#maybe a demonstration tomorrow night is in order

[invinciblerodent]

ah, he's finally getting to slut it up the way the gods (me) intended.

good for him. good for him.

[thewillofdeez]

50/50: A Shanks/OC (and Beckman/OC) Romance - Chapter 5: Strength and Love

Summary: A twenty year journey of friendship, love, and heartache between Shanks and the woman he loves.

Chapter 5 word count: 6746 (another long one, sorry!)

Notes: Enter: baby Luffy! And some romance (finally).

The last part of this chapter required me to learn the names of different parts of a sailing ship. So in order to make it easier for you to visualize, I made a diagram which you can find here.

Enjoy! The story will be in Foosha Village for 1-2 more chapters.

I also finally got a job after 9 months of unemployment, and so am going to do my damndest to get this and my other WIPs done or close to it before I start!

The celebration of Shanks and Riley’s reconciliation went on well into the night, but Riley excused herself from the party around eleven o’clock - she had to be up early tomorrow, after all. She was grateful when Shanks snuck into her room less than an hour later and wrapped his arms around her, planting a kiss on her shoulder and falling asleep behind her in a matter of minutes.

At the party, she and Shanks had been back to their old selves, affectionate, laughing, and once again comfortable in each other’s presence. Shanks and Snake had let her know that they’d be looking for a nearby island to settle down in while she trained, somewhere quiet and out of the way where they could dock for about a year. He felt she’d have better resources at her disposal on land, and it would allow the crew to focus on training her with less interference from Marines or other pirates. Here in the East Blue, the calmest of the seas, they’d find something in no time.  Riley had expressed concern about how the rest of the crew would feel about being on land for so long. “Don’t worry about it,” Shanks had said with a sly grin “I’ll tell them to think of it as an extended vacation for everyone except you.”

The next morning, Riley rose from her bed, careful not to disturb Shanks who grunted and rolled over when she removed herself from his grasp. Energy was coursing through her body. She was finally going to get what she wanted. She was finally going to be stronger, a fighter. Maybe not on the same level as some of the guys who had been doing it for years, but that’s not something she cared about. She cared that she was getting to do it at all. 

Riley dressed and readied herself for the morning, donning comfortable, workout-friendly clothes, then made her way to the mess hall. Beckman was already there, as were Lucky and some of the kitchen crew. Beckman placed a plate overflowing with bacon, eggs, and sausage in front of her, the single piece of toast on the side almost looking out of place. Riley’s eyes widened - he wanted her to eat all of this? What?

“If you wanna get stronger, you need more fuel for your body. You eat like a bird.”

“Actually, birds eat quite a lot. Ya know, so they can fly,” she responded with a smirk.

“Then you eat like something that doesn’t eat a lot. Chow down, get some protein in you.”

Over breakfast, Beckman filled Riley in on what his plan for her would be over the next four months. When she was full to bursting with meat and eggs, Beckman took pity and helped her finish the last few slices of bacon. They then made their way to the upper deck to begin Riley’s training.

They began with stretching, then moved onto conditioning exercises. Beckman would tell her what they were going to do, demonstrate good form, and give her a number of reps to work on, noting where her body strength was good and where it needed work as he got an idea of what her baseline capabilities were. Her legs were decently strong, and her core wasn’t bad. Improving her upper body strength was going to take a hell of a lot of work, though, he mused as he watched her struggle to get a quarter of the way into a pull-up.

By the time most of the crew was making their way onto the deck to begin their duties for the day, the two had finished up their workout.

“So,” Beckman asked, “How do you feel?”

“I feel great, actually!” Riley responded, the endorphin rush making her feel light and energized.

Beckman chuckled and lit up a cigarette. “Give it time. You’re gonna be in the most pain you’ve ever felt in your life tomorrow morning. I’ll give you the day off to let your body rest, then we’ll resume the day after.”

“What?!” Riley objected, “But we just got started! I don’t want to take a day off already.”

“Trust me, you’re gonna need it.”

And Beckman was right. The next morning, Riley awoke and tried to make her way out of bed - key word being tried. Every muscle in her body was sore and stiff and required incredible effort to move. Just getting dressed was an ordeal.

Riley slowly made her way to the mess hall, where Shanks, Beckman, and the senior officers were gathered around their usual table. She braced her hands against the edge of the table and slowly lowered herself into a seat next to Shanks, her face grimacing at the burn in her thighs. The surrounding men couldn’t help but laugh.

“So glad you guys find my anguish amusing,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Awww Rye, we’re not laughing at your pain!” said Yasopp.

“I am!” said Shanks. Riley swatted him swiftly, then winced at the movement.

“It’ll get better, Riley. Promise,” Beckman said, pushing a plate in her direction. More meat and eggs, and that lonely piece of toast, the sole carb amidst a mountain of protein.

“By the way, we think we’ve found a good place to dock for a while,” said Snake, unfurling a map before Riley. “We’re approaching Dawn Island, home of the Goa Kingdom. There’s a small village on the outskirts of the city. It’s quiet and out of the way, and hopefully the people there won’t give us any trouble. We should be there by this evening.”

Riley examined the map, noting the small windmill drawings surrounding Foosha Village on the southeast side of the island.

“Sounds perfect,” she said. After breakfast, she slowly lifted herself from her seat, wincing in pain. “I’m going to go take a very long, very hot bath.”

That evening, just as predicted, the crew arrived on Dawn Island. Standing on the deck as the crew worked around her to furl the sails, Riley noticed the townspeople stopping to stare at their imposing ship, by far the largest at the docks. Some people ushered their children into their houses, while others closed and locked their shutters. She figured they probably didn’t get a ton of pirates around here, and couldn’t blame them for being scared.

The crew stepped off the ship and walked through the town, led by Shanks, Beckman, and Riley, seeking out a place for dinner and drinks. Riley was still in pain, and desperately craved a beer. 

As it always was with the Red Hair Pirates, landing on a new island was cause for celebration. So was leaving the island, and just about any day in between where they could find an excuse to do so. Shanks, at Riley’s insistence, had instituted a rule several years before after she’d had one too many instances of being unable to sleep off her own hangover because everyone else was also hungover and wanted her to help them: no partying without a cause for celebration. Unfortunately for Riley, Shanks accepted just about anything as a cause for celebration, and he exploited this loophole constantly. He’d made it up to her by instructing the crew to get their own water and painkillers from the med bay if Riley was also too hungover to assist.

Finding a small pub called Party’s Bar, the crew filed in. The green-haired woman behind the bar had a shocked look on her face - whether it was because there were now 60 people crowding into the small building or because they were pirates, she wasn’t sure. 

Riley approached the bar with a smile. “Don’t worry,” she said, “We’re not here to cause trouble, just have some food and a few drinks, and I promise we’re paying customers. Are you able to accommodate so many?”

The barkeeper was taken aback for a second, then nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, of course! Please, make yourselves comfortable.” If what the female pirate said was true, she was set to make more money in a single night than she had in ages. She ran to the kitchen and ordered the whole crew to come out, distribute menus, and begin pouring drinks. She was grateful for the timing of the shipment of rum and beer they’d just received that day, and made a note to put in another order tomorrow.

The barkeeper introduced herself as Makino. Riley, Shanks, and Beckman introduced themselves and the rest of the officers as the drinks began to flow and the smell of cooking food permeated the bar. Makino was surprised that these pirates, as opposed to others who had visited her bar, or, more commonly, some of the fouler bands of mountain bandits, were actually quite kind and fun, if a bit rowdy. She found their red-haired captain to be particularly charming, and blushed as he flirted with her.

As dinner died down and the drinking began in earnest, Riley found herself deep in conversation with Makino. She always pounced on any opportunity to talk to another woman.

“So it’s just you and 59 men?” Makino had asked, amazed.

“Yup,” Riley replied, taking a sip of her beer. “We’ve yet to find any other women who want to join, but I’m still holding out hope.”

“She tolerates us,” Beckman said with a smile.

“Honestly, they’re not a bad group of guys,” Riley said, wrapping an arm affectionately around Beckman’s waist. His arm rested around her shoulders in return. “I’ve met much worse men who aren’t pirates. I mean, sure, they’re loud and gross and –”

“Devastatingly handsome,” Shanks cut in, bringing his face close to Riley’s with a smolder. “Sexy. Muscular. Well-end–” Riley placed her hand on his face and pushed him away.

“Most of them aren’t bad,” she continued. “This guy, however, needs to be kept on a leash. And perhaps a muzzle.”

Makino giggled and poured them another round.

“Stop it, old man, let me GO!” The crew turned towards the commotion as a small child burst into the bar, an older man in tow. “I wanna see the pirates!”

The small boy with a mop of thick, black hair ran towards the bar.

“Luffy, get out of here!” Makino admonished. “You can’t be in here so much past your bedtime!”

Shanks laughed and lowered himself to his knees, closer to the boy’s level.

“Hey there, kiddo. What’s your name?”

“Luffy,” the child responded, a finger up his nose.

“Nice to meet ya, Luffy. I’m Shanks, and this is my crew, the Red Hair Pirates. Say hi to the kid, boys!”

“Hi, Luffy!” the crew responded in unison, raising their mugs.

Luffy burst into a fit of giggles. The older man who had been pursuing the boy stormed in and grabbed him by the arm. “Luffy, if your grandfather knew you were in a bar with pirates at six years old he’d have my head! Come on, let’s go!” He then turned to Shanks. “And as for you, I don’t take too kindly to pirates in my village, but I also won’t turn you away as long as you don’t cause any trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it, sir," Shanks responded in his most diplomatic voice, "We’re not here to cause trouble, just to take a nice long rest. I promise, you’ll barely notice we’re here.”

The older man, who they later learned was Woop Slap, the village’s mayor, narrowed his eyes at Shanks but accepted his response. He turned and dragged Luffy from the bar.

“Bye Shanks! Bye Red Hair Pirates!” the boy cried. “See ya tomorrow!”

The crew laughed and waved as they left.

“He’s a sweet kid,” Makino said. 

“No parents, I take it?” asked Beckman.

“Not to my knowledge,” she replied. “He does have a grandfather who’s a Vice Admiral with the Navy. He’s not around a lot so we all sort of take care of Luffy as a community. If he bothers you, just let me know.”

Shanks only laughed in response.

Over the next months, the crew grew quite comfortable in the small village. Riley was approaching the end of her four months of training with Beckman, Luffy became a common presence among the crew (much to the mayor’s dismay), and the Red Hair Pirates were a normal sight at the bar and around town. True to Shanks’s word, they didn’t cause any trouble, and the townspeople began growing used to their presence. They did have a way of endearing themselves to others, Riley found herself musing one day as she watched a few crew members help a family in town fix a broken window. Luffy swore he had nothing to do with it.

At Party’s Bar one evening, Riley sat at a table with Bonk, Snake, and Limejuice, but found her eyes wandering towards the bar. Shanks was flirting with Makino, who was loving his attention and returning it in kind. She knew they’d become something of an item over the last few weeks - how could she not, her bedroom was right next to Shanks’s and the man had never been known for being a quiet lover. They did appear to be keeping the relationship somewhat quiet, however, and she wasn’t sure if it was for Makino’s sake or Shanks’s. He’d never been one to hide his lovers or help them sneak quietly off the ship, so either he was trying to protect the barkeeper’s reputation or there was something different about this relationship. Riley wasn’t sure which, but she was grateful for the nights he stayed at Makino’s, for no other reason than she enjoyed her sleep, and it made keeping her own secret a little easier. 

Shanks had always been a flirt and was constantly the center of female attention. She’d seen him leave bars with dozens of women in their time together, but this one seemed different somehow. Perhaps it was the increasingly long-term nature of their situation, or it could be something else.

Of course, Riley had had a number of situationships of her own over the years. The life of a pirate wasn’t built to be relationship-friendly, and so they all needed to enjoy what they could when they got it, and there was no judgment amongst the crew over whatever that was. Riley allowed her mind to wander, remembering some of those men from over the years.

First, there had been the swordsman friend of Shanks’s, Mihawk, back in the early days of the crew. She had found the golden-eyed man to be irresistibly charming, despite his otherwise cold exterior, and he’d found himself quite taken with her in turn. It became the closest thing to a loving, serious relationship Riley had ever had - Mihawk had only intended to hitch a ride with the Red Hair Pirates until they reached his destination, but what should have been a few weeks wound up being the better part of a year, with much of the man’s time being spent either clashing steel with Shanks or in Riley’s bed. Eventually, though, they’d had to part ways. Mihawk wasn’t interested in joining Shanks’s crew (though Shanks had tried to convince him more than once), and Riley wasn’t interested in leaving the crew to travel with Mihawk. The split was painful for the both of them, but it was amicable, and when their paths occasionally crossed over the years, they’d still have some fun together.

Then there was Marco, the captain of Whitebeard’s first division and the crew’s doctor. Whenever the Red Hair Pirates and the Whitebeard Pirates met, Riley never knew what she was going to get. Whitebeard and Gold Roger had been bitter rivals, but also held immense respect for each other. Shanks’s relationship with the enormous man was much the same - though they often steered clear of each other’s path, occasionally situations would bring them together. Sometimes it was tense, and Shanks received his now-signature three scars over his left eye from Marshall Teach on one particularly rough occasion. (Incidentally, Yasopp had thought his captain’s new scars were so cool that he had immediately re-designed the crew’s jolly roger.) But sometimes it wasn’t and the two crews were able to intermingle peacefully.

Riley had always enjoyed her occasional interactions with Marco - she didn’t get to meet other doctors very often, and so jumped at the opportunity to trade stories and knowledge with one whenever she could, even if they were technically an enemy. Marco was intelligent and funny, and she could talk to him for hours when given the chance. One night aboard the Moby Dick as the two crews mingled, Riley and Marco had sat together talking animatedly over their shared interest in medicine and exchanging stories of their crews. As the night grew later and their bodies inched closer together, Marco eventually captured her lips in a kiss, which Riley returned with enthusiasm.

“My room?” he’d said, to which Riley nodded, a sly grin on her face. As Marco grabbed her by the hand and led her into the ship, she could hear Whitebeard’s thunderous laugh.

Then there was Beckman. She had never intended to start anything with Beckman, it had just sort of happened. The two had always been close, and the time they spent training together every day brought them even closer. Perhaps there was something about the way he’d touch her gently, correcting her form, or how proud he looked of her when she pushed herself to her limits. When she’d successfully completed her first pull-up, he’d brought her a beer to chug in celebration, then promptly made her do nine more.

Riley knew Beckman had been thrilled with her progress so far, and could see it in the way he looked at her. But it wasn’t just pride, there was something else there, too. And one day on the beach as he held her feet down and coached her through a set of sit-ups, he couldn’t help but kiss her as she brought her body up towards her knees. Riley had been quite shocked at first, but quickly returned the kiss, looping her arms behind his neck and dragging him back down with her, his body over top of hers.

And that was how it began. With Makino keeping Shanks occupied and their location seemingly safe, he hadn’t been joining her to sleep as much. Instead, Beckman had taken his place in her room, or her in his as the case sometimes was. It was just sex, at least at this point, and the two didn’t feel the need to announce it to the crew, so they kept it quiet. But they also felt a little guilty about their secret, especially when it came to Shanks.

On the other side of the bar, as his crewmates chatted boisterously, Beckman found himself musing over much the same kind of thing Riley was. He watched her with a smile on his face as she laughed at a stupid joke Bonk had made. He really, really liked seeing her laugh. Beckman was sort of terrified of the way he was beginning to feel about her. He’d been with a lot of women, but never like this.

The issue was Shanks. Not that he thought the captain would have a problem with his second in command and doctor being in a relationship on principle, but there was an unspoken question. Or, more accurately, a question Beckman had tried to broach with Shanks before but had been shot down: he still wasn’t sure where Shanks stood on having feelings for Riley. He knew his captain well enough to know that it was probably more than platonic, but all Shanks had ever done was avoid or deny it. And now that Beckman found himself developing feelings for Riley, he wasn’t sure what to do with that. And Shanks was spending quite a lot of time with Makino, so did he even still harbor feelings for Riley at all, or had he moved on? It was getting complicated, and he desperately wanted to figure it out, if only Shanks would just be fucking honest with him.

Deciding to step outside for a cigarette, Beckman caught Riley’s eye and nodded in the direction of the door. She understood and excused herself from the table, grabbing her drink and following him onto the porch. The night was warm and still, and the lights in the houses along the street began slowly switching off as the residents of Foosha Village turned in for the night.

Riley leaned over the railing, drink in her hand, and Beckman settled in next to her, his lighter illuminating his face for just a moment.

“You think we should tell Shanks about us, don’t you?” Riley said.

Beckman nodded. “I do. I don’t like keeping secrets, even if they’re harmless. He’s our best friend, and our captain, and he should know if two of his senior officers are…doing what we’re doing. But I also think we need to figure out what us is first.”

Riley knew he was right. They knew they were friends. They knew the sex was amazing. But they also knew that there was something much, much more there. “What do you want us to be?”

Beckman exhaled smoke into the air, then turned to look at her. “Long-term, I don’t know. But I do know you’re more to me than a friend at this point. A lot more.”

Riley couldn’t stop the grin that split her face. “I feel the same, Beck.”

Beckman smiled and grabbed her hand, bringing it up to plant a gentle kiss on it. “Don’t think this means I’m gonna go easy on you in training” he said with a mischievous grin. “If anything, I’m just gonna push you harder.”

Riley laughed. “I’d expect nothing less. Let me close out our tabs and we’ll get out of here?”

“Yeah, I’d like that. And hey, do you mind if I’m the one to talk to Shanks? I got a few other things to bring up to him as well.”

“Not at all. Tomorrow?”

Beckman nodded. “Tomorrow.”

Riley disappeared into the bar and returned a few minutes later. She grabbed Beckman’s hand, and the two walked back to the ship, together.

The next morning Beckman found Shanks drinking his coffee on the upper deck and went to join him. Much of the crew wasn’t up yet, and he’d decided to give Riley the day off from training as he’d kept her up awfully late the night before. “‘Morning, cap.”

“Beck,” Shanks acknowledged with a smile.

For a moment the two stood in silence, the sun creeping over the horizon. “Shanks, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is it about you and Riley?” Shanks replied with a knowing grin. Beckman was taken aback. Shanks laughed. “Come on, man, your rooms are right next to mine. You really think I didn’t know?”

Beckman blushed a little. “We’ve…been trying to keep quiet. I’ve got the bite marks on my shoulder as proof.”

“Nahh, it’s not about noise,” Shanks assured him. “I can hear sometimes, sure, but mostly I’ve just seen you sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms.”

“I’m sorry, Shanks. We didn’t want to keep it from you any more. We both felt bad about it honestly, and thought you needed to know, especially now that it’s becoming….something else.”

“You’re in love with her,” Shanks said softly.

Beckman sighed, a smile crossing his features. “Yeah, I am. And I think she loves me too.”

Shanks patted his friend affectionately on the back. “I’m happy for you, man. And for Riley. Can’t say I didn’t see it coming.”

“So you’re okay with it? I mean, from a captain’s perspective?”

“Of course!” Shanks said, almost offended at the implication. “Beck, I trust you both more than anyone else in the world. I know you’d never do anything to jeopardize your positions on this crew and your relationship with each other as friends and crewmates. And yeah, you technically have authority over her, which has the potential to get dicey, but I’m here to help with that if it ever becomes an issue. And look, if it works out, great. If it doesn’t, I know you’ll both handle it appropriately and things would eventually go back to normal. That’s not a concern for me at all.”

Beckman remained silent as relief washed over him. Shanks knew. He was okay with it. Hell, he was downright supportive. Now for the hard part.

“Shanks, I’m gonna ask you something and I need you to answer me honestly this time. Not just as your second in command but as your friend. Okay?” Shanks nodded. He knew what was coming. “Do you have feelings for Riley?”

Shanks let out a sigh. The time for denying and avoiding was over. “It’s complicated, Beck. The simple answer is yes. To some extent, at least. I won’t deny that the feelings I have for her are more than just friendship.”

“Then I’m gonna call it off with her,” Beckman said decisively. “I love her, but if you have feelings for her too I’m not gonna do anything that will cause problems between us.”

“Beck, no, just….just listen,” Shanks replied quickly. “The complex answer is that I would never act on those feelings. I know she doesn’t feel the same, and even if she did I’m her captain. We couldn’t be anything, and I have no intention of ever pursuing her. At least, not unless I knew she wanted me to. Which she doesn’t and probably never will.”

“And Makino?”

Shanks huffed out a laugh. “I like her. A lot, actually. I wouldn’t say it’s love for either of us, but it’s been…really, really nice. She and I both agree that this is a temporary thing, and we’re enjoying our time together while it lasts. Honestly, I think having her around has really helped with the whole ‘unrequited feelings’ thing. She knows that too.”

“And what about after? When we leave here for good? Do you think it’ll be a problem?”

“Nah. I’ve been silently pining over Riley for like a year now. It’s just a state of being at this point, and I’ll get over it in time. I want her to be happy and I want you to be happy. If you’re happy together, then I’m happy for you.” Shanks looked a little sad, but Beckman knew he was being honest.

Beckman sighed. That was about the answer he expected. He couldn’t deny he felt a little weird, being with the woman his best friend also harbored feelings for, even if Shanks claimed to be okay with it. But Beckman trusted Shanks at his word, and knew Shanks would never jeopardize their friendship.

“Got it. Thank you, Shanks.” He clapped the younger man on the shoulder, then turned and walked away.

“Hey,” Shanks said, grabbing his attention. Beckman turned. “You take care of her, okay? Make her happy.”

Beckman smiled. “I will.”

Just a few months later, Riley was about ready to finish the first phase of her training, getting stronger with her now-open boyfriend Beckman. The crew had taken the news of their relationship well, and she was thrilled to not be sneaking around anymore.

Of course, Beckman couldn’t consider her training complete without testing her. He took the role of her trainer seriously, and before he could allow her to move onto hand-to-hand combat, he had to make sure she was not only strong enough, but was able to use the skills he had taught her. Their training hadn’t just been about physical strength, though that was certainly a key component. But it also involved balance, agility, and being able to think quickly on her feet. He’d designed her training keeping in mind the numerous unlikely physical dangers he’d found himself in over his years of piracy: being chased by wild animals, dodging arrows, climbing rock cliffs, and so on. In order to make sure she was adequately prepared, he’d tried to factor in a variety of challenges without having to actually shoot at her with arrows. 

The best way to do that, he figured, was to make her use her skills in facing one of her biggest fears: heights. Beckman knew Riley had always been terrified of heights, but the fact was that being comfortable in high places would one day come in handy for her, if not be outright necessary for her survival. So he came up with a plan.

On the last morning of this phase of her training, Beckman brought Riley onto the upper deck. She was surprised that not only was the whole crew there, but a number of people from town had gathered on the docks below. Luffy had a place of honor with Shanks on the captain’s chair. Whatever was going on, she was sure it was a big deal.

“You ready?” Beckman asked.

“I think so?” Riley replied, looking around. “What’s going on?”

“It’s your final test.”

Riley grinned. “You didn’t tell me there would be a test. I didn’t even study.”

Beckman leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Not that kind of test. It’s a test of your strength and skill.”

“All right then. What are we doing?”

Beckman looked up, and Riley followed his gaze. “We’re gonna climb it.”

Riley did a double take. “You mean the ship?”

“Yup,” he said with a grin. “First we’ll take the rope net up the main mast. Once we reach the middle crow’s nest you’ll have to climb the rest of the way with just your body strength and a belt for support. Then from the upper crow’s nest, you’re going to jump to the yard of the top mizzen sail. You’ll climb halfway down the ropes, jump onto the lateen, and run up the rig.”

“And then?” she asked, her voice shaky. “How do we get down?”

Beckman only grinned. “You’ll see. Ready?”

“Beck, I don’t–”

“Hey,” he cut her off, placing a comforting hand on her face. “Trust me. I’d never let anything bad happen to you, and I wouldn’t have you do this if I didn’t think you could handle it. I’ll be with you the whole time. Okay?”

Riley smiled and leaned into his touch. “Okay.”

“Then let’s get started. You wanna go first, or should I?”

“I’ll start, at least for now.” Riley brought herself to the rope netting leading up the main mast. This part she could do. She’d been on them before. Never all the way up, sure, but this part she could do.

She took a deep breath and began the climb. A series of whoops and cheers broke out from the crowd below, and echoes of “You can do it, Riley!” Riley smiled and took the first step onto the rope net. One hand up and one foot up, then the other side. She kept her eyes on the crow’s nest above her, and before she knew it, she had reached the platform. That wasn’t so bad, she thought. A few minutes later, Beckman joined her.

“Good job, darlin',” he said, bending down to give her a kiss.

“Can I get one of those after every part?” Riley said with a grin.

“If it’ll help,” Beckman replied. “But you gotta earn it. Here,” he handed her a wide leather strap, with the ends wrapped in string for a better grip. “We’ve done this on trees before. Get the strap around the mast, high as you can go. Jump and get your legs around the mast as much as possible, using your legs to put pressure on it. Get yourself steady, move the strap up, and repeat. It’s about twenty-five or thirty feet to the top.”

Twenty-five or thirty feet from where she was, meaning it was about sixty feet from the top of the mast to the deck. She’d possibly survive that fall if she needed to, if she didn’t break her spine on the crow’s nest on the way down. Bracing the strap around the mast, she began the climb. Move the strap up, pull her body up, wrap her legs, and repeat. She found that as long as she kept looking up, she was fine, though she couldn’t deny she was aware of the ever-increasing height. The wind was stronger up here than it was on the deck, and it whipped through her hair, which she really wished she had thought to pull back.

She didn’t know how long it took, but she made it. Riley took the opportunity to look out over the sea before her, as well as at the town below, seeing dozens of people on the ground as well as the pirates on deck cheering. She couldn’t deny their support felt good. Looking out to sea, she saw that it was really quite lovely from up here. She allowed herself to enjoy the view as she waited for Beckman, not wanting to think about the next obstacle.

Beckman’s head poked up through the bottom of the crow’s nest a minute later. She offered him a hand and helped him up, and he took the opportunity to pull her into a kiss. “Two down, three to go,” he said.

“Three? The jump, running up the lateen….then what?”

Beckman only smiled. “Do you want me to go first?”

Riley looked out towards the mizzen mast, then brought her gaze to the deck below. It was a long drop.

"Yeah," she said, her voice small with fear. "Please."

Beckman grabbed one of the ropes for support and stepped up onto the edge of the crow's nest. "Remember when we did this up in the mountains over that crevasse? Bring all of your weight into your feet and bend your knees, then release it into your upper body and jump, stretching your legs wide. Just focus on me, okay?" Beckman then did exactly that, leaping widely and landing in a crouching position on the sail's yard. He moved to the side towards the crow’s nest to allow her room to land. Riley had remembered that crevasse, all right. It was barely three-quarters the length of what Beckman was asking her to do now.

Riley gripped the rope and took a shaky step up, balancing herself on the edge of the crow's nest. In attempting to look at her feet's positioning, she looked down. Below her she saw Shanks with a soft smile on his face, and Luffy perched on his lap, neither of them seeming particularly concerned about her falling on them. "YOU GOT THIS, RILEY!" Luffy called up to her. I got this.

Riley bent her knees and forced all of her energy into her legs. She met Beckman's eyes on the other side. Focus on him, she thought. Springing up from the crow's nest, she leapt, legs spread wide. It couldn't have possibly taken more than a few seconds, but for Riley the time she spent in mid-air with no support to speak of and the deck so far below her felt like forever. But it was getting closer. She saw Beckman. She saw the yard. She was going to make it.

The goal was so close, and her stomach dropped as she realized her feet were dipping below the top of the sail. Reaching out an arm, she managed to grasp the yard with one hand. She felt her body collide with the furled sail as her fingers gripped the rounded wooden support with every ounce of energy she had. It was probably fortunate that she was too scared to notice the crowd's gasp.

Beckman walked towards her, balancing so easily on the narrow purchase it was almost annoying.

"Beck, help me up," she said, trying to extend her other arm towards him.

Beckman, the man who supposedly loved her, crossed his arms. "Nope. You can do it."

Riley's fingers were slowly slipping, the sweat on them causing her to lose friction.

"Beckman, I'm not fucking kidding, please, help me!"

He crouched down to be closer to her. "Riley. Remember what I said. There's nothing I'm asking you to do that I'm not confident you can handle. Trust yourself." He pushed a loose chunk of hair behind her ear, then rose and walked back towards the crow’s nest.

Trust myself. Okay. Step one, get a better grip. The furled sail pressed against her, but she could use its folds and ropes for support. She brought a leg up into the folds of the sail, then boosted her body up, allowing her to grab onto the support and loop her arms and legs around it, like a right side up sloth.

Okay. I did it. Now to stand up. Riley slowly brought herself to all fours, carefully placing her hands and knees on the narrow beam. She slowly rose to a kneeling position, then standing. The wind was strong, and she instinctively bent her knees for stability, bringing her body weight into her legs. The crowd below let out its biggest cheer yet. She looked up to see Beckman beaming at her, his hand extended. She walked towards him and he brought her in for a kiss.

"Great job, baby. I knew you could do it," he said with a smile.

"I'm probably going to be very, very angry at you later," she replied, her heart pounding in her chest.

Beckman chuckled. "I'll take that risk. Come on, we're almost done."

He guided her around the crow’s nest and together they descended the rope net about two-thirds down the mast until the lateen was a short leap away.

"I'll go first," he said, "Remember, you need to run. Knees bent, feet facing slightly outward. Back straight, don't look at your feet so much that you lean forward." With one more quick kiss, he leapt from the ropes and onto the support, then made his way leisurely up the rig. When he reached the far end, he stopped and turned towards her, waiting.

Compared to what she just did, this would be easy. Riley turned so her back was to the ropes, then made the leap onto the beam. Both feet landed and she swayed back and forth for a moment, catching her balance. The crowd on the ship and in the town was going wild at this point. Looking towards land, it seemed almost the whole town had turned out for the show. She could even see Makino and Woop Slap in the crowd, cheering her on. She allowed the cheers of encouragement to wash over her. This was it. She was going to make it. 

Getting her feet and knees into position, Riley began to run up the steep angle of the rig. She reached Beckman in a matter of seconds, and he brought her close, lifting her off the beam and kissing her passionately.

"That wasn't so bad, huh?" he said.

"Compared to jumping onto the mizzen sail and almost dying? Easy."

Beckman chuckled. "We're almost done. Ready?"

She still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be ready for, but at this point it didn’t really matter, did it? "Ready."

Beckman released her from his grip, then turned away and walked to the edge of the rig. When he leapt into the water below, she had to laugh.

Riley brought herself to the edge. It had to be at least seventy-five feet to the water. If she landed wrong, it could easily kill or paralyze her. She watched as Beckman swam out of the way, and she found herself remembering when they first met, his body soaked and with a half-dead Shanks in one arm. What a long way they'd come. Six years ago, she never would have thought this would be where they were, not in her wildest dreams.

She'd come this far. She couldn't back out now. Riley shut her eyes tightly and held her nose shut with two fingers…then she leapt, pointing her toes to break the water's surface pressure. The cold water shocked her as her body submerged deeper and deeper, before releasing its hold and allowing her to swim to the top. Breaking the surface, she pushed her wet hair out of her face with both hands and looked around for Beckman. He swam up to her and brought her in for a long, wet kiss.

"I love you, Riley," he said. "I'm so proud of you."

Riley laughed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

"I love you too, Beck."

Previous - Chapter 4: Rescue and Reconciliation

Next - Coming soon

[meowjaa]

✧ competition ✧

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, slow burn, enemies to lovers, 3 part series (if thats what you can call it)

context: levi ackerman x reader, after a rough mission you went to levi the only person you feel some comfort in.

a/n: hello my loves I was on character ai when I did this little rivalry office thing and I couldn't get it out of my head so the events based in this are most likely scenarios that happened in my chat, other than that enjoy my loves <33

Tomorrow would be the dawn of a new office order. But tonight, Y/N suddenly didn't feel so sure of who deserved to come out on top. Maybe there was more to her rival than she had let herself believe...

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the office early, too anxious to sit around her apartment waiting. She expected Levi to already be at his desk, but the office was still and quiet.

As more of her coworkers filtered in, the energy shifted to a buzz of anticipation. Everyone was on edge wondering about the big announcement from Erwin. He had a flair for the dramatic when it came to things like this.

Finally, the elevator dinged down the hall, and Y/N sat up straight, holding her breath. But it was just Levi stepping out, impeccable as always in his ironed shirt and perfectly knotted tie. He met Y/N's eye with a nearly imperceptible nod before heading to his desk.

At precisely 9 am, Erwin emerged from his office and called the floor to attention. He began by praising everyone's hard work and expressing how difficult this decision had been. Y/N dug her nails into her palms, willing him to just get on with it.

"But ultimately, one person demonstrated the qualities I believe are integral for the growth of this company." Erwin continued. Y/N's heart pounded, sure this was the moment of revelation.

"So it is my pleasure to announce our new senior executive…Levi Ackerman!"

The words hung in the air for a split second before the office erupted into applause. Y/N felt her stomach drop even as Levi's face remained impassive, as if he had expected this outcome all along.

Numbly, she joined in congratulating him, shaking his hand and managing a stiff "Congratulations" while resentment boiled inside her. She had worked night after night, done everything to show she was the ideal candidate, but it hadn't been enough.

Levi met her eye, his gaze uncharacteristically soft. "You deserve this just as much as I do," he said under the din. "Don't doubt that."

Y/N nodded weakly, tears stinging behind her eyes. She blinked them back and forced a smile. "Of course. I'm happy for you."

The celebrations carried on around them, but all Y/N could focus on was the faded dream crumbling before her. She had been so sure this promotion was hers. Now she didn't know what came next.

Levi squeezed her shoulder gently. "There will be other opportunities," he said. For once, the rivalry between them seemed to melt away, leaving only understanding in its wake.

As Y/N looked up at Levi, she realized then that this man was no longer just a nemesis to defeat. He saw her potential even when she couldn't. Maybe this change didn't have to be the end after all, but the start of something entirely new...

part 3: https://www.tumblr.com/meowjaa/724600595778060288/competition?source=share

[saltysaccharin]

Doctor

— [ELYSIUM] {NONCANON}

• characters :: hawks / takami keigo, ryouga atsumu + hero public safety commission (briefly)

• content :: angst, post-break up reunion, childhood friends to lovers to strangers to best friends again(?)

• warnings :: atsukei-typical angst

prompt / synopsis :: two years can change someone greatly; that doesn't mean the feelings one held toward them had to as well. unfortunately.

word count :: 1.3k

a/n :: haha this didn't go the way i originally planned because i fucking fORGOT HOW IT WAS SUPPOSED TO GO but it's okay it's basically still the same at its core just different dialogue? well most of the interaction is different from what actually happened hence the semicanon BUT I'M RAMBLING enjoy the food <3

The Wing Hero's eyebrows furrowed, accompanying the frown on his face, as he anxiously scrolled on his phone — persistently rereading the same text message over and over and over. He exhaled through his nostrils, the unease in his body unfortunately staying there rather than releasing with his breath.

He stared at his screen at the message from the HPSC, trying to wrap his head around the words that were delivered just the night before.

“ Doc Apollo will be returning to Japan shortly; I'm sure you've heard.

His private flight is scheduled for tomorrow, March 25th, and is estimated to land at 4 o'clock sharp.

A group of higher-ups, investors, and other individuals will be awaiting his arrival at an area near the hangar to welcome him.

Now, the important part: He wants you there. He specifically requested for you to be at the building itself when his jet arrives, likely intending to meet up with you as a priority.

However, this is not an order. I'm simply conveying a message.

It is up to you if you wish to be there.

That is all. ”

After everything that happened, one could hardly blame the disbelief that quickly formed. Hawks, now twenty-two years old, ran a hand through his hair, a myriad of emotions threatening to overtake him. Stress, confusion, thrill — they all boiled up to the surface akin to magma in a volcano that had been declared extinct for years.

He just couldn't understand anything. His mind raced with questions at a speed that even rivaled his own. What was he even supposed to be feeling? Why did Atsumu want to see him? Why didn't he reach out himself?

How has he been doing?

Hawks sighed heavily and leaned his head back, hitting the inner walls of the hangar. He ran a hand over his face, taking a deep, somewhat shaky breath to calm himself.

At this stage, Hawks was well past denying the fact that he definitely hadn't moved on. Maybe the second half of the first year had him fooling himself, convinced he'd be fine on his own, but he could only lie so much until the inconsistencies in his claims glared holes into themselves, eventually shattering the image of having 'come to peace with it' completely.

While it hurt to admit, pretending as if the opposite were true stung even more.

So he still liked Atsumu two years after their break up. Big deal.

Two years typically wouldn't feel like such a long time, but without anything to look forward to — without Atsumu — time passed by so excruciatingly slowly. That fact demonstrated itself so perfectly as Hawks stood in a near-empty field, staring blankly down the runway.

This was depressing. The very notion that he was even here was depressing.

But as the volume of an aircraft engine grew louder and louder, so did Hawks' heartbeat. Despite all of his nerves from just a few moments ago, in that moment, all he felt was an indescribable excitement at the thought of finally seeing his best friend again.

Because that's what Atsumu was, even after two years of radio silence.

He was his friend for much longer than that first.

Once the jet came to a full stop, it was already a few minutes past 4 p.m. Hawks didn't mind. He waited patiently, heart thrumming in anticipation, although he looked as easygoing as he ever was from afar. He steadily approached the jet, his hands in his pockets struggled to stay still as he closely watched the airstairs unfurl, and the cabin door gradually open—

"Ah, the air here's so much colder..." His voice rang like melodious wind chimes in Hawks' ears in spite of the slight rasp to it.

A yawn left the passenger's lips, small droplets of salt forming at the corners of his eyes. He brought a gloved hand up to wipe them away, simultaneously scanning his surroundings. And then, his gaze landed on the dirty blond who never took his eyes off of him since he came into view.

He froze, a hand on the railing while another rubbed his eyes comically. Hawks would've laughed had he not been holding his breath.

"...Keigo?"

The simple utterance of his name almost brought Hawks to his knees. He couldn't fall apart so easily right there; he just couldn't. Instead, he took a deep breath and smiled warmly, waving a hand.

"Hey, Ats—"

Hawks wasn't even given the opportunity to finish his greeting before Atsumu practically jumped off of the stairs and launched himself toward him. Instinctively, Hawks reached forward as well, successfully catching the other in time to feel his bubbling laughter against his chest.

Finding the sound contagious, Hawks gritted his teeth as he did his best to remain professional; distant; aloof; formal; restrained— All in vain, for he couldn't suppress the joy creeping up the corners of his lips. He joined in the childlike giggles before shutting his eyes, relishing in the moment while he got the chance to hold Atsumu this closely once more.

This was too much. He knew that.

But he was too happy to let go.

Eventually, Atsumu was the first to pull back, resting his hands on Hawks' shoulders. He seemed to get stuck, pursing his lips as he searched for something to say. His gaze then fell on where they still touched, lingering, until he timidly retracted his hands and anxiously tugged at the hems of his gloves.

"Uh—" While sounding slightly raspier, and more mature, Atsumu's voice still held every bit of 'Atsumu' that it always had. "Hi. Sorry, I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, sighing, "It's been a while, I..."

"Got excited?" Hawks chuckled, putting his hands in his pockets. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep them to himself otherwise. Shaking his head, the Hero simply shrugged, "It's okay. I'd be lying if I wasn't happy to see you, too."

Atsumu glanced up at him, unconvinced. The fiddling didn't stop — only getting worse as he looked down at his hands, the discomfort in his knitted eyebrows growing more and more obvious.

Hawks' jaw clenched; he hoped, prayed Atsumu wouldn't bring up what he'd been avoiding thinking about since the jet landed.

He should have known better, though.

"...Kei, about what happened—"

"No, no," Hawks quickly interrupted, forcing out a laugh and putting on a bright smile, "It's okay! We were just kids, we.. didn't know any better. I understand a lot of things much more now." Words flowed too easily from his lips, as if he'd been waiting to speak them for eons. "Besides, the past is the past, it doesn't matter anymore; you're back!

"Now, we can just—" Subtly, his breath hitched as he lifted up a hand and offered the other a simple fist bump— "Go back to the way things were. If, y'know, you're fine with that."

Because Hawks definitely was. He was okay with pretending none of it happened.

He was.

Really.

The doctor didn't seem to believe him, however. His tangerine gaze flickered from place to place, searching Hawks' eyes for something. "You sure?" Atsumu asked cautiously, his worried expression ignored.

Waving a hand in dismissal, Hawks laughed once more, "Why wouldn't I be? Nothing could get between us even if we tried." That was true; it always had been, and it still was.

They both knew that.

A switch seemed to flip inside of Atsumu once he processed what was said. He smiled — a practiced, calculated thing. "That's great to hear! God, I was so nervous back there!" The merry chortle that left his mouth came very naturally, but to someone who'd heard what his genuine laughter sounded like, it was so incredibly counterfeit.

Hawks wasn't sure he liked the sudden, superficial change in demeanor.

This act was only ever reserved for people Atsumu kept at arm's length: Civilians, co-workers, Villains. Hawks was lucky enough to get a glimpse into Atsumu's truest form (as true as Atsumu could manage) back before the latter left Japan — back when they knew each other — but now...

Atsumu smiled at him the way he smiled at everyone else.

[harpagornis]

Halloween Breath

Stefan and Garret experience their first Halloween together

Work Text:

"Do we really have to?" Garret whined.

"Hell yes we do!" Stefan said, zipping up a Catwoman costume, "It's the time for paranormal activity!"

"And you're going to find ghosts dressed like that?"

"Candy helps keep the high spirits. Like a g-rated coffee."

Garret ws about to ask why his boyfriend didn't just take normal coffee, only to realise that being a barista might make one sick of the stuff. So, he swallowed his pride, and put on a ghostbusters costume.

***

Aaron parked on their their front lawn. He was dressed like Wiccan.

"Oh my god, you guys look so cute!" he said.

"Yeah yeah" Garret said as he closed the car door.

"So, any particular place to haunt?" Aaron said.

"Just up ahead" Stefan said, "At the edges of the suburbia."

"Near the abandoned factory uh?"

"Yeah, that's the place."

"People say sparky ghosts haunt the place...."

"Yeah, right" Garret huffed, "Stories like that are dime a dozen. Doesn't help punks not getting eclectrocuted when messing with old wires."

Garret then hugged Stefan.

"Promise you won't touch loose wires or other shit, even if it has ectoplasm on it."

"Promise, boy scout style."

The two kissed, and soon arrived to their destination.

***

"Trick or treat!" Stefan said, raising his pumpkin bucket.

And was promptly shut in the face.

"Men, these people have no Halloween spirit!" he pouted.

"At least we're not the only adults wearing shit" Garret comforted.

"So, how about we explore the abandoned factory?" Stefan suggested with glee.

"Ma-maybe we should reconsider?" Aaron said.

This went over death ears, as Stefan jumped with cat like thread over the fence. Garret rolled his eyes, and followed his lover through the open gate, followed by Aaron.

***

"Guys, look!" Stefan said.

Garret rose an eyebrow, and saw his opossum breathing deeply, then exhaled. It showed mist as normal for cold temperatures, but the mist was somewhat green tinged.

"Haunted house!" he cheered.

"Or maybe there's some radioactive chemicals around" Aaron said.

"Yeah, we probably shouldn't breath in too much of this stuff"

"Oh, you guys are no fun."

Stefan looked around. There were lot of loose wires and pannels, but the marsupial had enough self-preservation to not touch anything.

"How about we do a seance?" he asked.

"There's only three of us" Aaron said.

"Enough as far as most paranomal researchers are concerned!" Stefan said giddily.

So the three of them laid on the ground - pushing away the rust and other hazards - and locked hands in a triangle.

"Draw from your breath and the lands around you" Stefan said.

Soon, a white light enveloped the three of them, prompting Garret and Aaron to disconnect.

"What the hell!?" Aaron muttered.

The light remained, taking the form of a young women, then vanished into mist. Garret could already feel excitement building within Stefan.

"Best Hallowenn EVER!"

***

Garret and Stefan undressed for the night.

"You know, I can still breath out the green mist" Stefan said, and demonstrated.

"That's concerning" Garret said, "Maybe we need to check a doctor tomorrow?"

"Pff, what are they they gonna do, disagnose me with cancer?"

Garret looked dead serious at Stefan, who lowered his ears.

"Yeah, a check up would be in order."

"You know I love you very much and I wouldn't want to lose you." Garret reassured, kissing Stefan's cheek.

"I love you too babe."

The both laid in bed, nestled to each other.

"Tomorrow we'll check it. But for now, it's the best Halloween gift ever."

[izzysarchivedblogs]

Clint's view of art in museums was characterized by the view of thieves and carnies. Art was a thing that rich people looked at and wanted; art was a think you could steal and sell or even hide money behind the backs of paintings. It was simply a commodity and not something to observe, to connect with, to view as a piece of history.

❝ Is Starry Night that one picture that one of Kate's friends had a phone case of? ❞ That's something that's about to possibly break Tony's brain, granted it's not like Clint ever learned about things in a conventional order or by conventional means.

He squints at Tony as he tells him that he should feed his eyes some culture. ❝ That's what I have you and Dog Cops for. ❞ That's said with the cheekiest of grins, that was a good comeback and Tony had to give it to him.

There's definitely delightful tension between them as he's standing behind Tony, touching his arms and doing the most unnecessary demonstration of how to cast a fishing pole. In all honesty, it was kind of a counter productive was he still does it this way. When Tony lines back, he almost slips his arms fully around him and just hold him there; like he would have done with a lover.

❝ I could handle some smelly worm hands, but maybe you should wash them before you demonstrate. ❞

Being out on the boat was the get away that he needed, not when he's waiting for one of the arrests he ensured happen gets his verdict and hopefully a speedy sentencing as well. Out here, he could only see the city of problems in its whole at a longer distance, and he's got Tony to relax with. They both weren't going to talk about this, that would crumple whatever fantasy either of them had about this.

The kiss was nice and his point stands that he's not gonna let himself crush this; he can crush tomorrow when he's drunk and depressed again, needing the next thing to keep him going.

❝ Soda. ⸻ Here comes the fun part of fishing, doing nothing. Once Rhodey took a nap and still caught something bigger. ❞

Tony laughed and shook his head. Not that Tony had any particular idea of what the kind of person who'd go to MoMA would look like was. It was a huge tourist attraction with maps for kids, so while he might think the average lover of modern art would be much more douchey looking in his mind than Clint. Everyone went to MoMA. "You should go. It has Starry Night and Water Lilies. You'd be surprised by how small Starry Night is and how big Water Lilies is. Besides, aren't your eyes the thing you rely on most. You should feed them some culture."

When Clint moves up behind him and starts manipulating him into position, Tony can't help but lean back into him. If it were literally anyone else doing this, Tony would fight them. He'd pull away and just ask for a demonstration. But, he liked the way Clint was touching him. He didn't want him to stop.

When the hook was cast, he put the rod down, locking it into the holder and her turned to face Clint. "I think I can think of better things to do with my hands. But you might appreciate it if I wash them thoroughly before I do any of them."

He steps closer to Clint and kisses him. He doesn't even think about it. There has been a shift in his thoughts and those casual physically intimate things didn't feel unnatural. It didn't even feel like he was crossing a line. It just felt like the way he and Clint were going to be together today. They were alone. They were on a boat. They both seemed to be touched starved. No one was there to get the wrong idea except them and he was happy with this no labels thing they were doing.

"You want another drink? There's soda as well. I'll go get some snacks so we can just relax out here while we hope something bites."

[80s4life]

When A Door Closes (Another One Opens)*

Word Count: 3,057

Status: Requested!

Ask: i have a request for john kreese. . . so basically he has a long day at the dojo, coming home in a bad mood, only to see that the reader has surprised him with dinner and lingerie. and he takes his frustrations out on her. with an age gap and daddy kink and maybe some fluffy (or as fluffy you can get with him lol) aftercare if you so wish <3

@: A spicy, SPICY anon that awakened something in me istg

A/N: Below, there is a provided link of lingerie I picked out, however, it doesn't have to be used and it can be whatever you choose. This is just what I used and described for this! Go wild!

Fandom: Karate Kid/ Cobra Kai Series (could really be any age of Kreese at this point, man never gives up on karate)

Relationship: John Kreese x Female!Reader

Summary: He works hard, day and night, 24/7, 7 days a week, 4 weeks a month, 12 months a year. The man lives and breathes for the children and Cobra Kai, but sometimes, and only sometimes, the pressure is just too much. Even for big bad, John Kreese.

Warnings: smut, fluff, daddy kink (as promised), lingerie, teasing, oral (f! receiving), age-gap pairing, strong language, aftercare, degrading (not sexual)

Masterlist Karate Kid Masterlist

Key: Y/B = Your Beverage (I didn't choose Your Alcoholic Beverage becasue some people don't like to drink)

{gifs are not mine, credits go to @danielslaw & @nautilusgf}

DADDDYYYY

Today really wasn't one of those days.

Not only has Johnny decided to pick a fight and come in with the biggest attitude Reseda has ever seen, but he also was unfocused, sloppy and directed every snarky idea he'd had at Kreese. Tommy was nervous and fidgety, Dutch was unbothered and unfocused, Jimmy was lost, and Bobby was just trying to go through the motions. However, despite every attempt Kreese had given, no order was to be set into place today.

Not when the tournament is tomorrow.

Sighing deeply through his nose, he gives it one last try, "Fall in line!"

Grumbling, the boys do as follows, trudging over and straightening their forms, hands outstretched stiffly before them, fists clenched at their thighs.

"Now," Kreese demonstrates a punch, high knee, defensive step back, high kick, then falls back into place, "Repeat!"

Begrudgingly, the boys try to follow along, but truthfully, only Tommy was truly paying attention. Although they were following through with their commands, they were tired, weak and annoyed. Since 12 this afternoon, they'd been hard at work, going through the motions to ensure perfection for tomorrow, but time's caught up with them and no breaks truly brought all of them to their breaking points.

It was in Kreese's best intentions to train them for their grand finale - their chance to prove their excellence to the whole town. He's overworking them, sure, but they needed to be ready. Not only to beat that LaRusso kid and his mentor, but to be able to leave that arena tomorrow as champions. He knew they had that ability, he knew his students.

"God dammit! Enough!" he screams, the children losing focus on what they were instructed to do. Face reddening, Kreese tries to calm the rage threatening to bubble over and consume him whole. "Is this a dojo or a fucking daycare?"

Straightening their stances once more, all humor leaves their faces, visibly paling under Kreese's scrutiny.

"Did I train babies or champions?" he asks, staring daggers into each one of the boys. "Hm?"

"Champions, Sensei!" they chant. All except Johnny, who instead, chooses to roll his eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you, Lawrence. Something you want to inform the class?"

Looking straight into their eyes, Johnny says nothing, doesn't even move an inch.

"I asked you a question, I will not repeat myself," he warns, gritting his teeth at the adolescent.

"No, Sensei," he spits back.

"Good," a smug smile appears on Kreese's face, "Class is dismissed. Get cleaned up, eat, get some sleep, and be back here early in the morning for dressing and bussing. We have a tournament to win."

With that, the boys move almost instantaneously, muttering complaints amongst themselves as they quickly take their leave, too afraid that if they were to stay, they'd be forced to practice more.

Sighing deeply for what feels like the millionth time today, Kreese checks up on the office, arranging some files, but otherwise leaves everything as it is. Too tired to do much else, he switches off the lights with his keys in hand, closing the blinds and locking the front doors with a soft turn of his keys. Hopping in the truck, he turns the radio off, puts the windows down and speeds down the highway, wanting to get as far away from the dojo as possible for now.

When his car pulls into the driveway, he turns the ignition off with a grumble, placing his head on the steering wheel in order to compose himself. It's only inevitable that if he doesn't drop the attitude at the door now, he'll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

***

Hearing the familiar thrum of the engine outside, you quickly dry your hands off with a towel, going to check yourself at the door as you go to greet him. {x}

You can feel your pulse buzzing beneath your skin as you adjust the straps, making sure to pull the cups down and around to allow more cleavage to show, pulling the straps of the thong just a tad higher for your own approval. Giggling, your eyes catch the bow on your back, adding to the little maid touch you had in mind when you picked it.

It was a simple number, not too much and not too little, but you liked it. You knew of how hard Kreese had been working and the stress the dojo had been putting on him. Today was his night, and you were going to shower him like a king.

Opening the door with a wide grin, your eyes land on ones of deep frustration and annoyance, hands playing with keys as they jangle and rattle, locking his truck door.

Turning around, he stops in his tracks, eyes scanning your frame from head to toe. With a giggle, you lean against the door frame, giving a cheeky grin paired with a delicate wave, "Hiya, Handsome."

A small smile falls onto his lips instantly, walking up to the porch to greet you. Bending down, he goes to peck your cheek, "Is this all for me?"

Dodging his lips, you open the door wider and push yourself closer to the frame, allowing himself more access into your shared home. "Maybe, maybe not."

With a low growl, Kreese trudges in, placing his keys on the rack and taking his boots off with his feet, hanging his coat up as he goes. Sniffing the air, he smiles, "Something smells good," and beelines to the kitchen.

Standing at the door for a moment more, your smile falls a bit, dejection striking right through your heart while your close and lock the front door, jogging past him in order to prevent him from entering the kitchen. "No," you hold up a hand, "Go sit down. I've got this."

Without much of an argument, he spins on his heel, grabbing a bottle of Scotch from the bar as he breezes into the dining room, eyes glazing over the ornate display you've set for him.

The table was decorated for two, rose petals dancing around the unused areas with not much of the hard wood shown underneath the sheer amount. The plates were set on either end, napkins neatly folded with the fine china glinting under the dim chandelier light, wine glasses placed to the left of both mats everything way laying on top of.

You watch patiently from the kitchen, leaning on the island as you watch, waiting for a reaction. Acknowledgement. Appreciation. Anything.

However, he just simply huffs, apparently amused at the seemingly childish display of affection you had so patiently, meticulously placed. Claiming one of the ends, he sits down, peeling the brand new label off of the Scotch you bought today with his teeth, pouring a hefty glass into the wine glass on the table.

Once more, you feel the pang straight into your gut, trying to fight the wave of irritation at his dismissive behavior. No, his asinine, entitled, arrogant behavior.

Not only had he so much as given you a once-over, but there was nothing else and he'd only been here for 20 minutes.

Saving face once again, you put the kitchen gloves on your hands, pulling the roast out of the oven and kicking it closed with your heel. Slowly, you pace your way to the dining table as seductively and politely as possible, making sure to put on a show of bending over when placing the pot on the heating mat at the center.

Taking the gloves off, you put them back in their respective place, grabbing your favorite bottle of Y/B to pour into your glass. To add to your annoyance, although small and petty, you thought he would've had the common decency of getting it for you.

"Dig in," you smile, allowing him to stand first, filling his plate with carrots, celery, pot roast, mushrooms, and some of the gravy they were slow-cooked in.

You soon follow silently and before long, dinner is going by quickly without a word spoken. Your irritation had bloomed into self-righteous anger and you let it show, all of your emotion written all over your face and body language.

Sitting back in your seat, your cross one leg over your knee, arms crossed loosely over your chest. Kreese, across the table, sits with his hands folded on his stomach, legs spread and eyes staring straight back into yours.

You can't tell if he's testing you or not, but whatever it is isn't going to last another second.

"You gonna tell me what the fuck your problem is or do you want me to play the guessing game?"

He snorts, rolling his eyes at the snide attitude, "What happened to the sweet housewife act?"

"It dropped the second the Dickhead shot down all of her hard work she'd done all day."

Kreese shrugs, eyes boring holes into yours, unwavering in your stare-down.

"Fine, you won't tell me, I'm not going to keep catering to you. You can sit here and have your pity party by yourself."

Roughly pulling out your chair, you don't bother to push it back in, going to walk past him as you leave the dining room, throwing the napkin somewhere on the table in annoyance. Striding out of the room, you take your bottle with you, taking a large swig, going to the kitchen to grab your keys.

Spinning around, you are met with calloused hands grabbing your hips, roughing throwing you into the island behind you. "Get the fuck off me, Kreese, I'm going home."

He doesn't listen to you, instead, his hands play with the thin material of the sheer lingerie, stroking your sides. Head dipping down, his teeth graze your earlobe, "You're so sexy when you're angry." Slowly, his head dips lower, biting your beck lightly, sending a shiver down your spine.

"You're an Asshole, you know that?"

"You can tolerate it," you can hear the smile in his voice, tongue licking a stripe from the base of your neck back up to your ear, placing another bite.

Whimpering, you mentally curse yourself for falling into his games so easily, hands slipping underneath his shirt, playing with the shirt hairs of his happy trail and tugging hard.

Yelping, he pulls back, allowing you enough space to break out. Briskly, you grab the keys back off the counter and trudge towards the door once more. This time, you are able to make it to the door, but just as you open it, a hand tugs on yours again.

Pulling you to him again, Kreese hoists you up and over his shoulder, preventing your from any further escape, closing the door and locking it as it was before. "Nice try," he giggles, "but you're not leaving that easy."

Groaning, you punch at his back and squeal, a hard smack landing right on your open ass. Walking past the front of the house, he takes you down the hall to the bedroom, opening and closing the door, then throwing you onto the bed with a soft bounce.

Scrambling to spin around, Kreese strips his shirt, puling you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. Grabbing your jaw with one large hand, his mouth collides with yours, your hands going to fiddle with the belt on his jeans.

Undoing the buckle and pulling it through the loops, you're quick to pull on his zipper, but his hands are quick to stop you. Rather, he helps rid you of your bra, pulling it up and over your head. "Such a pretty little thing, such a shame it had to go," he remarks with no remorse, watching as your breasts spring free, nipples hardening at the change in temperature.

You go to pull of your thong, but with a shake of his head, you stop your hands at the waist band, watching as he strips himself of his dark denim jeans, underwear close behind.

"Sit back, Baby," he instructs. Bracing yourself back on your elbows, his hands pull you even further off the bed until your ass reaches the end.

Hooking your knees on his shoulders, he bends down on his knees before you and with a sly grin, his head delves between your thighs. Sliding the thong to the side, his tongue flattens and licks a long, wide stripe over the entirety of your mound, then gives your lips one large suck.

Groaning, you arch closer to him, "Stop teasing, you've been enough of a Dick today."

A deep, full laugh, erupts from him, vibrating your core and making you whine again in want. Finally giving in, his lips attach to your aching clit, working in intervals of sucking and lapping at your moist skin.

Your hand attaches itself to his hair, pulling his head impossibly closer, moaning his name as the pressure starts to build in slow, pleasurable waves.

His tongue laps at your folds, occasionally flicking your clit. Adding his finger, another one soon follow as he works you open, your stomach tightening as you arch and flex at the impossible bliss.

Just as you feel the familiar knot begin to build, Kreese completely removes himself from you, backing away and standing before you with a satisfied smile plastered on his face.

Groaning, you throw your head back in annoyance, jumping when his hands find your waist again. Pulling you up, he turns you around and pushes you farther up the bed.

In annoyance, you attempt to get back up and tell him off, but his hand pins your head back into the cushions, the other placing weight on the small of your back as he lines himself up behind you, forcing you to arch up.

Stroking himself a few times, Kreese teases his tip at your entrance, pushing in slowly, allowing the head and then pulling back out again. Whining, you clench around nothing, his hand sliding his tip through your folds to gather your slick.

"Beg," he orders.

"Please," you muffle through the pillows.

"Please what, Baby Girl? You're going to have to use your words."

"Please fuck me. Take it out on me. All of it, I want it all!"

His hand hooks the small material of your thong to the side, he pushes in with one hard thrust, gasping as the sudden warmth and fill. Allowing you to adjust, he slowly ruts into you until he's buried to the hilt. You both sigh in content, giving a thumbs up jokingly as you allow him to move.

He starts small, but as he continues, the stresses of the day come back into the forefront of his mind. Growling, he grabs a handful of your hair, yanking it back as he starts to pick up the speed. Thrusting harder, you struggle to stay in place, hands coming up to latch onto the headboard, crying out as he continues his merciless pace.

His hand comes down to slap your ass, then gives another for good measure. His hands come down to dig into your hips, fingers feeling like daggers as they latch on, the slapping of skin and your moans being the only noises in the room.

The bed creaks as he slams in harder, throwing you forward as he continues his assault, another slap to you ass. Red hand prints decorate each of them equally, stinging in the cool of the room, your sweat adding to the force of each hit.

You whine, clenching around him impossibly harder. "K-Kreese."

"Ah-Ah-Ah," he tuts.

"D-Daddy!" you cry, white-knuckling the headboard.

"Go ahead, come. Come all over Daddy's cock."

You combust within seconds, jerking as he continues to ram you from the back through your mind numbing orgasm. Knees quaking, Kreese doesn't let up, head thrown back with his eyes closed. You moan again, your walls taut against his unsatisfied cock.

"Come for me, Daddy. Come inside. I want to feel you," you whine, eyes watering at the overstimulation.

Sure enough, his thrusts become sloppy and irregular, his seed bursting in you in hot, sticky loads. Growling beastly and carnal, he chokes on air, mouth wide open as he gasps for air. He slowly rides his orgasm, igniting a second from you out of surprise.

Feeling as his cock softens inside you, you hiss as he slides back out. He watches with bewildered amusement as he cums seeps out of your tiny hole, the white liquid dribbling out and onto the deep red sheets.

"Stay," he warns sweetly, going to the bathroom to grab a towel.

Coming back, he makes sure to lightly wipe, jerking as he pats your overworked parts. Cleaning up as best he can, he wipes at the sheets, too, throwing the towel somewhere on the floor.

Dropping onto the bed, you slip out of the thong, the material now a sticky and annoying constriction. Kreese follows behind you, laying in bed beside you, pulling the covers up to cover the both of you.

Turning to face him, you give him a playful smirk, "I guess my plan worked, huh?"

"I needed that," he grins.

You snort, "You need a good beating, too."

He playfully rolls his eyes, pulling you in to rest your head in the crook of his arm and chest, the other splayed across your waist.

"An apology would be nice," you joke halfheartedly. You really did want that apology, but that wasn't Kreese's nature; he didn't want to be wrong and most certainly doesn't want to admit to it when he is. "Just don't pull that shit anymore. I'm not just some punching bag."

He nods with a tired blink of acknowledgement. That's good enough. Pecking his cheek, you turn in his arms, tucking your head beneath his,. Your hands tangle with his, interlocking your fingers and with a smile, allow sleep to overcome you.

Just though the haze before you sleep, however, you hear his voice whisper, deep and low, "I'm sorry, Baby Girl," his arms squeezing you in just a tad bit closer.

BONUS!!! I found this meme funny and I've seen it a million times, so here:

[zhongster]

ur seriously one of the best eructo writers on this site rn!! if you feel like taking requests, could you write some more l.oid f.orger? maybe something where he's walking home after a date night with y.or where he ate and drank way too fast so walking makes big burps come up, and he's trying not to visibly react to how good and relieving they feel

Aww thank you so much :D

And ofc i love me some daddy Loid

THIS IS KINK CONTENT, DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE IT

Loid had been looking forward to this all week. He’d endured the longest, most grueling week of side missions specifically so he could go on his planned date with Yor. They’d decided they should probably go on a proper date in order to demonstrate that they were indeed a real couple, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a nice meal with someone he enjoyed talking to.

When the waiter brought their meals Loid noticed that his was not what he had ordered but was instead a cipher, informing him of a side mission he’d have to take care of tomorrow. Unfortunately for him, the food that was used in this cipher was food that he absolutely despised. Heaving a sigh of resignation he began to eat the food as fast as he could, hoping not to taste it. As it turns out, that might’ve been a colossal mistake on Loid’s part.

Fast forward about two hours and Loid now found himself walking with Yor back to their apartment and struggling to keep his intestinal distress on the down low. His determination to eat his food as fast as possible had really backfired on him. He found himself pressing a fist to his lips every few minutes, suppressing what felt like some pretty deep belches. Yor seemed to notice his discomfort because she proceeded to ask: “Loid, are you feeling okay?”

“Yes, of cou-” Loid started, but unfortunately his stomach chose that moment to send up another air bubble.

This time Loid wasn’t quick enough to force the air back down into his stomach and it rumbled out of him in the form of a very deep closed mouth belch that he stifled behind his fist. Yor looked at him with wide eyes, seeming unsure of what to say. Loid cleared his throat, his cheeks tinting a slight pink, “please excuse me, Yor, but I don’t think dinner is sitting well in my stomach.”

“Oh is your stomach feeling bloated? poor thing,” Yor responded sympathetically “please don’t hold back on my account.”

“Are- are you sure-” Loid started “because I’m okay holding back if it grosses you out.”

Yor smiled sweetly before responding, “I want your stomach to feel better.”

Well, Loid reasoned, it wouldn’t do him any good to be weighed down by a bloated stomach in the occasion someone were to attack them. So he decided to deal with the embarrassment of releasing the air in his stomach in front of Yor. The next time an air bubble traveled up from his chest he didn’t try to force it back down but instead held his mouth closed and released it into his fist. This one was somehow both deeper and longer than his previous one. He looked over at Yor to assess her reaction but she was still walking towards their home, as happy-go-lucky as ever. They continued walking for the next few minutes until Loid began to release another burp into his fist. This one, however, came to an abrupt stop, having gotten stuck in his chest. Loid made a small noise of discomfort before bringing his fist down against his chest a few times. This forced the rest of the belch up in a rough, choppy manner. Loid winced, that one had hurt. “Loid,” Yor chided “don’t hold them in like that! That one sounded like it hurt.”

Yor came to a stop just outside their building and rounded over to Loid’s right side. She then began to gently rub up and down Loid’s spine, encouraging him to let the burps out freely. Yor’s ministrations had certainly done the trick because before long Loid felt all of the remaining air in his stomach shift to his chest, this was going to be a big one. Loid listened to Yor’s previous instructions and opened his mouth to allow the air to come out freely. The belch was akin to a rockslide. It rolled out of him for seemingly forever and, to his embarrassment, even scared a few birds that sat perched across the street. When the absolutely massive belch finally came to an end Loid couldn’t help releasing a small sigh of contentment before he remembered he was with company, “Please excuse me that was… wow.”

Yor let out a cute little laugh and smiled, “that must’ve felt good.”

“Ahh- I uh- yeah I guess it did” Loid admitted.

Yor’s smile grew wider for a moment before she took his hand and led him through the doors of their home. Not even seconds after entering their threshold Yor and Loid were greeted by Franky, Anya, and Bond bounding up to them. “HOLY HELL DUDE, WAS THAT YOU?!” Franky shouted.

Loid was stunned. Anya apparently decided now was the perfect time to chime in with her own input: “Papa burped sooooooooooo loud” she laughed, stretching her arms to emphasize just how loud Loid’s burp had been.

Loid looked helplessly over at Yor and to his mounting horror, saw that she was struggling to contain her own giggles. Loid groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Aww Loid,” Yor said, still giggling “I’m sorry there’s no need to be embarrassed.”

Loid wasn’t so sure about that. He vowed from then on that he’d talk to WISE about their use of unpleasant food-related ciphers.

[bloodycassian]

Coffee date - reader x Cassian

The pounding on your bedroom door came much too early. You groaned and rolled over in bed, hoping the waiting Illyrian outside would go away. The knock came again, even louder than last time. You cracked open an eye and glanced to the balcony. Still dark out. Not a hint of dawn rising soon. 

"Five minutes or I'm coming in after you." Cassian's voice rumbled. You groaned yet again, and you could have swore you hear a soft chuckle as he walked away from the door.

+

He didn't want to be up either, but he reminded himself to stay strong against the temptation of going back to bed. To resist the temptation of allowing you to stay so catatonic. He tried not to pace in the dining room while he waited. He didn't want to look ruffled by you. He had to remain professional. 

The soft scuff of a boot on the hard marble floor drew a smile from him. "That was eight minutes."

"So?" You muttered, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. 

He waved you over to the balcony, preparing to depart. You could tell the day would be cold, just from the slight haze over the setting moon. "That means you get to do some extra pushups to start the day." He encouraged, wrapping an arm around your middle before you could protest. He took off with a gentleness he graced you with every morning. It was considerate of him. 

He tried not to lean into the warmth of your body, tried not to think of the sweet scent of your hair. He couldn't deny he enjoyed the closeness of your body though. He just tried not to let it show. Especially when he saw you in the tight leathers that you'd grown into better since you started training. 

"straighten your back more." He instructed, then demonstrated himself the proper position for the pushup. You watched, trying not to pant from the exertion. His hair kissed the ground with each lift and fall of his body. His siphons glowed happily in the darkness. 

The soft lights around the training ring cast his hair and wings in a perfect shade of black. His breathing became more labored, slipping into a pattern he was used to after so many centuries of training and battle. His grunt when he sat back up made your cheeks redden. 

He pushed his hair back and gave you a nod. You continue with improved form, and tried not to slack for the session.

+

By the time he was done with the two hour session, you were sweating through your tunic in the morning sunlight. You had taken off the leathers when the sun had risen, welcoming the cool kiss of the dewey fog against your skin while he worked with you.

He had only removed his once you moved on to the last part of the training session. Hand to hand combat. It always made you the most nervous, but you knew he would never actually follow through with anything that may hurt you. 

Still, you pulled your punches when you aimed at him with more critical moves. He gave you a warning glare but continued with you, moving together like a violent dance of hands and feet and grunting. 

"Let me take you to get a coffee."

"I drink tea-

"Tea then." He blocked your punch and held your fist in his calloused yet soft hand. He squeezed slightly, and gave you a wolfish grin. You swooped your leg out to take down his legs, but his other hand caught your calf easily. He knew your moves, that was true. 

He pulled you towards him slightly, forcing you to hop forward on one foot. He laughed and released you, and you found you were just a slight amount too close. You could feel the heat and energy radiating from him. It was easy touching distance to be able to wrap yourself around him if you wanted.

"Why would I go to tea with you?" You crossed your arms over your chest and stepped back before the thoughts of him could take over. 

"Because I want to. And maybe it'll get your next lesson time reduced." He waggled his eyebrows at you.

"When?" You relented.

"Now?" He asked, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise at your lack of argument. 

"I can't, I'm working in the library after this."

"Tomorrow. No training, we'll go to that shop down the street from Rita's."

Damn him. You couldn't give up the chance at skipping training for a day. You gave him a nod, which he returned with a bright smile. 

+

You nervously picked your outfit. Not too dressy, not too casual though. He showed up early and you threw on a billowing top that accentuated your collarbones. 

And his breath left him when he saw you. The slight amount of styling, that still looked natural on you. The way you still moved with the grace of a warrior well trained could have sent him into a frenzy. He held back though, keeping those primal urges at bay. Instead, he offered his hand in a low bow, and when you placed yours in his… he kissed it with the softest lips you’d ever felt. 

A thrill ran through you, and you tried not to look at him while he rose again. Towering above you, not in a threatening way, but in a protective way that made you feel safe around him. He offered his arm, and led you to the balcony.

+

The cafe was nearly empty when you arrived. And it smelled delicious. 

“I thought you only drank tea.”

“I made an exception for you.” you took a slow sip of the steaming cup and nearly moaned at the long forgotten taste of it. The hints of chocolate and nutty tones. Cassian knew he was staring, but mother above how could he not? The sound you’d made alone nearly got him half hard under the table. He clutched his own cup for dear life, fighting every urge thata screamed at him to take you away with him that instant. 

After a moment of enjoying the soft background noises and the wonderful sunrise together, you had to break the illusion that this was anything more than a friendly breakfast. “What are we here for, Cas?” You sighed.

He knew what you meant. He’d prepared for this question. And he still didn’t know what to say, despite his hours deliberating in his head. “I just… wanted to spend more time with you.”

“Why?”

Because you’re the one person that’s made him feel the most alive in five centuries. You’re the one that he pictured holding his children at night. The one that made him suffer every day of doubt and worry wondering if you felt that connection too. “Because I think you’re interesting.” He said with a sly eyeroll. 

You stirred your drink slowly, watching the swirling milk and froth mix together in harmony. “What if I said I’m not?” You asked, not looking up to him yet. You didn’t want to see the reaction there.

“I’d call you a liar. And a bad one.” He sipped his drink when you scowled at him. Before he could make the situation more complicated you had to end it. You had to keep him at bay. If he were to solidify this bond you felt deep inside your soul... you knew he would die defending you from the ones that hunted you.

It was exactly why he’d insisted on training you. 

“Cass- we can’t do this. We cant be seen like this… People will get ideas and-”

“Like what? Two friends having coffee?” 

The words stung, and that was the moment you knew you wanted whatever this was. Whatever that bond was with him...you wanted it to yourself. You wanted to embrace it and hold it close, hold him close. Your foot tapped impatiently on the floor, nerves kicking up. 

“It’s not smart to pursue this… there’s a kill order for me, and Tamlin has made sure that all courts know. It’s not safe..”

“Screw Tamlin, you’re here now. That’s all that matters.” His voice raised an octave, and his hands clenched on the table. He struggled not to grip yours. He bit back on his temper at the mention of the male’s name. As if he didn’t have reason enough already to kill him. Putting the hit out for you was a petty blow, and every court knew it. 

You couldn’t argue with his words. You were safe in Velaris, you knew that. But the paranoia still lingered. You sighed and looked out the large window. Several fae of different colors and features bustled by. They seemed happy. Sure, some seemed rushed to get to one place or another, but… they were all seemingly content. 

“Forget about all of it, okay? If you’re not safe then I’m not either.” He defiantly pushed out his chest a bit, making you smile. 

“Are you saying you’re my bodyguard now?” 

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.” His voice dropped low, and his wink made your cheeks red.

[generalstarkov]

what's happening in Colombia?

tw police brutality, violence

hi

i tried to leave any political and social discourse about the horrible situation my country is facing right now out of this blog, but i don't think i can't keep doing it.

i hope this post isn't the first time you're hearing about what's going on in my country, but sadly, i know that's likely, because the international community in general and woke internet activists have never really cared about the issues of this hemisphere, let alone latin america.

to put it shortly inequality, poverty and corruption have always been a constant in this country and the pandemic has only worsened these issues.

last week there were marches all over the country as a reaction to our idiot president's announcement of a new tax overhaul (the third in less that 4 years) meant to close the economic shortfall related to the pandemic (related to corruption), this new tax overhaul will specially affect middle class people, raising prices from eggs, coffee, salt, to public services as gas and internet, till funeral services. the minimum wage here is 259 USD, around 9 USD per day.

this tax overhaul plus a new health system reform that will make it harder to access to healthcare are the main reasons why people are furious. but there are just some of our country's endless problems.

police brutality, repression, militarization of the cities, thousands of demonstrators injured and around 40 of them murdered by cops have been the government response to the marches.

yesterday a young activist and university student named lucas was shot 8 times in my city, he was a man full of light and hope and love, he had spent the day talking to people, raising awareness, even shaking hands with cops in an attempt to make peace, and dancing in the streets, he wanted to make a difference and now he's dead, presumably murdered by cops dressed as civilians to cover their actions, by orders of the government who wants to silence everyone who speaks against them.

that's why i'm writting this post, because i didn't sleep last night (i couldn't stop crying) because yesterday was him, tomorrow could be any of my friends, even me, because my country is heartbroken, because for several days i've seen so many young guys die, because i've seen the same cops that are sworn to protect us murdering our people as if it meant nothing, shotting aimlessly, abusing their authority and nothing ever truly changes, our government justifies their actions.

many NGOs, the UN, the EU, humans rights watch, etc, have made their statements about the issue, and while i'm grateful for it their kind words cannot take the bullets, we need real help, we need actions.

there isn't much you can do tbh, change org petitions are as useless as ever, the only thing i ask from you is to know that this is happening, and to spread all the information that shows up on your dashboard,or time line, or feed or whatever social media you use, we need as many people as possible being aware of this situation and speaking about this so that way, maybe, our government will stop this massacre.

if you reblog this post that would be enough, if you don't want to that's okay, you can read this new york times article about what's happening too, i can't bear the thought that we are the only ones that care about this country and the lost lives.

please help us

[andydona-chan]

Stargazing

Read it on AO3!

Maddie Fenton was a brave woman, she had not only dared create a portal leading to a new dimension, and she had also made weapons and confronted the creatures living on the said dimension, she was smart and resourceful, and she had never been afraid of a ghost in her life.

Up to now, she had dealt with many ghosts, from the most basics like the Box Ghost to the bigger ghosts like Undergrowth and Vortex, the majority of the ghosts were dangerous, and she had her reserves about certain ghosts that claimed to be good, just because they demonstrated more understanding than some of the others, didn’t mean they were good.

 But she also understood that some of the other ghosts, in their natural habitat would behave like animals, maybe not normal animals, aggressive and very much more powerful than the ones that lived in her world, but mostly minding their own business… Unless Phantom, the Wisconsin Ghost, or whoever managed to allow the ghosts out of the Ghost Zone, let them out.

Usually, she would be the first if not the second, just behind her husband, jumping at any chance to blast or capture any of the ghosts, but right now she was tired. They had been running behind so many ghosts that she could no longer concentrate on her targets, so instead, she was now sitting on her rooftop, under the Operations Center, just under the side where she could see the sky while sipping on a cup of tea.

 If she was being honest, it was more the ominous sentiment that had people afraid of the creature floating in the sky than anything it had done. If she had to say it, it was actually peaceful and if she had to say it any other way, she would call it beautiful.

 Above her, what looked a lot like a huge whale was floating in the sky, its dark green skin glowed faintly with a white halo, it switched in and out of intangibility often; the weird-looking skull it had on its head was also something fascinating, with long fangs and hollow deep eyes that had a single red spark in them that made them look so dangerous that it was difficult to believe.

 But the size, the shape, and the skull could all be ignored for a moment when you saw the tentacles it had instead of fins, and not even tentacles like those of the octopus, they were long and black and they swirled around as if trying to catch anything that was in their way, it didn’t help that the night was almost, but not completely, clear. There were a couple of clouds in the sky, moving along the big ghosts in the sky and merging the image with the stars that could be seen and the full moon illuminating it from above.

 For some unknown reason, Phantom seemed to connect with the creature, flying next to it and watching it mesmerized by the view, she was sure it was more impressive at that height, so near. She noticed her daughter Jazz and her husband join her by her watching spot, Jazz saying that Danny had gone with his friends to the observatory in order to watch through a telescope, just as she expected, Danny hadn’t liked the operations center at first, it didn’t allow him to use his telescope the way he wanted.

 She sighed, nestling against her husband’s chest; if the beast floating above them wasn’t a dangerous ghost, she would let it roam free just to see it soar the sky, she could take care of it tomorrow, right now she’ll watch, she accepted the refill of tea that Jazz offered her and said.

“Remind me to get some samples from it tomorrow”, she heard her husband giggle and could sense Jazz rolling her eyes, she could have said ‘It is beautiful’, but admitting such a thing wasn’t something she was ready for yet, it’ll have to wait a bit longer.

[mitthsyndic]

Here is my second attempt at writing Thrawn, much longer this time! Again if you have any criticisms or feedback then please feel free to share!

Read on AO3.

Summary: Lieutenant Thrawn meets the reader (gender neutral) at the Ascension Week celebrations on Coruscant, and she offers to show him around her art gallery. (Based roughly on the 2017 Thrawn book). 

Pairing: Thrawn x Reader (gender neutral, Thrawn is still a Lieutenant at this point).

Warnings: None.

Word Count: 1,715.

A Keen Eye

If you'd learned at least one thing from your meeting with Lieutenant Thrawn, it was that he was passionate about art. 

He wasn't simply an admirer or even a collector; he'd told you in detail about how he used an enemy's artwork in order to anticipate their tactics in battle, and ultimately defeat them. From what you could gather from his companions, this proved to be effective far more often than not. Your own companions scoffed dismissively at these claims, and not so politely ushered your group away from Thrawn towards more powerful, influential partygoers. 

However, you believed you could understand where Thrawn was coming from, and you felt compelled to see his analysis in action. After all, it wouldn’t exactly be an inconvenience to you, as he could simply meet you at your own art gallery here on Coruscant. Furthermore, it didn’t take a keen eye for art to notice Thrawn’s strikingly good looks; his dark blue skin and illuminating red eyes caused him to stand out among the other guests, and he was what drew you over here in the first place. If he didn’t appear to be interested in any romantic prospects, you figured you could at least have some fascinating discussions about the pieces in your gallery. 

"I had best follow my companions. However, Lieutenant Thrawn, I'd like to observe your analysis of artwork and the military conclusions you draw in person. Please, take my comm details and contact me to arrange a meeting at my gallery - that is, if you have any spare time." You smiled at him as you offered him your comlink.

His eyes flicked briefly between your face and the comlink, as though he was unsure how to proceed. You tried to read his face; it was unwavering and unreadable. Well, almost. You could have sworn you saw the corner of his mouth slightly upturn into a smile.

Taking your comlink and quickly inputting his details, he responded coolly, "That would be most pleasant. Allow me to check my schedule for my remaining days on Coruscant, and I shall respond with my availability." 

As he handed you back your comlink, your fingers brushed for a brief second. The fleeting contact was intoxicating, yet his expression remained unvarying. It was almost impossible to tell how he felt about the momentary brush of your hands, or if he could tell that your proposition was identical to that of a date. 

"Of course. It was delightful meeting the three of you, and I hope to see you again soon." Politely smiling at Ensign Vanto and Colonel Yularen, you reluctantly trailed after your friends, leaving you with the rest of the evening to reflect on your meeting with Lieutenant Thrawn.

**

It was late; with your thoughts consumed by your encounter with Thrawn, you had left the celebrations and gone to bed at your apartment on Coruscant. Awoken by the faint alert of your comlink, you drowsily sat up and picked it up, allowing the incoming transmission through. 

“Apologies if I woke you. This is Lieutenant Thrawn.” His smooth voice echoed out of the comlink. 

“No, not at all. And, please, there’s no need for titles when we’re alone.” You boldly suggested. From what you could gather, Thrawn was exceptionally good at reading body language and tone, so you tried to convey your desire for a more informal relationship, in case he hadn’t gathered the implications behind your invitation.

“Of course.” You were certain you could hear a smile behind his voice. “This may be of short notice, but I will only remain on Coruscant for another day. There is a lapse in my schedule tomorrow evening, and I leave the following morning. I would like to see the works in your gallery, and hopefully demonstrate my... abilities to you then.”

He was incredibly difficult to read -even more so when you couldn’t see him in person, but you were sure that you could detect a hint of flirtation in his tone.

“Tomorrow evening works for me. Allow me to send you its location. If you need any directions or your schedule suddenly changes, then feel free to contact me. I’ve got my comlink on me at all times.” 

“Thank you. I look forward to meeting you again soon.” Your comlink clicked off, and Thrawn was gone once again. 

You laid back down and allowed your mind to drift off to sleep, thoughts consumed by the mysterious Lieutenant Thrawn and your ‘date’ tomorrow. 

**

You’d spent all day debating on whether or not to close the gallery and give Thrawn a private tour, and, eventually, you decided against it. It was never busy at this time of night anyway, and you didn’t want to appear too forward if you had in fact misinterpreted his intentions, and he really was here to only demonstrate his analytical abilities. Then came the matter of your outfit; he’d provided a rough estimation of his time of arrival, so you couldn’t exactly run off and change into something more ‘date-worthy’ before he arrived, but if you dressed in your regular work clothes then Thrawn may believe that this meeting was strictly business. After much deliberation, you’d settled on an in between that appeared professional, yet a little flirtatious.

Once that was sorted, all you had to do was wait. Many admirers came and went, as did the occasional interested buyer, yet the minutes passed by slowly as you anxiously anticipated his arrival. Normally, you would consider yourself a fairly confident, collected individual, if somewhat an overthinker, but in comparison to Thrawn? You felt almost neurotic. 

Although he’d spent almost a full day now preoccupying your mind, all coherent thoughts dissipated out of your head once he finally stepped into your gallery. He was precisely on time, and wearing simple black garments that had presumably been issued to him by the Empire upon his admission into the academy. From what Colonel Yularen had said, Thrawn had been practically discovered by the Empire, as his home planet was not in a region familiar to you. He also hadn’t mentioned what species he was; at first guess he appeared to be Pantoran, yet his glowing red eyes suggested otherwise. You made a mental note to ask him at some point this evening. Furthermore, you realised he actually hadn’t told you his last name -or maybe he hadn’t told you his first name? As your lack of true knowledge about the man who stood in front of you became more and more apparent, it began to feel like an incredibly stupid idea to invite him here.

Though, it was too late to do anything about that now. I guess I’ll have to make sure I learn everything I didn’t think to ask, you thought as you approached him. His expression was indecipherable, as, you began to suspect, it always was.

“Welcome, Thrawn. May I call you that, or is that your surname? I didn’t think to ask yesterday.” You bit the bullet and chewed your way through the awkward question. 

“It is Mitth'raw'nuruodo. My native language is Cheunh, and Chiss is the name of my species.” He broke eye contact and looked around at the gallery, and you did the same. Currently, it was just the two of you in there. “May I ask how you came to acquire the gallery and its pieces?” 

Though, Thrawn didn’t appear to find it awkward at all. Your eyes locked, and that same small smile you identified the night before appeared on his face. “Yes, you may call me Thrawn. That is my core name, as Chiss names can be difficult for many species to pronounce.”

“Ah, I understand. May I hear it anyway? And, is Chiss the name of your language then?” You asked delicately, although Thrawn appeared unbothered by your questions. 

“Well, I’ve had a passion for art since I was very little, both painting and admiring it. I practiced as much as I could with every bit of free time I had, and I took any even remotely artistic jobs. If a neighbour wanted their walls painted, I’d do it for free and they’d let me keep any leftover paint afterwards. All of my money went towards buying canvases, sketchbooks, paint, brushes, even spray cans. Sometimes I’d even spray paint murals, though I think everyone else saw that as graffiti and vandalism rather than art.” You paused, and the two of you locked eyes again. He was listening intently, so you decided to continue on. “Anyway, as I got older I’d sell my paintings, but it didn’t provide enough money for me to live on, so I begged Zena, the old owner of the gallery, to give me a job here. I did small things at first, like sweeping floors and cleaning picture frames, but eventually I got to lead tours and meet with other artists. When she retired, she left the place to me, and here we are now.” 

Thrawn paused for a few moments, as though he was fully taking in and understanding your words. “How fascinating. Do you still paint now?” Thrawn began to walk slowly towards the closest painting on display.

“Yes, whenever I have any inspiration or time.” You followed close behind, intently watching his focused stare on the painting in front of him. 

He then turned back to you, and stopped just before the painting. “Is any on display? May I see it?” He questioned. 

“No, it’s all in the back in our studio. Plus, I’ve never fought any kind of battle in my life, so I doubt you’re going to be able to observe any military tactics from my paintings.” 

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Many do not realise exactly what their artwork can reveal about themselves or their culture as a whole. So, although you may have never fought before, I could look at your work and anticipate your possible movements and strategies if we were to engage in battle, whether that be in a ship or in hand to hand combat. I have demonstrated it in this particular way once previously with a friend.” 

He noticed the slightly apprehensive look on your face, and smiled. “Of course, we do not have to fight. That would not be very typical behaviour on a date, would it?”

[firstofficerwiggles]

Chapter 7: The Mando Games

Link to Chpt. 6, Link to Masterlist

Pairing: The Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: M/E, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT, Flirty!Din, Jealous!Reader, swearing, kissing, fingering, helmet stays on, explicit description of unprotected sex (be safe in the real world please), canonical violence

Word count: 12.5K (another long one for you because I don’t know how to edit enough)

Author’s Note: We’re still on Angel One because I wasn’t done playing there. If you’re interested in the setting, I’ve based the historic part of the city on Toledo, Spain. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

When you awake the next morning, it feels like you have had the best sleep of your life, despite spending so much of the night making love with Din. You feel utterly blissed out and although some of your muscles ache, it’s the most delicious feeling. You feel him stirring next to you, and you remind yourself that you have to wait to take off the sleep mask until you know it’s safe.

“Go-od morning, cyar’ika,” Din says through a yawn, “Gimme a minute to get the helmet.”

“Of course,” you reply stretching out in the bed, and as you do, your stomach lets out a loud growl. You’re embarrassed, especially as you hear Din laughing softly.

“Did you work up an appetite?” he asks, “I know I’m starving after all that activity.”

You blindly throw a pillow in the direction of his voice and he just laughs harder.

“Careful, my dear, you might break something,” he admonishes you playfully. You hear his footsteps come closer to you and something fluffy lands in your hands.

“You can take the mask off now,” Din says, his voice sounding modulated again and you know he has the helmet back on. You slide the satin mask off your head and store it safely in the nightstand and you see that he’s brought you one of the robes to wear. You’re just slipping it on when you hear a knock at the door. You’re getting ready to hop out of bed and answer it, when Din tells you,

“I’ll get it; no one else needs to see you like this but me.” He’s only half dressed in his trousers himself, but he throws on the other robe to answer the door.

His comment about your appearance makes you curious, so you get out of bed anyway but head to the large bathroom instead. In the mirror, you see a woman who looks well loved. Your hair is mussed, your lips are slightly swollen, and there are several marks, Din’s love bites, on your neck and chest. You smile back at your reflection and think you’ve never looked better.  

You hear the door close and so you head back out to see what that was all about and find Din in the sitting room area with a large cart laden with breakfast foods. Mistress Sigrid may be a bit much, but at least she’s a great hostess. You immediately dig in to the delicious spread as Din chuckles at your eagerness. You make a plate, flop down on the sofa, and turn yourself so you’re facing away from him.

“Go ahead and eat, Din, I know you’re hungry too,” you say, “I promise I won’t look.”

“I know, I trust you,” he says and you hear him get his own breakfast too.

You enjoy your food and the time spent chatting with Din about various other things last night. Turns out, he got a lot more information about the Jubilee from the men.

“Today there’s a sort of bazaar with arts and crafts and cultural demonstrations,” he’s telling you, “Trent promised to show us all the best booths.”

“That was nice of him,” you say.

“And there’s a big set up for this competition that they have amongst the women. Today they announce the challengers and then tomorrow the contest begins,” Din explains.

“I bet it will be entertaining to watch, the women here seem so skilled, it will probably be some type of combat contest or at least something athletic,” you speculate.

“There’s also an interesting prize system for it,” he lets of a huff of laughter, “Apparently the women get to choose the man they want for the night based on the order that they finish - so it’s a prime time for a woman to steal a guy she’s had her eye on.”

“What? That sounds so sexist, I mean towards men, which I know sounds weird, but, ew.” The idea just seems wrong to you, but then you think about how you’re only seeing this from your perspective and say, “But, I know I shouldn’t be judging their culture by my norms, and if this is what works for them, then so be it.”

“It seems odd to me too,” Din says, “But the men last night were pretty excited about it, it’s a pretty big honor to be selected by the winner for them.”

“Well at least we’ll just get to be spectators,” you say.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Once you’re ready for the day, you head back to the nursery to collect the child. He’s very excited to see you both and toddles over to you as quickly as his tiny legs will carry him. He’s clearly had a great time and is wearing a flower crown and a new beaded necklace.

“Hi buddy, look at you! I love your new accessories!” You say scooping him up. He leans in for a hug and then makes grabby hands towards Din. You hand him over, as Gregor is coming up to you with a little bundle.

“Your little one was such a dear and he played so well with the other children,” he tells you, “And he had a great time with arts and crafts, he’s just a little natural.”

You open up the bundle to find two more beaded necklaces, one in pinks and reds and the other in blues and greens.

“These are so pretty, buddy, did you make them?” you ask the child who is cooing happily at you. “Let me guess, is the pink one for me?” He coos and giggles and you drape the necklace over your head.

“And is the blue one mine, kiddo?” Din asks and again the child makes a happy sound and you help Din put on his new necklace.

“What a beautiful family!” Gregor gushes, “Let me get a holo of the three of you.” Dutifully, you pose for a few holos including a few that Gregor snaps with your holopad too.

As your little party makes its way out of the state residence to head to the bazaar, you find Trent with a group of his friends in the foyer. They are all dressed to impressed and are also sporting flower crowns today.

“Oh Princess and Mando, hi!” Trent greets you enthusiastically, and then with a cheeky grin, “Someone had a wonderful night last night, didn’t they? I noticed you two sneaking off in the middle of the show.”

You feel a touch embarrassed but Trent’s happy grin makes you giggle in spite of yourself and you just say, “Oh, I’d never kiss and tell.”

This seems to delight all of Trent’s friends and they giggle right along with you, and you notice a couple of them checking out Din’s marks on your neck that are still very visible. They exchange knowing glances and you give them a wink.

“See, I told you she was charming,” Trent says and then proceeds to introduce you to his friends. The men greet Din enthusiastically too, most of them having met him last night.

“Oh, but Mando, you don’t have a flower crown,” one of the men, Chad, says with a note of disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t worry there’s always some nice ones you can buy at the bazaar,” another man says.

With that, you all head out to explore and enjoy the day. It’s a beautifully sunny day with a nice light breeze and the scent of flowers and delicious food wafting through the air. You can hear festive music playing and the sound of many happy people already out and about enjoying their holiday. This part of the city is a historic district with many very old stone buildings close together and narrow cobblestone streets that wind through the buildings before ending in large plazas. Large red banners adorned with various symbols hang off most every window and balcony that you pass, and beautiful floral garlands are draped across the streets between the buildings. Each of the plazas are ringed with vendor booths and each plaza appears to adhere to a particular theme for the wares. Trent directs you to the floral plaza and a stand with many flower crowns. You’ve never seen such beautiful flowers and in such a variety of pretty colors.

“They look really nice, I’d love a flower crown too,” you say a touch wistfully, and the men dissolve into laughter at the idea. You look around and realize, “Oh, wait, they’re just for men, aren’t they?”

Din steps up to look at the crowns more carefully. You can’t imagine he’ll really buy one for himself, but then he asks you, “Which ones do you like?”

You let your fingers touch the soft petals of a particularly beautiful one with red and yellow flowers that catches your eye, “I like this one best,” you say.

“And what’s second best?” Din asks, and you look a touch surprised, but maybe he doesn’t care for the red and yellow? You look through the others and land on another lovely crown of purple and white blooms.

“This one is also lovely,” you say softly.

“We’ll take these two,” Din says to the vendor, handing him a small handful of credits. He then picks up the red and yellow crown and gently places it on your head, enjoying the look of surprise on your face, before plopping the purple crown on top of his helmet.

“You’re a princess, you should have a crown if you want it,” Din tells you.

“Thank you,” you say, beaming at him.

“It actually looks really pretty on you,” Trent says, “Who knows, maybe it could be a new trend?”

You continue to explore the bazaar and eventually you meet up with several of the mistresses that you met the night before. They eye your flower crown with a snicker, but you figure they were already laughing at you anyway so why should you care. The only one who doesn’t do this is Eira, who politely tells you that it looks nice, and you decide she’s your favorite out of all the women you’ve met here. Eira introduces you to her lover, Bradley, who is a quieter man than Trent and his friends, but very nice. They invite you and Din to join them for a drink at one of the tavern booths, and the four of you fall into a comfortable conversation.

After a bit, Eira tells you that it’s time to head to the main plaza because the day’s program is scheduled to begin soon. Arriving at the plaza, you see a stage and several grandstands set up around it. Most of the stands are already full, but Eira leads you to seats in one of the front rows that have been reserved.  

Mistress Sigrid walks out onto the stage to a podium that has been set up as a band plays a triumphant march. As the music swells, people stand and cheer. When the music ends, Sigrid welcomes you all,

“Hello, I hope you are all having a wonderful Jubilee of Astrid!”

“May she bless us!” the crowd replies enthusiastically.

“Please be seated as we begin our ceremonies,” she says.

What follows are a series of speeches about the importance of the holiday, the blessings of Astrid, and the prosperity that she is sure to bring each family. You’re only half listening and instead you let your mind wander to what it must be like to live in a place like this where you know you will celebrate together each year, a place where a family can spend a peaceful day together having fun. You look over at Din holding the child who is playing with the beads of Din’s necklace and you feel a pang of sadness in your heart. What would it be like if you could settle somewhere and have a real home, make friends, and spend time each day in plazas like this one? You know you’re letting your emotions get the best of you. After all, you haven’t even been together with Din for that long, so why are you picturing such a future already? Still though, now the image is in your mind.

“And of course, now we get to the main event,” Sigrid is saying, and you snap your attention back to her, “It’s time to announce the competition and challengers for Astrid’s Battle.”

“This year’s competition will consist of three rounds,” she announces, “In round one we have a test of agility, in round two, a challenge of intelligence, and then in round three, the show of strength. As each of our competitors finish a round, they will earn points based on the quality and speed in which they completed the tasks. Remember this means that even if someone doesn’t win any of the rounds, she could still end up the victor based on total points!”

The people around you cheer wildly and you do your best to applaud and look enthusiastic. Sigrid goes on to then introduce various women who come out on stage to receive cheers and take a bow. It isn’t until she gets to Mistress Lagertha when things unexpectedly take a nasty turn. Instead of coming out for just a bow, Lagertha heads to the podium.

“I am here to issue a special challenge, to our visiting princess.” Your head snaps up at her in alarm. “Your Highness, I dare you to compete for your Mando. If you should manage to place higher than me, then he’s yours, but if I out place you in the contest, he’s going home with me.”

You jump to your feet in utter shock at her audacity and you feel your body flood with anger. How dare she!

It is very quiet all of a sudden, as all eyes look to you. You try to reason with her at first, but your voice cannot hide your ire, “Mistress Lagertha, we are guests on your planet, and I regard this as highly unusual to request that I participate in this competition and that Mando be offered as a prize.”

“If you’re too scared to compete, then I’ll just take him now,” she smirks at you, openly mocking you in front of everyone.

You feel Din standing beside you, his body tense, and you know his fight mode is about to kick in, but that would be disastrous. You raise your head and give her the most intimidating glare you can muster, as you say, “Very well, I will accept on one condition, Mando is only a prize between you and me, no one else may compete for him.”

There is an immediate uproar at this and the crowd begins to gossip excitedly about this newest twist to the competition. Sigrid motions you to the stage, but before you can go, Din grabs your arm, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I think I do, unless we want more trouble,” you tell him and you make your way to the stage.

You are seething right now and you curse yourself for ever having thought of Lagertha as friendly. Your outrage makes you walk with intention and when you take the stage, you know you’re going to show these women that you might be smaller in stature than they are but you are still a powerful woman in your own right.

“Do we have an agreement?” you ask Lagertha your voice cold. It’s a tone you learned from your days with the Empire and from the way her eyes widen, you can tell it has an effect on Lagertha. She gives you a curt nod.

“I’ll need more of a guarantee, Mistress Sigrid, that no one else will compete for Mando.” You look at her with hard eyes, you may be wearing a flower crown, but the pretty, delicate princess is all gone.

“So you will join the competition? Compete for Mando’s affections?” Mistress Sigrid asks rather surprised.

“I will, but only if my stipulation is met,” you reply sharply.

“Very well, only yourself or Lagertha may claim Mando,” Sigrid confirms. She then turns to the crowd and announces you as the final competitor. You take a small bow like the others, but you keep your eyes trained on Din.

When you exit the stage both Din and Eira are there to meet you. Din takes you by the shoulder and brings you in close so he can speak directly in your ear,

“Are you certain you want to do this? We can just leave now, take our chances,” Din urges you.

“No one can find us here, this is the safest place for now,” you reason with him, “And if I need to play their game to help keep us here, then I will. No woman is just going to take you from me.” Din sees your eyes flash with that statement, and he feels humbled by the intensity of your affection for him. I don’t deserve her.

“I can help you prepare,” Eira is saying, “I’ve competed many times and honestly the competition doesn’t change much from year to year.”

“I would appreciate any help, Eira,” you reply, “And I can still beat Lagertha on total points, right?”

“Yes, that’s correct,” Eira confirms, “Let’s go back to our house and we can talk strategy.”

Din, the child, and you follow Eira and Bradley back to their home as she tells you about her experiences with Astrid’s Battle.

“The first two rounds will be tomorrow. The agility challenge is always some type of obstacle race, the obstacles change from year to year, but generally you have to have decent balance, be able to climb, and be light on your feet,” she explains.

“Your smaller size may give you an advantage there,” Din says encouragingly, “And I’ve seen you carry a tray a food, the child, and several of his toys around the Crest with no problem, so balance should also be a skill for you.”

“My best shot at earning points though is going to be the intelligence test,” you say, “What does that usually consist of?”

“Typically, it’s some type of really hard puzzle or riddle,” Eira tells you, “It’s a real challenge, but I know that Lagertha isn’t good at riddles, so you do stand a good chance there.”

“That would be right in my skillset, so I’ll hope for the best there.” You feel much more confident that you can do well on that section and if you’re fast enough it might be enough to keep you competitive with Lagertha.

“The part that worries me the most is the strength competition,” Eira is saying, “Because that is almost always hand-to-hand combat. It’s on the following day because it’s usually done in tournament style.”

“I’ve given her some training, but if she could spar with you, that would be helpful to see the fighting style you use here,” Din suggests.

For the next couple hours, you spar and practice with Eira and Din in the grassy area behind Eira’s house. The two of them give you various pointers about how to best hold your own and use your smaller size to your advantage. It’s good that Din’s training has focused on that too, because it doesn’t feel too foreign to you. At the very least, you feel like you won’t make a complete fool out of yourself thanks to their advice. Bradley has kindly been watching the child the whole time as they sit on the sidelines and cheer you on. There was a tense moment at first when Eira kept mysteriously falling down as she went to attack you, but thankfully, Din realized what was happening and hurried over to lower the little green hand. Eira just figured she had slipped on something and didn’t get suspicious.

When you’re taking a break, you pull the little one close to you and whisper in his ear, “I appreciate the help, buddy, but save it for the real competition in case I really need it.” You give him a kiss and he makes his happy, snuffly baby sounds.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Later that evening, you’re resting in your room back in the state residence. Din is insistent that you save all your energy for tomorrow, and while you know he’s right, you can’t help yourself from giving him suggestive looks anyway after the child is safely in his pram for the night.

“Cyar’ika, you’re supposed to be getting ready for bed,” he admonishes, “I don’t want to be a distraction.”

“You’re already a distraction,” you say playfully. Nevertheless, you know you could use more rest given that last night wasn’t exactly full of sleeping. So you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face for the night. You’re starting at yourself in the mirror again, but this time doubt starts to creep in as you consider how much stronger and bigger Lagertha is. You have no idea how she might do in the intelligence competition, either.

When you come back to the bedroom, you ask Din, “Do you think I have any chance tomorrow?”

“Of course I do,” he insists strongly, “If I didn’t I’d already have you and the kiddo in hyperspace.”

He’s direct, and you know he means it. Your face must still show your doubt though, because he comes over and pulls you into his arms.

“Cyar’ika, you are going to be great. These women underestimate you; they’re too wrapped up in their own ideas of superiority to see who you really are.”

“Who I really am?” you repeat to him, wondering how he sees you.

“A brave, intelligent woman who knows how to survive,” Din says sincerely, “And the only one who can win this Mando’s affections.”

You hug him tighter to you as he says that and then you lean up to place a kiss on his helmet where his mouth would be.

“Close your eyes,” Din says, and when you do, he pushes up the helmet so he can lean in and take your lips in his. His kiss is tender and loving, and when he pulls away, you feel content again.

“You can open your eyes now.”

“Thank you, Din,” you say softly.

“For kissing you?” he asks, a little amused.

“For believing in me.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

You’re filled with anticipation and anxiety as you wait for your turn to begin the obstacle course in the agility portion of Astrid’s Battle. You’re thankful that Eira was able to brief you on this part because now it doesn’t seem quite so daunting. The course is set up with various sections where you must cross a narrow bridge or make your way over an unstable surface designed to test your balance. There are also several climbing walls to surmount, and a crawl through swampy, muddy area that you are not looking forward to completing. You have an advantage however, of being in the middle of the pack of competitors because you can watch the women who run the course before you and see how they attempt the obstacles. In some cases, there are two options for a path, and you’re quickly learning which path will be best for you. As each woman runs the course, two announcers provide a play-by-play of her progress and updates on the time. It seems like most women finish in around 15 minutes, but you can get time added to your clock as a penalty if you make a mistake on the course.

Suddenly it’s your turn to start and as you hear the buzzer sound, you jolt into action. As you’ve been watching the others, you pre-planned your route in your head and as you bound across the first obstacle, a net that makes you bounce as you run on it, you tell yourself to focus on the plan and to shut out any distractions. One thought keeps your legs pumping and your eyes sharp, she won’t take Din from me.

Din is sitting in the stands holding the child on his lap as he watches you compete. Maker, he’s not even in the competition but his heart is beating fast with nervous energy as he watches you on the course. He’s glad that Eira and Bradley are with him because these new friends seem just as invested in your success as he is. You’re doing really well on the balancing apparatuses, and each time you cross one, Din cheers out for you. But, you’re having less success with the climbing walls, as unfortunately with those, your shorter height gives you a disadvantage. You aren’t able to reach as far as the other women, so it takes you longer to get over each one. Still, each time you do, he’s so proud of you. You’re almost to the end of the course now and all that’s left is the muddy crawl. Din knows you’ll hate that part as one time the kid got himself and then you, covered in mud and it was clear you did not enjoy it. So when he sees you dive into the mud like it’s nothing, giving it your all, he feels honored that you’re trying so hard to win him. Of course, there’s no chance in hell he’s going to let Lagertha anywhere near him if she should happen to outscore you in the competition. However, he kept that to himself so that you would focus on doing your best with the challenges and not worrying about the ensuing fight that might be necessary.

Positively filthy, you push yourself off the ground and sprint as hard as you can towards the finish line. When you cross, your lungs are burning and you can hardly see with all mud on your face, but you smile as you hear the announcer state your time, 20 minutes and 38 seconds, a respectable time for someone who’s never competed in anything like this.

You head over to an area where outdoor showers have been set up so you can wash off the mud. The water is cool and refreshing as it runs over you, and you appreciate it, as you take in the moment, happy that this first part is finished. You’re wiping your face with a towel and when you can successfully see again, you look up to your favorite sight. Din and the little one come over to give you a hug and a Keldabe kiss.

“You did amazing, cyar’ika,” Din says his voice full of pride, “The announcers and everyone around us were really impressed too. You didn’t even get any penalties.”

“That’s good to hear, but I just hope it’s enough--” your statement gets cut off as you hear the announcers say Lagertha’s name excitedly.

“Yes, folks, it’s a new round one record for Mistress Lagertha at only 10 minutes and 32 seconds!”

Your heart drops at that news. She completed the course twice as fast as you did, and with a new record, she’s likely to be in first place going into the next part of the contest.

Din sees your expression and he leans down to tell you, “Don’t give up yet, I know she doesn’t have the brains to beat you in the next part.”

You look at him with wary eyes, “Maker, I hope not,” is all you can say.

After cleaning up, you’re ushered into a special lunch with the other competitors. Your completion time has placed you in the bottom half of the competitors, but you’re fortunate to see that you’re actually closer to the middle than you expected to be. There are several women with worse completion times because either they had many penalties or they were actually slower than you. It gives you a little bit of confidence as does the fact that many of the women have come up to congratulate you on making it this far.

“Well, look who’s still with us,” Lagertha strolls up to you as the luncheon is ending. She flanked by two friends taking a classic mean girl approach. It’s clear some things are universal no matter what planet you’re on.

“Congratulations on your record,” you say graciously. You know she wants to bait you into an argument, so you plan to stay cool and collected and deny her the satisfaction of seeing you upset. It’s a tactic you’ve seen Din use when people get mouthy with him.

“Why thank you! Aren’t you sweet?” She makes it sound like an insult. One of her friends rolls her eyes.

“I’m looking forward to the next round, I do enjoy an intellectual challenge,” you say with a smile on your face.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s something that your little head can handle,” she gives you a smirk as her friends snicker rudely. You’re getting really fed up with this elitist attitude they have.

Nonetheless, you swallow your anger and say, “Thanks.” But you know your eyes are showing your true feelings and it just seems to amuse her and her nasty friends all the more. You sigh, hold your head up high and just walk away from them heading into the room where the next round will be held. You hear shouts of laughter at your back but now it’s just fuel for your fire as you are determined to be outstanding in this next challenge.

You’re seated at a desk with a holopad and a camera designed to film you as you work on the puzzles and broadcast it on a large screen to the audience. It also allows the judges to see you in action and ensure that no cheating takes place. You feel more nervous than you anticipated because you didn’t think about everyone watching your every move.  But then you look over to the stands and see the flash of beskar, even though he’s across the room from you, you can feel Din’s energy like a lifeline reaching out to you. It calms you and although you’re nervous, you know you can handle this.

Mistress Sigrid comes out to start the second round and announce the puzzles. She looks right at you and gives you a small nod that you take as encouragement before she says, “Welcome everyone to Round Two of the Battle of Astrid! This year’s intellectual challenge will ask our competitors to decipher three messages written in three unique and puzzling styles. This year will be a real brain workout as our third message features a real code used during wartime. Competitors may ‘purchase’ hints to the puzzles in the form of time with a more useful hint costing more time. Are we ready to begin?”

Thank the fucking Maker! The second challenge is codebreaking! You can’t believe your luck and when Sigrid hits the buzzer to start the competition and the first puzzle appears on your screen, you have a huge smile on your face.

The first code is a simple substitution cipher and is the type of code that children use when they’re writing secret messages, and with the free hint providing the first substitution, there is no challenge for you at all. You solve the code in three minutes. When your holopad confirms that your answer is correct, the next puzzle is displayed. You hear an impressed sound come from the crowd around you along with the surprised voice of the announcer saying that you are already on to the second puzzle.

You feel your confidence soar as you quickly glance up and see that no one else is even close to solving. The second code is much more complex and on first review, you believe it to be a shift cipher where each letter of the alphabet is shifted down to a new position. As you work, you notice that the code is actually a clever collection of multiple shifts in sequence. It’s a great platform for building a code and one that you might choose to use. It takes more work, but you feel like you’re in your element and everything around you falls away as you break the message. You realize you’ve got it and hit your button to submit. Suddenly you hear a large cheer when your correct message is confirmed, and look up to see that you’ve completed this round in just about 20 minutes. Another quick look at the other screens and you can see that you are now light-years ahead of anyone else, and more importantly, Lagertha has only just started the second puzzle.

When the third encoded message is displayed on your screen, you almost laugh out loud. The wartime code that Sigrid mentioned is an Imperial code that you not only recognize, it’s one that you helped create. You identify your own special coding signature and everything. Again, you can’t believe your luck, and you think the Maker really must be smiling down on you today. It’s not even a challenge for you. It takes you five minutes to decode the message and that’s only because it was a fairly long paragraph. When you hit submit and the correct message is confirmed, no one can believe it. The audience goes absolutely wild and the judges come rushing over to review your work. The competition is paused for the other competitors so that everyone can verify the results. There are some angry shouts demanding to see your work. But after a quick review of your holopad, there’s no denying it, you are correct and you have won the round.

“In a stunning turn of events, we have an incredible new record for the intelligence challenge,” Mistress Sigrid announces to the stunned crowd. “For the first time ever, a woman has completed this round in less than 30 minutes. Princess, please take a bow.”

You stand and take your bow, feeling a rush of true success and luck, and for the first time today, you breathe a sigh of relief. You hurry over to sit with Din and the child so that you can watch the rest of the competition now that it has resumed.

“You were incredible, I had no idea you were that good,” Din tells you, “I mean, I knew you were smart, but, cyar’ika, that was outstanding.”

“I was good, but I was also extremely lucky,” you whisper to him, “I’ll explain later.” If anyone were to hear about how you were able to break the code so quickly, it might lead to allegations of cheating and who knows what other problems.

Eira and Bradley also express their admiration for your performance and Eira even throws her arms around you in a bear hug. You’re so grateful to have at least a few other people supporting you.

You watch the competition, mostly for Lagertha but also smugly curious to see how the women do with breaking your code. You know it’s petty, but when you see how much everyone is struggling with it, you feel an upwelling of pride within you. No one is able to make any progress at all without purchasing at least three hints. This feeling of superiority grows especially as you watch Lagertha purchase every possible hint, costing her precious time, and then still struggle to solve it. When she does eventually figure it out, her time comes in at just over four hours.

After the competition ends for the day, everyone is ushered into a special dinner where the rankings will be announced for tomorrow’s strength challenge. You sit nervously next to Din poking at your food and then feeding most of it to the baby. You pray that your unbeatable score in the intelligence challenge will garner you a great position for this final hurdle.

“Remember if you’ve placed high enough, you might only have to fight in a couple matches,” Eira explains, “Hell, with that score you pulled off in Round Two, you’re looking really great.” You know from her earlier coaching that a high score will put you into one of the higher rounds of the tournament automatically reducing the number of women you’ll need to take on in the strength competition.

Finally, Mistress Sigrid is at her podium next to a giant screen and is ready to reveal the results. You listen restlessly as she announces the competitors in reverse order from bottom to top finishers. You keep waiting to see your ranking, but it doesn’t seem to be coming. Shockingly, Lagertha’s name is revealed in sixth place, and then even more astonishingly, you listen as Sigrid declares that you have rocketed your way into second place.

“It is unprecedented to see such a meteoric rise in this battle, but I believe we all owe our off-world princess a round of applause for her cunning mind,” Sigrid praises you, and you nod blindly in your bewilderment.

“I can’t believe I pulled that off,” you say to Din.

“It’s great, because it means you’ll only have two fights at the most, because you automatically advance to the final four!” Eira practically squeals at you.

At the thought of the fights, your glow of success and hopefulness starts to fade and the reality of having to fight at least one if not two of these giant women settles on your shoulders. It must show on your face, because you feel Din lean in close to you and place a hand on your arm.

“Hey, don’t fret,” Din is saying to you, “Best case scenario, Lagertha is defeated in an earlier round and then you can just concede and come in fourth.”

“True, but there’s still a chance I have two matches that I need to win tomorrow, and I don’t know if I can even manage one,” you tell him honestly.

“Yes, you can, I know you can,” he replies and he takes your hand interlocking his fingers with yours. It’s a small gesture but it has an instant effect and you feel warmed by his faith in you.

When you return to your room, you look around and decide that maybe it will be a good idea to pack up your belongings, just in case you need to make a hasty exit from this place. Something is nagging at your mind, but you can’t figure out what it is. There’s just a feeling that something is going to go wrong. The packing serves as a good outlet for the uneasy energy that has taken over your body, but you don’t really have that much stuff and after it’s all organized, you turn your attention to the child. He likes to be rocked to sleep and so you start to do that, but then your frazzled nerves and racing mind turn rocking into pacing until Din steps in.

“Let me take him, cyar’ika,” he says gently, “You’re keeping him awake you’re moving so quickly.”

“Oh, I, I’m sorry,” you say sounding distracted.

“It’s ok,” he says as he reaches for the child, “You go get ready for bed.”

You listen to him and go through your nightly ablutions, but still there is something toying with the edge of your thoughts, something that you’re missing. When Din comes into the bedroom, you’re sitting straight up in bed nervously fidgeting with your fingers as you replay various moments from the day in your head.

“My love, you need to relax,” Din says with a soft sigh, “You’re getting yourself so worked up you’ll never sleep.”

“How did Sigrid get that code, Din?” you ask, having identified that as the primary source for your frustration.

“What do you mean?” he questions confused.

“You know how I said I got lucky in the code-breaking competition,” you say, “That third code was an Imperial Code, it was my code, or at least one that I helped create.”

“That’s why you solved it so quickly,” he realizes.

“Yes, but how did they get it, and how did they know how it worked in order to make into one of their puzzles?” This is the question that has been wracking your brain.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation, cyar’ika,” Din says calmly, trying to help you settle down, “Remember, the Rebellion had code-breakers too and it’s possible someone on their side broke that code.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right,” you say, “And then maybe they made those documents public after the war?” It sounds possible, but your voice is still full of doubt and unease.

“Yes, it’s likely that’s what happened,” Din says. He looks at you for a long moment and then says, “Take off your nightgown and lie down on your stomach. I’m going to rub your back to help you relax.”

“I’m naked under this,” you say automatically, still distracted by your turbulent thoughts.

He chuckles, “Well, I was hoping that I’d get the privilege of seeing you naked again, but honestly this will just help me massage you better.”

“Oh right, of course,” you say, letting out a shaky laugh yourself as you pull off your nightgown and lie down.

You try to will yourself to relax as you feel his large, warm hands begin to sweep over the muscles of your back. His fingers knead into you and start to relieve the tension in your shoulders as he works out the little knots there. His hands move down your spine stretching and soothing the muscles. When he gets to the part of your lower back that always seems stiff, you let out a little moan as he helps relieve the pain there. He gently runs his hand over your bare backside and you feel a little spike of desire before he moves on to massage your thighs. He massages all down your legs, working out sore spots you didn’t realize you had. When he gets to your feet, you’re feeling so much better, you almost forget why you were so worked up.

“Turn over,” Din tells you. You comply, a little confused, but you figure he knows what he’s doing.

He keeps massaging your feet for a while longer, and then starts to move up your legs again. As he reaches your thighs again, he starts to nudge them apart and you watch as he climbs up on the bed. His touch starts to change and you realize he’s staring between your legs now and it’s turning you on.

“What are you doing, Din?” You have a pretty good idea, but you want to hear him say it.

“I’m going to make sure you’re completely relaxed, cyar’ika, the best way I know how,” he tells you with determination.

Now his hands are right on either side of your pussy and again he just stares for a moment before he lets his fingers begin to explore your most sensitive flesh.

“Do you like to look at me, Din?” you ask in a sultry voice.

“I love to look at you like this,” he says gruffly, “So beautiful when you’re open for me.” You hum your approval in response as his fingers apply more pressure and start to circle your entrance.

“You get so wet,” Din tells you, “I love how responsive you are to me.” He plunges his long middle finger of his right hand inside of you and you cry out softly at how good it feels. His left hand is now playing with your clit as two of his fingers roll and pinch it between them. Gently, he adds a second finger to the first one inside you, moving them in and out and swirling them around reaching deep within you. His motions are unhurried and you relax even more into his touch. Every so often, he crooks his fingers upward, making you moan out his name. It feels so good and his pace is so steady that the pleasure builds slowly and even as you know you’re reaching your climax, it feels like you are floating towards it rather than hurtling there like you usually do. This time it’s not a race for release; instead, it’s like he’s trying to draw it out of you as gradually as possible. When you do finally reach your peak, it is blissful and you moan his name out contentedly.

As your breathing returns to normal, you tell him, “You’re right, Din, I feel so much better, so relaxed.” Your mind is finally quiet, “Give me a few minutes and then I’ll help you feel good.”

“No, cyar’ika, this was all about you,” Din says gently, “I want you to close your eyes and go to sleep now.”

“You sure?” you ask, but you can’t deny you do feel very sleepy already.

“I’m positive,” he says. You feel him pull the blankets up around you and then he carefully places the sleep mask over your eyes. You hear the telltale sound of his helmet coming off and then you feel his soft lips against yours. When you settle back into your pillow, you feel drowsy and peaceful. When Din’s arms come around you and he pulls your body against his, you’re already drifting off.

----------------------------------------------

The strength competition is a master class in hand-to-hand combat. You watch from the warm-up area with the other competitors, awed by how powerful and skilled these women are at their sport. You have only a shred of hope that you will be able to put up a good showing in the competition and you’re desperately wishing for someone else to take out Lagertha for you. So far though, she looks to be in her element. She fought off her first two challengers handily and while it gave you an opportunity to study her fighting style, it mostly just scared the pants off you. Now Lagertha just has one more woman to beat and if she does, you’ll have to fight her. At least she was randomly selected to be on your side of the tournament bracket, otherwise you’d have to be sure to advance to the final round and beat her there.

Din and the baby come over to stand with you, as you get ready to watch Lagertha’s next match. Din places his arm around your shoulders helping to calm you. You take the child into your arms, since you know his sweet presence with help you feel better too.

“Look, see how she drops her shoulder there,” Din points out, “That’s a good opportunity to land a painful hit.” You nod as you listen to his advice.

“Oh, and there, you see how she puts all her balance on her front foot when she throws that cross,” he shows you another weakness, “If you can kick at her other leg when she does that, you’ll knock her down for sure.”

You turn and look at him, really look him, as he’s still trying to coach you up until the last possible moment. As you watch him, a sense of happiness and calm comes over you. It dawns on you that Din will always be on your side, rooting for you, believing in you, and nothing will change that. He really is the best man you have ever known. You slide your arm around his waist and rest yourself against his body and you let his continued advise wash over you. No matter what happens, you know you are going to fight your heart out for him; it’s what he deserves.

You watch resigned as Lagertha defeats her opponent and you know the time has come. There’s a short break between the matches, so you have a few minutes with your guys before you have to step into the fighting ring.

“Thank you for all your help,” you say to Din as you pull his helmet down to meet your forehead, “I’m going to fight like hell for you.”

Then you shift your attention to the child on your hip, and turn him around so you’re facing each other. You look deep into his eyes, and whisper to him, “If you do end up helping, just try to be subtle, OK?” You lean down and give him a kiss on his forehead. He coos at you like he understands, and you cross your fingers that he won’t try to fling Lagertha across the arena.

“So, little princess, are you ready to get that butt kicked?” Lagertha jeers at you as you enter the ring.

“I’m ready to fight for Mando,” you tell her with determination, “He’ll never be yours. Besides, I doubt you’d even know what to do with him.”

“Oh you think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Lagertha snaps back at you, and maybe you hit a nerve.

You smirk at her as you reply, “I think the intelligence contest proved that yesterday already, or did you forget?”

Lagertha is seething at you now, “You little bitch, I’m going to destroy you.”

In getting her good and angry, you can see she’s throwing out her strategy and is going into blind attack mode. You think one more biting remark will really push her off her game and it might cause her to make a mistake. “At least I don’t have to win a man in a contest to make him mine,” you taunt her, your voice condescending.

Lagertha lunges at you before the buzzer has even sounded, but in her anger she telegraphs the move and you dodge her attack just as Din showed you. The referee for the match blows her whistle and signals a penalty for Lagertha.

“None of that!” the referee snaps, “Get back and wait for the buzzer!”

You can see that Lagertha is vibrating with anger and although you know it’s risky to keep making her mad, it is keeping her unbalanced and sloppy, so you wink at her and smirk in her direction.

When the buzzer sounds and the referee signals the start of combat, Lagertha charges at you again in her rage. You can see that all of her weight is leaning forward with her momentum and so you duck and throw out a kick to her knee that knocks her to the ground. You quickly move away from her though so she can’t grab you and pull you down too. She scrambles to her feet and then runs towards you again. This time she’s better prepared, and when you land a blow to her ankle, it merely trips her up but she doesn’t fall. You figure your best strategy is to keep moving and dodging her as much as possible in hope of tiring her out. Din had pointed out to you that she’s already fought several matches and that making her chase you would be difficult for her. You can hear the crowd cheering the more you bob and weave and land a few small blows. You’re not doing a lot of damage to her, but it does seem to slow her down at least, and so far, you managed from getting hit by her. The more you do this, you hear the crowd sound begin to shift. The spectators are starting to laugh. It must look pretty funny you realize as you land your little hits and then run away from this giantess.

“You’re going to pay for this,” Lagertha threatens you as she finally makes contact with your body, punching you hard in the side. You flail a bit but manage to keep your feet and try to dart away again, but she reaches out and grabs your wrist, hauling your body back up against hers. It’s almost the same exact position from when Din first started training you and the memory of that runs through your mind as you automatically fight her off exactly the way he taught you in that first ever lesson.

As he watches you successfully break away from Lagertha’s hold, Din feels incredibly proud. Everything you’re doing is what he trained you to do. Although he hates the fact that he can’t be the one to fight and protect you, the feeling of seeing what you’ve learned from him is gratifying in a way he never knew it could be. He winces as Lagertha manages to punch you in the shoulder, but then it turns to a shout of praise as you land a good kick to her hip. You’re fighting so hard for him that it makes his heart ache and, rather unexpectedly, it’s turning him on quite a lot. That is until Lagertha manages to knock you to the ground hard, so hard that you cry out in pain and Din feels sick. He can see Lagertha rearing up so that she can drop her full weight on top of you in a crushing blow, but then it’s like she’s stuck for a moment or is second-guessing her move. It that split second, you manage to roll over and swing your legs around hard, sweeping Lagertha’s feet, making her stumble and fall. You pop up onto your feet again, but blessedly Lagertha stays down. It isn’t until the referee is blowing the whistle that Din looks down and see the child’s hand extended.  

“Ok, that’s enough, kiddo,” Din says quietly to him, but he’s secretly pleased that the child helped you win.

You cannot believe what has happened as you stand there panting and swaying slightly on your feet. After the initial whistle blow, the referee came over to you and thrust your hand in the air, signaling that you were the winner of the match. But then, Lagertha finally made it to her feet and tried to hit you again, but ended up punching the referee. A small shouting match broke out at that and now the referee is conferring with the judges and Mistress Sigrid as Lagertha argues with them that something went wrong during the fight. You look over to Din and the child, and you can see that the little guy looks happy but rather sleepy, a sure sign of some force assistance. You hope nothing looked too out of the ordinary to the crowd.

“That’s enough, Lagertha,” Mistress Sigrid is saying angrily now, “Give it up! You challenged her and you lost; take it like a woman!”

You watch wide-eyed as Sigrid then comes over to you, raises your hand in the air again, and announces to the crowd, “The winner of this match!”

A sense of true relief washes over you and you feel tears of joy at your eyes. Knowing that the win isn’t entirely yours doesn’t bother you because you still fought hard, and you know that Lagertha can’t take Din away from you. You look around for him in the crowd again, but you don’t see him, and you’re starting to get concerned when suddenly he’s there in the ring with you, sweeping you up into his arms and spinning you around. He sets you down on your feet again as he brings his helmet down to your forehead and the two of you are oblivious to everyone else around you.

“You did it, cyar’ika,” Din tells you happily, his voice filled with admiration.

“I think I had a little help,” you whisper and then lean down and kiss the baby on the nose. He coos up at you softly and then slowly blinks his dark eyes.

“Ok, lovebirds, I think we know how this competition is going to end,” Sigrid is there chuckling as you finally pull away from Din’s embrace. “Technically you are supposed to fight Runa here in the final match of the competition.”

You see Runa standing there looking at you with respect and she says to you, “I’m not interested in your Mando, so if you want to concede, I’m happy to be the overall winner without another fight.”

“Yes, I wish to concede the next round and select Mando as my prize,” you state happily.

“Very well,” Sigrid says smiling big, “Congratulations on your performance and enjoy your prize!”

“Thank you, I will.”

-----------------------------------------------------

You emerge from the luxurious bathroom having had a restoring shower and a recovery drink with a healthy dose of bacta to heal your bruises from the fight. You feel like a new woman and the pride of your win is still pulsing through your veins along with lust for your Mandalorian. You hear Din in the bedroom now and he calls out to you,

“The kid’s asleep; he’s out for the night.” You figured as much since you know using his powers tends to tire him out quickly.

You drop the towel that was wrapped around your body and saunter out into the room naked. Din instantly drops what he’s doing and you know he’s starting at you. You smile suggestively at him and then make a show of looking him up and down.

“What are doing, cyar’ika?” he asks, he sounds aroused and entertained.

“Appreciating my prize,” you tell him saucily, “Get undressed so I can appreciate you even more.” So far, you’ve let him take the lead when it comes to the physical side of your relationship, but tonight you want to be in control. You wonder how far he’ll let you take it.

He tilts his helmet at you, as if to say, oh really?, but then he starts removing his armor as that black visor stays trained on you. This is a different side than you’ve shown him before and he likes it, so he’s eager to fulfill your request. As more of his layers are removed, you make little comments as he reveals his body to you. He stays quiet though; content to listen to your praise and suggestive remarks.

When the gloves come off, you say, “You have such nice strong hands, Din, and very skilled fingers.”

Then his cape, “I can still see the marks I made on your neck, do you remember how good that felt?”

Next is his shirt, “I love your big arms, they feel incredible when they’re wrapped around me. Oh and that gorgeous chest feels so good when I press against it.”

He leans down to remove his boots, this time you giggle, “I guess the big feet saying is true when it comes to you.”

Then his trousers are off, “Your thighs are so nice and thick, I wonder what it would be like to ride one.”

But then, his underwear slides down those thighs, “Oh, now that’s the prize I’m gonna ride.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din says his voice deep and gravely, and with that one word you can hear how turned on he is.

“Get on the bed and sit with your back against the headboard,” you tell him and watch as he moves quickly to comply. Watching him strip for you and ordering him about has you very turned on and you feel your wetness coating your inner thighs.

“I can see how wet you are from here,” Din tells you, “I like how turned on you get by just seeing me.”

You climb onto the bed and straddle Din’s legs with your own and his hands immediately come up to hold your waist. He tugs you down lightly but you stay up on your knees for now, wanting to tease him some more before you get too carried away.

“Touch my tits first,” you tell him and you reach to move his hands upward. His hands slide up your body to cup your breasts and then his fingers pinch and pull at your nipples teasing them into hard and needy little peaks. You let your head loll back and you push yourself further into his hands. You hold onto his arms and you gently let your hips become flush with his. You don’t let him enter you yet though, instead you just grind against him letting his hard cock brush through your wetness and rub against your clit in a delicious fashion. Din groans loudly at the contact and he bucks up into you in an attempt to create more friction.

“Not yet,” you say, “I want you to touch me more, first.” You lift back up off his hips, take his right hand from your chest, and guide it to your core.

“Make me come, Din, like only you can,” you order him and then you gasp as he pushes two fingers into you at once.

“Gladly, my princess,” he replies. Unlike his easy pace from the other day, this time his fingers plunder your tight passage, pushing in deeply without much warning. The swift invasion makes you cry out his name and you clench around him tightly. He rotates his hand so his thumb can circle your clit and your hips start to buck against him. You stare into the blackness of the visor and you know he’s watching your face even though you can’t see his eyes. There’s something about seeing that unreadable mask in front of you but hearing his harsh breathing that excites you even more.

“Yes, Din, yes, that’s it,” you moan out, as his fingers inside you focus on the spot that gives you the most pleasure. It feels so good that your thighs are starting to shake and you know you’re already close. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you hard and fast while his other hand tweaks your sensitive nipple in a perfect blend of stimulation.

“Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika? You gonna soak my hand?” Din’s voice urges you on and you rock on his fingers drawing out the sensation as much as possible before you feel your internal muscles fluttering around him as you come apart with a shout of his name.

“That’s my good girl,” he says and you watch as his fingers disappear beneath the helmet so that he can lick them clean.

“I’m ready to fully claim my prize now,” you say with a wink as you reposition yourself over his cock.

“Yeah, you gonna take me now? Make me yours?” Din asks his voice laced with amusement and lust. He reaches down to hold himself in position for you.

“Mmm, yes, I’m going take you, all of you,” you reply as you slowly start to sink down on him. You draw out your descent, pulling up a little before sinking down again, each time going a little lower and taking more of him. You can see that Din’s trying to hold himself still, but as you get closer to taking all of him, he can’t resist thrusting up into you those last few inches until he’s fully inside of you. It feels so good and you grind yourself against his body. Your hands are on his chest helping support you and you stare into his visor hoping that you’re making eye contact with him.

“You’re mine, Din,” you tell him as you start to lift off him and then come back down. You glide up and down on his cock finishing it with a grind against him each time.

“Say it again, say I’m yours,” he says as you start to find a rhythm to your movements.

“You’re mine, Din, you’re mine,” you repeat and his hands come to your hips to urge you to move faster on him.

“Tell me I’m only yours,” he demands and he starts to match your movements, thrusting his hips up into you. He feels so huge in this position and when he surges upward into you, the feeling is sublime.

“Only mine, Din, you’re only mine,” you breathe out as you start to bounce faster on him, riding him harder, “No… other woman… can have you… only me.”

“That’s fucking right,” Din says and his hand finds your clit again, rubbing frantic circles around it, “Tell me again, don’t stop telling me.”

“You’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine, you’re mine!” You can feel yourself galloping toward your release, and the more you call him yours, the more a primal need for him awakens within you. It makes the pleasure that much more intense and you feel yourself burning white hot from it. The flames within you build as you continue to cry out that he is yours until it is too much and the fire consumes you.

Din watches as you reach your peak. He relishes in seeing how beautiful you look in that moment and in hearing how you sound as you’re absolutely overcome by him. His strong arms wrap around you to hold you up as you slow your movements and become more relaxed. He takes advantage of your momentary pliant state to roll you over, so he can be on top now. He did enjoy having you ride him, but he needs to be able to really thrust into you now, the way he’s been thinking about all day. Din pulls your legs up to his shoulders before he enters you again, this new position allowing him to penetrate you deeper than before.

“Ah, Din! Yes, oh Maker, yes!” you shout out your approval competing with the wet, lewd sounds filling the air as he pistons into you. Your cunt is so tight around him, he almost feels like you’re pushing him out of you each time you clamp down hard around him. Din knows he won’t last long like this, but with the way you’re thrashing around underneath him now, he doesn’t think you’ll care.

“You f-fought so hard for me t- today,” Din tells you between thrusts, “So- so p-proud of you, m- my cyar’ika.”

You mewl when he says that and seem to clench around him even tighter. It makes him want to say it again,

“My cyar’ika, mine,” he repeats and it feels as though you become even wetter for him. It makes him increase his speed and now his hips are pounding against yours. He’s going much harder than he dared the first time you were together. It’s like something has come unleashed in him, a deep desire to show you how much you are his, how much he wants to be with you, needs to be with you. He watches as you arch your back and writhe up to meet his punishing thrusts, your head is thrown back as you let out a near constant string of moans and Din thinks he’s never seen a more gorgeous sight in his life. He feels himself get impossibly harder and he knows that he’s close to his climax, but he want you to get there again first.

“My cyar’ika… fuck, want you… want you to come again… t-touch yourself,” Din tells you and you immediately reach down to play with your clit. Your fingers move rapidly in tempo with his hips and you start to shudder.

“Ahh, DIN! Yes! DIN!” He loves the way you cry out his name when you come and as soon as you start to squeeze around him, he lets himself go, pumping his seed deep within you as he follows you into the ecstasy of release.

Din slowly pulls out of you and lowers your legs before collapsing next to you. He lies there for just a moment before rolling towards the nightstand and pulling out the sleep mask. When he comes back closer to you again, he reaches up to cradle your face with one of his hands and looks into your eyes.

“My love, even though we haven’t been together long, I want you to know there is no one that could ever take me away from you. I’m so proud of how well you did in the competition, but you have to know that I would never have gone with that woman. I mean it when I say I’m only yours. And you should know that I won’t let anyone take you from me either,” Din tells you, his words heartfelt. You feel tears prick at your eyes as your emotions flood your chest.

“I mean it too, Din, I am yours, and you have to know I’ll never stop fighting for you, for us, when I need to,” you reply and place your hand over his.

“Can I cover your eyes? If I don’t kiss you soon, I’m going to burst,” he says.

“Yes, please, I need to kiss you too, my darling Din.”

-----------------------------------------------------------

In another part of the state residence, Mistress Sigrid sits in her office and stares at a flickering holo. The image must be at least 7 or 8 years old, but there’s no doubt in her mind now that it must be you. After seeing you for a few days in a row, she knows that even though it’s an old holo, you are the same woman, and although you might be passing yourself off as a princess now, your appearance hasn’t changed that much. Plus, after rigging the intelligence challenge to include that Imperial code, she knows for certain that you must be the woman that Commander Kerrick Hoven is seeking and for whom he is willing to hand over a fortune in credits. She punches a code into her comm device.

The image of a blond man with sharp eyes appears and speaks, “Mistress Sigrid, I hope this is confirmation of good news.”

“Yes, Commander Hoven, I am certain it is her.” Sigrid replies.

“She was able to break the code easily?” he asks.

Sigrid chuckles, “She took only 5 minutes to do it. That along with the holo you sent confirms that it must be her.”

“Only 5 minutes,” Kerrick repeats fondly, “Still my brilliant little doll. You said she’s pretending to be a princess and is cavorting with a Mandalorian? She always was one for lost causes.”

“Yes, well, he shouldn’t be any problem for my warriors. When will you be here to collect her and transfer the funds to my account?” Sigrid asks.

“We shall see you in five hours.” Kerrick ends the call and his image flickers out.

---------------------------------------------------------

It hasn’t been very long since you drifted off to sleep when you are jolted away by tiny claws grabbing at your face and a scared cry. You can feel that Din is at your back, his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried into your hair, so you know it is safe to lift the sleep mask. When you do, you are met with the child’s highly distressed face.

“Buddy? What’s the matter? How did you get in here?” You have no idea what’s going on.

The child reaches his hands out to you and places them on either side of your face and suddenly your mind is filled with images. You see the interior of what looks to be an Imperial ship filled with storm troopers and other officers, then suddenly you are on the bridge of the cruiser looking at Kerrick in a commander’s uniform. He looks older than you remember and you can see that he is staring at a holo of you. You can’t tell what he’s saying but you can feel the threat that he poses and you are seized with the idea that you are in danger.

The child removes his hands and the images disappear. You heart is pounding and you have broken out in a cold sweat.

“Buddy, is that what’s happening? Is Kerrick after me?” you ask the child wildly even though you know he can’t respond. He just lets out more sad, whiny sounds and now you can hear Din starting to stir.

“What’s goin’ on? Middle of the night,” Din’s sleepy voice comes to you even as it’s still muffled by the pillows.

“Din, wake up, we have to leave, we have to leave right now.” Your voice is urgent but you keep it low so you won’t alert the rest of the household.

“What?” Din says confused.

“The child showed me Imperials coming after us, after me,” you tell him. You want to leap out of bed and start getting dressed but you know his helmet is still off and you won’t move until you know his creed is protected. “Please, put on your helmet.”

Din rolls away from you and you hear shuffling before he says, “Ok, turn around and tell me what’s going on.”

“I don’t know how he did it, but the child showed me a vision, it was Kerrick, only now he’s a commander and he was looking at a holo of me, and I could feel the danger, that we’re in danger.” Your words are coming out in a jumble but you do your best to explain.

“It could just be a bad dream, couldn’t it?” Din asks.

“How would the kid know about Kerrick? Please, Din, we have to leave, I know that we need to leave.”

“You’re right, cyar’ika, there’s no way the kid could know about your ex-lover, and if you feel that strongly we’ll go right now. It’s ok, don’t panic. I’ll protect you.”

You’re thankful that you have almost everything already packed and you hurry to pull on clothes. You collect the last few things you have strewn about the room before the three of you slink out into the corridor. Thankfully, no one is around and as you stealthily make your way back to the Razor Crest, you manage to avoid seeing anyone. It isn’t until Din takes off and you breach the atmosphere that you feel like you can breathe again. Din is working on putting in coordinates, when a pinging comes in on the long-range scanner.

“There’s an Imperial light cruiser closing in on Angel One,” he states gruffly and he quickly makes the jump to hyperspace.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean she isn’t here? You fucking promised me!” Kerrick’s angry voice rings down the corridor from Mistress Sigrid’s office.

“I don’t know what happened, when my staff went to deliver their breakfast, they weren’t there,” Sigrid explains, embarrassed, “Then we discovered their ship was gone…”

“Such incompetence, no wonder you were of no use to the Empire during the war,” Kerrick sneers at her. He slams his fist down on her desk, “Fucking waste of fuel to come here! Five years of searching and I thought this time I’d finally found her.”

“Sir, they were able to give us some security footage of her. We have her initial interview when she arrived here, and recordings of her competing in some type of contest here.” An ensign brings Kerrick a holopad.

Kerrick brings up the interview footage first, when he sees Din and the child he pauses the images, “This child, she said he was hers?”

“Her ward, she said the Mando rescued him,” Sigrid replies.

“I know this child,” Kerrick says thoughtfully, “Moff Gideon is searching for him, and this must be the troublemaker Mando he spoke about.”

Kerrick looks back at the holopad and stares at your image on the screen. He touches the pad softly as he murmurs, “Still so beautiful, my doll, don’t worry, I’ll find you and bring you back to where you belong. I’ll rid you of that vile Mando and then we’ll be together again, just like it should be. We should have been together today, my doll, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Suddenly, he pulls out his blaster and shoots Sigrid in the heart before whipping around and stalking out of the room. “Come Ensign, we must contact Moff Gideon and see if we can’t pick up the trail of this Mandalorian.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

 Tag list: @grogusmum @wellofeternalthirst @idreamofboobear @theamuz @fangirlalexia @callmekane @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @theravenreads @nicotinebirds @boomtownboy @nova646 @wandering-storm-lost-shadow @becks-things @sleepwithacommunist @mackycat11 @som3thingcr3ative @punkdalek @pinkninja200 @s-unflowxr @ladyjenny19 @peppywitch @haley7242 @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @imthemandalornow @hotsauceonabiscuit​ @overtly-cuteashell​

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this latest chapter. In case you’re wondering, yes, you did remember to grab the sleep masks before you fled ;-) Chapter 8

[lavendersuh]

jaemin x reader | 70′s roller rink au | fluff | 2.8k words 

part of @nct-writers neo’clock event! 

warnings: none

summary: its the era of disco balls and groovy tunes, and you love working at your local roller skating rink. if only na jaemin wasn’t there to annoy you all the time.

note: hi friends!! i recently started roller skating this summer and it’s been so fun!! i finally was able to go to a roller rink (i masked up i promise!) but i wrote this beforehand while i was yearning to go haha. it was so fun and skating makes me so happy. i don’t think i’ve seen many roller skating aus so i hope you all enjoy!!

“Hey! Will you stop going the wrong way? I have kids learning to skate and you’re getting in their way!” 

You huff out a heavy breath from your exercise. It’s always tiring to teach young kids to roller skate, but you enjoy the smiles it brought to their faces. One day soon they would be able to easily join the adults that waltzed across the shiny wooden floors. 

Your job at the local roller rink is perfect. You love the smoky atmosphere and the big disco ball. You love hearing the latest groovy songs play over the speakers. You love being able to zoom around in your favorite bell bottom jeans and best pair of skates. 

What you don’t enjoy is annoying boys that obnoxiously skate around the rink. 

You look back at the boy in question. It isNa Jaemin, of course. The boy has been the bane of your existence since he came to the rink for the first time a little over two weeks ago. 

Na Jaemin, with his blonde hair and constant grin, always so cocksure about everything. You had to admit, he’s an incredible skater, but you could never admit that to him. 

Especially when he is doing everything in his power to annoy you at the present moment.

“Are you even qualified to teach people how to skate?” he asks, with narrow eyes, “Can you even go backwards?”

You know he’s just teasing, just trying to get a rise out of you, and you fall so easily into his trap every time.

“Of course I can go backwards Jaemin! That’s not what I’m teaching right now though!” you reply. 

“Well then, I can do a demonstration!” 

“Jaemin, no.”

“Jaemin, yes.”

You let out a sigh as you watch him show off in front of the kids. They were a nice little bunch, but they were easily distracted, especially when the distraction was putting on such a show. 

Once again, you knew, it would be a long night.

Not even a week later, you encounter the nuisance again. Tonight, someone that usually works the food counter called off, meaning you’re stuck making hot dogs and grabbing bottles of cola for a bunch of little kids and teenagers. It wasn’t the worst job, but it certainly wasn’t your favorite. 

Especially since you can’t just skate away when Jaemin comes around to annoy you.

You spot him skating around the rink with a few of his buddies, doing laps around the younger kids. You can’t help but roll your eyes. 

The last you recalled, Jaemin never ordered much from the food counter when he was at the rink, so you assume he won’t bother you tonight. You couldn’t be more wrong.

You were back behind the pretzel machine when someone came up to the counter, ringing the bell to get your attention.

“I’ll be right there!” you call out, “What can I get for you?”

“A second of your time perhaps?”

You whip your head around to see Jaemin standing at the counter, a cheesy smile across his face. His hair is ruffled and wild, and he seems to be breathing a bit heavy from the exercise he was just doing.

You huff as you walk over to him, “Jaem, if you’re just going to annoy me, go away. Do you actually want any food?” 

He doesn’t miss the small nickname that crosses your lips, but he doesn’t have time to think too hard about it. As always, he is on a mission. 

“I wanted to show you my new skates!” he says, moving backwards a bit to show you the new boots, “Nice wheels, right?”

You can’t help the snort of amusement that comes out. The skates are bright yellow, with orange wheels and laces. They certainly will stand out under the glow of the neon lights and the disco ball over the wooden rink.

He starts moonwalking around in front of you, and you can’t help but marvel with a smile of your own at the skates and the silly boy in front of you. He must catch you staring, because he breaks you out of your trance by coming closer.

He says , “I wonder how fast I’ll be able to go in them.”

He bounds off towards the rink, zipping around the people on his new wheels. He looks back over to see if you are watching, causing a triumphant grin to grace his face when he realizes he still has your attention. 

The only problem is, with his eyes on you instead of where he’s going, he nearly runs into an older lady, and quickly diverts his course to keep from crashing into her. His new skates take him directly towards the wall, sending him on a collision course with concrete. 

His fall is anything but graceful, as his friends laugh at him. You also let out a chuckle of your own at the silly boy who will do anything for even an ounce of attention.

It is once again the end of a long day, and the quiet of the rink surrounds you. The music is turned off, and you’re the last one here, finishing up some cleaning before you finally go home. 

You always loved being the last one at the rink. The roller rink was constantly alive with lots of people, lots of sounds, lots of activity. It was calming to be the only one, skating around the rink with a broom to wipe down the surface. 

As you are making your way around the outside of the rink one last time, you hear a loud noise near the entrance to the building. You can’t help but grip the broom a little tighter, before you see Jaemin come through the door.

He glides over to the opening of the rink, his boombox in his hand. You do nothing but stare as he sets it up on the ground, pressing play before starting to skate. Finally he acknowledges your presence with a casual wave, like he isn’t here after hours or anything.

“What do you think you are doing?” you ask. “The rink closed ten minutes ago, and aren’t you tired? You were here all night.”

You couldn’t ignore the slip up you made, realizing you let it slip that you were aware of his presence all night. You didn’t need him thinking you were looking at him a lot, because you weren’t. Ever. 

“I like skating to my own tunes.” he says, as nonchalant as ever. 

He apparently doesn’t see a problem with the way things are unfolding, and you let out a huff. 

“Oh my god, I’m trying to clean the floor! Can’t you just come back tomorrow?”

“Aw, so eager to see me again?” he smiles as he makes his way to you, “Anyways, I can help!”

He takes your broom, skating around while casually sweeping. You might not have brand new skates like him, but you easily catch up to him, snatching it back.

Why was he even here? Just like you had pointed out, he had been here all night. What was keeping him from going home like the rest of the crowd?

“Go, Jaemin!” you exclaim out of annoyance, “And take your annoying boombox with you!”

His face morphs into a pout at this, “You turned off the music, what was I supposed to do?” 

“Go home?”

You glide over to the portable machine producing the loud disco music, turning off the switch. You manage to pick it up, shoving the boombox towards Jaemin.

“Jaemin, I’m begging you, go home! I can’t clean if you are still here, and I want to go home, too.”

He must see the exhausted look in your eye behind all of your annoyance, because he rolls over to you.

Jaemin grabs his boombox again, “Am I too much of a distraction if I sit on the bench?”

He gestures to the bench just outside of the rink, where little kids often tied their laces. For some reason, he just doesn’t want to leave, so you nod your head. 

He sits down, and turns on his boombox again while doing so. He turns the volume down lower, and looks out at you, jokingly saluting you in a promise to not be bothersome. 

You roll your eyes, finally resuming your cleaning. 

As you clean, Jaemin talks aimlessly. He talks about his classes at the local university next fall, and about how he just can’t figure out how to land a specific jump on his skates. 

While you were reluctant to let him stay, his presence ends up being really nice. His voice is soft as it fills the empty building, and as you both walk out to your cars after locking up, you are grateful to have someone by your side. 

It feels a little weird that you are having nice thoughts about the boy who is constantly a pain in your side, but you ignore the slight upbeat in your heart rate when he bids you goodnight.

You throw him a smile as you get into your car, “Goodnight, Jaem.”

It is once again a slow Tuesday night, and you are almost about ready to fall asleep at the admissions counter. Every so often you are assigned a shift in the ticket lobby, which you don’t mind typically. On a weekend day, you would be busy taking care of admissions for people as they came and went.

The rink is not busy today. 

And you’re about to doze off. 

You sigh. The one day you don’t have a book or a newspaper or any homework to do. 

You find yourself brushing off invisible dust from your new vest and turtleneck outfit when you hear the door chime, signaling a new customer. You look up from your seat.

Of course, it is Na Jaemin.

“Hey, are you stuck out here today?” he asks, his skate laces tied together to rest over his left shoulder.

“Yeah, it's so boring tonight, kinda empty too, but at least that means you won’t plow into a sixth grader again.” you smile.

“That was one time!” he says, also grinning at the memory.

He pulls out some money for admission and you hand him the paper wristband to show he paid and brought his own skates. Just as he is about to walk through the door to get to the rink, he pauses.

“Hey, uh, what’s your favorite song to skate to?” 

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” he scratches the back of his neck. He tries to explain his reasoning, “Maybe if I play it on my boombox, you won’t make me turn it off.”

You let out a chuckle, “I’ll still probably make you turn it off.”

“Y/N, can you please just answer the question?” Jaemin seems serious now.

And while you are taken aback by the change from his normally aloof demeanor, you clear your throat, “Okay, umm, I really love that new movie Grease, right now. Have you seen it? There’s this one song that’s kinda slow, ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You,’ and it’s really pretty and fun to just skate around the rink to.”

You flush out of embarrassment for the cheesy song choice, but Jaemin nods with a smile. You ignore your traitorous heart reminding you that you had definitely played your Grease soundtrack cassette tape a few too many times since meeting Jaemin. There was definitely no correlation. 

“That song is nice.” he says, before turning away and heading into the rink, leaving you alone at the ticket counter once again. 

A few days later you once again are stuck at the ticket counter. And finally, your shift is over. The ticket counter was nice every once in a while, but you feel tired of standing there, especially more than once in a week. You much preferred the satisfying exhaustion that came from being on wheels for your entire shift. 

The staff has mostly gone home, even your boss who just needed to lock up the cash office. You had offered to lock up the building after he left, since you felt like skating for a bit before going home. 

There is something about skating on the wooden floor when no one else is around. It is entirely quiet, with the music turned off, just the sound of your wheels spinning., And peaceful, with the air clear of cigarette smoke and loud screams of children playing. It was calming.

Your calm is interrupted by soft music coming from near the entrance. It’s only when you see Jaemin’s face and his stupidly large boombox that you realize what song it is. 

Your favorite song.

You can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across your face as he skates over, leaving the boombox on the ledge of the rink wall, coming over to you as ‘Hopelessly Devoted to You,’ echoes throughout the building.

He’s mouthing the lyrics as he skates to you, his eyes bright with mischief and something else that you can’t quite place. 

“Hey,” he says once he’s finally in front of you, “Can I join? It seemed a little quiet in here.”

For some reason, this flusters you, as you look at his ruffled hair and jean jacket. “Uh, yeah sure.”

With your approval, he begins skating, beckoning you to follow him. The song ends, but starts up again, and you give Jaemin a questioning look.

“I made a mixtape of this song on loop a couple of times,” he says, running a hand through his hair leisurely, like that’s the most normal thing in the world for someone to do. “It’s nice right?”

It makes you smile regardless. The two of you skate around for a bit, simply going around the rink as you would if lots of people were there. It’s comfortable, you realize, with just the two of you all alone. 

Finally on the third loop of the song, Jaemin comes a little closer, and grabs your hand quickly, as if unsure that he is able to do that. You squeeze his hand in reassurance.

It’s strange, wherever this night is going, but you can’t remember a time that you seemed happier to be at the rink. 

“I recall you mentioning you can skate backwards, yes?” Jaemin asks, after a few moments.

“Yes, of course—” you begin, but stop talking when he spins you to skate backwards in front of him, causing you to let out a slight squeal at the change.

It’s almost like dancing in a way, as he pushes the two of you forward around the rink and you impulsively grip his shoulders to make sure you can keep your balance. 

Eventually, the two of you slow down, and he leads a few spins, which sends laughter through the air and chills down your spine. It's hard to believe just a few weeks ago this boy was the most annoying pain in your side. 

The boombox finally goes quiet after its few repeats of the song, and the building is plunged into silence again, as you stand in front of Jaemin with a small smile and a sweaty complexion. 

The neon lights glow around you and Jaemin’s face turns serious. He readjusts his grip on your waist, sliding ever so slightly closer to you. 

“I’m sorry I was an asshole at the beginning.” he says, just above a whisper to be heard by only you, “I didn’t know how else to get your attention. Finally I changed the plan to this, and I think it’s working out better.”

“The plan?” you ask, your brain cloudy from his proximity.

He has the nerve to look bashful, making his face even more cuter, “I’ve, uh, kinda liked you for a while, and I needed a plan to tell you and see if you felt the same.” 

You smile, moving your left hand from his shoulder to his jawline, stroking his cheeky tenderly. Every piece of him that you touch leaves a burning feeling within your heart, and you finally are thinking you know how to fix it.

With a bold move like when he picked up your hand, you touch your lips to his, letting them sit there for a moment. It’s a chaste kiss, leaving Jaemin to decide what to do next.

He deepens the kiss, smiling as he fully wraps his arms around you and keeps you from sliding away by using his toe stops. 

The disco ball overhead isn’t turning anymore, and the music that typically fills the roller rink isn’t playing, but you’ve never found the rink more spectacular in your life. It’s not the atmosphere of the rink that you love, but the people within.

And right now, the person in front of you is your favorite.

[nohrianseneschal]

something borrowed ch. 17 excerpt 2 bc i don't think ill finish today (but maybe tomorrow)

One night, some months before the wedding, Xander told Corrin about Moscow.

“I want to take you there,” he murmured, facing her from one side of the bed. A languorous hand hovering close to her exposed temple, the fingers running through locks of her hair, curling and coiling until they bounce away like a spring from his touch. 

Corrin remembered smiling back, letting him play with her hair as they got lost in a post-coital daze.

She likes to think this was the night they made their baby, and the memory hasn’t left her since. Won’t go away. Recurring until the conjured images of his words and memories become real whenever she closes her eyes.

“Then take me there,” she whispered back, her eyelids fluttering to a close. The little touches of his hand were soothing, putting her under a dreamy spell. She wanted him to keep talking; to show her what it was like to have been there with him, back when she was too young and too out of his way to follow him around.

“It’s colorful,” he said. “It’ll surprise you… how colorful it is.”

Colorful. Crowded. People absentmindedly milling about the Red Square, as if they weren’t there to take pictures or to see the layered history of the city. From Peter the Great to Stalin, monuments of battles, demonstrations, power, and wealth stand next to each other, as different as the Muscovites who peddle handmade goods and cheap tourist bait in the more cramped rows of Ismaylovo.

“It used to be more different,” he continued, describing to her how, in the past ten years, the city slowly swallowed up the commerce of the West. How corporate American chains and European cafes with their names plastered in Cyrrilic script began to crop up in astonishing numbers. One would think communism never rose in a place like this. 

The subways are beautiful, he noted for her. It has bright 19th-century style lamp posts and mosaics, like glittering tiles snaking through the geometric tangle of tunnels. That he took the time to enter the metro tells Corrin all she needs to know. The New York subway is dank and inhospitable, but Moscow ironically is more friendly to a billionaire than the sewage that brings New Yorkers to and fro an island. 

Corrin knows Moscow is important to Xander. It’s not only the birthplace of his mother, but there, in the harsh winters that draped over the capital, he learned how to become his father’s successor. Under Dione’s tutelage, he gained an acuity for business and an instinct for violence. Both were necessary, he explained to Corrin, in order to make any sort of money. Or at least, he was careful to add, that was what he was told.

[dickwheelie]

heyyyy @peachyindeed​​ thank you for the request and I’m so sorry this took so long, but here it is!

poor Jon was going through A Lot during that season, so I wanted to be kind to him here.

____________

“Doesn’t make sense.”

Jon’s muttering voice breaks Martin out of his thoughts. He’d been staring up at the cafe’s chalkboard menu, trying to decide what to get, and also what to order for Jon, who he knows will just order tea or water unless Martin forces him to eat a real meal. When he’d burst into Jon’s office an our ago, unannounced and unapologetic, basically demanding Jon get out of the office for once and have lunch with him, Jon had claimed (after much indignant sputtering) that he wasn’t hungry.

“Doesn’t matter,” Martin had said. “We’re getting overpriced sandwiches and bad coffee at the place across the street, and you’re going to bloody well enjoy it.”

So here they are, and Martin is all ready and prepared to step up to the register and order the both of them fridge-flavored caprese sandwiches, when he hears Jon muttering off to his left.

“Can’t be that way, no . . . and this line doesn’t even . . .”

He turns, and sees Jon examining one of the bus schedules from the rack of brochures that sits by the cafe entrance. He’s poring over the picture of the bus lines that criss-cross all over London with the intensity of a lawyer examining the fine print on a list of terms and conditions for a company with particularly dubious morals.

Despite himself, Martin sighs. He’s gotten used to this, by now, which is unfortunate. Jon’s clearly in way further deep into whatever conspiracy he’s cooked up than anyone else in the archives. Martin, Tim, Sasha, and hell, even Elias all understand that something strange is going on, but Jon’s taken it three steps too far. And none of the red strings he’s following ever seem to lead anywhere.

Case in point, the bus schedule. Martin tries to be polite. “What d’you have there?”

Jon looks at him, and shuffles the brochure demonstratively. “The bus lines, Martin. They make no sense. I’d never noticed before. Unless--maybe they’ve changed--”

Jon’s eyes widen and he goes back to feverishly examining the schedule. Martin isn’t sure what to do. He knows telling Jon he’s being paranoid wouldn’t help anyone. But he doesn’t want to just let this continue, either. Jon looks a mess, and Martin desperately wants to snap him out of it, but he’s not equipped for this.

First things first, Martin reminds himself. Getting some food in that poor man.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re sitting at a corner table (so Jon can see the entirety of the cafe, plus the street outside the windows), a pair of sandwiches and teas in front of them. Jon’s brought the brochure with him, which makes Martin’s stomach sink a bit, but at least he’s eating now. Jon, for all his insistence that he isn’t hungry, sure puts away his sandwich with vigor.

Martin tries his usual tactic: distraction. “So,” he says in a voice he hopes is passably casual, “seen any good movies lately?” With the subject of work off the table, Martin doesn’t have a lot of leads for topics Jon would want to talk about.

Jon doesn’t look up from the schedule, which he’s started scribbling on in pen, and Martin half-expects him not to answer.

But Jon surprises him. “I haven’t seen any movies lately,” he says, plainly.

“Oh.” Martin takes a bite of his sandwich. “Read any good books, then?”

Jon finally looks up at him, his expression puzzled. “I--haven’t really been reading anything except statements, of late.”

“Have you tried reading something else?” Martin offers, carefully. “I’ve got some recommendations for sci-fi and fantasy stuff. If that’s the sort of thing you go for.”

“I . . . um. I--I don’t read a lot of fiction,” Jon says. Almost absentmindedly, he reaches for his tea and takes a sip, as though he’d forgotten it was there. Maybe he had.

“Sure,” Martin says. He’s not surprised Jon didn’t take him up on the offer, but at least he’s not drawing lines through bus routes anymore. Martin decides to just go for it. If this is the man he’s chosen to direct his affection towards, he might as well speak to him plainly. “I just . . . I don’t think it’s good for you to sit in your office all day and night--I know you stay there too late--reading statements and building up your . . . your conspiracy theories about us.” He takes a breath, forcing himself not to get too heated. “Tim and Sasha and I . . . we’re on your side, Jon. We aren’t trying to--to orchestrate some grand plan, or whatever it is you think we’re up to, and we’re certainly not trying to kill you. We’re your friends. We care about you. Even Tim. Especially Tim. Just . . . let us in, Jon. Talk to us.” Talk to me, he wants to say, but he stops himself. This is bigger than his silly little crush on his boss.

The bus schedule lies off to the side, forgotten, as Jon stares at him. His expression is fraught; he looks torn, like he’s jumping back and forth in a mental argument with himself. He opens his mouth, struggles for a moment to find the words, and then lands on, “I--I want to trust you, Martin. All of you. I wish I had that . . . that luxury. But I can’t trust anyone right now. I don’t understand any of this, and it gets worse every day, a-and I can barely trust myself. I--”

Jon’s voice breaks, his fear coming through, and Martin’s heart aches. “Hey,” he says, trying to sound calming, and reaches across the table. He doesn’t touch Jon, just puts his hand down on the table in front of him, letting it sit there like a stepping stone in a creek. “Just . . . you don’t have to believe me. But we’re not your enemies, Jon. We want to help you. And you don’t have to trust us today, or tomorrow, but . . . but maybe someday soon.”

Jon doesn’t look so sure, but he nods, and gathers himself a bit. He takes another sip of tea.

They don’t really talk at all as they finish their lunch, but the silence is comfortable, and at one point Jon gets up to buy himself another packaged sandwich. “Dinner,” he explains to Martin, with a self-deprecating smile.

“Take it home, yeah?” Martin says. “Don’t stay past six.”

“Alright,” Jon says, acquiescing, and maybe he won’t listen and he’ll stay past the last train and pretend he isn’t sleeping in his chair until seven A.M. like he almost always does. But, Martin thinks, maybe, just maybe, he won’t.

On their way out the door, Jon tosses the inked-up bus schedule into the bin and says, “So, Martin, about those book recommendations . . .”