#listen all those tattoos and braids have to come from somewhere

[lolamarlowe65]

just spent 10 minutes blasting cola (cause lana gets it) and imagining the lotus position with james…

OH FUCK anon you just gave me an idea

James Hetfield x reader

“𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓭𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝔂 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓽𝓽𝔂 𝓫𝓪𝓫𝔂.”

“It’s not just two horny humans anymore, it’s two hearts.”

one shot x reader

disclaimers : age gap (modern day james), smut, fluff, unprotected sex, cursing, smoking, for my romantic (but horny) james lovers, kids go back to ur parents <33

4.3k words

AO3 link

༄♡. 𖧹⋆✰

It’s a late Saturday night and my friend asked me to join him at the bar he sent me the address of. I don’t know this town very well. To be honest, I just came here because of him. I needed an excuse to move out from my old town and see something new and this guy I was talking with seemed like a good exit door. Truth is, this man is not as nice and good as he seemed. I’m the typical case of a woman manipulated and lied to just for sex. And even, I used him too in a way so if the sex is good what’s so wrong? But even this is bad. He only thinks for himself and himself only, not caring if I finish nor if I like it. He calls me, we hook up, he comes and then leaves telling me he’ll take me on a nice date next time. It never happened, and it will never do. I don’t even want to. I don’t even know if I want to stay here. So what am I doing here still running after him to be treated like shit? Here’s the answer, I just don’t have anything better to do. I don’t know anybody and I’ve got no idea how the people in this city are. So I go to every single one of his so-called “dates” waiting for a new day to start. When I find something better to do I promise that it will be passionate and most importantly; fulfilling. Fuck.

Standing in front of the bar I light myself a cigarette waiting for him. We usually have a drink and then go straight to it. Saying I’d need a drink to be able to hook up with him would almost sound like unconscious rape so I will not say that, I consent to this bullshit. But I definitely need something to drink to be able to listen to him and his tremendous fucking ego.

While I’m waiting I see this group of guys enter the bar. They look older than me, around their 50s maybe even if they definitely look younger than that. There’s four of them, one of them has long black hair nicely put back in a braid, another one has grey hair and wears a hat. To be honest, I just heard the third guy call him a “dumbass” so that’s how I’d describe him. This third guy has a very beautiful face, I must admit, with long curly salt and pepper hair. But this is nothing compared to the fourth guy. I think I have never seen a man that attractive, he’s quite tall and he’s got short white hair. He wears a black shirt that exposes his heavily tattooed arms. My fucking god he is hot. I can’t see clearly because it’s nighttime but I’m pretty sure he’s got ocean blue eyes. Which would be the cherry on the cake for my heart. I feel like I know them from somewhere but that might just be me. They’re all laughing and joking around and the fourth guy I was talking about notices me and says hello with a smile from afar. He must have noticed me creeping over them, shit. At least his smile is beautiful. I say hello back and leave them to enter the bar.

I can’t believe it! While I was lost watching over those guys I didn’t notice this fucking asshole was 30 minutes late! Fuck it! I’ve had enough! I call him twice before getting him over the phone.

*”- Yeah baby I’m sorry I’m late.” he says in an unbothered voice. “I had something more urgent to do.” he adds.

“- Something? That’s what I am? Something? You fucking asshole! Could you at least have the fucking decency to tell me you will not come?” i answer, obviously pissed.

“- Hehe sorry!” he laughs slightly. “It’s okay, you agreed it was nothing serious between us so just go home and next time I’ll take you on a nice date.” he dares to say.

“- What the fuck? You think I want to see you again? Get fucked!” i yell.

“- Do whatever you want, it's not gonna change my life much, you’re too frigid for me anyway.”

“- Too frigid?? Maybe if you knew how to use your dick properly instead of shaking it around in my pussy to come after 30 seconds I would be more expressive! What the fuck do you know anyway? You probably don’t know what pleasure on a woman looks like since you’ve never been able to give it to them!”

“- Bit-” i hang up before he can say anything else.*

I also block his number, he already sent me a few messages. What the fuck? I know I was not thinking too much about this but I won’t accept to be treated like property. I don’t want to waste this time I spent alone outside so I decide to go inside for a drink before going back to the shitty place I’m renting. That’s decided, fuck this town, I don’t wanna stay here. I’ll go fool around the west coast or lose myself in some mountains. I’m an artist, I don’t have money so I’ll see what I can do.

Sitting at the bar drinking my vodka I notice the guys from earlier in the booth on the corner. The light is still pretty dark so I can’t seem to really catch their expressions. Whatever man. My time at the bar is just me looking at those guys while talking to the waitress who’s also been with a lot of assholes that just wanted to play with her. Her name is Hailey, we got along so well she gave me her number. I don’t wanna get drunk so I just sip my drink slowly to retard the moment I’ll have to go.

“- Hey girl, stop looking over they must have enough!” Hailey commands with a laugh.

“- What do you mean? Can’t even see them well from here.” i answer, taking a sip of my drink.

“- They’re the guys from Metallica! They had some shooting for a video to do around here that’s why they’re here. I can’t believe they’d choose to come to this bar out of all the ones in town. I must admit that they’re actually pretty normal humans!” she explains.

“- What did you think, they were aliens?” i say, completely unbothered.

“- When your band is that orgasmic, yes. Like I’d love to meet a human man that could make me feel like they do.” she laughs.

“- I’ll drink to that!” i say taking another sip of my drink.

“- You look completely out of this? You not into metal?”

“- Oh.. I very much am. It’s just… I don’t even know what to think anymore with all that happened tonight. And I mean.. It’s cool that they’re here and all but what do you want me to do. It’s not like I’m gonna become their best friend. Here they’re just four guys sharing a drink after work.” i chuckle.

“- I guess you’re right.” Hailey tilts her head.

Hailey takes the tray and goes in the back of the bar to serve some drinks. I’m left alone for some time trying to think about what’s next for me to come. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize Metallica before, I guess I can’t see very well in the dark. So the first one was Rob I think, then the “dumbass” was Lars, the fourth with the beautiful face Kirk and of course James. The tall tattooed one with the black shirt, no wonder I thought he was hot. I always thought so. Whatever era of his, I think he’s my ideal type. If you saw the guy I was supposed to meet with tonight you’d laugh at me for lowering my standards so much. But listen. A girl like me could never get a guy like him. Plus, to him I’m surely a young chick who doesn’t know what she wants. It’s wrong though, I know what I want. Something deep and passionate with somebody that’s not afraid of telling me they care about me. Something adult. It’s 2023 and I can’t believe guys like this asshole I was supposed to hook up with still exist. Okay if you want casual sex but be honest about it and get sex education for Christ’s sake. Now I want a man like James. At least a man that’s like how I would imagine him to be. I laugh by myself thinking about how dumb I am to think about this.

“- What’s so funny?” a deep voice asks me.

I almost choke at the surprise. Here he is, sitting next to me. James fucking Hetfield. I also see the other guys leaving the bar saying bye to me and James with a wave of hand. I turn my head to look at James clearly saying it all with my face. What the fuck is going on.

“- Nothing.” i cough. “Just silly thoughts.” i smile.

He is so beautiful. His face in the light is even more satisfying to look at.

“- Seems interesting.” he answers playfully.

I chuckle slightly. But I can’t wrap my head around why he would talk to me. I should be the one here all “stars in my eyes” asking him how he’s doing. Wait? Is he flirting with me? I turn my head to look at him in the eyes and go straight to the point.

“- James? What exactly do you want?” i ask, trying my best to stay composed.

“- I don’t know.” he holds my gaze. “What do you think I want?” he smiles.

“- A bouncy young chick you’ll never see again to blow you tonight?” i sarcastically answer. “If you want just that from me you can get fucked.” i continue.

I had my quota of assholes for the night and I don’t want to have the beautiful image I have of James to get broken too. Now that would really piss me off. I deeply hope it’s not the case. That he does want to fuck me but also to care about me. That he wants to be this passionate and deep relation I was thinking about. Or at least hear he wants to fuck me good and well and respect me. Just that. Just this would turn me on. Just this I would be willing to risk. I can hear James laugh at my raw words. At least he isn’t the type of guy to get his ego crushed because I talked coldly to him.

“- Not at all.” he stands up and puts himself behind me while approaching my ear. “I mean, I would love to make love to such a beautiful woman but certainly not use her and leave. I see things in a deeper way.” he whispers.

My eyes got bigger instantly. That’s all I needed to hear. I look into my pockets for the dollars I need to pay for my drink. I put them on the bar and stand up, taking James’s hand and dragging him out of the bar. His hand feels so good I can’t even explain the feeling. It’s rough but soft and the way he presses my hand into his to be sure he is not mistaking my gesture turns me on even more. It’s not just lust. There’s something so romantic about this.

Once outside the bar I stop, realising I don’t know where the fuck I’m going.

“- Where’s your hotel?” i ask, pressed.

“- Just at the end of the street.” he answers.

“- Kay, let’s go.”

I start walking confidently but James stops me and makes me look at him.

“- Are you sure about this?” James asks.

How thoughtful. I mean, it’s the bare minimum but I’ve never been asked that before. The guys I have been with didn’t give a shit. They could fuck and so they did without asking me if I was completely okay with it.

“- And you? Are you?” i answer.

“- More than anything.” he cups my face with hands.

He’s taller than me by a good head but I don’t feel threatened by his height. His hands feel so good and his eyes give me so much admiration, I just can’t resist.

“- James…” i almost whisper.

“- Tell me your name so I can beg for you. Because this doesn’t seem real.”

“- Y/n…”

“- So fucking beautiful.” he lets out. “Prove me it’s me real and I’m not just dreaming that the hottest chick in this town wants to go back to my room with me.”

I know what to do. I slowly put my hand on the back of his neck to pull him to me and just like that I kiss him. His lips are so soft and hot, I never felt such a thing while kissing somebody. It’s so overwhelming that my heart starts beating at an unhealthy beat. But also, it’s so peaceful, it’s exactly what I want to feel for the rest of my life.

I let my lips go from him and look at him, studying the blue of his eyes. Something changed. It’s not just two horny humans anymore, it’s two hearts.

“- Shit.” i hear James say.

He takes my hand back and this time, he is the one leading the way, being careful with every step I take for me not to be lost. I don’t know what he’s thinking and that makes me feel a mix of excitement and fear.

When we arrive in front of his hotel my heart starts to pound again. What is about to happen? Is he really in for it? If I mistook what he wanted from me I could at least say that I fucked Metallica’s singer. At least. That’s what I repeat myself. But the other part of my brain tells me to let go and see what’s gonna happen without any questions.

Waiting for the elevator to come he holds my hand tightly, like I am about to disappear into space.

The elevator comes and I am left here with him, just the two of us standing next to each other. The hotel is very big, so the elevator takes time and every minute feels longer than the other. Because I can’t touch him, because I can’t feel him. This highway to whatever is going to happen is the longest road I’ve ever had to take. But the best one yet.

As a way of waiting, I let my head rest on his arm next to me. His beautiful tattooed arm. But before I could really settle my head here James turns me around to kiss me.

“- I’m sorry, I can’t wait.” James almost whispers.

I moan into his mouth as a way to give my approval and he grabs me by the back of my thighs and wraps my legs around his waist, my arms going straight to hold the back of his neck. His lips derive from my lips to fall into my neck, biting the skin he leaves trails of kisses on. Fuck I didn’t knew I was that sensitive here. I need his lips on mine, I need his tongue to play with mine so I turn his head around with one of my hands, my lips practically begging at this point. As I deepen the kiss, I let his tongue enter my mouth and play with mine. God, it’s like he’s trying to look for all the places that make me feel good.

“- Wait wait James!” i exclaim.

“- What?” he answers, kissing my neck.

“- There’s cameras in elevators? Right?” i ask, afraid we might have been seen.

“- I couldn’t give less of a shit baby.” he responds immediately, letting a laugh out of me. “They can see a beautiful woman they’ll never have if they want.”

“A beautiful woman they’ll never have” what does he mean by that? What do you mean never have? I have no more time to be lost in my thoughts because the elevator just opened. James carries me through the hallway in the same position as we were in, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms around his neck. One of his hands is on my ass, which makes me weaker than I would admit and the other is around my waist. I’m so glad that it’s late, nobody is walking around the hotel. I can also feel the hardness in his pants, teasing me just enough for me to get wet. I know what is gonna happen now, he’s gonna fuck me, and he’s gonna do it good. I’ve been waiting for this. And I can’t believe that none other than James Hetfield will do it. I’m so horny just thinking of it.

Opening his hotel room door he wastes no time to close the door and he drops me on the bed. Towering over me, he goes back to where he was before, kissing me, my neck and now the birth of my breasts. I push James's head slightly to have room to remove my shirt, which, when he understands my attention, does for me. My bra goes away at the same time as my shirt and here I am, topless, in front of a man that makes me feel so confused about my feelings.

“- Perfect. So perfect.” i hear him groan.

I moan at the touch of his soft lips sucking on my nipples. He bites them and sucks on them like he found a new instrument to play. I could come just because of this, this new feeling is incredible.

“- I want to make you feel so good.” James tells me, smiling.

I freeze and moan at his desire. Nobody has cared enough for me to do that. To want that. To care about my pleasure. James’s voice is so low and rough that it almost vibrates through my body, sending shivers to my heart and pussy. There’s nothing I can do. I want him. Whatever if he throws me out of his room after, I want him.

“- Can I?” he asks, his hands on the border of my pants.

“- Yes, but remove this before.” i answer, grabbing the end of his shirt.

He gets the message and lets me remove his shirt from him. What a beautiful sight. His body can tower over me easily, with his muscular back and broad shoulders. His tattoos I think are the best thing about this. It makes him look even more like a piece of art, and it contrasts his fit chest and stomach in the most beautiful way there is. He smiles at the way I look at his body. This smile, his tremendously beautiful smile.

James slides down on his knees right in front of the bed. He grabs my foot and removes my shoe, and does the same for the other. He then removes my pants to leave me only with my panties, my pussy throbbing at his gaze.

“- Even your legs are perfect. How have I not found you before?” he says, slowly kissing my legs.

I can’t think straight with James lips now kissing the interior of my thighs, getting dangerously close to my pussy at every one of his pecks. I slid my hand in his hair, avid for his touch.

“- James, please.” i beg.

“- Don’t beg darling. What you want I shall do. Tell me. What do you want?” James answers, languidly.

Breathing hard and shortly, I try to gather my words. I can’t believe this is happening.

“- Mmh…” i moan, trying to remove my underwear. “I want your lips…” i breath heavily. “Right here.” i finally say, resting my hand on my pussy.

James eyes glimmer as his gaze is fixed on mine. He doesn’t say anything but grunts in approval and removes my hands away from my panties, removing them by himself, leaving me fully exposed to him. His head dives instantly in between my legs like he’s been starving for it. Oh my god! That’s good! My hand in his hair, I keep him in between my legs, not wanting it to stop.

“- What a pretty cunt… what a pretty sight.” he whispers, latching on my clitoris.

This is the first time somebody eats me out. This is the first time I am feeling this and yet I know he’s better at it than average. His tongue alternates between my clitoris and my slit and my legs start to shake. But here’s the thing. I don’t want to come right now. I want to come with him. While he’s in me.

“- Ja..James!” i exclaim, lifting his head up with my hands. “I want you.”

James puts himself on his knees and kisses my lips softly. So desperate for him I open his belt and pants. James puts his fingers under my chin and locks his gaze into mine.

“- Look at you. So desperate for my cock. I’m such an asshole making you beg for me. I should be the one doing that. I should be the one begging for you to even deserve the desire you have for such an old man.” he says.

He finishes removing his pants and underwear and only now I realise how big he is. I have never had something like that. His cock is thick and big with a vein poking along the shaft. It looks more than ready to be in me. And this makes me even more horny.

I raise myself on my knees too and put my hands on both sides of his face.

“- I think I’ve got a taste for men who are older. Or maybe just for you. Because no man has ever made me feel what you make me feel. Just in an hour, you’ve made me more fulfilled than I have ever been.” i admit, kissing him.

Sitting on the mattress, James grabs the back of my thighs so I can sit on him and wrap my legs around him. I wrap my arms around his neck, again. This position we’re in, the lotus, is so intimate, like something you would do with your partner, not an unknown chick you’ve met an hour ago. My tits press against his chest and both our hearts beat at the same pace. His cock is teasing my entrance and his gaze is locked in mine.

“- I should find those boys and teach them a lesson. How dare they have the audacity not to make you feel fulfilled.” he kisses my neck. “This will never happen again as long as you’re with me.” he adds, his head buried in my neck.

Did he just ask me to stay with him? Did he just say that he wanted to be with me? I can’t even think about it more as I feel his cock entering me. It’s stretching me out. And it feels so good.

“- Fuck, this is so big!” i bite my lower lip.

I moan and he starts to move into me slowly, he’s so deep and I can barely hold it together.

“- That’s it babygirl, you’re doing good.” he tells me, removing the hair out of my face.

The way he talks to me makes me crazy. The way he holds me makes me weak. The way he looks at me makes me feel alive. This is what I meant when I said I wanted something passionate and deep. Talking about deep, the connection we have as his cock moves in and out of me is incredible. You can probably see the stars in my eyes. And I can see the fire in his.

“- Mhhh… James! AAahh!” i scream, feeling numb.

“- Oh y/n. Mmmh…” he grunts. “You are so beautiful bouncing on my cock like this.”

“- Stop… mmmh… stop telling me those things…” i let out in between whimpers. “Or I’ll be sad… mmh… when I have to go.” i add, hearing him groan as an answer.

I feel my release coming. I’ve never felt that good. The only times I have come before were when I was touching myself, it’s the first time a man will do it. And what a man. I will be sad when I have to go, I wish I could have sex with him everyday, I wish I could kiss him every minute. It might sound cliché to feel such things towards a man like him in such a short time. I said he’d fuck me and fuck me good. But he’s making love to me.

I see his face flinch and he kisses me.

“- I can feel you tighten around my cock...mmmh..” he says. “Come. Come for me baby.”

I can also feel his cock twitch in me. I know he’s about to come too.

“- James… mmmhh… please! Come in me! Please! Aaahh!” i tighten my arms around his neck, throwing my head into his neck, coming as i implore.

“- Fuck… you are so amazing.” he says, out of breath, coming deep into me, letting little whimpers out of me.

I can hear his heartbeat through his chest as his cock softens into me. This feeling is so peaceful and makes me forget about what is to come next. It makes me feel so important and cared for. It’s two hearts. And I don’t wanna leave. He’s making me crazy. Here, in his arms, in this position, I don’t want this to end.

“- Y/n.” he calls. “Stay with me.” he demands, his hands falling on my waist. “Stay with me. I’ll take you anywhere you want, give you everything you want. I know it’s selfish to ask you to leave everything so I can be with you but I need you. I don’t know how, I don’t know why. But I do.” he begs.

“- Oh James. I fucking hate this town. Take me anywhere you want.” i answer.

I was the loneliest and most bored woman on earth some hours ago. Now I’m the happiest and most fulfilled. I think, while James locks his promise with a passionate kiss on my lips.

༄♡. 𖧹⋆✰

A/N : the lotus like man i just want to do that with james it feels so deep! thank you anon because this gave me an idea for this oneshot, i wrote this with of course, cola in my mind because lana does gets it. i usually write stuff with rough sex and all but something more soft from time to time doesn’t hurt, hope you’ll love this anon, and everybody else (james you can take me anywhere) <33

[vildexiv]

☾*⋆ LFRP: Vilde Eres

⟡ RACE: Keeper of the Moon, Miqo'te. ⟡ AGE: Mid 20s. ⟡ PRONOUNS: He/They ⟡ HEIGHT: 5 fulms. (5') ⟡ OCCUPATION: Healer & potioneer ⟡ RESIDENCE: The murky outskirts of the Lavender Beds

Vilde might better suit the title of ‘starveling’. Cultivating a lithe frame with narrow shoulders and an hourglass silhouette, the creature stands below the average height of those of his ilk. Merely a wisp of darkness spilled across a mottled forest floor, the witch has grown accustomed to slipping by unseen. His frame is thin and lithe, befitting that of a ghost found amidst a tapestry of earth-encrusted roots, a whisper of movement between dense trees.

A shadow of lilac hair rippled with errant waves tumbles down the svelte curve of his back to end at his waist. It has been adorned with a number of glittering jewels, braided satin ribbons and feathered adornments like gilded fineries. Shorter locks frame fae-like features, until it would be rare to see Vilde with his hair tied back; it acts as a curtain, protective veil - something more to hide behind when the shadows aren’t enough.  Curved ears have been spotted with darker markings that scatter the thick fur of his tail where it emerges from the base of his spine. Vilde’s tail is thick and heavy, spotted across the top with markings not dissimilar to that of a serval cat. Jewels thread his fur like a prized pelt, as though to match the earrings pierced through the cartilage of his ears. The telling signs of a peculiar affliction make themselves plain upon his features. His complexion is ghostly. His eyes shine like a radiant flame, flitting somewhere between blood red and deep carmine in some elusive liminal hue that is somehow both and neither at the very same time. They all but drown the deep shadows that sit beneath, as though waking hours are better spent prowling the forest floor.  Full cheeks round out his features, completed by painted too-full lips. Rare smiles offer brief glimpses of elongated incisors that come framed by dimples that press into his cheeks. His nose is narrow and upturned toward the tip, disfigured across its bridge by a set of scars that rake across his flesh. To keepers that listen to the whispers of the wood, it might be plain that this mark bears all the distinguishing signs of a banishment. Though he is often draped in gauzy robes, the witch wears his peculiarities like points of pride. Be it the serpentine tattoo that drips from the slope of his temple, or the strange black stain that crawls up the lengths of his forearms with its greedy tendrils. Vilde makes no attempt to conceal his oddities from view. The gentle aroma of vetiver and vanilla clings to him like a perfume, suffused into the very threadbare fibres of his attire; a scent that embodies tea parties and parlour games- like a scent pocketed from an oak vanity.

⟡ The Apothecary: Vilde runs a small apothecary out of an isolated cottage located in the fringes of the Lavender Beds. It is within a house cluttered with potted plants, overgrown vines, gnarled tapestries of swelling tree roots, and stagnant spirits. Vilde grows, gathers, and cultivates all of his own ingredients, refusing to brew anything but the best to those that will pay for his wares. The witch is capable of concocting lustrous fortune potions, ghastly poisons, luck charms, sleeping droughts, and much, much more. Many of his potions are of his own creation, and he is ever eager to test them on willing (or unwilling) subjects.

⟡ Aetherical Spellwork: Ready and willing to perform curses, hexes or charms for customers willing to pay the right price, his manipulations are as eclectic and eccentric as he is. His intrinsic understanding of the human body makes him an adept healer at mending a range of maladies, from cuts and bruises to more unorthodox complications. He’s a skilled healer, and he’s grown even better at keeping secrets.  ⟡ Propriety: Due to his relatively isolated lifestyle, he is largely unaware of many social cues (including menial things such as clothing, table manners & more). It would be immensely helpful for him to learn these things, given the increasing amount of time he finds himself visiting nearby cities and towns.  ⟡ Trade: Merchants or couriers are likely to meet him - either for a delivery of items or a transaction for something new. He's a worthwhile client who spends a little too much gil every time. ⟡ Unlucky Wanderers: He's curious. He's still learning. There are precious few things he wouldn't do to satiate his own curiosity, even if that means snatching a wanderer off a forest trail. He knows better, but that isn't enough to stop him. ⟡ Narcotics: Those with their fingers dipped in the underworld might have heard whisperings of his name. He has cultivated a reputation as a trustworthy and discreet source of potions, poisons, curses and healing. ⟡ Shroudkin: Other Keepers of the Moon might be familiar with his clan name - I’m more than open to discuss this ooc to figure something out if you would like to explore this further! I’m eager for him to meet other Keepers!

Due to my timezone, it is sometimes difficult to find a time to roleplay in game, I am always open to roleplaying over discord, however. I tend to lean toward multi-paragraph storytelling and darker plotlines, but I’m happy to do lighter scenes, too!

I'm 28 years old and currently working on a freelance basis. I'm often working from home, so I can be fairly flexible with my scenes! Ooc, I'm a shy and awkward cryptid who just really loves to write. You can add me on discord ( Sunny#4558 ) or shoot me a message here if you’d like to chat about plots - or anything!

Vilde’s carrd is here for a more in-depth look at anything!

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Braids and Tattoos in Galahd

The title’s pretty obvious, I think and since I’m having trouble with actually writing a chapter for Born Into the Wilds rn, I thought why not talking a bit more about Galahdian culture?

So I decided to talk about the different significances and meanings of braids and tattoos since Galahd has both and it would be kind of redundand if they meaned the same things.

First the tattoos:

They are deeply tied into the hunting culture. There are very few people in Galahd who don’t at least have a few because everyone knows how to hunt. Very specific symbols are used to communicate what a person has accomplished during a hunt. Be it outrunning fast prey, hearing it from great distances or seeing a trail everybody else missed.

They’re not really used for decorative purposes but if someone does they never use the traditional symbols and are more prone to use colour. Every hhunting symbol is black and so that colour isn’t used in decorative tattoos.

Concerning Nyx’ tattoos, the line around his calf identifies him as a fast runner, the crows foot under his eye marks his strong eyesight and the lines on his fingers show his dexterity (the more lines the better it is). 

The ones on his ears are a bit more complicated. The line and dot on the left show his sharp hearing in general and marks on the right identify him as being able to differentiate friend from prey. 

The connected lines on his neck are him having survived great injury on a hunt.

(Damn, Nyx is one talented guy.)

Libertus has the tattoos on his right arm announing his great strength, each one a time when he wrestled with prey/an enemy weaponless and won. 

Of course there need to be witnesses for something like this and the tattoos are then done by the elders by the light of the storyteller’s fire while the story is told how he or she earned the mark.

Then the braids:

That’s more and less complicated. They’re more visible but no less easy to read if you don’t know what you’re doing. (Which is basically everyone outside the Galahkari.)

Braids in general have nothing to do with hunting (outside of pronouncing a person as a hunter), but with clans and family and profession. They show which clan you belong to, if you’re married and have children, if you’re mourning and what profession you follow.

People don’t have to wear them and certainly not all of them (those who do are seen as very traditional). When a person doesn’t wear the braids they can wear knotted necklaces. 

Culturally, they come from the Era of Wandering when they were actively persecuted and needed a way to communicate with each other without being obvious to outsiders. Braids came first and as the messages got more complicated they used knotted and braided strings worn as jewelry.

The tradition was kept even after they settled in Galahd but got simplified to a few personal messages still remaining.

The first one a person generally earns is the clan braid to which one belongs. After that it depends. A person who remained Nameless still can wear braids but not a clan braid. The first time hair gets braided it’s nomally done by an older member of the clan or family. 

In case of Nyx it was his mother.

[mayullla]

Title: Babysitter Akatsuki Headcanons part 1

Character(s): Sasori, Deidara, Kisame, Itachi, Pein/Nagato (Naruto)

Summary: The Akatsuki are all teens and hang around with each other as a group and thought why not try to pick a few jobs here and there for a bit of money. One of the odd jobs is taking care of a child whose parents are always busy with work. You are a very lonely child and they noticed that and made it their goal to have an amazing childhood.

Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, young reader, purely platonic

Part 2: Hidan, Kakuzu, Konan, Tobi and Zetzu

Sasori

- A tsundere. A freaking tsundere, he loves you and adores you but acts as if he is indifferent towards you. (even though everyone knows that he would react the most if you ever get lost.)

- Would call you a brat and warn you not to touch his puppets that he may have brought with him but never goes through with those punishments.

- If you have trouble with homework he would be right beside you, putting you down for how you didn't know these simple things but will in the end teach you and later after the study he would pat your head making an offhand comment that you did well and that he was making food.

- If you are a very quiet child or the type who liked to listen a lot he would vent to you about all his frustrations, but he would also teach you many things about the world and warn you, telling you never to follow strangers and such. If a stranger tries to lure you somewhere, call him. Promise?

- If he ever gives you a present you bet he will be giving you a doll that looks like you. (Just cuter than some of his other creepy puppets.)

Deidara

- One of the most cuddly babysitters here, you will never feel touched deprived when you are with this man. Placing you on his lap as he rubbed your head with his cheeks or maybe braid your hair decorating it with pastel clips and more. (He would even do your makeup if you ask)

- Will let you play with his precious clay, and would always coo that you are going well. Tho he also thrives when you look at his art with aww.

- He wants you to have the time of your life, and that means taking you to many festivals around the town always and I mean always bring fireworks with him.

- Would get into a hair-pulling catfight for you. They said that you looked ugly with that outfit you were wearing or you have no manners, you lady come here. Sasori Danna hold my earrings!

-Many selfies with this man, cute ones, funny ones and more. He would have an album by the end of the month.

Kisame Hoshigaki

- Bodybuilder Kisame let’s go! He will be tossing you up to the sky if you ask him to. The man would always place you on his shoulders taking you everywhere, something that always makes you smile and laugh.

- Will show off his swimming skills in the pool and would be your swimming teacher.

- Is the one to make promises before he leaves if he saw you sad that he was leaving. Be it going to the park with that man or he will have sweets the next time he comes.

- He is someone you would show off to your friends. The teen is buff and not to mention he got tattoos and looks so cool! (Children who are scared of him at first slowly become jealous of you, as the man is so much fun to play with!)

- Will be a frantic mess when you are hurt like if you tripped running towards the teen and he wasn't able to catch you and you scratch your knees. He would try to act cool… just causing one accident after another. If he was the cause of you being hurt, he would become hesitant to touch you and would stay in a corner, moping.

Itachi Uchiha

- Itachi will be treating you like he treats his younger brother Sasuke when he was young (Who is at the moment in the middle of a little emo phase and trying to one-up his brother. It was a sad day for Itachi when he found out that his brother doesn't look up to him like before.) brotherly affection.

- Many pokes on the forehead and head pats from this man, he doesn't really hug you but will carry you to go and get some ice cream or dango!

- After your study, he will take you out to go to the park where he would push you on the swings or maybe you guys visit the aquarium or zoo.

- The teen doesn't really need the babysitting job money as he does get a big allowance from his family but he wants to be with you. The babysitting money is spent on you.

- Instead of watching movies or video games, he wants to interact with you more so rather than that it would be board games or you rambling about your day or stories about your school and friends as he quietly listens to you drinking his tea.

Pein (Nagato)

- Will place you on his lap, stroking your hair as he talks about his plans on taking over the world even tho he knows that you would not understand half of what he says but if you ask he would patiently explain.

- People are intimidated by him and if you were not or you were but got used to him and started to like him. You might see flowers blooming in the background of this man and he always smiles when you are around.

- Will teach you many things, especially how to protect yourself from strangers or bad people. He thought of giving you a taser that looks like a bunny keychain but decided not to after Konan *reasoned* (threatened) him not to.

- Pein will be a proud man if you followed his lessons in dealing with your bullies.

- Expects that you like him more than other members (top 1!) and would actually be the most disappointed if you liked someone else that isn't him. (But then again other members would also be distraught if you picked somebody else and not them.)

[sopxhiea]

Moirai

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: The mysterious niece runs into Alfie in her uncle’s office and she expertly plays it cool until she’s pulled away by his strong grip and the night has more in store than she’s bargained for.

Warnings: Age gap.

Part 1

“Fine. You win.”

“Are you blushing or cold?”

The deep colored oak desk is illuminated by the sunlight coming through the open window, the room is quiet as dust gathers on the many shelves that decorate the place. The space is mostly filled with books, torn out old covers with faded colors and it’s obvious that the furniture around is aged except the large table that resides in the corner.

It stands out, much like you do.

A low tune plays from the record player in the office, next to the assistant’s desk as she types the day away. The boss is away in Birmingham, brushing shoulders with dirty faced gangster even though he’s very much one of them. There’s no chatter inside the walls today, nor the voice of the golden haired lady’s heels clicking against the hard surface.

The boss isn’t supposed to come back for another two hours.

The weather is chilly, grey sky bestowed upon the citizens around as the large coat you have on hugs you tight. Your uncle’s office is empty for the day, as far you know which means you’re more than welcome to stop by to get some work done. As much as the men around London despise the idea of a woman getting education, your uncle is aware of your potential.

The boots on your feet are meant for men, heavy and dense as you stomp away. The days are shorter due to the weather and it will get dark in a couple hours as far as you’re aware, but that doesn’t stop you from making an unwanted visit to your uncle’s office.

He’s a criminal with gold wrapped around his fingers. Not many are content with the men and even though he tends to get the approval of the higher class in London, it’s not hard to recognise the distaste the working class have for him. He’s a gangster, a good one at that.

He’s your family.

It’s not by choice, that much you accept. Years of being alone on end make him seem like an angel sorts, someone to rescue you from the hellhole you’d been in for the first seven years of your life. It looks different from the outside, you know that it does which makes you realise just how easy it is to trick people around here.

From the outside, you look like a pearl wrapped in cotton with flowers carefully placed around you. Most people do not approach you unless you make the first move, perks of having a powerful man as your only family. It’s easy to point out that your features belong somewhere else on the map and not the dirty roads of London.

You spare one last glance to the dim colored sky before barging into the building that your uncle redeems as his. Its walls are made of brick, one on top of the other that make up a three story building that occupies most of the side of the street its on.

It’s easy to recognise, Alfie thinks.

The sound of your heavy boots against the hard floor are easy to recognise but it’s too late for you to lighten your steps when Martha, your uncle’s trusted assistant, calls your name. You sigh then, a grunt leaving your mouth and you curse at yourself for being so careless for once.

Walking through the large corridor, you face the old lady as she looks at you through her smudged glasses. That color of pink on her lips is far too vibrant on her lips, you think as she sizes you up. 

You’re not conventionally dressed but she’s used to your choice of clothing.

“Hello Y/N.” she speaks, her voice a little shushed when compared to normal but you’re too busy fixing your long dress to realise that there’s a reason for her quiet attitude.

You lift your head to look up at her again, no longer pulling at your dress as she gives you an uninterested look, the usual treatment. Your lips part, a playful smile on your lips but before you can let out a word, the door of the gathering space opens with a loud sound.

It’s him, you gather as you stare at his hat.

There’s gold on his fingers and a crown tattoo. It’s easy to recognise him, you think, his hat is peculiarly shaped and the rhythm of his steps is far too unusual for a normal person. There’s flour on his sleeves, the kind that looks like he’s been laying in it for a while.

His hat creates a shadow over his eyes so you miss the evident look of surprise in them but he’s quick to take it off. He’d been bothering Martha for a while, asking when the beloved boss would return since their deal was now ‘off’ due to a couple complications in the process.

When in fact, Alfie is directly betraying him.

He watches your eyes glisten as the sunset is bestowed upon the sky. Short strands of hair fall around your face from the braid, the braid that had your friend pulling at your hair for the entirety of breakfast. He finds himself to be too intrigued at the sight of you to actually speak but he’s fast to recover.

“’ello, lass.” he says, the words echo in your mind before you can answer. Martha isn’t daft, she catches onto the way you stare up at the man but before she can say anything, you speak with a plastered smile.

“Hello, Mr. Solomons.” your voice is soft against the air around as you look up at him. There’s mischief in your eyes mixed with a glint of innocence, the kind of thing that could easily mess a man of Alfie’s wrath.

You hadn’t gone the address he’d sent you.

It was easy to make up excuses: you were busy with school and simply swarmed with work. You ignored the heat rising to your cheeks and gave him your softest smile while Martha eyed the both fo you, it was obvious that whatever you and Alfie had was doomed from the start.

Your uncle was a sheltered man and had raised you the same way. No boyfriends until you wanted to marry someone, only talk to men your uncle had assigned you for protection and if you were to go out, you informed him a week before.

But he wasn’t as sharp as he liked to believe.

You did things that would simply torture the man, from sneaking out to man’s apartments to dancing intimately with strangers. The city was fun at night, when it was supposed to sleeping seemed to be the only time the groggy streets felt alive to you.

And through years of sneaking around and lying almost too expertly, no one knew what you did. You’d have a different fake name, a different set of friends and a whole new part of town each week so things didn’t get messed up. It was a perk of being closely related to a gangster of your uncle’s power.

Martha knew how intense your uncle was when it came to you making contact with men, let alone a known brutal man like Alfie so she stood up and smiled softly, threat evident in her eyes as she spoke to you under her breath.

“Why don’t you go to the office, dear?” she speaks through her teeth and Alfie couldn’t hear but your eyes don’t leave his, if anything this was highly amusing.

And you wanted to talk to the men.

“No, thank you. I think I’ll keep Mr. Solomons company while he waits for uncle.” you spoke, looking directly into Martha’s eyes while speaking in a tone that was loud enough for everyone to hear.

She doesn’t say anything, she just backs off.

As cautious as your uncle had been with you, there were two sides to the story. Behind closed doors, he would get mad at you and scold you as much as he could while remaining as gentle as possible but in front of those very doors, he’d have your back and protect you that made most people frightened. He was allowed to get mad at you since you were his niece, but that was a privilege only he had in his hands.

Much to Alfie’s surprise, you shoot him a smirk through the smile you had on and ignore the old assistant. He doesn’t flinch when your hand comes in contact with his arm but there is a wave of alarm in his eyes. He knows your uncle will have Alfie’s scalp in his hands if he doesn’t behave well around you, he’ll try anyway.

Soon, you both find yourself in the dusty room that your uncle so graciously gave you when you had asked for a place to do some work and reading. Standing in the middle of the room, you slowly take your coat off while Martha keeps the door open and mutters something under her breath about making some tea for you and the gentlemen you offered to entertain while he waits for business.

But you don’t ignore the elephant in the room since he’s already gawking at you. You stare back instead. The ghost of a smile pulls at the ends of your lips as his eyes reek over your body, he isn’t subtle to say the least. Glancing at Ollie through the open door, you watch him for a moment as he talks to Martha but your observations are cut short when you hear his voice.

“You ain’t visited me yet, aye?” he speaks, talking about the address he had sent you and you know you can take this two ways. You decide on the fun way. 

He sits in front of the desk and you take the opportunity to lean on the wooden material and have a look at his features. He still looks as handsome, but you don’t give in that easily. You shake your head and he watches the ends of your dress move with the small breeze that comes in from the open door. For all you know, Martha is listening.

“Is that why you’re here?” you speak, words filled with something other than curiosity. Lust, he thinks. He sees the familiar glint of insanity in your orbs and he’s aware of the little game you’re playing behind your uncle but much like you, he isn’t keen on giving in so easily.

“Nah, just business.” he says, voice heavy as it fills the walls. You nod, a few times more than you should before getting comfy on the desk. 

Your eyes glisten before you speak, so he has been waiting for you. Just no matter how interesting this rugged man seemed, there were certain lines you wouldn’t cross and going to an unknown address given by a stranger was one of the many lines you were taught to beware of.

Although it all worked out for the best.

The stranger that had invited you to the location was looking at you now, with hungry eyes for things he wasn’t able to have. You knew men like Alfie, ones who had a superiority complex or it seemed that way from the outside. The kind of men who got whatever they wanted since there was immense blood in their hands.

“So you waited then, hm?” you ask, eyes looking up and down his built figure as he stands before you, he had gotten up when you’d taken a minute to look out the door to see where Martha was since she was usually keen on listening.

“Seein’ as it’s my fuckin’ work place, yeah, can’t say I have, luv.” he speaks, talking about the peculiar address he’d given which you now realise was his work place. 

So he could be trusted after all.

You sigh, this game is highly amusing for you. It’s easy to make up the lines of how this is going to go but it could go so wrong all of a sudden. You want it to, this stranger seems to be a kind one you wouldn’t mind getting under. His eyes watch as you lick your lips, not aware that he’s watching while he observes you in all your wrath since your uncle isn’t around here. Alfie can tell you’re a wolf in mere sheep’s clothing.

“Fine. You win.” You shake your head as you speak. You need to know whether this man wants the things you do, even though you’re sure he does. He’s not to be toyed around with and you recognise the blood on his hands for that matter.

He walks a little closer, close enough for your chest to be almost brushing his figure but he’s entirely too tall. You don’t glance up while your next words fill the air, voice soft to lure him into the fantasy you want to live, no matter how short lived it will end up being.

“What you want?” you ask, eyes looking up to meet his handsome face as he looks down at you in an expression you can’t quite solve. The question hangs around the air while the breeze from the open door gets a little strong.

He sees no reason to ponder around, he knows the old assistant will be around the corner with her peering eyes in a second and this will be the scarce moment he’ll have with you. He doesn’t beat around the bush anyway.

“Ya’ know what.” he says, easy as that and you do, now you’ve learned what he wants.

But it’s not so easy to get it.

It’s the forbidden fruit situation all over again, you know it is. He’s a man with power, the kind of authority that’s able to shake a grown man to his very own core. He has blood on his hands even though his golden beard contradicts the very image that’s created by everything about him. He knows he’s dangerous and so is this situation but you’re no forbidden fruit.

Your uncle has taken all kinds of measures to make sure you’re the best you can be. It’s not like you’re a regular citizen, it’s obvious in your features that you belong somewhere else in the map but there’s the kind of elegance that comes with your bloodline, excluding your uncle who happens to be a gangster.

You take a large step back from his built form, clearing your throat when Martha comes in with a tray in her hands. You see the look he’s giving you and she does, too. You know she’ll rat this out to your uncle but you’ve always made sure he stays on your side so you see no problem with it.

Offering the assistant the widest fake smile you can muster up, you wait until she leaves to speak. It’s a thin line you’re dancing on but it’s a familiar one to you which is why there’s a faint smile on your lips as you speak.

“I’ll let you get on with your business, since that’s all you’re here for, Mr. Solomons.” you speak, watching the way something along the lines of frustration and arousal come over him. You know he thought you’d let him have you against the desk, it seems like the plausible answer from any logical lady whom he’s offered the pleasure but he failed to see the silver lining. You don’t happen to be a logical lady.

He sees the devil behind your eyes and it brings a smirk to his face. It seems as though you’ll be haunting him for a while.

You hear Martha talk about uncle’s car being parked outside to Ollie and you get up at a slower pace than he’d expect and wear your coat over the dress again. You know there are manners your uncle has tried to teach you and covering up in front of a stranger is one of them, or so you think.

He watches as you walk towards the door, waiting like a little kid for your uncle. There’s a flip side to your coin, he gathers. The innocent little jewel who’s been protected all her life also happens to be dancing with the devil for a while, he can see it in your eyes. 

You watch Alfie walk by, touching your waist gently when he has to pass by you to get through the door. You see the way his beard covers up his bothered face and since your uncle is about to arrive and have a meeting with him, why not rile him up further?

A childish smile finds your lips and you hold his arm as an attempt to make him look down at you so you see eye to eye, which works due to the unfamiliar sensation. He lifts his eyebrows, telling you to go ahead and speak and you do but you don’t realise your uncle has been watching your strange interaction with one of the most dangerous man you could find around here.

“Are you blushing or cold?” you speak, fighting giggles as you look up at the man. Alfie opens his mouth to say something but before he can greet your amused face with his playful words, you catch you uncle’s eyes. He clears his throat and you immediately let go of Alfie’s arm, smiling at the old man as he looks at you and Alfie.

Looking like a child caught red-handed, you offer your uncle a small hello but he’s dismissive of it. It’s unclear to you whether he’s in a mood or he saw something he shouldn’t have seen just now. Alfie seems unfazed as he looks down at your little, the devil behind your eyes long gone as you look at your uncle and then Alfie.

“Mr. Solomons..” your uncle speaks, not sparing a glance at you while his eyes size Alfie up. Your gaze moves to the large man next to you as he tips his hat at your uncle as a way of greeting him.

“Shall we start discussing the deal in my office?” your uncle asks but you know better than to assume it’s an invitation, it’s more of an order.

Alfie mutters something unintelligible and turns his gaze to you. You offer him a formal smile this time, everyone is watching so he figures it’s his time to make you blush.

He takes your hand in his and your eyes shoot up, you see your uncle watching hesitantly but Alfie is far too powerful for him to scold the man like he scolds you. Alfie’s plump lips come in contact with your hand as he kisses the back of it gently. A small smirk plays on his lips as you gather the game he’s playing.

“Always a pleasure, luv.” he says, finding his true self to be a gentlemen at the given moment as you stare at him with heavy eyes.

You smile then, the kind of smile that he’d remember when he went to bed at night. You know he’ll be waiting for you in the address he gave you the first time he met you from the way he’s behaving, he isn’t keen on giving up that easily this time.

The territory is familiar to you but it takes two to do this and the other player is foreign territory. A gangster, someone with blood on their hands as it grips the golden rings around his calloused fingers. It perks up your curiosity, the thrill of being with someone so powerful. 

He knows you’re protected. There are two guards with you wherever you go, your uncle’s gift to you on your birthday. He knows you live in a mansion of sorts with too many people around so sneaking in is not a choice. 

But he’s tempted to say the least.

He wants to dance with the devil you hide so well, to feel her touch against his skin under the moonlight. He knows you have your ways around the city and men, too. He also knows that your uncle will try to cut his balls off if he hears even the possibility of the things Alfie wants to do to you but you don’t find in yourself to care.

He knows you’ll come around this time.

Your soft voice plays at a tone only he can hear and he listens with his ears perked up before he goes into your uncle’s office and you go off on your own way. “Pleasure’s all mine.” 

-----

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum a/n: This is a little too late :) but i just got done with some project deliveries and I truly do hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you thought of the chapter and if you’d like to be tagged <3

(If i’m forgetting to tag you, please lemme know!)

[maaaddiexo]

The Lost Village (The Weeping Monk)

Mainlist | Serieslist

Warnings: none

part 4/4 (4 for now; maybe more after second season release)

-

It felt like hours for the group of three as they waited for the tattooed woman’s answer. She stared at all of them individually, sizing them up. Assessing them. Oddly enough, she stared at Y/N the longest.

“Fine. Blye! Get some blindfolds.”

The man who’d complained stepped forward with multiple strips of cloth in his hand. He wore a smug, sinister smile on his face.

“Not happening,” Y/N insisted. “Blindfolded or not, we’ll be able to track where you take us from where we are.”

“And what’s gonna stop us from blindfolding you?” Blye sneered. “You’re outnumbered.”

“And you’re outpowered.” Y/N lifted her hand, stared at Blye, and as she drew a circle in the air, she said, “Ignis.” A circle of fire immediately appeared around Blye and he screeched. He froze in his place and stared at Y/N. “Yes, I’m a witch. No, I don’t want to hurt you nor do I plan on it. I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt you and I don’t want to break it. But the only reason we came to you was because I saw your village in visions. We need help and we would like you to trust us just as we are trusting you not to take us into a trap.”

Alba lifted her head and contemplated again. “Alright. No blindfolds.”

Y/N lowered her hand and the fire around Blye disappeared. “Thank you.”

“But we still have no reason to trust each other. How do we know you guys won’t hurt us?”

“How about a blood pact?” The Monk suggested quietly. He cleared his throat when Y/N stared at him with a raised eyebrow. “Father Carden gave me full access to the reliquary to learn about the Fey. I read all of the books they had. I remember reading a spell book about types of magic. It mentioned a blood pact.”

“Those were my books he gave you.”

Alba looked at Y/N expectantly. “Can you do it.”

Y/N sighed, “I know which spell he’s talking about. I’ve never had any reason to do it before but I can try.”

“Do it.”

The Monk handed Y/N a small knife which she cut her palm with. Alba copied her with her own blade. Blood pooled in both of their hands. Y/N reached forward and clasped Alba’s hand in her own, as if they were going to shake hands. Y/N felt the familiar tingle and watched as a white glow began to emanate from between their palms.

“Alliges duplicia sanguine.” She retracted her hand and saw that her hand was still bleeding. She fisted her hand, saw it glow again, and when she opened her hand, the wound was healed completely.

“How do we know it worked?” Blye asked. Y/N tooked back the blade the Monk had given her and used the tip to prick the pad of her right thumb.

“Shit,” Alba cursed and there, on the pad of her right thumb, was a spot of blood.

“Whatever happens to me, happens to you, and vice versa. I’ll undo it when we leave.”

“Then let’s get this over with,” Alba grumbled. She turned around and walked away from them. “Come on, now.”

The Monk was helped back onto their horse and they were led through the forest, the fireflies still buzzing overhead. Y/N didn’t even know they’d arrived at the Lost Village until Alba said so. The village was so well disguised. The village was not on ground level. A few of the Lost Villagers climbed up the trees and disappeared into the night, but most disappeared between two large boulders covered in moss.

“You live underground.”

Alba nodded as they descended the makeshift set of stairs down into the ground. “Despite being smaller than most Fey villages, our tunnels are extensive. If the Red Paladins ever found our village, they’d never be able to follow us through the tunnels. Only the Scouts are above ground during the day. Even though the Red Paladins don’t come out here, we believe it’s safer to sleep during the day and work during the night.”

“It’s really smart,” the Monk praised. “The dirt makes it harder to smell you out when you’re underground.”

Underneath the ground, the tunnels were high enough where none of them had to crouch. Every few feet, alcoves had been carved to hold torches. Alba informed them that most of the villagers were in what they called the Hive, but they still passed a few people in the tunnels.

“Not all of them are Fey,” the Monk noted.

“Yes, a few are human. Some were kicked out because they were born with the mark of the devil or dark gods while others chose to leave because they sided with the Fey.”

The single tunnel branched out into a web of tunnels and Alba took a hard left. Having had to leave the horse above ground, Y/N and the Monk were a little way behind the group, but Alba walked slowly enough for them to keep sight of her. She stopped and pointed to a long room on the right of the tunnel hallway.

“This is the infirmary. Mary is the nurse working at the moment. Find an empty cot and she’ll come find you in a moment.”

There was an empty cot not too far from the entrance and the Monk collapsed in it. Immediately, Squirrel and Y/n began removing his weapons and cloak. His clothes were stuck to his body with dried blood, and when she pulled his hood back, she saw that the right side of his hair was matted with blood too.

“How do I look?” the Monk asked in a teasing tone.

“Like shit,” Squirrel replied honestly. He didn’t even miss a beat. Y/N laughed loudly and pushed the Monk’s hair out of his face. Beside the bed was a bowl of water and a dry cloth. She wet the cloth before dabbing at his head wound. Squirrel undid the tie at the top of the Monk’s shirt but then shrugged and cut his shirt up to take it off.

“Damn, I liked that shirt.”

“You also once liked the idea of burning a cross into your head. Soon enough, you’ll renege on your appreciation for it.”

“Was that an insult?”

Y/N only smiled. “How’s your side?”

“Something tells me it ain’t pretty.” The voice was new, and in the entrance, a short round lady stood smiling. Her long, braided hair had been pulled up into a tight bun and there was blood on the white apron tied around her neck and waist. “I’m Mary. I’m a healer.”

“I’m not a healer, but I can heal him,” Y/N said. “I just need to make the poultice.”

“You need to rest first,” the lady argued politely. “You’re welcome to sleep on the empty cots, and I’ll take care of him until morning.”

Y/N didn’t feel comfortable leaving the Monk in the hands of strangers – even though it was her idea to come to them – but the Monk’s hand on hers and his weak but sure nod were enough to push Y/N to her feet and over to the empty cot beside his. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

***

Y/N had no idea what time it was or how long she’d been asleep when she finally woke up. Squirrel was still asleep in the cot across from hers. Sluggishly, Y/N turned to see the Monk sitting up in bed, picking at a stark white bandage on his wrist.

“Don’t pick at it.”

The Monk dropped his hand and smiled at her. “Mornin’.”

“How long was I asleep?” Y/N rubbed her eyes and sat up.

“A day, I think. I slept for a little bit but the medication Mary gave me wasn’t very strong.”

“Here. Let me help.” Her bag was tucked underneath her cot and on the floor between their cots, she mixed an elixir in her pestle and mortar. She held the Monk’s head as she brought the mortar to his chapped lips. “This will help with the pain. I can apply a paste that will speed up the healing, but I’m not a good enough witch to fully heal them. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, Y/N.”

It didn’t feel okay to Y/N. Silently, she washed the mortar in a bowl of clean water and sorted through her bag for the proper ingredients. Together, they were ground into powder and then a paste when she added honey.

“A binding agent,” the Monk concluded. Y/N could see the pride in his eyes as she unwound the dressing around his wrist. The wound had been cleaned and wasn’t bleeding. With a clean hand, she applied the paste to the cut and then redressed the wound. After she was done applying the paste to his other wounds, she asked,

“You think you can walk?” The Monk nodded and after Y/N helped him up, she went to wake Squirrel, not wanting to leave him behind. “Come on. Let’s explore.”

With the medication and Y/N and Mary’s healing work, the Monk could already put a little more weight on his bad leg, but still clung to Y/N. They turned down a tunnel and felt a flitting breeze. In that short moment, he got a whiff of Y/N and thought she smelt nice.

“Do you hear that?” Squirrel asked, stopping in the tunnel. “Listen.”

Echoing through the tunnel from somewhere a head of them, they heard what sounded like a drum.

“Is that…music?”

“I haven’t heard music in years,” the Monk said longingly.

“Let’s go!” Squirrel exclaimed and ran ahead, following the beat of the drum. The soon found a set of stairs that brought them above ground. Immediately, they knew they were in the Hive. Above them, tree branches had woven to create a full-proof roof, but light still managed to filter in. Around them, people danced and laughed. What they thought was a drumbeat was actually the sound of people stomping their feet.

Alba walked up to them with a wooden cup in her hand. “Glad to see you on your feet again. You’re looking much better,” she said to the Monk.

“Mary was very kind. Thank you for letting us stay.”

“It won’t be forever,” Alba warned. “I won’t put my people in danger.”

“We understand. Still, thank you for offering what you have. It means a lot.”

Alba nodded and turned to walk away, “Enjoy the party.”

Squirrel had gone off to dance and Y/N helped the Monk to an empty spot on a bench. They sat and watched the people dance for a while, and at some point had accepted fruit that had been offered to them.

“The Red Paladins never had events like this,” the Monk said randomly. “I don’t think I’ve even seen the humans this happy during jousting events and such.”

“It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?” Y/N said and rested her chin on her palm. She watched the different Fey and marked humans dance together in perfect unison and smiled at how quickly they had accepted Squirrel. “I’ve never seen anything like it either.”

“If I wasn’t so injured, I would ask you to dance.” Y/N blushed and admitted she didn’t know how to dance. “Maybe one day I could teach you.”

The girl smiled brightly. “I would like that.”

The Monk stuck out his hand and slipped hers into his to shake and confirm the deal. But it wasn’t a confirmation handshake.

“Hello, I’m Lancelot.”

[jiminslight]

tag games

a frankenpost of some tag games (mostly bts quizzes ayooo) i’m behind on asdghjh 

tagged by: a lot of moots that i love dearly! i’ve @/ everyone below who’s tagged me, according to game. huge thanks to you guys for always including me, even if my dumb ass gets to them late 🥺 it means the world to me that you still do!! ♡♡♡

what bts core are you? 

(via @taee​​​​ & @cowboyjinbop​​ ♡)

which btscore aesthetic are you? 1.0: koocore 

which btscore aes are you? 2.0: jimincore

-

aesthetic tag ✨

(via @ggukminii​​ ♡)

>> 𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐓 13/20

baby pink | iridescent | glitter is always a good option | no bra | minimalistic tattoos | cherry patterns | sweet scented perfumes | wearing generous amounts of blush | doodling hearts | getting excited to pet an animal | fun nails | rewatching old barbie movies | hair sticking to glossed lips | heart shaped sunglasses | taking pictures of the sunset or sunrise | stuffed animals | protecting nature | stickers everywhere | teen movies | the light rain that falls from a clear sky at the beginning of the night |

>> 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 9/20

neutral tones | masculine outfits | studying languages | worn down copy of books | grey skies | turtleneck sweaters | loose fitting pants | hair tied with a silk ribbon | trying to remember a cool difficult word you read somewhere to use in a convo | thick belts | minimal makeup | windows fogged by rain | vintage jewelry | blouses with cuffed sleeves | reading a murder mystery and trying to solve it | oxford style shoes | sweater vests | subtitled old movies in a language you don’t speak | leaves crackling as you walk | annotating books to express your emotions about the story |

>> 𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐘 8/20

closet full of dark clothes | fishnet tights | makeup sweating off | neon signs | searching for unknown songs | chokers | band tees | doodling on old converses | finding smoking aesthetically pleasing but not doing it | weird humor | accidentally very dramatic | dim lights | layered outfits | chain belts | chipped nail polish | messy hair | low quality pics | piercings | combat boots | scribbling on desks |

>> 𝟕𝟎’𝐒 6/20

colorful wardrobe | doodling flowers | wearing short shorts | using a bikini top or bra as a normal top | listening to ABBA | flowers in your hair | DIYing everything | jamming to songs alone in your room | drunkenly telling your friends you love them | patterned bandanas | mid heeled shoes | messy braids | flared sleeves | walking barefoot on grass or sand | bold sunglasses | the good kind of tired you get after doing something you enjoy for hours | feeding stray animals | fun patterned socks | room decorated with succulents and other plants | likes to go roller skating or skateboarding |

>> 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐔𝐀𝐋 7/20

collared clothes | drinking juice out of a champagne glass | getting excited to see the met gala looks | thick headbands | small pastel cardigans | making your friends take your ootd pics | plaid mini skirts | tweed two pieces | watching reality tv to pass time | frilly tops | watching old hollywood movies | academically driven | long manicured nails | new year’s eve fireworks | colourful tights | layered golden jewelry | yearns for luxury brand items | decorating your room with fairylights | cursive and neat handwriting | lace details |

- 

bunch o‘ quizzes

(via @cowboyjinbop​​​ ♡)

1. What are your best qualities?

you're charming, generous and wise.

you always seem to know what to say. people admire the ease with which you seem to navigate your life. maybe a few jealous ones even despise you for it. but your strength is your independency. whether the entire world is falling at your feet or not, you don't let your ability to learn and move forward be affected by them. it's admirable how much wisdom you give away for free, how nice and charming you remain even if others refuse to treat you the same and how you navigate life. i hope you know how much you're looked up to. and i also hope that you have someone to lean onto at times. however strong you might be, you weren't made to carry the weight of it all on your own.

2.  which btscore aesthetic are you? 1.0 (refer to top of this post hehe)

3. which member would you vibe with? (also tagged by @calicooky​​​ ♡)

Jimin is a true lover and maybe a bit of a people pleaser, but he has found a perfect balance for nurturing himself as well as others. He's magnetic and bright, and by getting him as a result perhaps means you are as well--don't forget to give yourself that credit. If you have an affectionate nature like Jimin, you bring a lot of comfort to those around you.

4. which btscore aes are you? 2.0 (refer to top of this post again)

+ What’s your go to, must listen to once a day (or week), song by BTS?

OT7 Track: black swan, autumn leaves, home, 2! 3!, just one day--SO MANY 

Vocal Line: house of cards (either ver.), love is not over, dimple, 00:00

Rap Line: ddaeng, outro: tear, tbh all the cyphers (esp. if i need to wake up driving to work lmao)

Multi Member: friends (vmin), a brand new day (vhope), all night (namgi), who (jikook- I WON’T LET THIS SONG DIE), and fly to my room (yoon/seok/min/tae)

Vocal Solo: serendipity, promise, stigma, my time, awake, epiphany

Rap Solo: just dance, trivia: love, interlude: shadow, 28, seoul

-

rules: post your lock screen, the last song you listened to, and the last photo you took! (via @jiminswn​​ ♡)

-

which bts member is similar to you? (via @taee​​ & @loverjimin​​​ ♡)

you got namjoon! you're a healer. you learn from your past mistakes, and you're not scared to apologize. your aura is an enchanting shade of emerald green, which makes you an enthusiastic, balanced person. you're very passionate about your hobbies, and just like joonie, you're very much amazed by the little miracles that happen in nature. you're a simple, genuine creature, and you're immensely smart. you remind me of the feeling of finally coming home, of knitting a scarf for a friend, of steamy cups of coffee. i envy whoever gets to hang out with you.

THE END

the rest are visual tags that i’ll get to eventually!! (i.e. moodboards, gif challenges, etc.) 

[writefasttalkevenfaster]

Arranged Chapter I (Poe Dameron x Reader)

Pairing: Poe Dameron x F!Reader (no Y/N)

Rating: None for this chapter (series: E) 

Word Count: 4,004

Summary: Prince and Princess of your respective planets you both agree to wed, not for love, but for advantage and the public cannot know. But there’s only one problem -- the two have never met, not until your wedding day. 

A/N: so this has been several months in progress. I’ll be tagging folks who liked my original post (if you don’t want to be tagged, just shoot me a message!). there’s a lot of set up in this chapter, but i promise it will pay off. I hope you give this series a read b/c its really something special to me. Special shoutouts to @laneygthememequeen, @bucky-of-the-opera, and @mrsrafaelbarba for all the support!!! 

"Come on Poe, you cannot have seriously agreed to this," Poe Dameron did not bother to look from the mirror, eyes concentrated on delicately tucking the wide end into the knot before pulling it down into a nearly perfect loop. But why then, why did it feel like he was tying the noose around his neck before his long walk to the gallows? The dread his stomach certainly sat like it - twisting his guts into a kriffing useless knot, much like the one around his neck. 

"I already agreed to it, Finn," the knot hung a little crooked - well perfect enough - just as his life was, "long time ago." 

Was it that long? It was an instant. An instant that he went from sitting in his mother’s lap in her x-wing, listening to her hum, as she flipped switches and steered the ship across the sky over the Queen’s palace. The quiet buzz of the engine lulled him sleep, until she would rouse him as they swooped in for a soft landing after the daily patrol of the perimeter. The oranges of the sky now inky black, nothing but a glittering scattering of stars and distant planets he knew nothing of. 

And now, he was stuffed in a stranger’s all too stuffy suit, tying a tie, and his feet cramping in tight shoes - and as he stared at himself in the mirror - he barely recognized himself. Probably because he definitely didn’t choose these clothes. A tradition - the bride’s family chooses the groom’s clothes. As he resisted the urge to squirm in his aching feet in his shoes, he wondered if they were hoping he couldn’t run with blue and purple feet. 

“Two weeks isn’t that long ago,” But two weeks wasn’t when he decided. Two weeks ago was when he confirmed it - confirmed that he would do anything to please his Queen, the person who took him in when he had no one - when he had lost everyone. And this - this wasn’t a loss - it was a gain. A gain, of another at his side. 

Finn shook his head, heaving a sigh,  “Just tell me, tell me you’re not just doing this for the agreement.” 

Was it the agreement why he was doing this? Yes, the troops the neighboring planet of Shar could give could end the war, the relief from supplies could stop millions from starving, and the bloodshed, the one that had stained his hands for all too long, could stop. He could finally stop — stop waking up in cold sweats from the images of broken children haunting him, the ghosts of families poking and prodding at his subconscious, until he begged for mercy. It could stop. 

An offer like this didn't come around twice. Except that it did — and she had said no. 

His Queen. 

Queen Leia Organa, his mother by all intents and circumstances, received an offer for an alliance a long time ago, and all that was needed was a hand in marriage - and since Ben's hand was already promised - it only left him. It was considered and mulled over and examined time and time again. The Queen couldn't deny the offer was favorable — especially with forces stirring, plotting, scheming in the background. But in the foreground was her son. Barely old enough to read, much less decide on an offer of marriage. She said no, because at that time, she had the choice. 

But this time, she didn’t. And neither did he. 

“I’m not just doing it for the agreement,” he intoned, mustering up a small smile, “Even if I am, as my advisor, shouldn’t you be trying to make sure I go through it?” 

He saw Finn frown at him in the mirror,  “As your advisor, I’m trying to assure you aren’t making a rash decision,” he paused, before adding, “and as your friend, I’m trying to make sure you’re not being a kriffing idiot.” 

“According to you and Rey, aren’t I always?” he laughs, but it echoes hollowly in his chest, and for a moment he allows himself to feel the weight of his decision - he would spend his life with a stranger. Would they grow used to each other? Would they hate each other? Or worst of all, would they mean nothing to each other? And then the counterbalance weighed in - the war, the shortages, and his mother. He turns to face Finn, “I know it’s the right decision.” 

“How do you know?” 

He only smiles, “Because Queen Organa wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.” And he hopes that’s true, hopes it’s enough. 

“We should get going,” Finn says, but his words don’t register. Not really. Instead, Poe stares out the window, and nearly just out of sight, the very tip of the pavement of the landing strip peeked through, the end of an x-wing barely visible. It would be so easy. Too easy to sneak out of here, feet pounding down the pavement, slipping past every guard, until it was too late to stop him. His head against the rest of the pilot’s seat, thrum of the engine buzzing in his ears, and he would be gone. He would fly somewhere, anywhere he did not have to be responsible for the lives of so many people, somewhere he did not have to follow his duty — somewhere he just could take care of himself. Instead of everyone else. 

Finn claps him on his shoulder, and he's ejected from his fantasy, “Hey, you okay?" And a small voice nags at the back of his head, after the war, after the war, after the war. Maybe things could be different - maybe he could be free. Things change. People too. As do commitments to treaties. Alliances fall and rise with only the flick of a royal’s finger, and why couldn’t his life too? “We can’t be late, it’s your wedding after all.” 

Then why, he thought as he steeled himself, pushing himself to take one step after the other, why did it feel like my funeral? 

~~~~

The march from his quarters to the hall was a lengthy one. One in which every doubt rears its unwelcome ugly head again, whatever seemingly committed front he had put up to Finn shattered in its wake. Now his eyes just looked for exits. Whatever instilled duty and steadiness he had long abandoned him as he left his room, now leaving only with traitorous thoughts and antsiness in his fingers. But eyes — eyes were watching him. Even now as he walked towards where the procession was waiting for his arrival, he felt the gazes of every guard he passed, every servant, every nobleman fall upon him with smiles and well wishes. And imagine what those smiles would be if they could hear his actual thoughts? How quickly those smiles would turn to scorn at his own selfishness? How fast those well wishes would turn to hissed sneers? The math was simple. A single hand to save many. A choice with only one right option. But why did he want the wrong one? 

But why was it wrong? Why was it wrong to want to want to have a choice? Why was it so wrong to want to choose who to love? 

It wasn’t wrong, he swallowed the lump in his throat as he spotted the procession standing at attention, the colors of the Resistance in full thrust, he just didn’t have a choice. 

Or rather he did. His family and his planet or a chance at an unknowable future. 

He gave Finn a nod, before facing the procession, striding forward to take his place. And he would choose his people - every time. 

~~~

“Add more color to her lips,” The Empress of Shar ordered sharply, smoothing her tone over with a saccharine smile that only assured you that this servant would be fired by the end of day, “We want her husband to be completely enraptured by her — anything less will not be tolerated.” Or perhaps, it would be something worse than a simple dismissal.

Instead, your eyes remained concentrated on the delicate designs that had been drawn on the backs of your hand, patterns of vines and leaves intertwined around each other, bound in the same fate. These same hands that saw battle, bruised and battered and bloodied, were now dressed up in rings and bracelets, drawing eyes to the designs that adorned your skin. And while these tattoos were ephemeral, the passage of time scrubbing them from your hands, the ceremony they represented were not. 

That knowledge weighed on you, heavier than the weight of your wedding clothes against your body. Your mother had you dressed before dawn had broken, and even your muscles nearly buckled under the weight, the clothes embroidered to the point of absurdity. And now in the sunlight, you could see it clearly, ornate designs painstakingly stitched into shimmering waves and complicated lattices upon the ivory fabric. You resisted the urge to finger the designs, knowing your mother would lose her mind if even a single bead was out of place. 

The fingers of the servants tugged and pulled on the strands of your hair into an intricate braid, weaving ribbons, golden thread, and flowers into the complicated knots. You bit your tongue as they yanked particularly hard. Complaining would only incite the Empress’s wrath - and you didn’t wish that upon even your worst enemies. 

The Empress of Shar left no enemies behind. And those she did, she left with their heads on a pike. It was in the name of duty. That's what she told you, anyway. 

"Duty first, mercy second," and you learned quite quickly that mercy often didn't come. If ever. Mercy was reserved for only those situations where the Empress had something to gain — and was assured she had nothing to lose. And your wedding was one of them. It would have been all too simple to storm the planet of D’qar, beaten into submission after attack upon attack by their enemies. All it would have taken was one unit — the im’petis —  the force users and their army would have been razed to the ground. But war is messy. War never ends. Even when all said and done, the seeds of revenge fester in the crevices and cracks of a broken kingdom, until blooming into swathes of rebellion. Too many warm bodies lost. Too much wasted time. 

No, it was better - better to forge an alliance, quell any hint of impropriety, instead two planets become one kingdom. And D’qar and the Resistance gain the support of Shar’s vast resources, while Shar’s gains the aid of their technology. The only cost? Your freedom. 

Or your hand in marriage. All the same to you. 

You couldn’t run. You couldn’t escape. It was a choice of your family or your life. 

And you choose your family. Always. 

“Now, it is time for you to meet your husband,” The Empress waves the servants away, and as quickly as they came, they disappear through the double doors, “We will bring you out. The ceremony will be performed separately at first, and then you will be brought before each other as husband and wife,” her lips curl into a smile, “and darling, this must go well, for both our sakes.” 

“Yes, I understand,” she raises a brow, “my Empress.” 

She nods, “Your ladies in waiting will escort you to the procession, and then you and Poe will live on this planet for a time, before returning to Shar. I expect to hear from you, at the end of every month. Especially before your return to Shar."

You would spend a few months on D'qar, here, as the kingdom prepares for the transfer of power from Queen Organa to Prince Ben." 

“Yes,” your throat tight, you give another nod, “I understand.” 

“I imagine you will have little trouble. The prince is flighty - weak minded and eager, in both romantic and unromantic pursuits,” she stops in front of you, staring, and you wonder if she can see the weakness in your heart, every thought in your mind telling you to run now, to refuse. But she says nothing, only winding a curl framing your face around her finger, tugging on it harshly, a thread of pain running through your head, “but may I remind of the stakes of this. All of Shar is relying on you, as is your mother. Do not forget your place.” 

She lets go and the curl bounces back into place, as she turns to leave, her hand pausing on the door handle, “And don’t forget,” she smiles at you warmly, which only makes your blood run colder, “you two fell in love on a diplomatic mission, and now are being wed,” a ploy - to garner support from the public - it was far better in the eyes of the simple folk to marry for love rather than power. Love sells after all, “So don’t forget to smile at your betrothed - you are in love with him after all.” 

The door closes with a click. Yes. Love. Of course. 

No tears well in your eyes nor do you scream. You sit there, staring at your luggage. You had been flown to D’qar night before last. The air was lighter here —  less humid, somehow sweeter than the aridity on Shar. But now, it felt strangling. You rose, bracelets clanging against your wrists, lifting your skirt as you strided forward. You unzipped one of the bags, stuffed with gowns and dress shirts alike, the material heavy as your arm waded through the sea of silk, until your fingers found the false bottom to the bag. Your fingers snaked through the opening, until they closed around what you sought. You pulled the lightsaber from the bag, staring at the intricate design of the hilt, its weight a comfort in your hands. Only days ago you had spent cutting down Shar’s enemies, and now - you would do it again. 

Only this time — there was a knock at the door, and you buried the saber as quickly as you could in the luggage — the deaths would not be on the battlefield, they would be in a palace. 

~~~~

Poe’s stomach twisted. He did not like this. 

A thousand eyes watched him atop the platform set up by both the people of D’qar and Shar alike. All of whom were watching him now as he sat - trying not to fidget in his throne. Drapes of colors of both kingdoms hung - some separately and others in unison, representing the merging of the two planets and of this union. And they hung all around the stage as well, a barrier from the public’s eyes - but only barely - as he could spot their eager eyes between the parting of the banners. 

He did not like this at all. 

A lone soul, his stomach lurching as he waited for the ceremony to begin. A million eyes on him, and not a soul he knew beside him. He wished Finn or Rey - someone could have joined him. He resisted the urge to squeeze his eyes shut - at least the Queen. But they were following Shar's traditions, down to the dotted line - part of the agreement. 

A neutral expression would suffice instead of a smile, hoping he appeared to be an anxious groom rather than a miserable prince. The officiant would be joining him soon enough, but it did not make him feel any less lonely by himself. Usually, the men of the bride and groom would join the soon to be husband, but - his stomach twisted again - neither of them were around were they? The one thing he knew that he shared with you - the lack of a father, or perhaps the fleeting memory of one. More a ghost than anything now. 

The corners of his eyes stinged, nails digging into his palms, the nagging thought in the back of his head wrenched to the forefront: what would he think of his son? Marrying a stranger he had never met. Would he be proud of his dedication to the kingdom he had lost his life for? Or would he want something more for him? Something like he and his mom had. 

The chatter outside grew, and he readied himself for the officiant. But did it even matter? He was alone in the end - in life and in marriage. 

“You look quite sad for a man on his wedding day,” his head snapped to attention, as he moved to get up, but his Queen waved him off, “It is your wedding day, you need not rise for me.” 

“But don’t I always anyway, Your Majesty?” he gave a weak smile, rising to his feet as she sat, wrinkling her nose at his formality, but holding her tongue (knowing he would use her title anyway), “How many Sharians heads’ did you have to bite off to allow you to be here?” 

The corner of her mouth twitched, “Only one. And I did not bite anyone’s head off - I only had to ask, and made it clear to the Empress I was only going to ask once to be at my son’s side during his wedding.” 

Son, his throat tightened, swallowing the feelings that rose with that word - the word that wasn’t a word, but so much more - it was the very reason he had agreed to this. More than the scorn, the hatred he would engender, maybe even the crushing guilt of the lives lost - or maybe he couldn’t — but he knew only for certain: that he couldn’t bear the thought of his mother being disappointed in him. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says quietly, and she looks over, lips curled in a smile now. 

She raises a brow, “No remarks to be made?” 

Poe looked to the audience as all rose for the approaching officiant, and he knew he wouldn’t run - not because he couldn’t - but because he could live with marrying someone he didn’t know, but he couldn’t live without his home. 

~~~

You didn’t want to have this ceremony. You liked the beauty of it all, the elegance, but only from an outsider’s perspective. Not when you were the one sitting like a shyyyo bird in a cage. You hated all the eyes on you — dressed in bright plumage to draw their gazes, as they watched you take part in this forced mating ritual. 

Maker, it was your wedding day and all you want to do is take a nap. Especially as the officiant's droning voice led you through the vows, you felt your mind wane, though you kept the outer mask of a bride carefully stitched into your features. Even so, you doubted they could see your face through the thick veil of flowers tied around your head, the string digging into your skull. Even through the thick perfume of flowers, sweet and heady, you could smell the distant aroma of dinner - savory and ambrosial - stewing in pots and warming until this ceremony was over. You almost didn’t care if your stomach growled - after fourteen hours in this outfit and being poked and prodded and watched - you were ready to eat. 

And it would be soon enough - as the vows came to an end, with only a word of affirmation needed from the groom and from you. A comlink hooked up to project sound throughout the building - as one was offered to you and most assuredly to him, as so everyone could hear you affirm your love for one another. And it occurred to you, this would be the first time you heard his voice. Curiosity edged in at the corners of your mind - what would his voice be like? Would it be gruff and low? Would it be smooth and dulcet? Would it be pompous and orotund? 

It was one Sharian phrase, but you repeated the word over and over in your head - knowing that a second of hesitation (or Maker forbid a mispronunciation) would look suspicious. 

You hear the officiant ask, “Hal’e turbi hayatak bihah?” Do you bind your life to hers? 

“Nam 'uqad hayati,” Yes, I bind my life to hers. The Shar words rolled off his tongue with clumsy vowels and exaggerated consonants. You had no expectations, and yet his voice was different than you expected. It was neither gruff nor pompous, you supposed it could be smooth or dulcet, but it was still something more than that - and you realized, it was the conviction in his tone. 

For Sharians, arranged marriages were second nature - a tried and true practice that made for marriages that would last a lifetime, most by choice, but others by obligation. You thought nothing of it - it was the same risk anyone took when marrying for love, and the same traps that anyone could fall into in a bad marriage. But for D’qar? Their people have married for love almost as long as they have existed. Even Prince Ben, whose hand had been promised to another, it was because he had fallen for another. So for the precious prince, it couldn’t have been easy to agree to this. And yet, he seemed sure - that it gave you pause - when was the last time you had been so sure of anything? 

You weren’t even sure when you had agreed to this - though it wasn’t like you were given much of a choice. You were perfect after all - the perfect stand in for the princess, one that didn’t exist. There was never a choice that was yours after you agreed to join the Sharian Guard - and even that was a choice between certain death and indentured servitude. 

“Hal’e turbi hayatak biha?” 

You swallow the lump in your throat, all hope of running dissipating, as you feel the Empress’s gaze on you, “Nam 'uqad hayati.” 

The crowd cheers in time with the band, the low notes a quiet boom in the background, as you and your groom rise from your chairs and are led down the steps of your individual stages — you by the Empress and him by his mother. Other instruments join in with each delicate step you take, building to an inevitable crescendo when the two of you finally see each other for the first time. 

The first time. 

Your throat is dry, and swallowing does nothing to soothe the very much throbbing heart tangled in your vocal cords. You realize that he’s before you when the Empress’s guiding hand stops, drifting away from your shoulder. Thousands of eyes pierce you from every side, your knees threatening to knock together, but you will them to be still. Princesses of Shar did not shake — but of course, you thought mournfully, you were not one. 

“Please lift the veil and allow your eyes to meet your betrothed,” the officiant orders. 

Gentle fingers part your flowered veil, lifting it over your head. You blink. 

Brown. That’s the first thing you notice when you see them. They were a softer brown than expected. You had heard the rumors about the prince — about his thrill seeking as a pilot and his disregard for the rules (authorizing an attack the Queen had explicitly objected to). You expected more fire, more darkness, and it was there — but there was something more you couldn't place. His eyes blinked as he saw you too, his lips parting, a gentle gaze caressing your face, instead of raking down its sides. His brow only ruffled for a moment, before he smiled  Lips pulled wide into a smile and that's when you remembered — oh yes. You were supposed to be in love. 

You match him in time, chiseling your expression into a shy gaze, a smile tugging at your lips. And his hand found yours easily, his fingers intertwining with his to face the crowd. Even as your stomach stuck to the soles of your feet, why was it that, even with a thousand eyes piercing you, you couldn't help but stare at him? 

~~~

Tag List: @arabellathorne, @juno-eclipsee, @disappointeddiamond, @jdougl-love, @possibly-bigfoot, @garbagecanfics, @oo-michi-oo, @jisahufflepuff, @mellowpandaglitter, @bibliophile714, @bucky-lents, @infj-slytherclaw, @flyforeverfree, @faceinthejar, @doll0026, @bucky-of-the-opera, @lilbabychilton, @ladyhatter614, @kakaobar, @pallasathenaballerina,  @thechildorian, @lostgirlheather, @pastalavistababy2022, @mylifeliterally, @rawrlittlepanda-95, @jb3ar08, @airwrekcuh, @sofia-votsiou, @maddoggrahaml, @demoncrypt1066, @stardust-fray, @crikeygatormate, @captain-christopher-pike

[mysterystarz]

did you really think I was gonna say that and not give you akaashi headcanons? 🤨🤨

anyways some of these are general akaashi headcanons and some are romantic ones

☆ he's not the best at art, but he learned basic anatomy + sketching techniques just to create portraits of you

☆ he's really great at poetry and creative/descriptive writing though and writes about you and generally the way you make him feel

☆ once compared you to grass though 💀 but it turned out kinda nice because it was a metaphor for how even when people hurt you you always come back and you keep him (the dirt) from being washed away and stuff 🥺

☆ he has a good singing voice. I think he'd be a tenor, and his voice is good for jazz he can also play the piano really well (it's those long setter fingers 😩)

☆ he loves flowers and either has little potted ones around place or a small garden outside. you've caught him talking to the plants about you. all good things, of course. I think his favorites would be lillies (the white ones I think) but idk much about flowers

☆ he likes to get you jewelery (bruh how do you spell that???), especially engraved jewelery. sometimes it's got random dates on it and you have to ask him what happened that day, and he'll start telling you about something you thought was small but meant a lot to him that happened that day. usually it's a day when you two had a date and he felt it should be remembered.

☆ he really likes musicals. not as in he's a theatre kid (though he could be) but more like he loves the stories and how they're told through song and dance.

☆ he annotates his books. sometimes you'll borrow one from him to read and find he's underlined and written about things that made him think of you 😭

☆ he's very romantic but he doesn't necessarily try to be. he's also naturally very aesthetic.

☆ he can tap dance. I've literally been in tap dancer akaashi brainrot since I listened to "King of new york" from newsies 😭😭 and he's so HOT when he tap dances, he's really good at it but he hasn't practiced/done lessons in forever, so he's a little rusty. but he used to do competitions and stuff and was extremely good at the dance.

☆ I feel like although he doesn't really seem like one to do so, he uses reaction memes in texts somewhat often. not just the affectionate ones, but also the "😐" or aggressive ones (very hot of him to use reaction memes 😌)

☆ he collects mugs! he drinks coffee in the morning so he needed some mugs at first, but then he started getting one wherever he traveled to as a souvenir (and he doesn't travel too often, whether it's for vacation or business it's usually around every other year or something) and now he has a whole cupboard of mugs

☆ he also likes tea. and while i feel like he prefers his coffee somewhat bitter, he usually adds milk to his tea. I think he's also a big fan of boba tea, and his favorite (mine too) is milk tea (made with black tea) with brown sugar and boba

☆ his dream home is an industrial apartment (is that what it's called?) with a balcony or patio. he likes the city since he's from tokyo... I think. he'd love to live somewhere where the skies are clear and he can see the stars, but he's gotta live near the city for work 🥲 though some stars are visible, at least, from that patio

☆ he likes to wear rings. even though he's lowkey insecure about his fingers and rings would draw more attention to them, he likes to fidget with the accessories

☆ he's really good at braiding hair. he hasn't really practiced, he's just a natural. first time he braided your hair it looked really good and both of you were kinda shocked. he's pretty good at hair things in general, actually.

☆ loves holding hands. LOVES LOVES LOVES HOLDING HANDS.

☆ he really likes fuzzy blankets. whenever he's on the couch he's wrapped up in one.

☆ one of his favorite cuddle positions is with you sitting on his lap, curled up almost cat-like with your head on his chest and his arms wrapped around you. and a fuzzy blanket.

☆ he has really long, dark eyelashes and it's so pretty.

☆ he likes talking to you about his dreams and he likes hearing about yours.

☆ he's down to try anything with you. you want to try veganism? he'll join you. want to learn a language? so does he. want to get a tarot reading? what a coincidence, he was thinking the same thing!

☆ he has a little tattoo above his right ankle. it looks exactly like this ☆ and it remind him of you 🥺

have a great week ily nova 😊

OH MY GOODNESS JACK THIS MADE ME SMILE SO WIDE I HAVE RE READ THIS SO MANY TIMES THANK YOU THIS ACTUALLY MADE MY WEEK AJXJAJXNANDNWNDNSN 🥺🥺🥺🤩🤩😭🥰🥰😭😭😳🥺😩💕💕🤩🤩😩😩🥺😩😩😩🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺😩💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕💕 IT WAS ADORABLE

more of my reactions under the cut because yes

- thinking of keiji playing the piano always gets me so soft because i can think of his fingers pressing the keys and it just be so perfect (and i’ve thought of some other scenarios with pianos too it’s cute!!)

- the fact that i actually LOVE white lillies too theyre so pretty omg :00

- TAP DANCER KEIJI GOODNESS MY HEART TAP DANCING KEIJI INTRICATE FOOTWORK OH MY GOODNESS I — 😳

- WE CAN WRITE POETRY TOGETHER ILL KISS HIM TOO I LOVE THAT!!

- REACTIONMEMESREACTIONMEMESREACTIONMEMES HE IS SO SEXY ALREADY BUT HE JUST GOT SEXIER

- i’m also super sentimental so the engraved jewelry (wtf is that word) IS SO CUTE and i would love that <33 it’s so sweet to see the sentiments too!!

- HE ANNOTATES HIS BOOKS OFF OF ME MY HEART JUST WENT WHOOOOSH 💕💕😩😩🥺🥺

- NO WAY I COLLECT MUGS TOO IS THIS SOULMATE STUFF BECAUSE I LOVE COLLECTING MUGS

- I ALSO LIKE MY COFFEE BITTER BUT MY TEA SWEET-ISH OH MY GOODNESS?!?! THIS IS PERFECT!!!

- JACK HOW DID YOU KNOW I HAVE A THING FOR FUZZY BLANKETS HOW HOW BECAUSE CUDDLING WITH FUZZY BLANKETS OR JUST SITTING WITH ONE IS SOMETHING I DO OH MY GOODNESS 💕💕💕✨✨✨😩💕

- pretty voice 😳😳😳 yes he would and yes

- i think an industrial apartment with keiji would be so cute <33

- I WILL HOLD HANDS WITH HIM ANYTIME ANYTIME ANYTIME

- i would kiss his fingers when he’s wearing rings and when he’s not because i love him 🥰🥰🥰

- t-talks about our dreams and tries things with me?!? I LOVE HIM SO MUCH I CANNOT FUNCTION THATS MY MAN

- the fact that you literally think he would draw me 🥺🥺🥺🥺 MY HEART

- i would totally watch musicals with him <33 i like them too for the exact same reason actually (jack i’m not even kidding how scary it is that you got our personalities down perfectly it’s astounding)

- STAR TATTOO KEIJI OH MY GOODNESS I AM 😳😳😳 WOW OMG THAT IS SURPRISINGLY HOT OH MY — suddenly i want to match

in conclusion :: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS JACK IM STILL SMILING SO WIDE THANK YOU 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[mintaka14]

Marked

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

 Luka had a new tattoo. Marinette could see it winding around his wrist in the stage lights. He hadn’t told her he was getting this one, and from where she was sitting in the club, she couldn’t make out what it was.

On stage, Rose was screaming out the lyrics with enthusiastic intensity, and the band was getting into it. Their road trip to the summer Hellfest music festival had obviously inspired them, and most of their friends had managed to make it to Kitty Section’s gig that night for a change. Marinette could see Alix leaning against the bar on the other side of the club, and Mylene dancing at the edge of the stage with her eyes on Ivan’s drumming, her braids flashing all colours of the rainbow in the spotlight that swept over the crowd for a moment. Kim hadn’t managed to get time off work – it was getting harder to find time in between first year tertiary classes and courses and part time jobs when everyone was free - but Nino was there somewhere, tinkering with the sound equipment. Marinette’s attention, however, was fixed on Luka and those beautiful strong hands of his, and the black lines of his new tattoo.

Alya must have seen the frown, because she stopped bouncing and screaming along with the music to lean across the bar table.

“Girl, what’s wrong? You look upset.”

Marinette shook her head and mustered up a smile. The tattoo did explain why he’d kept the sleeves of his hoodies stretched down over his fingertips the last few times they’d hung out together, but the sleeveless shirt he was wearing certainly wasn’t concealing any of his tatts, or anything else much, now and Marinette wasn’t sure whether to feel hurt or not that he obviously hadn’t wanted to tell her about this new one.

Luka didn’t have to tell her everything, they were just friends. Still just friends, in spite of all the time she took refuge on the Liberty listening to him play, or curled up on the floor beside him complaining about her latest design assignment and giggling over his stories about recording with Jagged Stone. Still just friends, no matter how much she’d been working up the courage to ask for more.

Alya followed the line of her frown and rolled her eyes.

“Mari, when are you going to just ask him already? You broke up with Adrien weeks ago and you were only dating for a couple of months anyway, what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t want Luka to think he’s just a rebound,” Marinette said a little stubbornly. Her eyes dropped to the glass in her hands. “I will when I’m ready.”

“Jeez, Mari, it’s been four weeks and,” Alya narrowed a stare at her, “I’ve seen the way you watched him before you and Adrien ended things, no matter how hard you were trying to fool yourself. I’m your friend – I know you - and Luka’s not rebound anything.”

Marinette raised her eyes to the stage again. Luka flicked his sweaty blue-tipped hair out of his eyes and flashed a smile that found her even in the strobing darkness.

“I’m betting,” Alya whisper-shouted over the noise, “that’s he’s just holding back because he’s waiting for you to get over Adrien. You need to tell him you’re already there. You need to go for it!”

Marinette watched his hands move over his guitar strings with a virtuosity that left her dizzy and a little warm, and those new black lines wrapped around his wrist hypnotically. She buried her head in her arms.

“Alya, I know you’re trying to help, but I just can’t!”

“What’s holding you back here? I know you have a hard time when it comes to telling a guy you like him – jeez, it took you how many years before you got to date Adrien? – but at least you can string a sentence together around Luka, so that’s a good start.“

“It’s not that,” Marinette groaned, and she felt Alya’s hand on her back, rubbing a soothing pattern. “It’s… Adrien was just a crush. If I mess things up with Luka it’s going to kill me.”

“Oh, honey,” Alya sighed sympathetically. “The boy’s crazy about you.”

“I told him I was over Adrien,” she sighed into her arms, and Alya had to lean forward to hear her. “And he didn’t say anything.” And then he went out and got a tattoo that he obviously didn’t want to tell her about.

Mylene slid onto a stool, the beads in her braids clicking faintly as she tilted a concerned look at Marinette.

“What’s wrong, Marinette?” she asked, and Marinette straightened, forcing herself to smile.

“She’ll be fine,” Alya said, patting Marinette’s back again. “She’s just over-thinking things again.”

“Did something happen at Hellfest over the summer?” Marinette asked Mylene. “You guys came back and Luka seemed kind of out of it  – “ Silencer out of it “- and it felt like he was avoiding me those first few weeks.”

Mylene gave Marinette an odd look and opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something, then thought better of it and reached for the jug of beer in the middle of the table.

“He’s talking to you now, though, isn’t he?” she asked instead.

“Well, yes, but… it’s different now. Something’s been weird with him since you guys got back. He just hasn’t told me much about the trip, that’s all,” Marinette muttered.

“So what happened with you and Adrien?” Mylene asked abruptly, and Marinette startled at the sudden subject change. “I mean, we got back from Hellfest and you were with Adrien, and then you weren’t, and I never did hear what the full story was.”

Marinette pulled a face and shrugged.

“Lu- you were all away over the summer, and I was here with the Gabriel internship on my own –“

“Hey!” Alya protested. “I was here.”

Marinette didn’t point out that between Nino and chasing Ladybug stories and all of Alya’s other plans, Marinette had gone weeks at a time without seeing Alya at all except for brief texts and briefer video chats. Most of that summer, Adrien had been the only familiar face she’d seen.

“I wound up hanging out with him at Gabriel, and then Adrien asked me out, and I guess I was just so used to the idea that I had a crush on him that I said yes. And we had fun. It was fine, but I always felt like he was looking for something and it wasn’t me. It turned out that what I was looking for wasn’t him either. There just wasn’t any spark there.”

Alya gave her a smirk and tilted a significant glance towards the stage, but Marinette studiously ignored her.

“We’re still good friends. And Adrien’s already dating someone he met modelling.”

“Black hair, part-Asian, about so tall –“ Alya levelled her hand near the top of Marinette’s head and rolled her eyes at Mylene. “Kagami, Marinette, now this Louise… I’m telling you, the boy has a type.”

Marinette sighed. “Alya –“

“And after all that time chasing Adrien,” Alya kept going, leaning conspiratorially towards Mylene, “our girl here wasn’t cut up even a little bit when they broke up. Rumour has it, she’s already got her eyes on someone else.”

“Alya!” Marinette said more firmly, and Alya threw her hands up. “And you were the one pushing me to say yes when Adrien asked me out.”

Alya shrugged unrepentantly. “At least you won’t have any ‘what ifs’ now. And neither will… anyone else.”

“Alya!”

“Fine, fine, your secret’s safe with me,” the reporter grumbled, but Marinette didn’t quite know what to make of the slightly alarmed look Mylene gave her.

“So who’s this mystery man?” Mylene asked. She took another swig of beer, and it looked like she was trying too hard to be casual. “Or woman. Not assuming anything.”

Marinette groaned, and Mylene followed the involuntary line of her gaze to the stage and Luka.

“Ohhh. I see.” Mylene’s mouth twitched, and she patted Marinette on the shoulder. “It’ll be… fine. You’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

Mylene slid off her stool and almost scurried to join Alix at the bar. Marinette couldn’t make out what was going on, but she did hear the shout of laughter even over the pounding bass and the noise of the club.

Mylene and Alix were working their way back to the table, and as they got closer, Marinette could hear Alix saying, “So let me get this straight. You guys get back from Hellfest, Marinette’s dating Adrien, and she wonders why Luka was moping around like someone stole his favourite guitar. Then Marinette breaks up with Adrien, and coincidentally Luka’s mood improves. And now she’s worried that Luka might not be into her, so she can’t ask him out?”

Alix slid onto a stool and stabbed a finger at Alya. “I am not going through any more schemes to help Mari get a date. I’m too old for this shit.”

Mylene giggled. “You won’t need to.”

Marinette frowned, but she didn’t have time to respond, because the band was building up to the big finish. Marinette turned her attention back to stage and let herself get swept up in the screaming and the cheering that filled the club. She screamed along with everyone else, her voice going hoarse and the glasses on the table rattling as she stood up to throw her hands in the air. Luka's eyes caught hers for a moment, and his grin widened.

Once Kitty Section was offstage the shouting died down until the band reached their table and everything dissolved into noisy congratulations and jokes. Luka slid in beside her, flashing that smile at her and Marinette's thinking derailed completely.

She jumped a little when Nino slid a tray full of drinks on the bar table. He dropped a kiss on Alya’s mouth and wiggled his eyebrows at Marinette.

“What’d I miss?” he said cheerfully, and Marinette looked up to find Alya leaning her chin in her hands, watching her closely with a knowing smile.

“Oh, just Marinette being Marinette,” Alya said innocently.

“And that’s everything amazing,” Luka added, and Marinette could feel his shoulder pressed against her. When she dared to look, he was giving her that soft look that could melt her bones.

Luka reached across the table to grab a bottle of water, and she found herself staring at the seemingly random patterns of the mystery tattoo wrapped around his wrist. She knew that pattern. She knew it like the back of her hand, and suddenly it felt like all the air had been stolen from her lungs.

“Mari?” someone was asking, as if from a long way away.

She felt a hand on her shoulder – Luka’s hand.

“Marinette, are you okay?”

Marinette focused on his hand, his tattoo, so close to her cheek as she tried to get her breathing back under control. She could see the moment when he made the connection. His hand pulled away slightly, then dropped back.

“Oh shit, Mari, I meant to cover it up. It doesn’t have to mean anything more than you want it to. I’m not trying to… I just –“

Her own hand came up to trace the pattern of her secret signature on his skin, and he sucked in a breath at the touch. Their friends, the club, the smoke and the noise all faded into irrelevance. Her clothes her designs, everything she made bore that signature, and now it was inked on Luka.

She sewed that into every piece she’d ever made, including the hoodie Luka usually wore. Every design sketch had that signature worked into it somewhere. Everything she’d created and owned and was most proud of.

He’d signed her name on his wrist.

He couldn’t have made it clearer where he stood.

“What if I want it to mean everything?” she whispered, and he leaned in slowly, carefully, to rest his forehead against hers.

“Then I’m yours,” he whispered back. “I’m marked, and I’m yours.”

It was so easy to lean in that little bit closer, to close the distance between them and kiss him, and this time she was the one who stole his breath away.

[weakzen]

(Not So) Small Detective Ask Game

(list here for anyone else who wants to do it)

alright, one sadsack detective and where she stands at the end of book 2, comin’ right up.

01. What’s their name and how do they look?

Alexandra 'Alex' Black.

Five foot three shorty. Twenty-eight years old. Light blue eyes. Long, bright red hair, usually done up in a big puffy Dutch braid. Athletic and curvy, with a decent amount of muscle. Covered in some gnarly scars too, mostly on the left side of her body. Buy her a drink and ask real nice about them, and she might just tell you about the time she got her ass kicked and almost died in a bar fight.

02. Why did they join the police?

Needed a job after crawling home to Wayhaven with her tail tucked between her legs. It was supposed to be temporary, just something to pay the bills while she worked up the nerve to jump back into academia.

Then years passed, applications remained unsent, and one day, she looked up from behind Reele's old desk and slowly realized she was never going to have the courage to get that PhD.

03. How did they get the promotion to detective and what do they think about it?

She turned the Chief down and kept turning him down for the promotion, right up until the morning he slammed a 'Detective Black' nameplate down on her desk and told her that she started in an hour.

After he stomped out of the station, she just sighed and spun around in her chair a few times.

That general mood hasn't changed since. But if no one else is stepping up, then she'll do the best job she can.

Not like she's really a mathematician anymore, so…

Might as well.

04. Can they handle blood/gore?

Yes. Very easily.

All that emotional detachment has to be good for something, right?

05. How are they with people?

Depends on how much those people like evasive sarcasm and bad puns.

06. What’s their relationship to Bobby?

First serious relationship. First love.

First person to stab her in the back so thoroughly she almost had a nervous breakdown.

You know, because of the whole threat of being kicked from her grad program and having her undergrad degree stripped away, the ongoing investigations of academic fraud, plagiarism, and theft of her TA answer keys.

And then, when the evidence for all of it wasn't lining up Bobby's way, the personal smears, the weaponization of everything she'd ever told him in confidence, until finally—the cherry atop the whole shit sundae—his accusation that she'd abused her authority as a TA to coerce him into a relationship.

All of that from someone she once truly believed when he looked her in the eye and told her she mattered to him more than anything.

These days, she avoids Bobby as much as possible. Because she fucking loathes that little ratfuck piece of shit, yes, but mostly because she's legit worried that she'll eventually snap and break his jaw if he keeps calling her 'angel' and trying to put his fucking hands on her.

She'd have to fill out an awful lot of paperwork if she did that, after all.

07. What’s their relationship with their mom like? How did it change?

When she was kid, she understood her mom wasn't around because of Work. Very important Work. She also understood that Work was the reason why her mom would constantly get up to take phone calls in the middle of dinner, or when they were sitting and talking together, and sometimes those phone calls would make her mom leave right after, even if she just got home.

She didn't understand why all of that bothered her though, just that it hurt for some reason and it sometimes made her cry later in her room. And eventually, after years of it, she started calling every nanny that stuck around for long enough her 'mom' instead, then begged them not to leave her too.

When she was a teenager, she stopped crying and started yelling. Started pushing back. Started avoiding home every time she'd walk up her street after school to see the lights on and the car in the driveway. She'd spend the night a friend's house instead, rather than endure another evening of emotional whiplash and half-hearted interest in her life and the constant reminders that Rebecca would rather take a work call in the other room than spend time with her or listen to her.

Because those calls were more important than her and anything she had to offer.

She frequently wondered why Rebecca even bothered to have a kid, then always rationalized that her dad must have talked Rebecca into it because there was just no way otherwise. And quietly, that gave her a small amount of comfort. Because if he managed to pull off that amazing feat, then he must have also really wanted her and loved her before he died.

Right?

As an adult, she no longer wonders about any of that. No longer cries. No longer gets angry. And she already knows what the answer would be if she straight up asked Rebecca 'Would you change anything, if you had the opportunity to go back and do it all over?'

She's firmly accepted that she never mattered to Rebecca, not the way the job did, and that she never will.

A one time stint with rule breaking doesn't change anything about that.

And it doesn't even hurt much, accepting that truth, as long as nobody pokes at it too hard and she doesn't think about it very deeply and Rebecca doesn't try to push any of those performative 'loving mom' displays of affection on her.

08. Who is their Love Interest and why?

Mason.

Because someone needs to put that asshole in his place. If he's gonna fuck with her, then she's gonna fuck with him right back. And if he's gonna fuck with her then, um… w-well, she's still gonna fuck with him right back!

He can have pleasure with her if he wants, but he is not getting it from seeing her back down.

That said, she does genuinely like the bastard, if a little begrudgingly. Thinks he's fun. Cute. Cares about his well-being too. Wants him to be comfortable and happy. Worries often that he probably isn't, considering how hard it must be to live with such painfully heightened senses.

And after Bobby, Mason feels safe. Comforting, in a weird way. She knows and accepts that the only thing he wants from her is sex, that he doesn't give a shit about her at all outside the bedroom, and that he won't ever pretend to either.

That's such a huge relief, to not be jerked around by somebody saying one thing but doing another. To have someone be brutally honest for once about what she actually means to them.

And if he ever does show any hint of affection, well, then it's probably because he's starting to see her as a part of the team. Maybe. Or he's just fucking with her again to provoke a reaction. Probably that. In which case, watch out buddy.

Two can play at that game.

09. What do they think of the supernatural?

Really interested in figuring out how all of it works, more than anything. It's magic, but there still has to be some kind of underlying set of rules and a logic to it all, right? She's definitely asked Nate to get her a baby's first book of vampire basics too.

At the same time, however, her enthusiasm for it all remains somewhat dampened.

She knows there's another Murphy out there coming for her eventually. It's just a matter of time. And until he shows up, she has to assume that every new supernatural she encounters is him.

Maybe that's unfair, but so was the target Murphy carved across her back.

10. How well did they handle the reveal that the supernatural exists?

Well, she already knew Unit Bravo were a bunch of shady-ass weirdos hiding obvious secrets, but… vampires? Not exactly in her top one hundred guesses for what one of those secret might've been.

Still, whatever. Didn't phase her. If she believes alien life definitely exists somewhere, then why should vampires be that impossible? Especially when she witnessed evidence of their abilities firsthand.

Oh, and since Felix was being such a little shit in the hospital room trying to scare her about it, she demanded even more evidence from him. Asked him to come closer to her bed again. Closer. Even closer. Then she put her face right by his and told him to prove it, and gestured for him to show his fangs.

Once he did, obviously, she did her best to look as bored as possible while she tilted his face between her hands to examine them. Gave him a glib little thanks afterward, for showing her his 'vampire teeth.'

And added that they were a lot smaller than she expected.

11. Do they have any tattoos/piercings?

Just the standard single-hole piercings through each earlobe.

She mostly wears tiny studs. Geometric shapes. Stuff that can't be grabbed and pulled during a fight.

12. What is their highest (professional) stat and why?

Combat (70%)

Guess that kinda happens when exercise is her primary mode of stress relief, and her favorite way to exercise for almost half of her life now has been to train in some form of martial art.

Rebecca is the one who encouraged it, too. Signed her up for lessons and said that if she was gonna fight, then she better damn well make sure she's the one standing at the end next time.

13. What’s their opinion of the Mayor?

Who, Mayor Fartman? She has definitely never slipped that into a conversation while talking to him and pretended she didn't afterwards.

Nothing but respect for her mayor.

14. Do they get along with Tina and Verda?

Absolutely.

She's not as close to Verda as she is with Tina, but she really appreciates his sense of humor and his overall chill, caring vibe. He's a good dude. And she loves asking him questions about his work too. Even better when those questions spiral into long, scientific bullshit sessions that leave them both grinning at the end like the huge fucking nerds they are.

And Tina, well…

After she returned to Wayhaven, Tina was the one who got her back on her feet. Pulled her out of one of the worst places she's ever been emotionally. Kept her marching forward until she could stand on her own again. And did all of that for her, someone still practically a stranger to Tina at that point, without ever asking for anything in return, other than for her to start being a little kinder to herself about everything.

Tina's an amazing person. Her best friend. She loves her. Trusts her completely.

And is totally fuckin' ride or die for her.

15. What do they think of Unit Bravo? How has that changed throughout the story?

Once all the secretive bullshit and obvious lying stopped, she was fine with them as a group. Overall, thinks they're good people. Likable, even. Fun. And they're using their time and effort to help others, and that's something she greatly admires.

But she doesn't feel like part of their team. Their family. Doesn't see herself as anything more than a temporary stop for them on the way to wherever they're headed next.

Not because of anything they've done, just… she knows probability. Wrote her thesis on it.

And after Murphy, the blood—her blood—she doesn't give herself great odds for reaching thirty.

In the meantime, though:

Adam

Well, first off, he deserved to get shot. She fucking warned him. And what kind of asshole tries to dismiss someone pointing a firearm at them as a bluff?! Secondly, the sheer audacity of this man! Who the hell does he think he is?! Thirdly, he needs to chill the fuck out. Or she's gonna drop a goddamn ice cube down the back of his shirt. Fourth, okay—admittedly, that combined take down of Murphy was pretty cool. They at least work well together in a fight. Fifth, well…

Shit.

She actually, really, kind of… respects him. Gets him a little, too. Understands him, in a strange way she can't explain.

Maybe it's because they're both far more alike than either one of them would ever care to admit.

Even so, he still needs to get knocked on his ass every once and a while. To keep him humble. And she absolutely can't wait for the day she finally does it when they spar.

Nate

Nate has always been great. Considerate. Welcoming. Warm. Thoughtful. A whole host of other wonderful adjectives that would definitely make the world a better place if more people aspired to embody them the way he does.

Yet… whenever Nate aims any of that kindness her direction, it unnerves her. Probably as much as her tattered relationship with Rebecca unnerves him.

She believes he's genuine about his comments and compliments, even as she swerves around them. They're just… hard to hear. She doesn't know what to do with any of them. Or understand why he's giving them to her in the first place.

They barely know each other, so how can he say stuff like that? Especially so easily?

Felix

She's real glad that unsolicited, near-kiss of his turned out to be a fluke—because it would have sucked to miss out on a fellow troll who can match her beat for sarcastic beat.

Felix is more her speed, so to speak. She appreciates his approach, the heart wrapped in levity and laced with a bit of shit-stirring. The playfulness. The excitement. Though, sometimes the sheer chaotic energy fueling it all can be a bit overwhelming, even for her.

Still, his fumes are infectious, and she can already tell they're gonna be terrible enablers for each other.

Mason

Unsurprisingly, she likes him much better now that his jerk dial is turned to 'playful teasing' rather than 'unwarranted hostility,' though she's still not quite sure what changed to make that happen. Not sure how long it will last either, any of it. Either way, she has no expectations of him and their non-relationship, no secret hopes for feelings or a future.

She's just enjoying the banter, the amazing sex, and the fun moments as they come with him, until they don't come any more.

Pun completely intended.

16. Do they have any pets?

Do houseplants count? If so, she has an amazing kentia palm.

17. What are their hobbies?

Sparring, running, and weight training, primarily.

Yes, that probably makes her a total douchebag bro. And no, she doesn't skip leg day.

She also likes reading, knitting, gardening, feeding the neighborhood birds, playing strategy games, doing logic and word puzzles, examining systems of any kind to figure out how they work, and spending time outdoors enjoying all the gorgeous mountain scenery, lush wilderness, and dank weed BC has to offer.

So, you know, a well-rounded douchebag at least.

18. What do they think of Douglas?

She knows how much it fucking sucks and hurts to have a parent who obviously loves their job way more than their kid. She also remembers how annoying she was as a teenager. That said, those bits of sympathy and understanding are really the only things standing between her and complete exasperation with him.

Still, it's probably only a matter of time before she switches his phone language from English to something non-Romance, probably Arabic. Something that would be really difficult for him to switch back anyway.

And if that doesn't work, well, then the entire station is gonna bear witness to whether or not their paper shredder has enough muscle to chew through a cell phone.

19. What does their apartment look like?

Minimalist. White walls. Warm woods and leather. Clean lines with pops of color from textiles, house plants, and cut flowers. Not a lot of clutter or material possessions.

Very tidy, too. Bed always made. Dishes washed after use. Baseboards, corners, and door frames dust free.

Of course, the building she lives in is pretty old, so all of that sleek, immaculate minimalism is wrapped around some hideously dated interior design. Hello, puke green shower tile and baby pink countertops.

20. What is their personality?

Overall, pretty chill and content to live and let live, for the most part. Unless someone's being an asshole or a bully. In which case, she's very inclined to get up in their face about it, even if she has to stand on her toes to do so.

Once she does that, good luck. She's fucking tenacious. And stubborn as shit too, so she won't be the one backing down.

She would prefer to keep things relaxed, though. Playful. She likes banter. Sarcasm. Teasing and being teased. Laughing and making laugh. And she absolutely loves deploying and receiving truly awful puns, the more eye-watering and cringe-inducing, the better.

The humor is enjoyable enough on its own, but it also lets her be friendly while still keeping a buffer of emotional distance.

Because holy shit is she guarded.

It takes her a very, very, very long time to feel comfortable opening up to people. Or to let herself feel anything deeper for them beyond detached affection. Or to reach out and ask for help, even when she desperately needs it.

She's far more accustomed to being on her own, looking out for herself. And, luckily, she's resourceful and competent enough to make that work, most of the time. It helps having highly analytical mind geared toward problem solving.

Well, it helps when she's not using that mind to construct defensive rationalizations to keep people out. And when that mind isn't busy encouraging her curiosity to pry into things and people to figure out how they work.

Terrible habit, her nosiness. The probing. The eavesdropping. The occasional snooping. Just the worst, really, especially from someone so reluctant to share anything deep about herself.

Like the fact, beneath everything else, she just feels completely alone and about to drown in unending sadness.

But, hey, that stuff down there doesn't matter.

It really doesn't.

21. Their favourite/comfort food?

Fish empanadas with pebre. Ate a lot of those when she studied abroad in Chile, and that was probably the happiest year of her life.

She still makes pebre all the time, but the empanadas are actually something she would break her vegetarianism to eat again, if she ever got the chance.

22. Do they go to the bar or stay at the station?

Stayed in. Not a big fan of bars anymore.

23. Their gender/sexuality?

Cis woman. And, well… straight?

Not a whole lot of sexual experience to draw from there. And it's a bit late to figure out whether she likes girls or just thinking about girls, right? That's the kind of thing she was supposed to have sorted before she turned twenty-five, not let sit until she's almost thirty and finally ready to see people again and then expect some poor woman to hand-hold her awkward ass through it, all while she shies away from making any real, intimate connection, partially because the thought of ever making herself that emotionally vulnerable again makes her want to throw up in fear, but mostly because it would be incredibly unfair to date someone with the mountain of secrets she has to now keep and also when it seems like her goddamn life expectancy is a just big fucking question mark these days.

So, yes. Straight.

Sure.

24. How did they handle the fight with Murphy? Did they get bitten?

She jammed that DMB syringe right into that fucker's neck with one hand, while her other pressed against her own neck to stop the bleeding.

Then she kicked him a few times after he was down. Hissed curses at him while she asked him who was making idle threats now, motherfucker.

25. What do they usually wear? Has that changed?

Usually something form-fitting, flattering, and fairly subdued and minimalist in color and pattern. High-waisted jeans. High-necked blouses, sweaters, and soft, stylish t-shirts. Lacey crop tops and a gambler hat in the summer. Boots, slightly heeled and slightly pointed, all year round. Maybe some rings and a metal cuff if she's feeling fancy. Sunglasses if it's bright. All of it paired with either a black denim jacket, a black leather jacket, or long black trench coat that swooshes when she walks.

Overall, she definitely channels that cowboy witch vibe.

[vildexiv]

LFRP: Vilde Eres ☾*⋆

⟡ RACE: Keeper of the Moon, Miqo'te. ⟡ AGE: Mid 20s. ⟡ PRONOUNS: He/They ⟡ HEIGHT: 5 fulms. (5') ⟡ OCCUPATION: Healer & potioneer ⟡ RESIDENCE: The murky outskirts of the Lavender Beds

Vilde might better suit the title of ‘starveling’. Cultivating a lithe frame with narrow shoulders and an hourglass silhouette, the creature stands below the average height of those of his ilk. Merely a wisp of darkness spilled across a mottled forest floor, the witch has grown accustomed to slipping by unseen. His frame is thin and lithe, befitting that of a ghost found amidst a tapestry of earth-encrusted roots, a whisper of movement between dense trees.

A shadow of lilac hair rippled with errant waves tumbles down the svelte curve of his back to end at his waist. It has been adorned with a number of glittering jewels, braided satin ribbons and feathered adornments like gilded fineries. Shorter locks frame fae-like features, until it would be rare to see Vilde with his hair tied back; it acts as a curtain, protective veil - something more to hide behind when the shadows aren’t enough. Curved ears have been spotted with darker markings that scatter the thick fur of his tail where it emerges from the base of his spine. Vilde’s tail is thick and heavy, spotted across the top with markings not dissimilar to that of a serval cat. Jewels thread his fur like a prized pelt, as though to match the earrings pierced through the cartilage of his ears. The telling signs of a peculiar affliction make themselves plain upon his features. His complexion is ghostly. His eyes shine like a radiant flame, flitting somewhere between blood red and deep carmine in some elusive liminal hue that is somehow both and neither at the very same time. They all but drown the deep shadows that sit beneath, as though waking hours are better spent prowling the forest floor. Full cheeks round out his features, completed by painted too-full lips. Rare smiles offer brief glimpses of elongated incisors that come framed by dimples that press into his cheeks. His nose is narrow and upturned toward the tip, disfigured across its bridge by a set of scars that rake across his flesh. To keepers that listen to the whispers of the wood, it might be plain that this mark bears all the distinguishing signs of a banishment. Though he is often draped in gauzy robes, the witch wears his peculiarities like points of pride. Be it the serpentine tattoo that drips from the slope of his temple, or the strange black stain that crawls up the lengths of his forearms with its greedy tendrils. Vilde makes no attempt to conceal his oddities from view. The gentle aroma of vetiver and vanilla clings to him like a perfume, suffused into the very threadbare fibres of his attire; a scent that embodies tea parties and parlour games- like a scent pocketed from an oak vanity.

⟡ The Apothecary: Vilde runs a small apothecary out of an isolated cottage located in the fringes of the Lavender Beds. It is within a house cluttered with potted plants, overgrown vines, gnarled tapestries of swelling tree roots, and stagnant spirits. Vilde grows, gathers, and cultivates all of his own ingredients, refusing to brew anything but the best to those that will pay for his wares. The witch is capable of concocting lustrous fortune potions, ghastly poisons, luck charms, sleeping droughts, and much, much more. Many of his potions are of his own creation, and he is ever eager to test them on willing (or unwilling) subjects.

⟡ Aetherical Spellwork Ready and willing to perform curses, hexes or charms for customers willing to pay the right price, his manipulations are as eclectic and eccentric as he is. His intrinsic understanding of the human body makes him an adept healer at mending a range of maladies, from cuts and bruises to more unorthodox complications. He’s a skilled healer, and he’s grown even better at keeping secrets. ⟡ Propriety: Due to his relatively isolated lifestyle, he is largely unaware of many social cues (including menial things such as clothing, table manners & more). It would be immensely helpful for him to learn these things, given the increasing amount of time he finds himself visiting nearby cities and towns. ⟡ Trade: Merchants or couriers are likely to meet him - either for a delivery of items or a transaction for something new. He's a worthwhile client who spends a little too much gil every time. ⟡ Unlucky Wanderers: He's curious. He's still learning. There are precious few things he wouldn't do to satiate his own curiosity, even if that means snatching a wanderer off a forest trail. He knows better, but that isn't enough to stop him. ⟡ Narcotics: Those with their fingers dipped in the underworld might have heard whisperings of his name. He has cultivated a reputation as a trustworthy and discreet source of potions, poisons, curses and healing. ⟡ Shroudkin: Other Keepers of the Moon might be familiar with his clan name - I’m more than open to discuss this ooc to figure something out if you would like to explore this further! I’m eager for him to meet other Keepers!

Due to my timezone, it is sometimes difficult to find a time to roleplay in game, I am always open to roleplaying over discord, however (currently, it is my preferred medium). I tend to lean toward multi-paragraph storytelling and darker plotlines, but I’m happy to do lighter scenes, too!

I'm 28 years old and currently working on a freelance basis. I'm often working from home, so I can be fairly flexible with my scenes! Ooc, I'm a shy and awkward cryptid who just really loves to write. You can add me on discord ( Sunny#4558 ) or shoot me a message here if you’d like to chat about plots - or anything!

Vilde’s carrd is here for a more in-depth look at anything!

[katorainwonderland]

Dance For You

Prompt: Hey babe! I adore your blog, and I feel like you can execute this request well :) can I have a black reader/Sam one-shot where it's sam's birthday so the reader dances for him to "dance for you" by Beyoncé and smut ensues? Thanks!! Rating: Mature/Explicit Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader Word Count: 1,985 Warning: Slight daddy!kink, rough sex, Sam has a dirty mouth lol Author's Note: Hey, all, its been almost 5 years since I’ve posted any fics on here and tumblr has gone through so many changes but the people who still love fanfics are still here with me and I appreciate all the reblogs and likes and loves that I’ve gotten on my old fics. Idk if the person who requested this is still following me but hon, I am so sorry for taking so many years for this, life has been crazy, I’m now a 27 year old with back problems and all types of issues lol but I hope you can forgive the delay! I love you all and hope you enjoy this, sorry, no beta, enjoy the grammatical errors lol!

P.S.: If tumblr takes this down, i’ll post it somewhere else.

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

“Charlie, I feel ridiculous.” You grumbled, glancing at yourself in the mirror at the lingerie.

“But you look fucking sexy.” She reassured.

You grunted in disbelief as Charlie tried to fix the one side of your hair that wasn’t trying to cooperate.

“Its just… I’ve never done anything like this for him and what if I fuck it up?!”

“Look, I can guarantee that Sam will love his birthday present, he’s been away for weeks and I’m sure he’s missing you, and even if you do fuck up, Sam won’t care. You know how he is.”

Yeah, you did. Sam was the most caring, understanding person you had the honor of being with.

“You’re going to have to turn the heat up on that if you’re gonna get it straight enough.”

“Why couldn’t we just leave your hair the way it was? You know Sam loves your natural hair.” She asked turning the dial to ten.

“I wanted to do something different and you had to do it because you know I’m not good at using the flat irons. I mean, I could have braided it but that would have taken longer to do and we’re on a time limit.” You rambled nervously trying to distract yourself from the knots your stomach was twisting itself in.

“Hey, it’s okay, calm down and just take some deep breaths, you tried out all your moves on me first and honestly you were sexy. So, just listen to the beat of the song, feel it and don’t forget to breathe.” The red head finished up just as you got a text from Sam.

‘Just 20 minutes away.’

'Good, I’m waiting for you in the bedroom; )’

'I can’t wait to see you, mind if I shower first?’

'Not at all, take your time.’ 

'Oh, and tell Dean he may not want to stick around tonight.’

Charlie began packing up her things, and you walked her to her car in the garage, the heels you were wearing clicked as you walked, echoing off the walls of the bunker and oddly calming you.

“You look hot, ok, you’ll do fine. Plus you’ll have some mind blowing sex, I’m sure of it.” She said giving you a tight hug before getting in her car and driving off, leaving you standing there.

You took a deep breath before hurrying back to the bedroom, you slipped your robe on and set everything up, the music would be ready to play at the press of a button, the light was off and you had more than a few candles lighting the space, and you were all dressed and ready.

You heard Sam walk past the room a few minutes later heading straight for the showers and you sat patiently, albeit nervously, on the edge of the bed.

'Stop it!’ You thought as you stretched and loosened yourself up.

'Should have drank some alcohol.’

You got up from the bed and sat in the chair you had set in the room for the lap dance. Crossing one leg over the other you looked like the epitome of confidence and you decided that you could do this!

You gave yourself an internal pep talk and by the time you heard Sam’s feet pit pat down the hall you were ready.

He opened the door and his eyes quickly landed on you, your heart jumped in your chest but you kept your calm and smiled. You were happy to finally see him and you could tell from his own bright, beautiful smile that he felt the same for you. He was in nothing but some loose cotton sweat pants and you knew that he had nothing else on but that. Sam usually didn't feel the need for underwear unless it was necessary. 

He let his bag fall to the floor as you stood, he made his way over to you and took you into his arms. His lips were on yours in no time, your arms wrapped around his neck and damn it was tempting to just forget about the lap dance and just let him take you on the bed, but no, it was his birthday and he was getting his present.

“Wait.” You spoke breathlessly, pulling back from the kiss.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, those hazel eyes looking at you with worry as if he had done something wrong.

“Nothing,” You got out of his arms and directed him to the chair. “I have a surprise for you,”

“Didn’t think I forgot that it’s your birthday, did you?” You smirk as he sits down. “No touching, okay Sammy.” You give him a wink as you make your way over to start the music.

Just as the music begins you untie your robe, letting it fall off your body to reveal the lingerie and you notice Sam’s eyes go wide as he takes you in.

I just wanna show you how much I appreciate you

Wanna show you how much I'm dedicated to you

Wanna show you how much I will forever be true

You started slow, giving yourself innocent touches, starting along you thighs, then as the song went on your touches got bolder.

Your hands lifted the lace babydoll to reveal the skimpy lace panties underneath and you watched as Sam bit his lip. You took slow steps towards him, trying to be as graceful as you could while dancing. You stood in front of him circling your hips seductively, your hands sliding up and touching your breasts before ascending more and running through your hair playfully messing it up and making him smile, which, in turn made you smile.

Loving you is really all that's on my mind

And I can't help but to think about it day and night

I wanna make that body rock

Sit back and watch

You pushed him back into the chair as you straddled his legs.

Tonight I'm gonna dance for you, oh-oh

Tonight I'm gonna dance for you, oh-oh

Tonight I'm gonna put my body on your body

Boy I like it when you watch me, ah

Tonight it's going down

You began to grind down on him and you were surprised to feel that he was already hard but you knew you could get him harder and ready to burst.

You climbed off him and turned away from him, bending over to give him a good view of your ass and you heard him groan.

“Fuck, ______.” 

As the chorus ended you stood, turned back to him then slid to your knees in front of him. You reached your hand up and it landed on his tattoo before travelling down his toned midsection. You teased him as you stopped right before touching his length, which strained against the pants.

You giggled and stood once again turning away from him, you straddled his legs again but this time you ground your ass back onto him. 

You were surprised that he was doing so well with the no touching direction you gave him, so you took his arms and wrapped them around your waist as you leaned your back against his chest then arch against him.

You were about to get off him again but his arms refused to move, you laughed as he kissed your neck.

“Sam, I have to finish.” You whispered. 

“Shit, ______, I can't let you, you’re so fucking hot babe, I'm going to cream my pants like a 13 year old if you continue.”

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” You asked rubbing your ass against him again making him moan in your ear.

God, hearing him moan like that had your pussy throbbing for attention. 

He suddenly got up, picking you up with him and you squealed in surprise at the sudden movement.

“Sam, let me down!” You laughed

He did as you asked only to turn you to him and press his lips to yours. One of his hands went under your babydoll to cup your wet sex. You both moaned in unison, hearts pounding in excitement.

“On the bed.” You sighed out the command when your lips broke apart and the hazel eyed hunter did as you told him happily. Laying back on the bed, his large body taking up most of it, his eyes fixated on you.

You climbed over top of him connecting your lips again, the music had turned off and all you could hear was the smacking of your lips and heavy breathing. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you and somehow he ended up getting the babydoll off of you with ease, leaving you in your panties and heels. 

“Sam.” You moaned and the next thing you know you’re underneath him, his sweatpants had lowered on his hips and he pulled them down more to reveal his thick dick, your pussy throbbed with need as he slid the panties to the side and ran his fingers over your wetness to check and see if you were ready to take him.

You had been ready, ever since he walked in the room you were wet with the need for him.

“You already ready for me baby?” He said, voice thick with lust

“Yes, daddy, always.” You breathlessly answered

He gripped his length and lined it up with your opening, panties still slid to the side of your lips, and now that you thought about it you should have gotten crotch less ones. Next time.

He slowly slid himself into your heat and groaned as your pussy gripped at his cock. Your eyes closed at the feeling of him stretching your walls just right and there was no hesitation as he seated himself in you to start thrusting. The pace was fast and needy, you both had been waiting entirely too long for this and now was not the time to go slow.

His hands traveled all over you, lighting your body on fire, and all you could do was hold on to him, the bed, the pillows for dear life as he pounded into you. You could feel your end coming and just as you were about to come Sam grabbed you and flipped you over onto your stomach, barely exiting you but with that first thrust from this different angle you came with a scream, your body shaking from the force of your orgasm. You were inching off his dick but he wasn’t allowing that.

“No, where you going, stop running away from this dick.” He slapped your ass as he gave another thrust, making you moan deeply.

“Fuck, Sam.” He knew how much you loved how filthy his words got when you were having sex.

His hand grabbed your waist and pulled you back onto his dick, his other hand coming up to grab your hair, your body perfectly arched for the deepest penetration. Sam loved this position, he loved seeing your ass bounce on him and seeing him disappear into your moist heat.

“Shit, baby, I’m about to cum. Where do you want me to cum, huh, babygirl?”

“Inside me, Sam, damn, please cum in me.” You sounded so worn and ravaged and you couldn’t stop the second orgasm that racked through you.

With a few more thrust he was cuming inside you, his grunts so animalistic and raw. He emptied himself into you and before he laid next to you he kissed up your back to your neck and whispered in your ear.

“Thank you, babe, this was the best birthday present.”

“And it’s not over, I made you a cake.” You laughed as he laid down and pulled you to him, it was the that you had just realized you still had the heels on.

“Don’t take them off, I like them and were going again, maybe I can eat the cake off you.” He smirked 

“Yes, sir.” You sighed happily as you cuddled up to him.

[sailorshadzter]

soul mates fic part two please !!!

thanks for the request anon!! its really fun doing something out of my element!! 

send me prompts

Jon finds himself seated beneath the heart tree at the center of the godswood.

It's been several weeks since the appearance of his soul mark and somehow, someway, he's managed to hide it from everyone in his family. Seated there in the safety and privacy of the godswood, he pulls up his sleeve to yet again peer down at the slanted, curving letters that make up the name of his younger half sister. Sansa... He thinks of her, red hair shining like gold in the sunlight... He thinks of her blue colored eyes, so deep that he could drown in them. Jon wonders when these feelings began, but then again, he supposes they've always been there. Somewhere, in the back of his heart, they've always been lurking.

"What's that, Jon?"

He nearly leaps from his skin, a yelp leaving his lips as he tries to tug down the sleeve of his shirt before turning to face his father that has so suddenly appeared. "N-nothing," he stammers, shaking his head, trying to smile for his somewhat stone-faced father. Ned Stark is a somber, serious sort of man- though a smile most often appears when he is among his children.

"It is your soul mark, is it not?" Ned asks, dropping down onto the stone bench where his son sits. "I told you it would come in it's own time." Ned smiles as he reaches for Jon's arm, to see for himself the name that will be tattooed upon his forearm. But, to his surprise, Jon turns away, red faced with shame, eyes dark with fear. "Jon... You needn't fear me seeing the name..." For a long moment, Jon stares back at him with those dark Stark eyes, eyes he sees when he looks at Arya, eyes he sees when he thinks of Lyanna. "I promise, son," softer now, gentler. Though he looks very much like he would rather do anything but, Jon extends out his arm so Ned can roll back his sleeve and reveal the name there upon his skin.

For what could be ten seconds or ten years, father and son sit in silence; Ned is shocked, needless to say, and he's having trouble finding the words to say. After all this time, he's almost forgotten that Jon is not truly his by birth, so seeing his daughter's name on his arm is truly shocking. But the initial shock passes and Ned realizes that there is a long conversation he must have with Jon. With his entire family. "I see..." Ned murmurs, tracing the curving letters of Sansa's name, recalling for a moment the day she was born- he had the bells ring from sun up to sun down, all to honor the first born daughter of Winterfell. "Jon... There's some things we must speak of." He begins softly and as Jon takes his arm from his grasp, he turns somewhat surprised eyes upon the man he's always called father.

And then, Ned begins to speak.

[ x x x ]

When Jon returns to his rooms, he's in a stupor.

His brain doesn't seem to be functioning, but luckily for him his feet know the way. In his room, Ghost is snoozing on the floor before the hearth, which glows with a small fire a maid has stoked in the last few minutes, for he remembers passing her in the corridor. He offers Ghost a pat on the head, smiling absently when he hears the soft thump of his tail on the floor, but even his loyal wolf cannot bring him from his racing thoughts.

I'm not their brother... He's thinking as he sinks into his favorite chair, draped with a fur lined blanket Sansa had sewn for his last nameday. "Not their brother..." He says it aloud, testing the words, though they still yet sound foreign. They sound wrong. All these years he's grown up the bastard of Winterfell, never a Stark, never anyone. And now... Now, he's truly not certain who he's supposed to be. Born of a Stark and a Targaryen, though hidden from the world when his birth father lost to Robert Baratheon, he's the last of his bloodline. The last Targaryen. Except for that aunt of his that lives across the Narrow Sea, somewhere in Essos, though she is of the same age as himself.

Knock, knock.

The gentle tapping on his door interrupts his thoughts and Jon is grateful for the minor distraction. He pulls himself out of his whirling mind and rises back up to his feet, crossing the room to open the door. "Sansa," he breathes at the sight of her, blue eyes wide and uncertain, red hair twisted in braids, though soft curls frame her face. Her gown is rumpled, as if she's been twisting the gray damask between her fists, as if she's been listening to things that make no sense to her. And now he knows, now he understands; she knows.

Without another word, Jon takes a step back so she might step inside his room, and he closes the door behind her. At once, Ghost is dancing around her and she gives him a moment of attention before she turns back to face him, an uncomfortable sort of silence falling between them. "Father told me," she admits after several moments, shifting on the balls of her feet as she focuses her blue eyes upon him.

"Oh." It's all he can say, it's all his lips will allow.

"Things don't have to change... Much." She smiles and for a single, fleeting moment, Jon believes her. "You're still just Jon." She goes on, knowing how hard it must be for him to accept this news he's been given. It's hard enough for her to accept it- but then again, after what else her father has told her, maybe it won't be so hard. "I also came to tell you something." Jon looks up from where he's been staring at his feet, his Stark colored eyes widening slightly.

Again silence descends and though her cheeks warm with color, Sansa raises her hands to the neckline of her gown and she tugs it down, ever so slightly. Jon's shock returns when he sees there against her collarbone, the name that is her soul mark. "Aegon." She whispers, the truth falling between them, changing things. Changing them. "Though I think I much prefer Jon." A soft giggle escapes her and it's Jon's turn to smile, something warm spreading through every inch of him. Something he's never felt before.

"So do I," he says and she grins, taking a step closer to where he stands. She's so close that he can catch the scent of winter roses in her hair. "Things really don't have to change?" He asks, self conscious once again, worry taking root in him that things can never be the same. That the only family he has will fade away as the truth of his birth becomes a whisper across Westeros.

"Only some things," she says softly, reaching out to gently touch his hand; her skin is warm and soft against his. "But you will always be Jon to me, to all of us." She thinks of Arya, fiercely defending the brother she's always known. She thinks of Bran, who cried when he realized Jon was not his true brother. She thinks of her mother's relief, when she realizes that her husband never betrayed her with another woman. "We're a pack. A family. Even if our roles change, no matter what, you'll always be part of us." Some things might have to change, but not all of them.

"Thank you, Sansa," he murmurs and he reaches for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Things might have to change, but maybe that would be for the better.

[secret-engima]

It's gonna be interesting to see Lucis's reaction to the existence of the second Prince.

OH IS IT EVER.

-Meltdown just about covers it, but not quite. Like- not only is this a second prince, but he’s OLDER than Noctis by a good seven years. Ignoring the media for just a sec (though OH BOY THE MEDIA) the MOOGLENET (or whatever the FFXV version of the internet is) is gonna have a collective heart attack. Some people are gonna be joining on the media boat of questioning Regis for having a son out of wedlock (and if he still has Nox’s mother in hiding somewhere as a mistress) but others are going to be harping on Nox himself. Like- the theories get WILD. How did Regis’s agents not find him until he was 15+? How strong is his magic? Why does he wear long sleeves in every (rare) photo or video and why are his photos and videos so rare? Where was his mother from? Was she even Lucian?

-Top theories on those are that either his mother/mother’s family HID him from Regis’s agents or he was living in another country until recently (considering the only other “countries” right now are all under Niflheim’s thumb, this immediately spawns the theories that he’s a double agent for the Empire or he was tortured by them and escaped, which would explain the long sleeves). Other theories for the long sleeves is he’s hiding tattoos that would shame the royal family (he already has long hair and strange taste in earrings after all). Maybe Regis is hiding him from the public eye because he’s ashamed of his illegitimate child, or maybe there’s something wrong with him (people who go with the “tortured and escaped the Empire theory assume he has mental issues on top of scars). A really popular theory for his mother was that she was from Niflheim, possibly a Nif agent there to get the royal bloodline in Nif hands, until someone dug up a picture of him hanging out with the glaives and someone else (probably a Galahdian tbh) did a breakdown on how the single braid visible in all of Nox’s photos is a Galahdian braid, which immediately makes the theory that his mom was Galadhian way more popular (there’s also a niche theory that he’s the kid of Queen Sylva and Regis and that Slyva had been hiding him in Tenebrae until recently, but few people subscribe to that one).

-And let’s not forget the DRAMA the mooglenet is waiting breathlessly for the moment his existence is known. I mean- think about it. Much older illegitimate prince with possible scars, mental issues or enemy agent mom suddenly gets found and taken into the Citadel and named the second prince? A lessor inheritor even though he’s older than the Crown Prince by seven-ish years? If this was a drama show, then Regis would end up assassinated by the long-lost son he foolishly took in and Noctis would either die or disappear mysteriously and Nox would suddenly be the only LC left to take up the throne (and possibly turn it over to the Empire if you’re one of the theorists on the “was born and raised in Niflheim and is their double agent” boat). Like- you KNOW that is how the plot would go, and so does all of the mooglenet, who await the descent of their kingdom into Game of Thrones intrigue and murder with baited breath and much frantic typing.

-But those are mostly Insomnian mooglenet users. No, the ones who live out in the wilder areas, the small towns and the outposts where Hunters often come through have a different kind of meltdown that mostly comprises of “hgdgfd that guy who saved me from monsters/daemons/nifs was WHO????” or “That’s my regular non-regular. He and his weirdo Uncle stop by my ramen stand whenever they’re in and bicker over the best toppings. ACTUAL ROYALTY likes my ramen WHAT IN THE WORLD-” or, arguably the funniest one, “HGFGFHGFD THE DRIFTER I REGULARLY HIRE TO DO RANDOM CHORES IS THE PRINCE. OF. LUCIS?? THE KIDDO WHO DRESSES LIKE A HOBO AND TAGS ALONG WITH AN EVEN MORE HOBO UNCLE IS ROYALTY???? I SENT ROYALTY TO COLLECT MY BEAN CROPS??????”

-Basically while all of Insomnia is wary and confused by Nox’s existence, the rest of Lucis is collectively losing their minds because, you know, Nox has helped out his people where he can, which means he has ABSOLUTELY done all those random side-quests where you harvest somebody’s crop or look for a lost shipment or go out and fight HORRIBLE MONSTERS so bring back some of their parts that you need for your dinky little weapon’s shop. Like- everybody thought they were the only ones who got helped out by this random drifter kid, but then THIS happens and the mooglenet explodes with stories from ALL OVER FLIPPING LUCIS of this kid dropping everything to like- help a researching find certain colored frogs or something in exchange for trinkets and petty gil and shop discounts and the occasional potion.

-While Insomnia is busy prepping their Game of Thrones style fanfic and the tabloids are speculating on the mental (in)stability and bloodline of the “brooding illegitimate prince, no doubt embittered over his early life and eyeing the little brother keeping him from the throne”, the rest of Lucis are basically melting into puddles of shock, confusion, and adoration for the royalty that would drop everything to help out random citizens. Care packages start showing up from all corners of Lucis to thank their prince, and after they’re cleared by security, Nox opens them all. And writes thank you cards. Personalized thank you cards that often reference some individual event or factoid of the person/people it comes from (thing’s like, “I hope your ankle is doing better”, or “tell your wife thank you for the knitted socks, they’re very warm and she didn’t have to make them for me, I know wool is expensive in your area”, or “sorry I won’t be around to deliver your next batch of spiracorn tails, my father doesn’t want me going on Hunts right now for whatever reason”) and this proof that he REMEMBERS and STILL CARES just makes them love him more.

-Also there’s this music-based drabble thing I’m working on that happens JUST as the mooglenet/media is starting to calm down and THAT sets everything off again with even more screaming and confusion and Insomnians going “I’M SORRY WHAT????” while the rural Lucians just go “ahh. Ah yes that explains it. That’s our little Drifter.”

-Regis is torn between being Responsible About Security and wanting the Hilarity Factor of letting Nox have a social media account. Like- his son hates public appearances of any kind and he respects that (barring the few mandatory noble balls), but Regis can just imagine the utter chaos Nox would unleash if anyone ever let him have a Twitter account and it’s .... tempting. The nobles haven’t been this off balance in years and for all some (a lot) of the tabloids and media commentators are annoying in their harping and gossip, the collective brain-melt Nox keeps triggering in the collective public/nobles/Council/media is HYSTERICAL.

-Nyx, snickering, announces one day that Nox has fanfiction about him. Like- A LOT of it. He is reigns over a thriving chunk of the Real Person fandom, almost all of which is massively OOC and either filled with political intrigue and assassinations (and sordid badly written romance) or just straight up AUs (vampire/werewolf/supernatural Nox is a stunningly popular AU as is the Usuper Dystopia AU). Nox is morbidly curious but refuses to actually read any of it for fear of losing his mind (she doesn’t tell him about the very fierce Shipping Wars that have broken out, or the fact that most of those Shipping Wars are over various popular celebrities Nox has never met, Noble Daughters he’s met and despised, and Aranea Highwind, who is on the list solely because she’s a famous female Nif officer and the Nif!Nox theory is very popular).

-There would be a segment of that fandom dedicated to works from the common folk who’ve actually met him, but for that part of the population it’s more popular to share various stories about how they met the then-unknown prince for real and how he either helped them or was adorably awkward over something (there is a magazine anthology of those stories, released monthly and very popular out in Lucis proper, Cindy has a subscription that Cid refuses to admit he reads).

-The fandom/theorists even stretch into Altissia and Niflheim. If ANYONE asked, Loqi would refuse to admit, on pain of DEATH, that he is the author of That One Fic everyone knows about/favs/follows/fanarts that features a Nox/Aranea ship, the now ex-Chancellor as Nox’s maternal uncle, and a SCARY in-depth knowledge/breakdown of both Niflheim and Lucian politics (in the context of Nox and Aranea navigating them, surprisingly this is the one Super Popular Nox-Nea fic that DOES NOT feature a Double Agent!Nox).

-The only reason Ardyn does not contribute to the rumors/fanfics/theories is because he doesn’t Understand How the Mooglenet Works™. He has, however, gleefully listened to some of the glaives read Loqi’s That One Super Popular Nif-Written Fic and smirked to himself over how it is so OBVIOUS who the author is, and pleased that Loqi the author is actually tasteful in his courtship subplot and shipping habits.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Help Wanted (chapter four)

Huge thanks to my amazing betas @spiky-lesbian and @minky-for-short!

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you’d like to support my writing! 

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4

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WARNING: This chapter and the next few will deal with Fjord coping with his own sexuality and internalised homophobia. Avoid if this is a trigger for you.

Caduceus and Fjord start coming closer, when something comes roaring up to pull them apart

----

“So...Caduceus, huh?”

Beau wasn’t very good at difficult conversations. She knew that. Whenever she had to have one, whether it was navigating her relationship with her girlfriends, letting Jester know when she needed some quiet time or getting Yasha to be more open about how she was feeling, the person she usually turned to was Fjord. He’d never say it himself but he was good at feelings talk, at least when he was out of his own head. Even when he’d been far away, the two of them had texted whenever he was docked, and he’d always been able to help her figure out what to say. Not that she could tell him that. He’d have cringed and gotten awkward about it and insisted he was really no good at ‘soft stuff’.

And Beau would have felt that urge to slap the hell out of that Vandran guy. And Avantika. And everyone else who’d ever made Fjord feel like he was worthless if he wasn’t ‘strong’. But that would have taken a long time.

But this time, she couldn’t ask Fjord what to say or how to make her smile look less like a grimace or how not to come off like a grumpy asshole. Because the person she wanted to have this tricky conversation with was Fjord himself.

And so far it was going as well as she’d expected.

Fjord gave her a puzzled look from across the counter, “Caduceus. Yeah, I know the fellah. Tall, furry, dresses like a college age stoner. I only see him every day but Sundays.”

“Damn, that is exactly how he dresses…” Beau muttered, looking across at where Cad himself was standing, seeing his drop crotch pants in an eye watering geometric print in a new light, “Anyway, I just mean...he’s nice, right?”

Fjord narrowed his eyes, “Uh, yeah. He is nice.”

“And you’ve been getting on really well?”

“I guess, yeah. We talk a lot, we’ve actually started texting. I don’t think he’s ever done it before but he seems like he’s getting the hang of it...I know he seems a little slow but he’s actually way smarter than people realise, he knows more about plants than, well, anyone I think and all this stuff he just remembers off the top of his head, his memory for some stuff just crazy. Last night when we were texting, he was describing how to make some real complicated stew thing and I know for a fact he didn’t have the recipe book because that's here and he wasn’t googling it because I don’t think he knows how to do that but he remembered everything about it…” he stopped, like he’d just realised how long he’d been talking and flushed, “Beau, when are you getting to your point?”

Beau cursed internally. The answer was she had no idea. But she had to try.

“Just sayin’... seems like you’ve got a bit of a...a thing going on with him. A connection.”

That had definitely been the wrong thing to say. Fjord’s shoulders immediately hunched, his jaw set in that stubborn, defensive way. The blush became a fire across his face, turning his green skin splotchy. He looked like a teenager caught spray painting a wall.

“What? He’s just a friend,” he said, more curt than he probably realised, “Like I said, I see him every day. I’m allowed to have friends, ain’t I?”

Beau held up her palms, getting the strong sensation that Fjord wasn’t talking to her anymore, not in his head anyway, “Sure, sure. Course.”

“You and Jess said I should work here, you wanted me to get to know him, that’s all I’m doing-”

“Right!” Beau raised her voice a little, frowning, “I know, Fjord, I know. Jeez, I was just asking…”

“Well maybe don’t next time,” he snapped, “He’s just a friend...here’s your coffee.”

The last part was muttered a little resentfully as he pushed the biodegradable cup towards her more forcefully than he needed to, quickly turning on his heel and nearly fleeing into the kitchen, with a half caught comment about having work to do.

Beau groaned and slumped on her stool. She knew exactly what was going to happen now, Fjord would spend a day being cold and awkward around her then would snap right back to the way they’d been before, as if the botched conversation had never happened. That’s how it had gone every other time Beau had tried to steer him into talking about...well, anything even remotely adjacent to that.

She’d tried before Caduceus was ever in the picture. She’d tried to bring it up around bonfires they’d set on the beach on weekends Fjord had stayed with her because the orphanage was crushing him, on the nights they’d sneak onto the school field when her own home became unbearable to be in and she needed to talk to someone who didn’t treat her like she was a mistake for being herself. She’d waited expectantly when she’d come out to him, at their usual booth in the cheap diner they both frequented, like there was a second half to the conversation in the wings.

None had worked. How were you supposed to tell someone you saw something in them when they didn’t see it themselves? When other parts of them, parts that had been transplanted in against their will, would hate it and punish them for it?

As little as she liked it, Beau realised all she could do was sit back and hope against hope that something would grow in Fjord.

Well, she sighed as she jumped down and went to head to class, if anyone could make something grow in the harshest conditions it was Caduceus.

It happened so slowly.

It started with side glances, Fjord clearly noticing things he hadn’t before. Things like the tattoo at the base of Caduceus’ neck that was only visible when he wore his hair with his undercut exposed. Things like the swirl of smooth oak he wore through the hole in his ear. Things like the markings he shaved into the fur around his wrist on certain days, namely the week when the seasons were shifting, as spring became summer. They’d always been part of him, of course but now Fjord’s eye seemed drawn to them more than ever.

And then it became questions. Not big questions but small ones that betrayed a much bigger curiosity. One day, when Fjord came in to find Cad meditating on the floor in the middle of the cafe, he politely tiptoed around him and left him to it. But he spent the morning clearly chewing over a question and finally, as the two of them sat and ate lunch in the kitchen, he burst out and asked if Cad thought about anything in particular when he did that or if he just let his mind wander. Cad had smiled and happily ran him through some meditation basics, breathing and thought exercises and such. Fjord had listened intently before quickly busying himself with his sandwich and mumbling something about it sounding interesting but not really for him.

The next day, he’d asked Cad if talking to the plants as he did counted as talking to his goddess too. Then he’d asked if she had a particular special day or if she had a temple of some kind somewhere. Then he’d asked if the way Caduceus did his hair had something to do with her whole spiral thing, the way he usually did it in braided buns on either side of his head.

Cad answered every question patiently, as if simply indulging his friend’s curiosity. After all, she was a lesser known deity in these parts, of course she’d seem interesting to someone who had grown up in a city. But each one lit a hope in his chest, like fireflies buzzing in his ribcage.

And then it wasn’t a question, it was a realisation.

“That’s a wave, isn’t it?”

Caduceus looked up from where he was lounging on one of the sofas, sewing a torn cushion back together, “Hm?”

Fjord was over in the corner, one of the carved talismans in his hand. There were several dotted around the store, looking just like indoor rockery amongst the plants or interesting art sculptures. But if someone knew what they were looking for, they’d see them everywhere. This one was a palm sized river rock, carved with the Wildmother’s spiral and painted in watercolours. His sister had made it for him before he’d left, pressing it into his palm as he’d been packing, when the rest of his family had already started keeping their distance.

Clarabelle had always been a favourite of his.

It seemed to fit perfectly in Fjord’s palm and he was studying it like he had no idea how it had gotten there, the watering can hanging limp and forgotten in his other hand.

“The symbol,” he murmured, face creased in a gentle, curious frown, “It’s a wave, isn’t it?”

Cad leaned forward, setting his needle and thread to one side, lazily resting his chin on his knees, “It is. Melora’s of the sea as well as the forest. Where’s wilder than the sea, after all?”

“I...I didn’t know that,” Fjord’s voice was small and his eyes hadn’t lifted from the talisman.

Cad nodded, “She guides the passage of ships and protects those who sail the waves, anywhere in the world. Particularly from storms.”

That snapped Fjord’s eyes up, as if one of the words Cad had spoken was a fishing line that he’d jerked, “Really?’

Cad tried to feel nothing at the sudden intensity in the half orc’s stare, “Yes. She’s all about protection and balance when people travel through wild places. Keeping things as they should be.”

Again, something about that tugged at Fjord. Enough to make him set down the watering can and come to sit on the sofa opposite Caduceus’, leaning forward on his knees. The quiet of the cafe after hours seemed to intensify, wrap around them as if they weren’t just the only two people in the building but the whole world.

“You said she’s about healing,” his voice was raspy, like he was having to fight to keep some emotion out of it, “But what about...forgiving?”

Cad blinked slowly, ears twitching, “Forgiving?”

Fjord lowered his voice, “Like if you’d...done something you weren’t proud of. Or thought something or...or you were something you weren’t proud of...or at least you thought you should be...would she still…” he seemed unable to keep going, like he was grasping for words that weren’t there.

Cad took a moment to really look at him before he answered. It was like he was seeing him in a different light, the way the colour of some eyes could look completely different depending on where you stood. There was a fear in Fjord’s face he’d never seen before, a kind of raw and innocent fear that belonged to a child. A child who didn’t understand why he’d been hurt as badly as he had. Who’d spend his life trying to reason out that hurt, finding flaws in himself that weren’t there, just to justify it all. Because if it wasn’t there then the world was just plain cruel and that couldn’t be true.

Cad was good at reading people, he was good at understanding faces and the feelings behind them. But he hadn’t seen this. And it broke his heart.

“Fjord,” he eventually murmured, wanting so badly to reach across the table to him but knowing that would do more harm than good, “Nothing is unforgivable. Certainly nothing you’ve done. And some things...some things don’t even require forgiveness, no matter what other people have told you.”

Fjord swallowed hard, “And she...she’d think so too?”

“Without hesitation,” Cad answered immediately, never breaking his gaze.

At that, something in Fjord seemed to recede, pull away. Something that didn’t have form or shape or colour so it was hard to say how it did it, but the sensation was unmistakable. A kind of...darkness had withdrawn ever so slightly.

And he managed to nod.

Thank you, thank you, thank you Cad chanted desperately in his head as he kept his face in a gentle smile and reached over to Fjord, putting his large hands over the half orc’s callused ones and closing his fingers over the talisman in.

“Why don’t you keep that, Fjord?” he murmured, “I want you to have it.”

Fjord opened his mouth to insist he couldn’t but Caduceus was already shaking his head, “It’s not a promise or anything, it’s just...a gift. It’s just a gift. From one friend to another.”

Fjord bit his lip, though the anxiety in his eyes was bleeding away, “I…”

Cad’s hands were still on Fjord’s, somehow he’d not taken them away yet, “Just use it as a reminder that...you’re good, Fjord. No matter what you’ve been told, you’re fundamentally good. And change is always possible.”

“Caduceus…” It was part question, part plea for help, part just saying his name because he wanted to hear it out loud.

There was so much more he wanted to say in return, words beating in his mouth like a second heartbeat, straining for flight. Words that would chase that darkness away for good, make it flinch so he could catch it in his hands and show Fjord how small and twisted and wrong it really was, how he didn’t have to believe what it said ever again. How it had never been part of him but something he’d been forced to take.

And then everything broke into a hundred pieces as a car horn blared outside, again and again like an angry heartbeat. Both of them jumped a mile, Cad’s ears flattening against his head and Fjord whipping around as if expecting a blow.

“Oh…” he eventually said, when the shock had died down to just an unpleasant buzz in the nerves, “It’s Avantika…”

Sure enough, past the windows and the doodles of plants and mushrooms Jester had done for Cad in glass paints when he’d first opened, out on the darkened street was a car. The horn blared again, a shout into the previously calm twilight.

“She never normally comes to get me this late,” Fjord looked lost, still childlike and terrified, “Why…I should go…”

There was a pause then, a pause that could have lasted a lifetime to the two men caught in it. A possibility bloomed between them, a road opening up in a held breath. And then a choice was silently made. Fjord stood up, a different man, broader shouldered and with a set jaw and a mask on his face he’d worn for so long.

“I’m sorry, Cad,” this other man said, “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Right,” Cad murmured, still reeling, “Tomorrow.”

He went to stand too but then he felt it, the talisman. Not in Fjord’s hands but his own, left there, abandoned like a broken promise.

And for a moment, the other man was gone as Fjord whispered, “I’m sorry, Cad,” and fled, taking any unspoken words with him out into the night.

The door falling shut behind him sounded louder than it had any right to.

For a long time Cad stayed sat down, looking at the talisman left in his hands, all strength to stand gone out of him. He heard the car door slamming shut outside, the tyres screeching against the road as it drove away but he didn’t look to see it happen.

He didn’t understand.

Caduceus was still yawning as he walked from where he parked to the front of the cafe. He hadn’t slept well in the night, for obvious reasons, and was feeling every minute of tossing and turning as he walked through a chilly dawn.

The tiredness wasn’t helping him work out how he was going to approach Fjord today. He didn’t want things to be awkward, he didn’t want to lose a friend. But he couldn’t figure out how on earth he was supposed to keep that from happening after things had gone so disastrously wrong. Had he pushed him? Had he come off controlling? Had he seen a desire in Fjord that hadn’t really been there, that he’d only wanted to see?

Caduceus was used to being so sure of his decisions. Even when they’d been the rash, impulsive decisions of his youth, even when no one else seemed to follow his reasoning, at least he’d always been secure in his next step forward. Like the paths through the grove he’d walked so many times, he always knew where he was setting his feet.

Now he couldn’t even be sure there was ground underneath him at all. And if he didn’t find it soon, he’d lose sight of Fjord completely.

As he rounded the corner, out onto the quiet little street where his cafe stood, he realised with a sinking heart that he had no time left to figure it out. Because Fjord was already there, under the still glowing street lamp outside the door, hunched against the chill in that threadbare hoodie of his.

Cad’s ears drooped and he prayed for wisdom as he crossed the space between them, trying to smile.

“Morning, Fjord,” he called when there was still a few yards between them, “You’re early…”

The closer he got, the more his tiredness was replaced with a cold, heavy dread. Because Fjord looked fine. Far too fine. Like he was holding it that way quite deliberately because behind it all was something else.

“Uh, yeah,” even his voice was measured, like an actor delivering lines, “I came in a little early because...because I need to talk to you about something.”

“Well,” Cad turned to unlock the door, “We can talk inside, it’s a little too chilly to-”

“No,” Fjord interrupted, “I think I need to say this now, Caduceus.”

He stopped, the dread crystallising into a full on fear in his stomach, key freezing halfway in the lock, “...oh?”

“I’m leaving.”

And there it was.

Fjord broke, unable to look at him anymore, eyes falling to the pavement between them, “Avantika bought a ship. Well...we bought a ship, really but...thats why she came to get me last night, to tell me. She got tired of waiting for another captain to take us on so...so I guess we’re just doing it ourselves. We won’t be setting out right away but I need to go help get everything ready so...tomorrow’s going to be my last day.”

There was a second long pause, before the key turned in the lock with a sharp click. Cad stepped inside, still not having said a word, calmly slipping off his coat and putting on his apron, the only sign he’d heard being a tremble in his hands as he knotted it in the front.

“Well, that’s a shame,” he finally said, voice quiet, “We can talk more about the logistics of that but I need to go and get the produce out for today. You can sort out the tables. I’ll be in the store room if you need me.”

Fjord’s eyes were up, looking shocked and confused, like he’d been waiting for an explosion that hadn’t come, “Sure...yeah, I can do that…”

“Right,” Cad stepped away into the back room and down the steps into the basement, walking quickly, keeping his head up and his jaw still just in case Fjord was still looking.

It was only when the heavy door of the store room closed behind him, so he knew that he had a good ten minutes before anyone would get suspicious and enough distance that no one would hear, only then did he stop and sit down heavily on a wooden box.

Only then did Caduceus allow himself to sob.