#hoping she somehow makes another appearance in canon

[reginaphalange2403]

Never Again

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Despite an intense dislike for one another, you and Bucky begrudgingly get paired together for a mission. You’re forced to look past your differences when things so south.

Warnings: Canon level violence, asshole Bucky (at first), enemies to lovers vibes, other mcu characters make appearances. Word count: 6.1k

a/n: AHHHH my first fic in like 6 months! this is also the first time I've ever written for Bucky or written anything like this. It was a lot of fun and I hope I did him justice lol. Enjoy!

The loud hissing of the Keurig was a rude awakening to your 7am start to the day. Unfortunately, Steve had decided to hold a team conference meeting at 8. Why he chose to annoy you all like this, you weren’t sure. 

“Are you fucking done yet?” You instantly recognized the deep, rough voice muttering under his breath behind you. Bucky had his arms folded and was impatiently waiting for you to finish up at the machine so he could make his own cup.

“Already have a stick up your ass today, huh Barnes?” You spit back at him before moving to let him use the Keurig.

“Well, I wouldn’t have one if you weren’t the first thing I saw when I came down the stairs.” 

Damn. That stung. “Have you ever been nice for once in your life? Or is being a dick just a permanent part of your personality?” 

At your words, Bucky looked up at you and feigned offense “Oh, I’m nice” He assured you in an almost sweet tone, before turning cold again “…to people that deserve it.”

You rolled your eyes at him, muttering a ‘whatever’, and left the kitchen to go take a seat in the conference room. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an atypical conversation for you to have with Bucky. Ever since you had joined the team almost a year ago - at Natasha Romanoff’s request - Bucky had been anything but welcoming. At first, you thought it was just friendly banter, him trying to sarcastically intimidate you, but it was clear by now that he genuinely had a deep distaste for you. 

Soon enough, everyone else started to file in for the meeting. Nat smiled as she took the seat next to you, her regular spot, and quietly started asking you about your morning. Bucky was the last one to enter the room, and by that point the only seat left was the one on your other side. 

He glared at you as he sat down. 

“It’s not my fault you’re always late to these things” You quipped under your breath.

“Don’t push it, sweetheart” Bucky frustratingly muttered, and you quickly opened your mouth to reply before Natasha interrupted,

“Don’t bother with him, Y/N. He’s always a grump in the mornings” 

‘No, he’s always a grump to me’ you thought to yourself, but kept your mouth shut. 

“Good Morning, everyone” Steve finally got started with the meeting, a cheery grin on his face that was all too happy for 8am, in your opinion.

“As you all know, for months now we’ve been trying to track down where exactly Ian Haverford and his men have been setting up camp and operating their illegal activities” Most recently, the team had been working on taking down a group of rouge scientists. They had somehow been creating and using a serum that was similar to the super soldier serum. A antidote that made them have increased strength, speed and agility. They then used their new enhancements to rob and kill storeowners, evade the police, and then subsequently sell the drugs and weapons that they had stolen. 

“We’ve finally located their compound, up in rural Virginia, we-“

“What he meant to say was I located their compound in Virginia” Tony cheekily butt in. 

Steve sighed, having to stop his own eye roll, “Fine, yes, Tony located the compound. Anyway, as I was saying…We believe that that’s where they’re making the serum. The sooner we go in, the less time they have to continue using the serum and giving it to more people. Now, I didn’t necessarily think this was a task we all needed to partake in. It really only requires two people to take down Haverford and gather intel on what chemicals they’ve been using”

Steve took a big breath before revealing who he had assigned to the mission, knowing he’d have hell to pay, “Y/N and Bucky will be heading to Virginia tomorrow morning-“

“Are you serious Rogers?!” You immediately confronted Steve’s decision as you heard Bucky next you,

“You’ve got to be kidding me” He mumbled, clearly as annoyed as you were.

Steve put his hands up defensively, “I know the two of you don’t always get along, but I was hoping this assignment would allow you to work together and actually have to interact beyond your bickering” 

You had never been on a mission with just Bucky before. Of course, the two of you had been on missions with the rest of the avengers together, but never just the two of you. 

Steve continued, “Besides, we need someone who’s a super soldier to infiltrate the compound. Bucky has the strength and speed to match that of Haverford’s people. And Y/N, you also have enhancements, it makes sense to send the both of you in together.” He concluded by basically saying his decision was final, and that you and Buck would be leaving on a quinjet first thing tomorrow.

During your years in the red room, you had been injected with various substances and drugs that over time had enhanced your agility, flexibility, reflexes and even your sight. But you didn’t see how that made you a necessary aspect to this assignment. You were sure Steve was just using that as an excuse, he really just wanted you to get along better with Bucky. 

Speaking of which, Buck stood up from his chair as you looked over at him, he glowered at you for a moment before scoffing, “Guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it” and with that he left the room. 

You stayed, waiting for everyone else to file out so that you could speak with Steve privately. Natasha gave you a sympathetic look and squeezed your shoulder, as she was the last one to head out after talking to Steve for a while herself. You were always sort of jealous of their friendship. Of course, you had Nat. Who was your closest confidant in the group. But you also wanted to be close with the guys as well. You supposed Steve was your friend, but sometimes it felt like he looked at you as more of a younger sister. 

Finally, it was just you and Steve alone in the room and you were still sitting in your same seat, Steve standing at the head of the table. He tilted his head towards you and quirked his eyebrows, waiting for you to say something. 

“Why does he hate me?” You asked quietly. You had always wanted to go to Steve for advice on how to handle Bucky, but never wished to cause a rift in their friendship or make Steve feel like he was put in the middle of something.

His eyes went soft and he sighed, “Oh Y/N” He began gently “I know it may come off that way, but Buck doesn’t hate you. He just…” Steve looked to find the right words, “has a hard time handling his emotions and how he feels about people… especially people that bring up past trauma for him” 

Steve’s little hint helped you clue in to what he was trying to imply. You knew that Bucky had a history with the red room, long before you ever did, but you never really knew the details of it or how he was involved. You were saved from Dreykov almost a year ago when Natasha returned to destroy him. You were one of Yelena’s closest friends and she had introduced you to Nat, who then saw how skilled you were and decided to invite you to join the avengers, since you really had no other home to go to. Yelena meanwhile, had wanted to enjoy her freedom a little more and chose to see the world a bit before deciding to join any sort of vigilante team. Though Natasha always held out hope that she would finally join one day when she felt ready. 

“But Nat’s from the red room too!” You defended yourself, “And Bucky treats her perfectly fine! It’s not my fault that my past is what it is. I can’t help the fact that I was raised there, why does he have to hold that against me?” You started to get emotional and Steve could tell, so he began to try and explain his friends behavior.

“Well, he’s gotten to know Natasha for a few years now, so I think they’re on better terms. Plus he kinda owes her one for how she saved both our asses during the whole…sokovia accords thing” Steve said the last part quietly while sort of shamefully looking down. Despite the fact that it was worked out now, that whole incident with him, Tony and Bucky still deeply bothered Steve to even bring up.

He continued after a moment, “He doesn’t hold it against you Y/N, it’s not your fault. He just doesn’t like the memories you bring up for him, the things you remind him of. And he doesn’t know how to properly process and work through them, so instead he just takes out that pent up anger and self hatred on you. It’s not fair to you, but it’s also not your fault.”

“Get him to see a therapist then” you muttered.

Steve scoffed, “Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

He then walked around the length of the table to where you were sitting and gave you a pleading look, “Just give him a chance. Hopefully this mission will be the thing that finally gets him to see you in a different light. I know it’s hard to believe, but he really does have a sweet, soft side under all that brooding, if you dig deep enough” And that was what Steve left you with as he walked out, leaving you alone to mull over what he had said. 

———————

For the rest of that day, you and Bucky both avoided each other. You spent most of the afternoon locked up in your room or in the gym, perfecting a few moves with Nat’s help in preparation for your assignment. You didn’t see Bucky all day, you assumed he also was doing his best to not run into you.

Now, you were seated across from him on the quinjet, an awkward silence taking up the majority of the ride to a rural part of Virginia. He barely even looked at you for the entire 2 hour flight. Mostly staring down at his hands with airpods in, or having his head tilted back and eyes closed. As you neared the end of your trip, jet about to touch down, you noticed Bucky finally didn’t have headphones in, so you decided it would be a good time to set some things straight before you literally went into battle with him.

Cautiously, you spoke up, “Look, I know we don’t necessarily see eye to eye but we really need to-“

He cut you off sharply “Once we touch down I’ll take the northeast side of the compound and you can take the south side. They apparently keep their lab in a big room on the south side, so you head that way and ransack the lab while I take down Haverford, who’s quarters are up in the north end. Got it?” Not even listening to what you had tried to say, Bucky simply started barking out a game plan at you.

“Sure, but I was saying that we-“

Bucky sighed dramatically, “Look Y/N, we just need to do our damn jobs and get this over with. Alright?”

“But Steve said-“

“I don’t care what Steve said.” He snapped, “I’m not here to make nice.”

And with that, you sat in silence again for the last few minutes of the flight. The quinjet landed in an open forrest area, roughly a 10 minute walk away from where Haverford’s compound was supposed to be. Of course, you couldn’t land right next to it without risking them hearing and giving yourselves away. So, you and Bucky began the short trek to the complex, once again in complete silence the whole way there. 

Finally, you arrived upon a large monster of a building. It took up almost the entirety of the empty field that it occupied, with no windows around it whatsoever. To anyone else, it looked like from the outside to be just an eery abandoned building. You and Buck snuck around to the backside where a hatch door was used to get into the lower level of the building. 

“When we’re done,” Bucky finally spoke for the first time in over 15 minutes “How about we meet up back here at this door, so that we can leave asap and not waste time trying to find each other in this fucking maze. Good?”

You swallowed, remembering the “plan” Bucky had laid out earlier on the jet. You really didn’t feel right about splitting up with him. The compound was massive and neither of you had ever navigated it before. Sure, Steve had shown you a basic floor plan of it and talked about where he believed they were making the serum, but that was it. You didn’t know your way around this territory, and you didn’t know what Haverford’s men were like.  And on this mission, it was just you and Buck. You didn’t have the other avengers around to look out for you, or be your eyes and ears over the comms. 

“Bucky, I don’t know if we should separate. This place is big.” You finally admitted.

“It’s nothing you can’t handle” He grumbled out, which should have sounded like a compliment but came out as more of something to shut you up and get on with it.

“But what if one of us gets injured or can’t find our way back to the door?” You asked, embarrassed to be admitting your nerves to him. Bucky could see for a moment that you were genuinely anxious about this.

“We have the comms in our ears,” He began in a slightly softer tone than he had ever spoken to you before, “If you need help, just talk to me. I’ll be in your ear the whole time” 

You nodded, still a little worried but trying not to show it.

“Splitting up is the fastest way to do this. And the faster we get this done, the less time we have to spend together.” Ah, there was the Bucky you knew. Back to making jabs at you. That was the last you spoke before he broke the door open and you were in.

—————————

As discreetly as possible, you made your way through the compound, quietly trying to get to the south wing without being heard or seen. Steve said that they most likely were keeping their lab in the largest room in the building, which supposedly should be through the last door on the south side. As long as you could find it, get the records and evidence that you needed, and get back to the exit in time to meet Bucky, you’d be fine. 

You could hear Bucky through the comms, sounds of grunting and punching obviously coming from him fighting Ian Haverford’s men that he had come into contact with. 

“Looking for something princess?” You immediately stopped in your tracks at the sound of a deep sinister voice snarling at you. Whipping around, you saw one of Ian’s goonies standing just a few feet from you. 

Instantly he charged at you, but it was nothing you hadn’t ever dealt with. Before he could grab you, you took hold of his arm and twisted it behind his back, affectively turning his entire body away from you. Then, using the Widow’s Bite armor that were around your wrists, you tased him in the neck, causing him to fall completely unconscious.

It was then that you realized you had made it to the end of the hallway, and thus the last door which was supposed to be their lab. Prepared for men to potentially be in there, you unholstered one of your firearms, and promptly kicked down the door.

To your shock, the room had no occupants. You quickly reached over to find a light switch, and what you saw next was infuriating. It indeed was Ian Haverford’s lab. Full of tables and stations that held different mixed drugs and chemicals that he was using to create his own super soldier serum, one that he then used on himself and his accomplices. You also saw a station that was entirely made up of a large desktop connected to multiple computers. 

You started to make your way towards the computers so that you could plug in your hard-drive and collect the data that would supply the team with how Haverford had been making the serums. But before you could get there, a white, powdery substance started to sprits down from what looked like emergency sprinklers that were on the ceiling. The substance reeked like chemicals, similar to that of bleach but not as strong. You began to cough a little, trying to wipe the shit out of your face and eyes. You had no idea what the fuck it was or what it might possibly do to you. 

“Bucky” you half coughed half called his name into the comms, “Bucky something happened”

“What?” He grunted out, clearly still in the middle of fighting someone.

“I just got sprayed with some kind of white powder stuff. I don’t know what it was. It must have been part of some kind of booby-trap that they had on the lab, since I kicked their door in, it went off.”

“Are you okay?” Bucky immediately asked, seeming genuinely worried. 

“Yeah I mean, nothings happened yet, I’m still fine. But-“

“I’m a little busy Y/N, if you’re fine for now, just get the data from the lab and head out fast. I don’t have time to keep talking” he quickly rattled off to you, and you heard a loud scream coming from a guy that Bucky obviously just injured. 

You swallowed, still very nervous about whatever the hell just happened to you, but you didn’t want to distract Bucky any further and potentially get him hurt, “Alright. On it.” 

Plugging the hard-drive into the main desktop, you waited patiently as thousands of files started to download from Haverford’s database. As you stood there and waited, an annoying, high pitched ringing began to go off in your ears. At the same time, your vision slowly started to blur slightly, as if you were wearing the wrong prescription glasses. A lump formed in your throat and your heart practically dropped into your stomach, you hated to admit it, but this was deeply scaring you. You’d never been poisoned before. 

You rubbed your eyes, hoping maybe it would help, but nothing happened, the blurriness just got worse. On top of that, your head started to pound, most likely due to the loud obnoxious ringing. It was the powder, you knew it had to be. What else would just suddenly start causing all this? 

“Y/N? You still good?” You heard Bucky ask through the comms, clearly still preoccupied with something else but wanting to check on you. 

You debated telling him about your symptoms. You were teammates, he should know. But on the other hand, It was just a few mostly mild symptoms, and the files were almost finished downloading anyway. You’d grab the hard-drive, run out of the compound and meet him in just a few minutes. You could make it until then. Plus, you didn’t wish to further annoy or distract him from fighting. 

“Yeah. Still good!” You tried to sound as enthusiastic and convincing as possible. It must have worked, because he didn’t question you further. 

Standing over the counter, still waiting for the files to be done, you leaned over the table a bit and made the idiotic decision to close your eyes for just a second, trying to relieve the headache. 

A moment later, you felt a sharp, intense fiery pain in your abdomen as someone reached from behind you choking your neck and thrusting a knife into your stomach. You were paralyzed for just a second with fear, not even able to cry out. The ringing in your ears was so bad, you must not have heard anyone come in. 

Trying to ignore the pain, you instinctively kicked your right leg back hard, hitting the man in the groin and causing him to fall to the ground. However, on his way down, he didn’t miss the chance to slash you in the calve with the knife he had been holding. The stab was so quick you could only gasp in pain. A gasp Bucky must not have heard as he was fighting his own battles. 

Turning around, you fumbled for your firearm for a moment before finally getting it out and being able to pull the trigger, sending a bullet right through his chest. Stumbling backwards a bit, you started to feel lightheaded and you were reminded of the red hot pain in your stomach. You placed a hand over the side the feeling was coming from, and immediately felt a sticky hot liquid coat your fingers. 

You didn’t have time however to investigate the stab wound, because as you glanced up, you could see through your blurry vision that 3 more men were walking in through the kicked down door. 

Lazily raising your gun again, gripping the table to keep from toppling over, you aimed as best you could, with ringing ears, blurred vision and now two stab wounds. Thankfully, your training in the red room had taught you how to aim with even a blindfold on, and with a few quick shots, the men were taken down, now lying limply on the ground in front of you. 

Bucky heard the gunshots through the comm, but since you never called his name or made a noise that would indicate you needed help, he assumed you had it under control. 

You let the gun fall from your hand, now that you were alone and for now, out of danger, you were finally able to feel the extent of your injuries as the adrenaline wore off. Ever so slowly, you peered down at your stomach and saw that the hand you’d been holding there was almost entirely now coated in blood. Without meaning to, you fell to your knees, which then painfully reminded you of the other deep wound in your calve. However, you were so tired, and the loss of blood was making it hard to do anything other than focus on breathing.  

You knew you needed to alert Bucky. You couldn’t just lie here and wait, you didn’t have that kind of time. 

“Bu-Buck” you whimpered, trying to be loud enough that the comm would pick it up. But even just trying to talk was proving to be exhausting. You knew you were losing what was probably a lot of blood. Wet hot tears started to roll down your face, you were dangerously close to just giving in to the blood loss induced exhaustion and closing your eyes.

——————

Bucky, meanwhile, had finished taking down the men on the other half of the facility and was waiting for you outside at the spot you’d both agreed you would meet. He spoke over the comms, “I took down Haverford and his men. I’m out here now. Hurry up.” Short and to the point. How he always was with you. 

Immediately, more tears welled in your eyes at hearing his voice. You were desperate, in pain, and exhausted. Despite having a deep distaste for Bucky, you knew you needed him. You needed him to come and find you. You didn’t have enough strength to speak, but luckily the sound of his voice finally brought your own voice back and you mustered up a deep, pathetic and painful whine from the back of your throat…and it was enough to be caught over your ear piece. 

He stood there for a few minutes, getting antsy. Especially since he didn’t hear fighting noises over comms, he assumed you were just taking your sweet time making it back to him.

After a bit of waiting he sighed, grumbling “C’mon Y/N, what the fuck could you possibly-“

His complaining ceased as soon as he heard your one singular cry through the comm. Bucky’s eyes went wide, heart dropping into his stomach. He’d never heard a sound like that come out of you before. 

“Y/N?” He called your name in an almost scared tone, “Are you okay?”

No response.

Bucky swore under his breath, “I’m coming, just hang on” he made that promise to you like it was an oath, and raced back inside the building. 

Sprinting to the side of the compound that you were tasked with handling, Bucky searched frantically through the hallways, popping his head into every room trying to find you….until he did.

You laid there, blood seeping across your shirt and a pool of it surrounding your one injured leg. The men that you had disarmed and killed were sprawled out around you. 

After his initial shock wore off, Bucky ran to you, kicking one of the dead arms dealers out of the way to get to you. He dropped to his knees, eyes scanning your wounds.

“Oh, Y/N” He whispered with guilt and sorrow dripping from his tone. A million emotions flashed across his face. Including anger at the men who had attacked you, but mostly at himself for allowing this to happen. 

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes, and the tears finally flowed freely now. Aside from the pain, you were relieved. Despite you’re not getting along, in this moment you wanted nothing more than for Bucky to hold you, and tell you everything was going to be just fine.

“Okay” he whispered in a stunned tone, trying to calm both you and himself down. His hands hovered over your body as he took in your wounds and decided what he needed to do. 

 “Okay, alright.” That time, it came out more sure, “It’s alright, doll. Just keep breathing for me.”  He tried to comfort you as he whipped out his phone and let Tony and the team know they needed medical there immediately.

Bucky then swallowed, giving you a remorseful look for what he was about to do. 

“Okay sweetheart,” he began tenderly, as he took off the black jacket he had on, and then promptly ripped the sleeve of it off with his metal arm. 

“I’m gonna have to tie this around your leg to stop the bleeding. It might hurt a bit, but I gotta do it” He gently explained what he needed to do, waiting to see a sign in your eyes that at least you understood. You gave him a very weak nod, and that was all he needed to then wrap the sleeve tightly around your upper calf. 

He was right, it did hurt. But it wasn’t anything you hadn’t expected or weren’t prepared for. However, you believe Bucky only told you about having to wrap your leg, in order to half distract you from what he did next. 

A blinding, nauseating pain quickly overcame you as he took the rest of the jacket he had, and with his metal arm and half his body weight, pressed it over your abdominal wound.

You immediately cried out and instinctively reached for Bucky’s arm, trying to push him away. 

“Shhh, I know, I know baby” Bucky, who almost sounded pain-stricken himself with guilt, began to hush you, “I know it hurts, but I have to, I have to” He grabbed your hand that had tried to push him away, and let you squeeze the life out of his own as he continued applying pressure. His thumb softly grazed your knuckles, trying to soothe you. 

While continuing to comfort you, Bucky began to look around as if he expected someone else to also come to your aid. It was then that he realized he’d need to get you out of the building in order to get you onto the quinjet. There was no way the medical team would be able to find their way around in here to get to you in time. And he could see that you’d already lost a lot of blood, and even with the tourniquet and pressure he applied, you were still losing some. 

He took a breath, staring into your eyes with a serious yet remorseful look on his face, “Ok doll, I’m gonna have to pick you up and carry you out, but we can’t let up pressure on your wound” he explained, “So, I’m gonna need your help.”

Bucky then took the hand of yours that he was holding and gently guided it over to your abdomen. Lifting the jacket, he placed your hand over your own wound, you whimpered a little at the contact. Bucky swallowed, “I know doll, but I need you to put pressure on it like I was, okay? Can you do that for me?” He looked at you pleadingly, praying that you understood what he was saying.

Having to bite your own lip to keep from crying out again, you started to press down on your stomach with the little strength you still had. Bucky could tell you were trying by your obvious change in facial expression, “That’s it. Just like that, that’s my girl” he praised, quickly swiping one of your tears away. It wasn’t a lot of pressure, but it would do. 

Ever so gently, trying to avoid hurting your injured leg, Bucky gracefully slipped his arms underneath you and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest. You moaned a little at the shift in movement, “Shhh, I got you doll. I got you” he whispered into your hair as you shoved your face in the crook of his neck. 

He quickly made his way back out of the compound with you in his arms, thanking god when he saw the medevac quinjet was already out there waiting for you guys. Bucky tenderly laid you down on the stretcher, taking hold of your hand again as soon as he was able. 

“She was poisoned with something and then stabbed in her lower left calve and left quadrant of her abdomen” He immediately started rambling off what had happened to the medical team and Dr. Cho. 

“Poisoned with what?” Someone asked, he didn’t see who it was cause he wasn’t taking his eyes off of you. 

“I- I don’t know.” Bucky admitted, “I think she said it was white and powdery, I can’t remember.” Internally, he was kicking himself so hard for not having immediately ran to you when you told him about the poison. He shouldn’t have just written you off and told you to deal with it. He shouldn’t have done a lot of things. 

Bucky sat on the little bench in the quinjet right next you, still holding your hand, while the team got to work on your injuries. Technically, he should have been sitting at the front of the jet, out of their way, but no one was going to tell an upset Bucky Barnes what to do. 

As they began working your leg, removing the tourniquet and getting a shot of lidocaine ready to numb the area, you saw them preparing the syringe out of the corner of your eye. You begin to hyperventilate, letting out a small whimper of fear. You hated all things medical, which stemmed from a deep rooted fear that dated back to your red room days. After years of being practically experimented on and shot up with god knows what, you didn’t particularly love the sight of needles. Even if you knew you were in a safe environment. 

Bucky, who was still diligently sitting right beside you, immediately recognized your anxious reaction. He too knew that fear all too well. While he didn’t like to admit it, his time as the winter solider and being left at the hands of hydra often caused him to have visceral reactions to medical paraphernalia. 

“Hey, hey” he softly called to you as he gently held your chin and brought your face to meet his, “It’s alright doll, you don’t have to look down there. Just look at me. Right at me.” He held your eyes, squeezing your hand a little tighter to let you know he was there. “That’s it. Just keep looking at me, Y/N. I’m right here” And that’s how you eventually went unconscious, staring into Bucky’s eyes as he quietly shushed you and ran his hand through your hair.

——————

The harsh lights of the medical wing practically blinded you as you tried to let your eyes slowly adjust to your surroundings. 

“Hey hon” you heard a soft voice coming from your right side, whom you instantly recognized as Natasha. 

“Well there she is” another voice, coming from your left who you thought was Steve, spoke up, sounding relieved at the fact you were awake. Your suspicions were proven correct when Steve leaned over slightly into your line of view. 

“Welcome back, Y/N” he smiled, clearly exhausted but delighted by your opened eyes. 

Your voice came out raspy and weak as you spoke for the first time, “H-how long have I been out?”

Natasha grabbed a cup from off your bedside table and offered you some water as Steve answered you,

“About three days. They had to get the bleeding under control and repair a portion of your stomach that was perforated. They also gave you some antibiotics to combat whatever the hell it was you were poisoned with,” he explained, “they seem to be working though. Doc says as soon as you’re strong enough, you can finish recuperating in your own room” He ended his spiel with a smile, but there was still one question he hadn’t answered that you were desperate for.

“W-Where’s Bucky?” You wondered why he wasn’t here, as you didn’t see him next to Steve or Nat. 

“He’s right here, Y/N” Steve motioned to the back of the room where you couldn’t see, but Bucky was standing in the corner, eyes red and sunken in like he’d been crying. He immediately picked his head up when he heard you mention him. 

“He hasn’t left this room in three days” Steve whispered to you in a hushed tone, hoping Bucky couldn’t hear him.

Nat cleared her throat, “We’re just gonna go get some coffee” she looked at Steve and jerked her head towards the door, beckoning him to follow her. They both left, leaving you and Bucky to yourselves. 

Slowly, Buck made his way over to your bed, taking the seat that Steve was just in. 

He was almost fearful of what to say, surprised that you had even asked for him in the first place. He blamed himself entirely for what happened, and was positive that when you woke up, you’d want nothing to do with him. And he wouldn’t blame you.

“Hey doll” he croaked out, voice sounding strained, “How’re you feeling?”

You swallowed, “My stomach hurts, and I have a headache” you admitted, still in a bit of pain from your wound healing. 

Bucky nodded, “Do you want me to get the doctor? They might be able to give you more pain meds.” He asked, wanting to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. You didn’t know, but for the past three days Bucky had remained diligently at your bedside, alerting medical staff of any slight change in vital signs or if he thought you were cold and needed more blankets. He’d only left a few brief times when Steve had to force him to go eat or use the bathroom. 

You shook your head, “no, no I’m okay. Promise” You offered him a slight smile. 

Bucky stared down at his hands for a moment before he spoke up again, “Y/N, I am so so so sorry. This never would’ve happened if I had just listened to you and not had us split up.” He spoke with such guilt and shame you almost felt bad for him, “I was so focused on my own agenda and being a dick to you, that I completely ignored when you needed help. I can’t even-“

“Buck,” you interrupted him, reaching over and grabbing his hand with the little strength you had, “this isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of the men who stabbed me. That’s it. No one else’s” As much as you knew he fucked up with the way he treated you, you certainly didn’t think he should have to take responsibility for you getting hurt. 

“But if I had come as soon as you said you were poisoned, if I had just listened to you instead of choosing to be an asshole, you probably wouldn’t be in this hospital bed” he insisted, eyes getting watery. 

“Well, you were an asshole, I’ll give you that.” You smirked at him, trying to get him to relax, “but you also saved my life.” Bucky looked up at you, “You tied the tourniquet which kept me from losing more blood, and then made sure I didn’t have a panic attack on the quinjet. You might have fucked up a little Bucky, but you certainly made up for it” you gave his hand a little squeeze. 

For the first time since you went under surgery, Bucky smiled, “All the same, I’m never separating from you during missions ever again.” 

You playfully rolled your eyes, “that sounds a little suffocating, don’t you think?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Not to me. Nothings ever happening to you while you’re under my watch again”

“Well if that’s the case,” you scooted over a little in the bed, “will you keep me warm before I freeze to death in here?” You were genuinely very cold and were hoping for someone to bring you another blanket, but you supposed having Bucky there would do.

He chuckled softly, “you got it.” Lowering the hospital bed rail, Bucky climbed in and laid down next you, pulling you up close to him with his arm around your shoulders. 

He placed a brief kiss along your hairline, “get some rest, doll. I’ll be right here.” 

————-

Taglist: @patzammit @dpaccione @fdl305 @gh0stgurl

[ihtherik]

When You Bare Your Teeth It Almost Looks like a Smile

Pairing: Astarion x Female!Tav (not described)

Astarion’s POV

SFW/Fluff/Angst (seriously there’s no s€x here)

Summary: Set in Act 2 when the group begins scouring Moonrise Towers and Astarion and Tav encounter Araj Oblodra, the Drow blood merchant. She won’t take no for an answer, and learns why that is a very very stupid thing to do.

~3.2 K words

Bit of a deviation from the canon interactions/dialogue and what the outcome is because ummm little guard dog with her love that most certainly does doesn’t need one is a trope I LOVE and needed to vomit out a lil flash fic at 1 AM last night to perform catharsis help I also kind of made myself sad

I may get this posted on my AO3?

I also will post the next part of Turn My Heart to a Spade soon!!!

“Oh, but I’d prefer if you did.”

The sneering Drow’s reply to his assurances that he would not bite anyone doesn’t quite register for Astarion before she lets slip another gut-reeling string of words, this time directed at you.

“I assume he belongs to you? Judging by the way he’s clung to your shadow since you walked up…” her laugh is mirthful, the metallic smear of red around the blue-grey skin of her eyelids crinkling and cracking in her amusement. “It’s a truly remarkable boon, to have had a spawn at your beck and call during your trek through the Shadow-cursed lands. I’d be remiss and dishonest to say I’m not jealous.”

His pale brows furrow as an unfamiliar emotion hits him. Maybe unfamiliar isn’t right, but he’s been so long separated from it that encountering it again feels like meeting a stranger he’s all too wary of.

Much like how he felt when he met you.

Kind, generous, trusting, infuriating you.

Oh, how he loathed being proven wrong. Having his tried and true skills of determining who people are and what they want sidestepped, his—sometimes hastily drawn—conclusions about things tipped on their heads like a cat swiping a cup off a table. Mostly by you. Endearingly and maddeningly.

For Gods’ sakes, he is supposed to be the unpredictable, unreadable, unflappable one. It’s his armour. His sodding lifeline. When one is in control of their faculties and has only themselves to rely on, their ability to save themselves is entirely up to their skills, or lack thereof.

But you, you whose only purpose was to take a fall or stab (sometimes literally) for him, has somehow managed to get him to willingly hand over the one thing that could kill him.

His trust.

It had kept him from trancing, some nights, gnawing the inside of his lip to shreds while going over every possible scenario in which his trust could be wielded against him.

Yet thus far, you’d not only permitted, but encouraged him to hold the other metaphorical end of it.

Both in battle, and in his bedroll.

He wonders most days if you know. If you’ve caught onto what he’s now realized was a very poorly conceived ploy. He has to tell you, at some point.

There’d been a humbling, blind fierceness in every fiber of your being when you last drew your weapon for him—looking up at the devil Yugir as if he didn’t have his crossbow bolt aimed right between your glaring brows. You swung and hacked and sliced like it was your soul you were fighting for, not his.

You’d done more than received his trust, you’d earned the right to hold it.

And here he is, silently watching, pleading, mentally tugging on the other end like a child grasping at their mother’s shirt—hoping you feel it.

“He has a name,” your voice appears as even as ever to the average onlooker, and certainly to this Drow; but there’s a strain, a warning that Astarion can detect that, to him, feels like the gentlest tug back from your end on the rope.

“Is that so? How quaint,” the Drow tilts her head. Turning her attention back to him, she appraises him from his boots up to his curls with a gaze that makes that strange, ugly feeling swell again. “Do indulge me then, what are you called, spawn?”

“Astarion—but-hold on—“

“Well, Astarion,” the way her tongue flicks over every syllable of his name puts a crinkle of disgust on the slope of his nose. So unlike how you say it. Usually uttered, quick and delicate, the ‘Ah’ nearly clipped off—shortening it to ‘Starion. Familiar and sweet and warm. “I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl.”

His disbelief manifests in the way he stutters over his words, managing to compose himself into a semblance of his normal character by the end of his reply. “You—What? I’m sorry, You—you want to be bitten?”

“To feel your life’s blood slipping away? To dance between the edge of life and death? Yes, I want it.”

Though he’s already decided that this woman is, in fact, a stem short of a brain, the arrangement she proposes catches his attention. And not in any way that’s enticing. A likely dangerous and potentially faulty potion in exchange for drinking her blood is a shoddy deal at best, and a revolting one at worst. Her blood smells foul. Acrid. He can’t pinpoint exactly what it is, which only worries him more. Not a sort of sickly sweet smell of decay like Gale’s. Nor is it twinged with something medicinal like Halsin’s, or like the pleasant muddle of Shadowheart’s half-elven and half-human blood. And certainly not like yours.

Putting on all the politeness he can muster, which is already more than the Drow deserves, he replies.

“I will have to…erm, decline.”

“Excuse me?” The Drow scoffs, displeasure creasing the space between her brows. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and you’re squandering it.”

“I gave you my answer,” he shocks himself with the lack of grace he speaks with, voice lowered and snarling. He used to be so good at evading people like her. What the Hells has gotten into him?

Tutting, the Drow turns back to you. “Can you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?” Addressing you like he’s not in the room, with scant more respect for you than she had for him.

Proving the Drow’s earlier observation right—as loyal as a bloody mutt—he looks to you, anxiety tightening the muscles over his stomach. The scenarios begin to churn in his mind, the worst among them not even that of you asking him to bite her to get the potion—but instead acquiescing his wants in front of the Drow only to reprimand or even punish him in some way later.

They come to a hilt as both he and the Drow await your move, holding his breath.

Then, you do something that manages to stun, relieve, and thrill him all at once.

You smile.

Though a half of a head shorter than him, and barely a few inches taller than the Drow, your presence seems to swell to intimidating heights among the three of you.

“My, you are slow on the uptake, Ms. Araj,” you speak with a lowered, gentle voice, one which commands the both of them to listen carefully—maybe even get closer, though at this point the Drow would have to have a death wish to get within stabbing distance of you. How dreadful, and disappointing, to Astarion; that the ominous and certain threat in your voice still yet seems to fly over the Drow’s head.

And how entertaining it will surely be to watch her pomp crumble in a few moments.

“My dear companion deigned to give you his name and answer, twice. I would pity the other acolytes and pilgrims here—if I cared for their lives—for the mere cruelty it is to converse with you in any capacity.”

Dear companion? Now this is new. And not…entirely unpleasant.

“I’m—sorry, I—“ the Drow’s poise wavers, though outrage still lines the edges of her voice.

“You will be sorry, if you do not shut your Godsdamned mouth while I speak,” you let the full fury of your voice be felt, though you have yet to raise it past what can be heard within five paces of the Blood Merchant.

As a meager credit to the Drow’s intelligence, she does snap her jaw shut. Astarion’s lips curl all the higher with each passing second.

“As I was saying—though I do not pity the acolytes here for the ordeal it must be to give you some form of station here, I think I have reason enough to remove you from it. For how you have treated my—for how you have treated Astarion,” your smile beams brighter, not a crease beneath your eyes to suggest you’re anything but seething. He realizes, in a way, you’re baring your teeth for him. The near possessive slip seems to loosen the anxiety in his frame, slightly. But your self-correction helps more.

“You may be a True Soul, but you don’t have any authority to—“ the Drow’s lips suddenly quiver shut again, but clearly not of her own doing. Astarion glances at you and his own tadpole wriggles as he feels yours come to life.

“I should have been more specific,” you sigh, your tadpole holding the Drow rigid. Brushing past him, you beckon with your finger as you move towards the balcony’s doorway across the room. The Drow begins to follow, feet shuffling awkwardly as the fear wells in her eyes. He’s not used to feeling planted to the floor, but for a moment he can only watch in gleeful disbelief at what you’re doing. He picks up his feet at the Drow crosses the threshold and slips out to the balcony with the two of you.

“When I said I had reason enough to remove you from your station, I meant that in less of a bureaucratic sense—I mean literally remove you from it,” you continue to hold the conversation calmly, one-sidedly, as you turn back to look at the Drow from the stacked-stone guardrail. You point and snap your fingers, gesturing to the one spot on this balcony where the stones have broken off and fallen down to the inky, boulder filled shallows at the bottom of the tower. The Drow moves even more resistantly as the psionic force from your tadpole urges her to obey, but eventually she stands at its edge.

“Tell me, Araj, would you like the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to feel what it’s like to fly? All you have to do—“ you lay a hand upon her back, just between her shoulder blades, giving her the slightest nudge. “Is step off.”

Astarion hears a strange, strained sounding humming, and realizes it’s the Drow trying to plead behind sealed lips.

“Oh—but it’s a simple exchange, really! And I’m a woman of my word. You step off, and I cast ‘Fly’ upon you. The only risk is if you fall too quickly, well—then my spell won’t reach you in time…and I’ve only seen it happen once before, but to fall from this height? Your body would pop like a champagne bottle thrown to the floor. Skin and muscle and bone will split, and all your warm guts and blood will burst and spray everywhere. What do you say? In my mind, it’d be plain idiotic to squander an opportunity like this.”

You turn back, meeting Astarion’s eye. Within yours, he can see a volatile mix ready to explode. Wrath. Outrage. A cruel hunger for revenge.

But even with those powerful emotions threatening to overtake you, there’s a tenuous thread of patience still wavering. Patience, and a question: that which asks for his permission. To not merely act or speak on his behalf, but decide whether or not to take this woman’s life for the affronts to his dignity and autonomy.

Indignation. Righteous indignation.

That is the feeling that’s been gnawing at him, the words for which he couldn’t recall until now. And it’s all because of you. Because you’ve refused to let him think of himself, talk about himself, treat himself, like a loaner to his own body and mind. Stepping off the wall, he approaches the two of you with a swagger.

First taking hold of a strap on the Drow’s armor, he then plants a steady foot on a piece of the stone guardrail to hold himself upright. Looking to you with a reassuring smirk, you step back, and with a rough shove Astarion sends the Drow’s upper half forward, dangling her precariously over the edge of the balcony. He lets her moan and protest wildly behind her teeth for a moment longer before nodding to you, and you release her from the hold of the tadpole. She takes a ragged gasp, as if preparing to scream, and he leans in to her ear.

“Now now, Araj, let’s not arouse any undesirable attention from the guards, hm?”

Stifling a groan of fear, her arms unsteadily pinwheel in the air as her feet try to find solid stone, and not the edge which Astarion has forced her onto.

“I think I’m feeling generous, so close to the overwhelming splendor of the Absolute—“ he mocks the name of the so-called deity that had proven itself a thorn in their group’s side thus far. “Whom, need I mention, blessed and deemed me a True Soul, just like my dear companion.”

Throwing a conspiratorial smile your way, it deflates only slightly to see your face set so tightly, all but trembling in anger. Not at him, of course. With a sigh, he tuts and yanks the Drow from the edge, throwing her to the stone floor of the balcony further in. She scrambles back from the both of you. Following her towards the door with unhurried steps, he tilts his head in the same mocking way she had before addressing her once more. “The next time someone tells you ‘no’, Drow, I suggest you not argue. You might not be so lucky next time.”

—

The two of you eventually reconvene with the remainder of your group, and after determining your next move you all settle within an abandoned wing of the tower for the night.

Neither of you relay what happened to the rest of your companions—and in turn don’t find an easy opportunity to address it with each other, until the others have gone to bed.

He finds you hunched over your pack, inventorying your potions yet again—worrying and fidgeting his hands and fingers as he approaches.

“I think we’ll come across more, we’ve not unlocked every door in this bloody tower,” he offers—sounding uncharacteristically optimistic. It betrays just how uncertain and uncomfortable he feels about what he’s actually come over to say to you.

“Ah, I know. Just a bit paranoid since we got here. We had our asses kicked out in Reithwin, then again when we took care of Raphael’s dirty laundry—and to walk in to that whole spectacle with Thorm? Gods above—“ you huff, coaxing a genuine smile to Astarion’s face. Finally you turn, rising from your crouched position with a tired, lopsided grin. It falters as you take in his expression, and Astarion worries he’ll collapse in on himself if you look at him for a moment longer like you currently are.

Like you’re concerned about him. Which you are. Like you care for him. Which you do.

Like you love him.

“Everything alright, ‘Starion?”

“Oh—yes, of course I’m fine-“ he stumbles over every word, his charming, easy, impervious shell cracking. “It’s just that…I feel—awful.”

You push aside your own exhaustion, giving him your full attention—of course you do. You ask him why. He’d almost rather pull his own fangs out than confess what he’s about to. But as you listen, as you take in everything he hurries and tries to explain or make excuses for, your expression does not change. Not for the worse, anyway. Those same shining, gentle eyes hold his, and make his undead heart swell. He makes sure to express his gratitude, for how you stood up to the Drow—but even more so for letting him decide.

“Well—yeah,” you sheepishly look down at your feet, scrubbing at the back of your hair. He almost can’t take it, how wonderful you are. “I wasn’t going to rob you of that satisfaction,” you joke. Sighing, you meet his eye again. “I was ready to kill her, Astarion. You know I was. But then… I wouldn’t have done anything for you. Not really. Who’d’ve been empowered if I’d done it? Definitely not you. So, sorry for almost doing that. I was…well, I was fucking pissed.”

He’s not sure if he can recall how to breathe. How could you be apologetic right now, when you were ready to defend him like some knight in shining armor? He came here to apologize to you, not the other way around.

“Hells, darling, I might find an opportunity to make you a villain yet,” he offers you a small smile, voice soft.

You reciprocate, your cheeks dusted with a blush illuminated by the few candles lit outside your tent.

“So, um…what you said—about forcing yourself through-does that mean our—erm,” you try to be so cordial, so empathetic, even though pain seeps from every pore at the implication of what he said.

“No—no, darling,” he rushes out, taking a breath. “Being…close to someone, it just…it was always something I did, had to do, to lure people back—for him. I—want us to be different. I know we are. But intimacy feels…” he struggles to articulate it, feeling your eyes on him even as his own flit around the shadows of the room. “…tainted. I just…don’t know how else to be with someone, no matter how much I’d like to.”

“I care about you, Astarion,” you murmur after a heavy pause, and he manages to find your eyes again.

“Really?” He asks, throat filled with a bubble of emotion that threatens to burst.

And where words failing him and the inability to wield his body would normally make him feel completely hollow—a useless husk of a man—the embrace your arms suddenly surround him in makes him seem…whole. Solid.

And unfortunately, capable of dragging him down to the depths of sadness and pain with how heavy he now feels.

However, your arms around him remind him that you’re there with him. That you will be there with him no matter what, Gods and Devils and Mindflayers be damned.

Astarion remembers how to use his own as realizes they’ve been merely hovering, outstretched, and hugs you back. You tighten around him, sighing into his shirt.

He closes his eyes, nuzzling his face into your hair, into the crook of your neck—looking for those places he’d be happily cradled in for the rest of his thus-far miserable life.

When you eventually pull back—Astarion’s hands linger at your waist, his fingers almost curling around your shirt to tug you back in.

“You’re—um-full of surprises,” he musters a shaky smile, which you reciprocate, warmly.

“I am yours until you tire of me, Astarion,” you offer half-jokingly, the gravity of which does not go amiss in his mind.

“Well, unfortunately for you, I don’t sleep—so don’t get your hopes up for being rid of me, darling.”

Your eyes crease, nearly obscuring your irises as you smile.

“I love you, Astarion,” the words are carried from your lips on a breath as it slips out—falling tenderly as a kiss to his ears and piercing as true as an arrow through his heart.

You can tell as much, stepping forward into his arms once more to squeeze his hand and reassure him. “You—you don’t have to say it back. I just want—need you to know that. In the event we die tomorrow or something. Very real possibility, given our dwindling potions.”

“Oh. Well. If we’re telling each other things we need to know, I suppose I should tell you how I’ve been building a stash of potions I’ve erm…borrowed from you, then. You know, clearing guilty consciences and all,” he counters, squeezing your hand back. “I’ll share them with you—as a last resort—of course.” You snort, and then fall into a fit of giggles that he’s dragged into all too easily.

After a considerable effort and a number of failed attempts to stop laughing, a sharp ‘Tsk’va’ uttered from Lae’zel’s tent nearby finally manages to silence you both as you slip into his tent, you staying awake only long enough for him to clear the bedroll of clutter and shake the blankets out.

As you settle your cheek on his chest, snuggled up to his side, his lips press idle kisses to your forehead and hair, desiring to commit your smell, warmth, and weight in his arms to memory.

He eventually slips into a trance—for once, one not filled with crimson eyes and shadows and death—but your sweet smile, laugh, and the way those three words he once longed to forget sound in your voice.

[irisintheafterglow]

every love I've known in comparison is a failure

summary: the stars appear over baratie, creating the perfect atmosphere to embarrass your husband. (opla!zoro x you)

wc: 2k

cw/tags: established relationship, swearing, allusions to canon-typical blood and violence, drinking and alcohol, flashback to a very silly meet ugly lol

note: (part one is linked here!) HELLO ZORO NATION, here is the highly requested part 2 to "if he's a ghost then i can be a phantom." hope you like it, i definitely had fun writing it because he's just,,,, such a himbo man. @alphaash99 thank you for the inbox ask, sorry it took so long to answer!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated!

“I don’t know what else to tell you; that’s really all there is to it,” you laugh, taking another sip from your glass. “He brings me heads and I give him money.” 

“Brought you heads,” your husband corrects from your side, his arm draped securely over your shoulders. “Right now, I’m the one with a fire under my ass.” 

“Mhmm, but apparently I’m still giving you money,” you remind him, nodding toward the overflowing coin pouch of Berry at the center of the table. He shrugs a broad shoulder in defeat, unsuccessfully trying to hide his smile. 

“Okay, but you’re leaving out the part where you somehow fell in love with this…oaf.” Nami gestures vaguely at the crew’s swordsman and his jaw drops in indignation. Luffy and Usopp break into another fit of delirious giggling while Sanji leaves to fetch yet another bottle. Everyone present knew his ego was bruised from his failed attempts to charm you. “I think he has less romantic appeal than an overripe banana.”

“At this point, just say that I’m ugly,” he chuckles lightheartedly and she shakes her head in exasperation. “I’m obviously not that bad since this is who I married.” The two remaining boys at the table give polite applause, to which Zoro murmurs his melodramatic appreciation like he was accepting an award. You couldn’t remember the last time he was this relaxed while he was drinking. Most of the time, you had to steer him to whatever ship he was calling home for the night while simultaneously preventing him from stabbing anything that moved. 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” Nami snorts and Zoro makes a mocking face that you raise your hand up to cover. “But, seriously. How’d he get you?” You pause, searching for words in your foggy mind and getting distracted by the speckling of midnight stars up above. Following the disastrous first meeting with the crew’s chef, their swordsman reluctantly introduced you to the rest of his new friends. You spent the remainder of the evening sipping a fruity drink with your legs crossed over your husband’s lap and regaling the table with embarrassing stories about their favorite stoic crewmate. 

“In all honesty, our first meeting was a fluke,” you admit after some time. Sanji returns with a new bottle and pours himself a hefty glass before sliding it to the center of the group, settling in to listen to your story. “I was there by mistake; he was there by mistake. I guess the two canceled out.” 

Years ago, when you were still confined to the walls of the Marine base, a series of unexpected changes in your itinerary allowed you an afternoon of freedom. You were visiting from your father’s countryside estate to once again ask if you could sail on one of his ships, only to receive the same dismissive answer as every request before. As if to rub more salt in the wound, he also notified you that Mihawk would be docking in two days time to continue your training. After jumping the gun a little too early and skipping the flattery dinner to get him drunk enough to grant your request, you were left with an extra day to wander the dry, lifeless walls of the installation. With a leg propped up on your father’s expensive leather chair and the other resting on the windowsill facing the ocean, you don’t bother turning when the door opens and the sound of boots echoes through the office. 

“Get out and I won’t tell the captain you came in here,” you say boredly, staring at the vast blue water that seemed to spell out freedom in the seafoam. The voice that replies is too disrespectful to ever come from the mouth of one of your father’s underlings. 

“I wasn’t aware the captain wore such promiscuous clothing.” You startle, swiveling abruptly to face the stranger that entered the room. He wasn’t a Marine at all, you quickly realized, not with that bright green hair and enough wrinkles in his clothes to look like your great grandfather’s forehead. But, what gave him away the most was his eyes. They weren’t like the eyes of other men you looked at, the ones who would cower or rake over you like you were some entree at a feast. No, this stranger looked at you curiously and with amusement that irked you. 

He looked at you like you were a new challenge. 

“Who are you?”

“Roronoa Zoro, the Pirate Hunter,” he replies and your eyes flick to his sharp jawline. If he weren’t in the room, you would have slapped yourself to regain your composure. “I have a bounty I’d like to turn in.” He tosses a burlap sack dripping with dark liquid onto your father’s equally expensive desk and you don’t even flinch. Your lack of a reaction seems to spur him further and he tilts his head to the side, studying you. 

“What’d my old man promise you?” 

“The captain is your father?” His eyes narrow on you and you glare, not backing down. 

“Answer my question first,” you fire back without hesitation. 

“Five hundred thousand Berry,” he answers and you nod, reaching over to one of the intricately carved drawers and pulling out a stack of bills and a dense pouch of coins. Rolling the bills into a wad and stuffing it into the coin purse, he catches it with ease when you toss it to him. “You’re not gonna verify if I’m giving you the right number?”

“That would imply that I care about how much you’re taking from my father,” you point out, “Which, I really don’t. I couldn’t care less, frankly, if you ransacked this entire office. Just don’t get caught or both our asses will have a fire under them.” He hums in assent and turns to leave, but as his hand hovers over the door handle, he hesitates and looks at you over his shoulder. 

“What are you doing here by yourself?”

“Trying to figure out how to sneak out of this fucking hellhole,” you mutter with obvious distaste. A thoughtful look crosses his features and he chucks you a crumpled cloak from a nearby dressing table. “What are you–”

“Put it on. Let’s get out of here,” he states and you hastily throw it over your clothes, slipping behind the swordsman while he guides you out of the base. He knows his way around the tunnels and, with the cloak obscuring your identity, successfully sneaks you out of the dusty beige walls of the base. The smell of garlic and fried food wafts into your nostrils and you drift toward it, feeling in your pocket for your own small coin pouch. Zoro falls into step next to you effortlessly and follows you to the enticing grill. “Someone’s hungry.”

“I’ve been eating nothing but government slop for the past twenty four hours. If I have to see another spoonful hit my plate, I’ll actually die,” you deadpan and the corner of his mouth turns up in amusement. Without bothering to count the amount, you drop a handful of coins into the vendor’s roughened palms and ask for enough food to feed you and the man next to you. She gladly obliges, stacking various grilled sticks of food onto a plate and thanking you profusely for your generosity. “We’re gonna eat and you’re going to explain to me why you snuck me out,” you command and you’re glad to sense him continue to stay by your side. 

During the few hours you spend with Zoro, you find yourself utterly enthralled by him and he is fascinated by you. You listen to his stories about hunts and his bounties and find yourself in awe of how non-arrogantly he speaks of his job. You’d sat down for numerous fancy dinners with egotistical Marines that wanted to sleep their way into good graces with your father, but eating with Zoro was nothing like that. He was an amazing listener and, when you thought he was just ignoring something you said, he ended up saying something just as thoughtful a few moments later. His visits became more frequent and you continued to find excuses to linger around the base in hopes that he would sneak you out again. Your father’s rage would end both of you if he ever found out, but the thrill of secrecy was your newest addiction. 

“He asked to marry me a few years after I helped him empty my dad’s wallet,” you recall, fondly remembering the disaster that was his proposal. “He had this whole shabang planned out with a sunset and fancy cheeses–”

“And then it fucking rained,” he grumbles before taking another sip. “Fucking storm rolled in and blew away the entire setup.” 

“That’s still romantic, though,” Luffy offers reassuringly. “Getting down on one knee in the rain.”

“It is,” you smirk, “if he didn’t drop the ring off the cliffside.” The crew erupts into shocked cackling, tears pricking the edges of their eyes. 

“You dropped the fucking ring?” 

“The wind was strong!” 

“Wait, so then how’d you get that one?” Usopp points at the green gem embedded in the simple gold band. It was strikingly similar to the one hanging from a chain around your husband’s neck, a decision made so he didn’t lose it while he was fighting. 

“He went out and bought one from the market the next day. It was, what, fifty Berry?”

“You bought them a cheap ass ring after you dropped the expensive one,” Nami echoes in disbelief. Zoro opens his mouth to argue but is cut off with even louder shrieks from the table. “How the hell did you pull them?”

“It’s something I ask myself every time I see this ring,” he concedes. “But one thing I do know is that they deserve more than I can ever give them.” The soft look on his face when he turns to you never fails to make your body feel like it’s floating. It’s only when Luffy slams his palms on the table decisively that you snap out of your lovesick trance.

“Alright, that settles it,” he states with finality. 

“Settles what?”

“You’re going to join our crew.” Usopp raises his glass like he’d seen the order coming from miles away. Sanji turns a slightly darker shade of pink but doesn’t protest. 

“I could use someone that isn’t oozing with testosterone on the ship,” Nami adds when you’re unable to respond immediately. You can feel Zoro’s body tense next to you and, when you place a comforting hand on his shoulder, it feels like pure stone. He knew firsthand that asking you to leave was a touchy subject, especially when it was hard for the child of a captain to disappear into the blue. If you were out there with him, he told you, he wouldn’t be able to assure your safety when he was on hunts. Though you both knew you could handle yourself just fine, it always seemed to be a matter of poor timing when it came to running away together. Poor timing, that is, until now. 

Zoro wasn’t alone now, and you don’t even hesitate. 

“Do I get to choose a cool signature weapon like everyone else?” The captain’s face breaks into a blinding grin and begins a long ramble of different weapons you could choose from. Your husband’s body hasn’t lost its stiffness and he lowers his voice to a tone that only you could hear. 

“Are you sure about this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His eyebrows furrow, unconvinced. “I said I’d do anything to be with you, didn’t I?”

“But piracy, love? You’re willing to go that far for me?”

“You know I’d go even farther if I needed to,” you murmur and that settles it. You catch an excited glint in Zoro’s eye and lean in closer to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “You’re not the only swordsman on the ship anymore, husband.”

“And I’ve finally gotten you out of that damned base, so I think it’s a good time to renew those vows.”

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[ollypopwrites]

From Depths Unknown; Part 2

Part 1 here ; You can also read on Ao3.

Rolan x F!Tav (AFAB, she/her) *Tav is a Storm Sorcerer, but no actual reference to her appearance.

Rating: E

Tags & Warnings: [18+ MDNI] Language, Canon-typical violence, drinking, sexual content (male masturbation, dom/sub undertones, switch dynamics, choking is briefly mentioned), slow burn, slightly enemies to lovers but not quite, background Bloodweave, the use of ‘idiot’ as a term of endearment, domestic violence and past child abuse, jealousy.

Series Summary:

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Notes: We are getting a little spicy! I love these two, we should have another update soon-ish. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

Baldur’s Gate was busy.

After so long in the Underdark and then the Shadowcursed lands, Tav felt strangely crowded by the amount of people in the streets. And her mental list of tasks was getting longer by the minute. There was so much to do, and time was not on their side given the regular psionic earthquakes shaking the city. As she got them all settled in a room at the Elfsong (discounted thanks to a nasty murder in the room just next door) she wanted one night to get her wits about her.

Most everyone went their separate ways for the night: Shadowheart teamed up with Lae’zel to go speak with Voss, Halsin felt the need to shut himself up in the room, Jaheira had Harper business to attend to, while Wyll and Karlach went searching some old haunts for any friends that may still have been in the city. Gale and Astarion accompanied Tav downstairs to the pub, where they all delightfully wanted to share some quality drinks rather than the beggar's choices they had been drinking on the road. A familiar voice rang out amongst the crowd, singing a jaunty tune that had some nearby patrons singing along. 

“That’s Alfira!” Tav said excitedly. 

The bard had her audience’s gleeful attention, and nearby Tav spotted Lakrissa watching on. Her eyes flitted around the room, hoping to find another familiar face. The tieflings had set off for Baldur’s Gate shortly after the battle, ready to finally get to their destination now that the road was clear. The party had only crossed paths with them again just before entering Rivington. Rolan, Cal, Lia, Alfira and Lakrissa had joined them for a night of drinking to celebrate.

It was no party as they had after the Grove, but it was a much needed night of relief after the constant threat of the curse. Tav found herself wandering over to talk to him as often as she could. He was like a new person: excitement palpable at the prospect of finally making it to Ramazith’s Tower. She’d never seen him smile so much, and while she would never call him giddy — he was as close as Rolan could possibly be to such a state. 

The next night the tieflings left, and with them the rosy glow of victory dissipated. The tadpole crew  had been attacked by Githyanki and had to run to their Dream Guardians aid. only to find out that the mysterious entity in the prism was in fact a mindflayer called The Emperor. 

The idea that the one thing saving her was the very creature which she was actively trying not to change into felt poetic somehow. Fucked up to be sure, but poetic. 

Tav’s eyes danced along the crowd, looking for horns and flashes of red skin. Her excitement spiked, “look! It’s Cal and Lia.”

Astarion groaned, “here we go.”

“What?” 

“The tieflings are a charming group but everytime we cross them they need saving,” he said. “We really don’t have time for more heroics, darling, we got them to the city. Let them fend for themselves.”

“They’re friends, Astarion,” Gale scolded lightly.

“Needy friends.”

“I know all about those,” she gave him a pointed look. 

Astarion made a show of pouting, and batting his eyelashes which made Gale chuckle slightly into his cup. Their resident vampire couldn’t quite blush, but she saw his lips twitch in a sweet smile as he looked at Gale. 

“I’m going to say hello,” Tav said promptly, standing and grabbing her glass. “You two stay here and canoodle or whatever it is you get up to.” 

“Canoodle,” Astarion gagged the word. “You’re rubbing off on her now, Wizard.” 

“Expanding one’s vocabulary is nothing to scoff at!” 

“Having one walking encyclopedia is more than enough,” Astarion blithely retorted, “two would be intolerable.”

Tav was already making her way across the room as the two started bickering, her presence forgotten quickly as they started in on what she had to believe was their own special form of foreplay. As she came up, Lakrissa spotted her with a happy wave and she plopped down on the seat next to Cal. 

“It’s you!” He said happily. “When did you get here?”

“Just got into the city today. We crashed Gortash’s coronation and then nabbed the suite upstairs.” 

“Do you ever stop?” Lia asked aghast. “Less than a week ago you were infiltrating Moonrise.” 

“I wish I could stop,” Tav took a long drink. “It’s one thing after the other.”

“Being a hero is a full time job then?” Lia smirked. 

“More than full time,” Tav said. “And the pay is shit.” 

Lia laughed, “in that case, I’ll buy you a drink.” 

As Lia stood to head to the bar, Tav turned to Cal. “You lot made it in okay? No trouble?”

“Smoothest part of the journey. We got here just before they closed off the gate,” he said. “Lia’s already got work, and we’ve got a shoddy little place around here.” 

“I’m so glad to hear it,” Tav touched his shoulder. “Rolan must be so happy.” 

At the mention of his brother, Cal’s smile fell for a moment, but he quickly said, “he’s been working hard.” 

“Wouldn’t expect anything less.” She smiled, “is he staying with you?”

“No, he stays at the tower,” Cal said. “We… we haven’t seen much of him since we arrived.”

“Oh,” Tav said dumbly. Something felt off. 

“He writes though, just today he sent us some of his earnings,” Cal said. “We go to the shop to see him, but he makes us leave. Doesn’t want anyone to think he’s mucking about.”

Tav’s frown deepened. “I’ve got to head to Sorcerer's Sundries, maybe I can get him to come out for a drink.” 

“We’d like that,” Cal smiled. 

The first time he can remember his father hitting his mother was because she took the blame for a broken glass. Rolan hadn’t meant to, he was toying with the weave, practicing from a book he was borrowing and the spell went wrong. It shattered the glass into a million shards. 

He and his mother had looked at each other for split moment before she grabbed the biggest pieces and put them in the sink. When his father stormed in, she apologized, showing a bloody hand from the glass. Her apology hadn’t mattered, nor had tears or begging. They never did. After she died there was no one else to take the blame or the beatings. Rolan had always been tall, taller than all of his friends, but he was lanky and awkward. His hands were never comfortable in the shape of a fist, his arm never created the momentum to do any damage. He tried; every time his father’s fist made contact all Rolan felt was hot fury, his arms flailing and seeming to slide off of his target. It wasn’t until the hot fury turned into a witchbolt that he ever felt on even ground with his father. Rolan had left the house leaving him in as bad of shape as he always left his son, for once. 

He never went back into that house after that night. 

The bruises currently on his face felt nostalgic in a way that turned his stomach. Lorroakan and his father were similar in a sense that everything and nothing turned their moods, but his new master had the unfortunate upper hand of also having magic at his disposal. He had worked too hard to get where he was to up and leave the apprenticeship. Too much suffering, too much sacrifice; there would be no running to Cal and Lia’s doorstep as in his youth. He had to stick it out until he was in a position to claim something better. 

His mind had justified the beatings as a test, perhaps on keeping the mind focused even under threat. If he let the inkling that he had been duped linger too long he felt a shame and rage that was unbearable. So he put his head down, he worked hard, he took the beatings and he learned. Not from Lorrokan, but from other tellers around the shop. From the books Tolna suggested with her whispers becoming more conspiratorial and her eyes sympathetic. He hadn’t been to see Cal and Lia in days. 

He knew how they would react. His plan was to wait until the bruising went down and then face them again. Rolan’s position at the front was never boring, there was no way Sorcerer’s Sundries could ever be boring, he was convinced. It was incredibly busy, people coming in for protections against the threat of the cult that was at the doorstep of the city. He didn’t think twice when an armored group of four walked through the doors, just continued making sure the stock requisition forms were correct. 

“Rolan!”

That voice. For a moment he forgot that he had been beaten to a pulp the night before, too distracted by excitement when he looked up and saw her. Gale, Astarion and the Archdruid fell behind as Tav bound up to the front desk. 

“Tav,” he  greeted, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her smile fell a bit and her eyes flicked over his face. “Rolan, you - you look a little… worse for wear.” She frowned, “what happened to your face?” 

“Nothing for you to worry about,” The stinging of the cut on his lip splitting with his forced smile made him aware of how badly he looked again.  And Tav looked unconvinced. 

“Hardly a place to learn, working behind a desk,” Halsin commented. 

“This is my… apprenticeship.” He shrugged. “It has not been what I expected. Master Lorroakan is a… difficult man.” 

There was a crackle of static, the light shining from behind Tav’s eyes. He saw her take a deep breath, and place an easy smile on her face. Saving him his dignity, he’d presume. 

“He’s consumed by this pursuit of the Nightsong. I haven’t learnt a thing, and I fear it will stay that way.”  

“A lucky escape,” Gale chimed in, “given Lorroakan’s reputation. He’d have little of value to teach you.” 

Rolan smiled in thanks. “But never mind that. What can I do for you?”

Tav looked like she wanted to say something, even opened her mouth to start but she hesitated. Finally, she said, “funny you mention it, we actually have information about the Nightsong.”

Rolan leveled her with a serious look. A pit forming in his stomach. “Be very sure before you make a visit to Lorroakan,” he warned, “he’s got a beastly temper.” At her raised eyebrow at the comment, he quickly added, “but if you really do know something, he’ll want to see you. Head upstairs, you can find the way into his tower up there.” 

“We will,” she nodded. 

“Before we speak with your… beastly master,” Gale chimed in, “might you direct us in the direction of where we can find tomes of a rare nature?”

“Tolna handles tomes,” he said, “just around this pillar.” 

“Wonderful, thank you,” Gale said, then leaned in, “if you want a real teacher, the Elfsong is our home for the duration of our stay.” He winked before he walked away, ushering Astarion and Halsin away with him.

“Rolan,” Tav said. 

“Don’t,” he said, a bit more brusquely than he wanted to. “There’s nothing you can do.” 

“Has that ever stopped me before?”

“I mean it,” his temper flared, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply and then, “your party will be waiting for you.”

“Come by tonight,” she said quickly. “We don’t have to talk about it, but I owe you a bottle of Arabellan Dry.”

She walked away then. He tried not to let his gaze follow her, but it did anyway, interrupted by a customer coming up to the desk. And then another. Incapable of controlling the desire to look at her, he turned to Tolna’a corner of the shop.  Tav was looking at him, a darker look than he had seen before. She looked away quickly when she was caught, speaking with Tolna until they decided to make their way up the stairs. 

If Lorroakan laid a finger on her, Rolan was not sure he could contain himself. She could handle herself, she had her friends by her side even if she couldn't, but he would never forgive himself if she came down those steps with a single mark from his bastard master.

He wasn’t sure how long they were up there, speaking to his master. But when they came down she was storming towards the entrance, not looking back, with her party following as they always did. At the very least she looked unharmed, if not furious. He opened his mouth to call after her, but someone came up to the counter and he had to keep himself from chasing after her.

After his shift, he withstood the usual line of questions watching Lorroakan closer than ever. The man seemed unharmed, a little angrier than usual, but so distracted he waved Rolan off after one sharp smack across his face. It was not too late, and the walk to the Elfsong was not terribly long.

Rolan made it to the door of the inn, people were gathered outside speaking, the doors open and letting the sounds of revelry spill into the street. There was no initial sight of anyone he knew from his spot on the threshold of the door. The idea of pretending everything was fine made his stomach churn, in fact, he was not sure he was capable of it. 

Every negative emotion he ever harbored only ever warped into an anger he was still learning to temper. He was angry and ashamed and the pub was too loud so he turned around. Cowardly of him, he knew, but he couldn’t bring himself to face her or know if she had confronted Lorroakan on his behalf. Ever since she had come back from Moonrise separate from the freed prisoners, an uncomfortable parallel had drawn itself in his mind. 

Seeing her bruised and bloody always reminded him of his mother bearing wounds and blame that were meant for him.

When Rolan didn’t show up at the Elfsong, it had stung. She tried not to take it personally, she tried not to think too much on it, but there she was alone with an unopened bottle of his favorite wine. She was sat dejectedly around the unused pipe the room came with, sitting on some of the pillows that littered the floor. 

“Well, no point in letting it go to waste,” Astarion sighed, feigning actual sympathy for her situation as he sat with her, “may as well crack it open.” 

She tugged it closer to her protectively. “I owe him this bottle, I’ll bring it to him when we go back.” 

Astarion gave her a look that not even the tadpole needed to decipher: it screamed ‘you can’t be serious.’ She felt her face heat up, and looked away. 

“If I knew you liked your sweethearts a little mean I would have gone about my seduction much differently,” he finally teased. 

“And you think you were what? Sweet?” 

“Not sweet,” he conceded, “more… sultry.” 

“Well it seemed to work on Gale,” she muttered. 

Astarion leveled her with a half-hearted glare. “I thought you weren’t interested. I could always ask him if he’s up for a third.” 

“No, thank you,” she shuddered dramatically. “That’s too much ego for me.” 

“Afraid you couldn’t keep up, darling?”

“I’m afraid I won’t fit into the bed,” she scoffed, “it’s remarkable enough that the pair of your giant heads fit into one room.” 

Astarion chuckled a little. “It’s not  just our  heads that are big, my dear.”

Tav launched a pillow at him, and his true laugh, high pitched and unrehearsed echoed making her smile. “I suppose we ought to tell Dame Aylin about Lorroakan.”

Astarion hummed. “I do want to see her rip him in half, but we just settled in for the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“The morning sounds good,” Tav nodded, trying to hide her disappointment.

When she had discovered Lorroakans goals for Aylin, Tav found an opportunity present itself. While he had his own head up his ass, and was a cruel bastard, she could feel his power even by just standing in the room. She had more than enough reasons to blast him out of the window; he wanted to imprison Aylin, he had been rather rude to Gale, and then there was the state of Rolan’s face. 

Gods, she could have sent a fireball in his face for that alone. 

But he was powerful. And having Dame Aylin at their side to rid the world of his wretched smirking face would probably be a good idea. And Tav supposed it would mean a lot to Aylin to take down another megalomaniac that wanted to use her for immortality. After hundreds of years of imprisonment she could offer her new ally that. 

“He’s very proud,” Astarion said suddenly. 

“Lorroakan? Proud is putting it lightly.” 

“Rolan,” Astarion emphasized. 

“Oh.” 

“When we found you by the lake I thought he might hit you,” Astarion was not looking at her, but his tone had a rare tinge of sincerity. 

“Oh, no, Astarion, no,” Tav said immediately. “He was angry, but he had just saved me. Pulled me out of the lake and I — I said some unkind things.” 

“I’m only saying,” Astarion seemed to bolster every genuine fiber of his being to say, “you ought not sit around sullenly for a man who is only ever angry at you for helping him. There’s plenty of people whose eye you’ve caught, you hardly have to settle for someone who can’t be bothered to show up.” 

It hurt to hear, but there may have been a tinge of truth to it. Still, Astarion had not been there by the lake when he shared his last bottle with her. She’d seen something in him that night, something that plagued her thoughts when the rest of camp went quiet and she was alone. It was some unknown depth she had yet to reach, and desperately wanted to. 

She shook her head. “You still can’t have this bottle. I’m a woman of my word.” 

“Spoilsport,” he pouted. 

The moment passed, and they went about the night without mentioning Rolan. Except when Gale came to sit with them and inquired after him to which Astarion elbowed him hard enough to make the Wizard wheeze. For the rest of the night it was business as usual with her friends and as she fell asleep she found herself wondering  if Astarion was right to be warning her off of these feelings that had bloomed. 

An ungodly crash shook the building, raining down glass upon the patrons and stopped only by some quick thinking on Tonlu’s behalf. Shortly after Tav and her crew came storming through the door and without even a passing glance they ran up the stairs towards the top of the tower. 

“Hey! What are you —“ 

When none of them were stopped by his exclamation, he jumped over the desk to follow them up.  As he followed them into their portal of choice, Lorroakan stood confronting an incredibly tall otherworldly looking winged woman. 

Tav stood a decent distance behind, her arms folded over her chest and her stance sturdy. He had rarely seen her in action, and the one time he had it was a dark chaotic whirl when she saved him from the Shadow Curse. Gale stood at her side, even his demeanor in the face of confrontation had changed from its normal welcoming smile to a stern focus. Karlach was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement, and the Archdruid stood still but there was something about his demeanor which resembled a creature about to pounce. In all honesty, they were terrifying. 

“What are you so scared of magus? Not the Nightsong, surely, she’s nothing but a relic to be purchased and pursued.” The winged woman seethed. 

Rolan was brought out of his awe at Tav and her companions. He stared at the winged woman. “My gods, the Nightsong is a person?”

“Boy! At the ready,” Lorroakan commanded, “once I’ve taken control of the aasimar she must go directly into the caging runes.”

Everything in him rejected the idea. He felt Tav’s eyes on him, leaving him bolstered by righteousness “No, Master Lorroakan,” he said firmly, “I would never have assisted you if I knew you planned such horrors.” He would not be cowed by the rage that slipped onto Lorroakan’s face. “You lied to get the Nightsong here. Made us all believe she was nothing but a relic.” He turned to Tav, “I  have seen what true leadership can accomplish — “ and finally to his master, “but never under your tutelage.” 

“Watch your tongue, you child,” Lorroakan hissed, “I could make it such that no wizard in the realm will touch you.” 

“If they’re all like you, I think that sounds like an excellent bargain,” Rolan shot back.

This pleased the aasimar, who rallied a truly hateful laugh, “face us, charlatan! We who detest you so.”

Then it was a blur of violence.

 Rolan kept his focus on Lorroakan as did the Nightsong. Tav and her friends kept the myrmidon’s he had summoned at bay after making quick work of his assistant. Tav was a storm of magic, untamed and rawly powerful. She moved in perfect tandem with her companions, they knew how to leave room for attacks, when to parry and duck. 

Rolan had to focus. Keeping Lorroakan from blocking or containing the Nightsong was no easy feat. He threw counter spell after counter spell, surprising himself every time his will overpowered his former master’s. The fire myrmidon sent a blaze of fire toward him — not enough to truly hurt him but it broke his focus. With a yell, he saw Tav fly to get in position and then call down a chain of lightning which stuttered the movements of the myrmidon and rained down on its allies. Even Lorroakan was hit. 

Finding an opening, Rolan deployed an onslaught of magic missiles which hit him in instant succession. Lorroakan fell to his knees in a daze. Behind them, he saw Gale finish off one of the myrmidon’s and Karlach made quick work of another. The Archdruid had taken the shape of a bear, claws shredding the armor of the third. Tav very nearly pushed him out of the way as another hail of fire fell on them, the smell of burning hair and flesh filling the room. She gave an angry yell, thunder boomed and the construct of fire hit the wall before turning to ash. 

Just as he was going to ask if she was okay, Lorroakan howled. They watched as the Nightsong lifted the famed master of Razamith’s Tower and snapped his spine in half over her armored knee. 

It was cathartic, and quite the relief when she tossed him onto the floor as if he were nothing. 

He watched as she left, wordlessly, in a haze of feathers and silver light. 

“Lorroakan is dead,” he said, in disbelief. “The Bastard is dead.” 

“Are you alright?” Tav asked. 

“I am, now that the bastard is in bits,” he smiled a little. “Lorrokan was a cruel and vicious man. By day, I’d tend the shop. By night, he’d fire the most nonsensical questions at me. And for every one I’d answered wrong he’d beat me.” 

Flashes of the nights spent in the tower flickered by, Lorrokan’s pale skin in his memories sometimes replaced by red skin and eyes that matched his own. He looked away from Tav’s intent stare. 

“I could have killed him with my own two hands,” he breathed, “but I kept thinking it was all a test. It had to be.” At her patient gaze, her friends, maybe their friends, standing by just as understanding he found himself unfurling. “I thought it was the price to pay to become a true wizard. I realize now he was just a sick, sick man.”

“I’m sorry, Rolan,” Tav said. “You were so looking forward to your apprenticeship.” 

“I see things clearly now,” he shook his head, “if I wish to master the weave, I must do it myself.” She didn’t look convinced. “Thankfully I have everything I need, right here.”

“More than everything,” Gale said. “You’ll make a fine wizard, Rolan.”

“Thank you.” 

“You should go to Lia and Cal. They’re worried sick, mate.” Karlach piped up. 

“I’ll move them in right away,” he assured her. “Lorroakan refused to let them stay here. They are gonna love the tower.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Tav smiled, but it was weak and somewhat forced. 

She was singed by the fire myrmidon. A few of her hairs were singed, she had ash on her face and an angry burn just below her chin. Tav had looked worse, he knew, but again he understood the gravity of what she had done for him. Even inadvertently.

Instead of anger, he felt deep gratitude and finally the means to pay her back. 

“I wouldn’t have all this — the tower, my family — if it weren’t for you.” At once Tav’s face shifted to something softer, the storm in her eyes quelled. “What can I do to thank you?”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she assured him. 

Before he could respond, Gale cleared his throat. “Certainly, Tav’s generosity is to be commended but,” he said, “we could make use in the way of supplies and… access to some of the rarer tomes.”

Tav winced slightly. “Supplies would be helpful,” she admitted. “And Gale has tunnel vision about a book that’s hidden in the tower.”

“I’d be happy to assist,” he nodded his head. “I’ve yet to journey into the vaults, we can figure them out together.”

“An excellent idea,” Gale nodded with a slight bow. “Perhaps we may also employ Astarion’s assistance, he’s the pilfering sort.”

“He may have stolen some material components when we were here last,” Tav seemed mortified but Karlach was cackling behind her. 

“You can have whatever you like,” Rolan said quickly. “Leave only the scrolls and tomes.”

“Thank you,” she breathed in relief. “We’ll — erm — let you settle in.”

“Before you go, know this,” Rolan quickly gathered his courage, “Ramazith’s tower and its master, are now your friends. And when the time comes, we will stand with you as allies.” 

“Enjoy your new digs!” Karlach called as they turned to leave. 

“We will be back soon,” Gale assured him.

Tav had nothing else to say to him as she left. 

It was a bit awkward as Tav, Gale, Astarion and Rolan ventured into the vaults. 

Rolan and Gale were getting along swimmingly, volleying knowledge and theories off of each other. Astarion hung back with Tav, unlocking doors as needed, but lingering behind the two wizards gushing over the hidden collection of Ramazith’s. The tiefling was rather charming, she found, when he was matched in wit and interest. Perhaps it was Gale’s own warm nature that brought it out of him, but regardless, Tav found herself watching the two of them interact so easily with an uncomfortable prickle under her skin.

She’d never been so annoyed at Gale before, not even when he nearly blew them all up in the name of forgiveness for his ex. He also thought he would be saving the world, but even so — the fact he even considered it worth mentioning had made her want to smack him. Now she just wished he’d shut up. 

“I think one wizard is more than enough,” Astarion said blithely. “You needn’t bring this one back to our rooms.”

“He has a big fancy tower now,” Tav replied. “Our suite at the Elfsong looks like a hovel in comparison.”

“Do you think they’d even notice if we left?” 

“Probably not.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. Tav felt his eyes slinking toward her. “Shall we take off without them?”

“That sounds like a terrible idea. I’m in.”

It was a terrible idea and they had quite a few burns to show for it. They had stumbled upon an armory, full to the brim with enchanted armors and weapons. Of course, the room had vaulted a fireball at them at Astarion’s initial failure to pick a magical lock. But a column of alabaster had saved them from being incinerated, only the immeasurable heat had gotten them. Tav was, as Gale had so diplomatically put it at the start of their journey, not studied in magic. She just was magic, always had been.

Her knowledge of the arcane only went so far beyond what she felt. She knew spells, knew the names of them, but she mostly just went with her gut at what to throw around and found its name later. When faced with a room full of enchanted objects, she only could pick them up to see what they did. Some of it came with tags that had details of the magical abilities they held, but at some point Lorroakan had taken to hoarding rather than cataloging. 

Tav slipped on a ring, basic in appearance, a simple gold band with writing engraved around its circumference and felt herself thrust into a state of unbeing. She could see Astarion, but around him was a whirl of  chaos. Energies of different colors collided and roared, in a cacophony that felt somehow familiar but overwhelming. Her hand reached out and a trail of lightning wrapped around her arm. She knew the tingling zap of it well, the rumble of thunder taking the place of her heart beat and the soft spray of rain. But it became too much, the sear of the lightning overtaking her and she wrenched the ring off. 

“Tav where the hells did you go?” Astarion asked.

“Did I go somewhere?” 

“You disappeared!” He said. “Is that a ring of invisibility?” 

“Definitely not,” Tav said, quickly taking off her vambraces where her skin still tingled. 

“Oh, my,” Astarion looked down at her arm. “Have you always had that?”

Her forearm was covered in white divuts that spidered out and glowed slightly. As if lightning lived there in her arms. It didn’t hurt, but it felt as if the remnants of a touch were electrically charged. Her and Astarion were still enraptured by the marks when the door flew open. 

“There you two are,” Gale said. “By Mystra’s eyelids, you can’t go wandering off in a highly guarded wizard’s tower!”

“By who’s eyelids, darling?”

Even without knowing all the details of their relationship, Tav could see the coldness in Astarion’s eyes and the flood of tension that took over the room. Gale looked as if he had fallen into a frozen lake. Something was transpiring between her friends and she felt as if she was not supposed to see it. 

“Look what we found!” Tav said  to Rolan who stood back with arms folded and looking unamused. “An armory!”

“Is that so?” 

She bounded up to him, if only to get away from the unspoken conversation happening between Gale and Astarion. 

“What happened to your arm?” 

“Oh, I don’t know.” 

Rolan leveled her with a look. 

“I put on this ring, and Astarion said I disappeared — “ Rolan’s eye actually twitched, so she barreled on before he could yell, “but I could see him it was just like I don’t know, everything around was just energy. And something reached out to grab my hand and it felt like my magic, like my own magic was holding my hand!” She was excited despite the unusual state of her arm. “And when I took it off I had this.” 

He grabbed her arm, fingers running over the divots and inspecting it. Turning it over, his nails dragged along the sensitive flesh of the inside and dragged over her palm. A pleasurable shudder rippled down her spine. 

“Did that hurt?”

“Uh,” she felt her brain zap, “no.” 

It felt very good. 

“They’re fading.” 

Now that she looked at it, the glow was siphoning away very slowly. “Huh.” 

Rolan brought her arm closer for him to inspect. His hands were incredibly warm. As he asked her questions about what she saw, she found herself answering almost dazedly. It was only after he seemed to have asked all the questions he could and was simply holding her arm in quiet contemplation that she realized he was rubbing his thumb along her skin. 

“Rolan,” she said quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“Can I have my arm back?”

He dropped it as if it flooded him with an electric shock. “You seem fine. Please refrain from playing with magical artifacts you have no idea how to properly use.” 

“That’s no fun.”

His eye twitched again. 

“Erm,” she said, “did you find Karsus’ book?”

Rolan’s eyes slid over her shoulder, back where Astarion and Gale were. He motioned for her to follow him, and around the same pillar of stone which had saved her and Astarion,  he led her out of the room. 

“We found the book.” 

“Oh, good,” she said. “Gale says it’s integral for figuring out how to deal with the Elder Brain.”

“Yes,” Rolan said quietly. “What do you know of Karsus?”

“Only what Gale has told me,” she replied. “Fall of netheril, tried to become a god, - just the juicy stuff.”

“Then you know how it ended last time someone played with that kind of power.”

“I do.” 

“Gale is an immensely talented and knowledgeable wizard,” Rolan prefaced.

“Got a crush, do you?”

The tone of her voice was a little more pointed than she liked. An ugly thing inside of her scratching at her chest at his praise of Gale. Which was unreasonable. Gale was everything he said; Gale was one of her best friends. There was no reason for her to be acting this way. 

Rolan frowned. “I’m not trying to argue with you nor insult him, I’m only letting you know there was something about the way he talked about the crown, and the book. Please, keep an eye on him.”

Tav remembered how Gale had reacted to first seeing the crown, and then to the way he had near badgered her about finding the book. He had to correct himself when he talked about what the crown would do for him — the quick addition of for us that he added as an afterthought. 

Tav nodded. 

“I don’t mean to intrude,” he said. “You’ve helped my family a hundred times over. I owe it to you to do the same.”

“You don’t owe me anything.” She corrected. She hated how transactional it sounded. 

“Are you angry with me?” He asked, an edge to his voice that she knew spelled trouble. 

“Angry? No.”

Yes. No? She wasn’t sure. She almost wanted to pick a fight. It seemed to be the only time he ever gave her any mind. She didn’t know arcane history, couldn’t gush over magical theory with him — and he had never shown up for that bottle of wine. He only paid attention to her when he was upset with her. She wanted to needle at him, to make herself the focus of that blazing amber gaze even if he was snarling at her. 

Astarion was walking out of the room, jolting them out of the staring contest they were having. “Send him back when you’re done with him,” Astarion waved at Rolan. “He wants to identify some of those objects.” 

He walked off, an air of finality about his path. Something had happened. Her role of leadership reared its head, if there was dissent amongst the camp it was her job to temper it. 

“You have to go,” he said.

“Duty calls.” She sighed. “Thank you for the warning. We will drop by again, I’m sure.”

Rolan only nodded in reply and she set off. 

Rolan couldn’t figure out what he did wrong. He thought he had been better, had held his tongue when a particularly harsh remark inevitably wanted to make it out, he had called her a friend, given her party free reign of the tower. But Tav seemed distant. 

Only in crowds would she thaw. He’d been making his way to the Eflsong with Lia and Cal, under the guise of watching Alfira perform or to see Lakrissa. The team of heroes often joined them, sometimes looking worse for wear but never bringing whatever challenges they were facing with them. Tav talked when everyone was around, talked to him and was friendly enough. But they never had a moment alone.

 Even if they did he was not sure what he would say. Being the new owner of Ramazith’s was a full time endeavor; if he wasn’t experimenting he was busy trying to manage the shop. More and more people were turning up for protective measures against the string of events which threatened the city. Cal and Lia helped, happy to have a place to live and a job. It was becoming a rather fluid family business. 

But when the day slowed down or at night when laid in bed in Lorroakan’s reclaimed room, his mind drifted always to her. If he saw her at the bar that night he had committed to memory what she wore, any new cuts and bruises, and how the old ones were healing. His hand would drift under his trousers, gently massaging his length as it swelled with interest at the thought of her.

Every peak of cleavage where that damned pearl pendant dangled so teasingly where he wanted to kiss was seared into his mind. Each glance at her leaning over the bar to speak with Alan and order a round of drinks for everyone had him begging to grab at the swell of her bottom. Her eyes when she had stared Lorroakan down before she erupted in a flurry of magic. The calm before the storm of her wrath. How they would soften for her friends, and even him when she glanced over. 

Rolan would stroke himself to different imaginings of her. His gallant hero riding him, hands on his chest and glorious as she chased her pleasure. Or beneath him, soft and pliant for once, only for him. Teasing but humbled as he was a benevolent but stern authority, until she finally allowed him to experience the bliss of her submission. To let him take care of her for once.

He could even be the submissive, he thought despite never having considered it before, imagining cooing praise as he gave her whatever she wanted. Gods, he knew she would take him apart in ways he could never recreate with anyone else. He would trust her to hold her hand around his throat, to lovingly claw at his skin, to whisper words of adoration in contrast to the way she had control of his very breath in her grip.He would spill over into his own hand with visions of her eyes crinkling at the corners with a smile. She was, so far unwittingly, boring her way into his mind the same way the illithids had done to her. 

But that very tadpole had kept her very busy. The trouble in Baldur’s Gate only grew more intense. Everyone had seen less of her crew as the days went on, only Alfira or Lakrissa getting glimpses of them racing to and fro at the inn day in and out. Everything was coming to a catalyst, he could feel it in the air. It was bad enough that his family had viewed Baldur’s Gate as a haven only to find it on the verge of chaos, now the very object of his desires was at the very center of it all. Storybooks often spoke about the plight of heroes, rarely did they touch upon the abject misery of the ones who loved them.

Watching them destroy their bodies, minds and hearts to be brave enough to save the day. Unable to do anything but offer mere pittances. And Tav wouldn’t even allow him to do that. 

In the midst of his musings on her one night as they closed the shop, a violent earthquake shook the city. They were more common these days but this one felt different, it lasted longer, the tremor nearly knocked potion bottles off the wall and the whole city seemed to freeze moments after it passed. 

“Do you think it’s them?” Cal had asked, breaking the terrified silence. 

“It always is.”

They had gone to the Elfsong after the shop was locked up. All agreeing that their friends might need them, even if just to buy them a drink. When he arrived, the place was packed. Voices loud as people theorized and panicked over drinks, not even Alfira’s songs could carry over the din. 

Their heroes were nowhere to be seen. 

They found Lakrissa, who was attempting to be a one woman crowd for Alfira. “Have they returned? Do they know what’s going on?”

Lakrissa looked grim. “We saw the Archdruid carrying someone small  — maybe a halfling or a gnome or something — up the stairs. They looked bad.”

Rolan felt his stomach plummet through the wood floor. 

“Tav came down to grab wine, Alfira said she was heading up to the roof when she came down to perform.” 

Rolan was turning for the stairs before Lakrissa finished the sentence. Something was off. He passed by the suite which he knew her party was in, voices were low but they were in there. He saw the open hatch and climbed up with a grunt.

The roof was not lit up, but the city lights allowed for a low glow that partially blotted out the stars. The crescent moon above was not much helpful but it was out clear as day. He spotted a figure, alone, slumped over at the far end of the roof. Even in the dark he knew it was her. 

He approached only to be met with her calling, in slurred together words, “‘ready told you, Karlach. I don’ wanna watch you arm wrestle Minsc.”

“They should sell tickets to that,” he said in response. “You’d all be rich.”

She turned around sharply. “S’ you.”

“It’s me,” he replied. “May I join you?”

“M’pissed, and miserable,” she slurred. “Not good,” she belched, “company.” 

It was oddly charming, despite her drooping eyes and the way she dryly licked her lips after. He was so used to her being a force of unflappable willpower and leadership, seeing her just be a person who gets piss drunk to drown her sorrows was novel. Rolan sat next to her, amongst a small nest of pillows and blankets Alfira and Lakrissa had put up there when they first got to the city. Tav looked out at the water. 

“I wanna go swimming.”

“I think the Chionthar is only slightly safer than a cursed lake,” he replied. “Best stay on land.”

“No fun.”

Despite her attempts at lightning the mood everything felt off. She leaned her chin on the stone wall that she sat in front of. The bottle in her hand precariously tipped. 

“I felt that quake earlier, your doing?”

“killed a Bhaalspawn.” She said plainly. “Stole a netherstone. Brain is getting restless.”

If anyone else had strung those words together it would have been utter nonsense. 

“Thats good, isn’t it? You ought to be celebrating.”

“No,” she shook her head slowly. “No celebrating.”

“What happened?”

“Bhaalspawn bitch took Yenna,” she sniffed. 

The little girl they had picked up in Rivington. Rolan had yet to meet her, but she had been their newest addition. Rolan recalled being horrified that they allowed a child in their camp, given their circumstances. He thought it might not be a good idea to bring that up, just then.

“Is she alright?”

“Physically? Sure.”

It was quiet again. He heard her breathing pick up, a wet swallow. 

“They made her eat her fucking cat.” She spat, voice cracking. “She’s ten years old. Lost her mother, and all she had was Grub. They took her from right under my nose. Killed the damn cat and made her eat it.” 

When he looked over he saw tears, his heart stuttering. Half unsure what to do in the face of such a horrifying thing to imagine and half desperate to hold her. 

“Everywhere I go,” she said distractedly, “there’s just blood and horror.” She pulled a long drink of wine from the bottle. “And everyone’s fucking lost it in this city. Gale wants to become a God, and we all know it’s just to get back at Mystra — they ought to call her the bitch queen — and just two days ago I had to talk Astarion out of  the right of ascension — 2000 people he was going to sacrifice!” She was ranting, hiccups and sobs breaking through every once in a while. “Karlach’s given up. Shadowheart’s parents — we looked for them and she  fought so hard and they’re just gone. Lae’zel wants me to make a deal with a devil, and poor Wyll,” she sniffled. “His dad — he — and Mizora that cunt! We have to find his dad.” She had her head in her hands. “There’s still one more netherstone, we have to get the hammer, then there’s the brain.”

“You need to breathe,” he reached out. 

“I’m not meant to do this!” She yelled suddenly. “I’m not — I’m supposed to take over my mum and dad’s stupid pub, I’m supposed to be at home, with my little sister and my mother.”

“Tav,” he tried to interrupt.”

“Instead I’m here, and I’ve got this thing in my head and they want time to lead them — and I don’t know why! I’m nothing — no one — I don’t know what to do —“

“Sweetheart, stop,” he pleaded, reaching out to her. “You’re alright.” 

“I’m not,” she choked. “I can’t, Rolan. I can’t do this.” 

“You can,” he said firmly. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him, “you’re going to sleep this off, and tomorrow you will infuriate me by accomplishing the impossible — as you always do.” 

She was at least calming down, breathing coming easier even if fresh warm tears spilled out of her eyes onto his hands. His thumb gently wiped them away, careful of his nails. 

“You didn’t see what I saw out there in the cursed lands, or even in the tower. You may be an idiot but you’re a capable idiot. If anyone can save the city, it’s you and your freak show of friends.” 

She smiled, a soft laugh nothing more than a breath escaping her lips. Rolan had a sinking feeling he was in over his head, with the way she still looked so lovely to him; face puffy, drunk and still covered in gore he thought she was the most beautiful person in the world. His thumb gently rubbed the skin of her cheek, and she closed her eyes, seeming to have rid herself of all the tears she could and now seeming calmer. 

They sat like that for a while. She breathed and came back to herself, he contemplated how awful he had been to her before. Tav was larger than life, but even she was only flesh and blood. The weight on her shoulders was more than he could even imagine. He’d never been more sure about his decision to offer his help when the time came, anything to lighten her load. 

 For a moment he thought she might have passed out until she spoke. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” 

Rolan felt struck by lightning by the change of subject. “You — do you want me to kiss you?”

Tav opened her eyes, albeit somewhat blearily she smiled mischievously. “Don’t be dumb,” she said, “you know I do.”

“I do not know that,” he said defensively. 

“Well now you do,” she leaned forward, her hands still curled into his robes. Her eyes slid shut again and Rolan tilted his head and leaned in, unable to resist the magnetic force that she seemed to emanate as their lips came closer. 

Her breath smelt so strongly of wine, he suddenly outstretched his arms to keep her at a safe distance. “You’re drunk,” he scolded. Whether it was her or himself he was scolding, was unclear. 

“Yes.” She nodded and then seemed to get dizzy from the motion

“We should get you to bed.” 

“Oh?”

“Stop it,” he tried not to laugh, but it didn’t work. “You’re going to bed to sleep.” 

“That isn’t fun.” 

“I’m not fun,” he reminded her. “I’m a prick with a stick up my arse, as my sister so kindly put it.” 

“Sorry, Rolan,” Tav said seriously, “wasn’t paying attention. Whose prick is going in whose arse? Because m’not equipped — I guess we could buy one but at this hour?“

“Bed!” Rolan said immediately. 

“No,” she whined, “I’m sleeping up here.”

“You are not.”

“I am,” she said, draining the last of her bottle only to have it yanked away from her. “You can’t carry me down the ladder.”

It was said petulantly, with a singsong voice and a cackle of laughter afterwards, but she was right. Rolan grabbed at the pillows and blankets Alfira had snuck up and threw together a makeshift bed. He  shoved at her shoulder until she laid back and she sighed happily, turning onto her side. 

“I like when we get along.” She said in a quiet voice.

“Me too.” 

After a while he laid on the ground. His feet faced her head and there was a safe amount of distance, in case anyone found them. He didn’t need her friends getting the wrong idea if they found them, he was already sure Astarion wanted to kill him. 

He felt something pulling at one of his horns and his eyes slid open. Tav was over him, trying to lift his head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Pillow,” she said plainly. “Head up.” 

He allowed her to place one under his head, and then rested back. When she laid back down, her fingers brushed against him. Barely noticeable, only The back of her knuckles pressed against his. He curled one finger around hers and she did the same. As he looked down, even in the darkness her arms still had marks from whatever had happened when she put on that ring in the tower. 

After a few days with no other side effects, they had all assumed it had been some kind of magic attachment that hadn’t taken full hold. The lines were thin, barely there, but he considered what it could have been. After all the work that had to be done at the shop, it had slipped his mind to research it. At least now he had something to do to keep his mind off of her running to infiltrate the new archduke’s home and murder him. 

“Why didn’t you come?” Her voice interrupted his thoughts. 

“What do you mean?”

“Gale wanted to teach you,” she mumbled, “and I… have that bottle for you.” 

Things had happened so fast, getting Cal and Lia settled, being thrust into owning not just a massive home but a very popular magical goods shop had made him forget that night entirely. He had made it all the way to the door of the Elfsong, skin still stinging from Lorroakan’s ‘training’ just the hour before. 

“I got as far as the front door,” he said, “and turned around.” 

“Why?”

“I was… overwhelmed.” 

“Oh.” 

He said nothing in response and after a few moments he heard her start to snore. With a sigh he settled in and closed his eyes. The stone roof was a poor substitute for his new large, exceedingly comfortable bed in the tower. Leaving her side seemed far from worth it to sleep in his own bed, even if she did snore.

Thank you so much for reading!

Next Chapter

[coopigeoncoo]

Meat Cute, Chapter 8

Chapter Links: First, Previous <- Chapter 8 ->Next

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader

Rating: Mature (rating may change)

Tags: Canon-typical violence, Cannibalism, Reader is a cannibal, Fake/pretend relationship, Puns, Raccoon Reader, Tags may change, Swearing

---

In a bid to appear more approachable to the denizens of the Hazbin Hotel, Alastor enlists the help of his favorite butcher to step into the roll of an (after)lifetime: pretending to be his paramour!

---

“You can't deny we have so much in common,” Alastor's grinned, his smile somehow, impossibly, widening even farther as he leaned down on the counter on a single elbow; his nose nearly touching yours as you stood frozen in place. “I'm somewhat of a Butcher myself, you know.”

–--

A story where one thing is certain: the steaks are never bigger than when love is on the line.

---

Continue reading below, or follow the link to A03!

Alastor led you back towards the hotel proper, where the immaculately dressed masses were milling about; nibbling on hors d'oeuvres and politely clapping when the imps in the string quartet would finish playing yet another unidentifiable classical number.  

Lucifer himself stood at the center of it all, holding court and seemingly in his element as he laughed politely at whatever the stiff-looking socialite next to him had said.  In an unexpected show of mercy, Alastor pivoted you both away from the King and towards the fringes of the party, where Princess Charlotte was gesturing frantically at a group of women whose shoulders were quaking with barely suppressed laughter.  

“Pardon my intrusion,” Alastor said, slipping next to Charlie with a bow.  “I wanted to make sure I had the opportunity to properly introduce the two of you.”

“Oh!” Charlie exclaimed, having been so wrapped up in her spiel that she had failed to notice you and Alastor's approach.  “I remember you!  You work at the butcher shop, right?”

“That's me,” you confirmed brightly, watching the women Charlie had previously been lecturing slip away out of the corner of your eye; giggling with one and other behind their hands.  

“I hardly recognized you without all the, y'know, blood,” Charlie laughed, adjusting her hold on a large stack of pamphlets in her arms.  

“I get that a lot.”

“Me, too!” Alastor laughed, tugging you closer to his side. “We really are quite the matching pair, aren't we?”

“Like rats and the plague,” you agree with an indulgent tilt of your head, fluttering your eyelashes in a way you hope appeared demure in the face of Charlie's disbelief.  

“Such a charmer!” Alastor cooed, extending one of his wickedly sharp claws and drawing it slowly towards your face.  Breathlessly, you watched as the talon drew closer and closer; eyes eventually crossing when Alastor used his claw to tap you playfully on the nose.  

“Oh- huh,” Charlie murmured, obviously shocked by the familiar way Alastor was treating you.  “This is…unexpected- but good!  Very good!   You seem to have grown close, uh, pretty quickly-”

“Charlie, my dear, are you implying that my companion is fast ?” Alastor inquired, his head ticking to the side menacingly. “Wanton?  A woman of ill repute?”

“Oh, dear,” you tsked worryingly, patting down the front of your dress.  “I seem to have misplaced my scarlet letter!”

“You must have left it in the gutter you crawled out of this morning,” Alastor sighed, shaking his head fondly.  “You're such a forgetful little thing.”

“Wha- NO!” Charlie belted out loudly, her free hand flapping about in front of her in a placating manner.  “That isn't what I meant at all!”

“Oh?” Alastor intoned doubtfully.  “Do go on, then.”

“It's just- you're…not easy to get to know, Alastor.  So to see someone be so close to you, it's- well,” Charlie sighed, racking her brain for the best way to explain herself.  “I guess there's really no timeline for these sorts of things, huh?  When you know, you know.”

You were suddenly acutely aware of the lies poised to tumble from your mouth at Alastor's behest; the deception on your tongue a bitter contrast to the Princess’ sweet sincerity.  

“I really appreciate you coming out and supporting the hotel today,” Charlie beamed, leading you closer to the buffet table where Angel Dust and a rag-tag looking group, likely the other hotel residents, had gathered.    

“Once Alastor extended the invitation I simply had to come!” You replied honestly, hating the way that outright lying about your situation made you feel and doing your best to talk around it.  Thankfully, Alastor seemed to enjoy your duplicity, a pleased chuckle rumbling from his chest when he thought you were being especially clever.   

“I'm pleased with the turnout,” Charlie continued on.  “Fingers crossed that the big crowds translate to big donations!”

“Donations?” you inquire, confused about why the daughter of the most powerful man in Hell would need to crowdsource her funding.  

“Yep!  This is supposed to be a fundraising event to increase community involvement,” Charlie explained.  “We could just fund things ourselves, but we thought that people might be more invested in our efforts if they, well- invested!”

“And what are they investing in, exactly?  The hotel?”

“Oh, no!  We're branching out into the surrounding neighborhoods, trying to build local ties, you know?” Charlie chirped excitedly, passing you one of the pamphlets she'd been carrying all day.  “So we're looking to start a grant program for sinners looking to open up businesses that would benefit the entire Pride Ring.  Methadone clinics, detox centers, restaurants willing to work with us to provide meals to the destitute- that sort of stuff!” 

“You’ll be needing this,” Alastor said, sliding a long stemmed glass smoothly into your hand. You accept it without complaint, aware of the many eyes upon you, anxiously darting between you and the drink Alastor had passed your way.  Without hesitating you brought the glass up to your lips and took a long sip, displaying a level of trust in Alastor that you didn't actually possess.  

If Alastor wanted you dead, there wasn't really anything you could do about it anyway.  And honestly, if poison was how he'd chosen to go about murdering you then you'd count yourself beyond lucky.  It would be an unprecedented show of compassion on his part to kill you quickly when you'd heard rumors of him disemboweling sinners, using their intestines to trim his Christmas tree, and then keeping them alive and in agonizing pain to ring in the New Year with him.   

Charlie had continued talking as you drank, blissfully unaware of the dramatic scene playing out right under her nose.  

“-so we've been trying to recruit donors for the Sir Pentious Entrepreneurial Resource Management fund!”

You took another sip of your blood wine, savoring the rich metallic tang, and made the mistake of looking down at the pamphlet in your hand.  Seeing the words printed out in bold text at top of the brochure made everything in your brain suddenly click.

With a loud snort, you spat your mouthful of wine back into your glass, helplessly coughing into your hand in an attempt to clear your airway.  A handkerchief appeared in front of your face and you readily accepted it, dabbing at the wet spots you felt on your lips and chin.

“Princess -,” you finally manage to sputter out.

“Call me Charlie!”

“-alright, Charlie,” you capitulated easily, recognizing that there were far more important matters immediately at hand. “Just to, ah- clarify the situation, here.  You do realize you spent an entire day encouraging people to become SPERM Donors, right?”

“I- No!” Charlie screeched, aghast at your accusation.  “It's the Sir Pentious Entrepreneurial Resource Management fund!”

“Yes, and SPERM is the acronym, ” you grimaced, body flooding with second hand embarrassment for the poor woman.  Charlie stared down at the pamphlets in her arms in disbelief before throwing her head back and releasing a pitiful wail towards Heaven.

“It all makes so much sense now,” she groaned, letting the pamphlets fall from her arms and scatter to the floor as she clutched her head in misery.  “All the laughing , that one woman saying that she ‘wasn't equipped’ to make a donation, Angel wanting to call the event ‘Hoeing Weeds and Sowing Seeds'- ”

Charlie abruptly paused, spinning to face Angel Dust.  

“You knew!” Charlie bellowed, pointing an accusatory finger at him.  “You knew and you didn't tell me!”

“Hey now,” Angel Dust called out, raising all of his arms into the air defensively.  “Don't go puttin’ all the blame on my supple shoulders!  Everyone else here knew about it, too!”

“Everything was just happening so fast,” a dour-faced woman said, placing her gray hands on Charlie's shoulders comfortingly.  “By the time we noticed the, uh- typo, you'd already made handouts and put flyers up around the city.”

Things only devolved into further chaos from there, with accusations flying about who knew what and when.  Cautiously, you withdrew from the fray, placing yourself back at Alastor's side.  

“Are they always so…,” you paused, searching for the right word as Angel Dust reached onto the bar, grabbed a cocktail glass in each hand, and spiked them onto the ground in frustration.  “Spirited? ”

“Goodness, no!” Alastor chuckled, pulling you to the side and out of the way of the scattering glass shards.  “This is a rather subdued bit of bedlam, all things considered.  It barely even registers on the scale of exciting events that have happened this week! ”

Tag List:

@wendds @matpatsstuff @qardasngan @polytheatrix @sirens-and-moonflowers  @venusdandy

[acourtofthought]

The ridiculousness of the new Lucien week has gotten me heated so here's another anti e/riel post.

Based on e/riel logic, the LoA must really love Beron because he in canon is her current choice therefore we need to respect her choices and continue hoping for a Beron and LoA endgame.

Their logic is that it doesn't matter that we can see he's wrong for her, that maybe she doesn't truly want him but feels she should stay. All that matters is it's her choice.

Most all in the fandom realize there's probably many layers behind the why of the LoA staying with Beron. We all realize it's probably not what makes her happy but staying is something she's trying to convince herself of as being necessary.

But when it comes to Elain, apparently her character is not capable of deeper emotions for some.

However Elucien's and Gwynriels, just like we see in the LoA's situation with Beron and Helion, understand the nuance for the e/riel setup and Elain's current behavior towards Lucien. That Elain's actions most likely do not reflect her real feelings, that she's behaving in a way that's not true to her heart but in a way that she is trying to convince herself she's fine with because she's still battling her own demons but isn't completely ready to tackle them head on.

Just like we have hope that the LoA will break free of Beron despite her current choice to stay, to maybe end up with Helion despite what appears to be a current lack of interest on her part, we too hope that Elain can break free of the things that are holding her back, of the people who are holding her back, and can find love with the one person who Fate had always known was her perfect match, who has always had her best interests at heart. Who the author made her perfect match and has spoken about them as a couple.

It's weird how Helion barely looked at the LoA during the HLs meeting, how he chose to sleep with Mor while the LoA was under the same roof as him and still the fandom collectively agrees there's a story to be had for the LoA and Helion, that he still has feelings for her yet it's somehow an impossibility for an Elucien endgame.

[naomihatake]

In search of freedom (Ch. 3)

3. A change of heart

Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3 ; Chapter 4

⠀⠀⠀⠀She's been searching for freedom her entire life and everytime she thought it was laying right in front of her eyes, she was mistaken. She was running around the East Blue, seeking herself and her dreams, meeting people she never forgot. No matter how much she traveled, she could only catch a glimpse of peace before realizing everything would crumble at her feet.

⠀⠀⠀⠀Maybe it was destiny that brought her on that ship with three strangers — foolishly, that's what she tried to believe when the moon shined beautifully and hope settled in her chest, squeezed by the same ribcage where feelings were blooming.

Pairing: female!reader x OPLA Zoro Roronoa.

Warnings for this chapter: anxiety, tarot readings, canon typical violence, tension, mutual pining

Word count: 8k (um? It wasn't supposed to be that long, but I'm not unsatisfied at all)

Theme song: “Hoist the colors” by Bobby bass (click on the link)

A/N: I tried my best to add Zoro's perspective in this part. I don't know if I did a good job or not, but I'm experimenting with writing specific characters and personalities. I think I understand him a tad bit more than I did last time — in case you haven't noticed, I love psychoanalyzing my favorite characters and Zoro is one of them. The last chapter felt quick paced because of the fight, but this one is slow paced; I wanted to stretch the tension that way.

The reader is referred to as "Witch" because I have no intentions of using "Y/N".

I'm open for comments and opinions <3

"He has quite the bounty on his head," the witch commented as she looked at Buggy's wanted poster. 

Zoro's fingers gripped tighter at the hilt of his white sword after he huffed. 

"I should've killed him."

"And how were you supposed to be paid for it when you're a wanted man yourself?" Luffy laughed at him. 

Another huff left the swordsman's lips and he averted his eyes with a scowl. 

"I guess that's also right."

He tore the poster from the wall and squeezed it in his fingers, the paper getting destroyed right in front of his eyes. 

"Stupid clown," he muttered. 

A light chuckle got his attention; the witch who stood with her arms crossed right next to him didn't seem lively at all. Ever since they stepped on land in the Syrup Village, color drained from her face and she was constantly fidgeting and playing with her fingers. It was weird; the swordsman didn't spend much time with the other three, but they weren't impossible to read. 

She didn't seem the type to be so awfully quiet. She had smart comments sitting on the tip of her tongue and it wasn't necessarily hard to make her smile; if anything, Luffy's smile was so contagious and it influenced her greatly, Zoro observed. The straw hat wasn't the only one in that situation — each one of them was. The witch somehow knew what to say and how to treat them, how to approach a topic. 

Maybe that's why she was called a witch. For the life of it, Zoro didn't like to read between the lines and his usual blunt personality drew people away because they misinterpreted it as rudeness. Did he care? Not really. So why did he suddenly think too much about it? Why was he thinking of ways to get a word out of her mouth? 

The woman his eyes were fixated on didn't hear Nami when she appeared, coming back to earth only after Luffy nudged her side with his elbow. 

"Let's go find a ship."

She only nodded and followed along, burying one hand in the pocket of her pants. He saw when she bought a pocket knife from a stand and hid it. Zoro guessed her fingers were always curled around the knife for safety reasons, even if her fear seemed irrelevant — nothing was suspicious in that village. 

They were the only suspicious people around there. A navigator who is a thief, a green-haired tall man with three swords attached to his hip, a pirate who wore a straw hat and a beautiful witch. 

Beautiful, indeed, even if that word alone didn't do the woman enough justice. Not only the way she looked was pretty, but the way she carried herself, how stable she was on her feet, the sparkle in her eyes, the taunting mischief of her gentle smile. 

A smile that has been gone for half of a day, now replaced by anxiety. Even a blind man could see the unsettling feeling she was carrying. 

Zoro didn't realize when he took the opportunity of looking at her hair bouncing with each step after he chose to walk behind them all. He shook his head and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, moving his gaze away. His mind shouldn't be wandering on useless things. 

Nami stopped in her tracks once they reached the dock. 

"We don't need something flashy, we have to sneak it out of here without anyone noticing."

"You mean we're gonna steal a ship?" Luffy furrowed his eyebrows. 

"Yes?" the navigator frowned. "Wasn't that obvious already? How else are we gonna get a ship?" 

"We can ask for one!" he beamed.  

"So you think that just talking with someone would bring us a ship?" 

The witch only sighed and shook her head at the other two's argument. 

"Fine," Nami gave in after looking for too long at Luffy's puppy eyes. "But if it doesn't work, we do it my way." 

"Deal."

Instantly, he walked away in search of a ship. 

"So, what's the actual plan?" Zoro asked nonchalantly. 

"You two look around and see how lax the security is around here. I'm gonna look for a ship and if we have enough luck, we will bribe Luffy into stealing one."

"I wish you luck," the swordsman smirked. 

That's how they split up, Nami heading in a different direction while the witch walked straight up ahead with one hand still in her pocket. He approached her after a few long steps, merely looking at her from the corner of his eyes. 

"If you keep walking around so stiff, people will guess we have something to hide."

"The only thing I have to hide is a pocket knife. On the other hand, you have three swords and no one looked at you suspiciously yet." 

Finally, she said full phrases. However, there was no change in her expressionless face. 

"What's up?" he fully turned his head towards her. 

"Hm?" 

Those beautiful eyes looked up at him curiously. 

"Is someone suspicious?" he asked. 

"No, just the air." 

Once again, she turned her face away before he was able to read what she was hiding. It didn't seem like something big or dangerous, but she was definitely acting shady. 

On top of it all, she wasn't exactly paying attention to her surroundings, since she didn't notice the two marines walking around the corner. Zoro wrapped an arm around her middle and placed a palm over her mouth, shoving the both of them between two buildings. 

Her fingers grasped at his wrist and if she wouldn't have reminded herself to let go of the knife, she could've cut him. 

"You could've just warned me," she whispered to him after she moved his hand away. 

They both noticed their situation way too late. Her back was pressed against his chest and his arm was holding her securely next to him. His fingers burned her skin even through the large shirt she was wearing. The air got knocked out of her lungs and for a moment, she remembered the second reason for her unsteady feelings — him. The pirate hunter she didn't like thinking of because it was better that way. 

When Zoro noticed the marines went away, he let go of her, even if too slowly. He let his suspicions get the best of him. 

"What are you hiding?" 

The witch — who just grabbed at his arm to move it away —  was in that moment frozen on the spot. 

"Nothing important."

From behind her, he couldn't see the way she frowned. 

"You're like a walking ball of anxiety." 

"I told you, it's just a shift in the air. Nothing important," she gritted her teeth, getting irritated. 

Why was she distant? Did she think he wouldn't believe in her intuition? — that's what she'd probably call it. 

She moved away after what felt like years, but her shoulders relaxed. It seemed like she figured out God-knows-what. 

"I don't like the energy. It feels like I'm gonna die soon."

"Did you see a black cat?" 

"No, I feel something crawling up my throat."

She resumed her walking and he kept up with her for the second time that day.

"Everything seems fine. I saw only those two marines and they were awfully relaxed," Zoro changed the topic. 

"Then, just like Nami guessed, the security isn't exactly top class," the witch responded. 

They walked around in silence, spotting Luffy on a ship with a goat figurehead. The swordsman could see the happiness bouncing around the straw hat who just called out at them. 

"Guys! I found it!" 

"Did you think for more than two seconds before choosing it?" the witch arched her eyebrow, amused. 

"Actually, one glance was enough to know this was the perfect ship for us."

"Why am I not surprised you were right?" Nami sighed. 

"He will sell it to us," Luffy pointed at a young man who walked behind him. 

"Um, actually, this is not for sale," he tries to smile, rubbing at the back of his neck in embarrassment. 

His golden-brown skin glistened in the early sun rays, which most probably meant he was working on something. 

"And I'm not a salesman," he added. "But my friend owns this ship." 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

They found out his name was Usopp and the friend he was talking about was a girl who was celebrating her coming of age on that day. Kaya not only invited them to dinner, but insisted they could sleep over, considering they were “Usopp's friends”. The witch was still getting used to being called a friend or comrade, since she doesn't remember the last time that word was met with serious intentions. 

The girl's mansion was… big. It was like a labyrinth and even if Zoro was bad at directions, she thought it started to rub off on her the moment she walked towards the dressing room after taking a bath. The lights weren't particularly bright and the sun was setting by that time. The curtains were tied together, leaving space for the warm golden lights to bathe the hallways. 

Mystery clung to each artifact and painting. It was beautiful, yes, but there was a certain aura of that place that unsettled her. 

Not to mention the staff — she never thought it would come a day when she'd say “these people are weird”. For the past two years she's been traveling alone around the Blue East and she met dozens of people, one more intriguing than the other. However, that butler was suspicious. She wanted to believe he was just a father figure for Kaya and he was protective of her, but she couldn't. 

From the moment when she entered the dressing room — she's surprised she even found it —, she decided to answer some questions of her own. 

She shuffled her tarot cards in her hands, meticulously arranging each card that fell, putting them in order. It was confusing her — it was the second time she does the same thing, with the same question in mind, and she received the same ambiguous answer. Why did the cards have to be particularly hard to guess on that day? 

She ran her fingers through her hair and ruffled it, accidentally tugging harshly enough to make her frown deepen, but she held back a hiss. Maybe some pain would help her focus, instead of letting her mind waver. Luffy, who sat cross legged on the carpet, just like her, was analyzing her reactions because he had no clue what she was doing. 

"What do you see?" he asked in a hushed voice.

"Why are you whispering?" Zoro asked. 

The swordsman hasn't moved since he came into the dressing room and sat on a comfortable chair. He flexed his arms when he crossed them over his chest and threw one or two glances at the swords leaning against the armrest. 

"I don't know," Luffy whispered again, snapping his head towards him. 

She didn't pay attention to them at all. She had to admit that she felt better than an hour ago, before having the opportunity to take a bath, the reason why she was wearing a dressing gown only. It was so soft and the material felt perfect against her flushed skin, her collarbones exposed entirely. 

She was completely unaware of the gaze locked on her. The woman had no clue a specific swordsman was thinking more than he usually does. There was an inner battle he couldn't fight by using his three swords style. He occupied himself by focusing on the material things; the carpet was soft. 

Just as soft as her body when he glued her back to his chest to avoid those marines. 

"What do you think?" Nami smiled proudly after she appeared from behind the room divider. 

"You look like Nami," Luffy shrugged. 

The witch chuckled at the response. She didn't smile once since she entered that mansion, but she couldn't help her reaction. Instead, she raised her head to the orange-haired woman whose shoulders fell at the answer she received. 

After a few seconds of thinking, the witch decided to give her a real opinion:

"It compliments your body, but it isn't necessarily flattering — maybe you can find a few other options?" 

Nami nodded, moving around to search for something else. 

"I kind of feel bad for Kaya… she must feel lonely in such a big house," Luffy commented. 

The witch decided to avoid the conversation, her eyes stuck once again on the few cards splayed over the carpet. She took in a deep breath and then sighed. It made sense, but it didn't feel like a complete answer. She decided to turn the rest of the deck upside down and take the card on the top. 

"Dammit," she cussed out. 

It confused her even more, so she just put the card back in the deck. 

After a minute of spacing out, she managed to focus on the other three in the room. 

"Rich people don't feel emotions the same way we do," Nami said flatly. 

"She seems kind, though," the witch hesitated as the words left her lips. 

"That's a big word," Nami probably rolled her eyes, considering her tone. 

"Probably. She seems better than the butler, by the way."

"Have you guys seen him before?" Zoro asked, shifting in his seat. 

Immediately, the witch moved her head towards him. He answered a question she didn't even ask and her fears felt validated for a brief second. So he also found that man suspicious. 

"No, but I don't like him at all," the witch responded firmly. 

"How come you can talk so easily about people you just met? No offense."

Nami was still looking around for a dress when she talked. 

"It's not that I'm being judgmental — I can't assume what those people did or not. However, tell me, what about the staff makes you go 'oh, yes, they're good people'?" 

"Good point," she pulled her lips together in a straight line. "They're weird." 

The shuffling through clothes stopped, which meant Nami found something. Except, it wasn't for her, but for the swordsman who caught the caramel silky shirt that was thrown into his lap. 

The witch let out another long exhale and closed her eyes. She hoped she could ground herself in a way or another, despite the unhelpful air surrounding the entire house. It was suffocating and it felt as if there was a heavy press on the crown of her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

Seconds passed and the only thing she found in the depths of her thoughts was doubt and uncertainty. Nothing felt right, but she couldn't point out exactly what gave off that kind of aura. Slowing down her breathing didn't help either. 

By the time she gave up and huffed, Nami and Luffy were out of the room. She saw the glimpse of a red silky dress pooling around someone's legs. Said person was Nami, surely. 

A dress. Maybe it would be easier to hide a knife in her thigh holster. 

"You're staring at these cards like you're gonna find out something, but I doubt you found anything," Zoro got her attention. 

Once again, her fingers gripped at the strands of hair. Putting her confusion into words left a lump in her throat. 

"I don't know what's going on and it's annoying. I don't have time for life lessons."

"Going on with what?"

"This entire mansion, maybe?" she looked at him. 

His gaze made her skin tingle and she didn't know if she welcomed that foreign sensation or not. Everytime he talked, he managed to get her out of her thoughts, and she was both grateful and angry about it. For some reason, his stoic personality was safe in that maze. 

"The butler is hiding something, that I know for sure," she whispered this time. "I never saw him, but something doesn't feel right at all. Protecting Kaya? It sounds like bullshit to me, Zoro."

She was stubborn about the opinion she has of that man and maybe it was wrong, but did she really care? 

The swordsman didn't expect the sound of his name rolling off her tongue to stir something inside of him. It almost stung, her voice craving words in languages he's never spoken on his ribs. He paid attention, even if on a normal day he wouldn't listen to superstitions and the words of a probably insane witch. 

Except it sounded like she was the most sane of them all. 

"It probably won't make sense for you, but he's lying about something. He's not just a butler," she continued after glancing back at the cards. "He's fooling everyone and he's doing it well. This isn't what I'm actually concerned about — there's another lie I can't point out. The cards don't help. It feels like I'm being deceived, but for a good reason."

"By who?"

"I don't know. Or maybe I just want to avoid the answer."

She always hated her suspicious nature, the way her trust could be gained only by a few, and all of these people have been gone for years. She shouldn't be like that, it would be better if she'd have some faith in the people around her, if she'd allow herself to believe in them and their words. The ability to trust was a desire — something she wanted, but didn't have. 

Zoro's body tensed and his frown deepened when he realized she was suspicious about one of them. At the same time, her attitude didn't match up because she seemed to despise her own suspicions. 

Why was he so concerned about her? Yeah, right, he has no clue. Amazing. Perfect. 

"I hate this," she muttered under her breath. 

The witch put all of her cards in the deck and threw it on a chair after she stood up. Her eyes fell on the variety of clothes and she wondered what the fuck she was doing there in the first place. 

Why was she there? She didn't promise to stay with Luffy. She had the opportunity to remain in Syrup Village for a while and then leave, just like every time. What was she doing in that mansion, looking at too many clothes hung in a huge room? 

"Aren't you also gonna change?" she said without turning towards him. 

"Do you even trust us?"

The question had the same effect as the tight embrace she was pulled into a few hours ago. Her breath hitched and she hesitated, fingers clutching at the material of her dressing gown. 

The truth was other than what she thought of this entire time; yes. Yes, she did, and that was the most dangerous situation of them all. 

"I wish I didn't," she whispered. 

It was inexplicable, the faith she had in humanity after meeting Luffy. She would clutch at her heart and talk about how humans don't deserve her trust, she would talk for hours about how mischievous people are, that they adore taking advantage of others. 

So it was normal to despise that feeling of longing, the desire to get attached to people, the need for a connection. It was normal to fear a bad ending and it was even worse that she thought such a thing couldn't happen anymore. 

That was why the tarot cards confused her. They told a story different from the one her soul knew. What betrayal? What secret? Who was in pain they couldn't express? And why did she get the feeling that it wasn't exactly betrayal? 

Her answer probably satisfied Zoro, since he got up from the chair and took a black suit he noticed minutes ago. He didn't say a word, but his shoulders were relaxed again. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The witch was the last one to arrive downstairs, in a room that seemed like a living. She found it uncomfortable to wear a dress in a house filled with strange people, since it held her speed back and it wouldn't be exactly easy to defend herself. She opted for a dress she could move in, only squeezing her waist and chest, fluttering around her knees. It was long enough to hide a knife in her thigh holster. Getting discovered wasn't on her to-do list, but she had to ensure her own safety. 

While she changed, her mind wandered… would any of them help if something happened? Her guess was that yes, they'd jump into action. 

Without noticing, after she walked down the stairs, she gravitated close to the swordsman. She was with her back at one of her comrades, never out in the open, sharp eyes scanning each corner of the room. The table in the middle was strong, she figured out after she tapped her nail over the surface. If there were guns involved, she could use it as a shield. 

"You should try these!" Luffy spoke with his mouth full of cookies as he looked towards her and Zoro. 

"I have everything I need right here," the green-haired man responded with a smirk. 

There was a glass of cocktail in between his fingers and he took a long gulp, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Only now, the witch took her time to gaze at the expense of his shoulders, the suit fitting him perfectly. Considering how casual he dresses, it was surprising to see that kind of formal attire hugging his body so deliciously. The usual cockiness of his smirk was still present, just like the hand shoved into the pocket of his black suit pants. 

Roronoa Zoro was more attractive than she liked to admit. His sharp jawline and the smallest bump at the base of his nose, the tall stature, those deep brown eyes sparkling in the light of a candelabra — damn, he looked like he'd been sculpted by the gods, despite the lack of belief he had in such almighty beings. The air was tight when she inhaled and she almost felt bad for ogling at him — almost, because the first time she met him, she was busy sweeping the floor with some Marines. 

A feeling of control and steadiness oozed out of him, pulling her closer like a spell. For the briefest moment, her shoulders relaxed at the reminder that she's not alone there, that there are three other people she can put an ounce of trust in. That was the least she could do at that time. 

With her arms crossed loosely over her stomach, the witch watched the interaction between Nami and a businessman — he looked and acted exactly like one, but lacked the mischief. 

She missed the glance the swordsman threw at her, a look that lasted for too long to be friendly, but short enough to miss it. No, he thought to himself before taking another gulp of the liquor in his glass. He doesn't have time to indulge into such things. 

The witch sighed at her own observations; she should unwind for a little while. She picked another glass of cocktail that was on the table and sipped, furrowing her eyebrows. 

"It's sweet," she mumbled, surprised after licking her lips. 

"Don't confuse sweetness for how strong it is," Zoro chuckled. 

That simple sound made her heart skip a beat or two, bringing an uncomfortable sensation in the pitch of her stomach. 

"Beginner's mistake, I suppose," she shrugged. 

Too bad she wasn't exactly a beginner. 

The talkative Usopp and Luffy stopped, which caught her attention; these two were the loudest people she's ever met in her entire life. Kaya was walking down the stairs, her slim arms curled around one of Klahadore's — the butler. 

Only now, the witch took her time and looked at her. The pastel pink dress drained the life out of that girl, as if her pale skin didn't do that enough. Her cheeks were sunk and her smile seemed fragile like glass. She still remembers the cough that ripped through Kaya's lungs like an old knife. 

Usopp looked at her as if he saw his dream before his eyes. He was love-struck. 

The witch smiled at the realization. A puzzle so easy to solve.

The only thing Luffy loved as much as his dream and crewmates was food. Behind the door where the stairs ended, there was a big table filled with too many plates to count and a variety of dishes. His eyes sparkled as if there was gold. 

A simple minded person, indeed, and maybe that was for the best. 

She couldn't rest. She was on high alert, her heart beating faster each time her eyes glanced over at the butler. The fork in between her fingers stabbed the meat in her plate once in a while, but the knot in her stomach was difficult to undo. The only reason why she managed to remain steady was the swordsman who sat to her left and — by some powers bestowed by the gods — felt steady and safe. His presence pulled her back to reality, stealing her attention. The witch has never been more glad not to be alone. 

"We wanted to talk with you about a ship," Luffy said with a big smile on his face. 

"Right," Kaya smiled back, letting her fork down. "Usopp told me you are sailors."

"We aren't sailors, we are pirates."

Damn it, Luffy! 

The witch gulped, squeezing her eyes shut at their captain's excitement. This was about to end very badly. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

The dinner ended abruptly. Kaya had a coughing fit and she wasn't feeling well, meanwhile, the butler blamed it on Luffy, who got on the table and had an entire speech. They weren't welcome there anymore and were supposed to leave at the first hour in the morning. 

The witch found each opportunity not to be alone, aware it wouldn't be in her advantage in case something happened. When she saw Nami head back to their guest room, the witch followed her. She needed to change out of that dress into something she could run and fight in, like her usual clothes. 

After locking the door behind her, she looked at Nami who was already slipping her arms out of the sleeves of that beautiful red dress. 

"I didn't get to tell you that you look stunning in that, by the way. Definitely the best choice," the witch mumbled as she averted her eyes to offer some privacy. 

"Not really the moment to talk about dress up, is it?"

"I know, but some compliments wouldn't hurt anyone, right?"

Wrong, apparently, since Nami stilled in her tracks. The witch decided to sit in silence for a while, while she changed from the dress as well, pulling on a plain t-shirt and some comfortable jeans she tucked into her boots. 

The woman was aware of Nami who was moving behind her, now holding a pillowcase in between her fingers. It was clear she tried to move fast and leave the room before she could be noticed. 

"Wanna be petty towards that rude butler?" 

"It's not like anyone would notice. She's filthy rich," Nami mumbled through gritted teeth, disappointed about being caught. "Do you have eyes at the back of your head, by any chance?"

"Nope," the witch accentuated the p sound. "Just associating the rustling with the source." 

"Did you eat some kind of sensory devil fruit?"

"Got born with it," the woman joked lightly. 

Only then, she turned towards Nami, who stood tall, head tilted towards her. The witch was convinced about the suspicion she had while doing that tarot reading, but this time there wasn't a turmoil in her chest. The thunderstorm stopped, despite the clouds still covering the sky of her mind. 

"Be careful roaming around with a pillowcase in your hand. We'll get in trouble if anyone catches us, especially the staff. They're creepy as hell."

"The girl hissed at me," Nami scoffed. 

"Gods," the witch placed her hand on her forehead and shook her head. "Do you have any guesses about where the others might be?"

"Zoro drank like two bottles of alcohol, so I'll suppose he's searching for more."

The witch smiled softly at the response, despite the fact that she missed the undertone of Nami's answer. 

"Don't tell me you were curious about Luffy or, worse, Usopp."

"Hm?" 

An intelligent retort. The witch gulped down and looked away, biting at the inside of her cheek. 

"I mean, Luffy gets himself in trouble all the time, it's not hard to find him."

"Are you acting stupid with me?" 

Nami was grinning like the devil itself. Dammit, did she really have to be so observant? 

"I'm pretty aware I'm smart, actually, so I don't get where this comes from," the witch whispered. 

There was a hue pink covering her cheeks and she was fidgeting with her fingers behind her back, doing all of these gestures unconsciously. She felt like an idiot at that moment, she had to admit. 

Then, as if lightning struck her, she widened her eyes for a brief second. She didn't even know why she was there, in that mansion, surrounded by strangers she wanted to put her trust into. 

"What are you thinking of?" Nami asked. 

"None of us promised to become a crew," she shook her head. "It doesn't matter."

The navigator narrowed her eyes at the witch whose shoulders fell, the shyness she felt earlier deflating. 

"It looks like it matters to you, though."

"That's exactly why I'm saying it," she smiled sourly. "Gotta make myself believe otherwise." 

Silence stretched between the two of them. Two women who had stories and feelings to hide knew when to stop from asking questions, even if it would end up bloody later. It was clear both of them wanted to avoid sensitive subjects, even if the witch barely noticed when Nami started being the interrogator. 

"Be careful, Nami," the witch smiled at her sincerely. "Usopp may be good at bluffing, but I'm better at playing the innocent. If you need someone to gaslight the shit out of the butler, just tell me."

I know what you do is wrong, but I believe you'll make a wise decision by the end of this all. I believe in your reasoning and I hope you can put your trust in me as well. 

"Noted," and with that, the navigator left the room. 

The witch almost got lost in that labyrinth again. She wanted to go to the kitchen, place where Luffy most probably was, but maybe she walked down a bit too many stairs and headed to the wrong side of the mansion. 

She saw a tall figure in the dark basement where barrels full of wine were arranged with utmost care. She furrowed her eyebrows when she saw Klahadore standing in the way, making one step back. Face to face with him was Zoro, who was ready to draw his sword out of its scabbard, but he quickly got hit in the back of his head by someone.

The witch's eyes widened, but she received the same treatment by someone who managed to sneak behind her back. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

Her head ached, sending daggers all the way to her forehead. The witch let out a guttural groan and her hand flew to her nape, caressing the sore spot.

When her eyes opened, she was greeted by the dead body of Merry, the business man she noticed at the dinner. She flinched, scrambling to her feet, which wasn't an intelligent idea. Her vision blurred black and she felt dizzy, suddenly unsteady. If not for Zoro's grip on her arms, she would've fallen ungraciously on her butt. 

"What the heck?" she mumbled. 

After a few seconds that felt a bit too long, she couldn't understand exactly why it was so cold in that place. Her chin tilted back so she could look up at the night sky. 

They were at the bottom of a well. 

"We have to get out," Zoro spoke in a gruff voice. 

He sighed heavily and let go of the witch, while she looked at him with the face of are you fucking serious? 

"How?" she spoke without thinking. 

After a failed attempt to escape by using a long rope with a big hook attached to it, she tried using her short knives to stick the blades in between the rocks; it didn't work either. 

There was only one option left and she was speechless. 

Her heart sank when she watched Zoro grip at the rocks. He was strong, yes, definitely stronger than her on the physical side, but what if he couldn't climb up? What if he would fall? 

Then I'd catch him. We either die here together or we get out together. 

Her mind was set. She watched him carefully, gulping when she watched him struggle. His weight might do some damage if she dared to be reckless enough to catch him, but he was the only one who could climb those rocks. If she would've tried, she'd surely fall.

Just like she supposed, his fingers didn't grip well enough at one of the rocks and his feet slipped. He lost his equilibrium and wasn't fast enough to clutch onto another rock or stabilize his foot in time, and he fell back. 

Maybe that witch was more reckless than anyone would've guessed. On top of it, she was selfless enough to believe that if he managed to get out and get help, it didn't matter what happened later, so she tried her best to mitigate the impact.

She was right — air got knocked out of her lungs when his body fell on top of hers and she groaned, but at least he didn't break some ribs. Her arms were wrapped around his waist and her fingers clutched at his shirt. Pain traveled through her body quickly and didn't disappear, but the adrenaline paid off. 

"Are you alright?" she asked him in a hurry. 

"You're insane," Zoro concluded, exasperated. 

His back was glued to her chest and he tilted his head to the side to look at her. Maybe, for once, he was right about her. 

"I'd rather break one of my ribs. You're the only one who can get us out," she argued with a frown between her eyebrows. 

The witch looked away and blinked. She didn't want to focus on how hot the air felt, despite the bone chilling cold in that tight space. The butterflies in her stomach could be ignored if she gathered enough self control in time. 

However, Zoro didn't move. He seemed troubled, completely out of it as he continued to look up at the night sky with a scowl on his face. His entire body was tense and he was deep down in his thoughts, especially since he didn't move a finger since he disagreed with her idea of "helping". 

As if struck by lightning, he got back up, following the same steps from earlier. 

"Be careful." 

He stopped in his tracks right after his fingers gripped at some rocks. 

"Move away if I fall again."

"I won't move and you won't fall." 

It pushed him at the edge, mingling with the memories flowing through his mind about his long lost friend, about the girl whose strength he admired so greatly it made him move again. For a brief second, he thought of himself as a coward for overthinking the process. He either got out alive and managed to get her out as well, or they were both doomed — there was no in between. 

Steadily, a tad bit slower than before, he climbed up the wall. His body ached at the effort when he was more than half way through and he would stop for a few seconds before making another move, clutching at another rock that would get him higher. 

Despite being so low, several meters under the ground, her trust in him didn't waver. Her heart squeezed with worry, but she wanted to follow her instinct and how much she believed in him, even if it was unusual. Maybe it was because of his stubbornness, since if he was set on something, there was no way of stopping him. 

He lost his equilibrium for a fraction of a second. Her breath hitched, eyes widening, his name stopping on the tip of her tongue. 

His foot slipped and some dust fell to the bottom of the well, next to her. She breathed out in relief when he was quick enough to grip at another rock. 

The witch didn't doubt him one bit when he finally got out of the well. He kept the rope he found in the well at his waist while he climbed up, so he could help her get out too. 

From up there, Zoro held tightly onto the rope, just as tightly as she did, even if her fingers hurt and she didn't exactly trust her body to be strong enough. She gripped at the cord and climbed the stone wall, gritting her teeth whenever it seemed like she might fall.

Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Repeat.  

It was a slow process, which was worrisome from her perspective. She advanced, but the longer she struggled, it felt endless. 

For the record, she believed in Zoro more than she believed in herself — she didn't have low self-esteem either. 

"Look up," he reminded her firmly. 

He prompted his feet into the ground and held tightly, waiting for her. 

"Trying," she mumbled to herself. 

Slowly, she got closer and closer to the exit. Zoro bent his torso and curled his fingers around her forearm, managing to help her out. 

"Fuck," she cursed. 

Her breath was labored and she was sweating heavily, a droplet falling from her temple to her jaw and down her neck. She let herself on the grass, her arm still in his hand. 

"I owe you my life," she breathlessly mumbled. 

Unconsciously, her fingers were clutching onto his arm for support, even if her knees trembled from the tumult she went through. 

"We have time for that later," he brushed it off. "We have to find the others." 

"That butler isn't new to killing people who stand in his way. We better hurry before he chops us off." 

"His name is Kuro. He was the captain of the Black Cat Pirates and supposedly died three years ago, when Axe-Hand Morgan killed him — the Marine Captain we encountered back in Shell Town."

The swordsman kept his grip firm on her, carefully bringing her back to her feet while he talked. 

"I saw his face on a wanted poster some time ago, but since he was presumed dead, no one cared anymore."

"He looked very much alive to me," the witch retorted. 

"I was with Usopp when I went to get wine and he managed to escape from the butler. Maybe he went to search for help, even if I doubt any untrained person could harm these pirates. Luffy was in the kitchen, eating some weird blue food." 

Zoro let go of her and walked in the opposite direction of the mansion and she looked at him confused.  

"Oi, Zoro, the house is the other way—"

Then, when she looked at the path that went through the forest surrounding the mansion, she felt a pull towards it. She furrowed her eyebrows and continued staring.

"You go that way. Nami is surely still inside."

"You just said I went in the opposite direction, though?" Zoro arched his eyebrow at her. 

"Usopp searched for help, but if we think about it, Kaya said he has a lot of stories to tell. He's bluffing a lot, even if with no bad intentions. Maybe he found someone — if there's no sign of life on the path, come back."

"And you?" 

"I'll find Nami and Kaya somehow." 

Zoro didn't believe in superstitions and higher beings, but he trusted her instinct, so he headed the other way. The witch opened the door slowly, making no sounds. She slipped inside and looked around for an insane pirate who hisses — these two were creepy. 

The young woman flinched when all the light suddenly disappeared and behind her, a heavy metal wall met the floor, stopping everyone from moving in or out of there. Fuck. 

She gripped with both of her hands at the daggers she held at her hip, holding them securely. With slow steps, the witch made her way through the house. The big candelabrum hanging from the ceiling marked the way to enter and leave the house. To the left was the kitchen and to her right was the living room. The guest rooms and dormitories were upstairs. She still remembers which one was her room for the might and the bathroom. 

If she didn't want to die there, she had to quickly figure that place out. 

She heard one single step from the stairs and her attention shot up. Sham looked at her perplexed, but grinned widely. 

"You were supposed to be dead, little mouse."

"Don't confound me with your food," the witch held the knives tighter. 

Instantly, the woman jumped at her with a mop in her hands. The witch dodged the attack with a knife and the one that followed, bending her knees to avoid getting hit again. She tried to cut Sham's leg with her knife, but the maid was fast, jumping back in time. 

Zoro, if you get lost on the way back, I'll wake up from the dead and kill you, she thought to herself. 

"Captain Kuro will kill Kaya tonight and there's nothing you can do to stop him." 

Sham's wooden mop clashed against the witch's dagger and avoided the knife which almost sunk into her shoulder. Sham attempted to make her fall by kicking her legs, but the witch made a light jump before she could fall. 

It would draw attention to her and the cook might appear out of nowhere, but the witch sheathed one of the knives and pulled a pistol, aiming at the hissing woman. 

"I'm too fast for your shitty guns, girl."

Yeah, sure. It was her time to grin at Sham. 

Her eyes followed each of the maid's movements, moving her arm just in time to shoot her side. Sham was lucky enough to move out of the way, but the next bullet scarred her upper arm, another hiss leaving her lips. 

"Fuck."

Aw, the kitty was angry. 

The witch widened her eyes when she saw Sham pull a sword that seemed more suited for decor. She had to dodge the next attack, the blade almost touching her neck when she stopped it with her knife. 

"Hey, Sham, do you need some help?" 

The witch gulped at the new voice. It was the cook. 

"I don't really think so." 

The witch jumped back before her neck got cut, breathing heavily. She had to block other attacks while she attempted to find a weak spot, an opening to shoot and do it well. 

The witch groaned when the blade left a deep and clean slice on her left upper arm. It stretched horizontally on the side. The shock almost paralyzed her and blood was quick to flow down her arm. 

She tossed a knife through the air, the tip sinking straight into Sham's right arm. 

A weight sound caught her attention and she turned her head towards the metal wall behind her that was slowly being lifted up by strong arms. Who the fuck could—

Oh, right. They had a bulky swordsman as part of the crew. 

"Took you long enough," the witch muttered through gritted teeth. 

Luffy bent down and smiled at her widely. 

"Sorry for that."

"Keep apologies for later. Go after Kuro — he wants to kill Kaya." 

Zoro followed the straw hat, straightening his back when he got inside. His eyes narrowed when he saw the crimson liquid covering the witch's arm, drawing his swords out. He could use the adrenaline pumping through his veins against the man who launched an attack at him. 

"Go, Luffy. We'll keep these two occupied," he instructed. 

The scent of blood filled the witch's nostrils. She aimed the gun at Butchy and the bullet flew right next to his ear, stopping him from hitting the swordsman. Sham was bold for taking the knife out of her arm and running towards the witch with the weapon in her hold. The witch stumbled and her back glued the floor, both her hands gripping harshly at Sham's arm, stopping the tip of the knife a few centimeters above her eyes. 

"You little bitch," the pirate hissed at her. 

The witch kicked the maid into the stomach with her knee, pushing her off of her. Luffy disappeared and the sound of blades clashing against each other filled the room. 

Zoro used raw strength whenever he attacked Butchy, his swords almost cutting through the man with swift gestures of the wrist, elbows angled perfectly. He had more fighting experience than her and it showed, so she was more than just happy not to get sliced in half by the other two. 

She cussed when she remembered she had only one revolver, the other one left in the room. She had three bullets left. 

Her head got cloudy when she quickly got back to her feet, her breathing labored. She was tired and the only reason why she ignored her bleeding wound was the adrenaline. 

This time, when Sham attacked with the mop, the witch only moved to the side and took advantage of the opportunity to cut with the knife through the flesh, the tip sinking deeper and deeper into the maid's stomach, until her body went limp. 

The witch let Sham fall to the floor and stepped back. She felt her pulse pump through her head, slowing her down. She tried to focus on breathing evenly and eventually not passing out. 

She heard a loud thump — the cook was down and Zoro sheathed his swords. He didn't break a sweat, or so it looked from her blurry perspective. 

A sound rang through the air sharper than her daggers and it lit her on fire. The sound of her name being spoken with worry latched onto Zoro's voice. 

He walked down two or three stairs at once, undoing the bandana from his head and wrapping it around her wound. She hissed when he knotted the material tightly in order to stop the bleeding. 

"Thanks," she whispered, her body still tense. 

•┈┈┈•┈┈┈•┈┈┈

"Don't mention it," Luffy smiled widely at Kaya. "We couldn't have let him hurt you or deceive people anymore."

If it wasn't for his rubber body, maybe they wouldn't have gotten out alive, but luck sided with them again. 

"I could never thank you enough, but this is all I can do for you now."

The witch stared at the goat figurehead of the ship Luffy was enamored with. Kaya talked, but the words weren't registering in the woman's ears since a small little creature curled around one of her legs. The black cat mewled sweetly and begged for attention, a luxury it received quickly. The witch crouched down and petted the animal with a smile on her lips, brushing her fingers over the soft fur. The cat purred loudly, rolling on its back and pawing at the woman, greedy for affection. 

"How's your wound?" 

When she lifted her head, her eyes met Zoro's. One of his hands rested on the hilt of his Wado Ichimoji and the other was stuffed into the pocket of his jeans — she learned that was one of his most relaxed stances. 

His bandana was still wrapped around her upper arm and the bleeding stopped long ago. She didn't get the chance to properly clean her arm or tend to the cut, but she felt content. 

"I'll care for it on the ship after we set sail," she said in a soft voice. 

Yes, that was the voice that made his heart hammer in his chest, he remembered. Finally, after a day filled with anxiety and panic, he could watch her shoulders relax, even if he wasn't exactly pleased with her lack of attention. 

"Let's go!" Luffy shouted at them. 

The witch stood up, wincing at the smallest movement of her arm, and that didn't go unnoticed by the swordsman. 

She still avoided his question, he concluded. She said she'll care for the wound, not how it felt. 

He tapped the hilt of his sword repeatedly and took a decision he didn't know if he'll regret later, following close behind her. 

Tag list: @emelia07 @dimplewonie @tfamidoingwithmylife @murnsondock @the-skys-musical-echo @conspiracy-crows @hallow33nz @ramae17 @gaslysainz @bunntsu @katt58 @katiemrty @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @freyademartel @boofy1998

[paintbrushnebula]

I got a 💡 about the supposed Gwen Stacy Variant we've been told will be plot integral to Beyond the Spider-Verse

Now Idk if I'd actually want this to happen, but wouldn't it be insane if during BTSV, at some point during the Spider-Band's journey across dimensions to bring Miles home, they stop by a certain dimension where a Gwen Stacy Variant is living and at least knows a Spider-Man.

The Gwen Variant is bright and optimistic and knows who she is and what she wants out of life. She has set goals and aspirations! She's a planner! She has big dreams!

Then Spider Gwen becomes acquainted with her to some degree, confiding in her a little too much in an emotionally vulnerable time. This Gwen Variant (not sure how this will happen) somehow is made aware of the fate of the Gwen Stacys who aren't Spider-People. I imagine Gwen would vent about all that's making her scared or her emotional baggage, and we see how her being the Gwen who lives but loses others is making her afraid of the future.

So when the Gwen Variant hears that her role in the story is to die, she wants to escape her fate.

Gwen Variant is young, bright, has DREAMS. She won't die a supporting character in someone else's story. She deserves her own story! She wants to live her life!

So like, now idk HOW she'd do this, but what if she managed to incapacitate Spider Gwen (or maybe knock her unconscious?), take her Spider Suit, her watch, shaves off half her hair to imitate Spider Gwen's, and leave her to take her place in her universe to suffer the canon event?

So now, Gwen Variant takes Spider Gwen's place, playing the part (or trying to) so that the Spider Band doesn't suspect anything. Sure, she has a watch now, but she needs the other spiders to believe she's their Gwen so that they don't, well, take her watch and throw her back in her dimension and get their own Gwen back.

Now imagine where this could go.

Our Gwen is trapped in this dimension with two hopes: either that her friends find out they've got the wrong Gwen, or she somehow finds a way to escape this dimension without a watch before she glitches to death.

And the Gwen Variant has to keep up appearances. And one of the most crucial parts of doing that is with Miles. Imagine how she'll have to step into Gwen's shoes, resume her place in the middle of things being so very tense with Miles? How she'll have to fix things as an objective observer with no skin in the game?!

It could be interesting, because we'd see how this Gwen is different from our Gwen. More outgoing. Mor3 optimistic. More open. She isn't a mystery, she opens up and says how she feels.

Hnnnng wait I got another idea 💡

So imagine before the switch happens, while Spider Gwen is venting about everything to Gwen Variant, she opens up about how things have gotten between her and Miles. So Gwen Variant tries to be supportive! She asks her, what would she do or say to make things right with Miles? Then, Spider Gwen answers this by getting really candid, starts saying all these precious words she wishes she could just say, out-loud, to his face, little romantic gestures she'd do, but she's nervous, afraid to take the leap.

So now, Gwen Variant, knowing the full story of what went down between Spider Gwen and Miles, as well as all of Spider Gwen's, ehem. Romantic ideas, has everything she needs to make things right with Miles and thus keep up appearances.

And it ends up working REALLY well with Miles, because this Gwen is much more extraverted, we'll find out. It's almost too much. Too different, what happened to his Gwen?

Imagine when Miles becomes confused? How he'll wrestle with wanting to believe that this new and exciting Gwen who openly says all the things he's been waiting to hear from her is really his Gwen, but knowing deep inside that she's not?

So the plan is all falling into place for the Gwen Variant. When the chance shows itself and Miles and the other Spider Band members aren't looking, she will run off on her own and be a free spirit across the multiverse! Free from the shackles of her universe. Free from canon, free from death!

I don't know if this is what I'd want to happen, but I think it'd be a very interesting direction.

[pouralaura]

This is like THE question of the ages but here goes. Is your Raphael capable of love? It is my understanding that devils are capable of an obsessive, manipulative, perverted version of it; but the Raphael in your fics has a particular human fallibility that is endearing, and a willingness to entertain those follies (for the sake of his favorite mouse) that I’m wondering if it’s possible that he would (accidentally) fall in love in a mortal sense, going against his fiendish nature (it would have to be a very special mouse). I’d love to hear your take on his fiend/human dichotomy. 🫶

what a fabulous question. thank you for asking! I've thought a lot about this and I always come to the same conclusion: yes, my Raphael is in fact capable of love. there is a "however" which I will get to shortly.

let me first say that I really simply do not care about canon. bro lives in my head rent-free as his own entity and does not necessarily fit DnD/BG lore in that space. that's just a disclaimer, take it as you will.

Raphael's love with my Tav (both generic and my Eris specifically) is definitely just magnetic obsession at first until they realize how hard they match each other's freak. he power plays and power plays and power plays, letting his mouse in ON HIS TERMS ALONE until it's too late and she's as much a part of him as he is of her. fwiw, Tav/Eris's love is the same as his - but his makes him more human and hers makes her less, all for better or for worse. and I think his capacity for love has so much to do with the other person in the equation, which is extremely human of him - Tav pushes him back and needles him but also worships him in her own way, taking on some of his traits the more time she spends with him. some of that is unconscious and some is fully intentional. it's all a part of the Game, which, for her, is Understanding (literally figuring out what makes him tick), while for him it's Winning (taking what he knows of her and using/manipulating it however he wants). Raphael is a narcissist and naturally loves himself most of all, but once he sees himself reflected in another person I think that unlocks a new layer of longing and deep connection within him.

I've used the lyric I won't speak of love since the beginning of writing about the two of them and it's always gonna fit. Tav/Eris knows what the feeling is on both sides, because she is 100% human and overly perceptive, intuitive, and insightful. but she is smart enough not to push that understanding onto Raphael because attempting to force him to admit what he perceives as a weakness would destroy their dynamic.

which brings me to my main point: again, yes, he is capable of love. he is even capable of unconditional love.

BUT

he will not accept that about himself, even for a moment. his love is obsessive and manipulative and perverted OF COURSE but it's also his purest emotion, which is an embarrassment. he will ignore the truth of what it is fully out of pride. if Eris pushed him to acknowledge it he would drop her in an instant and shed all remaining traces of his humanity. it's simultaneously the strongest connection he has with anyone and the thinnest tightrope of a line they could possibly walk - but they complement each other so well that they've somehow found that perfect unacknowledged balance. Eris is prideful too but understands that to maintain the status quo she MUST swallow some of her pride and allow Raphael to keep up appearances for his own sake - which is one of her major ways of showing love from her side.

he loves her purely and earnestly and deeply but he will ALWAYS love himself and his image more. some might say that means he is not capable of real love but I think the two can coexist! people are complicated!

this is fun to think about and I really hope it makes any kind of coherent sense all written out.

[doctorprofessorsong]

carving deep blue ripples by dothraki_shieldmaiden @dothwrites (Explicit, 85k)

I am a sucker for Stanford Era Dean and a creature Cas fic, so this one feels tailormade to my interests.

Dean finds himself hunting alone after his Dad sends him away with the Impala. It was bad enough when Sammy walked out the door, but now his own Dad has sent him away. But Dean’s a hunter, so that's what he's gonna do. A chance encounter with Cas, another hunter, evolves into a partnership and, perhaps, if Dean can just let go, something more. But Cas has a secret that threatens to tear them apart.

This one has great mythology, top tier monsters and so much delicious pining. Dothraki_shieldmaiden manages to incorporate so much delicious canon into this adjacent fic that you will be gnawing at the walls. Seriously buckle up. It's a great ride.

Heavyweight by valleydean (emmbrancsxx0) @valleydean (Explicit, 206k)

Look, Mallory has the unique ability to write versions of Dean and Cas that crawl into your brain and set up residence, but these particular ones are just *chef's kiss* perfection. Deeply unwell over each other, off-putting and sometimes objectively terrible and yet I love them to my bones.

Set in the 1920s against the backdrop of the golden age of boxing, Dean is a light heavyweight champion looking to make his name in the heavyweights. But the reappearance of his secret ex, Cas, threatens everything. Cas left town under the cloud of a scandal. Left DEAN. And now he's back to try and restore his name.

The pining. The push and pull. There were times where I thought a happy ending was impossible but she did it. She really really did. There’s horny sparring. There are suits and fancy prohibition Era parties. There are VIBES. Seriously this one is just so freaking good.

When I Knew You by FriendofCarlotta and xfancyfranart @friendofcarlotta , @xfancyfranart (Explicit, 54k)

Time travel love stories are tricky and sometimes they hit for me (as you can probably guess from my name) while sometimes the don't. This one was an absolute homerun. Dean and Cas are both so deeply lonely and there is this sense of desperate intensity that is woven through the story that will male you feral.

Dean's working to try to put together the cracked pieces of his life after the one two punch of losing his dad and his business. But he's off to a rocky start when he learns that the prior owner of his new house died suddenly.

Even stranger, a shimmering light appears in his living room and suddenly he finds himself face to face with the guy, somehow having traveled to the past. In stolen moments, they discover that maybe happiness isn't as elusive as it felt. But the time is ticking. Can Dean save Cas from his fate, and if so, what will happen to them?

Dean Winchester and the Stolen Tupperware by MalMuses @malmuses (Explicit, 35k)

It's been a hot minute since this one came out and you may have already heard about it as a result, but this fic is just a fluffy, pure delight.

Cas is a single, nerdy professor whose idea of a wild Saturday night is watching dashing Dean Winchester, a real life Indiana Jones type adventurer archeologist, on YouTube. Dean is looking for some stability and just hoping to find a place to establish a career that doesn't involve constantly traveling. Sparks and awkward cuteness fly when they meet.

This one is perfect for a low angst love story. Also, Dean and Cas will make you deeply fond (and Meg in this fic can step on me).

Night at the Impala Theater by Speary @spearywritesstuff (Explicit, 52k)

It's difficult to explain what is so great about this fic without revealing more than I want to about the plot because there are some delightful and twisty bits. Suffice to say, it's a fun ride not just because of Dean and Cas, but the really fun side characters (Especially Rowena, my beloved, who is amazing and witchy).

The story revolves around Dean, a lonely guy running the family business - a historic movie theater he inherited from his Dad. But his life is changed when he finds a mysterious film series on his doorstep. The film noir flick follows a smoldering PI named Castiel. For some reason Dean can't get enough of the movies. And yet, all attempts to track down any information about the series is frustratingly bare. Where will his obsession lead? Not telling. Go read it. :)

torture is your name on my lips by theseancequeen @theseancequeen (Explicit, 4.6k)

This fun little one-shot smutty yet emotional fic explores a world where Demon Dean summons Cas after years of separation and they hook up while both lying about the depth of their feelings. It's a magnificent blend of angst, softness and need that ends on a deeply satisfying and surprisingly hopeful note.

Scorched Earth by AmberXBoone @amberxboone (Explicit, 155k)

Distraught over confirmation that his father intentionally started the fire that killed Mary Winchester (and nearly Dean and Sam), and then used his position as a police officer in a corrupt system to cover it up, Dean decides to give John a taste of justice by burning him in his home. He's a murderer and he fully expects to pay. But a chance meeting with burnt out DA Castiel Novak changes both of their loves forever and suddenly they have something to fight for. Can they take down the corrupt system or will Dean be locked away?

The plot of this fic alone is a ride. But what really brings this one home is the impeccable use of canon characters. I love these versions of them all so much. And it's truly a delight to see everyone join together to fight the corruption and save Dean (whether he deserves it or not cause he definitely doesn't think he deserves to be saved). The fic is also broken up into short chapters which makes it super readable if you are the type who picks things up for one scene and then puts it back down (could never be me I binged it like i was on fire myself but I admire it).

The premise is dark, but it's the light moments that make this fic really shine.

Check out my other fic recs at @riversrecs

[untitled5071]

Here's a one shot for you(if you don't mind another one for me) Taffy finds out about the monster sooner via going into Lisa's closet. The situation ends up like that scene from Et. And Lisa makes Taffy promise to keep it secret. Honestly the monster ends up more scared from all the screaming than Taffy.

I hope you like this one, I love messing around in canon.

🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦🪦

“Lis, have you seen my chunky white belt? I can’t remember if I ever got it back after you borrowed it for that brunch last month.”

If her stepsister responded, then Taffy couldn’t hear her, already too far away and crossing the threshold into Lisa’s bedroom to look for her missing accessory. It would go so well with the denim jacket she wanted to wear to Lori’s after practice that night, and she was sure that Lisa was the last person to wear it. Taffy was a little worried about her; she didn’t believe that she was crazy like her mom said, but she had to admit that when they came home from the movies last night and found the house trashed and Lisa, pajamas colored with a mysterious green stain and insisting it was a home break in, it didn’t look too good for her. But she was still determined to treat her as normally as possible, and give her the support their parents clearly wouldn’t. 

That’s what sisters were for, after all. 

Speaking of their parents, Dale had left for work already and her mom was at her morning aerobics class, so it was up to Taffy and Lisa to get themselves ready and to school on time. She hadn’t seen Lisa yet that day, their morning routines being just different enough to keep their paths from crossing. But when Taffy entered Lisa’s room, it was empty, meaning her stepsister must be either in the downstairs bathroom or having breakfast. 

Humming a little Blondie to herself, Taffy crossed over to Lisa’s closet, taking a second to look at the poster of the weird moon with the face that Lisa insisted on hanging on the doors. She had tried to show Taffy the movie once, but despite her best efforts Taffy just…didn’t get it. But Lisa seemed to appreciate the fact that she tried, and that was good enough for her. 

She was so engrossed in thoughts of other movies she and Lisa could watch that they might actually bond over that she didn’t really notice the man sitting on the floor of Lisa’s closet until she was already screaming.

To his credit, the man screamed too, a guttural sound made with a decaying and blackened mouth, which only made Taffy’s pitch rise. She didn’t stop as she sprinted through the bathroom, the hall, a third of the way down the stairs and smack-dab into Lisa, who was shouting and clearly headed up to see what the commotion was about. The two of them tumbled down the remaining few steps together in a jumble of limbs, landing at the bottom with a crash. Taffy didn’t even bother to assess her own bruises or ask Lisa if she was okay before she was on her feet and pulling her sister with her. 

“Holy SHIT Lisa, we have to go, get up, we’ve gotta get out of here, there’s a guy in your closet, we’ve got to call 911, get to the car before he-AAAA!”

Taffy’s ramblings were cut off by a renewed bout of screams as she pointed at the specter that had just appeared at the top of the stairs, groaning at the two of them. She sidestepped as quickly as she could to get in front of Lisa in case he tried to make a move; every instinct she had was screaming for her to save herself, but she refused to let Lisa go down the same path her mom did if she could help it. But to her surprise, her sister was somehow quicker, ducking under Taffy’s arm and sprinting up the stairs so that she was stationed between the two, arms out like she was trying to break up a school fight. 

“Woah woah woah, everyone just SHUT UP!”

Taffy was still getting used to hearing Lisa speak at all, so hearing her shout was incredibly effective. The sound in the room died almost immediately, the man shutting his mouth and looking a little too eager to do as Lisa said. Lisa took a deep breath before turning to Taffy, who refused to take her eyes off the stranger while her sister’s back was turned to him. 

“Thank you. That’s better. Okay so, I was totally not planning on making introductions this early, or at all if I’m being honest, but here goes nothing. Taff, you remember how I was telling you about my favorite grave in Bachelor’s Grove the other night on the way to the party?”

Taffy risked taking her eyes off the sallow man at the top of the stairs just long enough to flick them to Lisa in confirmation. 

Her sister held her hands up to the man in an exaggerated “ta da” gesture that left Taffy less impressed and more horrified. She looked in between the two frantically, not wanting to believe it. 

“This…this is him?”

Lisa nodded, and ascended the last few stairs to join the corpse-holy fuck there was a corpse standing in her house-at the top, gently grabbing hold of his arm and pointing to where Taffy was standing in the foyer. 

“My sister, Taffy.”

The dead man inclined his head and grunted in acknowledgement, and Taffy took a second to look at him. His skin was pallid and a little green, pulled tight over old bones. His right hand-was there even a hand there?-was wrapped in a green cloth, and his eye sockets were sunken, contrasting against impossibly bright pupils. His hair was shaggy and black, and he sported some totally old-fashioned mutton chops. Every alarm bell in Taffy’s head was still pinging away, but Lisa seemed perfectly comfortable around him, and she took a moment to adjust…

“Is that my green blazer?”

To her credit, Lisa had the sense to look sheepish, shrugging with a small smile. 

“Sisters share?”

Before Taffy could decide if she was happy about Lisa acknowledging their sisterhood or disgusted that she took advantage of said sisterhood to give her clothes to a dead man, Lisa descended the stairs again, approaching Taffy almost cautiously while the creature watched them from above. Lisa stopped right before she got to the cheerleader, reaching out like she was going to take her hand but stopping halfway, instead choosing to fiddle with her black lace sleeves. She didn’t meet Taffy’s eyes as she spoke. 

“Listen, Taff. I know this is like…a wicked big ask, but do you think you could help me keep him a secret? I don’t want him to get like…shot or burned alive or whatever, and once you get over the smell he’s really sweet, and it would really mean a lot to me. Please?”

Lisa's bright blue eyes blinked up at her, hands clasped as she pleaded. Honestly, all of this was way too much for Taffy to process at 6:45 and the morning and definitely too much for her to process sober, so she just nodded, mentally making a note to drill Lisa on the circumstances behind the corpse’s presence later, as well as the corpse’s intentions with her sister. 

Lisa seemed pleased that introductions had gone better than expected. She smiled brighter than Taffy had seen her in a long time and patted her dead crush on the shoulder. 

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, you need to get back into my closet, and we need to go to school to have a totally normal day of hiding totally normal secrets. Meet you at the car in 5, Taff? Okay great, see you then!”

Without waiting for an answer, Lisa gave her stepsister a hurried thumbs up and literally pushed her undead friend into her bedroom, her black lace skirts flowing behind her. Taffy stared blankly at the spot where they had been standing, wondering if she had the mental capacity to drive after all this, yet alone to do calculus, before the image of Lisa’s outfit finally resonated with her. 

“Wait, is that my dress?”

[mids-stupid-shit]

This was mostly made for @rabid-raccoontail but whoever wants to get into Mortal Kombat, this is your lucky day. So welcome everyone to the

Idiots guide to Mortal Kombat

Also this is going to be my biggest post yet so if you like to read this is the place for you. If you can't picture the characters I name, look them up on google.

Also this contains heavy spoilers for the ENTIRE series.

So sorry for the wait, I hope you enjoy this

What is a Mortal Kombat?

To get a basic understanding of the series you got 3 canons to work with. You have the Midway games (Original Dev team), you have The NRS reboot (the canon most people are known with) and you got the The New Era ( the one that changed it all).

Classic games

The first game takes place on an Island owned by Shang Tsung, the final boss. The whole premise of why everyone is fighting on an island is because of the Mortal Kombat tournament, which happens every generation, and is a tournament mostly against Earthrealm and Outworld. Basically how it works, is if your realm wins 10 tournaments in a row, your realm gets fused with the winners (but also you can choose not to do that because fuck it). Outworld won 9 tournaments and with this one, one of the biggest villains of the franchise, Shao Kahn, fuses Earthrealm with Outworld and fucks up the entire human race. Our champions, Liu Kang a Shaolin monk, Johnny Cage the actor and Sonya Blade a Special Forces Commander, led by the thunder God Raiden won't let that shit slide. Oh also Kano is here and he's a proper Aussie, ye m8? Anyways, Liu Kang sweeps the floor with everyone, including a four armed hurdling mass of muscle named Goro, kicks Shang Tsungs ass and practically saves the Earth. Bonus fun fact, Scorpion kills Sub Zero because he thought he killed his family and clan and as revenge, he spit roasts him.

MK2 takes place some time after that with Shang looking a little sexier and asking the Earthrealmers to join a second MK tournament. If they don't oblige, they're gonna invade Earth (save that for a little later). Also Sub Zero is back, except not really the one who got killed by Scorpion was Bi-Han, and this is his younger brother, Kuai Liang. Getting back on topic we got some new characters like Jax, Sonya's partner from the Special Forces, Kuai Liang Sub Zero, Kung Lao who's the cooler Shaolin monk and also has a hat that's also a throwing weapon, Kitana, who is the main villains step daughter (sorta), Mileena, who's a test tube baby made by Shang Tsung for Shao Kahn, Reptile, who as you could guess is a lizard, and Barraka, who has Nosferatu's face (but also like, his species is tied to Mileena's creation because she's half Tarkatan. Anyways, some shit happens and Liu Kang beats the fuck out of Shao Kahn.

MK3, instead of being yet another tournament, Shao Kahn says FUCK IT and invades earth with the Outworld armies. Not only that, but the Lin Kuei (Sub Zero's clan) are being turned into cyborgs. All but one of them escaped, that one being Sub Zero. One cop survives New York, Johnny Cage gets killed by a centaur, there's a speedster with swords and fireballs coming out of his face, and boom, bang BING, we got some new characters. There's Stryker the Cop I talked about a few seconds ago, Kabal the speedster because the co-creator really wanted to make a psycho killer flash, Cyrax Sektor and Smoke who are the cyber Lin Kuei, Rain, who appears in like 5 games but only does something in 3 and isn't playable in one of the games he's in, Night Wolf who's a native American, Ermac who uses they/them and Sindel, the biggest bitch in the fucking seven seas. Oh also Bi-Han is back and he's edgy. He now goes by Noob Saibot, which if you read backwards is Tobias and Boon, the creators of Mortal Kombat. No time for that though because somehow Shao Kahn returned after being fisted, Johnny Cage gets brought back to life and Liu Kang kills Shao Kahn once more again, the end.

If that's not confusing enough, we aren't done yet because now we got

3D games

I'm not doing Mortal Kombat 4

Deadly Alliance starts with Shang Tsung and his boyfriend Quan Chi snapping Liu Kang's neck so he can't interrupt them in reawakening Onaga, the king of all scalies and one of the most powerful forces in the realms. And now Liu Kang is a zombie, Raiden kicks Shang and Quan's asses or at least tries. Also we're introduced to Kenshi Takahashi the blind swordsman with a magic sword, and sexy vampire pirate lady, Nitara, more on her later.

Deception takes place right after that, where Raiden is trying to fight the Deadly Alliance (who are literally just Shang and Quan), failing. Raiden dies, Quan Chi kills Shang Tsung which somehow awakens Onaga. Quan can't do piss and trying to fight him, somehow brings both Raiden and Shang Tsung back to life... Okay?? And then Raiden nukes himself and Onaga walks it off. Deceptions protagonist is a little shit called Shujinko, a student of Bo Rai Cho, the same man who trained Kung Lao and Liu Kang. He then gets encountered by Damashi, a glowy ball that tells him he has to help the Elder Gods by retrieving the Kamidogu (which are basically Jewelry that hold the fabric of the universe). And Shujinko, being the gullible idiot he is accepts. And from this point on, the game turns into you fixing everyone else's problems like finding Bo Rai Cho's sodding watch, getting water back from another realm, and beating the shit out of Wesley Snipes. Speaking of Blade we got other sick characters like Kira and Kobra, Black Dragon members and one of them is named after a martial art/movie, Havik who is a klerk of chaos, Hotaru the Policemun, Dairou who's an outlaw loose and runnin', and Li Mei, voiced by Kelly Hu in the latest game. After all that, you find all the Kamidogu, you defeat everyone + Scorpion is the final boss (don't ask me, I don't fuggin know why) and what's your reward? Realizing you've been deceived the whole game and not seeing a final battle between Onaga and Shujinko (even though Shujinko can definitely beat Onaga but fuck it).

Armageddon begins with this schmuck named Argus, an Edenian God who did it with a mortal woman Delia and they had two boys who had to be put in stalagmites because Argus knows the apocalypse is on its way. Thousands of years later, Daegon and Taven, the two brothers wake up. Daegon basically made the Red Dragon clan, named after Caro who's basically Taven's spirit animal and he helps bring about the apocalypse. Taven's character can be summed up to "Who are you? Who's that? Uuuuh..." But that's what I love about him. Anyways, Taven looks for his asshole brother, de-frosts a bad bitch and kicks everyone's ass. Which translates to what Armageddon really is. All the characters choose sides. We get one of the coolest fmv sequences in PS2 history and everyone dies trying to take Blaze's power. Blaze is a demigod-esque creation made by Argus to warn Taven and Daegon about the apocalypse, but also whoever kills him, gains his power and basically becomes the developer of the game. But because Taven is the main character, he has to kill everyone he encounters, a few of those people being one's he was proud to call friends. He climbs to the top, kills Daegon, destroys Blaze and saves the universe, the end.

Yeah I lied lol

Netherrealm Era

After Armageddon, Midway shut down, Warner Brothers bought Mortal Kombat and Netherrealm studios took over the franchise and this is where it all went downhill.

Mortal Kombat 9 starts with the end of the previous game. Except it doesn't, because Taven is somehow not here and Shao Kahn walked all the way back to kill him after being carried away by Onaga. Before Shao Kahn crushed him, Raiden sends a message to his past self saying only three things. "He Must Win.". We are now in the first Mortal Kombat except it's HD and Johnny is down bad for Sonya. Sonya is here just so she can find Jax who's lost on the island somewhere, Bi-Han is a bit of a prick and Shang Tsung is the only character in the game who has common sense. Liu Kang beats Shang Tsung, Jax gets his arms ripped off by Ermac, Johnny only gets to win if he has a suit and Mileena gets the most revieling outfit in fighting game history. Kitana and Liu Kang have an on and off thing, Reptile gets bullied (poor thang) and before Kuai Liang can kill Scorpion for killing his brother, he's taken away by the cyber Lin Kuei because Raiden saved Smoke from being cyberized and he says there's nothing he can do (that's bullshit but okay). Anyways, Kung Lao is doing pretty good in the tournament and then Shao Kahn snaps his neck. Feeling horrible by the death of his Shaolin brother, Liu Kang jumps in the arena and fists Shao Kahn. Sometime later, we learned that Shao Kahn survived because they put him in the Soul Chamber, a place in the Outworld arena that heals any and all wounds. He then gets the idea by Quan Chi to invade Earthrealm which completely goes against the laws of Mortal Kombat. And Shang Tsung knows and wants to stop them, but Shao Kahn doesn't fucking care and erased him from existance. they get guns from Kano, and they start blasting. Army can't do shit and somehow, a single cop (Stryker) is able to fight off A lizard man, a fire breathing cat and the only thing in Outworld that knows what pronouns are. Kabal was here too, but only for the first two fights. But he doesn't get his super speed here because he's just an average dude and maybe dating Stryker? I don't know. Anyways Kabal gets roasted by a big buff cat, taken to the Black Dragon and given a respiratory device by Kano that helps him breathe. He's basically Deadpool - the guns + super speed because the magic atmosphere of Outworld gave him that. Don't ask how anyone else got that after going to Outworld, idk🤷‍♀️. Anyways Quan Chi and Bitch-han bring back Sindel and mind control her to do their biding. Meanwhile, our heroes that consist of Johnny Cage, Sonya Blade, Jax Briggs, Night Wolf, Cyber Sub Zero, Smoke, Kitana, Stryker, Kabal, Kitana and Liu Kang sit and do nothing. The Bastard Sektor walks in and with his Cyber Lin Kuei to tire out the heroes until Sindel arrives, the worst scene in MK history plays because the purple bitch kills damn near everyone and kicks Smoke in the nads, and then Night Wolf, the most forgettable Mortal Kombat character kills Sindel by Hail Mary. Raiden looks for help of Quan Dale Dingle, but he instead of helping, brings everyone who died back as revenants, which are basically zombies but with memories of the ones who died and they are pretty strong. Raiden fights three at once, Kills Liu Kang because he fears Shao Kahn is going to kill him and with the power of the Elder Gods, Raiden goes super Saiyan and does a Kamehameha, killing Shao Kahn. Yeah all of that was one game.

Mortal Kombat X (or as dip shits would call it mk 10) starts with Johnny, Sonya and Kenshi fighting revenant Sub Zero (who's a human revenant because of MKX prequel comic nonsense don't worry about it), Smoke who isn't even playable, Sindel who's a bitch through and through and Jax, who in a minute turns back into a human because of unexplained reasons, but I guess by killing his revenant, Liu, Kitana and Lao who are some. it turns out they were going to the Jin Sei chamber (earthrealm's life force that is pure light) where Quan Chi and his boss, Shinnok exact their plan of taking over Earthrealm by putting Shinnok into the Jin Sei, corrupting it and turning him into a super Saiyan but he looks like a devil, so kind of like a ssj4 thing? Doesn't matter because Johnny learns he has God killing powers and uses them to punch Shinnok in the nuts. Raiden seals him and the rest of the game is now a 20 years time skip. And now we have the next gen of kombatants, called the Kombat Kids by the fans. You got Cassie Cage the mc, Jaqui Briggs, who's basically Jax 2.0, Kung Jin, Lao's cousing who fights with a bow and Takeda, who has whips, bombs and a fuckin lightsaber. Anyways other new characters you have are Kotal Kahn who took over the throne, Erron Black who is the Cowboy and D'vorah, a character that absolutely everyone hates because she kills Mileena, who had a civil war with Kotal for the throne. Also Scorpion, now Hanzo Hasashi kills Quan Chi after learning it was him who disguised himself as Bi-Han to kill the Shirai Ryu out of spite I guess? D'vorah betrays Kotal, Almost kills Johnny but does get wrecked by Cassie who does also have the same God killing powers as Johnny, and he uses them to punch Shinnok in the nuts. Raiden puts himself in the Jin Sei Chamber because Shinnok corrupted it. Raiden purifies the Jin Sei and everyone gets a happy ending. Except Shinnok, who gets decapitated by dark Raiden.

Mortal Kombat 11 is a flawed masterpiece, and that flaw is the multiverse bullshit. So basically, Shinnok's mom Kronika who's like the keeper of time, wants to kill the entire universe because it's not balanced (shut the fuck up, ya bitch). Anyways, we got Geras, who can never die because he's a fixed point in time but is mostly known for pounding ass in the next game, Kollector who is the IRS and I hate him, and Centrion who is Shinnok's sister. There's also he Frozen bad bitch from earlier and her name is Frost, who is like Sub Zero minus but she's cyberized like Sektor and Cyrax who are in this game but unplayable (WHY NETHERREALM!). Anyways while remaking the timeline, Kronika accidentally summoned past versions of Liu Kang, Kitana, Kung Lao, Jade (who was dead but I didn't give a shit to introduce her at the start) and also she has maybe done it with Kotal (LITTERALY oc x canon shit) ((Also Jade doesn't kill D'vorah when given the chance, the stupid bitch)), Jax and a past version of Erron Black, even though he's still alive??, and also Shao Kahn with the coolest design of all time. Also Barraka is back, because I forgot to mention the bug bitch killed him too. Anyways, now we're spending the game beating up but rarely killing beloved characters. The cyber Lin Kuei and Frost and old Jax invade their ship that they use to get to Kronika's keep. Young Liu Kang dies, but Raiden fuses with revenant Liu Kang and that turns Liu Kang into a fake Gogeta, aka Fire God Liu Kang (any of this starting to sound like fanfiction?). Anyways they make it to the island where Kronika's keep is and then, everyone but Liu Kang gets Thanos snapped. Liu kills all the leveled up revenants, Glasses Kronika and brings back Raiden to help him rewrite history.

JUST KIDDING RETCONNED FUCK YOOPUUUUU HAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHAJ FUNNEE

uuuuuuugh alright I got two more story modes to do, holy fuck it's okay I can do this shit

The MK11 expansion, Aftermath, brings back Sheeva, who is now queen of the Shokan, the same species as Goro and Kintaro (the fire breathing cat from MK9), Night Wolf, Fujin the wind God and brother of Raiden, and Shanga langa ding dong. Fujin, Night Wolf and Shang were all locked away in a place beyond time until just now somehow (just roll with it okay? Okay). The plot of this story expansion is basically, Liu Kang wants to reset the universe, but he can't because he doesn't have Kronika's crown, which is needed to do the universe reset. So our boy Liu takes the two idiots and Shang into the past. I just now realized, Raiden is the only smart person in this game, because he knows Shang Tsung is planning something devious. Liu maybe knows but plays it off. They go back to previous points in the game to get the crown, revive Sindel who says she was mind controlled but later she says she's evil from the start (holy fuck I want to kill her and then myself). They get a boatsman, Kahron, to take them to the keep. In the process, D'vorah kills the poster boy of the franchise (Dominic I will fucking end your bloodline). Sindel gets Shao Kahn, heals his eyes that were sliced out by Kitana, they kill Liu and Lao, Shang reveals that he wants to reset the timeline (Fujin you stupid) , he Soul sucks Sindel and Shao Kahn, kills Kronika, but before he can do anything with Kronika's Hourglass, Liu Kang breaks in, kicks Shang Tsungs ass and reboots the series one more fucking time, which brings us to...

MORTAL 1 KOMBAT (or Mortal Kombat 1

This game starts with Shang Tsung being a failing snake oil salesman because he can barely survive. Then someone who looks like Kronika comes in and he makes this face

Best game of all time.

Anyway, we're introduced to Kung Lao and baby boy Raiden, who are farmers but also train Martial arts under the belt of Madame Bo, this universes version of Bo Rai Cho and she runs a kitchen, what more could you want with a grandma. Later, the Lin Kuei invade and we get the return of my boy Smoke who now has a Karambit and is voiced by Spiderman. He's Joined by Kuai Liang who is now Scorpion, and Bi-Han Sub Zero, the worst he's ever been i hate him. It's like they took his personality from Mortal Kombat 11 and slapped it over a poor man's imitation. Kung Lao kicks all three of their asses but only because they were pulling their punches. They join Liu who is basically Raiden now, and look for Johnny Cage, who's having a one-sided argument with his wife, and then she leaves and doesn't come back. Then, Kenshi breaks in, wanting Sento, the sword of his family which now lays on displayed on Johnny's wall. They fight, and Johnny beats him effortlessly. Johnny ties him to a chair and interrogates him until Liu Kang, along with Scorpion and Sub Zero walk in, which leads to one of the most iconic moments in the franchise

They want to untie Kenshi, but Johnny doesn't want that and thinks this is a prank, so he tries to play along but ends up being tossed into a million dollar statue, which triggers him and Johnny starts beating the shit out of Bitch-Han. Liu intervenes before Johnny can do his second fatality on him.they all go to the Wu Shi monk academy, where they train for the Great Tournament between Earthrealm and the realm of Outworld (that's LITTERALY what they call it, I'm not joking). Raiden beats them all using the one move he has, advance Cartwheel kick. Winning, Raiden is chosen to represent Earthrealm. And for winning, Liu Kang gives him a lightning amulet, which gives him lightning powers so he can fairly combat the Outworld fighters. Entering Outworld through a portal created by Liu, they are introduced by Kitana, Mileena and the palace guard, so-called the Umgadi, featuring two returning characters, one of which does nothing and the other was just a barrier. The one's i speak of are Khameleon and Tanya, the first canon lesbian in Mortal Kombat who has a thing going on with Mileena. Li Mei is back and... She's voiced by Kelly Hu. No wonder I forget she's in this game all the time. but along Li Mei, we have Shao Kahn, who is now degraded to General Shao, and his second in command, Reiko. I forgot to mention that Sindel is in this game and for the first time in the series, I don't mind her. She's a sweet, caring mother who is actually a mother to both Kitana and Mileena. Shao is now jobbing more than ever, from losing to a farmer, to being wrecked by queen. After winning the tournament, Liu Kang sends Kung Lao, Johnny and Kenshi to look for Shang Tsung, as it's word that he's somewhere in Outworld. The tremendous trio find a colony of Tarkatans, Outworlders infected by a disease called Tarkat, which deforms and debilitates. Shang Tsung is there and plans to harvest their marrow for a cure for Mileena, who as we find out, she has Tarkat. After a few fights, Kenshi pushes Johnny out of the way, as Mileena has gone feral, took some sais of the table, and stabs Kenshi's eyes out. As this happens Shao and tiny ass Goro walk in and take them to Shang Tsung's true lab, the Flesh Pits where Reptile works for him because Shang says he has his family captive. But as it's revealed, this isn't the case, as Shang already killed them many moons ago. This makes Reptile (aka Syzoth) have anger. They toxic gas the place and we get a Test Your Might to survive. They escape, but as they walk through the Living Forrest, they encounter Ashrah, a demon from the Netherrealm killing demons and almost killing our heroes. Also she says Demons funny. Like... DEE-MUNZ!

Anyways, she joins the party and they search for Quan Chi, who used to be dead, but is now an escaped cole miner and also black. The way Ashrah knows where Quan Chi is because she has a magic sword called the Kriss, and she uses it to purge evil from her soul, by killing other demons. We then find Quan Chi and his jobber squad consisting of Havik who is horribly lame in comparison to his older version and design from Deception, Sareena, Ashrah's so-so sister, Darius, aka Wesley Snipes' Blade with a dash of A-Train from the boys on the side, and the absolute dog shit tier downgrade of all time, Nitara is back, and nothing that made her cool is here. She isn't cool, her design is mid at best, her head looks like an onion, and the one thing that everyone hates about Nitara in this game, is that she's voiced by Megan Fox. Megan, Goddamn, Fox. Her performance is so goddamn awful that people actually prefer Rhonda Rousey's Sonya Blade from MK11. Anyways enough bitching, because Ashrah, with the help of a Reptile kameo beats the jobber squad, but just too late to stop Quan Chi from making a tornado of souls, which he uses to create Ermac, and then does this "who's mans is this" lookin' pose as he says kill them.

In between this and Ashrah vs Quan Chi and Ermac, Johnny thanks Kenshi for saving his life, and gives him Sento, which he uses to assist Ashrah in the clobbering of Quan Chi. Now they return to the streets of Outworld's capital, Sun Do to look for a way back home. They disguise themselves, run into the Umgadi, get away and now it's Li Mei's turn to shine.

I forgot everything that happens in her chapter.

The Lin Kuei infiltrate a palace where Shang Tsung is, but while they are terrible at being stealthy, they aren't in beating Shang and Quan. But In the process, Bi-Han admits he let his and Kuai's father die, just so he can be the Lin Kuei's grandmaster. Smoke waits outside and does nothing till Kuai Liang escapes. And when Bi-Han comes out and leaves a scar on Kuai's face, even then, Smoke does literally nothing. All the characters who had their own parts in the storyline + Mileena (as it's her time to shine). They head to the Fortress where Ermac almost rips off Bi-Han's arms, fight Ermac, but it turns out the soul of Mileena and Kitana's father, Jerrod is inside Ermac...

That came out wrong... Or did it?

Anyways, they break in, Kitana almost fools General Shao and Shang Tsung right before Shang Bang puts on a crown, that awakens the Dragon Kings army and a a fake Sindel kills the queen, but Jerrod, who is still in control of Ermac, takes her soul before it leaves her body, storing Sindel as a part of Mac n' cheese. They head all come to discover that it wasn't Kronika at the intro, but instead was Shang Tsung from another timeline where he won in MK11,

HOW

DO

YOU

DO

FELLOW

KIDS???!!!

Anyways, 11 Shang, who we will now call Titan Shang, has a plan to rewrite Liu Kang's timeline (the one everything else I just talked about in this entry takes place) and bring absolute fucking chaos with his team of evil time lords. Liu Kang, being the reasonable person he is, summons an army of good time lords and they all fight on the same pyramid that Armageddon's ending took place. For the first time in the entire series, you get to pick your own character for the finale. And based on the character you pick, you get a different variants of characters, most commonly fusions of already existing characters. Finally, you beat Shang and Quan, you get a thanks from Liu, and sent to Madame Bo's, where the Earthrealm heroes enjoy food and tea.

*HEAVY BREATHS*

So, that's the entirety of Mortal Kombat. Any questions?

[selfindulgentpixies]

Part three is here and so begins the hidden inventory arc! This is extremely spoiler heavy and also jumps around a lot. Being caught up on the episodes or having read Gojo's past arc are a must for this to all make sense because while I will be covering some of what’s been shown just with reader now being there some stuff will get glossed over since I value my sanity.  Contains canon typical violence.

Satoru x Reader x Suguru

(GN!reader Be warned that reader is referred to as pretty and adorable at different points, as well as being notably short. I know for some that can cause dyphoria though it applies well to my own experiences and this at it's heart is very heavily self insert. Reader's CT is also talked about and used based upon what I imagine what mine would be and is part of the plot. I hope people are still able to enjoy this though since i've worked hard on it and it's the biggest project I've posted on here. Links to other parts are at the end.) Edit: Liek parts 1 & 2 some small revisions have been made but nothing major

Chapter 3: And so it begins

You’re flat on your back staring up at a clear blue sky, your chest heaving. “Tell me again why I can’t even use practice weapons when we train? Cause you know using weapons is kind of a big part of my cursed technique, Suguru-senpai.”

He chuckles at you and reaches for your hand to help you back up. You take it and he pulls you to your feet. “Because you might have to fight someone at some point who’s able to disarm you like I am, or who doesn’t give you a chance to summon your weapons, among the many reasons I could give you.” 

You puff out your cheeks and pout. “Not everyone is as good at hand to hand combat as you are, you’re one of the strongest-” 

He shakes his head. “There are plenty of strong opponents who will be able to put you on the back foot. I just want you to be prepared for that.” 

The look he’s giving you is a serious one and it makes you want to squirm so you rock back on your heels and shove your hands in your pockets. “That makes sense, I guess,” you relent and he gives you a small smile. Reaching out he gives your shoulder a small squeeze.  

“Suguru, you comin’? There still hasn’t been any word from Mei Mei and Utahime so we’re gonna go check it out.” Gojo’s voice calls down from the stairs leading down to the training field. Shoko is with him and she gives you a wave which you return. 

Smile widening just a bit, Suguru lets go of your shoulder. “Sounds like I’m needed elsewhere. Think about what I said and keep training alright?” And with that he’s walking away. 

You watch him go, and your eyes linger just a touch too long.

An arm rests on your shoulder. “You’re sure spending a lot of time training with Geto-senpai aren’t you,” Haibara says with an almost conspiratorial tone. 

Your face heats up. “He’s just helping me out. Like you said, it's training.”

Haibara hums and you hear another pair of footsteps approaching that you assume are Nanami’s. “I also heard you got invited to a movie night by him and Gojo-senpai.” He glances down at you with a knowing look that you don’t like. “Annnd that they were awfully touchy with you.” 

You wish the training field would swallow you whole or that a curse would appear and just end this conversation. “And who told you that exactly?” 

“We were out in the hall when Shoko-senpai came grumbling past us. We asked what was wrong and she said something about it.” Nanami says from behind you. 

Betrayal complete and utter betrayal. Your face burns with embarrassment. “So it’s true!” Haibara cheers. 

“Oh shut it, Haibara!”  

“Aww come on I want to hear about it from you! What happened after Shoko-Senpai left?’

“Personally I’d rather not hear about it.” You can practically hear Nanami’s eyeroll. 

Haibara turns to him with a pout. “Aww come on it-” he pauses and looks all around but doesn’t see you anywhere. Somehow you’d pulled a vanishing act. “Did you see where they went?” 

Nanami makes a noise in the affirmative but doesn’t say where you went. “Neither of you are being fun today,” Haibara says with a pout and puppy dog eyes that fail to sway the blonde boy. 

___

It’s a couple hours later you find yourself with a textbook balanced on your knees and scribbling notes on a notebook off to the side. You’d been doing your best to not to think too hard about that night. You probably were just reading too much into some teasing. The two older boys were together, you were sure of that much. What would they want to do with you as anything other than a friend? You’re grumbling to yourself with your chin tucked to your chest when you hear approaching footsteps and then your textbook is being lifted from your legs. Your head snaps up in time to watch Gojo snap the book closed. 

“Gojo-senpai, what are you-” You start to protest but he interjects “How’d you like to go for a lil trip with us?” Suguru is standing a little ways off behind him smiling and shaking his head.

__

Thus you found yourself trailing after your two senpai having the mission explained to you. Your brow furrows not really liking the sound of it. “She’s not that much younger than us.. I can’t imagine being told I have to just.. Cease existing and be okay with it.” 

“We talked about it a bit already. If she doesn’t want to, we won't make her.” You blink up at Suguru in surprise.  

“Bu-”

“Don’t worry, we’re the strongest so if she doesn’t want to we’ll make sure she doesn’t have to.” Gojo says ever confident. 

You truely hope they’re right. 

“Oh by the way… Does Yaga Sensei know I'm with you?”

A beat of silence. 

“Suguru-senpai, does he know?” You figure he’s more likely to tell you the truth. 

“Wait, you're calling him Suguru now?” Gojo’s voice sounds indignant, maybe even a little hurt. “You never call me by my first name.” He stops walking and fully faces you.

“Oh.. well uh he told me to, the other night.” 

Gojo looks back at Suguru who’s giving him a smug smile like he won something. Gojo whips his head back toward you, giving you a serious look and you stand a little straighter. “From now on you should call me Satoru,” he declares, thumb pointing at his chest before turning and beginning to walk again. 

You stand there in confusion for a moment watching the older boys walk away before it occurs to you. “Hey neither of you answered my question!” you yell and run to catch up with their long strides.

___

It turns out that no, they hadn’t asked permission to bring you along and Yaga hadn’t known you’d gone with them. How’d you find this out? Given how you’d been sticking to Suguru like velcro lately, which Yaga was partially to blame for, he’d had a hunch and had called when you hadn’t shown up with the other first years for a lesson. When you’d answered your cellphone and the two older boys heard you greet Yaga they both froze. 

“Ah yes i’m with them. Is something wrong?” A pause. You blink and pull your phone away from your ear to look at the screen. You tilt your head to the side. “He hung up on me?” 

Then Satoru’s phone begins to ring. He definitely looks like he doesn’t want to answer but does so reluctantly. Before he can even say anything he has to pull the phone away from his ear because Yaga starts yelling on the other end.  In the end he wants to tell them to immediately bring you back since he thinks they’re out of their depth already without having a first year with them but this mission is too time sensitive for that. You’ll just have to listen to them and be careful. Really they knew Yaga was going to find out and get mad at them for taking you along, they'd just kind of hoped he wouldn’t find out until after the fact since now he got to stew on it. They didn’t know what led to it but he’d become your guardian at some point before you enrolled at jujutsu tech and was particularly protective of you. You were always evasive about it when asked though.

___

You pout as you walk away from the sweets shop. “Is sending me on errands while we’re on a mission part of keeping me safe or was this why they brought me along in the first place,” You grumble to yourself as you put the nicely wrapped package of mochi and other goodies in your bag without stopping. Satoru should be right around here you think to yourself, tossing the bag back over your shoulder just in time for a large explosion. Your head whips toward the source of the noise and panic grips your chest when you see a girl flying through the air, that panic soon turns to relief though when through the smoke and falling debris you see Suguru catch her while riding one of his curses. You let out a little cheer but then suddenly someone is gripping your shoulder. 

“You’re another one of those jujutsu high brats, aren’t you?” A voice rumbles behind you.

You glance over your shoulder with narrowed eyes, not dignifying him with a response. He was dressed strangely like the men in the pictures you’d been shown of Q members.

He’s about to say something else when you grab the hand on your shoulder and bend back and break several of the man’s fingers. He pulls back with a howl of pain and surprise clutching at his broken fingers. ”You fuckin lil shit-” Before he’s even able to finish speaking you summon a lance that looks like a series of small linked hands and smack the blunt end across his head before swiping it under his feet on the back swing making him crash to the ground.

“Oi, __-chan you okay over there?” Satoru’s voice calls over to you. You look over and he’s leaning against a railing surveying you and the little scrap you’d just had. 

“Ah yeah I’m fine, Gojo-senpai.”

“I said to call me Satoru,” he whines in a way unbecoming of his age.

As you’re about to respond the man on the ground begins to get up only for you to bonk him on the head without looking. “Right.. sorry, Satoru-senpai.” You hop over the now dazed and prone man and make your way to Satoru who immediately ruffles your hair looking between you and the guy on the ground. 

“Don’t see why Yaga was so worried about you. You hold your own well enough,” he says with a grin. You swat his hand away and try to fix your hair though you can see from your reflection in his dark glasses that you’re only partially successful.Then you look around him and see another strangely dressed man, though this one has long hair. He’s already sprawled out on the ground along with dozens of twisted knives scattered about.  Satoru follows your gaze and grins. “If they’re all this weak we won’t have any problems.” He jerks his head toward the smoking building. “Let’s catch up with Suguru.”

Perhaps foolishly you thought he meant walking to the building and taking an elevator like a normal person. But no, suddenly you’re airborne, tucked under his arm. When you reach the smoldering hole in the building it’s with you flailing and telling him to warn you next time. 

“What're you scared of heights?” he looks down at you with a raised eyebrow.

A beat of silence is all the answer he needs before a big grin splits his face. “Oh you so are! That’s adorable. Don’t worry I’d never drop you-” You kick him in the shin which results in the two of you bickering until Suguru reminds you both of the situation at hand.

From that point on the mission feels like a bit of whirlwind, meeting Amanai, the attack at the school, Kuroi’s kidnapping. Things don’t seem to settle into a lull until now with you lightly dozing against Suguru’s shoulder on the beach. Truthfully you hadn’t meant to fall asleep but Suguru didn’t mind, he found it cute how you’d curled up against him in an oversized hoodie and bathing suit you weren’t even putting to use. He brushes a bit of hair off your face as he speaks to Kuroi. The world is all a muffle to you as you drift somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, at least until Suguru calls out to Satoru about it being time to go followed by him gently nudging you awake. Then softly in your ear, “You need to get up now, time for us to get on with the mission.”  You blink groggily and then as it occurs to you just where you’d been napping you sit up straight about to apologize, his smile tells you that you don’t need to and so the words never reach the air. As he stands he reaches for your hand and helps you to your feet. He looks toward your companions in the water as he releases your hand after giving it a gentle squeeze. “Satoru, it’s time.”

“Oh, it’s that time already?” He replies, stopping whatever game he and Riko had been playing. Even from where you’re standing you can tell she’s disappointed. Satoru is quiet for a moment as he looks her over. “Let’s head back tomorrow morning instead.” And just like Riko’s disappointment you can also see her elation. 

Suguru frowns. “But…”

 Satoru makes his way toward the two of you. “The weather’s holding steady, right? Besides… there are fewer curse users in Okinawa than there are in Tokyo!”He turns with dramatic flair. 

Both you and Suguru give him an unimpressed look and in unison admonish him. “Let’s keep it a little more serious, Satoru.” “Please take this seriously, Gojo-senpai.” Your use of his family name earns you Satoru’s hand on your head vigorously messing up your hair. 

“It’s better if the time limit on the bounty runs out while we’re still mid-flight, right?” His hand is still on your head while you try to swat him away.

“Satoruuuu-senpai!” Those seem to be the magic words and he lifts his hand off your head. 

Ignoring the antics going on between the two of you, Suguru leans in close to Satoru so only the two of you can hear him. “Satoru. You haven’t released your technique since yesterday, have you? You haven’t slept either. And you don’t plan on sleeping tonight, do you?”

This gets your attention and suddenly guilt curls in your gut for not having realized. He must already be tired.

“Are you sure we don’t need to go back to jujutsu high?”

Satoru’s fist lightly smacks into Suguru’s chest before he starts to walk away from the two of you.“It’s not a problem. Playing through 99 years of momotetsu was far more draining and besides, you’re here too.” 

You watch the small smile play across Suguru’s lips and sense how he seems to be reassured. For you as much as you have faith in the two upperclassmen you still worry. Particularly now that you know Satoru hasn’t taken any time to rest. 

All the same the only way you can describe the rest of the day is blissful. Not just spending it with the older boys but also seeing the wonder and joy on Riko’s face. It makes you wonder what her life before was actually like. 

Even for you who deals with what can only be called magic, the aquarium is otherworldly. It makes your chest swell with wonder and you take both Satoru and Suguru by the hand when they hang too far back and get them to hurry along with you. You chatter excitedly as you pull them along. With them behind you you don’t see the look they share or the look they send your way, a look full of fondness. Truly they both think that getting chewed out by Yaga later will be worth having brought you along.

Edit: Link to master list

I could have probably stretched this out further but I really didn't feel like writing out hidden inventory scene by scene when a lot of people will have probably just watched it. I hope it's still enjoyable. I Admit I was super tempted to combine part 3 and 4 together but I'm gonna work on part 4 a bit more and will probably release it this friday. I'm really excited for it. Hopefully this part stands well on its own.

@strawberrystepmom @nanamikentoseyebags @gojoest

@icy-spicy @porridgesblog

[staplegrapes]

Mystery Guardian (Éomer Éadig x Reader)

Description: After the battle, you are wounded. You were not supposed to be here. Therefore, you would simply swipe some healing supplies and be on your way. Yet a certain newfound king would not allow it.

Word Count: 1.4k

TW: Canon-typical depictions of violence, blood and battle

A/N: Reader is written as gender neutral, but it is implied for some reason or another they were not supposed to be at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

✨Gender Neutral Reader✨

It was risky being here, you were well acquainted with that thought given that it ran through your head with every passing second. Though the battle had ended in an apparent victory much blood had been spilled. Scores of men flooded back towards the Houses of Healing and you found yourself contemplating going with them.

You weren't bleeding profusely or had any limbs hanging on by a thread, but you knew if you did not see your wounds tended to, you would likely end up quite ill. Seeing as you had managed to not perish in battle, you thought it may be of interest to not succumb to something much more easily avoided than a blade swinging at our face. Yet, there was the added difficulty of the fact you were not supposed to be in this battle. Your presence unveiled from your helmet would turn heads undoubtedly.

You had a simple plan. Keep your head down and armor on as you weave through the masses of injured and only take what you needed to avoid infection. Many more were in a state much worse than yours. As soon as possible, you make a hasty exit and find a safer spot.

You found it relatively easy to make it within the doors, many men were also still fully suited in their armor. The houses were large, yet the thralls of men easily overtook the resources. The hoards pushed you further into building. The stone archways seemed to get narrower the further you walked, more or less shuffled in further. After some time you noticed a free table with what appeared to be some clean bandages and a wound solution. Quickly, you snagged both and tried to make an exit, but the masses pushed you further forward. With some small shuffling, you finally made it out of the mainstream. Taking a breath to orient yourself you caught a glimpse of a pair of broad and familiar shoulders. Éomer was stooped over another, to which it shocked you to see the angelic face of Éowyn void of any life.

It was of no surprise to you she had also found the courage to fight despite the opposition to do so. While you did not know her plan, you knew you both had done so to protect your people. Still, she laid dead and your heart lurched having grown up with her and Éomer. Her bravery was overshadowed by the loss of her. As your gaze widened you noticed Aragon standing over her, while he was concerned he did not appear to mourn her. You saw a look of hope on Éomer's face.

Watching for several moments, you watched as Aragorn tended to her. You saw Éomer's shoulders relax and somehow you knew, she would be alright.

"Where did you get that?" a healer asked you, pointing to the healing supplies in your arms and in that moment you bolted down the hallway back towards the door. Maybe that had not been the most dignified way to deal with it, but your mind grew hazy and you began to rely on instinct rather than intuition. You hastily walked outside the walls and found yourself beginning to walk with no true direction in mind. The sparkle of a small stream down a steep slope caught your eye.

The small stream seemed to be the only place you would be able to tend to yourself safely. So that is what you did, carefully shuffling down the steep grassy slope towards the small glistening stream below. Your breath began to grow weaker as well as your vision did, the surge of battle wore off as the wear from battle grew. Taking a steadying breath, you bent down to the stream and began to dampen the cloth with the clean water.

It was a slow process, given your weakened state, but you made progress. Washing the injuries, keeping them clean with the solution and the water, wrapping them in the bandages and moving onto the next. It was quite awhile as you began to grow near the end of your needs but a voice startled you from your silent pursuit.

"You'd find better aid within the walls of Healing Houses, go there to tend to- oh."

You knew that voice anywhere and given the abrupt ending to his sentence supposedly he knew the back of your head anywhere.

Éomer.

How had you not heard him sneak up behind you?

"I shall be fine, your grace." you timidly turn towards him, ironically, given your fierce demeanor in battle not long ago.

"Whatever have you done? are you hurt badly?" His eyes were wild with concern as he quickly descended down the embankment. You watched him stumble just as you did, likely the most uncoordinated you had ever seen him be in all your years of knowing him.

"I trust Éowyn is alright?" you whisper, still deflecting his concern.

"Y-yes, Aragorn... she'll wake soon." He knelt alongside of you, "Are you hurt?"

"I'll be fine, I'm sorry about your uncle." You wince as you wrap your forearm tightly. He gently places his hand over yours.

"It is better for it to be loose."

You nodded silently as he rewrapped your arm.

A silence takes over the air between you two. It was comfortable in some odd way, given that you had both lived through the battle you were unsure of the outcome.

"It was you." he says in a breath.

"I do not know what you are talking about," you mutter through gritted teeth as you feel him start to clean another spot.

"You're the one who saved me when I had a blade to my neck." He keeps his eyes locked on your shoulder where he continues to clean.

"That could have been anyone." you shrug, looking away.

"If it was not you, then say so." You feel his eyes burning into the side of your head.

You remained silent. He sighs as he leans back on his knees.

"That tells me all." He states. "Why are you here?"

"Others needed to be attended to. I can manage myself."

"No, you that is not what I mean." He gently pulls your chin for you to face him. You sigh.

"You think I a coward?" you ask with a harsh tone much more intense than you had originally planned.

"What? No. In what tone did I-" You see him startled by your change in inflection.

"Then how shall I not defend my people as well as you?" You ask, dropping your tone to a softer, yet defending clarity.

"My job is to defend for you." He says softly, tilting his gaze.

"Well that does not sit well with me. I could not bear the thought of you dead on my account." You shake your head.

"It sits well with me." He says, "but I am most appreciative to breathe another breath granted by you, though I'd prefer it not be at the risk of your safety."

"We will have to agree to disagree on that matter." You turn back to him with a small smile. You understand his chivalry and nobility, yet you truly would never want to be the reason he didn't come home one day.

"Very well then, you feel well enough to walk? Let us return to the Healing Houses, Éowyn will wake soon."

"Will it not look strange for me to be present? Some may be opposed."

"And then they will have to answer to the King, for who is indebted to you with a life debt." he said as he helped you stand up and navigate up the bank.

It never occurred to you till now. Éomer is to be king.

"You may question that, I have more or less stolen the supplies from the houses that I used."

He chuckles, "I'm certain it can be remedied." He kept a solid and stabilizing hand along your arm as you walked back towards the Healing Houses.

"I can stay outside if that is better, give you time with Éowyn." but his grip only tightened.

"Stay by my side, I lost my uncle and nearly lost two of the dearest people in my life, I intend not to repeat that in anytime in my rule." he looked down to you with a protective look in his eye. Though it had been a grim day, you saw light beginning to shine from behind the clouds.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters  Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism.

A/N: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I  gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information. 

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man. 

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness. 

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again. 

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it. 

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in…what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.” 

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,”  He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love. 

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods. 

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?” 

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.” 

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist. 

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago. 

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun. 

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless. 

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker. 

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow. 

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the  landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point. 

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance. 

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her. 

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin’ pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these. 

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry. 

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp. 

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was. 

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating. 

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.  

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled. 

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?” 

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly. 

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily. 

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat. 

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her. 

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart. 

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

[capcavan]

can i ask about how many ways can a raven break (if thats one of the thing u can ask was a bit confused)

its one we really hope to turn into a fic we have a friend who is very excited for it (and is also our sensitivity reader) riko joins foxes and as part of his therapy with abby he keeps a journal where he writes long thought spirals any time he is anxious so that then he can consider whatever or not he wants to show it to Abby or not, the journal is here to help him keep his thoughts a bit more organized. At some point Riko notices new notes in the journal notes in German (his notes are always in Japanese) as well as doodles and drawings. this agitates him. he is aware that andrew is the only person reading his journal which he passively allows but after the notes started appearing he started hiding the journal. this leads to andrew growing suspicious, when few days later riko catches him going through journal he had hidden they get in a fightt (riko punches him all of sudden something that somehow never happened before). one thing leads to another and over course of following therapy with new therapist as bee was not qualified enough to diagnose him Riko is diagnosed with dissociative personality disorder (all parts of system refer to themselves as Riko but they do have nicknames they use as well) There is "Fox" (you can think about him as all my cute fox riko headcannosn and arts very energetic and full of life very fannon kind of riko)- Riko after joining the foxes, he is much more open in showing his emotions he is actually based on the rp "quarterhouse/roadkill" he dates renee aaron and kevin , genuinely loves life and is very unhappy when he finds out details of his condition - he feels extremally possessive of the body and time he has which leads to frustration towards other alters and fear that their actions might fuck up his already complicated life "Raven" (much closer to canon riko or even fandom riko - evil brody mad bad) - Raven was the first fronter and keeps most of memories from nest, this is why fox himself did not remember much form before joining foxes, raven hates fronting now, he misses nest he hates fox tower hates the foxes , his pride is still not healed, he does snot feel safe or accepted around them, he is nyctophile and still gets triggered into fronting any time its perfectly dark (when foxes figure that out there is some teasing happening about it which he despises) as well as when it rains. Raven loves kevin and feels posessive over jean and does not see reason why renee and aaron should be part of that. is the one who broke jean "captain" possibly riko's first split - captain is on the court and takes care of all things exy, he will become good friends with neil who will be the only reason captain starts fronting outside of games- just to chat about exy. captain is also not convinced about need for relationship with renee and aaron as he sees both to be mediocre players and he is straight (all of this plays a lot into aarons relationship insecurities and makes fox miserable and resentful of his alters). captain is very frustrated to find out he is not a captain any more and is pretty damn hurt over not being a captain anymore it is bit of crisis for him considering the title was core of his personality as far as he rememberer. later on riko get title of co captain <3 is very confused as to why jean can not play "King" - trauma holder, specifically physical abuse , hates fronting because feels phantom pains constantly "Princes" - a split made to help King cope with the psychological part of the abuse, princess is regressed little girl who just wants to be loved and cared for, jean is her knight and she can NOT find out who hurt him , it would break her

there is also danny who is split from one of riko's most constant abusers he does not front just provides bad vibes and keeps them on edge psyhologically fun stuff i love about it: Kevin absolutely can not deal with the fact that he is not the favourite person of all rikos fox woudl prefer not to choose but renee was his girlfriend before kevin became his boyfriend again raven sees kevin as his everything so this checks out captain also likes kevin but he end sup pretty taken by neils approach to the game over time princess loves jean and renee and idk she doe snot give a fuck about exy so can kevin shut up about it? (jean is delighted) king does not like anyone i don't think kevin should want to be dannys fave luckily nobody other than riko knows about danny anyway there's actually .. a lot of lore for this technically the ship is riko/renee/aaron/jean/kevin the same way like in quarterhouse but fox unlike raven feels embarrassment and shame for pact actions and doe snot feel even allowed to look at the man