#that the actions of this troubled fandom had made me come to loathe

[glassgulls]

Letters to My Love

Fandom: Lord Of The Rings Return of the King

Pairing: Haldir x fem!reader

Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, kissing, awful sugary fluff (I need a happy ending as life is a blackhole of existential dread).

Summary: You leave Lórien after spending time recuperating to visit your friend Eowyn and promise to send word back to your friend Haldir. Though you think of him more than that, does he feel the same though?

Word count: 6040

Comments: More Haldir for the Haldir throne! First longer piece in the LOTR fandom. Hopefully I've kept Haldir relatively in character. Thank you to @heilith for the encouragement and motivation to finish this and post. You're a wonderful inspiration.

Putting your quill down you stare at the ink now drying. Reading it over you frowned in concentration, trying to make sure there was a tone of friendship without any of your clear desire bleeding through. Friendly and precise was the aim as always in your now routine one sided correspondence. It was getting increasingly difficult with each letter though to tow that line especially with who the recipient was. 

You look at the envelope already set aside, Marchwarden Haldir in your neatly block printed handwriting followed by the address; it always gives you a small rush even to write his name.

You had left Lórien after promising Eowyn to visit her and her new betrothed and not wanting to outstay your welcome with your Elven hosts you had set off as soon as you were well enough to ride alone. But it had been a bittersweet parting. Of course you had wanted to come and congratulate your friend on her new love but you felt loath to leave the peaceful forest, and your new friends. 

Haldir had asked you to send word that you were safe when you had left Lórien, your logical mind telling you that it was out of friendship, but the slight frown as he had softly requested it had made your breathing hitch. It almost seemed for a moment as if he had been nervous to ask. The usual stoic mask he wore as Marchwarden slipped if but for a split second under the morning sun.

*****

"I promise my friend." You had replied after climbing on your horse smiling gently. After all it was the least you could do after being able to rest and recuperate after the battle with Sauron in the beautiful sanctuary of Lórien. 

You tried to ignore the traitorous voice in the back of your head whispering that you were a coward and running away. 

Gripping the reins tightly till your knuckles went white you swallowed hard. The growing feelings you had developed for the ellon in front of you were pushed down and sitting uncomfortable in your chest waiting to crawl up your throat and crow out to the world. 

Haldir had stood by your horse, hand on its neck stroking it softly as he went quiet, the morning breeze stirring his immaculate hair. It had seemed to you he had wanted to say something, his brows drawn into a small frown that you didn’t know when you had started to recognise.

“You must promise me to be safe, the roads are still dangerous,” He had spoken eventually into the horse's neck, fidgeting with a lock of its mane. You had opened your mouth to try to defend your skills but the words choked in your throat, your mouth shut promptly at the way his hand stilled with its incessant action. His head turned suddenly to you and the frown had deepened. 

“I do not doubt your skill,” He continued and he pressed closer to you, his blue eyes boring into your own. “Just promise me to be watchful.” Haldir finished, his free hand moved to your calf for a brief moment of contact but enough to feed your hunger for him. 

His gaze struck you dumb, a heat rising to your cheeks. All you could do was nod mutely in return, the blue of his eyes usually clear as the summer sky were troubled and stormy. Was the thought of your safety that important to him? Perhaps he thought of you also as more of a friend?

A watery smile tugged at your lips at the possibility, a foolish notion to be sure for someone so perfect to find attraction in the imperfections of a mortal such as yourself. You leaned down and the bittersweetness of causing him concern selfishly comforted you slightly in that you were not alone in the emotion when he had parted from you to go on patrols. Now before him, you missed him so and you had not even left his presence.

“I promise you Haldir,” You had spoken softly, proud that there was no wobble to your tone as you reached out and grasped his shoulder. Those blue eyes cleared of the storm for a moment. 

“I will write every time I stop, you shall receive so many letters you will regret asking me,” you tried laughing and you saw the corner of his lips curled up slightly. “You shall receive so many you will have to clear a bookcase to house them.” You giggled lightly at the image and he gave a breathy laugh that sounded more like a relieved exhale. His hand returned to your calf and squeezed lightly.

“I shall clear two.” He stated with the deadpan tone that you have come to crave. Tilting your head you stared at him a moment to engrave the way the sunlight played across his face, it lit the blue of his eyes in a blinding shade that you would willingly go sightless staring at. He seemed to be watching you just as carefully and you smiled softly at him, in the way that only he provoked from you. 

“Just as well, Rúmil and Orophin have gifted me enough supplies to paper your flet.” You smirked and watched as the mention of his brothers made Haldir grimace a moment. The hand on your calf moved to your hand resting on his shoulder.

“Best to put them to good use then, I shall hear no end of it if you do not.” Haldir had spoke in that exasperated tone he always used when speaking of his younger brothers. You couldn’t help the grin on your face though at the twitch of a smile on his lips that always betrayed his tone. 

A tightness in your chest returned then, you would miss them all, Rúmil and Orophin never failing to make you laugh at their antics. Their merciless teasing of Haldir stretched now to you in a way that gave you a sense of pride that the brothers felt comfortable enough to torment you.

Haldir's hand was warm against your own, the rough callous of his fingers a seductive rasp against your responsive skin. Goosebumps danced up your arm at the contact. Your gazes met again and a heavy silence fell over you both. The cool breeze in the trees whispered around you as the heat from earlier played across your cheeks again. 

Parting from him shouldn’t give you such pain, but knowing you would wake up the next morning not being able to see his face made your stomach turn in unease. Goodbyes were never such a heartbreak for you before with a life constantly on the road but now? Here where the breeze was sweet in your nose and the warm sun dappled on your skin this was a place that finally felt like a home now despite being a mere mortal. 

You let your eyes lower as you don’t want Haldir to see the sadness in your gaze, not when you were parting like this.

“Promise me you will stay safe also Haldir.” You whispered, his fingers had flinched when you spoke his name.

“I promise.” Haldir stated resolutely. Slowly raising yourself straight in the saddle you reluctantly withdrew your hand from his shoulder. Haldir stood watching you again with that inscrutable look for a heartbeat before raising a hand to his chest in a farewell gesture.

You mimic the gesture and force a smile on your face though you can feel the burn of tears behind it.

“Farewell Marchwarden Haldir.” You spoke, the forced smile started to crack. Moving your horse forward through the forest you had felt eyes watching you the whole time and knew it wasn’t your imagination.

*****

A knock and giggle from behind you snapped your mind to the present again as the door to your room opened.

Twisting around you see the familiar face of the servant girl Molly bustles in. Turning back you frown and rest your fingers on the letter in front of you again. Sighing softly you look out the window of your guest room in Minas Tirith. The sun starting to set it lit up the city below, throwing shadows across the stone you mind wanders off to tall trees and blue eyes. 

Lazily leaning on your hand the picture of Haldir gazing at you plays across your mind again. You had never seen a more perfect colour of blue than his eyes. No sky, ocean or flower could come close to his piercing gaze. It had not taken you long to understand it was not just the colour but the soul behind the eyes that made them so alluring. You felt a pull to him from the moment the two of you had met.

You counted yourself lucky that Haldir had given you the opportunity to become close. Though the act of saving the others' life in heavy battles, had helped forge a bond between you and the handsome ellon. It was he who had invited you to stay with him after Aragon's coronation having now no fixed plans. Your old companions had teased you mercilessly after finding out. 

"An invitation from the Marchwarden himself? A rare thing indeed." Aragon had asked with a large grin and a wink making flushed heat rush from head to toe as you stood beside the elf. Stealing a glance up at him you had noticed the twitch in Haldir's jaw.

You hear Molly clear her throat behind you and you blink away the memory.

“Sorry for disturbing you m’lady would you like me to lay your dress out?” Her warm voice makes you shake your thoughts.

Turning around again you face her smiling, glad of her company.

“Yes please and tell me any new gossip.” You grin. Molly clicks her tongue but throws a smile back at you.

“Of course, you need new material for your letter to your friend?” She asks but the sly look and emphasis on “friend” makes you glance at the floor as you try to squash the girlish giggle.

“I enjoy his company, he’s a very interesting person.” You try to insist as Molly opens the wardrobe and with an expert eye pulls out a long gown. 

“Of course he is,” She replies, her dark eyes are warm and clearly don’t believe you. “I caught a glimpse of him at the Kings coronation,” Molly continued plucking out accessories. Turning to you she raised an eyebrow and tried to look serious. “He looked very interesting.” She teased lightly.

“Oh stop you.” You grouse half heartedly. Standing up you make your way over to the bed and trail your fingers over the fine gown laid out. Surely it was a little over the top for a small party? You go to voice this but stop yourself after all Molly knows more than you ever could about court protocol and the younger woman had been a godsend in helping you navigate the intricate politics thus far.

“Does he answer back?” The other woman asks innocently. You stand over the dress still and go silent. Noticing your actions Molly turns from the hair pins laid out and tentatively steps over.

That was the thing, the thing that hit you like a gut punch and made you lie awake at night. All the letters you had written over the weeks you had not received any in return. You didn’t want to admit the thought made you not sleep for the last couple of weeks though the results were clear every time you saw your reflection.

“No.” You reply still gazing at the dress. Focusing on the delicate embroidery of flowers and vines it made you think of lush forests and your stomach lurched. You felt Mollys body hover near you.

“I’m sure he’s just been busy m’lady.” She voiced softly. 

“Yes, he has a lot of responsibilities.” You say carefully, feeling your throat constrict around the words. You hoped that was the case, he was on a long patrol and couldn’t write back. But what if he had been hurt or what if he just didn’t want to indulge a silly human and her infatuation? You clasp a hand to your chest at the dull ache hiding behind your ribs at the thought. Perhaps it was time to stop the letters. 

A hand drifted over your arm gently luring you away as the door knocked again.

“Come m’lady the bath is here then let's get you ready.”

You hum in agreement as the bedroom door opens and two other servants carry in a tub with jugs of hot water.

“Where is Eowyn?” You ask out of reflex, speaking to her always lifts your heart.

“Lady Eowyn went riding earlier. I’m sure she is getting ready now for tonight.”

You hum again, tonight’s party was to be a smaller affair. You hoped that it was for an announcement between Eowyn and Faramir’s wedding date. The way the two of them looked at each other, if they didn’t get married soon you were sure they would be announcing something other than a wedding.

The bath is quickly set up and Molly closes the bedroom door softly behind the other servants, before coming back over. The scent of lavender and honey drifts over from the tub of water. Scents that should give you some comfort but the icy claws of doubt have struck deep in your chest.

“May I help you with your dress?” She asks, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

You nod silently still looking at the flowers on the dress, it was a beautiful gown gifted by Eowyn for tonight. Raising your hands to your face you pinch your cheeks lightly, this was no face for a party. Seeing your old companions would cheer you up, you were sure of it.

*****

The stone of the balcony was cold to your touch as you clutched in the night air. You had left the party and wandered outside to take a breath of fresh air, the ballrooms' heat with the tight corset of the dress you were wearing was not a happy match.

Earlier thoughts of distracting your mind with the welcomed company of your friends had worked for a little while. But after some time the world had seemed to shift, you were watching them laugh and dance as if you were looking through a window from outside. You felt an outsider lost, alone and unbearable cold in this sweltering hall. Taking your goblet you nodded to the others and whispered to Eowyn you needed a breath of air, her bright eyes had glanced at the closed main door before nodding her response.

“You look beautiful tonight.” She had whispered to you.

“I look tired.” You retorted. Her gaze is quick and sharp, little escaped her notice.

“Does something ail you?” Eowyn asked and you tried to open your mouth but one look into her eyes and you stopped. That knowing gaze, a mixture of sympathy and pity. You let a bitter smile twist on your face.

“Am I that obvious?” You asked and hoped the others wouldn’t come and pry. You know they mean well but the thought of having to talk about it fills you with an exhaustive dread.

“Only to me,” She said softly and made a show of smiling brightly, fingers running over the sleeve of your gown, pretending to comment on it. “I know that look too well my sister in arms,” You can ‘t help but smile at the honour of her calling you that. “I know because I wore it’s mirror image not that long ago.” 

Leaning close she pressed a soft kiss to your cheek she whispered softly making you close your eyes tight to shut out the threat of tears.

“I will see you happy again sister.” She finished, your closed eyes fluttered and missed the furtive glance she gave the door again.

“I’ll be back soon. I just need a moment to myself.” You said leaning back. Seeing her smile and nod, you had walked out.

Closing your eyes you feel the night air cool the sweat beading at your hairline after being in that ballroom. The heady scent of honeysuckle makes you dizzier than the wine at your elbow. The city beyond was quiet at this height, the twinkling lights below like stars. Perhaps you could make your life here now? You would be welcomed for sure. You should stop writing the letters now, let Haldir go, it could never work. He only saw you as a friend, a comrade in arms. Not as a woman, not as an equal in soul. 

Perhaps that was for the best, with how short a mortal could live compared to the age that elves did it would be selfish of you to ask for that love from him knowing it would be a blink of his eye and you would be old and grey. That you would be dead and dust and he would have to live on with that grief. 

No this would be for the best then. You nodded to yourself and picked up the wine to take a sip. Lost in your own thoughts you never notice the presence of someone approaching behind.

"Hiril vuin," comes a familiar voice from the shadows and you feel your breath hitch. Turning slowly you grip the goblet in your hand till your knuckles hurt, it can't be him? You're tired and thoughts are just added surely?

Silhouetted in the doorway stands a tall broad chested figure. The moonlight catches his features as he takes a step closer and whispers your name.

"Haldir?" You call with a pitiful whisper, praying you were not dreaming.

"Good evening," he says, all shadow and silver light.

You can't help but give an incredulous laugh and confused smile.

"I can't believe it!" You cry with a catch in your voice. "Am I dreaming?" You ask the night air as he moves to stand in front of you.

"I'm very real." he replies, smiling gently. The blond ellon is just as tall and perfect as you remember, dressed in his grey grab as Marchwarden. Reaching out a hand you let your fingertips graze his chest and sweep up to rest on his shoulder. There's a near perceptible shiver that runs through him at the physical contact. He watches you carefully, seemingly finding your giddy wonder amusing. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask, still not fully convinced this is a fanciful hallucination brought on by drink and the heat. 

He raises a perfect eyebrow and paces a hand on your own that is still on his chest. 

“I was invited and I came for an important task.” He responds, his voice low and calming as if to soothe an excitable child. Perhaps that’s what he saw you as. The thought makes the smile slip from your face and you try to pull away but his grip on your hand stops you. You pause and look at him quizzically.

“Important task?” You ask and he nods.

“Yes but now is not the moment to talk of it.” 

You press closer to him and let your trapped hand splay across the broad expanse of his chest. You can almost feel the quick thrumming of his heart, perhaps he arrived in a hurry.

“Aragon and the others are inside if it is that important.” You say and his expression gives nothing away. His eyes make you shiver though. The blue you love is a thin ring of silver in the moonlight, blond lashes catch the light like gossamer. This close you fancy you can see your desire for him in your own eyes reflected in his blown out pupils. The black expanse drawing you in.

Your earlier sensible thoughts of moving on from him are promptly forgotten now, you are a mere moth to the radiance that pours off him. It was foolish to ever think you could extract yourself from him. 

“Calad nin.” He whispers and his free hand reaches out carefully to touch your shoulder. The meaning of his words are not lost on you, you wonder if he could hear your thoughts about being drawn to his light. For surely he does not feel the same as you do.

“I have missed you.” You confess and the tell of his lips curling slightly makes you want to reach out and trace it. Engrain it in your memory till you can always feel it at your tips.

“As I have missed you.” He replies and the words alone make you grin wildly.

“You have?”

“You doubt me?” He retorts with a quirk of an eyebrow in a mockery of admonishment.

“Never.” You breathe out, a giggle escaping in the process, and fling yourself at him, clutching at him tightly. Your carefully pinned hair is surely a mess but you'll face Molly’s scolding later for wrecking her hard work.

It takes a moment before he responds. A strong arm wraps around you and drags you closer till you’re not sure where you start and he ends. If only it could always be like this. The evening wind whistles against the unforgiving stone as the two of you stand still clutched at each other.

“Did you get my letters?” You ask eventually breathing in his scent. The fresh smell of woodland and sandalwood makes you relax.

“Yes.” He responds, his arm around your waist has moved to the small of your back running his fingertips where your spine is hiding under the corset. Not moving your head you run your fingers over the edge of his robe.

“You never replied.” You say in a small voice you barely recognise as your own. You feel a sense of accomplishment you have kept out the hurt or accusation from the tone.

“When you left,” He started and then with a little protest from you he pulls you back a little so that he could see your face. “I was sent on patrol for a few weeks, you’re letters were passed on to me when they could but,” And he pauses and looks over you from head to toe as if only realising your state of dress. 

“You are truly a sight to behold,” He breathes out like a prayer. You grip his arms and feel the heat from your face rush below. Twisting your fingers in the bulky sleeves of his tunic you wet your bottom lip and don’t miss the narrow of his eyes on the action.

“You were saying?” You asked and tugged in his sleeves.

“Yes,” He continues and he looks momentarily embarrassed that he had his previous statement aloud. “I was on patrol till only a few days ago and my own stationary supply was very limited and couldn’t send my replies back,” He releases you a moment and digs into a pocket within the recesses of his robes. 

Letting go of his arms you fiddle with the sleeve of your gown as he extracts a bundle. Haldir passes it over to you solemnly like a great treasure and to you it is. Wrapped neatly with a green ribbon is a small stack of envelopes. You take them reverently and hold them in both hands. Your name is written neatly in a precise, strong hand that fits Haldir well. 

“You replied.” You say out loud as the doubts and heartbreak of unrequited affection are doused. 

“Did you think I would not?” He says and this time there is a tone of reproach to him.

“I- I know how busy you are, important,” You start and he takes a step forward to you as you stare at the bundle of letters not trusting yourself to be able to stop crying in relief if you look at him.

“With responsibilities other than replying to my silly letters.” You choke out and you curse yourself for getting so emotional. His hands are suddenly on your own cupping the letters between you both. The calluses on his fingertips trace up to your wrists causing another flush of heat to pool below.

“Nothing about you is silly.” He tells you and you close your eyes as his thumbs stroke across the pulse in your wrist. Eru, the things the ellon did to you with such a simple touch. 

“I feel it at times when it comes to you,” You say softly. “A silly human yearning for your attention.” His hands still and you bite your lip. You’ve gone too far. The hands on your wrist slide with deliberate slow ease, an illicit seductiveness.

“Look at me,” He commands and you lift your head immediately, your breath catches in your throat at his look. Silver hair and intense eyes as he moves a step closer making you tilt your head back to look up at him and keep eye contact.

“There you are,” He speaks and his voice is low like a purr. “I will only say this once, I never want you to put yourself down because you are human.”

You nod softly and bite your lip.

“The things you do to me,” He mutters. “The way you move me,” 

One of his hands trails up to your jaw tracing along it. All you can do is let out a soft whimper at the contact. “No one else has been able to do so in all my years, regardless of who or where they were born.” His thumb moves to swipe over your bottom lip.

“But I have only a short number of years Haldir compared to you. If we,” And you pause now not sure how to word your thoughts. 

“If we?” He asks provocatively.

“If we are together,” You continue and heat rushes to your face and down below at what that implies and he hums deep in his chest at the word. “How could I sleep with you beside me knowing the inevitability of what will happen to us? Of leaving you begrudgingly alone and I am nothing but bone and dust?” You raise one of your hands to cup his jaw and he leans into it his warm lips as they press against the delicate skin of your inner wrist. Goosebumps ripple along your arm and across your collarbone.

“Has this been troubling you?” He asks and rubs his nose to nuzzle your pulse.

You nod again as his gaze watches you carefully.

“I wish you had spoken to me sooner so I could ease your mind,” He states. “It is the nature of things that we will die.” He states calmly.

“But,” You start.

“Maybe it will be I who dies first.” He interrupts you.

“Haldir, that’s not funny.” You scold but he only looks at you with a flicker of surprise.

“I was trying to flatter you.”

“Flattery is telling me how pretty I look in this dress, not that there’s a chance you will leave me a grieving heartbroken woman.” You retort hotly and he presses his lips to the pounding pulse under your skin and smiles.

“You're breathtaking in that dress.” He corrects you.

“Haldir,” You start and his lips twitch into that smile.

“And when you’re angry,” He adds and you look at him with what can only be exasperation.

“You are not alone with those thoughts, I spent a long time thinking of the exact same thing.’ He continues and the irritation subsides in you. 

“And?” You say almost frightened at what his conclusion is.

He still has your hand and leans into its touch, closing his eyes a second seeming to savour it.

“That a life without you would grieve me more,” Haldir speaks softly. “In all my years I have given myself freely to the responsibilities of my position as an older brother then Marchwarden, it is something I will not ever regret,” His eyes open and flick to you and his a chaste brush of his lips to your fingertips he pulls your hand back to the letters you are both still holding. “Till I met you, grew to know you. I have never wanted anything for myself,” You watch his expression shift from contemplative to resolute.

“Neither of us knows the future and how long we have,” Haldir pauses. “But I do know that the future is meaningless without knowing your love. I shall continue to exist but it shall only be that.” He brings both your hands up to rest on his chest above his heart.

“A song does not last forever but to experience it let it live in you is what makes us alive, though we may mourn it’s end,” Haldir leans down so his nose rubs against your own softly and now it’s your turn to close your eyes to savour the action. 

“So will you take a chance and let us sing this song of ours together?” He whispers to you and you let your eyes flutter open. It should be intimidating to see his trademark intense gaze but it only makes your lip wobble and eyes fill with hot tears of happiness.

You move one of your hands from his grip and reach up to his jaw, fingers caressing it and watch as it tenses under your touch. You let it linger before following the line of Haldir's throat, his adam's apple bobbing as your fingers touch his jugular. You can feel his own heartbeat race under your skin.

“Yes Haldir.” You answer and his impassive mask breaks as he smiles as though he wasn’t sure you would agree.

“Yes?” He asks and exhales, letting his shoulders drop with a short soft laugh.

“Yes Marchwarden.” You repeat and close your eyes to let out a small giggle as he pulls you against him again. His arm tightens around your waist as he buries his nose in your hair. Your free hand wraps around his neck as you move your face to press a soft kiss to his jaw. Haldir lets out a low sound that vibrates through you and makes your toes curl. Moving slightly he presses his lips to your ear making you tremble.

“You shiver, are you cold?" He asks, his voice low and lilting. 

"No it's not the cold that makes me shiver." You say and turn to meet his gaze. Those ice blue eyes are burning and you revel in the fire.

Haldir's arm runs up your back as he mutters words in Sindarin too quickly for you to catch. His hand stops at the nape of your neck before cupping the base of your skull. His breath fans your cheeks and you close your eyes in anticipation of the handsome ellons kiss. Your ellon now, you licked your bottom lip at the realisation. 

There was a brief heartbeat before you felt his chapped lips brush against your own. The chaste action made you mewl softly and you felt the low groan from him before he pressed closer. His plush lips unforgiving against your own as you kissed back desperately. Your arm moves to loop around his neck to tug on his long hair and you're rewarded with a grunt and sigh from Haldir as he nips at your bottom lip. Sighing with content you grant him access to your own mouth which he ravishes with the keen precision he does in everything. 

You tug on his hair again and let out your own soft moan as he tilts his head to kiss you deeper. Both of you are teeth and tongue as you scrabble for one another. There’s a far away cheering and laughing over the start of a song that startles you both apart. 

You try to catch your breath but it’s difficult when you're tangled with Haldir in his vice-like grip. He’s gazing at you again with a softness that makes your chest feel like it will burst.

“If this is a dream don’t wake me.” You state to the universe and Haldir's lip curls slightly softening his usual steely expression.

"It should be I who asks if you are the dream." He finishes. 

"Why is that?" You say, your fingers moving from his hair to graze his jaw.

"Standing in the moonlight is how I often dream of you." He murmurs and nuzzles against your cheek. 

“And tell me, what do we do in these dreams, Marchwarden?” You tease and let out a breathy laugh as he lets out a shaky exhale.

“I would rather show you dearest.” He mutters his voice dark and delicious as his arm moves so his fingers hold your hip tight. 

The sound of laughing and music fades back in again interrupting 

“Maybe we should wait till we’re sure we won’t be interrupted?” You ask your throat going dry at the thought of being alone and playing out your own dreams with him. You hear him agree and press a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips.

Pulling back from each other you run a hand over your hair to try and see if it can be saved and do a half hearted attempt at fixing it. You had all you needed now, you could stand to play a little loose with propriety. Smoothing your gown down, you glance up to see him standing watching you with what only could be described as wolfishness that sent your pulse racing again. You reached up and smoothed his own hair and gasped as he grabbed your wrist. 

“Haldir?” You ask as he presses his lips against your wrist again.

“Your pulse flutters like a bird.” He states calmly.

“And who’s fault is that?” You accuse him which only makes him smile longingly at you.

“I shall bear the responsibility, I apologise I needed something to sustain me a while till we could be alone again.” He reports so matter of factly it makes you grin.

“And when shall I have time to read your replies my dearest?” You laugh and Haldir pauses a moment.

“That was the important matter I came here to discuss.” He tells you calmly and you frown.

“What is it?” You ask concerned. He steps closer again and brushes the back on his fingers against your hand which you immediately turn your own hand to clutch on to.

“On a desperate matter of if you should feel ready to return with me.” He whispers softly, leaning down so he is eye level with you.

“Return to Lórien?” You ask with a quiet excitement as he nods.

“To return home meleth nin.” He says and watches your reaction. You blink a moment as the words sink in. 

Home. 

Hot tears fall immediately but Haldir is already holding your face gently and wiping them away with his thumbs.

“Meleth nin?” He asks all serious and alarm. You can’t help but give a gasping laugh which makes him relax again.

“Of course I shall you silly ellon,” You mutter and close your eyes as he kisses you again though softly as if to remind himself you are truly saying those words. “I love you after all.” You confess and you feel his smile against your lips.

“I love you too.” He whispers then says something soft in Sindarian which you need no translation for. 

A loud applause erupts from inside as the music finishes.

“We should go back inside, I need to speak to Eowyn,” You say and pull back holding his hand to trail after you to the inside door. Pausing, you look at him, grinning wide and ecstatic. 

“I shall tell her I am needed and will be going home soon.” You explain with a mock primness. He glances down and in the moonlight you swear it almost seems he is blushing.

“Yes, you are very much needed.” He agrees with such solemnity. But even in this light you can see his telltale twitch of lips.

“After all, I have important correspondence to catch up on.” You murmur with a happy smile as you press the letters close to your heart.

Haldir smiles warmly and presses a kiss to your hand before letting go and stepping close.

“I shall clear another bookcase at home for them all meleth nin.” He whispers with a smile.

[daesungindistress]

Hey explain GD's Kwondo Panda. Didn't know he into pandas all of a sudden. Is he trying to save the species from extinction or something? He's such a hero! GD for pandas!!!

OR could he be coming out with a whole line of wildlife based shoes?!?!? Oh my stars and stripes!!! So looking forward to the following ones, Kwondo Porcupine and Kwondo Hippo.

Everybody knows what/who those 5 lines represent. Don't kid yourself. Remember the sweet ending of Still Life? Those 5 lines are GOLDEN.

FYI for obvious reasons, the remaining members aren't allowed to outwardly support him but that doesn't mean that you are right. Also do remember, you are able to emotionally support someone without supporting what they had done. Some people have a heart and are able to forgive. Give it a try! Being bitter all your life won't get you anywhere.

Gladly. "Panda" is a marketing term used by Nike to describe a specific white/black colorway on their products. The name "Panda" isn't exclusive to GD and has been used on other Nike shoes, which you can easily confirm with a quick Google search. Pandas galore. GD did not come up with or assign the name "Panda" to this variant of the Kwondo. Nike did. What, did you think he designed a special line of sneakers to honor Seungri? Wow, get real.

The small minds of your kind are as miserably one-tracked as ever I see, and not grounded in reality. You plague rats have to stop making fools of yourselves and making everything about that man. Forcing your delusional bullshit about a convicted sex offender onto the BIGBANG members does absolutely no one any favors. Not you, not me, not BIGBANG, not even Seungri. The phoney public image you fell head-over-heels in love with is over, as is his time in the group he left. The group that has just now begun to recover their careers after he set them back years, continuing their journey forward without him in a song and video that delivered a message unequivocally in support of four. There's no such thing as a fifth season. When Seungri is released from prison next February, he will be required to enter his personal information on a national registry for sex crimes, per court order. He is not under any circumstances (outside of one's imagination) returning to BIGBANG, and BIGBANG are not returning to him. Deal with it. And by that I don't mean deny it. God knows y'all have done enough of that.

The five lines logo. Is everyone in agreement about what that logo represents today? Are they really? Because the fact that there are KVIPS still happily displaying it -- KVIPs who have no love for Seungri and mobilized en masse to deplatform him from Instagram immediately after his conviction -- should be giving you second thoughts about how it's perceived by different groups of VIPs. And this KDCKV person isn't an isolated instance. She's just one of many.

As for the MADE logo at the end of the Still Life music video, it was significant, but not in the way you think. Sadly, BIGBANG's strong sense of narrative seems lost on folk like you. It's very basic of you to reduce the MADE logo to a number when it can be seen as so much more than that. It also seems incongruous to tout it as a statement about holding on tightly in the context of a song and video whose message is of leaving the past behind. BIGBANG's use of those familiar lines at the end of the video more than likely signals the formal conclusion to BIGBANG's MADE era. The final installment, an outro of sorts, and the closure we all needed.

BIGBANG coming back to reunite with fans when the flowers were blooming was the fulfillment of the promise made in Flower Road, which was itself a continuation of MADE. In this way Still Life establishes itself as the completion of that story arc in BIGBANG's history (get it? History. Sorry, couldn't resist). There's so much beauty and poetry in the way they worked in references to Flower Road and Last Dance and other themes that were prevalent throughout MADE, then, as a finishing touch, used their old logo that marked the ends of MADE era music videos to say goodbye to that time of their lives, to offer a eulogy, an "in loving memory" before the new beginning, tying up a loose end and closing the book on a chapter of the band that had been left open for far too long. Keep the memories but move on.

Too bad it's too much for simple-mindeds like you. By viewing BIGBANG's artistry through such a narrow lens, by boiling everything of theirs down to the one who gave everything up, you're missing out on something great. Truly.

(However, if you insist on interpreting the MADE logo as meaning five, then you're more than welcome to see it as the members saying goodbye to five.)

BIGBANG have signaled their intent to pick themselves up and start anew amid the ruins of the worst reputational devastation they've ever faced as a group, and so far, their hard work and their resolve to remake themselves as something better than before has their future as four looking very promising. Stop shoehorning the source of that devastation back in where it doesn't belong. Stop standing in the way of healing. Stop standing in the way of BIGBANG's new beginning.

[thedreamermusing]

Debunking the myth that Severus Snape is an incel

So, I've seen this go around a lot in the HP fandom, but unlike a lot of other exaggerated statements, this one...doesn't seem to be based on any real truth or fact.

Let's look at the definition of an incel from Wikipedia.

Incels, a portmanteau of "involuntary celibates", are members of an online subculture who define themselves as unable to find a romantic or sexual partner despite desiring one. Discussions in incel forums are often characterized by resentment, misogyny, misanthropy, self-pity and self-loathing, racism, a sense of entitlement to sex, and the endorsement of violence against sexually active people.

Alright, so which part of this definition does Snape fit? Does he define himself as being unable to find a romantic or sexual partner? Nope. He doesn't seem to want or even wish for companionship. Is he characterised by resentment? Yes, but not because he can't get laid. Is he a misogynist? Certainly not, he treats people of all genders equally badly. Misanthropy, self-loathing? Yes, but none of these issues is related to his inability to have sex. Racism? Given that he joined the Death Eaters, yes. But once again, his views on blood purity were independent of Lily, the seeds of it were there as a child. A sense of entitlement to sex, and the endorsement of violence against sexually active people? This is a confident and definitive no.

The parts of Snape that do correlate with the incel movement: resentment, self-loathing, misanthropy, are missing the core tenet of the incel movement: misogyny. Snape's resentment is not from the fact that he's unable to get laid. He does not blame women for not giving him sex. His resentment of James Potter was not solely due to Lily, either, although that was a factor. It was also based on the fact that James Potter had what Snape at that point lacked, which Harry pinpoints so accurately in 'The Prince's Tale: 'an air of being cared for and even adored'. James also had power and privilege, and regularly used it to abuse Snape, and of course, a young, poverty-stricken, ugly, half-blood child would feel resentful of that. So, his resentment was not based around any misogynistic idea that James could 'score' women while Snape could not.

Snape was self-loathing, but not because he could not get laid. It's actually the opposite. The first time he exhibits traits of self-loathing are after Lily dies when he says 'I wish I were dead.' He hates himself for being responsible for getting her killed. If he was an incel, he would actually celebrate her death, thinking it was the price she paid for not choosing him. But Snape's self-loathing comes from being unable to protect her.

Misanthropy: I mean....this is self-explanatory. He's a misanthrope because he doesn't like anybody, period. It's got nothing to do with sexual conquest.

Now that I've (hopefully) established why Snape does not share any notable traits related to the incel movement, let me try to debunk some often repeated 'truths' in the fandom that people repeat to play into the idea that he was an incel.

1) Snape couldn't handle Lily rejecting him, so he joined the Death Eaters.

People always say this as if Snape wore a fedora and asked Lily on a date, and when she rejected him, decided that all muggleborns were bad and joined the Death Eaters...when that's not what happened at all.

First of all, the timeline here is wrong. Snape's fascination for the Death Eaters was independent of Lily. We already know he was likely abused by his Muggle father. We know that he loved dark magic. We also know that Slytherin is a breeding ground for blood purist views. And so, Snape was groomed into this movement; he certainly did not join the Death Eaters in reaction to Lily 'rejecting' him.

This brings us to the other point. Lily did not 'reject' Snape because Snape never told her how he felt. We don't know if Lily even knew how he felt. Lily rejected his friendship because he was on the path to becoming a Death Eater.

2) Snape stalked Lily and harassed her all the time.

Once again, false. Snape left her alone after Lily rejected his apology. He never tried to speak to her again or bothered her again. I'm certain Sirius Black would have brought it up if that were the case. But the fact that neither Remus nor Sirius even remembers that Snape and Lily were even friends suggests that they went their separate paths.

3) Snape offered James and Harry to Voldemort hoping that he could get with Lily after her death.

There are several misconceptions here.

Snape did not offer James and Harry to Voldemort in exchange for Lily. He simply did not care if James or Harry's lives. That is of course terrible in its own way. But there is a definite difference between the two. Voldemort would have gone after the Potters either way. There was no deal made between Voldemort and Snape where Snape said 'I'll give you James and Harry if you let Lily live.' What happened was Voldemort was already set on killing the Potters, and Snape made a desperate request to protect Lily. His situation was a) Let the Potters all die and b) Let only James and Harry die and Lily survive. There were no other options. He wanted to save her life and let her live. It wasn't out of some hope that she would fall in love with him. She was the only person who had ever cared about him and he just did not want her to die because of his actions, nothing else.

I know Dumbledore says 'in exchange for the mother' in the hilltop scene but people are forgetting that scene is one of powerplay and negotiation between Dumbledore and Snape. Snape is a terrified Death Eater fully expecting Dumbledore to murder him. Dumbledore holds the upper hand in that interaction. It is in Snape's best interests not to defend himself and simply accept the judgement Dumbledore gives him. Dumbledore, meanwhile, is trying to make Snape as ashamed as possible to get him on his side and deliberately uses phrasing to guilt him.

4) Snape bullied Harry because he didn't get the girl.

Snape's feelings towards Harry are complicated and are wrapped up in all sorts of messy emotions including hatred, resentment, guilt, anguish, and trauma. But the foremost emotions in his hatred for Harry have to do with James. Harry is a carbon copy of James, who was his primary bully in school. We have seen how bad James was to him in SWM. It is irrational of course, but a lot of his hatred for Harry has to do with looking exactly like his bully. A lot of his feelings are also guilt because Harry is proof of Snape's own failings, of not being able to save Lily. Part of it is also resentment because protecting Harry is quite possibly the own reason Snape is still alive. He wasn't able to protect Lily and to atone, he has to protect her son. He is resentful of the fact that he has to protect his bully's son, resentful that his life has become stagnated because of this child, and of course resentful that Harry constantly gets into a lot of trouble at Hogwarts, which solidifies his image in Snape's head as 'James-lite' while also making his job of protecting him harder. So his feelings towards Harry are projection of his failings and trauma and not an inability to get the girl.

Tl;dr: Snape lacks the core tenets of incel ideology i.e misogyny and an obsession with not getting sex. The incel ideology is a violent hate movement built upon hatred towards women. Snape has never once shown any inclination to be misogynistic. He never blamed Lily for the end of their friendship; rather, he understands that it was his mistakes and choices that led their friendship to end. Just because Snape is an ugly man who loved someone one-sidedly does not mean he was automatically a violent misogynist who hated all women. 'Snape is a bully' is a fact because it is canonically supported by the text. 'Snape is an incel' is not a fact; it is a lie.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What are your opinions on Draco x Harry

I mean, as you can probably guess, I’m not a fan.

Pretty much name your ship of the day and you can guess, “Oh, I bet Muffin hates that one too.” And you’d be right.

Also, to the Harry/Draco fan undoubtedly reading this post and feeling their ulcer starting to boil. Hello, welcome, please sit down and feel free to join the club of people I have grievously offended. So far including 1 Bellamort fan, 1 Ronmione fan, 1 Snape Stan.

Right, what are my thoughts on Draco/Harry...

Well, sort of like Dramione, it’s a ship with characters fandom has completely made up.

What do I mean?

Well, if we remember, in the books Harry is one scary dude. Especially when it comes to Draco.

Earlier books, Draco is just Harry’s schoolboy rival. And sure, Harry legitimately thinks Draco, a twelve-year-old, is petrifying the castle but Harry’s also very stupid. They get into spats now and then, Draco is the world’s largest brat, and they just get into various hijinks in their rivalry.

Half Blood Prince... Harry gets fucking scary. True, while he didn’t know what the spell he pointed at Draco did, his growing obsession throughout the book and the actions he took pointed towards... Well, had he not been caught or there was no danger of being caught, I’m sure he would have loved to murder Draco right then and there.

That Harry later saves Draco’s life in the next book never really felt that much about Draco. It was more that Harry likes to think of himself as a hero. I could have just as easily seen him leaving Draco Malfoy to burn alive.

So, what does Draco/Harry usually do about this? Well, they go one of two routes.

One, Harry’s obsession with and near murder of Draco Malfoy is played off as Harry’s secret attraction to Draco. See, he likes him, look how much attention he always pays to him!

Never mind that, had Draco been a female character, you’d have the fandom raging that Harry’s an abusive stalker. (Well, maybe, this fandom seems convinced Harry’s a cinnamon roll and too pure for this world).

Usually in this route Harry and Draco have one seriously messed up relationship, where they often near murder each other all the time, and it somehow turns into a relationship. That’s really just them murdering each other. What do I mean?

Well, let’s take one unnamed fic for an example.

The story is an AU where Harry and Draco get into fist fights nearly every night. And by fist fights I mean that Harry beats the ever loving shit out of Draco and Draco so loathes himself that he takes it. They do this for years, they hospitalize each other several times, Snape and McGonagall finally put their feet down and tell them to stop beating each other up in the hallway.

Then being around 15-16, Draco and Harry switch to molesting and raping each other instead. They have one seriously fucked up sexual relationship which, given the roughness, is still a lot like beating each other up within an inch of their lives.

Unfortunately, as the war goes on and after they graduate, Draco gets severe brain damage. This means no sex for Harry. Harry is very angsty about this and eventually breaks, he starts raping brain damaged Draco, only he tells himself it’s not rape because Draco seems to be responding. Maybe? Ginny tells Harry he is one messed up dude, Harry lives happily ever after raping brain damaged Draco Malfoy.

This fic has dozens of pieces of fan art and is beloved. There are many other fics that, while not quite this, involve a similar amount of dubious consent, rape, and more.

Behold, Draco/Harry at its core, a Nabokov worthy tale that no one wants to admit is a Nabokov worthy tale. Oh, they’ll call it angsty, but won’t admit just how messed up it is.

The other route is to pretend Harry’s not a fucked up dude and Draco’s not a whiny racist.

Harry will be made an inherently noble character who just... gets a little mad sometimes. But he’s an inherently good person who attracts the interest of Draco because of this nobility. Draco, in turn, wants to be a good person and doesn’t really believe the racism deep down, he just can’t get out.

This is... easier to read than the other versions, but we’re in a very strange AU where none of the characters match up to the original story. Draco and Harry are made much more palatable, and the story itself is usually diabetic levels of fluff. You need an insulin pump after all the cuddling you read through, my god. 

And that’s usually the trouble, the stories are usually about nothing. Draco and Harry have misunderstandings, they get together, they cuddle, the end.

Though that said, on my scale of readability, Draco/Harry is more tolerable to me than Draco/Hermione. On my giant post of Harry Potter fic recs, there is not one Draco/Hermione, there is... might only be one Draco/Harry. 

[fromthedeskofelizabeththird]

Habanero

You're a good girl, well behaved.

Absolutely not the type to rail random guys in nightclubs.

Until you are.

Fandom: BNHA

Pairing: Aizawa x Reader, Present Mic x Reader, a sprinkling of Erasermic and eventual polyamorous Erasermic x Reader

Rating: Mature, not smutty but it is a bit gory

Trigger Warnings: Blood and Gore, descriptions of physical violence, nothing worse than on the show, but it’s there all the same. Also some Shirakumo related spoilers. 

AO3: Here | Want to support me? I have a Kofi

Chapter: 13/16 (all chapters)

16-ISH YEARS AGO

“This is a terrible idea, just so you know.”

Shouta hugged his arms around his body, turning to look at the path behind him. His eyes were still growing accustomed to the dark and he had been almost entirely reliant on Shirakumo and Hizashi to guide him through the undergrowth, along a path tucked away by several layers of branches.

He had no idea where they were going, only that it was long after curfew.

“You worry too much,” said Hizashi. “Trust me, it’ll be worth it!”

Shouta pursed his lips together, more than a little conscious of how new he was to class 1-A. More specifically, how any wrong move could realistically end in him being returned to general studies.

He hadn’t wanted to go to the summer training camp, but ultimately the pros far outweighed the cons. Sure, he’d have to eat bad curry and share a room with students he barely knew, but missing out on the opportunity to master his quirk wasn’t something to be taken lightly. His presence there alone was a test, unofficially or not.

He had been exhausted when he finally rested his head, only to spend hours staring at the ceiling. In a matter of hours, he would have to push himself harder than ever and that knowledge alone made him nervous. He hadn’t been able to sleep the night before either, instead stealing glances at the packed bag by his bedroom door. The more he tried to sleep, the more nervous he got, a vicious cycle he knew all too well.

He was still awake at light’s out; still awake when the majority of the other guys tucked themselves into bed and began to snore. He was still awake when Shirakumo and Yamada got up to leave.

He knew them from class, of course. If he had to label them anything, and was loath to do so, they were the closest thing he had to friends on the hero course. Yamada had offered up one of his earphones on the bus ride over to show him the song he’d been obsessed with, while Shirakumo frowned into the other. Shirakumo had nudged Shouta with a wink before dropping so many chilli flakes into the curry that it shone an angry shade of red. Shouta had no idea what his ultimate goal had been, only that the two members of class 1-A who finished their dinner did it on a dare.

Shouta knew they were up to no good the second he saw them tiptoeing across the room, dodging the arms and legs of their sleeping classmates. Whatever they were up to would almost certainly get him into trouble if caught. Even so, he followed them when they motioned for him to.

“We found it earlier,” said Shirakumo, crouching down beside a fallen tree and linking his hands to give Yamada a boost over the top.

Yamada whined as he climbed up and slid down onto the other side, far from pleased at having to touch the tree bark in so little light. Shirakumo turned to him and held out his hands, leaving Shouta grateful for the darkness. In this light, no one could see him blush.

He set his foot down into Shirakumo’s hands and put a hand on his shoulder for balance. He took a deep breath as Shirakumo boosted him, planting both hands down on the damp bark and pulling himself up. He was still much slower than they were, regardless of how long he spent running laps or doing pull ups. He landed on the other side without any sort of grace, stumbling on his ankle and grazing his hands across the floor. In any other setting it would have hurt, but the grass was soft and incredibly forgiving.

“Man,” said Yamada, who was still checking himself for bugs, “I’m going to itch for a week.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Shirakumo, landing softly. “C’mon, it’s this way!”

He raced on ahead, no longer concerned about waking up any of the professors. Shouta turned to Yamada, who grinned back and reached for his hand.

“C’mon!”

He squeezed tightly and followed suit, Shouta trailing behind and staring at their linked hands. It was so intimate and yet so casual and he didn’t know what to do.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to think about it for long, as they reached a gap in the trees and Yamada let him go. Shouta stumbled to a stop, jaw dropping as he took in their new surroundings.

They had arrived at the base of a waterfall, its waters twinkling in a near perfect imitation of the stars overhead. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it definitely wasn’t this.

Yamada and Shirakumo weren’t nearly as overwhelmed as he was, already in the process of settling down on the grass. Shouta followed suit, wishing he had a dozen or more heads just to take in every detail.

“It’s good, right?!” Shirakumo said as he and Yamada flopped back into the grass.

Shouta laid back far more slowly, taking care to listen to the whisper of the water and cool night breeze. He made sure to smell the flowers that crowned their heads.

“I…” he said, closing his eyes.

He wanted to say it was beautiful, that he was happy they had shared this secret with him.

He wanted to say how grateful he was to have such welcoming classmates who hadn’t hesitated to welcome him into their class.

In the end, though, he merely shrugged.

“It’s okay.”

~~~~

PRESENT

“What do you mean you can’t come? I need you to chaperone the girls.”

“Eraser, be more sympathetic,” wailed Nemuri. “I’ve never had such bad cramps before! I feel like I’ve swallowed a chainsaw.”

Shouta leaned against the bus, rubbing his temples and toeing the gravel.

He had hated summer training camps as a teenager and he definitely hated them now.

Shouta was sick of planning the summer camp. He was tired of so much as hearing about it. It was necessary, he knew that, but this one seemed to have been doomed from the beginning.

The last thing he needed was to have to replace a chaperone at the last minute, especially so early on into summer vacation.

“You’ll be fine,” he said. “Just take an aspirin.”

“I don't have any!”

“I do. Now hurry up, we’re leaving soon.”

He hung up before she could protest, only for his phone to start ringing again almost immediately.

“I already organised a replacement,” said Nemuri the moment he picked up. “A little last minute, but she’s definitely qualified!”

“What are you tal-“

He never got the chance to reply, for you strolled around the corner, rucksack strapped to your back and sunglasses perched on top of your head. You waved the moment you saw him and came rushing over, completely oblivious to the conflict playing out in front of you.

“I’ll call you back,” he said, hanging up on Nemuri for a second time.

She had a point and he knew it. You were the only member of the faculty who didn’t have lessons to plan and papers to grade. Even so, it made him nervous and he told himself it had nothing at all to do with the cutoffs you had on.

“(Name),” he said, “you…”

“Did you speak to Nemuri? Is she okay?”

Shouta slipped his phone back into his pocket, wondering exactly how much she had told you.

“She’ll be fine,” he said. “I’m sorry to put you out like this.”

“No, no,” you said, waving away his concerns, “I was already packed for Yamanashi. It’s not putting me out at all!”

It was just like you and he sighed, cursing Nemuri. He wanted to tell you to go home, but he didn’t know who else he could call in on such short notice and, given the current climate, it was important to keep as few people in the know about where you were going as humanly possible. Even if he called Recovery Girl or Thirteen, it was unlikely either of them would be packed and ready on time and he didn’t like the idea of having them arrive at the camp later, putting more vehicles on the road for the League of Villains to follow.

“We’re taking separate routes,” he said, against his better judgement. “You should travel with 1-B. They’re taking the shorter path.”

He pointed out the second bus, where Vlad was checking over his student rosters.

“Okay,” you said with a wide smile, “I’ll go and tell him about the change of plans.”

He watched as you left, all but bouncing on your heels. He knew you hadn’t experienced much close contact with heroes until recently and your excitement was only natural. Even so, he had a bad feeling about bringing you along, one that he wouldn’t put his finger on until it was too late.

~~~~

Your friends had laughed at you for packing your bags so early. The trip to Yamanashi was weeks away and you had more free time than usual thanks to summer break. Nemuri’s early morning phone call was satisfying in more ways than one. You didn’t need to worry about buying bug spray or picking out walking shoes. All you had to do was throw on some clothes and grab your bag on the way out.

You spent the bus ride turning the pages of a suspense novel, so absorbed in the action that you barely noticed where you were going or how much time had passed. You were almost a quarter of the way through when the bus finally came to a stop and the students pushed their faces to the windows.

“Everyone, calm down,” said Vlad, “back in your seats. You’ll have plenty of time to explore later.”

They groaned, but obeyed, prompting you to giggle and slip a bookmark between the pages of your novel. You were used to dealing with the chaos of 1-A. It was almost a relief to spend time with 1-B.

You and Vlad were the first ones off the bus and you gazed in awe at your forest surroundings. There were trees and mountains as far as the eye could see, wild and unapologetically untamed. You turned on the spot, wishing you could see everything all at once, only to find yourself on the receiving end of a bone breaking handshake.

“Good morning, good morning,” said the stranger. “Welcome to The Beast’s Forest.”

You took in the stranger’s enormous form; his broad shoulders and kitten paw gloves.

“I...um...thank you…”

“The Wild Wild Pussycats are helping us out with the training camp this year,” said Vlad, taking a moment to look away as the students filed off the bus. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

“It’s our pleasure,” said the stranger. “I’m Tiger and this is Ragdoll!”

He gestured to the woman beside him, who had on a matching set of kitten paw gloves.

“Pleased to meet you,” she cried out, hopping on the spot. “We’re so happy you chose to come here and train with us!”

“We’ll show you to your rooms,” followed up Tiger.

“1-B,” said Vlad, turning to the students, who by then had started to huddle round you. “Grab your things and get ready to unpack. We have a lot to do today, so no goofing off!”

~~~~

After everyone had unpacked, Vlad and Ragdoll left to take the students on a short hike. You stayed behind to help Tiger prepare dinner, as well as to help the girls from 1-A unpack and settle in once they finally arrived.

By all accounts it didn’t make sense. 1-A had set off before you, yet still hadn’t arrived. You thought about it as you washed and peeled vegetables, wondering if Shouta had done so deliberately as part of a training exercise.

They trailed out of the forest and through the doors at sundown, filthy, exhausted and starving.

“What on earth happened?” you asked, guiding them to the dorms while Pixie Bob and Mandalay finished up the food.

You didn’t get much of an answer, just whimpers of despair.

You watched as they trailed into their room, dragging their legs and clutching their hands over their stomachs, wondering what kinds of tortures they had endured in the forest.

As expected of UA , you considered. This isn’t even day one.

~~~~~~~

After dinner, the students took a dip in the hot springs and retired to bed, exhausted from the day’s events and anticipating an early start. You checked in on them before leaving the dorms, meaning to explore the grounds a little. You weren’t sure how much time you would have to yourself once the training actually started and wanted to make the most of it.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had taken a break outside of the city. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been away from the city at all. Akira had always promised that one day you would take a week away in a cabin somewhere, though he had always been too busy for one reason or another to follow through. You had told yourself you thrived in the city, but the peaceful night air was proof enough of how wrong you had been.

The air was clean here; the silence broken only by the cry of cicadas in the distance. You had never seen the stars so clearly before and, now that they glimmered above you, you never wanted to stop looking at them.

At that moment, all you could think about was Hizashi. You remembered how it had felt to explore Musutafu with his hand in yours, so caught up in the beauty of your surroundings that you forgot how it felt to be sad.

What movie are we in?

You pulled your phone from your pocket and scrolled through your own songs as you walked, following the dirt path to an exposed area of grass framed by trees. You gave each tree an appraising look, trying to figure out which one would give you the best view, only to flop down in the middle and gaze up at the sky. You had never seen such a clear view of the summer triangle before: Orihime and Hikoboshi reunited in the stars.

Their story had always been one of your favourites, which proved fortunate, as it was your mother’s favourite too. She liked to sit you and your brother down and recite the story of the beautiful princess and her humble lover as a cautionary tale, meant to remind you of the importance of contributing to society, as opposed to childish fleets of fancy. Your brother, ever the dutiful son, had nodded along to her words and condemned the lovers for their passion, but you had always been something of a romantic. You often slipped up and said how happy you were that the lovers were reunited, to which your mother would pinch your cheeks. She liked to remind you that they would not have been separated in the first place if they hadn’t been selfish, nor would they have been reunited without the generosity of Orihime’s father.

Your mother was the only person you had ever met who spent Tanabata wishing for a rainstorm.

You hadn’t talked to either of your parents for well over a year. You hadn’t told them about the break up, nor mentioned your change in career. You weren’t naive enough to think they didn’t know. Your brother was still the obedient one and had texted you on the night of the USJ incident.

You wondered what your mother would say if she saw you now; if she knew Akira proposed to you and you had turned him down. She would probably faint if she knew you had slept with two of your coworkers, one of which had been a complete stranger at the time.

You gazed up at the sky and the summer triangle, finally understanding that you had always wished for Orihime’s happiness because you saw yourself in her. Perhaps your mother did too and that was why she pinched your cheeks so much.

You reached up to touch your own cheek and smiled, thinking of Hizashi and Shouta.

Hizashi was just as much of a romantic as you were and Shouta’s passions ran deeper than you’d ever presume to understand.

You couldn’t choose between them and never wanted to.

You were ready to be selfish and chase the stars.

~~~~

You weren’t the only one watching the stars that night.

Shouta perched in the branches of a tall tree several feet away, hiding in the summer foliage and watching the dorms for any signs of students breaking curfew. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

He had reached for his capture weapon the moment he heard the front door, only to loosen his grip when he saw who was coming.

He had watched you lay down in the grass to watch the stars; had watched you reach out to touch your cheek. He was reminded of a different summer camp at a different time; a time when he too laid his head in the grass to look up at the sky.

He lifted his hand and examined it in the moonlight. This was the hand that Hizashi had taken all of that time ago and, even though the skin had hardened and formed calluses, still tingled at the memory. He could jump fallen trees faster than Hizashi now; could navigate the dark without even trying. Even so, he still thought of hands in his and didn’t know what to do.

He wanted to go back to the waterfall from all those summers ago; wanted to link his hand in Hizashi’s again and lay back to watch the stars with your lap for a pillow.

He wanted to tell you that you were beautiful; that if anyone was to make him feel so illogical, he was glad it was you.

The more things changed, though, the more they stayed the same. He touched his fingers to his lips, tracing the spaces you had kissed even as you got back up to your feet and headed to the dorms, an expression of determination on your face.

He wanted to go after you, but his legs wouldn’t move.

He wanted to whisper the truth of his complicated feelings in your ear, but couldn’t say a word.

He was taller and stronger, yet still no different to the boy from all of those years ago. Now, just like then, he told himself that you were better off not knowing; that one day he would be brave enough to say his feelings out loud, but it wasn’t this one.

He had no idea how far the parallels ran. Now, just like then, he was running out of time.

~~~~~~

On a day to day basis, Vlad didn’t spend too much time with Aizawa or the students of 1-A. He definitely didn’t spend much time with you . 1-B hadn’t experienced as many traumas as 1-A. The only motivation he might have had to stop by your office unexpectedly was to make conversation, though you always seemed to be busy whenever he passed. When you weren’t chatting with students or rearranging the notice board outside of your office, you were chatting with Kayama and Yamada and sometimes even Aizawa.

He had been surprised when you came over to him the previous morning, sheepishly admitting that you had come to join them in Midnight’s stead, but he hadn’t questioned it.

The night before, though, he had definitely started to question some things.

He had drifted out of sleep to the sound of a soft tapping outside of his bedroom door. It was too faint to be his own door, though the idea that it might be a student bothered him. He got up and opened his own door by a sliver and peered out into the darkness.

Aizawa’s room was a little further down the corridor and you were standing in front of it, softly tapping at the wood and shifting on the spot.

“Everything okay?” he had asked, prompting you to jump in surprise.

“I...I um,” you had said, glancing from him to Aizawa’s door. “Everything’s fine, I just needed to…”

You had waved almost frantically, a blush peppering your cheeks.

“It’s nothing...I’m sorry I disturbed you!”

He had watched you scurry out of the men’s dorms, chancing glances over your shoulder at him and shooting awkward smiles.

It was strange to say the least, and he wondered about it long into the night. It still played on his mind as he took a seat at the breakfast table. The students were still in the process of getting up and only you, Aizawa and Vlad himself were around, helping yourselves to bowls of rice and cups of coffee. Vlad picked at his own food, still curious about the night before. He watched as you shot second and third glances at Aizawa, visibly gathering your nerves. He saw you get to your feet the second Aizawa did and follow him to the buffet table. He listened in as you began to speak in nervous whispers.

“Shouta,” you whispered, glancing over your shoulder, “I need to talk to you.”

“You’re talking to me now.”

“I mean...I need to talk to you... alone .”

Vlad dropped his gaze as you looked in his direction and shovelled food into his mouth to disguise the fact that he had been eavesdropping.

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Are the students okay?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” said Aizawa, lowering his cup. “We can talk about it later.”

“But…”

“Later.”

Aizawa left you at the breakfast buffet with no further room for argument, slipping back down into his seat on Vlad’s left as if nothing had happened. You followed, flopping down into your own seat on Vlad’s right, all three of you eating in silence. Vlad’s eyes darted from his left to his right, as intrigued by this new development as he was annoyed.

~~~~~

“It’s okay, deep breaths, deep breaths!”

You patted Uraraka on the back, holding her hair back from her face as she wretched. She clasped her hands over her mouth, self conscious about throwing up in front of her classmates, but too wobbly on her feet to reach the portable toilet nearby.

“Come on,” you said, easing her arm over your shoulders and guiding her to her feet. “Slow steps.”

You guided her to the toilet, only letting go as she shut the door behind her and taking the chance to look around at your surroundings. The sun was up and training well underway. 1-A and 1-B had been assigned individual training exercises to improve their quirks and the result was organised chaos.

You didn’t have any sort of combat training, so settled for weaving your way through the crowds, offering up sips of water, pats to the back and encouraging words. It was something, at least, and gave you ample opportunities to try and get Shouta alone.

You had decided to tell him everything, from your night with Hizashi to your realisations about yourself and your own feelings. You had to be honest with him, even if it meant being rejected. You knew he had some kind of feelings for you. You knew that he wanted you on some level. You needed him to see your side of things, though so far had been unsuccessful. Every time you got closer, he found somewhere else to be.

It was disheartening, to say the least. You wondered if telling him the truth was a mistake, though shrugged off the idea almost immediately. If you never told him the truth, you’d never know his reaction.

You knew that the moment you returned home, back to your house and regular job, you would lose all of your confidence. You’d not only go back to your regular bed, but your regular demons as well.

You thought you knew better than anyone that you were running out of time and the clock was ticking, but had no idea that the end was much sooner than you thought.

You thought you had until the end of the week.

In reality, you had about 36 hours.

35:48:32

~~~~

23:59:47

“So what’s the story with you and Eraserhead?”

Your eyes bulged.

“W-what do you mean?”

You switched off the showerhead and turned back towards the onsen, realising too late that you were on the receiving end of not one but three sets of eyes.

You had tried to get Shouta’s attention again at dinner, but he had announced plans for extra lessons with the underperformers in his class. Whatever it was you had to say to him could wait until later.

You had been more than a little depressed at this development, though nowhere near as upset as Kaminari and Ashido, both of whom had begged for you to rescue them.  

You must have looked unhappy as you stepped outside, for you were almost immediately jumped by Pixie Bob, Ragdoll and Mandalay, who invited you to take a soak in the hot springs with them. Maybe it was the prospect of girl talk or the fact that they reminded you so much of your own trio of girlfriends, but you took them up on it.

You hadn't expected them to ask your love life so directly.

“I...I...uh…haha, Eraserhead? Eraserhead and me?”

They grinned at that and you didn’t blame them. In their position you wouldn’t have been convinced either.

You sighed, setting aside the showerhead and getting to your feet.

“We had sex,” you said, sinking into the water. “Twice.”

“I knew it,” said Pixie Bob, nudging Mandalay. “See? I told you. I always know when people are sleeping together.”

“Oh, we’re not sleeping together anym-“

“But you’d like to?!” Ragdoll asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I…I…”

“It’s like a sixth sense,” Pixie Bob continued, seeming not to notice. “A second quirk, if you will.”

“ Sure going to come in handy during a rescue mission,” sighed Mandalay.

“Don’t be so dismissive! We could...I could,” Pixie Bob scratched her chin until inspiration struck. “If someone had heavy blood loss, I could ask their lover for their blood type!”

“What kind of guys have you been hooking up with? Vampires?”

Pixie Bob looked offended at the very idea, though Ragdoll only smiled.

“Does Eraserhead know your blood type, (Name)?” she asked, returning you to the center of attention.

“Honestly? Probably.”

It wouldn’t surprise you, all things considered. You were still convinced he’d read your staff dossier during your first few weeks at UA.

“See,” said Pixie Bob. “Sixth sense. Incredibly useful.”

Mandalay sighed and rubbed her temples.

“You must think we’re crazy.”

“I work for UA,” you laughed, “I can handle crazy.”

“I’m sure you can,” said Pixie Bob, with a suggestive wiggle of her eyebrows that made Mandalay groan. “Seriously, though, what’s the story with you two? How’d you end up... knowing each other’s blood types?”

You weighed up the pros and cons of telling them, before ultimately throwing caution to the wind. You hadn’t even gotten around to telling your friends the full story, much less about your intentions to confess to Shouta. Hizashi and Nemuri didn’t know about the night at Ego ; it had always seemed inappropriate to tell them.

It was a relief to finally have the whole story off your chest and, for the first time since your arrival, all three of the Pussycats were silent, all pondering the same thing.

It was Mandalay who spoke first.

“We’ll help.”

“H-huh?!”

“Yes,” said Ragdoll, giggling with glee. “We’ll take care of everything. ”

To their credit, they really did have everything worked out.

The following evening, once training was complete, they planned to host a ghost walk, pitting class A against class B. While the walk took place, the teachers would host remedial classes with their underperforming students, just as they were doing now.

Unbeknownst to any of the students, however, they also planned to have a barbecue once the ghost walk was finished. Both Vlad and Shouta had agreed to take a break from the remedial classes around that time in the hopes of restoring the morale of the underperformers, giving them at least one good memory of summer camp.

While the students gathered around the campfire, the Pussycats would send you and Shouta back into the woods to double check all of them had returned. It was the perfect opportunity to have a private conversation and you could hardly wait.

You returned to your room on a high, both so anxious and excited that you could barely concentrate on your book.

Your fingers trembled. You wondered what you would say. You had originally planned to make it up as you went along, but having a deadline gave you more of an incentive to think it through.

You rested your head against your pillows and laid your book down on your chest.

You had a feeling the next day was going to be eventful, though had no idea how right you really were.

~~~~

17:30:24

Remedial classes went about as well as was to be expected. By the time he escorted them back to the dorms, they were in varying states of despair.

“Don’t look so sad,” he said, “it takes dedication to be heroes. If you fall apart at every hurdle, your career won’t last very long.”

He dropped Mina off at the girls’ dorms last of all, waiting for her to close the door behind her before continuing up the corridor and back out towards the entrance. He paused midway, noticing that your bedroom door was open by a sliver and the light still on.

He remembered what you had said to him at breakfast; how nervous you had been. He felt a little guilty for keeping his distance, but had a feeling whatever it was you had to say to him was something that would require one hundred percent of his attention and time, which at that moment he was unable to give.

He knocked at your door before stepping inside, a soft smile creeping across his face at what greeted him. You had fallen asleep reading, a book resting over your face and cell phone in your hand. He could hear you snoring underneath it and took a couple of silent steps forward, just until he was close enough to pick up the front and back covers between his thumb and forefingers and peel it off your face. He slipped your bookmark between the pages and rested the book down on your bedside table, finally reaching across to try and slip the phone out from your hand.

You had starfished your body across the bed and it wasn’t difficult to loosen your grip on the phone. For one nerve wracking second, Shouta thought he’d woken you, for you crumpled up your face and rolled over onto your side to face him, murmuring in your sleep.

“...fair,” you said. “Sh...fair.”

He looked down at the hand closest to him, palm upwards across the bed. His own fingers twitched at the sight. He remembered how it had felt to hold your hand at Ego ; how you had trembled as you followed him through the club. At the time he had dismissed it as excitement, but now that he knew you better he understood it was nerves.

“Shouta,” you murmured, eyes closed and words slurred from sleep.

“I’m here,” he said, putting your phone down on top of your book.

“Sh…” you said again. “...un.”

He pulled the blanket across your body and you snuggled into it, a peaceful smile breaking out across your face. He wanted so badly to wake you up, but couldn't bring himself to. He knew he’d regret it later, though had no idea how much.

“Sleep tight,” he said, stepping back out of your room and switching off the light.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked back towards the entrance, oblivious to the fact that he was being watched.

Mina Ashido had gone into the washroom to brush her teeth and comb her hair and noticed your open door on the way back. Initially she had wandered over to wish you goodnight, but froze on the spot when she saw Aizawa tucking you in.

She clasped her hands over her mouth as he walked out of the door, pressing herself against the corner of the wall to remain out of sight. She was curious, yes, but not so curious that she was willing to risk even more remedial classes.

She rushed into the girls’ dorm room the moment he was gone and slammed the door shut behind her.

“Everyone,” she hissed, as the others groaned and rubbed their eyes, far from impressed at the early morning interruption. “Wake up! You’re not going to believe this!”

~~~~~~

14:42:45

“I don’t believe you.”

“I know what I saw!”

News of your late night interlude with Aizawa was the talk of the 1-A breakfast table, even if everyone was divided. While Aizawa’s presence in your room definitely raised questions, there was no evidence it had been anything other than innocent. Mina had seen him tucking you into bed and nothing more, leaving the events of that night up to personal interpretation, of which there were many.

“I’m telling you,” said Mina, “he was smiling . It was weird.”

“She could have told him a really good joke,” shrugged Kaminari.

“In her sleep ?”

“Remember that time I told Professor Aizawa a knock knock joke?” Sero said, grimly. “He made me do laps.”

“It was a pretty bad joke,” chuckled Tsuyu.

“You’re all wrong,” said Hagakure. “She’s dating Present Mic!”

“Present Mic?” said Uraraka, sounding more than a little confused.

“They do seem to get along well on his radio show,” said Deku. “That doesn’t mean they’re a couple, though.”

“Maybe she’s dating both of them,” shrugged Kirishima, to which everyone began to chatter in uproar.

“In any case,” said Iida, bellowing over everyone as he lowered his orange juice, “it’s inappropriate to speculate on the private lives of our teachers.”

“But that’s what makes it fun ,” said Mina, who was more than a little put out that people still didn’t believe her.

She glanced over at the teacher’s table, where you and the Pussycats were deep in discussion and Aizawa and Vlad compared notes on their lesson planning.

She knew what she had seen, but had no idea how to prove it.

~~~~~

1:24:21

The third day of training passed just as quickly as the first. You rushed around the grounds, handing over bottles of water and offering words of reassurance. It felt like a workout even though you weren’t the one training and you breathed a sigh of relief when it finally came to a close.

You mopped your brow and peered out over the horizon, taking in the golden sunset.

It was almost time.

~~~~~

00:24:12

Shouta...I’ve been thinking…

We need to be honest with ourselves. You aren’t Hizashi and Hizashi’s not you. You aren’t each other’s substitute and it’s unfair to everyone to pretend you are.

You frowned as you took a sip of soda.

You’d been lost in thought ever since you’d arrived at the midpoint with Ragdoll, going over and over everything you wanted to say to Shouta. In many respects you felt guilty, for you knew you weren’t paying as much attention to the ghost walk as you should.

You didn’t notice the thump of heavy footsteps nearby until Ragdoll herself hopped to her feet to listen.

“What...is that…”

“Is it a student?”

Ragdoll squinted and moved closer to the trees. The footsteps had slowed, but were still audible in the distance. You got up yourself, but she motioned for you to stay where you were.

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” she said with a smile. “Maybe Pixie Bob made one of her earth creatures for extra scares.”

She walked towards the trees, disappearing into the shadows and out of sight. It made you nervous, though you didn’t know why. You tapped your foot against the ground and chewed your bottom lip, listening as both Ragdoll’s footsteps and the heavy ones fell silent.

It lasted only for a second, though it felt like years. You reached for the satchel of extra gear the two of you had packed and rummaged inside of it for a torch. You knew you shouldn’t leave your post, but you wanted to feel just a little safer.

“R-Ragdoll?” you called out, fiddling with the switch. “Are you-“

The footsteps started again and you froze in place, watching as something emerged from the trees. You dropped the torch and it flashed on when it hit the ground, illuminating the enormous creature stumbling towards you.

Your heart froze in your chest and you took a step backwards, insides turning to water.

You recognised this sort of creature from Tsukauchi’s investigation of the events of USJ, though had only ever seen them in photos. You shivered as you took in its exposed brain and dead, fishlike eyes, watching helplessly as Ragdoll thrashed in its grip.

“Get out of here, (Name),” she called out, the creature squeezing her body until the radio fell from her head. “Tell the others!”

You knew that you should obey her, but you were frozen to the spot, unable to do anything but watch as two other figures emerged from the trees. One was a young man with a patchworked face; the other wore a black and white costume that hid any identifying features from view.

The man with the patchworked face glanced from the creature to you, examining you from head to toe as if coming to a decision.

“Hmmm,” he said. “You aren’t on the list.”

You had no idea what list he was talking about, nor why you weren’t on it. You wondered if he was talking about the list of attendees to the summer camp, though prayed you were wrong. The camp’s location was a secret, or rather, was supposed to be one.

“Run!” Ragdoll screamed again and this time you obeyed, sprinting away along the dirt track and back towards camp.

The patchwork-faced man turned languidly to face his companion and shrugged.

“Twice,” he said, “make a copy. We can’t have her alert the others.”

“Right away! Just leave it to me!”

“Honestly, we only just got here and already you’re telling me what to do.”

You glanced over your shoulder just in time to see two identical men with patchwork faces, one of which was beginning to follow you.

Shit, shit, shit.

You ran away, reaching into your pocket for your phone. You needed to warn the others, you needed to-

Shit

You stumbled over an uneven spot in the floor, phone soaring out of your hand and into the trees as your mouth filled with blood.

You rolled over onto your back and crawled over to reach for it, though the tumble had slowed you down significantly. The second patchwork man strolled towards you at a leisurely pace as if you hadn’t bothered to run from him at all. You pushed yourself up onto your feet, but your ankle throbbed and caved in, leaving you crashing back to the ground.

“Ow,” you muttered, shuffling back towards the trees and out of danger, though not remotely fast enough to get away.

“They said I’m not s’posed to hurt you,” he said, taking a step closer, “just scare you a little.”

He smirked, taking in your burst lip and grazed knees; your frantic rummaging through the bag of supplies.

“Looks like my job’s already been done for m-“

He inched backwards as you dragged out the thing you’d been looking for: a flare gun, packed in case of emergencies. It was harmless, of course, but in the darkness looked just like the real thing.

“Tell me,” you said, “are you a clone?”

He raised his hands in mock surrender, conflict visibly playing out across his face at the activation of your quirk.

“I am,” he said.

“Tell me,” you said again, far more forcefully, “do you share memories? Will you both remember this conversation?”

“I share his memories. He doesn't share mine.”

You didn’t know if the clone shared the original’s quirk as well as his memories and were more than a little aware that you only had a short window before he figured out you weren’t holding a real gun.

“ Tell me ,” you said. “Where is the league of villains? Where do they gather?”

He squeezed his hands together, blue flames rippling across his skin as he recited an address. You committed it to memory and then pulled the trigger, limping off into the trees as he dodged the red sparks.

You limped as fast as your legs would carry you, finally collapsing behind a tree to catch your breath. You reached for your phone with shaking hands, writing out the address in a message to Shouta and cursing under your breath when it failed to send.  

“Come on, come on, come on,” you said, tapping ‘resend’ over and over to no avail. You had to warn them, had to tell them.

You gave up on sending the message and used the tree as a guide to get back up onto your feet, wincing as almost every inch of your body ached in protest.

Come on , you willed yourself. Come on, (Name), you can do this.

You weren’t a hero, but none of the kids were yet. You had joined UA to guide and protect them and cuts and bruises didn’t change that obligation.

You froze in place at the sound of footsteps, clapping a hand over your nose and mouth, eyes darting around at your surroundings. The trees swayed in the evening breeze, the stars shone brightly overhead, seemingly oblivious to what was happening within the forest. You squeezed your eyes shut, heart pounding and skin clammy.

Why had the villains come here?

What was their goal?

You wished you had asked the patchwork faced man while you still had a chance.

The footsteps faded, their owner retreating in the opposite direction. You breathed a steady sigh of relief and peeped out behind you at the path you would need to take to get back to the main path. It would probably be faster to go through the woodland and you turned back to get your bearings, heart stopping as you found yourself looking into the mouth of another stranger, one who was currently dangling from the branch above you and grinning widely, revealing a set of shining teeth.

“M...meat,” he said, dropping to the floor and leaning back, one of his canines stretching from his mouth and slicing open your arm. “Fresh meat.”

You knew this villain. You remembered his court case; your father led the prosecution and landed him on death row.

Moonfish

You remembered going for coffee with your brother, who at the time was interning at your father’s law firm. It was his first real case and it affected him deeply. He refused to talk about it, even now that years had passed.

After seeing the villain in the flesh, you thought you understood why. He moved with inhuman dexterity, landing in front of you before you could so much as move.

You saw the blade coming. You heard it pierce the tree.

You didn’t, however, feel it go through your body, not until he jerked his head back in an attempt to free his tooth from the tree bark. You screamed in pain, the wound burning every time he moved.

“Show me,” he said, yanking his head, “show me how you look on the inside.”

His tooth snapped and he stumbled backwards, leaving you to flop forward, blood soaking through your shirt.

“Show me,” said Moonfish, stumbling forwards. “Let me taste your flesh.”

You opened your mouth to protest, ears ringing.

You didn’t know what you meant to say to him, only that you never got the chance. He stepped forwards to land the finishing blow, only to hear a noise in the distance. You heard it, too, eyes bulging in realisation.

The students still didn’t know about the attack and were continuing on the ghost walk. A pair of them were nearby, discussing the possible tactics of 1-B.

You searched your brain for the order, though struggling to settle on a single thought, skin prickling as Moonfish retracted his teeth and disappeared into the night, far more interested in a different sort of prey.

You tried to move, only to cry out in pain. The broken tooth seemed to have gone right through not only you, but the tree. If you tried to pull it out, you would almost certainly bleed to death far faster, but if you stayed there it wouldn’t just be you who bled.

You snatched up your phone and frantically dialled everyone in your phone book, blood soaking through your shirt and shorts.

You dialled Shouta to no avail.

You dialled Hizashi, who was in the middle of recording his radio show.

You dialled Nemuri, who was filming an interview on a late night television show.

“Someone,” you murmured, vision going dark and limbs going floppy. “Someone…”

You looked up towards the sky, taking in the bright stars with a bitter smile.

You knew it was impossible, and she was far away, but you could feel your mother pinching your cheeks.

~~~~~

00:05:20

Of all of the heroes in all of the world, Eraserhead was perhaps the most mysterious. What few people knew of his existence knew even less about the man. He was a shadow, venturing out of the darkness only to ambush would be criminals and vanish just as quickly as he came.

He worked best after dark where he could travel unseen. Ironic, therefore, that on this night in particular he stumbled over his feet. He sprinted through the undergrowth, phone pressed to his ear.

Hello, this is (Name). I’m not around at the moment, please leave a message!

“Come on,” he hissed, coming to an abrupt halt and dialling again.

Shouta glanced around at his surroundings, entirely in his element, yet powerless to act.

After returning Kota to the lodge, his phone had exploded with missed calls and messages.

“What is it?” Vlad had asked, noticing the blood drain from his face.

“I’m forwarding an address,” he said, copying one of your messages. “Pass it onto the police when they get here.”

“An address? What-”

“Just pass it onto them! It’s important!”

He had no idea why it was important, of course, only that you wouldn’t have sent it to him so many times if it wasn’t.

Your phone went through to voicemail again and he swore under his breath,

“Idiot,” he hissed. “What did I tell you about facing unknown villains?”

He remembered the night you got him with pepper spray.

Why would you try and confront a villain without help? You could have gotten yourself killed.

“You better not have done anything stupid,” he said, dialling your number again to distract himself from the fact that if you had gotten that information by using your quirk, you must have gotten close to a villain.

“Over here!” Tiger yelled nearby. Shouta followed the sound of his voice, arriving at what had previously been the midpoint.

His ears began to ring when he saw what remained of it: an abandoned table, soaked with blood, an abandoned torch flickering on the ground.

“This...this is Ragdoll’s radio,” said Tiger, lifting it up from the floor. “Oh my god…this...this is blood!”

“This blood’s cold,” said Shouta, dipping his pinky finger into it and glancing across at the radio in Tiger’s hands, “most likely hers.”

“There’s so much,” said Tiger, voice breaking, “that idiot...her quirk isn’t suitable for combat. She knows that.”

Shouta crouched down to pick up the abandoned torch.

“There’s no blood on this,” he said, turning it over in his hands. “Whoever dropped it wasn’t injured.” He fiddled with the on switch and turned to face the table, where Tiger had picked up Ragdoll’s abandoned radio. “They were frightened, though.”

“(Name),” said Tiger, picking up his train of thought. “Ragdoll...she must have told her to run.”

Shouta cursed and followed the dirt track, dialling your number as he went. He froze on the spot when he spotted an abandoned flare in the mud.

“This way,” he called out, rushing over and crouching down to examine it.

By then, it had largely burned out, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

Generally speaking, people fired flare guns into the sky. This one had pretty clearly ricocheted off a tree. Whoever fired it had done so in self defense, as a distraction.

“Did you find anything?”

Shouta glanced over his shoulder to see Vlad arriving from the opposite direction.

“Did you see anyone on your route here?” he asked, stomach churning at the head shake he got in response.

“They’ve sent out a helicopter to track down any stragglers,” said Vlad, pointing to the sky. “We’ll soon have a better idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“There’s not enough time,” said Shouta, dialling your number.

He had a pretty good idea of the sequence of events so far and didn’t like it one bit. You and Ragdoll had likely been ambushed by multiple villains. Ragdoll had almost certainly told you to run, not only because you were a civilian, but to raise the alarm. Someone had followed you to this spot, but what had happened next?

He got his answer a few seconds later, for somewhere to his left a phone started to ring.

“That way,” he said, sprinting in that direction, Vlad not far behind.

He couldn’t seem to move fast enough; his legs felt heavy, as if he was wading through water.

He followed the sound to its source and froze on the spot at what greeted him.

It was you, impaled by a long, jagged piece of metal that ran all of the way through the tree behind you. Your hands, lips and clothes were covered in blood, cell phone still ringing in your lifeless hand.

He couldn’t move, couldn’t say a thing, not even as Vlad arrived behind him.

“(Name),” said Vlad, dropping to the ground and examining your wounds. “(Name)...”

He turned to Shouta, ready to tell him that you were still warm, only to fall silent at the sight of him standing there. His mouth opened and closed helplessly, an expression of unspeakable horror and dread across his face.

He clasped a hand over his mouth and turned away from the scene, the scent of blood and smoke making him retch. He remembered every time you had asked to talk to him; every time he had chickened out of saying how he really felt.

Vlad was calling out to him, but he couldn’t make out a word, too lost in memories to be at all coherent.

He remembered you tapping a wet cloth to his face so many months ago. He had been furious then, though it all felt meaningless now.

You need to be more rational in these things. Running head on into danger gets people killed.

Good job I had a big, strong Eraserhead around to protect me.

“Aizawa,” said Vlad, “Aizawa...she’s…”

He didn’t get an answer, though, just a yell as Aizawa dropped onto his hands and knees.

They were in the forest, but all he could hear was rubble crashing to the floor, silently taking Shirakumo with it.

To this day, he still wasn’t fast enough.

Vlad turned back to you and tucked your hair behind your ear, face dropping at the muffled mumbling coming from your lips, intertwined with the muffled sobs coming from Aizawa that he would later pretend he didn’t hear.

“Shouta...it’s unfair...unfair...un...fair.”

00:00:00

[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 36

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader Content: Interesting conversations. No proofing (it’s hard to concentrate atm). A/N: That feeling when you have to read through what you’ve written before to see if something has been said...but then there’s soooo much you just end up gambling and thus pray that no readers will trash you for inconsistencies. Ask or re-blog for tag.

36. Thingmaker

...   Reader   ...

Much to your surprise, Odin had decided not to throw you into the dungeons but rather confine you in a new room on one of the lower levels of the castle. It was smaller and less grandiose in its furnishings and design, but still comfortable. Even after the decadence of the guest chambers, you would have been perfectly capable of managing house arrest if it hadn’t been for one detail: What’s Loki up to?

Leaning on the windowsill, the view of the courtyard does little to distract you from your worries. You ought to be reading in some of the books the queen had made sure you got. Or perhaps you should be phrasing an airtight defence, taking into consideration any crazy things Arox or maybe even the king could throw at you.

Who am I kidding? Sure, dismantling any argument the brute could come up with would be child’s play considering he has the mental capacity of a crushed grape, but Odin...I need your brains, Loki.

You ignore the sound of voices outside the door, knowing full well that despite the lock, there will be guards in place both to keep you in plus particularly to keep a certain someone out. That’s why you don’t expect the door to open, revealing a blond man with a concerned smile.

“M’lady!” Fandral exclaims as if relieved.

You can’t help but return the smile. “What ar-? How come you -?”

“And here I had been recalling your tongue much sharper, my dear.”

It feels good to laugh even if it’s brief – over much too soon as reality returns together with the inkling that the charmer most likely is here as a messenger rather than a friend. Maybe Arox’s version of the story has weighed heavier than your own? And whatever Thor has figured out might not be enough to clear the suspicion towards you...let alone the obviously deep seated loathing the old king holds towards his youngest son.

“Given your situation, there is something you ought to know about Loki,” Fandral begins, the touch of seriousness heavy in the mumble, “especially in regards to the family ties.”

You listen in awe, as Fandral hands you more pieces to the puzzle, helping you identify and place them between the ones you have been able to figure out. Some things, that you hadn’t even questioned, begin to make sense: Loki’s interest in the frozen wasteland of a planet; why he had been opposed to his own “brother” during the events in New York; how Odin shows no remorse or signs of loss when the subject falls on the raven-haired man. Adopted. If you had been less invested, then this would have been an interesting study in nature versus nurture because there’s no doubt in your heart that Loki and Frigga are (or have been) as much like mother and child as anyone with blood relation can be. Even when Fandral has to leave, there are still blanks. He is not privy to every bit of information even if he still is a close friend of Thor.

“This were said”, Fandral finishes, “that were more damaging to Loki’s troubled mind than weapons. Thing that cannot be unsaid.”

...  Loki  ...

He wants to hold Frigga. He wants to scream at her for flawlessly pretending to be his mother. Most of all, he wants to storm off and find [Y/N]. He does none of it.

“I’ve cause you so much pain directly and indirectly...” Frigga is studying him with the soul-piercing gaze of hers. “I have no right to ask for forgiveness, yet I hope we can put it aside for now and work together. Your bro- Thor has illuminated much of the darkness behind recent events but not enough. Names of beings and places. Objects of power. The knowledge of witches goes further still...but you are the greatest asset against the threat.”

“While I would love to face the All-Father...nothing I can say will be considered the truth in his ears,” Loki sneers.

There’s a glimmer of a mother’s admonishment in the queen’s grey eyes at the implication but it’s gone with a blink. “No, he won’t listen to you...but he does listen to me and respects the channels at my disposition. I can feed him the knowledge you pass to me.”

“Still maintained your influence, I see.” Loki hesitates, considering how far his adoptive mother’s reach is. “I will not bother asking how long you have known of my presence...but are you the reason Heimdal has not warned anyone?”

“His gaze has been turned towards other worlds...perhaps more so after hearing a mother’s plea,” she smirks wickedly, “and I may have strengthened the veils around you.”

“And here I presumed [Y/N] should be praised for playing her role well...the escaped damsel in distress.”

The laugh is gentle like spring rain. “Oh you may keep praising her -” the sarcasms laced perfectly -”and perhaps her teacher?”

“She...is a natural.” Pride at his little mortal fills Loki’s chest, heating it and lifting a bit of the weight from his shoulders. Yes, his lover may be kind and gentle but she’s a cunning survivor too. “Can you guarantee her safety?”

“That entirely depends on our and her actions.”

[voiceless-terror]

Resignation (The Magnus Archives)

Whumptober 2020 Day Twenty Eight: Mugged

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims, Tim Stoker

Summary: 

Who was it this time? Plenty of avatars seemed to have a bone to pick with him these days. He closed his eyes, not even attempting to fight back. Just waited for the inevitable “Archivist” said with utter loathing. So the words he heard next surprised him.

“Empty your pockets. Now.”

Jon gets mugged. It’s surprising how little this bothers him.

He could almost laugh at the sheer mundanity of it. 

Stumbling towards the tube, soaked with rain and bone-tired, Jonathan Sims ran into some trouble. He’d been running into trouble a lot lately. Just last week he’d been burned, thrown through the sky, and hunted like a dog in the span of hours and now, here he was, being pulled into an alley and thrown against a brick wall with painful force.

Who was it this time? Plenty of avatars seemed to have a bone to pick with him these days. He closed his eyes, not even attempting to fight back. Just waited for the inevitable “Archivist” said with utter loathing. So the words he heard next surprised him.

“Empty your pockets. Now.” 

Jon opened his eyes, baffled. It was a human. A man with wild, desperate eyes and an unwashed smell. But human. Just a regular, run-of-the-mill robbery. He was getting mugged. He couldn’t help the delirious smile that made its way to his face. This of course didn’t please the man robbing him and he was promptly slammed back against the wall, his head bouncing off the brick with a painful thunk. Stars flooded his vision as shaking hands moved in his pockets, pulling out a phone and a mostly empty wallet.

“Here,” he whispered, holding his hands out beseechingly. “It’s all I have. Sorry.” Sorry was his default response, apparently. Even when getting assaulted. 

“Fuck’s sake,” the man murmured, flipping through the empty wallet and holding Jon against the wall with one fairly lax hand. He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t even fighting. Jon was very, very tired of fighting. The man paused, seeming to consider his options.

“The jacket too, then,” he demanded, ripping it off one of Jon’s shoulders. He hastily complied, peeling the other arm off and handing it over. It was one of Georgie’s, oversized and warm. He would miss it, and she certainly wouldn’t be pleased. His legs started to shake as he watched the man grapple with his things- it had to be over now, Jon had nothing left. Except for perhaps his shoes, the one nice thing he had been wearing when he went on the run. The man was agitated, conflicted. Just leave, he pleaded, unable to get the words out. I don’t have anything else to give you.

“Stop lookin’, freak!” A hit to the face, another slam against the wall but this time the hands didn’t stay, letting him sink to the cold, wet ground. A kick to his ribs for good measure and finally the man was off, his footsteps echoing on the pavement as Jon keened in pain. 

Everything hurt, the pain throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His head was swimming and black spots were dancing in his vision. He couldn’t call anyone, not without his phone. Why not just cough and shiver for a few more minutes, perhaps someone would walk by and see? You left at midnight, idiot. No one’s out except for you. And robbers. He would have to handle this himself, then. So with great effort, he managed to raise himself with weak arms into a sitting position with his back resting on the wall behind him. Blood trickled down his cheek like a stray tear- that must be where the throbbing in his temple was coming from.

It was strange to think about how easily he let things happen to him. He was so shocked, so pleased that it wasn’t another supernatural being coming after him that he did nothing, acting like it was inevitable. He could still hurt, still feel pain, still experience things that normal humans did. It certainly wasn’t normal that he found this so comforting. He let out a bark of laughter that turned into a groan of pain- time to get out of the cold. The Institute wasn’t so far, he had only been walking for ten minutes. He could do ten minutes, if he leaned against a few walls and took a few breaks. Jon would manage. 

It was painstakingly slow and each move was torturous, but he eventually made it back, leaning against the front door with so much force that it slammed open and he stumbled to the floor on all fours. Nausea rose in his throat but he couldn’t throw up, not in the main hallway. It was bad enough that his palms left a bloody handprint that would surely spook the janitor; to leave him with vomit as well would be too much. Ed was always so nice to me, he thought, mind in a fog. Even when I didn’t deserve it.

On all fours was how he made his way over to the door to the Archives. Standing was no longer an option, not with his consciousness fading like it was. He had no time to feel embarrassed about scooting down the stairs like a child; by the time he collapsed in an office chair, he was already gone.

______

Another day in paradise.

Tim arrived unusually early to the Archives that day; he accidentally left his charger at the office and his phone was his main source of entertainment nowadays. He could always convince Martin or Melanie to take a long lunch break with him to make up for it. What the boss doesn’t know, the boss won’t mind!

There was a wet floor sign in the lobby, likely the result of last night’s rain, although the sidewalks had looked fairly dry as Tim walked in. He’d grabbed a coffee on the way, feeling unusually perky for another day in the hellscape they called the Magnus Institute. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad day after all-

No, it wouldn’t. It would be even worse.

The Archives were dark; not unusual since he was the first one in. On flicking the lights, however, he found his desk to be occupied by one sleeping boss.

Fucking Jon.

He groaned aloud but still the man didn’t wake. What the fuck was he playing at- the man had an entire office at his disposal and he decided to take a nap here, of all places? Was Jon trying to piss him off? Tim stomped towards the desk, ready to shake the man awake with a hand on his shoulder when he paused.

Jon’s shirt was oddly damp, like he’d been caught in the rain and never truly dried off. Tim could feel his shoulder blade through his shirt- this was typical for Jon, he’d always been bony, but this was verging on downright unhealthy. And he was shaking, small, trembling motions that Tim could feel even from his light hold on his back. 

Concern warred with anger in his chest. Jon had always inspired his big-brother instincts, small and nervous as he was. But now the over-protectiveness was unwanted, a burden to the rage he kindled in his heart. You don’t deserve my sympathy. Not anymore.

But he found himself pitching his voice low and shaking his shoulder as gently as possible. “Boss?” he whispered. “C’mon, time to get up.”

“Hnngh?” the voice that responded was nasally and barely audible from the pillow of Jon’s arms. Tim let go as he watched Jon come to, raising his head to reveal a grotesque crime scene of a face. It was bloody and bruised, even swollen in parts. His nose was coated with blood and his eyes blackened. 

“What the fuck?” he swore, grabbing at the bottom of his face and pulling it towards him, shock overriding his concern. Jon gasped in pain from the motion and his arms curled around his stomach as if shielding himself. He looked like he’d been beaten, and badly at that. Tim felt his ire rise- whether it was at whoever had done this to Jon, or at Jon himself for letting this happen, he couldn’t tell.

���Seriously, why are you here?” he asked severely, grabbing onto the man’s shoulders and ignoring his wince. “Go home, or the hospital or wherever the fuck you need to- not work, not my fucking desk.” He let go as the man seemed to shrink in on himself, looking so small and defenseless. Jon had no right to look like that. “Should I be calling an ambulance? It’s too early for this shit.” The anger kept spewing forth. It was easier to blame Jon than see him as a victim. It didn’t feel great- but then again, what did anymore? 

“I’m- m’ so sorry,” Jon croaked. His eyes refused to focus, staring somewhere left of Tim. “Took m’ phone, took-took everything.” Jon’s eyes were starting to water and Tim had to look away; he couldn’t face this pathetic, vulnerable display. He didn’t like what it made him feel. “Nowhere else t’go, not- not anymore.” The hiccup was the final straw and Tim found himself shrugging out of his jacket and wrapping it around Jon’s shoulders in an almost involuntary gesture.

“Only you would get in this mess,” he muttered, unwilling to match his words to his actions. He gingerly took a hand to Jon’s side, ready to help him up. “C’mon. You’ve got to go to a hospital. I’m not letting you bleed all over my desk.” Jon began his typical protests, mumbles of “I’m fine” and “Jus’ take me to my office” that Tim ignored in favor of gathering the man up in his arms as gently as possible. His head was already lolling against Tim’s chest, surely a bad sign. He went completely silent as Tim carried him out of the institute, only waking when Tim managed to buckle the seatbelt across his lap in his car.

“Wher’ we?” he swiveled his head around, trying to get his bearings. “Where we goin’?”

“The hospital, like I said,” his voice struggled to carry the irritation he wanted it to. “Like you should’ve done last night. What happened, anyway? Piss off another person trying to get a statement?” He pulled the car out of the parking lot in an unsafe maneuver and merged into traffic. 

“Nnnh,” Jon’s head dropped back to his chest and Tim sped up in response. Damn, damn. “Jus’ a guy, y’know?” And he laughed. It was an unhinged and painful sound; Jon grabbed at his sides again. “Jus- just got jumped. S’ kind of sad.”

Tim let the information sink in with a growing dread. Jon had been jumped, robbed, and beaten to shit and his first response was to go back to work. To laugh. To think a year and a half ago this would have horrified him- Jon would be inconsolable, embarrassed and angry. Jon wasn’t angry anymore. Tim had enough of that for the both of him. He wanted Jon to get angry, to be mad, to yell. At least then he would recognize him.

Jon went on, every word a dagger in his chest. “Y’know, this is the sec’nd time this happen’d in a week. S’weird.” He paused, his eyes squinting ahead in confusion. “I mean, if y’count Daisy. Took my stuff. Laughed. She gave it back, though. When- when Basira convince- convinced her not t’kill me. Dead-” Another hiccup and a laugh. “Dead men don’t need wallets.”

“Stop,” Tim said, his voice hardened. “Just stop. Stop talking.” No more reminders that Jon almost died. That the woman who did it still walked around the Archives and Jon said nothing. That if this were six months ago, Tim would have killed her for even touching a hair on Jon’s head with the intent to hurt.

“S’rry,” Jon mumbled. They didn’t speak for the rest of the way.

Tim waited at the A & E for more than a few hours, firing off a text or two to Martin, telling him not to worry if he saw any blood at his desk. This had the opposite effect, but Tim was too tired to deal with his fussing. He’d had enough excitement for the morning.

Jon was released surprisingly quickly, a nurse hurriedly pushing him into Tim’s arms with a rather false sounding “Feel better soon!” Jon had bandages all over his face and neck, and Tim could see through his thin button-up that he’d had his ribs wrapped up. He was listless as Tim wrapped him in his coat again, leaning heavily into his side as papers fell from his hand- a pamphlet on broken ribs, concussions, and a prescription for heavy painkillers. Tim balanced him with one arm, reaching down to pick up the paperwork with the other.

“That was quick. They ask a lot of questions? You look like a battered housewife. No offense.”

Jon laughed a bit at that- more loopy than unhinged. “Just tol’ em I worked at the Magnus Institute- didn’t ask questions after that. Wanted me in and out, I suppose.” Another horror of their job- nobody to run to when things got rough. Turned out hospitals were just as bad as the police. Fucking figures.

They continued to walk out to the car, Jon limping along in his hold. “This had nothing to do with whatever shit Elias has you doing, though,” he responded, slowing down as Jon winced in pain. “Shouldn’t you be reporting this? You lost your wallet, your phone. Gonna need that.”

“Oh, Tim,” Jon sounded so resigned, but gave him a soppy, unnerving smile. “S’not worth it. Who's gonna call me, anyway?” 

Tim didn’t know how to respond to that, so he just buckled him into the passenger seat and got in the car, sighing. “Where’s home?”

Jon gave him a surprised look. “Institute’s fine, really-”

“No,” Tim raised his voice, stern. “I’m not taking you back there. Just give me an address, and take one fucking day off. No arguments.”

Jon shrunk back at his tone; he’d forgotten how much he hated yelling. Never reacted well to it. Even when Tim was trying to be nice, he still fucked it all up. Jon rattled off an address about twenty minutes away and they drove there in silence, Jon’s hands fidgeting in his lap and Tim’s hands gripping the steering wheel with unnecessary force.

He didn’t help Jon to the door. He didn’t want to see how he was living. If he needed help getting around. When Jon tilted out of the car, trying to shrug off his coat, Tim stopped him with a hand to his arm.

“Just bring it back tomorrow. You look like you need it.”

And Jon nodded, so surprised and so thankful. It’s just a fucking jacket! He wanted to scream. Stop looking at me like that!

He watched as Jon stumbled up the stairway, knocking at a door. It opened and a hand reached out to steady him, Jon leaning into it gratefully. Tim drove off before he could get a better look.

Jon came in the next day. He limped and Martin fussed. He tried to smile at Tim. 

Tim did not smile back.

_______

Months later, Jon will wake up in his cot, curled around the jacket. It was Tim’s favorite- well-worn but expensive. Jon had tried to give it back but Tim just shook his head. A week later, he died. And then it didn’t matter anymore.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251512

[rikumorimachisgirl]

Bridges

Pairing: Dr. Toshiki Kasumi x OC (Anna)

Fandom: Voltage, RomanceMD

Genre: Fluff and a little angst

Word count: 2,945

Disclaimer: I do not own Voltage or any of its characters, but I own the idea of this fic. Also, CG borrowed from Voltage.

A/N: I wrote this for my good friend @imoonlit-river as a Valentine's Day present. I hope you enjoy this.

It started one afternoon. One terrible afternoon, just after you'd clocked out of a long and grueling shift at the Seimei University Hospital. You sighed. You were used to long shifts, but covering two shifts on your first week on the job was one for the books. 

You squinted as you stepped out of the main entrance, the afternoon sunlight shone directly at you. As you trudged to your apartment, you mentally deliberated if taking this temporary assignment was a mistake. Lost in thought, you allowed your feet to carry you through the busy crowd. 

'Maybe I should've just stayed home,' you thought silently. It has only been a week since you started, but you have been passed on from one IT department to another, told off twice for misunderstanding instructions,  had no one else on the same shift as you, and no one to talk to. 

You stopped on your tracks and found yourself on a bridge - the same one you pass every single day on your way to work and back. The vivid hues of the sky caught your attention, and you gasped as you admired the pretty pink palette in front of you. Leaning at the railing, you stared at the horizon, drinking in its beauty, and allowing it to refresh your tired soul. 

"Long day?"

A voice beside you made you jump. You hadn't expected anyone to be there - more so, notice you standing there. As you shifted your gaze to the person next to you, you felt your eyes widen in surprise. 

"Did I guess right then?"

Your heart hammered in your chest, as the beautiful man standing beside you continued to speak. You shook your head and blinked your eyes a few times to make sure you weren't dreaming. You haven't slept in twenty-four hours, you reminded yourself. Maybe this was all a dream. 

Yes, it must be a dream. There was no way that the Seimei University Hospital's Chief of Medicine, and top Cardiologist, Toshiki Kasumi, was beside you looking so cool in his grey hoodie under a crisp blue jacket, and jeans. 

"Uh, are you okay?" 

"C-c-chief Kasumi!" You blurted out louder than you had intended when you saw his face coming nearer to check on you. "It's you! You're here!"

"Yes, I have been for several minutes now, but you seem to have noticed just now. Are you feeling okay?." He raised his eyebrows to study you, before leaning back. 

"I'm sorry, Chief Kasumi," you bowed a lot lower than necessary. "I worked two shifts today to cover for Sena-san. I didn't mean to be out-of-sorts today."

He looked at you quietly before turning his attention to the view in front of you. 

"It's fancy seeing you here, Chief Kasumi. Do you cross this bridge, too?" You asked awkwardly. 

The silence between you stretched for a few minutes, and you suddenly wished you hadn't asked him a silly question. You kept your gaze low, looking around for a hole you can crawl into and hide. 

"Bridges aren't for crossing," he finally spoke, as he tucked his hands in his pocket, and you looked up to see the pink hues had turned purple. "They're for stopping."

"Stopping?"

He simply nodded. "Who knows, maybe we'll stop by the same spot again sometime," he said, and just before he turned to leave, he added, "but only if you stop calling me Chief Kasumi."

***

"You know, you haven't introduced yourself to me properly."

You glanced sideways to see him looking at the same blessed view you admired with him four weeks back. Today was an uneventful Wednesday and you managed to clock out on time. 

"Oh, I haven't? I'm sorry. My name is Anna," you replied, smiling. 

"And you're here on a temporary assignment?" He asked as he handed you one of the cans of coffee he bought from the vending machine just before. 

"For four more months, yes," you said cheerily.

"I see. What's it been like for you so far?"

"The first week was hell," you recalled, sighing. "But lately, Sena-san has been a lot nicer to me. I now have two other teammates on the same shift, so the workload is more manageable. They're also teaching me the ropes so I don't get in trouble."

He simply nodded, keeping his gaze towards the sky, while you secretly stole glances at his picture-perfect profile. Until now, you still couldn't believe you've managed not only to talk to but also to 'hang out' with Seimei University Hospital's most sought-after doctor.

Him. The guy beside you. Cardio surgery's rockstar, EICU's fearless department head - the guy loved and loathed by many because of his top-notch skills and his dazzlingly good looks. Your teammates told you that the most difficult cases always get sent his way, and big shots always requested for him to attend to them. You've seen him in action a few times in the hospital, too, and his intense energy was nothing like the soothing aura he exuded now 

"If you have something to say, speak up," he said, snapping you out of your reverie, and you blushed. Just how long has he noticed you staring at him, you wondered, slightly mortified. As the sky turned a darker shade of purple, he cleared his throat and looked your way. "Anyway, I have to go back to the hospital. Are you on your way home?"

"Yes," you managed to reply as he turned to leave. "I hope to cross this bridge and see you here again sometime."

He paused for a moment and turned around. "Bridges aren't for crossing, you know. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Oh. Yes, you did," you suddenly remembered, as your face turned redder. "Well, maybe we can stop by again another time."

"Maybe we will, Anna."

Maybe it was the way he stopped on his tracks to remind you about what he said about bridges or the casual way he called your name that kept rooted on the spot to watch his figure disappear into the crowd, with an unopened can of coffee in hand, and a goofy smile on your face. 

***

"I'm glad you were able to restore the files in Kyogoku's computer the other day."

The two of you stood side-by-side at the bridge once again, looking at the pink sky. You had met quite a few times in between, but today, you decided to linger a while longer so you could talk a little bit more. 

"It wasn't that hard. All I did was search the servers for the backup of his data. No biggie," you shrugged, as you handed him the sandwich you bought at the convenience store for him while he opened your can of warm coffee for you. 

You don't know when this whole thing started, and neither of you seemed to have taken notice, but somewhere between the first time you've met and today, you've made up so many unspoken rules with each other. Rules such as who's turn it is to buy snacks, or which topics are safe to discuss with each other. 

But today, you were feeling more daring than usual, so you stared at him again as he was appreciating the beauty of the sky before him. 

"You've got something to say?" He finally asked. 

"You must love the sky so much, no?" 

"I like this one in particular," he said coolly. "This particular view is called the Belt of Venus."

"Belt of Venus…," you mouthed. 

"It only lasts for about 15 minutes before the sky turns dark. It's associated with the Greek goddess, of course, and it signifies…" he said before catching himself. 

"It signifies what, Dr. Kasumi?" You asked curiously. 

He took a deep breath and shook his head. "It signifies a lot of different things to different people."

"What does that signify to you though?" You press earnestly. 

"A passing," he said quietly. 

Something in his voice pulled at your heartstrings and as you gazed into his grey eyes, you knew there was more to the man beside you than he let on. 

Before you could press any further, he moved his hand to tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear and you froze on the spot. He felt you tense up and smiled. 

"I have to go back to the hospital, Anna. Take care on your way home, alright?" 

All you could do was nod at him as he smiled tenderly and went on his way, leaving behind his uneaten sandwich and your half-finished can of coffee. 

He didn't promise you'd stop by together again soon, but something in you knew you would. Soon. 

***

"I can't believe the time's flown by so fast!"

You threw your hands in the air excitedly and looked to the sky with a big smile on your face. You're only a month away from ending your assignment in Tokyo, and you couldn't be happier. 

He stood beside you, armed with a paper bag filled with sandwiches and chips, and your favorite can of coffee. He smiled silently as you beamed like a child who has just been allowed to go outside and play. It was sunset again, and his calendar was surprisingly clear, so he texted you to ask if you wanted to meet. It was, of course, an offer you'd never say no to. 

"Someone's happy," he said as he leaned by the railing, once again staring at the sky. 

"Well, duh. Of course, I'm happy. I miss home," you replied, finally settling in beside him. "I can't wait to eat home-cooked meals once again, and talking to people who speak the same Language - no offense meant!"

He snickered softly as you leaned on him, your arm against his while admiring the view in front of you. With you, he seemed less like the dark emperor of the lord of death his colleagues made him out to be - he was simply Dr. Kasumi, a guy who loved the sunset and who loved to listen to your endless - often nonsensical - stories, and humor you with his own. 

As you fell into silence, you began to wonder what your days would be like when you went back home. Days without Dr. Kasumi. 

Your heart began to hurt at the thought that in a few more weeks, you would have to say goodbye - to put an end to the sunset stops along the bridge to watch this beautiful view, bid farewell to the conversations you've exchanged over convenience store snacks sometimes until late into the night, and say goodbye to the kindest soul you've never even had the chance to know deeper. The thought made you freeze. What's wrong with me?

"Are you okay?" He asked, peering into your face, as you stared listlessly into space. 

"That was what you first asked me," you replied, recovering quickly. He smiled. 

"Yes, it was," he chuckled, facing you. "Back then, I knew exactly what was going on in your little head after Sena asked you to work overnight."

"And now?"

He sighed. "And now, I'm not sure if your reason is the same as mine," he said, as he backed you up against the railing and trapped you in his arms. "You wanted to know what the Belt of Venus meant to me, right?"

You nodded nervously. 

"My dad died when I was little, and my mom always said you could send off your departed loved ones when the goddess appeared. I watched it every day since," he said quietly, his eyes never leaving yours. "And when my mom and my best friend died, I watched the sunset even more. The Belt of Venus means to send someone off - at least that's what it means to me. And I always felt sad when it's over. At least I did until lately…"

"What changed?" You asked, waiting on his answer with bated breath. 

"You. You happened," he replied, leaning closer to you until your lips touched his. "You came and saw the sunset with me. And for a time, I forgot to be scared. But now, I need to send you off."

"Dr. Kasumi -," you gasped, as he pulled away from you and straightened up. 

"I'm sorry to burden you, confessing as I did," he said, as he reached out to wipe the tears you hadn't realized had stained your face. "Please think nothing of it. I want you to go home and be happy - as happy as you made me in these four months we've watched the sunset together."

He sighed, releasing you from his grip. "And for your sake, I won't stop by anymore. But don't be a stranger when you see me at work."

His image was a blur behind your tears, as he walked away from you, just as he's always done whenever you watched the sunset. Only this time, you had a feeling he was never coming back. 

You scolded yourself right there and then. He was just a friendly face, someone who wanted you to feel you weren't alone in this strange place, you reasoned out. You aren't even supposed to cry over him. 

But as the night grew darker, the realization of your feelings for him came into light. 

You loved him. You were in love with Dr. Kasumi. And you needed to see him one more time. 

***

The days leading to your departure went by like a blur, and in the flurry of it all, you had not caught sight of the dark-haired doctor that stole your heart. You passed by his office but were often told he was in surgery or teaching at a conference somewhere. He never stopped by your usual bridge, too. 

This isn't fair at all, you thought angrily. How come he gets to confess his feelings and you don't? 

Today was your last day at the Seimei University Hospital, and you've made arrangements to stay two more days in Tokyo before flying back home. 

This was it, you thought. Your last chance to confront the elusive heart thief they call Chief of Medicine at the EICU. As you peered into the exclusive department, a grumpy looking Orthopedic surgeon looked your way and sighed. 

"He ain't here," Dr. Takado said, exasperated. Not that you blame him - he's been in the receiving end of all your inquiries after all. 

"I see. Well, thank you, Dr. Takado," you said, bowing politely, much to his surprise.

"Why do you want to see him so badly anyway?" 

"It's my last day at work today," you explained, trying your best not to melt under his icy glare. "I- I only wanted to thank him for making me feel like I wasn't a stranger around here."

Something in Dr. Takado's eyes flickered, and his lips stretched into a lazy smile. "Is that so?" He said. "I may be able to help you then, but you gotta tell me something first, got it?"

Relief washed over you as you realized you may have gained an ally in his squad. Smiling, you looked at the kind-hearted doctor in front of you and said, "I'm at your mercy, Dr. Takado."

***

The lovely pink hue tinged the afternoon sky once again, signaling that the day was about to come to a close. Filled with determination, you sprinted towards the bridge at the far end of the river bank. Standing there, just as Dr. Takado promised, was Dr. Kasumi, in casual clothes - the same one he wore when you first met. He stared quietly at the Belt of Venus, his expression solemn, as though he were sending someone off in prayer. 

You paused to catch your breath and to calm your beating heart. You wanted nothing more but to run over to him and tell him off, but that wouldn't do you any good, and you knew it. 

"Fancy seeing you here," you said, feigning nonchalance. 

"Anna?"

"You look like you've just seen a ghost." You walked closer until you stood right in front of him. "What's wrong with our old bridge?"

He looked at you with a scowl on his face. "I said I wasn't stopping by there anymore, didn't I?" 

"You also said I shouldn't be a stranger if I saw you at work, but you never showed yourself to me," you retorted. "Don't you think it's cruel to confess your feelings to me and not hear me confess back?"

"What's the point if you're just crossing  -," he asked, turning his gaze back to the Belt of Venus as it was starting to disappear. 

"Well, what if I said I wasn't crossing anymore?"

He paused and held his breath. And you took it as an opportunity to approach him. Cradling his face in your hands, you forced him to look at you. 

"I don't want to just cross the bridge anymore, Dr. Kasumi," you said earnestly, as you gazed into his eyes. "I want to stop. With you."

His breath hitched, but at the same time, you felt his arms around you holding you close. "Are you sure?"

"Positive."

"I thought it was your last day…"

"Someone may have worked some magic to make me miraculously extend my stay," you respond cryptically, as you returned his hug. 

"So, you mean it - you're not going away."

"I said it before and I'll say it again - I won't. I'm staying," you said, pulling away from his hug so you can look at him. "And depending on how this works out, maybe I'll be staying for the long run."

He smiled and touched your cheeks. "Oh, you'll be happy here alright. I'll make sure of it. This is the only place you're stopping - right by my side."

The end. 

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Seven: Like A Ghost

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome, welcome! I will apologize for word count, but I will never apologize for length...or girth. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @huliabitch @helplessly-nonstop @toxiicpop @culturalrebel @sinnamon-bunn @literal-fand0m-trash @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko @absurdthirst @kylolover96 @crownofmanga @eli-bourne @lackofhonor @talesfromtheguild

Part One: Should Have Known Better

Part Two: Tranquil Turmoil

Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Part Four: Reaching Out

Part Five: Dark Past

Part Six: Go Alone

He was silent for quite a while and you were loathe to break it, sitting on the edge of the co-pilot seat with the harness secured loosely around you. A force of habit, more than anything.

He appeared to be studying the various star charts, flipping back and forth between two particular ones to select the shortest route to the next destination. You were still uncertain as to why he had requested your presence; your navigational skills were bare-bones compared to his, so that couldn't be it.

"You remember what I said about the button on the comlink?" The Mandalorian asked abruptly, making you straighten up. "That it sticks?"

"Yeah, of course. You told me a few times." You responded, your brow furrowed. "Why, did something happen?"

"That night, you…" he paused, clearing his throat. "After you said good night."

Oh no.

"I thought you were in pain."

No no no.

"At least, that's what I thought a-at first." Even through your panic, you picked up on his voice sounding strange again.

"I-I--" You stuttered, your mind spooling back all the incredibly embarrassing, incriminating things you had said. Maker. "Look, I-"

"Do you do that often?" He questioned bluntly. He hadn't turned to look at you and that, of all things, made you angry.

"Listen, I get it, okay? It's gross, someone like me getting off on thinking about someone like you. Miles worse since you had to hear it, I'm sure." You spat, your embarrassment compounding to a scalding fury. "I wish it hadn't happened, but now that I know it did all I can say is forget-"

The sound of his harness buckle hitting the side of his chair interrupted your heated rant and the next thing you knew he was standing over you, leather gloves creaking from the pressure of his fists clenching. You quailed a little, suddenly unsure of yourself. What if he thought you were dirty, disgusting for fantasizing about him? Oh Maker, what if he was angry? What if he forced you to leave? What if-

The Mandalorian jabbed a finger down to undo your own buckle, his grip unforgiving steel when he tugged you up out of your seat. You stared hard at his chest, willing yourself not to cry.

"I couldn't get your sounds out of my head." He rasped finally. "I was up all night. Couldn't sleep." His hand moved up slowly, like he was in a trance, and he ran his thumb over your lower lip. "Th-Thinking about you spread out on the floor, whimpering for me." He muttered, and you started to realize that he was absolutely not angry. This was...something else. "Begging for…sounded like you were right next to me a-and you're this beautiful...fucking, perfect-" He stopped abruptly, his words choking off in his throat. 

It was restraint. 

Iron restraint was keeping him barely reined-in but he wanted this, the breaths panting out through the modulator a tell-tale sign that he was under duress. He pulled off his right glove and reached out hesitantly, cradling your hand in his bare palm when you didn't move away. 

His fingers were so hot. You could feel them trembling and you wondered what thoughts must be running rampant in his head as you folded your other hand over his own, keeping it there. He inhaled raggedly, his helmet listing to the side. "Maker, I've been--I was…" 

"What?" You whispered, feeling as though you were trying to approach a wild animal.

He appeared to be having trouble articulating. For all his self-assurance, he had never really displayed any sort of awe-inspiring grasp of linguistics. The tradeoff for a creed of people that so often ended up solitary, you reasoned. In a way, it was endearing. 

A soft noise issued from him, almost a groan, almost a sigh, and he lifted his free hand to his chest. His index and middle finger drew a circle and then he rapped his knuckles against the beskar over his heart, steel ringing softly in the silence of the cockpit. "K'oyacyi, stay alive, stay safe." He murmured. "An order, rigid, firm, with heart underneath it."

Oh.

"Do you remember the first time you said that to me?" The Mandalorian pressed on, "You were still scared of me, but you said it anyway. Right before I tangled with Dune. "

You erupted into giggles. "I know, you got covered in needles from those trees."

"Thought I'd never get all of them out of my cape." He was smiling, you could hear it in his voice.

"You sound nice when you smile." 

"I...h-how...thank you." He stammered. 

He stepped back after a moment, gesturing down at the star charts. Destination: Nevarro. The place you had called home for over a cycle. The place where you had once longed to return. It seemed like a lifetime ago that you had been cowering in the hold, begging to be delivered safely to Nevarro.

"I'm...I'm bringing you back. This is where you wanted to go." He said with difficulty. "Once we arrive, I..." He paused, looking down at you. "I don't know what will happen."

"I'm coming with you." You said quickly.

You felt the difference, the shift in his attitude. One moment he had been warm, the next, an impenetrable wall of beskar slid up between you. "No, you're not." 

You wanted to scream at the change, to rail at it until he relented and gave you back that brief taste of what you had been searching for all this time. The man, not the mystery. "How am I supposed to keep you safe if you go places without me?" You reasoned wildly, trying to phrase it like you were joking.

"I don't need you to keep me safe." For all his hatred of droids, he certainly excelled at channeling their impassive demeanor. "I would rather you stayed out of this. It's business between the Guild and myself."

"Then why are Cara and Kuiil here too?" You challenged.

"That's...they're here to…" He shook his head and looked back towards the viewport, obviously frustrated and either unwilling or unable to explain himself.

Your heart sank in grim realization. "You're going to do something."

"I'm always doing someth-"

"You know what I mean!" You interrupted him sharply. "Something that you shouldn't do. I heard the message, most of it anyway."

"It's something that I have to do." He sighed, the sound bone-tired. "Otherwise, they'll just send more hunters after the kid. It's better this way. Better if I go along with the plan."

"B-But-"

He reached for you abruptly, hands gripping your shoulders. "What would you do? Since you've got all the answers?" He growled. "I can't keep running. We've barely made it this far. I won't get steady work without the Guild. If I do this, Karga wipes my record and I can get back to the way things were. The kid shouldn't have to be fucking hunted, running scared all the time!"

You glared up at him, furious because of course there was nothing you could do to change his mind. You didn't have a solution to this problem and he knew it, yet he still wanted to take it out on you! "Don't yell at me, you-!" Angry words seethed in your chest, molten hot like lava. You wanted to rage at him, stars knew you wanted to. But instead, tears welled up in your eyes. "Y-You--!" Maker, why couldn't you just be angry? "You're so stupid!" You sobbed out.

He was silent in the wake of your tumultuous explosion, hesitantly digging his thumbs in to rub comforting circles on your shoulders after several minutes of just standing there like a statue. "I don't know what else to do." He admitted, his voice nothing but a soft whisper. "All I know is what I have to do. You need to understand, the IG and I...I made the choice to hunt the kid first. I turned him in first. I took the payment first."

"You g-gave them the baby?" You snuffled incredulously. "I thought-"

"They offered me an entire camtono of beskar." He replied, his voice dark with shame. Your eyes widened, breath catching in your chest. So much! "Slid me an ingot beforehand to sweeten the pot. It was Purge-smelted, like the one you had. It needed to be brought back to the tribe. Healed. Melted down to sponsor Foundlings." He sounded like he was still trying to convince himself, still trying to justify his actions. "This is the Way." 

"Stars." You breathed. 

"I handed over the kid, got my beskar, and I...I just...I realized that I had…" He was struggling again, settling for a shrug. "So I went and stole him back and then left." He cocked his head to the side, his tone gone wryly fond. "That's when you showed up." 

The individual in gleaming beskar armor gave no sign that they heard you, their rifle barrel trained between your eyes--

Now that you knew what had transpired immediately prior to your arrival, you were even more impressed that he hadn't shot you on sight. "I'm going with you. I don't care." You hiccupped, wiping your eyes. 

"That's the problem. I do." His voice pitched lower with sincerity, fingers digging in slightly. "How many damn times have I put you in danger? Between Sorgan, Toro, the stunt with Ranzar's group? This isn't a life you want, stowaway." He was trying to convince you, you realized, possibly himself as well. 

"I want a life with you." You whispered, your words naked and honest.

The Mandalorian's voice sounded raw even through the modulator. "No, you don't."

His hands left your shoulders and you almost started crying again, only just managing to fend off the impulse through sheer, indomitable spite. You seized his bare hand before he could move away from you and you raised it to your lips.

"Don't," he breathed, his helmet bowed against his shoulder. "You're making this much more difficult than it needs to be."

"I don't believe you." You knew the words were cruel, but you didn't regret them. You stared defiantly up at the impassive man, then you kissed his knuckles. 

And all hell broke loose.

The Mandalorian ripped his hand out of your hold and grabbed a fistful of your tunic, shoving you back against the wall. "You think so?" He seethed through his teeth. "You really--you believe-I--" His body crowded yours, beskar breastplate rising and falling against your chest with every furious breath he took. Your own breathing hitched, legs trembling slightly as you stared him down. "Do you have any idea how hard you're making this for me?!" He finally managed to snarl. Not angry but frustrated, scared.

His pelvis rested against yours, and through his flight suit... "Yeah." You replied, giving him your cheekiest smirk. "Yeah, I'm getting an idea."

"You-" he stopped short, obviously confused before you pointedly rolled your hips. His helm dropped and he sucked in a ragged breath, the hand still fisted in your shirt tugging you hesitantly closer after a moment. "More. Fuck, I just-" His other hand grappled with your belt loops, wrenching your lower half flush to his. "More."

You squirmed in an effort to get comfortable and he snapped his teeth with an audible click!, the noise sending lightning sparks through your body. As he tilted his head back, no doubt in an attempt to regain some composure, the thick column of his throat revealed itself tantalizingly from beneath the layers of beskar and cowling.

"Want to touch you." He said helplessly.

"I'm not going to stop you."

"I know, that's the fucking problem." 

"That seems like the exact opposite of a problem to me." You tucked your face against his shoulder, fingers dragging his cowl out of the way, and you felt his whole body tense as you pressed your mouth to the sensitive skin of his throat.

The Mandalorian made a noise that sounded almost pained, his gloved hand shooting up to thread through your hair. "Maker, you...fuck-" His voice cracked when you bit down gently. "Oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I want--"

"What do you want?" You asked softly.

"I--" The armored man surged forward to nudge his knee between your legs, spreading them wider. His fingers fought with your placket for a split-second, and then he had it splayed open. "You." He growled, gracelessly shoving his bare hand into your underwear. He stopped dead, clearly startled by how wet you already were. "Oh, you--you-?"

As if he hadn't had you in his helmet the other night begging him to fuck you. You whimpered, licking and nipping at the skin of his neck to try and encourage him to keep moving. "Come on, don't stop-"

His fingers shakily curved to cup your mound, rapid breathing all but deafening through the modulator. "You're so warm." He sounded dazed, his index finger tracing your slit before his knuckles collided with the slick that had pooled in your panties. "Maker, I just-"

His hand slithered free and you whined at the loss, confused when he quickly clapped his other hand over your eyes. There was a soft chuff of air and then you heard the distinct noise of a tongue hard at work. Your thighs clenched instinctively. Gods, was he tasting you? The low, unmodulated groan that followed only intensified your suspicions and arousal in equal measure.

"So hot." His bare fingers delved back into your drenched pussy, smearing your slick liberally around your clit. He hadn't removed the hand from your eyes yet, warm leather kissing your cheekbones. "You're so wet, I--fuck-" Whatever limited articulation he did possess seemed to have been thrown to the wayside, the Mandalorian resorting to a litany of sighed swears that had your body rocking against his hand. 

The hand that he kept pulling free. You could hear him shoving his helmet up to taste you every time, licking your arousal off of his fingers like he was starving. 

This was all achingly one-sided, despite his original protests. "H-Hey." You said shakily, trying to get his attention, "not that I'm not having legitimately the best time of my life, b-but I'm not doing anything for you-"

"Wrong." He replied breathlessly. "Everything for me."

"I just feel like--I-!" Your voice cracked, then broke embarrassingly high when he hooked his fingers a certain way and ground the heel of his palm up. You grabbed his shoulders, your body caving into his as your legs started to tremble.

"Everything for me." He repeated, feverishly working his thumb in circles around your clit. "Everything, everything-" He nudged your face against his neck, muffling your hungry whimpers and moans with his cowl. "-Perfect-"

Your nails dug into his pauldrons and a satisfied growl rumbled in his chest as you came apart under his touch. 

His hand finally left your eyes, but at that point you were having difficulty opening them anyway. You dimly heard him tearing at his zippers, the lower fly of his flight suit apparently giving him some trouble. He snarled and the feral noise ripped down your back like a searing blade, making you quiver against the wall. 

His gloved hand cupped the back of your neck, tugging your head down until you lazily blinked open your eyes, somnolent and simply luxuriating in the feeling. "Look." He breathed, seeming almost shy.

Oh. Oh, he was huge. 

You were absolutely looking. 

He had his cock in hand, the whole surface shining with a mixture of precome and your own arousal. As you watched, the head of it slowly vanished into his fist, and then emerged even slicker than before. "You're such a tease." You whimpered, loving the way his hips jerked at the sound of your voice. "Are you going to put it into me or do I have to beg?"

"You...you want-?" The Mandalorian sounded absolutely shattered. 

"Please, please fuck me." You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing kisses to the bare skin you could find. "Please." Granted, you were unsure of your body's capability to take...all of that, but you were absolutely game to try.

"Stars, you're killing me." He grated out, tugging at your pants so you could kick them off. Strong hands gripped the backs of your thighs and he hoisted you up against his body, shoving his liner shirt to the side in the process. His cock ended up trapped between the slick folds of your pussy and his stomach and you loved the helpless noise he made in his throat.

Your back hit the wall a little higher than before and you wrapped your legs around his hips, wriggling into a slightly more comfortable position. 

"Tell me to stop." He begged, his cock throbbing against your sensitive clit as he shifted his hips. The motions sent tiny little shudders of delight up and down your spine. 

In reply, you rested your forehead on his helmet, staring into the visor. You imagined you caught the faintest glimpse of his eyes, wide and waiting. "You want me to ask nicely?" You crooned, "Please fuck me."

His cock slowly, slowly surged up into you, the blunt press of it robbing you of your breath. The Mandalorian's snarl was music to your ears, "Have t-t--go...slow." And stars he was huge, huge, you were bewildered that you were managing so well on this first push. You thanked the Maker that he had already made you come once, at least he wouldn't have any lubrication issues!

Words appeared to fail him rapidly, the armored man focused solely on burying his cock in you as deeply as he could. You finally felt the fabric of his flight suit against your groin and you growled, your fingers raking hungrily at his back plating. "Fuc-kk--y-you're so big-" You gasped.

His first real thrust ruined you. Your back arched and your mouth fell open of its own accord as the breath left your body, your mind dissolving into static. The Mandalorian pressed his forehead to your own. "S'--okay?" He slurred, clearly concerned but not in the right frame of mind to fully coordinate a sentence.

"Move, oh please, please," You begged, "fuck me open, f-fuck me, fuck me-"

His cock withdrew, and-and--

"M'sorry-" he choked out, cradling the back of your head to keep it from hitting the wall as he mercilessly pounded your cunt. "So--hot, wet, I--"

"Don't stop, please please please-" you sobbed against his neck, your fists clenched into his flight suit. "P-lease, I need it, I need you, gods I need you so much-" The words tumbled from your lips, as brutally honest as you could let yourself be, as he fucked them out of you. "I need you so much, I need you so much--"

I love you so much, I love you so much.

"N-Need…" You felt his body go taut underneath you, the tension making his cock throb at your inner walls. "You--me?" 

"Yes." You keened, your second orgasm building to a crest in your belly.

"So good-" Every impressive inch of him plunged into you and then he stopped, his fingers tangling in your hair as he held still for the barest second. "Safe." His helmet tipped back and he groaned, fumbling his free hand down to stroke your clit and fuck you through your orgasm. "I--want you, p-please--all this skin, f-uck, y-yes you feel so--!" 

He was grunting, straining, snarling out half-nonsense and then you raised one trembling hand to his chest. Two fingers traced a circle on the center of his beskar plate and as his chin tipped down to watch you, you tapped your knuckles over his heart. "Safe." You whispered.

He came in you with a seething moan, his fingers clawing at your hips while you clung tightly to him. 

Heavy breaths rattled his entire body. You weren't much better, your chest heaving against his own. The Mandalorian groaned deep in his throat, dragging at the hem of your tunic. "What's wrong?" You asked breathlessly.

He didn't answer, just continued to haul the tunic up and over your head. He then rutted his hips up, punching a pitiful little whine out of you. How was he still hard?!

"More." He begged. 

…

The Mandalorian's head tipped back and he swore, the noise gravelly. 

You sprawled comfortably between his legs, naked as the day you were born and swirling your tongue around the head of his cock. You had been there for an extended period of time, though you didn't particularly care. The pace you had set was languid, unhurried, and he seemed perfectly happy to just sit in his pilot chair with his cock resting on your tongue.

The urgency that he displayed earlier hadn't faded at all despite that, both of his now-ungloved hands hungrily stroking over your jaw, your shoulders, the back of your neck. 

"If I don't--don't-" He gasped out suddenly. "I want you to know, I-"

You pulled off of his cock and he grunted, shuddering. "You can just blow off steam, you know. Not everything has to have an important reason." You informed him, your nails scratching lightly at the flight suit that still covered his thighs. You ducked back down to kiss and lick at his balls, and you heard him choke when your tongue soothed over the sensitive skin. 

His abdomen spasmed underneath the thin liner shirt, muscles twitching and jumping the longer you lavished his balls with attention. "W-hy--I don't-I don't--" He stuttered, rushing to wrap his fist around the base of his cock to hold his orgasm back again. This would mark the fourth time since you had settled between his legs, but you were hardly complaining. "Oh, fuck, f--uck-" 

"Don't you want to come?" You asked curiously, licking a wet stripe up the side of his cock and fingers. 

His helmet slammed back against the headrest hard enough to make you wince. "W-Want--hngh-I don't want this t-to...don't want it to end. Feel so good-!" 

His voice broke when you grazed your fingernails softly over his balls. Despite him coming in you earlier, he seemed to have more than enough to spare. You wondered with a lewd thrill just how much he might come if he was toyed with long enough. 

"Used t' think about--about this. A-About. You." He confessed guiltily. "Fuck my fist, wishing it was your...c--unt, fuck-" 

"Yeah? Did you get off on me?" You asked teasingly. "Did you wish you were fucking me?"

"I d-didn't mean to-" he moaned, the noise almost a whimper. "I just...you were...g-good to me, n' sometimes I would--I would--" He spread his legs a little wider and shoved his liner shirt up, exposing the planes of his abdomen to you in a languid show. He then slid a single finger down the side of his cock, smearing the precome that had seeped forth once you removed your mouth. "Fuck my fist, just--j-just wishing that I could…" He choked off his train of thought when you leaned up and licked at the skin he had revealed. "Oh, oh, fuck-"

"I'll suck you off for as long as you want, and you can fuck me for as long as you want." You breathed. 

"N-No, no, have to do something for you t-too." The Mandalorian protested, his hands grasping at your shoulders. "I can't just t-ake-"

"You want to do something for me?"

"Anything. Wh-Whatever you want."

"Kiss me?" You whispered.

His entire body went still. "I…" 

"You can cover my eyes, but I promise I won't peek. It doesn't even have to be on the mouth, if you don't want to! I just…" You fidgeted and glanced down, feeling weirdly shy all of a sudden. "I just wanted to know, I-I guess."

"Sit up here." He ordered as he patted his thighs, his voice breathless. "Sit." You obliged, straddling him as best as you could with his legs spread so far apart. You ended up with your mound pressed to his stomach, your pussy grinding against his cock with every shaky breath he took. "I'm going to cover your eyes now." Why was he whispering? He raised his hand, tenderly cupping your cheek before he smoothed it down over your eyes.

"I can't take it off for you, right?" You asked. "That's not allowed?"

He murmured, "has to be me." Blind to everything and anything except the overwhelming presence that was him, you closed your eyes behind his palm and waited patiently. 

There was the soft chuff of air that you had heard over and over earlier when he was...enjoying you. Then, the quiet slide of his skin against the inner padding. 

"Oh-! Dammit." He swore a split-second before there was a loud clatter on the floor. You burst out laughing. "Rude, stowaway. Shouldn't kick a man when he's down." Even through his protests, you could tell he was smiling. "Lost my grip on it."

You raised your hands, blindly feeling along his arms until you reached his shoulders. He still had his pauldrons on, the beskar smooth under your touch. You walked your fingers up the sides of his neck, surprised when you felt thick hair grazing your knuckles at the nape of his neck. "Okay, so maybe you do have hair." You allowed, lacing your fingers through it and tugging gently.

"Were you still--Maker, you're impossible." He huffed, leaning forward. His stubble brushed your ear and you flinched, squealing a little when he tongued over the ticklish skin. "Got you." He exhaled and suddenly it wasn't ticklish anymore. Straight teeth worried the sensitive shell of your ear and you whimpered, unable to keep from twitching at the feeling. "Mm, what's the matter?" The Mandalorian murmured playfully. "You said I didn't have to kiss you on the mouth." 

"Yeah, b-but--" You cut yourself off, your fingernails digging into the nape of his neck when he plunged his hot, wet tongue into your ear before mouthing all around the edge. For some reason the sensation had you wound tight, a new wave of slick rising in your core. "Ah-!"

He brought his free hand down to your pussy, carefully spreading your folds with his fingers. "What's the matter?" He crooned in your ear again, tapping his thumb lightly down onto your clit. He then nipped at your earlobe, tongue laving over the skin. "Was there something else you needed? You're dripping the come I pumped into you all over my beskar." He whispered. "Could keep you splayed open like this for hours, just so I could watch your insides twitch and clench down on nothing while you're waiting for more." 

"Y-You-" You wished your voice didn't sound so breathy. You couldn't decide which you preferred: his wild stammering when he was out of control, or his unflinchingly honest speech when he could manage himself accordingly. "You're not f-fair--"

"Mm, odds are usually not in my favor." He agreed. He wrapped his soaked fingers around his cock, giving himself a lazy stroke and then rubbing the head against your clit. "You're so fucking...warm," he grunted, his thighs shifting restlessly underneath you. "I want to put my cock back into you. Will you let me fuck you again?" He asked, not giving you enough time to answer before indignantly replying, "What, no? Damn, you drive a hard bargain. What if I offered to...kiss you on the mouth? Would you let me put my cock in you then?" 

You found yourself laughing at his teasing, butting your forehead against his own even though his palm was still over your eyes. "You're so dumb." You snickered. "How was I ever scared of you?"

"Because I'm strong and fast." He replied bluntly. "The armor helps."

"Your modesty is your finest quality." You snarked, a soft whimper fighting its way free when he rocked the head of his cock against your entrance again.

"Hmm, I don't remember you begging for my modesty the other night." He taunted you in reply. "If I recall correctly, you got a little...possessive. 'Your Mandalorian', was it?"

You swore under your breath. You got the feeling you would never, ever live that moment of weakness down. But seeing as it had led to this, you could probably endure his lighthearted jabs. "Well, yes. I did say that." You admitted. "Did it make you uncomfortable?"

"Fuck no." His teeth grazed your ear again and you shivered before you could stop yourself. "It was...it was nice to hear you all strung out, fucking yourself to the idea of me." You could feel the curve of his lips, could hear the bastard smiling. "The speaker is right in my ear, so it was like having you next to me." His unmodulated voice was like warm honey, husky, rich and golden. You had never thought that a voice could be so enthralling. "You're moving your hips again, stowaway." His fingers returned to your pussy, spreading you wide once more. He seemed to thoroughly enjoy doing that, if only to make you squirm. "Something you want?"

You reached down and took hold of his cock, smiling at the way his breathing hitched. "This." You splayed a palm on his chest, feeling the thunder of his heartbeat there. "All of this." Your fingers rose from his chest to his mouth, where you brushed your thumb over his lower lip. "And this."

"Yours already. All of it." He sighed, the noise turning into a growl when you angled your hips and eased the head of his cock into your cunt. "All of it. Every inch, every...s-stupid thing out of my mouth, everything." 

"I like most of the things that come out of your mouth." You assured him, bracing yourself on his thighs and slowly, slowly lowering your pussy all the way down on his cock. Your pelvis slotted against his with a wet noise and you could feel your arousal trickle out around his cock and down your thighs.

"Hah, you...y-you…" You felt his hand squeeze your face momentarily, and then his mouth collided with your own. You whined and he snarled, that hot tongue seeking your own out after a split-second. He licked into your mouth hungrily like he was starving for a taste of you, only backing off to gasp, "Y-You're so wet-"

You bit down on his lower lip, sucking it into your mouth so you could harass it with your teeth and tongue. The Mandalorian made a strangled noise in his throat as your tongue flicked back and forth over the sensitive flesh before you released him again. 

"Can't even th-think straight right now." He admitted, sliding his free hand beneath you to support your back. "Maker, between your fucking mouth and your c--cunt, it's a miracle I'm still--" His words jerked to a halt and you heard him swallow audibly. "Oh. Oh." He gritted out.

You rocked your hips back and forth a little faster, knowing that he could handle a rougher pace. He curved inside you deliciously, the length of him only marginally easier to manage with you in control.

"Wait, wait wait, I'm--fuck, wait, I-" 

"What's the matter?" You asked breathlessly. "Too much for you?" You felt his hand grapple fiercely at the small of your back, grinding your pussy down onto his cock. He started rambling in Mando'a, the words ragged as you continued your merciless attack without quarter. This was one fight you were determined to not let him win. 

"Cyar'ika," he moaned, his mouth finding your own. "I'm-I'm--f-uck, fuck fuck, I'll fucking--I'll f-ucking split y--split this sweet little c-cunt--" His whole body went taut beneath you, ramming his cock up to meet you over and over. "You take me so...s-so fucking good, so good, so good t' me--" The wet sounds, the heat of his body against your own in his frenzied fucking and the way that his voice cracked combined to be the thing that finally tipped the two of over the edge. As you felt him start to let go, you took one of your hands and fisted it in the thick hair at the nape of his neck, directing him to look down at where your bodies joined.

"I want you t-to watch. Without the helmet." You panted, feeling more than hearing his raspy groan in reply. "So you can remember."

"I'm not going to f--orget, fuck, fuck, like I could e-ever for-g-get this--" The words stumbled out of his mouth, tangled in a dazed little knot, "--ever forget you." His body shuddered and he finally ground to a halt, dragging you against his chest and burying his face in your shoulder as he came with a hoarse shout. 

You circled your hips on his still-twitching cock, your own orgasm close behind from how hard he had been pounding up into you. His voice sounded destroyed when he cried out, and you couldn't determine whether he was begging for mercy or more. His free hand fumbled between the two of you to tease one of your nipples; you could do nothing to help the pitiful noise you made when he pinched and tugged at the sensitive bud. 

"Come for me. C-Come for me. Come for me." Whether a plea or an order, it was unavoidable. You came for him, the intensity making your skin prickle and your eyes open wide behind his hand. "Yes..." He drew the word out alongside your keening moan of completion, long and slow, praising you in that husky, now almost reverent tone. 

You collapsed into him and you felt his mouth curve against your neck, stubbled smile teasing the skin while you fought to regain your breath. His arm reached for something on the floor, and you heard the slide of his helmet after a moment. Then, he removed his palm from your eyes. 

The Mandalorian grunted softly and there was a delicate crackling noise beside your ear. "Fuck, that's a cramp." He grimaced, making you huff out a laugh. "Ow, ow. My wrist is...not pleased."

"Mm, should have just taken the chance." You mused, your eyes still closed. 

"Chancy enough, getting this naked." He flicked over your nipple, chuckling softly when you whined. "Gods, you are perfect." He murmured. "I'll miss this."

His words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You sat up slowly, staring at his visor. "Why? Wh-Where-?"

"I don't know how sideways all of this will go." He replied simply. "I have a gut feeling."

Your hands fisted in his liner shirt. "So don't go, then."

"You know it's not that simple. If I don't, they'll keep hunting the kid."

"We can hide!" You suggested wildly. "Stay in the Outer Rim, hunker down on Dathomir or Felucia-"

"Until what?" His pragmatism cut you to the quick. "Until the Crest falls apart and we end up stranded in some asteroid field?" You fell silent, your fingers kneading at his chest in a silent plea, don't go. "I'm not doing this. I'm not going to drag you along this time. Whether you agree or not, I'm not involving you."

It felt like he had just stolen all the air out of your body, tears welling up in your eyes as those traitorous arms wrapped around you. His palms were large and warm, rubbing firm circles into the abruptly-cold skin of your back. You were suddenly awash with shame, and you pulled away from his comforting embrace. He made a noise, almost a protest, but you shook it off and struggled to stand. 

"Easy, hang on to me. You'll fall over." He offered, his hand already out for you to grab. You ignored it in favor of jerking your panties back up your legs, nearly toppling with the effort. "Hey, you-"

"Don't touch me." You breathed, seconds from bursting into tears. "Just...just don't." You felt disgusting, sore, your body aching and tender from the overstimulation it had just received. 

A soft, "oh," was all he gave in reply. His voice sounded defeated and more than anything you wanted to fling yourself back at him, to beg forgiveness and also kill him because how could he do this to you? How could he give everything to you and then take it all away in an instant?

You refused to look at him while you continued to dress yourself, certain that your incredibly fragile resolve would give out if you saw him tilting his head or any of the other little things he did that had wormed their way into your heart. But you were also seized with the fierce desire to wound him like he had wounded you. 

And so, as you turned to climb down the ladder you tossed out a flippant, haughty, "This is the Way, right?" 

You heard him inhale raggedly. "I--wait, please, just-"

You didn't stay to let him finish, continuing down the ladder.

…

This was technically your own fault, you reminded yourself for the hundredth time. Technically. You could have let him leave the cockpit, but no, you had to grab his hand! Really, you had no one to blame but yourself.

That didn't stop you from feeling like a gross, terrible person, of course, but at least you knew why. You felt stupid for thinking that you could convince him of anything other than what he had already decided upon. 

Cara seemed to sense that something was wrong the following morning and she went out of her way to goad the Mandalorian into an arm wrestling match once the Crest departed Arvala-7. It was a bit cramped in the hold, what with the blurrgs and all, so you were a spectator whether you wanted to be or not.

The two of them posted up on top of a crate, their elbows firmly planted after they set their wagers. They slapped hands once and the child's ears perked up curiously. 

The former trooper and the bounty hunter locked into their holds as you looked on, a bit invested now. Carasynthia somehow managed to keep the armored man at bay, unless the Mandalorian was going easy on her. Of course, she had been a dropper. Lugging pounds and pounds of gear and artillery must have built strong arms. 

"I got you, Mando." She grinned.

"Care to double the bet?" The beskar-wearing man shot back, and you hated that you could tell he was smiling.

The baby looked back and forth between the two grunting adults, and their tiny hand reached out towards Cara. "Looks like the kid is calling dibs on the next round." You commented, chuckling a little. But when you looked up, you saw Cara releasing the Mandalorian's hand to frantically claw at her own throat.

The Mandalorian was only still for a split-second before he bolted upright, lunging to haul the child out of their bassinet. "Stop it!" He berated them sharply. "We're friends, we're friends! Cara is my friend!" 

"Hey!" You moved to take the child but the Mandalorian quickly shifted, maneuvering himself between the two of you. "What are you doing? Stop yelling at them!" You protested, yanking on his arm.

"How very curious." Kuiil murmured, rising to his feet and moving to examine the child. The kid was just laying there, limp in the Mandalorian's grasp. Like they knew they had done something wrong. 

"I mean, that's one word for it." Cara coughed. "What the hell was that?"

"What it is, I'm not certain. But that story you told me of the mudhorn is making a lot more sense." The Ugnaught mused to the Mandalorian. 

"Psh, you would need the kid to help you cheat." Dune tried to joke, her voice rasping a little. "You that scared of losing, Mando?"

"What story? What mudhorn? What even just happened?" You demanded. 

"The kid did this...thing once before. I can't really explain it." The Mandalorian answered you curtly. "He just moved his hand and a fucking full-grown mudhorn was three feet off the ground." 

"...excuse me, what?" You questioned weakly.

"He also went into a coma sleep afterwards, guess he wore himself out." The Mandalorian shrugged, the kid peering over the side of his arm guiltily. "Maybe...maybe he thought Dune was a threat or something. Thought we were fighting for real." 

"You little nugget, you really thought I was screwing with your dad?" Cara asked incredulously, reaching out and rubbing over one of the child's ears. "I tangled with your pops once, remember? He almost died." 

"Not how I recall it." The Mandalorian growled, his pride clearly pinched. "We were at a stalemate if anything."

The child whimpered, holding their arms out to you. Despite now being privy to the incredibly frightening knowledge that oh, they can move things with their mind, they can choke a full-grown human out, you could still feel yourself softening. The eyes got you every time.

The Mandalorian, who had been watching you warily, muttered, "you don't have to if you don't--"

"Stop." You interrupted him sharply. "They're not a bomb." He fell silent, passing you the kid without further debate. They settled into your arms, staring up at you while you rocked back and forth. You began to hum their lullaby softly, hoping to get them to sleep at some point during this flight. 

"I need your help." You glanced up, disappointment searing in your chest when you realized the Mandalorian was addressing Kuiil. You then proceeded to berate yourself for the hope you had in the first place. 

He had made his choice and, in doing so, he had made your choice as well. There was nothing you could do to change his mind. Obviously. The best you could do was return to your mundane existence on Nevarro. Maybe once you were there you could hitch a ride on another freighter, leave the whole planet in the dust and get on with your life.

…

You tucked the baby in for what you knew was the last time, stroking your fingers over their little head. 

The Razor Crest sat silent amongst the lava rivers, all illumination and non-essential mechanics off so as not to arouse suspicion or garner unwanted attention. To the best of your knowledge, everyone aside from you was already asleep. The blurrgs had been offloaded and secured outside; you could still hear them shuffling about as they chewed their cud. 

The Mandalorian's rendezvous with his contact wasn't until tomorrow, but you didn't exactly feel like trying to explain your departure to everyone in the crisp gray light of a Nevarro morning.

It was better this way. It always was.

You picked up the small pack you had stowed in the bunk, as well as your toolbelt. After one final look at the child, you slowly felt your way towards the door. The lights in the hold were disabled, so all you had to navigate by was the faint orange glow from the distant lava.

You froze when you saw him standing next to the loading ramp, his shoulders rigid and arms crossed over his chest. The void of his visor bored into you, and you found yourself wondering what he was thinking.

After a moment of the two of you standing there in silence, he sighed and tapped a few of the keys on his gauntlet. The loading ramp began to slowly open, segmented plates extending with a hiss of hydraulics. You shifted your weight nervously and opened your mouth but he held up a hand, stopping you before you could even start.

He simply gestured at the ramp, all that beskar for once not making a sound. 

You crept forward, wary of him for the first time in a long time. Before you managed to get past him though, he tilted his head. Two fingers pressed against his breastplate, drawing a circle. Then, he tapped his knuckles in the center. 

Stay safe.

You wanted to scream.

"Yeah." You managed to choke out instead. Your hand moved of its own accord, running down your leg to your boot where you tugged the vibroblade free and held it out. "Won't need this anymore."

That stupid visor felt like it was staring into your soul. He took the knife back after a moment. He was blatantly, obviously careful not to actually touch your skin, using his index and thumb to gingerly pinch down on the handle. 

You gave him an awkward nod and continued out onto the ramp, your boots hitting the obsidian ground with a thud. 

You didn't turn around, no matter how much you wanted to.

Part Eight

[ethereousdelirious]

This was supposed to be for the “one drabble from the caretaker’s perspective, one drabble from the sickie’s perspective” challenge and it is...... not that. Every possible thing that COULD get away from me DID get away from me so this is just... 1,000 words of normal sickfic haha oops. Also a bit of a character study?? I dunno

Fandom: The G.reat G.atsby

Characters: N.ick, J.ay

Prompts: nausea, curling up, cool cloth, “sorry I’m so sick,” “you’ll be okay”

Warnings: N/A (no emeto this time)

Jay Gatsby was not a man with tendencies toward self-reflection or self-congratulation, though he did occasionally find himself indulging in moments of pride. His plan was progressing as smoothly as a sailboat through still water and he foresaw no storms on the horizon.

This was due in no small part to the interference of one Nick Carraway, a man who, try as he might, Jay simply couldn't fathom.

Nick made weak protests against adultery while arranging meetings for Jay and Daisy. He rejected the excess of the era yet overindulged constantly.. He seemed to have no goals for himself nor any regard for his own happiness and quite frequently let himself get talked into things he didn't want to do. He was the most honest dishonest man Jay had ever met, and Jay simply didn't know what to make of him.

He was also the linchpin by which the cogs of Jay's plan turned, and Jay felt he was owed some compensation in that regard. So, Jay tried his best to make Nick happy whenever he could. This mostly involved diverting him with activities and day-trips, as Nick was loathe to accept any gift except for the occasional purchase of a liquid lunch downtown.

Today, they were supposed to go sailing. Just the two of them: a proper gentleman's voyage.

Jay waited in the vast foyer of his home, sedate, with drink in hand. It was for Nick, not for him, and condensation was already starting to gather in the handkerchief in which the glass was swaddled.

There was a timid knock at the door and Jay sprang up to answer it, having dismissed his butler for the afternoon.

Nick blinked in surprise at seeing Jay, but then he smiled and Jay's chest went warm. "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon, old sport." Jay winked and stepped aside so Nick could come in. He walked slowly, like a wounded soldier, and the satisfaction still blooming in Jay's chest dissipated like sea spray. "Are you quite alright?"

"Oh." Nick's shoulders tensed. It wasn't a 'yes' and Jay's mind was already shifting to possible ailments and possible cures.

"Sit down," Jay said, guiding Nick over to a chair. He watched as Nick sat down, again with gentle movements. Whether subconsciously or deliberately, he seemed to be shielding his belly, with one hand tucked away inside his blazer.

"I'm really alright," Nick protested even as he sat. His face was wan, his brows knitted slightly.

"You're ill," Jay guessed.

"I'm sure it's nothing. I'll be alright."

"You certainly don't look alright." Jay leaned in. "May I?"

Nick looked at him in pensive silence before giving a curt nod and averting his eyes. Without fanfare, Jay cupped his hand at the side of Nick's neck, pressed his knuckles to Nick's cheek, laid his hand flat against Nick's forehead. He didn't miss the shivers that ran through Nick every time Jay's hand touched his skin.

Jay shook his head. "You're warm."

"I'll go home," Nick said, with eyes still averted like a guilty child.

"I won't allow it."

"Jay--"

"I'd go mad with worry. Please stay. For my sake."

Nick folded like Jay knew he would. "Okay."

"Good." Jay smiled to help Nick feel more at ease. "Now, please, take off your shoes and get comfortable. I'll have you right as rain in no time. You'll be okay."

Nick swallowed and untied his laces. Shaky, unsure, he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. "I'm sorry for the trouble."

"No trouble, old sport." Jay waved a hand. "Now." He sat down beside Nick. "Other than that fever, what's troubling you?"

Again, Nick swallowed hard, and shifted uncomfortably like he couldn't get comfortable. "I feel a little," he made an esoteric hand gesture, "sick."

"Good thing I didn't drag you out on a sailboat," Jay said. "Do you feel like you need a bin?"

Nick shook his head and curled in tighter on himself. "No," he said, sounding so perfectly miserable that Jay's heartstrings threatened to tie themselves up in a bowline knot. Nick let his head rest on his knees.

He must have been feeling really awful, and Jay was just sitting there staring at him like a simpleton. "Wait here a moment, old sport." He got up and, bypassing his staff, wet a cloth at the kitchen sink.

Nick was in the same position that Jay had left him in, and didn't so much as stir when Jay sat down beside him.

"Here," said Jay. He draped the cloth over the back of Nick's neck. "For the fever."

"Thank you, Jay," Nick mumbled into his knees.

Then silence. Jay fought not to bite his lip as the discomfort of helplessness descended on him like an osprey on the hunt. Rarely did he encounter a problem that couldn't be solved through hard work or with money, and he wasn't sure what Nick needed in order to feel better.

"Are you alright, old sport?" he asked, determined to get to the bottom of things. "You seem upset." He almost added an extra 'I hope I haven't offended you' but caught himself. This was Nick, after all. They were friends.

Nick raised his head so he could look at Jay. "I…" He hesitated. "I'm sorry I'm so sick. I didn't mean to be such a bother."

"Nick," Jay said, forgetting himself for a moment. "You could never be a bother to me. Never. Now." He clapped once. "Can you handle the stairs? I'm sure you'd be much more comfortable in bed."

Nick's face colored and Jay's heart froze for a moment before he realized that Nick was blushing. "Really, I should go," he said. He stood up, removing the cloth from the back of his neck with one fluid motion.

"I'd much prefer it if you stayed," Jay said, suddenly acutely aware that he really meant it. The idea of sending Nick home in this state, even accompanied-- It seemed cruel. He stepped in front of Nick's and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. Even through Nick's jacket, the heat of his fever warmed Jay's palm. "How can I make you stay, old sport? Do you want me to beg?"

The blush faded, by degrees, from Nick's face. He looked helplessly at Jay. "I just don't want to be an inconvenience to you, is all."

"Then do exactly as I say." Jay turned on his heel and indicated that Nick should follow him upstairs. Nick did, still in that wary, shuffling gait, like he was afraid someone might attack him. Jay took the stairs at a deliberate pace so Nick could keep up without exerting himself. The stiffness in his shoulders and gentle curve of his back spoke of a stomach ache that he was understating. "All right?"

"Fine," Nick said. He didn't look worse, so Jay left it at that.

He led Nick to the guest room that was in closest proximity to Jay's own suite.

"There," Jay said happily, once he had installed Nick in the massive four-post canopy bed that dominated the near wall. "I'll have someone bring your shoes up."

Nick nodded. "Thanks," he said, and then swallowed hard.

Jay had been seasick enough times as a youth to recognize the warning signs of intense nausea. "I'll get a bin," he said, dashing for the bathroom with as much tact as he could muster.

When he returned to the bedside, Nick had curled up on his side and squeezed his eyes shut. His breathing had gone shallow and his face was as pale as the sheets he lay on. Jay froze. It wasn't often that he found himself in a place where he had no idea what to do.

Nick was clearly suffering, but it wasn't likely that he would admit it, and the last thing Jay wanted was to upset him by overreacting.

"Do you-- Should I--" he stammered, reaching for a plan of action that just wasn't there.

"I'm sorry," Nick said. 

"For what, old sport"? Jay asked, feeling more helpless than he ever had. He should be the one apologizing.

Nick shrugged with one shoulder. "Sorry I'm so sick. I know you're a busy man and I-- I really didn't mean to put you out like this."

"That is true," Jay admitted. "I am a busy man. But I can promise you this, old sport: I'll never be too busy for you."

[musingsofsaturn]

Tell Me

Fandom: Star Trek The Next Generation

Ship: The Enterprise Riker/Troi

Words: 2,800+

Rating: MA for some shameless smut

Summary: “Circling him in the chair like he was some kind of meek prey, she idly played with something in her hands. In his mind, he felt her pressing into his conscious, her energy passionate and hot as she stated simply ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’”

[Please skip this oneshot if BDSM and kinky stuff makes you uncomfortable!]

Author’s Note: Honestly guys this is just some absolute filth that I 100% wrote for my own self satisfaction. It’s funny that in my previous smutty fanfic I was very honest about how embarrassed I was, and now I’m just gonna be very honest and tell you that I’m a little bit kinky and not in the least bit ashamed. That’s a lie and if anyone judges me for this even a little bit I will change my name and move to South Dakota. Enjoy!

~ Saturn

[Pictures pinched from captainsbloggsupplemental (and I came here for Riker-bashing)]

“I demand that you let me go!” Will struggled uselessly against his restraints. She had his arms fastened tightly behind the back of a chair, and his ankles tied to either of its front legs.

She laughed coldly. “No. I don’t think so. Not until you’ve given me the information I’m after.”

The room was dark, and cold. He realised that the coldness may have been a result of his nudity, but maybe it was genuine. He could barely see his captor by what dim light there was, but if he could have seen her he would have recognised her expression. He was in trouble.

“We could stop this from escalating, Commander. I do loathe torturing my informants. Give me an answer, before this goes any further.”

Will raised his head cockily, fixing her with a hard gaze. “Never!”

Slowly, she stepped towards him. He recognised a glint of something devillish in her eyes as she emerged into the light. “Very well.”

Circling him in the chair like he was some kind of meek prey, she idly played with something in her hands. In his mind, he felt her pressing into his conscious, her energy passionate and hot as she stated simply ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’ Then, standing behind him, he felt as she trailed the soft suede-like strands of her favourite flogger across his shoulders. As it moved over his skin, it tickled the back of his neck and raised goosebumps on his shoulderblades.

Suddenly the sensation was gone, only to be replaced by a sharp sting as she brought it down hard on his toned back. The low hiss that escaped his mouth made her chuckle darkly. His muscles tensed as she brought the flogger down on him again. At the edges of his consciousness, he felt her basking in the pain she had caused him to feel. She had been right, she was enjoying this.

“Are you ready to tell me now?” she whispered into his ear. He felt her dark curls tickle his neck and shoulder, and a shudder ran through his body.

“It’ll take a lot more than that to get me to tell you what I know.”

Her teeth grazed his earlobe before she replied, “I was hoping you would say that.” She placed a soft kiss to his neck, oddly tender given the menacing circumstances, before withdrawing to walk back around to his front. Her change in demeanour had left him reeling, unsure of what to expect, although he knew that he would quickly learn.

Again, she trailed the flogger over his body. He tried not to reveal to her just how pleasant he found the sensation, particularly when the heavy fabric dragged across his chest. However, he could tell from the way she was smiling against his mind that she was well aware. He wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that she was in front of him now. This time he could watch her - anticipate the blow - as she brought it down fast towards him. He barely had time to react to the first sting to his chest before she had brought it back down on the other side of him. His breathing grew ragged as she alternated sides, flogging him four, five, six, more times in quick succession.

When she ceased her actions, Will allowed himself a heaving sigh. He fought hard not to flinch as she traced the red lines that were appearing on his chest and stomach with a long fingernail. A smile crossed her lips as she admired her handiwork. Her finger came under his chin, lifting his head to meet her gaze.

“Are you prepared to give me an answer, Commander?”

Wordlessly, his eyebrows lowered slightly into an arrogant glare. He pulled his head away from her fingers and turned away. His resolve was far stronger than she realised.

Another dark laugh rippled from his captor at his silence. “As you wish.” A metallic thud echoed in the room as the handle of the flogger hit the floor.

A jolt of surprise and pleasure ran through him as she took his cock in one hand, using the other to lightly stroke up the underside in a way that made him long for more. Instinctively, he tried to move his arms, but the restraints held fast. A subtle laugh in his mind revealed that she had noticed him struggle, and enjoyed the sight. ‘I love you like this. So helpless.’ The words were like a breath across his consciousness, so soft that he almost wasn’t certain that they came from her. That uncertainty quickly vanished when she pressed further into his mind, and he could feel just how much she loved having him in such a vulnerable position.

The sensation of her arousal coupled with his own. It was already intoxicating him as she stroked him with practised ease, sliding a closed fist over the length of him over and over again. Helpless to her attentions, Will released a reluctant groan.

‘You know, I could just get the answer out of you this way.’ Her hand slowed as she allowed him time to process the words, before he felt her pressure in his mind again, diving deep towards a place he was trying desperately not to think of. He would not tell her the truth. Not without a fight.

Summoning all of the skills she’d taught him about telepathy, he quickly blocked her mentally. He barely had chance to register her surprise at how abruptly he’d walled up his mind before her consciousness had been knocked out of his own completely. He felt empty, bereft, afterwards. But he knew that it would be worth it if he could keep this up.

“Very impressive,” she whispered appreciatively.

Slick with lubricant and his own precum, she continued her actions, raising her other hand to scratch red lines into his thigh with her fingernails. The pain of it cut through the pleasure that was clouding his focus, which only made it all the more tangible. As she continued stroking him, squeezing and twisting at his shaft in a way only she ever could, his pleasure was no longer hazy. It was sharp and all-consuming.

He hissed and groaned again, feeling his release rising fast. He strained against the bindings at his wrists and ankles, desperate to move even a little bit in the hope that it might relieve some of the tension in his limbs. Writhing urgently, he felt his muscles tense, his cock twitch, and knew he was close, so close. One more stroke and he’d-

She stopped.

Her hands were gone, and he gazed at her incredulously as she stepped back. “Um?” was all he managed to say to her.

Amusement was evident all over her face. “Something wrong?” Still reeling, Will stammered out something useless before she went on. “Only my informants who actually inform are permitted release, Commander.”

As he huffed out a frustrated sigh, Will felt his release retreating from him just as quickly as it had seemed to arrive. Resigned to the fact that an orgasm was long gone for the time being, he muttered, “That is not a civilised way to get information.”

Her voice was thick and sultry as she said, “I’m so sorry my methods disagree with you, Commander.” It wouldn’t have taken an empath to know that she was not sorry in the slightest. It also wouldn’t have taken an empath to know that the methods didn’t disagree with him at all - in fact he was quite enjoying her display of dominance, no matter how frustrating it could be.

Once again, she moved around his chair slowly, like she had all the time in the world. Maybe she did. Spellbound in his arousal, his head followed her as she walked, until she was too far behind him for him to see her any more.

It quickly didn’t matter where she’d positioned herself. Whatever light he’d been able to see by was snuffed out completely when the fabric of a silken blindfold was placed over his eyes and tied tightly at the back of his head.

“Perhaps you’ll be more inclined to share when you’re less distracted.” Her breath, hot in his ear, caused goosebumps to rise on his skin once more. He fought to keep his mental blocks up, lest she creep back in to dig for his secret.

He felt her lean into his back, and the back of the char, as her soft hands trailed over his chest, down his stomach, and back to his cock, which was still hard. Despite his best efforts to remain silent, he sighed softly at her touch.

The blindfold amplified every sensation. The closeness of her, her intoxicating scent, the waves of twisted enjoyment coming off her (even without their telepathic link), and of course the feeling of both hands working away at his cock.

“You know,” she whispered into his ear, pressing seemingly even closer than before. “If you tell me, this won’t have to stop.”

“I’ll... never tell-” His words were interrupted by a treachorous moan as she twisted her hands, adding another layer to the pleasure that was already coursing through his veins.

“Never?” There was a mischevious tone in her voice. She knew he was close.

“I am... trained to protect secrets.”

He let out a quiet curse as she swirled her palm over the head of his aching cock. “And you’ve done such a good job of protecting this one.” He could all but hear her smile as her teeth nipped at his neck lightly. “No one would blame you if you gave in now and let go.”

The tone in her voice was so sultry, and the feeling of her hands on him so delightful, that he almost gave in. Almost. It took all of his resolve to tell her defiantly, “I’m not telling you anything.”

Her actions didn’t cease, as she palmed the head of him again. Briefly, he considered that she might just have mercy on him and let him come anyway. After all, she was maintaining a steady pace on him as though he’d said nothing. He allowed himself a moan for good measure as he felt himself getting closer once more. If she just kept that up, it would all be over, and he’d have survived without surrendering his information.

Under the blindfold, his eyes squeezed shut, and he knew that he was chanting her name like a prayer even if he was too far gone to hear it. Mounting pleasure rippled through him as she squeezed carefully up the length of him, before resuming that steady pace from before. He was quickly losing every ounce of his self control, and he found himself not caring in the least.

Abrupt pressure at the base of his cock caused him to release a groan of aggravation. She laughed, actually laughed at him, squeezing her thumb and forefinger into a tight loop as his body tried desperately to climax. He tried to buck his hips to force any kind of friction, but she held fast.

“You-” he growled. She released his cock only to slap his thigh harshly at the suggestion that he might dare to insult her. He hissed at the sting, feeling his climax fleeing him yet again.

“Careful, Commander. It’s your choices that got you here.”

Will thought he could have burst with the frustration he felt as he heard her moving around the chair. He tried to listen, to move his head with her movements, but he was still taken by surprise when she unexpectedly took him in her hands once again.

He had barely come down from the last time, and it took her no time at all to get him almost right back to where he was. This time, he didn’t even try to suppress the moans and curses that fell from his lips as she stroked him deftly. It wasn’t worth the energy it took to hold them back.

Knotting in his stomach convinced him that he was close once again. He tried to give her no indication, tried to trick her into sending him over the edge accidentally, but of course it was no use. She knew, she always knew.

“Would you like to tell me now?”

All he could do was shake his head frantically. Honestly, he wasn’t sure that he would be able to speak even if he did want to give up the secrets he’d been holding onto so well. He sent a silent prayer to any deity in the galaxy that was willing to listen that his torturer would take pity on him.

A guttural groan escaped him as it seemed his prayers were answered. His limbs were shaking as waves of pleasure ran through his entire body from top to bottom. He felt his release in hot spurts that covered her hands and his stomach. No longer caring about not giving her the satisfaction of his moans of pleasure, he rode out the high as she kept up her steady movements, coaxing his release to continue for as long as possible.

Slowly, he felt his senses return to him. But she didn’t stop.

He grunted slightly. “That’s... that’s enough.” Delicate hands continued to stroke and twist at his cock, which now felt uncomfortably sensitive from the overstimulation. “That’s enough!”

“As soon as you tell me the truth, I will stop,” she promised cruelly. Her amusement at his predicament was so palpable he could all but taste it.

For perhaps the thousandth time that night, Will cursed the bindings that held him in place. He could buck and jerk all his liked but there was no way to get away from her. He writhed in the chair, trying desperately to squirm away from her wicked touch. Wrestling against the restraints, Will finally resigned to his fate. If he endured any more of this torture, he thought he might die.

“Alright-” he gasped out, “Alright-”

Her movements slowed, but she kept one threatening fingertip on the head of him, circling exactly where he was most sensitive. It was a clear signal that she could - and would - resume her torture at a moment’s notice.

He took a deep breath before finally sharing the information she’d been torturing him all evening for: “Yes, I cheated. You talk with your hands; I saw your cards. I took advantage of that.”

“I knew it.”

Satisfied with the answer, she finally moved her hands away from his cock, instead moving to unfasten the restraints at his ankles. Relaxing, Will muttered, “I can’t believe you put me through all that just to prove that I cheated in one game of friendly poker, Deanna.”

“And I can’t believe that you endured all that just to keep up your cowardly lie, Will,” she retorted. She moved behind him to release his wrists, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of each one before letting his arms drop to his sides. Finally, Deanna moved back in front of him, sat herself in his lap delicately, and slid the blindfold over his head. Playfully, she mussed up his already tousled hair as his eyes readjusted to the light. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

Will’s hands moved to her hips, and he placed his forehead against hers, sighing into her hand as she gently caressed his cheek. “I am. But you are quite the torturer, Imzadi.” They shared a quiet laugh. “A rather sexy torturer, that is.”

She returned his grin. “And don’t you forget that the next time you want to cheat at poker. And lie about it to an empath.”

He choked out a laugh at that; it didn’t matter how well he’d masked his thoughts from her. She was his Imzadi, and she had known the truth the second he made his initial denial. For a quiet moment, they stayed in the dark, holding each other and relaxing into each other’s company as Will let down his mental walls and invited her back into his mind. Her presence was familiar, loving and warm, and he embraced the sensation of her in his consciousness with open arms.

“Come on,” Deanna said at last, climbing off him and holding out her hand for him to take. “Let’s get cleaned up.”

“You know something?” A mischevious quality in his voice caused her to turn back to him as he took her hand. He took the opportunity to puller her closer, grazing a fingertip over her spine teasingly. “I think there are a fair few secrets that I would love to torture out of you.”

“I’m sure there are,” she replied, smiling enigmatically. “But first, Commander, I think you should remember that this evening was just my search for information. Now that I know the truth, I know that you deserve a punishment of some sort.”

In spite of himself, Will couldn’t suppress the excitement that ran through him at the prospect of what Deanna’s depraved ideas of punishment might entail.

[the-book-reaper]

my @thewitchersecretsanta gift for @saltytransidiot!! I’m no IndigoDream, inexplicifics, round--robin, or any of the other amazing authors in this fandom, but I hope this makes you smile 💕💕

Jaskier absolutely loves wintering at Kaer Morhen. Geralt had finally worked up the nerve to invite him  to meet his family two years ago. They’d been together for thirteen years and together for a little over five.

Jaskier loves the winter because it’s really the only time Geralt gets to completely relax. With his father-figure (though none of them would ever admit it) and brothers there, isolated from a world that seems to wish them every harm.

read on ao3 here

Even after just two winters with them, Jaskier loves Lambert and Eskel. Not in the same way as he loves Geralt, of course, but as some mix of friend and brother. Eskel showed him around the library and Jaskier is teaching him how to craft his own lute, since every lute made for a human would be much too small. Lambert, while he loves his pranks, is quite clever and they can spend hours trading riddles and jokes.

He’d been expecting at least some animosity from Vesemir, considering he is the first “human” to enter Kaer Morhen since the raids. Geralt had blushed so adorably when Vesemir casually mentioned how often he talks about his bard. Jaskier likes doing food prep with him, though he’ll leave the actually cooking to the old wolf. The few times he tried… well, let’s just say those scorch marks in the stone of the kitchen weren’t completely intentional.

He loves cuddling up to Geralt in the evenings, all five of them around the crackling fireplace. He’d tried one sip of Lambert’s moonshine and started tearing up from the sheer amount of alcohol in it. The wolves would need a lot of human drinks to get drunk, so they usually only can during the winter. Every coin they make on the Path goes to food, shelter, supplies, and the occasional prostitute. Anyway, they don’t feel safe enough around humans to allow themselves to be in such a vulnerable state even if they did have the money.

Vesemir never gets terribly drunk. Actually, Jaskier has never seen him act even just the littlest bit intoxicated, even though the witchers drink from the same barrel and roughly the same amount. Eskel either stops after he feels tipsy or drinks until he falls asleep. Lambert usually has to be cut off once he starts suggesting things like going outside—during a blizzard—to spar. Naked.

And Geralt. Oh, how Jaskier loves his witcher. Completely sober, Geralt always maintains at least one point of contact with him if they’re in the same room. After one drink, he purrs easily and will grumble at Jaskier if he stops playing with his hair. At two, Geralt either pulls him into his lap, or is nearly in Jaskier's lap.

Somewhere between three and four is the adorable sweet-spot. When he hits this point, Geralt gets sad if Jaskier's attention strays from him too long. He demands many kisses, pouts if he only gets a peck, and whines adorably if Jaskier refuses him outright. Jaskier will herd him to their room at this point, where he cuddles his darling witcher until he falls asleep, secure in his arms.

This year, he is very much looking forward to exchanging their gifts. Geralt has been extremely secretive about his present, and the anticipation is killing him. This year, Jaskier’s gotten his love a couple new journals with some pencils, colored chalks, and a few paints.

Geralt recently shared that he initially had a lot of trouble with memorizing the bestiary. After the first couple beatings when he couldn’t answer the Masters’ questions, he learned that if he drew each monster, labeling as he went, he was able to retain the information much easier. Soon, he had a sketchbook completely filled with drawings and his only bruises were from training or roughhousing.

But once he’d memorized the bestiary completely, he didn’t want to stop drawing. So he started filling up notebooks with sketches of herbs and flowers, whether or not they had a use. Then he turned to anything he could think of, really.

Nothing is secret in Kaer Morhen though, and the other trainees mocked him mercilessly about it. Eventually he just stopped drawing altogether. Once he was on the Path, he didn’t exactly have much coin to spare on such frivolous things.

When the bard started improving his image, however… Geralt found his coin-purse to be not nearly as empty as it was before. Still, he worried that Jaskier would make fun of him about this hidden interest as well.

He honestly can’t even remember how, but Jaskier did find out and actually supported it, surprisingly. Jaskier had even been the one to buy his first notebook along with a few different pencils.

He never made fun of him, instead praising his art to a near ridiculous extent. Ridiculous to Geralt, that is. Jaskier insisted he was merely being honest.

Now Yule is coming up, and Jaskier has his gifts prepared. The art supplies for Geralt. A good set of strings for Eskel’s lute and some more sheet music. For Lambert he’s brought a book of 500 names since the idiot never calls his horses anything but “Horse” as well as more of that fancy soap he pretends to hate.

Vesemir is always the toughest. The old wolf doesn’t want for much, and it’s pretty bad form—in Jaskier's opinion—to give a person a gift they’ve already received in the past. Last year, Jaskier gave him an extremely old book of poetry written in Elder Speech he’d gotten for a steal at the market. The poor merchant had absolutely no idea about the true value of it!

That find had just been a fluke however, but he somehow got lucky again this year.

--

Now, four Wolves and one bard lounge by an open fire, safe and content. Jaskier takes another sip of his hot tea, the warmth spreading through his body. He can’t help but snuggle in closer to Geralt, who squeezes him gently with the arm around his waist. Finally, it’s time to open presents.

Jaskier insists they open their gifts from him first. He simply can’t take any more anticipation; he needs to know what they think. They’ll probably like them, but there’s always that little niggling voice telling him they’ll only say they like it to be polite.

“Oh, fuck you.” It seems Lambert has opened his gift the fastest. “And why do you keep getting me this fancy-pantsy soap?”

“Why do you keep using it?” Jaskier teases. Geralt chuckles at Lambert’s petulant grumble. Warmth completely unrelated to his tea blooms in Jaskier's chest. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with being nice to yourself every once in a while, my little wolf.”

Lambert growls at him, but can’t protest because he is several decades younger than Jaskier.

Eskel and Vesemir love their gifts, which is good because Jaskier had no doubt whatsoever that they would. Absolutely none.

He turns to Geralt, who had been able to open his gift with only the one hand, and is staring down at the art supplies in his lap. Jaskier doesn’t think he’s breathing. His heart drops. “Darling? It’s okay if you don’t like-”

Geralt quickly sets the gift aside, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug. His shoulders are shaking suspiciously. “Oh! Oh, my dear. I take it you do like your present, then?” Jaskier tries to add a teasing tone to his words, but he really was not expecting this kind of reaction.

“Thank you,” Geralt whispers emphatically into his neck.

Jaskier adjusts his grip on his—thankfully unsplit—tea and hugs him back just as fiercely. After a moment, Geralt releases him, kissing him softly.

There’s a gagging sound to their right and Jaskier has to pull away to laugh. Eskel cuffs Lambert on the back of the head—almost starting a spat—but Vesemir growls at them before it can go much further.

They move on to opening Vesemir’s gifts, no one mentioning the water in Geralt's eyes. Despite being crass and rough with each other, the Wolves know when not to make fun of something.

They open their gifts from Geralt last. Jaskier unties the meticulously wrapped string and unfolds the paper. Inside is something made from yarn, a light lavender that’s ever-so-slightly reflective. He runs a finger over the indescribably soft yarn, breathing in sharply. The fabric unfolds as he picks it up, revealing it to be a long scarf. Holding it closer, he can see the beautiful design woven along its entire length. There are a few breaks in the pattern, but they only make it more perfect.

Geralt spent gods know how long making this, either late at night or early in the morning, most likely frustratedly undoing his work half the time. That he spent so much time and effort, remembering how Jaskier is sensitive to the cold, and deciding to do something about it… His eyes prickle with an emotion he cannot name, he only knows that the word “love” is not strong enough.

He looks up at Geralt, who seems nervous. “Darling… You made this?” he whispers, just to be sure. Geralt nods and Jaskier mimics his love’s actions from earlier, throwing his arms around him—mindful of his drink, of course—and holding him close. “I love it so much. I can’t even imagine how difficult it must have been!” Jaskier releases him and holds the scarf up. “Will you put it on me?”

With reverent hands, Geralt wraps it loosely around his neck. Jaskier rubs a cheek against the yarn, breathing in Geralt's scent, etched into every fiber.

What happened after that, Jaskier honestly couldn’t tell you. The rest of the night passes in a sort of happy daze. Geralt gets all gooey with him and Vesemir herds them all off to bed.

He would have slept with the scarf on, but his dear witcher is much too fond of falling asleep with his nose buried in Jaskier's neck. They both relish in the little touches. Being able to hear the other’s heartbeat, feel their chest move as they breathe.

The undeniable truth of it gets to Jaskier sometimes. That scarf is just one more testament to their love. He really had been loathe to part with it so soon, but it would have just become tangled or stifling in the night. Besides, no item of clothing—even one made by Geralt—could ever amount to the man himself.

[dotthings]

While usually I’d post my ep-watching notes, I’m skipping that this time because 15.03 is such a deep dive emotionally on multiple character points. Also I’d normally rewatch before going into more depth on any one point but the Dean and Cas part in particular is a raw wound I need to get my thoughts out before I lose what’s left of my mind because of this show. That was a LOT.

Disclaimer because fandom is how it is: I will block anybody who brings character hate onto this post. You will, especially, not reblog me just to screech I have no right to consider Dean’s pov seriously and treat him as a human being and that Dean has no right to feelings how dare u. Disagreement is fine, if you see the characters and story from a slightly different angle, so long as the discussion’s in good faith, we’re good.

I’ve talked here a few times about why Dean feels the way he does about recent events, why he has a right to anger, hurt, pain, and this is a little similar, as I’m definitely not going to stop treating Dean like the layered, sympathetic, complicated character that he is any time soon, and he has every right to the anger and the hurt and the pain, but in this specific scene, his words are in the wrong. It’s in the same zip code as “you’re dead to me” and Dean delivering ultimatums to Cas, both of which are things I’ve criticized. This doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t have a right to his feelings or I’m going to ignore why he might act the way he does instead of knee jerk simplifying, which does the character, the story, his relationship with Cas, and the entire show a disservice. He has a right to that anger, fear, pain, hurt. However there’s a distinction between things Cas actually did where I can see why Dean might still be upset with him—shutting Dean out, not trusting Dean enough, not trusting in THEM enough--and then there’s Dean saying things are are untrue and unfair.

In the final scene of 15.03 Dean pins every screw up onto Cas, he uses the word “always” and it is a shockingly unfair statement, and you could make a history reel of Team Free Will demonstrating how off-canon that statement is. Let’s not repeat that cyclical thing, because it’s a trap like a hamster wheel and maybe some infernal device of Chuck’s to get fandom to fight, but anyone with an ounce of sense, who pays attention to canon, can see that Sam, Dean, and Cas have set things in motion that make big messes, repeatedly.

What Dean says plays into all of Cas’s deepest insecurities and fears, and the intention of the episode is very very clear that even Dean doesn’t believe what he’s saying. He says it anyway, which is a whole mess right there and I’ll get into that, but the things Dean says to Cas aren’t Dean’s truth. Jensen’s incredible, beautiful acting makes it obvious immediately not only that Dean doesn’t truly believe what he’s saying, but that Dean deeply regrets it the second they come out of his mouth. Most people have at one time or another said stupid things in anger they don’t really believe, or give into the impulse to lash out. Dean’s tendency to do this isn’t constructive or positive behavior, it’s a character flaw, but he is also a sympathetically portrayed character, not an asshole or an abuser, and we are always shown the sources of the hurt and the pain that brings him to that point. That doesn’t mean he can do that to Cas and it’s perfectly okay. But it’s a deeply ugly, bad hot take to treat Dean as monstrous or abusive.

Understanding where the pain comes from that gets Dean to the point he’d lash out like this doesn’t mean that what comes out of his mouth on the other end is right.

There is no part of Dean that really thinks Cas ruined everything and is always what makes things go wrong. It’s actually laughable to suggest this—I will for reals laugh at anyone who tries to earnestly argue that as a reliable take on canon. That’s pretty much someone who has divorced the canon and isn’t paying attention to years and years of material. This line isn’t in fact actually about Cas ruining Team Free Will save the world plans. It’s something much deeper, about Dean’s fears and Cas’s. Which I’ll get to a sec.

Dean also is incredibly unfair in blaming Cas for Rowena’s death, and if Cas had just let Bel devour all those souls and become a Lucifer-level problem, TFW would again be completely screwed. And he is also uncharacteristically cold to Cas about sending him on the mission to Hell with Bel. These are all red flags and build-up to the final scene. 

Fandom loves to yell about OOCness. This isn’t OOC, these things, this hurt, they are a part of Dean, but they aren’t how he really feels about things, they are purposefully crafted as red flags to show the audience something is wrong. Not that Dean isn’t himself, or possessed. It’s like a figurative, emotional possession. His deep sense of despair is eating him alive and his relationship with Cas is taking a hit from it.

It’s also interesting Dean voices what AU Michael said, which was AU Michael using Dean’s greatest fears about how Cas might perceive how Dean feels about him. This isn’t proof that AU Michael was speaking the truth about how Dean feels after all. It’s that Dean remembers witnessing AU Michael saying that to Cas, taunting Cas with it, and it’s still among Dean’s big fears—that Cas thinks he ruined Dean’s life, that Dean doesn’t love him back and blames him for all the troubles. Then there’s Dean’s fears that Cas doesn’t love him back, that Dean ruined an angel, Cas’s falling was his fault and so every bad thing that happens to Cas, deep down, Dean self-loathes himself for. 

Dean has done a lot of growing but the vestiges of the Dean in S9 who said “I’m poison” are still there. That kind of thing doesn’t just magically go away never to return.

And here’s this huge chasm that has opened under Dean’s feet. Dean is doubting the meaning of his entire life right now, because of the revelation about Chuck. Because of Dean wondering if anything he’s gone through is “real” — if any of his actions and feelings and pain and struggling and losses and wins had any real meaning at all or was it all puppeted. It was good in this ep seeing Dean not giving up, determined to fend off or seal away the ghosts, and up yours, Chuck, but he isn’t over his sense of despair.

One of Dean’s fears here is that what’s between him and Cas isn’t real, that the things Cas did, for him, their closeness, none of that was authentic. Remember that their relationship started as *movie announcer voice* it was only supposed to be a mission...it became something more. Cas’s introduction into Dean’s life was Cas as a chess piece, sent as part of Heaven’s bigger clockwork plan.  

Dean’s entire world is caving in, and he’s not ready to see that everything Cas feels for him, Cas's deep and genuine love for him, is in fact very, scarily, in your face real.

He’s shutting himself off, he’s shutting Cas out. The feelings he has for Cas aren’t gone, but Dean’s a mess.

Interesting how this ep shows a demon ripping Ketch’s heart out of his chest, because Dean figuratively rips his own heart out of his chest in the last scene with him and Cas. He hurts someone he really REALLY doesn’t want to hurt, who he loves so so much--you can insert here a sizzle reel of 11 seasons of Dean listening to Cas, defending Cas, offering Cas shelter and protection, saving Cas’s life, caring about Cas, being there for Cas, grieving for Cas, feeling insecure about Cas, showing fondness for Cas, in one way or the other. There is so much. That doesn’t mean the relationship doesn’t have problems or their own issues and poor coping mechanisms and circumstance and familial dynamics haven’t made things difficult at times. Dean hurts Cas on the most raw, biggest fear Cas has and interestingly, the biggest fear or criticism Cas fans have about the show.

And there’s Bel—demon of marital strife—playing on Cas’s fears all throughout the ep, taking little digs about how expendable Cas is, how unimportant he is to his friends. He’s like the angel in S11 who tells Cas he’s expendable and Sam and Dean “are the real heroes.” Maybe it was part of Bel’s plan all along to have Dean and Cas divided, along with his bigger take over Hell agenda.

I’ve been saying this and saying this--while it’s valid that Dean is still hurt over what happened with Cas, Jack, and Mary, and is still, remember, rawly grieving Mary’s death which was mere DAYS AGO—it’s also not actually what it’s about, and it’s not even entirely about Dean’s Chuck-induced despair, although that ground falling away is what’s pushing things to this point. What it’s actually about underneath is Dean and Cas and their relationship. Years of unresolved Dean and Cas issues. I sure called that one. Dean’s fears. Cas’s fears. Dean’s abandonment issues, Cas’s leaving, Dean’s fears of losing Cas, Cas’s fears of not being loved, Dean’s fears of Cas not loving him the way he loves Cas. 

One thing that is so so tragic about Dean’s despair is that just last season, Dean reached a point of self-like. Liking who he is, who he’s becoming, the family he’s chosen. Being good with his life.

And then boo the crushing reveal that Chuck was manipulating their circumstances all this time. Which doesn’t mean Chuck was controlling them or their decisions or feelings. But Dean doesn’t feel that way.

Which, emotional horror that this is, also just serves to show just how much Cas actually means to him, how important Cas is. This big Destiel drama and hurt and pain rises from Dean and Cas loving each other and being in love and being complete and utter dumbasses. It hurts. It’s supposed to hurt. Their friendship has been mostly functional. Their love story is a car wreck. If Cas wasn’t so important, all this emotional horror wouldn’t be taking place. Dean and Cas’s relationship right now is a lightning rod for the fallout on pretty much everything.

And it’s really strong, and it’s going to endure this, but not without taking some hits to the bow.

On Cas’s part, Cas isn’t in a great headspace but he’s in a less self-destructive and harmful and despairing headspace than Dean. He has grown a lot and I think a few seasons ago, Cas would have endured, looked grim and said nothing, and stayed. He would stay doubting himself, or stay thinking Dean is really unfair, but he’d stoically take it. But not this time, and Cas did the only thing he could now. He had to leave. There’s only so much hurt he can take and Dean is shutting him out and not listening to him. 

Here’s the twist about Cas. He both does and doesn’t believe Dean is speaking his truth. Cas’s gutted, shocked face at what Dean says brings Dean up short, it’s so raw. Dean’s realization of OH F*CK WHAT DID I JUST DO comes instantly, both from his own words ringing in his ears and from Cas’s reaction. The thing about Cas’s reaction, is that it has a bit of “oh you did not JUST” to it, where I think maybe Cas knows this is total BS and Dean is full of it but Cas also believes it. Cas feels like a failure. He feels like he has failed everyone. And now here’s Dean, his favorite person in the actual literal universe, telling him he is. Blaming him, when Cas knows intellectually that it isn’t actually all Cas’s fault, but nobody blames Cas for things more than Cas himself does.

This jacks right back into all of Cas’s deepest fears about not belonging. About being lonely. About being expendable and the afterthought in Team Free Will. One thing I’ve pointed out over and over is part of Cas’s drive to protect Jack is needing to be needed. Dean and Cas is not a parallel relationship to Sam and Dean, it wasn’t formed the same way, it doesn’t function the same way. They are very very close, but there also is no Sam to Cas’s Dean, until Jack. This is not about seeking or needing a codependent relationship. Putting it more baldly, while there’s a brothers-in-arms aspect to Dean and Cas, they are not sibling bonds/like-sibling bonds/parent-child like bonds, Dean and Cas are lovers, spouses, chosen not-actually-platonic life-mates, they are coded as a couple or as spousal over and over. Strip that layer out and trying to meta this becomes a lot of “but why??” 

The answers are simple. Don’t strip out the subtext, and the by now textually-level implied nature of Dean and Cas’s relationship. Which doesn’t mean I am saying it’s been consummated, but it also is what it is.

I’ve also pointed out how Cas’s immortality offers him the emotional horror of being the survivor, of Sam and Dean dying and Cas losing them and living forever onward without them. Ironically, becoming so attached to Sam and Dean fed his loneliness, because now he has that fear of losing them and living on forever without them.

Cas too has done a lot of growing, and like Dean, just last season showed how far he’d come. In Cas’s case, when he voiced that he knew Sam and Dean were there for him, and that Cas realized that he was enough. But as with Dean, those deepest shadows and insecurities don’t just magically go away and Cas still fears that he doesn’t mean to Sam and Dean what they mean to him and Cas, right now, feels like a failure to everyone he loves. Shoulder tap from another Dean and Cas parallel—“you fight and you fight for this family, but they don’t need you, not like you need them” which the YED used to taunt Dean way back when.

No matter how much Cas might understand about what Dean really feels, or about his own actual culpability, I don’t see how Cas could do anything now but walk out. Cas has never left Dean because he needed to leave Dean, because staying with Dean hurt too much. Cas has had to leave Dean, or left Dean, at various points for various reasons and it was never because he personally needed to leave because of his Dean feelings. Cas has had to leave because of world-saving stakes angel business missions, or because he was captured, or brainwashed, or murdered, or because his own headstrong decisions resulted in events that separated them, or he was protecting their son Jack. It wasn’t because Cas wanted to leave. Cas doesn’t want to leave now but he also needs to, personally. 

The fact that Cas so candidly stated those fears here startled me. I was hopeful for more emotional candidness, but this is even farther than I’d hoped. This is going to the root. And yes it is incredibly exciting.  As emotionally horrifying as this storyline is, the purpose is to move things forward to an even better place. This arc isn’t here for destruction. Things are being shaken out big time and it’s only going to make the bonds stronger once things are worked out. There’s already been a string of big moments in the show’s history showing just how deeply Cas is loved, and how much Dean loves him. If you were waiting for even more verification, just wait for it.

What’s also leaving me SHOOK is how very very very SPECIFIC this is. There’s a reason my Dean individual meta and my Cas individual meta is all mashed together here in a post that veers into talk about how Destiel is real. It’s things like this that show me recent SPN is serious as a heart attack about Destiel. Even if they can’t make it overt. I think a distinction needs to be made between overt/not-overt vs canon/not-canon. Destiel being non-overt doesn’t make its intention and its presence in the story not-canon. But my main point, this final scene isn’t about Team Free Will or a collective “how Cas feels about humanity.” This is unambiguously about Dean, and about Cas, and about Dean & Cas and their long relationship, and SPN is really f*cking serious about how important this is to both of them and how important it is to the show’s story.

[puddygeeks]

Wᴇ Cᴏᴍᴇ Rᴜɴɴɪɴɢ - Tʜᴇ 100 Bᴇʟʟᴀᴍʏ x OC - Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 20: Cʜᴀᴏs Iɴ Cᴀᴍᴘ

Masterlist

Episode: Day Trip

Rating: Mature

Summary: During her time in the Skybox, Indigo formed a precious friendship with fellow outcast Octavia Blake, the girl under the floor. At first they thought their departure from the oppression of the Ark was a blessing, but quickly came to rely on Indigo's keen survival instincts. The 100 struggle to meet the challenges of Earth whilst Bellamy strives to lead the wavering teenagers and his irresponsible attitude fuels constant conflict with Indigo. Their only shared interest is in protecting Octavia and Indigo beings to suspect that there is a deeper cause to Bellamy's seemingly irrational choices. As the consequences of his actions mount up around him, he finally begins to confide in her and she discovers more than she ever bargained for. 

Fandom: CW’s The 100

Pairing: OC x Bellamy Blake

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

Warnings: Mature content. Non-consent, language, sex, self harm, suicide, anxiety, helplessness, torture, captivity/confinement, alcohol/drug use.

Chapter Twenty

Although it was crowded and the atmosphere was still tense from the storm, I was pleased to return to a solid structure for the night. Octavia and I bundled up some supplies in a corner and after some persuasion, she agreed to stop obsessively guarding the grounder and to actually try to get some sleep. It was hard for either of us to relax, especially when I saw Bellamy head up the ladder for his turn watching our prisoner as Octavia dozed on my shoulder. I was starting to feel the strain of worrying about the Blake siblings; any time I was busy with one of them I could almost guarantee that the other was getting into trouble. I barely managed a few brief cat naps throughout the night despite my exhaustion. Instead, I was one of the first up and about in camp working on repairs in the morning. 

In my time here I’d already become quite efficient at sewing and so I was quickly assigned to repairing the damaged tents. I had a brief cheeky visit from Jasper and Monty on their way back from their successful foraging adventure to offer me some nuts that they’d found. I declined the food, feeling too stressed to eat and I promised to join them for a proper meal later on. I settled into a quiet corner near the edge of camp to work and enjoyed the peace of the alone time. After spending time on the Ark living isolated in a cell, I realised that it was a challenge for me to adjust to the constant presence of so many people. I keep my mind from wandering over what trouble Bellamy and Octavia could have gotten into by now and instead reassured myself that both of them tend to make a big enough scene for me to notice. I spent a couple of relaxing hours sewing and watching the bustling activity of the camp as people woke and were assigned to various tasks. We’d managed to assemble a food line with people organising portions into neatly packed rations so that we could keep track of our supply levels.

I noticed several people heading over to the area where we’d been keeping prisoners and I watched their activity with interest. I assessed that they carried enough supplies to indicate that repairs needed to be done to the makeshift cells we’d created and I wondered where they would put the two attackers whilst they rebuilt. I continued sewing as I waited anxiously for someone to escort the two men past, but no such movement happened. After a while, more assistants arrived with shovels and two large sheets filled with a human shape were carried past me to the gate. I overheard the people who hauled them out discussing how glad they were that the storm had only killed the rapists of camp and I was relieved to hear that no one else had been hurt. I was conflicted on whether it was appropriate to feel no sadness at the death of two members of our camp, as I knew in my gut that I would have argued against killing them for their crimes. I decided to allow myself to feel relieved that the decision on what to do with them had been taken out of our hands and I tried not to feel guilty about it. Once I’d accumulated a pile of repairs, I made my way back into the fray and took them to add to the pile of fixed items that were waiting to be set back up in camp. As I organised the pile, Clarke approached me with a nervous manner and I struggled not to roll my eyes. 

“Hey Indigo, I couldn’t find you earlier. I don’t know if anyone’s told you yet but we’ve got video contact up and running with the Ark. They’re sending all the families in for a chat so if you’ve got anyone to contact-”

“Nope, my only family is down here.” I cut her off abruptly, not wanting to engage in personal conversation. I was honestly still frustrated with her for getting swept up in the torture last night, but I was too exhausted to confront her for her part in it right now. “Anyway, I’ll go back to the orphan corner. The Ark’s quite good at creating us, I’m sure it’ll be crowded in no time.” I spat coldly as I stormed away from her.

I returned to my sewing and tried not to be bitter as I watched people being called to the tent one by one for time with their families. I struggled not to picture my mother and when I failed, I imagined what she would look like now. My mind filled with images of her, the warm tone of her short auburn hair, her fair skin always a fawn white coated in hundreds of tiny amber freckles. It was one of the most beautiful, fascinating things about her to me, the little sporadic pattern on her skin that sadly never passed to me. I remembered the blue lagoon of her eyes, glistening with a multitude of hypnotising shades and if you paid enough attention, a miniscule ring of hazel right around the pupil. I saw them every time I looked in the mirror and it was still haunting for me even years later. It was only worsened by the fact that my eyes never sparkled like hers had in her happier years, in the memories of her that I cherished most desperately. Instead, mine were dulled and depthless, the same way hers looked after years of pain and suffering endured at the hands of the guard who destroyed both of our lives. The eyes that I inherited from my mother were a constant reminder of the state that she had been in the last time I ever saw her and I suspected it was a large cause of the self loathing I felt whenever I dared to look into a mirror. I was relieved to be pulled from my thoughts by the sound of footsteps nearby and I glanced up to see Clarke and Bellamy making their way out of camp. I casually approached them, trying not to show my concern and Bellamy seemed relieved as he saw me. 

“Hey, you heading out?” I asked with an interested look as I noticed the supplies they both carried.

“Yeah, the Ark mentioned some supplies nearby so we’re going to scout it out.” Clarke replied, whilst Bellamy watched me with a tense air about him that seemed to come from nowhere.

“Oh, well that’s promising. You sure you’re okay with just the two of you? I can back you up if needed?” I offered earnestly, but as Clarke opened her mouth to answer Bellamy abruptly cut her off.

“No I need you here.” He spoke firmly and I stared at him in confusion. He glanced over to Clarke reluctantly, then took my arm and walked me slightly further from her, lowering his voice. “Look, I appreciate you coming after me last night and I’ve been thinking about what you said. I will try to trust Octavia more, you have my word on that. But for now, I trust you. Can you keep an eye on her for me?” His expression was deeply serious, more so than the situation warranted and I felt like there was something more to his request that he wasn’t sharing with me.

“Of course I can.” I answered, considering him suspiciously. “Is there something else going on Bellamy?” I asked in a vain attempt to encourage him to be honest with me.

“No, I just…” He trailed off unconvincingly and I raised a brow at him. “I’m on edge with that grounder in camp. I’m trying to trust her not to do anything stupid, but if I’m honest, I’m expecting it. Just...tell me that you’ll keep her safe for me?” His eyes were strangely intense and he still gripped me tightly as he spoke.

“You know that I will.” I breathed with a confused tone, feeling nerves settling in my stomach as I assessed him. “So you just make sure that you come back safe, deal?” I replied, compelled to reassure myself that he would be coming back as I embraced the feeling that something was wrong. He didn’t answer me, turning to walk away without even a nod of acknowledgement. I grabbed his arm firmly to stop him from leaving. “Bellamy, I mean it. Be careful out there, please?” I added, my words quickly fading from assertive to pleading. He nodded reluctantly but it did nothing to relieve my fear. I watched him and Clarke make their way out of camp with a knot in my stomach and I had to force myself to return to the dropship instead of staying there to wait for their return.

As I entered the ship and searched around for Octavia, I wasn’t at all surprised to find her anxiously waiting on the second floor, under the hatch where the grounder was being held. I was walking toward her when Connor pushed past to bang on the hatch and yell up. 

“Hey Miller, Roma’s parents are waiting for you on the radio.” He called before turning on his heel to walk straight out without waiting to see if he had been heard.

My stomach lurched at the mention of her name but I tried to concentrate on the task at hand. From Connor’s words, it sounded like they were about to leave the grounder unguarded and I could already feel Octavia desperately staring at me. I diverted my path to avoid looking suspicious and fiddled with some supplies in an attempt to look busy. Fortunately Octavia understood my strange move and she quickly did the same on the other side of the space as we tried to look casual whilst Miller made his way down the ladder and stomped outside. Octavia immediately dashed to the ladder and I ran over to meet her. 

“Hey, Bellamy’s out of camp so I’ll try to keep the goons out of your hair. I’ll give you as long as I can but please don’t do anything reckless. I know you trust him and I’m on your side that this whole thing is wrong but you still need to be careful. Don’t let your guard down. Now go.” I rambled in a hurry, before practically pushing her up the ladder to speed her up. I knew in my gut that Bellamy would be furious with me if he knew what I’d just done, but our methods of protecting Octavia were different and I found that allowing her to make her own decisions and mistakes was working well for me so far. She was growing, which she needed to do in an environment like this and I maintained her trust. In my mind, it was most important that she always continued to trust me with her problems so that I could help when she got herself into trouble, instead of sneaking around behind my back like she did with Bellamy. I waited nervously on the spot whilst Octavia was upstairs and I expected to run into trouble at any moment. It wasn’t long at all until it came. Miller approached the ladder with a furious expression and I steeled myself for a conflict. 

“Miller, how were Roma’s parents? I can’t imagine that as an easy conversation to have. If it helps I can speak to them? I was with her when…” I trailed off, unsure of what else to say. I wasn’t even sure if what I’d offered would be of any help at all, and felt guilty for even trying to use it as a distraction.

“No Indigo, that wouldn’t help at all. Now get out of my way, I need to get back to guarding the piece of shit whose friends are killing us.” He spat, pushing past me. I jumped back in front of him to try to block him and he looked up at the hatch in frustration. “Oh goddammit, Octavia is up there again isn’t she? Will you two ever give it a fucking rest with getting in the way?” He growled and I shifted awkwardly. I was disappointed that I hadn’t been able to think of a better distraction and instead had to resort to reasoning with him.

“Come on Miller, she’s not doing any harm and Bellamy isn’t even here. She’s just treating him like a human being.” I answered in an attempt to diffuse the situation and I already felt in my gut that I was wasting my time as he viewed me with disgust.

“What about our people, the ones they killed? You think they treated them like fucking human beings?” He spat as he continued to try to get to the ladder, but I remained in front of him to block it.

“We don’t even know if he had anything to do with that. We don’t know anything about Earth, we didn’t even expect there to be people here! We can’t hold one man responsible.” I argued, trying to reason with him despite his growing anger. I couldn’t tell which of us would lose our temper first as he looked down on me and I felt my stomach turning in frustration.

“Get out of my fucking way Sloan! Bellamy isn’t here to shield you today, don’t fucking test me!” He growled, attempting to pull me out from the ladder but instead I instinctively pushed him away from me and held my ground.

In an explosion of anger he swung at me; his fist collided with my jaw and caused me to stumble back. True to my assurance to Bellamy that I could protect myself, I rammed into Miller, tackling him at his waist and splayed him out on the floor. I pulled my arm back to punch him but before I could complete the movement I was interrupted by frantic yelling as Jasper stumbled into the space. 

“Octavia! Indigo! Octavia!” His tone of blind panic caused me to let go of Miller and instead of continuing my assault, I jumped to my feet. As I did this, the hatch opened and Octavia frantically started climbing down.

“Jasper, what’s wrong?” I asked worriedly and as his gaze fell on me, he rushed over to my side. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see that Miller was back on his feet and that he was in the process of reaching up to violently pull Octavia from the ladder. I felt my temper combust inside my chest and I turned on my heel, throwing all of my weight behind the punch that met his face like a bulldozer. Miller collapsed onto the ground unconscious and I shook my hand with a grimace.

“Fuck, Indigo, that was extreme!” Octavia breathed as she viewed me with a hint of amusement and I shrugged back. “Jasper, are you alright?” She asked as she gently placed a comforting hand on him in concern.

“I...I think I’m going crazy.” He spat as he reached out with a desperate grip on her shoulders. “Or the grounders are here, or I’m going crazy!” His voice was frantic and terrified and I raised my brows in surprise. Octavia gently released herself from his grip and she began to lead him to the entrance to the dropship. 

“Okay, just slow down.” She breathed, encouraging him to match her relaxed pace. “Just tell me what you saw.” As they reached the entrance and gained a view of the camp, Jasper seemed to hyperfixate on one point with wide, horrified eyes. I approached them, standing at his other side from Octavia and I watched him closely. 

“Him!” He whispered, his voice trembling as he pointed to an empty spot. Although it was obvious to us that he was pointing at nothing, the conviction in which he stared out and pointed insistently caused me to become concerned.

“Jasper, there’s no one there.” Octavia replied firmly as she tried to take control of the situation. 

“He’s right there!” Jasper yelled wildly back, finally losing control of his panic and I jumped at the sudden change in his demeanor. “We have to run, we have to run, why isn’t anyone doing anything-” He grabbed Octavia and tried to pull her but she dug her heels into the ground in resistance. I grabbed his arm to keep him with us and he stared at me in shock.

“Jasper! Are you on something?” Octavia asked and was unable to keep the annoyance from her tone any longer.

“Stay calm with him Tavi. He might be having a trauma flashback.” I spoke softly and slowly, as Jasper watched me with an expression that showed that he wasn’t really seeing me. He turned back to face Octavia with a slightly calmer manner, but instead I could sense a hint of slurring in his words.

“I love you.” He stated, causing us both to raise our brows in surprise. “And I just want you to know that we’re all gonna die soon, okay? I love you.” He rushed his words but also tried to cram food into his mouth at the same time. Octavia grabbed his hand midway to his mouth and revealed the nuts that he and Monty had offered me earlier. 

“Is this all you’ve eaten today?” She questioned, fixing him with a serious expression as I watched with a feeling of dread as I recognised them.

“It is but who the hell cares now?” He breathed, waving his arms around in a dramatic fashion and I had to stifle a snigger at his out of character behaviour.

“You’re totally bombed.” She sighed, glancing over at me for assistance and I looked back at her with concern as I shook off my amusement.

“Him and Monty offered those to me this morning when they found them.” I clarified as I met her eyes and she looked back at me with relief. “How many other people in camp did they give them to?” I asked, glancing around with a knot in my gut and her eyes widened as she realised the implications.

“I don’t know but we need to find out, fast. For now we need to deal with him before he causes a panic.” Octavia whispered, indicating to Jasper who was now hyperventilating and causing quite a scene. She stepped outside by just a few steps and I had to grip his arm to keep him from following her. She picked up a fallen branch and returned just inside the ship to hand it to him purposefully. “Here buddy, take this.” She breathed and I sensed a hint of sarcasm in her voice despite her best efforts to conceal it.

“It’s a stick?” He questioned as he took it and stared at her in bewilderment.

“No, this is an anti grounder stick.” She argued in a forced tone and I struggled not to snort at her prosperous plan. “So as long as you hold this and you sit right here, grounders won't be able to see you. See?” She spoke softly and encouraged him to take a seat inside the dropship.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I’ll just stay right here.” Jasper nodded, settling into his seat and accepting her lie far easier than I’d anticipated. Octavia looked at me and rolled her eyes, and I had to stifle a giggle. I was sympathetic for Jasper; he’d been through so much since we got here that I thought he was doing incredibly well to still even be functioning.

“I’m gonna do the rounds of camp and just check no one else is freaking out.” I stated as I glanced out at the seemingly calm space anxiously and Octavia nodded in agreement.

“Good idea. You take one side, I’ll take the other and we’ll meet back here.” She answered and I smiled at her responsibility.

I stuck my head into multiple tents and everyone on my side seemed to still be their normal selves. From what I could tell, people were still efficiently working on their duties. After checking most of my side, I decided to find Monty and I hoped that he’d be in a better state than Jasper had gotten himself into. When I entered their tent, I found Monty laid flat out in a pile of sleeping bags and staring up at the ceiling of the tent with a fascinated expression. 

“Hey Monty, are you good in here?” I asked gently as I stepped properly into the space and surveyed him. He turned to face me with a dosy smile and widely dilated eyes. 

“Hey, it’s the pretty girl!” He answered cheerfully and I chuckled under my breath at his strange demeanour.

“So, I’ve just been chatting with Jasper and he was telling me about the nuts you found in the forest this morning.” I approached slowly and sat beside him. I was careful not to startle him after Jasper’s earlier panicky behaviour and worried that I could inadvertently spiral him into a similar state.

“Oh the nuts! Yeah, they’re super good, they’re so tasty, I think they might be the best thing I’ve eaten since I got here.” He raved, smiling widely at me. “You should make sure you get some.” He added and I knew that baiting him would be easier than I had anticipated.

“You know, I really want to try them, they sound amazing. But everyone liked them so much that no one will share with me.” I said coyly, and his face fell into a profoundly sad expression as he considered my words. I struggled not to snigger at his dramatic reactions.

“What?! That’s so greedy! I’ll share with you pretty girl.” He smiled, pulling a small supply of the nuts from his pocket and handing them to me without any resistance. “It’s not much, but those are all I have left.” He admitted and I was warmed by his kindness.

“Thanks Monty, you’re the best.” I replied, forcing a wide smile back at him in an attempt to not be suspicious. The effects of the nuts seemed to be different on Monty, maybe because he hadn’t endured quite as much trauma as Jasper, or maybe he was usually a chilled, happy drunk. I reflected on what he’d been arrested for, and decided I wouldn’t be surprised if the latter was the case. 

“Oh you’re welcome Indie! I’ll always share with you. You’re nice, and cool, and pretty. So pretty. Did you know that? Bellamy doesn’t deserve you.” He rambled quickly in a slurred fashion.I struggled not to laugh now, wrinkling up my nose as I smiled at him. 

��Well it’s a good thing that Bellamy doesn’t have me then, isn’t it.” I replied earnestly as I appreciated his kind words, even if they were caused by blatant intoxication. “You know what Monty, you’ve done so well today gathering these delicious treats that I think you’ve earned a break. Why don’t you take a nap?” I suggested encouragingly as I got to my feet.

“Yeah, a nap sounds great. I love naps.” He smiled as he shuffled himself into a comfortable position and quickly dozed off. I smiled at his peaceful form resting in a self hugging pose before I crept out of the tent. I made my way back to the dropship and found Octavia waiting for me. 

“Hey, just so you know Miller’s back up and being a dick as usual.” She groaned in annoyance and I rolled my eyes. “He went straight back up there to guard Lincoln-I mean the grounder.” She added before dropping her gaze to her feet.

“Please tell me you haven’t named him? He’s not a puppy and no you can’t keep him.” I stated firmly, with only a small hint of playfulness. I hoped for a laugh but instead she stared back at me in an awkward manner.

“No, that’s his name. He told me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper to divulge this information and I froze to the spot in shock. 

“You said he didn’t speak English?” I asked in a hiss as I felt unnerved by this revelation.

“I didn’t think he could, but turns out he can.” She replied casually and I got the impression that she didn’t understand the gravity of this discovery. I stared back at her in horror, as I remembered how much of the conversation between Bellamy and I had been in front of the prisoner. I desperately struggled to think whether I had said anything that could endanger Bellamy if it were to get out and felt my heart hammering as I considered it. 

“Jesus, Octavia, did you tell him anything?” I grilled her with more aggression than intended and she seemed to be confused as she stared back at me.

“No, of course not, he didn’t want to know anything. I just told him I was sorry about what happened.” She explained and I could tell that she was insulted in the way that she spoke. “How was your side of camp anyway? Any more freak outs?” She asked in a crude attempt at changing the topic. I sighed but allowed her to guide me, as the nuts situation was a more pressing issue.

“No, everyone’s pretty normal, except for Monty who’s totally baked. But I took what he has left so at least he’ll start coming down.” I answered in a matter of fact manner. “Your side?” I questioned nervously.

“No weirdness at all, maybe Jasper and Monty just ate too many?” She thought aloud and I shrugged back at her. I was hopeful that she was right, as I couldn’t imagine the chaos we’d be met with if these had made their way around camp.  “Raven and Finn haven’t come out of their little love den so they should be fine.” She added with a hint of bitterness and I fixed her with a scrutinising look. 

“Did you check them?” I asked, eying her suspiciously. She avoided my gaze, shifting awkwardly and I sighed deeply in disappointment. I understood why she didn’t want to be around Raven, but I trusted her to be more mature considering the circumstances. “Fine, I’ll deal with Raven. Don’t do anything whilst I’m gone.” I added as I stepped away from her. She cleared her throat and I paused to turn to face her again. “Unless...you already did something?” I asked hesitantly. She looked incredibly guilty now and was barely even facing my direction any longer. “Octavia, what did you do?” I hissed in annoyance. I knew her too well for her act to fool me and I could tell from her face that there was something she was trying to hide.

“Nothing!” She exclaimed defensively. I raised a brow at her and she quickly crumbled. “Nothing undeserved.” She added with a coy smile and I felt my stomach lurch at her wording. “I may have had a part in ensuring that Miller got his rations.” She smiled and I groaned loudly as I understood that she had drugged him with the nuts. “Look, I’m just saying, if the guards were too high to keep an eye on him then it would be easy for him to just accidentally escape.” She explained her logic and I stared at her in disbelief. 

“I just...what?” I stuttered weakly as I processed her words. “I know I agreed with you that he should never have been brought here, or tortured, and I have absolutely no intention of allowing anyone to execute him, but we can’t seriously be talking about letting him go?! That’s a huge risk Octavia, you don’t know him, what are you going to do if he comes back with an army?” I ranted as I felt the nerves brewing in my stomach. As I was in the middle of glaring at her, I realised that she was looking over my shoulder and I turned to see a commotion growing in the camp. It seemed that the effect of the nuts had simply taken a while to kick in as people were now starting to behave strangely all over the camp. “Shit, we’ve got bigger problems right now, I can’t talk to you about this just yet. I know you have drama with Raven and I get it, but Finn is injured and still very early in his recovery, so I need to make sure he’s not high as a kite and busting open his stitches because you dumped your responsibilities over a grudge. Stay here, and don’t do anything reckless whilst I deal with this, and we’ll talk about it when I get back.” I spoke quickly, allowing my tone to convey my stress before I rushed to Raven and Finn’s tent.

It was a struggle to even make it through the chaos of the camp. I was stopped several times by random people in varying states of confusion and panic. I struggled to part from each of them as I worried over reaching the person who I felt was most vulnerable. When the tent finally came into view, I could hear raised voices from inside. I quickened my pace to deal with the conflict and saw Monty stumbling out of the residence.

“Monty, what are you doing? I thought you were having a nap?” I asked frustratedly as I caught sight of him. I couldn’t believe that the one person I thought I’d dealt with was already back out and causing trouble. He turned to face me with an overly cheesy smile and I scrutinised him with an unimpressed manner. 

“Oh hey Indie! Well I was trying to have a nap but the tides kept interrupting me so I need to find the moon so that I can change the tide.” He explained in a manner that was so articulate that it was almost believable. I stifled a laugh as I assessed that even whilst drunk Monty was trying to solve problems and studying things in his scientific mind. I smiled at him fondly as I formed a plan to get him out of the way without having to scold him. 

“Oh, the moon?” I replied in a fascinated tone. “You know I just saw it heading into your tent, but if you go in there you’ll have to close your eyes so you don’t get blinded by it. So maybe lie down with your eyes closed whilst you talk to it.” I made up whatever I could think of on the spot and waited anxiously to see if Monty believed me. Although he was intoxicated, I doubted that he had become any less intelligent and I worried that he would see through me.

“You’re a genius!” He smiled eagerly and I let out a breath that I didn’t even realise I was holding. He gave me an exaggerated high five before running excitedly in the direction of his tent. Raven stepped out of her tent, pulling on her jacket and looked around. 

“What the hell is going on?” She asked as she surveyed the chaos that surrounded us with confusion.

“Monty and Jasper found some nuts earlier that seem to be hallucinogens. Everyone's losing their shit.” I explained, watching closely for any strange behaviour from her. “Did either of you eat any?” I asked to confirm that she wasn’t going to fool me as the rest of camp had.

“No, thank god.” She breathed, widening her eyes as someone ran past bare chested and waving their shirt in the air like a flag. “I was with Finn so didn’t collect any rations.” She replied, rubbing her head in a stressed manner. “Does the pressure ever stop here?” She groaned as she met my eyes with an exhausted face. I was surprised to find that her tone was the same as it had been before she brutally tortured the grounder and then tried to fight me.

“No, welcome to Earth, the bullshit is constant.” I spoke coldly, no longer able to bond with her as I had over Finn’s unconscious state. I couldn’t pretend that last night hadn’t happened and I didn’t have the time to deal with the aftermath just yet. “Now, we’ve got around 90 dellusional teenagers to keep alive, so we’re gonna need every set of hands we can get.” I requested and Raven sighed deeply, sticking her head back into the tent.

 “Scratch that, get out here.” She spoke into the tent before straightening back up. 

“Thank you. If you could start gathering any stragglers at the edge of the camp and bring them back in that would be great. Octavia and I will gather the ones near the dropship.” I instructed and Raven immediately nodded in agreement.

As I approached the dropship I witnessed Octavia creeping back in with supplies bundled in her arms. I broke into a jog to catch her up and I could tell that she hadn’t spotted me nearing her. I cleared my throat just before I fell into step beside her and she jumped in response.

“What are you doing?” I spoke firmly and she turned to face me like a deer caught in headlights. I studied the items that she was carrying and easily identified some clothes and rations. I surveyed her with a mixture of disappointment and disbelief. I’d barely been gone for ten minutes and I couldn’t believe that she’d made such a dramatic decision in that time. “I said we’d talk about this. Are you really sneaking around to do this behind my back?” I asked with a hurt tone as I met her eyes. For a moment, she looked genuinely remorseful, but she quickly flipped to defensive behaviour. 

“Oh right, of course.” She breathed, squinting at me with annoyance. “You say we’ll talk about it and you expect me to just sit and wait whilst our best chance of getting him out of here is passing us by?! We’re not going to have a better opportunity than this, ever!” She spat and I was surprised to find her pressuring me at such an impossible time.

“Yes, it’s our best chance to free him, but how do we know that freeing him is the right thing?” I asked and she rolled her eyes. I dropped to a scolding tone to try encourage her to realise the seriousness of the conversation and I felt more like I was parenting a bratty child than discussing something with my best friend. “It’s a risk Octavia, what will we do if he comes back with an army of grounders? Will you still feel so justified in your decision when they are killing us in front of you?” I pressed back, in an effort to make her understand the gravity of the decision we needed to make.

“That’s not going to happen! He saved my life!” She argued and I half expected her to stomp her feet as she spoke in an indignant tone.

“Don’t be fucking naive! You don’t know him!” I yelled back as I lost my temper with her ridiculous behaviour. “He may have saved you, but then he chained you to a wall like a fucking pet.” I jabbed and I saw the flicker of offence crossing her face.

“If I’m wrong and he has an army of grounders, they are going to come looking for him! If we let him go, maybe he’ll show us mercy in return.” She suggested and I scoffed at her. “You need to ask yourself this: when Bellamy comes back and we have to make a decision about what to do, how are you going to feel watching him get executed, knowing that you could have saved his life?” She reasoned and I paced around in an attempt to manage the stress that she was piling on me. I knew that we had little time to make a decision one way or another, but I couldn’t judge which option was the most sensible. After all of my time preaching about survival skills and being tactical, I didn't know the answer. “Indigo, sometimes you have to take a chance and have faith in people. I have faith in Lincoln, I can feel in my gut that this is the right thing to do. Now I’m just asking you to trust me.” I stared at her in uncertainty, and my recent words to Bellamy repeated in my mind, much to my frustration. If there was one thing I never wanted to be, it was a hypocrite.

“Fine, fine!” I spat as I snapped under the stress. “But this is on you, this is your choice. Don’t make me regret this!” I added as I jabbed a finger at her and she nodded back thankfully. “You get him out, I’ll keep the few sober people distracted.” I instructed as I tried to form a plan within the limited time constraints. “Come and find me when he’s gone.” I sighed, furious at her for putting me in this position. 

[jonthethinker]

Expositor Beauregard And The Mighty Nein

Others have said it before, but because I think it should be screamed from the mountaintops everyday, Beau’s growth is so fucking good!

I think back to the runaway monk we met at the beginning of this campaign, all sharp edges and curt words and no roots, committed to convincing the world she doesn’t care about anything and she’s fine on her own (but the loneliness already showing as she asks Jester and Fjord whether they’re going to leave town without her.)

Then we have Beau now, who has deep friendships with every member of the Mighty Nein sans possibly Caduceus and Yasha (who still fall under the domain of her protective instinct, and who she still very much considers her people.) It could be argued that Beau is the sturdy foundation of the Nein, offering each other member of the Nein some sturdy ground to stand on to grow themselves:

Travis has mentioned Beau’s commitment as first mate as a comfort for Fjord, and when he was deliberating whether to reveal his accent to the group, He never doubted that Beau would continue to support him if he told the group the truth. Their easy relationship is among my favorites on the show, and when the action starts they’re never out of sync.It is safe to assume that to the half-orc orphan who very much attended the school of hard knocks and has every reason to distrust others, having a friendship in which the only thing that is asked is a willingness to call Beau on her bullshit and an openness to Beau calling him on his, is an immeasurably important feature in Fjord’s current life and one he wouldn’t trade away for anything.

Beau is undoubtedly fiercely protective and supportive of Jester, and made it clear to her that she will support Jester being more honest about negative feelings she has, while also standing up to Jester when she thought she was making a reckless decision in how to confront her father if it meant keeping Jester safe and the door open for a healthy relationship with said parent. Jester has in Beau someone who will continually encourage and support her through thick and thin, and have a good time along the way. I want to say a hell of a lot more about their friendship and the parallels of their lives, because their friendship is the most precious thing to me in all of critical role, but that’s not what this meta is about, so I’ll save it for another time.

Her sisterly relationship with Nott is something that is easy to forget about, but I imagine it means more to Nott than is let on; Nott was a bit of an outsider even as a halfling. Since the Iron Shepards (And arguably before, in Hupperdook,) Nott has had an easy relationship in Beau, with Beau being about as judgement free as Nott has ever experienced. The two are playful with each other in a way I imagine Nott wishes she could have been with her brothers, and Beau’s willingness to forgive Nott for any harmful decision she has made (a certain bullet in the ass comes to mind) can’t be underscored in its importance towards the goal of keeping Nott’s beaten-up heart healthy.

While I disagree with some in the fandom who think that Beau’s friendship with Caleb is the single most important relationship in his life right now (which to me has been unquestionably, from the beginning, Nott, and is nowhere near changing to anyone else in my humble opinion,) to say their friendship has not been a critical step in his growth as a character is absurd. Caleb perhaps had not planned on one of the keys to his success in his wizardly pursuits as well as the reclamation of his humanity being a rough-and-tumble friendship with a blunt, somewhat aggressive monk with a knack for getting him to admit to things he never wanted to admit to, but life doesn’t often go according to plan. Despite a rocky beginning, their friendship has evolved into something beautiful, with Beau always there to keep Caleb grounded, whether he risks letting his thirst for knowledge drag him into trouble, or his past begins to eat him alive. And it’s certainly nice to have someone around who can help him find that book he’s looking for.

Beau’s relationship with Yasha has been interesting from the get-go, what with Beau immediately seizing on the opportunity to flirt with the giant, introverted barbarian. While shipping discourse tends to dominate the discussion of their interactions, we shouldn’t ignore the chance to take a crack at what these moments mean to the characters as individuals.

With hindsight and insights Marisha has given on Talks, I’ve gathered that to Beau these moments were driven by this weird relationship in Beau’s mind between sex and power. She uses these casual, almost doomed to fail, encounters with women as a band-aid to avoid confronting her actual problems with developing intimate, meaningful romantic or platonic relationships with women she’s physically attracted to. She sort of game-ifies the encounters into a power struggle between her and her potential conquest; the end goal not being the sex or denial thereof, but of the buzz of the conflict itself. On the outside it looks like a pure expression of ego, and some of it may be, but I interpret it mostly as a deflection from Beau’s clear struggles with self-loathing and her fear of abandonment; I speculate that to Beau, after how things ended with Tori, has not allowed herself to feel the same about anyone else (With the recently revealed exception of Jester, who is all too conveniently deemed inaccessible; “She has a thing for Fjord, and so it’s not a possibility,”) for fear of utterly letting down yet another women she loved.

With Yasha I take these moments as a sort of siren’s song. Here she is, having lost the most precious person in all her life, a love she knew was forbidden but pursued anyway, and clearly blames herself and her desire for Zuala as the very reason she died. To Yasha, the lesson she learned from all of this is not that her tribe was wrong, but that her desires are wrong, that she can’t trust herself to want anything, and can’t trust herself to love without getting someone hurt (A feeling only exacerbated by the death of Molly trying to save her from the Iron Shepards.)

So she feels all this and then there’s this monk who relentlessly flirts with her. Their first interaction indicates to me that Yasha has had some experience handling this sort of thing since joining the circus, and with arms like those, how could she not? But Beau just keeps going and going the more time they spend around one another, and Yasha has eyes, and Beau does indeed have those abs, and is incredibly persistent and almost admirably self-assured about herself, and okay maybe eventually even the tough Barbarian might be flustered and stutter a little bit.

And that would be that, if that’s all their relationship was. But Yasha being the quiet one who looms to the back in social interactions and group planning watches the others, Beau included, and maybe begins to see another side to the monk. The side that clearly cares a great deal about this group. Who looks out for the others and will gladly put her body on the line to protect them. Beau isn’t as sturdy as Yasha, can’t take as many hits and depends on avoiding being hit in the first place, but still there she is, tanking a Hydra, rushing to the front lines and protecting her friends. There she is, reassuring party members in a well-meaning if a little rough around the edges sort of way. There she is, comforting Yasha after she reveals her past to the group, seeking a way to relate to her even when it’s clear Beau doesn’t share personal details often.

So to Yasha, Beau is a few things. She’s someone who she can rely on to keep this lovely found family alive no matter the personal cost. She’s someone who can be leaned on and relied on not to judge. And she’s someone who makes her feel like a person, not just a tool or a wall of muscle, or a burden to be dealt with, but a person. I think Beau will be second only to Jester in the importance she will play in Yasha’s recovery and victory over her grief and guilt, which, let’s face it, is a long road yet to be traveled, but a road made all the easier due to Yasha’s friends of the blue persuasion.

Caduceus sees in Beau potential. Where he may get frustrated or confused by many in the Nein, I think in Beau he finds a reliable and easy to understand set of motivations. Beau wants to keep the Mighty Nein happy, healthy, and most importantly alive, and maybe make a positive difference in the world along the way. While her gruff demeanor can sometimes grate him the wrong way, I feel her actions have spoken for her in Caduceus’ mind. I take that he feels that while he may be the only adult in the room, Beau is definitely the rather mature teenager that can often be trusted to make decisions in his absence. Condescending? Of course. But a delightfully Caduceus-like thing to think.

This long diatribe is not me saying that Beau is the be all end all of the Nein, but just my way of illustrating the impact of her and her growth on her friends, and the role she plays within the Nein. The other members have had just as much of an impact on her. From Fjord’s trust and charm training, to Jester’s love and support and faith in strangers, to Nott’s open ear and sisterly banter, to Caleb’s ability to establish goals and remind her of both the forest and the trees, to Yasha’s fierce protectiveness and soft treatment of their friends, to Caduceus’ encouragement to tell the truth and be open and the successes that attitude has led to.

And to Molly, who arguably, made this growth possible, or at least as quickly progressive as it has been. Without him pushing her towards making the world better than she found it, it’s hard to imagine the road she would have had to travel to get to where she is now, fighting to save the world, standing up to and earning the respect of her Cobalt Soul mentors, sharing her feelings with the group, and allowing herself to love.

Beau is my favorite character on Critical Role. She has been for a very long time, but my love for her has only aged like a fine wine. From barely being able to meditate at all, to mentally transporting herself to a beach in Nicodranas in order to escape Obann’s thrall. From telling Jester she didn’t worry too much about her well-being, to telling her on several occasions that she loves and cares about her. From being incredibly antagonizing towards Molly, to getting a tattoo in his honor very visibly on the back of her neck. Her Journey to become the Expositor she is today has been an absolute delight, and her journey towards forging the ties she has with this beautiful found family have been heartwarming and some of the best storytelling I’ve ever seen. And she has so much potential for growth and I just can’t wait to see more.

[blueishfood]

Wind in our sails

Fandom/Ship: Maraudrer era in a Pirates of the Caribbean au! Jily, Dobby x Winky, Alice x Frank, 

Summary:

“Lily Evans, a young Lady of El Puerto Del Rey, meets Lucius Malfoy for the first time as she is promised to him. Malfoy is one of the few counts of Slytherin Island, a persuasive and revolting man. Miss Evans sees no way out of the nightmare her parents has landed her in. 

That is until the infamous Marauder, a known and feared pirate ship sailed by Captain James Potter, attacks The Serpent on their way to her wedding. Lily sees and escape and grabs on tight. 

Set sail with Lily Evans as she joins Captain James Potter and his mates in swashbuckling adventures of romance, mystery and lionhearted bravery.”

Warning(s): Only a little bit of fighting, what is pirate life without it?

Words: 1,3 K

A/N: This is an old fic which I have tried to fix up and make better. If there are any mistakes from my young years as a writer, I would be very happy if you pointed them out to me. Also; I actually really like this story so I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 2

A young man dragged a hand through his hair, enjoying the burn of the sun. His earlier white, now light yellow shirt snapped in the wind, and he popped open another button.

"We're wait'n for yer orders Cap'n!", one of the older members of the crew shouted, turning towards the man with a wicked look in his eyes.

"Aye, I know.", he answered resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. He heard the shouting from the pirates behind him and a pleased smirk spread across his lips. With his raven black hair whipping in the wind, he swirled around.

"Prepare the cannons, get ready to board." The captain grabbed the wheel, and grinned to his first mate. "And hoist them colors!"

A few days earlier:

A young woman stood on the balcony of her fathers house. She sighed heavily. With her hair flowing in the wind, she looked towards the stables. What she had not given for a ride now.

"Miss Lily? M- miss?" She turned her head towards her maid. The young girl looked concerned as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her pink dress.

"Yes Winky?" Lily looked curiously at her maid as she turned away from the setting sun. Winky glanced up at Lily, then back down to the floor.

"Your father and grandfather wants to talk to you," she muttered quietly.

One of Lily's eyebrows lifted and she squared her shoulders. "And why is that?"

"They did not tell me, I'm afraid." Winky looked at the ground, but Lily only shook her head.

"That's alright, Winky." Lily took in the large house in front of her and wondered what horrifying surprise her parents possibly could have waiting for her on the other side.

Winky lifted her large brown eyes to look at her Lady and said carefully, "Miss, if it is not my place to say; do tell, but I saw a man with them. He looked quite rich."

Lily frowned and found herself straightening without thinking about it. A man she said? Then, she turned her head towards Winky and smiled.

"Thank you. Where do they await me?"

"In the dining room miss, it's down the hall a- " Lily nodded to stop her sentence.

"I know my way around the house, Winky. You're dismissed." The maid curtsied and walked away.

Lily drew a large breath before walking down the hall, towards the three men. She knew this could bear nothing but bad news for her, but she forced herself to swallow the fear. An Evans never showed her emotions.

The dining room was large and white, the columns on each side decorated with gold, but Lily did not stop for a second to admire the beautifully done handwork. Three men were arguing in front of her. Before Lily could listen in on the conversation, the shouting promptly stopped, and her father gave her a warning look.

"Mr. Malfoy." He said to a man with long, white-washed blonde hair.

"I want you to meet my daughter; Lily Evans." The man took a few steps towards Lily and kissed her hand slowly.

"You're more beautiful than I could have imagined." Lily nodded politely, and carefully pulled her hand from his grip. She didn't know him, but he was clearly a man with connections. Like many of the men in her life, she had to be careful when she was around him. Her father cleaned his throat loudly, and Malfoy turned, slightly miffed, to look at him.

"Lily, your mother and I have decided that this man will become your..." he trailed off, hesitating before he uttered the word, but Lily knew what was coming. "...husband.", her father said, sounding defeated.

Lily tried to hide her rage, but a look crossed her face before she could catch it. How could they? How could they bind her to a man she had never spoken to? She didn't know if he was kind or cruel, at least if they chose the commodore, she would know he was an honest man.

Lily took a deep breath and nodded. Her parents would not have done this if they did not have to. Lily knew very well that if she uttered a word about her opposition in front of this man, her -now- fiancé; she would be punished hard. She did not say a word. She would say a lot after Malfoy was gone, but for now; she let him push the ring on her finger and talk shamelessly to her. As he said his goodbyes, he kissed her cheek, and Lily had to keep herself from retching in disgust.

"Someday soon, love; you are going to end up in my bed." He whispered to her. Lily closed her eyes to hide the tears of frustration. "I am looking forward to our next meeting, Miss Evans. You will not have any qualms of this marriage when I am done with you." His whispers were louder now, and Lily tried not to snap at him.

She failed.

Lily slapped him as hard as she could, and felt his sideburns scratch against her palm.

Without any remorse Lily ran to the stables. She shouted at the stable boy who quickly fastened the seat on Moonlight. As Lily galloped away from the estate, she could hear her mother screeching after her. But the young Lady had to get away. Away from her life. She knew that she would have to return, but for now; she would like to forget.

"Do you even know what troubles you could have made?!"

Vivida Colarenta Evans talked fast and the air was filled with tension. She was mad. Mad at her daughter; with her father's red hair and therefore also his read-hair temper.

"Of course I know mother!" Lily's green eyes struck lightning. Those eyes could scare even the bravest of men, but Vivida Colarenta was not a man.

"His words were shameful and I don't regret a single action." Vivida fumed in front of her daughter, but calmed herself so her words were low and completely in control.

"You shall thank the Lord that Mister Malfoy is a humble man, and forgave you." Lily laughed loud at her mothers words.

"Humble? My arse!" She scoffed and missed Vivida's eyes widening.

"Language!" She shrieked at her daughter, face reddening, but Lily ignored her. She turned her back to her mother and stabbed her dagger into her bedside table. It already had many marks from the same knife.

"The man probably said something like; Oh she's just a wench! I'll get her to bed, you mark my words!" Vivida did not answer Lily's statement, and so the redhead knew she was right. She stood up and pointed at her mother with the glinting knife in her hand.

"How could you bind me to such a cruel man?!" Vivida had no mercy left now, she stared at her daughter with no love in her eyes.

"You shall trust your parent's decisions!"

Lily was about to interrupt again, but Vivida silenced her with a harsh slap in the face. Lily clapped her hands to her cheek and looked at her mother with wide eyes. Vivida clenched her jaw.

"Why can you not be more like Petunia?! She was married willingly to Dursley and is now bearing his child!"

"I am not Petunia!" The dagger hit the door with a thud and Vivida rolled her eyes.

"Yes I can see that.", she said, loathing lazing every word, "When she was playing with dolls; you went talking to that stable boy! You have never been one of us."

Lily smiled bitterly. "And thank God for that."

Vivida blinked, ignored the comment and finished what she had come to say.

"Tomorrow, you will board Malfoy's ship, and sail to his land. The maids have already packed your bags."

Vivida walked out of the room, closed the door and flinched as she heard another dagger hit the wood behind her.

She had never understood Lily, the girl had always stayed with ether the horses or begged her father to teach her everything on his ships. It was almost as if she were a boy! Now that she got a husband who could buy her everything she wanted; was she not pleased? Vivida herself, had never disobeyed her parents orders, so why should Lily?