#you might wonder why i am even tagging ship names given that i am the only person who would go looking for content of these two

[bantersnatch]

missing them so so bad

[vibratingskull]

Hello, hello. I am obsessed with your stories .

I would like to ask you to write a Thrawn x f!reader . Thrawn is in love with the reader, and she refuses him. but she is actually very much in love with him. She believes she would never come first for him and that even she will be expendable to him should it come to that. Which is why she refused him.

Thank you my dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ I am sorry for the delay

Thrawn x F!reader

tags : misunderstanding, heart to heart, love confession, (kinda?)hurt/comfort

Your heart is pounding. 

Peacefully seated at his desk, Grand Admiral Thrawn analyzes your latest work. You worked your ass off on these data, crossing all of those dates, GPS coordinates, vids information, and alien propaganda speeches to FINALLY locate the hideouts of those rebels! But you fucking did it! 

You’re not the Chimaera’s Commander for nothing! 

You were so much lower on your latest ship, underestimated and underappreciated. You made one singular mistake in the entirety of your career! And it earned you a transfer to the Chimaera, under then Vice Admiral Thrawn’s command, where a lot of the outcasts of the Navy ended up. A sign of shame and failure, being put under the only Alien of the Navy was worse than being demoted or laid off for some. 

But very quickly 

The tendance shifted. 

Thrawn has a natural talent : to find and refine others’ strengths, like a jeweler carefully polishes a precious gemstone. People who were judged useless under others’ orders suddenly started to flourish and gave good results, incredibly good results even ! Their enthusiasm and motivation crushed at their former posts reappeared, stronger than ever ! 

Thrawn took the losers he was given, nurtured their strong suits, and turned them into one of the most efficient crews the Empire ever had ! 

Commodore Faro and you were prime examples of Thrawn’s strong management talent and leadership. Diminished on other ships, unstoppable on the Chimaera ! 

And when Thrawn reached the rank of Grand Admiral in the record time of a single decade, all the snake tongues were forced to recognize his undeniable success and tactical genius. As they always should have! 

All those factors now make the Chimaera the most requested ship by ensigns and Navy workers of any field. From soldier to machinist, data scientist to engineer, to officer, all come knocking at Thrawn’s door to be part of the crew that will make History with a big H ! 

And you are one of them. Welcomed and guided by the Man himself you are part of his core team, his strongest supporter and follower. You are part of the Chimaera’s crew as you are part of a family, under Thrawn’s wise guidance. 

And… 

If you are honest with yourself and look at the bottom of your soul, the worryingly strong and fast beating of your heart might not just be because of the stress of having your work reviewed by a superior. 

But because of something else entirely... 

Something taboo, that should not exist between a Grand Admiral and his Commander of any respectable fleet. 

But you just cannot calm down your heart when you cross gaze with his shining rubies, you cannot help your blood rushing to your cheeks, the slight wobbliness of your legs, the air getting stuck in your throat when you have to speak to him. 

‘’Very good, Commander (Y/n). A remarkable job of investigation in a record time !’’ Thrawn finally declares, looking at you with a satisfied little grin, ‘’You can be proud of yourself.’’ 

‘’Thank you Grand Admiral.’’ You slightly bow your head to him with respect, ‘’Some data scientists did a wonderful job gathering all of that information, I would not have done it without their efforts.’’ 

‘’You will need to give me their name, so I can keep a closer tab on them.’’ He slowly nods in approval. 

‘’I will make you a list, Sir.’’ 

‘’Did anyone else caught your eyes ?’’ 

‘’Sir ?’’ You demand, ‘’Is it not Commodore Faro’s prerogative ?’’ 

‘’It is. It is also the prerogative of any of my officers I estimate. I value your opinion and judgment more than some of my fellow Grand Admirals, if you notice someone’s good work getting unappreciated I want you to come to me.’’ 

‘’Sir, I think you have no trouble noticing it yourself.’’ You cannot help but chuckle. 

He keeps looking at you, a tight satisfied grin on his lips, soft and found. His eyes seem to shine brighter. 

‘’What?’’ You ask before his insisting gaze, still shaken by your laugh. 

‘’Nothing. I simply enjoy hearing your laugh. It is such a delectable sound, it alleviates my stress and appeases my mind.’’ He tilts his head, focused on you. 

Your smile falters and the laugh dies down immediately. You close back on yourself, pressing your datapad against your chest. 

You cannot permit yourself such things... 

‘’With your permission, sir, I will take my leave.’’ You say, recovering your detached and professional tone, cutting short the conversation. 

His shoulders ever so lightly lower down and his smile disappears, like he is... Disappointed. But his expression remains unshakable. 

‘’Of course, Commander. You may go, I wish you a peaceful and restful sleep.’’ 

You curtly nod, murmur a ‘you too, Sir’ so low you wonder he even heard it, and exit the large office rapidly. You walk swiftly in the long and bright corridors of the Chimaera, a maze you know by heart. 

A maze you now call home. 

Your datapad pressed against your breast as to hide your sprinting heart from anyone who might cross your path you walk straight and fast, head raised high but gaze low on the floor. You gulp with difficulty trying to order your boiling mind. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn is nothing but professional, courteous, and polite. He never makes any crass comments of any kind or insinuations, the only compliments leaving his lips are praises for a work well done or a cunning attitude. 

That is all! 

Except for you. 

It has been several months now since he started to casually compliment you on... Anything really. He always found a little something to compliment you over every day. 

Always respectful and within the bounds of morality. 

He started as with anyone else, a ‘Good work’ here, a ‘Pertinent observation’ there, a ‘successful mission.’ sprinkled in. 

And one day it was ‘This new hair style compliment your features wonderfully.’ Out of the blue and with no warning. He said it casually, with his usual nonchalance and detachment, and you simply assumed he was in an exceptionally good mood to compliment someone for something so mundane and out of his usual zone of comfort. 

But this is highly unusual behavior for him!  

You never heard him compliment anyone’s hairstyle, choice of blush, or capacity to keep their uniform clean. But he started doing it for you. A little one every day, a constant stream of praise day by day... 

And if you brushed it off the first time, the second was heavily suspicious. 

He may slip off one time. But never two. 

It was intentional on his part! It must have been. 

He also started to take more caff breaks when you took one. He always appears three to five minutes after you, takes a fuming cup of caff, engages in some conversation with you, and gets back to the bridge a maximum of two minutes before you, down to the second.  

Sometimes he does not even take a single sip of his drink, preferring to speak with you about the current campaign, but mostly art, his special interest. If you wished to speak about your interests, he becomes absolutely mute. 

But he listens to you rambling attentively because when you come back to the subject a week or so later, he recalls a myriad of details of different importance with excruciating precision about anything you spoke of. 

If you are already talking to someone else, he does not insert himself in the conversation unless invited, preferring to take a seat at a table to sip his drink in complete silence. 

His gaze fixes his cup or the propaganda posters on the walls but always seems to come back to you, like you were a light in the darkness... You can feel his burning eyes on the back of your neck. But it does not feel like a burnt wound. Instead, it simply feels like... A heat source on your neck, a warm point that gently spreads on your skin... And when you spin your head in his direction to spot him, his eyes are back on his cup. 

But you do feel his warm gaze on you... 

You KNOW it. 

For some reason, he is trying to deepen your relationship. 

And while your heart pumps like a machine at that simple thought, you also know you should stifle that hope in its infancy. 

Thrawn... Is a man married to his job. War is the very purpose of his existence and he excels at it, why would he weigh himself down with a relationship? 

He either wants a short casual fling, which you would never guess was his style, or he wants something deeper... A real relationship with you. 

And those possibilities terrify you. 

When you love, you love generously, pouring your very own blood into the relationship, giving endlessly to please your partner. And it cost you a lot in the past, you were used and cast aside after countless times. So many tears were wasted for partners who only saw you as a commodity. You promised yourself to never fall for someone who does not make you their priority anymore! 

But you fell for Grand Admiral Thrawn, despite your better judgment and best efforts. 

He is a man of integrity, intelligence, charisma, and elegance, you did not feel any malice or will to hurt others in him which is surprisingly uncommon in the Navy hierarchy of the Empire.  

And he is very far from being displeasing to look at! His alien features even reinforce his natural charm, his face is harmonious and delicate with sharp intelligent eyes. 

Really, everything seems to make him a wonderful romantic partner in theory. 

But the theory doesn’t account for the first love of his life: work. 

You will never come before his first love, and as a Grand Admiral maybe you should not, but that stabs your heart.  

Once again you fell for the wrong one. 

If only you were smitten, you could manage. But the fact that he seemed to take an interest in you in return, offers you his gentle words and careful attention complicates absolutely everything! 

You should not fall for that trap again! You do not want to! 

But how to refuse such a man? How to look in his carmine gaze and stand your ground? It is demanding a will you simply do not possess, so now you run away from any new attempt from him. You respond coldly and sternly at any non-work related praises and leave the room swiftly. 

He never tries to hold you back, accepting your choice. 

That does not make it any easier for you. If you falter ONCE and give him hope that it is possible, you may fall again and hurt yourself, deeper this time. 

You survived your exes but could you survive Grand Admiral Thrawn’s love?  

Nothing is less certain. 

So you run away like a coward, feeling his fond gaze on your form. 

Never again... 

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

Thrawn sighs internally, his eyes fixed on the door you just exited through like a persistent image of you would appear to him if he focused on it. 

Again, you fled. 

He is used to it by now. He compliments you on anything not work-related and you shut off completely. 

What did he expect exactly anyway? Love stories between superiors and subalterns in a fleet are such a cliche of movies without any grounds in reality. He heard of some in the Ascendancy and the Empire and none ended well. 

But for some months he had that fleeting hope, that childish wish that something was possible between you two. 

He was the first surprised to realize he had feelings for you. He welcomed you under his commands as every other officer sent to him and you worked together for some time to find your strengths and give you the appropriate post for your skills. 

He was proud to see you grow and mature, witnessing your skills sharpening day by day until you wield them like a deadly blade with the utmost precision. Your true talents were revealed and your name started to be passed around and other ship captains started to court you for a transfer. 

It happens a lot. A lot of officers he trained were transferred to other fleets and he only heard good about them since then, even Commodore Faro was heavily requested by others for her next promotion, and while he would only feel pride and accomplishment to let her go lead her own forces as she deserves to, he only felt a deep and insidious cold course his flesh when your name appeared in the requests.  

At first, he rationalized it. He concluded that it was too soon for you to leave his tutelage yet, he could still teach you more before seeing you fly away. But the more transfer requests he received, the colder he felt, and the more uneasy he was. 

It was like... lacking air. Like he tried to breathe desperately but his throat was so contracted no air could reach his lungs. But those uncomfortable sensations melted in your presence. Next to you, everything felt right and natural once again, like it was meant to be.  

Slowly your grip on his being started to tighten, like a frog boiling in a pot. 

He never felt like that and it was starting to worry him. He could not let a single person have so much power over him, it would be too dangerous for his ultimate goal, but each time you appeared in his field of vision, all his worries vanished and a warm sensation spread in his chest, his heart felt wrapped in silk and everything was good again. 

And then 

The first wet dream came. 

He had some in his early teenage years when hormones did their work as for everyone else. But he always only saw a faceless, nameless figure in his arms at night. And then they just disappeared altogether, promptly sorted and locked in his well-organized mind and no further dream came to disturb his sleep. 

But that morning he was lying in bed, completely dumbfounded. His eyes wide open, fixed on the ceiling he tried to understand what that dream meant. For the very first time, he saw a face. 

Your face. 

So clearly. 

And what a dream it was... 

He observed his trembling hands for a moment, trying to make sense of all of that. Did his control over his flesh and body start to loosen after all this time? 

Was he softening up? 

He greeted his teeth and went on with his day. At that moment, he convinced himself it was lust. 

Just lust. 

Simple in theory but completely new to him, nobody ever disturbed his flesh like that before and it was quite annoying in his opinion. Obviously, it was only his problem, he could not reasonably hold you responsible for the weakness of his mind and body. He must deal with it alone and not let it disturb his focus! 

But he only had to hear your voice... 

Hear the melodic notes of your laugh... 

Admire the light in your human eyes... 

To know that he was in much more trouble than he first thought. 

It was not lust. 

It was love. 

A first for him once again, and at that point he was convinced it would never happen! Not that he would mind, honestly. Heart matters seem more troublesome than anything else... 

But you assuredly walked into his life and as assuredly took his heart from his chest to keep it with you like a lovely thief, you fondly kissing it every day with your perfect lips, making it beat faster, to the point he felt it could implode at any moment. 

That day he complimented you on your new hairstyle. Out of nowhere. He greeted you, let you know how lovely you were, and walked away without any other word.  

Why did he do that? Beats him.  

He saw you and felt the irrepressible desire to compliment you,  but the usual work praises did not feel enough to calm down the raging storm rising in his chest at that moment. 

And it all derailed from here. 

He kept the compliments coming and welcomed your disincarnated embrace in his dreams at night, craving to feel your real arms wrapping around him to hug him. 

He felt the need to follow you when you took your breaks as any minute away from you felt like death. He instigated casual conversations with you, trying to get you to open up to him. But you kept it so clean and professional; Would it be anyone else he would be thankful for that but he wants you to reveal your heart to him. 

He would take anything! Just learning your favorite color would satisfy his cravings for a month. 

You slowly relaxed around him, accepting to speak a bit about yourself, as much as it was morally acceptable for a Commander to say to her Grand Admiral. He noted every minute detail you let escape in his mind with meticulousness, creating a map of you in his head. 

He let you speak, not daring to interrupt you. He could listen to you describing paint dry. 

Of course, he knew how to stop. If you were talking to a colleague he respected your privacy, if he felt you uncomfortable at any moment he would take his leave. 

And for a time he fantasized about waking next to you in the same bed, rings shining at your fingers. And it was sweet and soft... 

But you are not receptive.  

So he buried that dream and slowly prepared to walk away from you. Each time he compliments you your face hardens and your tone gets colder and aloof. 

But for a split second... 

You bite your lips and he witnesses your heart accelerating in his infrared vision. 

And you cannot take that away from him. No matter how harshly you cut the conversation short. Those little compliments are his little pleasures, his only fancy. The only thing he allows himself to savor in secret. 

His eyes fall again on the datapad in his hand. With a gesture of the finger, he swipes the file to let appear the latest captain’s request to transfer you to their ship. 

Soon he will say goodbye to you, but at least he should make sure you get the best post possible... 

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

“Oh Maker...” Karyn makes her spine pop with a sigh of relief, “Today was long!” 

“Indeed.” You chuckle, “It was pretty dry and boring!” 

You both head to the bar of the officer mess hall. 

“Two beers!” Karyn orders, “I am done with work for the day! I need to relax.” 

Your shift finished 10 minutes ago, you are officially free for the rest of the day, and a fresh beer seems delectable right now! You sit next to your friend, clink your glasses, and take a large gulp with delight. 

“That’s the stuff!” You gasped. 

“True! I need to get drunk tonight or I will go crazy!” Karyn declares slamming her glass down the bar. 

You look at her with silent questions in your eyes, inviting her to speak more. She snarls, licking her white teeth. 

“I feel like the Grand Admiral is trying to slow me down.”  

“What?” You ask incredulously. 

“He interfered so I could not become Commander of Task Force 231.” She reveals, her head sitting in her hand, annoyed. 

You freeze, contemplating what she just said to you. Would Grand Admiral Thrawn truly do that? Voluntarily sabotaging his own Commodore’s career? 

No. 

You cannot believe that! 

“I am sure he had a reason. He is a fair man, you deserve to lead your own troops, maybe he has a bigger plan for you.” 

She turns her head towards you, gauging you up and down before sneering shortly. 

“I forgot who I was talking to.” 

You nudge her playfully, earning another snigger. 

“You know I am objective. Even about him!” You counter. 

“Mmmmh. Maybe you are, maybe not.” She taunts, taking another sip, “All right! I think it is time for some women talks. How things are going with your Chiss?” 

“He isn’t my Chiss, Karyn.” You remind her, “We are not together.” 

“Which is highly surprising in my opinion with how interested he is.” 

Your grip tightens around your glass, your eyes hypnotized by the ale in front of you. 

“He is not interested.” You try to assert. 

“Arh, do not use that charade with me, (Y/n)! We are both past it, he devours you with his eyes and tried an infinite amount of time to speak with you. He never showed such interest in anyone since I work under him!” 

“He is just trying to be friendly.” You recoil more on your seat. 

“Maker fricking... (Y/n)!” She starts losing patience “We both know that is bullshit. I am tired of seeing your beaten puppy look every day, talk to him!” 

“... And say what? Explain to me what I am supposed to say, ‘Sorry, I am in love with you but you’ll probably relegate me to the bottom of your priority list, so no chance?’” 

“Why do you assume he would relegate you to the bottom of his priority list?” 

You turn to her with a raised eyebrow and a tired smile. 

“Because he is a Grand Admiral and married to his job? Because if I did come before his duties that would put us all in danger and jeopardize his entire career? Because it is simply impossible? Because he will not risk his goal for a single relationship?” 

Usually, you love goal-oriented partners, but you just wish they would make some place for you in their lives and not just see you as an appliance to take advantage of. You want them to be your supporter as you are theirs, but you have been let down so many times... 

“(Y/n)...” 

You sigh. 

“It is so hard, you know? To see him every day, to feel his grip around my heart compressing it until no blood is left. I feel like I am drowning in love and despair, I feel his gaze on my skin and I go weak. He plagues my dreams every night and I wake up cold and arms empty.” 

“(Y/n)?” Karyn whispers, “Maybe you should-” 

“It just hurts so much. To have him so close, to see Thrawn every day, excelling in his career and craving he would give me the same attention... Some nights I cry in my bed because I feel so empty.”  

“Hum, (Y/n)...?” Karyn slightly stiffens. 

“But what can I do?” You put your head in your hands with a long sigh “I promised myself not to fall again and I tripped over my feet when I met him. He is the textbook definition of whom I should avoid at all costs but I fell face first in the permabeton. At that point it’s a pattern, I am searching to get hurt. I am weak... I am pathetic but I love him!” You feel sobs rising in your throat and your eyes start to get wet, “Why is it so hard? Why can’t I forget these sentiments with a snap of fingers? Why do I have to live with this? Why-” 

“(Y/n)!” Karyn shushes you with a hard whisper, gripping your shoulder to shake you. 

You turn your head to her and she designates something on the other side discreetly. You turn your head again and almost fall from your stool. 

Right there, at the other side of the bar, a fuming cup of caff in his hand, Grand Admiral Thrawn sits, perfectly calm and composed. 

But more importantly, at eavesdropping distance. 

You immediately focus back on your ale, head full and spinning. 

He heard you! 

You know he did, he always hears everything in a room! 

You are so done for! You are royally fucked! You are so... 

“Maybe he did not hear, maybe he-” Karyn doesn’t have the time to finish her sentence, you get down your stool and leave the mess hall, ditching them both without a single word. 

You need to disappear! And quickly! 

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

Thrawn lifts his cup to his lips elegantly, peacefully sipping the scorching hot caff. 

But inside he is anything but peaceful. 

“I am sorry, sir.” Karyn Faro finally says, tensing up before her full glass. 

“What for?” Thrawn asks, putting his down delicately, eyes fixed on his cup. 

She purses her lips, clearly embarrassed and uneasy. 

“This was not planned.” She explains. 

“I know.” He simply responds, “You are not one to expose other’s affairs.” He reassures her. 

He contemplates his reflection in the dark beverage, the steam lazily rising towards the ceiling while his stomach drops low. 

Is it how you truly see him? How you perceive his personhood? Is it his true value in your heart? 

He did not intend to listen to you! He just wanted to sit in your vicinity while drinking his caff and then anonymously leave without you noticing he was even there, leaving you two speaking peacefully. He did not intend to pry in your private conversation so impolitely! 

But when he understood you were talking about him he could not help but perk his ear. 

He almost froze hearing you professing your love for him and for a split second his soul sang. 

Only for the high to crash down spectacularly with your next words. 

So this is it, then? Your choice is made and your opinion is decided. This relationship will not be? 

You will not give him even a single chance to prove his worth? 

And he will let you go without trying to correct you? 

And everything will be over without even starting. 

You will now avoid him until he accepts a transfer request and he will never see you ever again, only hearing rumors of you thriving away from him, leaving him alone and cold to face his destiny and fate? 

Without your support? 

Without the music of your voice to help him carry through? 

Without the reflection of light in your gorgeous eyes to appease his worries? 

Without the warmth of your reassuring presence at his side? 

... 

No. 

He slams his cup down and stands on his feet. 

“Sir?” Commodore Faro asks as he walks away, decided. 

He can’t. 

This is beyond him. 

This is the first time he is in love, he simply cannot let you go without at least trying to plead his case! 

This would kill him. 

He knew it was dangerous. Deep down he knew that keeping you at his side was not the tactical-sounding choice. He prophetized before that keeping you around would give you too much power over him, but he would lie if he did not admit that he hoped it would happen deep down his soul. That your grip on his heart was as strangling as it was soothing, that a brush of your hand could command his mood. 

Your power over him was nothing about hierarchy, was not wicked or dangerous like those he experienced before in the Ascendancy and the Empire. It was comforting, soothing, soft but strong. 

The kind of power he would submit to with glee because he knew no harm could ever come of it. Because that power was meant to bring you together... 

He just cannot! 

He walks deadly focused ahead, with long strides in the corridors of the Chimaera. His shift resumes in less than 5 minutes but this is the least of his worries right now! 

For the very first time in his life, work will wait. He has to clear the air with you first! 

It doesn’t take too much time for him to find you. He is quicker than you and he would not let you escape like that! 

You are walking rapidly toward your cabin to lock yourself up most probably. Seeing your back walking away from him like that infuriates him somehow, he is offended! 

“Commander (Y/n) (F/n), stop!” He exclaims with an authoritative voice. 

You shudder, but instead of obeying you pick up the pace. 

You...! 

“Commander! I order you to stop right now!” He orders louder, accelerating behind you. 

You take four more steps before giving up and stop. You remain still, back turned to him, awaiting his next commands. 

He approaches you, already regretting his order. He closes the distance between you and places his hand on your shoulder. 

You shudder at the contact and he retracts it immediately. 

“Commander (F/n)...(Y/n), I am sorry.” He finally announces after several seconds of silence and stillness, “I would like to discuss some of your words earlier.” 

“Stop.” you finally speak. 

Thrawn almost gulp at your tone 

“I beg your pardon?” 

“I said stop.” You repeat, “I do not have to hear that.” 

Thrawn squints. This is the very first time you cut him like that. This is the first time a subordinate ever cut him... 

“I can take an earful if I make a professional mistake. But that... You do not have any right to impose that on me.” You explain. 

“Turn around and face me.” He orders softly. 

Your hands roll into fists but you slowly turn toward him. You take care not to look into his eyes, preferring to focus on his Grand Admiral badge. Your lips are pressed in a thin line, displeasure clearly apparent on your face. 

Thrawn refrains from cupping your cheeks in his hands to hold you lovingly. Instead, he claps them behind his back, preparing himself for the battle ahead. 

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

“I simply wish to talk.” He reiterates, “This is not an unreasonable demand.” 

Your nostril flares but you add nothing. 

“(Y/n), is what you said true?” He demands sternly. 

So he did hear you, as you feared.  

“Sir, this is highly unprofessional.” 

“I am aware, but I feel like we need to have this discussion.” 

“No, we do not. If you insist I will file a report for sexual harassment.” You bite back, acidic. 

You need to cut that conversation short. You need to escape. 

“With what proofs?” Thrawn tilts his head. 

The tone is not mocking or threatening, it is calm, assured, and simply factual. You both know you have nothing against him, he never tried anything against your consent and always remained within the bounds of morality. 

“We both know you will do none of that, (Y/n). You are too good to make false accusations on such a grave matter.” 

You greet your teeth as you raise your frowning gaze to meet his. 

“Am I?” 

His stern and cold expression relaxes to let appear a tight, fond smile as the glow of his eyes seems to brighten. 

“Of course. Your ethics are too strong to slander an innocent man and tarnish victims’ testimony of such a heinous crime.” 

You snarl, flashing your teeth to him. 

But you have no rebuttal. He is right. You would not do such a thing to victims who already have difficulties to have their voices heard. 

“I simply wish to clear the air and tell you my truth.” He takes another step toward you, “This is all I am asking for.” 

The smile is gone but quiet hope burns in his red eyes. 

You gulp. You told your sentiments to Karyn, but revealing them to his face, admitting them to his eyes... That would kill you on the spot! 

“I wish to hear it from you. Tell me the truth, please.” He insists with a softer tone 

Almost... begging. 

Your lungs tighten in your ribcage, preventing you from breathing correctly while your throat dries up. You open your mouth be no sound escapes you. 

“Take your time.” Thrawn invites, his eyes shining so bright you cannot see any pupils anymore. 

“What for?!” You spit annoyed, “What would ever come of that discussion anyway?! Our expectations do not coincide!” 

Thrawn seems to tense up ever so slightly at your words, like he was hurt. 

But that would mean you have the means to reach and hurt him, and you seriously doubt you do. Either way, he needs to hear it, you cannot just brush past all that like the world is a wonderful peaceful place. You both have jobs and a relationship would just complicate everything! 

“You do no-” Thrawn stops immediately, looking behind you suddenly, “Someone is coming.” 

You turn your head full of hope. Finally, your ticket to exit that predicament! 

But before you can see anyone or anything you feel a large hand grabbing your arm and pulling you. You yelp in surprise when Thrawn pulls you inside a cramped and dark room and the door slams shut behind you. 

You pull yourself together and realize you are inside a closet. A very small closet. So small Thrawn needs to press you against himself for it to hold you both inside. You gasp, your cheek pressed against his large muscular chest, his long arms wrapped around your shoulders. 

“Sir!” You whisper indignantly, “This is-” 

“Silence.” He shushes you, “They are approaching...” 

You huff but remain silent. After some seconds you can hear a group of people discussing and approaching the door. You tense up, praying no one will open it and bust you in Thrawn’s arms... 

“Relax.” He whispers with his rich deep voice, a hand coming to caress your hair to soothe you like you were a cat or something. 

“This was unnecessary, Sir!” You complain with a low voice. 

“You would have preferred we continue this private conversation with them around?” He responds deadpan. 

You growl, putting your hands on his pecs to put some distance between you, but his grip is firm around you and the closet is really confined. You abandon that idea and give up, awaiting for the group to walk away, and then you’ll rush out and sprint away from the Chiss. 

You try to calm down your beating heart, feeling Grand Admiral Thrawn’s high body temperature through his uniform, your cheek getting pleasantly warm at his contact. 

Is that... Is that his heart that you feel beating against your cheek? 

You refrain from sniggering. Of course, this is his heart, but it amuses you to realize that he does have one... He who is always so stern and cold, detached and unbothered does have a heart after all! 

You close your eyes, silently focusing on the steady drum in his chest. If they open the closet door and bust you, you cannot do anything to stop it now, no use in stressing yourself out or causing trouble in the confined space. 

Did Thrawn feel you relaxing in his embrace? A soft and deep rumble starts in his chest and throat, like a...  

“Chiss can purr?” You murmur flabergasted. 

“Indeed.” He reveals, “Pardon me, I have some difficulties keeping it at bay with you in my arms.” 

You add nothing, too shocked by this revelation. 

“It isn’t... unpleasant.” You finally admit, a bit reluctantly. 

The purr deepens at your praise and he lays his chin on the top of your head. For some second you wonder if he is about to kiss your head, but he remains like that, continuing to caress your hair, unbothered. 

“Why don’t you want to tell me the truth?” He finally asks after a minute of silence, listening to the group that seems to have stopped just before your hiding spot. 

“There is nothing to say.” 

“You revealed your sentiment to Commodore Karyn. Why revealing them to me is impossible for you?” 

You sigh longly, eyes lost in the darkness of the broom closet, trying to formulate a coherent sentence with all those sentiments and emotions raging inside of you. 

“I have been hurt in the past.” You just say. 

“And you are afraid I will hurt you the same?” Thrawn whispers with his rich voice. 

“I am not ‘afraid’ you will, I know you will.” 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“They did it out of commodity and maybe malice, you would do it out of necessity.” 

“I cannot imagine a situation where I would hurt you, even out of necessity.” He negociates. 

“No, it’s just...” You sigh, taking a deep breath, “I have been used before and now I want someone who would make me their priority, not just an afterthought!” 

His grip tightens ever so slightly around your shoulders and his purr stops, signifying that he is closely listening to our worries. 

“I do not plan to make you an afterthought in any capacity. If we start a relationship I will make sure to take care of you to the best of my capacities.” 

“You are a Grand Admiral, your agenda is full to the brim, and your days are packed. What kind of attention can you still spare at the end of a shift? You will drop like a fly, Sir.” 

His hand caressing your hair stops and sneaks under your chin to make you tilt your head to face him. You press your lips in a thin line as he details your face with his inquisitive gaze, unraveling your soul with his burning orbs, unclothing your heart to reveal every febrile hope and fear. 

"How can you be so sure of those claims?” He simply asks, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. 

“It is simple logic, Sir. You will never put me before your job, and you should not do it. But I need someone ready to put me first for once... Just once.” 

He releases your chin to cup your cheek with his large palm, his thumb caressing your thin skin tenderly. 

“(Y/n), I do not know what the future has in store for us, but I know I will forever regret it if I do not try with you.” He whispers, “You are right, I cannot put you before my work. But that does not mean that you should come after it. I can manage two important matters at the same time, I can take care of you while leading us to victory.” 

“A lot of exes made the same promise and they left me in the dirt when they got bored.” You simply assess, feeling tired of that charade. 

How many times did you dance that choreography already? Too many. 

“(Y/n), do you truly think I would do that? That I would waste both of our time for mindless fun and abandon you after? If I propose to you it is because I am confident in my capacity to give you everything you need. Look into my eyes and tell me: Is this how you think I am?” 

You look into his sihny eyes and sigh. 

“No... I do not think you would do that...” You concede, “You are not malicious.” 

“Then why not give us a chance?” He presses his forehead against yours, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. 

“Because... I could not survive you...” Your throat tightens as you speak. 

“What do you mean?” He demands with a soothing tone. 

“I may have been able to piece myself back together after them... But you, Sir, you would kill me. You would be my death.” You admit, lowering your tone. 

He tilts your head and reverently kisses your forehead in the secret darkness of the closet. 

“Then let me be your life. Every day I will be the force propelling you forward if you accept to intertwine your fate with mine... If you allow me to take your hand I will devote myself to you. You deserve to be loved and cared for, (Y/n) and it would be my privilege to make it my duty.” 

You sigh, tired, but lean on the warmth of his palm. 

“Promise me to think about it, (Y/n).” 

You hesitate, remembering all the tears and sleepless nights. 

But those eyes... So assured and confident, determined and reassuring... 

“... All right.” 

He brushes his nose with yours, his purr resuming. 

“I love you, (Y/n). You do not need to respond yet, just know that I adore you.” 

In the secrecy of that tight closet, you press yourself against Grand Admiral Thrawn, selfishly reveling in the love and warmth that you refuse to give back for now.  

“I do not promise anything.” You temper. 

“I know. But the fact that you agreed to consider it is enough for me. I will patiently wait for you and your response. And whatever your response may be, I will not stop loving you, even from afar.” 

You hesitate but finally wrap your arms around his chest, and think you felt his heart jolt at that, but you cannot be sure. What you can be sure, however, is the resuming of the purring. 

You do not know what the future holds for you, but right now, his embrace is the only place you want to be in.  

Even if it is selfish. 

Even if it may be the only one time you ever feel it around you. 

But maybe... 

Not. 

“If tie your fate to mine, either in love or friendship, I will devote myself to you. I promise you in this instant.” 

And he reverently kisses your forehead as to seal his words. 

@bluechiss @justanothersadperson93 @thrawnspetgoose @Thrawnalani @twilekchiss @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @obbicrystaleo @elise2174 @davesrightshoe @Holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni 

[stridingseer]

cant say i have any specific asks about inception ships but i am more than happy to hear you talk about rarepairs because there is simply not enough content here <3

Okay this uh, admittedly might get long (I am going to do this in point form for the sheer rambles). Very Long Thoughts Under the cut!!

Eames/Robert Fischer

One thing that keeps on swinging around to me every time I write them or read about them is this one constant theme, aka the idea of Identity.

Who is Robert supposed to be after the inception? How does he reconcile with breaking up his inheritance? Who is he outside of his father? Who is he besides being the son of Maurice Fischer?

For Eames, it's a bit funkier but Eames is a forger. His identity is anything that the job needs him to be. But then, who is he really? Is he a combination of his forges? Yes he plays a role for the others but what are his thoughts about it?

(I recently got a reply back from another writer for this ship that pointed out that Eames got to deal with the psychological aspect of the inception and I can't help but wonder: how does he feel about having to do this to Fischer in the first place?)

What happens post canon between these two is SUCH an oasis for writing ideas. Have them meet years later at a bar! Maybe Robert chooses to break up his empire and then go AWOL before running into Eames (maybe Eames steals his wallet for the THIRD FUCKING time, admittedly it'd be funny)

Similarly: what did Eames see at Fischer-Marrow while he was there? The two of them probably did meet which means the first meeting is one of infinite possibilities. I just love the idea of Eames introducing himself, calls Robert by Fischer, and then Robert corrects him to use his first name. (names as intimacy and trust!! NAMES AS INTIMACY AND TRUST)

I do have this headcanon that Eames also has like similar-esque issues as Robert which is why he's the one who more or less starts digging in from the angle of the father-son relationship. In a way it's him getting his own catharsis when Robert gets his but again, it can get really messy. It's also why he keeps on bringing it up. Anyways they both have family issues and they're foils your honor.

Would like to thank This Fic for getting me into the pairing though there are som Very Good Ones in the tag. I love them all dearly.

Anyways I have a cannibal + shapeshifter roadtrip fic in my drafts and it's actually an exploration on identity. And also a second person fic from Robert's POV that tackles his relationship w/ his father like my relationship with both of my parents. Consider it an alternative reading of sorts

Arthur/Dom Cobb

Basically they're inception's reasonable right hand man/mastermind who has Big Ideas (aka Rusty and Danny from Ocean's 11 though admittedly their dynamic is way different)

Read them as exes who can't leave each other alone and it suddenly becomes quite funny to watch the movie in that way. Cuz then it makes Arthur's constant :/ funnier but he's STILL hanging around.

I like the idea of the two of them living together to take care of Cobb's kids at the end of inception! Arthur comes to visit and ends up staying way longer. They are now common in laws.

And given his logical brain, if any of the kids needs him w/ history or math or geography, Arthur is There because his whole job

One thing that does rotate in my head is just the sheer loyalty that Arthur has for Cobb? Like the Fischer job goes wrong on the first layer in and he, like Eames, can say that he can voice that he's walking off the job. The Thing is his choice to Not to. Tiny thing but it speaks volumes. Also if they go to hotels, these two basically live together even on the job.

So Arthur 100% knew Mal which means that I imagine that it's Cobb who first dragged him into dreamsharing. I just like the idea of the three of them testing limits and whatnot (it's very Ocean's 11 in its parallels but it also gives more depth and food to think about. Of course Mal and Cobb get married and Arthur is not bitter about it, not at all)

I also raise you the idea of Eames calling Arthur a 'nanny' for watching over Cobb's kids. And then Eames gets called 'gold digger' for getting with Robert. Neither of them are wrong about it technically but it could be that it's a fun in joke/dig at each other.

MORE FICS ABOUT THEIR FIRST EXTRACTIONS TOGETHER AND WHATNOT!! There is so much food for thought about how they managed to find their place in their extraction world.

On a similar note: their first adventures in the dreamscape. Basically the question of 'how many times has Cobb shot Arthur to wake him up'.

[rubberduckyrye]

Most Kaimaki fics are actually fics of the other characters. Not to mention, most of them are oneshots. Like, if you try to find a Kaimaki-centered fic that is above even 10k words, chances are you won't find even one you like, or any fic at all. I've only ever seen one long-fic for these two (though I don't usually search for their content so maybe it's that?).

Also, sorting out the other ships doesn't really help the data. Lots of fics with a Kaimaki tag but not Oumasai/Saimatsu/Amamatsu/any other fic tag are made by authors who don't really ship characters, but include Kaimaki as its basically extremely close to canon.

This severely contrasts Oumota, which has tons of long-fics beloved by the fandom, most of all Amalgamate and 13 Students Remain, and a very big fanbase.

This is something I've noticed a lot with the DR fandom. Tons of ships only get content as as either side-ship or a one-shot pairing. The only exceptions to this rule seems to be ships including either Kokichi or Shuichi, or both. Shuichi because he's the MC, and Kokichi because he's one of the most memorable characters in DR for most people, whether they love or hate him.

By the way, I wonder how excluding Shuichi's character tag while searching for Kaimaki, or Kaito and Maki individually might impact the results. Because in most fics they don't get much screentime outside of Shuichi (discluding Oumota or Kokichi-focused-but-not-Oumasai fics where they do get screentime but mostly just to discuss their rivalries with him).

As I'm writing this I realise that Kokichi gets basically the same treatment as the protagonists on ao3, and in the fandom, regarding his relationships with the other characters.

Also, I'm still confused on how Oumota is losing. As it's been said, it doesn't really have that strong of a fanbase (No offense to Kaimaki shippers! I love seeing the two of them together), based on the ao3 results. I also don't think the tumblr fandom is that different from ao3, seeing as how basically everyone on here reads the fics, and there are tons of authors with well-known fics as well here.

Yeah it seems like it's pretty complicated to figure out what ships are popular now and actually getting attention.

Who knows why Oumota is losing atm xD It could be just the Oumota fans are all sleeping on the poll for some reason.

Man though, I never heard of 13 Students Remain, but I've heard about Amalgamate. Someone compared my and L's old Collaboration fic "How To Stay Behind the Doors of Life" to it, which was upsetting--especially since I've been having urges to redo the fic to show how far I've grown as a writer, but I'm terrified of people being weird about it being apparently similar to Amalgamate? Even though our fic was published like 3 years before Amalgamate.

With a fandom that has feral subfandoms like ITMLFYs who smell any fic they deem to be Too Similar to their Precious Big Name Fic and harasses authors of those "too similar" fics, yeah no that's not a game I want to play. Nuh-uh. Not risking it.

Unfortunately the comparison has given me a tiny bit of ick for Amalgamate (which I know isn't 100% totally fair to the fic or author, but you guys know how sensitive I am about this crap dnsajkdnsak) so I never got the desire to read it.

Anyway ramble aside--I was also thinking about how I'm pretty sure I've seen a lot more dedication to Oumota than KaiMaki, like big long fics and stuff. Makes me feel bad for KaiMaki shippers because you guys deserve some big fics that center around your blorbos too!

[necromeowncy]

If I weren't so nervous, I'd write this on Twitter or AO3, but you don't know how many times I've read and re-read your works. Without the slightest idea of names and events because I've never played any FF game. That doesn't stop me from enjoying reading your fics and enjoying your character. If you ever wrote a novel, I'd likely read that too.

I don't know - I just felt like sharing this. If it's not too late, I'd love it if you'd answer this. Other than Aedric & his snacks. (Which is really, really sweet in itself.) 51: What’s a nonverbal way they say I love you?

Hello anon, please don't be nervous - because I promise you I am even more of a nervous wreck! :) That being said, this is perhaps the most wonderful message I've ever received; I had no idea my writing for this ship breached containment out of the wolgraha/ffxiv tag, let alone that people were reading them that had no idea who or what a G'raha Tia or elezen even was. I woke up this morning to this anon and I almost started sobbing because it made me so happy. Thank you, truly and deeply. I don't even have the words for what this means to me. But perhaps I'll find some; be prepared for a long post!

I am, surprisingly, currently writing an original fantasy novel, and it means the world to me that folks would actually be interested in reading it. I never know if I should mention anything here on my fandom Tumblr about it, as I understand the novelist world at large sometimes looks down on fanfiction authors. But this anon made me realize I probably shouldn't dice myself up into tiny, palatable pieces in order to find respect in the writing community. So I'll talk about it here:

I'm writing a queer fantasy novel that has the tentative title of This Gift Illuminated. It's still in its early stages, and I have been going back and forth on if I'm going to self-publish or just host the story on my own website for people to read for free. For the very first time publicly, I'll share the synopsis:

The world is losing its magic.  For centuries, the human Kingdom of Meyra had one rule: those born with mageblood, known as the Gifted, must submit to the royal palace to further their study in the arcane arts. These days, mageblood is rare. So when Farin shows signs of being touched by magic, he's sent away to study in the capitol along with any other Gifted, as rare as they may be. He'd welcome this opportunity with open arms, especially since it means corresponding letters with a mysterious magics expert named Elias. The nation that had long given up on magic now has a new hope.  In the elf kingdom of Rime, Elias remains the only person stubbornly dedicated to the study of the arcane. Having lost the last of their magic decades ago, the elves have built a thriving nation with the ingenuity of technological marvels. Elias's many letters to the aging human mages of Meyra have been met with silence and dismissal - until one day his letters are answered by a newly appointed Gifted. Perhaps this Farin is the key to unlocking why both of their peoples have been losing touch with the arcane - as well as save the human kingdom before they suffer the same magic-bereft fate.  This Gift Illuminated is a tale of love and learning in a changing world.

Two scholars in different nations fall in love after exchanging letters for years. They are nerds. There are elves and magic, as this seems to be my wheelhouse, so I'm going to stay aboard the "awkward elf nerd and excitable wizard" train as long as I can. I may post more about this on my personal Tumblr @thewizardtower ! I'm thinking of sharing some of the prose, but I'm unsure. Who knows, I might be brave and share the prologue!

And, at last - your wolgraha prompt! Thank you for this.

51. What’s a nonverbal way they say I love you?

Aedric and G'raha both share the love language of touch. Oftentimes, they'll both be reading side-by-side. Even if they're reading separate books entirely, they'll still manage to sit close enough that their knees will brush, or their shoulders will lean against one another, or their spare fingers will interlace - silent, save for the turning of the occasional page, or the flickering of a candle's flame. Sometimes, they'll sit in each others laps wordlessly. Or lazily comb fingers through the other's hair. Sometimes, too, G'raha's tail will wrap around Aedric, and that is perhaps Aedric's favorite. The comforting physical presence of being near each other does wonders on their healing hearts after their many trials and near-death experiences. Just knowing that the other is here within touching distance - alive, whole - is perhaps the greatest healing spell in all of Etheirys.

[bonky-n-steeb]

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.  

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.  

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.  

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.  

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.  

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.  

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.  

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?  

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

[triptuckers]

Two Homes (part 3/7) - Nikolai Lantsov

Request: nope Pairing:  Nikolai Lantsov x reader Summary:  you’ve successfully escaped the ball room, but you run into someone you had been trying to avoid when you’re in the gardens Warnings: lil angst, mentions of gunshots and blood Word count:  2K A/N: hehe he is here !! finally lol enjoy reading! PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (two homes and/or all grishaverse fics): @godsofwriting @im-constantly-fangirling  @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15 @dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha @story-scribbler @romanoffstarkovs @daliareads @meiitanoia @itsnotquimey (if your name is in bold it means I couldn’t tag you) add yourself to my tag lists here 

You can faintly hear the music in the ball room. But the closer you get to the gardens, the more you have to concentrate to be able to hear the music. You can’t help but to smile to yourself. You made it out of the ball room. 

All you had to do was wait until the ball was over and you would be on your way back to Ketterdam. Your father would probably be furious at you. But it was about time he learned he couldn’t continue to control your life.

As you’re walking through the gardens, the many different flowers take your breath away. You didn’t have a ball room like the one you just left in Ketterdam. You also certainly didn’t have a garden like this. 

You walk the paths, amazed by the plants around you. You had never seen something like this before. If King Nikolai would have invited you to this garden instead of a ball, you might have seriously considered accepting his invitation.

Time passes as you admire the extraordinary flowers surrounding you. The palace has long since vanished from your eyesight, and the sun is almost gone. You can see some stars in the sky already. 

Even though you didn’t want to come here, even though you spent the entire journey getting here wishing for Ketterdam, you couldn’t deny you’d be upset if you had missed out on the beautiful gardens. 

You wonder if the ball has already ended, and want to make your way back to the palace, when you see a silhouette in the distance. Did someone else escape the ball to go to the gardens? Or worse; did someone follow you when you leapt from the balcony?

Though you’re in the gardens near a palace and not in the streets of Ketterdam, you’re still on edge by a stranger’s presence. You stop walking and listen closely to their movements, ready to strike should they attack you. 

You watch from a distance as they walk closer. Hands behind their back, slowly walking through the garden. You notice the way their shoulders slump a little. Tired of the dancing maybe? Or trying to deceive you?

When they walk closer, and the last bit of sunshine falls on their face, you see blonde hair and a pair of hazel eyes.

A look of surprise finds its way onto his face when he spots you. 

‘Well, hello.’ he says, sounding genuinely surprised to see another person in the gardens. ‘I believe we haven’t met?’ 

You shake your head. ‘No, we haven’t.’ you say.

He looks up and down your dress, sending goosebumps along your bare arms. You couldn’t deny he was indeed as handsome as described in the stories. 

‘I’d say you fled the ball.’ he says. ‘I’m Nikolai, I don’t think you were introduced before the ball started.’

You notice how he introduces himself as Nikolai, and not as the king. 

‘I didn’t flee.’ you say. ‘And no, I wasn’t introduced.’ 

‘Oh, that wasn’t a question.’ says Nikolai. ‘Merely a statement. I’d remember a dress and a face like that.’ 

Your lips slightly part in surprise. ‘Do you flirt with every woman you meet tonight?’ you ask.

‘Do you flee from every ball you attend?’ he says without missing a beat, making you chuckle.

‘This is the first ball I’ve ever been to.’ you admit. 

‘Apparently it’s not a very good one, given that you left before it even started.’ he says.

‘It’s not about wether or not it’s a good ball.’ you say. ‘I just didn’t want to be in Ravka.’

‘But you are here.’ he points out.

‘Because my father basically dragged me here.’ you say, crossing your arms. 

‘Your father, is he a Kerch merchant? There was one who didn’t introduce his daughter because she wasn’t there. So, that would mean you’re Y/F/N /Y/L/N, right?’ says Nikolai.

‘You’re good.’ you say.

‘I’m good at a number of things.’ he says with a wink. 

‘Clearly.’ you say. 

Nikolai smiles and holds out his arm to you. ‘Do you want to go for a walk?’ he says.

You look at him extending his arm to you, smile on his lips and a twinkling in his eyes. You were dying to know why he had left the ball as well, and you actually didn’t mind the company. It made you curious and eager to find out if the stories you had heard about him are true.

So you nod with a smile, and lay a hand on his arm.

‘I’ll take you to my favorite spot in the gardens.’ he says, steering the two of you onto one of the paths.

‘Can I ask you a question?’ you say.

‘Of course.’ says Nikolai.

‘Why did you leave the ball?’ you say.

Nikolai looks at you and smiles. ‘Because even though I’m an excellent dancer, I also need breaks.’ he says. ‘I needed some fresh air.’

‘Are you really good at dancing or are you trying to impress me?’ you say.

‘Take your pick.’ he says.

For someone who didn’t want to be here and who had no intention of meeting the king, you found yourself starting to like him. He’s easy to talk to, and seems genuinely interested in you. And he’s not offended to find you in the gardens instead of the ball room.

‘Was it your idea to throw this ball to pick a bride?’ you say as you walk past a plant with particularly large orange flowers.

Nikolai sighs softly. ‘No.’ he says. ‘It was a decision made by Zoya and Genya, two of my triumvirate.’ 

‘Because they wanted you to marry?’ you say.

‘Because they wanted me to form an alliance and because I couldn’t establish one through politics, they thought I should try getting one through marriage.’ he says. 

You look at him, trying to read his face. ‘But you don’t want that.’ you say.

Nikolai looks at you and raises an eyebrow. ‘I personally don’t want to marry someone I don’t know for the sake of an alliance. But it’s what’s best for Ravka. And I like to put Ravka’s needs first.’ he says.

‘Spoken like a true king.’ you say. 

‘Well, I try to be a good one.’ he says as the two of you sit down on a bench.

‘From the stories I heard, you are.’ you say.

‘Really?’ says Nikolai. ‘Fancy telling me one of them?’

You laugh and shake your head. ‘I’m sure you’ve already heard them.’ you say.

‘What would it take for you to tell me one of those stories?’ says Nikolai.

You shrug. ‘A ticket to Ketterdam?’ you say.

He frowns. ‘You really want to go back that badly?’ he says.

‘No offence, but yes. I’ve been wanting to go back ever since the ship sailed away. Don’t take it personal, but I never had any intention of going to Os Alta in the first place.’ you say.

‘I understand.’ he says.

You look at him, confused. ‘You do?’

‘What, you think people haven’t made decisions for me my entire life?’ he says. ‘I know what it’s like not being able to make your own choices. I do appreciate you actually coming, though. You’re the first person I've talked to tonight who doesn’t throw themselves at me before I can even say hello.’ 

You laugh at his words. ‘Sorry for not throwing myself at you. Though I’m sure you’re used to it by now.’ you say.

Nikolai laughs as well. ‘Don’t apologise, it’s refreshing.’ he says.  

The two of you are silent as you look at the plants that surround you. It’s rather peaceful, being away from the buzzing ball room and just sitting on a bench to have a conversation.

‘Why is this your favourite part or the gardens?’ you ask him after a while.

In response, Nikolai points to a bush of bright yellow flowers. ‘Those are my favourites.’ he says. ‘Native to Novyi Zem, but Grisha can make sure they can grow here as well. They bloom for very short periods of time, mostly it’s just one week during summer. That’s why the Zemeni call them Summer’s Week. They’ve always been my favourite flowers. I always visit this spot during each summer, to see them bloom.’ he explains.

‘They’re beautiful.’ you say. ‘Such a shame we don’t have gardens like this in Ketterdam. I would have loved to spend more time here.’

‘I’d invite you to stay, but that would mean I'd have to propose and you made it very clear you want to go back to Ketterdam.’ says Nikolai. 

He gets up and walks over to the bush with the yellow flowers. You watch as he carefully picks one and walks back to you. He smiles as he hands it to you.

‘You can have one.’ he says. ‘If it still looks good when you get to Ketterdam, you can dry it, keep it between the pages of a book or something.’ he says.

You smile as you take the flower from him. ‘Thank you.’ you say. 

Nikolai looks back in the direction of the palace, though you can’t see it from here. 

‘I should go back.’ he says. ‘They’re probably wondering where I am, and I’d rather not have Zoya organise a search party.’

‘She’d do that?’ you say.

‘You have no idea what she’s capable of.’ says Nikolai, offering you his arm once more. You accept it and rise to your feet. 

As you start to walk back to the palace, Nikolai looks at you and smiles when he catches your eye.

‘This has been nice.’ he says.

‘The gardens?’ you say.

‘I can visit the gardens any time I like. No, talking with you. You allow me to be Nikolai. Everyone in that ball room only thinks of me as a king. They only think of themselves as future queens.’ he says.

‘But they are potential queens.’ you say. Nikolai looks at you and you remember his words. ‘Right.’ you say. ‘For Ravka.’

You see the palace appear in the distance, and by the looks of it the ball is still in full swing. You sigh softly, not looking forward to reuniting with your father and having him yell at you.

‘Well, here we are.’ says Nikolai, stopping in front of the palace. He motions to your left. ‘The doors are that way.’ he says. ‘And even though there are no gardens over there, we do have a lake which is also very nice.’ he says while motioning to your right.

You let go of his arm and frown. ‘You don’t want me to return to the ball?’ you say.

Nikolai merely shrugs. ‘Why would I? You don’t want to go there, and I’m not your king so technically, you don’t have to do anything I say.’ he says.

‘You really are an extraordinary king.’ you say, making him smile. ‘I see why your people love you so much.’ 

‘Hearing anyone say that means a lot to me.’ says Nikolai. He moves to stand in front of you. ‘Are you sure I can’t convince you to come and have one dance with me?’ he says.

You smile. ‘I think I’ll check out the lake.’ you say.

‘Alright then.’ says Nikolai, walking away toward the doors. ‘But watch out for the sea monster, though.’ he adds.

Your eyes widen. ‘You have a sea monster in your lake?’ you say.

But you never found out the answer. Before Nikolai can say anything, you hear a sound you know all tho well. How could you not recognise it after living in Ketterdam for years? 

Gunshots. Two of them. 

You watch as Nikolai falls to the floor, blood soaking his shoulder and stomach.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[elriell]

Thank you very much! I find it hard to cut them back and be less detailed to be honest. So let’s dive in to it, two quick points before we start;

There will be no hate here as every ship is valid, I simply going to explain why I believe Elriel is more likely to happen than Elucien. (IMO)

Secondly, if there’s one thing for certain with SJM it is that nothing is certain with her.

Of course like any reader I am nervous for what might happen but looking at it textually speaking I do not think we have much to worry about... Not to mention that if we look at SJM past behaviour we can extrapolate several things.

When Sarah falls in love with a character she is very willing to shift all plans to accommodate them, we have a good example of this with Rowan, once she began writing him she fell in love with him and Chaol was quickly pushed aside. I am sure she has done plenty of interviews saying as much from memory.

SJM Live

- Azriel has a lot of shit going on that we’re going to be able to see in this book.

- Azriel’s song is Mr. Brightside for the vibes. Not necessarily the lyrics. SJM is kinda obsessed with him and telling his story in the future.

- We’re getting to see more of Azriel’s cheeky humor in this one.

 - SJM can’t wait to see theories after everyone reads Azriel’s pov. There’s a lot of crumbs that have been scattered around for his journey.      [ref]

It is safe to say that in her own words Sarah is obsessed with Azriel, which gives us a good idea about who she wants to write about next. This is the same vibe we got off her when she was introducing Rowan to the TOG universe and I think it is a pretty easy assumption to believe the next book is Elain’s too.

Not to mention SJM is not afraid to shake it up and swap out the LI you think it will be, Chaol/Rowan & Tamlin/Rhysand. It is not far fetched to think she would do the same with Elain and Lucien. Not to mention the idea of such a repetitive story ARC like Mates (after Feysand and Nessian) could easily be avoided by doing something like a rejected-bond or second bond.  

I really could not tell you what I think Azriel’s ARC/what he is dealing with is because we have so little information on him all I know is I cannot wait to read it all. He is easily one of my favourite characters, he is so mysterious to us. 

I think Elain’s ARC is going to be all about choice. And we know from SJM that you can have more than one mate.

Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

“to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

As far as I am concerned if you look at all SJM couples from all her books there is always that initial Spark™ and I think that impartially if you look at Elain and Lucien they have not had it at all (bar maybe the moment he scents the bond), Elain is completely disinterested in him. In the bond as a whole.

“if it wasn’t for Vassa.” A twitch of the lips, a spark in that russet eye. “She’s doing well enough. Savoring every second of her temporary freedom.”

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald.

See? SPARK, literally and figuratively.

You could even argue that she was you know, really struggling at the time the bond snapped in to place so it wasn’t the time for them but then we are given Azriel as a mirror to the situation and we see despite her troubles she is capable of interacting with someone without disinterest. Can and has been attracted too, can smile and laugh with someone despite being upset over Graysen.

Examples;

“You’re welcome to stay for the night,” I said, since Elain certainly wasn’t going to. Lucien lowered his hands into his lap and leaned back in the armchair. “Thank you, but I have other plans.” I prayed he didn’t catch the slightly relieved glimmer on Elain’s face.”

“Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?” But Elain did not balk from him, did not shy away as she nodded—just once. Azriel, graceful as any courtier, offered her an arm.

“And do what?” “Spend time with her.” “I don’t think she’ll tolerate two minutes alone with me, so forget about two weeks.” His jaw worked as he studied the fire.”

Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports—likely information on the Autumn Court that he planned to present to Rhys once he’d sorted through it all. Already dressed for the Hewn City—the brutal, beautiful armor so at odds with the lovely garden. And my sister sitting within it.

“You as well.” A sidelong glance toward Elain, swift and fleeting. “Both of you.” Elain said nothing, but at least she bowed her head in thanks.”

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea, but I sent him a silent prayer of thanks for his kindness before Rhys and I slipped upstairs.

“There were only a few presents left—Lucien’s. [...] I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it. “Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.”

“He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.”

“You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.” Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.” 

“You are his mate. Do you even know what that means?” “It means nothing,” Elain said, her voice breaking. “It means nothing. I don’t care who decided it or why they did—”“You belong to him.”“I belong to no one. But my heart belongs to you.”

Again like I said, textually when we look at it all together Sarah is not exactly planting the seeds for them at all, now of course there is still time for that to change, and of course we only have a limited perspective but as a reader it doesn’t come across positively. Even if you consider Nessian who have been against each other from the start have had the seeds planted, even as they argued they had tension and emotion.

Sarah has given Elucien so little of anything positive or negative comparitively, it is like the are barely registered. 

Not to mention she puts across Azriel as a candidate time and time again, and as a writer you would not do that for nothing.

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien.

“You know them better than I do. But I will say that Lucien is loyal—fiercely so.” “So is Azriel.”

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?” “I’d keep that question from Lucien.” “I’m serious.” I turned toward him and crossed my arms. “What decides it? Who decides it?”

“What if”—I jerked my chin toward the window, to my sister and the shadowsinger in the garden—“that is what she needs? Is there no free will? What if Lucien wishes the union but she doesn’t?”

SJM is sowing doubt at every turn. Then to top it off we are introduced to Vassa through Lucien, and now we finally see him have a spark, blush, and speak of her with almost worship as Feyre points out.

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

“Not for long—not if Vassa has anything to do with it.” “You sound like an acolyte.”

Lucien blushed, glancing at Elain. “She’s got a foul temper and a fouler mouth.” 

Now, I can understand the belief that Elucien could be endgame but you simply cannot deny that before that Elriel & LucienxVassa is going to have to be explored to a degree. 

“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …”Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

“I …” Lucien fumbled for the words. Not out of some lie or excuse, I realized a moment later. Realized when he said, “I’ve been at the Spring Court every now and then. But if I’m not here in Velaris, I’ve mostly been staying with Jurian. And Vassa.”

We also see both couples paralleled. I mean in all honesty I could go on and on and on, there is so many qoutes that I could add but this will just get longer and longer. I am going to link my full Elriel Analysis, and some other stuff about them and rejecting the bond below.

As for our fox boy Lucien!

I really like him, and I do feel like he has a very interesting journey ahead, between his true paternity, Vassa and the mating bond he has a lot coming up for him. I am excited to see where the band of exhiles might take us, despite Feyre’s mockery I am excited that after so long of not belonging anywhere he may have found people to call his own.

Look if Elucien happens after a genuine build up, I will be happy to read their journey, of course I will be very disappointed for Elriel because I truly believe they are the best fit but I am not against Elucien if anything I think Sarah is, more than anyone else.

Like I said I could go on for years, and honestly in 9 days hopefully we have a better idea of the future to base our opinions on. 

I am tagging this Anti-Elucien, not that I feel it is but I don’t want Elucien shippers to have to see it, so if they blacklist the tag the can avoid the negativity ❤︎

[Elriel Meta] [Elriel Kindred Spirits] [Elriel Choice 1 & 2] [Garden] [Thoughts]

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 3

A/N: Hi friends, so I have a confession to make. I am a liar, a dirty, filthy liar because I said this would be 3 parts. Yeah, no, it’s gonna be more than that. I’m aiming for 5. But you never know apparently. So! Enjoy part 3 :) As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 7.4k (oops?)

Warnings: yearning, oh so much yearning; sm**ches

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

Opening the brightly colored box of tea, you held it up to your nose and let the warm citrus and spice notes overwhelm your senses. Humming softly in content, you pulled out one of the sachets and delicately placed it into your favorite teacup, figuring that only the best would do. You read the back of the box, finishing just as the kettle started whistling on the stove top.

Grabbing it, you filled up your cup and made sure the bag was fully submerged, debating on adding just a drop of honey, but quickly decided against it and put the little bear shaped container back into the cupboard. Picking the cup up, you were planning on high tailing it back to your room, to avoid any sort of questioning from Sarah. She would surely be home at any time now, and you wanted to avoid any confrontation. 

"That's an impressive new collection of teas," her voice startled you so much that you almost sloshed the tea all over yourself. You had been so wrapped up in your preparation that you hadn't heard her come in at all...or she'd been extra quiet to try and catch you up to something, almost as if she could sense something was up.

"Yes," you gave her a dismissive look and made it a point to avoid her eyes as you tried to sweep past her.

You just knew she wouldn't let it go. No - that was not her style at all.

"These are all...uncommon," she commented and you swallowed the lump in your throat, "isn't that one tea shop in Austin the only place that sells this?"

"Huh, yeah, maybe so," you knew exactly where they were from. You'd paid the place a few visits yourself over the years; that's how you know the significance of the gift, "look, I've got a lot of homework to do, and this paper to finish up."

"When did you have time to go and get these?" you stopped dead in your tracks as you quickly tried to think of an excuse, a reason, somehow you could have gotten the teas without her knowing. And she knew damn well that you had been home all weekend, working away on various projects and your paper for Javier's class that you were determined to make perfect.

"It was a delivery," it was a quick lie, the first one that came to mind. You turned around and gave her a nonchalant shrug, "it was here when I got home a little bit ago. My mom sent them over, thought it was a nice treat."

"Your mom stopped over in Austin and sent them to you?" she could tell you were getting close to snapping, but was going to keep pushing and pushing until you broke, or she dragged the truth out of you, "and wrapped them with a ribbon? Where's the shipping box?"

"I threw it out already..."

Her hands were on her hips as she stared you down with a cocked eyebrow, your name rolling off of her tongue in an accusatory tone, "where did you get the teas?"

"Sarah, stop," you tried to be firm; resolute. Instead it sounded more like a plea than anything else, "it's nothing."

"If it's nothing, then tell me where you got these," her ocean gaze was searing as you let out a long breath and bowed your head slightly.

"Javi," you finally admitted, letting his nickname hang in the air for a few long, pregnant pauses, "they're from Javi."

"Holy shit," she said after a few moments, but all you could do was nod as you stared at your feet. It didn't sound so...normal when it was finally out in the air. Maybe you had both overstepped your boundaries. But, even if you did, you couldn't really find it in your heart to care, "he really likes you. Or he's got absolutely way too much free time on his hands."

"Should I not have accepted?" you felt silly, almost like a child getting scolded for doing something naughty. But you were both consenting adults, and neither of you had technically done anything wrong, "h-he had it waiting for me at my desk. I didn't know what else to do."

After the class had ended, and you'd spent the lecture basically staring at Javi and vice versa, you'd been determined to go and speak to him. But instead, your nerves had only increased as the time went on and you weren't even sure what to say, where to begin. Instead, you hastily packed up your bag and left along with everyone else, keeping yourself hidden in the zombie horde of other students. You'd felt guilty about it since, and hoped Javier wouldn't take offense...maybe he'd just think you had somewhere else to be right away.

"No, no, no babes," Sarah could practically hear the gears turning in your head as you thought of every negative outcome, every bad possibility, "that's not what I meant. I just meant that...obviously, there’s something to this all. Think about it - you don't just go out of your way like to keep up something special for someone you don't give a shit about. You know?"

"Yeah," you agreed as you set the cup down on the counter and ran a hand through your hair, "I know. It's just...I feel like that I like him...as more than a professor. Its definitely a crush, and I still barely know the man, but..."

"But you want to," she easily concluded as you groaned and threw your head back, staring at the ceiling as if you were begging it for answers, "there’s nothing wrong with that. You're just two people who happened to meet a certain way. Imagine if he was man that you'd met out one day, like a bookshop or while getting a coffee. You wouldn't be having reservations then, would you?"

"Most likely not."

"Then think of it that way," she insisted, stealing your cup and taking a sip of the sweet tea. She instantly made a face that suggested it was delicious, "just because he's a professor-"

"My professor!"

"Doesn't mean it has to be weird," she insisted, "in a few months he won't be your professor any more, and by the end of the school year you won't be a student anymore. Think of it like that."

"What if, and this is a big if, something were to happen between us, then what? He could lose his job," you couldn't think of doing that to him, no matter how much he didn't care about the position. It would never sit right with you, "I'm not...going to do that."

"Babes, nothing is going to happen," Sarah promised as she pushed the tea back towards you, "you don't even know his true feelings yet, although I believe my suspicions are correct. Talk to him, and see where it goes."

"I wish it was that simple," you took the mug and finally tasted the tea for yourself. It was divine; you wondered how carefully he'd chosen this particular kind, "I feel like I'm over complicating things."

"You are," she gently tapped your head and caused you both to laugh, "a classic over thinker...next time you see him, just go and talk to him. Everything will be fine."

"I could just call him," you murmured under your breath, more to yourself than anything else, but Sarah much have had supersonic hearing because her mouth had just about fallen to the floor.

"Excuse me?!"

"He...he gave me his number," your cheeks were surely a brilliant shade of crimson by now, feeling hotter than ever, "when I went to see him last week. He told me to call him if I needed help with my paper."

"Help with your...oh hell no," she was almost jumping with excitement at the revelation, "he totally didn't give you his number so you could call if you needed help. We all know exactly why he did it."

"Ummm...." you were at a loss for words, staring at the tea and the playing with the string attached to the sachet, "I guess not."

"Call him," she insisted firmly, "call him."

"Yeah?" you asked and she fervently nodded, her curls bouncing wildly. You bit the inside of your cheek as you slid off the stool and grabbed the tea, "maybe I will. But do not, and I mean this, do not listen in."

"Scout's honor," she gave you the three finger salute as you marched off to your bedroom, practically shaking with nerves at the possibility of calling Javier. Before you could close your bedroom door you heard her shout, "good luck!"

You could do this. You totally could. No if, ands, or buts about it. It was just going to be a friendly conversation ti thank him for the more than generous gift he had given. Right? Right.

Then why did you feel so damn nervous?

Your hands were practically shaking as you sat at your desk, pulling the phone towards you. Catching your reflection in the window, you let out a sigh at yourself and how panicked you looked, almost like a little deer caught in headlights. It was dark already, a small rainstorm had started earlier; the perfect environment for a cup of tea.

Picking up the receiver, you dialed Javier's number; you were almost embarrassed that you had it memorized it already, having repeated it to yourself so many times over the weekend. Pathetic, you bemoaned yourself, a pathetic girl with a silly little crush.

Once you dialed the number, you held the phone close to your ear waiting for baited breath to see if he would even answer. Maybe he didn't answer calls from unknown numbers. Maybe it could go to his voicemail. Would you even leave a voicemail? Should you? Should you have called from a blocked number? There were so many things spewing through your mind.

It rang and rang, seemingly endlessly, by just before you were about to hang up and let it go, he answered. His voice was still as warm and rich over the phone as it was in real life and a pleasant shiver ran down your spine as you listened to him say, "hello?"

"J-Javi? It's me," you said in almost a rush as you realized that he might not realize who me was. You sighed quietly as you said your name, wondering if you should cut your losses and hang up already.

"Hey," he seemed to relax slightly when he realized it was you, "how are you? Everything's okay, right?"

You tried not to grin from ear to ear at his question, mentally calming yourself down, "yeah, Javi, everything's fine. I just...wanted to thank you. For the tea. Its wonderful, truly, and I can only imagine the trouble you must have gone through to get it. I appreciate it, I'm drinking one actually, the citrus spice one, and its delicious."

"It was nothing," he promised but for some reason you couldn't help but think it was a lot more then that. It definitely was; if only you could have seen his face when he'd heard you say his name, "I just wanted to thank you."

"Whatever for?"

"Being the one student I've had in three years that gives a damn about the class," he said and you couldn't hold back your laugh. He liked that sound - he liked it a lot, "you don't know what it's like to go through this same bullshit all the time. Its nice to get a break from the routine, the norm."

"Thank you for helping me," it was weak trade off, but you were happy to give it to him. You were happy to listen to that warm, rich timbre any time, to watch those honeyed, syrupy eyes any time, "I appreciate you giving me your time. And I'm sorry for running out the way I did earlier.”

"Why?" he asked softly as he waited for your response with baited breath. He desperately hoped that he hadn’t scared you off for whatever reason, or come on too strongly, "why did you leave?"

"I wish I had a good answer for you," you cradled the receiver between your shoulder and ear, nervously twisting the cord between your fingers, "I got nervous. So I just left...I just...it wasn't you, or anything."

"Do I make you nervous?" Javi sounded almost...nervous himself. Worried? There was a quality to it that you hadn't heard before.

"No, not really," you admitted. It wasn’t Javi himself that made you nervous or anxious, it was all the ideas or possibilities or what could, of what this could turn into. You just hoped that you weren't about to make a fool out of yourself. How were you supposed to face the rest of the semester if you were completely wrong about this? You squeezed your eyes shut as you mulled over your next words carefully, trying to figure out what to say, "its just...I hope I'm not reading this wrong. Or making something out of nothing."

There was a sharp inhale of breath on the other side and you could just picture him, sitting at home, frustrated looked on his face. After a few moments of tense silence, you heard him again, "what do you think this is? What do you what it to be?"

"Javi..." you let his name hang in the air, trying to get your point across without needing to expand. Letting out a shaky breath you thought about just hanging up then and there. But no. You were already in too deep, "I...don't want to be just your student."

There was a tangible shift between the two of you as the air remained silent for some time. All you heard was a few shaky breathes on his end. You wished, desperately so, that you could see what was going on in his mind. Little did you know, Javier was sitting there, his stack of papers now long forgotten as he tried to retain his composure. He ran a hand over his tired face, almost wishing he hadn't asked, almost wishing you hasn't told him what he wanted to hear. This wasn't part of his plan. This wasn't how he was supposed to be a good man.

"Javi?" just when you couldn't handle the still, tension feeling hanging in the air, his name came out almost like a pathetic whimper.

"Are you free this weekend?" he blurted the question, not letting himself linger too much on it before he changed his mind, "maybe we could go and get a tea?"

A blush blossomed in your cheeks at his question, your stomach erupting in butterflies at the sheer concept of spending time with him outside of school. You realized you were nodding silently, before finding the proper words, "I'm free this weekend. I'd like that...a lot. Maybe we can even settle and get a coffee instead."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," you almost whispered into the phone. Your voice was so soft and quiet that almost weren’t sure anything came out. But then you heard a soft sigh, almost like a relieved breath on the other side. 

"Great," he couldn't believe that this was happening, couldn't believe that he was getting nervous over all of this, like a schoolboy. He’s been out with countless women in the past, seemingly nothing phased him, but here he was, genuinely terrified, but excited at the prospect of what could be. He bit his bottom lip before deciding to make sure his intentions were crystal clear, "then it's a date..."

"Yeah," you agreed, begging yourself not to sound too eager or excited, “it’s a date. How about Saturday around one? I can meet you at the old cafe near the other side of town? I forget the name, but it’s the only decent one in town and they’ve got pretty good coffee.”

“You’re sure you don’t want the tea?” he joked and you felt some of the tension and nerves subside. This would be fine, everything would be.

“Positive,” you promised, “we’ll get tea next time.”

Your promise of a next time, that you were confident enough to think this could go somewhere was enough to make him realize that maybe this wasn’t a horrible decision after all, “how does that sound?”

“I’ll see you then,” you twist the cord of the phone so tightly, trying not to completely freak out. You had a date with Javier Pena. Granted, it was only an afternoon meet up for coffee, but a date was a date, and he’d confirmed it, “have a good night, Javi.”

“You too,” how was his voice this dreamy? You could listen to it for hours and hours, even if he would have been recited the phone book to you. Hell, you practically did that in his class every week anyways. You couldn’t wait to hear it, with no restraints, no pressures from being in your roles as teacher and student. To get to see him, just him, as he was, “good night.”

Slowly, almost reluctantly, you put the receiver back in its cradle, leaned back and staring at the ceiling. Holy shit. You had actually just agreed to a date...with your professor. 

Before you could actually think too much about it, your bedroom door slammed open and Sarah burst in, ambushing you from behind and you squealing into your ear. Your face warmed up as you realized that she already knew.

“Sarah!” you moaned at her, trying to hide your face out of pure embarrassment, “I told you not to listen in on my call!”

“I didn’t listen to your call,” she insisted, “I just sat outside your door and listened to your end of the conversation. That’s not technically listening in on the call, because I didn’t hear his end of the conversation.”

“Of course,” you playfully nudged her, “you would find the one loophole.”

“What can I say?” she seemed very proud of herself indeed, “I’m a pro. But you! Can you believe? A date with a hot professor. What a dream!”

“Please,” you grabbed her arm and looked at her with wide eyes, “don’t so much as breath a word of this to anyone. I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea or anything.”

“I would never,” she promised, “your secret is safe with me, babes. But, I will expect a full report after your date.”

“Maybe...”

“I’m your best friend!” she pouted, “it’s girl code, practically the law!” 

“We’ll see...”

“You can’t bone the hottest professor on campus and not tell me!”

“SARAH.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Javier," Chucho shook his head at his son, watching as sweat dripped off of his face and neck. Javier spared him a quick glance, finishing up the fence post he was working on before wiping the sweat from his brow and catching his breath. He'd been helping his father to fix up his fence all afternoon, virtually wordless, but glad to be at his father's ranch again. Stevie had been ecstatic to come along, running around all afternoon and studying the various animals around the ranch and trying to play with them.

Javi had the day off, a rare occurrence these days, and decided to make the most of it, leaving early in the morning to make the several hour drive to Laredo. It had been some time since he'd seen his father, and he'd been itching to spend some time with him. He was completely breaking through every other one of his normal routines, why not do this as well? Despite being a man long grown, he still often turned to his father for his advice, and general comfort when be really he needed.

"What's up, Pops?" his hands went to his hips as Chucho came over and offered him a cold bottle of water.

"You've been working out here all day, barely said a word," he noted and Javi shrugged at his father's concern laced with all sorts of silent accusations, "are you going to come in and talk to me, mijo? Or are you just going to stay out here for the rest of evening?"

"I don't know what you're talking about papá," he wasn't even sure why he was lying to his father. He could read him like a book, almost better than anyone else. Chucho raised an eyebrow at him but shook his head, turning to go back inside. He beckoned for Javier to follow, which he begrudgingly did, feeling like he was a small boy again, about to be scolded for something or other.

"I made tamales," a little spring suddenly appeared in his step at the thought. He never bothered to cook extravagant meals or anything fancy for himself, so he was always glad to come home and get a warm, delicious meal, "your mama's recipe."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javi piled his plate high with the delicious foods, gratefully accepting a cold beer from Chucho as he sat across the table from him. Before he could even get the first bite into his mouth before being interrupted.

"So, mijo, what's on your mind?" Javi groaned inwardly as he set his fork back down. He clasped his hands and rested his chin on them as he tried to figure how, and what, to tell him.

"Can't I just want to come and see you, papá,?" he asked with a noncommittal shrug as Chucho's brown eyed gaze remained fixated on him.

"Absolutely, you're always welcome," he answered, "but I am your father. I've known you since birth. I know when you've got something on your mind. Que pasa?"

"Papá,," he shoved a huge bite into his mouth and chewed on it, mulling over his words, "I'm just...I guess...thinking about things a lot lately."

"Colombia?"

"Sí," he swallowed his mouthful and slumped slightly in his seat, "there are times when it still hits me. At night, more than anything. I just can't help but think I could have done it all so much better. Cleaner. Less blood on my hands."

"What you did wasn't easy, mijo, it was never going to be," his tone was softer but Javier refused to acknowledge it. He'd gotten this speech at least ten times before from his father, and countless times from others, but it never made him feel better, "you did your best, you know that everyone knows that."

"I just can't help but think that things could have turned out differently," the image of Horacio Carillo killing the young boy, and countless others, without hesitation, directly in front of him were a frequent theme in his darkest dreams, "all those innocent lives that were wasted...when we were taking out Calí cartel, the wife of Franklin Jurado, you remember him right, she called me a piece of shit. She meant it, I could hear it in her voice. Sometimes I think she was right."

"You are not a piece of shit, Javier," Chucho insisted firmly, almost slamming his fist down on the table. He hated knowing that this was still plaguing his son, "you are a good man. You've done a lot of good for a lot of people. The work you did was good."

Javier scoffed at him at him as he just shook his head. He tried to be a good man, lord knows he was trying. But lately he was wondering how well he was doing that in the department, "it was a load of shit. We brought down Escobar and Calí for what? Just for more scumbags to come out and stake their claim? To show just how fucking corrupt our government and those in Colombia are? To show that that everything is completely fucked up and nothing will ever change? Yeah, I did that. It was good for a little while, soon it'll all go back to normal and nothing we ever did will matter."

"Javier," his head almost whipped up at the sound of his name, coming out so sharply from his father's mouth, "you didn't know better at the time, neither did Steve, or those two young ones you worked with in Calí. You did what you had to at the time. If you had known any different at the time, you would have it differently. You're a good man, Javi, you've always been a good boy mijito."

"I wish I could I see it that way," he took another bite, trying to get his father's words into his mind. He knew he was true, that he did his best with what he knew at the time. He always thought that the end justified the means, that sometimes in order to catch bad men you had to do bad things. But at the end of it all, he wondered if it all had been worth it. It had to be right? He had made a difference, he wanted to believe that his work wasn't for naught, "sometimes I wonder."

"Tell me, if you had know there was a different way to do things, would you have done it?"

"Of course," he nodded, taking a long drag from his beer as he wiped at his brow, "I would do whatever was best."

"Exactly," Chucho wished he could get his son to see him in the same light he saw him in. But he was hard, and he knew he could never truly know the full extent of Javier's inner torment, "there is no use ruminating on things that are in the past. You cannot change them now. You shouldn't dwell on things that are done. Your path is not behind you, it is in front of you."

"Lo sé," he agreed, finishing up the tamales on his plate and downing the rest of his beer. Even if he had a hard time believing what was he saying, it made him feel even minutely better, "it's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"I do," he agreed, "now tell, what else is on your mind? And don't tell me it's nothing, either."

Javi got up and grabbed his plate, bringing to the kitchen, rinsing it as he sat it down in the sink. He leaned against the counter as he contemplated getting himself another beer, but opted against it.

"I think..." gods, he felt like nothing more than an anxious child at this point, drumming his fingers along the aging counter top, "there's, well...I might have met someone."

"Oh?" this time Chucho almost gave himself whiplash as Javier refused to meet his eyes, instead focusing his attention on the floor, "a woman?"

"Sí," he answered.

"That's wonderful, mijo," the older man stood up and brought his own plate to the sink, and stood across from Javi. He put his hand on his shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze, "you deserve someone special. Especially after you'll been through. It would be nice to know that you have someone looking out for you."

"It's a little more complicated than that, papá," he'd already told him so much, he figured that he could probably just go on and tell him the whole truth. Nothing bad would come of...or at least he hoped it wouldn't.

"Please tell me she's not married..."

"No-"

"Is she pregnant?"

"No-"

"Then what's the problem, mijo?" Javier swallowed the nervous lump in his throat as he looked up and met the gaze of those wise, dark eyes.

"She's a student," he admitted, waiting for his father to yell at him, to freak out, or something. But instead, nothing came. Only a few moments of silence as Chucho waited for him to expand, "she's in one of my classes."

"What's the problem with that?"

"She's my student...she's younger..." he shrugged his shoulders, "it just feels off, I don't know."

"She's an adult, right?" he asked as Javier nodded, adding that she was a senior, "then what is the big deal? You're both consenting adults. Then there's nothing wrong with it. If you like her, Javi, and you think she's good for you, then go for it. Just keep a level head and do what's right. You know what to do son, your mama and I raised you right."

"You don't think I'm a horrible person for being interested in a student?"

"You're not the first and you won't be the last," he stated with a laugh, "what if you had met her at the grocery store or something? Would you be experiencing this  hesitation then?"

"No...not nearly as much anyway," he admitted. The age different might still have bugged him slightly, but he knew he could get over that, "I just don't want it to seem like I'm taking advantage of her because of my position or anything."

"She sounds like a smart girl-"

"How do you know?"

"She's interested in you, right?"

Javier snorted with laughter as light flush of color rose up in his golden cheeks. Leave it to his dad to be his best friend and biggest supporter. They'd butted heads numerous times over the years, but at the end of the day, Javier loved his father most of all.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders, son," he promised, giving him a gently nudge, "just be smart and make good choices. You always do."

"Papá," Javier let a small sigh as a smile worked it's way on his face, "gracias por todo."

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sat up, bolt right, trying to catch your breath, feeling impossibly hot, despite the chilly morning. Once you realized you were awake and in your own bedroom, you laid back down and staring at the ceiling. You'd just woken up from a dream starring Professor Peña and yourself in a very compromising situation; naturally though, your mind hadn't let you get to the best part, stopping just before you managed to get him stripped of clothing.

Groaning, you rolled over and glanced at your alarm, seeing that it was still much earlier than you would have liked.

Saturday morning had rolled around much sooner than you had expected, and your stomach was in absolute knots. Maybe you could still back out now?

But no - you wanted to do this. You wanted to see Javi.

Instead of talking yourself down, you slid your legs out of the bed and decided to spend the morning relaxing and taking the time to get ready and treating yourself to some much needed relaxation. You spied the outfit you had picked out the night before hanging from the back of your closet. You wondered if it was too much, or not enough...

It was a simple floral shift dress that you planned on pairing with a pair of your favorite chucks. It was still just warm enough it sport, despite being almost fall and you vowed to take advantage of the weather for as long as you could. The dress was innocent enough, bordering on too short and maybe slightly lower cut than it needed to be, but you liked it, and you hoped he would too. Not that it mattered...but still...the idea was nice.

Before changing your mind, or thinking too much about your decisions, you stepped into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it get hot before jumping in and scrubbing yourself from head to toe. You just want everything to go well. This was really important to you for some reason or another.

»»————-　♡　————-««

When you arrived at the cafe, you were early, despite your best efforts not to be early. You hadn’t wanted to appear too eager, but your nerves had gotten the better of you, and found yourself out the door earlier than expected. You’d even walked, making the decent trek to the other part of town, hoping it would kill more time, but apparently there had been too much spring in your step, and you’d arrived with some time to kill. Instead of ordering your drink already, you’d walked to the back of the cozy cafe, sitting at a small table and pulling out the book you were currently reading - you always keep one in your bag for situations exactly like this. The weather had slowly shifted, and it now looked like it was about to rain; you cursed yourself for walking, but the euphoria of the moment really won over. 

You sighed lightly as you looked around, watching all sorts of different milling about, going about their days. It was calm here, quiet and cozy, just like you preferred. Turning your attention back to your books, you attempting to read the page you had last ended on...but it was proving to be a challenge, and you ended rereading the same sentence about ten times before finally getting the gist of it and moving on. 

You weren’t alone long however, but had gotten absorbed enough into the book that you hadn’t noticed Javier appear across the table from you. He reached over and gently tapped the spine of your book, captured your attention and startling you slightly. He had a smile grin on his face as he watched your eyes widen in surprise, quickly closing the book and slipping it back into your bag.

“Hi,” your voice was but a mere, breathy whisper as you tried your best not to let your cheeks flush too much, “I-I hope you weren’t trying to get my attention for too long. I didn’t even think my book was that interesting!”

“I just got here,” he admitted as he studied you, his dark eyes taking everything in, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on your chest, something you didn’t think was too intentional. He looked good, more casual than when he was teaching but still almost unfairly handsome. He was sporting a pair of jeans that hugged him in the all the right places, accentuated nicely by the black button up with the rolled up sleeves. He wasn’t wearing glasses today, but he still looked....so good, “how long have you been here?”

“A little while,” you said sheepishly, “I got here a little early. I wasn’t waiting too long.”

“Good,” he jerked his head towards the counter, “come on - let’s go and order. You look very pretty.”

“I, ugh,” you were instantly stammering over your words, trying to remain cool and composed. Instead you found yourself spewing out, “you too.”

“You think I look pretty?” he teased, and half of you expected to be embarrassed, but instead you just rolled your eyes at him and gently shoved his shoulder. 

“You know what I meant,” you bemoaned him, as he laughed and nudged you towards the counter. The woman behind the counter glanced at the two of you for just a moment, eyes flicking between you and Javier before settling on him, and zoning in on him. You had no doubt her thoughts were immediately all consumed by him. You wanted to roll your eyes at her and her obvious attempted to capture his attention, but stopped yourself. He must get this all time; but if he did, he didn’t let it phase him, keeping his gaze trained on you instead. 

“What are you having?” she grabbed a pen to take your order, making the most obvious eyes at Javier, who just ignored and put his hand on the small of your back.

“I’ll just have a black coffee, a little bit of sugar,” he told her before looking at you, attempting to guess your order, “and she’ll have a coffee with cream and sugar.”

You looked up and shook your head lightly, “close, very close. An iced coffee with extra cream and raw sugar.”

“I was almost there,” he insisted as he reached into his back pocket to pull out his wallet. You attempted to grab his hand to stop him, but he moved slightly out of your reach, shaking his head at you, and you decided not to argue with him, “I’ll have it right next time.”

Next time. You really liked the sound of that.

“Whatever you say, Javi,” you said in a sing-song voice as he handed the woman behind a twenty dollar bill and told her to keep the change. He followed you over to the pick up counter. 

“Extra cream?” he said as he watched your coffee being made. You stuck out your tongue and shrugged at him, “so you’re drinking some coffee with your milk, huh? And iced? Dios mio, you might as well stick to tea at this rate. This was not how coffee was intended to be consumed.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter at his mock tirade, watching his face shift through various expressions before your coffees were placed in front of you. Grabbing yours, you took a long sip and ended with an exaggerated ahh, “delicious. Better than that bitter bean water you’re drinking. Black? Do you hate yourself that much?”

“Not as much as you apparently hate yourself for drinking that poor excuse of a coffee. They would have roasted you in Colombia for that,” the last part slipped out before he could help, and he stiffened slightly, but you instantly relaxed when he noticed that you weren’t hung up on anything. You weren’t going to push him to talk about anything he didn’t want to; you’d already made that up in your mind a while ago

“That was a horrible joke,” you laughed as you slid back into your seat, and he took his place across from you. It was a small and intimate, a fireplace going somewhere near by, casting a light glow around the space and chasing away the chill from the cold, early fall day, “they would have roasted me? You should stick with your day job. And I’ll stick with my tea. I make a coffee exception once in a while, like today.”

“I don’t know how you do tea all the time,” he sighed dramatically, “I’ve been drinking that matcha I got in the mornings, but it’s just not the same.”

“You got matcha?” your eyes widened as you realized he’d taken your suggestion to heart. He took a long sip from his coffee and nodded, “it’s good though, right? Most tea is, just different from coffee. All the ones you got me are delicious...thank you for them, really. It’s such a thoughtful thing.”

“It was nothing,” he insisted, smiling so brightly that his dimple was on full display, “but I am glad you like them.”

“You should...try them sometime,” were you pushing the envelope too much? Did you really care? No, not really, “I-I have plenty, if you’re ever interested.”

“I’d be interested,” he said with a glint in his dark eyes, “I’d be very interested.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

Being with Javi was easy; fun to the point where you almost never felt awkward, fun to the point where you were almost laughing the entire time, not questioning if whatever you had said was dumb or too much. He was kind, much more open and relaxed than he ever appeared in the classroom, asking you all shorts of questions about yourself, and answering whatever you wanted to know about him. Within reason. You hadn’t really broached the subject of his time with the DEA in Colombia, and while you were naturally curious, you figured if he wanted to tell you, he would. 

But it didn’t deter from the lovely afternoon you were having. He was animated, using his hands as he talked, his dark eyes expressive and lively. You liked him, how normal and easy this all seemed. You only hoped that he felt the same way about you. Little did you know that he did; he liked you very, very much. He loved how passionate you got when you talked about things you liked, how you had a habit of tapping your chin when you were searching for a word or an answer, how your eyes crinkled in the corners when you laughed, how you leaned in closer to him, listening to him and making him feel you truly cared about what he had to say.

When he realized just how much he liked your smile, he knew he was fucked. So fucked. But then again - so were you.

The day had quickly turned to evening, and it was almost completely pitch back outside. You cursed yourself for deciding to walk, knowing it would be horrible to get home. But as soon as Javier realized that you didn’t have your car, he insisted on driving you back to your apartment. He wasn’t going to take no for an answer; and frankly, you would have been loath to turn down his offer because you wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. 

You gave him directions, he deemed you the worst copilot ever as you were horrible with directions, but eventually he found your place and pulled up front, turning off the car while the two of you remained in silence for a few minutes, neither of you wanting your time together to end. 

“Well,” you said finally, avoiding his eyes as you moved to open the car door, “I guess I better get going.”

“I can walk you inside,” it wasn’t a question, more like a subtle plea. Shifting in your seat, you found him watching you with a hopeful expression etched on his features. Biting your lip, something that Javier had noticed you had a tendency to do, you almost drove him crazy. If only you could see how beautiful you were. Nodding, you opened the door and stepped out, waiting for him to come to your side before walking in the direction of your apartment. 

Deliberately making each step as slow as possible, you could feel how warm he was as he walked alongside you. When you reached your front door, you sighed lightly, “well, this is me. Thank you for today...I had a really good time.”

“I did too,” he said gently, his eyes softer than you had ever seen him. You wished there was a way to convey to him just how much, how terribly much you had enjoyed his company, and how reluctant you were to say good night.

You watched each other for a few moments, feeling your heart race as neither of you made any move to leave. But then - suddenly - before you could fully process what was happening, Javier put his hand on either side of your face and crashed his lips onto yours, kissing you with intensity, a searing passion that you took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck, carding a hand through his dark locks as his hands found purchase on your waist and pulled you close. 

His touch, his taste, his smell, everything combined in a way so delightful that you’d never experienced before; surely this was what sheer bliss was like. He felt perfect against you, there was no fumbling awkwardness, instead it felt like the two of you had been doing this forever. He break apart from you only when you were thoroughly breathless, feeling drunk off his kisses. 

Javier studied your face, your eyes wide and lightly swollen lips as he wondered if he’d just made a huge mistake. A million thoughts were running through his mind as he tried not to panic, and reminded him that surely, he couldn’t have read the signs all wrong. But when your expression slowly turned into a shy little smile, a warmth heating up your skin as you looked at him with the sweetest eyes, he knew he hadn’t made a mistake. He reached over you and brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face.

“Umm,” you breathed out as you rode out the euphoria of the best kiss you’d ever had, “I...wow. Javi...I had a great time today.”

“Me too,” he agreed, already beginning to miss the feel of your lips against his. He let out a small laugh, almost not believing his luck as he shoved his hands into his pockets, “I hope you have a good night, dulzura.”

“Good night, Javi,” you beamed at him as he slowly turned around to head back to his car, watching until he was just to make sure he was safe...and to admire the view of course. He gave you one last wave before you unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaning against the door and trying to calm yourself down. Despite your best efforts, a small squeal of delight pass through your lips. Bringing a hand to your lips and tapping your fingertips along them, you could tell they were plump and plush from all of his kisses. 

Holy shit. This had actually happened. This was all a reality.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[destinationtoast]

Hi there! I love your fandom stats and I was wondering, how do you go about deciding what data to include in them? Like how do you decide what is useful/people might be looking for vs what is just extraneous or uninteresting?

So glad you like them! And thanks for the question. :) The answer depends a bit on what I'm trying to do, because there are a few main reasons I tend to do fandom stats: I'm just generally curious, I'm trying to help other fans find something that's hard to search for, or I'm trying to find the answer to a very specific question.

Below, I'll share info on the the kinds of data I tend to share in each case.

I am just generally curious. E.g., I'm wondering what the recent trends are on AO3, or in a specific fandom. In this case, I tend to focus on sharing the data that I find particularly interesting and/or surprising. Often, I'm surprised by what makes a particular fandom (or tag, or time period) different from fandom more broadly. So for instance, if the "Fix-It" tag occurs way more often in a particular fandom as on AO3 overall, that's surprising and interesting! Or if a particular fandom has a different biggest ship on AO3 vs. FFN vs. Wattpad, that's also interesting! I'll usually share that kind of data (and I'll sometimes dig in more to find out whether/how that's changed over time). I also just find it generally interesting to know the biggest fandoms and ships on any given platform (on AO3, e.g.). I also listen to feedback -- if it turns out that other fans find something else particularly surprising or interesting, that also changes what I focus on more over time. But a lot of what all of us find surprising/interesting tends to boils down to, "what's really different from average?" or "what varies a lot between different fandoms?"

I am trying to help people find a particular type of fanwork. If people have a harder time finding fanworks that involve femslash or asexuality or something similar, then I try to understand what they most want but have a hard time finding. For instance, fans of femslash like to know which fandoms have the most F/F -- but they're often more interested in which ones have the most foreground F/F (which I've learned I can roughly approximate by filtering out M/M and F/M). Fans of fanworks about asexuality often want to know which characters are most often written as ace -- not just which characters have the highest total number of "Asexual <Name>" works, but which characters have the highest % of their fanworks tagged "Asexual <Name>". For all of these kinds of stats, I'm very interested in what information fans wish they could more easily find on AO3. And here, even more than usual, I listen to and respond to reader feedback.

I have a specific question I'm trying to answer. Here, I try to focus on the data that most directly addresses the question. For instance, imagine that I wanted to answer the question: "is fanfic getting more porny recently?" I'd start out by thinking, "What data would answer this?" As a first stab at that example question, I might look at the # of works that have been marked Explicit this year vs. in past years. If it hasn't gone up, then maybe the answer is just "No." But say that I did find an increasing number of Explicit works in the past year. Then I would immediately think, "What else could explain that data?" One possible alternate explanation that come to mind: Maybe AO3 overall has a lot more works in the past year, and Explicit only got bigger because of that. So I'd compare to the overall number of works per year on AO3 and see if that explained the increase in Explicit. Another relevant thing I've noticed based on past stats: longer works are more likely to be marked Explicit than short works. So if I do see a change in amount of Explicit fic recently, it would be interesting to see whether the amount of long works has also gone up. Another thing I might consider: what if they amount of fanfic contains graphic sex scenes hasn't changed -- but people are just tagging more works Explicit than they used to? I don't actually have an easy way to answer that last question... I'd have to actually read a whole lot of works (or at least do some sort of analysis of the text) and make my own categorizations of how porny they are. And I usually don't have the time/energy to do that kind of analysis. But I would try to point out in my post that this is a possibility, and that I wasn't able to rule it out. Anyway, I'd end up trying to share just the data that most clearly explains the answer(s) I found to my original question, along with any information that helps clarify why that might be the answer.

I hope that helps explain things somewhat! Happy to answer follow up questions, if you or anyone else have them. :)

[thiswasinevitableid]

Hi there! If you're feeling it for mermay, I would like to request #9: folklore with OT4? No preference on rating: go with whatever feels best! Thank you so much and I hope you have a nice day!

Here you go! I went SFW on this one.

“You did what??” Dani stares at Barclay, shocked.

“I offered him a job. He needed work while he was here in town for his research, and he seemed nice, and, uh, and-”

“And attractive.” Indrid adds, turning to a new page in his sketchbook.

“Branchin out a little from your usual type, sugar.” Duck kisses his cheek.

“Barclay, he’s a folklorist. A folklorist who specifically studies selkies.”

“Yeah he, uh, he said so. I figured if he’s working for me, or even if he wants me to show him around, I can steer him away from all the selkies.”

“Except for the one showing him around.” Dani gives him a look only an older sister could give.

“It’s not like he’s gonna see me transform.” Barclay mutters.

The meeting ends much as it began; with everyone agreeing that the new guy in town was a potential threat and should be given absolutely no information whatsoever. It’s not that Barclay doesn’t see the man, who introduced himself as Joseph Stern, as someone after Keplers secrets. It’s more that the guy uprooted his entire life to come to an obscure, Alaskan bay in hopes of finding the thing he wants most in the world. Barclay sympathizes. 

Kepler is notorious among selkies; a safe haven, a place where there are humans who will protect them, help them, even love them. More than one enterprising selkie, trapped in a loveless marriage or unending servitude, has tricked the human who betrayed them into going north. It’s rare that a human who committed such a breach of trust remains there long; and they always give the pelt back, usually while packing their things in a desperate rush.

It’s a pity, then, that Barclay never got the man who tricked him up here.

He finishes the dinner rush at Amnesty Lodge, located on the edge of the bay and a welcome stop for travelers from land and water alike. As he usually does this time of night, he heads to a dock, far from the lights of town or the ships out at sea, and sits with his feet in the water, solitary and solemn. Tonight, he’s not alone for long. 

Silvery hair emerges from the water as Indrid, now sporting a lovely grey tail, swims over to him. They met when Barclay first came here, Indrid more than a little odd but appreciative of Barclays skill in the kitchen and bedroom in ways he’d been without for years. The gift of future vision meant Indrid was nomadic, in that he was determined to use his powers to prevent tragedy whenever he could, and so one day he swam away from Kepler.

Barclay didn’t see him for years. No one did. Until a ranger by the name of Duck Newton was helping tag seals that kept swimming too far up the salmon runs and got the shock of his life when the one he caught turned into a man as he was holding him. Indrid pointed out that his ear was already pierced and if they needed him to hunt somewhere else they could just ask. Duck who, in spite of living in Kepler for years, did not believe in the supernatural until he was holding it, offered the first apology that came to mind, which included inviting Indrid to dinner.

They’ve been dating for two years now.

Indrid rises from the water enough to rest his head in Barclay’s lap, “Come stay with us tonight.”

“I...do you really want me to?”

“If you do not, you spend all night brooding and unable to sleep, thus making for a miserable morning. Too, I am rather fond of your company.” Indrid tilts his chin up with a grin and Barclay leans down to kiss him, “and before you ask, yes, Duck remains fine with this. He says, and I quote ‘Barclay’s my friend and also if you’re hugging him I can escape bed long enough to get ready for work.”

He chuckles, “Okay, I’ll be over soon. I, uh, is there any chance-”

“No” Indrid shakes his head with a sigh, rubs his cheek against Barclays leg, “there are still no futures where we find your coat. Wherever that bastard sent it, he hid it well.”

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

Barclay’is in trouble; not only is Joseph a good cook, he’s good company too. He finishes his shifts sweaty and exhausted, same as Barclay, and the selkie wonders what it would be like to see him breathless and red faced in other contexts. He suspects he’s not the only one.

Joseph’s research regularly takes him into the national forest or the adjoining state park on the beach, meaning he’s routinely running into Duck. The ranger initially worried his inability to lie convincingly would be a problem. But after some cursory questions that Indrid saw coming and coached him through technically true responses to, he and Joseph have struck up a passing friendship. 

“Joseph is also very interested in his love life” Indrid reveals while swimming circles around Barclay as he stands in the cold water, “not that I blame him. He has excellent taste in men. Present company included.”

“He’s just being nice to me. And I’m practically his boss.”

Indrid pauses his swimming to stare at him, “Dearest, when he’s not working, what does he do?”

“Uh, crosswords? Or he reads, and he likes trying new restaurants and going to movies.”

“And you know all this how?”

“Because he does it near me or asks me to go with him. Oh, uh, huh. Maybe he does have a thing for me.”

Indrid floats into his arms, kisses him, “invite him to dinner. The others at the Lodge are, understandably, still wary of him and don’t want him around. But there’s no harm in him having over for a meal.”

Barclay pulls Indrid closer, tickles his cheek with his beard as he teases, “Seems like I’m not the only one with a crush on him.”

“Not in the slightest.” Indrid grins, “Our lives have not been easy. I don’t know about you, but I intend to embrace affection and love whenever the opportunity presents itself. “

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

There’s no way Joseph is passing up this opportunity. 

He’d been refilling his travel mug at the complementary coffee kiosk in the Lodge and asked if anyone happened to know which rivers had the most reported selkie sightings. After each blurting out a different answer, his fellow guests (tenants, really) decided on the Bluff Creek river as the best option.

He wonders if they know just how obvious it is that they’re hiding something. 

Joseph is well aware that folklorists are seen as credulous and gullible. He uses that to his advantage. There’s no reason for anyone to know about his seven years in the FBI prior to this. No reason for them to know he knows that Dani will propose to Aubrey soon, that Jake is sneaking out every night, that Barclay is searching for something as intensely as Joseph is. 

Most nights, he falls asleep under a burnt orange bedspread dreaming that he’s what the cook is looking for. 

Barclays feelings for him are one of the few things at Amnesty he can’t decipher. He offers him a job, takes a personal interest in his welfare, and makes him coffee just how he likes it. Every single morning. But he gets jittery when Joseph asks him about himself, and some days he outright hides from him until they’re in the kitchen. 

The dinners with Indrid and Duck aren’t helping his confusion. Barclay practically holds his hand during them, but turns pink whenever Indrid winks at him. And Duck…well, Joseph knows he’s good looking, and he’s never had a hard time hooking up while traveling. The rangers attention just makes him so hot under the collar he wants to strip down at the table. Which is why he can’t decide if Duck agreeing to be his guide on the river is a stroke of luck or a brilliant plan to keep him from noticing things they don’t want him to see. 

When Duck meets him at the dock, his casual outdoor clothes unfairly flattering (Indrid likes the uniform better, but Joseph finds it hides too much of Duck’s arms and chest), he decides there’s no point in looking a gift hunk in the mouth. 

They paddle upriver, trading bad, pun-based jokes until the wind picks up and drowns their voices out. It’s slow going, and there’s no sign of a selkie, but Duck remains excellent company. They make camp an hour before sunset, in a two man tent that leaves them smushed shoulder to shoulder. 

As they’re comparing notes on growing up trans in a small town, Joseph shares the story of the time he nearly broke his tailbone after slipping on a packer he left on the floor. Duck guffaws, shaking the tent as he does, and ends up giggling into Joseph’s shoulder as they both wipe tears from their eyes.

“You have a great laugh, you know that?”

“Sound like a bird of paradise gettin hit by an accordion.” Duck isn’t moving his head.

“That’s a remarkably accurate description, but my point stands.”

He feels Duck turn his head, “Joe? Would, uh, would it be okay if I kissed you? You can say no, swear I won’t abandon you or leave you for the bears so some shit. Just, uh, been thinkin about it all day and figured I’d ask.”

“It won’t upset Indrid?” He slides his hand from his sleeping bag to hold Duck’s own. 

“Nah. He and I talked about it. And, uh, his uh, his social circles ain’t super invested in monogamy.”

“Oh. Um” He wants to roll over, wants to pin Duck and kiss him until dawn. But if he does, it might mean he never gets a chance to do the same to a certain someone else, someone who he wishes would just tell him how he felt-

“If it, uh, helps any, happen to know Barclay sees things the same way ‘Drid does.” 

“In that case…” he crawls from the sleeping bag, Duck unzipping his own and kicking it open so there’s nothing to stop Joseph’s hands as they stroke and grope their way across his body, “I have a proposal for you.”

Unsurprisingly, they get a late start the next day. As Joseph is paddling, he spots a tail flipping out of the water, far too large to be an otter. Before he can say anything, the roar of the river changes, turning rougher and deeper.

“Fuck, the snowmelt must’ve started earlier than usual, these rapids normally ain’t this big.”

“Should we try to reverse?”

“Maybe we can, nope, fuck, okay we’re goin through whether we like it or not, try’n stay low and hold on.”

Duck’s excellent advice goes out the window at the same instant Joseph goes out of the boat, a swell catching him off guard. He hits a rock at just the wrong angle, pain shooting up his wrist as he releases his paddle. He’s not panicking, but the more he fights to keep his head up, the closer he gets. 

Then an arm is around his waist, pulling him to shore. He has just enough time to see his rescuer has a grey tail before they disappear under the water. There’s no sign of the boat or of Duck. A tremendous splash resolves one of those problems. 

“Duck!” He hurries to where the ranger coughs water onto the pebbles, “thank the lord.”

“Nah” he coughs again, “thank him.” He gestures weakly to the familiar face and torso now attached to a tail coated in silver-grey fur. 

“You’re a selkie.” Joseph scoots across the rocky ground. 

“Indeed.” Indrid taps his fingers together, “I, ah, I am sorry my love. I know we agreed he could not know, but when the timelines showed the rapids most of them involved you both going into the river and in, in many of them one or both of you was knocked unconscious on the stones and did not resurface. I could not let that happen to you. Either of you.”

Joseph reaches out reverently with his uninjured hand, and Indrid guides his tail to meet him. It’s exquisite to touch, and as he smooths his fingers along it, Indrid purrs and rolls onto his back. 

“Mmmm, already you are proving why it was worth it to save you.” Indrid grins, wiggling closer. 

“You, uh, you ain’t angry at us for hidin it from you?” Duck guides Indrid’s head into his lap, petting his hair, looking warily at Joseph.

“Duck, I’ve known you and the rest of the people at the Lodge were hiding things from me, and that given the towns reputation those things were probably related to selkies. It’s not like there aren’t dangers to people learning about selkies and where they live, and I never made it clear whether my research would lead to that. It hurts not to be trusted but, well, I’m used to it.” He looks down at where Indrid is nuzzling Duck’s belly, “I promise, I won’t put you or any of the others in danger.”

“Mmmm” Indrid’s tail relaxes under his hands, “apologies, I am listening, but it took a great deal of energy to reach you in time and pull you from the water. I think I shall nap until our ride comes.”

“Uh, think you’re gonna nap in the car.” Duck tilts his head towards the treeline, where the rumble of an engine rattles up the abandoned logging road. A minute later, a door slams and Barclay appears from the trees. 

“Fuck, he wasn’t kidding that you had rough time.” Barclay helps Joseph into the back seat while Indrid, now sporting legs, climbs into the front, “Duck, med kit is behind the drivers seat.”

“Great. Joe, c’mere, I can secure your wrist and get you some painkillers.”

“Right. Thanks.” He turns back to Barclay, eyebrow raised.

“Guess, uh, guess we have a lot to talk about later. I, uh, I should probably just tell you the big thing now. I’m uh, I’m like Indrid.”

Joseph smiles, “I guessed as much the moment Indrid revealed himself.”

“Oh.”

“Is there, um, anything else you want to tell me sooner rather than later?”

Barclay’s honey-rich baritone comes out as shy as a first kiss, “If you said you’d go out with me, it’d make my whole fucking year.”

Joseph murmurs in his ear, “The instant I’m out of the hospital, you’re taking me to dinner.”

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

There’s a sturdy hammock at the edge of Duck’s yard, overlooking the river. Joseph had no interest in it until he discovered it was the perfect size to have Barclay lay in so he could then lay on his chest. They’re in that configuration when he asks the question he’s been putting off for fear of upsetting his boyfriend. 

“How did you end up in Kepler? Were you born here?”

“No.” Barclay’s hands settle on his back, “I grew up off the coast of California. There was a guy, a human, we’d been friends since we were teenagers. As we got older he got, uh, he got it into his head that we could go on the road as like a, uh, a sideshow act. That people would pay big money to see a real selkie. I hated the fucking idea, told him to drop it, and he did, went back to being the considerate, cool guy he’d been when we met. He made a big dinner for my birthday, invited me over and…” his fists tighten in Joseph’s shirt, “and when I was there, he stole my coat.”

“Oh, Barclay” Joseph pets his chest, “I’m so sorry.”

“I agreed to work with him because I didn’t have a choice. I hated every goddamn minute of planning, of knowing he saw me as a fucking meal ticket. One night I snapped, told him to give me back my coat and let me go or I’d make him regret it. He locked me in the fucking basement, and when I got out, he told me he’d shipped my coat far, far away, and if I ever wanted to find it, I’d better stay with him. Asshole didn’t realize getting rid of the coat meant he didn’t have a hold on me anymore. I left, looked for it for years, then basically gave up and moved to Kepler because I knew there were other selkies here. Indrid’s convinced the pelt is here somewhere, keeps saying our finding it is just on the edges of his visions. But I dunno. I think it’s gone for good.”

Fear clings to his heart, “Will you get sick if you never find it? Are, are you sick now, or in pain?”

“No. Selkies don’t die or get sick without their pelts. It’s more like...like a part of you is missing, with this ache where it’s supposed to be. Mine’s been gone so long I barely notice it anymore.”

Joseph sits up, frowning, “You’re lying.”

“...Yeah. Yeah I am. But what else can I do?”

“Let me help. I’m an investigative professional, I have been for years, and I can’t think of a better use for those skills than finding your coat. Than, than making you happy and whole.”

Barclay studies him a moment, then yanks him down into a kiss, whimpering when Joseph nips his lips and licks between them. 

“Now, big guy,” he brushes their noses together, “what does it look like?”

“It’s the same color as my hair, with a crescent scar at the base of the tail from where a shark bit me. God, Joseph, I hope you see it some day, if you think Indrid’s tail is beautiful, and it is, mine is fucking gorgeous…”

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

“Joseph! How is my favorite connoisseur of cryptozoology today?”

“ I’m fine, Ned. And since I can see the dollar signs in your eyes from here yes, if you have new merchandise I would like to see it.”

Stationed on the highway at the edge of Kepler, the Cryptonomica is the kind of tourist trap Joseph can’t help but love. Even if the informational plaques contain miles of misinformation, it’s nice to be somewhere that doesn’t scoff at the supernatural or strange. 

As Ned rummages in the back, Joseph circles the room to arrive at his favorite display; Bigfoot, complete with a supposed “stuffed bigfoot” whose fur is so many different colors it looks like a patchwork quilt his grandmother kept on the couch. Not for the first time, he amuses himself with the observation that the back portion resembles Barclay’s hair. 

“Wait.” He says, loud enough that Ned’s assistant, Kirby, looks up from his desk.

“Something you need, Mr. Stern?” 

He kneels down, pulling his penlight from his jacket and peering at the creatures lower back.

“Yes. I need a knife, and I need it now.”

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

“Goodness!” Indrid yelps a moment before Joseph bursts through the door. 

“Barclay, Barclay look!” The researcher spins in a circle, searching for the cook.

“What is it, is everything okay?” He hurries out of the kitchen, then drops to his knees in shock, “it, it can’t be.”

“It is. Or, um, there’s a very strong chance it is. Look” He holds out the chestnut cloak, “the scar matches.”

“I, I, I-” Barclay grabs the pelt, holding it to his chest, “I must be dreaming.”

“There’s only one way to find out” Indrid grins as he pulls Duck up along with him, then tugs Barclay to his feet, “to the water!”

They’re moving so fast that Barclay only has a moment to swing the coat over his shoulders as he dives into the water, Joseph calling out to be careful. 

And then is heart thrums, whole for the first time in decades, as warm fur envelopes him. His second skin sings into his nerves, reunited with it’s home, and he let’s the transformation take it’s full form. When he leaps for joy out of the water, there’s not a human feature to be seen. 

Joseph cries out in triumph, Duck whooping out cheers along with him. There’s no sign of Indrid until he returns to the waves, at which point the most stunning silver seal twirls around him. The next time he rises from the water, he reverts to his half-form, savoring the sensation of moving it through the depths as Joseph and Duck wade in to join them. 

He pulls Joseph into a kiss, dipping him so his black hair fans out in the water, “You did it, babe.”

“I, I may as well quit all my other jobs, nothing else I accomplish in my life will compare to the look on your face right now.”

“Oh pet” Indrid smiles, “you’ve not seen anything yet. Did I say that right?”

“Close enough, sugar.”

“Come, dearest, I’ve been waiting for years to see if you can out-swim me.”

“You’re fucking on” Barclay kisses Joseph once more for good measure, “be right back.”

As he speeds through the water, Indrid keeping pace with him, he just makes out the conversation behind them. 

“You, uh, you know givin a selkie their pelt back is a marriage proposal, right?”

“Yes. But we can talk about that later, all four of us.”

[tailorvizsla]

“Just let me see (her/him/them) one last time. Please.” with Paz 🥺

Title: Home Is In Your Arms Pairing: Paz x F Reader Word Count: ~4k Rating: R Warnings: Canon-typical violence, Reader is an ex-Storm Trooper and was not treated well, some attempts at medical jargon, Paz is injured, a hint of angst, and vanilla sex. Author’s Notes: A request from the lovely, wonderful @huliabitch that was supposed to be a one-shot but evolved into this entire-ass fic because I sort of like this concept? There’s a lot of buildup and not a lot of angst, but just a hint. I really hope you don’t mind! [Holy crap, I copied the wrong list of tags for this. I took those extra names off as soon as I realized it. I’m not sure if I got it quickly enough, though. If you got a note, I am really sorry. Forgive me, please.]

📚 My Master List 📚 If you want to send in a prompt (or just talk to me lol), feel free to peruse the list here!

The gunshot wound to his side is like a singular point of white-hot fire, a blinding supernova of agony as he stumbles against the crumbling remains of the blown-out grocery store. Blood burbles up through his lips and sprays against the inside screen of his visor, streaking crimson as it drips out through the bottom of his helmet. Paz sinks down between two of the shelves, fingers trembling as he tries to staunch the blood rapidly seeping into his kute. Paz gasps as his backside touches the ground, jarring the agonizing pain shooting up his side. His head swims nauseatingly as he struggles to get each gasp of air into his aching lungs.

Fuck, he thinks to himself. Really got in over my head today.

He had a bounty to pick up – a simple bounty for someone skipping on bail – and he had almost gotten them. Then the troopers had shown up with two AT-STs and a TIE-fighter. His head suddenly feels both heavy and empty, and he thinks about his family. His home. Paz lets his head fall back against a stone pillar, blackness starting to seep in at the edges of his eyesight.

Just let me see them one last time. Please.

The last thing he sees as his head bobs down toward his chest are a pair of white boots approaching him.

-

-

-

The EMP blast triggers a minor explosion that knocks you off your feet. Collapsing into the remains of the store, you try to regain your bearings. It takes you several minutes to realize that your collar is no longer buzzing. You toss your weapon down and yank your helmet off, pulling at the band digging into your neck. It does not budge. You swear quietly to yourself.

You remove your breast plate and abdominal armor and drop it on the ground. They will not protect you much from Mandalorian weapons. You’d rather die in your undersuit than in the Empire’s armor. The vambraces follow, falling to the dusty, cracked concrete with a clatter. Glancing around the shop, you find that you are in some sort of supply store. Hopefully, there will be a knife here you can borrow.

As you pass by a display, you pick up a bag and loop it over your chest. Then you go to ransack the shelve for food and medical supplies. There isn’t much here, but it will be enough to tide you over until you can find someplace safe.

When you round the corner, you see a massive pile of blue armor in the corner. You freeze. This is the Mandalorian who had taken out half the buckets on your squad by himself. Many of them had been collared like you. Others were blind followers of the Empire. Despite this, you hold no bitterness against him.

Rather, you find yourself in terrified awe of him.

You get as close to him as you dare and crouch, poking his pauldron. He doesn’t budge. Glancing down at his side, you notice the wound on his side. Shit, he has lost a lot of blood. Chewing on your lower lip, you begin digging through your bag of pilfered supplies. You have some basic first aid training, so you get to work on getting him back onto his feet. When you’ve packed the wound and sealed it with a mass of tape, you start to rifle through his pockets to see what medical supplies he might be carrying. He has a single dose of the really good bacta, the stuff that’ll get a corpse back onto its feet for a few minutes. The stuff that cannon fodder like you would never be given.

For a moment, you stare down at the tiny bottle in your hand, watching as the dose of medicine swishes around inside. You want to take it, but you decide against it. This warrior deserves better than to bleed out in a damn grocery store.

You stab him in the patch of skin you can see. Then you grab his vibroblade and start sawing at the band around your throat, cursing violently as the blade just barely begins to chew through it. You are so engrossed in the task at hand that you do not hear the soft inhalation from behind you. Or the near-silent growl. A rough hand grabs you by the shirt and pulls up. The other hand wraps itself around your neck and you go very still, teetering on your tiptoes to avoid being choked to death.

“Who the fuck are you?” comes a low, deadly voice in your ear.

“The idiot who decided to help you?” you choke out.

“Why the hell would an Imp help a Mandalorian?”

“F-figured would be the right thing to do,” you gasp out. “Borrowed you-your knife – “

“Did you want me on my feet to try and kill me?” he hisses at you. “Did you think I’d be an easy target?”

Your heart rate spikes as his hand tightens around your throat. You cough in response, pulling at his forearm to try and breathe. He doesn’t budge.

“Collar – cut it off – let me – let me die free, please – “

The arm around your neck loosens slightly. Blood rushes back into your head and your knees wobble. His other hand comes up and you inhale, closing your eyes, expecting him to snap your neck. Instead, he examines your collar.

“Interesting,” he says.

Then he yanks his blade from your hand and puts it back where you had borrowed it.

“If I let you go, will you attack me?”

“Not suicidal,” you gasp out.

“Smart girl,” he rumbles out.

He lets go. You stagger a bit, wheezing as you suck down some air to your oxygen-starved lungs. You turn to look at him. Upright, he’s even bigger than you thought. He towers over you by no small amount, nearly twice your size. You swallow tightly, feeling quite exposed without your armor.

Not that it would have protected you much if he decided to take a swing at you. Tripping and falling would crack that cheap plasteel shit. He stumbles and you just barely catch him around the middle. A grunt escapes you at just how damn heavy he is.

“If I help you out of here, will you take this damn thing off me?” you ask him.

“Sure, why not?” he slurs.

“Where to?” you ask.

“East,” he says.

“Are we waiting for anybody?”

“No,” he manages to say. “Just me.”

You stare at him incredulously.

“You are responsible for all this?” you hiss, gesturing at the mayhem outside.

He throws his head back and laughs. It takes nearly two hours to walk the half-mile back to his ship. At some point, you debate on asking him if he’d be willing to ditch the armor, but you decide against it. That amount of beskar is probably worth a small fortune. It takes you a minute to spot his ship, cleverly hidden under a rocky overhang and a large camouflage tarp.

The ramp opens and you carry him up the ramp. There, you drag him as far as you can before he collapses. You grab the tarp and drag it inside to keep it from getting sucked into the intake vents. You shut the door before you start looking for a med kit. You find it in the galley, just above the sink. Then you hurtle back to the Mandalorian and inject him with another dose of the good stuff. Then you check his wound. Miraculously, the bleeding seems to have stopped.

From there, there is little you can do but wait, so you cover his chest with a blanket and climb into the cockpit. It only takes a few minutes to get the ship into the air and away from the battlefield.

-

-

-

You aren’t quite sure when you fell asleep, but when a hand clamps down on your shoulder, your neck is sore, and you have drooled on yourself. You look up. Big Blue is looming over you.

“The fuck are you doing?” he growls.

You blink the sleep out of your eyes. Then it all comes back in a rush. Shit.

“I didn’t know where you wanted to go,” you stutter out. “So I put her in a random hyperspace lane. I think.”

“Move,” he snarls.

You quickly get out of his way and he sits down. You retreat into the copilot’s chair, where you sit in silence for several minutes. He makes several course adjustments before you dare to speak up.

“Can I use your refresher, please?” you ask.

Be polite and he may not just toss you out the back. He growls. You take that as a yes. You head down the ladder and into the refresher you had seen. You relieve yourself. Then you eye the tiny washing machine stuffed in the corner. You stare down at your stained undersuit.

It’s filthy.

You’re filthy.

Gnawing on your lower lip, you peer over at the ladder. You asked for the refresher, not the toilet. And the washing machine is in the refresher. So it’s fair game?

Swiftly, before you can porg out like a coward, you shuck the suit and your underthings off, stuffing it all into the washing machine. Then you jump into the shower and begin cleaning up quickly. You untie your hair and work the worst of the knots in your braid out with your fingers. Then you steal some soap and start scrubbing the layers of blood, dirt, and grime off your body.

The water is cold, but it is glorious to be able to shower for more than two minutes at a time. When you are finished, you hop out and grab a towel. You can just barely wrap it around yourself, and it does little to cover your curves. You are just moving your things into the dryer when you hear your Mandalorian’s footsteps stomping toward the door.

“It’s been twenty minutes,” he snarls.

You open the door, putting your hands up.

“I asked to borrow your refresher,” you say. “I borrowed it. Nothing more.”

He freezes, his dark visor tilted down at you.

“Uh,” he stutters out. “Uhm – “

“It looks like it’ll be a little bit before everything is finished drying,” you tell him. “Then I’ll find a corner to sit in. I promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammers. “Get dressed. I will be in the cockpit.”

He turns on his heel and goes back to the ladder in a hurry. You frown after him. What a weirdo. It takes another thirty minutes for the dryer to finish extracting the moisture from your clothing. You put it all back on and head up to the cockpit. He turns to look at you.

“You stay on that cushion,” he says, pointing at a chair. “Are we clear?”

“Aye, captain,” you say, sitting down in the copilot’s chair.

He disappears down the narrow corridor. You peer after him, snooping shamelessly. You catch a glimpse of a big bed and a gun case before the door swishes shut after him. You turn your attention back to the dizzying array of blue lights passing by in the windows. Boredom sets in quickly. You glance at the door. Then at the cushion under you.

A stupid thought seizes you. You’re hungry. He’s probably famished. Big Blue is your commanding officer now. So, he gets to eat first. Then, if he allows it, you get to eat your own ration. You push the thoughts away. This isn’t the Empire - he may not care if you eat at all.

But still. He’s your commanding officer now. And he’s been injured.

You give the cushion a tug and it pulls away from the seat, revealing the attachment points. You climb down the ladder, the cushion under one arm. Then you go dig around in the galley for something to snack on. Setting the cushion on the ground, you take your place on it, and start sifting through the packages of freeze-dried food.

“WOMAN - !” your Mandalorian bellows.

You nearly leap into the air. He drops down the ladder and lands with a jarring thud. He comes stomping into the galley, where you have put what appears to be a ration pack on the counter to heat. He glowers down at you.

“What. Did. I. Tell. You.”

“You said I couldn’t leave the cushion,” you say. “But you need to eat – “

“I can feed myself,” he hissed. “I gave you a direct order – “

You pat the cushion under your ass.

“You need to eat,” you repeat. “Your blood sugar is probably tanked by now. And concentrated bacta does weird things to your sodium levels. You need to eat, sir.”

He inhales sharply to yell, but he cuts himself off, pressing his face to his hand. You can almost see the steam curling from under his helmet.

“Do not call me sir. Get your ass to the cockpit. NOW. Before I snap your fucking neck and throw you out the airlock.”

You grab the bread roll and stuff it into your mouth. Then you grab the cushion and climb back up the ladder, hastily replacing it where it belongs. By the time he gets back to you, you’ve devoured the bread, and you are licking the crumbs off your fingertips.

“Don’t get smart with me,” he snaps.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly and decide to not argue.

“Let me see your collar,” he says grouchily.

You flip your hair forward. Big Blue grabs the collar. This time, he far gentler as he starts messing with it. You stay quiet, hoping that it will come off. Then you feel something cold slip between it and your neck. Then it pinches and the collar falls away. You stare down at it, turning it over and over.

“I’m free,” you whisper. You look up at him. “I’m free.”

“Looks like it,” he says. “Where are you from?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.”

“How old are you?”

“I’m at least twenty-four,” you say. “That’s all I know.”

He turns to look at you.

“Any fodders who survive to their twenty-fourth get the dubious pleasure of being shortlisted for officer training,” you say quietly, bitterly as you look out the window. “I think my training started last year at some point.”

“How do you not remember?” he asks impatiently.

“They don’t want to damage our nervous systems with repeated shocking,” you say, looking down at the collar in your hands. “They sometimes drugged us if they suspected we were thinking too much.”

He doesn’t respond. You exhale. Then you chortle.

“Are you looking to hire backup? I’m a fair shot,” you say wryly. “I ask for two meals a day and a corner to sleep in.”

“You think I’d pay you that much?” he retorts. “You Imps are all terrible shots.”

“By the time someone gets put on frontline duty, their fine motor controls are fried,” you say nonchalantly, swinging your foot back and forth. You hold up your hand, watching as your fingers tremble minutely.

“A lieutenant made a pass at me and I turned him down. He didn’t like that,” you say nonchalantly. “He refused to take no for an answer, so I broke his nose.”

“You were tortured for defending yourself?” he asks, his voice suddenly quiet.

You tilt your head up at him questioningly.

“Oh, no. Gideon had him killed for making a pass at me. Mingling between officers and fodders is forbidden,” you say, shaking your head. “I got my date with the electrical socket because I missed cleaning up his blood. Some of it got on Gideon’s boot."

You wrap your arms around your knee and stare out at the lights flashing by. He doesn’t respond for a long time.

“Two meals and a corner?” he asks.

“That’s my best offer,” you respond. “If you let me have a blanket, I can negotiate down to one meal a day.”

“Bread?” he counters.

“Warm,” you return easily. “With butter. And I still want a blanket.”

“You look at me wrong and I will toss you straight out through the airlock. You understand?”

You nod, relief filling you.

-

-

-

Two Years Later

You nudge Paz with your elbow and tilt your head toward the gorgeous redhead at the bar.

“How about her?” you ask. “Go ask her for her comm number.”

“No,” Paz says for the twelfth time that night. “I told you, I have a different type.”

“I can’t help you find a nice lady if you won’t tell me what your type is,” you say to Paz. “You have turned down literally every person I have suggested. You do still like ladies, right?”

He sighs in exasperation.

“I don’t do the temporary thing,” he says at long last.

“So you want the whole nine parsecs, yes?” you ask. “A nice courtship, marriage, and a herd of little blue brats? Maybe a loth-cat?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Or as close as I can get to it. I’m not going to find that person in a bar.”

You sigh dejectedly.

“Why do you care?” he asks, tilting his helmet down at you.

“Well, I certainly am not going to get laid,” you say. “Might as well play the role of backup and keep helping you out.”

He huffs in amusement.

“I have my eyes on someone closer to me,” he says quietly.

“Oh?” you ask, perking up. “Is it – oh, who was that – sauce girl? The one who dumped a pot of sauce all over – “

“No,” Paz says, his head turning to yours sharply. “No, you di’kut. That was my kriffing cousin.”

“Well, fuck,” you say. “She’s the only woman I’ve seen you spend any amount of time with.”

“Much closer,” he continues in an odd tone.

“…are you hiding your lady friends from me?” you ask, narrowing your eyes up at him. “What, are you afraid I’ll tell them about your stupid ideas when you get wasted? How dare you.”

He harrumphs grumpily.

“Take mercy on the poor man,” a drunken voice slurs. “He means you, daft girl.”

A sharp jolt of surprise fills you as you look up at Paz. He grimaces and refuses to look at you as he sips his drink down. The drunk person laughs and sloshes their way to an empty booth, where they collapse onto the cushion and start snoring. You give Paz an appraising look.

“So, do you wanna fuck me, or do you want the whole nine parsecs?” you ask, tilting your head up at him.

“Uh…both?” he says.

Without hesitating, you slam a handful of credits on the bar to pay for your drink. Then you finish the last sip.

“Let’s go,” you tell him.

“Where?” he asks.

“Ship,” you say. “I haven’t been fucked in years.”

“Well, maybe we should discuss – “

“Blue,” you say patiently. “There is nothing to discuss. My answer is yes.”

You hear his sharp inhalation from here.

“Now. If you don’t start moving, I’ll just borrow the bartender’s can opener,” you say saucily to him. “I’ll get that codpiece off, one way or another.”

Paz puts his drink down and adds his own money to the pile. It takes far too long to get back to the ship. Once the ramp is closed behind him, you start shucking your clothes off. When you’re completely naked, you start helping Paz remove his armor, dropping it onto the table. Then he removes his padding and undersuit, revealing a thick, muscular frame to you. Then the lights turn off and you hear another thunk. A thrill runs through you when you realize his helmet is off.

“Bed?” you ask, hoping he’ll say yes to a tumble on that decadent bed of his.

“Bed,” he confirms.

You make it up the ladder in record time, opening the bedroom door. Paz follows after you, not bothering to shut the door, as he hurtles onto the bed after you. He throws you down onto your back, mouth crashing onto yours, one hand groping at your hip and the other supporting the majority of his weight. You pull at Paz’s hair, digging your nails into his scalp as you kiss him back, wrapping your legs snugly around his waist. It’s sloppy and a bit rushed, but you do not care.

He tastes like the cheap fruit alcohol he had been drinking and like himself, vaguely sweet and metallic. You nip at his lower lip, a little rougher than you intended, earning a growl from him. He grinds his length against you and you gasp sharply. You’re already soaking wet and ready for Paz as he slides his hand between your bodies. His fingers press inward. You tear your mouth away from his and moan, lifting your hips against his hand.

“Yes,” you hiss at him. “Paz, more!”

He nibbles his way along your neck and down to your shoulder, the wet sounds of his fingers working inside of you barely audible over your moans. Frustrated, you hook one leg behind his, the other on the bed for leverage. You kiss Paz back, forcing your tongue into his mouth, relishing in his noise of surprise. You push against his shoulder at the same time and you just barely get him onto his back.

“Not sure what you think you’re doin’,” he manages to say as you settle on his hips.

“Shut up,” you tell him, as you position his generously sized cock under you.

Your eyes roll back as you start to take him in slow, short thrusts. He’s a lot bigger than you had expected, but you are no coward – you have never shied away from a challenge. Just when you think you can’t take any more of his hard, thick length, your clit presses down against his pubic bone, and a victorious thrill runs through you.

You can feel him throbbing deep inside of you just shy of discomfort. As you catch your breath, Paz shifts impatiently, a groan escaping him.

“Move, move – “ he urges around his pants. “Baby, please.”

Resting your weight on his lower belly, you start a slow pace, grinding slow circles, relishing in each rich moan you can get from your lover. One hand finds your hip, the other your breast. He pinches down on your nipple and you mewl at the sharp burst of pleasure.

“Fuck,” he stutters out. “Feel so-so fuckin’ good, baby.”

You change your pace, swiveling your hips in tight circles, arching your back so he can get in nice and deep with each thrust. Paz gasps, a tremor running through his body as you take him that extra half-inch.

“Shit,” he says, his voice catching just a hair, “Oh fuck, don’t – don’t know what I did to deserve you. Don’t fuckin’ deserve you, baby – “

Your breath stutters at his words, but your pace doesn’t break.

“ – so good to me,” he babbles, “Too good to me – too good for me – “

Tears spring to your eyes at his self-deprecation. You dig your nails into his belly to stop him, grinding down against his pubic bone.

“You’re mine,” you whisper in response. “Mine, Paz Vizsla, you’re mine and you’re perfect.”

Both hands fall to your hips and Paz starts to thrust up into you, taking over and setting the pace he wants. Paz grunts in frustration and pulls you down against his chest, rolling your bodies back over before you can protest. He presses a kiss to your lips before resuming his punishing pace once more, each thrust sending you spiraling higher and higher toward completion. You dig your nails into his back when he starts hitting that spot, the one that makes you sob.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant into his ear. “Gods, yes, Paz – I’m c-coming – “

You tighten around him and cry out on more time, digging your heels into his backside as you come around him, walls shuddering around his cock. The pleasure sweeps through you in deep, devastating waves, leaving you breathless and shaking. Paz goes stiff, harsh groans escaping him with each pulse of his cock inside you. After several long seconds, he falls forward onto his elbows, trapping you under him. As you run your fingers along his spine and massage his shoulders, Paz sighs with pleasure, his cock occasionally twitching.

“Need me to move?” he asks.

“I can take it,” you say sleepily. “Kinda like it. You’re like a weighted blanket. A really warm one.”

He huffs in amusement.

“Your feet are like ice,” he says.

He pulls his hips back. A torrent of his spend follows as you stretch out for a few seconds. Then you crawl under the blanket and curl up, inhaling the soft scent of his pillows. Paz joins you a moment later, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’re a walking furnace,” you mumble to him. “Holy fuck.”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your temple. Just as your breath is starting to slow, Paz speaks softly. So softly you nearly miss it.

“Always wanted to go home,” he whispers. “Never knew it was right here the whole time.”

Warmth fills your chest at those sweet words.

“Sleep, cyar’ika.”

For the first time in your life, you find rest easily. You dream of pleasant things, and your future no longer seems terrifying and lonely.

-

-

-

Tags: I guess this qualifies as a fic in some places? lmao

@hdlynn @princessbatears @oloreaa @phoenixhalliwell @reader-without-a-story @nelba @aeryntheofficial @trippedmetaldetector @jedi-mando @marthastewart89

[the-river-person]

Mistral Sans is now Community Shared

To echo the words of @undertaleauoc, Mistral is "open for use" without the need to request permission from the creator (me) though I’d like to be tagged and credited still. Mistral Formerly named: Sans Age: 10 to the power of 100 years (technically a little more than that by now, but the number is so huge that it's no longer relevant.) Gender: Male Appearance: Appears much like Classic Sans, except for the silvery-white crystalline formations growing all over his body. These can get quite large if he hasn’t removed them in a while, and are often quite sharp to anyone with flesh instead of bone. He makes an effort to keep the Kenón from growing up over his head and face, or from completely encasing his body, but it's difficult to keep up with since it grows faster whenever he happens to be in the Void itself. He wears a long brown overcoat, gloves, and long black trousers, mostly in effort to hide the Kenón as much as possible or keep the sharp points from cutting people by accident. He also keeps a red bandana around his neck, something given to him by Papyrus. His eyes never went back to their original state after the Void-Sickness. Instead of dark hollows with a white iris, they seem to be a pale grey, like a well of deep nothingness. Backstory: Mistral’s Universe is based upon the question “What would happen if the Human just never stopped the Resets, but went on forever?” And the resulting Tale that followed was one of mindless repetitions for time out of mind as the Human would Reset in order to prevent the Underground from being destroyed. Eventually the human, who was no longer human, stopped when Sans suggested a different means to preserve their Universe without killing. This Underground has a deep history of worship and lore that surrounds their Angel, and Sans played the role of Judge, a historical job where someone representing the Angel’s Justice would be called upon to make an absolute Judgement upon anyone or anything. The King called upon him to bring his judgement upon the entire Underground for their part in everything. Formerly a scientist under his Uncle Gaster, he helped come up with the “Solution” which the entire Underground was inoculated with to help them remember beyond Resets. He himself was a victim of the Void poisoning like that which affected Gaster’s Followers and was only saved from being wiped to a blank slate by Gaster’s efforts. A fragment of Kenón (Void-stone) and determination was placed in his soul, causing the crystals to spread from it. In later years as the Underground thrived despite the Resets, he pushed himself to get another degree, this time in psychology, and eventually became a practicing therapist/psychologist (as well as the Underground’s willing delivery boy. He liked being able to see and talk to people all the time, and get to know things.) Upon the destruction of his Universe he was thrown into the Void with his Uncle Gaster, where they were rescued by the mysterious River Person. They met with Ink!Sans who explained the Multiverse and gave them the means to travel it. Now they travel from Universe to Universe, or sometimes wander the Void itself, or the Anti-Void. Gaster (now named Majuscule) is searching for his children, and Sans (now named Mistral) is helping while searching for the Ship his brother escaped with and whatever survivors of his people there might still be. Personality: Mistral is old. Though he was in a mindless forgetful repetitive state for much of the Resets, and has few memories of his own childhood beyond what Papyrus reminded him of, he is significantly mentally older than most of the other Monsters from his Universe. The determination in his soul (along with the Kenón) makes him very strong willed and much more powerful than he was before. It also gives him a minor energy boost. His years as a scientist specializing in studies of the Soul and Physics, as well as his later degree in psychology and practice as a therapist, make him a fairly discerning person who is easily approachable and can talk about a number of different subjects with ease. Despite his actions during the Genocide Routes, he is a much more mentally stable person (possibly one of the most stable Sanses out there from what I see) and is very much a pacifist, refusing violence altogether and choosing to let his words and mind guide him out of trouble, or his teleportation to let him escape danger. Because of his refusal to consider physical violence, even in his own defense, his skill in using fighting magic has atrophied. He can no longer summon the blasters at all, and his bone attacks are weaker. His teleportation on the other hand is much stronger and he can do it more often without tiring too much. The other effects of his refusal to fight means that he must proactively avoid confrontation whenever possible. Mistral uses his knowledge of how people think and act to guide his interactions with others, putting even Monsters from the Fell Universes at ease with well timed and thought out humorous comments, as well as just generally being willing to listen and try to see from the point of view of other people. He can tell puns, but they usually sound a bit forced, like he memorized them somewhere and was just waiting for a point to use them. Very rarely he’ll come up with the perfect one on the spot and be absolutely thrilled with himself. More often he uses dry humor, throwaway lines, or Hyperbole.

His willingness to try and defuse the tension caused by aggressive Monsters he’s dealing with can sometimes backfire on him and serves to make the Monster even angrier and more violent. Mistral will then flee, not wanting to fight them, but often marking himself as guilty or suspicious in the process when this happens with an authority figure who has confronted him for his presence.

The Kenón crystal growing all over his body tends to freak people out as well, which is why he hides it as much as he can beneath the overcoat, gloves, and bandana.

Like all skeletons of his Universe, Mistral has a great knowledge of fonts and writing systems, punctuation marks, ciphers, and typography. It is a very important subject to them as it very closely ties with how they see themselves, their identity as a person. This may be rather strange to skeletons from other Universes who do not share this background. A similar problem comes when skeletons from other Universes find out how strongly he and the Monsters of his world believe in the mythical Angel of Mount Ebbot and often pray to them or swear by them (or use “Angel” as a swear).

He’s also very interested in the concept of Identity and how it can change over time or be altered by events in your life, and how names connect to the concept of identity.

Can I use Mistral in my comic/story/animation/etc?: Sure. He’s a wandering type character, so it's likely he’ll show up in countless Universes and places all over while searching for his brother and his missing cousins. Sometimes he’ll be with Gaster and sometimes not.

One thing to note is that his story will have a continuation, so if in your story you detail events that involve him beyond just a brief meeting, chat, or background character… Just be aware that it's probably not going to be canon to the story I’m planning for him (though if we take other Multiverses into account it could be canon elsewhere).

I would like to insist that you tag and credit me on his use (Credit is good. Tagging me makes it so I can come see your wonderful creations).

Can I ship Mistral with this other character/characters?: Yeah, why not?. Canonically he’s aesexual and only very passingly interested in the idea of romantic relationships. But sure, ship him with whoever you like. Just know that it's not canon to this Multiverse.

While I would still like to be tagged in stuff that involves him. I know I can’t stop nsfw art/writing and other things of that nature from happening, much as I might like to. But be warned, If I see it or am tagged with that, or am sent asks of that... I will block you. Fontcest, Incest ships, child ships, or smut in general will all get you blocked instantly.

Canon height and weight: 4-5 feet high (same as Classic Sans). Weight was trickier. He’s a skeleton. A human skeleton is only about 15% of your body weight. So classic is probably somewhere around 16 or so pounds. But Mistral is covered by continually growing crystalline structures of Kenón. Since the crystal is heavy but spread out and somewhat kept under control, it probably only doubles his weight, making him 32 pounds.

Canon strength: Mistral isn’t a fighter. His attacks are weak because his desire to actually fight is nonexistent, even if he has to defend himself or others. But his actual physical strength, as opposed to his magical attacks, sees a significant increase to that of your normal Sans. The Kenón crystals actually increase his defense by making his bones stronger and more crack resistant, and his self healing is well equipped to deal with most breaks, though they’re still quite painful.

He also has increased endurance for longer physical or magical activities so long as combat or confrontation isn’t part of it.

Since he weighs more, he can’t jump as high as a Sans who weighs less (not that it's a huge difference. He’s only 32 pounds. Plus his strength can mostly make up for it by pushing himself off harder when jumping.)

Is it okay if I draw him with another gender, age, height, or sexuality?: Go for it. Have fun. Tag and credit me. But remember that it’s not canon to THIS Multiverse that I’m working in.

Canon Birthday?: September 16th (though he hasn’t celebrated in a LONG time. He probably doesn’t remember his last actual birthday party. Papyrus might though…)

Font?: Used to be Comic Sans. But now it's Mistral (upper and lowercase).

Original AU: Aeontale by

a_river_is_a_liminal_space

(or the-river-person. basically… me)

Can I send Asks for more details if I need or want them?: Yes. My askbox is open. I’ll answer what I can. I’ve put everything I can think of on here, but inevitably there’s always something missed in things like this. So ask away.

[delaber]

Just Friends (Part 8)

Story Summary: After moving to America for a 3-month long internship, you meet two interesting characters on a boring night out.

Word Count: 4.6K

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, minor drug use, smut, slight dom!Rafa, swearing, and loads of British references (sorry not sorry lol)

Chapter Note: this chapter is dedicated to exrthangel because she’s honestly the sweetest thing ever and she’s studying so hard rn ❤️

Tag List: lonelydance mysearchforgratification ramp-it-up blndspotting summerofsnowflakes exrthangel honeysucklechocolatedrippin

Other Parts: See Masterlist

You had read the message over and over again ever since you had received it a couple of days ago: I have a surprise for Friday. Will pick you up at 6. Wear dark clothes.

What the hell did he have up his sleeve? Why the dark clothes? You were utterly confused as you on Friday afternoon pulled on a pair of black jeans, a black top, and your leather jacket.

At 5.55 pm, you were tying the shoelaces on a pair of combat boots when you heard Samantha exclaim from her seat in the window sill, "are you kidding me?!"

"Oh no," you groaned, "what is it?"

Samantha was looking out the window with her mouth hanging open when she suddenly started to laugh, "he has a bloody motorbike," she said in disbelief, "Where'd you find this boy? He's textbook American!"

You rushed to Samantha's side and saw Rafa on a motorbike, wearing an outfit that was roughly matching yours. He pulled off his helmet and flipped his hair before he started walking towards the front door.

"Oh, and he's cute up close too!" Samantha said as she studied him swagger up to your house.

You hurried towards the front door, calling out to Samantha, "I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"Oh no! You do not get off that easily!" Samantha ran from the window sill and held you back at the door, "I am going to meet this guy who's all you've been able to talk about since New Years!"

You heard a low chuckle coming from the other side of the door, "aw, you tell your friends about that guy?" Rafa spoke from the other side of the closed front door, his voice sounding as if it was about to burst with happiness.

"Not when he butts in on private conversations going on behind closed doors," you mocked him.

You could hear him chuckle slightly before Samantha in one swift motion turned the doorknob and opened the door to a smiling Rafa.

"Ladies," he nodded to both of you, sending you a wink. You had to give it to Samantha; he did look particularly good up close.

"Rafa, this is my roomie Samantha," you cleared your throat, "Samantha this is... the guy I've been talking about apparently."

Samantha extended her hand, "Nice to finally meet you. I'm Samantha."

Rafa took her hand, "likewise. I'm Rafael."

"Your real name is Rafael?" it slipped out of you and Samantha sent you a weird look.

"Yeah, what'd you think Rafa was short for?" he laughed, his crooked tooth somehow more fetching than usual.

"I honestly haven't given it much thought," you laughed and he sent you a sappy smile looking at you very softly for a couple of seconds.

Samantha noticed the sexual tension and decided to break it, "well you two have fun, yeah? I won't wait up so don't bother having her home on this side of midnight. The magic won't wear off, I swear," Samantha winked before she let you and Rafa go.

"See you later, Samantha," Rafa chuckled as he stepped down from the porch.

'Stop that!' you mouthed to your grinning roomie before you followed Rafa.

You heard the front door close shut behind you, and first then did Rafa whip around, "are you ready for the best friend-date you've ever been on?" he said theatrically.

"You bet!" you matched his level of excitement, "although I'm a bit nervous as to what we'll be doing with that," you gestured to his motorbike, while dreading his answer.

"We're going for a ride," he said dramatically and threw you one of two helmets that had been lying on the seat.

"You're not serious... I'm not going on the back of that!"

"Do you not trust me?" He smirked as he climbed the bike.

"Of course, but..."

"Then get up. I'll go slow, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"You're gonna love it!"

"O-okay," you said and swung your leg over the seat, tightening your helmet significantly.

"Just hold on tight, okay?"

"Hold on tight to what? There are no handlebars back here," you said in a panicky voice.

"Hold on to me of course," Rafa laughed.

Your arms snaked nervously around his waist, and he put a reassuring hand on top of yours for just a second before he took a deep breath and retracted it again. You couldn't help but wonder if this was the exact reason why he had wanted you on the back of his bike in the first place.

He turned the engine and slowly drove away from your townhouse while you whimpered in the backseat. He started off by slowly going through your neighbourhood checking on you regularly while you felt more and more comfortable on the bike. Every time he felt your arms loosen their grip around him, he sped up slightly, causing you to tighten your grab around his waist significantly. You were quickly comfortable with his full control over the bike, however, and actually had to admit that you were enjoying the fast-paced way of getting around the city.

"We can go faster than this," you bellowed over the sound of the motor a couple of minutes in.

Rafa didn't need telling twice and quickly sped up the bike while you squealed in the backseat, holding on tight to him again. You rode all the way down Sunset Boulevard until you reached the coast close to the Santa Monica Pier. The bike came to a halt right before the beach.

"That was amazing," you laughed completely high from the ride.

He smiled proudly to himself as he turned off the bike, "What did I tell you? I knew you'd love it!"

"I did," you said excitedly, "thanks for making me do it!”

He looked at you tenderly for a few seconds before he came to his senses, "come. We're going over here," he said and put a hand on your leather-clad back leading you to a sketchy looking hotdog stand, where he placed an order for two of the most popular kind.

"Really?" you asked him with raised eyebrows as he handed you one of the hot dogs.

"Sorry, I couldn't help it," he laughed as you sat down on a bench overlooking the dark beach, the sky a beautiful lilac colour as you had just missed the sunset, "I was hoping it might lead to the story behind your tattoo," he sent you a crooked smile.

"God you're the worst," you laughed at him, "Alright then - but I'll only tell you because that was a really smooth move. And I'm having a bite of the hotdog first."

"Let me know what you think," he looked at you excitedly.

"They're that good?" you laughed as you took in his excitement.

"Oh you're about to taste a tiny bit of heaven," Rafa smiled, "Diggs is quite the hotdog connoisseur and he recommended the place to me way back in the day. They have bratwursts shipped in from Germany."

"You have expertise in both chillies and German sausages? You're a man of the world, aren't you?" you teased him.

"Shut up and eat your hot dog," he grinned.

You took a large bite of the sausage which was definitely one of the best you'd ever had, "oh bloody hell! This is good," you practically moaned while rolling your eyes backwards in an attempt to show Rafa exactly how much you liked his choice of dinner.

"Hey, you cannot do that," he looked panicky as he desperately elbowed you in the ribs to get you to stop, "you're giving me the chubs," he shot you an awkward laugh.

"That's all it takes?" you laughed at him.

"Hey, I'm a simple man: I see a beautiful girl putting penis-shaped foods into her mouth all the while she's moaning and her eyes are rolling to the back of her head - and the rest is physiology," he smirked and bit into his own hot dog.

"I'm beginning to suspect that's the real reason why you took me here," you laughed at him.

"Hey, don't make me out to be some creep, okay?" He laughed, "I'm your innocent friend Rafa who just loves hot dogs and beautiful women - especially the two combined. Now tell me the story behind that tattoo dammit!”

"If you must know," you groaned, "I got it at Glastonbury when I had just turned eighteen. It was part of a bet."

"Really?" He looked amused, "What did you get out of it?"

"My friends paid for the tattoo and paid me a hundred quid for it - which was a fairly good amount of money back then," you laughed.

"That's what? 130 dollars or something? I sure hope you bought yourself a car with that kind of money," Rafa joked.

"I spent all of it on booze that night alone," you laughed.

"I probably would've done the same thing to be honest," he chuckled.

"So we're both smart people!"

"PhD-smart," he tapped his temple while winking at you, "speaking of; how's your project coming?"

"Good," you nodded, "although, I'm a bit behind schedule with the project I'm working on over here. The next couple of weeks are without a doubt going to be quite busy," you sighed, "I'm not going to have much free-time."

He grunted in response, probably aware of what that meant in regards to your already limited time together.

"I constantly need to remind myself why I'm here and why I'm even doing the project," you eyed him. You wanted to tell him that he had made it hard for you to concentrate on anything apart from him but ended up deciding against it.

"Yeah? What made you decide to do the project in the first place?"

"Because it's the coolest thing ever," you bumped your knee into his.

"Yeah?" He grinned at the contact, "what's your thesis about? Explain it to me as if I'm five because I don't know science for shit."

You laughed at him and told him all about what your PhD was about, explaining it as simple as you possibly could.

"Sounds complicated," he blew out some air when you were done.

"Nah. It's just like learning a new language," you shrugged, "you get the hang of it."

"How are you so nonchalant about almost finishing a PhD?" he laughed, "it's fucking difficult and you've worked hard for it. Don't play it down. Tell me how hard it is to come this far and how amazing you are at it!"

"It's hard and I'm amazing?" you said half-heartedly with a laugh.

"Oh come on. Do it with a bit more gusto. Don't go all British on me."

"Uhm... it's hard and I'm amazing," you said a bit more resolutely this time.

"Damn straight!" he said loudly, "a project like yours does not come easy to anybody. Don't take away your own victory."

"Alright, alright, I guess I did work quite hard. But I'm very privileged to even have the chance to do it."

"Yep, that's fine and whatever," he rolled his eyes at you "- Now tell me how you really feel about it."

You eyed him for a couple of seconds. Was he really able to see right through you so easily? "Okay," you sighed, "at first all the lab work was fun but now it's kind of draining and I cannot wait until I'm done so I can start something new!" you laughed, "also, right now I hate the project because it takes away my very limited time with you."

He looked at you and tried to hide a proud smile. "Look at you being all honest," he nudged you softly in the ribs and winked at you before he responded to what you'd said, "when are you handing in your thesis?"

"If all goes well, it'll be done before summer."

"And then what?" he nodded slowly.

"Ah yes! The million dollar question," you laughed, "I don't know. Maybe a post.doc?"

"You're gonna spend your whole life in academia?" he looked at you intently, "how much money do you have?"

"You get paid a fair salary when you're doing a PhD - and tuition is free in most of Europe so you can just go to another country and study if you don't have the money for it."

"WHAT?" he bellowed, "Tuition... is... free? You’re kidding! What kind of a hippie continent is that and when can I move there?"

You laughed at him, "European welfare, boom!" You said while dropping the hotdog wrapper into the trashcan next to the bench, "Europe 1 - America 0."

"You bet," he mumbled, "Ah, I probably wouldn't have lasted a day anyway. I got kicked out of high school, you know."

"You did? What'd you do?"

"That's a story for some other day," he smiled at you, "come, I have another surprise for you."

He helped you up from the bench and snaked his hand around your waist as you walked over to the bike in silence. You wanted to tell him that what he was doing felt close to violating your code of conduct but just like the other night, his hand around you made you feel safe and warm, so you let him keep it there.

You rode back up Sunset Boulevard telling yourself repeatedly that safety was the only reason for your tightly wrapped arms around his waist.

A couple of minutes later, Rafa parked the bike outside a brick building with a big sign reading 'THE ECHOPLEX presents CLIPPING.'

You could hear the music boom from inside. "Is this a concert venue?" you asked him.

"Yep," he said, "you and I have tickets for the hottest shit in L.A."

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to try and convert me into a rap-lover?" you laughed, "I haven't even listened that much to your playlist."

"I'm not going to covert you," Rafa smirked, "Diggs is."

"Oh, we're meeting up with Daveed?" you said not really sure if you were excited about seeing him or disappointed that you'd have to share Rafa with him.

"...Kind of," Rafa said mysteriously.

"I'm intrigued," you said as you handed him your helmet.

He put it on the bike and took your hand, "Come on, we're late. The show's already started."

He showed the bouncer two laminated tickets and handed you one of them afterwards, "put this around your neck."

"Backstage pass?" you arched an eyebrow as you read the inscription, "really?"

"I came to impress," he laughed, "you want something to drink?"

"A beer would be lovely," you nodded, looking at the stage where a man was rapping rapidly to weird noises and sounds. You weren't really sure that this was anything for you.

Rafa came back a short while later and handed you a local beer. "I brought you an IPA," he laughed, "I figured you'd appreciate my average white-male taste."

"I like IPAs too," you laughed, "this music on the other hand is..." your voice trailed off.

"What, you don't like it?"

"No, Rafa," you laughed and pointed towards the stage, "what the hell is this shit because it surely isn't music! Don't tell me that you actually find this good."

"You did not just say that!" he looked at you with an amused face.

"What?"

"Have you even seen who's performing?" he laughed whole-heartedly and pointed towards the stage.

The guy rapping shirtless at the front was spitting bars and hyping people up, and first then did you realise that you knew him, "Hold up! Is that Daveed?"

Rafa laughed at you, his hand coming to a rest on the small of your back as he leaned in and whispered in a teasing voice, "I'm going to tell him that you think his music's shit."

"You wouldn't dare," you leaned threateningly close and squinted your eyes at him.

"Oh, but I would - so you better behave," he said devilishly, his gaze wandering between your lips and your eyes, clearly thinking about kissing you. When you noticed, it once again took everything in you to pull back and turn towards the stage instead. Out the corner of your eye, you saw Rafa take a deep breath before turning to the stage as well with a somewhat pained expression in his eyes. He slowly found the rhythm of the music, head bopping in time with the beat while he started quietly rapping along.

-

"I can't believe he's a rapper," you laughed when the concert was over and you were heading towards the backstage area, "normally he looks so... innocent - but up there he's so... raw!" You laughed and felt the many beers that you and Rafa had shared.

"Easy girl," Rafa laughed, "don't go change me out for Diggs.”

You sent him a look that he most certainly was familiar with by now.

"I know," he chuckled, "just friends. That's what I meant," he lied, "come on, they're in here," he pushed open the door to the band's private room.

"Alright, guys!" Rafa yelled in best hype-man style as he waltzed across the room to the mini fridge in the back, walking as if the owned the room, "well done. Great show! Even my homegirl here agrees."

You waved to the three guys, "very nice show. Love the energy."

"Glad you enjoyed it," Daveed nodded, "Rafa mentioned that you don't really get rap music - did we manage to change your mind?"

"I think the show was really great," you said slowly trying to figure out a way to not hurt his feelings.

"It's not for everyone. I get it, no worries," he laughed, "Just don't tell Rafa; it would just break his heart."

"Hey - quick question," you whispered, "what do you think would rile Rafa up the most: criticising rap music in general or criticising his beloved chili sauces?"

It made Daveed chuckle, "hot sauce! For sure. Did you not hear his lecture the other day? He takes that shit very seriously and just goes on and on and on to anybody that'll listen."

"Who are you guys talking about?" Rafa emerged at your side, casually draping his arm across your shoulder as he handed you and Daveed a beer each.

"No one," you and Daveed said in unison.

"Are you plotting against me?" Rafa chuckled, "should I be concerned?"

"No," you both said at the same time looking excitedly at each other.

"Right..." Rafa pulled you just a little closer to him, clearly wanting to show his friend that he needed to know his place - subconsciously or not, you did not know.

"So... what do you guys usually do after concerts?" you asked, hoping to break the tension you felt in Rafa who was now pressed completely up against your side.

"We get high," Daveed laughed, "I was just about to ask..."

"Don't worry, I didn't take you here to get high," Rafa interrupted his best friend and sent you a smile.

"It's okay! If it's what you usually do, I don't mind."

"Are you sure?" Rafa shot you a look, "it feels like kind of a dick move on my part to meet up with a bunch of my friends and get high when we're on a date."

"I thought you were just friends," Daveed mumbled without looking up from the cone he was folding.

"He gets it," you smiled and sat down on the sofa next to Daveed.  

"Okay, sure," Rafa nodded and sat down next to you with a small laugh, "I guess I could get high too if you're definitely up for it."

"I am," you sent him a grin.

"Alright, let's do this," Rafa said and draped his arm around your shoulders.

"Oh god, I haven't done this since I was twenty," you were slightly nervous as you eyed the blunt that Daveed was now lighting up.

"So last year?" Rafa teased.

"Easy grandpa, I'm 29."

"Ah yes, so young and innocent. So easy to manipulate!" he sighed, "I remember when I was your age."

"And you're what? Four years older than me?" You arched an eyebrow at him.

"Yes, but the years between 29 and 33 are really what define you as a person," he smiled and put his arm back around your shoulder.

Daveed took a puff of the joint before handing it to you, "Here you go," he said, "It's strong so you probably don't need that much."

You inhaled slightly, resisting the urge to cough before you quickly exhaled a mouthful of smoke already feeling its effects, "oh damn," you said as you already felt yourself growing relaxed and careless. You quickly took your second puff before passing it along to Rafa who was clearly more experienced than you were. He puffed it twice as well before he passed it on to Daveed's band mate Will. You held out your fingers, ready for hit number three.

Rafa raised an eyebrow at you, "are you sure?"

"Yep," you said, your speech a little slurred but you were sure you could take it.

The third hit of the joint hit you like a truck, "oh fuck," you exhaled as you felt a wave of warmth wash over you.

"You okay?" Rafa laughed at you as he took hit number four himself. His eyes were bloodshot but apart from that, he kept it together.

"Yep," you said as you slumped on the sofa.

"You look like a slug," Rafa mimicked you, arms hanging to the side, his chin pressed tightly against his sternum.

"But a cute slug," you pouted.

"The cutest," he snickered, his hands brushing slightly against your knuckles before his fingers entangled themselves in yours.

"Mmmh," you hummed at his touch, all thoughts of what you should or shouldn't do, gone. You couldn't remember if you'd ever been this carefree and relaxed before. Especially when his thumb was caressing your hand as he sent you a cute smile.

Looking into Rafa's bloodshot eyes, you reminded yourself that you needed to keep your cool. You were both drunk and high. You shouldn't be doing this no matter how much you wanted it. So you retracted your fingers from his and sat up straight on the sofa. "I need a beer," you mumbled and walked over to the fridge in the far corner.

"Yeah, bring me one too," Daveed called, "- maybe an entire round. My main man Will is looking a little thirsty over here," he nodded towards his band member who was clearly experiencing cotton mouth.

You looked back at the men in the sofa and counted each of them; thus you picked up four beers and slowly walked back to them. Rafa was staring at you through heavy-hooded eyelids with a smug expression on his face. He was looking very very fuckable as he slid down further on the sofa, spreading his legs slightly as you neared him. You really just wanted to say fuck it all and jump him - but no, you weren't going to go down that road. You had made a promise to each other. A promise you intended to keep no matter how high you were.

You sat down a beer in front of each of the men before realising that you had forgotten one for yourself. Giggling slightly at your own high, you returned to the fridge where you bent over and picked up yet another beer.

"Are you on a mission to torture me?" Rafa's hush voice sounded from behind you, "because bending over like that twice in a span of thirty seconds is just plain mean..."

"What?" You turned around, now face to face with him.

He stepped closer, "I'm sure you're aware of the effect that you have on me. Especially when you bend over like that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you said innocently, an involuntary smile spreading slowly on your lips as you took in his pained expression.

"Fuck!" he hissed, "That - that - is exactly what I'm talking about," he stepped as close to you as he possibly could without touching you, "half the time you look so innocent and doe-eyed and then suddenly - boom - your innocence is replaced by these... mewling sex-kitten looks and fuck it's hard to keep my hands to myself when we both know what we want - Regardless of your code," he ended up sighing.

He still wasn't touching you but the way he was moving his face told you that he was fighting hard to not kiss you. And to be honest, you were fighting too.

"It's not on purpose," you said, looking up at him, "I'm not so evil that I'd dangle bait in front of you on purpose and then get angry when you bite into it."

"I don't care that you're not doing it on purpose," he grinned and licked his lips, "you're still doing it. And I really want to fuck you right now."

"Too bad you can't," you said.

"You're really strong-willed, aren't you?"

"You don't move half-across the globe for a project you've lost interest in if you're not strong-willed."

He leaned in closer, lips hovering above yours but never touching, "fuck, it's so hard not to touch you..." he groaned, "I hate being friends with you."

"I hate being friends with you," you said softly, almost giving in and closing the distance.

Your moment of weakness, however, was interrupted by Daveed who gave out a loud whistle to get your attention. "Rafa!" he bellowed, "Party's moving downtown."

Rafa grunted in response, turning his attention back to you, "do you want to go?"

"Not really," you said, gulping up at him.

"Me neither..." Rafa responded and fidgeted with the hem of your t-shirt, "do you want to come back to mine?"

"That sounds dangerous," you smiled and avoided his gaze, instead fixating on the thin golden necklace he was wearing.

"I won't try anything," he grumbled above you, "I promise - okay? We could just... watch the rest of the movie from the other night."

You looked up at him, his eyes bloodshot but soft as he watched you contemplate your answer. "Okay," you ended up whispering, already knowing that you were now doomed. You just couldn't help yourself with him. Especially not when high and with alcohol coursing through your veins.

Rafa sent you a smirk, "good girl," he whispered darkly, sending shivers down your spine. "Diggs, we're not coming."

"Right," Daveed nodded, "see you guys later. Have fun," he shot you a smirk.

Rafa quickly ordered an Uber while you pulled on your leather jacket and started walking towards the exit. Rafa was walking behind you, his gaze almost burning a hole in your jeans as you swung your hips a bit more vigorously than you normally would've done. Not to get his attention, you told yourself.

When you arrived outside, the car was already waiting for you. You both got in the backseat, and intentionally left the middle seat empty between you. No need to tempt the devil.

You hadn't driven for more than a couple of seconds, however, before you noticed that Rafa was already having a hard time sticking to his promise of not trying anything with you, "I didn't even get a chance to tell you how amazing you look tonight," he put his neck on the headrest and looked over at you.

"Thanks," you smiled at him, "you look very handsome yourself."

His hand twitched in his lap as if he had decided to reach out and touch you had but reconsidered at the last possible moment. With a sigh, he turned his head and looked out the window instead, completely silent for the rest of the journey to his place.

[pluviophile-bookworm]

HSMTMTS 2x9: so dreaded, so exciting, 'Sword!' (yeah, I went there, I've been thinking about this scene - you know the one - since yesterday for some reason)

After two computer malfunctions and a very tough, very sleepless night, here I am with a third attempt to write this post. The universe is against me today. Is Mercury in retrograde or something? Ugh, I just want to get this over with already. And I haven't even managed to see half the episode yet. You better like this cursed post because it's taken me two hours at this point, and will probably take another to finish - and that is if nothing goes wrong this time. Please bear with me. This is my reaction to HSMTMTS 2x9, take 3. Let's hope and pray it's the last one.

I'm normally [unpopular opinion alert] a very spoiler-positive person (it's the combination of anxiety and ADHD and a bunch of other stuff, I suppose), but for this one I've been refraining from looking at the tag all morning, so by now I'm simply bursting with impatience. But before we dive in, I need to get some stuff off my chest.

Some pre-watch thoughts and feelings (let's see how well they will have aged by the end of the episode):

Seriously, what is with whoever writes this show? I know it's impossible, but I feel like they've been toying with my emotions specifically all season. Like:

Ah, so you were a Rini shipper last season? Great, now we'll make them obnoxious and borderline toxic to the point where you actually want them to break up, but then their old chemistry will be back just for the breakup scene so that you can cry your eyes out over the one couple you couldn't stand - even though you can't seem to relate to a single song from Sour, we'll make you feel like you do for a hot second. At least it will remind you that you loved Ricky.

So you say Redlyn own your heart and soul? Great, we'll make you dread something going wrong with them for a week straight, and mess up your sleep schedule beyond repair over it. You're welcome!

We heard you said Rodfini give you life? Perfect, how about a big Seblos fight? And would you like a side of questioning your choice to stan Carlos with that? Because what is life without a little anxiety, a bit of doubt of your ability to read people, and a pinch of existential dread, right?

Ah, so you claimed not to ship Portwell romantically, is that right? Brilliant, we'll make you ship them and then we'll use that to torture you, too.

You've been excited about ABF and Asher Angel guest-starring ever since they were announced? Magnificent! We'll make you hate ABF's character to the point where you can't even look at him, and we'll make you call him names you thought yourself incapable of uttering. And as for Asher, you'll be left waiting for him until the last third of the season, and then you'll dread the possibility of hating his character, too. Do you love us yet?

Oof! Right then, I've got that out of my system. Time to dive in.

Miss Jenn playing around with the backgrounds is, like, 90% of the people who had online school this year, and honestly, I love that for her.

Wait, why is Nini first on this call? Are they going through with the Rose thing? Cos like, the song is nice and all (and, might I add, much more to my taste than nearly all of Sour, don't @ me), but if they use it, it will get them disqualified. They’ve been told that! Gosh, please let me be wrong about this.

We get it, Carlito, rich and fancy and over-the-top is kind of your thing, but have you stopped for a second to think about how others will feel about this? Especially Seb, whom you claim to care about. Seriously, though, I love Carlos and would not hesitate to die for him, but I’m getting the feeling that, unlike my other favourite (you know the one), he wouldn’t do the same for me. Oh well, he’ll figure it out. He’s just a kid. Give him time.

Wait, Milky White? Is that an Into the Woods reference I smell? Cool! If I had a cow, I’d totally name her Milky White (or Gertrude, but don’t ask me why). I just hope they don’t have to, like, take her to the market and exchange her for magic beans, if you catch my drift.

Ahhhhh, Caswell cousins content! We love to see it!

‘You guys are watching, like, old old movies’ WTH, Nini (or is it Nina)? Scary Movie is literally younger than me. But what do you know about it, you 21st-century baby! Ugh, I don’t know why I’m being so hostile today... must be the lack of sleep. Hope it doesn’t influence my reactions to the episode so dramatically as to make me forget how much I love this series. Because I do.

Yay! Big Red is here! I can finally smile. And did Ash just say they’re soulmates? Because yes they are! Ahhh my heart is going to explode.

‘Nini, have you heard from [Ricky]?’ Yikes, awkward... but of course, Big Red can be counted on to save the day here, too.

Ok, so that was a cool cold open. Time for some nice in-person scenes, though. I did not spend all of three semesters doing online school just to have the characters of my favourite series do the same.

Wow, Gina is really embracing that French accent thing! And I really don’t want to think about, erm, ‘Napoleon over here’ right now, but I really think the fact that she’s doing it better than him will be another piece of evidence towards my theory of fake-French!Antoine... ugh, I said his name. Oh well. Back to Gina. Too bad the French thing didn’t work out for her.

Ahhhh, Portwell with Ash in the background! And Ash is going to paint EJ’s nails! I feel like he’s going to end up loving that, despite what he says right now. But seriously, I just love how comfortable these two are with each other. Can you blame me now for shipping them as friends? Well, I mean, it’s obvious they will be more than friends, and somehow, despite the amatonormativity of it all, I’m here for it.

Wait, was that Asher? That was Asher, I’m 100% sure of it. And Gina said ‘a sign’ and then looked at him, even from the back... what am I supposed to think and feel here? I’m confused. Moving on.

Ahh, poor Ricky being a burrito... good thing that breakup scene last time reminded me that I love him, because the entirety of the season before that was very good at making me forget that.

Wait, did she say ‘the Bean’? As in, that Bean? The infamous Bean? LOL.

‘So the only time you two talk to each other is to gossip about me’ Boy, did I feel that. I once got my hands on my dad’s mobile and I... kind of went through his texts with mum. Yep, all about me and my brother. At this point I feel like they’re only together because of us. But this is getting too personal. I’m here about the episode, not to rant about my family. Moving on.

Yikes, looks like Nini’s got writer’s block all over again. Am I supposed to feel sorry for her? Because I kind of don’t. I mean, no hate towards her, none at all, but that entire scene just felt awkward and unnecessary. And not just because it’s her first time going live. That I can understand. What I don’t understand is why the writers can’t seem to do anything creative and interesting with Nini. Olivia is being wasted there. Idk, that’s just how I feel. Again, no hate.

Ahhhhh it’s Asher! And well, he’s not Jonah, but I kind of really like him as Jack. I wonder if that will last.

So is it just me, or is anyone else not quite sure how to feel about Ricky’s mum? I mean, their interactions seem kind of awkward and strained, but that’s how it’s supposed to be given their recent history, and yet something just doesn’t sit quite right with me.

‘You there, Muse? It’s me, Nini!’ Ah, so it’s Nini again? I didn’t get the memo. Gosh, this episode is kind of really underwhelming. The most exciting thing so far (but not nearly as exciting in practice as it was in theory) – Asher and Sofia’s on-screen reunion. The second most exciting thing? The thought of Ash painting EJ’s nails. Everything else? Kind of ‘whatever’. Is this what I tossed and turned about all night? Totally not worth it. This episode better get, like, 300% better right this instant. It’s just not worth all the frustration and excitement and dread so far.

Looks like my prayers from just now have been heard! That improv scene was hilarious! Guess it was lucky that Miss Jenn had them do improv before this moment. But I need to know more of Jack’s backstory now.

Ok, so that was awkward! So Kourtney is talking to Howie again, I guess. And I guess I know now what Carlos did that was all public and no subtle. Still, what’s wrong with posting photos from your holiday? Guess I don’t exactly know yet what Carlos did to piss the others off so much.

Great, now I’m tempted to google butterfly faces. Good thing I’m not eating anymore. *** Ughhhhh this was a mistake! Please don’t ever look a butterfly in the face if you want to stay sane. Don’t be like me.

Ahhh the Duke sweater! ‘Is that your boyfriend’s?’ Well, not quite yet, it’s not... *screams in Portwell*

Oh, now we’re talking! But seriously, Ricky? The ‘my friends think’ card? Why don’t you just say ‘I think’? It’s clearly something you’ve thought about a lot. I feel like I’m going to love this scene or cry over it or both.

Ooh, therapy. It’s not just... basically the entire fandom... who says it now. Please tell me that means Ricky will be going to therapy at some point. Says the girl who is currently firmly refusing to go to therapy in favour of hyperfixating on HSMTMTS and getting back into the good old practice of having imaginary friends... yeah, I’m one to talk.

My, my, my! Seb has really had it now. I mean, it was about time, but... not quite like this. My heart is starting to do some weird stuff, I can feel it. I might need to lie down.

Ok, so as much as I envy North High for getting to see so many shows on BWay – basically living out my dream – stalking East High on Instagram and being shady about them taking a well-deserved break... just goes beyond all limits. I mean, if you’re so into Broadway shows, you should know as well as I do what happened the last time a certain founding father did not take a break. Maybe you’re the ones in need of a break here.

Nini on the call with the Caswell cousins, though... ‘I’m obsessed with both of you’ – first relatable thing she’s said or done all season. And EJ playing with old toys is pure gold.

Oh, so Jack’s dad is a pilot. Makes sense, I guess. I’m kind of intrigued by this guy. Just as long as he doesn’t try to come between Portwell before they’ve had the chance to happen, you know...

Ashlyn might need to stop swooning over Nini’s songwriting or Big Red might get jealous... I mean, I would not have pinned him as the jealous type before 2x7, but ever since then... I guess insecure + dating a girl like Ash = the jealous type. And although that looks good on him, I’d bet anything it doesn’t feel particularly pleasant on his side. So... wait, why am I talking about Big Red? He hasn’t even got anything to do with the scene at hand. But then again, there’s been so little Big Red content in this episode that I seem to be trying to make up for it. Still. Stay focused.

Ooh, so Big Red did edit that video! Is there anything my boy can’t do? Ok, now I feel like he’s even more criminally underappreciated than he was before. But let’s look at the video. I’m curious to see the whole thing because that sneak peek from yesterday simply hasn’t been enough.

That was... really, really cool! I love how they took the ‘when they go low, we go high’ line from last time and run with it. Now if only they were putting as much effort into BATB... North High wouldn’t know what hit them.

Hmmmm... I guess Gina and Jack could be what I originally wanted Portwell to be... really cool friends. Unless it’s one of those ‘airport magic’ things. Oh well. It probably is. Was that all we’re seeing of Asher here? I did not wait 2/3 of the season for this. Though it was nice.

Ooh, Ricky’s solo song... why is there more Rini chemistry in this song than there was in all the season? Not counting the breakup scene, of course. Also, I feel like it’s just as much about him and his mum as it is about Nini. Some say music is the best therapy. I think they might be right. And no, I’m not crying. You are.

The granola bar, though... this episode might have been very underwhelming in the first half, but... it delivered in the Portwell front, and the music was *chef’s kiss*, so I’m willing to let it slide that the advertised Seblos ‘big fight’ was not touched upon nearly enough. Maybe next week...

Ok, now that we’re done watching the episode, let’s see how my feelings from the beginning have aged:

The Rini breakup: apparently, along with reminding me that I love Ricky, it has rendered me unable to look at Nini. What’s up with that? If this is some sort of tactic along the lines of ‘Olivia might be leaving the show so we’re making you hate her character so that you won’t miss her’, it’s not really working. Because I don’t want to hate Nini. Believe me, I don’t.

Redlyn: ok, so there’s nothing wrong with them whatsoever - we even got a ‘soulmates’, which I loved - but first they’re being swept under the rug, and then the antis come at us with that ‘their relationship is underdeveloped’ nonsense. Individually, though, I liked them in this episode (even if there was a significant shortage of Big Red), and Ashlyn collaborating with Nini again was cool, but... what I really wanted to see was her painting EJ’s nails. Did she even get the chance to actually do it? Maybe next week.

Seblos: I’m still failing to understand exactly what Seb thinks Carlos did wrong (please enlighten me if you did catch that, I’m kind of slow), but he (Seb) does have reasons to be mad at him (Carlos)... and at other people, too. Still, if you want to have a fight between two people in a relationship, you could do much better than whatever this episode was. Maybe next week. I notice I’m saying that a lot. Guess I’m putting a lot of hopes on 2x10. I just pray it doesn’t disappoint.

Portwell: boy, am I happy that my frustration on this front did not age well! What I mean is, apparently they’ve decided to bless us, not torture us for once. Even a rather disappointing episode like this one had to have some sort of silver lining. And Portwell is it.

Asher as Jack: well, luckily I didn’t hate him, but... it’s kind of the opposite problem. I loved him and now they’re taking him away from me. Guess I just can’t win here. Oh well. At least he didn’t have the screen time to get in between Portwell...

All in all: 2x10, my hopes and prayers are with you!

[ladynightmare913]

Secrets of the Darkened Seas

Welcome to chapter 8! 

Just a small reminder that the next chapter will be posted on Olivia’s blog! I would like to say a special thank you to my best friend and co-author Olivia ( @asunshinepuff​​ ) for inviting me to work on this story with her. As you may have noticed, we have decided to change on how we release the chapters of our story. We will be alternating from my blog to @asunshinepuff​​‘s blog. 

As always, a reminder that there is some lore included within this, however, it will be explained over time so no worries. There are very subtle mentions of lore within the previous chapters so perhaps read back and see if you can catch it.

Under the guide of Fantastic Nautical Creatures by Newt Scamander, the included lore on different types of merfolk will as always, be taken from the book “The Secret World of Mermaids” by Francine Rose. We will not take credit for its writing. The different types of mermaids will be explained later so don’t worry. We have also taken the liberty of creating some of own original types of merfolk.

These chapters contain many original characters created by Olivia and myself. All credit for our creations goes to each other for our respective characters because we have both worked so hard to bring these character to life and I would never dare to take credit for any of Olivia’s characters. 

Now without further adieu!

Chapter 8: Captain Hua

“At least not completely human,” Brielle thought over. Remus bolted from his seat, rushing out the door. The children startled awake. 

“What happen?” A very sleepy Tadase asked softly. Rubbing his eyes awake, his hair flying in different directions. Brielle sighed as Regulus demanded another song. She shook her head slowly.

Remus marched up to the captain’s quarters, raising his hand to knock on the door but it opened before he could. 

“Stomp any louder I’d think you were a troll with a stone for a head.” The voice of Captain Hua stopped Remus in his tracks. 

All of the adrenaline seemed to have left Remus as he looked up to the captain who only had a raised brow. Remus cleared his throat, “I wish to speak to you.” 

Min-Jun back away from the door, leading Remus into his quarters. Walking to a large wooden desk that was littered with maps and charts. Min-Jun sifted through the papers quickly. “I was charting our course to the Asian Sea.” 

Remus nodded, “Yes, I know. Brielle spoke to me about it.” 

Min-Jun nodded slowly, “Though I take it that it was a brief conversation given your current state.” He looked over Remus’ frame in amusement. “I know what you want to ask, so ask it. I cannot give you an answer if you don’t ask.” 

Remus frowned lightly. Had Quinn gone behind his back and told Min-Jun what he had been doing? Was it Opal? Min-Jun didn’t look surprised for the most part. So perhaps Min-Jun was assuming Remus had another question all together. Remus took a breath before he decided to take a seat in front of  Min-Jun’s desk. The captain himself had taken a seat, he looked completely relaxed. 

“Brielle’s song didn’t affect you.” Remus started. 

“That is not a question, rather a fact Remus.” Min-Jun gave a hint of a smile. It unnerved Remus a bit.  

“Why, did her song not affect you?” Remus finally asked. 

Min-Jun huffed a silent laugh. His gaze only showed the familiar warmth that Remus had grown under. “Remus, it was never my intention to have a secret. One kept from you especially. You just never seemed to notice.”   

Remus relaxed, the Captain seemed sincere. And as blunt and cold Min-Jun was, he had never once doubted the sincerity in his words whenever he spoke. Min-Jun smiled once more, rising from his seat he walked over to the small library to his left. “Tell me Remus, what do you know about the Ballad of Mulan?” 

Remus thought over the name. “I have never heard of it. Why?”

Min-Jun simply pulled out a gold scroll that Remus had seen before over the years. It had the engraving of the dragon emblem on the gold metal. “Mulan was a fierce warrior, she stole her father’s armor, impersonated as a soldier, fought in a war,” Min-Jun turned to Remus, holding out the scroll, “and her name was Hua.” 

Accepting the scroll, Remus stared at the captain in slow comprehension. “Your name… is Hua.” The captain nodded. 

“She lived nearly 3,000 years ago. I am her descendant.” 

Remus gawked at him, leaning into his seat. Min-Jun continued. 

“Once Mulan returned from the war with the blessing of the Emperor of China, to her father. Later she bore three children, the first born was a male. All bearing her name, and her descendants later form the Hua Clan. I am from her bloodline.” 

Remus opened the scroll, inside were chinese characters, and the portrait of an asian on horseback weilding a sword. Remus traced the words gently. “But that doesn’t explain why the song had no affect on you.”  

Min-Jun nodded his head. “Within the Hua Clan, there is a legend.” 

“A legend?” 

“Yes, that Hua Mulan was the daughter of a great war hero, and of a Phoenix.”  

Remus’ jaw dropped. Min-Jun chuckled. 

“Newt had the same expression.” 

“She was the daughter of a phoenix?!” 

“Yes, raised alongside her father’s human wife and half sister. The legend also states that she married a man, who was secretly a dragon.” 

Remus fell off his chair. 

“Are you sure you have no correlation with Newt?” The captain’s brow raised in amusement. He carried on. “It was just thought to have been a legend, but when Mulan’s descendants took to the seas, they found themselves to be immune to many things, including the song of a mermaid. The dragon emblem on our flag is the emblem of the Hua Clan.” Min-Jun helped Remus up. “It’s probably why the kraken stayed away from our ship for so long.” He mused. “I haven’t been tempted to test that theory.”   

“That sounds wise.” Remus laughed awkwardly. 

“Yes I thought so.” 

Remus sat back down, looking down at the scroll, the symbol of what Remus now was the Hua Clan Emblem. “And your swords?” 

Min-Jun smirked. “Perhaps that story should be explained for a later time. I’m sure you have much to think over.”  

Remus nodded slowly, not really paying attention. Min-Jun helped Remus out of his quarters, who couldn’t seem to process Quinn grinning at him. Or Quinn slapping a hand to his back. 

“You alright there Remus?” Quinn smirked knowingly at Min-Jun. 

Remus slowly looked over to Quinn. “Why are you so calm about this?” 

Quinn shrugged. “We grew up together. I just grew up knowing that Min-Jun was from-” He paused, looking to the Captain, “Did you tell him the other part?” 

The captain shook his head. Quinn nodded in understanding. “Makes sense, the lad probably might burst with just how much he still has to learn about the world beyond the sea.” 

Min-Jun smiled before his eyes narrowed, turning his head slightly. He stared at the back of the cabin for a moment before he looked at Remus. “Sirius is awake. Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.” 

“ You’re not worried about him hurting anyone else?” 

Min-Jun smirked. “With you keeping watch? He’d sooner turn to ash before he even thought of pulling another stunt like earlier today.” 

Remus smirked in return, watching Min-Jun and Quinn depart. Min-Jun being the son of a dragon, actually made things make more sense. How he always seemed to know when a storm was coming and how he moved so silently. It was no wonder how the captain gained the name White Sea Serpent. Shaking his head, Remus walked into the infirmary, opening the door, he nearly groaned at the sight before him. 

There was Sirius, laying on the ground. Glaring at him. Remus only raised a brow. How bold of him to glare at him with murderous intent when he was bound. 

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