every right to exist as canon. 

HERE WE ARE FELLAS. SORRY I JUST SOMETIMES LIKE PRACTICING CRITICAL THINKING AND WRITING SKILLS THAT ENGLISH CLASS TRIED TO TEACH ME, EXCEPT I WANNA DO IT ON SUBJECTS I ACTUALLY CARE ABOUT YKNOW

tl:dr I can fabricate any number of years to fill in the time gap between portal one and two and it will be technical, undisputable canon. 

All that said, the time it took for humans to populate the universe, lose and rebuilt culture and technology, and forget the distant past could easily match up with the time Chell was in stasis before Portal 2, and thus these two game series can exist in the same universe.

Portal technically takes place in an extremely similar (or even same) ‘timeline’ as our real, tangible world we currently live in. The borderlands game series could also reasonably exist in the timeline in which we currently exist. 

anyway point one gaige is a reverse prophet

point two; i could very reasonably write a fanfiction in which, after finally escaping aperture, Chell becomes a siren

[darnloveablecharacters]

Universal, Part Three: The Hotel

Series Summary: Simply a multi-part, self indulgent reader insert with John Wick universe kinda plumbed in. Fair warning…. SLOWWW BURN. Ignore canon and timing and crap, that’s not important….  Gifs and recognizable characters are not mine, but the story and all of the mistakes are!

The Universal - Masterlist

Chapter Notes: Interwebs are back and we are in business! Eh, it gave me time to edit this chapter some more so here we go! This is actually the chapter that started it all! I had so much fun writing this that it prompted this whole stinking mess. Speaking of mess, I actually had to cut A LOT out of it because while it was fun, the extra parts didn’t really work with the chapter. Stupid flow anyway... there is one piece that didn’t make the final cut that I think I’ll post as a bonus, just for the hell of it lol.

Warnings for this chapter: Spoiler alert for the Jedi Apprentice series (it’s small but there), drinking (drink choices are probably not Canon but I honestly couldn’t bring myself to give Obi Wan a bright blue drink.... then the gif wouldn’t have worked.)

R2 tracked the Sith to a system with no name. The only occupied planet was home to a massive hotel. The Universal.

Obi Wan and Anakin entered the hotel and to their immediate shock, the Sith was sitting in front of the reception desk patting a whimpering hound gently. Obi Wan caught the end of her statement as they slowly approached. “He’ll be back soon.” She was saying. He didn’t catch any more of her conversation with the hound as the concierge stood in their path.

“Good evening Jedi, my name is Charon. How may I assist you this evening?” The concierge said politely.

“We are here on business, we are looking for Lady Y/L/N.” Obi Wan said, watching as the Sith stood and winked at him before leaving the lobby.

“No ‘business’ may be conducted on Universal grounds, Master Jedi. I must ask that if that is your only purpose, then please leave.” Charon stated calmly, bringing Obi Wan’s full attention back to him.

Anakin bristled. “Who exactly do you think you are? You can’t…”

“What my padawan is trying to say Charon” Obi Wan began, shooting Anakin a warning glance. “Is that we are here on behalf of the Galactic Senate. We have been tasked with bringing Lady Y/L/N in for questioning for crimes against the Republic.”

“With all due respect, Master Jedi, we do not recognize Republic laws in our establishment.” Charon replied, eyeing the Jedi suspiciously as they glanced at each other. “I can see that you do not understand, perhaps you wish to meet with the Owner?”

“We will speak with the Owner.” Obi Wan agreed reluctantly.

Charon bowed respectfully. “Follow me, Gentlemen.” He said as he turned on his heel and headed in the same direction that Y/N had walked.

Obi Wan placed a reassuring hand on Anakin’s shoulder before following the concierge. He led them into a dimly lit bar toward a man who was contentedly swirling a glass of bourbon while watching the other patrons. He glanced up as they approached and smiled. “Why Charon, you’ve brought me Jedi! This is surely an unexpected surprise!” He exclaimed cheerfully as he stood to greet them. “Please sit and tell me your story!”

Winston gestured to the chairs opposite him and they took their seats. Charon bowed and left them as Obi Wan began. “We are here to take Lady Y/L/N in for questioning.” He stated simply.

Winston’s smile never faltered, but Obi Wan could feel his tension. “That is unfortunate as I am sure my concierge informed you that no ‘business’ shall be conducted on Universal grounds?”

“He did, but surely you would be willing to help bring justice to our Galaxy?” Obi Wan said, discreetly waving his hand under the table.

Winston narrowed his eyes. “Surely, you must be joking.” He said, catching them both off-guard. “Mind tricks will not work here Jedi. If this is all that you are here for, I will have to ask you to…”

Suddenly, two gold coins landed on the table in front of them. Obi Wan and Anakin tensed as the Sith stood over them; however, she ignored them and directly addressed the Owner. “I’ll vouch for them. Deadly killers, these ones… But, they will follow the rules as any Jedi does.”

Winston scooped up the coins and nodded, “So be it, but their actions will reflect solely on you. Should they bring any disruption to my establishment, it will fall on you Lady Y/L/N.”

“Understood.” Y/N conceded with a polite bow.

Winston nodded in return and turned back to the two Jedi. “I will leave you to it.” He glanced at the coins for a moment then back at the Jedi. “This will pay for room and board for two days. Please enjoy the full extent of our hospitalities while you are here, but be warned: The Universal does not condone any violence within our territory. This one rule is sacred and you do not want to witness the consequences of breaking it. Jedi or no, this is a place of peace and we recognize no formal laws. We are far more efficient than that.” With that, he stood and gave a curt bow before glancing up at a dark figure entering the room with the hound at his heels. “Covered in blood, why is he always tracking blood into the hotel.” He muttered grimly as he headed toward the new arrival.

Anakin was enraged, he knew a threat when he heard it and wanted to retaliate. Obi Wan tensed as he felt the anger within his padawan and reached out with the Force to calm his spirit. When he sensed his padawan was under control, he turned to the Sith. “I thank you, but I must admit I do not understand. Every time we have encountered each other, you have tried to kill us. I’m sure you understand my unease.”

Y/N smirked as if expecting this response. “You’re not wrong Master Kenobi, but I’m on holiday. I don’t particularly feel like fighting right now.

Obi Wan had expected many things when they entered the hotel, but this turn of events was not any of them. He reached out to the Force again and was surprised to feel that the dark ripples that had surrounded her before had been replaced with an overwhelming sense of contentment.

She raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged it off as she turned to Anakin. “By the way Padawan, I found the homing device shortly after arriving here.” She tossed the small sensor to him and grinned. “That was a great trick, perhaps if you decide to leave the Jedi you can show me how you pulled it off?”

This time Anakin was caught slightly off guard as his joy for the praise battled with the annoyance at the insult that he may ever leave the Jedi. Much to Obi Wan’s shock, Anakin took a calming breath before he responded. “Thank you for the compliment, Lady Y/L/N. But as I won’t be leaving the Jedi I guess you’ll have just have to teach yourself to fly better.”

Y/N laughed at that, and both Jedi finally relaxed. “Enjoy the amenities Gentlemen, I’m sure you will be well… entertained.” Y/N said with a bow and turning in the direction of the bar.

“I suppose we need a new plan.” Obi Wan said rubbing his beard thoughtfully. He glanced at Anakin after a few moments of silence and followed his distracted padawan’s gaze to a stage where a few exotic dancers were beginning their routine.

He stood with an exasperated sigh and left Anakin to his amusement. Scanning the room, he saw an overwhelming collection of high-power individuals. Senators, bounty hunters, gangsters and all types of individuals he would normally have a run-in with. I suppose this place is a haven for criminals, and there appears to be nothing I can do about it. He thought with a touch of annoyance. He continued his scan of the room until his gaze fell on Y/N nursing a drink at the bar. He rolled his eyes in frustration and headed in her direction.

“You’re troubled, Master Jedi.” She said, as he silently took the stool next to her.

“That is not your concern, Lady Y/L/N.” he said in an undertone. “Whiskey, please.” The droid tending the bar began to poor immediately after his request. He took the drink gratefully, feeling the warmth flow through him immediately after took a sip.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” She said, turning to watch Anakin be entertained by the dancers with an amused expression. “Everyone needs a break, even the heroes of the Galaxy.”

“We do not need a break, we will always fight for Justice.” He said, regarding her coolly. He took another sip before adding, “We do not take kindly to cold-blooded murder.”

She focused on him then, piercing him with her gaze. “Don’t you? Tell me something, Master Jedi. How many people have you killed in your life?”

He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when the image of Bruck Chun’s hands slipping through his fingers was pulled from his memory. The pain was in his eyes was there for only a moment, but Y/N didn’t miss it. She simply nodded and continued. “Now, tell me how many people that you know for a fact that I’ve killed.”

Again, Obi Wan tried to speak but couldn’t. Reviewing their encounters, no sentient being had died in either. Only droids had been destroyed. The ships protecting the transport had been shot out of the air, but every single one of the pilots had miraculously survived only with minor injuries. He dropped his gaze back to his drink as he considered her point. “You do seem to be extraordinarily careful, for a Sith.” He finally conceded.

Y/N choked on her drink. “You really think I’m a Sith Lord?” She said after recovering from her laughter. Obi Wan just shrugged uncomfortably and she laughed again. Her eyes twinkled as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Oh, my dear sweet Jedi. I am no Sith. I have no hate for the Jedi, we simply have opposing views and get in each other’s way.” She removed her hand, smile never fading as she finished the remainder of her drink while he mulled over what she told him. “You have a few days’ respite here.  Enjoy it while you can, Jedi.” With that, she placed her glass delicately on the bar and stood. She leaned close to him and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek before lowering her voice so that only he would be able to hear. “Always a pleasure, Master Kenobi. I’m sure we’ll be fighting each other again shortly.”

The abrupt loss off contact left Obi Wan slightly staggered, though he would never admit it. He watched her leave the room feeling a mixture of shame and a frustration that seemed to be reserved for his encounters with her. “I’m sure we will, Lady Y/L/N.” He said quietly to the empty space. He downed the last of his drink and worked his way to the stage to “rescue” his padawan from the dancers.

As he all but dragged Anakin through the lobby, he was certain that they were being watched but continued toward the elevators without turning. After ensuring that Anakin would stay in his room, Obi Wan retired to his own and collapsed on the sleep couch. He closed his eyes and attempted to meditate but was unable to clear his thoughts. He thought of how she spoke, of her lingering touch and the ghost of the kiss that he could still feel against his cheek. As he drifted to a fitful sleep, the memory that had been plaguing him since their first meeting consumed him.

“That was… unexpected.” She admitted breathlessly.

“Yes, well I do like to keep a duel interesting.” Obi Wan said, still straining against her. Her strength didn’t waver.

It was too dark to see her, but he could feel her leaning into him. Her breath caressed him as she spoke. “You’ve accomplished that. I do wonder what you plan to do next.”

They were at a stalemate. Neither of them would be able to pull their lightsabers without her releasing her hold on him. Obi Wan relaxed and stared back into the darkness, feeling her energy. “I suppose we are at an impasse.” He said, choosing to bide his time until Anakin arrived.

“I suppose so.” She said sensually, leaning in close enough that her lips brushed his own.

A shocking wave of desire flooded through him. The feeling was strong and he wasn’t entirely certain that it was only his. He instinctively tilted his head to meet her in the kiss.

Before he could reach her, the room suddenly flooded with light as the bay doors exploded open and Y/N was forced off him. Obi Wan scrambled to his feet pulled his lightsaber to him as Anakin ran in but froze when he turned and finally saw her. In the heat of that moment, he couldn’t help but notice that she was undeniably beautiful.

She had moved to her feet as well and her lightsaber was in her hands, the red glow accenting her features in the best ways. She glanced toward his padawan running toward them then back at him and deactivated her lightsaber. “Until next time, Master Kenobi.” She said with a smile. She turned and disappeared into another hallway with an inexplicable speed.

“Until next time.” Obi Wan choked out in awe.

Obi Wan awoke with a start to the sound of his comlink buzzing. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to shake off lustful thoughts in his mind. When he was finally able to center himself, he checked the comlink and saw that it was the Council.

“Obi Wan, we have a new mission for you.” Came the stern voice of Mace Windu.

“That is good news.” Obi Wan said with relief. He would need a distraction.

“We need you to travel to Ansion to settle a border dispute.”

Authors Notes: Kudos if you caught the cameo! I wasn’t exactly trying to hide it lol. Also, Star Wars universe hounds are ah.... yeah, just not what I pictured when I wrote it. I actually googled it when I wrote him in and immediately said “nope, I’ll just write and think of John’s dog. lol

ALSO, for those of you who are not full blown Star Wars nerds (it’s okay, I love you anyway) the border dispute on Ansion is the mission they were sent to just prior to the events of Attack of the Clones.