#that man really said 'oh? impossible task? well i have enough spite.'

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

sometimes i deadass forget alee killed death one time

[sukirichi]

acquainted

You had no intentions of becoming acquainted with the clan your family had cut ties with, but when Naoya Zenin himself is willing to teach you a lesson and you’re determined to show him what you’re capable of, it becomes a silly game of power and dominance.

REQUEST. naoya putting reader back to her place

WARNINGS: Naoya Zenin, rough sex, orgasm denial, face fucking, slight voyeurism, degradation, slight bondage, cowgirl riding, manhandling, spanking, hate sex

WC. 5.4k+

NOTES. Because Naoya is my favorite, his fic is the only one I’ve ever edited, LOL. Even though this is requested, this is written out of self-indulgence, purely because I love Naoya and even though he’s nasty, he’s my comfort character. And freaking FINALLY I have written more for this man. I worship this King 👑

There were so many ways this day had gone wrong. First, your shower broke. Second, the maintenance men couldn’t come until late in the afternoon, so you had to drive all the way to school looking like a half-mess. You weren’t a slob, of course, but you were beyond irritable at the thought your hair felt greasier than most.

So when an unfamiliar mop of blonde hair sat at your place, the sight of pierced ears meeting your gaze as you smiled at the young man, you had to clutch your bag tighter. No need to be harsh to anyone; you reminded yourself.

“Hi,” you greeted as politely as you could.

The young man in your seat was handsome — terribly so — feline eyes emphasized with an eyeliner, and stunning green eyes that peered up at you with utmost boredom. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t pinpoint where you’d seen him before.

“I believe you’re in my seat.”

You expected he’d kindly take another seat since the hall was empty, but he only leaned back in your seat, brow raised with a slight smirk. “So?”

Your mouth fell agape, hands falling at your sides. Who was this guy? “What do you mean, so? Get the fuck out of my seat.”

“Women,” he rolled his eyes, “Always so tempered and dirty mouthed,” the words felt like stinging slap in your face, and he easily read through you when he snickered to himself, waving a hand in the air as if he was swatting a fly away. “I’m already sitting here, so go find someplace else. I came here first.”

“You little — who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think you are for speaking to me? Did I give you permission?”

His condescending voice made you lunge at him if not for your friend’s hand wrapping at your arm, shooting worried glances over the guy. His smirk deepened when your friend pulled away, the words mutter under her breath. “Come on, let’s go,” she tugged you away despite your protests, pushing your shoulders down to make you sit. Once out of earshot, she rolled her eyes. “I seriously hate that guy. Don’t you ever involve yourself with him.”

“Who’s that prick anyway? He acts so high and mighty like he’s some rich daddy’s son. Look, he’s totally claiming my seat as his!”

“That’s Naoya Zenin, and yeah, he is some rich daddy’s son,” she confirmed, shivering at the mere mention of his name. “He’s an absolutely big misogynist. Don’t be fooled by his pretty face — he’s the worst fuckboy to ever exist. That dick of his isn’t worth getting fucked over. He’s already made half the women in school cry and run after him like a horde of lovesick zombies,” your friend gagged with a shake of her head, “It’s terrifying, actually.”

“Fucking asshole,” you hissed under your breath, sending side glances at the corner of your eye.

That stupid guy was still in your seat, a bored expression on his handsome face, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks at every blink. He just had to be a sexist pig with that gorgeous face — no good men existed anymore. “Whatever. He’ll get a taste of his own medicine soon.”

“Whatever it is you’re planning, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“I’m doing this for all of us,” you announced with your spine straightened. “I’m not letting a man walk like that acting like he’s got the whole world at his feet. I’ll teach him a lesson or two.”

“You do know he can sue you if you punch him right?”

“Who said I was going to punch him?” a smirk painted your lips at the same time he felt your eyes burning holes at the side of his face, your expression even more triumphant when he tilted his head to the side, eyebrow cocked at your gaze. He must’ve assumed you’d fallen for his looks judging by the satisfied smile on his face, making you laugh because it would be fun to teach him a lesson.  “No, I have a much more interesting plan in mind.”

It turned out that Naoya wasn’t that much of a stranger.

You had his reputation to thank for — people spoke his name left and right that it was nearly impossible not to know of him. It had you wondering how you managed to live through university so long without knowing him when the name drowned you; he was a Zenin.

No wonder that name was so familiar.

The Zenin’s were a close business partner of your family, but they cut off ties with their company years ago due to them having an intolerable attitude. Clearly, it ran in the blood, and their heir manifested it so well.

Thoughts of Naoya and his stupid face were soon drowned out by expensive champagne, the golden liquid sparkling in your hands. You had to attend this dinner gala where businessmen and powerful families alike conjoined for a formal opportunity of forming connections and solidifying deals, pressuring you to be at your best behaviour lest you wanted your black card to be cut off.

You made your way through the crowd to get another one of those hors d oeuvres, opting to just sit in the corner while you watched your family plaster on big, fake smiles with even louder, faker laughter.

It was quite sad, really, that people had to do stuff like this, but who were you to complain when it was what fed you on a silver plate all the time?

For now, you just wanted to enjoy the new dress your mother had gotten you, the silk black material hugged around your curves delectably. Pearl drop earrings hung to frame the sides of your face, legs lengthened and accentuated with stiletto heels.

You felt sexy — especially when you got lingering gazes from men who were slightly older and definitely richer, though you made no move.

The last thing you wanted was to become someone’s trophy wife when you could become so much more.  Plus, only your parents had the task of befriending people and building trust with others. You were only here to help represent the name somewhat with your pretty face, not really having much of an intention to be acquainted with anyone.

You swiped another glass of fizzy alcohol from the waiter that passed by, glossy red lips pinched around the glass when a sultry voice mused at your ear, “Still can’t find a seat?”

Swirling around so fast that the contents nearly poured out the glass, you weren’t surprised to see Naoya fucking Zenin stood before you, his tall stature draped in only the finest and hand-stitched three piece suit.

He looked absolutely delectable this way, earrings glimmering under the golden chandeliers and eyes lined with kohl, the aura of elegance that perfectly concealed his less than pleasing personality excessively charming.

You were beyond appalled.

“Still can’t find a brain?” you retorted with a roll of your eyes, eyes still narrowed at Naoya’s displeased ones as you dunk your drink in one go. “What are you doing here, pig?”

“I’ll let that comment slide once — only because you look hot tonight,” his predatory gaze ran over your form, the careful pattern of him pausing at the swell of your breasts sliding to the curve of your hips heating up each inch of your skin. “And it’s Naoya for you. Naoya Zenin, the rightful heir of the Zenin Corp—”

“What’s that scent you’re wearing? Baby powder? Fitting for your cute face, actually.”

Naoya’s jaw clenched, clearly unaccustomed to people cutting off his holiness, and you had to bite down on your lip to prevent the chuckles from slipping through. “It’s Tom Ford.”

“Hmm, why am I not surprised? My horrible ex also wore the same scent. Maybe it’s a trademark for all limp losers, huh?” Naoya opened his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it, stepping forward to grab at the space between his tie to pull him down. His face was mere centimetres away from you, close enough that his breath ghosted over your lips, the intense anger flaring through those eyes hot enough to burn you. “You act so smug and defensive, Naoya. Trying to have a big man personality to conceal a small dick?”

“I have nothing to prove to you.”

“You don’t need to prove me anything,” you glanced down at his pants with a smirk, ignoring the heat pulsing in your veins because the sight contradicted your words. There was a noticeable bulge inside those shiny black slacks, though the last thing you wanted him to see was the way your mouth watered in anticipation. “I already know what I need to know.”

“Yeah? You and your shitty girlfriends can’t stop talking about my dick?”

You shrugged sarcastically, “You know women. We’re tireless complainers.”

Naoya’s jaw ticked upon you using his words against him, his hands coming up to caress at your neck, his nails scratching behind the thick silver chain you wore.

From afar and in the eyes of others, people would’ve thought you and Naoya were simply getting a little too heated, his lips dipped to graze your ear while his slender fingers pressed a little tighter into your air pipe. Your positions could easily be mistaken for Naoya seducing you, and you supposed he was, since your body responded differently from your verbal protests.

“You should watch what you’re saying,” he warned, voice low with warning. “I could easily dump your body into a river and no one would even notice. In fact, maybe the world might even thank me for doing them a service and ridding them of a spiteful woman like you.”

“Oh, pretty boy,” you chuckled back and stood to your tippy toes. One of your hands wrapped around his neck to forcefully tilt his neck to yours, nose pressed above his collar to inhale the intoxicating masculine scent he wore. “You’re all bark and no bite. Why don’t you show me what you’re capable of? If you’re as awful as they make you out to be, maybe I’ll shiver enough to drop my panties for you.”

You didn’t miss the way Naoya’s hands gripped at your waist to pull you close, enticing you to continue with your insults because maybe Naoya liked this a lot more than he let on. Could it be his superiority complex didn’t always like submissive women, after all?

Well, it would make sense; everyone always liked a little challenge, didn’t they?

If that was what he wanted, then you’d be generous enough to grant it to him.

“Wouldn’t you like to get a chance to put me in my place, to teach me a lesson for defiling the oh-so-mighty Naoya Zenin?” you purposefully toned your voice down to a more breathy tone, your chest swelling with pride when Naoya sucked in a sharp inhale beside your ear.

God, he sounded beautiful — and you hadn’t even fucked him yet. Now, you were eager to hear what else those disgusting lips could be capable of other than degrading you.  

Pulling away from him just to bat your lashes at him, heat pooled straight into your core when Naoya’s gaze had completely darkened, dark orbs pooled with lust and anger. Only he could make such an expression look so good.

“You don’t scare me, Zenin. You’re nothing but a small boy wearing big man pants.”

For a moment, your smile widened, believing that you’d won this time around. Naoya was still breathing hard at each brush of your stomach to his now hardening erection, but then he smirked and gently pushed you away from him. “I’m not fucking you here,” he stated calmly, not even bothering to keep his voice low. “You’re a lot dumber than I thought you’d be if you really think I’m whipping my cock out during this dreadful dinner.”

“This dreadful dinner you speak of is an opportunity for people like us to establish connections. I would’ve assumed you wanted nothing more to impress others but it seems I was wrong. If you hate this event so much, why bother coming here in the first place?”

“Just had a feeling I was going to meet a little minx,” he watched you seductively, his smirk adorned with his tongue peeking out to lick his lips — in turn wetting you in places he promised to make his by the end of the night. Curse him, you chanted in your head, curse him for being so attractive. It would’ve been easier if he was ugly. “And as always, I’m right.”

You tilted a brow, slightly impressed. “So you’ve done your background check on me. That doesn’t explain why you’re still here though. Surely a woman couldn’t be enough for a reason to make a man like you go all this way?”

“You’re right, a woman would never be a good enough reason, but I wanted to put you in your place,” his eyes flickered back up to you, now twinkling with danger and something else entirely. “Bad little girls need to be a taught to a lesson.”

“So what’re you waiting for? Go ahead and show me your ways, Zenin.”

“I will,” he nodded to himself, “I’m about to,” Naoya was nothing but confident as he strode your way until his arms was locked with yours, his breath tickling your collarbones that had unknowingly exposed itself at each heated touch. “You’re not that bad for a slut. You look like one, smell like one — I bet you also feel like one.”

A dry laugh left your lips as you fisted his shirt, mirroring his smirk to show that if a match was what he looked for, then a match he’d find indeed. Only this time, you would be worse.

“Why don’t you go ahead and find out?”

Naoya, despite being an absolutely poor excuse of a human being, was somewhat redeemable for being a man of his words. Find out he did, and he wasted no time into shoving you inside his McLaren, barely able to keep his hands off you the whole way up to his penthouse.

It was a blurry mess from there.

Moans spilled from your lips while he ripped your clothes off, not bothering to apologize that he’d just ruined one of your most prized possessions, his lust-clouded haze mumbling that he’d just buy you another one.

It was the last thing you expected to hear from him, but you couldn’t protest, not when he’d angrily snapped the buttons of his shirt away, a low growl mixing with your breathy whines as he loosened his tie.

Your eyes widened at the sight, legs rubbing together as you imagined what else he could do with that pretty tie of his.

Would he tie you to his bed, fuck you stupid and call you useless? Or perhaps, you could do it?

Naoya cut off your train of thought by pushing you back to his mattress, his hands tugging at his belt before he pulled his boxers down, his thick length slapping at his abdomen. Your mouth immediately watered at the sight. You were beyond wet from nothing but your sloppy make-out sessions, but would he fit?

Just the thought of him giving you that burning stretch made your legs spread beside his sides, the sardonic laughter ripping from Naoya’s lips absolutely disgusting.

“Fucking pathetic. You’re just like everyone else; submitting to me at the sight of my cock, but that’s not true, is it? Moment you saw me, I knew you were clenching around nothing,” he gripped at your jaw to force you to look at him. You glared up at him from his bruising hold, your cheeks squished under his rough hands. “But that’s okay; wanting me is not something you should be ashamed about. Although you should be thanking me I’m even letting you near me like this.”

“I’m so honoured. Come on, Naoya, let me feel you — let me make you feel good.”

Naoya, too lost in his ego, missed the sarcasm dripping in your voice. “So eager to be my cock sleeve, huh?” he grinned, tugging at your hair to push you deeper into his mattress.  “Get on your knees. Now suck.”

He was too harsh in his pace, determined to exert his dominance over you. You could feel every ridge of his vein as he continued fucking into your mouth, his abs rippling above you. It felt like witnessing a Greek god come apart, and you took pleasure in being his ruin, prompting you to hollow your cheeks and bob your mouth up and down on his cock harder.

Naoya’s chuckles were broken and often mixed with curses of fuck, you feel so fucking good, his nails now scratching at your scalp.

Soon, Naoya stilled inside you, his hold around your head deadly to keep you in place. Tears flowed down your face as he kept thrusting inside, making sure to hit the back of your throat before his muscles tightened. Spurts of warm cum followed after that, but instead of swallowing it like you expected he’d command you to do, Naoya whipped out his cock and came all over your face, his seed shooting all over your cheeks and lips.

You took it all obediently, just enough to give him the false pretense of submissiveness that he was so willing to force from you.

While he was occupied pumping his still rock hard cock, eyes closed and massaging your scalp almost soothingly, Naoya failed to notice your hurried movements of standing from the bed, fingers looped around his tie.

A small wail resonated from him when you shoved him down onto the bed, knees locked at either sides of his waist before you tugged at the cloth wrapped around his neck. Naoya kicked his legs behind you as you tied his wrists to the bed hard enough that Naoya winced, the tie only forming tighter at each lame grapple of his.

You looked back at how he got more beautiful laid out in front of you like that, chest heaving up and down while he struggled against the restraints, face flushed with anger — no, this wasn’t anger anymore — he was furious.

“What are you doing?! Get this off me — how dare you!”

“How dare you,” you spat back, discarding your lace bra off to wipe his cum away from your face, gagging when the bitter cum left a tang on your lips. “I just got my skin appointment last week and you came on my face like that?”

Naoya kept fighting back before he realised it was a futile attempt, leaning back down onto the pillows, though that didn’t soften his heated eyes on yours. You cooed at how adorable he submitted to you, running a finger down the sides of his jaw. “Aw, don’t look so angry, baby. I’m just starting my fun,” you purred, “You should’ve known better than to mess with me, Naoya. I’m not as nice as the others. And I’ll show you just how awful I can be.”

Naoya’s breath hitched when you shimmied out of your underwear, a dark glint in your eyes as you stretched the elastic into a fake arrow until it snapped into his face.

“You fucking bitch,” he growled, turning his face away from your panties soaked with arousal. “Once I get out of here, I will ruin you.”

“Huh, yeah, sure,” you mumbled incoherently, too lost in the pleasure as you sunk down on his cock. You were right, he was fucking thick, stretching you out better than any of your toys could. Plus, he was warm and leaking with pre-cum that he slid in easily, erotic groans leaving both your mouths once he was finally seated inside you.

Naoya was growling at you to let go of him when you laughed, lifting your hips up slowly before sliding back down on him just as slow, almost as if you made love to his cock the same passionate way you did with a lover. “You do have a wonderful cock, though. I’ve never felt this good in my life,” you leaned down to lick a stripe down to his neck, allowing him to hear the needy pants you graced with him. “You feel so good, Naoya, oh. If you weren’t such an asshole, I might even fall in love with you.”

“Go faster. This is unfair!”

Naoya tried thrusting deep into you, evidently unsatisfied at this torturous pace you set, but you only gripped at his thigh in warning, your eyes no longer sweet as you glared at him.

“Nothing’s ever fair in this world, sweetheart,” you reminded him, shivering every now and then as you bounced on his cock, his length slipping past through your walls magically. “Like how such a gorgeous face and amazing dick is paired with the most disgusting personality ever. No, it’s not fair, indeed...”

You closed your eyes with your head thrown back, placing your hips flat on his pelvic bone instead, fingers rubbing at your clit while Naoya throbbed inside you, desperate for release.

The little whines you gave were nothing but mocking. You knew that Naoya suffered through this position, but did you care? Absolutely not. With Naoya’s cock stretching you full and his tip kissing your most sensitive spots, in addition to your fingers rubbing and tweaking at your clit, this was the most pleasure you’d ever gotten from sex.

You were stimulated everywhere, your other hand reached up to tug at your hardened nipples.

Your walls clenched around him, signalling him that you were close and you let out a broken moan, falling forward to gyrate your hips around his cock to push you over the edge. It wasn’t enough to get him off since you were mostly still fondling with your clit, the sounds of your moans like torture to his ears.

“No, don’t you dare cum, I swear if you—” Your orgasm washed over you comfortingly like a warm blanket. Instead of seeing white, it was like your vision cleared, the sight of the sweat that made Naoya’s hair stick to his forehead in clumps crystal clear. You prolonged your orgasm by thrusting your hips in a sickening rhythm of thrust, pause, thrust, stop ­— and by then Naoya was losing his mind.

Naoya lost control as he snapped his hips upwards inside you hard enough that you winced in pain, pushing off his dick until he’s left humping the empty air, his body drenched with perspiration. “No, no, no, fuck you! Get back here you useless slut!”

You lay beside him, giggling in post-orgasm bliss. Just to tease him, you rolled to his side to press a kiss to his cheek, laughing harder when your lips came in contact with his flushed skin.

“You’re so adorable like this,” you cupped his face tenderly, perfectly aware that Naoya had begun to growl, his wrists almost bruised from how hard he brawled against his tie. “If I didn’t hate you so much, I would’ve let you cum inside me,” you offered with a pat to his chest, moving off the bed with wobbly legs.

“Well, whatever, that was fun. I would say we both had the most sensual sex of our lives, but that would be a joke for you, don’t you think?” you snorted as you inserted your arms to his discarded suit jacket.

Naoya stayed still on the bed, his cock still painfully hard and slick with your cum. “Don’t look so angry, Naoya. You had it coming for you. Don’t worry, though, as a thanks for letting me cum that hard — though I mostly did all the work — I’ll keep this between us so you at least get to keep whatever’s left of your dignity,” you blew a kiss his way, “Bye, sweetie. At least now I know people weren’t exaggerating when they called you a good fuck.”

Not bothering to slip your heels back on, you looped your shoes into the curls of your fingers, about to button Naoya’s jacket as you made your way to his door.

You never got halfway across the room when strong arms suddenly lifted you off the ground, your vision transitioning from his door to the pads of his feet, your body slung across his shoulder. Naoya gripped at your ass in warning when you kicked your legs, leaving him with no choice but to hug your thighs with one arm.

The next thing you knew, he slammed the balcony doors open with one hand and slammed you on the pool table. His rough hands yanked his jacket away from your body, the chilly night of the air bringing a shiver down your spine as it hit your drenched core.

Naoya had pinned your arms flat on your back in a painful angle, making you cry out just as he kneed your legs open, his free hand that wasn’t pinning you down aligning his cock against your hole. You were a moaning mess underneath him, the pain only an intoxicating addition to the pleasure he was pounding into you. Naoya then leaned to whisper your ear, the sudden movement making his cock slide deeper into you, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Oh, Naoya, fuck—”

“I am not just a good fuck,” he corrected you, “I am Naoya Zenin — and you will do well being silent and submissive while I fuck you, do you understand?” You were too lost in the feeling of him rutting deep into you that he had you seeing white this time around. When you didn’t answer, Naoya slapped your ass, your yelps echoing from the dead night. “I asked you a question.”

“No,” you bit back, “I refuse to—” you were silenced when Naoya hit your sweet spot, laughing at your state that you were too fucked out to give him a proper answer.

Naoya’s pace was merciless as he fucked deeper into you, the hand on your ass moving up to grab at your waist to keep slamming you back to his cock. He watched as your lips sucked him in so tight that he didn’t know whether you were pushing him out or refusing to let go. Turning your head to the side to gasp for air, you opened your eyes, only to be met by the sight of men crowding on the building across yours to witness your undoing by Naoya’s hands.

“I’ve barely started and you’re already so wet for me,” he mocked in your ear. As if on cue, squelching sounds accompanied your desperate moans, hands grabbing at nothing in particular. “Shall I try upping my speed?”

“N-Naoya- there are people looking.”

“Let them see,” he seethed, using one arm to lift your other leg up to the table to gain him more access into your warm, wet cavern. The sudden stretch made your muscles ache until you lay there limp; jaw clenched at the pleasure Naoya drowned you with. “Let them know how much I’m making this pussy mine. Gosh, can you hear yourself? You sound like a dirty fucking slut,” another slap landed on your ass, hard enough to leave a mark there for tomorrow. “You claim to hate me, so then why are you dripping all over me, huh? Pathetic whore. You women are nothing but cum dumps to me.”

Naoya spread your butt cheeks open, laughing at the silly way you clenched around him every time he pulled out, your puffy lips sucking him back again until Naoya buried himself to the hilt. His dick did wonders in letting out the most erotic whines and whimpers you never thought you’d be capable of, leaving you a drooling and panting mess under him.

“You little fucker, don’t even think about cumming inside me, I will literally castrate you and feed your balls to yourself.”

“Such a dirty mouth. Though that’s expected of a nasty woman like you,” he sassed, his thrusts faltering while his hand clenched your flesh tighter. That was enough to send you over the edge when Naoya slammed his hips harder and more desperately this time around, his cock twitching against your walls. “You wish I would cum inside you. But I have a better plan in mind.”

All it took was one rough hand for him to pull you before him, pushing you down into your knees again as he came inside your mouth. You could feel your cum and his dripping onto his dark marble tiles, the white pool of liquid shining.

Naoya thrusted lazily into your mouth, a sickening grin on his face while he kept you down there. His glare deepened when you tried to pull away from him. “Swallow, you slut. Or I’m fucking your face until I break your jaw.”

Furiously, you swallowed around his cock, Naoya groaning at the feeling of your walls convulsing around him. The moment you gagged from when his tip poked the back of your throat, Naoya pushed you off him until you were left choking on the ground. You gasped for air, hands clasped around your neck, sure that you were going to have a sore jaw and a fucked throat tomorrow.

You kept glaring at Naoya, but this didn’t deter him from gripping your chin down, humming to himself upon seeing that his cum was now gone in your mouth. “Hmm, so you did swallow it like a good girl. I’m glad I’ve disciplined you well.”

“Go to hell.”

“I’m King there already, baby,” Before you could retort, his arms encircled your waist until you were heaved in his arms again. You pounded against his back because you were too done, you couldn’t do another round. Naoya sighed as he threw you in the bed as if you were a ragdoll, disappearing in the bathroom for a while before coming back with a wet towel, which he rudely flicked your way. “Clean yourself up and then leave. Take the back elevators. I don’t want the staff to see a whore leaving my place.”

“You’re the one who brought me here.”

“Only because I had a duty to put you in your place,” He stared at you with his smirk now permanent in his face, admiring the bruises he left on your body.

“We’re not over yet, Zenin. I’m going to break you one way or another.”

You rolled your eyes at him, walking to his closet to wear one of his shirts. Naoya was silent the whole time as he watched you button his shirt with trembling hands, his presence hot on your heels as he followed you out the large room.

As you were about to leave, you picked up the towel you used to clean your cum with and threw it right at his face.

Naoya dodged it easily, eyeing the towel with a scoff. “Still resilient, I see,” settling down on one of his lounge chairs like it was a throne, Naoya rested his cheek on his fist as he stared you down. “But fine — I accept your challenge. A true man never backs down from a challenge, after all.”

“Oh, honey, I’m more than just a challenge,” you sneered.

Naoya’s gaze left your eyes to stare at your perky nipples that poked through his shirt, feeling his cock swell all over again. But he was a man of control and dignity — he wouldn’t do anything more with you, not when it was clear you’ve had enough for tonight.

It didn’t bother him though, he knew he’d have more opportunities to put you in your place.

“We’ll see about that. I’ll be the one to decide your worth,” he declared oh so smugly, the mere sound of his voice pushing you to slam a fist to ruin that pretty face of his, though you held your ground, far too tired to move a muscle. Naoya saw this too, and he smiled to himself, head tilted to the side as he studied the mess he’d made of you. “Tomorrow, same time same place?”

There was no telling what pushed you to agree, but the words left your lips far too confidently for you to even wonder why.

“Be ready for me, Zenin.”

“I always am.”

All the way back to the back elevators that Naoya had directed you at, you pondered on how you’d be able to tell your parents you suddenly needed a ride home when they had no idea you left the dinner gala in the first place. But most of all, how were you supposed to tell them you’d acquainted yourself with the Zenin clan all over again?

[alltooreid]

Dancing With Our Hands Tied

In order to keep Y/N safe from danger, Spencer vows to keep their relationship a complete secret from everyone they know. However, as their romance gets more serious, Y/N and Reid begin to realize that no matter how in love they are, they may have been doomed from the start.

A/N: Back at it with a hopefully very angsty fic! This is of course inspired by the Taylor Swift song, but you don’t need to be familiar with the song to read and enjoy! Also I made a playlist for this one shot, which you can find here (its best if you listen to it in order and of course you don’t have to listen as you read, but if you enjoy that kind of thing, I thought it would be fun). Additionally, in order for the timeline of this fic to make the most sense, I’m choosing to ignore the Lauren Reynolds subplot, because trying to incorporate it and explain it would be distracting and unnecessary in my opinion. Thanks for reading!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Type: Angst

Word Count: 3.9K

Content Warnings: Some cursing, general fighting angst, discussion of pregnancy, brief mention of abortion (follow up is left intentionally ambiguous, based on your own desires and beliefs you are allowed to decide where that aspect goes (pro choice tings))

“I, I loved you in spite of Deep fears that the world would divide us So, baby, can we dance Oh, through an avalanche?”

Spencer Reid hated funerals. 

Somehow he felt he was always invited to one, and no matter how hard it was for him to be there, he always made every effort to go. So when Hotch had to plan Haley’s funeral, Spencer knew he had to go, no matter how much he would hate it.

He looked down to the grass as his supervisor cried over his now dead wife, the most emotion he had seen from him ever. He refused to look up and watch, although there were at least a hundred people there to mourn Haley, this moment felt innately private to Hotch. Spencer didn’t think it was his place for his eyes to intrude. 

So he stared at the lawn and got lost in his own mind.

Right then and there he realized he never wanted to go through what Hotch had to go through. No matter how many philosophers described love in the most beautiful, enchanting way, Spencer didn’t want it anymore. 

He didn’t want to go through a heartbreak, because how worth it could it be?

Of course, all information he had in his repertoire pointed to the claim that it was worth it. Yet he couldn’t pay attention to Oscar Wilde, trying to tell him that “hearts are made to be broken,” or E. A. Bucchianeri screaming that “grief is the price we pay for love.”

All he could see at that moment was the most stone-faced man he had ever known, breaking down in front of everyone he knew over the woman he loved. 

At that moment Spencer Reid vowed to completely give up on love. He would become the best profiler to ever live. People would compare him to Jason Gideon, but Spencer Reid would win every time. Spencer wouldn’t let himself be like Gideon and get so hung up over a person that he couldn’t ever work anymore.

So when Spencer left the funeral and went to bed that night, he was confident that he would sleep alone like that forever. It was comfortable like that and he was happy. Who needs to be in love?

Not Spencer Reid that’s for sure.

Well, until three months later, when Spencer Reid met Y/N Y/L/N. 

She was beautiful, and Spencer knew he wanted to get to know her the first time he laid eyes on her. 

But he was doing such a good job recently…. Even Hotch was impressed with his work ethic. The only one who had talked to him about his lack of emotion was Penelope, she seemed concerned when Spencer told her he didn’t want to meet let alone go on a date with the cute nerdy barista from her go to coffee shop. Spencer refused to reason with her, he was too focused on proving himself to Hotch and the rest of the team. 

Even though in the back of his mind, Spencer knew he had already proven himself to the rest of the team, now he just needed to be good enough for himself.

A truly impossible task.

But he was still trying to do it, so he didn’t talk to the barista at the new coffee shop he was trying.  

He wasn’t expecting her to try and talk to him. Maybe that’s why he was so willing to give up his own reasoning.  

“That’s a lot of sugar, sugar. Are you as sweet as your coffee?” she said, giggling as she did it. She knew the line was cheesy and stupid but she had been eyeing Spencer Reid since he came in and knew she needed to get his attention. Luckily, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Their first date was right then and there. They got distracted and talked till closing, Y/N’s coworkers noticing she was actually putting herself out there and deciding to pick up her slack so she could continue. 

“So are you going to call me Dr. Reid or were you just leading me on for 3 hours?”

“Of course I’ll call you, how else am I going to get you to watch Doctor Who?”

Y/N smiled, “Well I know this is kind of forward, but I have this art exhibit tomorrow, I would love to see you there. But don’t over think that! I’ve invited pretty much everyone I know. I have a bet to win amongst the other art students, whoever has the most people come to see them wins one of those giant Costco sheet cakes. I need that sheet cake Spencer.”

Spencer smiled, “Well, I am from Vegas . . . Maybe I could help push the odds in your favor.”

“Well I can’t wait to see you there. Tomorrow, 6 pm, I’ll text you the details.”

It was only when he laid down to sleep that Spencer remembered his philosophy on love, but strangely, he did not care. 

He may have been trying to freeze his heart, but Y/N was coming in with a blowtorch.

And he didn’t mind. In fact he unlocked the door to let her in.

So when he arrived at work the next morning, he fully intended on going to her art show. He thought about what flowers to bring her. . . was this a date? Was last night a date? Were roses too strong a message? He couldn’t do anything red, it was too forward. Pink? What if she saw it as stereotypical because she’s a woman, maybe she hates pink?! Yellow Tulips were safe, but if he got her yellow tulips then she would think they were just friends and Spencer didn’t want to be just friends.

His internal debate was interrupted by none other than Penelope Garcia, but not to interrupt their paperwork day with a case, but to make an announcement to the bullpen.

“Hello my loves! I have an interesting idea for some team bonding tonight, my favorite barista and dear friend has invited me to her school art show. Of course she needs the most support humanly possible, so you all need to come with me and look at cool art!”

“Who’s this friend of yours Penelope?” JJ asked.

“Oh Jayge you’ve met Y/N! She’s lovely and I’m sure an incredible artist. You guys will all love her!”

Suddenly Spencer remembered Hotch and his broken down faces at Haley’s funeral. He remembered his philosophy on love and his fear of heartbreak.

But he also remembered how alive he felt with Y/N. How the way she laughed like a little kid and how that made him feel giddy. He remembered how she was always so interested in what he had to say. He remembered that he really liked her.

And at that moment, Spencer realized that he did not have to choose between being in love and keeping his heart safe from the devastating heartbreak of seeing his true love die. He realized that the reaper could only find Haley because Hotch let people know they were together Because everyone knew of Hotch’s wife, she was in constant danger.

Maybe if he kept Y/N secret he could still be with her.

“Spencer! Did you hear me?”

“No, um sorry Garcia what did you say?”

“I asked if you were going to come to Y/N’s art show, you know you too would make such a cute couple! You should totally come.”

“I actually can’t, I’m not feeling well.”

She sighed, “That’s what you said last time I tried to get you two together 187 . . . Do you want to talk about anything Spencer? You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I’m fine, I just have a headache. I don’t want to go out tonight.”

She rested her hand on his shoulder for a second, before following Morgan to the kitchen. Spencer knew she was going to say something to him, but he didn’t care. He had found the perfect solution to his conundrum.

And he knew exactly what flowers to send to Y/N.

Y/N texted him thirteen times, and waited an extra hour after the open house closed in case he showed. So although she went home empty handed, one person away from enough cake to feed fifty, she received a call from Spencer Reid.

“Hey, where were you tonight? I was looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sorry Y/N, something came up, but I have something for you! Are you still there?”

“Oh no, I just got to my apartment. I can send you the address.”

“I’ll be over as soon as I can.”

And five minutes later Spencer was at Y/N’s door, with Chinese take out and white peonies, a flower known for its apologetic symbolism.

Y/N blushed, “You didn’t have to bring me flowers Spencer . . .”

“Well I wanted to bring some to your show, but I figured this could be the next best thing . . . And maybe we could eat some of your Costco sheet cake afterwards. Sounds like a balanced meal to me.”

“Although I love that idea, I unfortunately came home tonight sheet cake-less.”

Reid frowned, “How close were you? Would I have made any difference?”

“Oh no!” Y/N lied, “I was way off, don’t even worry about it.” She smiled, “I’m just excited that you're here right now.”

Spencer blushed and looked down at his feet, “Well I’m excited to be here.”

Four months after that night, Y/N asked Spencer a seemingly stupid question while they were eating take out at her apartment. “Spencer, I love takeout and all but we haven’t gone out in public together since the first time we met. . . Call me stupid but I’m starting to wonder if you don’t want to be seen with me.”

Spencer sighed, “Y/N, it’s not that it’s just . . . complicated.”

“I just don’t get it. Am I the second woman or something?”

“No! Absolutely not! You are my one and only flower,” he said, smiling and then leaning in to kiss her nose. She giggled in response, but quickly remembered the serious nature of their conversation. “Y/N, you know what I do for a living.”

“I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

“Not too long ago, my boss was targeted by a serial killer who made it his mission to make his life miserable. In doing so he killed his wife. I just . . .  I don’t want that to happen to you Y/N. I think I’m falling in love with you, and I can’t put you through that.”

“Spencer . . . I love you too.”

So no matter how badly Y/N wanted to tell her family, or update her Facebook status, she respected Spencer, and although she didn’t completely understand his concerns, she wanted him to be happy.

So she spent ten more months like that, catering to Spencer Reid’s peace of mind. Pretending to smile as he told her stories of all the funny things his team members did, all about their partners, and their love lives.

A couple times now, Y/N asked Spencer if she could meet them, but Spencer always shot it down. When he first mentioned the idea of keeping their relationship a secret, Y/N had secretly hoped it would be one of those things that was forgotten about within a week or two. But no. It had been many, many weeks, and Spencer still didn’t want to be seen in public with her.

And by now that was all she wanted. To go on a real date, to introduce him to her friends, to actually be able to tell her coworkers that something did come from that guy she hit it off with.

Everyday, Y/N felt she did the same exact thing, she went to work, would come home and if Spencer was still in Quantico, she would convince him to come over. (They had been dating for over a year now, and Y/N had never been to his apartment. She didn’t even know where it was). If Spencer did come over, he would usually bring some kind of dessert with him, and they would talk and be merry in their own little secret oasis. A couple weeks ago, Y/N started to get this uncomfortable, uneasy feeling that encompassed her whole body, her whole being. Every part of her was trying to tell her that Spencer Reid was not the man for her. And even though she was still very much in love with him, she agreed.

Although she loved Spencer for the person he was, the man who brought her every different flavor of cheesecake from the bakery across town (one a day for fifty nine days straight), the man who begged her to make him a painting for valentines day instead of buying him a present, the man who cried when she did and laughed when she did and-

There were a lot of things to love about Spencer Reid, but there were a lot of things to hate about their relationship.

She hated the time she bought a gold locket in the shape of a heart, and put a picture of them in it so she could keep him with her all day long, and he made her return it because it could fly open and someone could recognize him. She hated the day she came home with a little beige kitten named Betsy and Spencer made her give Betsy to her sister so that he wouldn’t get cat hair on his clothes and have to answer a million questions. She hated the time Spencer missed her birthday weekend because he had a case and couldn’t give an excuse to why he couldn’t go. She hated that Spencer was her entire life, while she seemed like just an inconvenience to his.

And most of all, she hated that she loved him so much. Because deep down she knew that she could never leave Spencer Reid, but she also knew that there was no way they could last if nothing changed.

Just then Spencer knocked on her door, she had offered him his own key many times, but he declined because he didn’t want anyone to see it on his key ring and ask what it was for. She let him in, and right away his fun perky smile dropped. “You’ve been crying. I can tell.”

“Is that the kind of thing they teach you in FBI school?”

“Yes actually, but that’s not the point,” he said, dropping his bouquet of red chrysanthemums on Y/N’s coffee table and grabbing one of her hands with both of his. “Talk to me Y/N.”

She sighed, “I love you Spencer, but I just don’t know if we can do this anymore.”

“What do you mean flower?”

“Spencer we’ve been together for over a year-”

“One year, two months and five days,” he corrected.

“Yes, yes that. We’ve been together for one year, two months and five days but no one except us knows that.”

“Y/N I thought you were okay with that, I just want you to be safe.”

“I thought I was okay with it but,” she paused, afraid of what she wanted to say, “I’m not Spencer, I don’t want to live like this anymore. I love you, and I want to be with you. To really be with you. What happens if we ever get married, do we have to get eloped, would you even let us get married because you need someone else to watch? When do I get to tell my mom I’m in a relationship? What if you get hurt out in the field, and no one has heard of me, let alone knows to call me, and we never get to say goodbye? How far do you plan on taking this?”

Spencer grew flustered, “Um, I- I don’t know? I didn’t know you were even thinking about those things.”

“Do you think about those things? Things like getting married?”

“You’re the love of my life Y/N, of course I do.”

“Well then something needs to change. We can’t live like this anymore.”

“Things will get better Y/N, I promise you, we’ll start small but I’m going to make this better for you. Actually, um we can start right now,” he started digging through his messenger bag. After a minute, he pulled out a smaller gold heart locket than the one you had originally purchased for yourself. “I, um I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but I feel like now is the best time. I couldn’t find the same one, but it’s the same picture inside.”

She teared up, “I love it. It’s perfect. Here, put it on me.” She turned around and pushed her hair to one side so that Spencer could clasp the delicate chain around her neck.

They kissed, and afterward Spencer spoke, “I hate to ruin this moment, but I’ve had to use the bathroom ever since I got here.”

Y/N laughed, “Ok go, I’ll be waiting.”

While waiting for her love to come back, Y/N admired her flowers. Ever since Spencer began to get her different flowers to symbolize different things she had developed an abnormal botany fascination. She would always beat Spencer to explaining the symbolism of her latest bouquet, so she already knew the red chrysanthemum was a symbol of prosperous, passionate love in most countries. However she also knew that in Italy, chrysanthemums were a death flower, given only at funerals.

Part of her couldn’t help but wonder if some unconscious part of Spencer’s genius brain was beginning to feel the same way she did. Three weeks later nothing much had changed in the state of Y/N and Spencer’s romance. She was still unheard of in the eyes of the BAU and two nights prior Spencer had stopped her from calling her mother to tell her about him.

And then Y/N discovered her sick, uneasy, all over body feeling was not just her incredible intuition.

She was pregnant.

She had taken a couple of tests a while prior and could just now get into the doctor to get it confirmed. But it was official. She was pregnant.

As soon as the nurse confirmed it she broke down crying. And when she asked her a couple more questions, she broke down even further. “Are you currently in a relationship?”

“No,” she sniffed.

“Do you know who the father is?”

“I don’t know,” she sobbed.

“Sweetheart, I don’t know where you want to go from here, but there’s a lot more options that you may think. Everything will be okay.”

Y/N still cried the whole way home.

She spent the rest of the day thinking about how to tell Spencer, and then overthinking what he would say.

She knew Spencer loved children, but he couldn’t even manage to tell people she existed, how was he going to explain a long term relationship and a baby?

It would have taken decades for Y/N to prepare to deliver this news, but Spencer showed up at 8:19 pm.

“Hi flower! How are you today?”

“I’m pregnant.” She blurted out, she was not planning to do it exactly like that, but she panicked.

“What?”

“I’m pregnant Spencer.”

He sighed and ran one of his hands through his hair, “You could get an abortion?”

Y/N lost it. “Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me Spencer?”

“I don’t think a baby is going to be very easy to keep a secret Y/N.”

“Is this how far you’re willing to go Spencer? You want to keep me hidden so bad that you want me to get an abortion? Are you insane?”

“You’re right, Y/N, I’m sorry, we’ll figure something out.”

“No, you’re wrong there Spencer. I’ll figure something out.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. I love you but, please just get out of my apartment.”

“Y/N please don’t do this, I love you, we can make this work. I know I haven’t been doing the best job for these three weeks, but just give me a little time and I promise we can do this.”

Y/N wiped tears from her eyes, then reached her thumb up to Spencer’s face, wiping his cheek. “Spencer, it’s not a matter of how much I love you or you love me. Sometimes, things just aren’t made to work out. We gave it a good run, but no matter how hard we love each other, I don’t think either of us is happy.”

“But I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it, flower.”

“I’ve never been in your world Spencer, after tonight, nothing in your life will drastically change. You don’t have to worry about living in a universe without me because you’ve already been doing that for 15 months.”

“Please don’t do this, can we just give it another try?”

Y/N wrapped her arms around him, “That’s all we’ve been doing.”

The couple stayed in silence like that for a couple of minutes before Spencer spoke. “Can we just stay here for one night. I can’t believe I never got to do it.” Spencer had never spent the full night at Y/N’s place because he always worried that he would forget to answer his phone and the team would try to come to his apartment to tell him they had a case.

“You know we can’t do that Spencer,” she sighed, knowing she had to stay strong and act on her own best interest, but she also loved Spencer. “But you can stay here, if you want.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay, um do I need that key you always offered me? To lock up when I leave?”

“No, the front door locks automatically when you close it, you just have to make sure you have everything before you go.”

And so Spencer slept in Y/N’s bed, for the first time, without her in it.

And Y/N called the one person she knew Spencer would never try to track her down to to avoid exposing himself.

Penelope Garcia.

She of course let Y/N stay with her for the night, and although she would eventually, Garcia did not pry when Y/N said she didn’t want to talk about what was going on. So Y/N walked to her apartment with peace of mind, she knew that although she had a lot to think about, for the time being everything was going to be just fine.

On the way to Penelope’s apartment, Y/N saw a flower vendor. She couldn’t help but stop by and pick up a bouquet for Penelope, but more so for the symbolic meaning.

Daffodils and daisies.

The flowers of new beginnings.

“I'd kiss you as the lights went out Swaying as the room burned down I'd hold you as the water rushes in If I could dance with you again”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

holly’s tiny taglist: @reidingmelodies​ @hercleverboy​

[bunnieresources]

hades by supergiant games part i. sentence starters.

“ i’m leaving. try and stop me. “

“ let’s get you from that miserable place. “

“ you’ve got quite the fighting spirit in you there, i have to say. “

“ halt, ____. not one step further. “

“ come on, ____. haven’t we had more than enough of each other by now? “

“ you can turn back like a good little man, or i can send you home the painful way. what’ll it be? “

“ i told you nobody gets out of here, whether alive or dead. “

“ do not despair and hold to your resolve, ____. “

“ ever stubborn, aren’t you. “

“ it shall be exactly as you say, ____. your wishes are identical to mine. “

“ i lay the blame entirely upon you, yes. who else? “

“ everyone’s saying i went easy on you, ____. “

“ look, i’ve a reputation to uphold. you get past me again like that, you best go all the way. “

“ leave me be, and don’t think you’re going to be so lucky next we meet out there. “

“ i have to say you’re quite the specimen, and so, i’ve decided i shall aid you for the moment. “

“ hey, ____, if there happens to be something really horrible waiting for me beyond there, then... give me a sign, won’t you? “

“ oh there you are. just as i was beginning to think it’s been too long since i last killed you, ____. “

“ admit it, ____. you can’t stop thinking about me. “

“ don’t flatter yourself. i think of you in pain. and now there’s no need for the imagination. “

“ death is your only family. death, and i. best get accustomed to the both of us. “

“ what have i done, ____, to deserve such scorn? your lapse in judgement here is not so easy to forgive, yet easily punished. “

“ i never grew accustomed to the air, up here. it gusts senselessly whichever way it pleases. “

“ i’ll tear you limb from limb out there next time, you mark my words. “

“ oh, we have met, in a way. i know everybody, here, and there. “

“ the only one responsible for all of this is you. and i thought even you would have understood that by now. “

“ names are there to be forgotten, ____. “

“ no. no mournful speeches. now get out of my way. “

“ you’re running from yourself. though i can slow you down a bit i think. “

“ they say lots of things about me, ____; and they’ll tell you, in your dealings with me, ample caution is in order. let me show you why. “

“ you think me cruel, yet know nothing of cruelty. “

“ you want something to hate, then have it! “

“ you can’t be serious. you’re going to pretend as though it never happened? “

“ it comforts me to see how far you’ve come, ____. and i am confident that you shall make your way, eventually. “

“ a mortal’s life is short, and fraught with pain; is that truly the life you yearn for, ____? “

“ look, i’ve done some things that maybe aren’t great, but i am very, very sure i haven’t murdered anyone. “

“ life isn’t particularly fair, ____. nor death. i’d have expected you to know as much. “

“ blood needs be shed, and yours is going to suffice. “

“ i get the feeling we’re starting off on the wrong foot. “

“ i always wanted to kill a god. you’ll have to do. “

“ something the matter there, ____? you seem a little quieter than usual. dare i say even a little somber and remorseful, for some reason? “

“ what you’re attempting is impossible. you’ve seen what happens when you go too far. “

“ i’m not your practice partner, fool. “

“ you left, without so much as telling me goodbye. “

“ i left when it was necessary, ____. i thought of you and hoped you’d understand. i have to do this. “

“ if you won’t say it, then i’ll say it. goodbye, ____. “

“ you believe you are entitled simply to walk out of here. from your birthright and your responsibilities! but i am here to tell you, no. “

“ always happy to oblige. especially when it causes me to risk my station. to risk everything i’ve worked for. “

“ look here, ____, let me save you lots of future suffering: i happen to be the jealous type. “

“ do not anger me again, or i might come down and kill you there myself! “

“ i'm surrounded by my family, but i always feel alone. "

" i told you i don't need your help here, ____. "

" you're no god. "

" you're nothing but a piece of trash. born into all of this. and you don't even want it! "

" you seem to have me all figured out. and here i thought we were still getting to know each other. "

" i thought we had an understanding, _____, but this wouldn't be the first time i was wrong about someone. "

" is this an offering of fealty or friendship, ____? "

" i guess there's only one thing left to do. isn't that so, ____? "

" i'd ask you to join me for a drink, ____, but i know you've a task ahead of you, and liquor dulls the senses. fortunately so, under most circumstances except yours. "

" perhaps you have defied me here in jest, though in such cases pertinent to my authority, you'll find i lack a sense of humor. "

" you must see plainly, then, what your birthright amounts to: you're no better off than any of us here. "

" it's not that i'm upset or anything, here, ____, you know i'm not, but truthfully i am a bit annoyed, a little bit, and so, i got to send the message. "

" ____, i am getting awful sick of seeing your smug face, time after time after time. "

" have you given any thought to just... leaving me alone, and going back to wherever it is you came from? "

" why? why do you keep showing up? in spite of knowing that the outcome shall be just the same as how it always was? "

" why don't you go get out of here if you despise this place so much? "

" you know what i like about you? the way you bleed. "

" never met a god that bleeds like you. red. like a worthless mortal. "

" come on! let's bleed you dry. "

" thought i might find you all the way out here. although quite frankly i'm surprised you're still alive. "

" even i'm beginning to fear you, i think. seems i don't know you as well as i thought. "

" whatever you're doing, it had better be worth it. "

" you're stubborn. and you are going to get me in a heap of trouble before all is said and done. "

" a harsh winter is coming for you, ____. and i'm afraid you've brought it on yourself. "

" you're funny. but you'll break. they always do. "

" stranger, i am warning you: if you keep showing up like this, i'm going to have to find a new nickname for you. "

" you think you can just walk away from me? "

[beskarhearts]

Vencuyot (Din Djarin x reader)

source: @isetthetone​

Connection series Pt. 11

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, fighting, total sleazy douche bag

Word count: over 8.5 K

Summary: Din and you finally get started on helping the kid find his kind.

Notes: Alright, we are finally going into the events of season two! Each episode will probably be about 2-3 chapters. And I’m also planning right now on how to incorporate original scenes while also kind of following the overarching story line from season two. I am very excited to see how you guys like it!

Previous Part ____ Next Part

____________________________________________________

“You’re good with him.”

You smile warmly at Din, holding the child’s little body against your chest to which he let out a string of joyful noises that pulled at your heart strings. You looked down quickly to see the child’s eyes look up at you, his little hand beginning to pull of strands of your hair. He always loved to play with it, sometimes to tug at it or yank it, but most of the times he’d just run his three tiny fingers through it like it was the most fascinating thing. You looked back up to Din, who watched the two of you with his helmet tilted slightly. You couldn’t see his expression but you’d like to think you knew him well enough to know he was smiling underneath the helmet.

Moments like these were nice. The kind of moments where you, Din, and the kid just sat together in the hull of the Crest, letting the ship guide you guys through hyperspace as the three of you just relaxed. It was domestic and pure and everything you and Din deserved. 

“Yeah. I guess I kind of am.” You quietly admitted. You never wanted to brag about the way you were able to care for the child. Yes, it was part of your job around here. But Din also helped and a small part of you always saw the child as Dins, and solely Dins. Din had been the one to find him and protect him. He was the one who made an oath to find his kind, putting his Creed and life at risk to do it. It had been just been the two of them for a while before you came along. So yes, you were good with the kid, but you never wanted to overstep a boundary and claim the kid as your own. Even in spite of the way a maternal wave washed over you each time you saw the child coo at you or reach for you. The way a sleepy smile would pop onto his face when he woke up and saw you. The way some nights he would just need to be held by you for a while before feeling safe and secure enough to go to bed. In spite of all those things that made you feel special, you still wanted to show respect to their relationship.

“You definitely are.” Din paused, sitting forward a little more before continuing. “Is it cause of some... Jedi thing?”

You smiled at the way Din spoke about anything Jedi related. You were the first to admit you weren’t the most educated about Jedi history but Din was absolutely clueless. You supposed that made sense considering the rift between Mandalorians and Jedi’s but it still made you chuckle whenever he tried to speak about the matter. “I don’t know, to be honest. I think sometimes I just can feel what he needs or sense when something is wrong. I don’t know if it’s a Jedi thing or just a m-” you cut yourself off, trapping the words in your mouth before they slip out.

“Just a what?” Din asked and you shook your head quickly.

“Oh nothing, it was just a silly thing.”

Din sighed, reaching forward and brushing his hand against your knee. “What was it, cyar’ika?”

“I was going to say a mother thing. But not cause I’m the kids mom or anything. It was dumb because I’m totally not. I’m just-“

“Stop.” You physically bring your lips together to stop yourself from rambling. “I might not know much but I know the kid sees you as a mother.”

You smiled warmly, looking down at the child in your lap who continue to play with strands of hair, not paying much attention to the conversation being had. “Yeah?”

Din nodded. “Of course. And you are a good one.”

You tried to look away from Din, not wanting him to see the way your face flushed from the compliment or the way your eyes started to water from the sincerity of it. You truly loved the child, probably a bit too much. And maybe you shouldn’t look at him like a son considering what you knew was bound to happen, but you didn’t contemplate the pain you would one day feel at his possible departure. As far as you knew, this was your family and you were going to enjoy it for as long as possible. And that meant treating the kid like your own because even if you selfishly wanted to build a wall up, you knew the child needed a parental figure in his life. He was only a small child after all, one who had already been through enough and hidden away for so long. So you figured you could do this for him. You could show him love and compassion, how it feels to be protected by someone who cares for you. It was a job Din did extraordinarily well, something you don’t think he even realized he did. And you were damned to do your best by the kid. Even if in the end it hurt yourself. Because wasn’t that one of the biggestc, yet also inevitable, sacrifices of a parent?

“Thank you.” you whispered out and the kid finally looked a you then, showing you the hair in his hands to which you nodded. He dropped the hair before picking it back up, seeming satisfied by the feeling of the strands slipping through his fingertips.

“Do you ever. I don’t know. Want... some?”

You glance up a Din, your eyebrows shooting up at the way he awkwardly fumbled with his words. Din was usually a very clear man so you knew if he was struggling to express himself, it must be new territory for him. “Want what?”

Din didn’t bother to verbally answer, simply directing his head towards the kid. You let out a small ‘oh’ once understanding what he was getting at. “Kids?” You clarified to which the Mandalorian firmly nodded.

Your heart skipped in your chest at the thought. Maker, kids. You hadn't considered the idea of having kids in so long. For many years, it seemed an impossible task. Having a child meant allowing someone in, which was not something you excelled in. You also never found yourself too invested in the prospect of having kids of your own. It wasn’t that you didn’t like them, though Jakku was never teeming with them. Kids were fine. You often found them to be funny, like little drunken adults just wandering around. And you could t deny that they were cute (though you would argue the child in your lap was even cuter than human children). But when you looked in the mirror before, you never saw a woman who could be a mother. It just wasn’t part of your personality. You had watched your own mother for so long and you loved her, but you hadn’t been similar to her at all, you two often having differing opinions. But your mother had seemed like such the picture-perfect mom to you and if you were nothing like her, how could you be a mom?

But now things were different. You were a different person than you used to be (a better one as well you would argue). And that was due to Din. Having allowed yourself to open up to someone taught you a lot of things about relationships, communication, and trust. And now there was someone in your life who you could kind of invision a future with. A very rocky, unclear future but a future nonetheless.

The kid also changed your perspective. When you met the child, you instantly felt a connection to him. You wanted to grab his small little body and hold him close, make him smile. It was like this instinctual side of you kicked in, a side you didn’t know you even had. And now you liked it. You liked caring for him and being there for important things. You loved to way he had begun to expand the way he communicated , whether that be with his facial expressions or noises. You loved that when he first woke up in the morning and saw either you or Din, a sleepy little smile would form that made your morning instantly better. You loved when he would giggle when you did something stupid or silly. You even liked when he needed your help, when his grabby hands reached out for something he wanted. Watching him grow was like a gift. So now the idea of kids sounded exponentially more appealing than it ever had before.

“I never really used to. Was never that type of person really. But now... yeah. Maybe one day.” You said the last part with a sheepish shrug. You didn’t know what one day meant, even to you. You had sworn to stick by Din, even once the kid was gone. And though there was no label and nothing official, there was clearly something happening between the two of you. You were certainly a little more than friends, though you didn’t want to jump to any assumptions and make a fool of yourself.

But you couldn’t help the way your heart nearly jumped out of your chest at the thought of having kids with Din. You already knew he was paternal. You didn’t need to see beneath the armor to see the way he looked at the kid. He treated him like a son and did an exceptionally good job at protecting him and making him feel safe. And sometime, when you were with the kid and Din walked into the room, you could feel this rush of love wash over you, almost like you were feeling what the kid felt. You felt this immense sense of belonging and love, a type of admiration you couldn’t even begin to describe. He looked up to him in a way a kid is truly meant to look up to their dad. There was no doubt in your mind that Din would be a great father.

You cleared your throat and looked up at Din. “What about you?”

“Absolutely.” The answer didn't shock you too much in particular. It was the speed at which he answered. He hadn’t taken a second to even think about it or contemplate it. The answer had just leapt out of his mouth as soon as you had finished speaking. You couldn’t help the way you grinned at him but felt it drop slowly as he let out a loud sigh, his helmet dropping down. “But I don’t know if that’s even possible.”

You furrowed your brow. “What do you mean?”

“This life isn’t right for a kid. And I’m just not the kind of person.”

“Woah, that’s not true. Have you seen yourself with the kid?” You reached a hand out to rest on his leg, reassuringly squeezing it. His helmet finally lifted up a little but you could still see the way his body slightly dropped. “You would be a great dad, Din Djarin.”

“A Mandalorian isn’t the greatest dad.” You could definitely understand where Din was coming from. Life for Din was unstable, tumultuous. His whole job required a certain level of danger that he had to willingly accept every day. Definitely not the most conducive for raising a child.

But you had always imagined Din settling down one day, not even with you per say but just in general. He deserved that. Out of all the people you could imagine, he was one who deserved to find a home somewhere, marry someone, have a peaceful life with what he wanted. Now that you considered it, you didn’t even know if that was a possibility. “Is the whole Mandalorian thing a life time commitment or do you eventually retire?”

“I never really thought about it. I just figured I’d keep going until...well, let’s just say Mandalorians don’t have the greatest track record.”

Your stomach lurched at the meaning behind Dins answer. A job that was a game between life and death meant one of two things, you either lived or died. And you expected that eventually death caught up to the Mandalorians, no matter how strong or unshakeable they appeared. Your heart broke for Din. He had been living his days just working, expecting his life to be cut short because of the life he lived, the job he had, the armor he bore. You squeezed his leg even tighter, forcing him to look at you directly. You stared right into his visor, hoping you were making eye contact with him. “I’m here now. And I’m going to make sure you live a long life. A good one.”

Din just stared back at you, responding with a small jerk of the head. “Okay.”

You nodded in response before smiling, try to lighten the situation. “Good. So you better come up with a retirement plan, old man.”

Din chuckled at you, shaking his head jokingly. “Will do.” You grinned at him but felt it drop slightly as Din continued on. “We need to start looking for the kid’s kind.”

You knew this moment was coming and soon. You and Din had already spent too long playing house, justifying it with excuses like you were trying to come up with a good plan or you were letting time pass so things could calm down. But you and Din both knew the truth deep down. Things weren’t going to calm down and no good plan would be formed without starting somewhere. 

You looked back down at the kid, who just gurgled as he saw your attention land upon him. Sometimes you thought he was too young for training, even though he was fifty. He was just a baby. A child. You had only received a sliver of training and that had been some of the most intense work you had ever done. You couldn’t imagine the same little child in your lap, the one whose most prized possession was a metal ball and who cried when he couldn’t eat a butterfly, was supposed to become a Jedi. But you also understood that you couldn’t even attempt to understand his full potential and just how truly powerful he was. And the earlier he started harnessing it, the better. Sometimes you wish you had been taught earlier. You understood what it felt like to be younger and capable of something you couldn’t understand. It was terrifying sometimes and other times just plain confusing. 

You looked back up at Din. “Yeah. We do.”

“We need a plan.”

“We don’t even know where to start, Din.” 

“Do you know of any... Jedi places?”

You laughed at his question. “No. I’m afraid I will be of no help to you in that regard. I barely know any more about Jedi’s than you do.”

Din nodded and you knew he was slightly disappointed, but not upset. You understood that feeling. Sometimes you wished you were better or knew something so you knew how to help out. But you had also accepted that you were who you were and nothing would change that.

“I need to find other Mandalorians. I was told they could help me.”

“Well, where are the Mandalorians?”

“I don’t know.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “How do you not know? You guys don’t have like some meet up spot or something?”

Din chuckled, now finding your lack of knowledge about Mandalorians as funny as you find his lack of knowledge about Jedis. “They are called coverts and they are in secret locations for safety. There was one on Nevarro but that got exposed.”

“So you have no clue where any are?”

“No.”

You huffed. “Well then, what do we do?”

“I know some people who might know information about where Mandalorians are. We can start there.”

You nodded. “I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

“So once we find a Jedi, we just hand him over? That’s it?” You found that to be such a bizarre thought. Jedi’s were supposed to be peacemakers but that hadn’t stopped a fair share of them from becoming Siths instead. How were you supposed to meet someone and just trust them enough right away to hand the child over? What if this person just took advantage of him or worse, handed him over to Gideon for a large prize?

“I don’t know how this works at all. We need to just find out more information before we get to that.”

“And what if we can’t find one?”

“I made a promise. He is under my care and I vowed to bring him to his kind. I will make sure it happens, no matter how long it takes.”

You admired Din’s dedication. You had never met an individual who was so devoted, whether that be devoted to his Creed or to the child or yourself. It was so admirable and you believed every word that came out of his mouth. 

“You are a good man, Din.”

Din just nodded in response and you wondered if he ever believed you when you said that. You meant it with every part of your being but you don’t think he ever looked in the mirror and saw the man you saw. Saw the kind heart and the beautiful soul that laid hidden beneath all his armor. You just wanted to spend all your days showing him that, hoping one day he would see it. Look past the helmet and the job and see who he was. 

“Din?”

“Yes?”

“What are we going to do after all of this?” The question had been on the tip of your tongue for weeks now. You knew Din had said he wanted you to stay. And you knew your relationship had now progressed, though neither of you had placed any binding label on it.  Those were great things and you were thrilled by them but you didn’t know what that would entail for you guys.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, when we find the kid a place to go, what do we do? Are you going back to bounty hunting? I mean can you even do that after you took the kid back?”

Din’s helmet tilted and you knew he was deep in thought. Part of you hoped he couldn’t and you felt selfish for it. You knew that was what Mandalorians did. They worked, endlessly. But you couldn’t imagine finding somewhere for the kid to go and then Din working night and day to catch bounties, traveling through the galaxy from one place to the next for the rest of his days. You wanted him to be able to relax, to live a life that he had never even thought to envision. A life where he could have kids when he wanted to or could just live in peace. 

“If you could go to any planet, where would you go?”

You brought your head back, staring at Din with a perplexed expression. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just tell me.”

You thought before remembering a planet Mai had told you about. “Sesid. Mai said she read about it once. There is supposed to be so much ocean that you can’t walk anywhere where you don’t have a view of it. And where you don’t see blue, it is supposed to be so green with so many trees and plants.”

“Then we will go there.”

You let out a laugh. “Din, what are you talking about?”

“I don’t know exactly what will happen after all of this. But I know I want to be with you. So once we find the kid a place to go, you and I will go to Sesid.”

You smiled up at him. You still didn’t know if that was even possible but you didn’t want to think about what would realistically happen. You wanted to believe, if only for this moment, that Din and you would help the kid and then be together, somewhere beautiful and happy. “Okay. Sesid it is.”

Din nodded in agreement. “I do know one thing for sure, though.

“What?”

Din leaned towards you, close enough that if he weren’t wearing the helmet you could kiss him. You leaned against him, your forehead tapping against the helmet. “I am going to do whatever I can to make you happy.”

__________

Once night fell, the two fell into their new routine. They didn’t discuss it but it kind of just fell in place. As soon as the child’s eyes slid closed, Din grabbed onto her, pulling her to crawl into his bed, the cot on the floor she used to sleep on being long forgotten now. 

Din shuffled in next to her, closing the hatch to the cot and removing his helmet immediately after. Part of him wished so much that he could have a light on, just so he could see her face when she was laid in his bed, next to him. But for now, being able to feel her beside him was more than he could ever ask her. 

Din rested his body against the padding of the thin mattress, feeling her immediately shuffle into him. Her head sat to rest on his shoulder and he could feel her breath tickle his neck. One of her arms wrapped around his chest, clinging on like it was a life preserver. Her legs tangled with his and she let out a loud sigh once she finally rested comfortably into him, letting the shape of his body contour into hers. “You are very comfortable, y’know?” She mumbled happily and Din felt a small smile grow on his face. He loved this. Loved the way she clung onto him and the way she hummed as he wrapped an arm around around her back, tracing her spine over her shirt with his finger tips. 

“Yeah?” He responded, feeling himself turn his head in her direction. He couldn’t see her, only the silhouette of her body if he focused enough. 

“Mmhhm.” She hummed and Din brought his lips down to kiss the top of her head. Her head tilted up in response and she brought her lips against his, allowing the two to mold together. Din couldn’t believe he had gone this long without kissing her. Whenever he did, it felt so divinely perfect in a way he couldn’t even begin to describe. It was warm and thrilling but also made Din feel safe in a way he never had before. Like no matter what happened, he would be okay as long as she was there.  He had never felt that way with anybody else before, besides his parents so long ago. Nobody had ever wormed their way into his heart like she had. 

She eventually pulled away, her breathing a little heavier than before, and rested her head back into her previous position, nuzzling into him. “Where are we headed now?” 

“A planet on the outer rim. I know someone who might be able to help me find other Mandalorians.” 

“A friend?”

Din couldn’t help the small chuckle that came out. “No. He is an old gangster. Gor Karesh is his name.”

“Oh, lovely. Old gangsters are my favorite.”

“Oh really?”

She let out a giggle at the jab and he could hear the grin on her lips. “Oh yeah. You better hope he doesn’t win me over cause I might just stay with him instead.”

Din narrowed his eyes, not understanding what she meant. “You aren’t seeing him.”

She paused for a moment before letting out a small sigh. “Yes, I am. I’m coming with you.”

“I don’t want you coming. You’ll be safer in the Crest.”

“Din, last time you left me alone in the Crest, a man ended up dead.” She didn’t say it with anger or annoyance. Din didn’t detect any harshness in the words. It was just said very matter-of-factly, reminding Din of himself. But it still didn’t stop the way his heart dropped into his stomach at her rebuttal. She wasn’t wrong. Last time she had begged him to come and he had refused, all in the name of protecting her. But he had seen where that ended and he didn’t want a repeat of it.

As much as it pained him, she was right. Din wanted nothing more than to protect her and keep her safe. But in a galaxy like this, with a man like Moff Gideon hunting for him, nothing was safe. It was all inherently dangerous. And Din knew she was more than capable. She was smart and strong. She could stand her own but he still felt uncomfortable with the idea of pushing her into danger directly. It felt like a betrayal to the promise he had made to protect both her and the kid. “Okay.”

She nodded her head against him. “I’ll be fine. You know, I might even be an advantage. I’m pretty smart.”

“I know you are, sweet one.” 

“Well then, we will be fine. We’ve got your crazy Mando strength, the kids hand thing, and my quick-witted humor. It should go very smoothly.” Her body started shaking slightly with laughter and Din couldn’t help but to join in with her. He couldn’t remember the last time anything in his life had gone smoothly and he expected this to be no exception. 

Once the laughing stopped, she rested her hand on his chest, right over his heart, and patted softly. “Really though. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

Din nodded, feeling slightly better with her reassurances. She was probably right. It would be okay especially with her there. Din had never really worked with anyone before but everything was different now. She was his rock and he trusted her. She pressed a small kiss onto his jaw and he could feel her smile into it. 

“Din, this is perfect but I am going to be a pain in the ass.”

“What is it?”

“I’m freezing my ass off.” 

Din let out a chuckle, shaking his head. It was probably from all the years he spent in hyperspace, but he was never cold while she managed to somehow always be cold. Even with his body heat and the one blanket over them, he could feel the goosebumps on her skin as he ran a hand over her arm. “You are always cold.”

She huffed. “It’s not my fault you are cold blooded and that this ship is colder than Hoth itself.”

“Where did your blanket go?”

“I think it’s still in my bag. I haven’t gone through it since I got back from Jakku.”

Din started to shuffle, pulling away from her to which she let out a loud whine. “Let me put on my helmet and I’ll grab it for you.”

She sighed contently at him and Din slipped the helmet on his head before opening the door to the cot. Some light from the hull of the ship reached his bed and he could see her face just slightly illuminated, a sleepy, lopsided smile on her face. She looked right back up at him. “Did I ever tell you that you are my hero?”

Din shook his head before slipping out of the bed. He walked over to a corner of the hull, where her bag had been sitting for days now. He bent down, opening it and saw the blanket on the top, with a small piece of folded paper with her name sprawled on it. He picked it up, feeling the weight of it in his fingers. “What is this?” he asked out of curiosity, not opening it.

“What is it?” She said, not bothering to get up to look.

“I think it’s a letter.” He looked back just in time to see her head pop up slightly. She furrowed her eyebrows before beginning to slip out of the bed, wrapping the blanket around her body. 

“What does it say?”

“Just has your name on it.” 

She eventually stumbled over to him and he reached his hand up, offering the letter to her. She reached a hand out from under the blanket, grabbing onto it and reading the writing on the front. “That is Mai’s handwriting.” 

She brought her other hand out, the blanket resting on her shoulders and arms, and began to unfold the piece of paper. Din looked up at her as she began to read. He sat silently, even as her face dropped into a blank stare and her face paled. She suddenly folded the paper up, shaking her head. “What is it?” he asked.

“I don’t know. But I can’t read it right now.” He saw the way her chest was heaving and how her eyes were frantically moving around, as if she was trying to follow something that wasn’t there. 

“Sweet one?”

“It’s something about my family. That’s as far as I got.” Din stood up and looked down at her. She didn’t look at him, her face twisting up as she frantically shook her head as if begging someone to stop. “I can’t do this. I’m am finally okay with everything and I don’t need to read something that will just mess with me.”

“But what if it is something important?”

“If none of them told me and I didn’t find out for this many years, I am sure it can wait.” She scrunched the paper up in her hands, tossing it into the opening of her bag. “Besides, we have to focus on the kid. This can wait. He can’t.”

Din slowly nodded and she forced a smile onto her face. He hated when she did this, when she buried everything in and just put on a smile. He knew it was how she coped and he could identify with that. He was similar, but instead of smiling, he buried everything down and then hunted a bounty to forget. 

Instead of pushing her, he held up the blanket that was still grasped in his hand. She looked at it and chuckled. “Maybe I can sleep now since I won’t be freezing.”

“Are you okay?” Din couldn’t help but to ask. 

“I will be as long as you come keep me warm.” Her hand reached out for one of his and tugged him over. “Let’s go to bed.”

__________

“Well, this is just such a beautiful place. We should come back one day when we are really able to enjoy the sights and sounds.” You sarcastically mumbled, arms protectively held over your chest as you looked all around you. The walls surrounded you, all of which covered in a plethora of graffiti, parts of them crumbling into pieces. The outer rim was not a pleasant place in general, you knew that. But you had finally landed on the planet where Koresh was supposed to be and as soon as you stepped outside the Crest, you just knew it was a real shit hole. And walking through the streets of whatever town you were just confirmed it. 

It was completely dark outside, almost totally silent. You didn’t see any other people around, except for pairs of red glowing eyes that hid in dark corners and made the child whimper. You looked back to the child, who was sitting in his pram that floated beside you. His small ears tucked in slightly on himself and he buried himself into the pram slightly, big eyes looking all around. Looking over at Din, you didn’t detect any sense of unease. He was on what you’d like to call Mando mode. His head was aiming straight forward, attention on the path in front of him. He stood tall and straight, seeming like such an intimidating figure even in such a shady place. He was completely silent, not speaking. He didn’t like to talk much in public and you weren’t sure if it was because he was uncomfortable to do so or if it was a matter of maintaining a reputation that made others cower in fear.

You let out a sigh at his lack of response until you turn the corner, coming to a door. You see the first individual of the night, a Twi’lek standing guard who stares back at the Mandalorian. He doesn’t greet the two of you with anything but a harsh expression. So much for a welcome.

“I’m here to see Gor Koresh.” Din directed, his voice sounding strong through the modulator. Despite the demand, the Twi’lek still doesn’t speak, just looking over at you before his eyes landed on the Child. The kid looked up at him, cooing slightly.

The man looked away, moving aside and pushing the door open for you to pass through. “Enjoy the fights.” was all he said as you and Din entered. As soon as you walked into the building, you felt your face scrunch up. The place smelled like ale and blood strongly, slapping you in the face as soon as you stepped through the door frame.  You walked down some stairs, studying the scene in front of you. Crowds of humans and creatures, some of which you didn’t recognize, sat or stood amongst benches, yelling loudly and banging their fists. You saw some woman sitting besides the men, some looking less impressed by the entertainment than their counterparts and others looking just as engrossed as the others. In the center of the room sat a platform where two Gamorreans were fighting wildly. They were both fearsome creatures with less than desirable faces. They snarled and huffed, though the sound was drowned out by the yelling in several different alien languages that filled the room.

Din strolled over to a bench, seeming unbothered by the scene before him and not in any way distracted by the environment. He plopped down onto a booth, next to a Abyssin you assumed to be the man of the hour, Koresh. He stood out from the crowd, his body draped in richer fabrics and a large ring on one of his chubby green fingers. You sat down next to Din, watching as the child’s pram hovered right beside you.

The Abyssin didn’t seem bothered or intimidated by Din’s presence. He was s gangster, probably used to having bounty hunters around. Probably hired a few himself, perhaps had one or two come after him even. “You know this is no place for a child.” He spoke, his gaze landing on the child and you for just a moment before going back to the fight, his eye glistening with excitement as he appeared totally enamored by the barbaric nature of it.

“Wherever I go, he goes.” You almost wanted to smile at Din’s response. It sounded intimidating coming from him, but you knew the sentiment and honestly behind it. You refrained from doing so, keeping a blank face and trying to keep your gaze on Gor Koresh. You weren’t much for watching fighting, finding it dull and tasteless, though you couldn’t help but to find the banging and rumbling to be distracting.

Koresh just let a chuckle out. “So I’ve heard.”

“I’ve been quested to bring him to his kind. If I can locate other Mandalorians, they can help guide me. I’m told you know where to find them.” You weren’t surprised by Din’s directness or lack of small talk. This was just the kind of man he was, part of it being him and part of it being due to the armor he wore.

The man let out a sigh. “It’s uncouth to talk business immediately. Just enjoy the entertainment.” The creature finally tore his sight away from the fight, giving you a fleeting glance as a smile curved his lips. You knew that smile very well, had seen many men and creatures wear it before. And usually, it didn’t end well for them. “Why don’t you introduce me to your friend? She is quite the beauty.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyebrows raised and face scrunched up in slight disgust. He couldn’t even try to be a little subtle, or at the least more original.. You let out a sigh and looked at him, even though his attention was back on the fight. “How about you just help us?”

Din didn’t turn to look back at you but you saw the way one of his fists clenched. This was his domain and he wasn’t used to others being with him while he worked. And you didn’t want to overstep your boundaries, but you also weren’t going to let this man look at you like that. You wanted to say a lot more, but knew your mouth could get you in trouble and decided to leave it at that.

The Abyssin let out a huff. “Didn’t know you kept women around. Or children too.” The words were directed at Mando, him not bothering to respond to you directly. You wanted to say something but jumped slightly at the sound of loud clanging. The child cooed in distress as you looked at the fight. The two Gamorreans were clanging their axes together, one of which knocking the other to the ground. Cheers rang through the ground but Koresh looked rather annoyed.

“Bah! My Gamorrean’s not doing well. Kill him! Finish him!” An axe was brought down to the fallen warrior, who dodged just in time to avoid the slamming down of the blade.  Koresh smiled just barely at the sight before glancing at Din. “Do you gamble, Mando?”

You couldn’t imagine Din being a gambler. It seemed so unlike him, almost against the ideas he held close to his heart. He wasn’t one to trust luck. He depended on himself and nothing else. “Not when I can avoid it.” He responded.

“What about you, sweetheart? Do you gamble?”

You rolled your eyes at the question. “No. I don’t.”

“I do. Which is why I’m the rich one here.” Koresh responded, letting out a chuckle at his own jab. “How about this? I’ll bet you the information you seek that this Gamorrean’s going to die within the next minute and a half...and all you have to put up in exchange is your shiny beskar armor.”

You felt your eyes widen slightly. You knew Din could handle this creep and you knew that beskar was worth a lot. It was no wonder Koresh wanted it. But you couldn’t imagine Din would be willing to put it on a silly bet based purely on luck. You couldn’t help but to scoff in response. “His armor isn’t on the table.”

Koresh smiled at your harsh response. “Okay. How about we bet the woman then? Wouldn’t mind a new friend.”

Din for the first time looked over at you for just a second, seeing the way your jaw locked. You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was angry by the way he moved. He turned over, looking back at the man. His fist was clenched against his lap but he didn’t bite the bait, just calmly responding. “I’m prepared to pay you for the information. I’m not leaving my fate, or hers, up to chance.”

“Nor am I.” In a flash, his hands reaches into his coat, whipping out a blaster at a surprisingly quick speed. A shot rings out in the building, one of the Gamorreans dropping dead, his axe clanging down beside him. You hear gasps and a cry ring out from the audience at the sudden end of the fight. Your head whips over to Koresh, just in time to see several men rise from the bench behind him, all of them whipping out guns that aim right at Din’s head. You felt your chest squeeze up slightly, panic settling into your bones. But Din just remained seated, even as the crowd yelled and rushed out of the stadium from all directions and Koresh rose from his seat, his own blaster aimed at the helmet. You couldn’t help but to wonder how he could always remain so calm. You felt your hand itch towards the blaster on your hip, but you didn’t know what you would do with it. One blaster against a handful of men, all with their own loaded guns, wasn’t a fair fight by a long shot. Trying to do anything might just get you and Din killed immediately so you waited, seeing how Din handled it.

Koresh laughed at your panicked expression. “Thank you for coming to me. Normally, I have to seek out remnants of you Mandalorians in your hidden hives to harvest your precious shiny shells.” You felt rage bloom within you as you realized what this mans job was, your eyes widening in anger. He made money off ruining people’s lives, ripping the amor that means the world to the Mandalorians off of them with no regard for human decency. No wonder he was so rich. “Beskar’s value continues to rise. I’ve grown quite fond of it. Give it to me now or I will peel it off your corpse. And then take your woman as my new companion.” He chuckled once again, his eyes running down your body with a disgusting smile.

“Tell me where the Mandalorians are and I’ll walk out of here without killing you.“ Din, please, please know what you are doing. You trusted Din and you knew some stories of what he has done, though he never wanted to talk about it too much or seem like he was bragging. Din was an annoyingly humble man and it made it hard to find out just what exactly he was capable of. You knew that he was strong, unnaturally so, and you had seen him in action before. But you hadn’t seen enough to know what he was truly able to do. And you couldn’t help the way your heart slammed in your chest, even upon hearing his confident voice make the demand.

Koresh’s face dropped slightly. “I thought you said you weren’t a gambler...”

That was when you saw it out of the corner of your eye. You had completely forgotten about his whistling birds, him having explained it to you weeks ago when you almost hit a button that triggered it. The child must have also sensed what was about to happen, reaching out quickly to hit the button that closed the lid to the pram, sinking into it before the lid closed.  You figured he had the right idea but you just let your hand hover over the blaster, waiting for the next move. 

“I’m not.” Din said. Suddenly, the whistling birds shot out, instantly hitting all four of the henchmen and causing them to drop immediately to the floor.  You feel Din’s arm reach out, pushing you away, and you brought your own leg up to kick the pram back, already knowing what was going to happen next.

The Gamorrean who had been on the platform recovering, rises up, snarling. You see as he was ready to jump down, onto Din. But Din scoots over to the side, causing the large creature to slam down onto the bench, the wood under him cracking and splitting open. You couldn’t help the laugh that left your lips as you saw him pass out instantly. “Now that was too easy.” You chuckled.

Your hand instantly reaches for your blaster as you look away from the fallen fighter. The Twi’lek from the entrance of the building reached for Din, grabbing him from behind. You rise up the blaster quicker than you ever had before, firing off a shot that hit the guard right in the neck, causing him to release Din and drop down to the ground, joining the others. Three people run after Din as Koresh rushed out of the building, trying to escape while you two were distracted by the fighting. You turned to check on the kid, finding the pram still closed before running towards the exit.

You had just made it out the exit when you heard footsteps charging behind you, to find one of the Zabraks that was attacking Din coming after you now. A  You raised your blaster but found it to be no use when the creature dropped dead before your finger could even pull the trigger, revealing a blade sticking out of his back as he landed face down on the dirty ground. Your head whipped up to find Din behind him, only pausing for a moment to look you over for any damage before charging towards Koresh.

You followed closely behind, only to stumble into his back when the Mandalorian stopped dead in his tracks, your body falling into the metal of his armor and clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. In what seemed to be a flash, Koresh had his legs stuck in Din’s grappling hook and his whole body was being lifted up by a street lamp. Din didn’t stop until the mans body was dangling upside down, his head only a few feet above the ground.

Din stepped forward, facing the creature who now looked absolutely terrified. Part of you wanted to laugh at the sight but instead you stepped forward and glared at him. The man started swaying, trying to break out of the hooks with no luck. “All right, stop, stop!” He yelled out, looking at Din. “I’ll tell you where he is. But you must give me your word that you won’t kill me.”

“I promise you will not die by my hand. Now, where is the Mandalorian you know of?“ Your eyebrow raised at the odd wording of Din’s answer until you saw the red eyes that lined the streets start caving in slowly, seeming to stare into the scene before them. My hand, he had said.

Karesh let out a groan. “Tatooine.”

“What?” you and Din both said out-loud and the man just let out another groan, face twisted in discomfort.

“The Mando I know of is on Tatooine.“ he repeated.

“I’ve spent much time on Tatooine. I’ve never seen a Mandalorian there.“ Din responded, tilting his helmet just slightly as if thinking, mulling over in his mind whether or not the man was lying to you. You trusted Din, but Tatooine also seemed like it wouldn’t be the most surprising place for a bounty hunter to be. That planet didn’t have the greatest reputation, lots of sleaze bags and criminals roaming around there from what you heard. Wouldn’t be the most shocking thing for a Mandalorian to be there, whether for work or just because of the environment.

“My information is good, I tell you. The city of Mos Pelgo. I swear it by the Gotra!” Another groan left his lips, even louder this time. You rolled your eyes and looked over at Din.

The Mandalorian stood still before giving you a slight nod. “Tatooine it is, then.”

You brought your hand to your waist to grab the knife strapped to it, preparing to cut the man down when Din’s hand reached out for your wrist, holding it still. You looked up at him, waiting for an explanation but he only stared down at you, shaking his head just the slightest bit. You let go of the handle of the knife, leaving it at your side, and looked back at Koresh who looked back at you two expectantly. You saw the red eyes still there, still glowing in the darkness behind him ominously.

Din let go of your wrist and turned, starting to walk down the street with the pram following behind him. Part of you felt like you should cut down the gangster, until you remembered how he made his living. Ruining the lives of other Mandalorians just for some beskar to make him a richer man that he already is. Instead of cutting him, you gave him the sweetest smile you could muster to which his face scrunched up in confusion. “Koresh, it was a pleasure meeting you.”

You began to walk away, following after Din who slowed his pace for you to catch up when the Abyssin started to thrash wildly, panic settling into every pore of his body. “Wait! You can’t leave me like this!”

You turned back one last time and glared at him. “And you can’t take off a Mandalorians helmet. Yet you did. Many times.”

The man continued to scream, the red eyes caving in on him as you looked back at Din, catching up with him. You heard begging and screaming from behind you, but drowned it out. Part of you felt like you should feel guilty. But he had threatened Din. Ruined lives for money.

There was no guilt, no sadness at what was happening in this very moment. Instead you just felt like your body was energized, the adrenaline from the fight still coursing through you. You had spent so much time now on the Crest with Din, and before that you were just on Yungbrii. You had to fight off a couple creeps here and there, but nothing like that. Nothing that made blood course through your body and your heart pound in your ears. You found you could understand why some people found this addicting, why some people chose to be bounty hunters. It was thrilling in a way you’d never felt before.

You glanced over at Din, studying him. He looked completely unbothered and maybe that was because you couldn’t see his face, but you had a feeling the grizzly attack behind him brought him no sense of upset or guilt. You imagined he felt what you were feeling but ten times stronger. The Mandalorians were his people, his clan, and they had been attacked by the selfish monster. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he had any attention of letting Koresh go, even if he hadn’t attacked the two of you.

Shaking away your thoughts, you spoke loudly over the noises behind you which were now slowly drowning away as you continued on. “Where are we headed now?”

“Tatooine.” he responded and you nodded. You supposed it was the right place to start, even if Din didn’t know of any Mandalorians there. “You are okay, right? Nothing is hurt?”

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face at the way his tone softened, the way his whole figure relaxed. You found it amazing how he could change from bad-ass, killer Mandalorian to your soft, caring Din so quickly.

“Yeah. I am fine. You okay?” Din only nodded in response. You looked away from him, to the path in front of you before speaking again. “You know, I have to admit something.”

Din continued walking, staring into the environment around him. “What, cyar’ika?”

“I don’t know if this sounds bad, but that was kind of fun.” You smiled up at him.

Din stopped walking for just a moment, looking over at you and you could hear a chuckle pass through the modulator. “You did well.”

You winked at him before continuing to walk on, the Mandalorians boots crunching behind you as he followed. “Told you I was handy. Now let’s go find this Mandalorian.”

Tag List: @ilikethoseodds @dindaddy @poguesvixen @starspangledwidow @fangirlalexia @the-scandalorian @ka-x-in @keepcalmandblogstuff @the-lady-of-stars @orneryscandalousevil @spaghetti-666 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @the-darkempress @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @dee-vn @eury-dice3 @rb4writers @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @lxdyred @queen-since-97 @honey-hi @periptil

[ibijau]

How to woo a Lan pt2 / On AO3

Jin Ling takes a walk with his dog, reminisces on the past, and gets a brilliant idea

It took Jin Ling the better part of two weeks to remember the idea he had nearly had that night, after he’d accidentally insulted Lan Sizhui. He’d just been so busy that entire time, with more problems arising from that haunting they’d dealt with (Jin Ling had to write to Wei Wuxian, who in turn sent word to the person who had initially reached out to them). Then there had been councils, and bills for a change, and some trouble with a disciple who’d tried to take advantage of his position to harass some girls in town, and just about a billion more things that had kept Jin Ling impossibly busy.

Even that particular afternoon when the idea returned to him, Jin Ling was supposed to be working. He was trying to see if there was any way to reorganise the way Lanling Jin was run so certain people who had profited a little too much from Jin Guangyao’s less savoury decisions would be pushed aside, and that meant gathering a lot of proof of their suspected corruption (bills, mostly. It always came back to bills. Jin Ling was in hell). Jin Ling was trying his best, and he’d been very serious all morning, but by lunch time he had a raging headache and decided he deserved at least a little bit of fun.

The most fun Jin Ling could think of having on a bad day was to spend time with Fairy, so he went to get her. The poor old girl barked happily at him when he came near her pen, and ran around him for a few minutes when he freed her. The man in charge of Lanling Jin’s spiritual dogs wanted to order her to stop and behave, but dared not to so when Jin Ling himself was delighted by his dog’s happiness. So what if Fairy wasn’t always as serious as expected? She was a good girl who had more than proven she knew how to behave when it was really important. Other people might say she was spoiled, but they said the same about Jin Ling anyway, so at least they were well matched.

When Fairy had calmed down, Jin Ling went out into the gardens with her, figuring they could both use the chance to stretch their legs. While walking, he gave her orders in and there, just so he could say he was training her, should anyone bother him. But in all honesty, he just wanted to relax a little and have fun with the one friend he had who didn’t care that he always said the wrong thing.

Although their walk didn’t have any particular aim, Jin Ling soon realised that they seemed to be heading toward the aviary. He hesitated for a moment, fearful Fairy might scare the birds, before deciding it would be excellent training. A good spiritual dog had to know how to ignore distractions… and Jin Ling liked the birds well enough, if only because he’d heard his father used to keep some, back in the days. Jin Zixuan, he’d heard some people whisper when they thought he couldn't hear, had been the sort of person more at ease with animals than people. Nobody would actually say it directly, but Jin Ling strongly suspected that he’d inherited his people’s skill from his father... though at least Jin Zixuan had been universally liked in spite of it, or so he'd been told. Jin Ling wasn't so lucky.

It was nice, in the aviary. A little noisy, sure, and the smell took some getting used to, but it was very quiet and there was rarely anyone there these days. Jin Guangyao hadn’t been very keen on animals, so he had kept only enough birds to show status, and the person in charge of those birds had other tasks to keep them busy, so the aviary was often empty of any humans. It had made it a good hiding place, when Jin Ling had been younger and slightly more temperamental than he currently was.

When Fairy started whining and growling at the birds, Jin Ling ordered her to stay put and continued walking alone among the cages.

He used to hide in that place a lot, back in the days. There were a few good spots, like between those two high cages… Jin Ling remembered getting in that little dark space when he wanted to avoid all adults, and sitting among the birds for a shichen or two until everybody was too worried over his disappearance to think of scolding him anymore. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed what a good hiding place the aviary was, because one time…

Jin Ling gasped as the memory returned to him.

He’d been… ten, maybe eleven at most. Jin Ling couldn’t remember what trouble he’d caused that time, but Jin Guangyao had been particularly cross because they’d had guests, and Jin Ling had been his usual temperamental self, but in front of a whole bunch of sect leaders. Except Jin Ling hadn’t meant to cause a scene (he rarely did, even then) so he’d been upset at being scolded so harshly when he didn’t understand what the big deal had been… and he’d run away after shouting something awful about hating his uncle.

The aviary had been a good place to hide, as it so often was. Jin Ling had gotten into his nice little dark spot unseen, and prepared himself to wait however long it would take for everyone to calm down about what happened.

After a little while, two people had entered the aviary. Jin Ling hadn’t seen their faces right away, but cold sweat had run down his back when he’d recognised their voices.

“I really don’t think Jin Ling will have run here,” he’d heard Lan Xichen say in a very odd tone, quite different from the usual way he spoke.

“Really?” Nie Huaisang had replied, half laughing. “But I think it’s worth checking anyway, gege.”

Lan Xichen had laughed too. A real laugh, not just something polite.

It had been so odd to hear those two laugh, Jin Ling recalled. Back then, Lan Xichen had barely seemed like a real person to his childish mind. He was the mighty Zewu-Jun, practically an immortal already, aloof and always calm, and he didn’t just laugh like that. As for Nie Huaisang, he was always sad and pitiful, nothing at all like this laughing and teasing young man Jin Ling could hear but not quite see at that point.

Jin Ling had hesitated to leave his hiding spot to check if it really was them, or demons having taken their form… but if it was them he would have been punished, and if it was demons they’d have eaten him, so staying hidden had seemed more prudent.

He’d heard movement then, the rustling of fabric, and Lan Xichen gasping.

“Huaisang, not here,” Lan Xichen had said, trying and failing to sound scolding. “If someone were to come…”

“No one ever does,” Nie Huaisang had retorted. “I know, I used to come hide here when da-ge dragged me to conferences. It’s just us, gege, and I haven’t seen you in so long…”

“We’re meant to look for Jin Ling, A-Sang,” Lan Xichen had complained, sounding almost whiny.

Nie Huaisang had laughed again, and now he was coming into view for Jin Ling.

It might have been better to not see that, Jin Ling had thought at the time.

Because what he’d seen, then, was Nie Huaisang smiling widely, walking backward, pulling Lan Xichen by the collar. And Lan Xichen, who surely could have resisted if he hadn’t liked this, was following willingly, eagerly even, his eyes burning until he suddenly grabbed Nie Huaisang by the waist and he…

And they…

Jin Ling remembered crying out in surprise.

He hadn’t been used to adults kissing, or anyone at all really. His uncles had both taught him to be careful about showing affection, because of his status as sect heir, and they’d both made it clear to him that only married people should kiss.

Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang weren’t married, Jin Ling had known that. He hadn’t always paid enough attention to the lives of grown-ups around him, but Lan Xichen had been in Jinlin Tai all the time, and Jin Ling had heard both Jin Guangyao and Qin Su offer to help their friend find himself a suitable bride. They’d also offered the same to Nie Huaisang, and talked sometimes between them of how it might help lift the permanent gloominess of character that had taken over him since his brother’s death.

“Oh, shit,” he’d heard Nie Huaisang say, and somehow that had been the last drop for Jin Ling who had broken into tears.

It had taken Lan Xichen and Nie Huaisang great effort to get him to calm down, and more still to convince him to get out of his hiding spot. But by that point they’d been back to their normal selves, Nie Huaisang a pitiful, panicky mess, Lan Xichen radiating calm to the point it became contagious.

“Jin Ling, will you do me a favour?” Lan Xichen had asked when the little boy had been standing in front of him. “What you saw just now… can you keep it a secret?”

Jin Ling had hesitated, still sniffling a little.

“It’s forbidden to do that,” Jin Ling had said, remembering his weird bastard uncle, the one they’d kicked out some years before. “Only married people can, and two boys won’t marry. Are you going to be punished if I tell on you?”

“Cut-sleeves aren’t allowed in Jinlin Tai?” Nie Huaisang had gasped, going from pitiful to angry until Lan Xichen motioned for him to calm down.

“There was an incident a while ago, that Mo Xuanyu boy,” Lan Xichen had explained to his friend, before looking back at Jin Ling. “But Mo Xuanyu wasn’t punished because he liked boys, it was for being forceful about it. You understand the difference, A-Ling, don’t you?” Jin Ling had nodded, more to please that kind man than out of real understanding. “You are a good boy. To answer your question… no, we wouldn’t be punished, not really. But it would make some people unhappy, and we need more time to prepare for that. You understand, right?”

“Like when I break something and I don’t want to admit it right away, but if I calm down then I can tell jiujiu or shushu?”

Lan Xichen had nodded, smiling so gently that Jin Ling had been a little flustered.

Come to think of it, he’d always been a little weak to that kind smile the reallygood Lan had. So weak that he had promised to keep Lan Xichen’s secret, and had done so for years now, never thinking much about it again, never catching any sign of these two being more than friends. Maybe it had just been a fling between them, and that was why they hadn’t wanted to go public about it.

Considering everything that had happened, Jin Ling hoped for them that it had never been serious.

Still, as he walked among birds and reminisced about that incident, Jin Ling finally remembered that idea he’d very nearly had two weeks before: if he wanted to seduce a Lan, he needed the help of someone who had done it before. This meant either Wei Wuxian, who was awful and unbearable and hadn’t realised Lan Wangji liked him until Jin Guangyao told him while holding him captive, or…

Or Nie Huaisang, who hadn’t seemed to be having any trouble figuring out on his own how to get a Lan to like him, judging by what had happened some years before.

With the beginning of a plan forming at last, Jin Ling returned to Fairy's side to give her all the petting she deserved. If his hunch was the right one, then he'd be even busier than before in the weeks to come, so better give his dog a lot of affection while he could.

[criticalroleisdestroyingme]

Oh Death

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

After losing the Mighty Nein in Nicodranas, Astrid and Eadwulf are sent on their next assignment. Tracking a loose end in the Frozen North, they stumble across a few more surprises, and the pieces start to add up.

The aforementioned songfic of "Oh Death" by SUGR?. Canon divergent at the end of C2E131. Written from the perspective of a highly angsty Astrid with plenty of Blumendrei and Shadowgast. Advice for Essek based on this post by @slayerscake.

A note to those who count the words of Sending - I kept it accurate to where Matt took a pause for Astrid’s Sending back to Jester, of 26 and 24.

Read more below!

Oh, when I see her looking at me

You best believe

She's only looking past me

What a mess Bren left behind him before he again vanished to the North. It took a full day for Trent’s ire to settle from a raging forest fire into a controlled burn, sending his operatives to seek out their trail. Curiously, Trent did not allow any others into his vault to pick up any trace of Bren - he must have found the amulets, otherwise the search would have been simple. It didn’t take a spymaster to determine what else Bren must have spirited away to send him on such a determined chase, and Wulf quickly agreed that whether intentional or not, Bren now had in his possession the most damning evidence of the enhancements all Volstrucker wore beneath their skin.

Was this their chance to finally…? Bren hadn’t reacted the way she hoped during their meeting, eyebrows furrowing as she had quietly whispered her seditious musings in his ear. He didn’t trust her, didn’t trust them, of course he shouldn’t, Wulf added. She bitterly hoped their actions in Nicodranas would cement that trust, but maybe Bren no longer operated on their wavelength. He couldn’t, shouldn’t allow himself to trust his compromised classmates, only using them for his ends before moving on to that thing that was so much bigger, so much nobler. His eyes never truly met hers as they waltzed, staring through her skull, focused on his own goals, convinced he would be saving the world. She had shared the contents of the meeting with Wulf, of course, but not that wave of guilt that had surged through her for forcing her ambition onto him, collapsing in the alleyway after leaving the dancehall. He had moved on, had so many bigger things to deal with than the crimes of a single man and petty politics.

After dispatching two agents to the coast to board a ship, she was again summoned to Trent’s side with Wulf. Darktow, really Bren? The ruse had seemed so obvious from their clandestine conversation about his goal, but her master was determined to contain the leak and to Trent, no lead was worth overlooking. Trent had hissed that their next assignment was to pay a visit to that Crick loose end, since they were clearly too compromised to be trusted with more important missions. The traitor’s position was confirmed via scry to be in the heart of Eiselcross - fortuitous to be so near to Bren’s destination. Maybe after they dispatch the Shadowhand, they could seek him again, Wulf suggested, and finalize plans to rid the world of another corrupted mage.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

Come close my eyes, woah"

I know, I'm more fool than wise

Her trail goes cold a few hours after they pass through the mountain range ringing the crash site of Aeor, but they’re nearly to Kryn outpost, which was still the best place to check first. Recent reports indicated the drow was getting twitchy (reasonably so, she thought), so it came as no surprise that he had procured divination wards on his latest visit back to Ghor Dranas. Strange that he had not engaged them until after his position was reconfirmed in the frozen north, and the coincidence tickles the back of her mind. She and Wulf decide to press on towards the outpost regardless - to relay this to Trent before confirming the target’s position by eye would earn them a scathing reply.

Easily obscured by invisibility, they slip past the spires of ice ringing the Xhorhassian outpost once they arrive. After around fifteen minutes, they spot the Shadowhand as he exits his chambers and rushes to the storerooms, reemerging a few minutes later with supplies for travel and a heavier mantle. Good, it should be a simple task to take out him and whatever scouts accompany him, rather than dealing with the entire outpost. He lingers outside his chambers, discussing something with the captain of the guard too quietly to be heard from their position on the outskirts. Wulf creeps forward to listen in as she maintains her position, memorizing the guard patrols out of pure habit. She’s making a mental map of the outpost when a familiar but unexpected voice creeps in.

“It’s me… Jester-” whispers into her mind, followed by… a fit of giggles? “Hey, I don’t know if you’re alone. If.. you’re.. not-” another fit. How did Bren’s companions get anything done? “-and you’re following us…” the longest pause yet. Should she start her reply? What did the woman even want? As she opens her mouth to speak, eyes on the perimeter for any unforeseen patrols, it finally comes in. “Clear your throat,” she chokes out amid giggles, “if you’re not following us.”

“I’m so very…” lost? Disturbed? Overwhelmed by the lack of any meaningful information presented in those twenty-five words? “Confused.” She settles on. “What did you say?” Entertaining further conversation in spite of her location may not have been wise, but she couldn’t help herself, needing to know Bren’s next move.

“Sorry-” Warranted. “I need to know if you’re following us. If you know where we are. What’s the plan with you guys? Hope you’re alone! If you’re not-” the message cuts out. She rubs her temples, considering her response a moment. How to impress upon her the importance of what her party now carried with them, what she wanted them to accomplish? This was going to take more than one message, she thought, pulling her wire free from her components.

“A Volstrucker has never disentangled from Trent before. No one who knows what he does, how he breaks us, has shared their trauma with the world,” effortlessly continuing her response with another Sending, “with the king. Imagine the threat you are to him, now that you carry respect of both Crown and Kryn. So, yes,” she concludes, “he’s invested.” Was it enough? No further response.

“Who was that?” Wulf’s voice shocks her as he returns, still cloaked in his invisibility.

“Bren’s companions. The tiefling.”

“Ah,” he grunts. Lingers in silence for a moment. “Will he…?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. Glad to still be invisible, despite Wulf knowing exactly the look on her face. Probably has the same look on his. Her hand reaches out, contacting his upper arm blindly, then gives it a rub. “Later. Our target?”

“Too far, too quiet. Something about the ruin; an entrance his rangers are guarding.”

“Well then, we will have to make our move during his journey to them,” she replies, not keen on chasing this wizard into the depths of Aeor. A grunt of agreement, and they settle together, crouched on the icy ground, awaiting further movement of the traitor and his forces. A few more minutes and the guard captain nods and walks away, barking orders in Undercommon to his men, and the Shadowhand floats alone outside his door. His hand raises to knock, lowers, raises once more, then softly taps the door before opening it.

“He’s not alone in there,” Wulf interprets easily. She squints her eyes, trying to block the glare of the snow and ice to spot the reason for his hesitation, but the low-lit room gave up no secrets before the door closed behind him. Another minute and the door reopens, and neither Volstrucker notices the Shadowhand’s relaxed shoulders as he drifts out, sucking air through their teeth at the sight of who follows him.

Oh, I- I- I- I- I- I- I never wanted anything as little as I want this now

Oh, I- I- I- I- I take my pistol, gonna make you proud

“We should have known, we should have fucking known-” Wulf spits as they tail the group to the northwest, the pair’s white cloaks obscuring them well at this distance.

“Shh! Let me think.” Her words bite at her own tongue, mind racing. It was so obvious - Bren’s party spent so much time in Xhorhas, were so close to the Bright Queen herself that their word alone was enough to halt a full scale attack on the capital. Of course they would know the Shadowhand, at least know of him, and with their connection in the North from the Empire extinguished, of fucking course they would be allying with the Dynasty once more. The source of the Shadowhand’s protection from divination was now also unfortunately obvious - he had been recruited by the team to go stop the supposed end of the world.

This was going to get messy. It would be impossible to take out the Shadowhand without alerting Bren to their presence. How could they convince Bren to work alongside them to expose Trent if they ended up in battle against him? “Scheiße,” she hissed, Wulf growling in agreement.

She wondered what the Shadowhand would be getting in return for his assistance. Protection from the assassins hot on his trail? Yes, but surely this master manipulator would have gotten more out of the deal than that. The drow had fooled his entire country, betrayed his own religion, just for the sake of some arcane research.

She smirked, jaw clicking into place. That’s it. He’s a traitor to his own nation. Make him confess to it, surely Bren would want him dead as well after learning their ally was a conspirator with the Assembly, had stolen the beacons his group worked so hard to return to the Kryn. They could still make this work, and come out of Eiselcross both having completed their current mission and securing Bren, all of them, as allies in their next.

Wulf growled again, pulling her from her thoughts. Looking back at the Shadowhand, he had fallen in line with Bren and was conversing while they pressed onward, taking comfort in a glowing orb he held outside his mantle. Bren had moved in shoulder to shoulder with the drow, leaning in and wrapping his hand around the drow’s forearm in a supposed bid to get closer to the source of light. His group carried on ahead of them, saying nothing as they snuck glances back towards the pair. She felt her cheek burn where Bren had previously leaned his face on hers during their waltz. Wulf was saying something but the blood pounding in her head was far too loud.

She said to me

"Oh, Death

It's way too wet on your cheeks to be nothing"

But what does she know?

Really, what does she know?

The troupe had slowed for a short rest now, and she crept closer unthinking, Wulf trailing behind her. The cold wind whipped her hood back and pulled her light locks free, carrying snips of conversation back to them. “The- I’m sorry, the lesbians?”

“Yes, Yasha there and Expositor Lionett. They’re quite capable on the frontline, and often I find the best means of dealing damage to the enemy is through enhancing their abilities and staying out of sight. So ja, buff the lesbians.” Concluding with a pat on the Kryn’s forearm, Bren appeared to finally spot his hand’s location and jolt back, sheepish grin mirroring one she had not seen for years since she caught him and Wulf outside her dormitory door with a bottle of whisky and a proposal. That pink tint to his cheeks is visible from here, betraying his intentions so plainly. Betraying them. Betraying her.

“I- I see. Any other... tips I should be aware of?” the Shadowhand had asked, looking to the rest of the group and quickly pulling the orb back towards himself once Bren had released him, before thinking and proffering it to the others. Her own cheek stung still. To her side, Wulf reached over and too-gently touched it, rubbing away a layer of ice built up. The half-orc sat up from his resting point across from them, putting his hands towards the orb without any comment on the pair’s previous position.

“Ah, yes - while Jester is a cleric,” he intoned, leaning towards the blue tiefling gently, “try to go unconscious near Caduceus.”

“Fjord!”

“What?! You prefer a more… proactive approach to battle!”

Soothing with a hand on her shoulder, the gray firbolg also leans in and places a teapot atop the orb. “The Wildmother is interested in preserving the natural cycle of life, and if it is not your time, She will not let you pass. At least, not while I have anything to say about it.”

Bren had pulled away now, eyes softening as he looked between the drow and the rest of the group. She drew a wire from her pocket and she took a breath, steeling herself before casting Sending once more.

“Bren.” He stiffened stick-straight. “Do not be alarmed. Wulf and I are approaching your position.” She paused. “Just us. We wish to speak.” She does not trust herself to use the remaining words without stumbling.

“Caleb? Trent again? Or...” The Cobalt Soul expositor perked up, but Bren had lifted a hand to her and shook his head.

“Astrid.” Came clear into her mind as she heard the monk curse in the distance. “If it is just the two of you, please approach. I’m sure our company raises questions.” A pause of his own. “You could have told Jester you were here.”

Overlapping Bren’s voice, Wulf whispers, “What are you doing?” but she’s already stood tall and pushed her hair from her eyes.

“Just trust me.”

Oh, I- I- I- I- I never wanted it to be this way

Oh, you know I- I- I- I hold on to everything you say

“Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, Essek Thelyss. Please meet my, ah, associates Astrid and Eadwulf of the Dwendalian Empire.” Bren gestures. They had all stood as the Volstrucker approached, remaining in their previous circle, but the halfling had drawn her crossbow from her hip and the dark woman had also unsheathed a gleaming blade.

Careful with his words, as if his present company could be spooked like a horse, the Shadowhand spoke with low, smooth tones. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His eyes betrayed his tone, flitting towards each of Bren’s group in turn. “To what do we owe this visit?”

She smiled coolly. “There is no need for deception here, Herr Thelyss. In fact, it would benefit us all to be forthright. You needn’t pretend this is our first encounter.”

These words should have shook the Kryn to the core, so blunt and expository, the jaws of her trap slowly ratcheting open. His demeanor had not shifted, however, as Bren glanced between the two. “Fair enough, Madam Beck.” The Nein jumped slightly at this, far more than her initial reveal. Had Bren never shared her last name with his companions? “And Mister Grieve, I assume you are well?”

“Well enough in this frozen waste,” was Wulf’s gruff reply, arms crossed to the left and slightly behind her, but within her field of view.

“Then please, join our circle,“ came Bren’s voice, shaking surely due to the cold. She stepped forward at the invitation, and took the space to his other side, the halfling stepping aside but cautiously keeping a hand on the base of her crossbow. “Come now, Veth, there’s no need for that among friends.” Wulf stepped through the circle, taking a position next to the firbolg he liked so much during that dinner before. “We have plenty to share, and I’m sure they do as well.”

Bren always had such a way with words, she thought. Certainly better than Wulf, a perfect voice to tug at one’s heartstrings. He could say so much with so little. If there is any love left between us, cursing his words as they came back to her. Perhaps he was even greater a manipulator than the spymaster to his right. Plenty of love was left, it seemed, but how much belonged to her?

“Ohmigosh Astrid, we are so happy to see you! Why didn’t you say you were close before? We could have been traveling together this whole time!“ the tiefling bubbled, a little too enthusiastically. She was no fool.

“My apologies, Jester.” She gave another cool smile, then directed her gaze around Bren to settle on the drow once more. “There were matters we had to confirm before we could make our presence known to you and Bren.” He stiffened alongside Bren, glancing down at the other wizard with a question in his eyes, and her smile turned slightly more predatory. “Herr Thelyss, might I inquire as to your business in Eiselcross? Seeking additional Beacons, I presume?”

The level of confusion did not rise in the group as she expected, however. The Shadowhand’s eyes narrowed and turned back to her as she pressed further. “Had the Martinet not already promised to share our research?”

“Astrid.”

Bren stepped forward, blocking her line of sight to the Kryn.

“Caleb, please.” A dark hand touched his shoulder (how dare he, her fingers twitched), pushing the man back towards his previous position. “Madam Beck,” he continued, “your insinuations would be quite dangerous in almost any circle but this one.” His shoulders back, he lifted slightly higher off the ground. “I am not interested in being toyed with. Clearly you were sent to dispose of me, so go ahead. Complete your business. But do not waste my friends’ time with your attempts to reveal that which is no longer concealed from them.”

He knew? Bren fucking knew? They all knew what this man had done and walked out into a frozen hellhole with him? Showed him trust, and affection of all things? Her mind swam, staring her target in his face as she searched for any fracture, any sign of weakness. He can’t possibly have told them everything. How could they forgive him for starting the war they had foolishly pledged to end on their own? How could Bren trust him, but not-

“It’s true, Astrid.” Bren said softly in that verdammt voice. “We caught on before the peace talks out at sea. Lord Dezran Thain,” he gave the honorific a teasing lilt, “was a bit too careless. He should not have chosen to be a lord in a city in which he did not know of its main attraction.” He smiled towards Jester.

“Yeah, I don’t know of a single person from Nicodranas who doesn’t know my mamma. Sorry Essek,” she winked at him. He gave an awkward smile in response. Silence hung over the group for a moment.

Wulf finally piped up again. “Well, you’re correct that we were here to kill the Shadowhand.” The group quickly tightened at his words, apart from the firbolg who still stood beside him casually, focused on making tea in that pot on top of the orb. “But... how we do that now is a mystery to me.” His lazy glance cast over her, then Bren, then narrowing briefly on the traitor. He gave a shrug as he unceremoniously sat in the snow. “So let’s talk.”

“Yes, I think there’s much to discuss,” the firbolg said, pulling the now-warm pot from the orb and beginning to pour cups. He smiled towards her sympathetically, somehow looking through her and reaching across the circle with a mug before sitting back and offering another to Wulf. She took it delicately, glancing at the pattern of soft petals on a dark branch.

As the other cups were passed out and the group slowly sat back down, Wulf popped open his flask and poured his whisky into the cup until it reached the brim, then capped it and flicked it across the circle to her. Barely looking up from the cup, she caught the flask mid-air with practiced precision, choosing to take a swig from it directly rather than sullying the tea. A calloused hand with blackened fingertips entered her view from the left as she tilted her head back down. Requesting, but not demanding. Too kind, too tender, and it made her heart ache as the liquor burned her throat. Not meeting his eyes, she passed the flask along.

“Prost.”

Oh, k- k- k- k- k- keep your pity to yourself

Oh, I'll make you wish that you didn't love someone else

[hysterialevi]

Eitr | Chapter 3

Fanfic summary: In an alternate universe where the Raven Clan is wiped out, Sigurd ends up being rescued by the son of a Saxon ealdorman, and is tasked with being the boy’s new bodyguard. Upon meeting the boy’s father however, Sigurd soon realizes that the ealdorman is responsible for his clan’s destruction, and secretly plans for revenge while hiding behind the guise of a Norse pagan turned Christian.

Point of view: third-person

Pairing: Sigurd Styrbjornson x Male OC

This story is also on AO3 | Previous chapter | Next chapter

TWO DAYS LATER

FORANGAL CASTLE, THE CHAPEL

Placing his hands together, Ealdorman Aegenwulf bowed his head in respect and gently shut his eyes closed, whispering a brief prayer as he stood before the chapel’s great Crucifix.

At the moment, there was no one else in here with him. The chapel was dim and grey due to its enclosed nature, and the only light that managed to seep in was through the circular window that stood aloft the lonely altar.

Strangely enough though, Aegenwulf found a sense of peace in it. He had spent so much time warring with the Danes and battling against his own grief, that the overwhelming silence of the chapel actually provided him with some tranquility.

It was the only place where he could be alone with his thoughts nowadays. Outside of these stone cold walls, everyone always seemed to be watching him; studying him. Waiting to see his next move.

And on top of that, he still had three other children to protect, in spite of losing his eldest. They were young and inexperienced, and less aware of the war’s cruelties than Gareth had been.

It was a responsibility that Aegenwulf wished on no man. The weight of his burdens often felt impossible at times, and the more the tensions began to rise in Wedenscire, the more the ealdorman found himself wondering if any of this was even worth it.

“O, Father,” he said softly, his voice low and desolate, “thou who watches us from the heavens. Forgive me of my sins, and free me of the darkness that troubles my soul. I fear this war has led me astray from the path of righteousness, and I do not wish to deviate from Your grace. Please, deliver unto the dead the paradise they could not find in this world, and protect those who still stand from the evil that would sheathe them. ”

He paused for a moment, trying to keep his composure. “...Guide my son as he finds his way into your kingdom, and embrace him with the peace that was robbed of him in death. Allow him to rest at your side, and eradicate any shadows that should linger in his heart. Teach him not to fear, for I know he is in a far better place now.”

The ealdorman brought his hands closer to his face, muttering one last word. “Soþlice.”

Standing up from the floor, Aegenwulf fell into a profound silence as the lingering echoes of his prayer bounced off the chapel’s walls, filling the air with a solemn chime.

He knew not whether God could actually hear his cries, or if He had any intentions of answering them, but in a time when comfort was so rare to find, Aegenwulf frankly didn’t care.

All he needed was peace. The death of his son had torn him apart with a grief unlike any other he had ever experienced, and as the days rolled by -- minute by minute, hour by hour -- the ealdorman found himself being drained of the tenacity he once held.

It seemed pointless sometimes, to come to this chapel. Very often, Aegenwulf felt as if his prayers fell on deaf ears, and considering how the flames of the war were rising so rapidly, part of him began to wonder if this was all part of God’s plan somehow.

Was there a meaning behind all this? Some sort of higher purpose that was being written in the blood of their fallen soldiers? Did their suffering actually contribute to anything? Or was this all simply a result of man’s nature, and the chaos that humankind often sowed?

He didn’t even know if there was a Heaven at this point. The brutalities between the Saxons and the Danes had become so horrific in the recent years, that Aegenwulf found it more and more difficult to believe that anything pure awaited them beyond their realm.

How could it even be possible for something like that to exist? In a world where death, hatred, and pestilence were so prominent, how was it that something as perfect as Heaven -- or as God Himself -- could’ve been somewhere out there, watching over them?

Aegenwulf didn’t know the answers to these questions, nor where to find them, but for the sake of granting his son the afterlife he deserved, and for preserving his own sanity, the ealdorman decided to not second-guess it. It was the only hope he had anymore, after all. And he did not wish to snuff it out.

“Ealdorman?” Someone suddenly said, drawing the man’s attention away from the altar.

Aegenwulf glanced over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn the rest of his body.

“Hundwerth,” he greeted dourly, recognizing the man’s unscrupulous voice. “Solitude is a luxury in Forangal these days. I would not have it robbed of me.”

The bishop bowed his head apologetically, approaching the ealdorman. “Forgive me for the intrusion, my lord. I know you come here for solace. But I fear there is a much more urgent matter that requires your attention.”

Aegenwulf sighed, returning to his more dutiful temperament. “What is it? And speak plainly, bishop, for I have no desire to run around in semantic circles.”

Hundwerth came to a halt, standing directly in the sliver of light that poured in through the doorway. “Your housecarl, Algar, has returned from his travels. He brings news of the ambush in Ravensthorpe, and awaits you in the throne room.”

“He’s back already?”

“Indeed. He seemed rather confident when he arrived this morning. I assume things went well in Ravensthorpe.”

Aegenwulf stepped away from the altar, addressing the bishop more directly now.

“Assume nothing in war, Hundwerth. I will not rest easy until I know for a fact that those barbarians lie dead in the muck. Are my children aware of this attack?”

Hundwerth shook his head. “No, my lord. They asked a few questions in light of Algar’s absence, but overall, they still seem to be preoccupied with mourning their brother.”

The ealdorman was relieved at the news. “Good. They keep a strong face, but I can see that Gareth’s death has shaken them all. I would not have them burdened by the troubles of this war as well.”

The bishop changed the subject, eager to inform Aegenwulf of the second issue. “There is... one other matter, my lord. And I fear this one will require a much more delicate approach. That is, if you do not wish to alarm all of Forangal and Agenbury at once.”

Aegenwulf didn’t like where this was going. “Oh? And what would that be?”

Hundwerth began pacing around the chapel, lowering his voice as he spoke.

“Your healer, Linette. I noticed she’s been acting rather... odd, recently. Different. Granted, she’s never really been an ordinary woman, but her behavior has shifted over the past two days, and not in a manner that I would consider beneficial.”

“What type of behavior are we talking about, exactly?”

“She’s become distant. Secretive. Perhaps even a little paranoid. I’ve seen her pacing around the castle late at night, and making trips to the infirmary underneath the shadows. She speaks to no one during these mysterious endeavors, and often seems to actively avoid me. It’s almost as if... there’s something she would not have me know.”

The ealdorman shrugged. “So, you wish for me to investigate? Is that it?”

“No, my lord,” Hundwerth corrected. “For I have already taken the liberty of doing that myself. I entered the infirmary this morning whilst Linette was away, and found the most interesting patient lying in one of her beds.”

Aegenwulf grew tired of the bishop’s ramblings. “Get to the point, Hundwerth. What did you see?”

“A Dane, Aegenwulf. Your healer has a Dane in her infirmary, and is tending to his wounds as we speak.”

The ealdorman froze upon hearing that, not entirely sure if he understood Hundwerth correctly.

“A Dane,” he repeated sternly. “My healer is lending her aid to a Dane. Are you certain of this, bishop?”

The other man nodded assuredly. “As certain as I am that the moon will arise in the evening. Though, I should clarify, it was not Linette who brought this pagan into our midst. Based on the information I have gathered thus far, I believe she is helping this Dane at the behest of your daughter, Edlynne.”

Aegenwulf shook his head in frustration. “Oh, Edlynne... that naive girl. She carries the same compassion her mother once did, but I fear her rationality is often overshadowed by it in these situations.”

Hundwerth furrowed his brow in disapproval. “She has also been rather vocal about her interest in the Danes before, I’m afraid. It seems your daughter is drawn to them.”

“That’s because she has not witnessed the same horrors I have. She has not seen the way those savages sacrifice our people to their gods, nor what they do to our women. Edlynne believes the Danes to be misunderstood, and would have me welcome them with open arms. What she does not realize is that I am simply trying to protect her.”

“She is but a child, my lord. She will soon understand the necessity of your iron fist. Just give her time.”

Aegenwulf sighed, crossing his arms. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, what do you intend to do about this issue concerning Linette? Shall I have the guards remove this pagan from our grounds?”

The ealdorman thought about it for a moment. “No. That won’t be enough. I know Danes. They never stop fighting until their last breath. If we wish to be rid of this man completely, we will need to kill him.”

Aegenwulf began making his way out of the chapel, swiftly heading to the throne room as his cape fluttered behind him.

“I shall speak with Algar and get his opinion on the matter. He has just returned from the very nest of these snakes, and I would like to hear what he has to say before taking any action.”

Hundwerth seemed content with the plan. “A wise approach, my lord. I shall be here in the chapel if you need my assistance. Stay safe in these trying times, for I worry things are only going to get worse.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

THE INFIRMARY

Pain. That was all he could feel. 

In the midst of the cold and darkness that currently surrounded him, Sigurd found nothing but its familiar embrace to welcome him as he finally emerged from his slumber, bringing him into an environment he did not expect.

Instead of feeling the warmth of Fólkvangr’s sun-kissed fields, or the bone-biting winds of Helheim’s wintry snows, the only thing Sigurd could detect was the comfort of a soft bed lying beneath his fingertips. 

...He wasn’t dead. Not yet, at least.

The gods had granted him a second chance.

He had been saved by that mysterious man on the shore, and given an opportunity to recover. 

But... what about Eivor? Or Randvi? Or the rest of his clan? Were they still alive, and healing from their wounds just as he was? Or had the Valkyries already escorted them to Odin’s feast, and laid them to rest?

Part of him didn’t even want to think about it, given the circumstances. He had already struggled so much just to survive, that he did not wish to hear if his brother had become a corpse by now. He imagined he was already going to have a difficult enough time trying to regain his strength, but to be entirely alone in this ordeal... the very idea of it made his heart sink.

Forcing his eyes open to a slit, Sigurd squinted as a burst of sunlight flooded his vision, painting everything in the room around him with a disorienting haze.

The only things he could make out were the soft edges of a nearby window from which the light poured through, and the blurry silhouette of what appeared to be a girl accompanying him.

At the moment, she seemed to be unaware of his newly conscious state and simply tended to her own matters, humming quietly under her breath. Her voice sounded fairly younger than Sigurd would’ve expected, and the size of her shadow led him to assume she was no more than a child. Possibly the daughter of whomever rescued him.

Lifting a hand to block the sunlight, Sigurd suddenly felt a sharp sting gripping him in the chest as his wounds strained to keep up with his movement, causing him to let out a faint grunt.

The girl instantly glanced upwards upon hearing the abrupt noise and gasped in surprise, pleased to see that her friend had finally risen from his sleep.

“Oh my goodness...!” She said softly. “You’re actually awake! Can you... can you hear me?”

Sigurd remained silent in response, still trying to get his bearings. 

This girl... she sounded like a Saxon. Though, she clearly wasn’t just any Saxon. Her appearance suggested she may have been some type of noblewoman -- or perhaps, in the service of one -- and the quality of her dress was obviously not something that a commoner would’ve been able to get their hands on.

Her hair was well-groomed and decorated with a few simple braids that stretched down to her back, and a beautiful necklace dangled from around her neck. An heirloom, perhaps?

She spoke with an unusual sense of kindness that Sigurd did not typically receive from her people, and the discretion in her voice only led him to believe that she was in the minority. Was he even welcome in this place?

“C-Can you understand me?” She asked, picking up on Sigurd’s confusion. “I know this must be... strange for you.”

The Norseman blinked a few times, finally able to make some sense of what was going on.

“What...? Where... where am I...? What’s going on?”

The girl’s expression lightened with relief. “So you do speak our tongue. That’s good. You’re in Wedenscire, friend. In the ealdorman’s castle. The infirmary, specifically.”

That took Sigurd by surprise. “...The ealdorman’s castle? Why would an ealdorman save a Norse?”

“Well, he didn’t,” she clarified. “His children did. Me and my brothers brought you back from the nearby town after a fisherman found you washed up on the shore. Normally, we would’ve left you alone, but you would’ve died without a proper healer’s treatment.”

Sigurd took on a more serious demeanor, suddenly growing wary of the girl’s intentions. “So... you are the ealdorman’s daughter, then. And why would you go out of your way to keep me alive? What is it you hope to gain? Information? Secrets?”

The girl shook her head, eager to deny his suspicions. “Oh, no! Nothing like that.”

“Well, you must want something. Or did you simply save me out of the kindness of your own heart?”

She glanced downwards, admittedly a tad embarrassed to confess her motivations.

“...Well, y-yes, actually. I know that may sound incredibly naive of me, but you were dying. And I didn’t have the heart to just... leave you behind. The fact that you’re a Dane--” she quickly corrected herself, “--or a Norse, doesn’t change that. The truth is, I don’t want anything from you. I only wish to see you recover.”

The girl sounded like she was being sincere, but even then, Sigurd’s instincts urged him to keep his guard up regardless.

“...If your words hold truth to them,” he said, “then you have my thanks. I do not remember much from that night, but I know for a fact I would not have survived without your people’s help. Or your own. I owe you.”

The girl relaxed a little bit, hoping to maintain the trust between them.

“Might I ask your name? I’m Edlynne.”

He sat up, his body aching with every movement. “Sigurd.”

“Sigurd...” Edlynne repeated with a smile. “Well, Sigurd, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You’ve been unconscious for two days. If I’m being honest, part of me never expected to see you wake up.”

Sigurd paused at that. “...I’ve been here for two days?”

“Indeed. You were on the brink of death when we found you. It’s a miracle you survived. How do you feel?”

The viking glanced down at his bloodstained bandages. “Better, considering how I was before.”

“That’s good. Do you think you can walk? You sustained quite a few injuries from that night.”

Sigurd shifted his body a bit, testing its limits. “I... believe so. Just give me a moment--”

Interrupting their conversation, a boy suddenly came barging into the infirmary with a panicked expression on his face as he brought his gaze to Edlynne, quickly shutting the door behind him.

He also carried the look of a nobleman and wore a simple yet sophisticated tunic, paired with a short cape wrapped around his shoulders. As for the boy himself, he appeared to be around Edlynne’s age and had hair of the same color -- only his was cut so short that the bottom of his head was nearly bare. A relative of hers, perhaps?

“Sister...!” He said urgently, keeping his voice down. “We--”

His eyes landed on Sigurd, causing him to fade into silence.

Edlynne glanced back and forth between the two of them, unsure of what was going on.

“...Joseph?” She asked, her tone quiet with anxiety. “Are you alright? You seem perturbed.”

Joseph gestured to the viking, his eyes wide with surprise. “He’s awake?”

“Yes. He woke up not too long ago, in fact. We’ve only been speaking for a few moments.” She held an introductory hand up to him. “This is Sigurd. Sigurd, this is my twin brother, Joseph.”

The boy strode further into the room, his actions swift with haste.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m not in the mood for pleasantries, but I’m afraid we have a much bigger issue to address at the moment.”

“What is it?”

“It’s father. I don’t know how, but he’s discovered that we have a Dane in the infirmary, and he is not happy.”

The girl quirked a brow. “What? How could he possibly know that? Did someone tell him?”

“I-I don’t know...! It wasn’t me or Edric, that I can assure you.” He froze. “...You don’t think it could’ve been Linette, do you?”

Edlynne rejected the idea. “What...? N-No, of course not! I know she was apprehensive about all this in the beginning, but she wouldn’t endanger the life of one of her patients, Dane or not.”

Joseph sighed in discontent. “I suppose it no longer matters. The main problem right now is that Algar has returned from his travels, and is on his way up here as we speak...!”

Sigurd joined in. “I assume this is bad news for me?”

The boy turned to him. “Considering our father hates your people and would see you all dead, yes, I would say so. There’s also the fact that Algar himself isn’t fond of vikings either.”

A thought crossed Edlynne’s mind. “Well, what about Edric? Do you think he could sway father’s mind?”

Joseph didn’t seem too confident. “Possibly. He’s speaking to father in the throne room at the moment, but you know how much he distrusts Danes. Even if he convinces father not to kill our new friend here, I doubt the outcome will be favorable anyway. If you truly want to help Sigurd, we’ll have to do something ourselves.”

The girl was at a loss. “Like what?”

“...We’ll have to get him out of Forangal.”

Edlynne gestured at the stone walls around them. “And how are we supposed to do that? We’re locked in a castle surrounded by guards. Not to mention that all the gates are shut. How do you expect us to leave with a viking in tow?”

Joseph paused for a moment, trying to devise a plan. There weren’t many escape routes they could access from the infirmary -- especially in broad daylight -- but every castle had its blind spots. There had to be something.

He perked his head up in realization, his expression lighting up with an idea.

“Wait, I might have a way out.”

“Well? What is it?”

The boy gave Sigurd an apologetic look, uncertain of how the man would react to his suggestion.

“The corpse carts.”

Edlynne blinked in confusion. “...You want to use the corpse carts?”

“Why not? They’re filled to the brim nowadays because of the war. I doubt anyone would notice if we snuck another body into the pile--”

“--Oh, for God’s sake, Joseph!” The girl exclaimed in disgust.

“Well, do you have any better ideas?”

Edlynne paced around the room, crossing her arms in thought. “I don’t know, but there must be a better way. One that isn’t so... morbid. Perhaps we could disguise Sigurd? Clothe him in Saxon attire?”

“Disguise him?” Joseph repeated, clearly not on board. “Look at him, Edlynne! Unless you can get him a full suit of armor with a helm and cloak, he’s not getting past anybody.”

The girl grew frustrated. “The same could be said about the corpse carts. Our guards might be lazy sometimes, but they’re not stupid. Those bodies have been in there for days now. Surely, they’ve already rotted and turned grey. You really think they wouldn’t notice a living person hiding amongst them?”

Joseph shrugged in defeat. “Well, Sigurd looked pretty dead when you first brought him here.”

“That isn’t--”

“--My, my.” A fourth voice said, causing the twins to fall completely silent. “Bickering already?”

They both turned towards the door, only to see Algar himself standing in the entryway. 

“...Shit.” Joseph muttered, sticking close to his sister. “Hello, Algar.”

The housecarl leaned against the frame, greeting the siblings. “Lord Joseph. Lady Edlynne.”

Algar was a mountain of a man. Even without the thick layers of plated armor to bolden his towering physique, the man himself was intimidating enough.

His face was lined with deep creases around the eyes and nose, and the shape of his brow always seemed to be stuck in a permanent scowl. There were multiple scars littered across his skin -- the most prominent one being a gash that traveled from the top of his head all the way down to his cheekbone -- and one of his ears had been sliced clean off.

Despite his damaged exterior though, Algar still seemed to look after his appearance somewhat. His dark hair was short and parted -- save for the baldness that had been rendered by his scar -- and his beard had been neatly trimmed to  fit his jaw.

He was certainly unlike any other Saxon Sigurd had ever seen, and the further he stepped into the room, prowling towards the viking like a lion, the more the Norse began to wonder if there was any hope of him surviving this day.

“My God,” Algar said with a chuckle as he gaze landed on Sigurd. “You really do have a Dane in here. I didn’t believe Hundwerth when he first told us about your new friend, but it seems that the bishop isn’t completely full of shit, after all.”

He glanced at the twins. “Where’d you find him?”

Edlynne knotted her hands together out of nervousness. “I-In Agenbury.”

“Agenbury?” He said, his voice quiet like the hiss of a snake. “Odd place for a viking.” He turned to Sigurd. “Care to explain what you were doing there, Dane?”

Sigurd scoffed. “You speak as if I was there voluntarily. The river carried me there when I was unconscious. I had no intentions of delivering myself into the hands of the enemy.”

Algar smirked. “No, but it seems that God did. For He knows of your crimes, and He knows you must face retribution.”

Joseph stepped in, admittedly uncomfortable about letting the housecarl too close to their new friend. “Why are you here, Algar? What does father want with Sigurd?”

“He wishes to meet the man. Face-to-face.”

Edlynne didn’t know whether to be relieved or worried. “That’s... it? He just wants to meet him?”

Algar nodded. “Indeed. Unlike some of the other ealdormen in England, Aegenwulf actually looks his enemies in the eye before executing them.”

“No!” Joseph protested. “You can’t kill him! He’s done nothing wrong!”

The housecarl gave him a cautionary glare. “Calm yourself, little lord. Whatever your father commands is what I will carry out. If you have your quarrels with him, I’d suggest taking them to the throne room. He’s rather eager to see this Dane removed from our midst... and so am I.”

Algar placed a hand on the hilt of his sword, urging Sigurd to follow him. “Well, come along then, Dane. Ealdorman Aegenwulf awaits.”

Edlynne timidly approached the man, hoping to dissuade him. 

“Please, Algar. Leave him be. He’s still injured. Can’t you let him rest for a moment? W-We don’t even know if he can walk yet.”

“Then I’ll drag him by his bloody ankles.”

She glowered at him. “You can’t just--!”

“--It’s alright, Edlynne.” Sigurd reassured, holding a hand up. “I’ll follow him.”

“But...”

“It’s alright.” He reiterated. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve dealt with an ealdorman.”

Joseph placed a hand on Edlynne’s shoulder, attempting to calm her down. “Let it go, sister. There’s nothing we can do now.”

The girl let out an uneasy breath, but stood down nonetheless.

As for Sigurd, the man slowly threw his legs over the edge of the bed and braced himself for the upcoming trip, uncertain of how his body was going to handle his weight.

It had been days since he last stood on his own, and judging by how severely his wounds reacted to him simply lifting his arm earlier, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to walk without leaning on something -- or someone.

Pressing his feet against the stone floor, Sigurd grunted in effort as he pushed himself up from the bed, trying to ignore the agony that was now piercing his flesh.

It was clear that he wasn’t quite ready to be roaming around just yet, but based on the urgency of the situation, he assumed he didn’t have much of a choice.

“Well, would you look at that...” Algar taunted with a grin. “The dog’s still got some bark left in him.”

Edlynne stared at Sigurd with a shocked expression, evidently taken aback by his surprising height. The viking wasn’t quite as tall as Algar, but he still towered over the twins like a walking Goliath.

“How do you feel...?” She asked.

Sigurd clutched his arrow wound, attempting to suppress the pain. “Far better than I look, I assure you.”

Algar beckoned the Norse. “Then you’ll be fit enough to see Aegenwulf.” He turned on his heel, taking his leave from the infirmary. “Follow me, Dane, and try not to fall over. We don’t want your blood staining our floors.”

Staying behind for a moment while the housecarl made his way out, Sigurd exchanged looks with the twins and fell into an agitated silence, unable to deny that he shared their fear.

He had no idea if he’d be leaving the throne room alive, or if he’d even get the chance to make it that far, but seeing as how Edlynne and Joseph were fond of him, he hoped they’d be able to convince the others to spare him.

He wasn’t normally in the habit of begging Saxons for his life, but with the state that his body was currently in, Sigurd had no intentions of provoking anyone just yet. He may have been a warrior, but he certainly wasn’t stupid.

“Be careful, Sigurd.” Edlynne warned. “Our father isn’t a bad man, but... he’s controlled by his grief these days.”

That piqued the man’s interest. “Grief? Did something happen?”

Her tone sank with heartache. “...Yes. Our eldest brother, Gareth, was killed about a month ago. By a clan of Danes.”

Joseph added onto her explanation. “The Raven Clan, specifically.”

Sigurd froze upon hearing that, paralyzed on the spot.

...Did he just say the Raven Clan? Surely, that couldn’t have been right. He was well aware that the vikings had a reputation for being cruel to Saxons -- not all of it without reason -- but their clan was different. Eivor was different. He would not have condoned the killing a man who did not deserve it.

Though, of course, that presupposed the notion that Gareth was innocent. If someone in the Raven Clan deemed their brother worthy of a kill, Sigurd was certain that it must have been for a good reason.

There was clearly more to this story, but for the moment, he restrained himself from prying.

“Ah...” Sigurd simply replied, trying to conceal his sudden dread, “I see. You have my condolences.”

Edlynne didn’t seem to notice the shift in his mood. “Thank you. We pray for him everyday, but... there’s no way of knowing if he’s truly at peace. We can only hope.”

Joseph changed the subject, not wishing to dwell in these thoughts. “But enough about that. You have an ealdorman to greet, and we have much to prepare for, in the event that you don’t return.”

Sigurd nodded, following Algar’s tracks into the corridor. “I understand. Thank you both for your help. Even if your efforts end up being in vain, you will still have my appreciation.”

“Good luck, Sigurd.” Edlynne said, bidding him farewell. “May God guide you in the storm ahead. I have a feeling these next few days are going to be difficult for all of us, and I would not wish for more struggles to be thrust upon you.”

[headoverjojo]

Ask box open? Ohmygosh, my patience has paid off!! 💕💕 Okay! Umm...Could I request hcs of La Squadra with an older Sister who is taller and physically stronger than them? She knows how dangerous and deadly they could be with their stands, but when it comes ti hand to hand combat she can whoop them no problem. And she embarrasses them sometimes when they give her some kind of attitude for treating them like kids, and she bonks them on the head very hard and fireman carries them into time out.

Hellooooo, darling!! Aaaaaa I’m happy to see you’re happy too ❤️❤️ Ooooh I loved this one!! I’m always soft for the squad and their family members :,) And so! Here we go! I hope you’ll like it :3

La Squadra di Esecuzione with an older sister who’s taller and physically stronger than them

(Under the cut for length!)

Risotto Nero

Risotto always deeply admired his big sister. She was strong, determined, and stubborn! She was also extremely fair, not holding back when she had to scold little Risotto when he was wrong; but, when he was right and she saw someone being rude to him, well… hell was unleashed. No one could dare to touch or be rude to her little brother! Risotto always watched to her and her example. He trained to be like her, he worked on himself to be as fair and charismatic as her… and it worked! Years later, his sister was proud of him. Yes, his profession wasn’t… common, but he never was an infamous man, even if he was the leader of a criminal team. He always had a certain honor, and she was still in his life… she couldn’t complain!

Even if she hadn’t red eyes or white hair, she was still as intimidating as her brother. She was really, really tall, even taller than him! And -and this was what impressed for real the other Squadra members- she wasn’t scared of Risotto, not even the slightest. She was maybe the only person in the world allowed to pinch his cheeks and to ruffle his hair. And, even if she was impressed and proud of his brother’s powerful stand, she wasn’t scared of it. Her brother wouldn’t have ever hurt her! As she wouldn’t have ever hurt him too.

While Risotto had the advantage of his stand, her sister had her strength on her side. It was almost impossible to believe -and Formaggio had to see it with his own eyes-, but Risotto’s sister was stronger than him when it came to hand-to-hand fights! Even after all those years, Risotto had still something to learn, and she was the only person he trusted to teach him some moves. Still, the sight of Risotto, that tower of muscles, whooped with easiness by a woman was incredible! Formaggio never told it to anyone -he was too scared to be whooped too-, but, oh, he surely never forgot it!

Even if he was the leader of the feared Squadra Esecuzioni, he was still her little brother, in her eyes. And she didn’t take well a certain attitude, even from him! Yes, a couple of times she accidentally was over affectionate while the others were present too, but this wasn’t enough to justify his grumbles and low complains! And, when she has had enough of his attitude, she gives him a little -for her standards- slap on the back of his head. Or, well, she did so until she accidentally hit him with too strength and launched his face right on the hard wood of his desk, making his nose bleed. From then on, no more slaps! Still, even those little accidents never made Risotto’s affection for her waver. He just loves his big sister!

Prosciutto

Prosciutto is the youngest kid from his family. He has four older sisters, but the one he loves the most is the youngest sister, who’s almost seven years older than him. While their parents were busy, she took care of him, passing him her same cockiness, stubbornness and creativity. Prosciutto respected and loved all his sisters, of course, but with the youngest one he always had a special relationship, even if they often fought, as they had a similar character. Maybe this was the reason they so fiercely protected each other, no matter what or where they were. All his sisters were family… but she was even more “family”. She was strong and confident, but also kind and gentle; she was the most incredible person he had ever met.

Prosciutto’s family had been blessed with a good height and this shows in his sisters too. They all are tall, but his favourite sister is the tallest. Even taller than him! And she likes to tease him about it, making him grumble and pout, like he did when he was a child. Everyone else would face his wrath, but he lets his sister do basically everything to him. He knows she doesn’t tease him in a bad way. And, when she sees him still pouty and offended, she always brings him a piece of his favourite cake, kissing his hair and apologizing for hurting him, while he hides a little, evil smile. Pouting always brings benefits, when her sister is around!

Being the kids of a leader of a small criminal gang affiliated to Passione, Prosciutto and his sister grew up knowing how to fight even before learning how to walk. But his closer sister was the most badass of them all! And the strongest, when it came to hand-to-hand fighting. Her punches were devastating, her kicks powerful; more than once she made men way bigger than her run away crying. Prosciutto always cheered for her and admired her strength; he wanted to be like her! And, also, he knew it was better not to make her angry; she would have swoop him in a matter of seconds, even in front of his friends, The Grateful Dead or not!

Speaking of stands, his sister always found extremely funny his stand. She always said it looked weird, but also cute, in a certain way, and that she found hilarious that it actually aged him to his real soul age. Prosciutto always huffed and pouted, but never used it on her; well, the only time he did, reversing her to an old lady, he was swooped anyway. Even then she still was stronger than him!

Pesci

Pesci’s big sister had always been at his side, helping him in every possible way. She was here when little Pesci was bullied and mocked for his appearance, and she was the one who furiously fought against her parents when they “sold” Pesci to the mob in order to repay their debts. The thing Pesci remembers more clearly from his childhood is his sister and how ridiculously strong and hot-headed she was. Even if sometimes he too had tested her strength -if he had a certain attitude he always received a slap on the back of his head-, he always admired the way she claimed respect from others and how vigorously protective she was towards people she loved. She was strong enough to protect her family… Pesci wanted to be like her too. He too wanted to protect his family and the people he loved!

Prosciutto was the one in the team who knew better Pesci’s sister, as he had taken the role of his big brother. She wanted to know him, to know him well; she couldn’t leave her little brother to some random weirdo! The first thing Prosciutto noticed about her -and how could he have missed it?- was how tall she was. Almost as tall as Risotto! And definitely taller than her brother and himself. Prosciutto learned soon that Pesci’s sister wasn’t a person to mess up with; he thought he was dying, after her powerful kick. He accepted that she was and always would have been part of Pesci’s life, whatever Prosciutto had to say about it!

Even when he was a mobster and, then, a member of the Squadra, Pesci’s sister always supported him. She was really proud of his stand, and always encouraged him to try to explore every use of his Beach Boy, both for daily tasks and missions. Yes, it wasn’t the life she had dreamed for her little brother, but now it was too late to go back. She could just prepare him and pray to see him coming home every day, safe and sound. And so, she always tried to teach him how to fight and defend himself when he couldn’t use his stand; Pesci learned a lot from her. Even so, he still couldn’t ever beat her, even if he was quite strong himself!

Being so protective, sometimes she slipped into a too motherly behaviour. On a normal occasion, Pesci wouldn’t have minded it, even enjoying his sister’s attentions; but he couldn’t do it when he was with his comrades! He hated to keep her far, but he wanted to be respected by his teammates, and he couldn’t achieve it when his sister was coddling him! The first time she was so hurt that he slapped him on the back of his head, making him stumble; but then, she understood she was wrong and, so, when he’s with his teammates, she stays quiet and calm. Until one of them starts to bully her little brother!

Formaggio

Honestly, having a big sister was Formaggio’s luck. If, in spite of everything, he still is a quite decent human being it’s thanks to her. When their father was too drunk to care for them, she did it in his place, making sure to send her little brother to school and trying to make their life as bearable as possible. There is no human being Formaggio respects as much as he does with his sister. She is the most important authority in his life, his rock, the person who taught him everything! Formaggio was a bratty and restless kid, and she had to work hard to keep in line. If someone was rude or, even, beat her little brother, she had no hesitation in going to beat them too -especially if they were older than Formaggio, and it was usually like this.- She was strong and her punches made more than a boy fall back; and not twinks, but big men, mountain of muscles! Formaggio always wanted to be like her. And, more or less, he managed to do it. She’s still taller than him, and stronger too, but he obtained a stand!

Formaggio never loses a chance to show her big sister his stand. He’s really proud of his Little Feet! And her sister is proud too. At least until he uses it to prank her in various ways, which always earns him a bonk on the back of his head. Formaggio learned it wasn’t a good idea to prank her sister when she bonked him when he wasn’t still at his usual form, making him fly to the other side of the room. She was so sorry about it! But she also couldn’t stop laughing, while Formaggio was grumbling and complaining, only to end up laughing too with her. He wanted to prank and, in the end, he was the one pranked!

Formaggio is really protective over his sister, as much as she’s with him. Other than his big sister, she was also, basically, his father and mother, as they were absent from their life. And, so, sometimes she slips into motherly behaviour, especially when it’s about food. She always grumbles that he has to eat healthy food, and that he has also to clean a little more his house! Sometimes, he talks back, mocking her scoldings, and this is something that makes her so damn angry. He’s still a brat, even after all those years! Not even Little Feet can save him from the punitive bonk on the back of his head. And, after that, even while grumbling and complaining, Formaggio always starts to clean or to eat healthy, at least for a while. He knows too well that his sister is able to whoop his ass in a second, gangster or not! He may have a stand, and a quite powerful stand, thank you very much, but she’s still the real powerhouse when it comes to hand-to-hand fight! Formaggio would never want to have to fight her. He knows he’d be KO in a matter of minutes!

Melone

Melone has always been smaller for his age, and too skinny. Due to his lack of good physical strength and “oddity” -he was the science kid, the nerdy kid- the other kids often used him as punching ball. Melone had a certain pride, however; he wanted to fix his situation all alone, and so he never said it to his parents, finding more and more excuses to justify his bruises. He confided the real reason of his bruises just to his big sister, the person he trusted the most in the world. She wasn’t much older than him, but she was already taller than average for her age, and she was way stronger too! She tried to respect her little brother’s will, but, when he came home bleeding from his nose and with a black eye, it was too much. She went straight to “talk” to the bullies, and, from that day, they didn’t come near Melone again. They were scared by his big sister! And his admiration for her just grew and grew. She was so strong and cool! He wanted so much to be like her…

Their paths, for a while, diverged. She went on with her life, and he entered the mob. But, finally, they reunited, and it was like nothing was changed in those years. She was still taller than him, stronger and protective! She wasn’t happy to know he was a mobster -he wasn’t expecting so-, but, despite everything, she decided to be part of his life when many other people would have chosen to just go without turning back. Melone was happy to have her back in his life, even if, sometimes, she was a little overwhelming! Especially when it came to his feeding. He was underweight and she had always tried to help him to reach a weight that at least didn’t show his bones. So, she always closely checked his meals, to be sure they were healthy and caloric. When he was a teenager, sometimes he snapped at her, earning a little bonk on the back of his head. He was her beloved little brother, but this didn’t mean he could be mean at her! And this didn’t change even when he was a grown man. He was still her little brother and she wanted to protect and take care of him!

She was surprised to come to know about stands. She was quite impressed with her brother’s stand! It was so peculiar and, in some ways, even nerdy, like he was! Still, she knew he would have never used it against her. And, when her brother had a stand, she still had her punches! Even her brother’s teammates had had a taste of them, when she caught them being rude to Melone. No one had to even think to hurt him, mobsters or not! Soon enough, everyone in the team came to respect and even fear a little Melone’s fierce sister. She wasn’t someone to mess up with!

Illuso

Illuso’s sister was the only person able to make him open up. He was a really reserved kid, who preferred to observe in silence and who rarely actively took part in whatever was going on. Just his older sister was able to make him live, to make him enjoy a little his life in Venice, a place he wanted to escape from with all his heart. And, as soon as he could, he did so, joining the mob. Still, he always remembered fondly his sister. She was tall, way taller than him, and ridiculously strong. When someone screamed at Illuso, calling him bad names, she was already chasing after them, making sure to send them home with a couple of bruises. She wasn’t scared of anything, and she was stubborn and, sometimes, even overbearing. At the same time, however, she was fair, kind and sweet, always knowing when her little brother needed a gentle word, more than an energetic prompt. Illuso loved his sister with all his heart and she was the only one of the family he still wanted to see, after joining Passione.

His sister was really curious about his stand. She didn’t even imagine that one’s fighting spirit could be embodied in something more or less physical! And Man in the Mirror’s power was amazing! She was impressed by the various and ingenious ways her brother thought for using it at his full potential. He had always been curious and inventive, and now these qualities were shining! Still, she was a bit bitter when she noticed that his teammates, sometimes, made fun of his stand, not particularly set for murders -not that Illuso ever told her what he really did for living; she just knew he was a mobster in a special team-. Once, she challenged them all to beat her at arm wrestling. Illuso felt cold sweat running down his spine; he knew too well what kind of powerhouse his sister was! And it seemed that his teammates understood it too, when they saw how intimidating and tall she was. She beat them all, and no one dared to go against her or Illuso again. Illuso never forgot that moment!

As much as he was quiet when he was observing something, Illuso was also a cocky little shit, when he wanted to. And, when he was so with his sister too, she didn’t even lose time to feel hurt or such; she slapped him on the back of his head, telling him to watch his language, no matter if they were alone or in front of his teammates. Once, she slapped him a little too hard, sending him right into the mirror world through the little hand mirror he was studying, making Prosciutto snort in his drink. From then on, Illuso always checked twice what he was going to say to his sister!

Ghiaccio

His relationship with his sister has always been… troubled. They share the same explosive character and, so, they often clashed in a spectacular way. Nonetheless, they would have killed to protect the other. They both were fiercely protective towards the other, even if people usually thought they hated each other, due to their continuous fights. Ghiaccio envied his sister because she was tall and strong; he tried everything to grow up to reach her height, but nothing worked, and, even in their adult life, she still outmatched him. She usually didn’t bring it, as he was still bitter over it, but sometimes she couldn’t resist to lightly tease him! And, to make amend for her little fun, she always offered to teach him a new fighting move. It always made him relax and even smile!

Ghiaccio was proud of his stand. In his humble opinion, White Album was the most powerful and awesome stand in the world, and no one could beat it! He always wanted to show it to his sister, every time they met. And his sister was really impressed! It was powerful and dangerous, but she wasn’t scared of it. At most, she found absolutely adorable the little cat ears on his helmet, making him grumble and complain! Even so, he never attacked her. Anyone would have been freezed to death, but not her. She was the only one who could talk to him as she wanted and who could even mess a little with his hair -another absolutely forbidden thing-; she had always been the only one who actually gave a damn about it, she had earned her privileges!

Being the older sister, she always felt the need to protect Ghiaccio from the world around them. Even now, and even knowing that he’s strong and absolutely able to protect himself, she still, sometimes, slips, ending up coddling him and being a little too protective towards him. If the team isn’t around, Ghiaccio doesn’t complain. He quite… likes, when someone actually cares about him. It’s a nice feeling. However, if his teammates are around, he doesn’t accept her attentions, ending up always chasing her away or telling her something rude, and this, usually, ignites another fight. And, White Album or not, if they come to hand-to.hand fighting, she always wipes the floor with his ass, no matter what. She’s actually the only one who can manage to do it, and Ghiaccio feels a cautious respect for her incredibly strength. He doesn’t say it loud, but he thinks that not even Risotto could outmatch her! And, even if she, sometimes, really gets on his nerves, he couldn’t be prouder of her. That’s his big sister, and no one can mess with her!

[when-they-write-stuff]

Tell Me I’ll Be Okay

pairing: sterek

word count: 3535

notes: a ko-fi commission for the lovely @maia-nebula who requested a prompt for emotionally hurt!stiles and caring!dererk and i have such a soft spot for this one. i hope i did it justice, friend.

Stiles felt it like a coming storm.

He thought that was totally cliche and a little ridiculous, but it was also the only thing he could compare it to. ‘It’ being the weight that slowly gathered on his shoulders, that is. The laughter that started to fade from his lungs and the exhaustion that hit him one day and refused to leave.

Stiles felt it like a coming storm and he was pretty sure before it left, he’d be experiencing a hurricane.

He wasn’t so sure the rest of the pack noticed. Maybe. Maybe a little.

When Stiles found himself going over to the loft, it was more of a chore than anything. He still smirked at Isaac, still shot Jackson lizard comments, and still did everything he could to get under Peter’s skin. But he didn’t feel like putting in the effort he usually would.

Jackson called him Stiles ‘Spastic’ Stilinski and Stiles couldn’t come up with a good comeback. Isaac went through three different kinds of scarves in one day and Stiles just rolled his eyes and focused on the TV. Peter made some snide comment that Stiles couldn’t even recall and he just flipped the man the bird.

Stiles was… well, he was tired. But it was more than that. The monster of the week had failed to come for nearly two months now and he couldn’t help hating that. He needed to do something, needed to throw himself into something.

He needed to feel like his presence around the rest of the pack was worthwhile again.

Stiles didn’t know what it was, exactly. But he was tired. The pack was at peace. And everything should’ve been just fine.

On the fourth week of summer vacation, Stiles buried himself in his blankets and decided to sleep until the next school year came. But he didn’t get that chance when Derek suddenly shoved his window open and pulled himself into the room.

Stiles simply blinked at him. 

Derek blinked back.

Then, with a groan, Stiles turned away and buried himself back into his covers. He could feel Derek staring for a moment longer before the man slowly approached, stepping closer and all but towering over the bed. Stiles shoved his face into his pillow and wondered what the world had against him.

“What, Sourwolf?”

“Are you sick?”

Stiles slowly turned and glared at him. Derek raised a brow, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket, and Stiles sighed. “No. Now go away.”

“Are you dying?”

“Seriously, dude, that’s your next go-to?”

“You smell wrong.”

Stiles blinked at him. His stomach plunged a little and he realized he felt sick, but not the normal kind. Swallowing hard, he tugged the covers further up to his neck and shrugged. “I haven’t showered in a few days. Don’t judge a guy for being a little stinky.”

“No, you don’t smell bad,” Derek said, eyes tinged a little red. “You smell wrong.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Is that all?”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. He could’ve sworn the man’s face turned red and Derek burrowed deeper into his leather jacket, eyes flitting down to the floor.

“Is that all you’re going to say?”

“Should I be saying something else, Sourwolf?”

“You usually do.”

Stiles stared at him. Did he? Stiles supposed he usually would’ve come up with some sarcastic or witty comment that either made Derek really mad or really flustered. He usually took joy in watching Derek’s ears turn bright red. But right now, his mind was blank. “Sorry.”

Derek’s eyes snapped back up. “What?”

“... Sorry? I didn’t realize my silence would be so bothersome for you.”

“You are sick.”

Stiles stared at him for a moment longer before groaning and turning on his side, yanking the covers all the way up over his head. He didn’t want to deal with this right now. He didn’t have the energy.

After a couple minutes, it was painfully obvious that Derek was not planning to move.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” Stiles mumbled into his pillow. “Unless it’s a shower. And in that case, you can leave cause I don’t feel like it.”

“So you’re dying, then.”

Stiles didn’t know what the hell was going on in Derek’s head.

The longer he ignored the man, he more agitated he could feel Derek getting. The man finally growled and turned back away from Stiles’s bed, stalking toward the window. With one last red-eyed glare, he pulled himself out and was gone.

Stiles thought he should feel relieved about that. Or maybe guilty. But he just… felt. He just felt.

He didn’t sleep well that night.

- -

Derek started acting strange.

Stiles might be a little out of his head, but he realized that easy enough. Because the man started showing up more often. Even when Stiles flat out ignored him or offered non-impressive insults until he had completely tired himself and his imagination out. 

Derek would come by and just… sit. He’d just sit. Sometimes he brought a book, sometimes he brought his laptop, but he would just sit. In Stiles’s room. While Stiles was attempting to not acknowledge the rest of the world.

He’d thought Derek would stop eventually. But on week two, Stiles propped himself up and glared at the man. “What the hell are you doing?”

Derek looked up from his book, raising one eyebrow. He didn’t answer or offer and explanation which made Stiles feel more emotions than he had in days. The man just blinked. Innocently. Like he was doing nothing wrong.

Stiles knew better.

“What the hell,” he said again. “Are you doing?”

“Reading.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, Sourwolf. You’re here all the time. You’re here more than you are at the loft! My dad’s going to start thinking you’re married to me or something.”

Derek crooked up a brow. Stiles felt his face turn hot.

“Not that that’s a thing. Because that’s not a thing. Which means you shouldn’t be here! I’m trying to enjoy my summer, Sourwolf, and you’re impeding on that.”

“You’re sleeping your summer away,” Derek corrected. Stiles glared at him.

“I am not.”

“And you haven’t showered in a week.”

“Showering takes a lot of effort, asshole!”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then he closed his book, set it off to the side, and stood. Stiles didn’t expect the man to approach him, nor for the man to rip off his covers and pick Stiles up bridal style, turning toward the bathroom.

Stiles squawked and wiggled in his arms, slapping at Derek’s chest. The man acted like he was nothing more than a feather.

“Derek, Derek, dammit, put me down!”

“Take a shower,” Derek said, lowering him onto the bathroom floor. Stiles glared up at him and the man shifted a little, looking uncomfortable. “Or a bath, I don’t care. But you stink.”

“Get out of my house.”

“Once you take a shower, I will.”

“Showers are hard,” Stiles whined, shifting on the cold floor and wrapping his arms around his knees. “I don’t want to.”

Derek rolled his eyes and reached over Stiles’s head, turning on the water. He kept his fingers underneath it for a moment and then turned back toward Stiles, nodding toward the bath. “Go, Stiles.”

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, pulling himself to his feet. He glared at the man before pointedly tugging at his shirt. “Do you want to stay and watch the strip show too? Because I’m pretty sure I dropped a cheeto down my pants four days ago and I reserve no judgment for when it comes falling out.”

Derek only turned away, face a little red, and closed the door as he exited the bathroom. Stiles glared after him for a moment.

He half debated chilling on the toilet for half an hour and then coming back out unshowered just to spite the werewolf, but then he decided that was dumb. He was here and the water was already on, so Stiles supposed he might as well just get it over with.

He might’ve forgotten what it was like to be clean.

Stiles turned his face toward the water and closed his eyes, finding himself starting to enjoy the warm spray. He didn’t remember washing his hair but at some point, he didn’t smell like an old sock anymore, so he supposed that was something. But then Stiles blinked to the side and realized he was going to have to get out of the water eventually.

Suddenly that all seemed very daunting.

It was ridiculous, he thought. Stiles was pretty sure he shouldn’t be dreading average tasks like this. But instead of turning off the water and pulling himself out of the warmth to face the outside world, Stiles found himself sliding to the shower floor and just sitting there.

He was trembling a little, though he didn’t know why. Stiles just turned himself away from the closed door and let the water beat over his head.

He didn’t remember falling asleep.

Only that it was a loud crack that woke him up and Stiles startled so hard, he forgot he was sleeping on the wet shower floor. Derek stood in the doorway, quickly averting his eyes, and Stiles yelped, curling into himself.

“Derek! What the hell?”

“You’ve been in here for an hour,” Derek said, reaching blindly for a towel and then moving cautiously forward. “Dammit, Stiles, what are you doing?”

Stiles blinked at him. Then he glanced down at himself and frowned. He was trembling violently now, he noticed. The water was coming down ice cold and goosebumps raced up his arms. Stiles clenched his jaw and shook his head, wondering what the hell he was doing.

Derek turned off the water and, face still turned away, handed Stiles the towel. Stiles took it silently, wrapping it around himself and huddling into the warmth. Only then did Derek glance over.

“Stiles,” he said softly. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”

Stiles wasn’t sure he had a good answer for that. So he just pushed himself up and trudged back out of the bathroom, noting the cracked doorframe. He hadn’t remembered locking the door but apparently he had.

Privacy from grumpy Alpha werewolves was impossible these days.

Stiles didn’t glance back as he changed behind his towel. By the time he was back in sweatpants and t-shirt, Derek was still there. Stiles sighed, turning back toward the man.

“Well, I took a shower. Now you may exit my house.”

“You need to eat.”

“Derek,” Stiles said, staring at him. “Why do you even care?”

“You’re pack.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, dropping onto his bed. “I’m also skinny, spastic Stiles Stilinski. Dude, you don’t have to be here. Go be all ‘you’re pack’ to the rest of the betas. They exist too, you know.”

Derek didn’t even look guilty at Stiles’s implications. He just picked a bowl off of Stiles’s desk and it took Stiles a moment to realize the werewolf had been poking around his kitchen. Derek moved over to set what looked like soup on Stiles’s bedside table and then stepped back, crossing his arms.

“Eat.”

“Go away.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles glowered at him. When he picked up the bowl, he jabbed the spoon into the soup as threateningly as he could, but he thought that was kind of rendered moot by the fact Derek didn’t seem to notice. Or care. The man’s eyes were just fixed on Stiles and the action of him actually following orders for once.

Stiles didn’t realize how hungry he actually was. He tried not to dwell on that fact.

By the time he was done, Derek had returned to his spot at Stiles’s desk and his book, and Stiles set the bowl down loudly on the bedside table. Derek startled, glancing back.

��Done,” Stiles said. “Goodbye.”

Derek looked a little sad and a little hurt. Stiles wrapped himself in blankets and tried to ignore that fact.

But, true to his earlier words, the man started toward the window. He glanced back one more time before pulling himself out and Stiles actually hoped he’d say something. Or maybe make up another excuse to stay.

But then Derek was gone. Stiles looked quietly at the window before his gaze flitted back to the desk. Derek had left his book, he realized.

Stiles blinked at it. Then he rolled over, away from the open window and away from Derek’s stupid book.

He slept a little better than usual that night.

- -

Stiles didn’t remember the last time he’d been grateful for a new Beacon Hills threat. But the town was being terrorized by a rogue wendigo and Stiles had never been so glad to throw himself back into something. He felt like he had more energy than ever as he helped the pack track down the wendigo, make a plan to detain it, and then actually go after the feral thing.

But then Derek took him by the shoulder and pull him away from the others. 

“I want you to stay back,” Derek said, and there was no way they were far enough from the rest of the pack to avoid them hearing anything. “When we trap the wendigo, I want you to stay back. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Anger bubbled up in Stiles’s throat. He glared. “Just me?”

“Just you.”

“Dammit, Derek!” Stiles said, yanking away. “You don’t have the right to order me around like that!”

“I’m your Alpha,” Derek said, eyes glowing red. “I have every right.”

“Yeah, well you can shove being my Alpha right up your ass!”

Someone laughed from a few feet away— Stiles was pretty sure it was Erica. Derek’s eyes flickered brighter and Stiles yanked away from the man’s hand on his shoulder, gripping his baseball bat tighter. “Stiles—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Derek.”

Stiles stalked back toward the others and ignored Jackson’s smug look. It had been a while since Derek tried to put him on the sidelines but that was the last thing Stiles wanted to deal with right now. 

Derek didn’t say anything else as he moved over too. Instead, he went over the plan one more time, gave Stiles a final look, and then moved away.

Things went downhill from there.

Stiles was pretty sure it was because none of them had actually realized that the wendigo might go feral instead of backing down. But one moment things were going to plan and the next, Stiles was watching Jackson getting thrown into the nearest tree and glowing yellow eyes were turning to where he stood.

He was pretty sure he heard Derek yelling at him to run. But Stiles took one look at the wendigo, another at his baseball bat, and made a decision.

He’d made better ones before.

He came back to consciousness when he was in a hospital gown, the top opened up and a long line of stitches crossing his chest. Stiles blinked at them a few times before glancing around, trying to remember what he could.

He knew he’d misjudged his swing. He remembered feeling a sudden pain, remembered Derek’s howl in the air, and then the sound of a feral roar being cut off.

Stiles groaned. Dammit.

The door to his room opened and Derek was there; just staring. For a moment, they looked at each other and then Derek moved forward, quietly closing the door behind him. Stiles wet his lips and fiddled with his hospital gown.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He was here when we brought you in,” Derek said. “And all through the stitches. They had to put you under a lot of anesthetics.”

Stiles blinked at him. Derek sunk into the chair at his side.

“You’ve been here for a little over a day. Your dad was called back to the station a couple of hours ago, but I told him I’d keep an eye on you.”

Stiles scoffed, turning away. “Of course you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Stiles?”

The question wasn’t angry or harsh. Derek sounded genuinely hurt and confused, a hand reaching out to lay across Stiles’s arm. But Stiles tugged away and glanced over at the opposite wall. “Nothing.”

“Stiles—”

“Nothing, Derek.”

The man was quiet for a moment. Then, “You could have died.”

“Any of us could have died.”

“No, Stiles,” Derek said, and his voice cracked a little. “You could have died. Going after that thing was one of the stupidest decisions you’ve ever made and I don’t think you would have made it a few months ago.”

Stiles turned back to glare at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That you knew.”

“Knew what, Derek.”

“You knew it was a bad idea,” Derek said, searching his face. “Stiles, you knew that was a bad idea. There’s no way you couldn’t have.”

Once more, Stiles turned his face away. But this time, Derek didn’t back down.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

Stiles’s stomach flipped. He clenched his jaw so hard, his teeth gnashed, and he didn’t answer. Because of course, he wasn’t. He’d just made a mistake. It had been a calculated risk, hadn’t it? Stiles could’ve been the one to take the wendigo out. He was just doing his part to help.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. “Stiles, please talk to me.”

“I don’t know what you want from me, Derek.”

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong!”

Stiles finally turned toward the man and glared. He struggled to sit up more, wrapping an arm around his stomach. Derek’s eyes widened and the man tensed, but when Stiles snarled at him, he went still. 

Derek looked at him like he was standing on the edge of a cliff and the man was begging him not to jump. Stiles hated it.

“I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, Derek! I don’t know what you want me to say!”

Derek’s eyes flashed red but he didn’t say a word. Stiles looked sharply away, trying to swallow down the lump rising in his throat.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Derek,” he murmured. “There’s something wrong in my head. I’m just so tired.”

Derek was quiet for a long moment. Then he reached over and caught Stiles’s hand, fingers threading through his own. Stiles tried to swallow the knot in his throat but he still gasped lightly as he felt Derek pull some of the pain from his injury. 

Because right now, that was really all the man could do. Stiles’s eyes burned a little and he determinedly didn’t look in Derek’s direction. Until the man rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand and sighed.

“There’s nothing off in your head, Stiles,” he said. “I promise.”

“I’m not trying to get myself killed.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to die, Derek.”

The man’s hold tightened, even though there were no more black lines creeping up his arm. Derek never drew away. He’d never drawn away, Stiles noticed. Not once.

Not months ago. Not now.

“I know, Stiles.”

Stiles turned to face him, burying his face in the man’s shoulder as he held him tighter. Stiles didn’t know exactly what he needed, but right now maybe this was enough. This was… something. This was a step forward instead of standing still.

“Nothing’s wrong with you,” Derek said. “I promise.”

“And if something were?”

“I’d be here.”

“And if it’s not, but it doesn’t go away?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, pulling back and brushing a thumb over his cheek. “I’m here.”

Stiles swallowed hard. Because Derek was., he always had been. For months now.

“I know,” Stiles whispered. “I know.”

And he did.

- -

Stiles felt it like a coming storm.

He thought that was totally cliche and a little ridiculous, but it was also the only thing he could compare it to. ‘It’ being the weight that lowered itself further and further onto his shoulders, that is. Like grins he didn’t completely feel and exhaustion behind his eyes that he couldn’t just sleep away.

Stiles felt it like a coming storm and he was pretty sure that as things went on, he was experiencing a hurricane. 

But he never really faced it alone.

There was a man that always came through his window, even when Stiles had just been at the loft hours earlier. He’d bring a book, he’d sit in the corner, and he’d just be there. Even if Stiles flat out ignored him for hours at a time.

There was a man that made canned soup, lugged Stiles into hot showers, and made sure that he didn’t get himself killed when the monster of the week decided to show up.

There was a man that promised he’d come, promised he’d stay, and never once left Stiles’s side. Even when Stiles felt weary,

Weary, he decided, was it. He was weary, sometimes, and it took more than a few smiles or a few naps to make it go away. Through the normal, the supernatural, and everything in between, Stiles found it so easy to be weary. But Derek was somehow always there. 

He was always there through the storm.

There was always a book left on Stiles’s desk for when Derek came back.

- -

(if you enjoy my writing, consider supporting your underpaid student writer? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[katiesfics]

Meet Ugly #18

Alright, so I’ve never written a fic before...but my first one was over 3000 words. So I’m sharing it here, and possibly uploading to ao3? Still tbd lol, we’ll see how I feel about it. Anyways, if you’re interested, it’s under the cut.

Sighing, Stiles checked his watch again. It had been almost 30 minutes since Matt said he was going to go grab them drinks, and he still wasn’t back yet. Not surprising, but still annoying.

Stiles’ suit collar was getting itchy, his feet hurt in the stiff dress shoes Matt made him wear, and he was sitting alone at their table, watching all of Matt’s coworkers mingle and chat around him. He ran a hand through his hair and looked around to see if he could spot him, but his cursory glance showed him Matt wasn’t even in the room anymore.

He hadn’t really wanted to come tonight - Matt subtly refused to introduce him to any of his coworkers, so he always ended up alone once Matt decided networking was more important than keeping him company. And sure, Stiles knew that these things were important networking nights, particularly for Matt, but if the priority was meeting other people and talking shop all night, why did Stiles need to be there? He’d played the supportive boyfriend/partner/whatever to Matt for all of these events, but Matt never even tried to make sure Stiles felt included. It was always, “Oh I see the project manager of such-and-such department, I’m going to go talk to them, you’ll be fine, right?”

Stiles had tried to talk to him about it once, after he noticed a pattern forming, but it had ended up in a blowout fight, the first of many. Matt had yelled at him that he wasn’t supportive enough, that clearly Stiles didn’t care about his career at all. Before Stiles had managed to get a word in, he had even insinuated that Stiles was only there to help boost his image to the board, make it seem like Matt was a family man, put-together. After seeing the look on Stiles’ face after that comment, he had tried to back-pedal and take it back, but Stiles had walked out the door before he could start the lies.

Stiles sighed, thinking about all the subsequent fights they’d had since then. When Stiles had first met Matt, he had been so friendly and confident, and Stiles had been drawn to his persistence and drive for his career. Now he wondered if he’d ever been a priority, or if somewhere along the way his rose-tinted glasses had cleared and he could see Matt as he always was.

Jackson had been urging him to end it for months, saying he could tell Stiles was unhappy, that this was a completely one-sided relationship. The sad thing was, Stiles couldn’t even disagree with him. After they’d moved in together though, he’d felt like he was trapped. If they broke up, he would have to move out, pack his things, find another apartment… It just felt like an impossible task when he was already so tired from having to tread carefully through their daily conversations - or arguments.

Speaking of Jackson, Stiles saw him walking towards him and waved him over. Stiles never tired of seeing Jackson in a suit; as much as Matt seemed to grow even smarmier in a suit, Jackson was practically born into it. He felt his shoulders relax with relief that he wasn’t going to be sitting awkwardly by himself anymore.

“Hey! Where’s fuckboy?” Jackson asked him as he sprawled into the chair next to him and threw an arm around his shoulders.

“Dude,” Stiles murmured quietly, “you could at least try to have a sense of decorum, Mr. I-was-raised-as-a-debutant. I don’t really care when we’re at home, but this place is full of people that work with Matt and could potentially be his boss. I can’t let him hear about you calling him a fuckboy, he already hates you enough as it is.”

Jackson rolled his eyes so hard his head hit the back of the chair. Stiles wondered if it hurt him. “Stiles, I literally couldn’t care less. He is a fuckboy, and I will call it like I see it. Also, you know I thrive off of making his life miserable. I like to think of it as cosmic karma.”

Stiles had to hide a laugh behind his hand. “I don’t think it’s cosmic if it’s coming from you, dude,” he said.

In the back of his mind, he couldn’t quite believe that Jackson actually worked for the same company as Matt. He’d met Matt through one of Jackson’s company happy hours, which was something that Jackson was consistently bemoaning, saying that he had led Stiles down this path of misery. Jackson was just as career-driven as Matt, but after his power-hungry high school days - where Stiles was on the receiving end of one particularly bad spiral - he had taken a step back and realized how much he was hurting the people around him, especially his friends. Whenever Stiles saw Jackson at these events, he always made a point to stop and sit with him and introduce him to the people who came up to say hello.

“Oh! Look, there’s someone I want you to meet. I think you two will get along swimmingly,” Jackson said with a smirk and a sideways look at him. Stiles got a little nervous at that look, knowing that it meant he was once again trying to show Stiles that he had better options than Matt. It never went well.

Jackson got up and walked over to a tall, dark-haired man as he came from around a corner and pulled him towards their table. When he saw him, Stiles had to admit to himself that this man was a pretty spectacular-looking human being. His suit was almost as impeccable as Jackson’s (which was saying something), and his surprised look disappeared when he realized Jackson was the one dragging him across the room.

“Stiles, I’d like you to meet Derek. He’s new on my team, and he could really use another friend,” Jackson said, bringing him right up in front of Stiles. “Derek, I’m glad you could make it tonight! I’m going to go grab us all some drinks, and I’ll let you two get acquainted.” Jackson turned to walk away, giving Stiles a wink over his shoulder as he did so.

Stiles wanted to facepalm at the blatant attempt of his best friend, and when he looked up, Derek looked just as uncomfortable. He gave him a small smile as he stood up and said, “I apologize about Jackson. I swear he does have social skills, he just likes to conveniently forget them in order to spite me.”

Derek gave him a brief smile and seemed to shake himself. “I’m sorry, he kind of caught me off guard. It is nice to meet you though, do you work here?”

Stiles' gaze darted around the room again. “Um, no, actually my boyfriend does, but I think he’s out networking with people. He’ll probably be back soon.”

When Stiles looked up, Derek seemed to have a concerned look on his face, but it soon was replaced with a smile, and he said, “Well, I’m glad you’re here anyway. Jackson has been great at introducing me to people, since I’m not so good at putting myself out there.” He smiled bashfully, and Stiles was struck just then by how cute he was. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking like that, but he had eyes, alright? And Derek was hot, and soft-spoken, and his lips were pink and a little swollen-looking, aaaaand Stiles needed to think about something else real fast.

Suddenly, he didn’t have to, when an arm abruptly grabbed him around the waist and pulled him into the person behind him. Before Stiles could turn around, he heard Matt say, “Stiles, who’s your friend here?”

He looked over his shoulder and saw Matt giving Derek a weirdly predatory smirk. When Matt saw him turn his head, the look went away so quickly Stiles couldn’t really be sure he’d seen it in the first place, and he shook it off. Matt smiled at Stiles and leaned down to kiss his neck. It made Stiles feel slightly uncomfortable, with Derek standing right in front of them, especially after Derek had just told him that he was shy.

Stiles looked up to introduce Derek to Matt, and frowned when he realized Derek looked horrified. It would be really disappointing if this new guy was homophobic, and he tried to reason with himself that there was no way Jackson would knowingly be friends with someone like that.

“Matt, this is Derek, Jackson’s new coworker. Derek, this is Matt, my boyfriend.” As he said it, he felt Matt’s smile grow, and his grip around his waist tighten, pulling him in closer to Matt. Stiles was confused, because Matt was never really the jealous type, so the extreme PDA was unusual.

Derek meanwhile was still looking like someone had just told him his dog had died. “Derek, are you - ” but he didn’t get to finish before one of Matt’s business friends came up and interrupted him.

“Matt! I’ve been looking for you everywhere, I’ve got a proposal that I wanted to go over with you and Bill, why don’t you come join us?” he said. Matt immediately agreed and, letting go of Stiles, gave him a quick smirk that seemed to intensify when he glanced at Derek, before turning around and following the other man into the middle of the room.

Stiles stared after him for a minute, trying to decipher that look, before he turned to try and check in with Derek again. Before he could fully turn back around, however, he was abruptly dragged off towards the corner of the room. Taken by surprise, he didn’t try to fight it, and Derek pulled him around the corner and spun to face him as soon as they were out of sight of the rest of the party. He had a haunted look in his eyes, and his mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but nothing came out.

“...Derek?” Stiles asked, hesitantly reaching out a hand towards him. Derek flinched away from the contact, and Stiles immediately pulled his hand back. Now he was worried. “Derek? Are you okay? Did I say something? Did something happen? I’m gonna need you to talk to me buddy, because clearly something’s wrong, and I’m not sure how to help you.”

Jesus, he’d literally met this guy like 20 minutes ago, how was he supposed to help him when he was clearly panicking about something? Where was fucking Jackson when he needed him?

“I - ” Derek started to say, but he stopped. His shoulders hunched, but then he clearly came to a decision and squared them. “I just made out with your boyfriend!” he blurted out, immediately shrinking back in on himself as soon as the words came out.

Stiles froze. Well, that was unexpected. He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind blanked. “Uh, what?”

His response seemed to jar Derek out of his panicked stare. “I’m so sorry! He came onto me and he was hot and I didn’t know he had a partner, I mean how could I he didn’t say anything and I’d never met him before, but that’s not an excuse, but then he was pushing me into a corner and kissing me and I didn’t know, and it was just a kiss and he came on so strong, I’m sorry, and I kind of felt dirty about it afterwards but now I feel disgusting how could I have done that to you, I’m so sorry - ”

Stiles could tell he was spiralling into a serious panic, and had to interrupt him before the guy had a full-blown breakdown in the middle of this company party. “Dude, dude, slow down. It’s okay. I mean, I guess it’s not okay, but it’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known! I’m not upset with you, alright? But I need you to breathe.”

He grabbed Derek’s shoulders and watched him as he spoke, making sure he really heard him. He hadn’t even really processed what he’d said, but he couldn’t let Derek continue thinking this was his fault. He started taking deep breaths, watching as Derek’s heaving chest and shaky breaths slowly began to match them. Finally, after about a minute, he looked calm enough to keep going.

Stiles tilted his head down to make eye contact with him. “Derek, look at me. I’m going to be really honest here...Matt’s a fucking asshole.” Derek gaped at him. “I mean it. Truthfully, at this point, this doesn’t even surprise me.”

Stiles sighed as he took one of his hands off of Derek’s shoulder to run it through his hair, subtly tugging on it to ground himself. He looked down. “We’ve been...having issues.” Stiles huffed a laugh. “Okay, more than just issues. It feels like a lot of this relationship has been just going through the motions for the past...I don’t know, five months? Jackson has been begging me to end it with him for even longer than that, because he can tell I’ve been miserable, but I’ve been putting it off because we’ve been together for so long, you know?” He sighs again, dropping his head into his hands.

Derek hesitantly reaches out and grabs Stiles’ hand in his own. “I’m so sorry. I...don’t really know what you’re going through, but I’m sorry that I caused any of this.”

Stiles looked up at him and gave him a half smile. “Yeah, I know, buddy. But…” At this, his half smile turned into a full smirk. Derek almost took a step back. “How do you feel about helping me break up with him? Then I can have a clean break and you can get back at him for using you like that.”

Derek stared at him for a moment, before his lips slowly curved up into a smirk of his own. “What did you have in mind?”

Matt was talking with his current manager when they found him. Stiles strode ahead and grabbed his shoulder, yanking him around to face him.

“Hey!” Matt shouted in surprise, and then stopped when he saw the look on Stiles’ face.

“Hey there, cheater.”

“Wha- ” Matt’s eyes widened in shock, and then he seemed to pale when he looked over Stiles’ shoulder and saw Derek standing behind him with his arms crossed over his chest. “Stiles, wait, I can - ”

“You know, it didn’t have to be this way.” Stiles crossed his arms and paused for a second. “If you were unhappy, you could have just ended it. But no, what did you do?” As he said this, he uncrossed his arms again and seemed to bolster himself. “You made out with someone at a business party, that you forced me to come to! I don’t even know why I’m here!”

“Stiles - ” Matt hissed.

“You don’t seem to care about me supporting you unless it’s from a chair in the corner,” Stiles continued hotly. “And you certainly didn’t seem to care about anything except your own dick when you made out with a stranger while you left me there! Nothing you could say right now could make this better, or even close to alright,” he said, as Matt opened his mouth again to try to speak.

Stiles ripped his arm out of reach as Matt tried to grab him, clearly hoping to move this to a more private location. “Matt, I really gave you so many chances. I defended you when my friends told me you were being an asshole.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jackson standing frozen with their drinks in his hands. “We’re done. You couldn't have made that clearer than when you made out with someone while I was sitting around the corner from you. We’re done. We’ve been done for a while, but now you can fuck off and watch me get the fuck over you, dickwad.”

And with that, Stiles turned around and launched himself at Derek. Derek caught him, and he didn’t seem surprised in the least when Stiles immediately started kissing him furiously. He was pissed the fuck off, and he wanted Matt to know how it felt.

As Derek deepened the kiss though, Stiles’ anger started to drain away, as did the rest of the room. His focus seemed to hone in on the way that Derek’s lips felt against his, and the way their bodies pressed up against each other. His arms tightened around Derek’s neck, and he thread his fingers into his hair, relishing in the way Derek’s arms tightened around his waist and lifted him off the ground.

He had no idea how long they’d been kissing, when Stiles heard a slight cough from beside him. He slowly released his hold on Derek’s hair, blinking his eyes open as he separated from him, seeing Derek’s stunned look gazing back at him. He looked over his right shoulder and saw Jackson standing there with their drinks in hand, smirk firmly in place.

“I do think you’ve made your point, dumbass,” he said, jerking his head over his shoulder towards Matt, who was standing there, dumbfounded.

Stiles watched as the coworkers that had been part of the unofficial meeting slowly realized what had happened, eyes bouncing from Matt to Stiles and back again. Some of them were still in shock, but some of them had turned their gaze to Matt, looking angry on his behalf. Matt’s attention was quickly averted from them, trying to reassure his coworkers and smooth over any ruffled feathers.

“I always knew you had it in you,” Jackson said. “I just never expected it to be this public. Bravo, Stiles, but I think I’ll just take these drinks and go find someone else to appreciate them, while you two find somewhere else to be.” He winked at the two of them before turning around and walking away.

Stiles realized he was still holding onto Derek and quickly began trying to unravel himself. Derek’s arms tensed around him, as if trying to keep him there, and then his hands moved to his hips.

“Um…” Stiles said, not making eye contact. “Thank you for helping me?”

He felt Derek’s body start shaking, and looked up sharply, thinking it was another panic attack. When he looked into Derek’s face though, he realized he was laughing silently.

“Come on, I think we should at least get out of the middle of the floor,” Derek said with a smile. He felt Derek grab his hand and start walking towards the exit.

As they emerged into the entryway, Stiles paused, causing Derek to look back at him. “Look...thank you so much for everything back there, and thank you for being a nice enough guy to tell me that my boyfriend - ex-boyfriend? - was cheating on me, but um, you don’t have to - I mean, you can - just, ugh, you can go back if you want!”

Derek’s eyebrows raised and he gave him a kind of disbelieving look. “Stiles, I just made out with you in front of your boyfriend to get back at him for being a douche. If you think I’m going back into that room, you’re insane.”

Stiles flushed and opened his mouth to apologize, but Derek cut him off before he could get a sound out. “If that kiss was anything for you like it was for me, I’d much rather get out of here and grab dinner with you, if...you’re up for that?” He gave him a hopeful, but cautious, smile.

Stiles inhaled sharply and met his eyes. “If I’m - Of course I am! I mean, anything to delay having to deal with the fallout I just left behind in that room...I could really use some curly fries,” he declared, as he grabbed Derek’s hand and dragged him towards the doorway.

Derek just laughed, squeezing Stiles’ hand in return before releasing it and throwing his arm around his shoulder, leading him out into the evening.

[jaxsteamblog]

Betrayal

Click here to read the full fic on AO3

They worked together every night of the week. Zuko always brought food and the three of them chatted together as they worked. At a certain point, they had to stop and seriously discuss transportation. This resulted in Zuko and Sokka taking measurements inside of the van but arguing about what the dimensions meant.

Katara laughed and sat back, watching them.

When it was all done and staged, the backroom looked like a construction zone. Foam blocks and partially built wooden structures covered almost every available surface. The refrigerators were stuffed with flowers. Leaves were stuck to everything.

“Tomorrow we’ll be closed, by the way.” Sokka said as he came out of the workroom with three bottles of iced tea. They sat in the alley, still damp from their cold and waterlogged activity. Zuko had pilfered the milk crates from a restaurant a few doors down and Katara didn’t even care about the hard plastic digging into her backside.

“Do we get to stay for the party?” Katara asked.

“I usually hang around and snag something from the catering.” Sokka said and drank his tea.

“As long as you guys have a nice outfit to change into, I think you could even manage to be with the other guests.” Zuko said.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Sokka said.

“Why not?” Katara asked.

“Don’t worry, he’s not coming anymore. Something came up.” Zuko replied.

“Who’s not going to be there?” Katara questioned.

“My father.” Zuko said and chugged most of his tea. After letting out a small gasp, he smiled at her. “He usually does that. He’ll say he’ll be somewhere to stress people out and then cancel last minute.”

“Full offense, your dad sounds like a jerk.” Katara said. Zuko gave a short laugh and Sokka snorted.

“They’re all jerks. Jerkbenders, every single one of ‘em.” He said.

“So how nice of an outfit are we talking here?” Katara asked.

The next day Zuko didn’t show up to help. While she understood, Katara still felt a little disappointed; she had wanted his opinion on her dress before they left. Still, Sokka’s girlfriend Suki showed up to assist and gave her seal of approval. Because Katara was driving separately, she took everyone’s garment bags, laying them out on her back seat as gently as Sokka did his flowers.

When they got to the Jasmine Dragon, Zuko was still nowhere to be found.The party planner - a very severe woman in a well-tailored tux - showed them where to put the flowers. And while she herself didn’t help, she certainly allocated enough hired hands to do so. Again, Katara was tasked with filling the vases and making sure water didn’t spill. It created a little cognitive dissonance in her, knowing that in a few short weeks she’d be learning how to use her bending to save people’s lives. But for now, she was cleaning up spills.

Once everything was set up, they all stood for a moment in quiet awe. The tablecloths were a deep blue and with the predominance of white in the flower arrangements, the snowfall effect played out over individual seas. Crystal glasses glinted under the light and the pristine dishes  were smooth tundras. Katara shivered in spite of herself.

“Awesome. Now let’s get changed.” Sokka said.

Katara gathered the bags from her car and went with Suki to the restroom. She had expected tight quarters, even with the teahouse’s obviously elite interior. But the restroom was nothing like the front of the business. There were only a few stalls, yes, but it was portioned off into two rooms; the first had a couch on one side and a vanity on the other.

“For all the fixtures, this is actually an old school style.” Suki said as she saw Katara take it all in. “This is why they were called restrooms afterall.”

The stalls were spacious and each one equipped for a number of mobility needs. But it was still a toilet stall, so Katara stood on her shoes as she changed out of her clothes.

The dress was from her Gran-Gran’s wedding; it had been a stroke of luck that Zuko’s party was basically Water Tribe themed. The skirt of her dress was almost the same shade of blue as the tablecloths and the bodice was white lace. It had been impossible to zip up at the wedding and Katara flailed about just as uselessly this time.

“Need a hand?” Suki asked from the next stall.

“Yeah, let me just get my shoes on.” Katara said.

The restroom door opened and Katara heard two women enter, talking.

“So what?” One woman, sounding bored, asked.

“So,” The other said, sounding irritated. “I just don’t know why he always does that.”

“They’re friends.” The first woman said.

“And we’re always so happy to see you.” Suki called out. Katara gathered up her things and opened the stall door.

“Oh great, he invited more commoners.” The first woman remarked.

Suki came out of her stall and went to the sinks, placing her clothes down.

“Nice to see you too Azula. Mai.” Suki said and went back to Katara. “Hey, hold your hair up.”

Katara held her clothes in one arm and lifted up her hair. She briefly examined the two new women, put off by the hostility. One of them looked a little like Zuko, mostly in the eyes, and she assumed this was his sister Azula. The other was a tall woman with long straight hair. Maybe Mai.

“I’m Katara.” Katara interjected as Suki zipped up her dress.

“I don’t think I care.” Probably Azula said.

“That’s prissy princess Azula and the other one is Mai.” Suki said. “Now do me.”

Katara turned around and zipped up Suki’s gown. It was an evergreen color, simply cut but it looked very stylish.

“That’s a great dress.” Katara said.

“Thanks. Zuko and Sokka go out a lot when he’s in town, so I had to get some adequate attire.” Suki said with faux-bitterness. She turned and flashed Katara a quick smile.

“Great, can you get out now? Your bargain bin dresses are giving me a headache.” Azula said and pushed between the two of them. Suki rolled her eyes but started walking out.

“I can’t believe they’re related.” Katara said as they exited. Guests had started to show up and now a few people eyed them awkwardly.

“Come on.” Suki whispered and headed to the side exit where Katara’s car was parked. They walked out and found Sokka standing next to the open passenger door, talking to Zuko. Both of them were in tuxes and looked pretty comfortable in them.

Katara tried to remember when Sokka had gotten used to wearing a suit. Clearly it had only happened after he met Zuko.

“Well don’t you boys clean up nice.” Suki said, her Kyoshi accent slipping out purposefully. Sokka kissed her cheek and took her clothes, tossing them unceremoniously into the backseat.

“I’d compliment you but you always look radiant.” Sokka told her. Zuko smiled and looked at Katara.

“That dress is beautiful.” He said. Katara glanced down and put her hands on the bottom half of her bodice.

“Thanks. I got it for my grandmother’s wedding.” She replied.

“Hey, so people have shown up and your sister is here.” Suki said, linking her arm through Sokka’s and leaning on him.

“Well we certainly don’t need her holding court right now.” Zuko grumbled. “Alright, I guess it’s time for me to go in.”

Sokka shut the door of the car and they all walked back in.

It only took a few moments for people to notice but once they did, they swarmed around Zuko. Clearly he was well known, and it obviously wasn’t for his uncle’s teashop. But whatever was going on back in the Fire Nation, he didn’t talk about it and Katara always felt weird when she was about to search him up online. Anything she found she knew wouldn’t be congruent with the man she had spent every night this week working on flower displays. It was bad enough to see him like this, dressed so formally and chatting up equally lavish looking people when just last night he had been covered in tiny statice flowers.

“So what’s supposed to happen?” Katara asked.

“Well, there will probably be a tea demonstration. I wouldn’t be surprised if Azula did it. And then lunch, where a ton of people will drink too much and make speeches. Then someone will push the tables out of the way and dancing will start, regardless of what time it is.” Sokka answered.

“That seems like a lot.” Katara replied.

“Is it really any different than what the rest of us do?” Suki asked.

“But everything is so nice.” Katara countered.

“That doesn’t mean anything to these people. Just wait till you see how much they rack up in damages.” Sokka said.

After about thirty minutes of greeting, an older man stepped onto a raised stage. He tapped the microphone to get everyone’s attention and Zuko took the opportunity to weave through the crowd back to them.

“Hey.” He whispered and squeezed Katara’s shoulder as he stepped behind her. Blushing, she became acutely aware of his presence behind her right shoulder as he stood next to Sokka.

“Thank you everyone for coming out to celebrate my nephew’s birthday. It is an honor to be surrounded by so many friends, and by such delicious tea!” The man said and the audience laughed politely. “Because the two greatest joys in my old age are tea and my niece and nephew, I am delighted to invite out my niece Azula to perform a traditional tea ceremony.”

The audience applauded and Zuko scoffed. Everyone started to shuffle around, taking a seat as Azula and a few others brought cases and equipment to the stage. Azula had changed into a traditional kimono and she looked serene. It was a shocking change from their interaction in the restroom.

The ceremony was artfully done and Zuko went forward to receive the cup his sister had prepared. More tea was made and people started to socialize. Other performers came to the stage to play instruments and servers brought out small dishes, all which became background noise.

Zuko kept having to get up and circulate amongst the guests, but ultimately returned to their table to eat a few appetizers and drink some tea. By the time lunch was served, Katara was already full. But this time, the alcohol was poured and the room started to grow warmer and louder.

Stopping back at their table, Katara handed him a cold glass of water, which he took gratefully.

“All the old guys are eyeing the microphone.” Suki said, leaning across the table toward Zuko.

“Probably trying to figure out how to suck up to my father while telling me off.” He replied, glancing over at the stage.

“Well that just means someone has to get up there first to set the tone.” Sokka said and stood.

“Sokka, do not tell them-” Zuko started but Sokka cut him off.

“I will confess my love to you as many times as it takes Zuko.” He said. Zuko put his face in his hands and groaned while Katara patted his back.

The microphone whined as Sokka twisted it and most of the audience watched him.

“Good afternoon everyone. My name is Sokka and some of you know me as That Native Boy Who Sells Flowers. Anyway, I just wanted to be the first to say, Zuko, you are the most handsome Fire Nation guy I’ve ever met and I hope you never change. Happy birthday you magnificent sunbeam you.” Sokka said and raised his beer glass. A few voices, most likely belonging to the younger members of the crowd, cheered as Sokka took a drink.

As Sokka made it to the table, Zuko was rubbing his chin and shaking his head. Sokka just slapped his back and sat down.

“Do you like getting me in trouble?” Zuko asked, gesturing with his hand in the empty air.

“What’s the worst that can happen? You get another scar?” Sokka said and then made a dismissive sound. “You’ll be fine champ.”

There was a tapping on the microphone and they looked over again. Mai stood there, holding her champagne glass and leaning over the microphone gracefully.

“Thank you Sokka, I’m always glad to know my boyfriend is in such safe hands when he’s away from home.” Mai began. Katara felt her stomach sink and she sat up in her chair. Boyfriend?

“Zuko, you know I’m not one for grand speeches. But I’m here, which is saying something. Happy birthday.” Mai continued and raised her glass. “To the Fire Lord.”

The entire audience and Zuko raised their glasses and replied, in near perfect unison, “To the Fire Lord.”

Zuko looked uneasy and didn’t turn as he took a drink. Good thing, as Katara’s hands had turned to lead and she hadn’t been able to move them.

1 2 3 4 5 6

[wu-sisyphus-gang]

Motion Sickness: 62.0 It Takes All Kinds

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

“So…” I trailed. I didn’t sit down. I stood by the door awkwardly. 

“So?” Taiyang wondered. He stared me down with folded arms while I waited for Ruby to finish what she was doing in the kitchen. 

I imagined if I said something like ‘your daughter is pretty hot, right?’ That wouldn’t go over very well. What the fresh fuck are you supposed to say to the guy who’s little girl you’re banging on the regular? I was trying to knock her up. Sure, I was marrying her. But I was also fucking her. So what did I say? Oh, also I killed this guy’s first wife in one on one combat. So there was that.

“Ruby must have gotten most of her looks from her mom. Summer, right?” I finished. “I mean… I see where Yang got it. In both you and Raven Branwen. But Ruby must have taken mostly after her mother.”

“You knew Raven?” He asked. 

“I… I fought her twice. I killed her the second time. I have her sword… do you… do you want it?” I asked. I was unsure about what protocol was. 

He sighed and looked away. “I didn’t know that about you. No. I don’t want it. It’s yours by all rights. And Ruby does take after more Summer than me. It’s a good thing. It reminds me of her.”

I nodded a little. “Couldn’t have been easy with how she wanted to be a huntress. With how both of your girls wanted to be hunters. I hope… I hope my kids choose something else.”

“It wasn’t a walk in the park. I worry about them but I had to let them go. I couldn’t hold them back,” he agreed. “But you’re planning on having kids? With Ruby?”

I nodded. “Ruby wants four. Weiss wants two. They want to drown me. I think.” 

“You’re a lucky guy.”

“You… everyone says that. But they wouldn’t if they really knew me. You feel me?”

Taiyang laughed. “A little bit.”

“Ruby and Weiss are all I really have. I lost everyone else. And if I lost them I’d lose it in a bad, bad way. I… I have some real power behind me and I’ve done some pretty terrible stuff with it before when no one was able to stop me. And we’ll see how I fucking handle kids.”

“Ruby trusts you with it. That counts for something.”

“Ruby trusts a little too easily,” I bit out. We both knew it. 

He sighed. “Maybe. You took off with her to Mistral. That was you.”

“Back then I thought they were just her enemies and it was my place to serve beside her. It was my honor to serve her and hound her enemies like a dog.” I thumbed the wolf stud in my right ear. 

“But they weren’t just her enemies. Ozpin’s enemies,” he nodded. “I don’t know the details like Qrow and Summer did.”

“My family are those enemies. I defected from them. I fight them now. I… I lead the fight in many ways. It’s my responsibility to fight them. It will kill me. And Ruby and Weiss are trying to squeeze as much life out of me as they can before I bite it fighting something like Ozpin’s enemies or something for the council.”

“You run errands for the council?”

“They pay well enough and it’s sort of my duty. The money can’t buy what I really want but it pays for pretty much everything else pretty handily for my ladies.”

“Summer used to run those sorts of missions,” he breathed. He slumped on the couch and looked tired. “I’m sure Ruby worries about you.”

“Ruby worries about literally everyone. But yeah. She worries about me. But it’s… it’s really only a matter of time. You know? Until I run into something too big for me to handle. And there’s no one who can really bail me out if I’m in a bad way. But in the meantime I have my women and a pretty good job.”

“Beacon, right?” He asked. 

I nodded. I walked over into his family room. I folded my arms in front of my chest and listened to Ruby work in the kitchen. She was after the old pots and pans and sheets which belonged to her mother. She wanted them at our house. It wasn’t far. Just a thirty minute drive. 

“Well, you seem like a good kid…” he murmured. 

“But looks can be deceiving,” I finished and shot back under my breath. I leveled a glare at him which he met with stupid, tired apathy. 

“Ruby’s an adult. She can make her own decisions,” he whispered. “She always wanted a big family and I’m glad she’s getting it. Raising kids is safer than hunting.”

“It’s just as hard, though. Isn’t it.”

“It’s harder,” he corrected lowly.

“I was worried about that,” I nodded. “I suspected as much,” I sighed. “Luckily I’ll have Ruby and Weiss to bail me out of a bad situation. Set me straight when I’m wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“That or this world stops being my problem. I lost it before. I know what would shatter me again. Losing Weiss or Ruby would be intolerable. I literally couldn’t handle it.”

“Kids change you,” he disagreed. 

“Vale would be gone. No one could stop me from tearing down cities in my madness. Atlas and Mistral too. It would break me and I would level mountains out of spite.”

“Kids change you,” he repeated. 

“Nothing could change this,” I disagreed. “We call that checkmate.”

“Maybe. If you have kids they could ground you. Keep you sane,” he murmured. “My kids kept me sane. Both times.”

“I would break. I’m already glass. Ruby has no idea how fragile I am and how she holds me together. She’s my moral compass. I would perish. I couldn’t do what you did. Luckily I’m the one slated for death. I couldn’t handle it if it was one of them.”

“We don’t really have a choice. I had to keep going for my little girls. I didn’t have a choice. I had to let Summer and Raven go. I had to push forward. They were so wonderful and they held me together but I had to keep going for my little girls.”

“Not so little anymore.”

“No. Not so little anymore. Now she’s somebody else’s sweetheart. And I just have to trust that she’s making the right decision for herself with who she chooses. You seem like a good kid but I sort of have to take it on faith.”

“Sounds hard.”

“Wait until you have a little girl of your own,” the words dripped from his lips like an ancient curse. “Then tell that to me.”

“Weiss wants a little girl. A boy and a girl. I’m not sure if she wants both bad enough to do some in vitro bullshit. But I know that’s what she wants. And Ruby I think is up for dealing with whatever hand she gets dealt.”

“Six is a lot.”

“It is. And they’ll probably have to do most of the work without me. Especially if I bite it.”

“But you want to give it to them?”

“I’d do anything for them. I’d even fight my family and try to walk away for them. It’s so easy to say. ‘I’d do anything for you.’ But would I actually? Would I kill my friends if they asked me to? I’m having kids for them. Because they want it. And that’s pretty hard. Maybe it’s even the hardest task that they could ask me to do. You know?”

He nodded like he got it.

“I’m gonna fail. Whether I beat my family or not, I will fail to be a good enough parent. It’s literally impossible to do a good enough job,” I monologued. 

“I take offense to that. I did good enough,” he protested. 

“You’re not allowed to be offended because did you?” I shot back. I didn’t quite accuse him but I made it clear that I disagreed. “Or could you have done better?”

He said nothing. He scratched his scraggly chin but wouldn’t meet my gaze. 

“How do I do it?” I asked him. “How do I do a good enough job? On top of all my other responsibilities?”

“You can’t,” he murmured, shaking his head. “You will fail,” he promised. His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“I knew it,” I breathed. “But I have to try anyway. They’re asking me to try anyway. They want me to try. They really honestly believe I can be a good father even with all my other bullshit. And I can’t talk them out of it. And I’ve tried. And I would do anything for them. And it scares the living shit out of me. Even more than my family does.”

“Good. You should be scared. Six,” he reminded me. He gave me a kindly smile. 

“Thank the gods I have two of them to support me or I would be fucked.”

“But then again you wouldn’t be having six without the two of them.”

“You been to our place yet?” I asked. 

He shook his head.

“You’re welcome to swing by. Big empty house to fill with all those little ones. That’s the plan.”

“The wedding is there as well, isn’t it?” He confirmed. 

I nodded. “It is. That’s the accord, at least. As far as I’m aware. Most of the planning is those two. I’m sort of just along for the ride.”

“They both taking your name?” He asked. 

“Yeah. Both of them. I suppose I had better ask for your blessing.” 

“Is that how you ask me?”

“Yeah. It is.”

He sighed heavily. “Did you ask Weiss’s dad for his blessing to marry her?” 

“Weiss isn’t on speaking terms with her father. I was going to ask the man she chose to walk her down the aisle. A butler who actually raised her named Klein.”

“So you don’t intend to ask her father?”

“No. She hates her pop. She couldn’t care less if I had his blessing or not so I don’t care about asking for it.”

“But you do care about mine? And this other man’s? Klein’s?”

“To an extent. Ruby wants to marry me. I’m gonna marry her. You can either give me your blessing or you can not. But I’m gonna marry her regardless because I love her and she loves me. It’s still your choice to give me the blessing or not.”

“But it doesn’t really matter. You’d marry her anyway.”

“I’d like your blessing. Ruby cares what you think. That counts for something.”

“And I’m supposed to give it to you off of one conversation?”

“You got to take me on faith. Isn’t that what you said? And yeah, maybe don’t give it to me today. Maybe don’t give it to me in general. But I’m gonna marry Ruby. We’re gonna have kids. You can be as big of a part of that as Ruby lets you.”

“What about you? You gonna cut me out?”

“Not unless you motivate me to. Please don’t motivate me to. And it would take more than not giving me your blessing to motivate me to.”

“So how important is this blessing.”

“I think it’s important to Ruby.”

“So… pretty important?” He asked. 

“So pretty important,” I agreed.

“But not so important that you wouldn’t marry her against my will?”

“You’d have to have some pretty potent will to stop me. You couldn’t stop Ruby from leaving for Mistral under my protection. When I was her dog and nothing more. Even if you would have wanted to and I’m willing to bet you would have rather she stayed here. Nice and safe. Not out dealing with those same forces that took her mother from you.”

“Would you kill and die for Ruby?”

“Easily.” I pulled my shirt up to reveal the bifurcating scars Tyrian left behind. “This serial killer came after us out in Anima and I almost died rather than let him take her. When I killed for the first time it was in Ruby’s defense. I’d do it again now. I have a lot more power now than I did then. I’d do more if she asked me for more. Like having kids.”

“Like having kids. Put your shirt down, kid.” He gestured at me and I lowered the fabric. “I’m probably going to need more than one conversation.”

“No problem,” I agreed. “You had two wives, right?”

“Not at the same time,” he shook his head. “Not like you will.”

“Just about,” I shrugged. “Ruby and Yang are what? A year and a half apart? Minus nine months implies… You moved on fast at the very least.”

“I never really moved on and got over Raven.”

“Ouch,” I informed him. “But Summer scooped you up nice and quick.”

“Yeah, I suppose she did.”

“You can be more honest with me than that.”

“I… I don’t know what you mean?”

“Did you sleep with Summer before Raven left you?”

He said nothing. He wouldn’t meet my eye.

“I was just curious. Does Ruby know?” I wondered. 

He shook his head.

“How do you want her to find out?” I asked. 

He lowered his face into his hands and rubbed hard. “Don’t tell her, please. I will. When I’m ready.”

“Fair cop. Fair enough. Just don’t wait too long. I don’t want to have to tell her.”

“Making me the bad guy?”

“Holding you responsible. I have to be responsible for so much bullshit. Your daughter comes up to me and tells me ‘take responsibility for me, won’t you?’ You have to be held responsible for the impact you have over her emotions too. And if I have to hold you responsible so that she’s informed and aware of everything she should know, then I will. That’s my job. I’m the person she turns to now.”

“She used to turn to me…” he muttered. 

“You had your time, old man,” I fired out. “She’s mine now.”

“And if I don’t like it?”

“Well let’s ask her. We’ll tell her you don’t like it and ask her to decide.”

“That’s not fair…” he trailed slowly and quietly.

“Really? What’s not fair about it? You had her for fifteen years, old man. I’ll be lucky to squeeze out ten. You don’t get to sit there and tell me it’s not fair. Your time as the sun has passed. I’m her sunshine now. And I worked hard to get there. I killed, and bled, and almost died to get there. Over and over again I killed and bled and almost died. Worse than that happened to me too. What’s not fair? Tell me specifically? If I’m not a good enough man for your daughter you better come out and accuse me of such.”

“You’re not a good enough man for my daughter,” he looked me dead in the eyes. I rolled mine.  

“Yeah, no shit. But she chose me anyway. She chose to save me. She could have left me in the garbage where I belong. Now I’m the most powerful man on the planet and it’s all because of her. She has the power to make and unmake me. I’m only the most powerful man on the planet.”

“And this other girl? Weiss? You want her too?”

“I always wanted Weiss. Ever since I was young. She was my first real crush. She was the question with the changing answer. ‘How do I be good enough?’ Do I need to be faster? Stronger? Smarter? More confident? Do I need more power? Always more power. Unending with the power. When is it enough? And of course the answer is that it’s never enough. It can’t be. I can’t be enough. I was never going to be. But she also chose me anyway.”

“And how did you three get together?”

“How we got together… Ruby and I dated out in Anima. Then I got split up and they and I weren’t sure that we’d ever see each other again. Then Weiss and Ruby got together. They were always close and had good chemistry. Then when we found each other again Ruby begged me not to make her choose. She begged me. So I gave it a shot.”

“How magnanimous of you.”

“Please. I’m allowed to have something. Just because you never figured out how to make it work with your business doesn’t mean we can’t. And Ruby begged me to try. I had no choice. And I always wanted Weiss. It just played out well. If we tried it again a million times I think they’d exclude me. And I would deserve it.”

He leaned back and sighed. 

Ruby walked in carrying a box from the kitchen. She looked between us. “What are you two talking about?”

“You,” I answered. What else did me and this old man have in common? You, Ruby Rose. Or Ruby Arc, rather. 

Taiyang sighed heavily again. 

“I was just giving this kid my blessing. He asked for it and you trust him. That’s good enough for me.”

“Oh, well that’s wonderful. I’m glad you two can get along. And you don’t have to worry, dad, Jaune’s good material. He’s a wonderful person.”

“You wouldn’t be marrying him if he wasn’t,” Taiyang agreed. 

pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq pq

-WG

[theimpossiblescheme]

The Last of the Fires

I didn’t think it was possible for me to be dragged even farther into Cyrano de Bergerac hell, but by God @nonchalantdanger found a way.  This alternate universe we’ve come up has already yielded some great results (I was already pretty proud of the first fic I wrote for it, and then reading the add-on... chills), so I thought I would take another whack at it.  This takes place a few hours after that add-on--the truth has come out, Cyrano and Roxanne have more than reconciled, and now Christian has to figure out his new place in the world... enjoy!

Another greasy campfire had been lit in the camp of the Gascony cadets, but this time they finally had something to cook over it.  Miraculously, Ragueneau was still pulling legs of lamb and whole partridges from his and Roxanne’s coach, which the soldiers accepted and devoured gleefully. Strains of old victory songs rang through the air, and at long last a few men could be heard to laugh.  Even de Guiche, sitting with a barely nibbled-at turkey breast by the fire, was smiling more than any of them had known him to smile. The relief of triumph over the Spanish was palpable, and it had touched everyone present, young and old.

Christian wished he could feel that relief so keenly.  Instead, sharp jabs of anxiety kept intruding, making it impossible for him to eat. He hadn’t seen Roxanne since he left her in the surgeon’s tent.  No doubt she’d talked to Cyrano… he couldn’t imagine what they might have said to each other, though.  Knowing Cyrano, he would deny everything—that he’d ever loved her, that he’d ever written a single letter, that he’d ever given Christian the smallest word to say—but Roxanne was in such a holy fury that Christian doubted very much that she would leave it at that.  Perhaps they’d spent the whole time arguing—that might explain her long absence, but it was hardly a comforting though.  Christian had seen both of them angry, and that was terrifying enough, but for them to be angry at each other… he’d never forgive himself for causing it.  Maybe he should have… no.  No, he was glad he’d said what he’d said.  It had hurt tremendously, but a greater hurt would be to stand in the way of their happiness.  The two people he cared for more than anyone else in the world.

Where that left him… he wasn’t sure yet.  But he supposed he’d find out in time.

The fire sputtered a bit, and Christian leaned forward to stir it back to life.  Through the flames, he could see a figure limping toward the camp, leaning heavily on an old walking stick.  Only when the figure turned in profile did Christian recognize him and smile in spite of himself.  Le Bret, though limping himself on his injured leg, turned away from one of the old supply wagons and raced toward him, pulling him into a fierce embrace.  After pulling apart, the two exchanged a few brief words, and Le Bret patted him on the shoulder before returning to his duties.  As he watched the figure grow closer, Christian felt his palms starting to sweat, the way they always did around… around her.  What would he say now?  What would he do?

Looking up, de Guiche’s lips curled in a small smirk, though this time it came without his usual contempt. “So you managed to survive after all, have you?”

Cyrano merely flashed him that dangerous grin before carefully lowering himself to sit nearby. “I had thought you would sound more disappointed.”

“Not necessarily.  Surprised, perhaps, given your endless barrage of gasconades just earlier today. You sounded quite content—excited, even—to die in battle.”

“Perhaps… but Providence has given me another task to complete.  I could hardly die leaving that great will so unsatisfied.”  Cyrano gave Christian a meaningful sideways look, and Christian felt a new chill run through him.  

“Mm.”  Peeling the skins away from the eaten parts of his turkey breast, de Guiche returned the rest of it to a nearby basket and stood, swiping a delicate hand over his ribbons.  “I must attend to what remains of our supplies.  See that this one stays out of trouble, Nuevillette.”  And he left the two men alone by the fire.

So.  “You have… spoken to Roxanne?” Christian ventured, balling his hands into fists and kneading them fitfully against his thighs.

“I have, yes.”

“And she said…?”

The slightest little disbelieving laugh huffed out of Cyrano as he struggled to repress a smile.  There was a look of… what could almost be described as peace in his eyes, a look Christian had never seen before.  “More than I could have dared to hope.”

“She loves you?”

“… Against all wisdom, against all possible odds… I would never have thought it possible unless I were to hear it from her lips.”  His expression changed as he looked back up at Christian.  “Though I fear she was rather uncharitable to you, my friend.”

“Why—what did she say?”

For what felt like far too long, Cyrano hesitated, gathering all his finely spun words into precisely the right web for the present moment.  “There was never a doubt in my mind,” he began, deliberately looking away and gazing toward the fire, “that your love for her, even in my borrowed declarations of the same, was sincere.  You were willing to give her up entirely, as I was, for her own happiness.  You say that I am your soul, but your own needs no embellishment of fine words and glib turns of phrase.  I decorate mine with small glories, but yours rings golden. And yet… she insisted, for my sake or for hers I cannot tell, that your marriage can be annulled.  That her love for you has cooled.  And I cannot help but think that rather unfair, after all you have done for her.”

Christian felt his hands twisting tighter.  He’d already cried once today, he couldn’t risk it again—not in front of Cyrano.  It was true, that same thought had crossed his mind. There were no witnesses to the marriage; it was unrecorded, uncelebrated, and unconsummated.  Throughout the siege, he’d entertained many a dream of returning home to Roxanne and curling up beside her under one blanket, finding her warm and willing… but no.  She would be making love to a shadow, and he would have to convince himself that she truly saw him every night, not some other man with a different voice.  Christian remembered that night under her balcony, her rapt silence as Cyrano practically sang to her in such words… he would never have thought of them himself, God knew, but they all rang so true.  “Your name is a golden bell hung in my heart.”  Perhaps he was a little in love with Cyrano’s words that night, too. He could feel that same bell pealing in his chest, crying the name of the woman he’d adored.

The woman he might never see again.

He forced a smile.  “Perhaps I should take a leaf out of your book. Learn to love from afar.”

“No.”  Cyrano’s voice was firm.  “I have endured that torture for as long as I can remember, even when we were children together.  There is no greater lingering pain than to love one who neglects or even refuses your very existence.  I would not wish that pain upon you.”

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your happiness, Cyrano.”

“And I have spent enough time hampering your own--”

“Stop.”  Christian ran a hand over his hair, fitfully pushing some of it back into his braid.  “I wanted to say this before, when the fighting first broke out... I don’t wish to be my own rival anymore.  And you have already given up so much for her.  You talk about being unfair to me, but neither of us have been fair to you.  She... she’s made her views perfectly clear, and if I--if I ever cared for her, I have to honor them.”  Roxanne was no prize for either of them to claim.  She had made her decision.  Both of them wanted her to be happy... it was as simple as that.

“But is this truly what you wish, Christian?”

“Yes.”  And he was surprised to find how much he meant it.  After everything the three of them had been through, somehow this felt inevitable.  Inevitable and only right.  This was as graceful an exit he could make on behalf of two people he loved in his own fashion.  “You... you have been my friend even when I have not treated you like one in return.  And I can’t lie to Roxanne any more than I already have.  Besides, she can’t marry two men.”

“Perhaps in a just world she might.”  It was Cyrano’s half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood, but his expression softened into something gentler as he clasped Christian’s shoulder.  “But in this one now, I promise you will love again.  You shall find someone who loves all that you are and not merely what you pretend to be.  Someone you will not feel the need to impress so constantly… you were placed in an unfair position from the very beginning, and I am sorry for it.  The love you deserve is safer and kinder than what you were granted.”

“Oh, I don’t regret any of it for a second,” Christian replied, shaking his head.  It occurred to him that neither of them had been so honest with each other before today, and it was almost embarrassing... and yet oddly freeing.  “This is--this is going to sound ridiculous, I know, and I’m sorry… but I don’t think I will ever be out of love with Roxanne.”

“No need to apologize.  In truth, I would never expect that. She is very easy to love, I’ve found.” A smile flickered back onto Cyrano’s face.  “Carry that torch if you must, my friend, but a day will come when you find it too heavy to bear, and you must set it down for another to bask in its glow.  And you will know that day that it no longer truly burns for her alone, and you shall be happy again.”

“...Do you really think that?”

“I do, or may I live another hundred years and never fight again.”

Christian considered his words.  Ever since that night in the theater, it seemed that Roxanne was the only woman in the world, but now... now the world had opened back up again.  And in so many words, Cyrano was urging him not to be afraid.  “I dearly hope you’re right…”  The idea of there being someone else out there in the world… as lovely as Roxanne, as brilliant, as spirited, but not quite as… well, intimidating.  Someone who could listen to Christian’s damned fool clumsy words and not turn him away… someone with whom he could be more than just a pretty face and a slow tongue… it seemed so inconceivable, a far-flung fantasy.  Yet Cyrano had said it with so much certainty.  And he’d feared almost the same thing, hadn’t he—that he was too ugly for any woman to love?  If he could be proven wrong… why not?  Yes, why not…?  “I should still like to speak to her before we leave.  If she will allow it, that is.”

“You shall have that chance, I promise you that as well. In the meantime…”  Planting his stick in the dirt before him and veering gently out of Christian’s reach, Cyrano rose slowly to his feet again.  “I promised Le Bret I would help organize our return to Paris.  You get some rest, and for pity’s sake eat something.”

“I will.  Thank you.”  Before he could stop himself, Christian’s hand shot out to catch Cyrano’s arm as he turned to go.  “I mean that… thank you.”  For understanding, for being there for so long, for giving him another chance... he could go on and on if only he could find the words.  Thankfully, Cyrano seemed to understand, nodding and giving Christian’s arm a brief squeeze of his own before limping off. Even on unsteady feet with shrapnel in his shoulder, the white plume of freedom floated above him, unspotted and ethereal.

Eventually the last of the campfire had guttered and stopped, and de Guiche had addressed his men one last time in the dark, detailing plans for their return to civilization and offering rather backhanded congratulations for their unlikely victory. Christian barely heard him—after the day he’d had, there was such a weariness in his bones that he could sleep for the next six years.  As everyone slumped back to their bedrolls and tents, Christian followed suit, unravelling his threadbare blanket from the cocoon he’d twisted it into the night before and pulling up his rucksack to use as a pillow.  But there was something laying over it: a note, folded three times. He unfolded it and read the familiar flowing script—obviously memorized and written down for posterity, and not for the first time.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds 

Admit impediments. Love is not love 

Which alters when it alteration finds, 

Or bends with the remover to remove. 

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark 

That looks on tempests and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wand'ring bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But bears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error and upon me prov'd, 

I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd.

Christian couldn’t help but smile.  Leave it to his friend to find the right words, even if they weren’t his own. Folding the note back up again and tucking it away for safekeeping, he curled up under his blanket and finally let himself relax.

[mastrechef]

I got this weird idea in my head and it kept pestering me until I did something about it, so I picked away at it while on vacation. It started out as something else until I adapted it for FFXV, but anyway, here’s some random snippets of stuff where all the dialogue is composed of spliced together song lyrics. I tried to keep the lyrics intact and recognizable, but I did occasionally omit words to make things fit better. Features an Ardynson!Nyx but not related to my other Ardynson stuff.

His breath rasped in his throat like a death rattle. It wasn’t long now. He was old and withered, his bones grown brittle, and his mind slow. Death would claim him soon. Sitting alone in the dark, he could do nothing but wait.

Something moved in the corner of his eye, but in his weak state he was slow to respond. He finally managed to crane his neck to look. Nothing. Just shadows. With a wheezy sigh, he settled his head back to stare at the ceiling once more.

Burning gold eyes met his own.

His breath stuttered to a halt as he realized just who was looming over him.

Ardyn Lucis Caelum said, “Fondest greetings to you, dear brother, it’s been a while. Where should we begin? You and I, we were once inseparable. Oh, how quickly life can turn around.”

Somnus could only mutter silent denials to himself. Hallucination or ghost or whatever it may be, this was not his brother. He’s been dead and buried for decades.

“Why so silent? Did you think that I had left you for good?” The thing wearing his brother’s face leaned closer, those eyes fever-bright even as something dark lurked behind them.

“You’re just a memory,” Somnus said with a feeble shake of his head.

“Here I stand, left for dead,” the Ardyn look-alike sighed dramatically. His--it’s-- expression, which was exaggeratedly jovial until now, turned somber. “You turned this lie to truth. Will you own up or deny it?”

“The dead can’t speak,” insisted Somnus. “And there’s nothing left to say anyway.”

It continued on as if he hadn’t spoken. “You could never know what it’s like. My soul’s been withered and wisped away. It messes with your sanity by twisting all your thoughts away.”

The words ignited something in him, and Somnus forgot to dismiss the ghost. Filled with a long-forgotten strength, he spat, “You used to have a soul, but it died. You forgot all the things that are human.”

Ardyn shook a finger at him in a chiding gesture. “Shame on you. You don’t care what you’ve done, just keep on thinking it’s my fault.” A hand flashed out to grip his chin like a vice. “I am what you made me. I remain condemned and I will ever linger on the edge.”

Somnus hissed. “All that you are is the end of a nightmare. You challenged the gods and lost. Past the point of no return, lost in the darkness--”

The hand on his chin squeezed until his jaw creaked in protest. “Are you done? I think I’ve had enough of you rambling on and on.”

Demonic eyes bored into Somnus with increased intensity. “I want to know,” said Ardyn. “You got your glory. Was it worth the cost of breaking a family in two? Do your demons ever let you go?”

Somnus glared back with as much ferocity as he could muster. “You were only in my way.”

The look of false pity he received infuriated him. How dare this soulless creature mock him so? He had been burdened with a great purpose and had only done what needed to be done. The scourge-infected had needed to be wiped out, so he had done it. All to protect his future kingdom.

As though he could hear these thoughts, Ardyn shook his head and said, “Through your need to feel you're right, you're the savior of nothing.”

“I am a righteous man--”

“You’ve taken away everything,” interrupted Ardyn, strangely calm, like the eye of a storm. “I give you sweet revenge. I return this nightmare: a life for a life.”

“What can you do?” Somnus scoffed.

“Your number is up. Sorry, not sorry,” Ardyn said in feigned apology. His lips pulled back abruptly in a snarl. “Take all your deeds and rot in hell.”

The last thing Somnus saw was his brother’s starscourge gold eyes bleeding black.

more under the cut

Nyx understood at an early age that his dad was broken, so he did his best to keep things lighthearted and cheerful whenever his dad was able to visit. If he could keep his dad’s thoughts in the here and now, that meant less time spent dwelling on awful curses and past betrayals. He would let his dad take the first step if he wanted to talk.

The tale came in bits and pieces over the years, but always lacking a great bit of detail. It was a rare day when Ardyn actually spoke of the true impact of the betrayal, of the 2000 years spent wandering, undying.

So it came as a surprise when Ardyn brought it up suddenly one morning as they were watching the sunrise over Galahd.

“There is not much left of me,” he said, apropos of nothing.

Nyx turned to him questioningly, his concern all but radiating out of him.

 “Nothing is real but pain now. Emptiness is filling me to the point of agony.” In spite of his dark words, Ardyn turned to smile at his son. “Whenever I am with you, you deliver me from the pain in my life. I can gain control because you’re mine.”

There was nothing that made Nyx happier than the knowledge that he was able to help his dad just by being around and being himself. Still, he felt compelled to ask, “Will this curse ever be broken?”

“I wonder… All my life I dream of the day it’s taken away.” Ardyn’s face twisted into that look of melancholy despair that Nyx hated. “Death would be an ample compensation, but heaven doesn’t want me.”

As much as he didn’t want to even consider the thought of his dad dying, he knew there was no one who deserved the chance to rest more than Ardyn. Privately, Nyx made a promise to himself. “I will fight this war for you,” he swore. Because he would do anything for his father. Anything at all to stop him from looking so worn down and hopeless.

Galahd fell and Nyx found himself joining the Kingsglaive in Insomnia. He also made a name for himself with his reckless heroics and his need to save as many as he could. However, it wasn’t until he was stuck on Citadel duty, close enough to feel the magic of the Crystal humming in his bones, that he considered it. It being a monumentally stupid idea, but one that was worth the potential payoff.

So one late night, when there weren’t many others around to take much notice of him, Nyx stood before the Crystal with the intent to have a chat with the Draconian. Nyx took a deep breath and steeled his nerves.

Before Nyx had the chance to speak a single word, a sword slammed into the floor between him and the Crystal, and in short order Bahamut materialized beside it. The Astrals voice echoes eerily as he spoke. “You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which till now has been silent.”

Well, that simplified things for Nyx. If Bahamut knew that much, then surely he was aware of just who his father was. Although, if he had known from the beginning, it was a little strange that he hadn’t done anything about it like Nyx and Ardyn had considered.

Nyx shoved the thought to the side as it wasn’t important right now. “Undo these chains,” he said simply. Bahamut would get his meaning.

The Draconian’s gaze on him felt like a physical weight. It was honestly a bit terrifying to be at the center of Bahamut’s attention, not that Nyx would admit to it. He had come here for one purpose and one alone; he wasn’t about to back down because of nerves.

“Give your soul to me for eternity,” Bahamut finally said.

“Is this the way it’s gotta be?” Nyx scoffed. Even if he was scared out of his wits, he wasn’t about to put up with Bahamut’s bullshit. He was willing to do anything, give up anything, for his father, but Ardyn would kill him if all Nyx did was land himself in the same boat.

“Not a hero unless you die.”

Nyx didn’t agree with that statement at all. Still, the Astral hadn’t smited him yet, so he’d push his luck to see if he could wrangle an actual deal out of this mess. “I am just a man, but my voice will be heard today. I fight to make a stand. If you wanna play it like a game, come on let's play.”

“Ignorant fool, lost within a world beyond your control,” Bahamut’s voice boomed. The Astral hefted his sword and pointed it straight at Nyx.

Agony coursed through him, as though his blood had turned to liquid fire, pulsing in time with his thundering heartbeat. Nyx crashed to his knees as the pain consumed him. Disjointed images flashed through his mind.

Nyx could barely focus as the Astral spoke once more. “You are forever changed. Fate will guide you to the end and there will be no hope. All will fade before your eyes.”

“I won’t let you win,” said Nyx, eyes gleaming in determination despite the pain. “I will not bow, I will not break. As the light begins to fade, when all hope begins to shatter, know that I won’t be afraid.”

Ardyn was definitely going to kill him for this, but it was worth it. Nyx knew what he had to do now. He could save them both.

...

So the first snippet is obviously Ardyn visiting Somnus on his deathbed. While not the full 2000 years until the main story timeline, Ardyn has still been cursed and undying long enough to be a little unhinged. Plus, the anger and betrayal is still pretty fresh, so that all influenced my portrayal of him. I didn’t initially plan this, but at the end Ardyn curses Somnus and I got this feeling that having the kings of Lucis bound to the Ring of the Lucii/the Crystal after their death was Ardyn’s fault.

Not really satisfied with the conversation with Bahamut, but by that point I was just done and sick of trying to find suitable lyrics. What I was trying to go for was Bahamut gives Nyx some impossible task and a curse of his own, and if he’s able to break it he can then break Ardyn’s.

...

Other snippets I wanted to write / song lyrics I wanted to use but then got too lazy:

Ardyn’s reaction and subsequent confrontation with Bahamut-  Everyday that passes by I develop a new way to hate you. You may think you’re god, but I know you’re a pretender. I see through you and all your lies. You are everything that I despise.

Nyx trying to talk his dad out of doing something ridiculous and Ardyn’s just like-  a little mayhem never hurt anyone

...

Songs used if anyone’s interested (listed in order of appearance, although some show up in multiple places in the snippets):

Masquerade/Why So Silent? - Phantom of the Opera, Who - Disturbed, My Sacrifice - Creed, Memory Motel - The Rolling Stones, Dance With the Devil - Breaking Benjamin, Harvester of Sorrow - Metallica, Tyrant - Disturbed, Chalk Outline - Three Days Grace, I’m Still Standing - Elton John, Withered - Atomship, Love Bites (So Do I) - Halestorm, Sorry Not Sorry - Gemini Syndrome, Shame on the Night - Dio, Sweating Bullets - Megadeth, The Pride - Five Finger Death Punch, Off With Her Head - Icon For Hire, Confrontation - Jekyll & Hyde, Planet Hell - Nightwish, Point of No Return - Phantom of the Opera, On Point - Gemini Syndrome, Strangers Like Me - Tarzan, Everybody Wants You - Billy Squier, Rainbow in the Dark - Dio, Just Like You - Three Days Grace, Savior of Nothing - Disturbed, Hellfire - Hunchback of Notre Dame, It’s Not Over - Daughtry, Here Comes Revenge - Metallica, New Sensation - INXS, Your Number is Up - Now and On Earth

One - Metallica, Fade to Black - Metallica, You’re Mine - Disturbed, Majesty - Now and On Earth, Mourning Star - Gemini Syndrome, All My Life - Foo Fighters, Torn in Two - Breaking Benjamin

The Devil in I - Slipknot, Close Your Eyes - Breaking Benjamin, The Kinslayer - Nightwish, Hero - Skillet, Crushcrushcrush - Paramore, The Mirror (Angel of Music) - Phantom of the Opera, Brave and the Bold - Disturbed, I.M. Sin - Five Finger Death Punch, I Will Not Bow - Breaking Benjamin, Writing’s On the Wall - Sam Smith

[meowmeow-motherfucker]

Sweet Cherry Pie

Fine day, Sunday :D Day 11 of 12 Days of Ficmas hosted by @negans-lucille-tblr and @the-minus-four. I chose Public.

Word count: 1576

Warnings: flirting, sex in a public area, table sex, food play(?)

A/N: All of these prompts take place over the span of a few days, and are part of my Fox & Squirrel SPN verse. I’ve deliberately been vague in some parts because spoilers. I hope you enjoy! 

A/N 2: Days 3 and 10 will hopefully be posted later today!

    In spite of the brave face Dean put on, Savannah knew when he needed comforting. She did too, honestly. Sharing their decision with their extended family had definitely relieved some of the heavy burden, but only time would wholly soothe this wound.

    That, and pie. Lots of pie.

    Savannah delighted in cooking and baking. Having someone enjoy something she made filled her with pride and warmth. It satisfied some deep seated urge in her to provide for the people she loved. 

    So when Dean was sad, she made him pie. Well, more pie than she’d make normally. Her husband’s obsession with pie had definitely rubbed off on her. 

    Savannah was blaming the holidays for the crowded kitchen table. With so many guests, it made sense to make a dozen pies, didn’t it? Differing tastebuds and whatnot. 

    Savannah had tasked Sam and Bobby with keeping Dean out of the bunker for the morning, knowing he’d be constantly underfoot once he caught on to what she was doing. She and the troops had made quick work of the stack of recipes, constantly whisking, kneading, rolling and manning the oven. Cas had chosen to stay in the bunker and help the women bake, even going so far as to shed his trenchcoat and don an apron. 

    Claire took pictures when they started throwing flour at each other. Thankfully the pies were all spared, and the mess was easily cleaned. 

    Everyone had left the kitchen but Savannah when the boys came back. 

    “I smell PIEEEEEE!” Dean shouted exuberantly, his rushing gait echoing in the halls as he raced toward the kitchen. He flung open the door to see Savannah and the table covered in pie, and gasped dramatically. “Sammy! Call an ambulance. I’ve died and gone to Heaven.” 

    “No you haven’t!” Castiel squawked indignantly from somewhere behind him, making Savannah laugh. 

    “If anyone would know, it’d be him,” she said, grinning at Dean. “Hey there handsome.” 

    “Hey yourself, foxy lady,” he replied, taking her breath away with an easy grin as he sidled up to her. “Did you make all these for me?” he asked softly, pressing a kiss to her jaw. 

    “I had some help.” 

    “Yeah, I saw Cas’ apron,” Dean chuckled. “Not sure how he pulls off the pink, but I ain’t questioning it. So...why so many pies?” he asked, fixing her with a knowing look. “Still sad?” 

    “So are you.”

    “Yeah, but we’ll get through it. Right?”

    “Right,” Savannah said softly, reaching out to smooth his flannel. Dean laid his hand over hers, taking a moment just to feel her hand over his heart. “I tried some new recipes.” 

    “You spoil me, you know that?” Dean beamed, leaning in to (finally) kiss her lips. 

    “Someone has to,” she smiled. “So! I made three different apple pies. There’s a couple pecan and a lemon meringue setting up in the fridge, and yes I made two cherry so you can have one to yourself. I also made two chess pies, and tried a new blueberry lemon recipe.” Dean’s mouth watered as he gaped at the succulent sweets before him.

    “What’s different about the apple pies?”

    “Two are regular, but one is apple cheddar and the other is apple bacon.” Dean choked, blinking rapidly in excited confusion.

    “What?” he stammered. “Bacon? In pie?” 

    “Yep. I’m awesome like that.” Savannah grinned. 

    “You’re the best wife ever. Seriously,” Dean kissed her soundly, making her head spin. “But to tell you the truth, there’s only one thing that’ll satisfy my sweet tooth right now.” he murmured, leveling her with a lecherous grin. 

    “In the kitchen?” Savannah scoffed as Dean pressed his body against hers and kissed her sweetly.

    “You want me stop?” he asked, eyes trained on hers as pinched her nipple through shirt and apron. Savannah bit her lip as his other hand made quick work of opening her jeans, whimpering when his fingers landed on her clit. He took her weight when she sagged against him as he worked, wrapping his arm around her waist. He slipped a finger inside her pussy, grinning in satisfaction when she moaned and clenched his flannel in her fists. 

    “Let’s get these off, huh?” Dean asked, waiting for her nod before pushing her jeans down to her ankles. He pushed the apron aside and lifted her shirt, pressing kisses to her stomach and hips. Savannah’s knees buckled when he sucked her clit into his mouth, a high pitched keen escaping her when his fingers joined the fray. She sagged against the table, digging her fingers into his hair and moaning when he groaned appreciatively against her. He released her with a wet smack, grabbing her around the waist and lifting her onto the table.

    “The pies!” Dean moved the pies away from her, scooting them toward the edges carefully. 

    “Better?” he asked.

    “Much,” she nodded. “Come here.” she wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into a needy kiss, sighing happily when she felt his body against hers. She worked her other hand under his shirts, gliding over the smooth skin of his hip. He’d undone his pants and worked them down low enough to free his cock, knuckles grazing her inner thigh as he pumped himself. Her pussy clenched in anticipation, insides quivering as she scooted even closer to the edge. 

    “Ready baby?” 

    “Ohmygod yes, yes!” Savannah’s eyes glazed over as Dean pushed inside, whining as he bottomed out. The familiar stretch made her toes curl and she dug her nails into his skin as he pulled out. He sank back inside her with a moan, bracing his arms on the table as she settled her legs over his hips. Savannah could only cling to Dean as he set a rhythm, sharing breathless kisses as her legs trembled from the strain. 

    One of Dean’s hands threaded in her hair, tugging her back gently so he could press heated kisses to her collar bone. Her jeans slipped off one leg, and he paused long enough to hook her knees over his elbows, eyes unfocused and fluttering as he resumed his task of making her come undone. 

    "Are you..staring at the pie?" Savannah asked. 

    “Sorry baby,” Dean chuckled, ducking his head in embarrassment. “In my defense, it’s a very sexy pie.” 

    “You’re impossible.” Savannah met his lips with a sigh, gasping when he slammed his hips into hers just right. 

    “‘Fraid you’re stuck with me, sweetheart.” He dipped his head to nip at her neck, moaning at the feel of her nails digging into his shoulders. 

    “Good thing you’re cute,” Savannah murmured, scouring the tabletop with one of her hands. Her fingertips grazed her quarry, and she quickly grabbed the spoon, settling back on her elbows to scoop up a spoonful of the cherry pie. “Here.” She all but shoved the spoon into Dean’s mouth, giggling when he gasped excitedly around the spoon. 

    “Fink ooooo…” Dean pushed her thighs further apart in thanks, thrusting harder into her wet heat. Savannah clenched around him, breath coming in pants as her orgasm drew closer. Dean whimpered, breathing hard through his nose. Savannah reached up and took the spoon from his mouth, throwing it over his shoulder into the sink as she sat up to meet his lips again. The sweet taste of cherries exploded on her tongue and she sank her fingers into his hair, anchoring herself to him. “Fuck, thank you,” he gasped. “So good. You’re close, sweetheart. Feel so good.” Savannah whined in response, crying out when he dropped a hand to her clit, his other hand keeping her still when she bucked.

    “Oh my god, fuck!” White heat surged in every part of her body, setting her limbs to shaking. “Deeeean!” 

    “Come on baby, give it to me,” he urged breathlessly, speeding up his assault on her clit. “Come for me.” Her orgasm exploded, rendering unable to move, think, breathe or scream. She was coaxed back to the earthly plane by Dean slamming his hips into hers as he moaned brokenly into her neck. She clutched him tightly around the shoulders, pressing loving kisses to whatever skin she could reach as he caught his breath. She smiled against his skin as he dotted kisses along her neck. Dean nuzzled his head against hers, pressing their foreheads together as he breathed deeply. Green eyes opened to meet hers and Savannah’s heart swelled with love. 

    “Love you.” 

    “Love you.” They held each other tight, trading loving kisses as Dean set her on her feet. He helped her get dressed, trailing his hands up her body as he rose to his full height before stealing another kiss. 

    “You’re covered in flour!” Savannah started to laugh, trying to dust him off as she cackled. 

    “Well if you’d taken off the apron,” Dean grabbed her hands in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “It’ll be fine. No one’s gonna notice anyway.” 

    “Yeah you say that, but as soon as you walk out of here you’ll be spotted and everyone will know what we’ve been up to.” 

    “Like they don’t know already.” Dean rolled his eyes good naturedly, accepting the sponge without protest when she put him to work cleaning up. 

    When all was clean and the pies were safely stored, they left the kitchen hand in hand. Just as Savannah predicted they quickly crossed paths with Sam, who was quick to notice the flour on Dean’s clothes.

    “Really?! We eat in there!”