#to be clear I do not thing that Red Dwarf of all shows would handle Rimmer character development well

[thats-highly-significant]

It genuinely blows my mind how Red Dwarf has multiple episodes where the problem is that Rimmer has been unloved for his whole life and has a series of genuinely harmful neuroses as a result of his general upbringing. And in one of those episodes (cough cough terrorform) the solution is to make Rimmer feel loved and accepted, and he gets better! And yet! Because it was an episodic BBC comedy from the late 80s they didn’t want to change the status quo too much between episodes so Rimmer just never ever actually gets better. There’s something kind of awe-inspiring about creating a completely insufferable character who usually operates as the punching bag to Lister’s straight man, and then taking a lot of episode runtime to tell the audience in explicit terms that he is the way he is because of a tragic series of life events, and that he could get better if someone bothered to show him some compassion, and then just going straight back to Well, It Is Time to Laugh At Rimmer. It’s like well why don’t you just fucking kill me and be done with it

[britishassistant]

The Villainous Paranoiac Has Visitors

You’re a fool.

A blind, tunnel-visioned, desperate fool.

There’s no one you can blame for this mess but yourself.

You were moronic enough to think that a promise would’ve been enough to stop Grim from going after more overblot stones.

And now where are you?

Lying in a bed in the infirmary, bandages and gauze wrapped around you from your collarbone to your chin, because the one creature in this fucked up magic world that you were stupid enough to trust unconditionally tried to rip out your throat over a rock.

Your neck aches. You’re so tired it feels like you can barely even move. Your head is a weird weight of white noise, making it hard to think about anything other than your current predicament and how you should’ve seen it coming a mile away. How you should’ve stopped it.

Maybe—maybe it was because you’d made him hold out too long. Maybe that’s it. Maybe you were wrong to make him swear not to eat any more, and him lashing out at you over Vil-senpai’s stone was just-just temptation that had been pushed too far. Why weren’t you looking after him more closely anyway? You’re his supervisor, you’re supposed to make sure Grim doesn’t get into trouble, you should’ve noticed he was gone sooner. Then maybe this whole mess wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like Grim wasn’t working hard to uphold your deal, you were the one who wasn’t meeting his efforts halfway. After all, he hadn’t eaten anything after Jamil-senpai’s overblot, had he?

...

Had he?

No stone ever turned up after Jamil-senpai’s overblot.

And you were so out of it that night, riding out the aftereffects of the overblot’s venom and the anti-venom warring in your system.

Grim could’ve easily left during the night and eaten it, and so long as you never asked, never pressed him about it, you’d have been none the wiser.

And you didn’t ask. You just trusted him.

You’re a fool. A pathetic, misguided, twisted, worthless fool.

Your family was right about you.

You would grind the heels of your hands into your eyes, but even lifting your arms towards your face feels like more effort than you can spare right now. Luckily it takes no effort to stare up at the ceiling and just hate yourself for your stupidity.

You’d have thought you would have learned that trusting people is an awful idea already. Hopefully this will finally get the message through your thick skull—

“Yuu?”

You tilt your head and blink up at Deuce. He grins, blindingly bright. “Guys, he’s awake!”

You weakly smile back, ruthlessly squashing the urge to correct him.

Epel pushes the divider back as he rounds it, pretty face worried. “Prefect, how are you feeling? Nurse Kamac said you lost a lot of blood.”

“M okay.” You mumble back, your tongue feeling thick and sluggish in your mouth.

“What the hell happened to you, Prefect?” Deuce moves to pull up a chair and sit down next to you, shooting you doubtful looks. “Was it an attack by another overblot or something? Some kind of monster? Did you get jumped by some punks from RSA?”

You wonder what you should tell them. You know that all you have to do is tell him the truth, say the word, and they’ll all be off after Grim like a group of hunting dogs, just like when you used to ask Ace and Deuce to help you catch him back at the start of the school year.

But Grim might get hurt. Or he might hurt them.

Can you put them through that?

Ace collides with the foot of the bed, interrupting your internal debate, eyes wide and panting. “Guys, bad news. Crewel’s outside asking for us, he looks pissed.”

Deuce and Epel stiffen in tandem, darting nervous glances towards the door like the potions and alchemy teacher will burst in at any moment. “What’d you do?!” Deuce hisses.

“How’d you know it wasn’t you, ass?!” Ace protests. “Seriously, we can’t keep him waiting! I think he’s even madder than the time Grim turned his coat pink and green.”

All four of you shudder collectively.

Epel grabs Deuce’s arm, squaring his shoulders. “We just gotta—need to see what Professor Crewel wants right? It may not even be us he’s piss—irritated at. Just gotta man up and face him.”

Deuce nods, even though he looks like he really, really doesn’t want to. He and Ace follow Epel away from your bed and towards the infirmary exit. You loll your head back onto your pillows and resume your staring at the ceiling.

“But Ace, no one’s...?”

“What the—?!”

There’s a bang as the infirmary doors slam shut.

You look over in time to see Ace slide a mop through the door handles, and drag a chair over to prop under them. He then points his magic pen at it all and a padlocked chain loops itself around the whole affair and clicks shut. You can hear Deuce and Epel hammering on the other side, demanding he open up.

“Ace?” You struggle to sit up, your throat aching. “What—”

“Shh, sh, easy, we gotta be quick.” He darts over you, helping you to sit up and pulling up the pillows behind you to lean back against. “Do you need me to get your shirt for you?”

“W-what?” Your brain is still struggling to catch up.

Ace gestures impatiently to your chest.

You look down.

Oh.

Oh.

You look back up at Ace, cold sweat drenching you.

Please no. Not him too.

Ace reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out—!

He holds up your binder. “Figured Kamac might not have let you keep it. It hurts your ribs, right?”

Wait. What?

“H-how...?” You stutter, fumbling with the buttons at your collar.

He shoots you a look. “I basically carried you back here from Dwarf Mines. It was easy to tell something was up when Kamac wouldn’t let me or Deuce stay in the room while you were getting patched up. Plus this was kinda dangling out your back pocket when you came out”

Well. That’s. That’s...

“Look are we doing this or not?!” Ace hisses, shooting a nervous glance back at the door where Deuce and Epel’s voices are being joined by others and growing louder. You think you hear Kalim-senpai’s twittering, Vil-senpai barking orders, and Jamil-senpai’s drawl.

You begin working on your buttons with newfound determination.

Ace helps you get your head through the top hole of the binder without pulling on the bandages around your neck too much.

You struggle your arms through the arm holes, and then shrug the hospital pajama shirt back on. He’s already done over half the buttons by the time you’ve recovered from your discombobulation.

“Feel okay? Not hurting your breathing or anything?” You nod, still disoriented. “Okay, let’s just get you back under the covers, and then I’ll let in the circus.”

There’s another metallic clang from the door and a cry of pain that sounds worryingly like Ashengrotto-senpai.

“W-why?” You rasp, an odd swooping feeling catapulting in your stomach, like you’ve just jumped off the bleachers again. “Why would you...?”

Ace heaves a sigh and gives you a look normally reserved for Deuce and Grim. “Because you’re my friend, you little dumbass. Getting something like this for you isn’t a big deal or anything.”

You gape at him so hard it feels like your eyes are burning.

Something inside you feels impossibly, uncontrollably warm.

Turns out getting a lump in your throat really hurts when you’re recovering from having it slashed open.

“Aw, jeez, what’s with the waterworks?!” Ace leans over you, ungloved hand swiping at the tears on your cheeks. “C’mon Yuu, if they get back in here and see you crying, you know Deuce’ll kill me.”

“Good. ‘S a-all your fault. I won’t f-forgive you until you give me a hug, you big jerk.” You sniffle, opening your arms and holding them out.

He huffs a laugh, before following your orders. “You’re a tyrant, ya know that? You’re as bad as Vil-senpai and Dorm Head Riddle.”

“I’m worse than they could ever be.” You mumble, hiding your burning eyes in his shoulder. “Don’t you forget it.”

“Oi, you better not be wiping your nose on my jacket!” He tries to shrug you off gently. He still hasn’t stopped hugging you though. “Get your snot and tears offa me!”

You cling onto him tighter, unable to stop giggling even as a few hysterical tears slip down your cheeks. “Suffer.”

“Tyrant.” He fakes an exasperated groan, but you can feel him chuckling along with you.

There’s not many things you can think of that would ruin this moment.

“King’s Roar.”

...Being bathed in sand as the doors to the infirmary disintegrate certainly wasn’t one you had in mind, though it does the trick well enough.

Lucky you had Ace hugging you to act as a human shield for the worst of it.

He sputters once the deluge has subsided, shaking his head and rudely dumping the excess sand into your lap. “Ugh, senpai, what the hell?! Would it have killed you to wait one minute?!”

“You take too long.” Leona-senpai shrugs, pocketing his magic pen again and sauntering in to stretch out on the empty bunk next to you. “These guys wouldn’t stop whining until I did something.”

Deuce rushes over to your bedside with Epel and Kalim close behind him, kneeling down next to you. “Prefect, are you okay?! What’d he do to you?!”

“His eyes are all red an’ swollen!” Epel points out before you can say anything. “Ace, you bas—”

“Epel.” Vil-senpai stalks in, looking much better since you last saw him at VDC. Healthier, somehow. “But yes, Potato #1, what exactly were you playing at, locking everyone out like that?”

Ace stammers under Vil-senpai’s cold glare, so you take pity on him, clearing your throat weakly. “Ace just didn’t want any witnesses to him fussing over me. He’s allergic to showing kindness, after all.”

For some reason, being able to say that and have Ace elbow you playfully makes you feel...buoyant, somehow.

Everyone stares at you. The weight of their disbelief is heavy.

Kalim places his hands over yours. “Yuu, you don’t have to be afraid to tell us the truth! You’re among friends here!”

“Oi!” Ace protests.

“Who’re you calling ‘friend’?” Leona-senpai interjects, because he’s still a huge bag of dicks.

Ashengrotto-senpai has his magic pen in its cane form and is leaning on it heavily, limping. “I wouldn’t worry Kalim-san. I’m sure whatever the Prefect experienced can’t be worse than having a cauldron drop on you.”

Deuce inches closer to hide behind you and Epel sheepishly.

“Technically Azul, it was rebounded onto you off the doors of the infirmary.” Jade-senpai interjects cheerfully, switching a bouquet from one hand to the other. “Though I’m sure Spade-san would be glad to reimburse us for damages through labor if necessary~”

Deuce lets out a squeak.

“Eeeeh~~ Crab-chan, were you doing something naaauughty with Shrimy all alone in here~?” Floyd-senpai drapes himself over Ace’s shoulders, arms looping around him. “No faaaaaiiir, I wanna play too~~”

Ace stiffens, face growing to match his hair as Floyd-senpai’s arms begin to tighten. “J-Jamil-senpai—!”

Jamil-senpai cruelly ignores him. “Kalim, make sure you’ve still got your magic pen when we leave. The Prefect might try to add to his collection.”

You shoot him a look. “When are you going to let that go?”

He sits on the end of your bed and smiles sweetly at you. “When you stop making a nuisance of yourself by sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, Prefect.”

You try to dissect that statement, then give up and settle for attempting to kick him off the bed. You only end up depositing more sand into your lap under the covers.

He laughs at you, because for all his talk about reputation, Jamil-senpai is also a huge bag of dicks.

The dust and sand irritates your nose and throat, making you cough hard. It’s not as bad as it was after Vil-senpai’s overblot, but you feel the warning tugs on your weakened lungs and torn throat. You gratefully accept the glass of water Epel hands you, gulping it down.

The sand around you gently shifts and seeps out from under and on top of your covers as you swallow, pooling into a large pile at your bedside.

Leona-senpai’s tail flickers as he tucks his magic pen back away and pretends to be sleeping again.

Deuce begins to fret over you, taking the empty cup from your hands and ineffectually trying to fluff your pillows. You let him hover as Ace rolls his eyes and playfully ribs at him for his mother-henning.

Jade-senpai places the bouquet in a small vase on the table next to you with Vil-senpai and Epel fussing over the arrangement every time Floyd-senpai delights in deliberately poking the flowers out of alignment.

Kalim-senpai promises to bring you a carpet next time, maybe even an elephant if you want, much to Jamil-senpai’s dismay. Ashengrotto-senpai begins trying to negotiate for even more presents.

Leona-senpai half-heartedly growls at everyone to shut up and let him sleep.

You’re a fool if you think trusting these people will turn out any better than trusting Grim did.

But somehow, you feel like you’d rather be a fool and enjoy the warmth blooming in your chest right now rather than anything else.

[pilothusband]

A lit torch to the woodpile high

A Paz VIzsla Bartender!AU

Rating: T (for now)

Pairing: Paz Vizsla x F!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol mention (they work in a bar), pining

Word count: 2k

Description: Paz is your boss at the Bear’s Den, a local pub. He’s surly and unfriendly and wants nothing to do with you, but there’s something about him you can’t stay away from.

Author’s note: Title is from a Frightened Rabbit song. Chapters will get smutty later on, I promise.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

A low thrumming resounded in your ribcage as you pulled your old beater into the dusty parking lot. The pub’s exterior was unassuming– its sign was worn and outdated, reading “Bear’s Den.” Today was your first day at your new bartending job, and you didn’t want to fuck it up. Glancing at your phone screen, you noticed you were about 20 minutes early for your shift.

You weren’t sure if you should sit in your car to kill time before walking in or if it would make a good impression to show up early. The original plan had been to show up early, as you always did, not now you weren’t so sure of that decision.

The original plan won out in the end. You locked your car behind you and dusted off your jeans. The building was dilapidated, for the lack of a better word. The stucco exterior was cracked in some spots, reaching up from the door to the roof. The front door was massive and looked older than the building itself. You pulled on the big iron handle, struggling with the weight of the structure.

The bar was sparsely populated. You found yourself hesitating, hovering at the entrance, not sure if you should walk up to the bar or try to find your new boss, Orso.

“Can I see an ID?” A gruff voice sounded in your ear and you nearly jumped out of your skin, spinning around to find you were face-to-face an older gentleman, probably around his mid-50s. He was a thick, severe looking man, with a grey handlebar mustache, shiny bald head, and a black t-shirt that stretched over his large biceps.

“Oh, sure,” you said, scrambling to find your wallet. You handed the plastic card over, looking up at his hulking form as he surveyed it. “I’m the new bartender,” you added lamely.

The man guffawed in response. Guffawed.

“Why didn’t you say so?” He asked. His shoulders were shaking with mirth. You found his entire demeanor changed when he smiled and couldn’t help but smile in return.

“Go on back to the office. Paz should be back there and he can show you how to punch in.”

“Thank you!” You replied brightly. “It’s nice to meet you…” you trailed off, waiting for him to introduce himself.

“Rick,” he said, flashing another smile your way. He held out his hand in greeting and you shook it, giving him your name in return.

You made your way towards the back of the room. There was a door to the left of the bar that Rick pointed out to you. It led to a dimly lit hallway, leading to kitchen doors ahead. The doors on the right were labeled as the bathrooms, while the door on the left had an embossed “Office” label on the front. You knocked on the door, hoping you weren’t interrupting your new boss.

After a moment you heard a muffled “come in.”

The latch on the door creaked as you pushed it open gingerly. There was a man sitting behind a desk that looked absurdly small for his large frame. His hair was ruffled, as if he had been running his hands through it in frustration. His elbow was resting on the desk, chin in hand, as he was writing something down on a piece of paper.

“Um, hi, I’m the new bartender and Rick said I should come talk to you?”

The man looked down at his watch, brow furrowed.

“You’re early.”

You swallowed your nerves before responding.

“Yeah, I um, wanted to get here early in case it took a while to get clocked in.”

The man grunted in response.

“The name’s Paz. I’m the lead bartender and manager here. Orso may own the bar, but I run its day-to-day operations.” He sounded as if he was reading off a script. “Show up for your shifts on time and do as I say and we won’t have a problem. Got it?”

You nodded mutely. 

“Follow me,” he said, getting up leading you towards the kitchen. His legs were impossibly long. When he stood up he dwarfed you by at least a foot.

“This is where you punch in. Pretty self-explanatory.” He pointed to a panel just inside of the kitchen. He handed you your punch card and you took it, swiping in for the day.

You tried to ignore the butterflies that erupted in your stomach when your finger brushed against his.

There was an older woman in the kitchen with you, fiddling with the deep fryer. She had grey hair, pulled back with a net, and wore a thick black apron with a Bear’s Den logo on the pocket.

“This is Madge, she runs the kitchen. Don’t cross her,” he said. If it were any other person in the world saying those words, you would have thought he was joking. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Madge croaked. “I’ll be back here if you need anything at all, sweetie.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. You introduced yourself, wanting to make a good impression on the woman.

“She’s the new bartender,” Paz mumbled, waving off your introduction to move the tour along. What the hell was this guy’s problem?

The back door swung open suddenly, startling everyone in the room. A young man around your age walked through, coughing.

“Oh, hey boss,” he sputtered, looking over at Paz.

Paz rubbed his temples with impatience.

“Donny, how many times do I have to tell you not to smoke at work?”

“Just a few more times, boss. It’ll stick soon,” he gave Paz a shit-eating grin. “Who’s this now?”

You introduced yourself to Donny, observing the red rims around his eyes. He gave you a lazy smile.

“Come on back whenever you want to steal a mozzarella stick or two,” he said. You could hear Paz huff behind you, earning a laugh from the younger man. It seemed like this guy had no qualms getting on his boss’ nerves.

“Come on, I have more to show you.” Paz said, herding you towards the door.

“These lazy fuckers out here are our servers, Dillon and Harlow.” They were both sitting at a table in the corner, playing some sort of card game.

“We don’t have any customers yet, Paz,” the girl, Harlow rolled her eyes. “Besides, why do you have everyone on staff tonight? It’s Tuesday.”

Harlow was gorgeous, with long brown hair and sparkling eyes. Dillon, the boy next to her, had neatly trimmed blond hair with blue eyes. He reminded you of a frat boy. They both wore what was the assumed uniform: jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Because Orso wanted everyone here to get the new bartender trained up.”

They both turned their attention towards you. Harlow gave you a wide smile, while Dillon looked you up and down with a smirk.

“It’s so nice to meet you, and not just because I don’t have to run around serving and making drinks on busy nights,” Harlow said, getting up and shaking your hand.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you chuckled in response. 

“Harlow will be training you whenever I’m not around,” Paz supplied.

“I can train her!” Dillon interjected, looking hopeful.

“You’re not a bartender.” Paz said flatly. Dillon didn’t argue, slouching down in his seat. It seemed like Paz’s word was God’s around here. 

Paz moved on to show you the layout of the bar, pointing out that the better quality liquor was on the top, while the lower quality and well liquor was below. He pointed out the beers on draught, as well as the little fridge behind the bar that carried the bottled beer and wine wine. The red wine was up on a shelf above the liquor, which was going to be potentially problematic, since it was located far above your head.

“I’ll grab those for you if someone orders red wine,” he said, almost reading your mind as you craned your neck to look at the shelf.

You looked over at him and gave him a grateful smile. He looked away almost immediately as your eyes met, clearing his throat.

“Any questions?”

You shook your head, feeling a little defeated.

“Seems straightforward,” you said. “Thanks for showing me around. I’m sure you have other things you need to be doing.”

He grunted in response, not disagreeing. 

It seemed like everything you said managed to annoy him in some way or another. It was throwing you through a loop. Not that it was something you were necessarily worried about. You didn’t need everyone to like you. Not even a ridiculously good-looking man who was built like a tree.

All during the tour, you tried to block out any lustful thoughts you had about your mysterious new boss. You tried to ignore how dwarfed you felt when Paz stood next to you and how large his calloused hands were. You had to hold your breath when he gesticulated with them, because a whiff of his subtle cologne would make its way over and make you sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl.

Nope, you definitely did not get lost thinking about how this man could toss you around like a rag doll, or how deep and rich the timbre of his voice sounded.

A moment later, the first customer walked in. He was a portly middle aged-man, wearing denim overalls and a ratty flannel, and judging by the silent nod Rick gave him, he was a regular.

“You’re up, newbie.”

Paz stepped back, crossing his massive arms to observe your first customer interaction. You turned around and tried to ignore the way the veins in his arms flexed with the movement.

“Hi there!” You tried not to cringe at how overly-chipper your voice sounded and ignored the muffled laugh behind you. “What can I get you?”

The customer didn’t answer your question, instead he nodded behind your shoulder, towards Paz.

“This the new girl?” He asked, a grin on his face.

“The one and only,” Paz said. “Be nice Bob, you’re her first customer.”

“I’m always nice,” the man sputtered. “Especially to pretty little things like her.”

You could almost feel Paz bristle behind you. You immediately wanted to slap this guy, but you swallowed your anger and smiled at him. Do it for the tips.

“What can I get you?”

“Your number, for starters,” he grinned at you lecherously.

“Bob,” Paz gave him a warning.

You couldn’t see what Paz was doing while he said it, but judging by the flash of fear in Bob’s face, it wasn’t friendly.

“Just kidding sweetheart. I’ll take a Miller Light.”

You poured him a pint and handed it over with a coaster. The man’s tip was suspiciously high, but you didn’t question it.

The rest of your shift was slow. Customers trickled in and ordered generally simple drinks. Not that you were surprised; this wasn’t exactly the kind of establishment where you ordered fancy cocktails.

Paz had watched you like a hawk for the first hour of your shift. But after a while he must have decided you knew what you were doing, so he went off to check on the other employees and did more work in the office. He would come out every once in a while to check on the bar, probably to make sure you weren’t screwing up.

Before you knew it, the clock struck 2 A.M. and it was time to close up for the night. Every other employee, besides you and Paz, had left for the night. You felt dead on your feet and couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed.

“Alright, let’s go. I’ll walk you to your car.” Paz strolled out from the kitchen, keys jingling in his hand. You swallowed heavily.

“Okay.”

God, she’s terrified of me.

Paz admittedly knew the effect he had on you. He intimidated everyone, and that’s how he wanted it. But for some reason, he felt a twinge in the pit of his stomach every time you were too scared to meet his eyes.

The moment you walked into the office and introduced yourself to him, all shy and timid, Paz knew he was screwed. 

You were so small compared to him, but the curves on your body were impossible to miss. And your eyes – they were so wide and expressive, taking in every word he said. Not to mention your mouth. Fuck, your mouth was almost sinful. He struggled not to stare at your lips every time you spoke.

He found himself fantasizing about reaching out to put his hand on your waist a few times during the tour. Every time it happened he felt a white hot pang of shame. You were his employee. Not to mention he had read your file and noticed you were a whopping 8 years younger than him.

You didn’t need someone like him swooping in and ruining your life.

No, he would walk you to your car and watch you drive away and continue pushing you away, as he did with every other person he knew.

He didn’t get into his car until you were pulling out of the parking lot. He watched your car putter down the street, disappearing into the lonely night.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @maybege​ 

[therewasatale]

Dwarven Parenthood

On Ao3.

Peoples stopped and stared as Captain Carrot was walking down Cable street with a dwarf on his side. This in on itself wouldn’t have been such a surprise, what was head turning was the attire worn by said dwarf. Every dwarf wore armor, even the most liberal ones had at least some ceremonial chainmail and the more traditional ones walked around in full plate.

This dwarf was in a whole other level, he had such impressive amount of metal on his body, that one could have used him as an anchor for a navy vessel. And what armor, it was polished and gilded with gold, the absolute finest workmanship one could buy. Based on its archaic design it was probably passed down from generations.

Captain Carrot himself wore his best uniform, with all the bashes and kinks hammered out, polished to such a degree that when the sun hit him right he briefly transformed into a flash of light, dazzling any nearby passer-by. His hair was also combed, and he wore his sword on his side.

One could have assumed that he was doing his duty escorting some foreign dignitary, probably some general of the Low King, and showing him around the city.

The truth in fact, was, that after a long time apart his father has visited him.

"And this is Gimmlet's Hole Food delicatessen, it is the most famous dwarf restaurant in the city. " Said Carrot nodding towards a building nearby. Above the door a pretty good wooden sculpture of a grilled rat rolled perpetually above an imaginary fireplace.

"Yes, very good. " Said the older Ironfoundersson a bit strained.

Carrot has showed him most of the city, including the bread Museum which was quiet illuminating.

Amongst the common battle breads, it contained pastry products that, and he was quite sure, no living dwarf ever heard about. Aside from Carrot of course. He heard about everything in the city. He really got used to the city. It was clear he belonged here, and he loved talked about it. And that was one of the reasons the old Ironfoundersson just let him talk. Another reason was the fact that after all this time, he just didn’t really know what to say. Or what to ask for that matter.

Finally, he gathered himself and forces himself to at least try some conversation.

"So, erm, this Commander Vimes, I always imagined him shorter when you wrote about him." Tried the King fidgeting with the handle of his axe on his belt.

"Oh, a common mistake." Nodded Carrot "Most dwarf thinks so, it comes from him being quiet heroic about that stuff back in Überwald."

His father nodded as an answer.

When he read about the news, he could barely believe that it was the same drunkard his son wrote to him about back in the day. But his son would never lie, and when he met the man, he could see the truth of it. He was like a ndzoh-kar. A seemingly worthless lump of rock, hiding valuable ore inside. And by the look in his eye, that ore was probably a mix of very hard iron, and copper.

The older Ironfoundersson walked in silence for a while before he tried again.

"So, this Angua…"

"A Werewolf, yes. "

"I meant to say speaks really good dwarfish. And doesn’t have a beard." Said the dwarf as they rounded a corner.

Carrot considered this.

"Human females generally less hairy than dwarfs. On the other hand, there is the matter of the full moon…It sorts of evens out." Concluded the Watchman as he smiled at a passer-by. "Have a good day Mr. Nikkit, please have an uneventful day. " The man who got singled out like this, an unlicensed petty pickpocket, decided then and there that it would indeed good idea for this day to be uneventful, and promptly pulled his hands out from a merchant' trousers.

"Are you two, doing fine?" Asked the dwarf, aware that he was doing the conversational equivalent of wading into swamp water next to a very suspiciously alligator shaped log.

"Yes, we have an understanding." Smiled Carrot a bit." But I don’t think well borrow mother's ceremonial chainmail even if it comes to that. It would need too much of an alteration. I hope it's not a problem."

His adoptive father shook his head.

So, marriage was off the table for now. He wasn’t sure when humans usually did it, but before forty was quite scandalous in dwarf society so he hoped it was after that.

"Speaking of which, your mom would have come too, but one of the shafts have buckled in. Nobody was in it, but I needed somebody to keep things orderly and she was always better at these things."

Carrot stopped for a second before looking at his adoptive father with utter amazement.

"A feminine pronoun?" The dwarf huffed a bit at this, clearly embarrassed.

"Well even an old pickaxe like me should move with the times. We even get the newspaper in the mine now. With a month or two delay, but we always read it. And you know, reading your letters too…I just thought I could at least do this. And it's not like she started to dress any differently than before. She is just as set in her ways as I am." Explained the older Ironfoundersson saying more things in once than he did all day before. He felt his cheek becoming red under his beard from embarrassment.

"Thank you, dad." Said Carrot warmly, and for a moment his voice sounded the same as the small red-haired toddler who asked and received his second helping of stuffed rat all those years ago.

"Don’t mention it son. " The old Ironfoundersson's voice broke a little. It sounder brittle even to him but, no matter how hard he tried to steel it, it was a fools errand. The words bubbled up on their own. "We are very proud of you, son. We really are, you are not a miner, but you made your way in the world, and we love you. " Not it was the old dwarfs turn stop for a second. He had to rummage around his armor to find a very fine chainmail handkerchief.

"Dad…Thank you for being there for me, even though I'm different." Carrot stepped closer and awkwardly leaned down.

There was a sound of metal clanking as two armored dwarf, one big and young, and one small and old, hugged each other. The older Ironfoundersson patted his adoptive sons' shoulder now that it was in reachable height and smiled at him from under his bushy beard. The two of them continued on their way, the unspoken tension between them finally broken, just like any ordinary father and son.

[ilovedainironfoot]

Dain and Durin ( platonic of course ) part 2

If Dain had the ability to go six feet under, he would do so without a moment's hesitation. To go far, far, far, far, faaaaaaar, VERY FAR AWAY, to run away, to hide, to be forgotten for the next five centuries, from Durin's eyes. His hands trembled with shame, clinging to the sword as if it were a protective blanket, and it was with red cheeks of embarrassment and mortification that he hid it behind his back.

Dain felt silly and stupid and ashamed and crimson with embarrassment.

Oh no! Nooo! Why is he here ? Why is he here now ? Oh the shame ! First meeting with the First Son of Aulë and he sees me doing this !!! THIS !  A dance for CHILDREN ! Shit he must think I'm immature and stupid and not worthy to rule a Kingdom and he must be so ashamed of me and oh by Aulë why am I acting like I stole a cookie Aulë help me!

He had never felt so miserable in his life, so at fault and guilty. Even when he was a kid and had been caught stealing cookies for his boar. There, standing in front of Durin, Dain felt like a very small child again. He didn't dare raise his eyes again to meet the gaze of his ancestor who continued to stare at him. Half a second had been enough for Dain, when he opened his eyes at the end of the dance, to identify who he had in front of him. Half a second had been enough for him to be overwhelmed by what he had seen there, in those brown eyes and not be able to keep eye contact.

Even the fire of the Forges did not burn him as much. There, near the anvils, the heat was reassuring and seemed to be a part of them, but now Dain would have liked to receive a basin of cold water in the head to calm his cheeks.

Come on, get it together! You're a Dwarf Lord, you're part of his lineage, say something ! Come to your senses ! but all the son of Nain managed to get out was a timid "sorry" between two clears of throat.

“Sorry for what ?”

Durin's answer was as sharp and quick as it was surprising for his descendant

“What ?” Dain stammered, still with the sword shamefully hidden behind his back 

“What are you sorry for ?" repeated Durin, whose expression remained indecipherable

“Oh...euh...well...for this ?” Dain made a vague, awkward and uncertain gesture. He had expected a lot of things, especially criticism, being scolded. 

“What ?”

“You...you are not mad ?” the son of Nain made himself a mental facepalm, why he was acting like a little child!!!

“What ? Mad for...what are you talking about ?What do you want me to be angry about? ” Durin went from a neutral expression to one of bewilderment

“The...the dance...” the youngest Dwarf muttered, staring at his feet as if he were talking to them

“What about the dance ? It was very good! Your basic positions are perfect!”

Faced with the puzzled face of the Lord of the Iron Hills, Durin continued : “How do you want to be a good fighter if the basic positions suck? Nobody can progress in anything if he doesn't handle the simplest gestures perfectly! We wouldn't bother teaching them to children over and over again if they weren't effective! There's no point in learning incredible techniques if you can't hold your weapon properly. In combat, it is better to use simple but safe and fast moves to put your opponent on the ground. On the battlefield you don't have time to show off with acrobatics like the elves."

Dain breathed a sigh of relief, which elicited a small laugh from Durin who offered to train with him. Together they practiced the simplest weapon dances normally done for children for several hours. Durin corrected Dain throughout. Aulë's son was demanding, very demanding, but after centuries of experience it could not be otherwise and Dain ended the afternoon with blisters on his hands and out of breath, red with sweat this time.

Each of the dances had been rehearsed until Dain did them perfectly, each of his positions had been corrected and perfected to the millimeter. Each of his arm movements had to be rehearsed countless times until it came out of his eyes, until it was his body and not his head that executed the movement. That everything becomes a reflex.

You don't have time to think on the battlefield. You don't have to think about your next move. You don't have to think about where to hit. You must have already killed your opponent before you realize he is there.  repeated Durin when Dain seemed to be exhausted Do it again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Even when the son of Nain could no longer carry his weapon, even when he collapsed in pain, he made him do the dances again and again. Until the blisters get bloody. Then and only then Durin made him stop. 

The more you die in training, the less you die on the battlefield. was the lesson of Durin

“Thanks you.” Dain murmured as he caught his breath, sitting against a wall, his body soaked in sweat and nursing his injured hands. 

“"You're a good fighter." replied Durin as he lit his pipe, sitting beside.

@shrimpsthings @drippingmoon @flowerieta

[seasonofthewicth]

A Groovy Kind of Love - Chapter 12

AN: guys the gif is a total spoiler but I couldn’t not... enjoy

masterlist - ao3

--

Rowan drifted away from Aelin, under the excuse of serving another customer at the end of the bar, when he saw Aedion and Lysandra approach. He still wasn’t exactly sure what had been said between her and Lysandra, but the soft smiles they gave each other now told him that all wasn’t lost. 

He had meant to ask earlier, after he had given his own apology and done his grovelling for forgiveness, but Aelin had surprised him and forgiven him easily. She hadn’t even wanted him to apologise and he was grateful that she had seemed to have understood that he hadn’t been a willing participant in keeping the secret from her. 

That said, he was more than glad the secret keeping was finally over. 

He hadn’t been expecting the hug she had thrown at him, the way she had flung herself into his arms had shocked him, but it had most definitely been a welcome surprise. The sensation of her cradled against his chest, her hair tickling his cheeks, the soft pressure of her arms around his neck.

It had felt far too good. 

He had allowed himself to get lost in it. Wrapping his arms around her small waist and pulling her into himself even tighter he had allowed himself to breathe in the scent of her hair. She was divine. He was struggling to forget about it, or to even stop thinking about it for a moment. 

He shouldn’t be so excited over a hug. He was calm, honestly. But it felt different than it did at the wedding, when they were playing pretend to show Lyria he was over her. And gods if that didn’t feel like a lifetime ago, Aelin had been almost a stranger, only having lived with them for a few weeks.

 But now this was Aelin, and Rowan was in such deep, unending shit. 

“They seem to have made up now, thank the gods,” Aedion said, looking over to where Aelin and Lysandra sat, as he slid in opposite Rowan where he stood polishing glasses. He nodded at his friend, not even needing to take his order at this point. 

“Lucky for you,” He said and Aedion bit back the grin he knew threatened to bloom. 

“And seemingly you too, you looked pretty cosy when we came in,” Aedion raised a brow. 

“Yeah,” He said, he couldn’t deny it. He felt as if Aelin had a sort of magnetism to her, one he could never resist, that always pulled him into her orbit. 

“Yeah?” Aedion asked, disbelief clear in his tone. “No denial this time?”

He rolled his eyes, but it was probably better to play it safe. “There’s nothing to deny.”

“Of course not,” He grinned and stood to pull his phone out of his pocket when it buzzed. “Lorcan says he’s bringing his boss.”

“Here?”

“Here.”

He laughed. 

They had all been waiting to meet the captain since Lorcan first brought up his irritation with the guy. Aedion had bet them that by the end of the month Lorcan would have requested a transfer to a different department in order to escape, but Fenrys had countered, in fact raising the bet, wagering that Lorcan would be transferred before he could even ask. The anger the man seemed to incite inside of their friend left no other option. 

“Should be fun then,” He said to Aedion who was busy tapping away at his phone screen, likely replying to Lorcan with some teasing barb if he knew his friend at all. 

His own phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see a message from Lorcan himself.

shut the fuck up both of you

He snorted. He definitely knew Aedion well enough, and Lorcan’s own reaction was more than predictable.

Still shaking his head, he turned to look back over to where Aelin and Lysandra sat. They were finally embracing and he couldn’t help the sigh of relief that spread through him. He knew the expression he wore when she looked over, as she and Lysandra turned to join them, was far too soft. Far too loving to be looking at a friend. But after their hug, some of the strands of restraint he held himself in had snapped. 

The sight of Lorcan appearing in the doorway off to the side drew his attention and he nodded a greeting before spotting the woman following behind him. The woman had long, thick hair, almost impossibly darker than Lorcan’s himself and pale, almost translucent, skin with the softest of pink blushes gracing her angular cheekbones. 

She was tiny, the top of her head barely gracing his friends shoulders, and slight in stature as she stood completely dwarfed by their friend. 

He thought Lorcan was bringing his boss?

A glance at Aedion told him he was thinking the same thing. 

He had texted only a minute earlier that he was bringing Captain Lochan. 

“Can you even be a police officer if you’re that small?” Aedion breathed at his side, and he knew the conclusion he had drawn was correct, as impossible as it seemed. He couldn’t reply, could only stare, trying to close his mouth, as Lorcan and his guest approached. 

When they reached the bar Lorcan spoke. 

“Meet Captain Elide Lochan,” He held a hand out to the woman at his side. “Captain, my roommates, Rowan and Aedion.”

Rowan blinked and he knew Aedion did the same. This was the boss Lorcan had been moaning about? The pain in his ass, the reason he didn’t want to get up in the morning. This tiny woman?

“You’re Captain Lochan?” 

Maybe it was rude, but he couldn’t believe this stunning woman was who Lorcan had been complaining about. Unless… Damn. She was exactly Lorcan’s usual type; dark-haired, pale skinned and petite. 

He glanced up at the male. His expression as he stared down at the captain was not one Rowan would expect given the speeches they had received about her. 

“I was expecting a guy,” Aedion said, sounding stunned. At Lorcan’s glare he said; “No offense.”

Captain Lochan only raised an eyebrow at his friend as she slid onto a bar stool. Even with the boost that gave her Aedion still towered over her, yet she still managed to look down at him. 

“Any reason for that?” She asked, and her voice was gentle and peaceful before she said, “Other than sexism?”

She raised a dark eyebrow and stared at Aedion with a look that Rowan knew could wear down hardened criminals in a matter of seconds. Aedion began to stutter an apology and Rowan could only stare, his mouth slightly ajar at the whirlwind that was this woman. He was impressed she managed to have Aedion speechless so quickly. 

She let him fester for a second longer before grinning, a wicked, mischievous thing. Lorcan wore a matching grin of appreciation as he watched his boss.

“I’m only fucking with you,” She laughed and turned to Rowan who barely dared to let out a slight laugh, almost a giggle. “Two beers please. You can put them on his tab.”

She gestured to Lorcan who had slid onto the stool on her other side, who only nodded to Rowan. He turned, grateful for a moment of privacy to process, just as Aelin and Lysandra approached the group. 

-- 

She could hardly believe that the slight woman perched on a stool next to her cousin was the Captain Lochan that Lorcan had been slating for weeks. She had only had a second to school her expression into anything other than shock when they were introduced, and the look of mild panic that Aedion flashed her told her he felt the exact same. 

She wasn’t what Aelin expected from a tough police captain, and it made her realise she really needed to stop making assumptions on things. Elide was stunning, her face was fair and her hair was glossy and shiny where it fell in thick dark waves. 

Her plump, red lips twisted into a wicked smirk as she whipped Aelin’s roommates into shape with barely a handful of words. Aelin liked her already, and the way she riled Lorcan was only part of it. 

She could also handle her drink, for a woman of barely five feet tall she knocked back as many pints as Lorcan and it was hardly noticeable past a slight flush in her cheeks. 

Aelin was not handling her own so well. Rowan had handed her her first drink with a grin, tucking a tiny pink umbrella into the side that he knew she liked, but by now, if she wasn’t so buzzed, she would suspect her drinks were getting weaker and weaker. 

He drifted over to her, lightly bracing his arms on the bar in front of himself and across from her, and she smiled widely up at him, the sounds of her friends’ lively conversations fading into the background. She had long since stopped contributing, content to sit back and watch the whirlwind that was Elide Lochan, but she was more than happy to be faced with Rowan, especially when he was smiling at her in such a way that brightened his whole face. 

“Hey you,” He said, his voice soft. “Had enough to drink yet?”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” She slurred, her voice creeping up at the end. Shit, maybe she had had enough to drink. She’d never back down though. 

His smile widened at her, his eyes crinkling in a way that she couldn't help but stare. She loved his smile. Sober Aelin could unpack that later. 

“You want to know what I think?” She asked him, cocking her head.

“Do I?” He laughed, and at her unimpressed glare he said, “Go on.”

“I think,” She walked her fingertips across the bar until she poked an index finger into the top of his hand. “I think the bartender is being stingy with me.”

“Right,” He laughed. “Maybe you should call the police,” A nod towards Lorcan and Elide. “I’m sure there are laws about how much alcohol free drinks have to contain.”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed again. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” She pouted and moved to pull her hand back to her chest. Rowan snapped his own hand off the bar and grabbed her fingers, cradling her hand in his own against the bar. 

“I’m not, I promise.” He told her with a smile. “I’ll have a word with the bartender.”

She grinned at him before pulling her hand back and slapping them both onto the bar as she pushed herself off her stool.

“I need the toilet.” She announced, far too loudly. “Ladies?”

She turned to Lysandra and Elide. She had been to the toilet with Lysandra more times than she could count, they always did when they were out, and she had drank enough that she was unfazed by the idea of bringing the relative stranger that was Elide. 

Aelin liked her now, that was enough. 

--

Running her hands under the cold water at the sink was helping her to steady herself and she swore it was helping her sober up. She didn’t usually get so drunk in nights at the bar with the guys but the energy was high and Elide was a fantastic new addition to the dynamic.

Aelin wanted to keep her for herself, fuck Lorcan, he didn’t have to like her; Aelin liked her more than enough. But even her drunk mind suspected that Lorcan’s complaints were more than they seemed, the way his face softened when he looked at her was something she hadn’t missed, no matter how many drinks she was in.

She looked up at herself in the mirror, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were glassy, but her smile was wide and she looked happy. 

She thought back to where she had been only a few months ago, waiting for Arobynn to return, the only other real person she had as a constant that she had in her life was Lysandra, and while she loved her friend, she had never wanted to bother her. 

It had meant that all the times she had felt low she had let it sit and fester. That was different now. Getting rid of Arobynn had lifted a weight from her chest that she hadn’t realised had become so cumbersome. 

Moving in with the guys had completely changed her life and she felt almost back to who she was before Arobynn. She was carefree again, she had friends again, and she hadn’t realised how much she had allowed Arobynn’s dislike of her having male friends to affect her. 

Gods, she was weepy when she was drunk. She blinked back the tears and turned the tap off before spinning around to dry her hands. She found herself faced with Lysandra and Elide who were shouting at each other over the noise of the hand dryer. 

“I don’t know why he didn’t tell us,” Lysandra yelled, she was also drunk, just not quite as much as Aelin.

“Who? And tell us what?” She yelled back, her voice shockingly loud when the dryer cut out. 

Elide laughed, a sweet sound that fit more with her appearance of jeans and a loose chiffon top than the clever jokes that had passed her lips so far this evening. 

“That Elide was a woman,” Lysandra spun to her, her green eyes wide. 

“Oh,” She turned back to Elide. “Yeah, it’s Lorcan though, none of us can explain why he does any of what he does.”

Elide laughed as Lysandra snorted and slung an arm across her shoulders, the mesh of her puffy sleeves scratched slightly against the side of Aelin’s face. 

She cocked her head at Elide, “What is he like with you?”

She could only imagine that Lorcan was even less friendly at work than he was with her, and she knew at this point that they were definitely friends, it was just what he was like. 

Elide took a breath, and Aelin swore a flush of blood rushed to her cheeks, gracing the planes of her face with a pretty pink tint. 

“Can I confess something to you guys?” She asked.

Aelin grinned at Lysandra. 

“Please,” Her friend whispered conspiratorially as they both leaned in towards Elide. 

“I thought when he invited me here that it was a date,” Elide twisted her hands in front of herself nervously. 

Aelin gasped and heard Lysandra do the same, yanking her arm back off Aelin’s shoulders. 

“No,” She whispered as she heard Lysandra mutter ‘why is he like this?’ by her side. 

“What did he say, exactly, when he invited you here?” She asked. 

Elide bit her lip, still blushing as she looked between Aelin and Lysandra. “He asked if I wanted to get a drink with him.”

She cursed the man still sat at the bar, he was more than stupid if he hadn’t realised how that would sound, and she looked towards Lysandra. Not that she wanted to meddle, but she could sense that Lorcan might be the kind of guy who needed a little push, and she knew she and Lysandra were more than up to the task. 

Lysandra grinned back and she was grateful they already seemed to be over their fight, already back to scheming. 

“He’s an idiot,” She said apologetically. “But if it makes you feel better he definitely seems to like you; you’re all he’s spoken about for weeks.”

“Really?” A pretty smile took over Elide’s face. 

Aelin nodded and she could feel Lysandra doing the same before Elide let out a nervous laugh. 

“What does he say about me?” 

Aelin pursed her lips, the alcohol still coursing through her veins had somewhat smashed through her already flimsy filter, and she turned to Lysandra who cleared her throat.

“Um, nothing bad,” She began experimentally, and Aelin nodded along dramatically, but Elide surprised her by laughing.

“It’s about the reforms isn’t it?”

“How did you know?” She asked.

Elide flipped a hand through the air in front of them, “He hasn’t kept his thoughts on them a secret from me.”

Aelin sighed in relief. “If you know that you have absolutely nothing to worry about, and from one lady to another, I think you’ve got a pretty good chance of landing that date.”

She looped her arm through Elide’s and led the way back out to the bar. Her eyes scanned the three males at the bar and she remembered, only a little late, that Fenrys was missing. She tapped out a quick message to him and his reply was almost instantaneous. 

At the loft. Bring everyone back here :)

That she could do. 

-- 

“Are you sure though?” Aedion rested his head against his fist, his elbow braced on the slightly sticky top of the bar, but he didn’t seem fazed by the fact. 

Lorcan shook his head around a swig of his beer. “I’m sure. Even if I did like her-”

“Which you do,” Rowan interrupted, sharing another grin with Aedion. Lorcan glared at him but continued. 

“Even if I liked her, she’s my boss.” 

“So?” Aedion asked, as if the answer was clear. Which, if you asked Rowan, it was. 

“I can’t date my boss.” Lorcan stated simply. 

“You don’t need to.” Aedion explained, all of his marketing skills were out in full force. Rowan even felt himself being persuaded. “Date her, it’s clear you want to.”

Lorcan didn’t deny it and Aedion continued. 

“Then all you have to do is switch departments. You hate being under her anyway, you’re constantly moaning about all the things she makes you do, so it can only be a win-win.”

“I don’t know,” Lorcan began, but Rowan could tell he was sold. He only hoped Elide returned the desire, but from the way she had sat all night, leaning into Lorcan’s side, he doubted that she wouldn’t. 

“Do it,” He said firmly. 

“As if I need to take dating advice from you.” 

He narrowed his eyes at his friend, but hissed at him when he spotted the girls heading back over from the toilet. “Whatever. Shut up now.”

Aelin looked far too good he decided as she picked her way through the tables dotted across the floor. Her skin was glowing and her smile was bright where she led Elide and Lysandra back over to them. The outfit she had on was one he was struggling with, her top was cut low in a deep v-neck, and he was struggling to pull his eyes away from the cream skin that was exposed. 

He composed himself just in time for her to throw herself onto the stool in front of him. 

“Hey,” She said, almost breathless. “What time do you get off?”

He checked the clock behind himself. Excellent, not long until his replacement got in.

“Ten minutes,” He told her and couldn’t help but smile back when she grinned and clapped her hands. 

“We,” She waved a hand around the entire group collected at the bar, “Are taking this back to the loft, Fenrys feels left out.”

She pouted overdramatically at the end and he couldn’t help but think she looked adorable with her lower lip pushed out and her big blue eyes looking up at him.

“Alright,” Aedion cried, slapping a hand against the one Aelin held outstretched. “Finally a good fucking drink.”

Rowan flipped him off but grinned, now he could finally catch them up. 

-- 

He should have known that heading back to the loft, with his roommates in the state that they were would get messy. Fenrys’ level of general chaos only played off the inebriation of the others and he wasn’t surprised they had ended up sat in a circle in their living room playing another game of truth or dare. 

They needed to get a new game, for gods’ sake he was almost thirty, but he couldn’t deny that it was enjoyable. He had managed to choke down a couple of Fenrys’ specials and was now feeling pleasantly buzzed, nowhere near the level of Aedion or Fenrys, but similar to Aelin next to him, attempting to sober up.

She had collapsed onto the sofa beside him and tucked herself under his arm that rested along the back of the seat. She laid her head back so it was resting on his bicep, and his hand had almost gone numb, but he couldn’t push her away. 

Aedion glanced up from his phone screen, “Lysandra, change your shirt with the person on your left.”

Lysandra groaned, “You are so predictable.” 

But she leaned forward to pull off her top in one swift sweep and Rowan carefully averted his eyes as Aelin whooped.

“It’s all part of the game, sweetheart,” Aedion grinned fiendishly as Fenrys tugged off his own shirt to swap with Lysandra. Elide whistled and Rowan felt, more than heard, the cackle that Aelin let loose. 

Lysandra looked fine in Fenrys’ green t-shirt, but Fenrys in Lysandra’s mesh top was a sight to see. It stretched across his shoulders in a way that was visibly uncomfortable but he took it in his stride, throwing back another mouthful of whatever was mixed in his glass. 

“Backfired maybe?” Lorcan asked Aedion darkly. “Or was it your intention to get your girlfriend in another guy’s shirt.” 

“Shut up,” Lysandra scolded. “Your turn then Mr Salvaterre. Stand up.”

“I didn’t say dare,” He replied. 

“Fine.” She narrowed her eyes. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” He grinned at her and she flipped him off. 

“Stand up.” She instructed. “Aedion your jacket please?”

Rowan frowned, not quite sure where the dare was, but the look Aelin was giving him from his side told him it would be good. It was a mischievous smile, pure Aelin, and he couldn’t help himself from returning it when she shifted her weight so her head lay more against his shoulder. He let his arm drop from the back of the couch so his hand was resting on her hip and she was firmly tucked into his side. 

He was buzzed enough to enjoy it, rather than worrying about what came next, or the looks that Aedion kept flashing him. 

Lorcan stood and Lysandra walked towards him with Aedion’s jacket in hand and stretched up onto her tiptoes to tie it across Lorcan’s eyes. “Wait there,” she said with a hand to his chest. 

She slipped to his side and bent down to whisper in Elide’s ear, who blushed but nodded slightly. Elide stepped up until she was standing on the spot where she had been sat and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. The top of her head almost came to the height of Lorcan, still standing by her side. 

Lysandra grabbed Lorcan’s hand and dragged him in a small loop before positioning him again in front of Elide and resting his hands on her shoulders. 

“Guess who this is,” Lysandra instructed coolly. “Only using your hands.”

Rowan grinned, so this was where Lysandra was going. It seemed Aelin and Lysandra had the same idea as himself and Aedion; they had just got there faster. 

Aelin let out a soft squeak of excitement as Lorcan’s hands began to move and he grinned, tightening the arm he held around her. 

--

Lysandra was a genius. Lorcan’s hands were skimming Elide’s sides and the blush on the woman’s face was delightful. Aelin grinned at her friend, who only raised her glass as she took her seat back on the other side of the circle, and she felt Rowan chuckle beneath her head.

She hadn’t sat next to him with the intention of cuddling him, especially not in front of all of their friends, but it felt too good to pull back. His palm was burning an imprint onto her hip where it rested, and she wanted to shift slightly in the hopes that skin would meet skin, but she managed to reign herself back in. 

The alcohol was clearing from her system slowly, and she was happy just to sit here buzzed and enjoy Rowan’s warmth. 

She watched Lorcan’s hands trail back up from Elide’s hips until they lightly brushed the underside of her breasts. He jerked his hands back sharply and yanked the jacket off his eyes before turning around to glare at Lysandra.

“I’m sorry,” He said, turning back to Elide and offering her a hand to step down from the seat. 

Aelin watched as Elide took his hand, stepped down and grinned back up at him. She could only hope that smile would kick her friend into gear, but then again, it was Lorcan. 

He turned to retake his seat and face the group, rubbing his hands together as he chose his target, but Elide interrupted.

“I’m taking this go,” She said, her voice clear from her perch next to Lorcan. “Rowan, truth or dare?”

The angle of her eyebrow had something stirring in Aelin’s stomach, she had already been able to tell that Elide had a wicked side. 

“Dare.”

She knew the cocky grin he wore as he sat forward, his hand slipping from her hip as he balanced his elbows on his knees as he met Elide’s challenge. She missed the pressure of him against her already.

“Rowan,” Elide said with a grin. “I dare you to kiss Aelin.”

She jerked in her seat, unable to believe what Elide had said. She was aware of Rowan completely frozen at her side and she blinked, unsure whether Rowan would go through with the dare. 

She knew she wanted him to, she was past the point of denial. She wanted to feel the pressure of his lips against her own, wanted to feel his fingers twisting through her hair. Her only hesitation was that their first kiss would be in front of all of her drunken roommates, but… She wanted him to kiss her. 

She ignored the jeers of her roommates, and focussed only on Rowan where he turned to look at her, but she felt her face fall when his eyes met her own. 

He looked panicked, like a deer caught in headlights, and she swallowed. The sensation that had begun with Elide’s demand now twisted into something like dread. 

“No,” He laughed awkwardly. 

“Do it!” Aedion cheered him on. 

“I-”, Rowan stuttered, but his voice grew more serious, losing the trace of laughter it had previously held. “No.”

He shook his head. Aelin felt her mouth drop open slightly and the atmosphere in the room shifted from something warm and jovial to something more delicate and somewhat uncomfortable. 

“Um, who’s next?” Fenrys asked, trying to recover the atmosphere.

“I think I should probably get going actually,” Elide stood and began to collect her things, Aelin nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

She sharply avoided Rowan’s gaze, though she knew he was desperately seeking her out. She couldn’t take the rejection right now, and she didn’t even want to hear his excuses. She wished she was still as buzzed as she had been before, it might have made it easier to take. 

She bid goodbye to Elide quickly, exchanging phone numbers with the woman and promising to text each other, before slinking off to her room without so much as a word. 

--

She was struggling to sleep. She had been tossing and turning for at least half an hour at this point, wondering over and over why Rowan hadn’t kissed her. He couldn’t have thought she didn’t want him to, they had been sat cuddling all night and she had enjoyed it, so he couldn’t have thought she didn’t want to be that close to him.

She also knew they were friends and that they were at a level of comfortability with each other that, even if a kiss didn’t mean the same to him as it would have to her, he shouldn’t have felt too uncomfortable pressing a brief kiss to her lips. 

It could only mean he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. And that fucking hurt. 

She sighed, pushing her covers back off herself. She was never going to sleep like this, maybe going to get a glass of water could help her reset and try again. 

She shuffled towards the door before swinging it open and stepping into the hallway. She took a step down the hallway before she heard Rowan’s bedroom door open behind her. Perfect. 

She turned around to face him and noted that he was in pyjamas, even as upset as she was she couldn’t help but notice how good he looked. Even with the nervous expression plastered across his face and the way his teeth worried his lower lip. A part of her hoped he took note of how she looked in one of her favourite nightgowns, a pale pink number with an almost sheer overlay that fell to mid-thigh, but she knew it was probably unlikely. 

“Hey,” He said softly as he leaned one shoulder against his own doorway. 

“Hey,” She returned quietly. He had clearly heard her door open and come to seek her out so she crossed her arms across her chest and waited for him to speak. 

“Aelin, about before,” He took a pause and she sighed.

“Why didn’t you want to kiss me Rowan?”

She was sick of dancing around each other, she knew how she felt and that she wanted him to have kissed her, and his rejection had left her with nothing to lose. 

He ran a hand nervously through his hair as he pushed off from the door jam and stepped towards her. 

“I- Aelin, I didn’t want-”

She sighed. She had changed her mind. She didn’t want to hear his verbal rejection too. She turned, her glass of water forgotten, and headed back towards her own bedroom but Rowan darted forwards and wrapped a firm hand around her wrist, pulling her back into him. 

He pulled her against him, curling his fingers around her own, and tucked his other hand into the hair at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. 

His lips were firm and warm against her own as his hand slipped forwards from her hair to cradle her cheek. She felt her eyes flutter shut and her lips parted against his as she let out a soft sigh at the contact. Rowan kissed her again, this time with more intent and the pressure was heavy, but his lips were soft and smooth where they brushed against her own.

He tilted her head up to himself, with the caress of a thumb under her chin, for better access as his other hand slid around to hold her waist. She lifted her own hands up over his shoulders to twist through his hair, holding him firmly to her. 

She couldn’t let go, she needed him closer.

She leaned into him as his tongue swept into her mouth, powerful strokes that had a heat building deep inside her, and she gasped each time they parted, her breaths rasping down her throat. The scent of him filled her head, the addicting pine and a hint of snow intoxicating her. 

His kisses became harder and more intense and she clung to him desperately as he claimed her mouth with his own. She stepped impossibly forward into him until the line of her body was pressed against his own and his arm around her waist tightened in response, tugging her even tighter against him. 

She couldn’t help the soft moan that slipped out of her as the arm he had wrapped firmly around her waist slipped lower, only the faintest graze of his hand down her backside, until it slipped lower and bunched the fabric of her dress. His fingertips brushed the skin of her thigh and the contact seemed to shock Rowan back to his senses. 

He pulled back gently, but not before pressing another feather-light peck against her lips. Her eyes fluttered open to look at him where he stood, still so close to her his chest brushed against hers as it heaved with each of his deep breaths. 

He seemed to take a moment, his eyes flicking across her face before he smiled slightly and loosened his hold on her. She knew the smile she wore was just as delicate as she slid her hands down from his hair to his shoulders. 

He pressed a final kiss against her temple before releasing her fully. He took a step back and turned to head back into his bedroom. 

“I didn’t want the first time I kissed you to be for some stupid game.”

--

tags:

@jesstargaryenqueen

@maybekindasortaace

@slytheringalathynius

@http-itsrebecca

@morganofthewildfire

@in-love-with-caramel-macchiato

@fictional-horan

@tottenhamboys20

@dressedindustandshadows

@sleeping-and-books

@perseusannabeth

@ireallyshouldsleeprn

@superspiritfestival

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln

@spyofthenightcourt

@jlinez

@queen-of-glass

@booknerdproblems

@sjmships

@elriel4life

@bamchickawowow

@woollycat22

@claralady

@illyrianwitchling

@SHINYA-HIIRAGI

@fangirlprincess09

@darlinminds​

@bookittothelibrary

@thenerdandfandoms​

@danibutterr

[the-writings-of-kaos]

Galactic crossing program pt 1

The Vicarious empire had been expanding for a large portion of their recent history, the collective government of their race founded a company made specifically to terraform and colonize planets with multiple colonies for the use of population dispersal and to expand horizons. Space agencies were almost exclusively mobile agencies, giant university ships, dragging trawler ship factories, and even the occasional asteroid miner and ship fabricator docks spaced through out the massive reach of space.  And today, Galactic standard date 12/39/13098, I am setting out to explore the uncharted space!

———

“Welcome abound captain Freyith, it is an honour to make your aquaitance.”

The ship greeted its captain in Retah tongue, as Freyith came abourd.

Freyith: “Salutations to you aswell wing, would you please start up the FTL drive?”

W-I-N-G: “Of course, shall we make haste to the edge of mapped space?”

Freyith: “Yes please. Oh this is so exciting, imagine all the new species we could incounter.”

W-I-N-G: “Unlikly, the nearest area of unmapped space contains mostly rouge or unstable systems at the fringes of the galaxy.”

Freyith: “ohh...”

The young Retah slumped down in her helm nest with disappointment, was this really all her space days would be? Jumping from system to system to scout out uninhabitable planet after planet.

W-I-N-G: “Do not fret captain, it is much more safe to see unique planetiod formations rather then potentially hostile and savage life forms. And what’s more if something did truely survive in this area of space, it would be the closest thing to a walking crieyutt.”

Freyith shuddered at that blatantly poor attempt at humour, the walkers of crieyutt were nothing but an old story told to fledglings to make them grow a sense of danger. No creature would actually survive if they were so violent, the laws of the galaxy themselves say so.

Freyith: “Sure sure wing, I ain’t got this reachers license for nothing. Let’s go have some ventures, shall we?”

W-I-N-G: “Commencing space jump in three, two, one.”

Freyith was thrown back in her nest, she laughed with amazement as the lights of stars glimered past in lines of bright white, blue, yellow, reds, greens, and a rare few purple dashes just before the Feathered festival ship dropped out of FTL space.

Freyith giggled and laughed until her sense returned and she was able to sit up once more.

Freyith: “Wing, system report.”

W-I-N-G: “It would appear that we have dropped approximately sixteen yip lengths from a large red dwarf star, celestial body count of 7 comprised of 4 asteroid bodies. Shall we move towards the furthest planetoid?”

Freyith: “Affirmative, let’s see what this system has in the ways of inhabitability.”

The small ship flew into orbit of the third planet.

W-I-N-G: “Readings indicate small surface pockets, of electrolized metal. Likely caused by the exceedingly dense atmospheric conditions, as well as atmospheric friction. Surprisingly this planets core is very hot, suggesting that there is some form of mineral gas in the atmosphere preventing the planet from cooling down. There also appears to be a record 78 orbiting bodies of natural origin, scans suggest that most of them are solid state hydrogen oxide.”

Freyith: “This planet has perfect conditions for terraformation, with all that electrolized metal it would be more than easy to make this into an active food world. And all those hydrogen oxide asteroids could serve as water for millennia!”

W-I-N-G: “Deep scans suggest that there is some sort of... burrowing lifeform on the planet.”

Freyith gasped with excitement, then paused, and began to feel curiousity.

Freyith: “Wait, if the deep scans picked it up, how large would it be?”

W-I-N-G: “Deep scans say it is around, 60-90 Vep (15-20 meters squared) in size.”

Freyith: “Search for possible locations for new life, if something that big is here, surely there is something habitable here.”

W-I-N-G: “Negitive, the life form was very close to the surface. It may be a rapid magmetic convulsion pressure. We should scout the rest of the system, before setting foot with such a thing on the planet.”

Freyith: “ugh fine, but as soon as we are done we are going back to see it.”

The ship cruised along

W-I-N-G: “Planet 2 contains heavy amounts of solid state nitrogen deposits. No atmosphere, scans suggest a strong abundance of sodium meteors in the asteroid rings around the planet.”

Freyith: “Fun, next.”

W-I-N-G: “please refrain from not documenting these planets captain.”

Freyith: “Right sorry, it’s just like the orbital bodies back home. It’s nothing interesting.”

The ship moved along, as the captain had a fight with the ship ai.

W-I-N-G: “Planet number 1 seems to have dense- captain, we have an impact warning in 6 wop. Get up, we need to document this!”

Freyith: “Who in the burning blunder is out here?”

W-I-N-G quickly moved the ship out of the way, then further out of the way as another impact warning played out.

Freyith sat with baited breath in front of the vid screens, as the odd six sided object came hurdling through space. It flew by the ship with a multitude of other objects of the same shape, as all of the swarm of them ignited a bright yellow fire at their bottoms and flung towards the third planet.

Freyith: “Wing follow them to the planet, and I won’t say I told you so.”

W-I-N-G hurled the ship back to the third planet, as they watched the odd ships rain down into the dense atmosphere and crash straight into the under ground tunnels the life form had made.

Freyith: “Wing What is happening?”

W-I-N-G: “It does not compute, there doesn’t seem to be a obvious reason as to why this is happening.”

With astonishment Freyith watched as the planets atmosphere began to clear and thin out, as the odd ships flew through it. The odd shapes having been switched out for the megnitised surface deposits, as the metal was pulled out of the atmosphere and placed in a visible pile.

Freyith: “Wing, land us planet side. As close to that massive deposit as you can.”

The ship did as commanded and flew down to the surface, putting on a atmosuit Freyith hopped out the airlock to look around. The pile of metal was amazing, the small grains of black dust stuck to the magnetic deposits was absurd as more of the odd ships flew over head.

A loud howl like noise suddenly erupted behind her, before she turned rapidly to face the new foe. A small adorable creature stood just a little ways away, it wore no pressure suit, it wore no atmosuit, all it wore was a small patch of fur atop its head and synthetic garments.

The sense of fear and sense adoration were so much, she had no idea what to do. Run back to the ship, or stand her ground to meet the small cute creature.

It began to walk towards her, its clumsy looking bipedal stride mixed with the frail looking limbs made her want to help it towards her as if it was helpless living on a world that was in the dooms day of all doomsday not a few moments ago.

It stood next to her, and outstretched its stumpy grasping appendage towards her. She didn’t quite know what to do, so she reciprocated the gesture. The small creature took her grasping in its and shook them up and down before letting go, and gesturing back to where it came.

Freyith was shocked with how calm the creature was, and the virtually no aggression seemed to be good indicator. Ignoring wing yelling in her ear she followed the small clumsy creature over the flat land, past large metal structures taking atmosphere in and changing it before releasing it out the top. The small creature lead her towards what Wing had thought was the large life form diggin close to the surface, but in actuality it seemed to be a surface miner. What it was mining for was unknown, the small creature gestured that she went inside the living quarters inside the large miner.

She peered inside for any form of threat, all that was inside was a small rectangular nest. On one side a surface with various food items was spread out, and on the other was some sort of sleeping set up. And down a set of platforms was the pilots helm. The small creature followed behind her and went over to the food surface, it opened a compartment from the supporting wall and removed what looked like... meat! The creature was preparing food for her and it!

Just as she was enveloped with curiosity over the small creatures actions, it suddenly placed a metallic bowl with a special handle over top a circle built into the food item surface. It placed the dehydrated meat onto it before adding liquid water, it sizzled as the new smell of cooked meat wafted through the small nest.

The creature paused to looked back at her, and she noticed the two small forward facing eyes. So it was some sort of predator, hmm, yet it appeared completely docilen if not friendly. She looked around the nest a saw photographs embedded in viewing compartments, placed throughout the nest. One had a picture of the creature with another of its kind, and a small predator of a different species sitting in front of them. It looked rather shaggy the smaller thing, big dopey golden coloured ears with a small red live stock collar around its neck. As she puzzled over the picture, the creature grabbed back her attention. It had cut the meat with a sharp metallic utensil, and had placed the two portions on small platters. Only on its platter was some form of stalky green plant matter, and on hers a small bowl of seeds. So they were omnivores, that’s new. Most species they encountered only ate one form of food, and left the other in peace or to be used some other way. This creature seemed to eat both, and likely based off the act of peperation she was showed they ate a multitude of different foods.

The creature was using a different set of metallic utensils to eat as it sat down on one of two circular soft platforms around a surface. She sat down on the empty soft platform, and was handed her own set of utensils. Not wanting to be rude she tried them, it wasn’t a bad way to eat if not a bit safer then the regular. This way she didn’t have anything stuck in her beak, and she didn’t have to wait between bites for her food to properly settle.

The meat was delicious, some how this creatures people had a way of preparing food that made it taste better and more easily digestible. Once she finished she looked at the stalky green plant matter the creature had taken, it picked up one with its stumpy graspers and chewed it between its back jaw bones.

It was finishing the last one before it looked at the small bowl of seeds it had set out for her, it looked concerned. She wasn’t an omnivore, so she had left them alone. She pushed her finished platter towards the creature, hoping it would understand. To her surprise the creature picked up the bowl and simple swallowed all the seeds in one go, so they had multiple ways of eating, interesting.

The creature put the dirtied platters and bowl in a different compartment then they had come, maybe that was a to be cleaned compartment. The creature led her to one of the embedded viewing compartment. She recognized it as some sort of map, as the creature set it on the eating surface. It gestures to her, then to itself before gesturing at the end of a line segment on the map.

So that’s where they were, she gestured to the large circle on the map. The creature brought up a data pad and after tapping on it a few times, it showed her a collection of photos. First was a picture of the large metallic deposits landing on the surface and attracting the black dust, next was the odd shaped ships picking them up and flying them around and clearing up the atmosphere, next was a picture of the creature coming out from a buried shealter and taking down the shell of it to reveal the miner, next was a picture of the map with a swath of multiple line segments leading to the large circle she had originally gestured to.

So this was some sort of terraforming process, so this creatures race had come from an as of yet undiscovered species! And they were capable of terraforming like this? Unbelievable. She held her breath as she examined all the started lines and the few lines on the map that had come to the circle, there were hundreds of these creatures on this planet. Only hundreds, that’s so little for this massive task.

She paused and held her hand up hoping to pause the creature ramblings

Freyith: “Wing are you seeing this?”

W-I-N-G: “Yes!!! We found a deathworlder species and you are in its den, and you are vastly unprepared to face a deathworlder!!!”

Freyith: “I think I’m going to travel with them until they get to the redevue point them have shown me on their map.”

W-I-N-G: “Are you crazy!?! Have you gone savage!?! What if they eat you? What if it takes a few hepta?”

Freyith: “Thats fine, at least I can learn about them. Fly the ship over here so I can load up supplies and other sorts.”

W-I-N-G: “Does the deathworlder know you are doing this?”

Freyith paused as she looked back to the deathworlder, with its adorable patch of fur and its stumpy and clumsy looking limbs. She gesture to what she thought was a resting around, then to herself. The creature tapped on the data pad again as another surface folded out above the first one, the soft material there aswell. The creature then gestured to her and the top sleeping pad.

Freyith: “they seem happy to take me.”

Authors note:

Hey everyone, I know I still have a series on the bench but I’m going to start this one while I work on the final piece. As always thanks to my fellow authors, prompters, and commenters for the inspiration for this piece. Hope you enjoyed, have a good one.

[hockeyboysiguess]

Year One

a/n: coming up with this idea completely threw me off working the other day and i have no regrets. this has a little bit of everything in it. you like friends to lover? it’s in here. you like very large hockey players with tiny children? it’s in here. you like very soft smuttiness? it’s in here. you like cutesy dates? they’re in here. there’s a little bit of something for everyone in this one, so I hope you find a part you like!

warnings: swearing, mild smutty-sort of action, drinking, and a ton of cavity causing sweetness.

January

This party was definitely going to require another drink. It’s not that you weren’t having fun; it’s that all of your friends were having quite a lot of fun. You snuck away from your drunkest friend and headed to the kitchen to refill your cup. You sighed when you glanced over the counter holding your variously terrible options.

“Okay, what combination looks like it would taste the least like paint thinner,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Definitely the Strawberry Lemonade Svedka and the grape Fanta. It sounds weird but it turned out pretty good honestly.”

You turned toward the voice and you smiled a little to yourself. He was positively gorgeous. Strong shoulders, muscled tattooed arms, sharp jawline covered in stubble, and a smile that drew you in. He came over towards you and you noticed how much he dwarfed you and it made your mind wander.

“Is it?” you asked with a raise of your eyebrow.

“Look, your other possible combinations are objectively terrible. Like who buys birthday cake vodka?” he asked, his face scrunching at the idea. “I know it’s a birthday party but, yeah, no.”

You laughed and he smiled softly at you.

“I’m Pierre-Luc,” he told you.

“That’s kind of long,” you added after telling him your name. “Got any nicknames available?”

He laughed and scrunched his nose up as he looked at you, “I play hockey actually so I’ve got lots of things for you to chose from if you want.”

You grabbed the flavored vodka and the grape soda per his recommendations and poured them into your cup. You tried it and nodded softly. It wasn’t anywhere near as bad as you had imagined it would be. You grabbed the edge of the counter and hauled yourself up, letting your feet dangle against the cabinets.

“Hit me with ‘em and I’ll pick the best one you should exclusively use from here on out,” you said confidently, not sure if that confidence was you or the alcohol talking. 

“Pretty sure one nickname picked out by a girl is going to get me chirped to no end,” Pierre-Luc sighed, but it was playful. His free hand rubbed the back of his neck as he spoke, giving you a glimpse of the tattoos on the underside of his arm. 

“But I’m a hot girl,” you took a sip of your drink as he raised an eyebrow at you, a smirk forming on his face. “Oh don’t even. You’ve stared at my boobs at least six times since I met you three minutes ago. You’re averaging at least two looks a minute.”

A wide smile broke out across his face as he raised his hands in the air, feigning innocence. You took a sip of your drink as you watched him, as clearly as he could manage, rake his eyes up and down your body, pausing as various points that particularly interested him. You were relishing in the attention and he certainly didn’t mind giving it.

“Guilty as charged,” he said, his smile shifting from humorous to cocky. “So, I think you were about to judge the shit out of my name some more?”

It would have made for a fun night if not for someone running into the kitchen as soon as he finished his sentence. 

“Hey, you’re came here with that Kelsey right?” the guy said, pointing at you. “Because she just threw up like, everywhere in the bathroom and-”

“And gotta go handle that,” you mumbled, sliding off the counter begrudgingly. “Uh, I guess I’ll see you around?”

It came out more like a question than you’d meant it to, and Pierre-Luc nodded as he stepped aside and cleared the way for you. 

“Yeah, no, definitely. I’ll see you around.” 

February

Pierre-Luc had been easy to find on Instagram after the party. It was nice to confirm that your drunk mind was not remembering him hotter than he was, but you didn’t want to make the first move so you stopped yourself short of hitting the follow button on his page. If he wanted to talk to you, he’d come to you, you decided. However, that was almost four weeks ago. It was February now and you let it go, chalking it another temporary drunk connection and moving on. This is until you agreed to go ice skating a the local outdoor rink with Kelsey and a few other friends. He was already there when you arrived. 

Everyone exchanged pleasantries and names. Kelsey was introducing you to the people you didn’t know yet, but you barely remembered anyone because you were anxious to talk to Pierre-Luc again. You tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention. He spun around to face you. A soft smile pulled up the corners of his mouth when he saw you and you instantly realized you hadn’t practicing saying anything beyond hello. 

“Hey.”

Well, now you were flying unplanned and anxious, a dangerous combination that put the threat level of saying something that was way too much extremely high. 

“Hi there,” he replied, his smile growing as he spoke. “How are you?”

Thank god he’d apparently thought at least one step further than you because it gave you something to respond to and something to ask him in return. He answered that he was busy since it was hockey season and all. 

“And yet, you’re here to skate on your day off?” you asked him. 

He shrugged and laughed a little, “Can’t get away from it, I guess. I don’t mind. I love skating.” 

“Might have to hit you up for a few pointers because I’m definitely super rusty and let’s be honest, there really isn’t much skill under the rust,” you joked with him.

“I can help,” Pierre-Luc cut in instantly, just a tad too eagerly, so he tried to smooth it over with a classic, “I mean, if you want me to.” 

“I need all the help I can get,” you huffed as you sat down on the bench to start lacing up your skates. 

You struggled to tighten the laces, giving them a pull with all your might as Pierre-Luc laced up both of his skates with practiced ease. You watched him tie off his second skate before you’d managed to get halfway through your first. Whatever he was doing was not at all applicable to you.

“That’s definitely half of your problem right there,” he teased you as he sat down next to you. “Your skates are way too loose.” 

“Well, strong hockey man, then fix it,” you sighed, letting the laces fall from your hands. 

“Not sure we’re gonna stick with that nickname,” he laughed. 

He stood up only to kneel down in front of you. Your mind practically ran to the imagine of his head between your legs for something else and you had to shove the thought aside as he picked up the laces to properly tie your skates. Where you struggled, he had no issues at all. Did you pretend your left skate was looser than your right after he asked you if it did? Yes. Was the left skate looser? You didn’t even have enough experience to really answer the question, but you really liked watching his muscles tense as he pulled the laces tighter. 

“Thanks, Luc,” you said as he stood up, finally satisfied with his workmanship.

“We’re going with Luc, eh? Pretty bland nickname choice.” He offered you his hand to help pull you to your feet. “You gonna be able to walk to the rink there, shaky?” 

“Sometimes the most obvious choice is the best choice,” you replied, “and yes, I’m fine. Thanks for your abundant concern.” 

You couldn’t see him, but you could feel Luc’s hand hovering near the small of your back in case you did fall even though you were sure you wouldn’t. You stepped out on the ice, your feet sliding a bit out from under you with the transition, but you managed to stay on your feet. You heard Luc slide onto the ice after you. He pivoted until he was in front of you, skating backwards in order to get face to face with you. You weren’t exactly looking at him though. Your eyes were trained on your skates.

“If you cut me off, I will fall over,” you warned him. You were entirely too focused on staying upright to pay much attention to him. “I learned how to go forward and sort of turn. Stopping was never in my skill set.”

“Sounds like you need a lesson from a master,” Luc joked, earning a glare from you. “Come on. It’s not that hard. I’ll show you. Trust me?”

March

“Jesus,” you muttered to yourself as some of your beer spilled on your hand. Luc had slammed some guy from the other team into the boards in front of you. “Are hockey games always this violent?”

“Have you really never been to a game before this?” Kelsey asked. “Well, free tickets right against the glass from your hot hockey player boyfriend is a hell of a way to be introduced to a live hockey game.

You shook your now beer-covered hand off and scrunched your nose up at Kelsey before telling her, “He’s not my boyfriend and you know that. We just talk.”

“Oh come on, the way he looks at you!” 

She practically shouted that sentence. One of her biggest flaws as a friend after her inability to keep down more than four drinks was that she could not control the volume of her voice under any circumstance. At least this time, the venue meant she wasn’t entirely too loud for the crowd.

“You know he’s not, Kels,” you told her after taking a sip of your beer. “I don’t even know if he would want that. Literally all we do is talk and Snapchat.”

“Shirtless snaps post-practice?” she asked you, a hopeful look in her eyes. You shook your head, so she tried again, “Lots of red heart and or red heart eyes emojis?” 

“Kels, stop,” you laughed. “I think it was just a thing at the party when we were drunk. It’s fine. Not everything has to be a thing. We can just be friends. I’m good with that.”

“Whatever.”

She waved you off, but at least the conversation was over. You weren’t trying to get your hopes up with Luc. You saw the way every girl in every room he went into looked at him and he was a really great guy to top it all off, but you’d been in this sort of situation before. You knew better than to try to wear your heart on your sleeve here. 

That didn’t stop your heart from pounding in your chest when you saw him post-game. The Blue Jackets had won 4-3, so Luc’s smile was on full display as he found you after the post-game interviews. His suit fit him so well, darting in perfectly at his waist, making him look impossibly broader somehow. The first few buttons on his white dress shirt were undone and his tie was loosely hanging around his neck.

Kelsey had gotten in your head. Now the only thing you could think about as you looked at him was how badly you wanted to grab the collar of his shirt and pull his mouth down to meet yours. 

“Ready to head out?” he asked you. He motioned down the hallway and you followed his lead, heading towards the blue double doors ahead. “I believe you promised me that I could pick the movie tonight if we won?” 

“A promise is a promise,” you sighed, “even though you’re going to pick something god awful.”

He smiled wider at you before asking, “Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yeah, actually. I had a great time. Kelsey ditched five minutes before the end. That guy she met at the bar last weekend wanted to grab drinks or something. i try not to ask too many questions I don’t want to know the answers to,” you told him. “Thanks for inviting me, Luc.”

“Thanks for coming,” he replied as you stepped through the doors and into the cool air on your way to his car. 

It was cold for March. Not all that cold for Columbus in March, but cold for most people’s definition of March. You still had your coat on, but thankfully it wasn’t quite gloves and hat and scarf weather anymore. You could see Luc’s breath faintly as you walked toward his car, but at least he world wasn’t quite as frosty as it had been last month on the outdoor rink with him. Something told you that your feelings for him were soon going to be inevitable, but for now his friendship was what you needed.

April

Luc’s empty beer glass slammed down on the bar next to you. He’d emptied it faster than you thought he even could.

“Fuck, I hate losing,” he hissed through his teeth. “Fucking game seven.”

You almost opened your mouth to say that at least they’d made it to the playoffs unlike sixteen other teams, but the first round exit was clearly hitting him hard. Instead, you made eye contact with the bartender, bringing him over towards you and Luc. Luckily, this particular bartender had been eyeing you since you walked in and it was definitely possible you were using it to get faster service. At least you were tipping him well.

“Yeah, can you just keep those coming for my friend here?” you asked nicely, putting on your best smile for him as you patted Luc on the back.

“Sure,” he said, smiling back you brightly. “And what would you like next?”

“Can I try the new sour you guys just made?” you asked, still keeping that smile dialed up as he poured Luc’s next beer and then handed it to him.

“Of course. I’ll be right back with that.”

The bartender slid past you a few moments layer, dropping your drink off with a thousand-watt smile, before moving on to the next customer. Luc looked at you with a soft smirk on his face and a slightly judgmental look in his eyes. He shook his head at you and clicked his tongue at you a few times as he brought his fresh beer to his lips for a few massive gulps from the glass.

“That’s not nice what you’d doing to that man,” he told you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You took a sip of your drink to try and hide the shameful look on your face. “Just drink your beer and be happy.”

Luc laughed, the first time you’d heard a genuine laugh since the loss the other night before telling you, “It’s really not fair when you do that since you have zero intention of giving him your number.”

“You don’t know how I feel,” you retorted, even though Luc was correct.

“Oh, please. I know I’m right.” Luc set down his beer as he leaned in close to you. “He’s not your type.”

“And how do you know what my type is?”

You cocked a brow at him as you took a sip of your drink. Luc nodded softly as one of his large hands fidgeted with his glass. His cheeks, forever your indicator of his nerves, turned a light shade of pink.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure I’m your type.” His voice was steady and strong but, his hand was sliding against the slick glass between his palms and his cheeks were pink verging on red. “Something at the party was telling me if Kelsey hadn’t puked everywhere maybe the night might have ended differently?”

It was a question, but he already knew the answer to it. You tilted your head to the side though, deciding to play along.

“What do you mean, Luc?”

Your voice was soft and just a little curious, trying to force him into telling you exactly what he meant by that. Your heart was pounding as all you could think was maybe he was feeling what you had started to feel. Luc’s eyes turned to you. He was studying your face, trying to find some sign of what you were feeling. His eyes landed on your lips and your breath hitched in your throat.

“Fuck it.”

Luc leaned in quickly and you titled you head up so he could kiss you easily. He smiled down at you as one of his hands cupped one side of your face. He knew you wanted this too. His lips were inches from yours now and you could only smell his cologne and hear your heart beating in your ears as you were being enveloped by him.

“PL!”

Someone shouting made him yank away from you before his lips could meet yours. He dropped his hand from your face and his jaw tensed as he turned to look at Jonesy who you discovered was the culprit who ruined this moment

“Oh shit,” Jonesy said between closed teeth. “Uh, my bad, man. But Boone is super fucked up and I need some help getting him home and you’re the only one still here.”

Luc sighed and ran a hand over his face as he pull himself back to reality. He knocked back the last dregs of beer in this glass before he leaned back and grabbed his wallet out of his pocket. He thumbed through until he pulled out cash and handed it to you.

“Can you close my tab? Also, can you text me when you and Kelsey get home safe?” He dropped some cash on the bar next to you. “That should cover my tab and yours and a ride home.

Normally, you would’ve pushed the cash back into his hands, but the look in his eyes was telling you should take it because he wasn’t going to take no for an answer tonight.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Luc slid off the stool to his feet and went to head in Jonesy’s direction. He paused and turned on his heels to come back to you.

“Would you like go out with me sometime? Like a real date?”

May

“I did not think I’d be as bad at this as I am,” you sighed as you tried again to putt the ball into the hole on the course. 

Luc managed to get two under par on the same hole and you were about ready to throw your stick in the pond with frustration. You didn’t know you could be as bad at something as you apparently were at mini golf.

“Relax,” Luc’s large hands gripped your shoulders, applying pressure in an effort to make you calm down that only made you more tense. “Maybe this just isn’t your thing?”

“It’s very clear this isn’t my thing, Luc,” you informed him as you hit your club against the toe of your sneaker. “I hate things I’m not good at.” 

“Oh, competitive are we?” He took the first stroke on this hole, getting dangerously close to a hole-in-one and you knew you were about to, like every other hole, get absolutely destroyed. The score card had been accidentally dropped into the pong by hole seven and you clearly didn’t know how it happened. “Too bad I’m more competitive than you.” 

“Did you just try to start an argument over which one of us was more competitive?” You tried to verbally snipe back at him as you hit the ball, but you nearly hit it clean out the source and settle for losing this round entirely. “Must be a low moment for you to have to brag about being more competitive than a girl half your size while playing mini golf.” 

He reached for you, one of his large hands finding one of your hips and pulling you into him. You felt so comfortable against his chest that he reminded you of a certain feeling you couldn’t quite place, kind of like being at home. Luc kissed the top of your head, bring you back to reality. 

“You missed,” you told him as you looked up at him, meeting his soft eyes with yours.

He gave you a confused look before it was replaced with a look of understanding and he verbally added, “Oh, I owe you from the bar a few weeks ago. I see.” 

“You were about to do something, I think anyway, and then you had. totake Boone home and then you shipped your own ass off to Quebec,” you fake whined, pressing your palms against his chest, which somehow felt better under your hands than you could have imagined. 

“Hey, hey, I apologize,” he smiled down at you, “and I came back for you, right? That’s gotta count for something. Even if I’m destroying you at mini golf.”

“Couldn’t have just taken me to dinner?” you joked, your smile coating each word you spoke with a playful edge. 

“Too boring for a girl this far out of my league,” Luc replied. He reached a hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear, letting the strands tangle in his fingers before he spoke again, “I’m going to try and kiss you again now, just so you’re aware. And no one is going to interrupt me this time.” 

The entire world disappeared the moment his lips found yours for the first time. This moment was created and inhabited solely by the two of you. No one else could break in even if they tried. His mouth moved against yours and you felt like you were on fire. Everywhere his hands ghosted over felt like he lit it ablaze, leaving a trail of need and destruction in his wake. You were putty in his hands and he loved it so much. You wanted him and he was more than happy to meet you in the middle on a surprising cool May afternoon on a mini golf course just outside of Columbus, Ohio. You never thought that’s where the rest of your life would begin, but you couldn’t deny that it had. 

June

How Luc already had sunburn tingeing the tops of his ears and the tip of his nose less than twenty minutes into being outside was beyond your understanding and you had to tease him for being one of the palest people you’d ever seen. Maybe asking him to come the an outdoor arts festival and not bringing sunscreen for him was a mistake.

“How?” you asked, gesturing to his nose.

“This is me,” he smiled at you. “Take me or leave me, sunburn and all.”

“I think I’ll keep you?”

You said it like a question, but a smile broke out across your face before you’d even finished your sentence. A matching one formed on Luc’s face and he reached for you. His large hands set on your waist, pulling you into him as his mouth captured yours.

“Hey, get a room!”

You weren’t sure which one of his teammates shouted it at you, but neither of your cared. Luc smiled against your lips and you couldn’t help but smile back, ruining the kiss but not the moment.

“Why do we go places with them?” you fake whined a little, your hands pressing softly on his chest as your spoke.

“Because they don’t get out without us,” Luc muttered softly to you. “It’s charity.”

You leaned your head back and laughed. Luc’s hands moved to the small of your back, his long fingers lacing together to support you as his laughter joined yours. You leaned forward again so your eyes could meet his.

“We should probably catch up to them,” Luc told you before his lips found yours again. “They’ll wander into some booth and a little old lady is going to convince them to buy all of her arts and crafts or something.”

Luc knew he teammates well because that’s exactly the situation you found the other boys in. This particular little old lady was apparently into making three-dimensional crotched cats. She was showing Zach a particular one she’d made that apparently resembled her calico cat she had as a small child and how she only offered it to customers who reminded her of her long lost childhood love. You took a deep breath and headed into the booth to begin a very painful rescue mission.

You didn’t realize until you managed to escape, after buying eight of her creations, that Luc had disappeared. You grabbed your phone out of your purse to see if he’d texted you where he’d gone.

“Hey, did you see where PL went?” you asked Jonesy. He took a sip of his wine slushee he’d picked up half a block ago that was already mostly empty and shook his head no. You turned toward Josh and raised an eyebrow. “Josh?”

“Nope. He’s your responsibility anyway,” Josh replied.

You looked around on your tip-toes, trying to see if you could spot his tall frame anywhere, but you were definitely too short for the task at hand. You let out a frustrated sigh and rocked back on your heels. Seconds later, a strong arm wrapped around your mid-section, pulling you into a familiar broad chest.

“Hey,” Luc whisper in your ear. “Sorry, I thought I’d be back before you managed to break them out of jail.”

“I work fast,” you replied as you rubbed along his muscled forearm currently positioned across your stomach.

You heard something  rustling behind you and Luc’s other arm wrapped around you to present you with why he’d gone missing.

“Flowers!” you practically squealed, drawing a soft laugh from Luc and some chuckles from the other boys as you grabbed the flowers with both hands and pulled them into your chest. “Thank you.”

“Hey, hey.” Luc’s hands grabbed your hips and tugged, spinning you to face him. “You didn’t even let me finish before you took them so I hope your answer is yes or I’m going to have to take those back.”

You gripped the flowers protectively against your chest carefully so you didn’t crush any of the delicate petals. No guy you were seeing had ever actually bought you flowers before and Luc had remembered you telling him that on your first date, trying to figure out the right moment to fulfill your fantasy.

“Mine,” you pouted, trying to look as cute as possible so he felt bad about threatening to take them away. “What’s the question?”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

He bit the side of his lip, a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth, as he waiting for your answer. It was one of the easiest yeses of your life.

July

“Cannonball!”

You weren’t sure who had jumped into the pool, just that they’d created a big enough splash that had caused water to spray up on you and Luc. Luc’s arms were wrapped around your bare stomach. His hands had been on you the entire afternoon so far and he was showing no signs of stopping soon. Some girl nearby was freaking out about how her swimsuit had gotten wet from the splash as apparently it wasn’t designed to actually get wet.

“Thank god I’ve got you,” Luc mumbled in your ear, one arm lifting off you to bring his beer to his mouth for a quick swig. “Who the hell buys a swimsuit that can’t get wet and wears it to a pool party?”

You threw your head back against his shoulder as you laughed, the drink he’d mixed for you sloshing in your cup at your movements. Luc kissed the side of your head and gave your stomach a little squeeze.

“God, you two are so cute it’s disgusting,” Jonesy told you.

“You wish you had this hot-”

Water splashing on the two of you again cut Luc off before he could finish his drunk, loose lipped sentence. You squealed a little since this splash had pretty much soaked you both.

“Wanna go inside and dry off?” Luc whispered in your ear.

You smiled, your tongue darting between your teeth as he chuckled in your ear. You quickly started to dowm the rest of your drink, nodding in response to him as you drank. You barely had a chance to finish before Luc was grabbing one of your hands and pulling you towards the house. He was trying to be subtle about it and sneak away, but he was 6’3” and still incredibly pale despite summer being in full swing, so you know several people took notice. Neither of you cared.

Luc found an empty guest bedroom and pulled you in quickly, his eagerness guiding his movements. He shut the door by pushing you up against it as his mouth met yours. Your hands grabbed at his broad shoulders as his mouth pressed hungrily against yours. He grabbed right onto your waist and lifted you off the ground. You wrapped your legs around his waist for support as his tongue worked against yours.

“Fuck, baby, you look so good,” Luc mumbled as he moved from your mouth to your neck.

You let yourself drop just a little deeper into his arms so you could find the friction you both desperately wanted. Your core ground against the hardness in his shorts and he groaned against your skin.

“Shit,” he breathed out against your skin. “Trying to kill me already?”

“We do not have time for your slow and steady teasing shit right now,” you replied breathless as one of his hands slowly started tugging at the tie of your bikini top around the back of your neck.

“You’re normally,” he took the edge of one of the cups of your bikini top in between his teeth and pulled it aside to reveal your hard nipple, “much more into it.”

His mouth was on your stiff nipple before you could respond and a moan left your open mouth instead of the words you tried to say.

“Fuck, Luc,” you said breathlessly. “Stop fucking around and fuck me already.”

August

You were fiddling with the strap of your purse across your lap. Your right foot was tapping nervously against the floorboard of Luc’s car. 

“What if they don’t like me?” you finally asked him. He’d been trying to get you to tell him how you felt the entire drive over to his parents’ house outside of Montreal. “I mean, I know you’re gonna tell me they will-”

“Because they will,” he cut in. “I know they will.” 

“But,” you continued firmly, “what if they don’t?”

“Baby, I promise you that they’re going to love you.” Luc reached across the console and grabbed on to your hands folded around your purse strap. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this, okay? You have absolutely nothing to worry about. I’ve told them all about you and they are really excited to meet this girl who has completely swept me off my feet.”

You smiled with closed lips at his words. Your nerves were still more prominent than any comfort he tried to offer you. You let out a long breath as you tried to pull yourself together a bit. Luc had been itching to get you up to Montreal since the summer started so you could meet his family before the first game of the season and with camp on the horizon next month, August was the only time that made sense. However, two months of preparation was nowhere near long enough to calm your nerves, but you weren’t sure if there was an amount that would have gotten the job done. 

“It’s just,” you sighed again, “I know how important they are to you and if I fuck this up, what’s going to happen?” 

“You’re pretty much physically incapable of fucking this up,” Luc laughed, giving you a sweet smile. “Look, if they don’t like you, you can punch me in the face for lying to you, okay?” 

You shook your head and tried to fight the wide smile he was pulling from you, but you couldn’t. Luc leaned in and placed a quick kiss on your lips. 

“Alright, get out of the car while you’re still smiling,” he ordered you. “Let’s go.” 

Four hours later as you sat back in Luc’s passenger seat on the way back to his apartment, you couldn’t remember why you’d been so nervous in the first place. His dad had decided you were good five minutes in and within the first hour, he’d moved you up to great status. His mom was harder to read, but you knew you’d cracked her when Luc prompted a conversation about baking and she took an interest in your family apple pie recipe which involved not one but two kinds of liquor in it. 

“You know they love you, right?” Luc told you. “They made sure to tell me when you went to the bathroom.”

You smiled and reached over to pat his knee. You weren’t going to tell him you’d heard every word his parents had said to him. 

“Luc, she’s great,” his mom had said to him. “Really, she’s welcome here anytime. She’s wonderful.”

“Looks like you learned a think or two from me about getting a women very far out of your league to date you,” his dad had joked.

“And she was worried you guys wouldn’t like her,” Luc laughed to them. 

“We could never dislike someone who made you this happy,” his mom replied. 

“She really does,” Luc sighed. You could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke about you. “She’s just, she’s everything, you know? Including so many things I didn’t realize I wanted. She’s beyond anything I’d ever thought about. I’ve just never met someone that makes me want to be a better person that she does and that’s way too much information. Mom, are you crying?” 

“You just, god, you’re so grown up. Look at you!”

When the moment shifted, you had  headed back to the bathroom just to give them a little more time. Luc’s voice when he spoke about you was on a loop in your head and it played like a broken record the entire car ride back to his apartment. He was so genuinely happy when he talked about you. It was the kind of joy that infected the people around you, pulling them in even though they didn’t quite understand it. Your mom had told you that you sounded the same way the first time you told her about him. You let your mind linger on what they could mean as you fell asleep wrapped up in his arms that night. You couldn’t quite figure it out, but you knew it meant he was important to you and you were important to him.

September 

The stress of camp and the approaching season had made you both crack at the same time on a cool September evening. You’d both said things you didn’t mean, hurling words designed specifically to hit each other’s weak spots. You’d walked out after a particularly sensitive verbal jab from him and he didn’t come after you, two major issues stacked together. He’d picked you up after you finished work today, so you didn’t have your car, a series of events you were currently regretting as you wandered aimlessly around his neighborhood. You’d passed the point of clearing your head and now you were just painfully aware of the fact that you left your jacket on Luc’s couch and it was colder than you’d thought it was.

You pulled out your phone and opened up Uber. Unfortunately, the nearest ride to you was over fifteen minutes away. Stupid Thursdays in the middle of the night in Columbus. You kicked a nearby rock with the toe of your sneaker as you sighed. Naturally, you had to fuck you the best thing in your life. It’s what you’d always done. 

“Oh thank fucking god.”

You looked up in time to see Luc running up to you, arms outstretched. He wrapped you up in his arms and you stiffened. He pressed his face into your hair to envelop you in him, ignoring how you were unsure what to do in the moment.

“Fuck, you just left. I was so worried,” he mumbled into your hair. 

You hadn’t even thought through your anger enough to realize that going out in the middle of the night by yourself might not have been the smartest idea. You slowly wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“I know I was a shit head, but please promise me you won’t just walk out like that again.” Concern coating each word as it left his lips. “I was so fucking worried. I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl.” 

"I’m sorry, Luc,” you mumbled against his chest. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered back. “We’re both just stressed right now and I know I took it out on you and I shouldn’t have. You deserve a hell of a lot better than me taking the stress of the season coming out on you.”

“No, no.” You pulled back from him a bit so he could hear you clearly and you continued, “It’s okay to be stressed about the season starting. I took my stress about it out on you. I just, this sounds so stupid, I know, but I just worry that when we can’t spend as much time together that you’re not going to like me as much and something is going to happen because we won’t be together as much and I just really, really, really don’t want that to happen.” 

You knew you were rambling, letting your nervousness come out all at once. You were losing track of what was actually coming out of your mouth and what was just flying through your head at this point. You noticed Luc’s brows furrow as he listened to you. He was shaking his head softly from left to right as you spoke. He must have had enough of listening to your rambling nonsense because his lips crashed into yours as his hands cupped your face in an attempt to get you to focus your energy somewhere else. 

He pulled back from you an inch, “That,” then brought his lips back to your briefly, “is,” kiss, “not,” another kiss, “going,” another, “to,” again, “happen.” He kept his mouth on yours this time, his tongue sliding against yours for a few moments before he pulled back again. “What else could I possibly want when what I’ve already got is so much better than I ever imagined anyone could be?” 

You pushed him back against a nearby fence as you crushed your lips to his. Your mouth moved against his as his hands grabbed any part of you he could, moving from your face to your waist, grabbing your ass briefly, palming your breasts, anywhere he could think to touch. 

“We should go home,” you breathed out as he moved his mouth to your neck. 

“Oh yeah? Taking me home now, are you?” he mumbled against the sensitive skin of your neck.

His words with dripping in innuendo. Normally, you would’ve rolled your eyes at him and shoved him away jokingly, but there was a look in his eyes when they met yours again that went straight to your core and made your skin feel like it was on fire. So, you let him take you home. 

October 

"Luc!” you screamed. Your hands flew to his hair to try and get some stability as he started to lose his balance. “Luc!”

“I’m going to drop you if you don’t stop fucking wiggling,” he told you.

You glared down at him, not that he could see from your position on his shoulders. You squeezed your thighs in a little, applying gentle pressure on his neck to showcase your displeasure at how difficult he was making this process. 

“Choking is my job and not where there’s all these little kids around,” Luc sang softly at you. “Did you get it yet?”

You stretched your arm out as far as you could and still needed to lean forward just a tad to get your hand to rap around the perfect apple you’d spotted from the ground. 

“I got it!” you told him excitedly. 

Luc laughed at your excitement. It was just an apple, but it was an apple that could’ve sat proudly on a kindergarten teacher’s desk and now it was your apple. He gently sank to his knees so you could get off his shoulder without causing too much risk of injury to either of you. It was a pretty high fall from his shoulders after all.

“You’re so useful.” You pat Luc’s cheek as a thank you with your eyes never leaving your apple. 

“I feel like I’ve been replaced by a goddamn apple,” he said, annoyance permeating his voice. One of his heavy arms slung around your shoulders to pull you into his side. You sort of fell into him since there were already so many apples littering the ground of the orchard that you tripped a little, but he easily supported you. “Do you want to put your apple in the bucket or are you going to hold it the entire time?” 

You glared up at him, drawing a laugh from him. You knew he thought you were too cute to ever succeed at looking threatening. You still maintained your glare as you gently placed the apple in the bucket with all of the others you’d already grabbed. Having a tall man to go apple picking with was giving you far more apple options than you normally had. 

“These apples are indirectly for your mother, so consider the effort for your mother rather than for me,” you told him. 

She was coming to town to watch the game this weekend and Luc had a day off prior to her arrival, so you decided that getting some fresh apples and making her your family apple pie recipe would be a nice gesture since she was so interested when you visited her back in August. 

“You know she’d still like you even if you didn’t bake this pie and you’d just let me have my way with you all day.” Luc had whispered the last part in your ear, being careful that all of the children running through the orchard didn’t hear that. 

You rolled your eyes at him, but let him pull you into his chest more as he kissed the top of your head.

“Um, excuse me, mister?” 

You and Luke both turned to see a young girl, maybe five or six, standing a few feet away from you. Her mom was right behind her, watching the interaction carefully. Luc took his arm from around you so he could sink down, getting as close to eye level with her as he could. 

“Hi,” he smiled softly at her. “My name’s Pierre-Luc. What’s your name?”

“Annie,” she said, a bright, toothy smile breaking out across her face. “You’re really tall, Mister Luc. Could you help me get an apple?”

“You know, I actually just did that for my girlfriend,” he informed her, gesturing to you as he spoke. “I think I got one more lift in me though, if that’s okay with your mom.” He looked over to the girl’s mom, who enthusiastically nodded at him.

“Honey, can you show the nice boy which apple you want?” 

She pushed the little girl towards Luc and she immediately grabbed one of his hands and took off running, pulling him with her down the orchard. Her mom came to stand next to you as they came to a stop shortly, just a few trees over from where they started.

“Seems like you’ve got yourself a good one there,” the mom said softly to you. “I don’t know any guy close to his age that good with kids.”

You watched as Luc carefully placed his hands on his waist and lifted her up towards the apple of her dreams and you couldn’t help but smile. You’d seen him with the Savard children before and how good he was with them, but this one felt a little more real, a little more like this was something you could see in your future. 

“He’s a good egg,” you told the mom. “I’m really lucky.” 

“He’s cute too,” she said with a playful nudge of your arm. “Don’t let that one get away from you.” 

“Mommy! Mommy!” little Annie screamed as she ran back to her mom, a bright red apple in her hands. “Look what I got!”

“You did? Look at that beauty!” she replied.

“Thank you so much,” she told Luc. “You absolutely made her day. Thank you again.” 

“It’s no problem at all,” Luc assured her. “If she finds another one you can’t reach, come find me and I’m happy to help.”

You were pretty sure the mother thanked him at least seven more times before they headed off into a deeper part of the orchard. You looked over at Luc with a wide smile on your face and shook your head softly. 

“What?” he asked you as he titled his head to the side as he tried to figure out how you were feeling. 

“Just debating if you’re a Disney prince or something in your spare time is all,” you replied. 

He blushed in response and smiling impossibly wider and you were a goner. Relationship were always terrifying to you, having to put that much of yourself into someone and trust they’ll treat like like you deserve to be treated. The potential directions relationships could go were vast like the ocean. You’d typically gone out to sea in the past with looming storm and had never stayed to far from the shore. With Luc, you’d slowly paddled out to sea, trusting a storm wouldn’t come and overturn your boat. Now, you were in so deep you couldn’t see shore anywhere around you anymore and for some reason, it didn’t scare you in the slightest.

November 

“Baby, can you pass me the salt, please?” Luc asked you, hand outstretched toward you.

“Salt!” you shouted as you put it in his outstretched hand.

“Thank you. The pepper too?” he asked. You knew the ask was coming, so you were already prepared and slapped it into his waiting hand. 

“You two are so precious.” 

You hadn’t realized your mom had entered the kitchen until she spoke, making you and Luc jump a little. Luc had just enough time off right round Thanksgiving and your family was close enough to Columbus that you were able to make the day trip to spend it with them. Your mom had insisted you bring Luc along. She said she was going to make your good Canadian boy “American fat” for his first American family Thanksgiving. You knew better so by the transitive property Luc knew better than to try and resist your mom’s will, so you were both in the kitchen early on Thanksgiving morning helping make dinner. 

“Uh, thanks, mom,” you told her. 

Your eyes locked with Luc’s before you returned to chopping the celery for the stuffing you were making. He gave you a sweet smile before going back to stirring his pot. Your mom, the forever hoverer, headed over to observe Luc’s cooking, meaning she grabbed a spoon on her way there to taste his work in progress. When you’d first told her about him, you mentioned he knew how to cook and she didn’t believe a guy that young, that attractive, who plays that heteronormative-enforcing of a sport could cook. Based on her expression when she tasted the gravy, she realized how wrong she’d been. 

“Oh my god, that’s incredible, sweetie,” she told him, a look of pure shock still present on her face. 

“Thank you,” he replied as his cheeks tinging with pink in mild embarrassment.

Your mom patted him on the shoulder and threw her spoon in the dishwasher, knowing you’d get on her case if she’d come in and just left something for you to clean later, before she headed back into the living room where the football game was on. 

“Thanks for coming.” You were pretty sure you’d said it to Luc at least a hundred times since you drove down last night. You couldn’t express how much it meant for him to take some of the very little rest time he had during the season and spend it with your family, one of the least restful things you could think of. “I mean it, PL. I really appreciate it.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me,” he told you, his eyes never leaving the recipe book in his hands. “You know I’ll do anything for you because I lo- really care about you.” 

You paused for a second and your breath caught in your chest. Had he almost just told you he loved you? Did you feel the same way? Did you just hear what you wanted to hear? Did you even want to hear him say that to you? 

You shoved the thoughts aside, deciding that rambling thought process was better saved for another time, and walked over to him. He must have heard your feet as you shuffled over to him because his arm closest to you was already up and outstretched and he’d shifted to holding the recipe book with one hand. You accepted the invitation and wrapped both of your arms around his waist, sighed contently when you were pressed against his warm body.

“I really care about you too, Luc,” you told him, “and I really appreciate you coming with me. Can’t thank you enough for coming.” 

“If you thank me one more time, I’m going to return a Christmas gift,” Luc sang softly to you, his eyes transfixed on the recipe. “Do you think it matters if I- oh fuck it, I’m just gonna throw it all in and see what happens.” 

December 

“Okay, you have to do this.” Luc threw the icing bag down on the kitchen table causing white icing to squirt everywhere. You were grateful you’d picked up a cheap table cloth just to do this like your mom always had. “My hands are too big for this.” 

You laughed and grabbed the gummy wreath and the icing bag from in front of him. You carefully coated the back in icing and put a little extra on the door of your gingerbread house to make sure it would stick before placing it gently on the door. 

“See, big man hands can’t do that,” Luc told you knowingly, making you laugh. 

“Think you can handle putting the Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the roof like shingles?” you asked him, offering up the box of cereal in his direction. 

“You are a creative genius with gingerbread, you know.” Luc took the cereal box from you. “You should quit your day job and become a gingerbread house designer.” 

“Are you going to financially support me in the off-season? Seems like a very seasonal job without a ton of revenue opportunities,” you popped a candy Christmas light in your mouth, “but a lot of free goodies seem to be included.” 

“Of course,” Luc replied without missing a beat. 

His concentration was mostly on gently placing each individual cereal piece on the roof in careful, slightly overlapping lines to create a decorative roof. His tongue poked out between his teeth as he lined up a piece right on the edge of the roof and you snorted a little at the sight. 

“Don’t laugh at me. I’m trying to support your vision here,” Luc told you in a jokingly serious tone. 

“Your support is incredibly valuable to me.” You rolled an icing covered ice cream cone in green sprinkles to create a green tree for by the front door of the house before continuing, “This project wouldn’t be where it is without your endless support.” 

“Mm,” was all he could say as he was back to the opposite edge of the roof again.

He cursed under his breath as his phone started to ring on the counter. He was covering in royal icing of various shades and sprinkles. 

“Baby, could you get that? It’s probably my mom,” Luc asked you. 

You got up and grabbed his phone off the counter. He was right. It was his mom. They’d just gotten to the airport they were connecting through to get to Columbus and just wanted to give Luc an update. You relayed the message and told her you were looking forward to dinner later with them, but you have an important construction project you needed to finish first so she wouldn’t launch into a conversation the length of their layover. 

“She’s mad she doesn’t get you Christmas,” Luc told you as you sat back down. “My mom,” he added when he saw your confused face before elaborating further, “She understands why, but she says you’re part of the family, so she’s mad you’re not actually going to be here for Christmas.” 

“My mom feels the same way,” you replied. “Not sure it’s you or your cooking she’s really missing though. Maybe next year we’ll bring everyone together here in Columbus? We’re going to need a bigger place though if we’re going to host that many people.”

“We’re going to need a bigger place for next year, eh?”

Luc emphasized the words “we” and “next year.” You hadn’t even realized you’d said that and now you realized that you’d suggested you were going to be together a year from now and that you would be okay with your parents meeting his at that point. You just jumped from casual banter to an incredibly serious future conversation.

“Well, I just- I don’t know. Forget it,” was all you could come up with as a response and you started fidgeting with the container of sprinkles in front of you as a distraction. 

“I’d love all of that.”

You turned your head to face him, your eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort at the idea his part. All you could see was him looking at you the way he always had, since the first day you met him almost a year ago now. 

“I want you out of your shitty ass apartment with Kelsey. I want to see you on Christmas next year. I want to watch our dads try and interact.” You both laughed at that thought and then Luc continued, “I want you here with me all the time because I love you.” 

Your mind had been racing last month when he’d almost said those words, not sure exactly how you felt. In this moment where the words had actually come out, a wave of calm came over you. This didn’t scare you at all like you had thought it would. This feeling had been building since the first time you met him and you hadn’t been able to place it until he said those words out loud for the first time. You knew you loved him. 

“I love you too, Luc.” 

[finnofamerica]

The Black & White - Dwalin x Reader

Summary: Everything is black and white until you meet your soulmate. Additionally, when your soulmate dies, everything goes back to black and white.

Word count: 1,133

Date Posted: 05.19.2020

Note: A very special thanks to @saviorsong​ for helping me get over my dead brain. Please go over to her page and show her some love! 

|| Masterlist || 

While Bilbo was away on his adventure, you kept a close eye on Bag End. Tending to the lawn and flowers, ensuring that his home was clean. The moment Bilbo returned home, he paid you a visit and thanked you for keeping his home in order. 

You were quite the scheduled little Hobbit. Every Tuesday you had tea at four with Bilbo, and every Thursday you delivered the vegetables. Bilbo was quite useless at growing a lot of things, so you picked up the slack for your cousin’s cousin. You liked your routine and your cushy homey life, but you were a little envious of Bilbo’s stories of his adventures. 

Dwalin loved Erebor, but in these past months of settling something was calling him back into the wild. Fond of the Hobbit, and knowing he’d have a place to rest, Dwalin made his way out of Erebor to Hobbiton. 

He took in a deep breath as he reached a view of Hobbiton, the little hovels peaking out from the hills, the surrounding farmland bursting with colors. The neighbors gave him strange looks as he made his way up the familiar path to Bilbo’s. He tied his pony’s reigns to the fence, giving her a good pat, before heading up the narrow path in Bilbo’s yard. Following the advice he received so long ago, Dwalin didn’t bother knocking - just walking right in. 

“Bilbo?” He called into the Hobbit home. Dwalin heard a scuffling of feet, then the Bilbo skidded into view. 

“Dwalin.” Bilbo broke out into a smile. “Come, You’re just in time for tea.” 

The old dwarf was happy to have a moment of rest, enjoy the company of the familiar little man. 

Dwalin settled easily into the Hobbit’s home and when Thursday rolled around he was surprised to see you standing at the Hobbit’s door with a wheelbarrow full of vegetables. 

“Oh, hello,” You tucked your hair behind your ear, watching as his eyes shifted from grey to blue. “Is Bilbo there?” 

He grunted, stepping to the side when he heard the hobbit in question approaching. 

“I have your vegetables, Bilbo,” You grinned, “I brought you extra squash.” 

“Thank you, Y/n,” Bilbo grinned, “Would you like to come in for lunch?” 

“Oh, I probably shouldn’t, seeing as you already have company.” Quite handsome company, you thought. Bilbo looked over his shoulder to see Dwalin keeping a careful eye on the conversation. 

“Oh dear me, how rude. Y/n, this is Dwalin, and old friend from my journey.” 

You gave Dwalin a smile and a shy wave. You were curious about the dwarf, and not just because you were seeing the world in brilliant color. Dwalin just gave you a nod, not letting on how his heart was thundering in his chest at your beauty. His dull world now in full bloom. 

He was dumbfounded as he watched you walk away. After a long moment, he closed the door. 

“Bilbo, who was that?” He asked. 

“Y/n, my cousin of sorts, excellent farmer, even better baker. She’ll be coming around for tea on Tuesday.” Bilbo said though he’d never known the dwarf curious about others, at least not that he let on. 

As promised you were back on Tuesday, sitting down for tea with Bilbo, Dwalin joining you shortly after. 

“So, Bilbo, have I heard all your stories, or do you have a few more up your sleeve?” You asked, drizzling some golden dandelion honey in your lemon tea. Bilbo thought for a moment. 

“I’m not sure, perhaps,” He frowned, “Did I tell you the one about the Elves?” 

“The River elves or the Forest elves?” 

“I suppose I’ve told you all them then.” Bilbo frowned. Noticing the disappointed look on your face, Dwalin cleared his throat and began diving in a story about his travels after Smaug’s siege on Erebor. His deep voice was soothing, but his story of the dangers he faced kept you on the edge of your seat. 

The look in your eyes made it easier for Dwalin to tell the story. Your eyes watered at his pain and you smiled at his joy, hanging on to his words. In a way, you reminded him of when Fili, Kili, and Ori were younger. 

That became Dwalin’s favorite part of the week in the few months he stayed there. You stopping by for tea at the same time every Tuesday. He’d be lying if he didn’t say that he hadn’t prepared a story for you every week. 

When you dropped off vegetables you’d stand on Bilbo’s front porch chatting with asking Dwalin your little questions about the mountain, and with each one, his heart ached more. He missed his home and his friends, but at the same time, he didn’t want to leave you. 

“Dwalin, may I confess something?” You asked one Tuesday afternoon after Bilbo had left you alone with your tea to read one of his many books. 

Dwalin nodded, his chest aching with anticipation and nerves. 

“Since we met, my world has been so colorful - literally, not in the metaphorical sense. I guess I was wondering if maybe it was the same for you?” You ducked your head trying to cover the blush on your face. He loved the color. 

“It is.” He said simply. Though it hurt his heart to admit as much, he knew he’d have to leave soon if he wanted to make it over the mountains before winter set in. Though he’d spend every moment he had with you until then. 

You beamed at him, the relief in your eyes was overwhelming. 

. . . 

When the day finally came, he left early morning, stopping by your smial. Dwalin wasn’t normally a nervous man, but then again he was sailing into vastly uncharted waters. Finally, he knocked, the sound resonating through the little home. 

It wasn’t long before the door swung open, revealing you in your nightgown and robe. 

“Dwalin?” You yawned rubbing your eyes, “What’re you doing here so early?” 

“I’m heading back to the mountain, and - Mahal - I know I have no right to ask this but, I was wondering if you’d come with me?” His ears turning a soft red in the morning light. Your eyes widened as you registered what his question was. 

“To Erebor?” You asked, not sure if you were hearing him right. He just nodded patiently awaiting your answer. You swallowed, this was your chance for an adventure. “I’ll pack.” 

Dwalin let out a sigh of relief, breaking into a smile. Timflur would be able to handle the weight of both of you, she was a strong pony. You came out not too long later, a bag packed over your shoulder. You left a letter on your kitchen counter for Bilbo, and the Shire never saw you again. 

Tags: @moony-artnstuff​ @lilith15000​ @msjava1972​ @fizzyxcustard​ @aspiring-ginger​ 

[foursideharmony]

The Cat, the Prince, and the Doorway to Imagination (Chapter 5)

Summary: Roman confronts the other Sides.

Pairings: Platonic/familial LAMP/CALM, Platonic/familial DLAMPR

Content Warnings: Violence and threats of violence, nightmare imagery

Word Count: 3,194

Read on AO3: here

“Won't be long now,” said Mr. Beaver as the group rounded a low hill. The sun was just starting to sink, and the resulting shadow made them all the colder. They had been on the move for nearly twenty hours, with only brief and infrequent rest stops, and had long since begun dragging their feet. Their trail made a continuous ragged line through the snow.

“I can't feel my anything,” Patton moaned.

“Well if nothing else,” said Mrs. Beaver, trudging alongside him and patting his hand, “they'll at least have decent campfires where we're going.”

Another twenty-five or so minutes brought them around the base of that hill and the next one, and then the Beavers led the group up the slope of a third and tallest hill. “And here we are,” said Mr. Beaver once they reached the summit. “The hill of the Stone Table.”

The hilltop was a broad space, clear of trees, with a grim gray construction in the very center: the Stone Table itself. It seemed like the whole snowscape of Narnia spread out before them, all the way to the twinkling ocean. It would have been a lovely view if not for the circumstances that had brought them there.

No one greeted them. They thought at first that no one was even there, but Virgil pointed to a hunched figure crouched on the ground some distance away from the table, tending the embers of a small fire by means of an awkwardly long poker held at full arm's length, as if she were afraid to go too near it. She was very slender, with lightly tanned skin and misty pale green hair that stuck out from her head in bristly locks, falling down to merge with her dress, which was the same color and texture.

“Ailim, is that you?” said Mr. Beaver.

“Oh!” said the woman, rising to her feet in one motion, more gracefully than any human could manage. “Beaver...I wasn't expecting you.”

“Ailim...where is everyone?”

She shook her head with a sound like leaves rustling in a breeze. “A few are nearby, keeping to cover. As for the rest...they are safe in their homes. Where else would they be? Aslan has not come after all. Of my people, only my conifer siblings and myself are even awake. The rest of our cousins still sleep.”

“Ailim is a dryad,” Mrs. Beaver explained. “That's the spirit of a tree. In her case, a fir tree.”

“And you must be the humans of the prophecy,” said Ailim. “Do you know why Aslan has not returned?”

“B-beats me, Miss,” Patton said, teeth chattering. “The story seems to have hopped off the rails at some point.”

“Oh, how rude of me not to notice how cold you are. Do come sit by the fire. She crouched to poke up the flames, and used an equally long-handled set of tongs to add another log. Soon it was crackling nicely, and the Sides were clustered around it, sitting on small boulders that had been cleared of snow and soaking up the warmth.

“It doesn't bother you?” Virgil said as Ailim fed the fire again. “Burning wood? I mean, if you're a tree too...”

“This was all fallen and dead already when it was gathered,” she explained. “No Narnian of good heart would ever cut down a living tree, or even take so much as a single branch. Sometimes an aged dryad who knows she will die soon will bequeath her wood to those who need it, but living trees are sacrosanct. Or,” she added sadly, “so it was before the White Witch came.”

“We'll figure something out,” Patton said. “I think…I think the Witch is hurting someone we care about too.”

“In the meantime,” Mr. Beaver cut in, “this lot needs food and rest.”

“Of course,” said the dryad. “There are shelters in the thickets on the southeastern slope, and provisions. Tap three times quickly and twice slowly on the large boulder and the fauns will let you inside.” She met each of their gazes in turn. “In the morning we must hold a council of war.”

*******************************************

At least Jadis's bed was comfortable enough.

Roman had found it eventually, after wandering the frozen castle for what felt like hours. It was only a broad, thick slab of ice on the floor, but it was heaped with enough blankets and furs that he was adequately shielded from the worst of the cold, both from the frigid air of the castle and the bed itself. He crawled in, his head still spinning, and wrapped himself in layers of bedding like a caterpillar forming its cocoon.

Sleep came quickly, but proper rest did not; Roman's dreams were full of ice and crystal and stone and snowflakes that came spinning down out of a black sky like tiny sawmill blades. Where they touched him he flinched and bled, and his blood was the pale turquoise of a glacial core. It whispered to him in sounds that were almost words and phrases in a language he only partially understood.

Perhaps he thrashed or cried out in his sleep, but if so, no one noticed or responded.

And with the coming of the dawn, Roman opened his eyes...and knew who he was. And what he was.

*******************************************

The war council never happened.

After their long trek, the Sides had just enough energy left to swallow a few mouthfuls of the stew  the fauns had prepared and fall asleep on rough cots in a den of sorts excavated from the hillside. The Narnians hadn't the heart to disturb them, and they didn't wake until the sun was well over the horizon, and then only because a strange, piercing sound was blaring from outside the shelter, coming from some distance away. It was like a horn, but shriller, and it set their teeth on edge.

Bleary-eyed from stolen sleep, they bustled out to find their hosts interrupted in the act of preparing breakfast. “What's going on?” Patton yawned. “Is it time for the council meeting thingie?”

“We're not sure,” said one of the fauns, whose name escaped him. The peculiar sound continued at intervals of a few seconds, and seemed intended as a signal of some kind.

“Something is approaching!” came Ailim’s voice from the hilltop. “Let us all gather as a show of our numbers!”

“What numbers,” Virgil muttered, but he joined the other two, and the Beavers and fauns and other handful of Narnian citizens now emerging from their respective shelters, in hiking back up to the summit, where Ailim was waiting with another dryad, taller and wirier than herself. They got there just in time to see, bursting through the trees on the northern slope, a Dwarf they barely recognized as the White Witch’s driver. He was blowing on some kind of wind instrument that appeared to be made from silvery crystal—or perhaps ice—which was of course the sound they had all been hearing. Behind him, further downslope, there was some kind of commotion that wasn’t yet visible through the brush and piled snow.

“Narnians!” bellowed the Dwarf. “Make ready to receive your most exalted ruler, the White Warlock!”

“What?” Virgil growled.

“White Warlock?” said Patton. “No, it’s supposed to be the White Witch. A scary lady! I remember that part!”

“'Warlock' is a semi-archaic term for a male witch,” Logan observed.

“Guys, I have the worst feeling about this…” said Virgil.

More creatures were emerging from the trees on the hill slope, and it took the Sides a moment to realize that they were looking at a procession of monsters. First was a group of Goblin heralds carrying gonfalons that seemed to consist only of crosspieces crusted with masses of icicles. Then came a formation of Dwarf archers, and then several Ogres bearing clubs. Following this were a few Hags, hissing and pointing threateningly into the gathering.

(“What is this, the whole bloody entourage?” whispered Mr. Beaver. “Dear! Mind your language!” Mrs. Beaver retorted.)

As the procession reached the hilltop, it broke to its right, circling the space counterclockwise and fanning out along the other side of the Stone Table from the Sides and their allies, effectively corralling them—they could retreat, technically, but there was only one direction available; they would be easy pickings if they tried.

Finally, the White Warlock himself appeared, lounging in a fur-lined sedan chair on the shoulders of four massive Minotaurs. His crown glittered as he moved in and out of patches of shade and his robe was made entirely of ermine, with a train that trailed behind the chair for ten yards, held off the ground by a team of Yew-dryads, their short shaggy hair speckled with scarlet berries. The Minotaurs crested the hill, and one of them kicked snow over the smoldering campfire, extinguishing it. They eased the chair down, and the Warlock rose from his seat, stepped lightly to the ground, and turned to face them.

It was Roman...and he was wrong.

They knew what “evil Roman” was supposed to look like. The fans loved to imagine him, for some reason, and they tagged Thomas in their fanart of the concept often enough that the Sides were familiar with the consensus image: the haughty expression, the gaudy gold crown studded with rubies, and especially the transformation of his suit from pristine, heroic white to Disney Villain black.

It wasn't...it wasn't supposed to become even whiter. It wasn't supposed to gleam almost too bright to look at in the sunlight, so that even the ermine barely looked white by comparison. The gold braid wasn't supposed to be replaced with silver, nor the noble red of his sash with a dusky grayish mauve like dried rose petals under a veneer of frost. The crown was not supposed to be made of silvery ice, with only a single huge diamond set under the central point.

His hair was not supposed to be shot through with white strands that turned out, upon closer inspection, to be ornamentation of impossibly delicate ice filigree. His eyes were definitely not supposed to be gray, flecked with blue-green. And he was not supposed to be pale, but he was—paler than Virgil, if such a thing were possible, lacking even a cold-induced blush to his cheeks, yet without looking the least bit unhealthy. It was as if he had been molded out of ivory.

The only hint of warmth in his appearance was that diamond, which flashed all the colors of fire.

He was wrong.

“Hark! You are all guilty of high treason against the Crown!” he said without preamble, and his voice at least, if not the disdainful tone, was familiar. “Except you three,” he added with a curt nod at his fellow Sides. “However! We are in a lenient mood! Abandon your rebellion at once, and swear fealty to us, and you will not be punished...this time. As for you...” He addressed the Sides again, and for just a moment, his cold arrogance retreated, “...in exchange for your fealty, I will make you all lesser Kings in my court. Think of it! This glorious winter kingdom could belong to all of us!”

The Narnians shuffled on their feet, making no reply. The Sides traded glances, Logan frowning uncertainly and Virgil shaking his head with a haunted expression. Finally, Patton spoke.

“Roman...this isn't fun anymore, with you acting like this. This isn't how you said the story was going to go. Can we just...go home? We can talk out whatever's bothering you.”

It was shocking how quickly Roman's eyes hardened. “I will not be mocked,” he said, low and dangerous. “You have one day and night to change your minds...or else prepare for war. And these—” he made an expansive gesture at the creatures he had brought with him, “—are merely the outermost tip of my armies.” He returned to his sedan chair and the Minotaurs hoisted it up. The procession began to descend the hill.

“Down with the White Warlock!” blurted the taller Dryad, Ailim's companion. “Aslan is King!”

Roman's head whipped around to glare at her. Without a single word, he nodded to the nearest of the Hags, and she lunged at the Dryad, shrieking and making a throwing gesture. There was something like a flash of light in reverse—a flash of darkness—and the tall tree-spirit sank to the ground with a sigh.

“Muricata!” Ailim cried as one of the Ogres stepped forward and lifted the fallen nymph in one massive hand.

“Find her tree,” growled the White Warlock. “Cut it down while she watches.”

“No! Please!” Ailim begged. “She is my sister!”

“Take the other one as well. Let them both watch.” A second Ogre seized Ailim and began dragging her along while she screamed in terror and grief.

“Roman!” Patton gasped. “H-how could you?”

“Don't make me punish you as well!” Roman snarled. “Move out!”

The procession withdrew back down the hill, leaving the Narnians devastated and the Sides both bewildered and appalled. “So now what?” Virgil said, pacing erratically and pulling at his hair. “This is really bad, you guys. Super bad. We're not just talking rail-jumping here. Roman's taken a flying leap off...off something, I don't know, but there is something wrong with him. I thought maybe he was just throwing a surprise twist at us, but did you see him? That look in his eyes? This is so bad—”

“Virgil, you are spiraling,” said Logan. “Try one of your breathing exercises.”

“I don't understand,” said Patton. “Why would Roman go this far? Do you think he's mad at us for something?”

“It is possible,” said Logan. “He has undergone a number of upsetting occurrences recently, and his mood has not been the most stable. Then again, with his talk of 'swearing fealty'...perhaps he is simply craving validation.”

“Should we just give it to him then?” said Virgil. I mean if it's the fastest way to get him off the crazy train...”

“Unfortunately, I have to advise against indulging him in this,” said Logan. “While it may work in the short term to, as you say, 'get him off the crazy train'—which does not sound like a practical or enjoyable means of transportation, by the way—the likely long-term effect would be to encourage him to continue these destructive methods of addressing his self-esteem deficits.”

“Patton, you're the 'should' guy around here...what should we do?”

“I'm honestly thinking we should just leave. The best way to send a message that the game is no good, is to quit playing. He can grapple with his feelings as long as he needs to, and we'll be there for him when he's ready to come out and talk.”

“I would tend to agree,” said Logan, “but I doubt there is any way for us to leave the Imagination without Roman noticing, and in his current state he would be certain to take steps to stop us, possibly violently.” He began to pace rapidly, wearing a tamped-down groove in the snow. “However...perhaps one of us could make it back to the door undetected, leave, and come back with...additional resources.”

“What kind of 'additional resources' did you have in mind?” said Virgil.

“It occurs to me,” Logan said, still pacing, “that Roman is rather...comfortable, with the three of us. That may cause him to take our points of view for granted, which ironically makes him less likely to listen to us than to someone with whom he might experience more interpersonal friction.”

There was a beat while Virgil and Patton took that in. “Oh, no!” Virgil said after a moment. “If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, then...no. I can't agree with that.”

“Just so we're on the same page,” Patton said carefully, “you want to go get Janus? You think he could help?”

“I think his presence might shock Roman just enough to shake him out of his assumptions about how this story is meant to go,” Logan explained.

“You could be right,” said Patton. “Roman arranged all this because he hasn't felt much like a hero ever since we started including Janus in our discussions. But somehow he wound up going completely the other way, to being the villain. Maybe seeing Janus will remind him of what he's trying to avoid?”

“Okay, cool, so I'm outvoted. Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. So which one of us should go?”

“I was planning on doing it myself,” said Logan. “It would not be fair to ask you to carry out a plan to which you object, and between myself and Patton, I believe I have a greater chance of making the trek without getting sidetracked or losing my nerve. No offense, Patton.”

“None taken. It's an awfully long way to go by yourself, though. Are you sure you even know the way?”

“I have an excellent head for navigation and I believe I can triangulate the location of the door based on our travels thus far. I would feel more confident if I had some form of transportation, however.”

“I can carry you, sir,” said a deep but young-sounding voice from among the Narnians. It was the largest of those gathered, a Talking Bear not quite full grown but undeniably burly and powerful. “Name of Stoutpaws, sir. I'm not as good as a Horse but I'll do my best.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Stoutpaws. My name is Logan. If we start now, I estimate you can get me to my destination before sundown.”

“You're leaving already?” Patton said, fretting.

“Roman has only given us until tomorrow, Patton. Given the round trip, I need to use every minute I can to make sure I bring Janus back here before the deadline.”

Patton strode up and pulled him into a hug. “You be careful.”

“Likewise,” said Logan.

“I'll guard him with my life, sir,” said Stoutpaws. He crouched on all fours so that Logan could climb onto his back and then loped away down the westward slope of the hill.

“Gosh, things are happening fast,” Patton said, watching them go. “It all started so simply.”

“Come on, Pat,” said Virgil with a lopsided smile that got nowhere near his eyes, “you should know by now that nothing in this mind of Thomas's is ever simple. And on that note...we should probably pull this bunch together and come up with some contingency plans, just in case Logan doesn't get back in time.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed noncommittally. “And someone oughta buck them up. They just watched two of their own get dragged away by the bad guys to be...” He trailed off.

“Don't think about it too much,” Virgil said. “Just...yeah, don't think about it.” The gathering was breaking up, the Narnians returning dejected to their hillside shelters. Patton and Virgil joined them.

Unseen in the snow-dusted brush nearby, someone was watching...

[chaosride]

A Divine Appointment (x7)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

“You can learn many things from children. How much patience you have, for instance.” — Franklin P. Jones

Their next weekly Wicked Grace night was interesting. Anders had tried to beg off with the reasoning of not wanting to leave the kids alone all night at the clinic, and Varric had easily told him to bring the kids with him. Anders had expected Norah to run them off, as the owner had made it clear that the Hanged Man was a place for drinking and gambling. However that night Norah had just waved them through towards the stairs to Varric’s quarters. At Anders’ questioning look, Norah shrugged.

“New management,” was all she told him.

It was really all the explanation needed; the Hanged Man changed hands so often between the shadier figures of Kirkwall’s underground that they were under new management every other week it seemed. It was something that made Varric rhapsodize about how the Hanged Man deserved a better owner, someone who knew what they were doing and deserved her. It was no secret that the someone the dwarf had in mind was himself. Anders hoped he wouldn’t be too irritable about it tonight- it made him ruthless in cards.

Varric, however, was cheerful as ever when they got to his room. Hawke, Fenris and Isabela were already there. Aveline was going to come later after her patrol and had asked to bring Donnic along. They chatted as Anders settled at the table with them, allowing the twins to sit in his lap when neither would tolerate being put down. He rolled his eyes as Isabela cooed at them but allowed Cahir to go to her regardless. Primarily because he knew who the boy was really wanting to go to. He chuckled when Isabela called Cahir a traitor when he immediately began squirming in her hold, trying to get to Fenris. The elf let out a very put upon sigh but he was smiling when he took Cahir from her.

“You are very determined, I’ll give you that,” Fenris told Cahir.

The boy had settled down once in Fenris’ lap. Anders determinedly did not stare at them together; Cahir was skittish and didn’t like to be held by many people. He sought out even fewer as actively as he went to Fenris anytime the warrior was around. The sight of them made Anders want things to be different, despite the fact that he had more than he ever expected to. So instead he determinedly pulled the tie free from Cat’s hair and rebraided her curly red hair so it was away from her little face. Anders had learned if he didn’t she would pull at it until it came out in clumps in her small fists.

The mage had worried that the kids would get bored, but he supposed he should have known better. The entire group had learned to sit still and entertain themselves in order to avoid unneeded attention. Even the twins, young as they were, seemed to have learned it, sitting quietly with them at the table and watching them play with curious eyes. Tanner, Rosalyn and Bree had settled on the open stretch of floor a little away from the table, talking quietly amongst themselves as they played some game they had created with pebbles Tanner had produced from his pocket. Raelnor had sat with them at the table at Hawke’s merry invitation for him to join the game.

Anders had thought the entire walk over that he should bring something for them to do but he didn’t have anything. At the clinic they normally chased each other around or played games together but unlike other children they didn’t get loud or unruly without his attention on them really. The older of the kids had become quite adept at entertaining their younger siblings when no adults were around to mind the toddlers, and with them occupied were happy to sit quietly together all evening.

In the end they hadn’t even made it through an entire round before it clearly bothered Varric too much to continue. He laid his cards down despite it being his turn and stood up.

“Y’know, I got a cousin who owns a toy shop, I’m sure I’ve got some of his stuff around here,” he had said.

To anyone who didn’t know him, it would have been a convincing lie but Anders knew there wasn’t a single member of Varric’s family with any such business. The lie was confirmed with how quickly the rogue located the box of toys he presented to the children to go through. Raelnor was watching him with the same puzzled face he used to direct at Anders; bafflement at someone doing them a kindness with no expectation of anything in return.

Bree, the sweetheart that she was, had brought over a small selection of toys for the twins to choose from, showing first Cat then Cahir the ones she had thought they would like. Cahir had latched onto a small rattle drum which he clumsily waved until Fenris gently corrected his grip and showed him how to roll it between his palms to make the small beads hit the drum more consistently. Cat’s choice had been a carved wooden horse with wings and little wheels attached to its hooves. As she rolled it back and forth on the table in front of him, Anders resigned himself to picking it up a thousand times throughout the night as she lost her grip on it. Once content that the twins had gotten something as well, Bree returned to Tanner and Rosalyn. The dwarven boy was showing Rosalyn how to make the top spin with a practiced hand, and gave a proud grin when the girls exclaimed at how long he got it to spin.

Pleased with himself, Varric retook his seat and took his turn. He shrugged his shoulders amicably at Anders’ knowing look without a hint of shame. The healer wasn’t going to complain; he knew the kids needed toys, they just weren’t expenses he could afford. Technically he couldn’t afford to feed himself and seven kids but he was making it work. Mostly.

“So, you had any luck?” Hawke asked Raelnor, who had been sullenly studying his cards.

Raelnor had been moody and temperamental since he had lost his job at the docks. Burgess had been upset that Fenris had interrupted the fights. He had even accused Raelnor of setting him up since someone had massively outbid him at the last moment before the fights and took the entire betting pool in result.

Raelnor had pointed out that he didn’t exactly have the money to place a big enough bet to more than double Burgess’ bet, which was what it would have taken for the mystery gambler to take all the winnings from the betting rather than just a portion. He had bit his tongue to avoid mentioning that without Burgess setting the rule of the whole pot going to the top bet if it was more than twice the second highest bet to benefit himself, he wouldn’t have lost everything. Of course, he had been correct but it hadn’t helped him keep his job.

Anders couldn’t blame his sour mood- Raelnor had spent years knowing he had to make money for any of them to survive, the only one besides Delilah remotely old enough to work a regular job.  Every person that turned him away was a personal failure to Raelnor, no matter how Anders told him they would figure it out. The assurance that there were people around now who would make sure the kids didn’t starve only served to make the teenager complain of feeling useless, like deadweight.

Anders mourned the childhood the boy had clearly given up in favor of caring for the younger children. He wished he could tell Raelnor not to worry about money or finding another job even as he knew logically they needed the extra income for food and necessities for the kids.

“Nothing yet. The only place willing to hire Fereldans, much less one as young as me, is the Bone Pit-”

“I would rather pay to not have to go there,” Varric said.

“Bad news, that place,” Isabela agreed.

“Yeah, don’t take that,” Hawke told him.

“But my overbearing mum told me I would not be working there under any circumstances,” Raelnor finished. He scowled at his hand of cards and set it down face up to show he was folding.

“Yes I did,” Anders told him. “I would rather you not be turned into mincemeat by giant spiders or blighted dragons, Rae,” he began, which the boy waved away dismissively. It was an argument they had revisited a few times since the subject came up.

“Yeah, yeah, like I said mum here said I couldn’t take that one so I’m still looking.”

“Well, that’s good, then,” Varric told Raenor. “It would mean you can’t come to work for me. Think you can handle serving food during the day here?”

“What? You can’t seriously be offering to pay me to come run and tote for you all day.”

“Well, Norah works nights here and they’re going to start serving more meals during the day.”

“Ah, Varric, I know you basically run it but I don’t think you can just offer him a job here.”

The dwarf grinned, the kind he only wore when he was especially proud of whatever trickery he had managed. Usually when one upping petty criminals or raining fire on unsuspecting enemies with Bianca from the backlines.

“Oh, I didn’t mention? I recently came into possession of a little something that gives me a bit more say about what happens here than before.”

Oh, Anders thought, remembering the look Norah had given him earlier when he came in with the children.

“You’re the new management.”

“Aw Blondie, why did you have to steal my thunder? I wanted to deliver it all dramatically,” Varric pouted. When Anders just raised an eyebrow he chuckled and confirmed, “yeah, I’m the new management.”

“Good on you Varric!” Hawke praised.

“Now you can stop bringing it up to Aveline,” Fenris said.

“I know, she was no help.”

“You’re who out bet Burgess,” Raelnor realized.

“The bookie who he had working the fights is an old friend of mine, he was happy to tell me how much he bet and lied about who I betted for. Figured he wouldn’t give you a fair cut even if you did take the dive for him. Sorry if I caused any trouble for you, kid.”

For the first time since being fired, Raelnor’s laugh was raucous and sincere.

“He only scheduled me for that fight because he figured he would kill me. Fuck that blighted nug-”

“Rae, language,” Anders scolded, mainly because all of the younger kids would no doubt repeat what he said, all eager to emulate their older brother. He tried to ignore how Fenris stifled his chortle into his drink he had been raising to his lips.

“Sorry, mum,” Raelnor said, still beaming. Varric winked at him.

“Can you start tomorrow at noon?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good to hear, you’ve got the job, on one condition.”

Raelnor hesitated, his eyes flicking to Anders then Fenris and back to Varric.

“Which is?” he asked nervously.

“No more fighting for money.”

“Done,” Raelnor said immediately. He had already promised Anders (and a tearful Bree) the same thing the morning after his last fight.

“Alright, I’ll show you around tomorrow. Welcome aboard.”

“Anders, we found one of your kids on our patrol,” Aveline called as soon as she and Donnic arrived. Delilah waved at them meekly at the mage when she followed the guardswoman in, Donnic bringing up the rear.

“I thought you were staying at the Rose tonight?” Anders asked her.

Delilah had a bunk there along with some of the other girls where she usually stayed after her shift. She would usually come to the clinic around midmorning to spend time with the kids, taking them out into town or bringing them odds and ends she thought they needed. She had been steadfastly stubborn about not needing anything, to give to the kids instead.

“I changed my mind, was hoping you wouldn’t mind me bunking with the kids tonight. I was fine waiting at the clinic but, uh,” she floundered, and looked at the guard-captain.

“Aveline,” the redheaded woman provided kindly, smiling. “I insisted.”

“Thanks Aveline. Delilah, you can stay whenever you like,” Anders told her.

“You know how to play Wicked Grace?” Isabela asked her.

“Boy, do I.”

---

Delilah continued to stay her nights at the clinic once she was off work. Working at the Blooming Rose usually meant she crept in during the early morning hours. The first few days she looked surprised to find that Anders had waited up for her, but after a few times she seemed to grow used to it. They had established a tradition of sorts; Anders would stop working on his manifesto for the evening when she arrived and they would brew tea and discuss their days before both going to bed.

It was a nice routine, and Anders hadn’t had quite enough of those in his life. Delilah had been very polite and distant at the start, even offering to pay Anders for watching the children. He was just glad she seemed to be warming up to him.

She seemed extra tired tonight though. It was later than she normally got home and Delilah was walking favoring one leg. Anders had noticed that something seemed to be going on with her; something that had made her stop feeling safe enough to sleep at the Rose and jump at corners. He wasn’t sure it was his place to push her though. The other children had been all but officially adopted as his charges. Even Raelnor had come around.

“Sorry, healer, you didn’t have to wait up for me,” she told him softly.

“I didn’t even realize how late it was,” Anders lied. “Here, come sit down and I’ll make us some tea.”

Her smile was weak but sincere. Anders put the lid on his inkwell (improvised, a necessity with kids running around and bumping into the desk) and put his work and quill away. He gave his knee a brisk rub before he got up. From how it and his elbow ached, it was going to storm soon. Delilah watched him as he gathered the tea pot and filled it with water.

“Healer, I can do it,” she said, getting up.

Anders flapped a hand at her and continued with making tea. Rather than the normal tea he normally made, he dug out the last of the mix he had made to help with pain. It was a little bitter but it did the trick. He winced when he stepped wrong and felt the bolt of pain shoot all the way up through his hip.

“Healer,” Delilah protested but Anders was already leveraging himself to sit in his chair in front of the fire beside her, the water coming to boil hanging in the fireplace.

“How many times have I told you to just call me Anders?”

“It just feels weird,” Delilah admitted.

Anders rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but smile. Delilah had tried to call him messere or serah at first but he had finally got her to stop doing that. Maybe one day she would refer to him by something other than a title but every step closer felt nice regardless.

“Guess you could be calling me mum instead,” Anders conceded.

Delilah giggled and glanced towards the back of the clinic where the rest of the kids were resting. Her expression was fond, if not a touch sad. She got up to get the teapot from its hook before Anders could once the water inside could be heard boiling. Delilah poured their cups with a practiced hand and set the tea in it to steep.

“Sorry if that bothers you,” she told him once she had sat back down. “Rae means it in a good way. His dad was terrible and wasn’t around much but he had his mum, even if she spent more time drinking and wailing on him than taking care of him. She’s basically his only concept of a parent, he probably never even considered calling you anything else. He just calls his dad William.”

“It doesn’t bother me. My father… wasn’t the best, usually so I understand that,” Anders admitted. He picked up his cup but didn’t drink from it, content to let its warmth leech into his hands.

“What… ah, you can tell me if it’s out of bound, but what was it like growing up?”

She asked so hesitantly that Anders found that he wanted to answer more than he wished to avoid thinking about his parents or the life he had had, all those years ago. Usually remembering it made him feel lonely and like he was twelve years old again, cut loose and thrown to the wolves.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-” Delilah began to backtrack, her dark brows furrowed.

“No, sorry, it’s fine. I’m an only child, my parents moved out of the Anderfels to a small Fereldan village when I was very young, and we had a farm there. My mother was a caring soul, and she wanted more children but couldn’t have them. My dad was from a large family that was mainly still scattered all over the Anderfels. He was… bitter a lot because he was homesick. I remember I tried to learn his native language, and called him Táta when I was younger. I thought maybe it would make it… easier. It would be something special we shared, like my ma teaching me about healing. Eventually he told me to stop calling him that and just call him father. I think I disappointed him. His only son, flamboyant and more interested in cats and my mother’s garden of herbs than anything he considered boyish. He was the one who turned me into the Templars. I guess I should have just been happy that I had evaded the Circle as long as I had.”

Anders took a sip of his tea even though it was still much too hot for his taste. It helped force down the knot in his throat even if he still felt a bit like crying. He always felt like this when discussing his father; wistful for what could have been, if Anders hadn’t been so… Anders, shamed that he had not been enough for his own father, mournful and angry in equal measures with the cold, distant man who had wanted to love him so badly. His father had been sad under it all, plagued by darkness Anders could not have understood. More than once as a child when he had gone to his father in search of affection or comfort and had been turned away. Anders had sworn he would be a better father. As he had grown, Anders realized that perhaps his own father was a sign he shouldn’t be one himself. He often drowned in his own feelings of helplessness and desolation, he didn’t want to risk a child suffering for it.

Delilah reached to him and carefully tugged one hand from his cup to fold in her own.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize. For him to turn you in, Maker it’s awful,” she whispered. “I was lucky in some ways I think, since I never knew who my da was. I was just another brothel brat, and all the girls looked after all of us kids as their own.”

“Is that how you and the kids found each other?”

She shook her head, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Our village avoided the worst of the blight, it was kind of out of the way, but a horde of Darkspawn were pushing in. The… Andraste, some of the villagers got the idea that if they locked the gate from the alienage to the rest of the city and set it on fire, everyone running out the other gate onto the road into the village would draw the Darkspawn that way and they could defend the village.”

“Did it work?”

“I didn’t stick around to find out. I just remember seeing some of the kids running and jumped the gate. Raelnor and I grew up together and he followed me over when he saw me go. We saved what kids we could and ran. Bree and Rosalyn ended up staying with us, we were going to get them to safety but that… didn’t end up happening. We met Tanner when we were passing through Denerim. He asked for help because he didn’t know where to get milk that was safe for babies to drink. The twins had been abandoned outside the local chantry with a note that just had their names. But the chantry didn’t have space for babies or the resources, especially after how hard the blight had hit them and Tanner… he refused to leave the twins even when everyone else in his travelling party moved on. They told him they didn’t have the money to take care of them so he stayed and did it, as best as he could. His parents were killed by Darkspawn, he ended up with other refugees from his village. In the end, we wound up on a boat here looking for some of the people he had been travelling with who said they were coming to Kirkwall but we never found them. Everything else is kinda history I guess,” she shrugged. “I know a lot of people think I’m stupid for staying here and taking care of them but I couldn’t just leave them. We’re a family now, after everything.”

Anders smiled and squeezed her hand. “Yes, you are a family. All those who think you’re stupid are the dumb ones. It’s admirable to do for others with no ulterior motive. You have a good heart, Delilah.”

She blushed and looked away from him.

“I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how little they were. Bree was so small then. I mean, she’s still small but she was tiny. I picked her up and she weighed basically nothing. I just… couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I wasn’t trying to be a good person, I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to them.”

“Because you’re a good person, sweetheart,” Anders told her.

She smiled some to herself before carefully pulling her hand back and taking to her own tea. They finished their drinks together, the silence comfortable and contemplative. The warmth from the tea seemed to fill him at his core and slowly the pain ebbed away. He hadn’t even realized the heat of the fire on his skin and the familiar hissing crackle had lulled him into a light doze until he felt Delilah’s lips touch his forehead.

“Night, ta, thank you,” she murmured before creeping away.

He listened to her as she got things settled before slipping back into their sectioned off sleeping area, a smile he couldn’t fight off gracing his face. The healer had planned to get up and bank the fire before turning in for the night himself. Instead when he awoke it was the Cat squealing in joy the next morning. Someone had covered him with a blanket and couldn’t even be upset about being woken up when Tanner was so apologetic about it. His kids were worth more than any amount of missed sleep.

---

It was inevitable that Hawke would need him for an overnight trip. She had agreed to look into demons that were coming from one of the caves near where the Sabrae clan had set up. With how long of a trek it was, they had never managed to make it back before nightfall and always had to make camp along the path back. But Hawke wanted a healer along with them and Anders needed some of the rarer herbs that only flourished on Sundermount.

Of course, that didn’t make it any easier to leave the children. He had given Rosalyn the key to the clinic so they could lock up if they left and had told them where to leave it when they went to bed so Delilah could get in. He had asked Varric to check on them and even accepted Aveline’s offer for Donnic to swing by during his patrol to make sure they were alright as well. He had made sure Tanner and Rosalyn knew where they kept the extra coin stashed in case they needed it. None of it eased the anxiety of leaving them to fend for themselves without him.

“Go, ta, we got it,” Tanner had assured him when he mentioned telling Hawke he would send her with extra healing potions, that he just couldn’t go overnight. He considered asking about the new nickname the kids (except Raelnor) had adopted for him but let it slide. At least they had stopped just calling him healer.

Varric knocked on Fenris’ door in the late afternoon. When he first saw Varric waiting for him his heart had rabbitted in his chest, sure that something was wrong. He couldn’t think of another reason for the rogue to come calling for him when Hawke was out of town for the night.

“What’s happened?” he asked immediately.

Varric chortled at him and raised his hands in a soothing gesture.

“Calm down Broody, there’s no fire. I just figured since I’m going to check on your children you should come along,” the dwarf cajoled.

“They’re not my children, they’re the mage’s children,” Fenris answered, but stepped out of the mansion to follow him regardless. He hadn’t even considered the logistics of where the children would be while Anders was away. Just another reason they weren’t his children; he wasn’t suited to looking after others.

“Whatever you say, elf.”

Fenris had expected they would go to the clinic and find the children inside, or perhaps playing on the landing just in front of it as they often did. They met Donnic coming down from Lowtown, apparently given the same task as them by his wife. The man didn’t look too put out by it though, laughing and joking with them as they made their way through the slums.

Rather than the sound of Rosalyn’s distinct tinkling laughter or Bree shouting or even one of the twin’s excited baby talk, there was the sound of a child crying. Fenris heard it first and took off in a run, hearing Varric’s surprised shout at his sudden departure and the clattering of Donnic’s armor as he hurried to catch up.

When he rounded the corner, his heart calmed some to see all five of the younger children sitting against the wall just outside the clinic’s doors. Rosalyn’s face was buried in her knees as she wailed, Tanner rubbing her back with a contrite expression.

Cahir was the first to notice Fenris approaching and called out, “Da!” to him excitedly just as Donnic and Varric rounded the corner. Varric complained about how fast he was when they caught, practically panting. Fenris made a note to tease the dwarf about being out of shape later.

Once he knew what was wrong with his kids. The mage’s kids, he meant.

“What’s wrong?” Fenris asked Rosalyn when she looked up at him with wet eyes.

Her face scrunched up again before she could speak and she let out a small hiccuping sob. The warrior found himself wrong footed and unsure how to proceed; danger and fighting were more his forte, crying girls and children not so much. He wasn’t sure what to say to calm her but clearly she was upset and needed something. Fenris would have given her anything to wipe away her devastated expression.

“It’s okay,” he said gently. “Tell me what has happened and I will do what I can to rectify it.”

“T-the healer gave me the k-key to hold onto but I lost,” she choked out before sniffling miserably. “It’s his only one, he’s going to be so mad. He told me he was giving it to me because he t-trusted me with it and-” she sobbed again.

“Well that’s not the end of the world, sweetheart,” Donnic told her.

Rosalyn looked up at the guardsman.

“B-but I lost it, and…”

“No one’s hurt or dying, the sky isn’t falling, the clinic isn’t on fire, and all of you are together,” Donnic told her in a calm voice. He knelt and ruffled her hair.

“If you know about where you lost it we can ask around and see if anyone found it, if not we can retrace your steps and look for it,” Fenris offered when she looked at him.

“Even if someone did pick it up they would have no way to know which door in the city it opened,” Varric agreed. “Not to mention I can just pick the lock to let you in and replace the lock.”

“Oh! We know right where it is we just can’t… uh… get to it,” Bree told them. “You’ll help us, right da?”

Fenris looked to Varric and Donnic, unsure who the girl was addressing only to find them both aiming what Fenris could only describe as shit-eating grins at him. Oh, she means me, he recognized. Looked like he would probably be best keeping his taunts about Varric’s stamina to himself for a bit.

"Yes, we'll help you," he told Bree, already resigned to his fate.

“How ?”

Fenris felt a little bad for his incredulous tone when Rosalyn hiccuped and sniffled behind him but really how she had managed to drop the key where she had eluded Fenris. Over a wall and down the side of the steep rock Kirkwall was built into and on top of, of all things. The kids hadn’t been wrong; they had taken them straight to the key. It taunted them from a jutting section of wall built out to take the brunt of the waves that crashed against Kirkwall’s walls. Occasionally the light winked off it whenever the clouds weren’t hiding the slowly setting sun.

“Cahir saw a bird,” she offered meekly.

All three of the adults stepped away from the low wall they had been leaning over to peer down at the key to turn and look at her more fully. Ironically they were within eyesight of the clinic’s door still.

“Cahir… saw a bird…” Fenris repeated slowly, feeling his eyebrow raise in question against his will.

“He’s been fussy all day and didn’t want to be carried, but if we let him down he ran off. There was a bird here, and he saw it and tried to grab it. Tanner was holding him but he was so wriggly that when he jumped Tanner couldn’t catch him. I did but I forgot… I forgot I was holding the key and it flew out of my hand. I just panicked! I… the spikes, and no one else was close- I had-”

“I see,” Fenris said, nodding. “Things happen, we will figure it out. Cahir is more important than the key,” and he didn’t even want to imagine the boy managing to land on the rusty spikes that lined the outer half walls of Darktown’s walkways.

“Told you,” Tanner told her, “Cahir would have gotten really hurt, I knew they would listen and not be mad, Ros.”

“No, you didn’t, you just said we might as well tell the truth because they would find out.”

“Shh,” the dwarven boy said but wouldn’t look at any of them. “You could have told them I dropped it, I told you.”

“No one’s in trouble,” Fenris assured. “We just have to find a way to get the key now, alright?”

They weren’t going to be able to get the key. It was too far down with no real path to get to it. The three men had stood for a long time discussing ways of getting it before they had given up on the idea. They had discussed trying to hook with something or even getting a boat and going at it from the water. In the end, none of their ideas got them any closer to the elusive key. They had nothing that they would use with any accuracy to snag it and pull it back up, and any boat they would have been smashed agaisnt the rocks around the outcropping of rocks. Their plan of picking the lock itself and simply replacing it was dashed too as one by one Varric broke every lockpick he had in it, growling and cursing the entire time.

“If we got some rope one of us could rappel down to it,” Varric suggested.

“Are you going to go down after it?”

“I know us dwarves are small but we’re dense. There’s no way I would get down without falling, not to mention back up. Donnic? Dashing rescues are supposed to be your thing, just pop on down and grab the key.”

“I’m in full plate armor, I’m pretty sure the rope would snap if I tried. Fenris could go, he’s the lightest of us.”

“I’m able to pass through solid objects, not scale vertical walls,” Fenris informed them drolly when both the rogue and the guardsman looked to him. They stood in silence for a moment and Fenris glanced back at the clinic door. “I can kick that door down though.”

Varric considered it for a moment, tapping his index finger on his chin contemplatively.

“I got a guy that can replace it today,” he agreed.

Donnic perked up. “We have spare locks at the Keep we can install. They’re replacements for the ones on the main entrance to the Keep, so they’re sturdy. And come with more than one key.”

“Okay, so new plan,” Varric said and clapped his hands before giving out orders.

The new door looked almost too nice as it set into its new frame, out of place in dingy Darktown, but there was no questioning it was sturdy. Much more secure than the one Anders had had previous, and could be locked from the inside instead of just the outside, unlike its predecessor. To lock up for the night, Anders had rigged some kind of bar and chain across the door from the inside.

“Sorry about all the trouble,” Rosalyn told them all over dinner. Donnic had left to finish his patrol after helping them install the new lock but had returned for supper and had even brought sweets back for the children to have for dessert. They had all been ecstatic when presented with them, something Fenris made a note to bring them more of.

“We’ve been harping Blondie to change that door for months,” Varric dismissed, “really I should be thanking you for giving me a reason to just take care of it.”

Rosalyn smiled some down at her food and allowed Bree to pull her into whatever the kids were discussing so seriously. Fenris half listened to them, mainly happy that they were all at ease again and there were no more tears.

“Oh, were you two there when Aveline said something to Isabela about the dinner party? She was pretty hurt about her not coming and said she told her about it but I’m not sure I believe her. You know Ave,” Donnic asked them once it was clear the children were absorbed in their own discussion.

Varric snorted. “Oh man were we. Your wife can be ruthless, told Bela that if you two ever had kids together who asked what a slattern was, she’d just point at her and tell them ‘that’s a slattern.’ In the middle of Hightown.”

Donnic’s laugh was startled and boomed out of him.

“Yeah, that sounds like her,” he agreed.

“What’s a slattern?” Bree asked innocently, her head cocked to the side.

“Uh, nothing you need to worry about,” Varric said at the same time Donnic said “you’ll find out when you’re older.”

Both answers just made Bree pout but she dropped it anyway. Fenris hoped she didn’t ask Anders about the word later, as the mage had been persistent about them not cussing around the children. Evidently hearing Tanner call something “absolute blighted nugshit” had been a bit of a wake up call to how much they listened and repeated what the adults said.

After dinner, Varric had said his goodbyes and mentioned he would send Raelnor home with his own key once he got back to the Hanged Man. The boy had been enjoying his new job, especially since he got tips on top of his hourly wages. Donnic mentioned that he had to get home to clean before Aveline got back the next day. Before long it was just Fenris and the children. The elf was tidying up the clinic and trying to convince himself to leave for the night as well when Bree tugged on his shirt.

“Will you stay tonight, da?” she asked him. He wanted to dissuade her from calling him that but couldn’t bear to say anything when she was looking at him with wide earnest eyes. “Please?”

“Yes, fine, but you need to start getting ready for bed. It’s getting late.”

“Okay but you have to tuck me in!”

Bree grinned and scurried away to do as he said without waiting for an answer. Fenris sighed and surveyed the cots available to sleep on for the night. He supposed he should have guessed that he wouldn’t have the heart to return the mansion and leave them alone for the evening. He was just starting to put bedding on one when Raelnor came in and regarding him with a confused face.

“Just sleep in mum’s bed, it’s not like he’ll mind,” he had told Fenris, “those cots are tiny, you’ll never sleep on ‘em comfortably.”

“Da! I’m ready for bed, come tuck me in?” Bree interrupted. She tugged at his hand and Fenris followed her back to the children’s makeshift room, Raelnor’s chuckle following him as the teenager sat at their little table with his own dinner.

Rosalyn was sitting on the edge of the twins’ cot with a book open in her hands. She looked at him in surprise when he came in.

“Da’s tucking us in tonight,” Bree informed them and clambered into her own cot.

“Oh, did you want to read to us then?” Rosalyn offered, and held out the book. It looked well worn with it’s yellowing pages and cracked spine.

“Sorry, I can’t,” he told her.

“O-oh, right, sorry. We’re not your kids, um, everyone say goodnight and thank you,” she said even as her little voice wobbled with tears at being turned away. Fenris laid a hand on her skinny shoulder even as he refused to look at any of them.

“I wouldn’t mind reading to you, I just… can’t. I can’t read,” he admitted, something he had taken pains for even his friends to not know coming out easy when he knew it would comfort the girl. “I will stay and listen though, and I believe I did promise to tuck everyone in.”

He settled down in the rickety chair that was undoubtedly there for Anders to sit in and read to them nightly. Fenris wondered what he sounded like, reading to the children every night. With his expressive face and array of voices, Fenris imagined Anders was a good storyteller for children’s stories.

Rosalyn read a chapter to them from the book, something about a princess escaping a curse from what Fenris caught. The twins were asleep by the end of the first page, and when Rosalyn softly closed the book Fenris looked around and realized that all of the younger kids were out like lights. He tugged Bree’s blanket up to her chin, tucked Tanner’s more firmly around his feet and made sure the twins were not at risk of rolling out of their bed in the middle of the night while Rosalyn extinguished their lantern.

“I can teach you,” Rosalyn whispered to him as she got into her own bed, the book safely put away with a small collection of other books and toys shoved into the corner. “How to read, I mean. I used to teach the kids in the alienage, and some of their parents too. If you want, it’s okay if not, you may want someone else to teach you or-”

“Ros,” Fenris said to get her attention. He knelt beside her cot and brushed her hair back from her worried face. “That sounds very nice, thank you. I would love for you to teach me.”

If I am teachable, Fenris bit back. Rosalyn smiled at him and laid down. He settled her blanket around her shoulders and smoothed her hair back before standing and sliding out from behind the curtain.

Raelnor had put away the bedding he had set out on the cot and jerked his thumb at the door to Anders’ cupboard of a room. He didn’t go back to his cot with his siblings until Fenris had slipped into it and abandoned the thought of sleeping out on the cot.

“What happened ?” Anders asked as soon as he saw the new door the next day.

“Cahir saw a bird,” Bree told him sagely. Around her the other children nodded with serious expressions on their little faces and Anders could only sigh. At least the clinic was cleaner than it was when he left, he supposed.

(leave kudos and comments here please ♥)

[comradelup]

Julia would never describe death as enlightening. Quite the opposite, actually. Maybe… endarkening…. Point is, she never knew death until she died.

She opens her eyes on the shore of the astral sea. She feels bruised all over, and half her mind is still fast asleep. Groggy. That’s the word for it.

The sunless grey sky is above her, and the sound of lapping waves fill her ears. Sand surrounds her on the ground, and it’s almost comfortable, even if it may be getting in her hair. She doesn’t want to move, so she doesn’t.

A weird sense of familiarity washes over her as lazy as the waves. She’s been here before, right? Or perhaps she’s seen one too many friends and comrades die for death to be confusing and scary. Her most likely theory is that The Raven Queen does this to people to ease them into death after trauma.

She recalls the events before her death. Kalen returned with vengeance to blow up Raven’s Roost. She bets he was bitter about his loss and decided to erase any memory of his weakness. Well, he got his revenge. Julia tried to get as many people as she could out, but a whole building fell on her as a result. One of the two leaders of the revolution is dead. She’s only happy he didn’t get Magnus.

Magnus… she remembers him. A cheerful carpenter, a loving husband, a great crewmate.

Wait. What?

The memories trickle into her mind like a summer creek. The two of them in flowing red robes, standing somewhere up high. On the deck of some ship, but on land. Above land.

The Starblaster.

There were others too. Beautiful twin elves, a plain-looking human, a crunchy dwarf, a wallflower of a human, and a gnome captain. Their names hit her like arrows to the chest.

Taako. Lup. Barry. Merle. Lucretia. Davenport.

It comes back faster now. The flow quickens. The eight of them, on the Starblaster, on an endless mission. Images flash in her mind. Good times, bad times, laughter, love, screaming, crying. Life and death alike.

They were running from something, running to something else. But… what?

At least she knows why death is familiar. She’s died before. An explosion, an accidental poisoning, turning to a statue… death is an old friend in a way. She remembers her friends dying too. The four judges killing everyone but Lucretia. That time everyone but her, Lup, and Lucretia died so it was months of girls’ nights. One year the twins died and everyone else tried to cook like them but couldn’t, because who can cook like the twins?

These memories don’t quite feel like her own. She’s missing something. Lup and Barry trying to understand the chemical makeup of the Light of Creation. Merle dying so many times talking to John. Magnus died in the first cycle at the hands of The Hunger.

A weak groan escapes her and she closes her eyes. This is giving her a headache, trying to think through the static. Static… static…

Fischer! Her eyes snap open, arm frozen halfway to rubbing her temple. Death really is enlightening, the voidfish’s power doesn’t work on the dead. Somehow she forgot everything, or at least everything in Lucretia’s journals.

Oh, poor Lucretia. Now that it’s coming back to her, she remembers Lucretia bringing her and Magnus to Raven’s Roost, trying to hide her tears. She told them, this is where you’ve lived your whole lives, it’s not much, but it’s home. Julia retroactively corrects that no, the Starblaster is home, Lucretia is home, along with the rest of the crew. Lucretia must have erased their memories of their mission, but Julia can’t quite remember why. She can’t bring herself to be truly angry though; she loves Lucretia too much to be.

She starts to remember more recent details too. Lup… Lup went missing. She’s nowhere to be found, even with Barry and Taako’s rigorous searching. She went missing after the eight of them made the… the… the Grand Relics.

The dam breaks, and she knows everything— the Light of Creation, The Hunger, oh stars.

She lets her arm fall and stares up, letting all the sadness show on her face. The world might end, and no one else but a dead woman will know how to stop it. Not even, right? All she knows how to do is run away. This plane will be consumed and feasted upon until there’s nothing left, and she’ll be destroyed right with everyone el—

“Um, Julia?”

Julia cranes her head back towards the sound of the voice. Upside down, she sees a pair of fancy shoes and the hem of fancy slacks. They step closer and Julia looks up at the sky again as a face comes into view.

“You’re Julia Burnsides, right? Are you okay?” the man asks, and he’s handsome. Not the same rustic and warm handsomeness of Magnus, but a sharp, well dressed handsome. It isn’t her thing, but it’s hard to not admit that this guy is a looker. His long dreadlocks are pulled back in a half up half down style, and some of them fall over his shoulder as he looks down at her.

“I’m Julia,” she says, and her voice is raw. She coughs into her hand and he looks sympathetic. “Who’re you?”

“I’m Kravitz. Let me help you up.” He holds out a hand, and she takes it. It’s cold as shit but she doesn’t comment on it as he helps her stand.

Her body doesn’t like being vertical apparently. She now knows her bruises are the incorporeal equal of the injuries sustained from her death, and they make all movement painful. She wobbles a bit when on two feet and balances herself on Kravitz’s steady hand.

“Thanks,” she mutters through the pain, because her parents didn’t raise a rude girl.

“Of course,” Kravitz says, taking his hand back and using both hands to hold onto a sharp scythe taller than him. It’s actually about Julia’s height, as she stands a good few inches above him.

“There’s a bit of… an issue here,” he continues, “When a person dies, they either go into the astral sea or the eternal stockade. Or, in special cases, to the Raven Queen herself to discuss joining her retinue. You shouldn’t have ended up here.”

He’s saying a lot of words at once. Her head’s still swimming. She feels dizzy. Remembering a century all at once after a falling building killed you is… tough to handle all at once. And it's not the position she should be in when discussing… what was it? Death crimes? He mentioned a stockade, right?

“I… I should…” She brings a hand to her head and rubs the part of her temple that isn’t super bruised.

“You don’t look good, here.” Julia’s staring at the ground, blinking and trying not to sway, so she doesn’t see what he does. She hears fabric ripping, and he puts a cold hand on her shoulder.

“Step right through here,” he says, voice quiet. He seems tuned in to her headache and is accommodating, for which she's thankful.

She follows his direction, through a portal of sorts. One second she’s on a beach, the next she’s in a throne room, four stories tall. The floors and walls are black marble with an iridescent sheen to them. The far left wall is floor to ceiling windows, showing off the astral sea. It's beautiful, swirling rainbow waters with millions of lights floating above the surface. The sky is grey, but not like it’s covered by clouds, it’s naturally grey. Not a sun or cloud to be seen. In the window sills are ravens, hopping around or snoozing or watching her. All of them are silent in the presence of their queen.

The Raven Queen is hard to perceive. She is in the back of the room, on a large throne. Shadows cover that end of the room, so she can’t see the queen’s face. She does know she’s huge, though. Tens of feet tall, Julia guesses she’d be almost as tall as the throne room if she wasn’t sitting. She’s wearing an impeccable dark suit glittering with gold accents and jewelry. There are rings on her gloved fingers and bracelets on her wrists, and her hands sit on the arms of the throne. One leg is crossed over the other, letting a dark flowing cape pool at one foot.

In her presence, Kravitz kneels. Following, Julia does the same. He says, “My Queen, I found Julia Burnsides on the shore of the astral sea, disoriented and in pain. I don’t know what her soul’s fate is, so I come to you for guidance.”

Julia stays quiet, looking at the floor. She can kind of see her reflection, and sees that her face isn’t as beat up as it feels. In fact, it’s completely free of injury. She’s also wearing her IPRE robe. Huh.

After a moment of silence, The Raven Queen speaks. “Julia Burnsides, you have died twenty-two times, including your most recent death.”

Julia looks up to the queen and sees Kravitz staring at her bewildered out of the corner of her eye. She can’t see the queen’s expression, but her voice makes her sound accusatory. So Julia nods, unsure of what else to say.

“Yet… you have entered the Astral Plane every time. You also never escaped the plane. That is an anomaly.”

“I can explain, your majesty.” Julia remembers other Astral Planes too, with the occasional alternate death deities. At least in this plane, it’s The Raven Queen and not that other one, The King of Death and Insects. She hates bugs.

“Please do.” The queen waves a hand, and two armchairs appear, with a coffee table in front of them. Julia takes the silent invitation and moves to sit down in one. Two mugs of tea appear and she takes one. What's most strange is Kravitz seems more confused than her as he does the same. Julia must be a real edge case.

She takes a sip of tea and feels the warmth travel down her throat into her stomach, then spread to her whole body. It seeps away the pain and clears her head, making her sigh in relief and relax into her seat.

“Now,” The Raven Queen says, “explain your deaths.” She holds up a palm in her direction and pushes it towards her. Julia feels a breeze blow past her as a Zone of Truth appears around her. Admittedly, she’s developed a familiarity with it thanks to Merle, but she lets the spell affect her this time. She has no reason to lie to a queen.

“I… I don’t know where to start,” Julia says. If only she had Lucretia’s journals and could read them to the queen. “Do you know about the multiverse theory?”

She goes on to explain everything from the beginning. Where she's really from, the Light of Creation landing on her home plane, and the original mission of the IPRE. The Hunger and how it interrupted this mission, the cycles that brought her and her family from the dead. She even explains that this is the first death where she wasn’t put into the astral sea. (Except for that one time she and Barry ended up in that plane’s stockade, though. It was only an experiment gone wrong, after all, so why include it?)

All of this is new information for The Raven Queen and Kravitz, but it feels new to Julia too. For some of the details she says them without thinking and then reflects on them. Taako made a fake Light of Creation? Oh right, he did!

After she’s done explaining, she sits back, taking a big sip of her tea. Her cup never seems to empty and for that, she’s glad, because every sip brings back that warm feeling in this cold, dead plane.

Kravitz looks bewildered and intrigued by the story, but also says nothing. The Raven Queen is quietly contemplative for a moment, then says, “Those relics are causing a lot of death. You created them?”

Julia flushes. “Yes, your majesty, but we didn’t mean to cause wars. The Light of Creation needs to be needed, so we tried to make intriguing objects. They ended up using the people wielding them instead of the other way around.” She looks down into her lap, staring at the tea swirling in the mug. Voice low, she adds, “We would never do that to so many innocent people.”

She can tell she brought down the mood of the room, evidenced by Kravitz’s kind of awkward look as he clearly doesn’t know how to make her feel better. She can’t bring herself to care though. Maybe ignorance really is blissful, she was happiest she’s been in decades when all she knew was Raven’s Roost.

“Things like this are rarely intentional,” The Raven Queen says, her tone somber. “These objects, they are an affront to the nature of life and death. They are an insult to my domain.”

“You’re really good at cheering people up, you know that?” Julia deadpans, apathetically staring at her drink. Kravitz stares at her with wide eyes.

“I am saying this to ask: can you stop these objects from killing people?” The Raven Queen asks.

“I… imagine that we could. We’ve handled the Light so much that we are more or less immune to it’s craveability.”

“I’m sorry, ‘craveability?’” Kravtiz interjects. Julia nods, sipping her tea.

“So your living crewmates could put an end to these wars?” The Raven Queen asks.

“They’re the only ones who can,” Julia says.

The Raven Queen is silent for another moment. Then, “Until all Grand Relics are collected and disposed of, your family’s bounties will be called off.”

Julia sighs, relieved, and sags into her seat. Then sits back up. “But what will happen to me?”

“You cannot influence the Prime Material Plane anymore. You have the option of joining the astral sea, or lessening your family’s sentence by serving time yourself.”

“But their deaths are like mine. They didn’t escape the Astral Planes willingly and you technically can’t punish them.”

Kravitz looks at her like she’s walking into a volcano and expecting to live. She gets it, she knows she’s talking back to a goddess, but she doesn’t care.

“Lup Hallwinter and Sildar Hallwinter are liches, and they will be punished accordingly.”

“Just call them— ugh—” Julia huffs a sigh and sags into her chair in frustration. She puts her cup down and says, “They did it ethically, for the greater good. Lup and Barry were able to do so much good without death to stop them!”

“There is a reason death stops them. Everyone thinks they have a good reason to cross me.”

“You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for them!” Julia shouts, standing. Kravitz stands too, scythe at the ready. Julia pays him no mind, pointing a finger at the queen. “You OWE them!”

The air is still. Kravitz is ready to strike at the queen’s order. Julia doesn’t give a shit. Goddess or not, she can’t act like she knows Barry and Lup enough to just declare their fates. Other liches? Yeah, they’re almost always corrupt and selfish, but what Lup and Barry did is selfless if anything.

“There is no point in arguing. Make your choice.”

Julia raises her chin defiantly. The same look she’s given corrupt warlords and wealthy industrialists, the look she’d give John if she met him rather than Merle. The queen is unmoving and Julia knows her effort is futile, at least now. She crosses her arms. “I’ll serve their sentence.”

“It’s decided then. Julia Burnsides, you will begin training as a Reaper, serving the sentences of Lup and Sildar Hallwinter. Reaper Kravitz, you will train her."

[aurorafreerose]

Don’t Be Late- Kacchako

Summary- Bakugo writes Uraraka a letter. She gets herself into more than what she can handle. 

Headcanons- Bakugou’s sweat (nitroglycerin) smells like caramel + he calls her angel face (manga canon) instead of round face. 

Writer’s note- I wrote this chapter listening to Borderline (single ver.) by Tame Impala, We Got Love by Teyana Taylor, and Flashing Lights by Kanye West, and encourage you to do the same!

Words: 2014

Read on Ao3!

"To: Angel Face,"   Ochaco started to read out loud.

Wait a minute.

"'Angel Face' ?!" sputtered Uraraka in utter bewilderment.

"Doesn't Bakugo-kun call you that, kero?" asked Tsuyu, her straight black hair tucked into a messy ponytail. "Yes, but I didn't expect him to address me like that in my note... and he made it so obvious, too..." Uraraka trailed off.  

Today's assignment in class had been to write each other anonymous notes critiquing their battle abilities, with the intent of gathering constructive criticism from their peers for the next week's training sessions in USJ. It forced them all to analyze their classmates' strengths and weakness, and more importantly, gave them rudimentary, short-term goals to focus on. They were supposed to be anonymous, because- how did Aizawa-sensei put it- "I don't want you spending your time worrying about the implications of your classmates' notes. You'll be assigned a random pair, because I don't trust you to pick. The point of this exercise is to gather feedback, not a free-for-all in which you trade personal opinions with each other. That's why you aren't going to put your names on there, and don't even think about writing something unrelated. I assure you that if anyone does- he'd narrowed his eyes at them- they'll have to deal with me personally."

Ochaco shuddered as she recalled Aizawa-sensei's frightening aura emanating the room earlier that day.

"And don't even think about writing something rude or thoughtless- I'm looking at you, Bakugo and Kirishima-" she remembered Bakugo had replied with a dismissive "Tch" and reclined his head back as if he didn't have a care in the world. He'd kicked his legs up on the seat in front of him- which coincidentally, belonged to a highly affronted Iida, which had made Aizawa-sensei so irritated that he gave Bakugo his signature death stare for thirty seconds before Bakugo finally gave up on their standoff and sat down like a normal person. A small smile graced her lips as she sat remembering the day's events.  

She realized that Bakugo was probably the only person who was confident enough - or maybe careless - to pay no heed to their teacher's warning. But why would he go through the trouble of risking house arrest just to address her-

"Keep reading, Uraraka!" prompted Mina, leaning her head forward.

"Oh- right! Sorry, girls!" Uraraka replied bashfully, unconsciously raising her four fingers to her neck as she realized she'd momentarily gotten lost in her thoughts. The chattery group were all seated in the common area, with Tsuyu on her left, Hagakure and Momo on the couch directly opposite theirs, Jirou in an armchair diagonal from her right, and Mina resting (somewhat) beside her. They'd decided to debrief the notes with each other, because really, who wouldn't want to find out who said what to who? She resumed reading the note, being careful to keep her pinkies in the air.

"Your quirk is strong."

"Ehhh? Bakugo-kun complimented you?" remarked Mina in awe. She had flopped backwards onto the couch, her head now upside-down and parallel to Ochaco's. "He almost never compliments anyone, except for maybe All Might... but I don't really know if that counts..." She lifted her arms absentmindedly and outstretched her palms, wiggling each of her fingers.

"He might have felt obligated to, since it was an official assignment and all," Momo suggested thoughtfully, nestling her head in between her thumb and her index finger.

"Well, he never complimented me, he just criticized me! You all just heard it for yourselves!" Jiro chimed in angrily, brandishing her letter around, which she'd read right before Ochaco's. "And he wasn't nice about it either, but I guess that's typical of him," she admitted.

"Go on, Uraraka-chan!" Hagakure leaned forward- you could tell because her pajama shirt shifted directions- and Ochaco assumed she had an encouraging expression on her face, although you could never be sure with her.

"In order to make the best use of it, you should continue to focus on learning martial arts."

"What does he mean by that?" Ochaco looked upward, her face set in a thoughtful expression as she let her thoughts roll off of the tip of her tongue.

"It means... you should continue to focus on learning martial arts?" Mina's head was now resting on the floor as she continued her descent down the couch, her still upside-down body making its way as her lopsided thighs, each going in a different direction, took the place of where her head had previously been next to Ochaco's head.

"I think Bakugo-kun means you should improve your fighting form. He was probably thinking about the sports festival," suggested Tsuyu, bringing her lips down to the milkshake resting comfortably in between her hands. Everyone seemed to approve of this interpretation, and they all went silent in anticipation of Uraraka's next words.

"However, there are times when you have to appear relaxed, even if it's just an act."

"That's it?" asked Momo curiously. "I thought he would have had more to say, even if they were supposed to be short."

"Yao-momo, why would he have made it longer?" said Ochaco.

"I don't know, but he went through an awful lot of trouble just to make sure you knew it was him who had written," Momo remarked.

"All right, we've spent way too much time on this note! My turn!" exclaimed Mina excitedly, who was now lying on the floor smiling and pulling out her own set of yellow paper. "See what this one says... I think it might have been Mineta, because look, it's kind of pervy, see..."

"Ahhhh..."

As the girls gathered around Mina, Ochaco wasn't really paying attention to whatever weird note they were hotly discussing. Bakugo's note was still on her mind.

There was no reason for him to reveal himself to her, but he did it anyways. Why would he do that? He didn't gain anything from it. Maybe he was bored, and decided to trip her up?

And telling her to improve her martial arts skills? That was way too vague! What was she supposed to think of that? Was he just trying to rub her loss in even more?

No, he wasn't that kind of person. As scarily competitive as he was, Bakugo was never cruel to her.

Did he want a rematch? Maybe that is what he wants. It was almost too perfect. They were training next week, and tomorrow was their free day, so if that's what he wants, it's what he'll get. I'll ask him. Even after their match at the sports festival, she wanted to improve so badly. And of course, the best person to ask was the person who gave her the advice in the first place, right?

The next time I see him, I'll ask him, she decided.

About ten minutes later, speak of the devil!  Bakugo walked into the common area, wearing a black tank top that (Ochaco hated to admit it, but it was true) accentuated his already well-defined muscles nicely and blue athletic pants, a towel wrapped around his neck. Fresh from the gym his fluffy blonde hair, unruly as it always was, poked out in a multitude of different directions.

His expression was blank. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. He stared straight ahead at the floor, not bothering to glance her way. Her heart almost felt like it was sinking, but then she remembered what she was supposed to be doing. She lifted herself off of the couch, gave a quick "I'll be back" to the girls, who were still avidly discussing whether or not Mineta wrote the note, and began walking Bakugo's way.

When he saw her coming, he paused the return journey to his room and sent a slight nod of acknowledgement her way. She stopped walking when she was directly in front of him. She didn't remember him being this tall, but he'd grown over time to the point where he ended up dwarfing her tinier-by-comparison frame, making her seem miniscule. She caught a whiff of burnt caramel emanating from him, but quickly forgot about it as his red eyes narrowed at her.

"What do you want, Angel Face?"

He sounded impatient. She noticed his voice seemed softer compared to his usual growl, but it was clear he wasn't paying her much attention.

"I was thinking about the sports festival-"

"And?" He cut her off with no regard to what she was saying, overly eager to finish their conversation. It was obvious how much he wanted to head upstairs, even though it was only 8:00.

Ochaco rolled her eyes in annoyance. Could he please, at least give her the luxury of finishing her sentences?

Creasing her brow, she asked, "Do you want to spar together tomorrow? It's a free day, after all."

He raised his eyebrows at her, finally showing some engagement with what she was asking him.

Crossing his arms, he asked, "What's in it for me?"

"Huh?"

"What do I get out of it? I'm not wasting my free time fucking you up for no good reason."

Ochaco couldn't stop the words that were coming out of her mouth.

"Practice. Experience. Well, I wanted to continue focusing on learning martial arts, and anyways, I'm curious to see how our quirks interact more." She hated herself for referencing his note, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

Bakugo made direct eye contact with her. It was as if a silent agreement had been made between them as his red pupils locked on target to a pair of brown ones. The intensity behind his eyes flickered, almost scaring her with his ferocity; it was off-putting, the way he radiated sheer dominance, utter power, in all aspects, and it was reaching at her, occupying all of her thoughts. It had only been a few seconds, but he'd still managed to effect her so dramatically in such a short span of time.

What was he doing to her?

"...Fine," he spat, now irritated. He really did hate being held to his word. "But let's make this clear. We're not fuckin' hanging out or whatever the fuck you and shitty Deku do, he snarled, placing a disgusted emphasis on his name. "We're just practicing."

Bakugo clearly wasn't expecting her to take his advice this particular way.

"Right. Just practicing. Got it."

Ochaco didn't understand this new, burgeoning feeling that was beginning to spread throughout her chest. It began to permeate her lungs, her breathing becoming sharp and more ragged; she was taking in much more air than she was before. For some strange reason, her heart was beating faster than it was a minute ago, and adrenaline was pumping through her veins, making her awfully tense...

Why was Bakugo Katsuki making her nervous?

"Just meet me right here at 10:45, sharp. Don't be late, cheeks."

Before she had time to respond, he was turning on his heel and walking away, leaving her free to return to her still-gossiping friends.

It was just nerves, she reassured herself on the way back. Anyone would be nervous talking to Bakugo. Anyone. He was notorious for evoking similar reactions. You couldn't blame her for her reaction. Just nerves, she repeated, ignoring the small handful of doubts in the back of her head.

Uraraka couldn't sleep. Her arms splayed across both bedsides, her heavy-lidded eyes were glassily staring at the ceiling as she busied herself with counting sheep. Slowly but surely, the sheep's coats began to get increasingly blonder and fluffier, until she was counting a horde of angry little Baku-sheep.

"Pffft!"

She didn't recall it at first, but now that she thought about the last time she saw him, she swore she remembered the tiniest blush on Bakugo's face right before he turned away.

Bakugo Katsuki, the angriest, loudest, most volatile person she knew? But why?

She realized what Bakugo was probably thinking to himself as he was writing her that note.

"However, there are times when you have to appear tough, even if it's just an act."

[pinktintedmonocle]

How Not To Kiss Your Lister In A Crisis - A Red Dwarf Fic

When Lister and Rimmer find themselves locked in a cell on-board a simulant death ship, Lister’s claustrophobia kicks in.  Rimmer attempts to distract him with a kiss.  Lister has some notes.

“I demand you unhand us right now, miladdo!” Rimmer screeched as the simulant dragged him and Lister down the corridor.  Their captor simply leered evilly at the hologram and continued to pull at the chains attached to the painfully tight handcuffs clamped around Rimmer and Lister’s wrists.

“We are employees of the Jupiter Mining Corporation, you can’t treat us like this!  If you don’t let us go I’ll send a strongly worded letter to your superior officer reporting you for gross misconduct!”

Lister rolled his eyes and then winced as the simulant gave another tug on the chain, causing him to stumble forward.  “Give it a rest, Rimmer, there’s no reasoning with it.  I doubt it even speaks English.”

“Perhaps it speaks Esperanto”, said Rimmer.  The hologram cleared his throat and spoke loudly and slowly.  “Vi odoras kiel krokodilo.”  He turned his head to address Lister.  “There. I’ve just politely asked him to release us from these shackles.”

Lister groaned.  “No, Rimmer.  You just told him he smells like a crocodile.  Anyway, I’m pretty sure it doesn’t speak English or Esperanto or any other language known to man.  Look, just be quiet for a minute will you?  I’m trying to think of a plan to get us out of here.”

Before Rimmer could reply the simulant came to an abrupt stop.  It spun a wheel handle on a heavy looking door and shoved Lister and Rimmer inside, chucking the chains in after them.  It then sealed the door behind them and thudded off back down the corridor.

Rimmer glared at Lister. “How’s that escape plan coming along, Listy?”

Lister pulled a face. “I’m working on it, man.  I’m working on it!”

Rimmer’s eyes flicked upwards.  “Any chance you could hurry up a bit?  I believe we got a deadline.”

It was then that Lister noticed the countdown clocks mounted near the ceiling on all four walls of the cell. A large red digital display had already started counting backwards from 05.00. As Lister watched, the display flashed 04.56.  Then 04.55. Then 04.54.

Lister gulped. “What’s it counting down to, do you reckon?”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s something just lovely!” Rimmer replied, his voice strained.  “Maybe they’re going to treat us to a full roast dinner with all the trimmings and crumble for desert.  Or perhaps this room is a sauna and soon it’ll be filled with steam and afterwards we’ll have a Swedish massage.  Or possibly we’ll be blasted with some kind of radiation that’ll give us superpowers and bigger penises!  Or maybe, just maybe, and bear with me on this one as I know it’s a bit of a stretch, just maybe they are going to SMEGGING KILL US!”.  Rimmer screamed the last three words before throwing himself against the door.  “Let us out! I’m sorry I said you smell like a crocodile!  I didn’t mean it, you smell lovely!  Like freshly starched boxer shorts and camphor wood and well-worn leather!  All of the best smells!”

“It’s not there, Rimmer!” said Lister, exasperated.  He tried to place a reassuring hand on Rimmer’s shoulder but both his hands were bound in front of him in the heavy chains and he could barely raise them. “Look, just try and calm down OK? We’ll figure something out, just like we always do.”

“But what if we don’t?” wailed Rimmer.  “What if there’s no way out?”

“There has to be” Lister reassured him.  “There always is.”

But as Lister tried to assess their surroundings and come up with an escape plan, the words ‘no way out’ echoed in his mind and he felt his chest start to tighten.  Around him in the small cell the walls seemed to constrict and Lister’s breath started to quicken.

“What is it?” Rimmer barked. “What’s the matter with you?”

Lister closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.  “The walls – the walls are closing in…”

“Are they?” yelled Rimmer.

Lister heard him shuffling rapidly around as if he was trying to see all four walls at once.

“Not literally, you goit!” Lister managed to say between breaths.  “It’s my claustrophobia!”

“Oh!” said Rimmer, sounding somewhat relived.  

Lister opened his eyes and scowled at Rimmer.  “It’s alright for you, you’re not the one in the middle of a full blown panic attack!” he puffed.

Rimmer looked slightly guilty.  “Well, is there anything I can do?”

“Distract me”, Lister panted.

“How?”

“I don’t know, just do the first thing that comes to mind!”

Rimmer tried to wring his hands, although it was made somewhat difficult by the cuffs.  “Nothing’s coming to mind!”

“Just do anything!” Lister heaved, feeling as if he was about to pass out. “Anything at all!”

Lister didn’t know what he had been expecting.  Maybe he had expected Rimmer to slap him, or start recalling a particularly exciting game of Risk he had played or to whip out a portable slide projector and start showing Lister several hundred photographs from his latest holiday in the diesel decks.  But the one thing Lister did not think would happen is that Rimmer would kiss him, which is why it came as such a surprise when Rimmer did exactly that.

**********************************************************************************

It had been a strange day, even by Lister’s standards.  The crew of Red Dwarf had thought their luck was in when they’d detected the derelict luxury cruise ship, and as they had got into Starbug and made their way over Lister had imagined all of the treasures they might find.  Perhaps they would have Michelin star worthy vindaloo’s, perfectly preserved for millions of years, or new games for the AR suite or even a guitar with more than five strings.

The others were equally excited to find out what goodies awaited so all four of them had boarded the ship.  They’d taken the usual precautions, with Lister, Cat and Rimmer all armed with bazookoids while Kryten scanned for life forms.  The ship was huge, but thankfully someone had drawn helpful red arrows on the floor which the boys from the Dwarf followed without question.  It wasn’t until Kryten had casually mentioned that a mechanoid who had been programmed to be a little more suspicious might think that the arrows were leading them into a trap that Lister had realised they were in deep smeg.  But before they could turn back something had bonked Lister on the head and he’d blacked out. He had come to sometime later to find the burly simulant guard handcuffing him and Rimmer before dragging them down a corridor.

And then had come the room with the countdown clocks and the claustrophobia and then, then, Rimmer had kissed him. Or at least tried to kiss him. The hologram’s lips were pursed and glued painfully tightly to Lister’s mouth without moving, so in fact it felt less like a kiss and more like an octopus had wrapped a tentacle around Lister’s head and was attempting to suffocate him with its suckers.

After several seconds Rimmer pulled back.  He cleared his throat loudly and then fixed his gaze upwards as if fascinated by a particular spot on the ceiling.

“There”, Rimmer said brusquely.  “Are you sufficiently distracted?”

Lister just gaped at Rimmer, his jaw open so wide that Lister half expected his chin to hit the floor like in the old cartoons he and the Cat liked to watch. After a few moments he regained the power of speech.

“That”, said Lister, “Was the worse smegging kiss I have ever had.”

Rimmer ceased his inspection of the ceiling and looked down at Lister in alarm. “Excuse me?”

“It was smegging awful, Rimmer!”  Lister exclaimed.  “It felt as if you were trying to render me unconscious using only your lips.”

“I was just trying to distract you!” Rimmer snapped back.  “I just did the first thing that came to mind, which is what you asked me to do!”

Lister cocked his head to one side.  “And the first thing that came into your mind was to kiss me, was it?”

“Well, I-I had – I mean – look, my options are somewhat limited in this small space, okay?” Rimmer stuttered.  “I could hardly have performed a Morris dance in here.  There isn’t enough room to get my knees up properly and I don’t have any bells or ribbons on me.”

Lister shrugged.  “Yeah, but you could have at least tried to make it a good snog, man.”

Rimmer looked perplexed.  “Why?”

“Why not?” asked Lister.  “I mean, why kiss someone badly when you could do it well?  Unless, of course, you don’t know how to kiss properly…”

“I know how to kiss, Listy!” Rimmer protested indignantly.  “I’ll have you know that I’m an excellent kisser when I want to be!”

“Oh yeah?” taunted Lister.

“Yes!” Rimmer shouted back.

“Prove it then!” Lister yelled.

“I will!” Rimmer screamed, before lunging forwards and once more covering Lister’s lips with his own.

This time it was different.  Rimmer’s lips moved against Lister’s, softly at first before becoming more insistent. Lister opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and his tongue met Rimmer’s, sending a shiver of excitement down Lister’s spine.  It was a little strange, kissing a hologram, but not unpleasant.  Lister’s tongue tingled pleasingly from the low level hum of electricity that ran through Rimmer’s body.  He was just thinking how he would like to tangle his fingers in Rimmer’s hair had his hands not been in chains when Rimmer used his body to push Lister back against the wall.  Rimmer’s bound hands found Lister’s and they stayed like that for a few moments, pressed up against each other while kissing and holding hands.

Eventually, Rimmer pulled back.  “Well?” he asked expectantly.  “Was that good enough for you?”

“I mean, it was better than before”, said Lister.  “But there is still some room for improvement.”

“Room for improvement?” Rimmer repeated, mimicking Lister’s accent. “That was a damn good kiss and you know it!”

“It was alright”, said Lister.  “But you could definitely work on making the experience a bit more pleasurable.”

“How?” Rimmer demanded.  “How would I improve my kissing, in your opinion?”

Lister opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say a word a loud beeping noise filled the room.

“What’s that?!” Rimmer shouted, his hands clasping Lister’s again although this time in panic rather than passion.

Lister looked up at the countdown clocks and swallowed nervously.  “I think we’ve reached our last minute.”

“Marvellous!” replied Rimmer sarcastically.  “And do you have a plan for how we’re going to get out of here yet?”

“Er, no”, Lister admitted.  “To be honest, I was a bit distracted by your decision to shove your tongue down my throat.”

“You asked me to distract you!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realise you were going to do it with your lips!”

They glowered at each other for a second before Rimmer’s shoulders slumped and his face crumpled.  “So that’s it then.  We’re destined to meet our maker in some particularly nasty manner on a simulant death ship where the crew don’t even speak Esperanto.”

“Not necessarily!” protested Lister.  “Kryten and Cat might have escaped and be on their way to break us out of here!”

Rimmer laughed humourlessly.  “What, a last minute rescue from crash test dummy head and that feline imbecile? We’ve got more chance of spontaneously turning into a sperm whale and a bowl of petunias.”

Lister shook his head in frustration.  “Hey, don’t be so negative man, you never know!”

There was another loud beep.

“Last twenty seconds”, Lister said quietly.  He looked at Rimmer.  “You know, if you wanted to practice kissing again I would be, like, willing to help.”

Rimmer stared at Lister in disbelief.  “What, now?”

Lister arched an eyebrow.  “Do you have anything better to do?  I mean, do you really want to die for the second time knowing that you still weren’t a very good kisser?”

Rimmer scowled, and Lister was just thinking that he’d misjudged the situation and Rimmer was actually going to hit him when the hologram’s lips met his for the third time.  

It was Lister who pushed Rimmer against the wall this time, trying to cram as much sensation as possible into what would more than likely be his final few moments of life.  As the countdown clocks hit the last five seconds the kiss intensified, becoming wilder and more desperate.

Oh well, thought Lister as the timer hit zero and Rimmer did something with his tongue that made Lister feel weak at the knees.  I suppose there are worse ways to go.

[rimmers-swimming-certificate]

Red Dwarf fanfic - Comatose (15/19)

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | part 14

As Holly had promised, Lister found Rimmer in the Science Room. He was standing with his back to the door, staring intently into one of the scanners. Lister folded his arms and waited for Rimmer to notice him and turn around.

When he didn’t, Lister cleared his throat to tell Rimmer that he was there. Rimmer leaned a little further into the scanner, as though he had seen something fascinating in there. He showed no sign of turning around.

“Rimmer,” Lister said, eventually. “You okay?”

Rimmer still didn’t move. “Listy,” he said, still staring into the scanner. “Didn’t notice you there.”

That was a lie, Lister was almost certain of that. It didn’t matter. He walked quietly across the room and sat down in the chair right next to the scanner that Rimmer was using. “So, you okay?” he asked again.

“Fine, thank you. Tickety-boo.”

That told him everything he needed to know. “Rimmer, if you’re going to lie, at least make it believable,” he told him.

Even with half his face buried in the scanner, Lister could see Rimmer frown. “What are you talking about?”

“Tickety-boo,” Lister told him. “I know that’s what you say when you’re not okay.”

“Right,” Rimmer said scornfully. “So you’ve got me all figured out, have you? You think I just say the opposite of what I mean. So what would you have assumed if I’d told you I wasn’t okay? That everything was just hunky dory, I suppose?”

Lister rolled his eyes. “No. I didn’t mean that. What I meant is, you say stupid things like ‘tickety-boo’ and ‘hunky dory’. Like you think using made up words makes you more believable or something.”

Rimmer shook his head dismissively. “They’re not ‘made up words’, Lister. Well, no more than any other word is, anyway. And I am fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Lister shrugged. “I dunno, call me crazy if you like, but there was just something about the way you charged out of our quarters as soon as Kryten said I could go back to my body that made me think that maybe you weren’t feeling a hundred percent.”

Rimmer, frustratingly, continued to stare into the scanner. “Well I am,” he said. “A hundred and ten percent, actually. No… a hundred and fifteen. Now if you’ll excuse me, Lister, I’m very busy and you’re interrupting me.”

“Right,” said Lister, playing along. “So, what is it you’re busy doing, anyway?”

“I’m recalibrating the scanner,” Rimmer told him. “Remember I asked you to do it and you didn’t? I have to do everything myself around here.”

“Oh yeah,” Lister said. “You mean the time you suggested it, but then you told me not to do it because I’d need the skutters, and they didn’t respect me enough to do what I said.” He glanced around the room. “So, where are the skutters, by the way?”

The tension in Rimmer’s stance increased noticeably. “They’ll be along shortly. I’m just doing some pre-checks first,” he said.

Lister nodded as though that was plausible. “Right, yeah. Makes sense,” he told him. “But why are you doing this now? How come you chose this particular moment to recalibrate the scanner?”

“Why not now?” Rimmer countered. Lister could hear irritation in his voice now, as the lie began to fall apart. “Is there something wrong with this particular moment? Is there something else I should be doing?”

“No, but…” Lister sighed. “Rimmer, come on. Can you take your head out of that thing for a minute and look at me; talk to me?”

For a moment, he thought Rimmer was going to refuse. Then, slowly, Rimmer moved back from the scanner and turned to face him. “Fine,” he spat. “You know, I can talk to you perfectly well while I’m working. Why are you even here, anyway? Shouldn’t you be down in the medi-bay getting transferred back into your body?” There was an edge to his voice, a tone that would have told Lister, if he hadn’t already known, exactly what was bothering Rimmer.

Lister shrugged. “I will. There’s no rush. Kryten’s got to sort some stuff first anyway. That’s what’s bothering you though, isn’t it? You’re upset about that. What is it, you jealous?”

“Oh please.”

“So you’re saying you’re not jealous?”

Rimmer gave him a contemptuous look. “Of course I’m jealous,” he said. “Was there ever any doubt in your mind that I’d be jealous? You know it’s everything I ever wanted.” He looked away, down at his feet, and folded his arms. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah,” Lister said, “I can tell.”

“I suppose you think I’m lying about that too? Maybe you’re right, I’m not being very believable, am I? Maybe I should be dancing a jig when I say it.”

“No.” Lister shook his head. “I know you’re not lying. You’re unhappy for you though, right?”

“I’m fine,” Rimmer insisted. “Anyway, you should be going. You don’t want to keep doctor Bog-Bot waiting.”

Lister shrugged. “In a bit. I wanted to talk to you first.”

“And now you have.”

True. That wasn’t what he had meant though. “Yeah, I know. But I’m not done yet. And I was kinda hoping you might talk to me, too.”

Rimmer folded his arms. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said.

Lister sighed. He folded his arms and glanced at his feet. “I want to say I’m sorry,” he told him.

Rimmer frowned. “You did this already, remember? We’d been drinking, you apologised for being such a smeghead when Holly first switched me on, I accepted…”

“You provisionally accepted. And I never said I was a smeghead.”

Rimmer shrugged, “No, I know. I said it.”

Lister smiled. He supposed that was fair. “Okay, fine. That’s not what I’m apologising for this time, anyway. You know, when I first woke up after the attack and you told me I was a hologram, my first thought was how you’d be looking forward to seeing me struggle with everything. I never thought you were serious about helping.” Okay, it hadn’t really been his first thought, but it had definitely been his second or third.

“Oh.” Rimmer looked away, embarrassed. “Actually, I was looking forward to that,” he said. “A bit. I mean I genuinely did intend to help too, but you can’t blame me for wanting to see you suffer a bit first.”

Lister supposed that should bother him. Actually, it made him feel a bit better, like the universe made sense again. He smirked. “I guess I can’t. I should have trusted my instincts.”

“Yes, well, it turned out to be less fun than I’d imagined,” Rimmer added. He unfolded his arms, folded them again, and shuffled his feet nervously. “In fact, it was downright uncomfortable. Seeing you going through that, it brought everything back; all the things I couldn’t do anymore; everything I’d lost. Just when I was finally starting to think I’d come to terms with it.”

There was something almost accusatory in his tone, as though Lister had done it on purpose. At the same time, Lister thought that he sounded very sad. A sense of loss appeared to permeate his words, one that felt completely raw and new. Lister resisted the urge to reach out and touch Rimmer, to comfort him, he didn’t think it would help. Instead, he folded his arms even more tightly, and remained quiet, giving him the space to continue.

Rimmer hesitated, for a moment he looked at Lister as though he had expected some kind of interruption; as though he had planned for it and when it didn’t come, he didn’t know what to do. He floundered for a few seconds, then his expression hardened and he glared at Lister. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself hit in the head like that anyway? Couldn’t you have just been more alert, checked behind you once in a while? Why couldn’t you have had faster reflexes?”

Lister shrugged helplessly. There was no good answer to that.

On a roll now, Rimmer continued. “And I’m not too happy with Kryten either. This whole thing was mostly his idea, you know. I mean, sure Cat accidentally put the thought in his head but Kryten’s the one who actually suggested it. The stupid metal goit.”

That didn’t seem exactly fair.

“I was perfectly happy before all this happened, and now look at me! I’m sulking in the science room pretending to repair the scanner.”

Well, at least he admitted he wasn’t really fixing the scanner. Lister shook his head, “Rimmer, you weren’t perfectly happy before. I don’t think you’ve ever been perfectly happy. Remember when you screwed up Better Than Life for all of us because your brain just couldn’t handle you being happy?”

Rimmer’s nostrils flared with irritation. “Fine. Maybe I wasn’t happy, but I wasn’t miserable either. I was okay. I was getting on with it. I was used to it. Then you came along being all touchy-feely, and…”

“Er… Touchy-feely?” Lister said.

“Yes. All touchy-feely, and now you’re going to go back to your body and I’m going to be left trapped as a hologram again.”

Lister sighed. “Yeah, I get it,” he said. What was worse was, he agreed. He had screwed up here. “You’re not going to be any worse off than you were before, though,” he said.

“I know. I know that. It just feels worse now. I’d forgotten what it was like to feel like a person.”

Lister folded his arms even tighter in an effort to stop himself from grabbing hold of Rimmer, whether it was to hug him or to shake some sense into him, Lister wasn’t sure. Either way, he didn’t think it would be appreciated right now.

“You are a person, Rimmer,” he said. “You’ve always been a person to me.” He shrugged. “I mean, a really annoying person, but still, a person.”

Rimmer glared at him, but his expression quickly softened. “You mean that, don’t you?” he said.

“That you’re annoying?” Lister grinned and placed a hand on his heart. “Yes, I absolutely do.”

Rimmer shook his head in apparent irritation, but Lister could just about make out a hint of a smile, and he knew that while things were far from okay, they were at least better than they had been.

Lister sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Again? What for this time?”

“Everything. This whole crappy situation. You’re right, it is my fault, and I wish there was something I could do to make it b…” he stopped.

He couldn’t. Could he?

Rimmer looked at him. “What?”

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” Lister said, “but what about, after I transfer back, when I’m all healed up and everything, we could… I mean you’d have to make some promises, and you’d have to mean them, but you could do that, right? Maybe? I mean, it’d be worth it, wouldn’t it?” He shrugged, “I dunno, what do you think?”

Rimmer was still looking at him, an expression of pure bafflement on his face. “Lister, I don’t know if you noticed, but you didn’t actually say anything there. What are you drivelling about?”

Hadn’t he? He was sure he had. “Swapping bodies,” he clarified. “On a very very temporary basis. I’m talking like a day or two at the most, at first anyway. ‘Til we see if you can handle it without going insane this time. Then maybe we can talk about doing it for longer. No keep fit regime or anything like that, just you know, relax. Enjoy yourself.”

Rimmer briefly closed his eyes.

“Rimmer?”

Rimmer shook his head. “Not a good idea.”

Yeah, he was probably right. Just the thought of letting Rimmer loose in his body was terrifying. It evoked memories of the frustration of watching him gorge himself on every food available with Lister powerless to do anything but beg him to stop, and that terror of waking up to find that Rimmer had stolen his body again as he had slept. Worse still, had been the horror of the crash, and the certainty that Rimmer had killed himself, and Lister’s body along with him.

“See!” Rimmer said triumphantly. Lister pulled himself out of the bad memories to find Rimmer pointing at him animatedly with a victorious look on his face. “You don’t want to do it; you’re relieved I said no. It’s written all over your face!”

Lister shrugged. “Of course I don’t want to,” he said. “The last time we did it you nearly killed me, and then you thought it’d be funny to pretend I lost my arm in the crash. I had nightmares about that for… I still have nightmares about it, Rimmer.”

Rimmer nodded slowly. “Then what are you offering for, you idiot? What would you have done if I’d said yes?”

“I was hoping you would,” Lister told him. “I mean, I kind of owe you. You’ve made this whole thing tolerable, Rimmer. And you’re right, now I’m just going to swan off back to my body, and it’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Listy,” Rimmer told him. “That’s still as true today as it was when I learned it at three years old, now kindly smeg off before I change my mind and hold you to that offer.”

“Offer’s still open,” Lister told him.

Rimmer shook his head. He sat down and folded his arms. “Want to know something funny?”

Lister nodded.

“I never really liked being touched,” he said. “Before, I mean, when I was alive. Well, not never, there were times…”

“Yvonne McGruder,” Lister said

“Among many, many others, but yes, that was one of the times that it was good. But other times. You know those casual touches; pats on the back, hugs, even handshakes, I always avoided them if I could.”

Lister nodded. He’d known Rimmer had never been the most tactile of people. “How come?” he asked.

“Self preservation, I suppose. You really had to watch your back at school, there could be literally a fraction of a second between some upperclassman giving you a friendly slap on the back, and him shoving your head down the nearest toilet and pulling the chain. All in good fun, of course. And of course if my brothers got hold of me during one of their -- our -- games… well I still have the scars from some of those encounters. Again, great fun of course, but it always felt safer to keep people at arm’s length.”

Apparently Rimmer’s idea of a funny story and Lister’s were very different. The more he heard about Rimmer’s childhood, the more the person that Rimmer had grown into made sense. “You know, Rimmer, you’re about the only person that’s ever made me grateful for my own childhood.”

Rimmer frowned. “Weren’t you abandoned under a pool table?”

“Yep, and thank smeg for that.”

“You misunderstand,” Rimmer insisted. “It was good; it was character building.”

“Yeah, well technically everything’s character building, isn’t it? That’s all anybody is, is the sum of their experiences, right? It just seems like the character that your experiences built was… well, was…”

Rimmer’s nostrils flared. “Yes?”

“Doesn’t matter. What’s this about, Rimmer? Why are you telling me all this?”

Rimmer sighed. “Because these past few months, while I was making things ‘tolerable’ for you, I was realising, for the first time, that sometimes it’s not such a bad thing to be touched. Sometimes it’s even…” he shook his head. “I don’t want to have to give it up, Lister.”

Lister folded his arms. “What are you saying to me, Rimmer? You asking me to stay as a hologram?”

“No, of course not. I couldn’t ask you that. I just wish…” He broke off and shook his head. “I told you this would happen. I warned you. You insisted on us touching, and I knew it was a mistake. I knew I wouldn’t want to give it up, but you had to go and make your stupid poppadom speech, and convince me, and…”

“Samosas,” Lister said.

“What?”

“It was my stupid samosa speech,” Lister clarified. “It’s the samosas we’ve run out of, I’ve got plenty of poppadoms.”

Rimmer rolled his eyes. “Oh, how nice for you. So when you can go back into your body and leave me stuck here unable to touch anything again, you can enjoy a nice plate of vindaloo and poppadoms.”

“Rimmer…” Lister began, then stopped. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

Rimmer turned back to the scanner, as though he was done with the conversation. Before he could bury his attention back into it, Lister reached out a hand and touched him lightly on the arm. Rimmer flinched back as though he had been burned.

Lister pulled his hand back quickly. “Sorry,” he said.

Rimmer turned to face him again, eying him warily, arms folded defensively across his chest, as though he expected Lister to make another attempt. To reassure him, Lister took a step backward, putting a little distance between the two of them. “I won’t be able to have vindaloo for a while anyway,” he said. “Not according to Kryten.”

“What?” Rimmer looked at him with something approaching horror. “Surely you won’t have to switch to bhunas?”

Lister smiled, but shook his head. “Yeah, that’s what I said. But no, no curries at all, apparently. For a couple of weeks, anyway. Kryten reckons it’ll be a while ‘til I can do pretty much anything, and I guess tucking into tongue-meltingly spicy food comes way down the list, somewhere underneath working up the strength to sit up in bed.”

“Oh.” Rimmer winced sympathetically. “Right. I suppose that makes sense. Honestly, with you being here like this, it’s easy to forget how ill you’ve really been.”

“Yeah,” said Lister, “tell me about it.” He had a feeling he wasn’t going to know exactly how bad it really was until he was back in his own body and could experience it for himself. As much as he did want to go back, he wasn’t looking forward to that part at all. “You know, I don’t have to go back to my body right away,” he said. “Kryten says there’s no rush, it’ll wait.”

“Yes, but surely the longer you wait, the worse your condition will get and the harder it’s going to be to get yourself back into shape.”

Lister shrugged. “It’s been nearly a year, I don’t think another day or two’s going to make a huge difference.”

“Okay, no, probably not. But what would be the point?”

“Give you another day or two of being able to touch,” Lister said.

“And again, what would be the point? We’ll just end up doing this again in a couple more days, and then what? Are you going to delay it again?”

He shook his head. Probably not.

“Do me a favour, will you? If you see the skutters on your way down to the medi-bay, let them know I need them in here. I might as well get this scanner recalibrated since I’m here anyway.”

Lister sighed. “I’m going to miss it too, you know,” he said. “I mean, not like you will, I know it’s not the same, but you didn’t just make it tolerable, Rimmer. Some of it, I’ve even enjoyed.”

“Enjoyed?” Rimmer smirked and shook his head, “Oh yes, I’ve seen what a great time you’ve been having getting frustrated with the skutters for being useless and moping around in bed feeling depressed. Not to mention all the fun you have trying to pick things up and remembering you can’t -- I saw you do that again yesterday. Frustrating, isn’t it?”

He hadn’t realised that Rimmer had seen that. He wondered what else he had noticed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “It’s a massive pain in the arse.”

“So, not all that enjoyable, then?”

“Well, not that part, no. But other stuff.” Lister scratched absently at a piece of holographic dirt on his jacket. “I can hardly remember the last time I just, you know, hugged someone. I didn’t even realise I’d missed it. And falling asleep with someone else there, next to me. I thought it’d be weird, but it was actually great. You know you said you felt like a person again? I get that. I did too.”

“Apart, presumably, from the times when you woke up with half of your body embedded in the wall.” Rimmer said.

Lister laughed. “No, even then. Good thing nobody was in the quarters next door though. That would have given them the fright of their lives!”

Rimmer gave him a small, but genuine smile. “I never liked doing things like that,” he admitted.

“Things like what?”

“You know, walking through walls, putting a hand through something. Anything that reminds me I don’t have a body.”

Lister nodded. He got it. Honestly, he hadn’t liked it that much either, it had been weird and disconcerting. “Sorry. Didn’t bother you too much did it?” he asked. “Like you said, there wasn’t a lot of room in that bed.”

“Oh, no, it didn’t bother me at all,” Rimmer assured him. “It’s fine when it’s somebody else.”

Of course it was. Lister resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“Anyway, you really should be going,” Rimmer told him.

He knew that, but for some reason he was finding it very difficult to actually turn around and go down to the medi-bay. “You sure you don’t want me to wait a couple of days?” he asked. “I never did give you that back massage I promised you. Last chance.”

“I…” Rimmer seemed to think about it for a moment, then he shook his head. “No.”

Lister nodded. He hadn’t really expected him to have changed his mind.

“But…” Slowly, Rimmer unfolded his arms and held out a hand to Lister. Remembering the way Rimmer had flinched back the last time he had touched him, Lister hesitated for a moment, then took a step forward and took Rimmer’s hand in his.

He had been expecting a handshake. Instead, Rimmer simply held onto him with a gentle, almost careful, firmness that reminded Lister of the first time they had touched. Rimmer’s gaze was completely focussed on their hands, as though he was trying to cement it in his memory.

When he was finished. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them to a point that would have felt uncomfortable once. Now, it felt right. He placed his arms around Lister and they hugged tightly. “Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said quietly into Lister’s ear.

“About what?”

Rimmer moved back just slightly and turned his head so that he faced Lister directly. He closed his eyes as he leaned in and kissed him.

It was nothing like the last time. The last time, they had both been drunk, and the chaste, dry brush of Rimmer’s lips against his own had lasted less than a second before Rimmer had come to his senses, realised what he was doing and stopped. This time, they were completely sober, this time it was completely intentional, and this time, Rimmer didn’t hold back.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless. Lister saw an unfamiliar embarrassed blush colour Rimmer’s cheeks. “Sorry,” Rimmer told him. “I had to do it, like you said, it was my last chance.”

Lister stared at him, speechless for a full thirty seconds before he could bring himself to respond. “You smeghead!” he said.

Rimmer frowned. “Eh?”

“You waited until now? You couldn’t have done this months ago? The first time you kissed me? One of the times we were in bed together? You had to wait until five minutes before I’m supposed to go back to my body to…?”

Rimmer shrugged, embarrassed. “I wanted to, but I didn’t know how you’d react. Then when I realised I wasn’t going to get another opportunity…” He shook his head. “Like I said, sorry.”

Lister closed his eyes. He didn’t know what to do. “What did you mean ‘don’t get the wrong idea’? What idea should I get?” People, in Lister’s experience at least, didn’t kiss like that if they didn’t mean it.

“You shouldn’t get any ideas at all,” Rimmer told him. “I was just… curious. That’s all.”

“And now what?”

Rimmer looked like he didn’t know what to do with his face. His expression morphed from a frown to an embarrassed smile, back to a frown again. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and finally shook his head. “And now I know,” he said.

Arms folded, Lister looked at him appraisingly. “So that’s it, is it? Curiosity satisfied, let’s just forget about it and move on?”

“Er…” said Rimmer. “Yes.”

Lister sighed. “You sure, because I really don’t mind…”

“Sure,” Rimmer said quickly, before Lister could finish the thought. “Absolutely one hundred percent certain.”

“Oh.” Lister shrugged, feeling a little insulted. “A hundred percent, eh? Right.”

Rimmer blushed a little harder. “Maybe closer to ninety… maybe eighty-five”

“Well, that gives me ten or fifteen percent,” Lister said. “I can work with that.”

Rimmer shook his head. “No you can’t. That’s enough stalling, Lister, it’s time for you to go.”

Lister stared at him baffled. “Stalling? Rimmer, you just kissed me. If anyone’s stalling here it’s you.”

Rimmer shrugged. “Well, it’s time for me to stop. Come on, I’ll go down to the medi-bay with you. I have a feeling you’re never going to go if somebody doesn’t escort you.”

“Hang on a minute.”

“No,” Rimmer told him. “I’m serious about this, Lister.” He placed a hand on each of Lister’s shoulders and began to guide him firmly out of the room and toward the lift.

(next)

(Thanks to @norwegianpornfaerie for betaing this fic)

[legolaslovely]

Watch Me

A/N: UGH FILIIIIIIIIIII he just really kills me sometimes, okay? Hope you guys enjoy the Fili feels. Happy FILI FRIDAY! And yes, here’s this picture again. 

Pairing: Fili x Reader DUH

Word Count: 2,693

Warnings: fluff, angst, SMUT OOPS, unwanted advances/flirting/assault towards reader, hero Fili

Summary: I don’t frickin know just read it lol. Hero Fili, slightly stalker Fili, protective Fili, smut with an actual plot.

Fili often came to this bar alone at night. It was starting to raise questions from his uncle, but he ignored them. As far as anyone else was concerned, he just needed a drink after an exhausting day of duties that came with being born the heir to the kingdom. No one needed to know why he really came.

He would always sit on the end of the bar with his back against the wall. This way, he could watch her but he’d never have to actually talk to her because he was being served by the bartender and not the beautiful waitress he’d taken a fancy to. Talking would cause problems. He knew simply sitting here eyeing her every night was also causing problems, but he ignored that fact as well.

He nursed his mug of ale and watched the human woman glide through the bar. Her hips easily slid between chairs and tables and her lips smiled and greeted everyone around her who asked especially for her service instead of anyone else’s. He watched her carry trays full of food or balance many hot plates on her arms. He didn’t doubt her muscles were lean and strong under her clothes and her arms and fingers were calloused from burning plates. Sometimes after one too many mugs of drink he allowed himself to think of what her hands could do besides carry a table full of glasses at a time.

He watched her whirl when a patron in the corner called her name. (Y/N). It fell from Fili’s lips often when he was alone. When she turned, her hair followed her, spreading out into a wide, shining curtain before falling to her back again. She had long hair for a human, he thought.

She bent to pick up a knife from the floor and he turned, adjusted himself in the tall seat and ordered another drink. He spent the night sipping from his mug and drinking from her until the bartender sounded the last call. He watched her shoulders drop in relief. He was sure she was exhausted. He turned his back to the rest of the pub and paid his tab as most of the patrons left.

“Come on, (Y/N). Come home with me. You’re done here and you know you want to.”

Fili recognized the voice. It came from a human who bothered (Y/N) a couple times a week. He’d pinch her or grab her, she’d slap him and kick him out, and Fili’s blood would boil. Why was the idiot allowed back? Fili had always kept his distance, knowing (Y/N) could handle herself or some other human would step in, but now there was barely anyone else around. He watched carefully.

“In your dreams,” she said, circling the table and getting far away from him. “Go home, Buck. You’re drunk. Again.” She looked to the bar and when she saw the tender was gone, she quickly grabbed some empty glasses and sped to the kitchen door.

Buck grabbed her and spun her into him, making the glasses in her hands clink together. “No, no. I said you’re coming with me.” He towered over her. He took the glasses from her with a nasty grin and set them down on the table below. Then he grabbed her bottom and she slapped him.

“Get off me.” Her voice was low and fearless.

He pushed her against the wall and put a hand to her throat. “Is that any way to speak to me?”

“She speaks to you the way she pleases. Let her go. Now,” Fili said from the man’s side.

Buck chuckled and looked over Fili’s head. “I’m sorry. I thought I heard something. But I don’t see anything here.” He swept his hand through the air at his eye level, over Fili’s head. Fili grabbed it and twisted it behind Buck’s back until he heard the bones crack and the man yelp.

“I said let her go,” Fili said, his voice and eyes feral.

“Get off of me, dwarf. You don’t belong here.” He swore and said a nasty, racial slur in Khuzdul that Fili was surprised a human even knew.

“Shut up, you disgusting, worthless brute,” (Y/N) said, spitting in Buck’s face. She grunted when his grip around her throat tightened.

Before Buck could answer, Fili reached up and slugged him across the face with the head of his dagger. He caught (Y/N) and let Buck fall to the ground hard. Fili grabbed the man by his tunic and snarled in his face. “If I ever see you in this pub again, I will not hesitate to rip your throat out.” He let him go with a shove and watched him run out the door of the tavern, letting it slam shut after him.

Fili returned to (Y/N), putting a reassuring hand on her arm. “Are you all right?” She nodded wildly with a tight jaw. He’d never seen her unsure of herself and he felt his heart sink. His fingers ran down her arm and he squeezed her hand before letting her go. “He’s gone now. He won’t be bothering you again.”

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you- thank you for that. I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

“And you’re bleeding,” she said, looking at his other hand. When Fili hit the man with his dagger, the blade had slipped and cut his palm.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket. “Nothing to fret about. I’ll leave you, let you finish your work so you can go home.”

She grabbed him. “No, no. I won’t send you away like this after saving me. Sit.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit, please.”

He sat.

“What the hell happened in here?” a voice boomed from the bar. The tender had his arms stretched out as he took in the broken chair in the corner.

(Y/N) turned and looked at him with a tilted head. “Nice of you to show up, Rava! I really could have used you five minutes ago.”

“What happened?” Rava asked.

“While you were doing god knows what, my hero here, saved the day. Buck’s gone for good, no thanks to you. Will you please bring me the kit from the kitchen?”

He disappeared. (Y/N) turned back to Fili with a smirk on her face as she pulled up a chair and sat in front of him.

“Is that what you deal with every day?” he asked.

She pulled the soiled, silk handkerchief from his hand and set it on the table, twisting his palm in the low light to get a look at the injury. “I’m sure you deal with the same kind of thing in that mountain of yours, Prince.”

His brows flew high. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. A girl asks questions when a guy comes in just to watch her every night.” Her intense gaze rose and her smirk deepened as she watched his cheeks grow pink above his thick beard.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to disrespect-”

“I know. Don’t worry, I can tell the difference between a creep and a good man… good dwarf in this case.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but Rava’s appearance through the swinging kitchen door silenced him. The other human placed a small kit of bandages and ointments on the table next to (Y/N). She rose and stalked, hips swaying, to the bar to fill a bowl with warm water.

Rava cleared his throat, picking up the pieces of the broken chair. “So, are you gonna be here for a while?” he asked her.

“Rava, just go home. I’ll clean and lock up. Leave the keys on the table.”

He thanked her and practically ran out the door. (Y/N) rolled her eyes and sat in front of Fili again, taking his hand in hers. He marveled at her soft touch. It was much different than he’d expected- than he’d dreamed. She cleaned his wound with a tender touch.

“Not even a flinch,” she said.

“Hm? Oh, I’ve had much worse than this,” he said.

“I’ve heard the stories. You dwarfs have brave hearts.”

He searched for a smirk or sarcasm in her voice but didn’t find it. When her eyes rose from his hand, they were soft and round as they peered at him, waiting for some kind of response.

“You show little fear yourself. I’ve seen these men pick on you often and most of the time, you easily match them. It’s very- impressive.” He picked his word carefully, changing it from attractive, tempting, alluring, sexy.

She hummed. “Most of the time.” She dipped a finger into a jar of ointment and smothered his gash as if she were painting a picture or running her hand along the petals of a flower. “Tonight I was absolutely terrified. If you weren’t here, if you didn’t do what you did… I don’t even want to think of what could have happened. You saved me. I don’t know how to thank you.” Her fingers froze as she took him in. In the low light, his eyes glowed with a piercing blue and his golden mane shone red at the edges. His face alone was a stunning summer day’s sky.

“I’m just glad you’re all right.”

She wrapped his palm with a bandage and knotted it. Though she was finished, she held onto his hand. “More than all right.” She kissed his lips softly, then drew away. She smiled as it took a moment for Fili to open his eyes. She waited for him to make a move, to kiss her again, but it didn’t come. “Is that all I get? You watch me for months and here we are alone and I only get one kiss-”

He leaned forward, held her under her thighs and pulled her to his lap, gluing his lips to hers. He swallowed her noise of surprise and felt her lips flatten into a smile against him. Her breath hitched. “Handsome, sweet, and strong,” she muttered. She said it more to herself than to him but he chuckled and growled, pulling her hips down on him. She whimpered. “And hard,” she whispered.

He hummed, allowing his tongue to ravage her mouth in his wild, passionate, possessive kiss. “I am every time I leave this pub.” He never would have suspected the noise that escaped her. It was soft, submissive and needy. She was putty in his hands. His scalding mouth made its way to her ear and down her neck. “I want you,” he said.

“I’m all yours.”

He yanked her tunic over her head, hearing the fabric rip in the process. His large, strong hands burned her body as they traveled over her hips, her waist, up her sides and to her breasts. Her head fell back as he cupped them, twisting her nipples in a firm grip of his fingers. He pulled a moan from her and it went straight to his trousers.

Whispered curses fell from her lips as his tongue licked a stripe up the center of her chest and circled her erect nipple. He expected her to be rough, to yank and pull on his hair and cry out with a volume that echoed off the walls. But here she was, in his hands, whimpering with breathy moans and carding her fingers gently through his hair. He had been all wrong and this was better than anything he could have imagined.

Her fingers found the hem of his tunic and she pulled it away. She smiled and shook her head as her hands brushed through the golden curls on his strong chest. “My god, are you all this beautiful?” She grinned when he laughed, feeling it rumble through him.

She sank to the floor between his legs. Her fingers ran over his cheeks as she pulled him down to kiss her, then her lips traveled down his neck. His breathing grew heavy when she spent extra time around his chest and stomach. The further south she fell, the more his growls vibrated in her bones.

Her hands raked up his thighs from his knees to his belt. She watched his eyes as she undid the laces of his trousers and his red, dripping member sprang loose. Her breath caught in her lungs. She took him in her hand and knew right away dwarfs were bigger than humans. It sent a shiver to her core and she squeezed her thighs together. Fili didn’t miss her movement.

He kissed her, moaning into her mouth as she stroked him. When he released her lips, they moved to suck the tip of him. Breath shot into his lungs and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He watched her smile, her tongue circle him and lick up his length, and her pink lips envelope him and reach the base of his shaft. Her head bobbed until he couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed her now.

“Come, my dear,” he said, lifting her chin and kissing her. He groaned when he tasted himself on her talented tongue.

She stood and allowed his deft fingers to unlace her trousers, letting them fall to the ground. She stepped out of them and gladly returned to his lap, rolling her hips on him. He cursed when he felt how warm, wet and ready she was for him. He cupped her bottom and squeezed, making her chuckle before she rose to take him inside her. When he was completely sheathed in her heat, she sucked in a gasp. He was stretching her and already, his member was rubbing every hidden, delicious corner inside her. She rocked her hips and bent to kiss Fili’s shoulder, moaning against his skin.

His mouth fell open when he felt her juices dripping as she slid up and down on his cock. He worked to meet her every thrust, pulling her hips down on him when she could take it. He knew he was pushing her to her limits. His lips attacked hers as his hands cupped her face, her breasts, her hips. Every noise she made reverberated and repeated in his brain and he worked to memorize each one. His thumb found her clit and she lost all strength in her legs. All she could do was rock against him and moan into his skin. She sang his name again and again and he lost his control.

He slid down in the chair, allowing him to thrust up into her with more vigor. His thumb worked circles on her as he pounded into her hard. She cursed, huffing and moaning breathily into his ear. She begged him to finish her, then to claim her. “Please, Fili. Oh, god, please.”

Her hips started to roll and her nails dug into his shoulders as she held onto him. He was the only thing keeping her grounded as she reached her high. Her muscles tensed and fluttered around him, sending him to his own end and he grunted into her neck as she collapsed on top of him.

His chest heaved as he landed, his breath fanning over her skin and making her shiver. He reached for his tunic and slid it over her head, then wrapped his arms around her, stroking her skin and holding her tight. He decided he would never let go.

“I hope you’re not doing this just because, I mean, I hope this isn’t some sort of- repayment- just because of what I- of what happened with Buck,” Fili got out.

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Oh, no, sweetheart. Seeing you at the bar is the only thing I like about this awful job. You’re not the only one who’s been going home hungry all this time.” Her fingers slid though the beard on his cheek as she kissed him.

“All this time?”

She hummed.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“I knew you’d make a move sooner or later.” She grinned and kissed him again, feeling him growl against her lips. “And I like it when you watch me.”

“Expect much more of it,” he said, pulling her down on him again and listening to her laugh.

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