#she insists on getting to know the woman who made her son her second-in-command

[warping-realities]

Overlap

This story was made based on a request from @themousefromfantasyland it's not exactly the same as what he asked for but if it weren't for him this story wouldn't exist.

Andrew Meyer was an unhappy eighteen yers old young man and even he couldn't say why. His mother believed that the reason was related to the early death of his father and the boy's refusal to accept any possible new father figure in his life to the point where his mother Amanda avoided any romantic relationship over the last ten years. Something that had changed recently, thus creating a friction that had never existed before between mother and son.

Amanda was a history teacher at the local high school, and the year before she ended up falling in love with an old friend the P.E. teacher Josiah Washington. Coach Washington was beloved among the students, even among those who were not adept at sports, something he did not believe in, believing that given the opportunity everyone could demonstrate some unexpected talent.

Under Josiah's command episodes of bullying by athletes completely stopped. The man was adored by almost everyone, and after much insistence along nine full years Amanda's enchantment with him ended up becoming true love, which was promptly responded to. But that story that had everything to work out ended up hitting a snag.

Not only was Andrew among the few who disliked Coach Washington, he also viewed the relationship as a personal affront. He had a deep and deep-rooted conviction that Josiah was just another jock, willing to humiliate him as had happened so many times in middle school, when he didn't have his mother to protect him. This thought was due to Josiah's insistence on making Andrew participate in the most different sports, something that the skinny nerd abhorred and believed was being done with the intention of ridiculing him. Because of this and his block in accepting anyone in his father's place, he decided to do everything he could to end that relationship.

Andrew was an intelligent boy, in fact he was in the Top 3 of his senior year class, being the president of the school's debate team, where he used his fierce tongue to eliminate all his enemies. He constantly competed for first place in his class with Cassie Jones, the president of the photography club, and Rajesh Patel, the president of the chess club. Andrew could be friends with both of them, but his own bitter nature prevented him from making any friends, with many of his colleagues fearing that they would be the next targets of the boy's venomous comments. These comments made many of the school's jocks clench their knuckles as he passed through the corridors. But Andrew, who already had the protection granted by his mother's presence in those same corridors, had received an unexpected reward from the relationship he so abhorred. Out of respect for the coach, all the athletes at the school treated him politely even though they were the boy's biggest target. The satisfaction of mocking the intelligence of one of those troglodytes and knowing that he wouldn't get revenge brought him immense satisfaction. What didn't give him the slightest satisfaction was the news he received from his mother at breakfast on a sunny autumn Tuesday.

"What do you mean by engagement?" The blond, skinny boy with glasses exclaimed indignantly upon hearing the news.

"I thought I wouldn't need to explain this to a grown man, as you make a point of defining yourself, Andrew."

"Don't act like a fool woman, you know what I'm talking about. Is that... man going to live with us?"

"First, have manners when talking to me, second that man is your teacher and for that alone you owe him respect and third but not least, yes the fact that he and I are engaged means that we will live together. But as I know the son I have we chose to wait for you to go to college next year. And that's the only concession you'll get." Amanda said with a firm voice, thus further souring her son's already normally taciturn mood. And it was with that bitter mood that he started his day, while just a few blocks away someone else's day was starting and very soon their path will cross and change his entire reality.

…..

Cassie Jones was a happy and vivacious girl, with a shrewd intelligence and a spirit focused on the arts. Despite being a real nerd she was very popular at school, always being in demand to take photos at the most different school events as well as to her colleagues' Instagram posts. Photography was in fact her great passion, so much so that she had a large collection of analogue cameras from the most different eras, and that was a very special day, as she would use for the first time the Laica Mini camera produced in the 80s and 90s that she had bought it from another photography enthusiast, a lovely lady called Cintia who owned an inn on the coast and said she had taken some of the best photos of her life with that (now) antique.

Although Andrew saw her as a rival, it was not reciprocated. Cassie was a pure soul, one of those who always looked for the good in people and situations, even those where it didn't seem to exist. And she was precisely that type of person who was given to customs such as painting, photography and... choosing to go to school walking through the city park looking for images that conveyed their inner world to the outside. That's why the thin blonde girl, with prescription glasses that, instead of making her face ugly, only increased the aura of innocence, stopped that autumn morning and observed nature and life around her, with the camera ready, waiting for the right moment to transpose the elements of both herself and the world around her into an image.

She didn't have to wait long because her attention was soon caught on an image that would easily convey that communion with the world and nature. A young man was running with a pair of dogs across the lawn, a Doberman and a beagle puppy. And Cassie took advantage of a moment when the owner was far away and the two dogs seemed to exchange thoughts to click.

Little did she know that that click would set in motion the chain of events that would end up profoundly modifying the reality of that would-be rival, for whom she had only a feeling of compassion, but which would soon become much more.

…..

Cassie, Andrew and Josiah's paths crossed that day during physical education class, where the beloved teacher greeted the students with a bright smile. Coach Washington was a huge black man, the type that can be intimidating at first glance. Although in his case it was enough to get past that first glance to realize that despite his impressive size, the most impressive thing was the man's kindness and dedication. For him there was no bad time or student who wasn't worth the effort.

But even he would have to admit that his future stepson was a tough cookie. While even Raj Patel had found a way to exercise, exchanging basketball passes with Samuel Miller, Andrew was sitting sullenly on the edge of the court giving withering looks of hatred to everyone present. With a resigned sigh Josiah approached the boy, but even before he could say something he was interrupted.

"Don't even try, there's nothing you can say that will force me to participate in this... class, especially today!"

And so Josiah discovered firsthand how the boy had received the news of his mother engagement with him.

"Andrew, I am still your teacher and this is still a mandatory subject, you must participate in it if you hope not to fail."

"Try to reproach me and I will accuse you."

"For what? Do my job?"

"I wil say to everyone you stare at me when you come to my house." Replied the poisonous boy.

"Andrew, that's absurd... it's untrue! I never did that and you know it!"

"But the others don't know, so why don't you leave me alone for the next few months and when I go to college we can get rid of each other?"

"Andrew, think about what you said, it's because of this type of behavior that people turn away from you."

"Great, that's exactly what I want."

"Andrew this isn't healthy, your mother worries about you, I worry about..."

"I don't want your concern, I didn't ask for your concern."

"I'm your teacher, it's natural for this type of worry arise."

"So why don't you do yourself a favor and use that worry on someone who cares? There's Cassie Jones doing nothing useful messing with one of her stupid cameras." Andrew replied, getting up and going in another direction.

Cassie was actually playing with her new camera. But it was untrue to say that she had not been participating in the class, on the contrary she had actively participated in the activities until that moment, but when she saw Raj and Sam, people from completely different worlds sitting together and sharing a lively conversation in the middle of a break that artistic feeling that guided her took over and she couldn't help but take a photo of the two boys.

"Cassandra Jones, put away that camera immediately if you have the desire to keep it." Scolded Mr. Washington in a much harsher manner than his usual behavior.

"Sorry Mr. Washington." Said the girl with tearful eyes.

"Cassie, I admire your talent, but there is a place and time for everything. So, please put the camera away and don't let me see you doing that again." Josiah continued in a much more pleasant way.

"Yes, Coach." She replied, quickly putting away the camera and returning to class.

Later that day she was in the photography club's dark room looking at the photos she had taken, there were Raj and Sam, some landscapes of the park and... a photo of the park in which two doberman dogs appeared playing. 

Weird, she could have sworn there was only one doberman that morning. Even stranger was the fact that the photo of the doberman and the beagle didn't seem to be anywhere. She found herself wondering if it was possible she had gotten so confused. Leaving the photos separated on a table, she left the room to go home without noticing that a change began in another one.

….

"Are you sure you don't want to come in."

"Sorry Mandy, but I'd rather not go in."

"Would you rather? Really?"

"No, of course not, I would love to go up to your room right now but..."

"Andrew? What has my son done now?"

The sunny afternoon had given way to a windy night that brought with it the omens of the winter to come. Josiah and Amanda had taken advantage of the cool wind for a dinner for two at Chateau de Fondue followed by a walk to the house she shared with her son and would soon share with him. Josiah had avoided bringing Andrew's name to the stall, but at that moment it became inevitable.

"Mandy, it doesn't matter, it's just that he can't stand me and I don't want to fuel his dislike any further."

"Josiah Washington, what has my son done? Answers me now." Amanda said, making him suddenly remember the affronting blond boy whose mother she was.

"He threatened to make things up about me, but I seriously doubt he would be able to..."

"You don't know him like I do. Something broke in that boy Josiah and no one knows how to fix it, not him, not me and no professional I've turned to since he was eight years old and saw his father die."

"It couldn't have been easy, being stuck in the wreckage of a car with his father dead next to him..."

"It wasn't easy, for months he woke up screaming desperately during the night, I had to let him sleep in my bed for a long time, I lost count of the times I woke up with my bedclothes soaked in his urine. But none of that give him the right to threaten you."

"I've been trying to protect him, you know, and the other students resent it, the conversations go on... now you and I are engaged, until someone accuses me of favoring him..."

"Favor him? In what way?"

"He would have failed physical education last year if I hadn't intervened and this year it's worse."

"Josiah Washington, you don't protect my son by doing this, on the contrary, it feeds the dark being inside him. Tomorrow you won't treat him any different than any other student, promise me and keep your promise, because I'll find a way to find out if you don't keep it."

"Okay, I promise, no more favors. But I want something in return..." He replied with a playful smile.

" And what would it be?" She replied, also smiling as he approached and kissed her passionately.

…..

Cassie walked through the park again the next morning, with her camera ready in case inspiration struck. And that's when she saw the young man from the day before playing with two doberman dogs, with no beagle in sight. 

Had she really been so wrong? Maybe he just hadn't brought the beagle that day. Building up courage she called out to the man.

"Sir, sir... are these your dogs?"

"Yes, any problem?"

"No, no, I'm sorry but yesterday I took a photo of them without your permission and I would like to ask you if you don't mind."

"As long as I'm not in the photo..."

"No, no, just your dogs."

"Then fine."

"Didn't you bring the beagle today?"

"Beagle? What beagle? I'd like to have one, I think they're really cute, but I only have these two demons here!" He replied in a happy voice while playing with the dogs and leaving Cassie even more confused.

….

Unlike Cassie's morning, Andrew's had not started in a confusing way, as his mother had been very clear with him about his attitudes and the threat of slander from him. The atmosphere in the house, which was no longer good, had turned sour once and for all. Trying to control the waves of fury that overwhelmed him he trotted down the school hallway without even noticing the people he bumped into until he came face to face with a real concrete wall: Mark Sheppard, one of the school's athletes, member of several sports teams and in Andrew's opinion a major idiot.

"Could you get out of the way instead of standing there like an idiot?" Asked Andrew to the boy three times his size, making the other turn in the direction. Mark could be described as a version of Andrew himself on steroids, he was blonde, tall, muscular and...

"What are those glasses for Sheppard? You know that intelligence doesn't come with them, right?" The thiner boy mocked with his usual bitterness when he saw his colleague's new acquisition. Who in turn just looked at the inches below that separated the two.

"I wouldn't worry so much about my intelligence if I were you, Andy, but rather about what I can do with you on the court."

"Only in your dreams that I'm going to enter a court with you, you ogre."

"Ah, but you will. I heard your mother asking Coach Washington to get you to play and she even asked me to let her know if he doesn't do it." The bigger boy replied with a wide smile as he passed by his classmate. "See you later Andy. Get ready to get everything you deserve."

…..

Physical education was the last period before lunch. What a torturous morning waiting for an even greater torture thought Andrew. Maybe the morning wouldn't have been so bad despite the terrible future outlook if he hadn't been forced to partner with the unbearably cheerful and good Samaritan Cassie Jones. How that child's doll could be competing with him for first place in the class eluded him. The worst of all is that she seemed immune to his mean remarks, always treating him kindly and looking at him with a strange look that he didn't know how to decipher.

"No, no, no, you're completely wrong and they still think you're intelligent, what a joke, just because you walk up and down with that camera pretending to be an artist..." He shouted at her just before that class morning ended and for the first time it brought tears to his colleague's eyes, which gave him a dark satisfaction.

After the end of the class they both went to the school gym without exchanging a single word as apparently even Cassie's enormous compassion had reached a point of exhaustion. At the moment Andrew aggressively entered the men's locker room two Indian boys tall, strong and extremely similar, already completely uniformed came out.

"Arrogant asshole..." One of the two grumbled while the other turned to a surprised Cassie who didn't remember either of them.

"I hope you're the valedictorian and not him Cassie, my grades are good but they're not even close to yours."

"Rajesh...?" She asked in disbelief.

"Raj, only our mother calls me by my full name, right Sam?"

"At least you don't have to tell everyone that Sam isn't for Samuel's but Samarth's, brother."

"Sam...?"

"Hi Cassie, if you don't mind we're in a bit of a rush for practice, we'll talk later. But I agree with everything my brother told you." Replied the boy she swore she had never seen in her life as she accompanied a Raj very different from the one she remembered. What was going on there? At that moment, a tall black young man left the locker room and she took the opportunity to try to clarify that.

"Jayden who's that new boy with Raj?"

"Who? I just see Sam there with him."

"This one..."

"Are you kidding me Cassie, that's Sam Patel, Raj's twin brother, you've been colleagues for almost four years."

"No, there's only one Sam in our class, Samuel Miller, a blond boy..."

"What are you talking about? There's only Sam Patel in our class, no Samuel. Are you feeling well Cassie? Do you want me to walk you to the infirmary?"

"No, it's okay...but I...I think I'll do it anyway, thanks Jayden." She replied, leaving the somewhat frightened boy behind. What was going on there? First the beagle that disappeared and now that... the beagle... the dobermans... Sam Miller... Sam and Raj Patel... no... it wasn't possible... or was it? She thought, running frantically to the photography room, spreading the photos on the table and not finding the photo she had taken yesterday of the Sam and Raj that she remembered, but instead a photo of the smiling and athletic Patel twins.

That P.E. class was proving to be the greatest horror of Andrew's school life, all the idiotic troglodytes who had previously been prevented from touching him were taking the opportunity to bump, trip and poke him in every possible way, not to mention the humiliation of rehearsed passes done solely with the intention of making him look like an idiot. And that asshole Washington letting that happen, Andrew was sure that no matter how much the man scolded the other students for those attitudes inside he must have been rejoicing in it all, after all it was all planned by him, and innocent Andrew had let himself fall for the trap. But it wouldn't stay like that, no, no... he would... Andrew didn't have time to finish the thought as Mark Sheppard bumped into him and threw him in the middle of the court fuming with anger, humiliation and pain.

"Here, Andrew let me help you up." Said Jayden Williams extending his hand.

"Take your dirty hands off me. I don't need help from people like you." Andrew replied, making his classmate appalled and angry at the same time.

"You little shit, how dare you!" Said Mark Shepherd.

"What's going on here, kids?" Coach Washington asked, approaching quickly.

"That piece of shit said a lot of racist shit to Jayden." Replied an irritated Raj Patel who was close to the two.

"No, it's not true... I didn't... that's not what..."

"Yes it was, you fucking liar, we heard everything." Retorted Sam Patel.

"Andrew, locker room now."

"But, but..."

"No discussion, locker room. And you guys back to the game, I'll sort it out."

....

"Cintia Cozy Cabin, Cintia speaking, how can I help you? Oh, Cassie, what an unexpected surprise, I hope the camera arrived safely at your house.

Yes, yes... oh my God I must have made a mistake and sent you one of my special projects... I told you that I made magical photos in my time, I wasn’t lying. No, dear, unfortunately it's irreversible, I'm sorry, but the colleagues you knew no longer exist, this is the version of them that exists now, which in fact has always existed.

What the camera does is project the essence of one being onto another, sometimes creating an overlap like what happened with the dogs and sometimes an interposition like what happened with your colleagues. This occurred randomly because you I had no intention when taking the photos, the camera works either way, but when there is intention on the part of the operator the results are usually less unpredictable, although when talking about magic there is always an unpredictability factor to take into account. And that is precisely why I need you to send the camera back to me, it's a very dangerous thing to have, it's a project I've used very few times and you can imagine why.

Thank you dear. I will send you the correct camera today and I'm really sorry for the inconvenience, but I must say that you are responding very well."

...

Cassie wasn't responding well. That was madness, a daydream of a lady isolated on a beach all year round. It couldn't be real, yet the Patel twins were there to prove it. Just thinking about the way things must have had to adjust to accommodate those changes almost took her out of reality while she wandered aimlessly, with the camera hanging in tow as she returned to the school gym, now almost empty, if it weren't for the pair arguing in the hallway in front. And the matter seemed very serious. Taking care not to be seen, she watched the discussion unfold.

"I didn't speak with that intention!"

"After what you told me yesterday how do you expect me to believe you?"

"I don't care if you believe me or not."

"Well, you should care, because it's up to me whether you get a suspension or something worse."

"Look, when I talked about people like Jayden, I wasn't talking about his color... I was talking about his way of being... of being someone, just like you..."

"You do realize that saying that to a black man doesn't help your case at all, don't you?"

"You understood what I meant... I'm talking about you athletes, the owners of the party... the jocks, who walk around the school as if they owned it, who think they're better than the others, a gift of God for humanity."

"Funny, I've heard that description applied to you a few times, ironic don't you think?"

"No, I don't think so. You don't know me!"

"No, I don't, but does anyone? You're a closed book with the pages glued. Not even your mother knows you, Andrew, but I'm willing to get to know you if you give me a chance."

"I'll pass, zero interest."

"I want you to understand that I don't want to replace your father, his place will always be his with you and your mother."

"Don't talk about my father."

"Andrew, I'm trying. Look kid, I've also had losses … I… I can't have biological children."

"It's your problem, I am not and will never be your son. Now leave me alone!" The boy replied, ready to leave.

And at that moment, the kind and carefull Cassie made an impulsive decision. When she saw the suffering in her favorite teacher's eyes, she raised the camera and took a photo of the two of them thinking about how things would be better if Andrew was actually Josiah's son. Almost instantly she regretted what she had done, running back towards the photography room. Leaving behind two people whose lives would be irreparably changed.

In a hurry she prepared the solution and entered the dark room. Her heart pounding as she thought about what she had done and the countless possibilities of disaster. Cintia had said that the intention was the main thing and her intention had been clear, but there was so much that could go wrong. What if Mr. Washington ended up like an older version of Andrew, unhappy and bitter? She would never forgive herself for doing that to a good man. Or even worse, Andrew's biological father was dead and if by wishing Josiah was his father she ended up making her teacher dead?

Uncharacteristically bad thoughts overwhelmed her as she worked on the photo. With her heart still racing and her hands shaking, she took the final product and stared at it for long minutes. The photograph taken in a hurry and from a bad angle was far from her usual work, but it still showed what she remembered. Mr. Washington in all his poise having a serious conversation with his future stepson, a defiant Andrew Meyer. She was already letting out a sigh of relief when she noticed something.

"Where were Andrew's glasses?"

Meanwhile, in the school cafeteria, the boy's transformation began to unfold.

…..

Andrew was about to leave Josiah talking to himself when he was hit by a flash of light followed by a wave of dizziness that almost knocked him over.

"Andrew, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Are you done? I need lunch."

"Okay, but think about what I told you."

"Yeah, sure. Count on it." The boy concluded by withdrawing and rubbing his eyes with the strange sensation that there was something missing there. At the same time, his stomach growled with an unusual intensity, making him not even change his physical uniform before running to the cafeteria for lunch.

Andrew headed to his usual isolated spot and with his thoughts stuck on what had happened in class he began to eat without even seeing what he was putting in his mouth. That time he had gone too far and he knew it, but he also knew that he hadn't lied, his problem with Jayden and Josiah had nothing to do with the color of their skin and everything to do with the way they both were. He hated the jocks, they made his life a real hell before he moved to his current school. But it wasn't any of the jocks at that school who had done those horrible things to him, a little unknown voice said in the back of his mind. Yes, but only because they didn't have the opportunity, today's class proved that. But they didn't get the opportunity because Josiah asked them to stop their behavior, a point in Josiah's favor. He probably prohibited their barbaric behavior thinking about his image, certainly if it weren't for that Mark would have already ended Andrew's life. But at least Josiah did something about it differently than middle school teachers. Plus Jayden could have been offering real help and trying to be a good person and now he would be thinking Andrew was a racist. Not that he normally cared what his colleagues thought of him. But that was different, Andrew knew he was difficult, he knew people didn't like him, that he was bitter and... unhappy. He knew that very well. But he also knew that there were certain things he was not and being racist was one of those things. And knowing this he made an unprecedented decision in his life, he decided to apologize.

Standing up and gaining the courage to go ahead with that decision, he didn't even notice that he was wearing something completely different from the training clothes he wore when he sat down and also from the one he usually wore.

Walking somewhat clumsily as if he didn't really know how to do it, he approached the jocks' table and positioned himself in front of Jayden, releasing everything at once.

"Hey Jayden...um...I'd like to apologize for today...I know what I said sounded like...and I want you to know that it's nothing like that...and well... . I'm really... sorry... I'm really... sorry... and I hope you can... you can forgive me." He concluded, still not completely believing in what he was doing. The boys at the table also didn't seem to believe what they were hearing, it was something unprecedented in their school life for Andrew to admit he was wrong and apologize. So much so that everyone stared at him open-mouthed. The first to recover was Mark, who quickly stood up and positioned himself in front of Andrew with his fist raised. Interestingly, the two were now the same height, something they both didn't seem to notice.

"I don't know what kind of game you're playing Andy, but if you say that kind of shit again to Jay, I'm going to wipe out your ass and you won't have a mother or a coach to protect you, because I won't mind being suspended if it guarantees teaching you a lesson!"

Hearing that kind of threat made Andrew quickly return to his usual behavior.

"Now you've left me very worried Sheppard, I would be even more worried if you had the slightest bit of intelligence to be able to fulfill what you promise. And even in the remote possibility that you achieve something, I will find a way to put an end to your athletic aspirations, a proven assault charge against a classmate is not going to look good on your academic records."

"Listen here, you little shit..." Mark replied angrily, ready to attack Andrew.

"Guys! What's going on here?" Josiah Washington asked entering the cafeteria in that moment.

When Andrew looked at him, he felt a flash hit his retina and was then struck by a sensation of vertigo. Taking enough time to recover as Mark accused him.

"Andrew came here to talk shit again, coach."

"Hey, that's not true, I came to apologize to Jay about this morning and Sheppard started with his usual fragile masculinity show." He accused Andrew as he tried to remember when he was close enough to Jayden to call him by his nickname.

"Who's fragile, scarecrow?"

"Mark, that's enough! Jayden, what happened?"

"Andy told the truth, coach. He came here to apologize and by the way, I forgive you Andy, it was just a misunderstanding." Jayden replied, always fair, but still being fair he continued.

"But as always he and Mark couldn't bear to be together for even a minute and ended up exchanging threats." The boy finished, making the two colleagues forget for a second their mutual hatred and look at him with the looks they used to give each other.

"Guys, you are colleagues, and besides, teammates..."

"Ha, we can play together but we're not on the same team, or at the same level, don't compare chicken legs with me, coach."

"Mark, Andy runs a lot more than you." Jayden commented, making his friend look irritated at him.

"Why all the defense with him now? When has he ever been nice to anyone? You know we only put up with him because he's Coach Washington's stepson!"

"Mark, that's enough!" scolded an irritated Mr. Washington. While a very offended Andrew stared at his stepfather with angry eyes before turning and leaving the room.

"Thanks, guys! You helped a lot, really." He said to the embarrassed students.

"Sorry coach, I exaggerated..."

"Yes, and because of that it’s bench time to you this afternoon. I think it's time we give Andrew the chance to be the starter."

"But coach..." Mike started to complain, falling silent at a stern look from Josiah.

"That is, if I can convince him to show up." Josiah concluded thoughtfully.

….

Andrew walked aimlessly through the school corridors, until he found an empty bathroom where he sat on the toilet and cried, something he hadn't done in a long time. He knew he was a difficult person, but he was trying. His relationship with his stepfather was never easy, but they had reached a mutual tolerance agreement in recent months, shortly after Andrew's mother's marriage to Josiah. In fact, the relationship, which was not exactly cordial, had evolved to the point where Andrew allowed himself to be convinced by his stepfather to participate in the school teams that last year. Not that he did much more than warm the bench. But just participating in something with his colleagues would help a lot with his behavior. He discovered that he could talk to the Patel brothers about common interests and Jayden seemed to be sincere in the way he treated him, Mark of course continued to be the same irritating idiot he always was and now it was clear why, he was the only one who didn't fake cordiality.

That was what he got for trying. Annoyed, he dried his tears and washed his face in the bathroom sink and then stared at his own reflection. Wavy brown hair and gray eyes, still red from crying.

It was then that he made a decision, he would go to Josiah's office and say that he was going to leave all the teams and let his stepfather deal with it.

.....

Cassie was panicking, the photo she took had undergone another change, she tried to contact Cintia again, but when she called the inn she was informed that the owner had left and would only return in mid-afternoon. Not knowing what else to do, she stared at the photo waiting for the next change, thinking about what other changes were happening without her even having any idea.

....

"Come in, the door is open. Hey, Andy, I was just going to look for you, please sit down." Josiah said to his stepson who entered the room with his head down, without looking at his stepfather, as he gathered the courage to say what he had come to say.

"Look, I know how it felt when Mark told you that. But I hope you understand that I only asked them to go easy on you because I know how much you suffered from kids like them at your old school. And Mark... Well Mark can be a bit of an ass sometimes, but that's between us." Josiah concludes with a knowing smile that was not reciprocated because Andrew didn't even look up at him.

"I want to quit training." He said without looking at Josiah.

"Why? You're doing well, I thought you liked it. Raj and Sam seem to get along with you and Jayden would be a great friend if you give him a chance."

"They only talk to me because of you and I don't want to depend on you for anything."

"That's not true Andy, I don't have that power over them, I can only ask them to treat you with respect, the rest is up to you and it seems like you've been doing well, despite some slip-ups like this morning."

"I already apologized, it was just a misunderstanding." Andrew replied, looking for the first time at his stepfather, only to be hit by a flash of light followed by a sensation of vertigo.

"Of course it was a misunderstanding Drew, no one with the slightest intelligence would ever think that a racist speech would come out of your mouth."

"You said it well, coach. No one with the slightest bit of intelligence, but Mark Shepperd doesn't reach the bare minimum." Drew replied.

"Andrew, your feud with Mark has to end, it's disturbing the whole team." Josiah replied in turn causing Drew's face to droop.

"Don't look at me like that, you remind me of your mother when she's mad at me."

"Funny, most people say I remind them of my dad." Replied the dark-skinned athletic young man, with curly hair and dark eyes, already fully dressed for basketball practice that afternoon.

"Well, I didn't know your father other than through photos, but I'd say you're a good mix of the two. But that strong genius certainly comes from your mother." Married to Amanda for seven years and with a cordial relationship with his stepson, Josiah felt secure to make that type of comment.

"Now, one thing I can say about Mark, his behavior today guaranteed you a good opportunity. You start training today as a starter and if you do a good job no one will be able to accuse me of giving preference to my stepson. I suggest that you take the chance."

"Thank you, coach."

"Thank me by doing a good job on the court, son." Josiah replied without thinking making Drew retreat into the armchair. Because despite the stable and respectful relationship between them the stepson made a point of making it clear that this was a limit that he would not let his stepfather cross.

"Sorry Drew, I said it automatically, go warm up with your teammates and I'll be there soon." Josiah said quickly to avoid a conflict knowing that although he saw Andrew as a son the feeling was not reciprocated.

……

Cassie's desperation upon seeing the new change in the photo reached alarming levels to the point that she was forced to leave the refuge of the photography room just to feel like she was doing something. The photo now showed an unchanged Mr. Washington talking to a clearly mixed-race Andrew with a much more athletic physique. She couldn't even imagine how reality was realigning itself to justify that or what it would be like to have to interact with this new Andrew.

It didn't take her long to find out because unconsciously her legs took her to Coach Washington's office where she came face to face with the new Andrew leaving the place, with a slightly disturbed face, but which soon lit up with a smile that she never imagined possible.

"Hey, Cass! I thought we were going to have lunch together today? I was worried when you didn't show up, I sent you a bunch of messages. Look, if it was because of that argument I'm sorry, but it's just that it's hard for me to be your partner, you are a genius."

"Andrew... I..."

"Since when do you call me by my full name? You must be really annoyed with me."

"Uh..."

"Cassie, are you okay? Do you mind if we talk to the gym? Coach made me the starter today and I don't want to be late."

"Hum, of course..." She said, still disturbed by that new much more open and talkative version of Andrew.

"Cass, we've been friends for years, you know what an idiot I can be sometimes. But you have complete freedom to tell me exactly this: Drew, you're being a complete idiot."

"OK."

"Are you sure everything is okay? I can take you to the infirmary even if I end up being late for training." Hearing that was what got her for good. The Andrew she knew would never put anyone else before his interests. So maybe, just maybe she would have done something good with that reckless decision of hers."

"Cassandra Jones, it's decided we're going to the infirmary!" He said with her lack of response, making her quickly intervene.

"No. I'm fine, really...Drew."

"I'm not so sure, but if you say so... the truth is that I really didn't want to miss this opportunity... but if you need me, I'll come with you."

"No Drew, go play. In fact, I'll even watch!"

"Serious?"

"Serious!"

"Then I'll make a point just for you!" He replied with a big smile that had certainly never been seen on the old Andrew's face. As the two arrived at the gym and he said goodbye to her, he headed towards the court where he quickly got busy greeting his teammates with high fives and even some hugs. Leaving a still stunned Cassie to look for a seat in the stands. And she was still amazed as he played with a previously unknown skill and when he finally scored his first point it was in her direction that he looked with that beautiful smile on his face.

At the end of the training Cassie returned to the photography room while trying again to talk to Cintia, although now she thought she could have actually done a good thin even though she still didn't know for sure how to deal with that new Andrew. He and his teammates headed to the locker room where the atmosphere of camaraderie and fun prevailed. Even for someone naturally more withdrawn like him there was room for jokes and laughter, especially with the twins Patel and Jayden, with whom he had created a good friendship, even if to do so he had to endure the unbearable...

"Hey Andy, good game, but very inferior to the king's game."

"What king is that? Because it's definitely not you!" Andrew said as he took off his sweat-soaked training shirt and sat down on a bench.

"Your envy doesn't hit me, asshole." Mark replied, flexing his muscles.

"Envy? Of what? Of looking like an anemic vampire with glasses?"

"This will be the third time that I will need to intervene in an argument involving you two today, will I have to suspend you both?" Coach Washington asked, entering the locker room and causing the two young men to quickly look in his direction. And with that Drew was hit by a flash of light and a feeling of vertigo. While he recovered, Mark responded to the coach.

"Nah, coach. We're good, aren't we, Dre?" He said.

"Sure, we are good, coach. Even more so because blondie here just admitted my superiority on the court."

"You piece of shit, I'm going to..." Mark began to threaten, being interrupted by a stern look from the coach while Andre burst into laughter, making his huge muscles shake while sweat dripped down the ebony skin of his developed pecs and ripped six pack.

"Enough of that, you two, and all of you, I want this locker room to shine like a jewel. If I come back here and find this disgusting mess I'm going to have you clean the floor and walls with a toothbrush. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Coach." They all responded in unison.

"Good." He said before speaking to his stepson in a lower voice. "Dre, when you're done here come by my office, please"

"Yes, Coach." The boy replied, still wiping away tears from his bout of laughter.

....

In the photography room, Cassie had her cell phone in hand, trying to contact Cintia again while she looked at the latest version of the photograph showing a young muscular black man who looked very similar to Mr. Washington in the place where Andrew had been. Surely now it would all be over and she would have to live with that new reality. And deep down she would have to admit that it wasn't that bad, Drew seemed like a really nice guy and who knows, a real friendship could blossom between them...

"Cintia Cozy Cabin, Cintia talking..."

....

Andre took a long shower thinking about what the coach would have to say to him, probably a reprimand for his arguments with Mark, but he should have known better. That was just jokes between the two long-time frenemies. Neither of them had ever come to blows. Or maybe it was about the position of captain of the basketball team, the season was about to start and they didn't officially have anyone yet. Jayden who got along with everyone and was great at motivating others would be the most obvious option, but he had difficulty giving constructive criticism whereas Andre, well, Andre could even be overly critical. Perhaps the conversation was precisely to tell him that. And with that thought, his normally quite cheerful and expansive mood turned sour. After getting dressed he headed to the coach's office.

"Mr. Washington is Dre." He said after knocking on the door a few times. At home he called his stepfather Uncle Josiah. He was married with Andre's mother since the boy was 4 years old, but even before that they know each other as Josiah had been a long-time friend of Andre's father and had been at his mother side throughout her grieving process, when she was left alone with a one-year-old baby to care for. Andre had been in the same car accident as his father but had no memory of what happened, something he was grateful for.

"Come in Dre, I'm in the bathroom finishing changing, you can sit down and I'll be right there."

"Thank you, coach. Can I ask you the reason for this talk?" Asked the young man with anxiety permeating his voice and face.

"It's about the team captain position, Dre. I know you don't like hearing this but you're the son I never had. And for a lot of people, even at this school, it's like you actually are, which raises discussions about me favoring you, which is complete nonsense, because you wouldn't be in the position you are in if you didn't have talent, and anyone who says otherwise should come and do it to my face." Josiah said, leaving the bathroom and passing behind Andre as he walked towards his desk.

"Still, our relationship is something that must be taken into consideration in my choice and after much consideration I want to tell you that I chose Jayden..." Josiah began to say as he finally sat down and looked into his stepson dark and at that moment sad eyes at the exact moment those eyes were struck by a last flash of light, before he concluded. "...and you to be co-captains of the team. Your firm attitude and accurate criticism earned you the position, and I trust that you will be able to keep your strong temper under control, even in the presence of Mark Sheppard. Congratulations, son."

"Thanks, dad. You won't regret it." Andre replied with a big smile, knowing that in that moment father and son could treat each other like that. And there was no way not to realize that the two were father and son, as they shared the same build, the same facial expressions, the same smile and even the same haircut after Dre decided to shave his hair. Poor Amanda, who had to hear constant jokes about having given birth to a copy of her husband.

"You deserved this position, son. Every day that passes you make me prouder to be your father."

"Thank you dad, I'm also very proud to be your son, there is no better father than you."

"You only say that because you just won what you wanted, let's see if you'll say the same when I pull your ear for arguing with Mark in the middle of a game." Joked Josiah with smart smile.

"Let me deal with Mark, you know very well that I love the guy and he loves me, we are long time friends, but some friction is inevitable when you have two people like us on the same team. Although I promise to control myself. "

"Good. Now how about a game with your old man in the city park? I know you must be tired, but I'm dying to put my captain to the test."

"Sure, I just need a few minutes to tell someone the news."

"Okay, I'll wait for you in the parking lot."

"I meet you there." Andre said, getting up before turning back to his father to say something that was stuck inside him. "And dad, I know I don't say this very often, but I love you." He said before leaving the room and Josiah Washington with the biggest smile in the world just before tears started rolling down his face.

"... what's done is done Cassie. You should have listened to me and that's why I ask you to give me back the camera as soon as possible. But the damage could be worse. Apparently you did that boy a lot of good , yet your choice can bring unexpected consequences. Are you sure the photo has stabilized? Oh, is it changing again? Totally different from the previous one? Great, it means there will be no more changes. I'll turn it off my dear, send me the camera today if possible. Good afternoon."

Cassie heard Cintia hang up the phone as she stared at the photograph, certain that this was by far the strangest thing to happen in her life. And she wasn't completely wrong, since the strangest thing in her life was about to happen but still linked to that photography. As she was getting ready to go to the post office to send the camera to Cintia someone knocked on the door.

"Hey Cassie, it's Andre, can I come in?" Andrew? Cassie thought, could even the name...?"

"You can come in," she replied with a trembling voice, seeing the muscular almost 6'7" tall young man enter the room making her legs feel so wobbly she had to sit on a bench in front of one of the cabinets full of photo albums.

"I won it Cass! I'm the new captain of the basketball team." He said, approaching her. "Okay, I'll share the position with Jay, but that's fine, he deserves it too. What's that in your hand?" He asked, looking at the photograph in her hand as he sat next to her, who found herself at that moment invaded by his perfume and a feeling of intense heat.

"It's... a photo... of you and your father... I was going to give it to you as a gift." She said handing the photo into his gigantic hand. Who in turn admired the image of him and his father both in uniform, hugging each other after class. 

With teary eyes he looked at her, and she felt her knees weaken with the intensity of that look.

"Thank you Cass, I don't know what I would do without you, you are my best friend, my support in difficult times and a great first place for my second place in the class. I don't even know how to thank you other than like this." He said kissing her who found herself reciprocating with unexpected enthusiasm.

"Wow." Dre said catching his breath.

"Wow." Cassie agreed, realizing firsthand the unexpected effects of playing with reality.

"Cass, you don't know how long I've wanted to do this, but right now I need to go, my dad is waiting for me. Don't you want to come along?"

"I'm sorry An...Dre. I need to do something urgently."

"So meet us at the park later, we'll be at the basketball court. Can I take the photo?"

"Of course it's yours, I'll see you later."

"Promise is debt!" He said before giving her another stunning kiss and leaving the room and her, completely stunned.

….

That late afternoon Cassie was walking through the park where the most magical and absurd situation of her life had begun. She had just sent the camera back to Cintia but the effects caused by it would remain forever. She didn't know what had happened to Raj and Sam's parents, as she didn't know either of them very well before the change happened, but she tried not to blame herself for whatever had happened as she had no way of knowing at the time what she was doing.

Although there was a situation that she knew very well what she was doing, a situation that messed up her entire life, but that she was trying hard to believe was for the best. That overlap practically obliterated the old Andrew and that was her conscious decision, impulsive yes, but deliberate and no matter how bitter the boy had been she didn't have that right, at least Andre seemed to be a wonderful person and was really a good kisser... and there was still the fact that Mr. Washington had the son he always wanted, a son that every father would be proud to have. That alone made her remorse almost disappear.

As she approached the basketball court, Andre waved to her with that fantastic smile on his face and then signaled for her to take a new photo of him and his father. Unable to avoid being infected by his joy, she also opened a smile and with a camera no more magical than usual, she recorded that moment. Knowing that if placed on a scale for good or evil, regardless of the result she was responsible.

Anyone who looked at that image could tell which way the scales tipped.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I think it's so funny this chapter comes out on Mother's day (México) -Danny Words: 2,407 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Call Your Mom' -by Noah Kahan ft. Lizzy McAlpine

LI: I’m Currently Having the Worst Time of My Life, Thanks for Asking!

One thing about demigods is they will expose their trauma to the room. And if Ara's dad was her monster under the bed, Jason's mother was his Roman Empire (pun intended). All he ever did was based on the one lie she'd told him when he was a toddler.

"So pleased to meet you, son of Jupiter," Antinous smiles. "Listen to your mother. You have many grievances against the gods. Why not join us? I gather these serving girls are your friends? We will spare them. You wish to have your mother remain in the world? We can do that. You wish to be a king—"

"No. No, I don't belong with you." Jason replies in a dazzled state.

"Are you so sure, my fellow praetor?" The son of Janus asks. "Even if you defeat the giants and Gaia, would you return home like Odysseus did? Where is your home now? With the Greeks? With the Romans? No one will accept you. And, if you get back, who's to say you won't find ruins like this?"

"That's a lie," Ara steps in.

Jason raises a hand to stop her and replies to the other boy. "You were a legion officer—A leader of Rome."

"So were you. Loyalties change."

"You think I belong with this crowd? A bunch of dead losers waiting for a free handout from Gaia, whining that the world owes them something?"

The crowd closes around him. Piper uses charmspeak. "Beware! Every man in this palace is your enemy. Each one will stab you in the back at the first chance!"

"Dearest, be sensible," Jason's mother insists. "Give up your quest. Your Argo II could never make the trip to Athens. Even if it did, there's the matter of the Athena Parthenos."

"What do you mean?"

"Don't feign ignorance, my dearest. Gaia knows about your friend Reyna and Nico the son of Hades and the satyr Hedge. To kill them, the Earth Mother has sent her most dangerous son—the hunter who never rests. But you don't have to die."

Jason looks at the girls, then back at his mother. "What do you want? What brought you here?"

"I want life! Youth! Beauty!" The woman leans in looking crazy. "Your father could have made me immortal. He could have taken me to Olympus, but he abandoned me. You can set things right, Jason. You are my proud warrior!"

"You're a mania," his voice quivers. "A spirit of insanity. That's what you've been reduced to."

"I am all that remains. Embrace me, son. I am all you have left."

"No!" Jason steps back. "My loyalties haven't changed. My family has just expanded. I'm a child of Greece and Rome. I'm no child of yours." He makes the claw sign over his chest and his mother vanishes.

"Well, then," Antinous sighs. "I suppose we'll just kill you."

Ara tosses the platter she's holding at some ghouls, expands her shield, and draws out Almighty. Her friends join her and pull out their weapons. Watching Jason fight when angry, is one of Ara's favorite things. He throws amazing one-liners, like the one he uses when he pierces Antinous through the chest: "Enjoy the Fields of Punishment." 

Jason and Ara run through their opponents fast and mercilessly, with clear progress in their teamwork after eight months of knowing each other. The boy summons lightning while Ara keeps changing her weapon to different things, Annabeth jabs and beheads, and Piper tosses food at the spirits while shouting stuff using charmspeak.

Jason lowers his sword only a second and Michael Varus stabs him with rage before Piper kills him. Ara drops Almighty in shock. Piper tries to pull out the sword but Ara shouts at her in a commanding voice. "Don't! That'll make him bleed out faster!"

"But—"

"Gods..." Annabeth gets to them, pale and shaky. "Oh, gods."

"Thanks," Jason sinks to his knees. "I was afraid it might be bad."

"Piper, press around the wound—Annabeth, get help."

"You're going to be fine," Piper tells the boy. "Girls, ambrosia!"

Ara draws her Octopi from under her cloak and hands it to Piper. "Don't do anything yet, hang on—"

"Imperial gold," Annabeth stammers. "It's deadly to demigods. It's only a matter of time before—"

"The Argo!" Ara urges her. "Send them a message!"

"Iris messages won't work—"

"Leo is watching, you don't need those!"

"Morse code," Piper pulls out a tiny mirror from Ara's Octopi and hands it to Annabeth. "Here."

Ara grabs her sister's head and kisses the top of it. "Clever!"

Annabeth goes away and Ara tries to ignore how Jason's looking as she kneels before him. "How many times I've saved your ass, Jay-G?"

"Don't call me that," Jason grunts. "And the answer is too many."

"You have no survival instincts man, I keep telling you," Ara rips his shirt open and sees the tip of the sword protruding from his abdomen. Fear starts to seep through. "He's not coughing blood so no organs were touched... maybe. This will hurt, blondie." She looks at Piper. "Pull it out."

Piper pretends she'll count to three, and pulls it at one. Jason crumbles swearing like he's never done before.

"We gotta stop the bleeding," Ara stops him from squirming too much.

The girls rip parts of their dresses and press them against both sides of his wound. Ara sings her heart out, and now Piper knows the healing tune, so Ara hears her singing voice for the first time, which is much nicer than hers and therefore more effective.

"Keep singing!" Ara makes her old mixture of ambrosia and nectar, but there's no time to wait, so she pours it raw over the wounds. "Hang in there, Jason, don't fall asleep."

The boy barely reacts, which is not a good sign. Piper rolls him over and pours the rest at the other end of the wound. Ara tries to keep him awake and cradles his face. "You know, for a moment I feared my dad would show up but I guess he prefers to stay dead. At least your mother kind of loved you!" She jokes, but her voice falters.

Jason shakes his head. "It wasn't a part of her I could save. Don't count your blessings, Birdy, your dad might be waiting for you in Athens."

"And I'm sure you'd like to meet him so you can personally kick his ass, so keep your eyes open!" Ara searches through her Octopi bag, smearing blood on it, and pulls out bandages to keep the pieces of fabric in place. "Annabeth!" She calls anxiously.

Jason sits up groggily. "Maybe I could fly ..."

"Don't move!" Ara says sharply. "Gee, you get hit on the head multiple times and—"

"Shut up!" Jason scowls. "Gods, kind of wish I had died so you would drop the joke already..." It's the first time the boy snaps in such a way, so he must be in a lot of pain. Pain is good, it means his body is still responsive.

Ara laughs despite how frightened she is and Jason matches her grin. "Yeah, at least it wasn't a head injury this time, huh? I stayed conscious the entire fight..."

"You defeated, like, two hundred enemies," Piper kisses his temple, keeping pressure on his wound. "You were scary amazing."

"You guys helped."

"You're welcome," Ara nods solemnly. "If you're lucky this will make Leo stop switching your camp shirts with Hazel's."

"I knew it! I should anoint Nico as my new best friend..." Jason winces. "Oh gods—Reyna, Nico, and Coach Hedge, they're in danger. We need to warn them."

"We'll take care of it when we get back to the ship," Piper eases him. "Your job right now is to relax. Besides, those three are a tough group. They'll be fine."

"Fuck!" Ara exclaims. Jason's injury has dark smoke coming out of it. "The stupid lullaby isn't working!"

"Ara," Piper says in a careful tone. "You need to stay calm."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," she holds Jason's hand, trying to absorb something, but nothing comes out. "Look at me, tough guy," she snaps her fingers, but Jason's dilated pupils hardly focus on her face and she swallows a cry. "Jason, please, don't do this to me..."

"Annabeth's coming back," Piper announces.

The girl walks up to them dragging her foot. Jason looks at her with half-lidded eyes, he's getting weaker. "Are you hurt?"

"It's fine. Just the old break from the Roman caverns. Sometimes when I'm stressed... That's not important. I signalled Leo. Frank's going to change form, fly up here and carry you back to the ship. I need to make a litter to keep you stable."

Annabeth and Ara work together, the younger girl passes the materials while Annabeth weaves. "How are you doing that?" Jason asks in awe.

"Learned it during my quest under Rome," Annabeth mumbles completely focused on the task. "I'd never had a reason to try weaving before, but it's handy for certain things, like getting away from spiders..."

Ara turns Almighty into a rectangular shield (the one Leo made is circular and wouldn't support Jason's body properly) and places it above the harness made with pieces of cloth and leather straps. Ara stands on it and pulls.

"Sturdy enough," she steps out.

"Wait," Jason stops them. "A bed—There was a special bed in this palace."

Ara frowns. "So what?"

"The marriage bed was sacred. If there was any place you could talk to Juno... Juno!"

Ara only cares about getting him out, but then in the distance, an olive tree spurts out into view. "Great, we definitely should waste our time talking..." She groans.

"My heroes," Juno greets them.

"Hera," Piper mutters.

"Juno."

"Whatever," Annabeth scowls. "What are you doing here, Your Bovine Majesty?"

"Annabeth Chase. As charming as ever."

"Yeah, well, I just got back from Tartarus, so my manners are a little rusty, especially towards goddesses who wiped my boyfriend's memory, made him disappear for months and then—"

"Honestly, child. Are we going to rehash this again?"

"Aren't you supposed to be suffering from split-personality disorder? I mean—more so than usual?"

"Whoa," Jason tries to sit up and fails. "Juno, we need your help. We—" he makes a guttural noise and falls back.

"First things first," Piper says firmly. "Jason is hurt. Heal him!"

"Some things even the gods cannot heal," the goddess raises a brow. "This wound touches your soul as well as your body. You must fight it, Jason Grace... you must survive."

"Yeah, thanks... I'm trying," he pants.

"That was super helpful," Ara remarks. "But if you could please just give us more intel..."

"I am grateful that you called upon me. I have spent weeks in a state of pain and confusion... my Greek and Roman natures warring against each other. Worse, I've been forced to hide from Jupiter, who searches for me in his misguided wrath, believing that I caused this war with Gaia."

"Gee, why would he think that?" Annabeth taunts her.

"Fortunately, this place is sacred to me," the goddess ignores her. "By clearing away those ghosts, you have purified it and given me a moment of clarity. I will be able to speak with you—if only briefly."

"Why is it sacred...? Oh. The marriage bed!" Piper exclaims.

"Marriage bed? I don't see any—"

"The bed of Penelope and Odysseus. One of its bedposts was a living olive tree, so it could never be moved."

"Who cares?" Ara exclaims impatiently. "Lady Juno, please!"

"Sail around the Peloponnese. As you suspect, that is the only possible route. On your way, seek out the goddess of victory in Olympia. She is out of control. Unless you can subdue her, the rift between Greek and Roman can never be healed."

"You mean Nike?" Annabeth frowns. "How is she out of control?"

"Explaining would take too long. I must flee before Jupiter finds me. Once I leave, I will not be able to help you again."

"What else should we know?" Jason asks hoarsely.

"As you heard, the giants have gathered in Athens. Few gods will be able to help you on your journey, but I am not the only Olympian who is out of favor with Jupiter. The twins have also incurred his wrath."

"Artemis and Apollo? Why?"

"If you reach the island of Delos, they might be prepared to help you. They are desperate enough to try anything to make amends. Go now. Perhaps we will meet again in Athens, if you succeed. If you do not..."

Juno vanishes and Jason faints.

Ara takes her friend straight to the sickbay and does her best to bring him back, she gets more blood on her clothes but in the end, the dark smoke diminishes. Jason is sleeping now, but he looks dead and ironically that makes her want to kill something.

Piper says she'll call the others for a meeting, but Ara suspects she just wants a moment alone to cry the stress out and pick herself up. Ara should've kept an eye on Michael Varus. 

Someone knocks on the door and when she turns she spots Leo staring at her with worry. "Is that..."

"It's his." Her eyes brim with tears and Leo approaches her quickly. Ara releases all of that pent-up anxiety, burying her face in his curls as he wraps his arms around her waist. "I couldn't absorb his pain, he's dying..."

Leo hushes her. "He's with us, he'll be okay."

She tries to keep him away when he tries to hug her tighter. "I'm covered in blood—"

"That's okay," the boy keeps her in place. "We can wash up later."

Her grip is weak. "Juno said something about Apollo, maybe we can—"

"Shut up," Leo stares at her as if searching for something. Ara waits in confusion. The boy strokes her cheek, outlining the dry blood on her skin. "What are you feeling?"

The girl blinks. "What?"

"Eros said you needed to reconnect with your emotions, right? So before you go back to being a General, talk about your feelings," he raises his brows. "So?"

Ara blushes at his sweet gesture. "I'm scared and remorseful, but I'll have to push through it, I can't change the past."

"You sure you don't wanna call your dad?" He tries to joke. "We can make a short stop at the next gas station and give him a call."

Ara pouts and sniffs. "Man, don't even... if I think about home I'll be sobbing like a baby for another hour."

Leo looks at her not knowing what to do to help her, then sighs. "My guy Jason... always gets the worst deal, huh?" He makes a face. "I'll have to fix the showerheads."

The girl senses his awkwardness and smiles softly, leaning into his touch. "Do you know how much I love you?"

He visibly relaxes and grins. "Can't hurt if you say it again, can it?"

"I love you," she kisses his forehead. "A lot."

"Love ya' too, doll... But you reek like a butcher, go get a shower."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[ohmightydevviepuu]

imperfect boys. perfect ploys. (this is a song about tragedy) [6/6]

“My ‘story’ is that I left a fucked-up situation and it kind of fucked me up,” he’d said.  But it was the way he’d said it, like it hadn’t broken him.  Like it was just a fact. But Emma’s life was a story, too.  A fucked-up situation that had kind of fucked her up.  She wasn’t that kid anymore.  Confidence could be learned.  And maybe—maybe—she wasn’t broken, either. Not if she picked up the pieces.  Not if she told herself a new story.  About who she was.  About what she wanted.  Roots, family, friends, a sense of the familiar—these did not have to be fairy tales. “You owe it to yourself,” Mary Margaret said. “Happy endings always start with hope.”

–

S3 post-neverland canon divergence. 20k of no-curse renaissance.

read it on AO3

to @wistfulcynic and @thisonesatellite who sat with me while we daydreamed on a hilltop in cornwall on the summer-iest summer day england has ever seen. it took me eight months but i got there in the end.

thank you to @shireness-says for time and feedback and kindness to the IAS @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @idoltina @initiala @thejollyroger-writer @phiralovesloki for always giving me a cheer when i needed it

--

seventeen. 'and straight on 'til morning'

The girl, Wendy, insisted on helping Neal to gather Henry’s belongings and stayed at his side for the entire walk to the Jolly Roger.  It was a race against a clock that was suddenly very real in this place where time did not exist, every second another precious tick against Henry’s life.

The boy looked very small in his father’s arms and smaller still once laid out on the deck to await the arrival of his mothers.  The Lost Boys were settled against the bulkheads and Killian had sent David below deck to sort out cabins and sleeping arrangements for himself and his family.

Any moment, the women would return; the Jolly Roger awaited her departure.

That left Killian and Neal standing side-by-side at the helm for the first time since Bae had left.  Neal’s fingers worried at the scratches in the wood.  “You sailed her well when you took the Jolly Roger from me in New York,” Killian said.  

“I learned from the best.  Isn’t that what you would say?”  Neal sighed.  “How did we get here, Hook?  How does this end?”

Killian glanced at Henry.  “Emma swore she would bring back Henry’s heart.  And I’m not sure any of those women know how to fail, especially her.”  

“Yeah, she’s—”  Neal sighed again.  “She’s really something.”

“She’s a hero,” Killian said.  “And an extraordinary woman.  She will return, and we will sail home.”

“We, huh?”  Neal’s eyebrow twitched.  “What’s it feel like, to be one of the good guys?”

“Am I?”

“I don’t know, Hook.  Are you?  You know I need to do this.  I need to fight for her.  A man who refuses to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“Aye.”  Killian pinched the bridge of his nose.  “And Emma deserves someone who will fight for her.”

“So does that mean you’re gonna stand in my way?”

“I am in your way.  You and I, we’ve gotten caught up in so much nonsense—over a woman.  That’s not what I want for us.  Or her.  I won’t interfere in your fight, Neal.  I will let Emma make her own decision, and I will respect it.”

Neal held out his hand.  Killian took it.  They shook.

And then they heard the commotion.  Regina yelling at the top of her very commanding voice.  “Henry!”

And Emma:  “Henry?  Where is he?”

“He’s over here!” Neal and Killian met the mothers at Henry’s side.  David nearly tripped coming up the companionway.  

All they could do was watch as Regina pushed her son’s heart back into his body.  Watch, and wait.  Killian’s own breath felt like a weight in his chest as he watched for the boy’s.

“Are we too late?” Emma whispered.

With a sickening cough, Henry came awake.  His eyes opened and he tried to sit up—too quickly, which made him cough again.

“Whoa.  Whoa, whoa—take it easy, buddy.  Take a breath.  We’re here.  We’re all here.”  Neal’s voice wavered as if he was holding back tears.

“I’m so sorry,” Henry said.  “I just wanted to save the magic.  I wanted to be a hero.”  He looked at Emma.  “Like you, mom.”

“It’s okay,” Emma said.  “It’s okay, Henry.”

“There’s plenty of time for that.” David gripped him on the shoulder. 

“Right now, it’s time to rest,” Snow White said.

Killian’s relief filled him.  His smile hurt.  “Welcome back, lad.  Only the best for our guest of honor.  Captain’s quarters, I think?”

“Come on.  I’ll tuck you in.”  Regina’s hand shook as she pulled Henry tightly against her and led him away.

--

Killian kept himself at the helm and away from the family dramas unfolding before him.  The ship was ready; there was little for him to do but wait.  And watch.  The Lost Boys were scattered on the forecastle but the poop was cluttered with Emma and the Charmings and a box containing the Dark One.

Would that he would stay so contained.

But Neal appeared nervous--eager.  Held the box tightly in his hand as he shuffled on his feet, preparing himself for the enormity of what he was about to do.  Killian saw him dart a glance at Emma—stock-still, her expression etched in stone.  Behind her the Charmings clutched at each other with the waterskin pressed between them and waited.

David turned, slightly, and caught Killian’s eye.  Nodded.  That was when Killian realized he was holding his breath and forced himself to expel it.  Released his grip on the wheel.

With a twist of his wrist Neal opened the box and for an instant the very air stopped moving.  The starlight dimmed.  Everything seemed to vibrate and there, on the deck of the Jolly Roger, stood the Dark One; Killian hated how grateful he was for it.

Neal pulled his father into his arms and Emma seemed to collapse.  Her shoulders sagged, her spine curved.  Her mouth moved for several seconds with no sound before she said, “He’s back.  That means—”

David could go home.  They could all go home—Emma’s entire family.

Killian grinned.  Emma Swan never failed.

The prince laughed.  “He can cure me.”

Snow White was nearly sobbing.  “We can go home?”  Emma flinched when her mother grabbed her , frozen, before collapsing again—further—into the embrace.  “A family.”  David’s hand gently cradled the back of Emma’s head.

Regina emerged from the companionway and took in the group hug with a roll of her eyes.  Emma extracted herself from her parents and looked at Killian—he tipped his head—then Neal, who straightened and removed the tied-up coconut from the strap of his cutlass.

“Can we get a move on?” Regina was as patient as ever.  “You—get over here.”  This was said to Neal.

“You think it will fly?” Emma said.

“It has no choice,” Regina said.  Grim satisfaction tinged her words as she held herself ready for the spell.  “Light it.”

Emma reached for the cannon fuse with her lighter—no magic—and Neal held the coconut steady.

“Now,” Regina commanded, and Neal obeyed; the Shadow was caught by the cannon and by the magic and trapped in the sail.  The fabric changed from white to black and filled with invisible wind and momentum as the Shadow strained to move.

“Let’s get the hell out of Neverland,” Emma said.

“As you wish,” Killian said.  “Prepare to weigh anchor!”  The magic of the ship responded to his order and shifted immediately with a tilt skyward.  Propelled by the Shadow, they were soon airborne.  Airborne, and free.  

David and Emma murmured to each other on the deck as Snow White dug into the remainder of their stores and began making a round of the Lost, offering them bits of food or sips of water.  Wendy pulled her dressing-gown more tightly around herself and made her way toward Tink.  When Bae—Neal joined them, the tiny girl wrapped herself around him.  Regina stood amidships along the starboard side—alone—until Tinker Bell moved to stand beside her.

Killian watched them.  He was alone at the helm and it stayed that way as, one by one, the assorted passengers of the Jolly Roger took themselves to the cabins assigned them by Prince Charming.  The Lost huddled together on the fo’c’s’le, sleeping in stunned silence.  The only sound aloft in the night air was the pleasing rush of fresh, cold wind as they sailed.

Emma was the last to take herself below.  For a while she stood there, only moving to tuck her hair behind her ears.  Over and again as the wind immediately whipped it into a tangle and she said nothing, did nothing, until finally she turned and looked up at him.  Taking him in from his brows to his boots.

Killian watched her and felt the hunger rise up inside him.  The need.  The desire.  It was unfamiliar and aching and it hit him with a force.  They had retrieved the boy and his promise, if there was such a thing, was fulfilled.  But with so much unresolved he held fast to what he had said to Neal—he would fight.  And he would let Emma make her decision.

He might as well have spoken the words out loud—Emma blinked, and turned away.  It was difficult not to take that as an answer but Killian turned his gaze skyward again as Emma made her way carefully through the companionway and down to the crew quarters.

Alone.

A shiver ran through him, right through the edge of his coat; it was a shock to feel the weather again.  A sign of his exhaustion, no doubt.  It was past time for sleeping.  Even Neal was sprawled on the deck, in between Tinker Bell and Wendy.  Killian locked the wheel on its course and left the magic to guide them through to the morning.  They’d nearly be home by then.

Home?  Killian chuckled unkindly to himself.  The Jolly Roger was his home, hell or high water.  He stifled a yawn and headed toward the cabin Dave had set aside for him—stopping at his usual quarters to check in on Henry, pleasantly surprised when Regina tolerated his intrusion.  Her hand was wrapped around her son’s as she mouthed the words to a story.

He hesitated outside the cabin assigned to Emma, his hook poised to knock on the door, but it was dead quiet and she hadn’t slept, either.  Killian took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose and took himself to his cabin.

Emma Swan was sitting in the candlelight—waiting—though she stood immediately when he entered.  He opened his mouth but no words came out.  He couldn’t even breathe.

She grabbed him.  She kissed him.  Again, again—all he could taste was her—until he was gasping for air, desperate, unmade.  She flicked her wrist, and the door slammed shut behind him.

--

For one shining second everything snapped into focus.

Like magic.

She could feel it.  Every nerve in her body was alive.  Dancing.  On fire.  Everywhere they touched hummed with power.  Emma wanted to laugh.  To scream.  To cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, pulling away.

“Wait, what?” What was he apologizing for?  She’d kissed him.  She’d wanted to.  God, she’d wanted to.  She just hadn’t wanted to let herself.  There had been too much on the line.

And Henry.

But they were on their way home.  Together.  A family.  And Henry was fine.  Alive, and whole.  Just like he’d said.  They hadn’t failed.  

They’d been a team.

“Hook?  Killian?”

He smiled—sort of.  His mouth moved, half-up at one corner.  It did not reach his eyes.  “I want this.  I want you,” he said.  “When you say my name—I want to make you scream it.”

“And I’m here to take you up on that,” Emma said, but she stepped back, too.  She wasn’t going to beg.  She wasn’t going to—

His grip on her wrist was soft, and sure, and gentle.  It centered her.  When was the last time someone had touched her like that?  So easily?  With such care?  When was the last time she’d let them?

“Emma.”  It was a whisper.  It was a caress.  His thumb slipped under the cords of leather wrapped around her wrist—right at her pulse point—she felt it everywhere.  Everywhere.  “My foolishness almost got us killed in the Dark Hollow,” he said.  “I don’t make a habit of this. I apologize, unreservedly.  My behavior with Neal was inexcusable.”

“Me and Neal—we’re not—”

“I know,” he said.  She liked the way he said it.  Like it was just that simple.  She also liked that he did not let go her wrist as he spoke.  “And that is not the kind of man I want to be.  But it was nonetheless an uncomfortable reminder.”

“Of what?”

His hand moved.  His thumb played with the ring on his first finger.  “Villains don’t get happy endings.  And I have been—I am—a villain.  Seeing you two together so soon after what we had shared—”

“It was just a kiss,” she said.  A lie, and he knew it.  He knew it as well and as easily as she knew that he spoke nothing but the truth. “Killian—” his hand stilled “—we wouldn’t be here now without you.  My father is alive because of you.  We saved Henry because you helped.”  

He blushed, and looked away.

“Thank you, Killian.  For coming back.”

“It was the right thing to do.”  He shifted.  “I just wish I had done it sooner.  I’m sorry.”

Emma leaned forward, slowly.  Forced him to look her in the eye.  “Trust me, you have a mark in the hero column.”  And then she kissed him.  Again.

Slowly.

Savoring it.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and pulled herself closer.  Teased her tongue against his lips.  The sound he made was pure pleasure and he moved, his fingers threading through her hair.  Brushing against her cheek as one kiss became two.  Then three.  She stepped back, slightly, and smiled.  Killian’s fingers moved to trace her lips and he leaned forward, fusing their mouths together.

One kiss.  Another.  Three.

Then the kiss changed and she stopped counting.  His tongue slid into her mouth.  Greedy.  Heated.  His arms wrapped around her and she felt protected—precious—safe—as his mouth wandered, kissing a path across her jaw and down her neck.  Emma exhaled a noise that might have been his name.  The cool metal of his hook played at the hem of her top and his hand fingered the edge of her bra, pulling at the strap.  “May I remove this?”

Always a gentleman.

Emma unclasped it and tossed it aside, along with her top.  She watched him as he removed his coat and then it was her turn, her fingers working at the buttons of his vest and the laces of his shirt.  His eyes trailed every movement with searing intensity and then he lifted her.  “I would like to take you to bed.”

“And I would like to hear you scream,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“As you wish.”

--

 Sated.  Spent.  Fucking exhausted.  Emma cocooned herself in the blanket; nestled more deeply into the pillow.  “My parents want me to get back together with Neal,” she said.

His fingers, idly tracing patterns on her back, froze.

“They didn’t even ask me,” she said.  “They just assumed.  True Love.  Yadda yadda.”

“I see.”  She reached for him but he twisted away from her, maneuvering himself until he was sitting up, his feet squarely on the floor, his back to her—inked and muscled, and twitching when she ran her finger up his spine. 

“Killian?”

He shivered when she said his name but his words, when he spoke, were strained.  Almost formal.  “A one-time thing.  I quite understand.”

“No.  No, Killian, that’s not—” Emma sat up, pulling the blanket with her.  He was so beautiful and had a confidence in his body and his nakedness that she was not feeling.  Not when he said that.  “That’s not what I want.”

“Are you sure?”

“About Neal?” She shrugged.  “Yes.  He broke my heart.”

Killian gave a hoarse chuckle.  He smoothed his hand down his face.  He did not look at her.   “He did.”  

“Neal left.  My parents left.  Graham—” she caught her breath.  “Everyone I’ve ever cared about.”

“Me.”

She nodded.  Took a deep breath and moved.  Touched him.  Let her hands roam and feel the warmth of his skin and the tension beneath.  Turned him to face her and dropped her head to his shoulder.  “I left you first,” she said.  “That’s what I do.  That’s what Neal taught me.  I don’t want to go back to that.  I want to be a part of something.  Aside from Henry, I don’t think I ever have.”

“But you could.”  His arm came around her.  She reached up and threaded her fingers through his.  “Is that what you want?  Or is that what you are afraid of?”

“Both,” she said.

“I would follow you to the end of the world, love.  And back again.  Which are you asking of me?”

“I’m asking you to stay,” Emma said.  Her body hummed as she said it—  focused.  Powerful.  “I want to try something new.  You’re not a villain, Killian.  You’re not a monster.  Your happy ending—”  

Killian smiled.  A breathtaking, beautiful, hopeful smile.  “It’s you,” he said.  “Don’t you know, Emma?  It’s you.”

Every candle in the cabin flared.  He laughed.  His arm hooked around her waist and in less than a second he had her on her back, crowding her, his nose  and his face buried against her neck until his breath tickled.  His hand went to her breasts and when she reached for him, his hook caught her wrists and brought her hands above her head.  His fingers danced along her stomach, her muscles tense. Killian’s forehead pressed against hers, his eyes lit up in the night as she shivered and shook under his slow, gentle caress—as his touch slipped between her legs—as he kissed her, teasing—“Please,” she gasped.

It was the ‘please’ that did it.  His fingers twisted and the world around her went white; she came down slowly, letting herself melt into the bed.  His arms.  She was in a haze, in a place between sleeping and awake.  She felt like she could say anything and be understood.

It was an entirely new feeling.

She liked it.

“I don’t want to tell my parents,” she said.  “My father and mo—Mary Margaret.  About this.  About us.”

“You needn’t protect me from your father, love,” he said, amused.  “He’s made his opinions clear.  Called me names.  Meant a lot of them, I think.  But Dave and I, we’ve arrived at an understanding.  I’m more worried about Snow White.  She’s a fair hand with that bow.”

“I don’t need their permission.  Neither do you.”

“You’re angry with them,” he said.  “Aye, you’ve a right to be.”

Emma shifted to face him head-on, resting herself on his chest.  Inked—like his back—muscled, strong.  Her hands made a pillow and she set her chin down; their eyes met.  “I’m tired,” she said.

“Aye,” he said, slowly.  “You’ve a right to be.”

“I’m so tired, Killian.  And if I tell them then they’re just gonna try to convince me how much they know better.  I don’t want to fight or explain.  I just want them to understand.  Just once.”  Emma laid her head down on her hand-pillow and listened to his heartbeat.  Closed her eyes.

“You have a plan,” he said.

“Maybe,” she murmured.  She was so drowsy.  So comfortable.  “Maybe I do.  Will you trust me?”

“Yes.”

One eye opened.  “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”  Killian leaned forward and kissed her forehead.  Her cheek.  The corner of her mouth.  “It will be daylight soon.  We’re nearly home.”  His hand smoothed her hair as he slid out from underneath her.  

She was asleep before he was gone, the word ringing in her dreams.

Home.

eighteen. 'happily ever after'

Mrs. Lucas greeted him with a very particular—knowing—look as he walked into the diner, the bell over the door heralding his arrival just a few minutes after the device in his pocket had made a noise. A text: They know. Granny’s.

Eloquent, Emma Swan was not.

He’d replaced the device—the phone—in his pocket and hurried, though he affected nonchalance as he pushed the door open. Mrs. Lucas was not fooled. Her face lit up in what could only be described as glee. “Leroy owes me ten bucks,” she said. “How did you pull it off?”

Killian carefully settled himself on a barstool before he leaned forward, beckoning her with a finger. Raising his eyebrows. Making a show of looking around before he answered. “Magic,” he whispered.

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Her laugh was short and sharp, like a bark.

“Now, Mrs. Lucas”—Killian raised his eyebrow dramatically—“would I lie to you?”

She snorted and turned away, leaving a pint of beer in front of him. Killian twisted on his stool and watched her in the corner. Watched them, for Emma and her mother huddled close together over their table.

But he hadn’t told her a lie.

That first night in Storybrooke, as he’d sat in his quarters contemplating the bunk that felt too soft and too large and the night air that felt too cool and too still and too quiet, she’d appeared. A shift in the air, and a puff of white smoke; he’d been sure he was dreaming. In her hand, there was a small object. A black rectangle of some hard material that folded over. “I can’t stay,” Emma said. “But—it was too quiet at home. And I brought you something. It’s a telephone—”

“A talking device,” he said. He’d recognized the Greek even when he hadn’t known the word. Astonishing what one learned in the Royal Navy, and how it carried over even into this realm. “The mermaids have a magic like this.”

“This way we can talk. Or text. And no one will know but us.”

“How romantic,” he deadpanned. But her fingers curled in his as he spoke, twined together.

“I’m going to lunch with Neal tomorrow,” Emma said. “Tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after, until they see what I see. What I know. And then maybe—” she stopped. “What are you going to do?”

“I have some ideas.” He pulled her into his arms. Into his bed. Felt her rands roam as she traced his tattoos with her fingers and then her lips and her tongue until he shivered. Screamed.

And so did she.

She slipped from the sheets, quietly, and stood. “I can’t stay,” she said again.

“I understand,” he’d said. Because he did. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love.”

“So we’re going to do this?” And the unspoken question—you’re going to stay?

Killian nodded, answering both. “Your father’s been waiting for me to rob him since the moment we met. I would hate to be a disappointment.”

She’d appeared that first night and every night since; he almost wished that time were stopped again just so he could live in those moments forever. Here and now, David stood next to him--also watching, also quiet.

In the corner, Snow White started crying. So did Emma. Happy tears, Killian thought—Snow was smiling, holding Emma’s hand—Emma’s shoulders were relaxed and open as she leaned closer.

Killian smiled, too. He heard David’s sigh of relief. Saw his smile when their eyes met. “Take care of her, brother,” the prince said.

“She can take care of herself,” Killian said.

“Better than anyone,” David agreed. “But something tells me she’ll be busy watching out for you.”

“She would, wouldn’t she?”

“Just like her mother,” David said. He clapped his hand on Killian’s shoulder. Gave a squeeze, walked to the table in the corner.

“Another one, if you please, Mrs. Lucas,” Killian said, running his hand through his hair. The bell over the door rang, and Killian glanced over his shoulder. “Make it two.”

He slid the second pint over just as Neal sat on the stool next to his.

“I’m sorry,” Killian said.

Neal took a long, slow sip. He said, “I don’t need an apology, Killian. “And you don’t need my permission.”

“Not about that,” Killian said. “I’m sorry, Bae, for the ugliness that passed between us. If I could do it again, I wouldn’t.”

“Neither would I,” Neal said. “But then we wouldn’t be here. With her.”

“She loves you,” Killian said.

“I love her,” Neal said. “I probably always will. She’s my family.”

“Aye,” Killian said. “She is. And your boy.”

Neal surprised him, then. He turned on his stool and offered his glass in a toast. “And you,” he said.

“To family,” Killian said. He clinked their glasses together.

“To family, and home.”

[wobster109]

Thoughts on Parade of Providence day 3—

Kaveh

"I've heard enough. The last thing I need is more suffering."

What a moment! For Kaveh, who could never look away from anyone's suffering, who made every person's (and some creatures') suffering his own, to refuse it! This was a crucial character moment for him—all the rest of it (helping the foxes, insisting on drawing lots, donating the estate)—the rest of it was all Kaveh. Smashing the diadem, on the other hand. . . he's found his limit, perhaps for the first time. . . and he found it in himself to hold it. 🥺😭🥰

I love that he was as respectful of Sachin as he could be, despite everything. He wouldn't just take his estate for himself and ignore Sachin's wishes. And, in the end, what got Sachin (and his own father) was caring for people. I love that he used Sachin's own money to help people. . . doing what research could not, in a way. It may not have been the perfect solution Sachin was searching for, but it was something, no?

Alhaitham's Quote

"Lofty ideals may provide no defense at all against nihilism, but perhaps little decisions can. By their own choice, the idealist seeks to bring happiness to all, while denying themselves the same. Thus they shall never reach even the borders of truth until they wipe away the ignorance that blinds them."

This quote confused me a bunch. The first part seems to be approving of Kaveh, in a roundabout way: little decisions like helping the foxes, or buying a keychain, or drawing lots just because it's fair. Yet the second part seems like a critique: is he saying Kaveh shall never find truth unless he wipes away his ignorance?

On a second reading, I believe this quote is contrasting Kaveh and Sachin. Sachin is the idealist, who tried to bring happiness to all, and lost himself to despair. On the other hand, if each of us does a bit to be kind, and to help each other. . . we may stave off our slide from bad to worse.

A Tale of Two Fathers

"Whatever it is that he's researching out there, he'll always be garbage in my eyes."

I winced every time Sachin called Kaveh "my child". You HAD a child. You left him.

Kaveh's father had a child, and Kaveh's father left him.

Idealists (derogatory)! Your journey to save people began by leaving someone behind. And yet I can't be mad: Kaveh's father did make a difference. Sachin's research. . . though it cause a lot of grief, it made a difference in the end. It sent the desert people Kaveh's father, which changed who Kaveh grew to become, until he came to command and donate Sachin's estate. They ended up making a difference in the end, so I can't be mad.

And neither can Kaveh. That's the difference between him and Jiwani, who grew bitter and angry. Kaveh has grief, but never bitterness towards others.

Rishti

"To live a better life, my son became a mercenary. He was killed in a scuffle a few years ago, and his belongings were taken. Many years have passed in the blink of an eye. I wonder how his child turned out, and if they hold a grudge against him? Not many people know these things anymore. I'm getting old. Perhaps, I'll forget these things soon, too."

Good god. Archons above.

This is one of those conversations that just sneaks up on you. You're chatting with Rishti, about this bizarre and fantastical situation of a man Coming Back Wrong after coming into contact with a scrap of a dead guy's consciousness trapped in a horcrux diadem, and then. . . suddenly Rishti hits you with something so damn real.

She says it so quietly. Matter-of-factly. It's just a fact of her life, just the fabric of the universe. Nothing to rage against or bemoan. It takes a few seconds for what she has said to sink in.

I interpret this as the game giving us a glimpse into Sachin's research and the memories in his diadem. Such a quiet, profound grief, all the more heartbreaking because of how mundane it seems.

The second part of the grief is the forgetting. Rishti is an old woman, stooped and forgetful. After she is gone, who will remember her mercenary son? Will there be any trace of him left upon the world? The Aranara always say that the forest will remember, to the extent that their very power comes from stories. And in another nation, Zhongli says that the Traveler will bear witness to Teyvat's history. And in a third nation, an adventurer takes on a friend's name, and an archon takes on a friend's shape.

I know about him now, Rishti. I'll remember your son!

(I would love if finding Kaveh's father's note became a commission, either daily or weekly, someday!)

Alhaitham

Nearly had a heart attack when I wandered into Aaru village, and there he was, just casually reading the research that drove Sachin and Kaveh's father to madness. That's risky! And reckless! He has a lot of confidence in himself to be different from Sachin. And perhaps he's right to be confident, but. . . it's a pointless risk. Alhaitham isn't even interested in the research! Kaveh's lost too many people already 😭

In many ways he is Kaveh's opposite, but in this. . . he has a bit of Kaveh's recklessness.

Alhaitham! Every line of his is so loaded with meaning! I was reading each of his lines several times, to try to extract the meaning of it. "Empathy is a double-edged sword," and "All important things in life involve other people. As such, it's extremely difficult to live a life that causes no harm whatsoever to others," and "the world is not built on "correctness" alone. Sometimes, being correct means nothing at all" 😭 Can't help but feel that he's trying to say something very, very essential. I could listen to him talk for hours.

That Conversation and the Fate of Humanity

Of course Alhaitham can't possibly give a straight answer to any of Kaveh's questions, ever, and certainly not "Why were you investigating Sachin when his research doesn't interest you?" Can't just simply say "to find out about your father" like a reasonable person, noooo! Instead we have to get sidetracked and have a debate about the value of Sachin's legacy, and then later he casually throws in "Sachin. . . is very likely to have met your father" like it's unrelated.

FUCK OFF, ALHAITHAM! JUST COME CLEAN AND TELL KAVEH YOU DID IT FOR HIM!

Kaveh is exactly the same. He has to get sidetracked and have another debate about. . . I'm not entirely sure what this one is about. The fate of humanity? Alhaitham says "Someone else will inevitably pick up the same line of research one day," and I believe this means that eventually someone will choose wrong, and will instead publish the research where it will drive swaths of people into depression. After all, the topic is sure to come back again and again.

It reminds me of the Narukami Island and Vanarana quests, actually. Sachin's research is a bit like the filth that accumulates over 60 years, or the Marana (the awareness of death?) that accumulates over 500: nothing can be solved for forever. Eventually, the battle begins anew, and all we can do is hope, and take up arms when the time calls. Sometimes that means fighting the Withering. Other times? Extending your hand to a classmate or a lost fox, even if it's tiny in the grand scheme. Even if it's futile. "All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us."

And if there comes a day when Sachin's prophecy comes true: the battle is lost, "things go from bad to worse". . . The forest will remember. We were here. Our stories were real.

"Thanks for letting me know all this." In typical Kaveh form, he says it from a safe distance after the fact, and doesn't even mention what "this" is. Thank you for letting me know that Sachin is to blame for what happened to my father, and it wasn't what I said. You're welcome, Kaveh! (In this way they are so much alike 🥰)

I think that Alhaitham's little personal quest to find answers for Kaveh. . . it's one of the little decisions that fights against nihilism.

Kaveh (Reprise)

A few loose closing thoughts:

I knew he wasn't athletic on day 1 when he nearly went into cardiac arrest climbing a tree 🥺 He's very *pant pant wheeze* it's very endearing.

How is everyone just standing around while Sachin's Horcrux tries to take over his mind? Come on, Alhaitham! Go to him!

Kaveh talks about Alhaitham a lot. Everyone at the table comments on it, it's very sweet! Rent-free in our hearts, indeed.

In closing, I found this to be so charming:

Hah, a Haravatat taking something that didn't belong to him! Immediately, I thought of Kaveh's house keys. Was delighted to find that was the actual answer!

[mysticsublimeperson]

So,

Merlin works as a housekeeper in a luxury hotel in central London.

And has a son, Aithusa that is 7 years old (or something)

He is best friends with Gwen who's been working a bit longer than him in that hotel.

Arthur is a politic, and I HAVE NO IDEA HOW POLITICS WORKS IN THE UK (nor in my country but that another issue) He is running for something and has to stay in a hotel for the campaign, cause is easier to have the interview there. also a known womanizer

His second in command is Agravaine, and he also has his security personnel aka the knights.

Merlin is not bad at his job, but it's not what he wants to be, and it's trying to get his degree to be a nurse.

And he and his son have lived on the edge of poverty all of their life so this is the stablest job he has had and wants to keep it.

I don't know any neighborhood in UK, so im going to say that they live in the lower town.

Ok, so Merlin has his routine. He wakes up, does his son's breakfast, takes him to school, then takes the tube, and goes to work. At work he has his friends, he is friendly and kind so he has no problem with that, most of his coworkers are women, and he is technically a male maid, as butlers are higher ranking, and then is the steward and then management, I think, I want everybody to understand that im bullshiting my way on this.

On the days his schedule does not match, he brings Aithusa to the hotel to hang out while he is working.

On one of the rooms he is assigned is staying a insufferable woman, Sophia, and she is just the worse person ever, and on day she brings a man with her that leaves a really expensive suit behind and Gwen dares Merlin to live a little and try it on, he does after some pestering. When he is dressed he hears Aithusa distressed calling for him. He comes out like a rocket, and sees Arthur grabbing his son.

They fight like EP1 you know what I mean, like:

"What are you doing with my son?"

"So this is your son? Was it you that made him ask all those questions?"

"I don't know what are you talking about, but if you don't release him now, you are going to have a big problem my friend"

"Do I know you?" He releases the boy that runs towards his father. Before Merlin can answer he keeps on going "No, No I don't, yet you call me friend, you are going to tell me for what press do you work or do we need to do this the hard way"

"Look, you absolute bloody clotpole, I don't work for any press" he shouted shocking Arthur "And you are right, I could never be friends with someone who can be such an arse"

"You can't talk to me that way"

"Who are you? The sodding queen? Get lost" He turned back with Aithusa and went back to the room.

He vents to Gwen, who kindly informs him that, that was Arthur Pendragon, so Merlin thinks he is basically doomed.

Aithusa had been asking him hard questions about politics like "Why did you lie last time?" and Agravaine had gotten under Arthur's skin and basically convinced him that the kid must have been a tiny spy.

After the fight Leon does some damage control, and shows Arthur that he did really escalate the situation more than necessary, and also that that man could sue him easily and ruin his campaign.

Merlin is ranting loudly so he could hear that the situation appeared to be real, and he had screw up.

Merlin meanwhile finishes the room while dressed too, because he had forgotten in his fury, and Gwen is taking care of Aithusa, distracting him.

Arthur knocks on the door, and Merlin answers a bit thrown off, because the owner of the room is not waiting for anybody, and sees Arthur.

Arthur apologizes reluctantly, and Merlin point it out, and they start to banter, but it's a bit more friendly. Merlin assures him that they are not going to sue, so he can relax, still Arthur insist on compensating, because he finds this man interesting and doesn't want to stop that interaction, and then Gwen actually acts and makes him go.

They go with Aithusa to an ice cream shop, and Aithusa keeps on asking questions, Arthus sees how Merlin answers each of them as best as he can, without judgment. Merlin explains how Aithusa is really shy and has social anxiety, usually triggered in class when he is asked a question and he doesn't properly know how to respond.

So Arthur gives Aithusa some tips for stage fright, that he has before his speeches. And that wins him some points.

They spend a lovely time, but Merlin does need to keep workin so they excuse themself and leave Arthur and go back to the hotel.

Merlin takes the suit off and leaves them in the closet. and puts on his uniform, goes off on Gwen meddling and leaves her feeling like she did overstep a bit, when she realizes that Merlin could be fired for this.

Gwen still defends her posture, and expects details on the date. Merlin said that it had not been a date, but it had been rather nice.

At some point he helps Gaius, a senior butler after an injury on the work and covers for him.

they are offering a promotion a work and Merlin doesn't know if take it or leave the door to keep studying open, because if he take it, he knows he won't be able to study for his exams correctly.

Meanwhile Arthur reinspects his sexuality, like in a slow process, first, he couldn't quite believe he had so much fun, then he could nor stop thinking and comparing the parenting styles. His father had never been so soft edged with him, and had never put himself on a position where he didn't have all the cards. Then he could not stop thinking about his ideologies, his ideas, they were so interesting he was curious.

Next morning Agravaine is fuming. The papers caught the whole thing and they are on first page, some trying to identify the man as a benefactor, or a new weapon of the campaign, but one trying to frame it as a date.

That one does two things, sends Agravaine in a, certainly homophobic, rage induced spiral, and makes Arthur realize that maybe he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it because he too wishes it had been a date. He reads that article carefully.

And then he send a message to the room for a dinner, determined to find out whatever he is feeling.

He still doesn't know what to do when he finds out, he has never been attracted to a man, but well, it didn't feel like a big revelation just yet.

Merlin is asked to help serve that dinner.

When Arthur opened the door and a blond girl entered the room gushing about how happy she was he remembered her and flirting insatiably. Yeah not good.

The dinner was served perfectly, even with the lame attempts of hiding on Merlin's part. Who is rather proud when hearing the conversation between Arthur and his security team about the outing the other day and how fun it had been, because he too had enjoyed it.

Gaius is in the kitchen with Merlin, trying to get him to accept the promotion, and offering his help, when Arthur barges in. Merlins hides his face.

"A man" Arhtur says frustrated "The person Im looking for is a man"

"She was the only one in that room sir" Gaius explains.

"A man, my height, black hair, blue eyes and has a son named Aithusa, find him" orders frustrated before leaving the kitchen.

Gaius turns slowly and sees merlin slouched on the counter "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

Gaius promises to help him, only if he takes the test for the promotion, swearing Merlin could do everything he put his mind to.

So he presents an application.

That day when he is leaving with Aithusa, Arthur intercepts them near a close by restaurant he had been eating at.

"Where have you been? I have been looking for you?"

"I... To tell the truth I've never stayed in the hotel..."

"Oh... are you with that woman then?"

"Not in a million years"

"We were just waiting, he can only leave after five, that is the work schedule" Aithusa answered, and it was the truth, but it made it seem like he was some kind of solicitor, or secretary or something.

"Yes, you see, I'm a.."

"So you work for her"

"Yes" Aithusa grabbed his hand and he could only frown, what was he doing.

"Not related, not his mother...?

"Oh god no!" Merlin shouted terrified with that disgusting image.

"Then do you think you could come with me to the very important gala?"

"Yes he can"

"I don't think so" he threw a look to his son finally understanding what he had been doing "I have to work, and I don't know I f I can find a replacement"

"Just think about it yeah? I think your ideas about the lower town would be really appropriate there, here. This is my number call me if you reach a decision"

"I will, thank you"

Merlin was genuinely touched that he thought his ideas were valid in a place like that. But it was impossible he could go, and he had to study for his promotion test.

Merlin gave Aithusa an earful for lying to Arthur on purpose, and he responded that Arthur himself had explained that lies that helped others feel at ease with the change that was happening, where necessary.

Merlin cursed Arthur very badly.

And Gaius who offered to cover his shift, and Gwen who put the entire hotel staff into a cinderella mission. The boutique lended him a really nice suit, and the hair salon did something weird to his hair, and put on a face mask while on manicure. His hands were rough and hard from working but they cleaned up nicely.

Under threat that if he got the suit dirty Aithusa would be an orphan again, Merlin left, on a taxi, that had been a bit too much.

He arrives, and Arthur is way too happy.

"You do clean up well"

"Even the broken clock, gets it right twice a day" Merlin mutters, making Arthur laugh.

Arthur actually introduces hi to a couple of very interesting people, and gets him talking about some important stuff and introduces him to his security team too, before the are interrupted by Sophia trying to flirt with Arthur. He can't deny her in public so he dances, and Merlin comes to the realization that he does want that very badly,

He likes Arthur, but even if the signals he's been picking up are correct, and Arthur does like him, and is willing to openly BE with him, AND his son, with already sees like too much. This was all a lie, Merlin wasn't someone important and he had lied, he hadn't told the truth and had kept Arthur in the dark, that made him no better than Sophia. And, if that wasn't enough, if he kept with this, he most certainly be fired.

He turns and leaves, texting Arthur that he will be going, and thank you for everything.

To be continued...

I suddenly desperately need a Maid in Manhattan Merthur AU

Please someone, tell me I'm not the only one PLEASE

[ohladybegood]

swashbucklery replied to your post “My sales team has to go in front of the board in the morning, and I’m...”

So please consider: the Legends taking a break and maybe temporarily disbanding in S3 means that Sara has to go back to her old life

Oh man, but what does that even look like? Does she rejoin Team Arrow for bit? Is she going to couch surf between her dad’s apartment and Felicity’s and Thea’s? Does she catch up with Kendra? Is this how she finds out about Earth 2 Laurel??

The idea of the Legends disbanding actually bothers me, even if it’s only temporary? Because the rest of the team have careers they can pick back up and the like. Sara’s life hasn’t been anything approaching normal since 2007. She’s gone from being a college student to a captive to an assassin for a few years to a vigilante to dead to becoming a Legend and then the captain of a crew responsible for the fabric of time itself. 

Sara deserves some time off. I just feel like she won’t enjoy it, if it means losing her sense of purpose (and her team and her ship).

[gotnofucks]

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo​ for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid​ ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”                                                                                  

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.  

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

[mira-gilastorm]

To Fix A Future

Chapter 4: Where Did You Get A Fox?

Ao3 Ch1 Ch2 Ch3

 "I am naming Daemon Hand of the King."

Rhaenyra wanted to burst out in laughter at the dead silence in Small Council chamber. Dany stood off to the side with the red priest, who insisted on staying by her side - like some kind of guard.

"But- Your Grace. May I ask, have I failed you in some way?" Hightower's eyes were bulging.

She couldn't help but smirk, deciding she could speak up. "Tell me, Lord Hightower, how was it again that my grandfather died?"

He turned to her father, "A hunting accident, Your Grace! You know this!"

"I believe it was the Princess who was speaking to you." Her uncle's voice was nothing more than a growl and it sent shivers through her. Her husband in that other life.

"An accident that conveniently made you Hand. A second son with no real options to rise above your station in life - suddenly Hand to the King, with your daughter as the only Lady-in-Waiting to the princess." she hummed.

"You can't possibly be suggesting-"

Daenerys spoke from her place in the corner of the room, tiny voice clear, "We are not suggesting, Otto Hightower. We are accusing." She tilted her head in a very girlish way, "I'm sure such a learned man knows the difference."

"Forgive me, Your Grace," Grand Maester Mellos - another snake, "but these are the words of children. Hardly enough to ruin-"

Her father's hand slammed on the table, causing all the councilmembers to jump. "The words of dragons. You know nothing of what they speak, Mellos." She had never seen so much fire in her father. Sometimes it was easy to forget he was also one of them. "And you would be wise to tread carefully as well. Your advice on my treatment and that of my wife and son has left much to be desired."

The man's jaw clicked closed. Oh this was all so satisfying.

She took a step forward, hands laced behind her back, "Did the midwives tell you that they could not deliver my brother, Maester? Or was it you who told them he could not be delivered, I wonder. It seems so odd that Targaryens keep dying at the hands of those from Oldtown, does it not?"

"How dare you! My house has been nothing but loyal!" Hightower's voice raised in a dramatic shout, throwing himself up from his chair.

He was quickly met with Dark Sister dangerously near his throat. "I'd be careful how you speak to your future queen, Otto. Threatening her is treason, after all."

Lord Beesbury glanced over at her, ignoring the scene of Daemon and Otto. "Ah, excellent. Naming an official heir will bring stability to these trying times."

"A woman, though - hardly a thing that will bring stability."

Lord Corlys laughed from his place at the end of the table. "Still thinking a woman cannot rule. Rhaenyra is Viserys' rightful heir." He turned to her uncle, "What I want to know is why you are relinquishing the position so readily."

Daemon lowered his sword a bit before spinning it and sheathing it with a little flourish. "Easy answer. I've never wanted the Iron Throne. I want to protect my family and our House, our history and traditions. Court is boring - let Rhaenyra deal with the politicking, she's better suited to it."

"A remarkably honest answer from the Rogue Prince," Lord Strong nodded respectfully to him.

He snorted, "You'll find I'm a remarkably honest person, despite what certain people would have you believe."

Lord Strong looked around the room nervously, "So we will need a new commander of the Gold Cloaks. Are there any other changes being made? Other than the Hand's position, of course, Your Grace."

Dany stepped forward, "I will be fetching a retinue of healers from Essos to found a new school of healing here in Kings Landing - just healing, not the breadth of knowledge that the maesters subject themselves to. We will also be creating a position on the Council for Master of Whispers, which will, for now, be held by Melisandre."

Mellos stood to turn and face Daenerys in a rage. Rhaenyra and Daemon both moved to protect her little cousin.

Neither had a chance.

The red woman's stone around her neck glowed a bright red and he began to gag, face turning a bright purple as his hands went to his neck. The old man fell to his knees, begging wordlessly as Dany stood over him with an impassive face.

The lovely face twisted into a sneer. "Your death is a mercy. You should have been butchered as my aunt was."

There was that same far-away look in her eyes as Mellos shuddered and collapsed in a heap at her feet, dead.

Lord Corlys and Lord Commander Redwyne both stepped away in shock, but Rhaenyra joined her cousin in standing over her mother's murderer.

"Magic in the world yet."

Her father let out a derisive laugh, "Oh but if you only knew, cousin. If you only knew."

Melisandre hummed in that odd way of hers - almost like a purr. "No magic. Only the power of the Lord of Light."

The Sea Snake shook his head, "We call the powers of the Drowned God a magic. What would make your god so different? The powers of the dragons and Old Valyria? Is it not all magic by another name? Just because you know its source does not make it any less what it is."

"I must say, I cannot argue with such sound logic, Lord Sea Snake."

Daemon hummed from next to her. She hadn't realized how close they'd moved in trying to get to Dany, "A marvelous feat, I assure you."

Lord Beesbury stared at the red priest as if she were one of his numerical accounts he were trying to make sense of. "I presume this woman and her powers are the way you know of such plots against your family, Your Grace?"

Her father sat back down sullenly. "She is not. If she were, it could easily be written off as attempts to sow discord or disrupt our kingdom. No, Melisandre is not the source of this knowledge."

"And we are certain this information is beyond doubt? It is valid and provable?" Lord Strong was the only member still seated at the table, though his face was markedly pale.

Daenerys stepped over the maester's body to stand in front of her. "Have you seen Alicent this morning?"

"What? I- No. I dressed on my own in a hurry. Why?"

She turned to the guards at the door, "Fetch Alicent Hightower."

Everyone in the room sat in an uncomfortable silence while one of their guards sought out her lady.

As she rushed in, poor Alicent looked flustered and terrified. Dany gave her a brief smile and a calm nod. "I want you to know that you are in no way held responsible for whatever is said here today. Okay?"

"Dany- I mean, Princess, I don't understand."

"It's okay. I just need to ask you a question and I want you to answer completely honestly and without fear of any kind of repercussions, okay?"

Alicent only nodded, her eyes flickering over Daenerys' shoulder to her father. Something in Rhaenyra growled at that.

"Alicent, last night, did your father tell you to go to the King's chambers - wearing one of your mother's dresses - to comfort him?"

Her friend's eyes went wide. "He- I- But I didn't go! You were all gathered there together and I was so relieved that I wouldn't have to-"

"You stupid girl!" Hightower shouted at her, rushing toward his daughter as she trembled behind Daenerys.

"Ah, ah, ah." Daemon stepped in his way, hand on Dark Sister's hilt. "I believe my niece promised Lady Alicent there would be no repercussions for telling the truth."

Rhaenyra turned to the Small Council, "You wanted unequivocal proof, here it is. Things that could not be known and yet are. Daenerys Targaryen possesses the ability to dream as Aegon the Conqueror did."

Lord Commander Redwyne stalked over to Otto, grabbing him by the arm, turning to the king. "What shall we do with this traitor, my King?"

"I'm in favor of a public execution, myself." Her uncle toyed with his sword again as if it were restless.

"Of course you are, brother."

An image came to mind. "I think we should follow my cousin's example and let the one responsible for our loved ones' deaths burn on their pyres."

Dany didn't respond, just stared at Otto as he wilted in the Lord Commander's grip. She lifted the Hand's pin off his doublet and moving to set it in place on her uncle's chest.

"Hae Jaes, syt mirre jēda, lentor letagon - isi ondos isse ondos, se sīr ēdruta īlon."1

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

What an entertaining morning it had been. Named Hand, stood side-by-side with Rhaenyra as her protector, got to watch that leech, Hightower, be dragged away - what a genuinely lovely morning.

And the way the red woman had protected Daenerys had been interesting. He followed the gods of Old Valyria, but it was clear her power was nothing to mess with.

"I'm afraid I'm about to ruin your good mood, brother," he turned to see Viserys leaning against a column lining the garden.

"You must have truly dreadful news then, Viserys, because there are very few things that can overshadow watching Hightower get dragged to the dungeons."

"I think Rhaenyra should marry Laenor."

If it had been anyone other than his brother suggesting such a thing, he would have cut them down. Rhaenyra was his. It was destiny.

"You can't be serious. You heard the same history as I did - her children were never fathered by Laenor -"

He could feel his chest tightening. She would take a lover, someone outside the bounds of her political arrangement. There didn't have to be anyone else-

He couldn't do it. He couldn't share her.

"I did hear the same history. I heard two people so much in love with each other they would spurn their father, brother, king - to be together. Forego mourning for their loved ones, wage war together." His brother moved to rest his hands on his shoulders. "You two are true dragons - all fire and blood. What kind of chaos am I unleashing if I let you wed?"

He gave a small huff, "Imagine the chaos we cause to get back to each other."

"Well, what do you propose we give Lord Corlys, then? He believes his wife should be on the throne."

"Marry his daughter, then."

Viserys withdrew from him, "She's a child!"

He rolled his eyes, "I didn't say bed her. A betrothal until she's - say, fifteen, then discuss with her whether she wants to bear children or not. Given Dany's dream, I feel it's safer for her to be with us any way."

He intended for he and Rhaenyra to have heirs of their own long before then either way. His princess' rule would be secured.

"That's remarkably sound advice from the King's new Hand," his brother smirked at him.

"It's entirely self-serving, I assure you."

Viserys watched him for a moment. "I'm sorry, for what it's worth."

Daemon felt himself go still in surprise. "What are you sorry for?"

"For letting them poison my opinion of you. I've envied your freedom since I became king that it became easy to resent it. But you're right - you're honest, and you'll protect our family and our House until your last breath. And that's what I need."

He held back a smile, "You mean you need someone to tell you when you're being an idiot and trying to marry your daughter off to the wrong man."

His brother laughed, "Yes, I suppose that too."

"Why would you try to marry Nyra to anyone other than Uncle Daemon?" The trio of girls stepped out of a large door, Daenerys in the lead, a red fox laid across her shoulders.

"Dany, hush!" Alicent giggled - she didn't know about their conversation the night before, she would think they were just teasing.

Rhaenyra didn't even glance his way. She looked straight at her father. "Political advantage. If I had to guess, my cousin Laenor was the candidate being discussed."

Maybe this was something that had changed. He hadn't considered it yet, but since she'd found out they'd been together, she hadn't even spoken to him.

Whatever had made her fall in love with him - maybe it changed.

"You would be correct, Princess."

She finally turned her gaze on him. "And yet the Hand disapproves."

There was something fiery in her stare. What was that? Did she want him to say that, no, of course he didn't approve? She belonged to him and him alone? Was it a challenge to see if he was capable of playing politics?

"I believe the princess would find it hard to have an heir with one who prefers the company of men."

She hummed, turning her gaze back to her father who had been watching the two of them with interest. "Wise council. I'm inclined to agree with him. Ser Laenor would sooner bed Prince Daemon than myself - not that I'd begrudge him that - but it would make it difficult to produce an heir for our House."

Did she-

Alicent cackled, "Rhaenyra!"

Viserys groaned as Daenerys let her fox down to run about the garden.

Daemon looked over to see Rhaenyra give him a wicked smile before she turned back to Dany. He was not going to think about that smile - or her words or that fire in her challenging stare- No.

He frowned at his little niece, "Daenerys - where did you get a fox?"

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

Melisandre could tell that more and more of her old life was slipping away - but it was better for the princess.

Now, though, as they stood around - gathered at the pyres for Queen Aemma and the small Prince Baelon - that hardness was back. It was a stone that formed, layer by layer, from grief upon grief and loss upon loss.

Daenerys had insisted that her dragons' eggs be present, as her cousin and uncle's dragons were. Syrax had become protective of the stone eggs - she knew what they were, what they would become.

The traitor was brought out before the gathering, the Lord Commander leading two of his Kingsguard as they dragged him through the grass. What an undignified way to meet your end.

Redwyne's voice boomed out, "Otto Hightower, you stand accused of the murder of Baelon Targaryen and of treason in the plotting against the King and his House."

Melisandre had to admit, it was an interesting way to mete out justice - with humiliation first.

"Where are the accusers?"

Daenerys stepped forward first. "Here."

Rhaenyra. "Here."

Then, the final blow, his daughter stepped forward. "Here."

The Lord Commander turned to the King, "Your ruling, Your Grace?"

"Guilty. Treason against House Targaryen will be met with fire and blood."

He sounded very much like a king. This Viserys was growing in her esteem - not an easy feat, by any stretch. Perhaps ridding them of that maester had done more than she'd thought.

"No! No!" The Hightower man was screeching as the soldiers fastened him to the funeral pyres.

She would have done the burnings separately, herself, but vengeance rarely thought logically. If the dragons wanted blood, who was she to deny them?

A final step - one of the dragon keepers approached with the warming chamber of the egg that had been meant to be the babe's. Daenerys took it with no gloves - no protection from the heat - and moved to set it on the pyre next to the small, wrapped figure.

Only death can pay for life. Perhaps it would hatch with this offering to the gods of Old Valyria. Perhaps it was merely symbolic, sending the child off with the dragon that would have been with him in life.

She longed to say the words - to relinquish these children of fire and blood up into the flames. But they were not children of her flames. They belonged to the Fourteen. Let the words of the Valyrian gods carry them away to their own fires.

"For the night is dark and full of terrors," she murmured still.

Daemon set a hand on Daenerys' shoulder, speaking their own words. "Valar morghūlis yn īlon zālagon lēda Perzys Ānogār"

The others repeated it softly. "All men must die but we burn with fire and blood."

A sniffle came from Rhaenyra. Melisandre raised a brow. The princess was quite stoic and calm - she would not have expected tears from her.

The wind rustled the black lace over her red dress - the nearest she had to a mourning gown, and it was only out of respect for her Lady. There was a deep silence over the hilltop, despite Otto Hightower's whimpers.

Prince Daemon stepped toward Rhaenyra, "They're waiting for you."

"Drac-" Poor girl. The word stuck in her mouth, probably caught on the grief she was still swallowing down. "Dracarys."

The great golden beast gave her rider a mournful stare and released a stream of white flame from her jaw. It was blinding, just as the screams of the traitor were piercing.

Before she could stop her, Daenerys darted forward. "Princess!"

"Dany!"

Rhaenyra moved to follow, only to be held back by Daemon. "You do not have a history of walking through fire unburnt, dear niece. Trust her."

At Rhaenyra's outburst, Syrax ceased her stream of fire. The pyres were still burning and Melisandre had to remind herself that Daemon's words rang true - Azor Ahai would not be harmed in the flames.

A figure could barely be seen, so small. She was still so young. But she was also not alone in the fire - the screams of that traitor Hightower had stopped. He certainly died fast.

The smaller pyre collapsed under the weight of itself and Daenerys could be seen more clearly, surrounded by fire with- with Otto on his knees at her feet.

"What is she doing?" The princess next to her growled, the dragon perched up above them echoing her sentiment.

There was murmuring from behind as the gathered lords and ladies of the court started to express their confusion. Obviously, none of them had seen a Targaryen walk into fire willingly.

Go.

Melisandre would know her Lord's voice as easily as her own. She moved toward the large pyre where the fire was still burning - where her princess still was.

The sound of the wood cracking was deafening as it collapsed, taking most of the open flames with it.

Daenerys stood out among the pile of ashes, the cloud of embers framing her like the Valyrian goddesses of legend. She was unburnt. Unlike the husk of a man still prostrate at her feet.

She moved to mirror him, kneeling at her princess' feet. "Yet again, you prove to the world that Azor Ahai lives, Princess."

The girl's violet eyes swept over the hillside, probably taking in the faces of everyone that could finally see her as the miracle she truly was.

"Please perform your last rites on him, Melisandre. I promised him something more than just a traitor's death."

The Last Kiss. "As you command," she answered to both her Lord and Lady.

Dany moved away and she could see that Hightower had clung to her like the coward he was. As she moved, ash left a powdery shimmer over her black gown, turning everything on her silver to match her hair.

She truly did look like the Maiden the heretics of the Seven worshipped - a goddess in her own right - as she stepped across the hot coals of the pyres, stirring up flames as she gifted them with air.

The body of the man was essentially fused into the position he'd died in. The flames had melted his skin and clothes together. Syrax had certainly done her job well.

Generally, she would clean the body and prepare it entirely before returning the body's flame. But it was unlikely that this body was missing fire. It was the blessing and the power it needed.

"Life is warmth, and warmth is fire, and fire is R'hllor's and R'hllor's alone." She felt the heat of the ruby at her throat as her Lord filled her with his power.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss upon the burned skin of the man's head. If he was worthy now, it was because he had been purified in the fire and forgiven by Azor Ahai.

"For the night is dark and full of terrors." Melisandre stood and stepped back to her place beside Daemon and Rhaenyra.

The prince stared over at her, "Better than he deserved."

She turned her golden eyes to him, "It was not for me to decide. I am only a servant to my Lord and his chosen."

There were low growls from around them - both Syrax and Caraxes clambered closer, causing nervous whispers from the group around them. Even Melisandre wasn't entirely comfortable around the giant creatures of living flame.

"Syrax!"

Daemon turned to his own beast and tilted his head. "What is it?"

Both dragonriders turned toward Daenerys simultaneously as she knelt down into the glowing coals.

Out of the ashes she pulled a small silvery bundle. She clutched it to her chest as she moved to stand over Hightower again, ready for him to gasp loudly, taking in his first new breath as a servant to the Lord of Light.

The fused and burned skin peeled off as scars and he reached out toward the princess. She stared down at him. "Otto Hightower, you have been judged and you have paid the penalty with your life. I have granted you new life for you to serve House Targaryen in perpetuity. Will you swear this?"

The traitor began to weep at her feet. "I swear. Of course, my Princess. I swear."

She nodded, looking out at the crowd gathered beyond her family. "Let it be known that the House of the Dragon stands strong and united."

To punctuate her statement, the silver bundle in her arms stretched its translucent wings and let out a high-pitched screech.

Only death pays for life, indeed.

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

This wasn't right - in the same way being born with Lannister blood wasn't right. The beautiful silver and red dragon curled up in front of her hearth wasn't the one that she was meant to hatch.

Both the dragon and her fox were laying near the fire comfortably as she watched them.

"What will you name her?" Alicent was brushing out her wet hair. She'd desperately needed a bath after covering herself in soot and ash.

Rhaenyra looked up at them from where she was reclining on the floor near the dragon, "Dragons more or less name themselves. It's a sort of impression they give their bonded - a name that just fits."

"Then I suppose it will not be me naming her."

Alicent paused in her brushing, "What do you mean?"

"She doesn't plan to bond with her." Rhae turned to them, sitting up, "Isn't that right, Dany?"

Daenerys pursed her lips, feeling every bit the petulant child she was. "She's not my dragon!"

Her cousin stood up, scooping the hatchling up in her arms as she did. "You can cling to your stone eggs if you want to, Daenerys, but they're not supposed to hatch for another two hundred years!"

"Two-" Alicent started to question, clearly confused.

"You don't know that!" She stood from her seat, startling Alicent. "Why would she have brought them here if not for me to have my children again?" A small yip came from the fox near the hearth.

There it was - that familiar hollow ache that would just sit in her chest until she felt like she couldn't breathe anymore. "I don't know how to explain it, Nyra, but they were all I had - the only thing I was ever going to have. Losing them was like losing limbs - carving out pieces of myself."

Her cheeks were wet. She hadn't realized she'd been crying. "I know it's not real. I do, really. I know it's just dreams and some twisted kind of memories, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. The dragons are the most vivid part - more vivid than dying. They're my children and they looked to me as their mother. Drogon was there as he killed me, probably avenged me, actually."

Rhaenyra sighed, stroking along the spines of the silver she-dragon. "That's the black and red one, isn't it? You tend to carry that egg more than the others."

"Yeah," she sighed. "He was the one I rode."

Her cousin nodded. "Okay, I'm going to put something forward that might be hard to swallow, but I just need you to listen."

Alicent huffed, "This sounds like we're about to get in trouble."

Rhaenyra gave her a brief glare. "The opposite, actually." She took Daenerys' hand and transferred the small dragon to her. "You hatched her, whether you want to admit it or not. But that is not what I want you to think carefully about.

"How vital were your dragons to the fight against the Night King? To the prophecy and fulfillment of you becoming the true embodiment of Azor Ahai? How badly will those stone eggs be needed by your next life?"

Every word was a deeper blade through her chest. The sky had only bled when she had hatched her dragons, she had rescued the Night's Watch from Drogon's back. It was hatching the dragons themselves that became the forging of Lightbringer.

Her children were needed for the Long Night. And she had a tiny creature in front of her that needed her.

"You're right." She scratched at the jaw of the small thing in her hands, drawing a little chirp out of it. "And what kind of Targaryen would I be if I abandoned her for a memory of a dream?" She sighed, "Even if it makes my chest ache like I've been emptied out and filled with steel."

Alicent hugged her from behind, careful of the dragon. "Oh, Dany. The grief gets easier - I promise. I know that exact feeling. It's how I felt after my mother died. After time, it's like the weight gets lesser and lesser. I don't know that it ever quite goes away, but it gets bearable, at least."

Rhaenyra grabbed one of Alicent's hands and rested her other one on Dany's cheek, brushing away a stray tear as if she weren't crying herself. "We can grieve together. You said it today, Daenerys. We are united and we are strong - even in our grief. Yes?" Her thumb wiped away another tear.

Dany nodded, "Yeah." She sniffled as her cousin wrapped her arm around both her and Alicent.

There was a small screech in protest as the little ball of silver scales got pressed into her chest.

Kaeres.

She laughed. Not just at the noise or the fact that, yes, they were clearly bonded. But at the irony. Kaeres - spirit. Ghost.

"Her name is Kaeres." There was a happy squawk from the little she-dragon as she bounced up in Dany's lap, frightening Alicent.

The two cousins laughed at their friend, quickly dissolving into hysterics as Dany fell to the floor and Kaeres nested in her now-dry hair, also drawing Melisandre over to examine her.

Even Alicent had to admit they were adorable. Good, perhaps it would cure her of her fear of dragons.

A knock sounded at her door and the three of them sat up. "Enter."

Ser Harrold pushed the door open, bowing. "Princesses, Lady Alicent, the Small Council will be convening shortly. I believe you will be expected." She watched his eyes wander around the room. "As well as the Lady Melisandre."

It took every bit of decorum she had not to laugh at the fact that no one had figured out where Melisandre was when they couldn't see her. Or where the fox had come from. Honestly, everyone was so blind.

"Thank you, Ser Harrold. We will be there." The Kingsguard saw himself out.

"What do you think they want?" Alicent was not accustomed to being in the Small Council.

Dany reached to squeeze her hand, "There's much to discuss. They're going to want to know if you're going back to Oldtown or if you'll stay on as the King's ward."

Rhaenyra hugged their friend tight, "Don't worry, we won't let them send you anywhere."

"I don't understand. Why wouldn't I just stay here with my father?"

She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the tears of her friend, "Because I'm sending him to the Wall."

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

It was true - Alicent had cried when Daenerys told her they would be sending her father to the Wall. But it was also true that he wasn't quite her father any more.

When the three of them made their entrance into the Council chamber, she saw him standing hunched between two guards - or, more accurately, what was left of him.

All hair had been burned away, leaving only shiny patches of white scars mottling every surface of skin that could be seen. His hazel eyes had brightened to a familiar gold - the same as Melisandre's.

The shiny parts of his skin almost looked wet - like they were oozing some kind of clear liquid - while the rest of him seemed like it was peeling off in thin layers. He was something monstrous to see, certainly.

"The Princesses Rhaenyra Targaryen and Daenerys Lannister, and the Lady Alicent Hightower." Ser Harrold announced them. Dany flinched at her family name as she always did.

Rhaenyra walked in front of them as the heir, her face expressionless and stern. It was a miracle the whole world didn't bow before her in sheer respect, at least in her opinion. Daenerys had just become more Targaryen and mystical, carrying her new silver dragon in her arms and her mysterious fox on her shoulders.

And then there was her - just Alicent, next to these women who would be the things of legend.

"Ah, Ladies, welcome," the King seemed pleased to see them, which she counted as a good thing. She knew her friends had promised not to let anything happen to her, but the King still had the final say.

"Thank you, Father." Rhaenyra moved to take a seat at the table across from her uncle - generally reserved for the queen.

The new Grand Maester looked around the room, "I confess, I was hoping to meet this red priest I've heard so much about. Is she not with you, Princess Daenerys?"

Alicent realized she hadn't seen the Lady Melisandre since the funeral. It was odd for her to leave Dany's side.

The fox hopped off the princess' shoulder and lifted its chin to reveal a collar with a large ruby. The ruby glowed bright enough to blind, forcing everyone to look away. As the light dimmed, there was no longer a fox, but Melisandre standing in its place.

She smirked mischievously, "You'll find, maester, I am indeed never far from the princess."

Prince Daemon laughed, "Clever. Who would keep a princess' pet from her? Very clever."

Lord Strong stared at the red priest thoughtfully, "Also quite useful as the Master of Whisperers for the Small Council, which I suspect Princess Daenerys knew when she had you named."

"Amongst other talents she possesses, yes." Dany moved Kaeres to her shoulder to free her hands and the dragon instantly burrowed behind her neck into her hair.

Melisandre crossed to take a seat across from Lord Beesbury, leaving Alicent and Dany standing. It didn't seem to bother Daenerys at all, but Ali didn't know what to do about it.

"Alright, we're all here. Princess Rhaenyra is to sit in as heir and behave as a participating member of this council from this time forward."

Her best friend inclined her head to her father, "Thank you, my King."

He nodded to the table in general, "Now, to the matter of House Hightower-"

Almost everyone around the table began speaking at once, trying to have the king hear their own idea of what should be done with her and her family.

"Enough!" Daemon shouted, silencing everyone. "I believe my brother was speaking."

Alicent and everyone else gave him an impressed look - except the two princesses. They didn't seem surprised at all.

King Viserys cleared his throat, "As I was saying, I would like to hear Lady Alicent's request before any decisions are made."

Her mind went blank. "Mine?"

"Indeed. No one knows the minds and hearts of your family better than you. We know your father and uncle are complicit, but do you think others in your house capable of treachery?"

She thought on her brother and cousin. "Both my brother and cousin would seek to rise above their station, but so would nearly every Lord in Westeros, Your Grace. I don't know that makes them capable of treason. I do not think it is an obsession for them as it was for my father."

"And do you wish to return to Oldtown to be with your brother and cousin?"

"No, Your Grace. If it pleases you, I would rather remain and continue in my service of the princesses."

The king smiled at her and she felt a surge of relief. "It does please the crown to allow you to remain here as a ward of House Targaryen until the day you find a suitable match and are married into a house worthy of you."

"Thank you, Your Grace." She curtsied.

He nodded and turned back to his council. Alicent moved to stand next to Dany over at the table with the cups.

"And what of Otto?"

"The Wall," Dany stepped away from her. As she approached, it was like Hightower gained new strength, standing straighter.

"Of course, Princess. However I can serve you."

Daenerys moved to face the room at large, "Otto Hightower will serve at the Wall. He will take the oath of the Night's Watch and uphold it, waiting, watching, and listening for the signs of the Long Night. When the rumors of the dead rising with blue eyes begin, or wildlings fleeing south, or the Others waking begin - he will alert us."

She lifted her chin, "And House Targaryen will know it is time for the stone eggs to hatch."

"You speak of fairy tales, Princess." Grand Maester Orwyle clearly hadn't been told about how his predecessor died.

Lord Beesbury turned to him, "You are looking at a man brought to life before your eyes and a girl who walked through dragonfire unburnt, yet you speak of fairy tales? Have some sense, Grand Maester."

Prince Daemon laughed again. Rhaenyra glared at him and he instantly quieted.

Dany practically glided back to her place by Alicent with as gracefully as she moved with Kaeres on her shoulders.

"The matter of House Hightower is concluded, then." Daemon announced to the table. "I put forth Ser Harwin Strong as my successor as Commander of the City Watch."

Lord Strong flushed a bit, sitting forward. "All in favor?" There was an echo of 'aye's around the table. "Any opposed?" No one said anything. "Ser Harwin Strong will be sworn in as Commander of the City Watch. Lord Hand, my House thanks you for the honor."

Daemon's jaw twitched slightly, "No need. He's simply the most qualified for the position."

The King watched the exchange with the same curiosity she herself felt, except he seemed to know something about it. "Very good. Now, on to the next order of business - Rhaenyra's naming as heir. Have all the ravens been sent, Grand Maester?"

Orwyle nodded, "They have, Your Grace."

"And where are we on planning the tournament?"

Rhae sighed, "Father, is a tourney entirely necessary?"

"Actually, it will help foster good relations between you and your future subjects, Princess." her uncle raised a challenging brow at her and Alicent half expected a scene between the two of them.

Instead, Rhaenyra pursed her lips, "I can see the wisdom in that. As absurd as I find it."

Lord Beesbury took the opportunity to answer, "All is according to plan, Your Grace. The feasts for the commons and court are prepared, and the tournament purses have been funded."

"Excellent."

Lord Corlys stood at the end of the table, "Final order of business, Your Grace. There is still the matter of the Stepstones. The Crabfeeder has cleared the pirates from the shipping lanes and is intent on owning those shipping lanes in the name of the Triarchy."

Alicent watched as Daemon and Rhaenyra both leaned forward simultaneously.

"Father, I think we should take this seriously."

"Your Grace, this is likely going to be something that will become a problem-"

It was all she could do not to laugh at the shade of red her best friend was turning. She turned to meet Dany's eyes. Oh they were so going to make her regret this later.

The king looked between the two of them with an amused expression, "It would appear my Hand and heir both believe we should intervene. What were you proposing, Lord Corlys?"

"I would urge you not to allow this Triarchy much latitude in the Stepstones, Your Grace. If those shipping lanes should fall, it would beggar our ports."

Rhaenyra stared down the table at him, "Do they currently hold a strong military presence?"

"Not as strong as it could be, Princess. They are still finishing their campaign to remove the pirates from the caves. Once they have finished that and dig their own way in, they will be almost impossible to root out."

There was a meaningful look passed between Rhaenyra and Daemon - like they knew something about this that the rest of the room didn't.

Prince Daemon nodded toward Corlys, "Then we will likely need to intervene before that happens. What do you need?"

"Ships and tender, Lord Hand. Likely men, calvary and archers alike, as well."

The Master of Coin sighed deeply, "That sounds like you intend to fight a full war. In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms have never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable."

"These pirates are not the Free Cities, Lord Beesbury." Rhaenyra eyed him steadily. "I doubt they want open war with us any more than we do with them. They can easily disavow this Crabfeeder, and likely will."

Lord Strong nodded, "If we give a show of strength, she is correct. It will give no reason for the Free Cities to believe they can strike back."

Daenerys tugged Kaeres out of her hair, "Dragons, then?"

King Viserys nodded, "Indeed. It is settled. Lord Corlys, Driftmark will have the Crown's support in coin, ships, men, and our dragonriders as well." He stood, with everyone following suit. "This concludes our business. Daemon and Corlys, stay. We have one more thing to discuss."

She and Dany waited near the door for Nyra and Melisandre.

"You've really been the fox this whole time?" Alicent stared at the red woman. After a few moments, the oddness of her golden eyes made sense - they were a fox's eyes, with angled pupils rather than fully round. It was subtle, but it was there.

The priestess cocked her head at her, "I serve the Lord of Light, Lady Alicent. Some days it is nice to just curl up in a patch of sunlight and bask in his presence." She smirked, "The freedom to come and go as I please is nice as well."

Alicent hummed, "Maybe I should convert and have you teach me your ways. That does sound nice."

The two princesses shook their heads at her as they left the Council chamber. They all knew she was too dedicated to the Seven, no matter how appealing changing into a fox and shirking all responsibility truly was.

1 "Divinity, eternity, family - they go hand in hand, and so must we." - Unknown

[firstofficerwiggles]

Beskar and Lace

Pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT! swearing, masturbation, voyeurism (just a touch), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (be safe in the real world, people)

Summary: Mando takes issue with what you wear to bed, so you decide to show him some other options and spiciness ensues.

Word Count: ~8700

Author’s Note: This was an idea I had when I wrote Dress Code but I couldn’t find a way to make it fit into that story so I wrote it as a stand-alone. If you’ve read my other stuff, you should know this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date, but while it’s not the softer Din I’ve written in the past, he still manages to be romantic in his own way. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

“Do you always dress like that for bed?” Mando’s voice catches you by surprise. He sounds a bit incredulous and you’re caught off guard because usually you’re already in bed fast asleep before he’s down here. You look down at your simple knee-length cotton nightgown, why should he care what you wear to bed?

“Yes? It’s a nightgown,” you reply, unsure of his reason for asking.

“It’s rather skimpy.” His voice sounds gruff, and disapproving?

You just blink back at the visor in his helmet for a moment and then glance down at yourself again in confusion.

“Skimpy?” He must be joking. “This is just like a longer shirt? I know it has short sleeves but, really, skimpy?” Now your voice sounds incredulous. This nightgown doesn’t even have much shape to it anymore having been washed and worn so often. Mando is standing there rigidly though, seemingly serious. You watch him as he tips his helmet down and up as if he is looking you over thoroughly and you feel your skin heat up under his gaze.

“It’s skimpy. I can practically see through it.” He says definitively. “You should cover up more. Space is cold.” His voice is still gruff and his commanding tone is starting to irritate you a bit, although you do have to tamp down your excitement at the see-through comment. Who does he think he is? You’re not some bounty he can push around. And why are you interested in him seeing through your nightgown??

“I’ve been wearing this every night since I took this job, and I’m perfectly comfortable” you tell him “besides, I don’t see what business it is of yours.” You reply a little haughty in an attempt to keep this conversation somewhat professional, Mando is your boss after all. You’ve been caring for his foundling for about six months now.

“It’s my business if you get sick.” Mando retorts.

“I’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion. He’s being ridiculous. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Mando lets out one of his long-suffering sighs as if you are the burden of his existence before telling you, “We’ll be in Canto Bight tomorrow. There are plenty of shops there and I expect you to buy yourself some new to wear to bed.”

“Alright, fine.” His tone implies that you shouldn’t argue with him about this. He turns abruptly and heads to his bunk, closing the door without another word.

What the hell was that? You stare after him, utterly perplexed by that conversation. Again, you look down at the nightgown, and while you have to admit it is looking rather old and maybe a little ratty, you would never see it as something skimpy or even something that Mando would see necessary to comment on. You wonder for a minute if something else could be bothering him, perhaps he was just taking a bad mood out on you? You rack your brain but things have been rather routine lately and you chalk it up to Mando being under a lot of stress as per usual. You head to your sleeping area, a little space you’ve carved out for yourself in a corner of the hull, and try to will your mind to sleep. Yet, you can’t stop replaying the whole conversation in your head. You also can’t stop the evil part of your mind that wants to jump for joy that Mando was looking over your body so intently. Ok, so maybe you have had one or two (or three or four) improper thoughts about your boss. I mean you’re not made of stone. He’s so tall and big and built it would make any woman a little curious. Then when you add in that constant bedroom voice that he has, it’s completely understandable. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Plus, he’s also a great father, so kind and caring towards his adopted son – your evil mind has no mercy on you. You roll over with a groan, mentally kicking yourself for your full-blown crush on the Mandalorian. I am an idiot.

I am a total idiot. What the fuck must she think of me? Din can’t sleep either; he is also plagued with thoughts of you. Not that this is anything new for him. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months and months now. Din knows that he needs your help to care for the little one and he has tried so hard to be professional around you and not scare you off. From the moment he hired you he thought you were way too pretty, but he was so desperate for the help that he told himself he wouldn’t become distracted. Clearly, that was a lie. Whenever he’s around you, he can’t stop himself from being distracted, watching you tenderly care for the child, listening for your laughter and happy words, and living for the moments when you turn towards him with a smile or a kind gesture. Oh and if he thought you were pretty when you first met, now Din realizes that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. Everything about you seems to turn him on, the curve of your lips when you say his nickname, the scent of your hair when it’s still damp from the shower, the sway of your hips when you rock the baby to sleep, the few times you’ve touched his bicep between his armor, all of it.

Ugh, but tonight, tonight was the closest he’s come to losing control around you. Usually Din tries to give you as much space as possible, waiting until he knows you’re in bed before going to bed himself. Except tonight, he came downstairs earlier than usual, and saw you wearing that thin little excuse for a nightgown. His heart skipped several beats when he realized he could see the outline of your figure right through it. It had him hard and wanting in seconds and so, he had picked a bit of a fight with you to preserve some semblance of normalcy. He sighed to himself again, he had sounded like a prudish jerk. But it was the right choice, and besides, you should get new nightclothes, something that would cover you up and keep his eyes off you. Who the fuck are you kidding? You’re still going to look at her. He groans at himself.

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

With the baby in tow in his little satchel, you explore the wealth of shopping in Canto Bight. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said there were plenty of stores here. It seems like the only things to do here are gamble, shop, and party. Mando is meeting with a client and for once, he’s given you some freedom to explore. You’re in one of the nicer casinos here and there are plenty of other tourists around, so you know that it must be safe or Mando would insist on accompanying you. Fortunately, you haven’t had to make many purchases in the time that you’ve been with Mando. He never lets you chip in for food or fuel, so you’ve mostly been saving your credits all this time. As you pass through the shops today, you marvel at the beautiful clothes, shoes, the fancy housewares, and so much more. You can’t resist buying the child a couple adorable plushy toys, including a frog that he immediately tries to eat before you gently explain to him that it is a toy. You decide to focus after that on your mission to buy a new nightgown and maybe some pajamas. You’ve made a few purchases, finding a couple soft pairs of pajamas that will be very relaxing and a very boring nightgown that comes down to your ankles, Mando’s style exactly, shows almost no skin. There’s no way he can find fault with these. As you continue through the shopping center, the baby suddenly reaches out as you pass a shop to grab something blue and silky. When you pry his little claws off the material, thankful that he hasn’t damaged it in any way, you realize it is a beautiful negligee. You look up at the rest of the store to see a lovely collection of mouth-watering lingerie. Evil You is back in a heartbeat. Maybe you should show Mando the true meaning of skimpy?

“Come in, come in!” The friendly sales woman sees you lingering at the entrance, “Everything is on sale today and we have so many fabulous items for you!” Her spirit and energy are captivating and you can’t help yourself. You follow her into the shop, letting your wicked thoughts get the best of you. You find yourself telling her that you need some sexy items for bedtime and the next thing you know you’re in the dressing room trying on increasingly delectable pieces of silk and lace. The baby has made himself at home in the waiting area sitting on a satin pillow and being fed fancy macarons by another sales woman, acting like the little prince that he is.

You admire yourself in the mirror, and although you have to admit that you look great, you can’t stop the debate going on in your head.

I am being ridiculous, buying lingerie to impress a man I’m not even involved with.

Yet! You’re not involved with him yet.

Shut up, I shouldn’t be thinking of Mando like this.

Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, stop overthinking it.

I do look pretty hot in this.

Yes, you do! And you can buy it for yourself too. You deserve to look hot!

It’s ok if it’s for me. I can buy this for me. I’m a strong, confident, sexy woman who buys herself lingerie.

Of course you are!!!

And who is Mando to tell me what I can and can’t wear? If I want to wear something skimpy, I will.

That’s right, girl! You’ll show him!

You’ve completely talked yourself into buying several of the negligees, one of which is so sexy you’re not sure if you really have the confidence to wear it, but you’re feeling daring. You justify it in your mind by reminding yourself that everything is on sale, and who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to shop like this. You even end up getting a bottle of scented lotion that the saleswoman recommends as guaranteed to drive your man wild. Not that you care about that, you lie to yourself, it’s for you, the strong, confident, sexy woman.

“That was completely necessary,” you tell the baby as you brush the cookie crumbs from his robe and resettle him in his satchel while the sales women box up all of your purchases. They even include a bag of macarons for the child for later; he’s thoroughly charmed the women working here, and gives everyone a happy coo and waves goodbye like you taught him. You head back to the Razor Crest, thinking that you should probably quit before you get yourself into too much trouble.

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

It takes a while to get the baby to bed that evening as he’s still wound up on all the sugar and is likely reacting to the buzzing energy you have going on. Evil You has decided to be sure that Mando sees you in one of your new negligees tonight. He saw all of your boxes and bags earlier and gave you a brisk nod in seeing that you followed his instructions. You even went so far as to pull out the modest nightgown to demonstrate how well you listened to him, all the while, Evil You was cackling about what you really have in store for him. While he’s still up in the cockpit, you take your time getting ready for bed. You moisturize your skin all over with your new lotion, it does smell divine, and then you put on a beautiful black silk chiffon chemise with pale pink lace trim. It’s sexy without giving too much away, but still the hemline reaches only to mid-thigh and the neckline provides a generous view of your décolletage. And unlike the shapelessness of the old gown, this shows off your figure flawlessly. Your timing is perfect as you are just coming out of the fresher when Mando’s boots hit the floor of the hull. When he turns and sees you he stops dead and is so still you’d think he’d been frozen in carbonite like one of his bounties except you can still hear him breathing, rather heavily, you think. You decide to feign innocence, blinking up at him to say, “Oh, good night, Mando! Just on my way to bed.”

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, not moving at all, until he grits out, “What. Is. That.”

“Oh! It’s one of my new nightgowns,” you keep up the wide-eyed act, “The sales woman said it was one of the most popular styles.” You even give a little half twirl to show it off, oh Maker, I am too much. You desperately want to ask him what he thinks but something tells you that you shouldn’t push him anymore yet.

“That is not the nightgown you showed me before,” his voice sounds accusatory.

You give a dainty shrug and say, “I was feeling too warm for that one.”

Mando doesn’t respond, but you watch as his hands curl into fists making the leather of his gloves squeak with the tightness. He watches you for a few more seconds before he abruptly turns away from you and stomps back up the ladder to the cockpit. Uh-oh that wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him. Should I go apologize? Did I offend him by flouting some type of Mandalorian modesty rule?

In the cockpit, Din is absolutely shuddering with the strength of his need for you. His beskar feels claustrophobic and he has to rip the helmet off his head just so he can draw a full breath. He throws himself into the pilot’s seat and is already undoing his trousers to free his rock-hard cock before he even knows what he’s doing. He pulls off his right glove and quickly licks his palm, before gripping himself roughly, so he can fuck his own fist at a punishing pace. Seeing you in that lingerie, Maker, it was better than anything his imagination had invented. Plus, the way you smelled, like some type of delicious fruit mixed with an earthy spice. He thought he was going to pass out from how fast all the blood in his body had rushed to his groin. As he pumps himself, Din moans your name and thinks about you wearing that negligee while riding his cock right here in his chair. He fantasizes about how he could tug down those delicate little straps and free your breasts with almost no effort, and how good that silk would feel swishing against his skin as he thrust up into you. It was enough to send him over the edge, cumming with another loud moan of your name. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

Well, you had some idea now. Your entire body was tingling and hot after hearing Mando’s sounds of self-pleasure coming from the cockpit. After his abrupt departure, you had stayed dithering for a few moments in the hull, until you had started to climb the ladder with a plan to check on him and possibly apologize. However, as soon as you realized what he was doing up there you froze and remained out of view. You knew you should have crept back down and given him some privacy, but when you heard him call out your name, it was like nothing could move you from that spot. He wanted you. It made you giddy with desire and you felt a surge of feminine power that you could bring out such a feeling in him. Hearing Mando like that had turned you on like nothing before and you were eager to touch yourself too, but the shuffling sounds of his boots suddenly brought you back to reality and you dashed to your bed as stealthily as you could. You resorted to squeezing your thighs together under the covers and pretending to sleep as you heard him return to the hull. It wasn’t until you were certain he was shut away in his own sleeping quarters, that you finally allowed yourself to dip your fingers into your soaking folds. Holding your other hand over your mouth to stifle any moans, you drew rapid circles around your clit and remembered how Mando had groaned your name. You were so excited that all it took was one finger into your wet heat and you were seeing stars as you reached your climax. You fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming about what you were going to wear tomorrow night.

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

The next day you woke up cheerful, still high from your discovery the night before. You remembered that Mando had said his next bounty was far away and that you’d be in hyperspace for almost four days, which meant you would have plenty of time to spend with him. You practically bounded out of bed, eager to start your day.

Din noticed your happy mood right away as it was such a contrast to his own frustrated and grouchy disposition that morning. His dreams had been full of you, and he had woken up hard and needy but was too angry at his lack of self-control to let himself indulge in jerking off again. He had been banging around the hull like an angry bear for most of the morning, but when you softly approached him with a plate of food and hot cup of tea, and that beaming smile on your face, he felt himself give in a little to your positivity. Then, the friendly way you had patted his pauldron and wished him a good morning, had stifled any desire to grumble at you. It’s not her fault you’re like this.

The rest of the day had passed surprisingly well and Din found his mood lifting substantially. His usual plan to shut himself away somewhere hadn’t panned out as you seemed to seek him out all day long. First, you had him playing games with you and the baby, then, you had decided it was lesson time and you asked Din to help you with that (you were trying to teach the child colors), and then later when the child was napping, you had come to sit near him, drawing him into conversation. In addition to being around him, it also seemed like you couldn’t stop touching him. All day you had found ways to make contact, a small squeeze of his bicep to get his attention, a brush of your hand on his back as you passed him, a little pat on his knee when he praised the child for knowing what blue was, and a couple others that didn’t appear to have any particular meaning. Not that he was complaining; Din lived for those small touches. The day had turned out to be pleasant and he was looking forward to getting some better sleep tonight.

Din had just finished putting away his dinner dishes when he heard you coming out of the fresher and heading towards your sleeping area. He knew you would need to pass by him and he had steeled himself for seeing you. He felt confident that he could keep everything in check tonight, telling himself it had only been the shock of seeing you in such a revealing outfit that had provoked him so much last night. Now that he knew what you’d be wearing, he could handle it, he was prepared. Except you weren’t wearing the same thing, oh no, tonight you had some silky red number on that clung tightly to every curve and only barely covered your ass. To make matters worse, he could see your hard nipples right through the material.

“Dank farrik!”

“Excuse me?” You startled at the sudden curse being uttered.

Shit, he’d said that aloud, “I uh, I stubbed my toe” he lies to you, like an idiot. He tries to turn away from you in hopes of putting you off.

“Oh no, are you ok?” You head toward him with concern in your eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re getting closer to him and reaching out a hand like you intend to touch him again. If you touch him right now there won’t be any way he can control himself, he’ll have you up against that wall in a heartbeat, or maybe tossed over those crates, shit, get it the fuck together. He practically jumps away from you, mutters something about the fresher, and makes a mad dash to the shower. He turns the water to the coldest setting and rips off his armor and clothes as hastily as he can. The jolt to his system from the icy stream is enough to help his mind calm down a little but it’s doing nothing for his raging erection. He groans and reaches to stroke himself. Before he knows it, he’s painting his stomach with his release, coming so hard he pounds his other fist against the wall as he cries out your name. He’s thankful that at least the water should drown out any sounds.

Out in the hull, you’re lounging on your bed, trying to stay awake so you can see Mando one more time before he bolts away from you again. You know he has to have gotten a fairly decent look at you in tonight’s lingerie, but banging his toe seemed to have distracted him completely. Which was odd because you’d known Mando to sustain much worse injuries with little to no reaction in the past. Unless he was only using the toe as an excuse? Maybe he’s not really that into you? Had he dashed away to spare you any embarrassment? Perhaps last night had been a one off. But then today you could have sworn he was responding to your flirting. You’re going back and forth in your mind when you suddenly hear a loud bang coming from the fresher followed by a loud groan of your name that you can hear even over the running water. Oh, he’s into me. Evil You surges to the surface and has you readjusting your position on the bed to look as seductive as possible. When Mando finally comes out of the fresher, he is wearing nothing but his helmet and his trousers, giving you a fantastic view of his gorgeous chest and torso, bare and still wet from his shower. It’s the most of his skin you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. You can’t keep your mouth from dropping open as you stare at him.

“You’re still awake,” Mando stops dead when he realizes you’re watching him.

“Uh, yeah, just uh, wanted to make sure, uh, you were ok?” You try to keep your eyes trained on his visor, but you keep failing, getting distracted by the muscles in his chest. Maker, looking up at him from this angle he is so tall and broad.

“I’m f- fine.” He pauses for a long moment remaining statue like, before saying, “Go to sleep. I mean, uh, you should, uh, go to sleep.” It doesn’t seem like he is going to move while you watch him.

“Ok, well, good night then.” You feel disappointed, but roll over and wrap yourself in your blankets. His sigh of relief is small but noticeable in the quiet of the hull. Mando switches off the lights and then you hear his soft shuffle as he heads to his own bed. He pauses though when he gets closer to you. It seems like he’s just standing there looking down at you in the dark, and then you hear his deep voice, “Good night.”

“I hope you sleep well,” you reply softly. He makes a slight sound that almost sounds like “yeah, right” but you can’t be completely sure before he shuts himself away in his bunk. Oh well, you’ll try again one more time tomorrow, you can wear the really sexy one, at least Evil You is still optimistic.

Meanwhile, Din is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He can’t stop picturing the expression on your face when he was standing there shirtless. Had you been looking at him with shock or desire? It didn’t help matters that you had been sprawled out on your bed looking like the Goddess of Temptation making him painfully hard yet again. He isn’t thinking clearly, it had to be shock, you had never seen him like that, he was always covered, even if it was only in the clothing he wore under the beskar. But what if it was desire? He groans to himself. Even if it had been desire, he’d made a complete ass of himself, and what was he supposed to do now, go back out there and try to get into bed with you?

Yes, do that, you idiot.

Why so she can punch me?

She might not.

Shut up, dumbass!

Din rolls over, sighing to himself, resigning himself to another long night.

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

It’s your turn to groan under the water in the shower, but sadly not from pleasure. It had been a trying day. To say that Mando had been in a mood was an understatement. He had been downright grouchy bordering on sullen. To make matters worse, the child fed off his adoptive father’s terrible disposition and had been extremely fussy all day. You had poured enthusiasm into trying to rouse their spirits, but the more you tried, the more your two boys dug in their heels and refused to be cheered. Eventually, you had given up and just settled for quiet, but the baby had taken that as a personal affront and had a very loud tantrum that had included magically flinging things around the ship. Thank the Maker you still had the bag of macarons from Canto Bight, which you promptly bribed him with to get him to stop. You’d let him eat the entire bag and yeah, that was a parenting don’t, but you were at your wits end and would have given him anything to just make the screaming end. Of course, afterwards, you had the exhausting job of chasing after him all over the ship as he celebrated his sugar high, but at least he was happy. Mando, on the other hand, had taken to working on fix-it projects on the ship, which seemed to really be an excuse for him to swear and bang at something all afternoon. You’d hoped it might help him work out some frustration, but he seemed just as grouchy as ever, barely saying two words to you since you brought him his dinner. So yeah, you aren’t feeling stellar this evening.

The plans for your spicy surprise for Mando have all but disappeared. Before coming into the fresher, you had taken a long look at both the incredibly sexy lace lingerie and the ultra-modest, covers-everything, I-give-up nightgown. You had grabbed both before coming in here, but you still weren’t sure which one you ought to put on.  As you turn off the water, you see them both sitting there, hot versus ho-hum. You know if you put on the boring nightgown, ho-hum is exactly how you are going to feel. Fuck that, I want to feel hot, even if Mando doesn’t care. Mind made up, you grab the new bottle of lotion with a smirk, rubbing the delicious scent all over your skin. Finally turning to the lingerie, you put on the gorgeous set. You weren’t kidding when you said this one was sexy. This negligee is black lace with a metallic silver thread sparkling throughout. The bodice consists of two lace panels that just barely cover your breasts and end in a deep vee right above your navel. The lace of the very short skirt is so sheer that if it weren’t for the matching panties you’re wearing, everything would have been visible. The whole look leaves very little to the imagination, but you don’t care, if this doesn’t get a reaction out of the Mandalorian, your only other option is to walk around naked in front of him. Hey, now there’s an idea! Evil You is ready to be unleased.

Din has been finishing up fixing some wiring in the hull and he is finally letting himself relax a smidgen. He’d see the bunch of fabric you’d taken with you to the fresher and he realized it had to be the modest nightgown. Finally, it seems like you’ve come to your senses. Nonetheless, he’d had to tamp down the part of him that was disappointed. This is for the best. He hears the fresher door open and before he can lift his head, he can smell that intoxicating fragrance again. It will be ok, he can get past that, he’ll just say good night and go to bed, that’s all, but then he turns and sees you. The tools in his hands clatter to the ground.

“Fuuuck” Mando swears like he’s in slow motion, drawing out the word in his surprise.

“Hi, Mando,” you say simply, but flirtatiously.

“Hi?!?” He sounds incredulous, “Is that all you- you just stand there, like that and just hi?”

“What do you want me to say?” You tip your head, coquettishly blinking up at him.

Mando makes a choking sound and then grits out, “I don’t know, maybe an explanation for how you’ve lost your mind, or at least your clothes.”

“You told me to buy something new for bed. This is definitely meant to be in a bed.” You gesture towards your lace-covered figure. “Plus, I do remember you using the word skimpy quite a bit during that conversation.”

“I meant for you to buy something that wasn’t-- hell, this isn’t even skimpy; it’s practically non-existent.” He sounds like he is in pain. “Maker, woman, how much self-control do you think I have?!?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” you retort with a little smirk. Apparently, you’ve reached the end of it with that statement, because suddenly he is advancing toward you pinning you up against the bulkhead with his hips pressed hard into you and his hands on either side of your head. You can feel the hot, hard length of him against your hip and you let out a little groan.

“Have you been taunting me all this time?” His voice has a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“I wouldn’t say taunting, more like enticing you.” You drag one of your legs up the length of his until you can hook it around his hip and pull him in closer to you.

Din can’t believe you’ve been doing this deliberately the whole time. He also can’t believe he ever bought your whole innocent act. It’s clear you planned this out to get back at him for being an asshole about your nightgown in the first place. To be honest though the thought of you shopping for lingerie for him, has him so turned on he doesn’t really care. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have to pay you back a little for torturing him these last few days.

“Enticing me?” Mando repeats with a small snort, “You sure you want to do that?” His body doesn’t really wait for your answer though as his hand comes down to grip your raised thigh tightly and urge it higher while he grinds his hips into you.

“Yes,” you pant out, “yes, I want to do that.” His movements are making you hotter than ever as you can feel his cock rubbing against your core. Mando brings his hand back up so he can grope your breast, kneading it roughly before rolling the sensitive peak of your nipple between his fingers and then moves to give its twin the same attention. He leans in closer to you so he can speak right into your ear.

“Do you like this? Letting me rut up against you, touching you, squeezing your tits. Getting you all worked up.” He rolls his hips up to rub his cock right across your clit. You let your head fall back against the wall and you gasp out in pleasure. “Or were you already turned on from teasing me?”

“I like it,” you breathe out.

“And the teasing?” He pinches your nipple hard making you cry out. He’s turning you into a mess, but his voice sounds controlled.

“Wasn’t-- wasn’t trying to tease,” you try to sound convincing but it’s hard when he’s distracting you so well.

“I don’t know, I think you were,” Mando sounds smug now, “I think you were enjoying it. Maybe I’ll enjoy teasing you.” And then suddenly he pulls away from you completely, dropping your leg with a small thump.

“What? No, no don’t stop.” You can’t help the whine in your voice.

“Why? Too hot and bothered? Not so fun, is it?” He tips his helmet at you and it feels like he must be smirking under there. You’re a second away from just begging him shamelessly, but that head tilt does something to you; a spark of competitiveness flares within you. Evil You started this game and she’s not ready to back down now.

You roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath, and look at him, “Are you saying you’re not worked up?” You let your eyes flick down to the absolute tent in his trousers and then back up to his visor.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Hell, what do you think I’ve been doing up until now?” Mando runs a hand across his crotch, palming himself, as if to prove his point and maybe hoping to shock you.

“Oh, I’ve heard.” He flinches at that, seems like you caught him off guard. You push ahead, “But what an excellent idea.” You flounce past him and climb onto your bed. You lie back into your pillows and then bring your hands up to caress yourself, your fingers trailing down over your throat and chest in a seductive fashion. Your hands cup your lace-covered breasts, slowly running your palms over them and pushing them together before letting your fingertips brush over your nipples. You look straight into Mando’s visor the entire time.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” It’s as if he’s on a two-minute delay and Din’s mouth has only now caught up to the scene unfolding in front of him. This isn’t what he wanted; he wants to be the one to pleasure you.

“Well, since you don’t seem interested, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself, like you suggested.” You let your hand drift down your body and into your panties and you let out a suggestive moan. You exaggerate your movements, performing for him.

“I am, I’m interested,” Mando insists.

“Tell me what you want.” You’re not letting him off the hook yet.

“I want to touch you like that, I want to be the one making you moan, making you wet.” Oh, he’s good.

“Ooh, Mando, you’ve got me so wet already.” You let your fingers glide through your folds.

“Let me see.” His voice sounds gruff.

You pause, considering him for a moment, “Why don’t you come feel for yourself?”

With that, Din is pulling his gloves off and striding to bed. He settles himself between your thighs, and reaches for your panties, yanking the little scrap of lace down your legs. He pushes your hand away and then just stares at you, open and glistening for him. Finally.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you, “every part of you. And I’m going to touch it all.”  

His hands come to rest on your knees and he tugs your legs open wider before gently squeezing his way up your thighs.

“And how do you always smell so good?” Mando asks.

“I bought scented lotion too.”

“No, it’s more than that,” he says suggestively. You can’t respond though because Mando’s hands have finally reached their destination and the leisurely way he is just dragging his fingers against you has robbed you of all your breath. He’s gentle at first, exploring softly and driving you absolutely crazy.

“Mmm, you are wet, sweetheart,” Mando drawls out, pleased. He adds more pressure and starts to draw lazy circles around your clit making you moan his nickname. “And so responsive to me too.”

“Mando, please,” You can’t help the plea falling from your lips when he’s being so maddeningly slow.

“I like the sound of that.” The smugness is back in his voice. “Please, what?”

“More, please, touch me more” you manage to breathe out, and thank the Maker he complies. He rotates his hand so that his thumb is now on your clit and he increases the pace of those fantastic circles while letting his thick middle finger push inside your pussy. Meanwhile his other hand has been making its way up your body, caressing you through the lace, until he reaches your tits again. This time, however, he’s pushing the lace aside so he can tweak and tease your nipples directly.

“Man- Mando, feels so fucking good, wanted you to touch me like this for so long,” you say between moans.

“Could’ve just asked me, ‘stead of parading around in these flimsy little things,” he chuckles.

“You like these flimsy things though, I could tell,” you respond.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits, “Let me show you how much.” He increases his thrusts into you adding a second finger and then bending both upwards to sweep across pure bliss inside you. You feel like you’ve been on the brink of an orgasm for hours even though he’s only been touching you like this for a few minutes. You feel the waves of pleasure building up and your moans turn into cries of his name until finally the waves crest and feel yourself cumming all over his hand.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart,” Mando encourages you, “look so beautiful when you cum. Wanna see it again.” He doesn’t stop his momentum even slightly.

Din is enjoying watching you fall apart completely on his fingers; you’re so hot and soft around him. He knows you will feel unbelievably good on his cock, but he wants to draw out your pleasure as much as he can right now. He feels high on the control of being the one to make you feel like this.

“Mando,” you breathe out, “I- I don’t know-- if I- I can a-again.”

“You can, you can give me another one. You’re gonna give me another one, you little tease.” His voice is firm, but it’s so sexy when he’s demanding that you cum for him. “Besides, this cunt is so tight, need to stretch you out, get you ready to take my cock.”

Hearing him say such utter filth to you is such an incredible turn on that he’s right, you can give him another orgasm and you do. The second one hits you even harder making you clench tight around his fingers, gushing wetness all over as you collapse boneless on the bed.

“That’s it, good, that’s my girl.”  

He finally slows his hand and pulls himself away from your dripping center. You watch as his fingers disappear under his helmet and knowing that he’s tasting you on them makes your already spent cunt clench again. He moves off the bed so that he can remove his armor and finally take off his clothes. You watch him, fascinated as more and more of him is revealed to you, until finally he’s standing in front of you naked except for the helmet.

“Oh, Mando, you are incredible; an absolutely gorgeous tank of a man,” you tell him, letting your eyes rake over his broad, muscular form.  You see his cock twitch at your words and he seems to widen his stance as you watch him, making himself look even broader. You admire him further, “I love how strong you are, and how big.” As you say the last word, you let your eyes drop to his erection.

“Yeah?” Din asks. He loves that you are so turned on by his body, and your praise is making him blush so much he wonders if you can see it in his neck and chest. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s aching for you.

“Mmm, yes.” You say appreciatively as you slide off the bed and take his hand, pulling him back to you with a wide smile. You maneuver him to the bed pushing lightly at his shoulders until he takes the hint and lies back. You slip the negligee over your head tossing it to the floor so that you’re naked too. He reaches out one of his large hands and tugs you down with him until you land on top of his body in a tangle of limbs. You push up gently so that you can straddle his narrow hips with your knees bringing yourself up over him to give your hands access to his beautiful golden skin. You let your palms run over his torso and chest, up across his shoulders, lowering yourself down on him as you go so that you can place kisses on his neck, collarbone, and chest. He tries to pull your hips down but you resist so you can take your time exploring him first.

As you make your way down his body, your kisses become more passionate, opening up to let your hot tongue run over his skin. He moans out at the sensation, encouraging you to do it more so you can hear him again. You kiss his nipples, letting your tongue flick each one into a hard nub and making him arch up against you. You continue trailing your lips down his torso, and when you dip your tongue into his navel, he cries out your name and you smile into his skin. Finally, you settle yourself between his legs, looking up at him as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper, making you feel a rush of power at being the reason for that sound. You swirl your tongue around the head adding a deliberate flick to the sensitive spot just underneath. You pull off him with a teasing suck before dropping your head back down to allow you to lick up and down his shaft getting him as wet as possible. Mando is practically writhing beneath you trying to get you to take him back into your mouth. You run your hands along the inside of his thighs, shushing him gently, before wrapping your hands underneath him to cup his buttocks. You bring your mouth back up to the head of his cock and then glide down taking him in as deep as possible. You keep your tongue flat and wide to aid you as you go, and give a little hum to help open your throat. You bob your head back up before doing it again and again, each time getting him a little deeper, until you are able to take all of him.

Din has never felt anything so incredible in his life. He’s enjoyed blowjobs before but they were never anything like this. How are you able to swallow him like that? Where did you learn to do this? The way you’re sucking him feels like pure heaven. And the way your tongue is just gliding along the underside of him on your downward stroke, ugh, he feels like he’s fighting off his orgasm the entire time.

“Fuck! So good! How? Shit!” Mando sounds like a complete wreck above you letting out a string of curses and garbled sounds as you continue your oral worship of him. You look up to see his helmet thrashing about in the pillows and his fists practically ripping the blanket underneath him as he’s pulling at it so tightly. It’s too much for him and he begs you to stop, almost shoving you off him.

“St- stop, please, stop, n- not yet.” You release him and he takes in a shaky breath, calming himself. You climb out from between his legs to lay next to him for a moment as he comes back down from the precipice of his peak.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Mando says between breaths.

“I’d like to be full of something else,” you quip back at him.

“Oh I bet you would.” And lightning fast Mando is somehow towering over you on his knees, prying your legs apart so he can wedge himself between them. As soon as you realize what he’s up to you’re more than happy to help, bringing your legs up to hook around his hips. He rocks against you letting his cock rub up through your wetness. You’re still sensitive from your earlier orgasms and you’re even more turned on after going down on him.

“Do you want this?” Mando asks, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

“Yes, Mando, please.” You lift your hips up in a vain attempt to get him where you need him most.

“Tell me again.” It’s a command but his tone is soft, sultry.

“Yes, I want you, Mando. I need you.” You look up at him, hoping that your expression can covey all that you feel for him, everything you’re not quite able to tell him yet.

“I need you too, sweetheart.” He says as he gradually starts to push into you, the blunt head of his cock spearing you open. He is only in about halfway when he pauses, letting you adjust to his size before he pulls out almost completely. He repeats with slow, shallow thrusts only giving you a fraction more of him each time.

“Your cunt is so amazingly tight,” Mando moans out, “feels so perfect.”

“I need more, Mando, please.” You try to keep from whining but he’s making you desperate for him. His movements are so languid and unhurried. It’s both fantastic and frustrating at the same time.

“Patience, my little tease, I know what you need.” Mando stretches down over you as he thrusts forward, gripping your hands to place them on either side of your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. He’s still moving slowly, but this time he keeps going until he is fully sheathed with your tight passage. There is a slight burn as he stretches you open more than any of your previous lovers could, but the feeling of utter fullness is so wonderful any pain is quickly gone. Mando holds himself there for an instant before bringing his helmet down to meet your forehead in the only kind of kiss he can give you now. It’s a lovely moment, but after a bit you can’t stop yourself from grinding against him in a silent plea to make him move.

Mando chuckles at your attempt to move him, and then asks, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

You barely get out a cry of “Yes!” before he pulls back and then drives himself up into you with such force it punches all the air out of your lungs. Gone are the leisurely teases from before. Instead, now he is moving at an inconceivable pace, fucking into you with abandon. Maker, he’s fast, and the way that he moves his hips is causing him to hit that magic place inside you each time. It’s all you can do to roll your hips up to meet his in counterpoint to his plunging thrusts. A constant string of moans is forced from your lungs along with occasional cries of his name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.” You love hearing Mando’s filthy praise, his rich baritone voice encouraging you and making you gush around him with every word. And apparently he can feel that extra wetness, as he tells you, “You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

“Maker, yes, Mando,” you respond breathlessly, hoping he’ll keep it up.

“D’you know how much I imagined fucking you? Taken you all over the ship in my mind. Gonna make it real. Gonna show you how badly I’ve wanted you.” The promise of acting out Mando’s fantasies pushes you even closer to the point of no return. The pleasure that has been mounting in you begins to burn white hot inside you. You wrap your legs around Mando’s waist lifting your hips up more, changing the angle just enough to let him penetrate you even deeper than before. You feel your thighs begin to quake, your internal muscles clenching down on him as your climax overtakes you in sparks of blinding ecstasy.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum on my cock, yes.” Mando keeps fucking you right through your orgasm, ramping up his speed even faster than before helping you prolong your high. It’s so good that you can feel another one building right behind it, crashing into you before you even realize that it’s happening. The pleasure is so strong your entire body is spasming with the force of your release and Mando sounds completely wrecked above you. His thrusts are getting erratic and you know he’s getting close.

You are clamped around him like a searing velvet vice, and Din is sure he has never felt anything better in his entire life. Each time you cum for him, you get wetter and the sounds of him pistoning in and out of you echo obscenely in the hull. He wishes this could last longer, but it feels too wonderful, and he can feel his balls tightening. He just wants to stay inside you as long as he possibly can. He begs you, “Please let me cum in you, please. Gonna cum, p- please wanna b- be in you.”

“It’s safe, Mando, you can cum in me,” you tell him, “I want you to cum in me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

That is exactly what Din needs to hear and he lets out a loud groan. He brings one of his strong arms around your lower back to hold you closer to him as he drives into you even harder. His entire body tenses and he cries out your name like it’s being ripped from his throat as his cock begins to pulse inside you and ropes of his cum explode out of him, covering your walls.

Mando tries to lower himself back down to you gently, but ends up collapsing a little on top of you as his strength finally gives out after the force of his orgasm. You don’t mind at all though and you wrap your arms around his back holding him close, enjoying the feel of him still inside you. He is content to stay like that for a few moments too, until he’s murmuring something about crushing you and is rolling onto his back, pulling you with him until you are curled up against his side. You cuddle with him for a bit before he gets up to get you a wet cloth from the fresher to help you clean up before you fall asleep.

When Mando gets back to you, he asks, “So, how many of those skimpy things did you buy?”

You smile up at him, “Oh there are several more,” you assure him, “Couldn’t think of anything better to spend my credits on.”

“Yeah? Good. That means I can get rid of this.” He holds up the modest nightgown you had left behind in the fresher.

You let out a laugh before asking him, “I thought you were worried about me being cold?”

“If you keep wearing those skimpy little things around me, you don’t have to worry about being cold. I’ll be in your bed every night keeping you warm.” His voice is rich with promise.

“Good. You can start now.”

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

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @mandosboobiez @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @mudhornchronicles @hoodjarin @mackycat11 @sleepwithacommunist @haley7242 @boomtownboy​ @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings

[snowbellewells]

Self-Promo Sunday: “Into the Unknown With You”

Another one shot from my assorted collection “Of Swans and Swords and Hopeful Hearts” - this one playing with some of the ideas I would rather have seen in 6x10 and 6x11, it certainly diverges from canon at that point...

Summary: As Emma searches for a way back home from the Wish Realm, help comes from a surprisingly welcome source...

{One more Author’s Note: The “awfully big adventure” bit is a tiny nod to J.M. Barrie’s Peter Pan.}

Can also be found on AO3 or ff.net 

“Into the Unknown with You”

by: @snowbellewells 

‘No, no, no!’ Emma’s mind reeled horrifically as she stared at the spot where only moments ago the portal had been whirling, her way home to her son and her pirate wide open. She wanted to scream; it couldn’t just be gone, and yet, a second too much hesitation, and the chance was lost. She looked to Regina anxiously, her fists clenched so tightly she felt the impressions her nails cut into her palms. It was all she could do not to rail at Regina, this whole twisted world, and her own bad luck.

‘What now?!?’ she wanted to demand, wanted to shake her former nemesis turned tentative friend, but one glimpse at the other woman’s stunned, disbelieving face staring across the shoreline at her presumed dead True Love, and Emma knew it would be a lost cause. Having stood beside a grave in grateful stupefaction at her own love’s miraculous return to life not so long ago, Emma couldn’t find the heart to remind Regina just yet that she had spent the last day preaching that none of their surroundings or those they encountered in the Wish Realm were real, and hurry her along. She too found herself blinking dazedly at this other – very convincing – version of Robin Hood for a few moments.

Even if her heart was still crying out for her home and her family, for Henry’s soft hair tickling her nose when she placed a kiss to the top of his head, and Killian’s arms enfolding her, she didn’t know where to go in this topsy-turvy version of the homeland she had never actually lived in, and so she had to wait – more impatiently by the minute – until one of these two, either queen or thief, snapped out of their spell and led the way…

As it turned out, Robin Hood was not the sort of outlaw who would truly do harm to two ladies passing through his territory. He wouldn’t have even made to steal their jewels and furs once the same trance that had overcome Regina seemed to strike him mute as well, but Regina offered him a pouch of coins that had been strapped to her waist and a ruby ring, pressing it into his calloused palm with a quirked smile and the assurance that “she insisted, she was much more partial to his cause than he knew”.

Emma wanted to snort at the ridiculous understatement those words were, and she only barely managed to hold back a roll of her eyes, which she sensed the thief saw but let slide with a conspiratorial wink.

Before she could make an argument for trying to catch up to Gold – or Rumplestiltskin here, she supposed – or ask where they were going to find another bean, it was evening, they were entering a forest in the gathering dark, and soon they had been welcomed to sit around a roaring fire with Robin’s motley crew, and even been offered the ale and venison passed around the circle as if they were part of the merry band.

“Now,” the archer began, seated beside Regina, his boy nodding drowsily on his lap. He looked around her to meet Emma’s gaze head on. “You must be thinking that I owe you an apology. Clearly you were about to leave this place, and because of me, you missed your ride.”

She tried to shrug it off nonchalantly, not wanting to get them kicked out in the cold, or to lay blame on him for something he couldn’t have known, but instead, to her own mortification, she felt hot tears stinging in the corners of her eyes. Though her sight grew glassy, Emma refused to let them fall. “So,” she tried for flippant, even if it fell horribly flat, “does that mean you know where we could get a replacement bean and want to help us get it?”

“Actually, Princess Emma,” Robin winked, a knowing sort of mischief in his eye, “I just might.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The following morning dawned misty and cool, but fair, and Robin greeted Emma at the simmering coals of the previous night’s campfire with a welcoming grin, Regina at his side on the stump they used for a seat, looking as soft and at ease as Emma had ever seen her, her head resting on his strong shoulder seemingly still half asleep. She and Regina had talked at length the night before, and at long last Emma had accepted that Henry’s adoptive mother wasn’t returning with her yet. “I know he isn’t the same Robin, that this whole place is built on a whim, but I’m not losing him again,” she had whispered vehemently. “There has to be another way to get back…one that he could take as well…if he wanted to…” The emotion welling in Regina’s dark eyes had been raw enough that Emma finally consented to go on without further fighting to change her mind, only giving a nod in affirmation when Regina had asked, “You’ll explain to Henry? Tell him I mean to return as soon as we both can?”

“Ready, your Highness?” the sandy-haired outlaw asked, breaking into Emma’s recent memories once more and looking down at her from where he now stood at the ready. “We should make the harbor by noon, if we set out now.”

“The harbor?” Emma asked breathlessly, dazed for a moment by what this could mean. Her heartbeat kicked up in both anticipation and dread. Surely he wasn’t here too…was he?

“Yes,” Robin answered her spoken question with an amiable nod as he kissed the back of Regina’s hand in farewell and turned to head off with Emma on his heels. “I happen to know a pirate with whom I sometimes trade my less than lawfully acquired goods. He might have just the sort of thing you need to return home…”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

The sound of gulls crying and wheeling overhead and the creak and groan of the wooden docks as they reached the edge of the shore town and neared the sparkling blue harbor was enough to take Emma’s breath away. Robin took a step forward to lead her down the docks, already offering to make introductions, but Emma stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

There before them, as recognizable as always, was the Jolly Roger, bobbing proudly at anchor. Though most might be intimidated by the sight, Emma drew in the first full breath she’d had since remembering herself in this strange realm – as if she had gotten her first real glimpse of home at last. He might still be the vengeful Captain Hook in this reality, but somehow she wasn’t afraid. He would never truly hurt her – and she only wanted to be at his side again without further delay.

Reassuring Robin that she could take it from there, Emma bid him goodbye. Though he looked uncertain, the archer took her at her word and left her with his best wishes. If she clutched his hand a moment longer and a bit tighter than would be normal and bid him be safe a little too fervently – well, she didn’t have to explain herself to anyone here…

At her first step onto the gangplank, a shudder of recognition ran through her, as if the vessel itself was welcoming her back aboard, shivers skittering along her spine. At first glance, the ship seemed deserted, her crew perhaps gathering supplies or unwinding at the nearest tavern, but the air around her wavered, charged suddenly, letting her know she was not alone. Emma felt even before she heard heavy footfalls on the planks or that deep, commanding voice at her back, asking who went there, that she had not gone undetected by the ship’s captain.

Turning, her eyes found him, hungrily drinking in the details; altered, but still without doubt the man she loved. The dark hair was windblown and unruly, practically begging for her fingers to delve into its soft abundance and brush the fringe back off his forehead. Though the strands might be shaggier and generously shot through with grey, it made him no less attractive to her starving eyes. In fact, she only wanted to stare at him all the more, to catalogue every difference, trace the deeper crow’s feet around his eyes and the added lines on his forehead. Those fathomless blue eyes were lined so liberally with the kohl she hadn’t seen him use for some time in their modern Storybrooke life that she almost wanted to chuckle at the effect until she registered the way the blue of his gaze also looked paler – as if washed out by too many tears shed alone and without comfort, or dulled by pain held back because he couldn’t afford to let it show.

Brandishing his moniker, and that dastardly, flirtatious mask he had long since let drop around her, to full effect, Captain Hook stepped well into her personal space. “And who might you be?” he questioned, breath warm on the shell of her ear as he leaned in, hook lifting the heavy rope of her golden braid and tucking it back over her shoulder. It was an achingly familiar gesture and he stood much too close for calm comfort, sending her pulse fluttering again, and yet no recognition lit his gaze as he studied her; the fond devotion she had come to rely on more than she could say was utterly absent, making her heart ache and crack in her chest.

“Princess Emma of Misthaven,” she answered as sturdily as she could, raising her chin and meeting his eye with as much confidence as she could muster. “I had hoped to speak to you on a delicate matter of some importance.”

“A delicate matter, is it?” he asked, his enunciation and the way his tongue caressed his words seductively had not been altered or diminished in the slightest, whatever else had changed. He stood back to his full height, fingers in his waistband, hips thrust forward and looking every bit as sinfully irresistible as he ever did, complete with that wide-open, chest-exposing red vest she had witnessed once in their trip to the past through Zelena’s portal. If she hadn’t known him so well, she might have been fooled by the bravado, but knowing his heart as only a True Love could, she saw the emptiness behind the lascivious look, the pain within the façade – the proper, honorable lieutenant he had been, hating the persona his course had forced him to adopt. Even as he ran his tongue across his lower lip, letting his eyes trace her curves from head to toe almost lewdly, she could see the regret clouding the pupils and the wistful longing – as if he could sense what might have been.

Unable to stop herself, Emma reached forward impulsively, grasping both his hook and hand tightly as she spoke, “Yes, very…but just maybe…I was meant to find you. Maybe you’re the only one who would believe me.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Another hour found them below deck in his cabin, seated at the scratched, weathered wooden table which had served him in his lonely meals for ages, Emma’s hand still clinging to his hook where it rested on his thigh, but the other reaching up tentatively to trace that faded scar she knew so well beneath his eye. Hook – though more and more her Killian with every passing moment – had scooted closer to her on the roughhewn bench, blinking in awe as she saw hope returning to his face. He appeared both afraid to believe her words, but also desperate for them to be true.

“So you’re telling me that all of this around us – this whole life – is an illusion?” he asked haltingly, not daring to move his eyes from her face, as though he thought she might disappear as quickly as she had come to him.

“Well, yeah, basically,” she tried to explain. “Or more like…it’s a possibility that didn’t actually come true. There’s this v-villain in my home, in the real timeline that I come from, who made a wish that reset things, and I was sucked into it. I have a son, family and friends, a-and another version of you…who’s my True Love…there missing me. And I have to get back to them.”

“There’s another me?” he breathed, and where anyone else would have been skeptical, he looked merely stunned, wanting. “And…we’re…together?”

“Yeah, we are,” she whispered, laying a hand over his rapidly beating heart and drawing comfort from its rhythm. She already felt stronger, more certain, even with this iteration of her pirate. Her watery smile quirked up into a bit of a smirk at one corner, “And don’t worry, he’s still devilishly handsome.”

Her captain’s eyes fell to their joined hand and hook in his lap, huffing out a laugh at her words. “More so than I, I’d wager,” he murmured.

Emma hummed under her breath, reaching out to run her fingers along a grey streak in his longer hair. “I don’t know about that,” she offered. “There’s something pretty appealing about this model, grey hair and all.”

“You flatter me, Milady,” he teased, that voice still a sinful purr rumbling from his chest as he lifted her hand to press a kiss to its back. Still, emotion welled up beneath the flirtation, making his magnetic gaze all the harder for her to escape. She was blinking, nonplussed and floundering for some audible response, when he straightened and pulled her to her feet with him. “Enough lollygagging then! I’ll prepare the old girl to set sail. It’s time we got you back where you belong!”

For a moment, Emma was stunned anew. This full-on piratical version of her True Love, who didn’t really even know her and had no reason to do anything she said, had not only chosen to believe her story, but was going out of his way to help her – just as he had ever since he turned his ship around to take her to Neverland. The lump in her throat was almost too much to speak around, but Emma managed to croak out, “You really would give anything to help me, wouldn’t you?” even as she shook her head in disbelief.

“Aye,” he affirmed, looking a bit like he was marveling at that fact himself. “I am not sure I fully understand, nor can I explain it to you, but I sense that I would – that I am almost compelled – to help you in any world or time you would appear to me.”

“Thank you,” was all she could really say in response, her wondering smile nearly blinding him with its brilliance.

“Come then,” he offered her his arm, his speech all business again, even while the pointed tips of his ear flushed, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude and praise. “Above deck, and we’ll be off. I know someone who deals in nigh impossible to procure objects.”

~~~OuaT~~~~~CS~~~~~OuaT~~~

Standing beside him at the helm just a few short hours later, wind in her hair and the salt spray on her face, it struck Emma that though she was desperate to get home, to make sure her son, her family, and her Killian were alright, she didn’t want to simply abandon this pirate captain beside her. She didn’t know what would happen to him, if he would find something to live for, something to be part of, or if she was dooming him to his quiet desperation…even if he might simply vanish into nothingness with the rest of this ill-fated wish. She didn’t know what happened next, to be completely honest. Laying a hand on his forearm, she gazed up into his face, swallowing hard. “I don’t know what becomes of you, or this realm, when I leave here and go home,” she admitted. “I’m not sure if you all just go on like it never happened, if you cease to exist, if you wander here aimless forever…I just…I don’t know…”

Covering her hand with his, he guided the ship with no more than his hook rested capably on the wheel. “Worry not, Princess,” was his confident response, fervent resolve painted over his strong, careworn features. “We shall still set things right, as they should be. Whatever comes after this – infinity or oblivion – will be an awfully big adventure.”

Tagging: @kmomof4​ @searchingwardrobes​ @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ @laschatzi​ @jennjenn615​ @tiganasummertree​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @therooksshiningknight​ @thislassishooked​ @winterbaby89​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @hollyethecurious​ @artistic-writer​ @stahlop​ @elizabeethan​ @donteattheappleshook​ @wefoundloveunderthelight​ @apiratewhopines​ @lfh1226-linda​ @xsajx​ @ineffablecolors​ @drowned-dreamer​ @thisonesatellite​ @kday426​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @xhookswenchx​ @hookedonapirate​ @blowmiakisscolin​ 

[firerose]

The sea

Feedback is apprechiated ;)

Percy was happy. The giant war was over, he was studying with Annabeth so

they could move to new Rome soon. He was happy….. until it happened. 

The thunderstorm should have been a warning, a sign that the lord of the sky was angry but unfortunately Percy was tired of having to deal with the gods so he chooses not to notice it. He cursed himself for that later. 

He had stood up early that morning, awoken by another dream about the hell he and Annabeth had gone through. His mom had already been in the kitchen and he was greeted by her with a warm smile.“ Bad dreams?“, She had asked softly. Percy had only needed to nod and she pulled him into a warm hug. He loved her hugs, he loved that she had forgiven him for being away for so long, he loved his mother for everything. She was the reason the sea inside him was calm.

“Thanks, mom I just wanted to get some fresh air.“, He had told while departing carefully. Percy was grateful for her but he still did not want her to worry too much. If he had only known that this was the last time his mom would hug him, he would have stayed in her arms forever. 

Percy had taken his jacket and walked outside and then………

Thunder, a white light crashing down behind him throwing him forward with the price.

He lay still on the street while people around him ran out of their houses screaming in panic. 

Percy‘s body was burning, he felt blood running down his forehead but all he could think about was his mom who had been exactly where the explosion went off.

The police later assumed that a lightning strike had hit the apartment by accident but Percy knew better. He was brought to a hospital even though his burns were only small. 

He had insisted that he wanted to stay.“Please I have to see if my mom and my stepdad are okay!“, He had begged the paramedics but they did not stop their attempts to get him on the stretcher.“The fire brigade will find them kid. Everything is gonna be okay“, One of them promised but Percy saw in her eyes that it was a hollow promise. His heart ached in despair and when the doors of the ambulance closed tears fell down his cheeks. 

The proof came when the police visited him after the doctors had checked him. They looked devastated, of course, no one wants to tell a son the message that his pregnant mother was dead. Percy took the news with a small nod. He could not do more not even cry. He had been through so much that maybe this last thing had broken something inside him. He could not believe that they would do this, that they would kill his mother after he saved them. His thoughts wander to Paul and his unborn baby sister that he has lost as well and the sea in him slowly starts rising. 

Annabeth soon heard about his suspicion  She stormed into the small hospital room, her face tear-stained. He immediately wrapped her in a hug like it is her that is going through this tragedy.“Percy…...I…..I‘m so sorry.“, She sobbed.“It is not you fault wise girl….he did this.“, Percy claimed and he is surprised by the deadly calmness in his voice.

Annabeth looked at him in confusion but then she understood. Her eyes widened in shock.“No…... Percy……..he wouldn‘t……..“ She tried to say but her unbelieving in her own words stopped her. They both know Nico Di Angelo and they both know his mother died. Percy felt the waves crashing again his chest, he felt them threatening to burst out and so did his rage.“ Come on Annabeth you know Zeus. He is an arrogant asshole who just cares about himself! I fought years for the gods, I went through hell for the gods and now they… they.“, he wasn‘t able to speak anymore, there was too much rage boiling up inside him. He finally processed what happened and the sea in him roared with a desire. A desire for revenge. Annabeth pressed herself closer to him in comfort. She is scared, Percy‘swords scare her and yet she knows that there is nothing she can say to help him. She just hoped that she wasn‘t about to lose him. 

Percy was grateful for his girlfriend but he knew that he couldn‘t stay. The longer he stayed, the more his body was trembling and the sea roared louder.“ I want to talk to Zeus. Now.“, He told Annabeth could. She let him go her eyes full of something he never saw in them before.

Panic.

“ No Percy that is not a good idea! If he is targeting you then yelling at him would be a great excuse for him to…….. hurt you.“, She answers logically as always but her tone fearful. Percy can‘t help but feel angry at her words.

“I‘m not scared of Zeus and if he wants to kill me he is welcome to try! My mom did not deserve this you know that as well as I so don‘t try to stop me!“, He nearly yells and he departs from her quickly. The storm in him screams in agreement and he looks forward to setting it free, Annabeth hated herself for making him angrier. She loved Sally too so why doesn‘t she support Percy? What did Zeus or any other god ever do for her? A small voice whispers that she just wants to keep him safe but she can also do that against the gods. She gently grabbed his hand and gave him a weak smile.“Okay just let me come with you.“, She pleads and Percy feeling a warm thankfulness for her calming his waves a bit, smiled back. 

The man behind the desk looks at them in shock when they enter the building..“You shouldn‘t be here.“, he claims, his voice sounding a bit concerned. Percy felt cold amusement washing over him.

He killed scarier monsters than this old man. He takes out his sword without a second thought.“ We are exactly where we need to be now let us talk to Zeus or I will try my sword out on you.“, He threatened and did not notice Annabeth‘s worried glance.“You should listen to him! He once took down giant you are no match for him!“, Annabeth‘s voice sounded just as dark as his but she just wanted to keep Percy from doing something he would regret later. The man‘s eyes were stuck on the blade then wandered to Percy‘s eyes as if those could burn him.

He moved back a bit uncomfortable.“ Alright I‘ll let you up.“

Percy felt a sense of victory letting the water rise again. It pushed through his veins and when they entered the small elevator his body tensed from the power it made him feel. The gods would pay for taking his family. They would see what happened if someone pushed him too far. Maybe some days ago he wouldn‘t have felt this darkness but a few days ago he also had a mother. He was overtaken by memories, of her soft voice, her laugh and her hugs. He wondered if it would make her sad to see how angry he was but she certainly was also sad to be killed there was no difference anyway. The memories hurt but they also foiled his anger. 

Percy and Annabeth walked down the way to the god's council in silence. The minor gods and nymphs whispered and pointed at them, their eyes worried some even pitiful. They all knew Percy‘s story and they all feared him.

Only Zeus and Hera were in the throne room  When Percy walked in his eyes immediately landed on Zeus who glared at him in outrage.“HOW DARE YOU COM HERE?!“, The Lord of the skies shouted in fury but Percy did not even wince.  Instead, he glared back.

"How dare you kill my mom?!." Percy spat back. Zeus only looked annoyed but the others gods looked at each other uneasily. Zeus shook his head like he wanted to get rid of a nasty fly.

" My boy, there are things that you don't understand. I'm sorry about your mother but sometimes cruelty is necessary to prevent worse.", Zeus explained and Percy felt as if he had been punched in the gut. How could this all immortal god talk about an innocent woman death like that? He felt disgusted at Zeus rising and Annabeth spoke it out.

"Sally Jackson was a mortal woman! How could she have been any danger to you?", Annabeth asked her voice full of angry disbelief."Well it was more about her child than her, "Hera responded and maybe there was a hint of regret in her voice.

" Silence wife!", Zeus told her harshly but Percy's blood already froze."You.....you killed her because of me?", He asked fear numbing his fury. He hoped that he had just heard wrong but he was the only child of Poseidon so they could only mean him. Zeus sighed as if this whole situation bored him."Apollo gave me a prophecy that said that she would have a child with Poseidon that could end my sign that is all you need to know." Zeus said defensively and a dam in Percy that held back the growing stormy sea finally broke. Zeus had killed his mother because of a prophecy? 

Of course, gods always sed prophecies to harm others,

Percy balled his hands into fists his ears ringing." That is your excuse? you were scared so you just killed my pregnant mother in front of me? She was going to have a baby. She was happy and you killed just because of your god complex!" Percy accused Zeus, his voice trembling with anger. The waves were rushing through his veins and he can feel it in the veins of Zeus and Hera as well  Not as much but it was there flowing through their veins like calm waves. "I told you you would not understand now leave before I make you Perseus.", Zeus commands but that only makes Percy turn to him. 

Persues...

His mother called him that because she wanted him to have a happy life...

Percy slowly opens his hand his senses searching for a certain source of water. When they find it Percy feels a tug in his fingers. He smiles darkly at Zeus."I think you underestimate what I'm capable of my lord. you really should have killed me instead of my loved ones.", Percy muses and he follows the tug by moving his hand forward, pushing back the waves in Zeus body. The god looked stunned for a moment even confused but then his body god thrown back so that his head smashed against his thrown. The stone cracked and Annabeth gasped in shock together with the other gods." Percy!" Annabeth yelled terrified at her boyfriend's power. Percy couldn't hear her. He could only focus on Zeus and how he was held in place by an invisible force his force. He wondered how much he could hurt a god.

He moved his hand to the side and Zeus growled in anger as he tried to resist the painful control he was under. Percy took a deep breath he was not sure what too now should he let Zeus go? Should he show the gods mercy? Then he remembered his mother and how she had died in a fiery explosion. He looked into Zeus blue angry eyes and he calls for the water in the god's throat, His hand makes a gesture like he was strangling someone and immediately Zeus grasps his own his gasps for breath was music in Percy's ears. He feels Annabeth shaking him begging him to stop with sobs in her voice. Hera watches the situation as if it was a very interesting movie. She was not at Percy's side but seeing the man who cheated on her so often be choked to please her too much to interfere.

Percy loved seeing Zeus so helpless, he loved when his other hand made the gods nose bleed with golden blood. Zeus looked in much pain and Percy loved every second of it." Now you know what it feels like to be a demigod. It's painful and you wish that the suffering would end but it never does. How do you like that?", Percy jokes and closes his hand a bit more. Zeus face turned red his eyes nearly popping out of his skull."Percy stop....please stop." Annabeth pleads and there is something in her voice that makes him hesitate." Sally would not want you to do this!", Annabeth said her voice shaking in horror. The words echo in Percy's mind and painful guilt helps to dim his inner flame. What would his mother say if she could see him right now? He was harming others with his powers just like Zeus had. 

His rage dies down like the sea after a long storm. He opens his hand and lets go of Zeus blood. The god nearly fell off his throne as he gasps for air. Percy still felt satisfaction at that sight. He turned to Annabeth who held onto his arm, her face pale from what she had seen." I'm sorry Annabeth.", He said and he really meant it. He shouldn't have scared her like this, he should have just told her not to come with him. Annabeth gently squeezes his hand. She understood Percy#s anger and she even shares it but she still prays that he will never lose himself to his power ever again. Zeus had regained his strength and his eyes blazed with electricity." YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS!", Zeus yells but Percy only felt a surge of frustration at those threats. After all that had happened to Zeus, he was still a god that was full of himself and would not learn anything from this. Percy looked at him coldly." No, I will not. Haven't you learned what happens when you make me angry?" Percy asked dangerously calm. He felt tired of all this talking and especially Zeus. He took Annabeth's hand and left as he suspected no one tries to stop them. The sea in his body has calmed down again but Zeus who is watching him from his throne can tell that he has changed. The sea can start raging again any moment and maybe it was Percy that the prophecy referred to. Maybe he  will be the end of the gods after all.

@emilydaughterofapollo @perseusjackson-jasongrace @incorrectinfinity, @reading0mens @fictionalnormalcy

[afictionalwhore]

Light as a Feather (Oh Baby pt 2)

A/N: There’s been a lot going on, but I finally got it! This was the original plot of “Oh Baby!”, that cuteness that was inspired by my little ones at the daycare, but I got sidetracked by smut. Alas, no smut in this one today, but you can find smut here in pt 1!

Pairing: Hawks x fem Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

TW: yandere Hawks, a bit of angst with a happy (?) ending

☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

It was a clear night, where despite the hazy glow of the street lamps, Keigo could still make out the stars above. The full moon shone down on him, glimmering against his brilliant red wings. It was the perfect temperature: cool, but just warm enough that if Keigo were home with you, he’d have insisted you leave the window open for the crisp night air to breeze. 

As he made his way down the empty street, Keigo pouted. He didn’t understand why he had to be out on night patrol. Hawks can’t see at night. His avian eyes were useless at night. His mind wandered to you and your son at home, where he’s much rather be.

Keigo was determined to be the best father for his son (he just knew you would give him a son as soon as you told him you were expecting). He took a whole week off to spend time with you. Of course, the rumors flew about where the great Hawks was during this time, the most popular of them being that he was off having a secret love affair. The commission was able to shut them down almost as fast as they appeared. Hawks had a reputation as Japan's most eligible bachelor to uphold. If only they knew. 

When he begrudgingly returned to work, Keigo had grown paranoid about your safety. He knew, rationally, that no one would be able to find you. The most skilled hikers of Everest wouldn't be able to find their way to and from your secluded haven. He knew, rationally, that you would never leave him. You loved him too much for that, and now with your son on the way, you didn't just love Keigo, you needed him. 

Prior to his return from his "staycation", as he told the commision, Keigo had plucked a feather from his wings and fashioned it into a necklace. 

"Here," Keigo said as he sat you in front of your vanity mirror. He stood behind you to clasp the necklace around the back of your neck. The soft red feather lay tenderly on your collarbone. "I'll be able to sense where you are with this feather. Keep it on at all times. If you need anything, just squeeze it, and I'll drop whatever I'm doing for you."

To test his theory, you carefully ran your fingers over the feather, feeling every babule that made up the vane. Keigo shivered, and stretched out his wings. 

"That feels really nice, baby," he said, a pleasant smile stretching across his face. "Like you’re petting my wings. Do it again."

You caught a glimpse of him behind you in the mirror. His eyes sparkled with excitement, and he reminded you of an overgrown puppy. For a second, you could forget he ever kidnapped you in the first place.

Despite the lightness and softness of the feather, it felt heavy, like one more thing to chain you to Keigo, as though a baby weren't enough. For Keigo, however, not only did the feather help set his mind at ease (he didn't tell you he could sense vibrations and know when you were moving), filled him with a sense of pride to see you wearing his feather, as though it were a collar that declared him as your owner. You really were his, and nothing brought him more joy.

The sound of sirens blaring brought Keigo out of his reminiscing. Fire engines and an ambulance whizzed by. Hawks opened his wings, briefly stretching them out before flying after them.

He didn't have to follow for long when they came to an apartment complex on fire. Perhaps a small kitchen fire got out of hand. Smoke poured out the windows of the upper floors, some ten stories above. Firemen and ambulances lined up, and Hawks got to work scouring the apartment for trapped citizens.

Naturally, reporters were drawn to site. As the realization that Hawks was on the scene grew so did the amount of reports. The presence of Japan's Number Two bringing in all the news crews, both local and national. 

As Hawks carried out an elderly woman, he was overcome with pain. A pain so sharp, he thought he was dying. He felt as though something was squeezing his chest. A heart attack, maybe? He had never felt such pain in his life. A haunting revelation crossed his mind: the squeeze wasn't just coming from him, it was from you and your feather. There was only one other time you had squeezed the feather Keigo gave you, and that was when baby Takami was on the way.

You weren't exactly sure how you survived the birth. There was no way Keigo would allow a doctor, or even the old village midwife, to come up the mountain to visit you, much less allow you to go down yourself. 

It was the longest day of Keigo's life, an excruciating 20 hours as he watched you bring his child into the world. It was all worth it, as he gazed down at the tiny copy of him crying in his arms. Kiego turned to look down at you, your sweat sticking your hair to your face, chest heaving to gather air. Your voice, hoarse from the screaming, whispered the gentle command for Keigo to hand you your baby. Silently, he obeyed. Who was he to deny you the right to hold the child you gave him? 

Keigo's heart seized. He didn't think he could be any more in love with you as he was as he watched you with his son, brilliant red wings, a miniature version of Keigo’s own red wings, folded against your baby’s tiny back to fit in the crook of your arm and nuzzle against you. His feathers shifted and shook as he snuggled into you, gazing up at you with honey eyes full of awe. 

With all your screaming the excruciating labor, you were for sure your fate as Keigo's wife locked up was sealed. There was no way anyone would come to your rescue, as your cries only served to further prove the local myths of the haunted forest. This, of course, brought Keigo a sense of ease, despite the agony he was in watching you writhe in pain. 

"Are you okay, young man?" the elderly woman Hawks was still holding asked. Keigo realized he must look as bad as felt. He smiled his signature Hawks smile and shook his head.

"I'm alright, ma'am," Hawks said. "Just some bad chicken for lunch. Are you okay?" Hawks set the woman down and flew off before giving her a chance to answer his question. He had to get to you. He had to get to his son. This pain was nothing like he'd felt before. Everything else could wait.

He heard the distant voices of reporters behind him.

“Where is Hawks going?”

“Why is Hawks leaving the scene?”

“That isn’t very hero-like of Hawks.”

Keigo was grateful for the woman asking how he felt. She would be a handy alibi in case the reporters asked around the scene before the commision was able to speak up about Hawk's sudden disappearance from the scene. 

"It wasn't like there were any villains around," they would say, "Just a small apartment fire and he happened to be in the neighborhood. Heroes are just like the rest of us. They can eat bad chicken too."

Keigo flew through the forest, branches brushing harshly against his face. Every possibility ran through his mind. The “what if”s assaulted him as he raced to reach you. 

What if there was an accident?

What if you fell and hurt yourself?

Hurt the baby?

What if someone found you?

Keigo’s heart froze. Your disappearance was gaining some fame on the news once again. It had been nearly a year ago that Keigo plucked you out of your dirty apartment in the dangerous part of town. You had no way of knowing the date, thanks to Keigo’s lack of calendars, and lived telling time passed solely based on the growth of your baby.

What if you left? 

Keigo shook his head. You didn’t really want to be rescued anymore, did you? Keigo didn’t think that was the case at all as he recalled the way you stare in wonder at your son, his son, the son that he gave you. You loved your baby, and you loved Keigo.

Keigo slowed as he approached your front yard, a small clearing, fenced in with thin logs that appealed to Keigo’s nesting aesthetic. Inside the fence, your garden proudly stood.

As time passed, Keigo noticed you grew restless. Keigo almost felt bad, grooming you into craving his affection. You didn't get much company outside the cardinals outside the window and the deer that roamed your forested backyard. You must have been so lonely during his long work hours. 

Keigo thought that coming home to a nice meal cooked by you, his beautiful, doting wife, was all a man could ask for. That was until he got the bright idea of giving you a garden to grow the food you cooked for him. Keigo battled with the garden, he saw how some of the women at his agency fawned over their plants, and while he wanted nothing less than your constant affection and couldn't stand the possibility that your garden would also earn your care. But he also thought you could use the company during his long and irregular work hours. His rationale was that the more of the groceries you grew the less time he would have to spend away from you at the store getting your weekly groceries. 

Keigo slowly made his way through your yard. On closer inspection, there was nothing amiss in your garden, save for the usual deer damage. He couldn’t relax yet. 

He walked through the front door, which was closed, he made note of, and was met with unnerving silence. Tucked away in the corner of your living room was the small, upright piano, a chip on the top corner from when Keigo hit the doorway while maneuvering the piano into your living room. The piano was closed, keys covered. Your sheet music was laying on the floor. A sign of struggle?

A vegetable garden wasn't going to last the winter, so Keigo decided to find other hobbies for you to take on while he was gone for an agonizing eight hours minimum. You sleepily waddled into your living room one morning on one of Hawk's rare days off to find him dragging a piano through your front door. 

"Do you like it?" Keigo beamed the moment he saw you and your round form from around the piano. "Your garden won't last the winter up here. So I thought you could pick up a few more hobbies indoors." Of course the fact that if you had things to do to keep you indoors and safe while Hawks was out at work would help ease his pain of having to leave you on your own remained unspoken. You knew, but you couldn't be mad. Music would be good for the baby.

Keigo cried out at the thought of never hearing you play again, never coming home to the sounds of your choppy notes as you learned new pieces. The window was open and a slight breeze blew through, billowing your curtains and ruffling your papers on the floor. Ah, just the wind. This revelation did nothing calm Keigo. Why was the window open on a night he had patrol?

He ran to the kitchen. Empty. A plate of food and a small rice bowl sat on the table, all wrapped in foil. A pair of chopsticks laying neatly beside them. Keigo’s heart fluttered. You had set a place for him. Dishes from dinner were stacked in the sink, waiting to be washed as you always stayed up for Keigo to finish with his before setting to washing. The faucet dripped slowly. Plink. Plink. Plink. The sound grew louder, ringing in Keigo’s ears until he screamed. The painful squeezing still holding on to him.

Keigo flew about your house, banging against the walls. He checked every room.The bathroom? Nothing. The bedroom? Nothing. Keigo groaned as he made his way to your neatly made, shared bed, falling on to it. Keigo wept. His head fell into his hands, and his wings trembled with every sob that wracked his body. 

After a few minutes, he realized there was only one place left to check. The throbbing pain had never subsided but was only overshadowed by his fear. Keigo felt his heart beat against his chest as he turned slowly to look at the one room he avoided searching out of fear: the nursery. The nursery was directly across from your bedroom. The door was cracked slightly, just enough to let the light inside filter into the hallway. 

 Keigo was afraid his heartbeat was too loud, that whatever was potentially in the room waiting for him would hear it. His muscles ached as he made his way to the door. As he approached the nursery, his heart grew louder until he was right outside the door. He held the knob in his grasp, clammy and slightly trembling, before giving a push. Keigo wasn’t ready for the sight that greeted him.

There you sat in the rocker with your baby in your arms, his chubby cheek pressed up against your breast. Both of you were fast asleep, the light rise and fall of your chests in sync. Milk dribbled off your baby’s chin like he had just finished drinking. In one pudgy hand, he held a vise grip on your finger. In his other hand, he held Keigo’s feather, as tight as he could as though it was just as much his lifeline as your milk.

Keigo ran to you and dropped to the floor, sobbing into your knees as he clung to your legs. You jumped awake at the weight of Keigo nearly collapsing on you, startling your baby.

You gently shushed your baby, holding him against you to calm him while running your hands through Keigo’s hair to soothe him. 

“Keigo, honey,” your crystalline voice rang. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought you were gone. I thought—” Keigo’s cries cut him off. He clutched at his chest, your baby still squeezing his feather hanging from your neck.

“Oh. Oh, Keigo. I’m so sorry,” you said as you realized what had happened. “Here.”

You pried your infant’s fingers off Keigo’s feather. The little red plumage slightly ruffled from being bent into the shape of the baby’s fist. You shook Keigo off you and stood up, adjusting your baby in your arms and turning to the door.

“Let’s go get you something to eat, okay?” You looked back at Keigo and smiled before turning back and walking out the door towards the kitchen. He hurriedly wiped his tears, in a fashion similar to a small child who had scraped their knee, and followed you.

Unseen by Keigo was the glow in your eyes. The first time you used his feather you were too distraught by labor to realize the power you held over Keigo. Rather than heavy chains binding you to Keigo, the feather acted more like a leash tied around his neck. The originally weight lifted, and the red feather hanging gracefully from around your neck finally felt as light as a feather.

[hlizr50]

Unveiled

Spoilers for From Blood and Ash

Poppy is unveiled to her new guard. Alternate POV.

Read on AO3

Everything had gone according to plan.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. But the end goal had been accomplished.

Swift booted footsteps echoed down the hall as Casteel and his “commander” made their way to the Duke’s office. Jansen had been explaining how the meeting would proceed; the Maiden would be escorted in, Duke Teerman would explain the need for a new guard with the Rite coming so soon, some prattle about why they chose Hawke Flynn to be that guard, the Maiden’s unveiling, and the fealty oath…

He would see her. Finally. No ridiculous veil, no mask. He would see the puzzle complete, how the eyes as green as spring, the full pink lips, the soft creamy skin all fit together. He was sure she would be beautiful, if what he had seen and touched and tasted were any indication. He had a goal in mind, to be sure. But she had intrigued him. He wanted to see and know more of her.

And he always got what he wanted.

“Hawke. Are you listening?”

He turned his amber gaze on Jansen. “I’m sorry?”

“Do you remember the oath?”

“Of course,” Casteel rolled his eyes before reciting. “’With my sword and my life, I vow to keep you safe Maiden, the Chosen. From this moment to the last moment, I am yours.’ Quite melodramatic if you ask me.”

“Keep your voice down,” the commander growled softly. “You are a dedicated guard of Solis swearing fealty to the future of the kingdom, in case you’ve forgotten.”

Casteel sneered. “I haven’t forgotten. And it would do you well to remember who is leading who, Commander.”

“Of course. My apologies.”

The prince knew that Commander Jansen was on a very precarious ledge. Being a Descenter in the heart of Masadonia was dangerous in the best of times. In a position of power, Jansen could pull a lot of strings and make a lot of things happen. But he had a hand in a number of plots, and if just one person was found out or turned against him… his own demise would be the least of the consequences. It could be catastrophic to the schemes they had put in motion years ago and set back the resurrection of Atlantia for literal decades.

The arrived before a heavy wooden door flanked by two of the Duke’s personal guard. Jansen greeted them by name and Casteel gave each a nod. Then they pulled the door out, opening up the room to the pair. This was the beginning of the end.

So it hadn’t gone completely to plan. The prince knew he needed to get close to the Maiden, so he could steal her away right from under the thumb of the Ascended. That had meant an opening needed to come available for one of her personal guards – it wouldn’t do to just work in the castle. Jericho had been tasked with taking out her guard during her almost-daily evening walks.

And he had done it.

But then he’d tried to go ahead and take the Maiden, and that had gotten him into trouble. He hadn’t known she would be armed and dangerous, and when you cross a wolven with pointy things it’s bound to get a little messy.

And Jericho wasn’t known for being calm, cool and collected on a good day.

The Maiden had gotten in a few good strikes, but she had received quite the blow as well. He’d seen the angry swelling around her mouth and jaw at Rylan’s funeral. He only imagined the bruising extended far under the veil, over her cheek and temple.

That was unacceptable.

He hadn’t enjoyed cutting off Jericho’s hand. But he would not allow Penellaphe to be hurt. And to teach a lesson you had to be firm. Unyielding. Deadly, if warranted, and definitely a bit unhinged. Just to keep everyone vigilant.

“Commander Jansen,” Dorian Teerman greeted them. “And you must be Flynn.”

“Your Grace.” Casteel bowed to the Duke, something it almost physically hurt him to do. But he was playing a part, and he could spend more time later creating enticing scenarios in which he destroyed Teerman in any number of ways. “I have summoned the Maiden. She and her guard should be here shortly.”

The Duke hadn’t bothered to introduce his wife, Duchess Jacinda Teerman. Casteel wondered if he even acknowledged her existence much of the time. He didn’t know much about Duke Teerman, but he seemed self-absorbed, self-righteous, and cruel, which was not much different than any of the Ascended he had encountered. Their unyielding refusal to “petition the Gods” so the Tulis family could keep their third son, when their first two had already died so young, was only further proof of their evil. Of course, those first two hadn’t been lost to a “blood disease”, but to the Ascended’s bloodlust – they had been fed upon until there was nothing left. And yet the Duke and Duchess would only insist on taking the third as well. Had it been one of them who had bled those poor children dry? It made his stomach twist to stand with Jansen, making small talk with the pale blonde Duchess as they waited for the meeting to start.

It wasn’t long before the door swung open again. And there she was.

This was how he had expected to meet the Maiden. Veiled, so he could only see her lips and chin. Hair pulled back so it was not visible beneath the veil, either. That was a shame. Her hair had unlocked something in him that night at the Red Pearl. It had been so unexpected. And then there was the ridiculous, frilly, white lace and pleats of a dress that covered everything from her neck to her wrists to her ankles. Surely a garment such as that was an affront to the Gods, sleeping though they were. This was the Maiden, pure and docile and silent. It was a stark contrast to the woman who had snuck into his room not so long ago. In a brothel, no less.

“Please. Close the door Vikter,” the Duke nodded as he sat behind the black painted desk. Casteel looked toward the older guard with the sandy blond hair as he pulled the doors closed. He knew more about Vikter than he should for his supposed station, but what was most important was his closeness with the Maiden. Penellaphe. He would need to be thorough in his dedication to win over the seasoned soldier.

“Thank you.” Teerman nodded. “Please, sit, Penellaphe.”

He watched the Maiden as she lowered herself to the bench. Gods he hated that dress. It was such a pity to hide the curves that he knew were underneath. It was an effort to keep himself from smirking. If only those in this chamber knew what she had been up to.

“I hope you’re feeling well, Penellaphe,” the Duchess spoke, a sickeningly sweet voice that felt practiced and false. The veiled Maiden nodded. “I’m relieved to hear that. I was worried that attending the city council so soon after your attack would be too much.” Casteel had watched the Maiden through the entirety of the meeting, trying to decipher anything from the full lips and curve of jaw that he and the rest of the world were allowed to see. Had he seen her skin flush while the Tulis family begged for their son’s life? What had she been thinking as her keepers were tearing yet another family apart?

“What happened in the garden is why we’re all here.” The Duke’s voice was cold. “With the death of… what was his name? The guard?” It made the prince angrier than it should, that this beast could not even be bothered to know the name of the man who had given his life to protect their precious Maiden.

“Rylan Kiel, your Grace,” Vikter answered.

“Ah yes, Ryan. With Ryan’s death you are down one guard… Again. Two guards lost in one year. I hope this isn’t becoming a habit.” What that a joke? Was he trying to imply that this girl could have stopped it? Casteel had to contain a sneer. The guards would continue to fall, if it meant getting his brother back and burning Solis to the ground. Nobody would stop him – not the Maiden, not the Teermans, not Vikter, not the Blood Queen herself. “Anyway, with the upcoming Rite, and as you draw closer to your Ascension, Vikter cannot be expected to be the only one keeping a close watch on you. We need to replace Ryan, which - as I’m sure you realize now - explains why Commander Jansen and guard Flynn are here. Guard Flynn will take Ryan’s place effective immediately.”

“I’m sure this is surprising, as he is new to our city and quite young for a member of the Royal Guard. There are several Rise guards in line to be promoted, and bringing on Hawke is no slight to them. But the Commander has assured us that Hawke is better suited to this task.”

And so the diatribe began about why he was just so good at what he did that he was the next natural choice. Fresh eyes to see new threats. An impeccable record on the Rise and experience beyond it, which would naturally come in handy if the Queen summoned the Maiden earlier than anticipated for her Ascension. It could happen. Teerman Castle had been compromised more than once in the last week. It wouldn’t be a surprise if Queen Ileana determined that they were no longer capable of keeping the Maiden safe here in Masadonia.

If only they knew.

If only they knew that his sense of hearing and smell made him aware of an enemy’s presence long before the enemy knew he was there. If only they knew how much he had to dumb himself down to appear to be a mortal man, counting seconds so he wouldn’t move too fast or relaxing his muscles so he wouldn’t seem too strong. If only they knew that their Commander was a Descenter himself and was planting Prince Casteel himself – the Dark One – into the role of Royal Guard Hawke Flynn. If only they knew that today they were delivering the Maiden into the hands of the most dangerous creature in their nightmares.

“The Descenters and the Dark One are not the only things to fear out there, as you know,” the Duchess had been speaking. Gods they were making it terribly difficult not to laugh. They were so ignorant. The pale blonde Ascended turned to Casteel now. “As a member of the Maiden’s personal royal guard, it is likely that a situation may occur where you will see her unveiled. It can be distracting seeing someone’s face for the first time, especially a Chosen, and that could interfere with your ability to protect her. That is why the Gods allow this breach.”

“Commander Jansen, if you will please step outside,” the Duke gestured toward the door and Jansen took his leave. Casteel stood alone, now, looking toward the veiled young woman now standing before him. Oh, had he been looking forward to this.

“You are about to bear witness to what only a select few have seen: an unveiled Maiden. Penellaphe, please reveal yourself.”

She was too still, and Casteel could tell that her breathing was shallow. What could she be thinking? He was sure that part of her was anxious that she’d be found out.

“Penellaphe. We do not have all day,” the Duke cut out and his wife tried to soothe him.

“Give her a moment, Dorian. You know why she hesitates. We have time.”

Why did she hesitate? Of course, she was concerned about being recognized, but he couldn’t imagine the Duchess would know that. And why did the Duke have that glib smile plastered on his face? Casteel returned his gaze to Penellaphe as her lady’s maid assisted with the chains on the headdress before it fell from her head.

Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were dark as her gaze remained pinned on the Duke. He could only see the right side of her face as she glared at Teerman and from the corner of his eye he could see the Duke’s expression fall into icy stone. Then she took a breath and turned to face Casteel, lifting her chin slightly.

Gods. She was stunning.

Those lips, her jaw, those eyes as green as Atlantian spring. He was ready for those things, had seen them that night at the Red Pearl. He’d known even then that she was beautiful, and now with her stony gaze it was only confirmed. And then there were the scars. Two scars tracked down from her temple, one over her cheek and toward her nose and one down through her eyebrow. Where had those come from? Who or what had done that to her? He gazed at her, taking in every detail of her face before meeting her eyes. Those eyes. They were dark and stormy, betraying the lack of emotion on her face. It was as if she were steeling herself, although he didn’t know what against.

“She’s truly unique, isn’t she?” She flinched as the Duke spoke again. “Half of her face is a masterpiece, the other half a nightmare.”

That bastard. Her arms tremored slightly, and Casteel realized what she had been hardening herself to feel. He knew that this moment, where he could make Penellaphe feel small, was why the Duke had that slimy smile upon his face. Appearance was a fickle thing, and beauty and perfection were highly touted by the Ascended. The Maiden, chosen but scarred, was being raised and educated under the thumb of a man who likely took every opportunity he could to tell her what a shame it was that her face could never be pleasing to any of them. She was a pawn, a possession to them. But he saw her here, just as he had seen her in the Red Pearl. She was a person, with feelings and desires and insecurities. She was Penellaphe.

He made an oath to himself that he would only treat her as such.

“Both halves are as beautiful as the whole,” he stepped forward then, wishing he could see the Duke’s face when he said it. Her sharp intake of breath made him want to smile for her. She hadn’t been expecting that, and that was the nightmare – that she was not aware how truly lovely she was.

He gave a shallow bow and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “With my sword and with my life, I vow to keep you safe, Penellaphe. From this moment until the last moment I am yours.” Bowing to Duke Teerman had been torturous, but bowing before her was almost natural. So was swearing his fealty to her. The ease with which he did so kindled something inside of him. He had come here to play a part and set into motion the resurgence of Atlantia, and that was exactly what he was doing. But those emerald eyes, lush red lips, and two pink scars were already threatening to unravel him.

And he wasn’t so sure that he was going to fight it.

[theloneliestshipper]

For the prompts, could I interest you in a Boba/Leia Regency era AU? :3c The lady being of a higher class would be an interesting angle

Believe it or not I did a Pride & Prejudice Proposal AU with Leia as Darcy but then I got thinking about Leia as a sort of Bridgerton-style duchess in need of a spouse and an heir and I wrote this and accidentally threw some supernatural elements into it so IDK WHAT THIS IS BUT IT AMUSES ME.

- + - + - + - + -

“Must I do this?”

“You asked me to find you a wife,” his father reminded him. 

Boba Fett kept his voice low, mindful that Prince Bail stood nearby. “Somehow I didn’t consider that I might find myself put out to stud for a duchess.”

“That’s not-”

“Is it not? Tell me again why a lady of the court who stands to inherit a fortune wants to marry the son of a horse breeder apart from the fact that his father has eleven sons.”

“Talk to her,” Jango insisted, grasping his shoulders and turning him towards the orchard. 

His betrothed waited for him, a slight, solitary figure in the midst of the blossoming pear trees. Duchess Leia Amidala Skywalker, the heir to her deceased mother’s fortune and the ward of Prince Bail Organa and his wife, Lady Breha. She was twenty-three, beautiful and wealthy and the fact that hadn’t succumbed to some nobleman’s charms by now made Boba more suspicious than flattered. 

If Jango had been born into a noble family he would likely be Master of the Horse for the king, but even that wouldn’t have put his third-born son on the same level as a duchess. 

“Mr. Fett.” She spoke first, with a marginal dip of her chin as she extended her hand. 

“Duchess.” He could hardly bow over her hand in these clothes. The prince had provided them. His younger brothers had laughed until they wept before Jango chased them off with threats to make them muck out the stables until sundown. 

“It’s not that bad,” Cody offered. 

“We do these things for the ladies,” Rex said with the preening wisdom of a newlywed. “You’ll get used to it.”

“Shall we walk?” The duchess couldn’t even make it sound like a question. It was a command. Boba offered his arm and cursed his fate. 

“People describe you as a practical man, Mr. Fett.” She glanced up at him. “Would you say that’s an accurate portrayal of your character?”

“I would.”

“People often describe me as ‘particular.’ They say I have a very fixed view of what I want.” 

He could feel the tension in her small hand even through his greatcoat. “And you want to be married.”

“Not in the least,” she responded quickly. “But I must be married to gain full control of my estate. And to keep that control I must have an heir.”

It was a relief that he was not expected to dance around the topic. Boba was never much of a dancer. “I am aware of my responsibility.”

Her discomfort was clear, but she did not pause. “That is what I wish to discuss. I do not actually wish to have children.”

“You said-”

“I cannot say so openly, because there would be all but open warfare among my relations to determine who would inherit the estate if I remain childless. Lord Palpatine, for example, would like nothing better than to add my lands to his.”

It was well known that Palpatine mistreated and starved his tenets for his own gain. Boba thought better of her for her intention to thwart him. “Who would you see inherit it, if not your son?”

She didn’t answer him. Her eyes dropped to the tall grass they walked in and for a few seconds there was only the noise of the footsteps and the buzzing of the honey bees. “There is a condition in my bloodline,” she said at last, quietly. “Some call it magic. Others, madness. It’s why my brother was sent away and it afflicted our father as well.”

“It affects only the men of your line?”

“Or perhaps it is more visible in the men.” She stopped walking and withdrew her arm. “By royal decree, my brother cannot inherit. But he is not mad. We correspond in secret.”

“You want your brother to be reinstated.”

“And I am fixed in what I want.” She took a deep breath. “If you will aid me in keeping up appearances, I will be a generous wife. You will have an annual sum to squander as you please, and if you want for company, I shall say nothing of any discrete alliances. I only ask that you not presume for yourself a place in my bed.”

Already she was far more interesting than he ever imagined, and Boba could also appreciate her skill in negotiation. She held all the cards save one, the rights to her body in the legal contract of marriage, so she sought instead to pacify him with money and dalliances. 

“My father once had a young stallion,” he said, reaching up above her head to break a twig from a pear tree. “A careless groom left the latch to his padlock open and he got into the mare’s enclosure. He picked a mare and tried to mount her, but the mare wasn’t in heat.” As he spoke he stripped the smaller buds and sprouts from the twig. “She so savaged him that the stallion had to be put down. And the groom who left the gate unlatched, my father took him to Brightview pier and let him go.”

The duchesses’ brows drew together. “He took him to the lake to dismiss him?”

“No, he held him off the pier and let him go. The man couldn’t swim, but lucky for him it was a dry summer and the water wasn’t so deep. He was also dismissed,” Boba added, bending the green twig into a loose knot. 

“I...I have heard that the Fetts have their own way of doing business.”

“The point is, I know well enough when a woman wants me and when she doesn’t. Unless you bid me directly to come to your bed and lay with you I will never presume otherwise.” He took her hand and placed the knotted twig in it, closing her gloved fingers over it. “It’s a tradition my brothers and I have. When you make a promise, you give the other person something to remember it by.”

As soon as he released her hand she opened it and looked down at the knotted twig resting on her palm. Her hand closed over it and she raised her eyes to his, a rosy hue in her cheeks. “I would never have thought so,” she admitted. “But at this moment I feel that such an invitation is not outside the realm of possibility.”

Her amazement was no less than his. He now craved that invitation. He wanted this determined little duchess to want him. “I will wait on your word. And there are acts we might engage in that wouldn’t result in children.” If she were willing and they weren’t so well chaperoned he might be tempted toward such acts now. 

“I am not entirely uninformed of this,” she responded, dropping her eyes. “And I am...encouraged that we are of one mind.” She made a visible attempt to compose herself, straightening her skirts and tucking the knotted twig into her sash. “I suppose we should inform your father and the prince that the marriage plans may proceed.”

Boba offered his arm again, and this time her grip was firm as she took it. Almost proprietary. “As my lady wishes.”

[star-killer-md]

Actus Reus, Mens Rea

@contesa-lui-alucard asked:

Hey hey happy sleepover my friend!! If it’s alright with you, I have two prompts from the Smut list that I’d love to see you combine for... mob Kylo and lawyer reader! Oh snap!! 15 & 37, if you please. If not, no worries, I still hope you have an awesome sleepover 😁 (“Make it hurt, baby.” + “Lay back and touch yourself. I want to watch.”)

Anon asked:

hello, may i request clingy/possessive kylo,, thank you

Thank you lovlies for your requests and sorry from the bottom of my depressed ass heart that it took me so fucking long. Anyway here ya go, hope you enjoy some mobster Kylo deliciousness. I’m so excited you liked him Contesa, and I hope you’re into it as well too nonny! Sorry it got long, I truly have no control over that. 

And thank you so much to @sacklersdoll for reading over this for me!

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Angst (its me), Smut (its me), mentions of predator/prey dynamic (mostly as metaphor), possessive Kylo Ren, semi-public sex, no pronouns for the reader by they are afab, dominant Kylo Ren, some brat vibes, Kylo Ren is not nice, allusions to guns, some sorta stalking behavior

Ship: Mob Boss!Kylo Ren x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: You’ve started to take on some pro bono clients as a favor to a friend and Kylo Ren is Not A Fan™ of all the attention this guy has been paying you. After a few months of consulting on the side, you’re beginning to wonder if life working for a mob boss is something you’re really cut out for. Though you quickly learn that you very well may have passed the point of no return when Kylo shows up at your office to remind you just who exactly you work for. 

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

You shook the woman’s hands and returned her smile. Her son stayed quiet, looking at the ground, but mumbled his thanks as well. He was a good kid. Just pissed off the wrong neighbor. One of those ‘get off my lawn,’ ‘good ole American dream’ types who thought welfare was a sign of the devil, and had it out for everyone in the lower tax brackets. 

“Really, it’s no problem,” you walked them to the door, leaving her your business card. “I’ll see you both at the courthouse on Monday.” 

Evan was waiting in your office when you returned. His patent leather shoes rested precariously on the corner of your desk and you knocked them off with a huff. 

“See you’ve made yourself at home,” you said, crossing your arms and staring down at him in your chair. 

He shrugged and stood under your scrutiny, moving around to take the seat across from you. Evan Goodman was an old friend from undergrad. You often got the impression he was still that same cocky frat boy in the head. Still flashed the ‘my daddy has more money than you’ smile on occasion when he really wanted to get under your skin. With his slicked back hair, unnervingly straight teeth, and his annoying prosperity despite never putting in much effort it was somewhat shocking the two still spoke. He was simply not the type of person who had ever needed to try. Success came naturally to him, and much to your dismay.

“What can I say? You’re a very gracious host,” he mused and leaned forward on the desk. “So, how did it go?”

You sighed, “They’ll be alright, might get saddled with a fine but the charges aren’t that serious.” 

“Good, Rosa’s an old friend. I would have helped her out myself, but not really my deal ya know?”

“Yeah, Mr. Tax Attorney, I get it.” 

Evan was kind of a dick, but he was also the kind of friend who would sit on the bathroom floor with you, hold your hair back and sing horrendous parody versions of ABBA no matter who heard. So you couldn’t hate him entirely. That also meant that when he came to you with cases like this, a favor for a friend or whatever the situation may be, you had a hard time refusing. 

It was also a convenient front for you not-so-legal legal work you’d been invested in for the past few months.

“Seriously, I know I’ve been asking a lot of you recently,” he flashed you that god awful grin and kicked his feet up again. “You can tell me to fuck off if it’s too much.” 

He had been coming to you for pro bono work with increasing frequency, especially over the past month or so, but again, you didn’t wholly mind it. You went into this kind of work for a reason. Though, you were starting to get the feeling that a certain, brooding, less than lawfully abiding businessman did not feel the same. 

Kylo Ren dealt frequently with the shady, black market underbelly of capitalist society, but you were less accustomed to his world and not completely ready to throw yourself to the hounds just yet.

You had already missed more than a few meetings and canceled on dinner tonight to meet with Rosa. To be fair, it wasn’t as if he’d made any indication this ill-defined whatever-it-was going on between the two of you was anything serious. And you were only his consultant, for now, so this took precedent anyway. At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself of. Definitely not a way to avoid thinking about fucking your boss who also happened to be in with the mob. 

Definitely not.  

“I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I couldn’t manage it,” you yawned softly and stood to collect your things. 

It was late and you were beginning to fantasize about how soft and warm your sheets would be. If you got back in time you could pop them in the dryer and get in an episode or two before bed. 

“Hey, let me at least buy you dinner or something since I kept you out so late,” Evan parked his skinny frame in your path to the doorway. 

“You’re going to apologize for keeping me out late, by keeping me out even later?”

“Do you want free food or not?”

Pursing your lips, you stared at him for a few moments. He really did know all your weaknesses. You had skipped out on meeting with Mr. Ren—or Kylo or sir or whatever the hell you were supposed to call him now—already tonight, however, Evan was sure to take you somewhere nice and it wouldn’t be so morally repugnant if it was just as a ‘thank you….’

“Okay, fine,” you conceded and let him lead you out to the parking garage, locking the office up behind you. 

***

The next morning you stumbled past reception in a haze. Both from lack of sleep, and the bitingly cold winds battering your building despite the neighboring high rises blocking the brunt of the gale. The young woman at the desk informed you tersely that a Mr. Goodman was already waiting for you in your office and that you should really get here on time if you were expecting clients this early. 

You agreed that, yes you probably should but, you know, “trains and all that mess,” and tried not to judge her too harshly. After all, she was the barrier between you and the hundreds of calls this place received daily. 

Before slipping through the door with your name plate, you hung your coat on the rack and switched your phone on. It’d died on you last night amidst the allure of fancy, late night dinner and your sleep deprivation riddled brain had not cared enough to plug it in before bed. Fuck Amazon, but thank god for its speedy delivery of portable charges. 

You chewed your lip as the lock screen came to life. One missed call and a text. Both, of course from the most anxiety inducing sender, Kylo Ren. Because why would it be anyone else? His name menacing even typed out in standard black font. 

The text read:

Meet me at 8am.

It was very much like him—a command with punctuation and absolutely no details. The message receipt showed it was sent two hours ago, and it was already half past eight. Shit. Your fingers shook as you pulled up his contact and called. Every interaction left you coursing with adrenaline. Even now, miles away listening to the dial tone was nerve-wracking. Your heart pounded, hands slick in their grip on your phone. Maybe it was because you were never sure where you stood with him. Maybe it was because he was handsome and he knew it. Strong and he knew it. Intimidating and mysterious and closer in some ways to a Greek god than a man. He was all encompassing, and filled every available space in any room he occupied. 

Sometimes you thought you might choke on his presence. 

It rang once, twice, three times before cutting out completely. You stared down at the blank screen, biting your lip and shooting off a quick text. You were sorry, something important had come up, you would meet him the second it was convenient. 

Evan slapped you heartily on the back when you came into the room. He was holding a bouquet of flowers, evergreen with small white blossoms. 

“So, how many hours did you manage last night?” he asked, smiling his shit eating smile and seemingly unaffected despite the fact that he had to be running on just as little sleep as you.  

“I’m not even sure at this point,” you groaned as you tossed your bags down behind the little metal desk. “Time ceases to exist when you take trains past midnight.”

“Fair enough. Hey look,” Evan waved the greenery in your face, “courtesy of Rosa’s shop. She insisted I bring you something as thanks. I figured you could put them out in the front or something to brighten things up.” 

“They’re lovely. Please tell me you’re only here as a glorified delivery boy.”

His shoulders slumped at your lack of amusement, but before he could quip back the landline in your office rang. You answered, holding a finger towards Evan and leaning against the edge of the desk. It was the receptionist, Jess was her name? Maybe? You could never remember, someone else always addressed the holiday gift cards anyway. 

“There’s someone here to see you at the front desk,” she clipped, almost more exasperated than before. 

You told her you’d be right there and hung up. Evan grabbed his coat as you headed out, holding the door for you and following into the hall. 

“I’ll leave you to it if you’re busy, but give me a call after Monday and tell me how it goes,” he continued rambling as you came out into the front.

You had a smart comeback prepared, something about how simple the case was, he should have more faith in you, he was the reason you were busy in the first place, etc…but every word turned to ashes on your tongue when you saw him. 

Kylo Ren, standing right there at the desk and glaring at your receptionist. His suit was dark blue and ironed to perfection. Each leg was creased perfectly down the front and the jacket sat flawlessly on his wide set shoulders. He was a wall of unimaginably expensive fabric and what looked concerning like barely contained rage. You could see it in the twitch of his eye, the set of his jaw, and in the way his gaze landed on you the second you walked in. 

The way a predator immediately hones in on its prey. 

You froze just feet from him in the lobby, floundering like a fish on a hook. 

Evan, for his part, seemed not to notice the tension at all and continued to say his long winded goodbyes, placing the flowers in your hands and completely unaware of the slow, measured tightening of Kylo’s massive hands into fists at his side. 

“I’m free on Monday evening so we should—” 

“She’ll be busy.” 

Evan frowned, turning to face the man standing before him, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Kylo’s voice was a dark thing, low and rumbling, “She will be otherwise occupied.” 

His words were punctuated by a step towards you, one paw of a hand easily gripping your entire jaw. Lucky he did too, otherwise it would have dropped straight to the floor when he shot one last cobra strike glare in Evan’s direction, and pressed his mouth to yours. Right there. In the lobby. For everyone to see.  

The absolute bastard.

His lips were pillow plump and softer than the silk lining of his suit—and even through the surge of shock and embarrassment and more than a touch of anger—you felt your heart throb at the way he licked into your mouth. 

The flowers tumbled from your hands onto the floor as everything in you went limp under his touch. This was nowhere near the first time you’d tasted him, but it was like this every time. Like drinking ambrosia. An otherworldly experience. 

But that didn’t stop the sharp pain of his crushing grip on your arm, the way he nearly lifted your feet off the floor when he pulled away to drag along behind him. You could hear Evan spluttering in the hall behind you, the receptionist going back to clacking at her keyboard as if nothing had happened. 

When Kylo opened your office door he just about threw you inside. You tripped as he tipped you in, stumbling and catching yourself on the edge of your desk. The power behind his hand alone was undeniable. You shuddered at the thought of the array of purple fingerprints he would leave behind. It made your mouth dry and your heart sink. Confusing and delicious. 

And left you seething nonetheless. 

“What the fuck was that?!” you were not calm, so you didn’t attempt any semblance of it. 

“You didn’t answer me,” he said, level as he always was. 

The quiet before the storm and all that. 

“About the meeting? I tried to call, my phone died—”

“Because you were out catching trains at all hours of the night, I’m aware.” 

You paused, glaring at the wall of muscle between you and the door, “How did you know that?”

“So you’re not denying it?”

Kylo stalked towards you like a beast in his tailored suit and polished leather shoes like talons. You could hear your heartbeat, hear the blood rushing in your ears. Just like a rabbit in the sightline of a hawk, you were clearly being hunted. 

“Why would I deny something I’m not trying to hide?” your voice came out horse as he caged you between the desk and his chest, arms on either side to block any route of escape. 

“No you are certainly not adept at subtlety,” he said and you couldn’t take your eyes off the way his tongue moved behind his teeth. “This is the fifth time that idiot in the hall has distracted you from work.”

“That’s not an answer,” you tried to spit the words but his eyes were boring into you. The honey of them spilled down your spine and made you shiver. “How did you know? You are not entitled to any information pertaining to my personal life, regardless.” 

“Watch your mouth,” he growled. “Entitlement has no part in this.”

You were entering dangerous territory, though stopping curiously did not occur to you.

“I don’t think you have the right to be throwing out commands right now, not after that display.”

“Have you forgotten who you work for?” Kylo hissed at you, hands wrapped around the metal of your desk so hard you thought it might warp under his fingers. 

“Of course not,” you desperately tried to keep your voice down lest anyone get even more a spectacle. 

“Then what is this?” one hand left the desk and pulled a phone from inside his jacket. 

The screen lit up, and you looked in horror at pictures of yourself. Pictures of yourself from last night. Pictures of yourself from last night at dinner with Evan, interspersed with shots of you crossing the street, waiting on the train platform, and stumbling back into your apartment. Each was clearer than you’d expected, presumably from some insanely expensive surveillance equipment. You had been out for hours, and you had been watched the whole time. 

You narrowed your eyes, flicking back and forth between Kylo’s face—the graceful bridge of his nose pointed down at you—and gaped. 

“You had me followed…” you breathed the words into the slowly shrinking space between your bodies. 

He simply nodded, as if, somehow, you were foolish for not having considered this before. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you had no idea what you had gotten yourself into. Perhaps you had signed on for much more than a paycheck when you agreed to work for Kylo Ren. 

“I can’t have my employees getting distracted.”

Kylo slowly drifted ever closer, shoulders bent so he was eye level with you. He pressed further into the desk, pinning you between his body and the hard surface that bit into your ass. Something long and thick and hard nudged your thigh. 

“I don’t know why you though having me followed was necessary—” 

“You’re an arrogant little slut who needs to be reminded of your priorities,” his hand snatched your leg and wrenched it open so he could stand between them, “ I am not something you do on the side.” 

You could hear the way his teeth grit out the words, the way they formed as a growl deep in his beast’s throat. The hand still settled on the desk, skimmed up your hip and chest, his fingers 

biting into your jaw. 

“Do you understand me?”

Your lips were shut tight in a thin line, eyes wide and staring up like the prey you were. The silence only provoked him more. Snarling, two thick fingers wrenched your mouth open, pressing hard on your tongue and making you gag around them. 

“Answer.” 

Kylo Ren almost always spoke in commands. Having power did that to people, and rarely did it ever compel you, but his words sunk deep into your bones. Dredged up some dark, instinctual need to obey. To submit to this show of control. 

“Yes,” you mumbled around his fingers in your mouth, drool slipping past your lips when they moved. 

“Yes, what?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

You watched him suck his teeth, grabbing your face tighter and dragging you close so he could spit directly into your open mouth. He slammed your jaw shut, nearly taking off the tip of your tongue and hissed into your ear. 

“Swallow.” 

Again, you did without a thought. And it was disgusting, but invigorating, sent off some spark in your stomach with how easily he bent your body to his will. There was no man like him, you decided. And maybe this was simply because Kylo Ren was not a man. That term alone would never do him justice. 

In one shockingly smooth motion, you found yourself flat on your back, ass hanging off the edge of the desk with his hands on your hips. He ground himself against you, the throbbing of his cock evident even through the layers of clothing. That feeling on its own had you soaked through, thighs sticking with liquid excitement. 

“Remember who you work for,” he growled into your neck, licking a long stripe up your throat and sucking at the exposed skin. 

But it was very clear to you what he really meant. 

Remember who you belong to. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth as he bit down on the skin just above your shoulder, laving his tongue over the stinging flesh. Kylo pulled back, frowning down at you and yanking the hand away from your face. One held both your wrists in a vice lock while the other ripped your panties straight down your legs and left the dripping fabric discarded on the carpet. 

“No, they’re going to hear you,” he grunted, and pulled one of your hands down, pressing it to your slit and running your fingers through your slick. “Go on, touch your fucking pussy and let them know what a little whore you are for me.” 

It was something about his voice. Something in the way it left him, its timbre, its wonder, unquestioning. You could never refuse him. 

So, with a small nod you parted your folds, head resting on a stack of files as you drew slow circles around your clit with a shaky hand. His eyes never left your cunt, tracing the movement of your finger and the trail of wetness that seeped from you to the desktop. Softly, you gasped as the familiar placement of your fingers made you clench and arch up. Kylo’s rubbed small circles into your inner thighs with his thumbs, kneading the flesh there. 

When the spark was there, the lovely pulsing in your nerves alight, you dipped down, teasing and slipping inside, grinding down as best you could on your hand. It wasn’t enough, but nothing ever was since you’d been ripped open on Kylo’s cock. 

Evidently he did not find your work sufficient either. 

Another finger joined yours, stroking your lips and circling your entrance. His touch made you whine, the promise of hands that were not your own never ceasing to illicit a new gush of pleasure. 

“I said,” he murmured, his touch so terribly feather light. “Let them hear you.” 

He was like a gunshot, sudden and forceful and almost instantly had you screaming. Kylo slammed his fingers into you, so full and so deep, curling hard against that lovely spot inside. 

“Kylo, god, please—” you moaned long and low, your face burning with the knowledge that the walls were barely thick enough to keep your phone calls private, much less the shameful noises he pulled from you. 

“What was that?” he panted, adding another finger and pumping them deep into your cunt. “You can do better.” 

Your teeth dug so hard into your lip you thought it might bleed, but you couldn’t take much more. The ledge was approaching—Kylo Ren knew it—and he was determined to push you straight into the fire. 

You choked when his deliciously thick fingers were ripped from you, walls fluttering around the awful emptiness. Your head lolled back as you listened to him work the buckle of his belt and slacks open, and when you did glance down your mouth watered at the sight. Kylo—impossibly long cock throbbing in his hand—stood between your legs, stroking himself from root to tip. You watched little pearls of precum bead at the head while his thumb swiped across to smear them along his length. 

“You are insane,” you hissed through gritted teeth. 

Did you need to keep this position? No, technically you would be more than well off on the salary Mr. Ren so graciously provided. However, you could not mentally deal with being terminated for getting dicked in your office during work hours. 

Kylo smirked, the edge of his perfect cupid’s bow cocked back and aimed straight at your chest. Without warning, he sunk into you, straight to the hilt and threw his head back as you sobbed with the sharp sting of being split in two on his cock. 

“This is what you do,” he growled into your ear, hands on either side of your head as he worked his length back out only to pound into you again. “You work for me and you take my cock and don’t ever fucking forget that.”  

Your legs were wound so tightly around his waist that had he been any other man, his ribs would have cracked under the pressure. His hair, falling in black, satin waves, was gorgeous even in the sterile office lighting. You threaded your fingers into it at the roots and held him while your body rocked against the desk. It’s metal surface pinched at your sink and made your back ache, though that was nothing compared to the burn of Kylo’s thrusts, sliding against your walls. You felt him in your throat. You always did. That was simply the way things were with him. He filled you painfully, thoroughly, took over all of your senses until it was just him. 

And, strangely, it was the most alive you’d ever felt. 

He was unlike anyone you’d ever known.

You couldn’t scream for him, but you could still let him taste the desperation, the willingness in your body to mold against him. So you kissed him, dragged him by the hair to meet your lips and licked past his teeth, gasping and moaning on his tongue as you sucked it hard and cried into his mouth. 

And he drank you down, picking up a punishing rhythm and breaking blood vessels where his hands gripped your hips. One drifted lower, thumb pressing down hard on your clit as your cunt clenched around his length. The desk was lifting off the ground with every thrust, the room filled with the wet sounds of your bodies and you were quickly melting under him. 

Warmth was spreading, growing, building out from your pussy, igniting in your veins. He was right. This is what you did. This is what he did to you. This toe curling, lip biting, bone shattering kind of pleasure. 

Oh you were so royally fucked. 

“I—oh shit—Kylo I’m,” you pulled back just enough to pant out a warning before the wave took you. 

So hot, it washed over your skin and made your legs shake and your hands leave his hair to dig your nails into his chest through the crisp white button down he wore. 

“Feel that?” he grunted as you convulsed and shuddered under him, “Feel how this pussy was made for me.” 

You nodded, buried your face in his neck and held on as he worked you through your climax and straight into his own. Once, twice he ground his cock deep in you, feeling how tight you were around him until he was spent and spilling hot, thick ropes of cum that coated your walls and dripped out around his length. 

He panted, lazily rolling his hips, fucking you slowly until finally, he came to a halt with his softening cock still sheathed inside you. Seconds past, or maybe hours, you couldn’t tell. Kylo tended to have that effect on you. Time slipped away so easily in his presence, like there was never enough of it. 

When he did pull away, you stayed with your back firmly planted amidst the mess of scattered paperwork and manila envelopes. He rose to his full, towering height and tucked himself away, straightening the wrinkles in his suit and eyeing you only once from the side. You admired his profile, you never understood until now what the meaning of the word “regal” truly was. 

Under the dictionary definition, his picture surely would be there, staring at you down the bridge of his marble carved nose. 

You sat up on your elbows as he stalked towards the door. 

“Was that all you came for?”

Kylo paused, broad back still facing you and leaving the room feeling irrevocably empty with just the intention of his absence. 

“We’ll reschedule for five tonight,” he said, filling the door frame completely. “Don’t be late.” 

The door clicked shut behind him and the sound of it made you collapse back onto the desktop. You laid there for a moment, leaking your combined spend and aching. The throb of him settled in your muscles and festered. But the worst part was the other ache, the pain of being without. And maybe you had been a bit avoidant. Maybe this work really was so you didn’t have to see him. Because if you saw him you’d end up fucking him—which was fine, which was good, which was great actually—but then he would leave. And you couldn’t decide which wanting was worse. The wanting before or the wanting after. 

Maybe it didn’t matter. 

You had more important things to think about anyway. Like securing the receptionist an incredibly large holiday bonus, assuming you still had a job here at the end of the day. 

Maybe that didn’t matter either. 

It might be high time you made a commitment to whatever the hell kind of mess you’d stumbled into. Kylo Ren was an enigma in the best kind of way. Maybe you should stop running from it. 

[liddolwhynot2000]

Chains: Part 3

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Summary:

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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Pairings: Erwin/Reader, Levi/Reader

Genre: Angst, one sided love, regrets

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ChainsPt1. ChainsPt2. ChainsPt4

Drabble#1

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'You're pretty shitty at noticing what's right infront of you.'

Erwin wanted to scoff at that statement. One of the reasons he made such a good commander was because he had a very keen eye for details. He could take one look at a document and pin point all the errors in it within a moments notice. His sharp observation skills had been what had significantly reduced the Survey Corps death rate.

He prided himself on his ability to notice things--alas none of that extended to his personal life.

And Levi was the one to point it out to him.

Not to say that he didn't know it already, it was just that he often prefered to pretend he didn't. The rational part of him often insisted how dwelling on his own shortcomings was pointless. After all, he was doing just fine as the commander wasn't he?

Reminding himself of that, he turned his attention back to Levi. His response was cool and crisp, not giving away his internal struggle.

'Is there a problem with the mission plan?'

'Tch- don't beat around the bush commander. We both know what I'm talking about.'

Ah typical, straightforward Levi. Even though he was mostly used to it, even he got thrown off at times by how the man refused to sneak around a topic.

'Apologies-but I really don't know--'

Erwin turned back to the map on his desk, dismissing Levi

'-And frankly, I don't have the time for this. If its not related to the mission, please leave.'

There was moment of silence, before Levi turned to leave. Just as he was about to shut the door, he spoke up again.

'You're a fool Erwin. And I have no intention of following in your footsteps.'

With that, he shut the door.

Erwin let out a dry, humourless chuckle

Levi didn't need to tell to him how much of a fool he was. Because Erwin already knew it.

Only a fool would let go of a chance with a woman like you.

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When Erwin had been young, back in his cadet days, he and his friends had often frequented a bar nearby. It was a good time for them, drinking, laughing, talking about girls. They enjoyed a nice, hot meal, with no sergeant screaming at them. It was one of the few times they could relax.

It was also when he had met Marie.

Beautiful, sassy Marie, who had captivated him at first sight. Her pretty smile and snark had easily wormed their way into his heart--and like any other hot blooded man, he had immediately tried to court her.

He had been very well aware of his own charms back then, knowing most women considered him attractive. He could be smooth when needed and for Marie, he had gone out of his way to win her over with everything he had.

Even going as far to chat up the other barmaids, so that they would harbour good opinions of him. You, in specific, had been a target. He had been able to tell that you and Marie were good enough friends that your word would matter.

Erwin doubted you had realized it at the time, that he had been playing you. He hadn't been blind to your feelings for him, he recalled your slight blush and the way you wouldn't fully make eye contact with him. He had even thought of you as attractive--but that was just about it.

You were attractive, sure, but to him, especially back then, Marie had been absolutely breathtaking. So he had strung you along a little, knowing that the higher opinion you had of him, the more you would tell Marie positive things about him. His courting efforts had paid off and before long, he was finally turning his entire attention to a very receptive Marie. You clearly hadn't noticed how he had used you, but you had kept your head down and taken the hint.

To this day, he was still ashamed of himself for that.

Even back then, he had felt a little awful about his behaviour. But that feeling had been easily overwhelmed by the blossoming of his new relationship-- first kisses, first dates. All his time outside of the training corps had been devoted to Marie. He had fallen hard for her, and had envisioned their future together.

He would meet her parents after he graduated and get her father's blessing. The two of them would get married in a modest ceremony, and move into a decent house. He would climb the ranks and the two of you would start a family soon enough. He would be welcomed home by her, and their children causing a ruckus and running around. It was the picture perfect family.

Until it wasn't.

In his vision of a life with Marie, Erwin had lost himself. Those soft, fleeting touches left him intoxicated, dreaming of a life that he wasn't sure he could ever want. And as graduation loomed closer, he had begun to sober up.

He had convinced himself that Marie's dreams for life were his own, but had forgotten about his own dreams.

The reason he had joined the Cadet Corps was so he could join the Survey Corps and explore the outside world. He wanted to figure out the titans, their history and most importantly, prove his father's theory.

It wasn't about sating his own curiosity-- no, it was about proving his father had been right. That his idiotic son hadn't gotten him killed over nothing.

Once he had snapped out of the honeymoon phase of their relationship, he had begun to recall his priorities. As much as he had loved Marie back then, he knew he wouldn't have been able to turn his back on his father. Otherwise, he would have spent the rest of his life drowning in unresolved guilt.

Erwin's choice had been clear, but by then he and Marie had been so deep into their relationship, that he had to contemplate what to do. He wasn't dumb- he knew it would be a choice. There was no way he could join the Survey Corps and still be with Marie. She had always made it clear that she wanted a husband who she could see everyday. Who would be safe in the walls with her, and could give her a comfortable life.

It had been a choice. And as much as it had pained him to do so, he had let Marie go.

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Erwin sat at the bar later that night, downing his second beer bottle. He had ordered another one to the go, with the bartender eyeing him with something akin to pity.

'Ya got your heart broken or something?'

Erwin chuckled bitterly

'No. I was just a little blind.'

The bartender nodded in understanding, giving him his beer and a sympathetic smile.

Erwin paid his dues, took his drink, and left the bar. He lazily walked along the side walk, heading back the barracks. The air was chilly, but he was too lost in thought to care.

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Meeting you again had been weird to say the least. For one, it brought back a ton of shame he had been holding back all these years.

He remembered how insensitive he had been, using you and your feelings to get the girl he had wanted. Fate had dealt him quite the hand, probably as punishment for treating you like that, and had made sure hadn't ended up with Marie.

You had gotten significantly more attractive, Erwin had admitted to himself. You had certainly blossomed into a much more sure version of yourself, holding your head high, evenly making eye contact with everyone. You still retained some quietness, which he had to admit wasn't off putting at all.

He found himself approaching you, at first wanting to make up for how he had behaved. He had planned to tell you the truth, and get the slap he deserved. But somehow, one enjoyable conversation had turned into two, two into six and before he had been able to stop it, he had become good friends with you.

The two of you would meet up and chat about books, or sometimes share a meal together. It had become a routine of some sort--a safe haven from all his troubles.

A moral man would tell you the truth, and take his punishment. But he had grown too fond of you. Your laughter, and soothing presence had grown on him. He couldn't let go. So he hid his misdeeds and shoved it into the back of his mind, selfishly wanting to keep being with you.

Erwin wasn't dumb, he knew himself better then anyone. It hadn't taken him long to understand his reasons being around you went beyond friendship.

It wasn't friendship that had him imagining what it would be like to slip his hands around your waist and rest his head on your shoulder as you cooked.

It wasn't friendship that made him sorely miss you at military balls--made him wish it was you he was slow dancing with.

It wasn't friendship that made him look at the empty side of his bed and long for another person to be there. For you to be there.

He wasn't hopelessly in love with you- or at least he didn't think so. But he had certainly felt strongly about you. Looking back on it, if he had played his cards right, he would have gotten you.

He had thought that he would confess to you, and be met with a positive response. He would throw the secret he was keeping from you to the darkest pits of his mind, and embrace a new life with you, even with his suicidal profession.

It hadn't worked out that way.

Just a day before the expedition, Erwin had suffered through a bad day. He had recieved news of Marie and her husband Nile welcoming their first child. And it had hurt.

As much as he had fallen for you, Marie had held a significant part of his heart. Letting her go had been extremely difficult for him, but he had thought that he would have made peace with it by now. While he wouldn't say he was heart broken, he certainly hadn't been able to stop himself from feeling bitter.

His first love had moved on from him so easily.

His mood had only gotten worse after the expedition, another senseless loss of life had been incurred--and it could have been prevented if the Commander had bothered hearing out Erwin's plan.

He had been so frustrated, so done with it all. His only outlet had been drinking, and he had ended up going to you.

In hindsight, it had been a bad decision from the start. Going to the woman he hoped to make his one day, while feeling bitter over the woman he had loved in the past and being drunk at the same time was a bad combination.

And it had ended up becoming a night he would regret.

'M.. Marie?'

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Erwin let himself into his room, glad that captain's got their own room. It had taken him some effort to open the door, feeling a little hazy from his drinking.

Kicking off his shoes, he sunk into his chair, head pounding from the alcohol he had consumed and heart hurting from his own failures.

It had been so stupid of him, going to you at that time. It had messed up any chance he had with you.

You're demeanour towards him had changed after that, no longer giving flashes of anything beyond friendship. You had built up a wall against him, unwilling to let him in like before. It had left him feeling unsure of what to do, of how to talk to you.

You never once brought up that night, or Marie, simply carrying on as though nothing had happened. A part of him had wanted to talk to you immediately, to tell you it wasn't what you thought it was, but he had held himself back.

He figured if he gave you some time, you would be more receptive to hearing him out. At that point, you might not have taken his confession well. So he allowed the distance you were putting between them to grow, convincing himself that when the time was right, he would confess to you.

Too bad he had made the mistake of introducing you to Levi.

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Erwin clearly recalled the first time you had met Levi, for he had been the one who had brought him to the resteraunt you worked at.

He had noticed the short man's attraction to you immediately, watching from the corner of his eye as the man eyed you with interest. His expert self-control had been the only thing keeping the ugly, seething jealousy he had felt at that moment from showing on his face.

It had taken everything in him to leave at that moment.

And there wasn't a moment after that he stopped regretting leaving.

Before, he had been watching you pull away from him. And now? He was watching you go into someone else's arms.

It had started out small, accidentally overhearing Levi's friends teasing him about you. Telling him to ask you out. He had ignored it back then.

After his friends had died, Levi had begun to dissappear in his his free time. Erwin had been suspicious about it, and had tracked him down one day, only to find the man sharing tea with you. The sight of you giggling as Levi looked at you so softly had made him want to throw up.

He hadn't confronted the two of you and just walked away, each step away from you feeling heavier then the last.

The two of you begun to talk less and less, and Erwin could tell it wasn't affecting you as much as it was affecting him. His one fuck up had made you give up on him and move on-for good.

Now, he was forced to watch you and Levi go in circles around each other. You would bring him meals to headquarters, he would buy you little trinkets from the village. Erwin would see it all unfold- Levi eating his own home cooked meals that smelled so familiar. You wearing jewellery he had seen Levi looking at.

It was the start of a picture perfect romance. Any other person would be ignored by humanity's strongest solider if they tripped to the ground, but Levi would always firmly grab you before you even fell halfway.

Levi smiled at you when he thought no one was looking, he looked at you as though you were the single most important person in his life--and honestly? Erwin couldn't blame him.

You were perfect really. Especially for someone who was in the Survey Corps. So understanding, always near by becuase of your job, a great listener, funny, smart.. And not meant to be his.

Had he not been blind to you all those years ago, had seen the traits you had, the ones that Marie didn't, he could have been happy right now. Without a doubt, he could tell, you would have supported his dreams to join the Survey Corps. Had he not been so star struck by Marie back then, he wouldn't have spent the past years stowing in heartbreak. Now, he had lost you, and the only way to get you back would never let him sleep at night again.

He had, yet again, made a choice. If he wanted to, with little effort, he could send Levi back to the underground and away from you. In his lowest moments, he envisioned being petty enough to actually go through with it. You would get over it, and he could comfort you in that time of heartbreak. But he couldn't. Because he needed Levi's strength.

Levi had begun to carry expeditions on his back, to the point that he had single handedly lowered their death rate by 8%. Without him, the corps would be doomed and disbanded.

And Erwin had already sent too many soldiers to their death for that to happen.

So, with a heavy heart, he chose the military over the person he wanted to be with. Again. He resolved himself to watching you and Levi get together. To have the relationship his heart screamed at him to have with you.

What he hadn't expected was that he would walk in on the moment the two of you would be confessing to each other.

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Erwin sat in his office, working on filling his tax forms. He had woken up hungover, and forced himself to freshen up so that he could work with a clear mind.

His hand worked on auto pilot, with his mind distracted. A part of him, a bitter, cruel part of him, wanted it to not work out for you and Levi. But his head was much more sensible.

He had seen the way the two of you looked at each other--people who looked so lovingly at each other could only be seperated by the tragedy of death. And considering Levi's inhumane strength and battle expertise, he doubted it would happen anytime soon.

Frustrated, he shook his head and counselled himself. He had mourned losing you last night-but no more. He would focus on his work and self assigned mission. That's all. Like everything else in his life, he would make peace with this situation.

With that thought, he shifted his entire attention to his work.

Maybe Erwin would have mourned a little more back then, had he known that, a year from now, he would have to watch you and Levi makes vows to each other.

Till Death do us apart~

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A/N: Heyooo. So this was highly requested and I hope it served y'all well! Do tell if you enjoyed it. My asks are open, so ask away people. I feel tempted to branch out and write about the Levi and Reader in this fic some more. I already wrote about how they met and fell for each other in Chains Part 2. But maybe I could write of their life together? I dunno if y'all would even want that.

I have a big exam result in 15 hours and I'm honestly terrified. I wrote this completely hyper and ready to be distracted.

Also we're about to hit 100 followers omg fhfjfjf y'all make me smile in times of stress.