#I knew the main twist of the ending ahead of time obviously

[roxannarambles]

Rough Legends Arceus/Volo Headcanon Notes

While playing through Legends Arceus, while I was bored grinding out research tasks I amused myself with developing headcanons for the game.

These are for an OC in the player role/player is not Akari, though. (It's for my character June, who was a Bug Catcher while she was growing up, never did the gym circuit in her region, just liked bugs and casual pokemon battles and hanging out with her pokemon. She was attending her local junior college when she got snatched by the Void)

Headcanons focused on June & her "friendship" with Volo.

They chat about her work with Galaxy. She doesn't actually enjoy it much. She loves pokemon, sure, and the nature's pretty, but the survey work is tedious, lonely, boring, dirty, hazardous, etc. Pokemon research sounds fun in theory but not in practice-- not in ancient Hisui, anyway. The research tasks the Professor assigns her seem so arbitrary and weird, there are very few people in the Survey Corps who are brave or skilled enough to help her out so she usually works alone, she lacks all the conveniences of modern civilization, etc. Camping out for a week in the bogs and going to bed each night caked in mud and slime, not able to bathe 'til you get back to the village, so forth.

Volo comments, 'Well they must pay you handsomely at least?' No, the pay isn't that great, most money she makes is from stuff she picks up off the ground. But, well, at least they're housing and feeding her. It's something.

He calls her sky child.

She remembers her life from before she fell here. She doesn't know why she came to be here, and why that weird phone appeared along with her. She half-remembers a weird pokemon that she dreamed about while in the rift, but she can't remember what it said to her. It was probably just a dream, anyway.

The phone is weird. It has a map of the area, and icons light up sometimes, and she also gets texted mysterious messages. She thinks maybe she accidentally fell through a portal to another realm, but the presense of this phone makes her suspect it's more than that. Did a person intentionally create a portal and push her through it? And now they're ordering her around with this phone? They seem to want her to study the pokemon here.

She doesn't like being used.

The phone has a Notes app. She thought about using it to record her thoughts, but she's paranoid that whoever sent this phone could be spying, reading her notes. She doesn't know if writing on a paper journal is good idea either though, anyone here could find it. She's not sure who to trust here, they already seem so mistrustful of her, they'd likely rifle through her stuff. She wouldn't put it past them, anyway.

Eventually she asks Volo if he can get her a journal with a lock on it. If such a thing exists here. He seems very curious about her request, but doesn't push questions on her about it. A few days later, he appears, having procured her a leatherbound journal with a sturdy locked latch.

He keeps a copy of the key in secret.

Sometimes she camps out for many days in a row during her field work. It's often gruelling and lonesome. People from the Security Corps bring her meals sometimes and supplies to the campsite, but they are not always there-- they come and go. The pokemon professor drops by on occasion too but he's often busy with work back at the village. At night June sits in her tent and writes in her journal by the light of her phone. She can't even get attached to her pokemon, since her rearch forces her to constantly change her team. Supplies are precious, too, so she often can't afford to use tons of potions, and her pokemon faint a lot. They work as hard as she does, to the point of exhaustion, and she imagines they resent her for it.

"So how are things going with your Galaxy friends?"

She tells Volo about how most people in the village seem to act nice enough around her, or polite in the very least. But even after all of these weeks here, she can tell none of them trust her. She can see the looks they cast her, from the corner of her vision, the way they still whisper about her when they think she can't hear. Some are still openly mistrustful or hostile, like the Commander of the Security Corps, although most are a little more subtle. Either way, it's exhausting to deal with. She's worked herself to the bone for them, and they tell her, "you're a part of our family now, we have your back," but it's not true, she know it isn't true. And she's realized by now that no matter how hard she works, how many favors she grants, how many missions she fulfills, it's never going to be enough, is it? She'll always be a stranger here, always out of place.

Even the Pokemon Professor and Rei, the people who are friendliest to her in the village, she doesn't feel close to. They seem nice enough, but in the end they're just using her too, aren't they? To get their research done. So who's to say whether their kindness isn't conditional? It always seems conditional here, in this place. Maybe she's just paranoid, but it's hard to tell. It's hard not to resent them all. She feels scared and alone. She has no one here.

She tells all this to Volo. She's not sure why. Maybe because he seems like an impartial party. Maybe because he's the only one who doesn't look at her with the eyes of someone who's mistrustful. Maybe because he's just there and she has to tell somebody, she can't bear not truly talking to somebody anymore. He listens compassionately. Seems to understand. And tentatively, he tells her that if it pleases her to think it, he'd be happy to call her friend.

She's quiet for a while. So far, her rapport with the Gingko merchant over the weeks had been friendly, but she hadn't been sure whether it had qualified as friendship. He had been straightforward in the past that his motives were professional ones; being congenial with customers was just good business sense. Still, she had always liked to think perhaps it might become more than just being chummy with customers. He'd seemed like a genuinely nice person, and she'd always enjoyed their conversations.

She smiles and shyly thanks him, realizing she's maybe not entirely alone in this place. She's quiet a while, but soon says she wants to give him something. She digs through her satchel. She doesn't have much right now, but she pulls out a curious little fragment of stone, pretty and angular and red. She says she found it while exploring one of the space-time distortions that everyone else is too afraid to approach. He asks if she's sure she wants to give it to him. She says yes. He thanks her and promises he shall treasure it.

Later, he has a jewler turn it into a necklace. He makes sure to wear it all the time, usually beneath the folds of his clothing, so that one day June can 'accidentally' see it.

They run across each other at random times. He's always traveling, and so is she, but their paths always seem to cross eventually. They stop for a spell to chat whenever it happens.

He helps to teach her survival skills, sometimes, like cooking food out in the wild. She cannot always rely on the Survey Corps to bring her food, after all, especially when she's in a more far-flung area all alone. He tells her what fish are good for eating; Basculin are best, Magikarp are worst. He teaches her how to scale and gut and clean fish, how to cook them. He tells her that Sitrus berries are toxic when unrripe, how to find Razz berries, where to look for mushrooms. In turn, she brings him things she finds sometimes that are curious, old verses that Ursaluna dug up, shards of pottery, photos of ruins, strange pieces of colored glass.

One day, they see each other while out in the mirelands, and walk together for a time. He's on his way to gather caster ferns. She warns him not to head in that direction, an alpha has been patrolling there lately. He's never seen an alpha there before and has been to that spot dozens of times, hundreds by now, so he sort of just ignores her, insisting it will be fine, until they hear the cry echoing across the marsh and he stops.

"Er . . . perhaps . . . I will gather some other day."

She decides to catch the alpha so he doesn't have to do that. She's happy she can do something to help him out for once, since it always seems like he's the one helping her. She knows he only has Togepi, after all.

"So what have you been doing to pass the time here, June? When you finally have the chance to rest for a spell from all that survey work of yours, that is."

"Not much. Overthinking, mostly."

"I see . . ."

"What do you do to pass the time, when you're out traveling?"

"Probably much the same."

She looks to him, surprised. The comment had been dropped quietly, carelessly, and he seemed to quickly rebound.

"With all these mysteries to ponder, after all, I'd hardly have much chance to be bored!"

She isn't sure that's really what he'd meant, but she doesn't push it. He tells her he also reads quite a bit. They chat about books and he says he can loan her one of the ones he'd finished reading. He gives her a well-worn book, and when she opens it for a peek, a piece of paper slips out that he'd been using as a bookmark. When she picks it up, she sees there's a charcoal drawing of Togepi on it. It looks beautiful. She holds it up and asks Volo if he drew it.

He seems briefly distressed, but stifles the expression, admitting he did. She tells him he shouldn't be shy, it looks really good! He awkwardly thanks her, saying it was just idle scribbling, really.

When she reads the book later in her tent, she finds he's also left some notes scrawled in the margins. She suspects he's forgotten about them. She enjoys the book but finds his scribbled notes the most interesting part of the book.

When they meet again, they chat about the book she borrowed, discussing the story and characters. One day she asks him if he can teach her to draw. He seems in a rather laid-back mood and indulges her.

She tells him about the Arc phone, eventually. She usually doesn't whip it out in front of people, feeling reluctant to do that; she knows it's a strange piece of technology and it tends to make others uneasy of her, not to mention some might see it and think to steal it. But eventually she trusts Volo enough to show the device to him. It comes up in conversation when he finds her with her pokemon team, taking a group photo of them. (All Alpha Bug pokemon)

He's very curious about it. She shows him the map app, and how to use it. He picks up the basics quickly. He asks her how the technology works. She's not sure how to explain a tiny, pocket-sized computer to the people of this era. It doesn't help she has a poor understanding of how computers work, herself, even coming from an era with them. She gives a very stilted explanation of computer chips and computer code and how a ton of data can be crammed into a very small space. It's not a good explanation but he appreciates her trying. He asks what else her device can do. She shows him the camera app, they take a few photos and a selfie together. He's fascinated with it. What else can it do? There aren't a ton of apps on it, there's a clock, a notes app, a flashlight function . . . she switches the light on. Volo says that must be very handy. Does this device require fuel? She isn't sure. Normally phones do need an energy source, you need to plug them in to charge them, but there doesn't seem to be any charger for this phone. Not that she'd have a way to plug it in, if there were. She's been using this phone for weeks and it's yet to lose power, so she doesn't know if it's solar powered somehow or if it's some other energy source . . . she honestly doesn't know.

"So if you use this device for too long, it's possible that . . ."

"Yeah. It might die eventually, and then never work again. That's why I try not to use it too often."

She doesn't mention the weird text messages she gets on the phone, or the way icons light up on her map sometimes as objectives.

One time she comments Volo seems like a man with a lot of secrets.

"Who, me?" He holds his chin and acts as though he's thinking.

"Mmm, well. In my line of work, you get to know a lot of people. You must be good at small talk, getting to know your customers, and people do like to talk, so I end up hearing a lot of gossip . . . so I suppose I do know some secrets."

He asks June if she'd like to know any gossip and she says sure. He tells her that her Galaxy Commander, he sleeps with a Teddiursa plushie. She laughs. He asks now that she knows it, will she try and blackmail him? So that she could continue getting paid but no longer need to do this tedious survey work?

She says no. She'll have an easier time dealing with the jerk, just knowing the information now. She's not the sort to blackmail, anyway. Volo tells her that she's a good person. June isn't so sure.

He procures for her a bigger bag, like the ones the Gingko Guild use. It's much roomier than the tiny satchel. It's well worth the purchase.

During conversation with him June mentions one time that she gets cold easily and has been freezing her butt off lately during work. A few days later, Volo appears with a nice warm jacket and gloves for her, that fit her perfectly. She is very excited and grateful. He's always charged her for the things he gets her (although he sometimes offers a friendly discount) so she expects the same here. But when she asks how much she owes him, this time he says not to worry about it. She is flustered at first, saying they must have cost him a lot, is he sure . . . but he insists. It would not do him any good if his favorite customer died of hypothermia out in the wilds.

At the Coronet Highlands, there is a place called the Fabled Spring, a secret little alcove by a calm lake, with trees and soft grass and wildflowers. This is where Volo finds June laying there, staring out at the water, idly picking grass, looking very lost in thought.

"Fancy seeing you here."

She looks up in surprise. She asks what he's doing here and he responds he comes here for razz berries. He asks if he might join her, and she nods. He sits with her.

Conversation turns to the next Noble she's meant to face. She's nervous. He tells her he's sure she'll be fine, she handled the last one so well, after all.

She says it's getting harder each time. The last time, with the Arcanine, she got burned very, very badly, and she had to withdraw her first attempt. They had to carry her home. Back in Jubilife, they had a special medicine they used to help heal her, although it still took several days for her to recover.

"So you recovered fully?"

She did. It was a powerful medicine, made from an herb that was a pokemon. But she still remembers the pain of those burns. She returned and soothed the Noble on her second attempt. She's worried this next Noble will be even harder, though.

"Well . . . if it goes rough, all you need is more of Galaxy team's medicine and you'll be as right as rain again, right?"

Maybe. What if they run out of medicine though? She could tell it was precious to team Galaxy and rare, difficult for them to harvest and make. Or what if . . . something worse happens to her than just burns or a little paralysis. They are both quiet a while.

Volo eventually tells her he's sure everything will work out. He changes the subject so she won't dwell on her worries. Shares some leftover fish with her. She loves how it tastes. He has spices that Galaxy doesn't use. It's so much better than that potato mochi she's so tired of.

After she defeats the Electrode Noble, he asks her how it went. Surprisingly well. Easier than Arcanine. He acts pleased, told you it would be all right.

She's been thinking though, about the rift. Since the Commander keeps bringing it up. See, for now, Galaxy and June's goals are aligned. But they might not always be. And she knows this, and it troubles her. Galaxy wants to close the rift, eventually. But what if, in order for June to get home, she finds out she needs to leave the rift open? Or even . . . to widen it?

Could she do that? To leave everyone to that chaos and just bounce? Especially when she's the only one around here strong enough and brave enough to face frenzied Nobles?

Volo says it is an interesting conundrum she brings up. (She says she wouldn't use the word 'interesting' to describe it...) What would she do? he asks.

She doesn't know. It is a horrible thought, she doesn't think she can do it, just leave and screw everyone. Do that to a whole region, a whole group of people?? That'd be awful. But on the other hand. To not only never see her family ever again, but her entire world and timeline....to be stuck in what's to her, a backwater era that's super technologically primitive, among people she doesn't even like (well, except for you, you're pretty cool), to be forever displaced in time....it's....god, she doesn't know if she could face that either. She'd be out of place, out of time and a stranger her whole life, here.

After a span of silence she asks quietly,

"Would you blame me if I left?"

He murmurs a response so gently she almost doesn't hear.

"I wouldn't."

She gives him a bunch of colored fragments and stardust that she's collected.

"Take these, Volo, just . . . just in case."

He asks, what do you mean, June? She says, if things get bad, if worse comes to worst, you can sell these, maybe get out of the area altogether. You're a merchant, you must know how to get out of here in a hurry. So at least . . . you'd be safe . . .

"June--"

She explains she has a ton of money now, nobody ever wants to approach the rifts, and she collects the stuff there in droves. People are too afraid of the powerful pokemon there and of being sucked into the distortions. But she goes towards them, hoping the distortions will bring her home again. Picks up valuables while there. She still works for Galaxy but now not for the money. But because she needs them as allies for now. They are powerful. And she needs their help learning more about all these mysteries, so she can hopefully get home.

"It's just in case. Hopefully it never comes to that. And I may not even decide-- you know--"

"All right, June. I'll take them."

One hot day, June overworks herself to the point of nearly fainting. Volo finds her on the ground, dizzy and weak. He carries her to a safer place where pokemon are less likely to harass them, under the shade of a tree, gets her some food and water. Asks things such as when's the last time she's eaten, or bathed, or slept. She mumbles her answers. It's been days since she's slept any longer than ten minute stints, she was lost in areas with way too much pokemon activity to let her guard down.

"Days?!"

He starts to wash the grime from her face with a wet washcloth, chewing her out for letting the Galaxy people overwork her, and treating her for any less than she's worth (if those idiots realized how valuable an asset she really was, they should never do that, and she's worth her weight in gold), she has to take care of herself--

June starts to cry while being chewed out. Mostly from being overwhelmed from it all. He apologizes awkwardly, tries to comfort her, touching her face and telling her it will be okay. Dries her tears and washes her face, then wants to pull her hair back to help with her cooling down, has to brush her hair first but it's all snagged and caked with dried mud, he gets a comb from his bag and brushes it all out, carefully, so that it doesn't hurt her. Gets her to nap, eventually, convinces her he shall watch over while she sleeps. She is concerned he will be bored, he laughs, he's very much used to passing time. She tells him to look in her bag, she got a book she wanted to give to him next time she saw him.

He reads her diary while she sleeps.

She records her struggles. Her fears and confusion. How much she misses home, how estranged she is here. Her desperate attempts to figure things out, speculations. She hates the public bathhouse the town has, she hates the food, she hates the way everyone looks at her, she hates the cold, the mosquitoes, so many things. The weeks spent filthy in the bog before finally returning to town for a pathetic amount of research points. It's recorded here, so raw.

She talks about the townspeople she meets. Including the Gingko Guild trader named Volo. She analyzes him shrewdly, cautious about trusting anyone, including him. But he's caught her interest, enough to make note of it.

Her entries continie to talk about the professor and Rei a lot, the Commander, the 'stupid potato mochi resturuant jerk' (she hates the mochi too, just because it's all they ever eat), but she also writes about Volo. Mentions each time she comes across him.

He begins to show up in the diary more and more. She eventually says, 'He's the only one who's any fun to talk to, really,' saying that she finds his pure curiosity in investigating things to be refreshing, (as opposed to the Galaxy people, whose research is motivated by protection/safety but claims to be scientific; or the Pearl/Diamond clan's petty squabbles and nonsensical arguments) and his directness about his motivations refreshing too (he's a merchant, he's being friendly because it's good business). It stands in contrast to everyone else. The other Gingko guild folks are fine enough but not particularly engaged in talking with her, the way Volo is. And just not . . . hmm. The sort of person who's interesting, she supposes. He's engaging, intriguing. Still, June knows she musn't be too open with things when talking to him. She knows nothing about the charismatic merchant, nothing about anyone really, and she must be careful in this world.

"He never talks about his past. I often wonder why. I can tell he's carrying secrets, though. I try to ask him about his past, but he always deflects. Sometimes I think he's a criminal on the run from the law, and he's traveled to this region to avoid punishment. He could be a serial murderer, for all I know. Of course, he might simply not want to think about his past, perhaps something painful happened to him or his family. It could be many things, really. We all have our reasons for keeping secrets, I suppose . . . I won't try to push it, just see what he feels like sharing."

Volo begins to flip more hastily through the diary to directly hunt for mention of his name. He sees their interactions through her point of view now. He is pleased with the effectiveness of his infiltrations but also impressed with her attention to detail and her sharp observations and analyses and continued caution. Her descriptions of him stroke his ego and as the entries continue they grow more and more flattering, more and more detailed. He gets to the part where she is analyzing the comments he'd left in the margins of that novel.

June stirrs and he quickly puts the diary away.

When she recovers enough, she's embarassed she worked herself hard enough to get to that point, and is very apologetic to Volo. He tells her not to worry about it, it wasn't any trouble for him; she just had to promise him she'd take better care of herself in the future.

She is asked to quell the final Noble. She drags her feet getting around to it. She needs to earn a 5 Star Rank before they let her go there. She's earned plenty of research points for that but delays telling them, pretends she needs to get more research done.

She's trying to learn more. She's afraid once she quells the last one, the rift will close and she will never get home. She tells this to Volo. But she can't delay forever, she knows; sooner or later Team Galaxy will catch wise. The two settle on a plan; June will try to hunt for those plates and those verses with Ursaluna. And Volo will do what he can to find out more for her, too. They decide to meet up again in a week, choose a place and time.

Eventually, even with what info June turns up, it's not enough. And Volo has his own contacts, but they insist that they have nothing more to tell him. They are still no closer to understanding this mystery.

"In truth, June, it seems the best shot we have at learning more is for you to face this final Noble. Perhaps doing so will help us learn more about these strange frenzies. Perhaps the others are right and something may happen once you calm them all."

"Yeah . . . I was afraid you were going to say that."

He tells her that he's sorry he couldn't be of more help to her. She shakes her head, says it isn't his fault.

He tries to comfort her.

"Who knows, June. Perhaps nothing will happen when you calm the final one. Or something will, but the rift may not close, that's just pure speculation, something else could happen. Perhaps the Almighty will be pleased with your work and send you home!"

She chuckles.

"That's always possible. Although I dunno if I believe in Sinnoh."

"Oh? . . . I suppose an outsider has no real reason to. . ."

June apologizes and realizes it was probably a rude thing to say. He says that no, he's glad that she feels comfortable enough around him to be honest. She asks if he believes in Sinnoh. He says he knows it by a different name, but that he does indeed; he's studied it for most his life. 'What more proof do you need than this strange rift in the sky and the fact that you are here?' June explains her perspective. That portals to other realms are not beyond the realm of possibility. That she may not need the explanation of divine intervention for them. They simply may be an aspect of nature, the same way that the sky, the air, the trees, the sun are . . . and that strange lightning. Perhaps that is just a weird sort of weather. Odd that it strikes the Nobles, but uhm, maybe it's like a lightning rod and hits the strong ones, you know? Who knows. Point is. She doesn't know. But. It is possible that Sinnoh exists and brought her here. She really doesn't know. They are quiet and thoughtful a while.

He speaks again.

"Well. The only way for us to learn is to keep asking questions, to keep searching for answers, and to keep moving forward."

She agrees that is true, smiling faintly. He asks if she is ready. She nods.

When nothing seemed to change after quelling the final Noble, June was glad. The forboding hole in the sky frightened everyone but her. Where they saw fear, she saw hope that she might still return home. They returned to Jubilife and dined on bland, tasteless mochi that sat heavy in her stomach, while the Professor nattered on about pokedex work. There was a certain comfort in it.

The next morning, it all went to shit.

Even June was frightened at the sight of the blood-red sky, which made the rift look like an open wound. It seemed like armageddon. When they summoned her to a meeting, she wasn't too surprised what came next. Was she angry? Yes. But she wasn't surprised. Part of her had always hoped she had been wrong about the Commander, about all the people here, and that they wouldn't turn on her, so it still hurt when it happened, but it really didn't surprise her. That asshole had been looking for a scapegoat the day she landed here, and today she was the lamb chosen for the slaughter. They whispered and stared as she was led out of town like some kind of criminal.

For what it was worth, the professor and Rei tried to help her, sort of. They suggested she seek out the Diamond and Pearl clans. However, the clan's respective leaders could only offer sympathy. They explained they could not help June, lest they risk war with Team Galaxy. The professor and Rei likewise were unwilling to directly disobey their superiors and risk banishment themselves. There was a lot of hand-wringing and sad looks, but not much else. After everything she'd done for them, all the times they swore she was family now, that they had her back. Not a single person stepped up to help her in return, now that she really needed it most.

They sent her away into the wilderness, alone. She had her big backpack stuffed with everything she could carry, and her team of six bug alphas, pokemon who still hardly knew her at all, since she rarely had opportunity to even bond with them. She sat on the hill overlooking Gruelling Grove, under the blood-red sky, just staring out at the fields numbly and wondering what to do next, and trying not to give into the fear threatening to overtake her.

Eventually, a voice startled her from her dark thoughts, and she looked up, meeting with a familiar, friendly face. The corners of Volo's eyes crinkled and his face lit up with his usual sunny smile, even under the cast of the grim, terrifying sky.

"I've been looking for you everywhere, June," he said.

She had only cried once since she'd fallen through the rift, when Volo had found her dizzy and exhausted that one time, but not since then. She felt the tears begin to fall now, though. Volo spoke soothing words and helped pull her to her feet.

She pulled him into a hug, squeezing him fiercely, causing him to wheeze, sounding startled and flustered.

It had felt like an angel had come to save her.

He brought her to his humble campsite to shelter her. "It isn't much, but it's home, and you're welcome to it," he tells her cheerfully. They sit around a campfire; he makes what are essentially shish kebabs for dinner, chunks of vegetable and meat skewered and roasted over the fire. While they eat, he tells her excitedly about one of his contacts and how he's going to take her there to meet her tomorrow morning. This mysterious contact was now feeling much more cooperative, once Volo told her that June had quelled the last Noble and apparently met with her approval. He says that she is very wise on the myths passed down from the Celestica peoples of old, and she will surely be able to help them sort out this space-time mystery.

They share his tent that night. It's a snug fit, and June doesn't sleep much, her mind swimming with thoughts.

She never paid attention in school when they discussed ancient mythology. In hindsight she wished she had. Maybe if she did, she would have noticed sooner that something was amiss.

It wasn't until the two of them reached the top of Mount Coronet with all the plates, and he chose to reveal his true colors, that she learned the truth. She trusted him right up to the end.

When he told her how he bid Giratina to tear a hole in the sky, the one that she fell through, it felt like being run through with a knife.

After everything that happens on top of that mountain, when June returns and gives her report, she doesn't mention Volo tried to destroy the world and everyone in it. She just says they finished collecting the plates, and climbed to the top of the mountain to see if anything would happen. Giratina appeared there, and she battled it, but it escaped before she could catch it.

Technically, all of it was true. She just left out some important parts, is all.

Later, when she's alone doing her survey work, he finds her and grabs her roughly by the shoulder, hisses at her,

“You! What game are you trying to play here?!”

She asks what he means.

“Don't play dumb. I know you didn't tell your Galaxy fools about me. Why not? If you're hoping to use it as leverage, you can forget it, I won't be anyone's puppet--”

“That's-- that's not why I did it!”

“Then why?”

She confesses she's not exactly sure why.

“I guess I just . . . look, if I told them, I'm not sure exactly what they'd do, I don't know how you even punish someone for that kind of crime, but in the very least they'd do something, banish you from basically all of Hisui, probably. And that's what you deserve. But I also know if they did it, there'd be zero chance of you . . . getting better.”

He demands to know what that means.

“Becoming a better person? It . . . it sounds stupid when I say it outloud, I guess. I know the past few months you've spent just lying to my face and using me, but part of me still wants to believe that maybe a small piece of all that wasn't a lie. That there was a grain of truth to it, that the goodness I saw in you is still buried down in there and wasn't entirely made-up.”

She looks into his eyes, trying to find even a flicker of evidence for that. She's not sure. She can't trust her own judgment, anymore. He stares back for a time, then silently turns and skulks away without another word.

She does not see him again for a long time. When he reappears again it's to demand a rematch. She wins again, by a narrow margin. He rants and raves about how close he is to defeating her, fumes about Arceus having chosen her. They argue. As he storms away she yells after him, voice choked,

“I'm being used by Arceus like a puppet, I don't think that's something to envy!”

He stops.

His demeanor changes. Like flipping a switch.

Eventually, says,

“If you resent Arceus, why do you still scamper about and do their bidding?”

“. . . because I want to go home.”

He turns. Asks her if her world is as cruel and unforgiving a place as it is here. June argues she doesn't think the world is cruel and unforgiving, then amends, well, it can be sometimes. But it's also filled with good things, too.

“And why should such ugliness and horror exist alongside such beauty? Why should some prosper while others are left to dine on naught but dust?”

She . . . she doesn't know.

“That is why I want to meet them. So that I may ask. And . . . perhaps fix things.”

“Volo, I understand wanting to make things better, but I don't think the solution is to mass murder everyone on the planet and starting over from scratch! There are better ways . . .”

He remains silent for some time. Then he pulls on the cord about his neck, takes his necklace off. The one he made out of the comet shard she gave him. He gives it to her.

“I don't deserve to keep something accepted under false pretenses.”

Then he leaves. June stares after for some time, confused. Why was he even still wearing it? If he'd been wearing it only to manipulate her, why continue the act once she knew the truth? Did part of him actually care? Or was he still trying to manipulate her now?

He didn't seem to be. It seemed to be a good-bye, in fact. She had a feeling he didn't plan to see her again.

She finds Giratina one day, in a small, dark cave she stumbles across while exploring the coastlands. She's shocked that she can capture it in a pokeball. Gods shouldn't be so easy to subjugate, surely. Perhaps the Pearl cand Diamond clans were right to fear the contraptions. They were strangely chill about her capturing their sacred Palkia and Dialga in pokeballs, but she had promised it was a temporary thing, so perhaps it just went to show how much trust was finally placed in her now.

When she told the Professor about Giratina, he revealed something that surprised her. He said Volo had approached him not long ago and spoke to him. Told him that Giratina had been responsible for tearing the rift in space-time, but that once it battled June, it realized that it was no match for her. It chose to instead protect Hisui, and it was no longer a threat to them.

June should catch it. So that you may study it, he told him.

Perhaps that's why it had been so easy to capture. June was still shocked, though. Shocked that Volo had bothered to speak to the Professor at all. Why did he? Did he feel protective over Giratina and wanted to ensure its safety? Did he want to reassure Team Galaxy that they didn't need to worry-- a peace offering, of sorts? Did he do it for June?

She didn't know. The Professor told her the last thing he said was that it was probably the last time he'd see him; and then he wandered off. She's pretty sure he meant it. She hadn't seen him for a month now, not since he'd given her the necklace.

Later, June sent Giratina out of its ball, when she was alone out on the coastlands. She stared at it, calmly, and spoke to it.

“You spoke to him after you fled the mountain, didn't you? What did he plan on doing? Where did he go?”

The dragon stared back at her silently.

“Please. I . . . I'm worried about him.”

In truth, Hisui wasn't the same without him. She hated what he did, what he did to her, and it felt like twisting a knife whenever she thought of him, but she also missed him.

She was reminded of him constantly, and she spent hours upon hours going over the memories. Sometimes she searched her memories for hints of his subterfuge, wishing she'd noticed sooner, wishing it had been different. Sometimes she'd daydream of getting revenge. Sometimes she'd spend the time wondering if any of his friendship had been real, hoping at least something had been. Often she wondered what was going through his head, who he really was, what he was doing now.

She'd been alone with her thoughts for too long and they were driving her mad. She needed closure. She needed to know what became of him. And she needed something more than the daily life she was living now. Once he'd left she'd turned her obsessive focus to finishing the Pokedex, as Arceus seemed to demand of her. She hardly had spent time doing anything but that work. She was withdrawn with everyone else. She'd gotten closer to her main team of pokemon, that was about it. It was horrifically lonely and monotonous.

It took June time to realize Giratina had lowered to the ground, uncoiling its long body, almost in invitation. She blinked at it.

“Do you want me to, um, climb aboard?”

She was nervous, but when she approached, it remained still. She climbed onto its back, half-surprised to find it felt solid, despite it being a ghost. She settled onto one of its golden ribs, as though it were a saddle. Silently, the dragon raised up once more, and began to fly through the starry sky. It felt surreal.

He misses her and their "friendship," now that she's gone. It takes him by surprise. Why should he miss such a thing? It wasn't a real friendship on his side, of course, but it wasn't real on her side, either; since she had merely liked the lie, not the real him. He was certain she wouldn't have liked the real him. Certainly not after what he did. Naturally.

But he missed it, anyway, that beautiful lie he'd created with her. Perhaps because he hoped like she had liked at least a part of him. Perhaps because it was just nice to pretend.

He hated to admit it; he'd spent so very long in denial that he had cared about her at all, and it still churned his stomach to think about the ugly truth, but it was becoming impossible to deny.

Because he can't seem to stop thinking about her. And it's driving him a bit mad. He's lost now, no clue what he's going to do. He just keeps thinking of the way she once looked at him with such kindness and affection. And how it all transformed to anger and hurt and mistrust and pain instead. Like a lovely flower plucked and crushed.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter.

It was too late. It wasn't as though she'd ever forgive him. It wasn't as though he wanted her forgiveness.

. . . perhaps he did. But he certainly didn't deserve it.

What was he? Some poor wretch who'd fallen from Arceus' grace. Even Giratina had turned its back on him, in the end. The one creature in all the realms he thought would understand him. He didn't blame it; he'd failed it, after all. He was not worthy to weild its power.

He hid from the world, tucked away deep in a corner of Hisui that others dared not tred. The days passed in a blur, and he barely thought to eat. He spent much time sleeping, but still found little rest, tormented by his dreams.

At first he assumes the Hoopa portal that abducts him is Arceus finally choosing to smite him from this mortal plane.

Giratina leads her to the cave Volo had been staying at. She picks through the refuse, it's disgusting there, a total mess, and his possessions are strewn all about, but she finds no one home. She grows more and more anxious as she searches. There is a fire still smoldering as if he'd been there recently; what's more, she eventually finds his pokemon team is left there. She asks Giratina what happened but the dragon either doesn't wish to speak or she cannot hear it.

The portal finds her too eventually. She's sucked into it in a much better position though. She has her backpack and her full pokemon team on her. When she's spat out on some grass somewhere, she is . . . unamused, though. It feels far too familiar. Powerful pokemon transporting her across time and space at their whimsy.

She wanders around, and eventually comes across Volo. He's disheveled, disoriented, and devoid of most possessions, save for a single pokeball, which has a Togepi. He won't say why he has it (it's the child of his Togekiss). He's shocked when she appears, and says it musn't be the afterlife after all. He asks why she's here, she explains she went searching for him, found his camp empty, Giratina led her there. Then a portal got her. He wants to know why she went searching for him at all, but their conversation is interrupted when they are discovered by some friendly locals. They're led back into town by them. They learn this place is an island called Pasio.

At first June is very, very excited. She thinks she's landed in her native time-line. However, once she gets a phone and contacts her family, she is shocked to learn a version of her already exists in this place. So close to home and yet so far.

In the meanwhile, Volo is amazed by the future and his changed situation and the gears in his head are quickly turning. He tries to lie to the people here and pretend to be nothing but a simple merchant from the past with an interest in myths and the research into sync stones. But June is having none of his bullshit. Once she figures out what he is up to, she goes right to Professor Bellis and the Prince and warns them what he tried to do in the past, and that he might try to do the same again. She doesn't want them to simply lock him up, though, so she asks if there might be some other solution. They thank June for the warning and decide to restrict Volo's access to certain things, such as learning about sync stone research. They also put June in charge of keeping an eye on him, so that he does not cause trouble.

When she delivers the news to Volo, he's shocked, at first, then tries to act innocent, saying he wasn't lying to anyone, he merely didn't see a reason to bring up the past; he'd hoped he could start fresh, turn over a new leaf. June gets very angry, and hurt, yelling,

"Are you KIDDING me? You're still trying to lie to me, even now?!"

This seems to get to him, and he stops trying to convince her his intentions were all purely innocent. She finishes explaining the deal to him, including the fact she's responsible for keeping him out of trouble, now. His mouth curves in a smile and he laughs, dry, bitter.

"So you are to be my warden."

Things don't go very well at first with this new arrangement, and he's not cooperative at all, keeps trying to get away with things, manipulate her, and they keep arguing over his obsessive goals. Tensions mount and they keep butting heads until an especially heated argument, June just snaps.

She barks an order to her Alpha Scizor; it immediately reaches out and grabs Volo around the neck with its massive claw. She screams at him,

“If you're so eager to meet Arceus, why don't I help send you to it?!”

Scizor lifts Volo up off the ground until his feet are dangling. Eyes wide, he looks down at her.

He looks terrified.

She hesitates and then sighs. She tells Scizor to put him down. It was only an empty threat because she was absolutely sick with anger, but seeing the genuine fear in his eyes made her immediately feel bad. She could never actually hurt him.

Maybe she was too good of a person for her own good.

Things change after that. Volo seems to realize June isn't going to be manipulated anymore. He grows more cooperative, more contemplative. (Other plot stuff happens that I only have vaguely defined, but one of them is he starts to become sort of friends with Jacq-- for real this time, not like at the start when he was putting on an act. He also is doing work while on this island, so is June, and he's battling trainers, sometimes, and learning more about the world and the future here.)

Their relationship gradually shifts, and they start to have conversations that are not purely antagonistic.

One day he tells June he read her diary, back in Hisui.

June is appalled but reigns in her anger and asks why he's telling her this. He explains he asked her to start telling her the truth.

"I did say that, didn't I . . . ugh. Okay, that's fair, I guess. But why did you feel the need to even do that to begin with?"

He explains that he thought perhaps Arceus had sent her to Hisui for some purpose, and he needed to figure out why, because perhaps she could be the key to him meeting it. He hoped to find more information there. She sees the cold logic in his choice, and then asks with some trepidation how much he actually read. He relays what he could recall reading, and then starts to ramble about his judgments of her, which were very harsh judgments at that (he thought she was weak, and soft, and pathetic, and she whined and complained about how everything was difficult, and he didn't understand why Arceus would choose her) and she gets understandably ticked off, face flushed in anger.

He cuts her off before she can yell at him, though, when he says reading her diary started to shift his thinking, though.

He says it made him realize just how much she was up against every single day. She had the deck stacked against her from the start. No one and nothing was kind to her in this place, and every gain she made was as hard-fought as possible, and yet . . . she kept going. The weight of the world on her shoulders, pressing down on her, but she didn't buckle. She bent but didn't break.

She awkwardly thanks him for acknowledging it.

One day they are having a relatively minor disagreement and she says,

"I could have just told them to lock you up, you know."

"I know."

"Would a 'thank you' kill you?"

He hesitantly explains no it would not, but he doesnt want to say something to her that he doesnt mean.

She is very unamused.

"So it's not that you can't say thank you, it's that you're incapable of feeling gratitude. Great."

He's quiet for a time.

"...possibly. I'm not sure."

One night he rushes to her room and shakes her awake.

"Hnnngh . . . Volo? What is it? What's wrong??"

He instantly loses nerve and apologizes for waking her, and says that it isn't important

"Wh-what??" She demands to know what it is, it must be important enough to charge into here like that, but he apologizes again and starts to leave and she grabs his wrist. His eyes widen.

She senses his uncertainty and speaks much more gently.

"No, w-wait, Volo, don't go. Tell me what it is." He looks to her.

"Please."

He hesitates a while, working himself up to it, face a little red and licking his dry lips. Finally says,

"Thank you."

She is confused. "What?" With difficulty, he repeats,

"Thank you."

"For what?"

After a bit, he tells her,

"For asking them to allow me to remain."

"Oh."

He explains it does not benefit her in the slightest, on the contrary, it inconveniences her at every turn. Even when he's made it clear he shall never feel indebted to her or help her in any way, she persists . . . she continues to help him. And he doesn't understand why, after everything he's done . . .

He seems to realize he's saying more than he meant to.

"I don't know why I'm here saying all this. I'll let you get back to sleep--"

"It's okay, really, I don't . . . mind you at all. You can come talk to me anytime. Even in the middle of the night."

He seems uncertain.

"Truly?"

"Yes. I mean, within reason, maybe knock on my door gently next time instead of giving me a heart attack, but yeah. Also, um, you . . . you are wearing pants, right?"

The room's still very dim but she can see that he's shirtless. He looks down at himself, considering the question and looking alarmed she might think that. He stammers,

"Yes, of course, I-- I was in bed, but I'm wearing pants--"

The incredible awkwardness in his voice makes her giggle a little. In relief, she says,

"Okay, good, just checking."

He is spellbound for a time by the feeling that goes shooting through his chest when she giggles. It is the first time he's heard her laugh in his presense since he'd pretended to be her friend.

When he returns to his bed, laying there, staring at the ceiling, he decides he'd do anything to be the reason for her to smile and laugh again.

[noodle-made-a-mistake]

A short list of things that bother me about the Magisterium canon:

Forgive me in advance for rambling, I have to get these thoughts out of my brain lmao (also it's been a couple years so correct me if I'm wrong! (I really hope I’m wrong on some of these :’) )) Spoilers ahead obviously!

● The lack of Calron :(

● Not taking the opportunity to develop Tamara's character and keeping her static until she's randomly just different. Strong female characters aren't just skilled and perfect until their one flaw (usually it's having feelings like any other human being) is revealed shockingly (that's just sloppy characterization), they should be crucial to the plot and not overlooked in favor of developing other characters (from what I remember she literally was my favorite while reading the series until she just got annoying (??) after a while, of course that could just be because the story is told through Call's perspective but still)

● The entire school system that I need more info on bc it sounds so unthought out and not like something that has existed for hundreds of years

● The forceful nature of making people serve as masters?? That makes no sense? Like, “Congratulations on not dying during your schooling or in the war(s), your prize is forced labor 👍.”

● Also THE COLLEGIUM WAS MENTIONED AND NEVER ELABORATED UPON

● TGT. Least favorite book. Get out. Tgt truthers how do you do it??

● The Maugris plot twist. It destroys the meaning behind the past four books. It's just so uncalled for and frankly just sloppy ig? I love the idea in a way, but only if it's foreshadowed from the beginning. Also I'm too attached to the complicated dynamic of Alastair raising his possible ex-bestie for it to end up like that

● The fact that the iron trio is out of school for half the series, I'd like to know what's normal, y'know??

● THE LACK OF ELABORATION ABOUT THE FIRST GEN I WANT TO KNOW MORE I HAVE TO KNOW MORE

● They did my man Constantine especially wrong, give him some ✨️character✨️ aside from E V I L and problematic (trademark) and charming (???)

● AND ALASTAIR GOD TELL ME MORE?? He's characterized as distant and obviously traumatized with his hate of his magic involved past but I just need to know what that past was like. Like who was he before his dead wife syndrome?? Idk but I'd of liked any excuse to know more about it just so I can understand him more??

● Please give me a single character trait of Declan's?? Like he was mentioned a handful of times and that's all we got. He was just some guy and I am hating it !!

● And Sarah. Like. She was a mom and liked peace as a concept but she also made a cool ass knife. That's a lot of things left up for interpretation. And I know Call wasn’t allowed to ask questions for plot reasons but god i wish he had more information about his own dead mother for Christ's sake

● Also other than a victim, who was Jericho? I need to know who this kid who drew scribbles in the margins of his very important journal while writing about how he was slowly being killed was. What was his relationship really like with his brother if he was so scared to say that he was dying or what gave him the impression that he didn't care?? It's fascinating and I need him under a microscope immediately

● Also the lack of queer representation until the last two books. AND THEN IT WASN'T EVEN ANY OF OUR MAIN CAST. Literally the saddest L ever :(

● AND AARON WAS NEVER CONFIRMED QUEER LIKE WHAT THE FUCK JUST L O O K AT HIS CHARACTER AND INFACT ALL OF OUR CORE CAST IS AT LEAST BI LIKE C O M E O N (ik they're like kids but even I knew I was not straight when I was like 11 and i lived in the most conservative non-LGBTQ-friendly town known to man)

● Low key, callmara was so bad, like I love them but not the way it happened, horrible set up. Tamara deserved so much better and to not have her entire character destroyed by becoming a love interest. I wish they thought about her as an independent character instead of the means to implement a romantic subplot in tgt, they did so good in the first books with that

● Also there's no elaboration on what chaos is. It's the mystical 5th element. Wow! Let's go girl, give us nothing! You'd think that if Makaris were so exceptionally rare and special that we'd get some explanation on how they come to be and what it is exactly that they can control but we're just left to assume it's the special "chosen one" type of thing. Idk it bothers me for some reason :/

That's just off the top of my head and it's been years since I read the series all the way through (I should do a reread soon). For the most part I adore this funky series and I hate to bash it but I felt the need to ramble about it's shortcomings because I'm not crazy, right?? It had so much potential! Anyway, I'm sort of glad for the blanks in the story despite complaining about them because it leaves room for fics and fan interpretations that I always love to see, but on the other hand, I'd like for the story to feel finished and not like a last minute science fair project.

Thanks for sticking around for my late night rambling lmao

[yanderefairyangel]

Aright, completed the Fell Xenologue, so if you don’t want to be spoiled avoid reading this

SPOILERS AHEAD

Basically the whole Fell Xenologue is to keep in touch with the alternate universe thing we add for the last games : It’s to Engage whats was Future Past to Awakening, Heir of Fates to Fates and Three Hopes to Three Houses. Except it’s more than a simple “what if” scenario.

Future Past was basically a secret bad ending to the canon timeline, a Awakening divergent where everyone dies, a timeline where the Morgans come from.

Heirs of Fates is what takes place in a universe where Anankos won and depends on both Corrin’s choice, F!Kanna’s camp being if Hoshido was choosen, M!Kanna’s camp if Nohr was choosen and Shigure’s camp if Revelations was choosen. 

Three Hopes is what happened if Shez survived their encounters with Byleth.

The Fell Xenologue is COMPLETELY different. It’s what happened if Alear is Lumera’s true child ! Yes, in this universe Alear is really a divine dragon and was really Lumera’s kid. They have 0 ties with Sombron, this Sombron is the father of Veyle who is dead at the begining of the story, Nil, Nel and Rafal. In this universe, Alear was even lover with Nel at some point ! Also, you have to understand that in this universe, Alear’s gender is not the same. if you play with M!Alear, then the Alear from FX’s universe will be a woman. If it’s with F!Alear that you play with, then Alternate Alear is male. That was the case for me.

Meanwhile the gameplay is solid and the maps are fun, compared to the others dlc, the plot is reaaaally weak.

If you recall, FP was the embodiment of good play, goood and funny challenging map while the writing was excellent, much better than in the main game in comparison.

Same thing, Heir of Fates was comptent in both map and writing but it’s true that Fates dlc often had better writing than the actual plot, wonder why.

To put simply, FX is the equivalent of Ashen Houses : the map and challenge are good and make it worth to buy the dlc, but the writing of the story is weak. 

To put an example, I was kind of disppointed that the alternate version of our units don’t have alternate design to fit the mood. I mean, in a universe where Firene swapped with Brodia and you still have Alfred and Celine with their bright coloured outfit, it just desn’t sit right with me. (this motivated me to try to make alt design for them but God please grant me the time to have this opportunity).

That asides, there is many, way too many “plot twist” that were not : we have the “turns out they were all Corrupted so it’s fine that Nel killed all of them” because we could not have had Nel to be the evil one, was too obvious and they tried to trick us as if we would not be aware that Nil was the traitor, like come on IT was obvious, and it was also obvious that they would have used Nel to disguise it. And yes, obivsouly turns out that Nel knew from the start that Rafal was not Nil yet she “pretented” because you know ? you need to have that “i knew it all along” or things would not be FE signature. And obviously Rafal was kind of possesed by Sombron to explain why he was evul or else it would not be a FE game. I mean, if there is no possesion it’s not fire emblem so we had to have it am i not right ? 

To put it short, the story is too predictable to be enjoyable if you want to compare to the previous game’s way of dealing with the plot of their DLC, but the characters are good.

The four Winds really stole the whole DLC spotlight... much like The Four Hounds being stoling the spotlight from the others characters. Franly they are cool, so they might not be the FH, but the FW are cool too. NEat. By the way, if you wonder why Mauvier did not save himself, I think it is obvious. This DLC was mainly here to give us the FH though it did not since they are separete people and entirely different person, but since we already had Mauvier join us in the main game they did not bother change his design, personality, heck not even his devotion to Veyle !! so they just found a way to kill him off since we already had a Mauvier and that FEH is the only game where you can have more than 1 version of the same heroes. Nel is good, like her support with Veyle. and I llike Rafal more than I expected. I love the fact that he is being like “you can’t forgive me this easily JUST because I was possesed!! who does that” or “you want to side with the man who tried to kill you ? who does that ?” * thousands of FE lords sweating nervously*. Good support with Alear too, he is a tsundere. 

Also from what I understood : Sombron and alt!Sombron have rather similar personality pretty much like how Alear and Alt!Alear are similar except that our Sombron called his children “defect” whereas Alt!Sombron labelled them as “failure” and that Alt!Sombron had children by pair of twins, which was not the case with our Sombron meaning that in the main story, Nil and Nel probably did not existed and if they did, they would be dead anyway. In FX, Alear and the twins are not related since Alear is the actual child of the divine dragon as stated by the support where the twins were surprised to find out that in this world, it is Alear who is the child of Sombron. 

At first, I feared to have again a headache with this whole multiverse thing but THANK GOD, Nel and Rafal are here to clear things up, right ? but the DLC tells us nothing about Emblem 0 but instead put new mysteries like : why wre Nil and Rafal so alike and who was Rafal’s twin ? some have suggested that it was Veyle or that Rafal came from another world too but if he came from our world this would be a problem since in the main story fell fragon are not born by pair of twins, it’s only in the DLC and Veyle would have had more chances of being twin with Alear than anyone else. Plus I doubt that Rafal could come from another world since he is clear crystal about him having had a twin, could not have due to chronology and has no support with Veyle so... yeah. There is also the whole swap thing, when exaclty did it happen ? 1000 ago after the war so it means that in the DLC it has been quite a moment since the swap took place so I doubt that those speculations are right unless further explanation. 

[burnedbyshoto]

so sweet

— Well, you always knew Tamaki’s quirk was extremely versatile. You just didn’t expect him to be able to go this far. Or, a story in which you and Tamaki find out if he can manifest a pussy.

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pairing: amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: dom!reader, sub!tamaki, food play (whipped cream, strawberries), tamaki with a pussy, strap-on, spreader bar, blindfold, handcuffs, cunnilingus (giving & receiving), praise kink (giving), choking (giving), pwp-ish

word count: 4,037

a/n: day two of kinktober. i’ve been waiting for m o n t h s for a tamaki fucker to write this prompt, but no one had, so I did it. I have no regrets in writing this other than not making tamaki call reader mommy/daddy some shit like tht, but oh well. enjoy! remember to comment of fics you like :D

main kink: food play

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You never believed that aphrodisiacs actually manipulated one’s ability to get in the mood.

It just never made sense to you.

A natural ability to get your blood pumping, the hormones in your veins screeching blasphemy, stopping at nothing until a warm, dull, yet unignorable ache settled in your bones? No, it just seemed too easy. Especially with all the different quirks and abilities in the world, it seemed unnatural for people to even seek natural ways to get horny.

But still, upon being questioned by none other than Nejire about if you had ever incorporated food into your sex life with your fiance, Amajiki Tamaki, it finally intrigued you.

It intrigued you so much that you couldn’t help but bring it up one night after he had come home after a long day of work. His bed ready body sinking into the mattress beside you where you lay, reading multiple different articles on the sciences and best aphrodisiac foods. 

“What do you think about aphrodisiac foods?” came the inevitable question that passed through your lips as the man with soft raven hair pillowed into your side, his slitted pupil staring at you with mild intrigue, embarrassment, and exhaustion.

“They’re mostly unhelpful in battle,” Tamaki mumbles into your skin, the blush on the tips of his ears noticeable. 

Despite the history between the two of you, knowing that your soon to be husband still blushed as easily as he once did (sometimes over nothing) made your chest warm. “If I had to eat one from that category, it would definitely have to be oysters and honey.” Tamaki settles on his words with a content sigh. You have to resist the guilty flush at the back of your neck at his innocence of your inquiry. “Oysters because of the shell, and honey makes for a great defensive item and trap,” he adds a bit afterward, his calloused fingers running up and down your stomach, a gentle way of coaxing you into laying down with him. “Why?”

“No reason,” you smile down at him, your head pressing down to press a kiss to his temple.

But, both of you knew you were lying.

However, truth or not, it would be the question that would lead both of you to this very moment. 

Tamaki strapped to the bed, arms cuffed with black leather handcuffs, legs separated with a silver spread bar, eyes shielded from the world with a silk blindfold, and an arrangement of covered bowls sitting patiently around him, untouched, unused.

“How are you feeling, bunny?” you coo, your lips pressing gently to the insides of Tamaki’s trembling thighs. 

There’s no response, just more trembling thighs, a slight shift in his back as he adjusts himself, but you continue to press warm, painted kisses against the inside of his thighs. Tamaki’s pitched breathing continues to push higher and higher, the small, unavoidable stutter in his voice hitched, almost hiccuping as he nods his head. 

“Use your words, bunny,” you mumble against his skin. Pretty painted lips pressing trailing kisses up his thigh, your nose pressed into the crevice between his crotch and his thigh, delighting in the pure, unrestrained moan that falls from his mouth. He shakes underneath you, the growing needy noises of his unrestricted lust sending growing fires down towards your own cunt, singing blissfully about just how much he wants this. “I can’t move on until you use your words,” you try again, watching as his head nods pathetically, his bottom lip flushed red from his teeth assaults.

“T-This feels good,” Tamaki shudders, his body shaking under your change of movement, obviously liking how your lips press to the scars on his stomach, your fingers drawing lazy, imperfect circles around his cock head that’s weeping with precum. “I want more, butterfly, please g-give me m…ahhh... more!”

 “What do you want more of?” you hum, your lips tracing up his chest, stopping against the popping vein on his neck, your teeth-baring softly onto the vein as he curses the gods upon the contact. Your hand circles around his cock, the ridiculously hot length throbbing against your hand, and with a breathy chuckle, you grip his cock at the base. "More teasing? More alone time? What does my little bunny crave?”

“Everything you p-promised!” Tamaki curses, hips thrusting upwards into your hands, rubbing blindly, desperately into your expecting fist as your tongue stripes up the length of his chin. “P-Please, butterfly, I want everything you told me what you would do!”

It wasn’t quite the answer you were looking for, but you knew what to expect from Tamaki subbing. The growing wet patches on the blindfold emphasize that you couldn’t push too far, or else it would be over before it began.

“Which food would you like first?” you asked, deciding to push ahead, bringing the covered bowls to your side. You adjusted so that you were straddling his torso, smiling when he whimpered at the feeling of your hot cunt against his body. 

“W-Whipped cream,” he breathed so quietly you almost missed it. Smiling to yourself, you grabbed the small cylinder container and focused your attention on his light brown nipples and prominent collarbone. 

“Whipped cream it is,” you tease, your head stretching down so that your lips pressed two painted and wet kisses over his hardened nipples, and the soft, sugary moan that passed his lips in result nearly made you abandon this entire scenario altogether. 

This was just for initial contact, to wet his skin, you had to repeat in your head as your tongue flicked over his warm nipple, his hips snapping up into the abandoned air as you slinked forward to press light, intentioned kisses to his collarbone.

Right as his bitten ruby red lips opened to demand something more from you, you pressed the canister to his abandoned nipples and allowed the application of the sticky wet and white sugar onto his body. Your teeth continued to nibble on his collarbone as you did this, watching his every reaction — little and big — in an attempt to see just how much he liked it. 

When you finally pulled away, you made sure to leave with a loud pop, smiling at the loud whine that escaped his lips when you sprayed the food against his collarbone. 

“Imma lick it off now,” you explained, fingers raking just hard enough to leave a trail of goosebumps as you planted your ass onto his throbbing, hard cock. “Do you want to watch?”

“I d-don’t—” he hiccuped, breathing erratic, face dangerously red beneath the blindfold. “I don’t know!”

“Okay, no worries, bunny,” you coo, fingers stroking his wet cheeks. “I’ll let you test it out. I’ll lick the first one off without you looking, and you’ll tell me how you like it, okay?”

“T-That sounds good,” he agrees, and you waste no time.

Your mouth envelopes his sugar covered nipple, the sweet thickness of the cream being swallowed in your mouth as you push even further. Tamaki cries beneath you.

Humming, your tongue laps at the sticky sugar on his skin, the salty taste of his skin, and the sweet of the sugar invading your taste buds. You do your best to hold him down, your teeth taking his pebbled nipple in and tugging on it until the light brown color of his nipple turns red until he’s rutting senselessly and desperately into your clothed cunt.

Desperate and needy for more. 

Your fingers dive beneath the breast of his chest, teasing the muscled valley as you continue lapping his nipple into overstimulation.

“The next one!” he wheezes. “P-Please, butterfly, the next tone!”

“Do you want to watch?” you ask, stupidly addicted to the way his nipple tastes in your mouth. “Wanna watch me suck your nipple?”

Tamaki shakes his head frustratedly, longingly, “I can’t, it’ll make me cum!”

You almost feel sorry for him.

You perform the same exact thing to his other nipple, teeth tugging at the sensitive skin, tongue swirling the throbbing skin in your mouth until he’s begging for something more, anything more. You sticky fingers taking his other swollen nipple, pinching and pulling it until he can only mantra your name. You wish you were strong enough to deny him, but the rutting against your covered cunt, the delicious sultry whines, and breathy moans and tears that stream down his face is too much for you.

You’re up off his torso, your fingers ripping off your panties with reckless abandon.

Tamaki’s breathing is heavy, almost delirious as your fingers tug down the silk blindfold, so it's fallen to his neck. It sits around his skin, wet and shiny. But Tamaki’s tear-soaked eyes are scrunched closed when your lips suddenly press to his.

Chapped, swollen, and hot lips quiver against yours, so nervously, so messily, you’re nearly kissing just his teeth. 

“I needa—” he pants, his head tilting to that your nose meets his mouth. “I needa cum, butterfly, please.”

You hum, a bit disappointed in the relatively quick ending of your kiss, but you pulled away. Twisting around, your arm stretched out, and you went into an abandoned bowl. Tamaki watched you like a hawk.

With a hammering heart, and heat pulsating through your entire body, you turned your head to look at him. It was slow, methodic, and seductive, and Tamaki’s teeth found his bottom lip once again as you met his eyes through hooded eyes. 

“Open up, bunny.” 

Obediently, Tamaki’s mouth opened, and you brought your hand to his line of sight, and clutched between your warm fingers was a bright red strawberry covered in white, sweet cream. “Eat it quickly,” you drawl slowly as you press the strawberry to his lips, smiling slowly when the white cream covers his equally red lips. “I have an even better dessert after this.”

The gulp from his throat sent a maddening, delirious shiver down your spine.

And he devoured it without a moment of hesitation.

Licking the remaining cream on his lips, you giggled when he gasped against your tongue, and you moved.

Pushing up off the bed, you felt power thrum through you as his eyes darkened in lust and his still growing need as you gently pressed his forehead to the mattress. His breathing seemed to stop as the two of you stared at one another, like a prey looking eyes with a predator, knowing the inevitable outcome of the nearing events.

“Don’t disappoint me,” you tease, lowering yourself to his eagerly awaiting mouth.

The moan that poured through your spine was nearly immediate; the feeling of his cold tongue and wet lips pressing against your slick covered cunt was exhilarating as it was relieving. Your eyes instantly rolling to the back of your head when his strawberry coated tongue pushed through your swollen lips to lap at your pulsating core.

A breathless, whining sigh escaped your lips when Tamaki’s nose carted between your folds, the tip of his nose brushing against your sensitive clit, and you rotate your hips in your content.

“Yes, bunny, just like that. Eat my pussy just like that!” you cry in joy, your fingers pushing your breasts free from your bra to pull and tug at your attention-demanding nipples. “You eat me out s-so good, pretty little mouth, slutty little tongue.”

At the mention of slut, Tamaki moaned deep within you, his tongue vibrating in your core with his verbal appraisal, and your toes curled at the alluring sensation. 

Grabbing a fistful of his hair, you began to rock your hips faster against his face, your chest puffing with pride when Tamaki’s hands banged against the restraints, a telling that he wanted to touch you, and the stupid, soft, needy gasps passed into your core only drove you on further. A whimper went through you when you leaned slightly forward, your clit unapologetically pressing against his nose, and the electric stimulation coursing through your body with that alone had your toes curling. And the pressure in your lower belly was only growing more and more.

His tongue continued to lap within you, the nearly greedy slurps he took with your growing aggressive rutting making you sing his name in praise and encouragement. Amajiki Tamaki was many things, and his ability to use that tongue was a higher skill of his you personally enjoyed. 

“Taste so good,” Tamaki babbled from beneath you, his mouth latching onto your clit. “So, so good.”

It’s the moment his teeth sink against your clit that you slam forward, hand banging against the wall to steady you as an orgasm rips through you, the shriek on your tongue echoing off the wall. 

All is silent for a bit as you roll off your fiancé's right side who is panting heavily, his eyes closed as he breathes in steadily, the shine of your slick on his face bright under the dim lights of the room. You blink as you stare at him, the serenity on his face from making you cum without a doubt the cause of it, but you weren’t done with this night.

Not yet.

“Bunny?” you whisper questioningly against his pointed ear, grinning slowly as the tip flushes red and goosebumps flash across his skin. 

“Y-Yes?” Tamaki stammers, his eyes screwing tighter instead of opening.

A sugar-sweet giggle is unable to be stopped as you press forward, your teeth nibbling on his ear just hard enough that the sound Tamaki makes is a cross between throbbing lust and gently pain. He trembles as he does so, and you can’t help but swell in the thought that right now, especially as he shakes, he looks like a defenseless, needy bunny.

“I want to see you try it now,” you request, your left hand supporting your head, and your right hand tracing a single finger down his twitching abdominal muscles until it reaches his weeping cock. You grasp his throbbing cock firmly, contently studying the way he resists against his restraints as his back arched off the bed, hips blindly thrusting into your fist. “I want to see you manifest a pussy, bunny,” you nearly whine as your grip on his cock only tightens.

“A-Ah!” Tamaki cries, his face flushed a dark red. His hips instinctively rut up to your grasp, but you’re smart enough now, and you follow it, denying him the friction he so craves. “I-I-I can’t!”

“Why not?” you pout, drawing even closer to his blushing face, smirking when you could feel the pulsing blood in his face radiate off onto you. “Why won’t you try for me, bunny? I know you can do it! You’d look so cute with a pussy like mine, so tight, so wet, so… sweet.”

Tamaki splutters when your tongue swipes against his lips, and he still tastes of you and strawberries.

So sweet.

“Do it for me, bunny, I wanna see it…”

“W-What if I can’t?” Tamaki almost sobs, and you warm at his words.

“Then I’ll ride your cock until your cock is bruised, and I’m pregnant with your kids,” you promise, your lips pressing against his despite the obvious whimper on his tongue.

Then, you felt it.

The cock in your fist began to change. Warm energy emitting from where his cock once was as you pulled away from his quivering lips to look at the pretty pink pussy that manifested where his cock once was. It was void of pubes, looking as smooth as a baby’s butt, and was absolutely soaked.

If you thought you’d had heard the pitchiest squeak coming from Tamaki’s mouth before, it was nothing like this when he too took a look at his pussy.

“O-Oh my god,” he breathlessly whispers, and you feel a thrilling sensation rock through your entire body as you’re now much more focused on the gleaming cunt on your fiancés lower body. 

In an almost trance-like feeling, you had the spreader bar in your fist and slammed it up to his face so that he could hold it. The simple action allowing Tamaki’s fully formed cunt to spread open for you in all its soaked glory. The smell of his sex alluring and almost spicy as you found your tongue shoved all the way into his awaiting cunt, and he howled.

A wordless command passed through your body as you let go of the cold spreader bar to Tamaki, who held it above his head as if it was his lifeline. You took sloppy, loud, and aggressive licks and sucks o his sweet essence, moaning at the copious amount of slick that easily poured from his cunt that throbbed like a vice around your tongue.

You wanted more from him, you craved more for him, and before you knew it, your fingers were curled above your tongue. You could feel the puffiness of his inner walls, and you delighted more when his clit against your nose throbbed with vivacity. 

“Y-Y/N!” Tamaki all but screams as you drunkenly drink his sweet essence, delirious on the taste and the sounds he was making. “My stomach — fuck, fuck, fuck — my stomach feels so funny! It’s feeling so-o aahhh, oh my god, so tingly!”

And you rip away.

Your eyes are owlishly large as you stare at the now writhing with discontent Tamaki who was crying with the unknowing need to cum.

He was close, you realized, so fucking close.

“Don’t leave me!” he shrieked as you tumbled off the bed, your legs feeling weak with your growing euphoria. “Finish what you started!”

A chuckle rips through your body as you pull up the harness that was hanging by the nightstand.

“Oh, I intend to, bunny.”

With a loud zipping of fabric, Tamaki’s head snapped upward to look at you, and you smiled knowingly.

His eyes were red and swollen with his tears, his face red as you’ve ever known, and his exposed cunt (which was still exposed as his hands pathetically still held onto the spreader bar) was soaking the bed with his essence, but he couldn’t even bear to feel embarrassed.

Why?

Well, strapped to your hips, and supported around your thighs was a pretty pink harness with a massive, veined, curved, cum spilling dildo attached to it.

“Do you like it?” you ask innocuously, your finger pressing to your bottom lip.

He can only gulp.

“I think,” you start off slowly, crawling back onto the bed to sit right before his exposed cunt. Your hands move to the cuffs on the spreader bar to slowly release his ankles from the restraints. “Well, I just love when you cum deep within me… and your cock is so big, so good, I just had to repay you for always fucking me so. fucking. good.”

“B-Butterfly!” he keens as you allow his legs to drop to the sides of you, and you sit up off your knees, placing the head of the dildo between his pink lips. His head falls to the mattress, his back arching as you continue to slick the dildo up with his dripping slick. 

“Hm?” you answer, looking into his dark, glazed over eyes. Your hips, however, continue to shallowly thrust against the folds of his pussy, coating the pink silicone with shiny slick. A lazy smirk falls on your lips at the sight of his red face. “What do you want, Ta-ma-ki?”

“Fuck me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

With one hand guiding the head of the pink dildo into his pink, quivering cunt, and the other on his trembling thigh, you pushed through his tight entrance.

The moan that bubbled past Tamaki’s lips was near-pornographic as you as calmly as you could, pushed all the way in. You allowed Tamaki to adjust to the cock in his cunt, undoubtedly new to the sensation that having a thick, long cock buried deep within your cunt felt like. His hands, still bound to the headboard, were clawed in his sensual pleasure, and you enjoyed the way his eyelids fluttered, his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

His hips twirled against the dildo, and you looked down, truly fascinated with the way his pussy squeezed around the strapon that you imagined as an extension of yourself. Imagining the sensation of his cunt against your strap, the heated slick of his cunt, and you felt your own heat blazing down your inner thighs.

“So cute, so pretty,” you purr, your hips falling back before softly thrusting back into him.

The sight of the dildo disappearing into his cunt is inconceivable, and despite his choking, gasping breaths, you pull out and thrust back in. 

Again.

“Oh.”

Again.

“O-Oh my—”

Again.

“Y-Y/N!” Tamaki wailed as suddenly your hips were thrusting into him, delivering the pretty pink dildo all the way until you felt the natural barrier of his cervix. But you were hooked on this power. The dizzying sensation that boiled deep within your bloodstream as Tamaki thrashed beneath you.

Your fingers dug into his thighs, pressing his knees into the mattress as you pressed up, allowing for the new angles of gravity to help thrust down heavier, harder, faster.

“Such a sweet, perfect pussy,” you gasp against Tamaki’s sweaty, exposed neck. “You’re so good, bunny, so tight and cute around my cock. Do you like my cock? Do you like the way it feels to be stretched out like this? To be fucked to irrationality? This is how you make me feel all the time, bunny. You understand that I needed to repay you, right?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” Tamaki cried, the babbling yes’s growing louder and continued as you continued to drill into him, the squelching of his pussy, and the slapping of your thighs on his ass coming together to play a symphony only the two of you would know.

His hiccuping sobs are stopped when your fingers blindly snatched a strawberry from the nearby bowl, shoving it within his mouth. You drink in the way the flesh of the berry breaks against his lips and the way he sloppily, almost pathetically eats it from your fingers. The sticky sweet red juices spill past his lips, dribbling down his chin as he attempts to eat it, and you lean forward, licking the juices that escape his mouth clean off his skin.

You trail up, kissing, licking, and biting every piece of unattended flesh, and with your fingers still in his mouth, you kiss him.

“My stomach!” Tamaki cries against your tongue and fingers. “It feels — r-right there — it feels tingly! Like it's on.. ahhh, on fire!”

“That’s a good thing, bunny,” you swear, your hips powerful, sharp, and delivering upon every fantastic dick down he had ever given you. Your free hand reaches for the blindfold that went ignored for so long around his neck, and with the renown power of being a pro hero, you tightened it around his throat, choking him of his mindless babbling, making him arch off the mattress. “That means you’re gonna cum, cum for me, bunny, cum. Cum and I'll fill you up with my cum too, you'll look so cute with my cum dripping from your cunt, wouldn't ya, bunny?”

And then, it happens, Tamaki’s teeth bite down on your fingers, eyes crossing and rolling to the back of his head. His body going rigid for a second before massive trembles shake through his entire body, and the unfamiliar whirring of the dildo informs you that it caught onto his orgasm. In return, it hums as fake cum spills from the dildo, splattering into Tamaki’s pretty pink cunt.

His body trembles as he collapses completely against the mattress, and you can only stare after him, your own breathing scattered and shallow as he seems to be transcending from his body as he lays there. Bliss painted in every corner of his body.

You move out, letting the massive dildo escape his tight cunt, and you’re pleased when the white cum slowly seeps from his slit.

It was then that you realized just how extremely lucky you were to be marrying someone like Tamaki, and you paused, thinking about just how many things the two of you could now do.

Oh yeah, this was definitely going to be a journey.

[skywardscroll]

divine intervention | venti

✧ word count: 2.5k

✧ summary: baring witness to world can become wearisome. venti, though you don’t really know him, wants to help.

✧ warnings: really angsty with some fluff thrown in! the reader has depression / there is self-deprecation. reader is also afab!

✧ a/n: this is so sweet >-< . i’m really proud of this one! also, writing klee is literally the funnest thing ever lol. <3 hope you guys enjoy!!

Teyvat, as you’d come to learn through your years, was a dangerous, merciless world. Every day, people lost their fathers, sisters, friends, and lovers. The world was full of greedy bandits and vicious monsters, and it only seemed to be getting worse as the days went by.

This last adventure out to Liyue had really taken the optimism out of you; Growing weary from traveling, you returned to your home in Mondstadt quite exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally. Was there any other facet of you that could be exhausted? Because you were sure that it would also be stricken with strife.

You told the Adventurer’s Guild that you were temporarily retiring from your work to take a well-overdue vacation from fighting and the ever-arising political strain you witnessed every time you left the City of Freedom. You just wanted to enjoy your safe corner of the world, at least for the summer.

The (admittedly strange) way you decided to do this was by staying indoors with your books, sometimes going entire days without once stepping into the sunlight. It was a pleasant way to spend the time, but you knew it was unhealthy.

Your books, when the main characters shared similar habits to you, called this behavior ‘depression.’ Though, you willfully ignored this, pretending that this was normal of someone with a heavy heart (just a heavy heart. Not all the other symptoms that you were falsely denying you had, like an aversion to engagements with friends, or a neglect of hydration.)

It was one of the hottest days in July, you remembered, when you heard a knock on your door. You contemplated answering it, thinking that maybe the Adventurer’s Guild would want you back to work prematurely. This was quickly disproven, though, when a small voice called from outside the door:

“Miss Y/N? Oh, Miss Y/N~! Please come out!”

Klee’s sweet voice seemed to somehow wrap itself around your heart and pull you towards the door.

“Miss Y/N?”

You hesitated, knowing that once you saw that endearing child’s round eyes, you would be forced to play outside with her for as long as she wanted you to. You loved Klee dearly, and would do anything for her, even if you didn’t necessarily wish to go along with it. But you really didn’t feel like leaving your house, knowing that the Freedom Festival was currently in full swing.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You recognize a second voice to belong to Grandmaster Jean.

Inhaling deeply, you opened the door to see Klee’s face light up as she excitedly pulled on Jean’s hand.

“She opened the door! She did! I told you Y/N would open the door!”

“Y/N!” Jean said, obviously surprised by your appearance. “It’s so good to see you’re well.”

“It’s good to see you two, as well.” You said with full honesty. You hadn’t realized it until you saw them before you, but you had certainly missed seeing your friends.

“Y/N! I wanted to ask if you wanted to go to the Freedom festival with us! There’ll be food, and music, and I overheard Rosaria saying something to Kaeya about special drinks!”

“Oh… I don’t know…”

“Come on! It’ll be fun! They have this game, and it has a prize that looks like a biiiig dodoco! I want it but if you come you can have it!” Klee’s excitement makes a smile appear on your face.

“You should come, Y/N. It would be good for you, I think.”

You sighed a little, looking back at your book which sat with the pages down against the cushion of your reading chair, waiting to be returned to. But as if by design, the wind carried the smell of food into your door and your stomach rumbled. Besides, Klee’s eyes were bearing into your heart just as you predicted, and you could see Jean’s hand clasp onto Klee’s a little tighter in hopes that she wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Alright, I’ll come.”

If you were to be frank, you had no idea what the difference between the Windblume Festival and the Freedom Festival was. To you, it just seemed like another concocted excuse to party. Which, in your youth, you never complained about, and you weren’t inclined to complain now, either, as Sara handed you a particularly delicious-looking chicken and mushroom skewer. You hadn’t eaten something like this in a month, and it was very welcome in your stomach.

“Over there! It’s Venti! Venti!” Klee went running ahead of you and Jean, who were idly speaking to one another as you finished off your food and threw the stick away.

“Klee! Don’t run off!” Jean called out, running after the young girl while you walked a bit behind, enjoying the scenery of Mondstadt decorated in flowers and it’s streets lined with vendors.

“Hi Klee!” You looked up and saw a man hug Klee tightly (a boy? He was quite short, but you were pretty sure he was an adult.) It was hard not to notice the golden lyre in his hand and how the strings seemed to be luminescent. You’d never seen anything like it before, and accidentally stared at it in clear awe.

“Do you play?” He asked, a smile that seemed to lift your heart was directed to you after the question left his lips.

“No… Not anymore. I tried to learn when I was a child but…”

“That’s alright. It takes a lot of practice, yeah?”

You let out a breathy laugh and nod, “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jean scooped up Klee into her arms before she could run off again. “You two haven’t met before?”

“Sadly no.” Venti said, placing his hand over his heart. “I would’ve remembered such a beautiful face, surely.”

Bard’s and their sweet words. You thought to yourself. Out of kindness, you only laughed in response to his compliment.

“I’m Y/N.”

“Ahh! I’ve heard of you! The exceptional adventurer!”

Why does this guy say everything so enthusiastically? Is this what you used to sound like? His way of speaking, though you felt guilty for it because you knew he couldn’t help it, grated against your nerves. You weren’t in the right mindset for his optimism. Or, perhaps, it was that you were jealous that he still had a hold on his, and so easily too, while it had been so long since you were excited about anything.

When you didn’t say anything, there was a small look in Venti’s eyes that told you he could see right through you, or that he was at least aware that something was wrong with you.

“Well, I ought to be on my way back home.” You said, causing Klee to whine out.

“Y/N~! You can’t go yet! What about the giant dodoco?”

You frowned, feeling guilty for letting Klee down, but feeling too exhausted for any more socialization.

“At least stay for a song, Y/N?” Venti offered with a quieter tone of voice, pointing to a chair that was left unoccupied by the gathering crowd around him.

“Yeah! Just one song~?” Klee pleaded.

You bit the inside of your cheek before eventually nodding and sitting in the chair. Klee let out a cheer of celebration as Jean sat down beside you, letting Klee sit in her lap. You noticed how Jean had been particularly silent throughout this. Did she feel bad for you? Or did she, too, want you to stay for some reason?

“I’ll sing a very special song for a new friend!” Venti announced to the audience, to which you blushed a little at the attention and rolled your eyes. Though, once Venti’s fingers started gracing the strings of his harp, all feelings of discomfort and irritation floated away.

“Sit here closely, let me tell,

of the young maiden’s heart who one day swelled.

The once frozen walls, the once salty tears,

Now gone with a kiss that she wished had lasted years.

In the times of old, long before the gods were bold,

there was no remedy for a heart gone cold.

The young maiden wandered, hoping for peace

from the heartache and unrest the world did unleash.

Did she find it, you ask? Did she find it? I’ll tell.

She found it in freedom, from freedom it fell.

For Barbatos did bless her, from under the Windrise tree,

She only had to meet him in the morning at three.

The warmth she had searched for, that unlike she had ever known

was hers, finally, to own.”

The crowd clapped for Venti as he finished his short song, one that was unfamiliar to you and unsettled you to no end.

What was his motive?

You weren’t stupid. You’d read enough of your books in the last month and been on enough adventures with a multitude of twists and turns to know that he had just come up with that song for you. As beautiful as it was, you felt uncomfortable with the stranger being able to see through you so well.

Yet, when he flashed you a cheeky smile while he reveled in the applause, you felt that he had good intentions. In fact, you wondered if he could do any wrong. He just didn’t seem like the type to do anything evil… Ever.

“Did you like it, Klee?” Venti asked, bending down to talk to the girl who wriggled excitedly in Jean’s lap.

“Yes! It was sooooo pretty! I’ve never heard it before!” She gushed.

“A very lovely song, indeed, Venti.”

“Thanks Jean!” Venti flashed her a confident grin.

“Well, Y/N! Thanks for staying for the show!” He said, standing back up and turning to you. “I hope I can see you again soon!”

“Yeah. See you soon.” You replied with a half-hearted tone.

You were entirely conflicted. Your mind was telling you no; You shouldn’t go out there tonight. It was dangerous and you were significantly out of shape to be dealing with slimes and hilichurls. Besides, it was just a song… What if you were reading too much into it? And what if… You just wanted him to be singing about you and him?

Your heart wanted that to be true. It’d be like the books you’ve been reading, where the prince comes up with some elaborate way of asking the maiden to meet him in secret. You were, no matter how hardened you became, a hopeless romantic at heart. Something about Venti made your heart soar from the pits of depression you had fallen into. You… Trusted him.

You could do with a late-night walk, you supposed.

It took longer than usual because of the festivities, but the city eventually fell silent as everyone either rested in their beds or in a tavern. You found walking in the empty city strangely comforting. Rather than being shut away from the world out of fear of pestering others, you could now walk freely without a single care, if you so pleased.

You took your time walking out of the city, smiling at every stray cat and even stopping for a moment at the bridge to admire the water. You missed how, when you were a young girl, you used to look at the lake and dream about visiting all the other lakes in the world. You’d seen a lot of them, now, but this one still held a special place in your heart.

Windrise, though it had been years since you visited the Archon Statue, was as beautiful as ever. The tree looked even more alive in the moonlight, if it were possible.

You were raised to believe that you were under the protection of Barbatos, though you never would call yourself devout. That title belonged to the sisters of the church, who were truly faithful to Barbatos. But you would feel comfortable saying you were a believer. You liked that Barbatos was so just, and his famous story of his liberation of old Mondstadt was a tale you frankly would never tire of.

Regardless, as you sat in front of the statue, you saw no signs of the charming bard from before. You wondered if he memorized that tale of Barbatos; A part of you wanted to hear him tell it.

“I’m a fool, aren’t I?” You said, talking to the statue (not talking to yourself.) “A silly, odd, hermit of a fool. One who shuts themselves away and avoids all their problems. How cowardly can I be?”

A peculiar phenomenon began: The words started pouring out like an uncontrollable waterfall. Once the self-deprecation started, it didn’t seem to want to end.

“My family was so proud to hear I was a part of the guild. They said that you – that Barbatos – had blessed me with the life of an adventurer – a life of freedom. Am I selfish to despise it? I don’t feel free. I feel heavy with all the troubles of the world. Outside Mondstadt it’s… Well, you’re a god, you know how it is.”

You hadn’t spoken much to anyone in over a month. You didn’t even know if anyone was listening. Was he listening? Did he see the tears starting to run down your face and did he hear the cracking in your voice?

“I feel like a joke. A witness to trouble without the power to make things right. It’s so… Frustrating. I hate myself because I hate the world. I’m so useless… So useless.”

And you cried, your head leant against the statue of Barbatos. The months of pain finally bubbled over and bared itself for the world and the gods to see. You were ashamed, and angry at yourself, but you let yourself cry. You cried up to the heavens, to Celestia. Was he watching? Listening?

“Y/N?” A voice softly spoke your name, but your sobs turned into wails immediately following and you couldn’t make yourself stop even if you wanted to.  You felt a pair of arms wrap around you and you hugged Venti back, breathing in his scent of Cecilia. He was so warm compared to the cool summer breeze that blew through the leaves above.

“I’m sorry.” You cried against his shirt; the words muffled but still understandable. There were so many apologies you were making with the single phrase: Sorry for crying, sorry for being rude. Sorry for shutting everyone who cares about me out. I’m sorry for being ungrateful. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, okay?” His voice was so soft and gentle as he pulled your head away from his chest and wiped away your ever-flowing tears from your cheeks.

This went on for a while, him running his thumbs over your cheeks every few minutes and catching the tears. You felt so awful that he was witnessing you like this, he barely knew you. But something in you was saying that this was right. Trust him, this is where you’re meant to be.

You calmed down enough about an hour later that he felt he could speak.

“Everything will be alright, Y/N.”

You let out a jagged exhale. At this point, your jaw was numb, and you were developing a headache. Still, being in Venti’s arms brought you comfort unlike anything you’d ever experienced. It was… Divine.

“Do you think he heard me? That he’s watching over me?”

Venti gave you the most assured, comforting smile you think is humanly possible. Brushing your hair from your face, he replied.

“I’ve never been so certain of anything.”

[ygio]

Just for contrast, tell us about a piece of media where a beloved main character did in fact die that you wouldn't change for the world?

oH MAN hey there anon thanks for enabling me imma rant some more (obvious spoilers ahead)

so since my last rant was about ygo the first example of the opposite that i need to name has to be hikaru no go - i actually got recommended this manga after i read yugioh, by a friend who went 'hey you know what else has a mc who gets haunted by a ghost and plays games together with him, that will destroy emotionally?'

and obviously the ghost moves on eventually, and mc is devastated by it. but i loved it.

and listen i love sai so much. he was my blorbo and i was so sad to see him go, especially like that, out of the blue. (i keep thinking how thats the way death usually happens irl. its not big, its not dramatic. it just happens, and most of the time you dont even get to say goodbye.) but it absolutely had to happen and i cant imagine the story without it if i try.

it was handled really well, too. hikaru is allowed to grieve, and theres no attempt to make it look pretty, the story doesnt try and make the reader believe that we should be happy about what happened (even though later on hikaru became even stronger, and sai was allowed to rest after getting his wish; parting did benefit both of them)

i really like to give hikago as an example of kind of a contrast to ygo because everything ive seen people say about yuugi and atem, that i strongly disagree with - that atem was yuugis mentor, that he was older and more experienced and there to teach yuugi how to play until yuugi surpassed him, that a part of him wanted to stay but that he was ultimately fine with moving on - it all applies to sai and hikaru. the ghost in this story really was this older figure showing the other mc how good he was/ could be, and he knew that he would eventually have to go but was okay with it. he wanted to stay and play even more the way a person wishes for the fun days to never end, but when the moment came for him to go he was at peace.

(some other examples include nanami from the second danganronpa - shes one of the 3 'mainest' characters so i guess it counts, and shes also the only member of the cast that died permanently. this girl is one of my definite favs, and her death made so much sense and was a great twist. even if i dont think ill ever be over how fucking bittersweet the whole thing was, her making promises about seeing the world when they get out, knowing that this was impossible for her in the first place. this game, man)

i also need to say that im extremely bad with character death. i need to be warned about it in advance most of the time lmao im a wuss. but sometimes it happens and i get it, it had to.

then some other times, it happens and i want the canon to meet me in the pit lmao then end up feeding myself (read my fixit pspsps)

[rekrappeter]

we were young and carefree

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a perfect first date

warnings: some cursing, mention of becoming addicted to something, kissing

a/n: @theweasleysredhair​ requested flirty fred, and while I was writing this, I realised I’m not very good at writing flirting banter - but please do enjoy some fluffy fred. i haven’t wrote in a hot minute so hopefully this is up to standard. enjoy <3

"How are you, pretty girl?" His loud greeting interrupted your thoughts, it also earned a number disapproval looks sent in your direction from students sitting around the library. The majority of students in Hogwarts had their heads in books studying for the upcoming exams, except for the red-headed Weasley that popped up beside you. 

You quickly scanned the bookshelves and surrounding areas to see if you could spot the other twin, but he was nowhere in sight. “Hi, Fred,” you sighed, placing your quill down and twisting your body to look at him. 

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, but already settled into the vacant seat before you even processed his question. A confident smirk was spread across Fred’s face, his hair brushed back and a twinkle in his eye. “I had a great idea last night.”

“Oh, really?” An amused smile plastered itself on your face. No matter how busy or stress you were with study, you could never truly be annoyed at Fred or George; the more you thought about it, the quicker you realized that you don’t recall anyone ever having a bad word to say about either twin - other than their own siblings. 

“Oh, it was brilliant. It came to me late last night,” Fred leaned back in the chair, kicking his legs out underneath the table and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He had his grey jumper on with his white shirt buttoned up beneath it, his sleeves rolled up to his elbow and the sight alone made you want to drool. “It involved you, me, and the three broomsticks... this weekend.” 

You rolled your eyes playfully, brushing your hair over your shoulder - the parchment and quill in front of you long forgotten about. “You’re delusion, Fred.”

“Delusion cause I want a girl like you to go out with me?” He asked, sitting up straighter and leaning on the table, his arm brushing yours slightly. 

“Delusion ‘cause you’d think I’d go on a date the weekend before exams,” you giggled. 

“I’d help you study,” he offered, his hand reaching out and intertwined his fingers with yours. You had to do everything in your power to bite back a grin, his fingertips grazing against your skin leaving fireworks in their trail. 

“I don’t think we’d get much work done,” you popped back, sucking your bottom lip in.

“y/n y/l/n,” Fred gasped, an amused look on his face, “you naughty naughty girl.” 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you chuckled, feeling yourself getting flustered underneath his gaze. 

“How about after exams?” The confident aura that you were so used to seeing around Fred vanished, his eyes softening and a light smile on his face. He truly did want to go on a date with you, and he tried to use the confidence to hide the fear of rejection that he was so accustomed to when it came to you. You were far too good for him - top of all your classes, genuinely funny, kind to everyone, and unbelievably gorgeous. You were the whole package, and he didn’t want his insecurities to get in the way of it.

You pretended to ponder on the thought, seeing him take a nervous deep breath in before you smiled widely and let him out of his misery. “It would be my honor.” 

It was two weeks after you promised Fred that you’d go on a date with him once the exams were over and done with. It was two weeks that consisted of a grin being plastered on your face permanently, your cheeks flushing whenever your eyes connected with his and he would send a wink your way. You kept finding yourself seeking him out, scanning the common room or the Great Hall quickly and he was always staring back at you, waiting for you to find him. The butterflies never ceased, only growing more and more. Your thoughts were preoccupied with Fred’s face, your dreams filled with scenarios where he played the main character. 

You walked out of the classroom, a sigh of relief passing your lips as the weight of the world was lifted from your shoulders knowing that you just completed the final exam. You had your books tucked under your arm, the black robe falling off one shoulder. When your eyes lifted from the stone floor, a smile spread across your lips at the sight of Fred leaning against the wall, obviously waiting for you. He had his arms crossed in front of him, his hair brushed back and a lazy smirk on his face. 

“Weasley,” you greeted him, walking past him and hearing him fall into step just behind you. 

“y/l/n,” he replied, looking down at you. 

“What can I help you with?” The smile never faltered from your lips, knowing exactly what he was waiting for but you were in a playful mood, you wanted to see him sweat a little bit.

Fred reached for the books resting under your arm, holding them for you. “What time will I meet you tonight?” 

“Tonight?”

“Tonight,” Fred confirmed. You turned to look at him, your hair brushing over your shoulder. “You’ve made me wait for two weeks, I can’t wait any longer,” he smirked, a teasing tone to his voice. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, stepping out onto the courtyard and leaning against a cobbled statue, “I’m sure a day won’t kill you.”

“It might,” his reply brought a chain of giggles falling from your lips, you tilted your head back. Your heart soared seeing him follow your movements, his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth. His eyes drifted to your lips then back to your eyes and you wiggled your eyebrows at him, making a light blush dance across his cheeks. 

“What will we be doing tonight?” you asked, “If I agree..” you added. 

“Just agree and you’ll see.” 

“Oh, Fred,” you laughed, shaking your head. You pushed yourself off the statue, the gap closing between you, and your breath hitched in your throat as his head tilted ever so slightly. 

“Is that a yes?” he asked softly. You chewed on the inside of your cheeks, rolling your eyes to the sky before nodding, a feeling of warmth wrapping around you at him grinning like a fool. “You won’t regret this, pretty girl.” 

Watching him walk away, a skip in his step, you already knew that you wouldn’t regret it. The truth was you were eagerly anticipating the date, for years now. You’ve always been smitten with Fred Weasley, just like every other girl that had good taste. But you enjoyed the back and forth joking and flirting between you - a date would make things real but you were ready for that now. You were finally ready to see what Fred had to offer, and you were willing to give him everything that you had.

“It’s freezing out here,” you gasped, stepping out from a doorway that you didn’t even know existed. Fred looked over his shoulder, his features barely noticeable in the darkness. He reached down to grab your hand, and you welcomed the warmth it brought as you let him lead the way. He was silent for the most part, muttering warnings of steps ahead of you but he was being quite secretive. “Where are we going?” you asked, shocked at yourself for being more worried about getting a cold than getting caught sneaking out of the castle. Fred brought out the more adventurous side to you, as it seemed. 

“Almost there,” Fred replied, his fingers tightening around yours and his pace quickened as he slipped down a slope but he managed to steady himself. He ignored your giggle, never more appreciative of the night sky.

Fred led you to an open area hidden behind fields of trees, away from the castle and peering eyes. You stopped in your tracks, his fingers detangling from yours and he took his wand from his back pocket. You couldn’t hear what he muttered, only winking at you over his shoulder. You crossed your arms in front of your chest, trying to create some sort of warmth, your lips shivering already. 

“A heads up to bring a coat would have been nice,” you said. 

“Why do you need a coat when we have body heat?” You rolled your eyes at his words, stepping to his side. 

“A picnic?” you asked, your eyes trailing over the white and red tartan blanket over the damp grass. A wicker basket was in the corner, pillows and blankets for yourself and Fred were on top of the blanket, with candles igniting the space just enough to make out each other’s features. “Couldn’t we have done this during the day?” 

Fred let out a small laugh, taking your hand in his and walking you to the blanket. When you got comfortable, he draped a heavy blanket over your lap and you muttered a thank you. “Where’s the excitement in doing this during the day? It’s just the two of us here.” 

“It is,” you nodded, “It’s very pretty, thank you.” 

“Yes, you are very pretty,” Fred said, an amused smile on his lips. “I have tea or pumpkin juice, which would you prefer, darling?” 

“Tea, please,” you let Fred get the snacks together, watching him do everything with grace. He didn’t seem nervous, his fingers were steady and his face was void of any expression until he looked up at you. He noticed you watching him, and a dopey smile draped onto his face, his eyes twinkling underneath the moonlight. 

“What?” he asked, handing you the flask. 

“You’re very handsome.”

Fred looked stunned as the words left your mouth. He’d spent so much time trying to win you over, complimenting you whenever he got the chance that he never realised that maybe he didn’t have to try as hard. Maybe you already liked him just as much as he liked you. You couldn’t tell how much time passed as you laughed and ate with him, your stomach muscles aching and tears streaming down your cheeks from laughing so much. As Fred started to clean up with a flick of his wand, you realised you didn’t want the date to end. You wanted to spend more time with him. You felt alive with him, you felt carefree and young with him. 

You stood up from the blanket, watching Fred roll it up and stuff it in the picnic basket, “Ready to go?” he asked and you shook your head immediately, an exaggerated pout on your face. “We can do it again, don’t you worry that pretty head of yours.” 

“Dance with me,” you practically demanded. 

Fred raised a brow, looking around him, “There’s no music.” 

“Use that great imagination of yours,” you laughed, reaching out for him. Fred let out a sigh, but closed the gap without a word. He wrapped his arms around your waist, linking his fingers together and resting them on your lower back. You linked your own fingers behind at the nape of his neck, and you smiled up at him. Despite there being no music, you swayed around in circles and relished in each other’s company. The problem with the music became non-existent when you lost yourself in each other’s eyes. “Why me?” 

The question didn’t even phase Fred, he hardly looked stunned when you spoke. His thumb was rubbing your lower back in circles. He dipped his head slightly, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You’re funny,” he chuckled, bringing his lips to your earlobe making you giggle, “You’re ambitious,” his lips moved to your cheek, “So bloody pretty,” his lips moved to your jaw, lighting a fire on your skin, “You’re genuine, you’re kind,” he pulled back slightly, his eyes hooded and you felt dizzy underneath his gaze. “And I bet you’re a great kisser,” he smirked. 

“Why don’t you find out?” you taunted, your brow flickering in a challenge. Fred detangled his fingers and brought his hands to cup your jaw, his fingers sweeping through your hair as he brought your face closer to his. Your eyes fluttered closed as his lips met yours, your chest lifting as you took a deep breath. The kiss was gentle at first, until you stepped into him and lifted yourself on the tip of your toes. You opened your mouth to deepen the kiss and he accepted the offer just as fast. The innocent kiss took a turn, your tongue wanting to explore every inch of what he had to offer. His hands trailing down your body, and your fingers brushing through his hair. The hunger and passion that was dormant in you for so long erupted, and the sound of lips smacking together could be heard across the silence. 

Fred was the first to pull back, his heart rising and falling, “fuck,” he groaned, the single word making butterflies explode in your stomach. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes still shut.

“Well?” you asked.

“A great kisser as well,” he chuckled, “Too good, I might become addicted.” 

“I really like you, Fred,” you announced, letting your feet rest on the grass and you looked up at him, smiling. 

“If you don’t realise how much I like you, then maybe you’re not as smart as I thought you were,” Fred grinned. 

You narrowed your eyes, a cunning smile on your face, “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

i hope you enjoyed reading this

as always, no one has my consent to copy and paste my writing to other social media sources. please respect this

[preciousthingsareprecious]

In Line at the Prize Counter

So this fic was originally intended to be part of Dick and Damian week, but life intervened and I didn’t end up finishing it anywhere near on time. That said, I found it too much fun to write and didn’t want it to live forever in WIP form. So, I hope you all enjoy this adventure featuring one Very Done Damian as he’s forced to rescue Dick from a Bomp n’ Stomp. 

Characters: Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne

Words: 4,965

Summary:  When Dick Grayson is kidnapped, Robin is the only one who really believes he's being held at the Bomp n' Stomp entertainment center. So he rolls up his sleeves, and heads into the dreaded building to rescue his brother from the likes of ball pits, twisted slides, and yes even go karts.

AO3 Link

~

Of all the places in the world Damian Wayne expected to walk into, a Bomp n’ Stomp was not one of them. In fact, he had argued viciously against ever entering the indoor playscape when his brother had suggested they spend a Saturday there.

To make matters worse, in an attempt to convince Damian of it’s legitimacy, Richard had called it an arcade.

An arcade .

The nerve of the man to sully that term by applying it to this ball pit filled, gum ridden, dirty carpeted, sticky establishment. A true arcade, like Shelly’s JoyCon, home of Cheese Viking, would never allow it’s door handles to leave a strangely greasy film on Damian’s gloves as he moved his search from a back room back out into the main area.

The inside smelled of old pizza, spilled soda, and that strange almost chalky scent of fog machines. It was, in a word, disgusting. Damian felt a pull at the bottom of his boot every few steps, like the carpet was coated in something sticky. He wrinkled his nose.

No, this was nothing like his favorite arcade.

Granted. It was also closed for renovations, with the promise of things like all new games, flooring, and yes even door handles. Still, Damian thought nothing could quite erase the smell of greasy pizza. That was a scent that stuck.

He shook his head. He needed to stop thinking about greasy pizza and continue working on why he was truly here. Some odious criminal had thought it a good idea to kidnap Richard on his way into Gotham.

It would not be stood for. Not someone snatching his brother. Nor holding him up in a place as terrible as this. To top things off, whoever had taken Richard had deprived both he and Damian of a perfectly excellent evening that should have been spent at the Observatory.

Damian sniffed and picked his way past skee ball games, an overly large wheel with inane words like “Double Prize Winner!!” in bold peeling letters on it, and the playscapes namesake, a Bomp n’ Stomp game.

At the Bomp n’ Stomp, he stopped to peer down at the curious game. It was obviously broken. The machine was little more than a garishly painted box with various holes covering the top. Out of one peeked a chipped plastic facsimile of a mole. Hanging off the machine were two objects strung on cords that looked ready to snap at any moment. The first was a toy hammer, it’s fabric ripped and leaking stuffing, the other a boot attached to a stick.

“Tt.” Damian discounted it and looked back up.

Whoever thought a game designed around attacking moles was a good idea surly must be a criminal.

He’d neared the end of the ‘arcade’ portion of the building and was entering a larger more open space. The carpet changed from soiled red to blue spotted tile. At the change, the ceiling rose at least a second story above him, towering high enough to fit a series of large structures.

To one side of this new area rested a climbing wall. It, out of everything Damian had seen so far, actually looked interesting. Even from here he could see portions that might make for a mild challenge in climbing.

Next there was a multistory play set filled with slides, jungle gyms, large netted areas he supposed children were expected to crawl through, and so many tunnels it would put most professional guinea pig enclosures to shame. A sign outside the entrance indicated that somewhere towards the center of the structure rested a huge ball pit.

Damian really, truly, hoped Richard had not been placed within that. If the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp was sticky and dirty, the ball pit must be truly foul. He could not even imagine what had happened within it or what--he grimaced-- fluids could have coated the orbs.

He turned to the last attraction, a small go kart area. Perhaps the climbing wall was not the only redeeming quality to the establishment. Provided of course that the carts actually moved quickly.

So far, he had seen no hint of Richard. His brother had not been hidden behind a garishly colored game, and he did not seem to be dangling from the climbing wall. After a brief examination (and admiration of the engines on the small cars) Damian determined that his brother was either being held in one of the staff areas indicated by the back wall or-- He glanced at the huge play place.

After a moment’s hesitation, Damian squared his shoulders. As detestable as it would be to crawl around in there, he would do it if it meant rescuing Richard from being trapped inside. He could not imagine being held within the structure longer than a few minutes. It would be torture indeed.

The truly strange thing about his investigation so far had been that no one had attempted to stop him. There were no guards at the front, nor the back, and the building was empty of signs of life. The power was on, with some games sluggishly lit or playing bites of music, but Damian had not seen anyone besides himself.

He considered this as he made his way to the entrance to the play structure. He knew for a fact that Richard was here, even if Father did not.

Damian pushed the plastic draping away from the domed entrance and stepped inside the structure. He was surrounded by net, his feet no longer on solid ground, but pressed into some kind of foam. Ahead of him was a rope ladder that looked designed to be as unstable as possible. He sighed and began to climb.

Of the three possible locations Richard could have been taken to the Bomp n’ Stomp had been deemed least likely by his Father due to the fact that it was not altogether abandoned. While, over the weekend no one would be inside, the possibility of a worker coming in was high enough Father had assumed any capable kidnapper would discount it.

The other two locations, an empty ice cream parlor, and an abandoned junk yard, had been deemed higher priorities and dangers. But something had told Damian that the Bomp n’ Stomp was the right location, and he had argued that it should be checked out.

So while his family was split between the other two locations, Father had reluctantly allowed Damian to check out his hunch, promising to meet up with him after they'd cleared their own locations.

The ladder exited onto a platform made entirely of the netting Damian had seen from outside the playhouse structure. Tentative, he pressed a hand into the thick black cording, and when it gave less than he’d assumed it would, he climbed atop it.

Balance was a tricky thing on the strange floor, and Damian could not help but think the League would benefit from installing something of the kind in one of their training rooms. It turned a normal floor into something to be treaded on with care or risk getting a toe caught between the net. If he was unlucky he might end up tumbling to the ground or twisting his ankle. Damian couldn’t imagine it filled with children.

He was keeping his ears open for any sounds of either Richard or the kidnappers. From the letter and accompanying picture Father had received there were at least three men holding Richard, but there were sure to be more.

Father had immediately identified the men as being part of a relatively new gang in Gotham. Their motive was both money and an attempt at scaring Bruce Wayne into cooperating with them in the future.

Damian scoffed at their foolishness as he hopped off one platform and onto another. His eyes went wide as, instead of the net he’d grown used to, the floor rolled under his feet.

He bit back a yelp as his feet slipped forward, and he went tumbling, hands pinwheeling out beside him in an attempt to catch his balance. He stumbled back, then forward, then one leg was in the air, followed by the other and Damian was staring up at the faded yellow ceiling of the play place.

For a moment, he lay there blinking up at it. Wondering about the strange flatness, and remembering this thing had another level above him. If someone was above him, would he see imprints of feet? Sections weighed down by a kid stepping over it?

It did not matter. What did, was finding Richard and escaping this cursed place.

Damian felt the floor under him, and realized it was not a single solid piece, but four cylinders that each rolled on their own. Whoever had designed this place was a madman. Putting a trap like this in a place where anyone could fall could only spell injury on a normal day.

He grunted, and carefully pushed himself up, moving off the shifting section and onto firm foam again. Well, not quite firm. It sagged with every step Damian took, but it was far better than the rolling part or the net.

The next hurdle came when Damian reached the tunnels. He had seen them of course, out looking up at all this. Plastic, colored brightly, sometimes one segment a different color altogether than the last, little windows dotting the sides. But he had hoped he’d find Richard before having to crawl through one.

He crouched and stepped inside. After a few moments he realized he was going to have to actually crawl. He wrinkled his nose as he pressed palm to plastic and began moving. At one point his palm stuck and after a moment, he pulled it up to reveal gum pressed into the green of his glove. Richard had better be thankful for what Damian was putting himself through to rescue him.

The space was tight, and as a defensible position it was terrible. If a fight took place within the tubes it would not be good. Even Damian, as small as he was, would have a hard time maneuvering within them. He’d have a better chance of winning a fight in some of the Batcave’s tighter spaces.

They were also impossible to be silent in. Every inch forward created squeaking or creaking or the echoing sound of a knee hitting against plastic with a series of thumps that were anything but rhythmic. Any chance of silently finding his brother was dashed a minute after he entered them.

Once Damian realized that, he no longer bothered trying to move slowly through. Instead he hurried, around turns, down dips, and up tiny plastic hills. He was thankful for the extra padding over his knees and the leather of his gloves. If not for them he was certain his palms would be red and irritated and his knees bruised.

Damian was in such a hurry to get through the tunnels that he missed the slide. One moment his hand was pressed into plastic, the next it fell into nothing. His momentum was such that he’d assumed it was another dip, a temporary fall.

But no.

His next hand hit nothing, with the other was still in air, and then Damian found himself staring down the tube of a slide, and hurtling down it face first. It twisted, and turned, and at one point his chin caught on a portion of the plastic that was raised. Damian winced, feeling the plastic scratch his skin, sure he’d be wiping blood away if he ever exited this terrible contraption.

At last, he burst out. He got one good look at a space enclosed by netting and more slide exits before he saw what was below him. To his growing horror, the ball pit waited. Staring at the pit in bullet time Damian decided this whole place was ridiculous. A death trap made for children . Even Nygma could not come up with something so fiendish.

Nothing Damian could do would stop his crash. Balls of yellow, red, blue, and green exploded around him, bursting up and into the air even as his trajectory took him down, deep into the pit. He was drowning, and yet not.

After a moment he realized he’d stopped moving. The balls around him had coalesced into a kind of solid form that still allowed him to move. It took some work, but eventually Damian righted himself and managed to semi-swim upward, kicking off against the ground before shooting back up. And at last, his head popped out into clear air.

“Robin!?” The surprised voice came from his left.

Damian shifted, careful not to sink again, “Richard!” he cried, then corrected himself, he was in uniform and Richard was a civilian. Even here, the kidnappers might be watching.

“Mr. Grayson, I am here to rescue you.”

Richard actually snorted, an aborted version of what would have been a startled laugh. He was half buried in the ball pit himself. His torso and head above the sea of color. Rope was tied around what Damian could see of his chest, presumably holding his arms back, but otherwise he looked fine.

It was a miracle Damian hadn’t plowed right into his brother during his wild exit from the slide. He’d landed a foot or so away from him, close to the middle of the pit. The problem was, figuring out how to get both himself and Richard out.

Damian glanced around the enclosed space holding the pit. He counted four slides at various sides of the netting, and two rope ladders leading up. One to another tunnel, and the other to what looked like a real ledge.

“So, Mr. Robin , what’s the plan?” Richard asked, his tone far too delighted with their situation.

A scowl crossed Damian’s face, “Do not patronize me. It is your fault we are in this mess at all. Do you know how unsanitary this all is? From the pit to those cursed tunnels. Even the door was sticky.”

Richard gave him a patient smile, “But it’s not all bad right?”

“Tt. It has been horrendous. I do not know how you have survived.” Damian said, and began wading over to his brother’s side.

It was difficult to push through the pit, but he found that thankfully, the closer he got to an edge, the higher the ground under him was. It went from almost nonexistent, to high enough he could stand on his toes beside Richard. It was not ideal, but at least he was no longer at risk of being swallowed whole.

“There has to be at least one redeeming quality about this place.” Richard continued, “Even Robin must have liked something the old Bomp n’ Stomp has to offer. Maybe one of the games?”

“Nothing.” Damian answered, defiant even as he thought of the go karts and climbing wall, “Especially not the games. This place is childish, Richard. Childish and demeaning, and even you would not stoop so low as to drag me here.” he ranted, forgetting that he was Robin with a civilian and not Damian and his brother.

His brother’s smile was full of delight now, “You protest too much. I bet at least one thing caught your eye.”

“I said nothing.” Damian declared again, and sending balls flying, “Now come on, we do not have time to waste speaking of such moronic things.”

Richard cleared his throat, “Uh, Robin, aren’t you forgetting about something?”

Damian turned to see his brother shrug, plastic balls rolling away from him, and Damian caught sight of the ropes still binding his brother.  

Fire lit hit his cheeks. He swallowed down the embarrassment and moved again to hastily slice at the ropes holding Richard’s arms to his sides. Even in his rush, he slowed as the blade neared his brother, the night would only be worse if he accidentally hurt him.

The ropes fell away easily, and soon Richard was massaging his wrists and stretching his arms up into the sky, “That feels great, thanks, Baby Bat.”

Damian ignored the nickname, and Richard’s attempt to reach out and ruffle his hair. He ducked and turned towards the ladder by the platform, “Come along, I would like to get you out of here as soon as possible.”

Richard hummed, “Yeah, I have no idea when those guys will be back, so haste is probably a good thing. Unless you already took them out?”

“The building was empty when I entered.”

Damian scrambled out of the pit and up onto the ladder. He climbed up, only to realize Richard had not followed him. When he turned to frown at his brother, he could see the man had stopped at the ladder, his eyes focused on the rungs.

“Richard?” he asked, voice quiet.

“I’m fine, just a bit dizzy. I’ve been sitting there a while, my arms and legs are tingly and just waking up.”

“What else is wrong.” Damian did not ask, but demanded the answer.

His brother shrugged, “I might have sprained my ankle when they tossed me in?”

Damian nodded, assessing the situation.

“Can you climb?”

If it were Damian in Richard’s shoes, he’d power through the ache, but he did not wish to press his brother into doing something he couldn’t. He could support Richard as they moved, and they could utilize a slide to exit this structure, but if he could not climb, getting him out of the pit might prove challenging.

Richard nodded, “I think so.”

He placed his hands on the rungs and started up. It was not an overly high ladder, but even so, Richard made it a few rungs before he paused wincing.

“Here.” Damian said.

He knelt down and reached out for his brother, “I will pull you up.”

Richard gave him a look that could only be described as incredulous. Damian glared at him in return.

“I can handle lifting you a short distance. Push off with your good foot and let us get this over with.”

After another moment of hesitation, Richard reached up and took one of Damian’s hands. His other, he kept pressed to the bars for leverage. Damian pulled as Richard pushed himself up. Below him the ladder wiggled a threat. However, he managed to grab hold of Damian’s other hand with a tight squeeze.

Richard was heavy, but together and with another awkward step onto the ladder, Damian managed to help drag him up. For a moment, they sat together looking at each other.

“Well.” Richard said, “I guess we should keep going?”

Damian nodded, “Indeed. I believe there is a slide exit in that direction.” he waved in the general area he remembered seeing one. At least he hoped it was there. His internal map of the structure felt a little turned around after his dive into the ball pit.

He helped his brother up, and they began moving through the rest of the structure. Damian stuck close to Richard, who insisted he didn’t need to lean on him yet. Still, he kept one eye on his brother, ready to assist if he showed the slightest sign of wavering.

They reached another area where solid panels switched to a rolled floor and Damian threw an arm out to stop their progress.

“Careful, that part can be deceptive.” he said, pointing down at them, “Allow me to  walk you over them, so you do not injure your ankle further.”

Richard had an odd look on his face, a smile that seemed as if it hid another emotion, but Damian wasn’t going to worry about his brother’s reaction to his protectiveness. He always seemed to blow things like that out of proportion anyway.

They traversed the trap easily, and had just about reached the slide when a question that had been bugging Damian burst to the surface.

“Why were you in that ball pit? Surely there was an easier place to hold you.”

“Apparently, I talk too much.” Richard chuckled, “In truth, I was seeing if I could irritate them into letting me go.”

Damian couldn’t stop a surprised laugh at that, “It does not seem to have worked.”

Richard shrugged, “It was worth a try, it’s worked in the past.”

At last they reached the slide.

“I will go down first, so I can look for trouble and assist you if you have any problems.”

This time, Damian’s trip down a slide was a controlled one. It was a not altogether unpleasant experience sliding at a quick speed, and turning round and round in a spiral.

He couldn’t help but think back to watching Father, back when the man had lost his memory, playing with children on a large playground. A pang of want, not as strong as then, lodged in his chest. He tried to swallow it back as he popped out. Landing on his feet before he hurried forward to get out of the way.

Damian turned his attention away from lost memories and onto the rest of the Bomp n’ Stomp’s interior. His eyes ran from the go karts, paused at the entrance to the arcade portion, and moved over to the climbing wall on the far side of the room. Still empty.

“You may come down, it is clear.” he called up the slide. His voice echoed slightly up the plastic tube, sounding a little hollow and odd.

“Yeah!” Richard cried, his voice bouncing loudly down to Damian.

He could hear his brother swish and bump down the slide as he traversed it, the plastic rumbling as he reached the end. When he came out, he stopped himself with his hands at the exit, and carefully pushed himself to his feet, grinning.

“I don’t care how much you hate these places, we’re coming back.” he declared.

Damian rolled his eyes.

Before he could respond, there was the sound of metal on concrete. He spun on his heel and turned as a large metal door labeled Staff Only rolled up to reveal four very angry looking men carrying guns. By some stroke of luck, they hadn’t noticed Dick or Robin yet.

“We’re leaving now.” Damian said, grabbing Richard’s hand.

He made to run back towards the exit, but Richard yelped, his hand staying behind Damian. He froze, and turned on his brother, eyes looking over him. Richard was wincing and Damian remembered the man’s ankle. It must be worse than he’d let on.

Damian cast his eyes around him for something to get them out of there safely. He stopped when he saw the go karts.

“Can you make it there?” He pointed at them.

Richard’s eyes lit up, “Yes. That’s a big yes.”

Just in case, Damian hooked an arm around Richard’s waist to help support him, and together they hurried at a not quite run for the go karts. Just as Damian was helping Richard over the barrier separating them from the karts he heard an angry yell.

He glanced up to see the men running towards them, a cacophony of voices yelling at them to stop. Damian knew they had moments before the shooting started. He shoved Richard into the nearest kart that had two seats, and ran around to fiddle with the exposed engine. His earlier examination had been brief, but enough to tell him that the karts had safety measures equipped to limit their speed. That would not do.

His fingers were fast and clever, even working on an engine he’d never worked with before. It was moments and he was throwing himself into the open chair. Thankfully, a key was in the ignition and Damian had the kart roaring to life after a moment.

Just as he revved the engine, the gunfire started.

Damian threw the kart to the side, thankful the area the karts were in was somewhat open, and made a large loop, letting the cart pick up speed as he moved.

“Robin--” Richard’s voice was a question, “Just what’s the plan here?”

They were roaring towards the plastic partitions they’d only just hopped over. Damian was confident they were flimsy enough to ram, especially at the speed they were going.

He grinned, “We are going through them. I would suggest ducking. I do not wish for you to get shot while we escape.”

“Damian,” his brother hissed, “There’s an opening to the outside behind us.”

“To an enclosed area. The walls are high there, we would be trapped. This is our best option.” He'd seen the area when entering the Bomp n' Stomp earlier.

Even as he spoke they were nearing the path of no return. The kart raced towards the partition, the men racing towards them. Damian pressed his foot harder against the pedal and then the pointed front of the go kart was slamming through the short plastic partition, breaking apart the multiple pieces that kept it together and sending them flying.

Damian could not help but grin as one piece caught a kidnapper in the side, sending him tumbling to the ground.

He wove the kart through the remaining three as they yelled and one of them got off a shot. The bullet pinged off the side of the kart.

“Whohoo!” Richard cheered as they blew past the last man and sped through the building.

Damian pulled them back into the part of the building filled with various small games. The kart shook as it shifted from tile to carpet. The sound it made changing from a flat rumble to something more muffled.  At the bump, Richard winced again. Damian frowned.

“We will be exiting soon.” Damian said by way of comfort.

He could hear the rumble of feet behind him, and even the sound of another go kart having been started. Damian snorted, unless they’d modified it, he and Richard still had the advantage. To make sure, he glanced behind him.

There was only one kart chasing them down, another two seater, with both seats filled. Unfortunately for them, it did seem to be running quickly. Damian swore as it began closing the distance between them. He threw himself back against the seat as the man who wasn’t driving leveled a gun at them and fired.

The bullet sped past them by a wide margin, but the danger was still there.

“Hold on.” he told his brother and pulled the cart around one of the games, twisting through the maze of Jurassic Park simulators and skee ball machines hoping they’d shake their pursuers.

“He’s still there.” Richard said, now taking Damian’s place in watching their backs.

“Lean back, you’ll get shot.” Damian hissed, “We need only make it out the front doors.”

Richard followed his lead, just in time as more shots rang out around them. Damian caught sight of Richard's worried expression out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t have time to turn to him. He kept the cart moving forward, dodging games left and right.

At last, the doors were in front of them. Damian prayed the cart would trigger the door’s automatic response. As they sped closer and closer he started to wonder what it would be like to just plow through those too.

Then they swung open and Damian and Dick burst through.

Behind them, Damian could still hear the squeal of the pursuing kart. That didn’t matter however, as Damian’s eyes lit on the Batmobile. Father was already out, Red Robin beside him. It took them a moment to understand the extent of the chaos Damian had dragged outside, but soon they were moving too.

Damian pulled the kart around them, and heard the distinctive pop pop of something exploding. The men in the kart behind them yelled with surprise, and the sound of the kart cut off with a sudden deafness.

Feeling safe, Damian pulled his foot off the gas, slowing his own kart and turning it to drive closer to Father’s car so Richard would not have to limp far.

Turned now, they could see the other kart coated in foam. One of Drake’s newest experiments, and a successful one at that.

As they stopped, Damian grinned over at Richard, “See. As I said, we only needed to make it outside.”

Richard was grinning, and Damian found himself relieved to realize his brother was fine. Their mad dash did not seem to have resulted in his injury.

They sat in the kart as Batman and Red Robin took care of the two men in the other kart, and then moved inside to deal with the other two goons.

Damian leaned his arms on the steering wheel and gave Richard a small smile.

Richard, leaned forward to mirror him, elbow bumping against Damian’s, “Admit it, you had fun coming through there to rescue me.”

Damian considered the thought for a moment, “Never.”

“Ha! I knew you did.” Richard sat up, delighted.  

“I said nothing of the like.”

“But your face did.”

“The go karts were acceptable.” Damian admitted.

Richard reached out and tugged Damian into a half hug, “Good, we’ll do go karts when we come back, and try the rock climbing wall. And I’ll win you enough tickets to get one of those giant stuffed bears.”

“Father could buy me one for less than it would take you to get those tickets.” Damian pointed out.

“That,” Richard said sternly, “is not the point. It will be a thank you, for the rescue and one of the most exciting nights I’ve had in a long time.”

Damian snorted, but leaned a little closer into his brother’s side. Watching as Batman and Red Robin led the remaining two men out of the building.

“I can accept that. I will allow you to bring me back to the Bomp ‘n Stomp when they reopen. Even if the doors are still sticky.”  

[revengeisourlullaby]

If I Never Knew You Pt.2

Pt. 1   Pt. 2    Pt.3   Pt.4   Pt.5   Pt.6

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, arranged marriage plot, kinda royal au, some fighting, secret relationship, angst.

a/n: Here is part 2! I might upload part three tonight. I’m so excited to see where this goes. It seems that the first part is doing pretty good so I might upload them faster. As always requests/asks are open! Just give me little time to get to them. Enjoy! 

Word count: 1.8K

Walking through the town, you felt an inordinate wave of liberation flow through not only you but also through Loki. It felt as if the weight of the world released itself from your shoulders. Confidence and strength soaring through the air. Loki lost his stiffness, his typical carefree nature restored once you became more grounded. 

“See, not so bad, right?”

Shaking your head, a cynical chuckle escaped your throat

“For you maybe. All these eyes on us is kinda gross.”

“It’s only because the most attractive prince has finally decided to show his face.”

You looked at Loki, amusement absent from your face. He laughed, a belly laugh almost. It was a free sound you had yet to hear from him and when you did your face painted your emotions before you had the chance to process them yourself. 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Yes, but you, my dear, tolerate it. So who's really at a loss in this situation?”  

“Well, it’s not me.”

“It couldn’t be me Y/N.”

“Looks like we’re both losers then Loki.”

You were approaching the main entrance of the palace and began to wonder if Loki was considering bringing you inside.

“We lost when we fell in love with each other Y/N. Listening to the heart is the most foolish thing one can do and yet here we are. Charging full speed with our eyes closed hoping we don’t trip over anything.”

Guiding you up the steps of the massive golden structure Loki called ‘home’ your nerves struck up again. 

“Seems to make sense that if we’re going full speed, might as well exploit our courtship in the place where you will eventually be spending all your time in. And with all things considered, sneaking you in is...counterproductive, to say the least.”

Exhaling, you brought yourself together and walked in front of Loki. His hand rested on your lower back escorting you inside. Grabbing fabric in your fists, you hiked your dress up a bit making sure you didn’t step on it. Walking through the main threshold, you realized you were worrying for nothing. The halls were massive, the ceiling stretching higher than you ever imagined.

 It would be a miracle if you were to run across someone you knew in a place so vast.

 You looked around in shock at everything you were being hidden from. The thought of it hopefully being yours to share with Loki in freedom and not in constraint was illuminating. One day to not only be openly in love with him but to call him your husband. Your partner for life was the solace you needed. Everything looked new to you because you had only ever seen the hallways in the dead of night to share evening visits with Loki, being as slick as one could, and it always working in your favor.

“Wow, it looks so different here with the sun shining through. Always felt like a runaway sneaking through the backways and balconies to get to your quarters.”

“And now you get to walk there like every other person in this place. Quite fancy isn’t it.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask for the smart mouth, you ass.” 

“Comfortable, are we?” 

“With you? Always.”

Finally, you two had walked up to Loki’s quarters. Opening the doors he welcomed you in and you welcomed yourself to his bed. Flopping down on the edge of it, the edge of your dress flying up and you went down. Hearing the door shut, you lifted your head up to face Loki at the door, only thing was he wasn’t there. Furrowing your brow you sat up on your elbows and by the time you looked behind you, it was too late. 

“Boo.”

Your body reacted before you could control your response. Your stomach fell to your ass, eyes widening and a sharp inhale all followed one another before you finally shook off the anxiety and realized that Loki had popped up behind you. 

“You asshole! What if I screamed, huh?”

Loki laughed falling over on the bed, your reaction to him obviously something of hilarity to him. You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder in and began to pout. He caught his breath and calmed down enough so he could respond back to you. 

“You’re only screaming for one thing and unfortunately, darling, the sun’s still out. So, someone will have to wait, considering they’re so concerned about being caught.”

Loki raised his eyebrow and your mouth was agape. You squinted your eyes and an idea popped in your head. Rolling over on your knee you placed yourself on top of Loki's lap, resting your hands on his chest stealing his smirk for this moment in time.

“I can control myself...you on the other hand, once you start you can't stop.”

To emphasize your point, you rolled your hips into his and brought your body down to level his. Reaching his ear you whispered

“If you can find containment within yourself, a prize will await you this evening.”

You moved from his ear and hovered in front of his face, your lips ghosting one another. You pulled back a little bit to stare into his eyes. They were hypnotic no matter how many times you saw them. Loki’s hand trailed up your backside squeezing the mound of your ass before continuing up your back. His hand finding refuge at the nape of your neck. He pulled you back to his face, a gentleness about the entire interaction, and kissed you. 

There was a different kind of spark in this kiss, it felt electric, coursing through your veins and settling in your brain as a memory you’d never forget. Losing yourself in the thrill of it all, your hips began moving against his. Your building arousal creating a fog between you. The more you ground into the god below you, the more apparent his bulge was. Flipping you on your back Loki now held the reins of the situation. 

“Now, don’t tempt me Y/N. You have a habit of teasing and where does it always leave you?”

“At your mercy.”

“Clever girl. So if you like to save this accolade you mentioned for later, mind your manners, my love.”

He leaned down to kiss you as to punctuate his words, ending the discussion with the pull of your lips between his teeth. Hissing through the pleasure you couldn’t help but roll your hips up towards him, now being the one desperately craving friction. Testing the waters, you wanted to see how far you could push Loki to his limits. Your hand found the scruff of his neck and scrunched his hair. Sucking a breath in between his teeth, he pulled back a light laugh following. 

“I’m aware of what you’re attempting to do Y/N, and I think it would be fair for you to know that it’s a feeble attempt. Reason being, now you’re the one left in ardor.”

Loki pulled off of you but made sure to drive his point home by sliding down your body and resting between your thighs before fully standing up. You lied on the bed in slight agony of your current predicament. You sighed and brought yourself up on your elbows. Looking ahead of you, you saw Loki sitting in the massive throne chair that was in his room. It was gothic in nature yet still regal with the back of the chair rising well up behind him and the arms of it embellished with Asgardian design. 

His position in the chair was more than purposeful. His legs were spread wide, his arm resting on the arm of the throne and his hand propping up his head to look not only at you but out on the balcony. The late evening sun illuminating his eyes, bringing a whole new meaning to golden hour. He looked breathtaking and it was as if you were falling in love with him all over again.

The lust you were previously feeling was now amplified but also accompanied with adoration for your lover. You raised yourself from up off the bed and waltzed over to him. A fire behind your eyes and in your presence but you had yet to act on it. Coming in front of him, you kneeled in front of him and looked up. Two could play at this game. Your hands slid up his legs, paying special attention to his thighs and feather lightly rubbed on this. His eyes were boring through yours and you felt small under his gaze. 

The silence between you was telling, that if you were to continue with your actions there would be no waiting until later. You wanted to enjoy the silence between the two of you, so you turned your back to him now sitting on your behind, and crossed your legs. You leaned your head back so it fell in between his legs, but before fully getting settled you reached for the two books resting on the side table in front of the chair and placed them in your lap. You wiggled your hips and settled into a comfortable position. 

Resting your head back, you craned it further attempting to look at Loki. He rolled his eyes knowing exactly what you were asking for. 

“You know, if I knew how often you’d beg for these I would have never indulged in your initial request.”

“You and I both know this is enjoyable for both parties.”

Loki huffed, a silent agreement without saying explicitly that you were right. Loki began to rub your temples. You closed your eyes enjoying the sensation and the loving intent of his actions. You finally felt calm and safe compared to the rest of the day which was riddled with anxiety and panic and the nagging fear of all the ‘what ifs’ you came up with. You had exhausted yourself and this simple action put you at ease. You opened your eyes for a moment and glanced down at the books in your lap trying to decipher which one was Loki’s. 

Catching a glimpse on the side you realized the one on the bottom was Loki’s current project at hand. Grabbing it, you twisted your arm behind you and slid the book into Loki’s lap knowing that sooner or later you would end up dozing off and you figured that getting this out the way would make it easier for both of you. 

“You are truly something else.”

“And you love me for it Loki.” 

“Can’t argue that one.”

A small smile painted your face before it fell back into its relaxed state and you began to drift off. Every little thing that had happened today made you feel that you were a few steps closer to getting what you so desired with Loki.

[carryonmywaywardcaptain]

Imagine...finding out there’s fanfic written about you--and even Charlie ships you with Dean

CarryOnCap’s Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff? Crack? A dramatic fanfic within a fanfic that I got carried away with haha.

A/N: This is kind of ridiculous, but I had fun with it! Also, I’ve never actually seen GoT but it seemed like a reasonable reference from what I’ve heard about it.

“Hey, look who I found!” Sam’s voice echoed through the War Room.

Dean glanced at you from across the table in the library, sharing your surprised expression as you both pushed your chairs away and stood. 

“‘Sup, bitches?” Charlie grinned, making her way up the steps toward you.

“Hey! We were expecting you guys to come in through the main door. We’ve been keeping an ear out.”

Charlie stepped into your outstretched arms and pulled you into a tight hug. “It was a spur of the moment decision, but I decided to stick around a day or two longer than planned! Sam said I could go ahead and park in the garage.”

She let go of you and turned to give Dean a hug too. He smiled softly with a look that was uniquely reserved for her, cradling the back of her head while she pressed her cheek against his.

“Good to see you, Charlie. You know you’re always welcome to stay as long as you want.”

An involuntary smile crept onto your face as you watched them. You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled at the low rumble in his voice when he said her name. There was an undeniable protectiveness in his tone when he spoke to her--the sister he’d never wanted, as he affectionately called her.

When you shifted your attention to her, you noticed she was watching you. Before you could decipher the knowing glint in her eye, she suddenly twisted out of his arms and glanced back and forth between you and Dean. She began swinging her arms awkwardly before opting to cross them over her chest.

“You okay?” Dean asked, furrowing his brow.

“Yeah! Of course...Totes chill...cooler than a pack of peppermints.” She bobbed her head and flashed a nervous smile, twisting her hair around her finger as she struggled to act nonchalant. “It’s just that I remembered something. A story I read a while back--completely random. Totally unrelated to anything--I mean, now I’m starting to ramble. Hah! So how’ve you guys been? Still saving the world from evil sons-of-bitches?” 

“Uh, yeah…” Sam answered, scrunching his eyebrows together. “We stay busy.”

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you piped up, changing the subject.

You were hoping to avoid swapping monster stories for a night. Charlie typically assumed the role of introducing you to popular and noteworthy fandoms during her visits to the bunker and, even if the boys weren’t as vocal, the three of you appreciated her knowledge of all things geeky and nerdy. 

“I was thinking Marvel. Y/N, you’re obviously well-versed in the MCU because of your obsession with Steve Rogers--and, you know, clearly you’ve got a thing for the strong, righteous, self-sacrificing hero type. Dean, you could stand to branch out from the Batman references and, Sam, you’ve got this whole Thor kind of vibe going on.”

While Sam and Dean began teasing each other and arguing over “Batman versus Thor,” you gaped at Charlie, wondering what she’d meant by her remark about you having a “type.” You couldn’t help feeling like she was trying to insinuate something, but you shrugged it off and decided maybe it was all in your head.

***

After getting Charlie settled into one of the extra bedrooms, the four of you settled into the Dean Cave and agreed to start with the first Captain America movie. 

Last Christmas, you and Sam had teamed up to surprise Dean with a couch for the Dean Cave. He had originally only had two La-Z-boy recliners and you’d found him fast asleep in the stiff old chairs on more than one occasion. Dean had been over the moon about the extra seating and the three of you had rearranged the furniture so the recliners were angled toward the tv on either side of the couch.

“Dibs on this side of the couch!” Charlie said, diving toward the furthest end from the door.

Although it was subtle, you knew there was still something off about the way Charlie studied all of you. There was definitely something on her mind she was trying to keep hidden from all of you.

“You know, we should probably have some snacks,” you said slowly. “Charlie, you want to come help me grab some stuff from the kitchen?”

“But I’m already comfy in my spot.” She frowned, wiggling her hips to make a point of sinking deeper into the spot she’d claimed on the couch. “Why don’t you have Dean help you?”

When you narrowed your eyes suspiciously, Sam cleared his throat. “Dean, why don’t I help you grab some snacks while Y/N and Charlie...catch up, er, whatever…”

You heard the boys leave the room and waited until their footsteps faded down the hall before you started interrogating her.

“Alright, Charlie--what the hell is going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about,” she muttered, scrolling through her phone.

“Bull. We lie for a living and I know there’s something you’re not telling us. So spill.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “Okay, so remember the Supernatural books by Carver Edlund?”

“Yeah…”

“The series obviously kind of had a cult following when it was in print, right? Well ever since the unpublished works got uploaded, the following has really taken off. Every once in a while a new one still pops up and the fans love them. And you’re in them now too!”

“I’m...what?”

“I mean it’s just insane and totally got sucked into it too. It’s brought on this whole new wave of fanfiction--”

“What’s fanfiction?” you cut in, struggling to keep up.

“It’s fiction made by the fans about the series. Sometimes they put themselves in the stories and write about working cases and fighting monsters with you guys--”

“Why would anyone want to pretend to do this crap with their lives?”

She stared at you for a moment and frowned. “Because you guys are heroes. I mean, yeah, there’s the whole depressing side of monsters and death and trauma and world-ending apocalypses--but you guys save people. You go on these exciting adventures of good versus evil and a lot of times you win. You save people. The fans really look up to all of you.”

Your gaze fell to the floor as you let her words sink in, but she didn’t give you long before she was rambling again.

“But that’s not even the best part! Everyone ships different OTPs--” she paused, noticing your puzzled expression “--uh, one true pairing… So everyone has a favorite couple they think are soulmates and belong together. There’s stories about Sam with Eileen or Jess, Dean with different people--you get the gist. Sometimes they even make up characters or do these ‘reader inserts’ and imagine themselves with the boys or you but, hands down, everyone’s favorite couple they want to end up together is you and Dean.”

“...what?” 

Your eyes grew wide. It was hard enough to wrap your mind around the fact that strangers who didn’t know you were a real person were reading about your life, but learning they imagined you in different relationships? You’d never admit it out loud, but had it bad for Dean. And hearing you weren’t the only one that wanted the two of you together...

“I’ve gone deep into the fic and I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner!” Charlie shook you from your thoughts. “You and Dean are perfect for each other. For serious. I usually stick to the fluffy stuff because, you know, your entire life is kind of angsty and I don’t like to read about you guys being in pain or, like, dying...again. Although I definitely have to admit I kind of stumbled into some of the smutty stuff and, wow, that was something else.”

You opened your mouth to ask more questions, but she kept rolling.

“Right, you probably don’t know what that means either. Fluff is the cute stuff that gives us all feels, angst is kind of just what it sounds like, and smut is, well...the sexy stuff.”

“You mean people out there in the world write about me and Dean…”

“Going at it like an episode of Game of Thrones? Oh yeah,” she responded, unlocking her phone. “Here. Here’s an example.”

Swallowing audibly, you took a seat next to her on the couch as she extended her phone toward you. Gnawing your bottom lip, you began reading the words on the screen:

Y/N took a deep breath, holding it in briefly before she exhaled and began walking toward Dean’s room. Ever since they returned from the hunt, Dean had hidden himself away in his room--no doubt blaming himself for everything that had gone wrong.

When she arrived at his door, she raised her hand to knock. She hesitated, almost retreating at the thought of him turning her away, but she had to try. She had to get through to him somehow.

She rapped her knuckles on the raw umber barrier and opened the door of Room 11 before he could tell her to go away. 

She spotted him leaning over the sink, staring at his reflection in the medicine cabinet on the wall. His jade eyes flickered to where she stood in the doorway, their reflection somewhat distorted by cracks that spiderwebbed from where he had struck the mirror.

Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she imagined him lashing out, knowing he punched the mirror because he hated the reflection staring back at him. Knowing he always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders when he didn’t need to.

Y/N carefully shut the door and locked it behind her--the click of the deadbolt deafening in the silence. Her eyes never left Dean, who refused to turn and face her. She inched toward him, closing the distance until she could reach out and touch him. Gently placing her hand on his shoulder, she guided him to turn away from the mirror. Still, he refused to meet her eyes.

“Dean…” she breathed, voice barely above a whisper as she cupped his face in her hands. “It’s not your fault.”

He squeezed his eyes closed, face contorting with grief and guilt. The ghosts of his past refused to let him go, but she was determined to make him believe that he was worthy, no matter the cost.

Curling a finger beneath his chin, she tilted his head up, waiting patiently for him to meet her gaze. When his dark green orbs finally met hers, she was surprised to see that they were full of longing and desire. They flickered to her lips, making her breath tremble under the intensity of his gaze. Time seemed to slow until it froze altogether.

Anticipation hung heavy in the air as they both struggled against their desire to maintain the friendship they’d always had and the desperate need to finally cross that line. To succumb to the magnetic pull that had always been evident between the two of them.

Dean swallowed thickly before suddenly rushing forward, crashing his lips to Y/N’s as he pulled her into a searing kiss. He wrapped his strong arms around her, trapping her to his chest, afraid it was all a dream and she would soon disappear. But she gladly melted into his embrace, feeling like she was finally returning home, to a place she’d spent her life searching for.

A moan slipped past her lips as he walked her backward, pressing her up against the wall. She gasped, feeling his--

“The snacks have arrived!”

You jumped in surprise, a small gasp of surprise escaping as the boys appeared with armloads of snacks. Confusion and worry painted Dean’s face as he surveyed your flustered expression. Between his scrutinizing gaze and the content you’d practically been caught reading, your cheeks grew warm. 

“Did I miss something?” Dean asked.

“Nope,” you responded much too quickly.

Charlie’s phone had fallen into your lap and, when she began cackling, you whipped your head in her direction and flung the phone at her thigh. You grimaced and the two of you had your own silent conversation as the boys spread the food across the bar Dean had built on the far wall.

“I was just telling Y/N how pumped I am about seeing my favorite OTP tonight,” she giggled.

“Your...what?”

Dean’s arm brushed yours as he plopped down on the other side of you. The accidental contact sent a wave of chills over your skin, making you shudder. You could feel his eyes on you again, but you refused to look at him.

“Oh, I’m so going down with this ship,” Charlie whispered under her breath before continuing in a louder voice. “Nothing--nevermind! Don’t mind me, just thinking out loud...”

“It says here an OTP means...one true pairing?” Your eyes grew wide as you looked to where Sam was reading his phone from where he sat in one of the recliners. “So, uh, ‘in the fandom realm, OTP refers to the coupling of characters--usually from the sci-fi or fantasy genres--by fans who think they make a great romantic duo and envision their lives together and share their imaginings with other fans.’”*

Charlie doubled over, beside herself with laughter. With your lips pressed into a firm line, you glanced at the boys to gauge their reactions. You knew there was no way they could possibly know what you and Charlie had been talking about, but that didn’t stop you from worrying about what Dean might think if he ever found out about the feelings you harbored for him. 

“So...you’re looking forward to Cap and his girl in the movie? I’m so freaking confused,” Dean grumbled.

“Yeah…” Sam agreed, making his way to the tv. “I’m just, uh...I’m gonna start the movie now.” 

“Good idea.” Charlie peered at you out of the corner of her eye. “Plenty of time to read and talk about all those ships later.”

Although you glared at her, trying to hide your amusement, nothing could deter the smug smile etched upon her face. As Sam turned the lights off and you settled in for another relaxing night with your favorite people, one thing was certain:

You were definitely going to have to take another look at that fanfiction.

CarryOnCap Crew (Forevers):

@abswritesfandoms​  @amanda-teaches​  @cosicas-cuquis​  @crist1216​  @droidyouseek​  @emoryhemsworth​  @ericaprice2008​  @flawless-disaster​  @janeyboo​  @jenn0755​  @ksgeekgirl​  @maresmiley​  @memyselfandmaddox​  @notyourtypicalrose​  @randomparanoid​  @rynabarnesrogers​  @sandlee44​  @scarletsoldierrr​  @shann-the-artist-moon​  @sheerioasteroidpanda​  @shynara51​  @someday-when-you-leave-me​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​  @thisismysecrethappyplace​  @torntaltos​  @waywardbaby​  @waywardrose13​  @weebid​  @whimsicalrobots​  @wintersoldierbaby​  @wintersoldierissucharide  @yesfanficsaremylife​

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[kingjasnah]

☕️ the fifth season in general or just Essun

now i finished the book literally today so im still buzzing a bit but i have things i want to say that im not fully sure how to articulate yet? im going to give it a shot though

so it was good obviously lmao. like i expected it to be good but the absolute game changer that was the "this is the way the world ends/this is the way the world ends/this is the way the worlds ends for the last time" like that was when i was like. oh so it's gonna be GOOD.....and this is just the PROLOGUE.

this got really long so im putting it under a cut but jic spoilers ahead <333

that coupled with the second person and the unique narration style made me completely understand why it won a hugo but the thing i was really blown away by was the way plot twists and truths and revelations were so like...gently revealed to us. i '''''guessed''''' a lot of the twists very early on, but nothing felt like (haha) earth shattering. it felt very inevitable. like of course it was alabaster in the beginning and of course all three main characters were the same person (though there was something in the first damaya chapter that made me second guess it lmao jemison ALMOST got me fooled) and of course hoa was a stone eater so whenever this was made clear to essun it was like. wait why am i gasping. i already knew that. it was just a very unique reading experience where this woman's whole life was laid out and you actually felt like you experienced it in a gradual and linear way, even if we absolutely did not.

i do actually want to gather my thoughts before i touch on this one but this book was also the most nuanced take on lesser races and racial discrimination/dehumanization tactics ive read in fantasy to the point where it was legitimately difficult to read at points but like. like that banality of evil le guin quote you have to read it you have to go through it.

as for essun herself im like.......the fact that the FIRST impression of her is when she's in extreme distress and is breaking down and we get to see her in such an intimate state and THEN the rest of the book happens.......like ok???? ok. syen is my fave narrator of the three just b/c she's mean and and alabaster is my fave character still but the unfailing line of "this is wrong and i need to change this" that runs through every single pov??? like she had this core of moral outrage in every single version she built of herself no matter how scared and mistreated she was, even if she supressed it for her own survival. also the way her confrontation with schaffa at the end of the book was so cathartic DESPITE us knowing what's going to happen to her in the decade following. this book was structured in a way that best best best displays her character, cracks and all. this book was insane. im starting book 2 tonight wish me luck 💕

[starksvixen]

Part 2 - Two Makes Three

Masterlist

Summary: The Child wasn’t the first time Mando broke a contract to save someone. You were the first, presumed dead thanks to help after he was supposed to capture you. Now, you work under a false name with Mando to pay off your dues. However, as time drags on and he breaks another Guild contract, buried feelings between you two bubble to the surface.

Warnings: More (Y/N) and Mando bickering/sarcasm, some sexual themes, obvious violence

A/N - Sorry for the hiatus! I was having a hard time figuring out what to write about for this chapter. So enjoy the extra long one ahead of you!

-~- 

Your and Mando’s latest bounty had gone...awry, to say the least. Little did the two of you expect to have a baby on your hands. You let the 50 year old label deceive you into thinking this was easy. Now you were co - piloting the Razer Crest with a small youngling in your lap. You had to admit, the small green child had begun to grow on you. 

“What are you doing you little womp rat?” you whisper softly as you look down at him, receiving a small coo in return.

“(Y/N)...” Mando warns.

“Calm down, metal head. I’m not getting attached, I’m being nice. Look it up sometime,” 

A soft breath through the reverberator of the Mandalorian’s helmet is heard in place of his human chuckle. You smirk in return, turning away from your control station to play with the Child.

It had been close to 5 years with Mando, joining him on his bounties. Throughout your time together, you grew closer then some partners might. You trusted each other greatly, watching out for the other every step during a bounty. Sometimes you would watch his six outside of missions, the same being said for the warrior on your behalf. Even though you had never seen his face, never heard his name, you trusted him with your life. You did technically owe your freedom to the ice cold warrior seated to your left. 

However, your feelings had quickly changed for him. You couldn’t tell if it was because he was the only guy you had spoken too in depth for a while, or if there was something else attracting you to him. But your feelings almost went to far when the Mudhorn attacked him, threatening his life in the process. You quickly stepped in front of the fallen Mando, only to be saved by the tiny green child with his magic hands.

Mando continually asked why you didn’t listen to him and escape with the bounty. Each time, you refused to respond. 

“We’re here,” Mando says as he turns off the main controls to the ship.

Your gut hits the floor as you are forced to place the innocent child in his bassinet, closing the lid. Something about this deal was unbelievably fishy. And you didn’t trust it, the people that wanted the Child, their supposed intentions you weren’t allowed to speak about. 

Navigating through the streets of Navarro, the Child’s bassinet in tow, you made your way to the agreed upon rendezvous. Every damn bounty hunter in the vicinity trailed your curvy frame with their hungry eyes. With each wolf whistle and cat call, Mando’s shoulders squared up in their intensity. You assumed it to be protectiveness as that of a sibling, quickly pushing off any thought that it could be jealousy. 

You guarded the entrance of the building as Mando disappeared inside with the Child. Keeping your head tilted to the ground so that none of the nearby stormtroopers could see your face. However, through the small space you had given yourself, you could clearly see them, keeping a tight hand on the blaster resting on your hip. 

Mando quickly exited the building, payment in hand as you followed him into the crowded city streets. Looking up a bit more now, you looked towards his darkened visor, wishing you could read his facial expressions at the time. 

“We did what we had to do,” Mando says, obviously sensing your apprehension.

“Doesn’t mean it was right, Mando,” 

He doesn’t respond.

“Meet you back at the ship?” you sigh.

“Yes, ma’am,”

“Stay safe, Mando,”

“You too, Dar’manda,”

With that, you tug your hood further down your head and disappear into the crowd, leaving Mando to his people. 

You would never admit it, but you already missed the little squirt. His soft cooing and presence was much like your Mandalorian’s, quiet yet comforting. Now all you do is guard the ship, casually flipping your blade in hand with your ears on patrol for any noise. 

A soft hiss followed by the soft clanking of boots against metal alerts you to someone’s return. The blade’s handle sits nicely in your palm as you grip it tightly, listening for any clue to who had arrived. 

“(Y/N)!” Mando, yells up to you. 

“Yeah?!” you yell back, sighing a soft one in relief at his presence and not someone’s ass you had to kick.

No response. 

“For the love of-” you mumble to yourself, getting ready to rise from your seat when the familiar Mandalorian mask peeks it’s way through the hole in the wall.

When Mando is fully on board and turns towards you, he freezes, like he’s stunned to see you’ve taken off your top layers. It was a usual thing for you, but you would quickly get it back on before he ever saw you. Through your embarrassment at him seeing...everything, you put on a confident facade.

“If your jaw is open in that tin can you can shut it,” you smirk.

“I thought I told you to guard the ship,”

“And I did, I just got comfortable while doing it”

You grab your vest that lay nearby and slip it on, slipping it over your breast band with ease.

“What’s the next bounty?” you ask as your green leather jacket slips on with ease. 

“Some Prince that escaped his bounty,” he sits in his seat, flipping a few switches that bring the control board to life. 

You simply nod, helping him with the pre-flight checklist, flipping switches on your end, when you see something out of the corner of your eye. The kid’s ball in Mando’s hand. He gently twists it back onto the lever, getting ready to push off into flight. Your bottom lip traps itself between your teeth, hoping Mando will change his mind. 

And he did.

In the blink of an eye, he turns the ship back off. You follow suit, quickly grabbing onto the army green jacket that lay on the seat behind you. 

“Joined the Dark side have we, Mando?” you slip the jacket on with ease, securing the weapons within it’s pockets.

“That’s a horrible joke,” he replies, the soft puffs of air that make it through to be translated alerting you to his chuckles.

“But it made you laugh,” 

You had him stumped, making Mando choose silence as he stands and grabs his weapons. As he secures them in place, his visor points towards you.

“Let’s go get the kid,”

Within a matter of minutes, you and Mando were quickly making your way through Nevarro’s streets once again. Gently slipping his hand into yours, he pulls you down a dark alleyway, probably leading to some secret entrance you weren’t aware of. You would be lying if you said you didn’t have goosebumps spreading like wildfire up your arms, that you weren’t squeezing his hand to give you a modicum of comfort. But when you turn the last corner, and peer upon a small trash bin your heart plummets. 

The Child’s bassinet lay abandoned in the heaps of garbage.

“C’mon,” a static filled voice fills your ears, his hand squeezing yours as he continues to lead you down the alley. 

Mando abandons your hand once you stop at a building with roof top access. Without a word said between you, you stand guard of the building while he formulates a plan of what to do. He knew the place best, you trusted him. 

Once he returns, he points you in the direction of a door, a small slot for a camera droid completely covered by not abandoned. 

“Think you can work your magic?” he whispers just loud enough for his modulator to translate.

“Looks easy enough,”

You walk over to the door as Mando find a place to hide. Once you place yourself in front of the door, you grab your knife just in case and knock on the door. As the droid comes out to scan you, you quickly rip it off it’s base and walk away with grace but speed. 

A couple stormtroopers quickly flood the scene but you were already back in the safety of Mando’s presence as you both maneuvered in the alleys once more. He leads you to a small opening, a blank wall to your right that you knew was his focus. Keeping a steady hand hovered over your blaster, you listen for any disturbances coming your way.

Once the beeping began, Mando gently wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his chest as he took cover behind another wall. In a matter of seconds, the wall was blasted open and you were thankful for the orange hues surrounding you to hide your imminent blush. 

As he released you from his grip, you readjusted your clothes and you both headed in. The entire way as you searched for the child, you protected each other. He had your back and you had his. And you couldn’t deny, watching him fight like that made you a bit flustered from the distraction.

You fight your way to a lab, blasting the door open to see a weaselly looking doctor and a drone with a needle you didn’t trust. From behind Mando, you lifted your blaster and shot the droid down without a second thought. His helmet turned towards you slightly, and you could tell he was annoyed at how close the shot was to his head. All you could do was offer him a weak smile. 

Focusing back on your mission, Mando advanced towards the doctor with his blaster raised as you rushed towards the Child. He was sleeping soundly, god knows what had happened to the little guy. Your heart hurt for him, knowing what it was like to be pushed to your limits and used. Searching the lab, you find a small blanket that you grab quickly. You gently pull him from the machine he was under, wrapping him up to keep him safe and warm.

“What did you do to him?!” you hear Mando yell at the fearful doctor.

“Mando, it doesn’t matter! We got him so let’s go.”

You listened as the man repeated the word ‘please’ like a prayer. Walking over, you gently lay a hand on the outstretched arm of the warrior, giving it a reassuring squeeze to bring him back to you.

Blaster still in hand but arm now relaxed, Mando quickly walks out with you trailing behind, your own blaster at the ready. 

You make your way through the base once more, running into more stormtroopers on your way out. The Mandalorian quickly shoots out the lights, gently laying his hand on your lower back to escort you to the cover of shipping boxes that littered the room. As you crouched under them, you looked up at his visor for your next move. A finger to where his lips would be, his hand moving downwards. Stay quiet, stay low. You nod in response. 

Without warning, Mando quickly leaves you to protect the sleeping infant in your arms. Peering over the boxes, you watch him quickly shoot down the stormtroopers searching for you in the room. Goddamn, he’s hot when he does that...

“Hey!” a stormtrooper says from behind you.

Quickly, you pull out your knife and stab him in the arm to make him drop his blaster. Before you could do anymore damage, Mando’s spear appears from above you and electrocutes the trooper where he stands. 

“You okay?” he asks quickly once the trooper collapsed. 

“Yeah, I got distracted by the kid sorry,” you lie.

“It’s fine, let’s just get out of here.” 

He holds out a hand which you gratefully take, standing up and continuing to try and escape the maze of a base. As you walk down a hallway, you hear the signature hiss of a door opening behind you. On reflex, you grip your blaster tightly and twist on the heel of your foot. After a few well aimed shots, the stormtrooper falls dead. You hear Mando’s flame thrower cooking another alive. But as you look down, a pair of big brown eyes meets yours drowsy from sleep.

“Shh, it’s okay little one,” you coo.

You run your pointer finger down his small cheek, coaxing him back to sleep as you wait for the sound of collapse from behind you. Once it comes, you quickly turn and resume following Mando.

You’re quickly cornered by some very angry stormtroopers in a larger room. All you can do is hold the Child protectively against your chest, hoping they don’t see your face well beneath your hood. You follow his lead, kneeling to the ground, releasing your weapon.

You knew it wasn’t surrender, rather it was Mando using yet another one of his elaborate weapons to help you escape. For once, you were thankful for all the tricks he had up his sleeve. Quickly returning to your feet, blaster in hand, you make your well deserved escape from the base. 

Of course they alerted all the hunters in Navarro. You just wished you had more time to escape. Everyone must have been here to corner you, and you knew your time had come. Gently, you switch the Child into his arms, your free hand dropping to your side.

“(Y/N)...”

“Just get the kid back to the ship, I’ll be right behind you,” you whisper.

Before either of you had the chance, however, you were completely surrounded, Greef Karga at the head of the pack. You zone out for most of their conversation, focusing on how many bounty hunters there were instead and how to kill them. There was no way you could take them all down, not on your own. You become desperate, facing the crowd before you.

“Let us pass!” 

“I can’t do that Dar’Manda,” 

Looking towards Mando, the nod of his head told you of the long battle ahead. Quickly taking refuge in the speeder, you both take many shots at the hunters before you. A few go down before you crash and your partner is forced to use one of his more...formidable weapons. All of it still wasn’t enough, and you were eventually surrounded by gunfire. 

You try to ward them off, give Mando time to think a plan through. But as you peek over the slightest bit to get a better shot, someone else’s wizzes by your face, searing the skin close to your eye. Blood pours down your face as you collapse to the ground, holding your face from the pain. 

“Cyar’ika!” you hear Mando exclaim in Mando’a over the gunfire, your brain to fuzzy to process the translation. 

All you feel beside you is the Child and above you your masked partner as the shootout continues. Looking to your side and above the lip of the speeder, many more warriors that resemble Mando join the fight. But instead of fighting against you, they were fighting for you. 

“Is this them?” you ask, your lips trembling from the pain.

“Yes, (Y/N), they’re Mandalorian. Just like you.” 

Besides your Mando, you had never met another of your kind that you could remember. Your brain was in awe, your heart swelled at the thought of belonging. 

You shakily sit back up, still protected by Mando above you, and grab your blaster once more. With your one good eye, you fire at the other hunters to aid the Mandalorians in their fight to help you. 

“Get out of here! We’ll cover you!” one of the warriors spoke to Mando.

“You’ll have to relocate the Covert!”

“This is the Way.”

“This is the Way.” 

Looking down towards you, Mando gave you silent permission to follow suit. With a soft nod towards the heavily armored warrior beside the two of you, you reply:

“This is the Way.”

Mando helps you to your feet as you scoop the Child into your arms. Slipping away from the fight, you quickly run into the Razer Crest with him, your mind racing with all that needed to be done to get the hell out of there. 

He quickly disappeared into the cockpit as you turned to close the doors, only to be met with Greef Karga and a blaster.

“Hold it, Dar’Manda.” 

You glare at him, something he probably couldn’t see from beneath the one side of your hood that hadn’t been burnt to a fringe. For a moment, you realized it didn’t matter if Karga saw who you were. So Dar’Manda took off the hood, the pain of the cloth tearing from your fresh wound making you grit your teeth. (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the assassin that many bounty hunters sought after looked at him now. 

And he knew he was in trouble. 

“Leave...don’t make this any harder then it needs to be,” you say, your grip on the Child tightening. 

“I can’t just leave, you broke the Code!”

“You see, you’re wrong. That’s Mando you’re talking about. But I...” you wildly gesture, slowly moving your blade concealed from beneath your sleeve closer to your hand. “I never took the Code,” 

With the flick of your wrist, you send the knife flying to the control panel, making a gas fill the area quite fast. Backing up quickly to make your way to Mando, you bump into his metal frame. With his arm raised in the air, he shoots Karga off the ship and quickly closes the door.

“Let’s the get the hell out of here,” you sigh, climbing into the cockpit, settling into your co - pilot chair with the still sleeping Child in your arms. 

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[pull-the-hoodie-strings]

Mystery March Day 3- "Alternate Universe"

(the idea of this au is that the gang never met which leads to a different encounter with the supernatural. this came from just an idea for a scene in my head so- hope it turned out good!)

--------

In hindsight, he probably shouldn't have gone this way.

Lewis thought his sense of direction wouldn't steer him wrong. Besides, he knew the area. There were only so many twists and turns between him and home, no matter which road he took.

Or at least, that's what he thought. Now he couldn't help but sit a little straighter, hold the wheel a bit tighter, and turn the radio up just a touch higher. This back road was deserted. It stretched far ahead of him, flying by in the glare of his headlights. The light didn't do much for the oppressive dark just outside his car though.

He shook himself. There was nothing out here besides some deer maybe. Get ahold of yourself, he thought, you'll be back on the main roads soon. Except Lewis could've sworn he should've hit a highway already. But still, the road stretched on. He hadn't even seen any houses or barns.

Lost in his own head, Lewis almost didn't notice the man on the side of the road. The glare from his vest caught Lewis's eye. He was short, thin, and limping slowly along. There was a beat of hesitation and then Lewis was slowing down, pulling over towards the shoulder. The guy didn't even look.

A pang of fear twisted in his gut; it was irrational but there all the same. Lewis told himself he should just keep going. The same icy feeling that had him driving faster than he usually would had settled under his skin.

But as the man kept walking, closer towards the headlights now, those thoughts fled. He was hurt. Ripped clothes and all, the guy looked like he'd been on the wrong end of a fight or two. The way he held his left arm had Lewis moving.

"Hey," Lewis had already hopped out of his car, moving into the man's path, "are you okay?"

Seeing as he almost bumped into Lewis the answer was obviously no. The man took a step back, looking up with a furrowed brow like he hadn't expected him to be there.

"What happened?" Lewis stopped just short of touching him. "Do you need to call someone?"

The man swallowed, his mouth worked for a moment. "No," he said distantly, "I don't need to call anyone."

Lewis had checked his phone anyway. Of course, no service out here.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere then? Maybe a hospital?" The offer was out of his mouth before he realised. Lewis didn't regret it much. The halting way the man spoke made Lewis think concussion. Despite that same cold knot in his stomach, it wasn't like Lewis could just leave him. Besides, the guy didn't look up to trying anything.

The man blinked at him. "You'd do that?"

"Yeah, of course it's no problem just-" Lewis opened the passenger door with one smooth motion. The man considers it for a moment before slowly, painfully, climbing in.

The ride after that was incredibly awkward. Lewis wasn't sure where to keep his eyes. Well, the obvious answer being the road but he kept catching the man in his peripheral. He didn't even get the man's name. Lewis cursed himself for the impulsive decision but he doesn't think he'd do anything different.

"Arthur."

Lewis jumped and glanced over. The man was still just looking out of the window, holding his arm close to himself.

"Sorry?"

"My name's Arthur," his eyes darted Lewis's way. "And thanks for the ride."

His mouth was dry. "Lewis. And no problem."

With that they lapse back into silence. Lewis quickly chalks it up to a coincidence and keeps looking forward. They really should've hit the highway by now. Lewis squirmed in his seat. He should say something, anything.

"What happened?" He asked before catching himself. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

Arthur doesn't respond immediately. "I think I crashed my car."

Lewis whipped his head around and it was a miracle he didn't jerk the wheel. "What?"

"A mile or two back, maybe," Arthur squinted. "Kinda lost track."

Lewis cursed under his breath, going just a bit faster. Definitely concussed, he thought. "You were walking for that long?"

"Maybe."

The dreamy tone of voice had warning bells ringing in Lewis's head. Arthur needed help. There was no telling how long it'd been with him in this condition. Plus Lewis didn't remember seeing any wreck on the way.

"Well there's a hospital just a few minutes from here." Or at least there should be, Lewis thought. "I'll take you there."

There was shifting beside him. "Do you think," Arthur paused. For once his words were clear, more in the present. "Do you think you could take me somewhere else actually?"

Lewis turned to see Arthur staring at him. "Uh- I could but I really think you need to get some help, Arthur. Your arm looks broken and-"

"I know," his tone was gentle but his eyes weren't. "Trust me. I just- I need to get home."

At first, Lewis went to argue. He was injured and badly. The head wound alone was worrying enough. But something about Arthur's stare, something about the determination in his voice had Lewis shutting his mouth.

"Okay," he said slowly, "okay. Where's home, Arthur?"

Arthur let out a breath, slumping back against the seat and leaning his head against the window. "Just a bit farther now."

Then, and only then, did they finally hit the highway. Against his better judgement Lewis blew past the hospital. Arthur offered quiet directions the whole time. They lead Lewis to pull into the parking lot of an old, run down mechanics shop. The place clearly hadn't been used in years. Weeds poked up from between cracks in the pavement and signs were peeling off the windows.

Lewis frowned as he parked the car. "Are you sure this is the right place?"

The passenger door opening was enough of an answer. Arthur only had eyes for the abandoned building in front of him.

"Yeah, thanks for the ride," he said, distant again.

"Wha-" Lewis went to go after him, "Arthur-"

In the time it took him to open his door and get out, Arthur had disappeared. Lewis froze. He stared at nothing where just a second before there had been something, someone. The only sound was the breeze now. It chilled him more than it should.

Numb, Lewis slowly lowered himself back into the car. He could only look at the shop, eyes straining to see any movement inside. It was a long time before he could bring himself to drive again.

[cicada-bones]

The Warrior and the Wildfire

Chapter 3: Oath-Breaker

Sorry for taking so much longer than I thought I would! But I hope it was worth the wait! Please let me know what you think- your comments are seriously what keeps me going. love you all sm ❤︎

word count: 4108

Masterlist / Ao3 / Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

It was fresh, and completely unmistakable. Within the past few hours, Lorcan Salvaterre had passed by Mistward, heading for the sea.

Rowan immediately swooped low, following the scent to where it meandered over the forest floor, his heart pounding in his chest. The trail skirted around the edge of Mistward’s perimeter, following a path that was just out of their sightline, but close enough that in the morning, the scouts would find it immediately.

It almost felt like a message.

Rowan shifted in mid-air, landing hard on his heels and already drawing the wind towards him from all directions, searching for anything, any whisper of a dark form, flitting between the oaks, quick as a shadow –

But there was nothing. Only the memory.

Rowan began to run, following the trail westward. Even though Lorcan had passed through these trees barely a few hours ago, the wind couldn’t sense him. He was already gone, miles and miles ahead. Out of the reach of Rowan’s wind.

As the trail solidified before him, Rowan’s stride lengthened, his footing becoming more sure with each step. And he longed to be able to shift again, to use the wind to propel him over the land.

He could fly so much faster than he could run, but then he risked losing the scent – a chance he could not take. So instead Rowan dug his feet into the earth, tearing through the forest mists. A predator on the hunt.

Only one thought in his head.

Why in rutting hell was Lorcan Salvaterre trying to get his attention?

···

Fenrys wasn’t there when she found out.

He was out on a run, hunting through the forests around Doranelle. Chasing down after whispers of the forest-spirits. He knew they were here: the elemental beings, as ancient as the very stones and mountains and valleys. Older than history – than time itself.

Fenrys would hear them in the night – sounds of crashing rock and tearing metal, the felling of trees when no wind blew. Still fighting their ancient wars, either uncaring or ignorant of the affairs of lesser beings. But Fenrys had never seen them, nor did he know of anyone who had.

Every now and again, he would glance a fairy or two. One of the Little Folk, going about their little-great-deeds. But it was never when he was looking for them.

It was something he and Connall used to do as young ones – charge through the forest, hunting for fairies. For the heroes of the tales their mother would tell them, over glasses of sweet fruit juice on lazy summer afternoons. Stories of battles and warriors and the hidden magic of the land. To this day, Fenrys didn’t know whether the stories were true, or if she had made them up herself.

He knew it was only purposeless distraction, and one that he would likely pay for when he returned. But he just had no idea how much.

So no, Fenrys wasn’t in the palace when Maeve found out.

But Connall was.

···

The trail was nearly a straight shot through the woods, barely deviating for trees and boulders. Lorcan was really hauling ass. And as he drew closer and closer to the coastline, and the little market town that was waiting for him there, Rowan felt his suspicions begin to grow.

It was nearing evening when Rowan finally began to hear little signs of approaching civilization – the neighing of horses, the soft thumps of an axe chopping wood. But the trail pushed on, breaching the edges of the trees, following over the cobbles through the market, out towards the end of the main street, until it came to a stop. Right at the end of the long wooden dock.

Rowan stood at the brink, right where the path met the sea. And he could feel fury coiling in his gut.

Lorcan had left. And Rowan thought he might be able to guess where his former commander was headed. But before he decided anything, before he made a plan, he needed to be absolutely sure.

Rowan turned on his heels, headed back into the village. His cloak was pulled high over his head, hiding much of his face. He let his body fall into a slump, hiding its powerful shape. Evening was coming on, and if he kept his movements sloppy and wide, he could be just another traveler, coming to wet his throat with watered-down ale.

Outside the pub, a young maid was lighting the lamps, her hair neat and apron clean. When she looked up at him, Rowan caught the glint of sharp eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t even need to go inside the tavern.

“Hello miss,” Rowan said, ever so slightly shifting his accent, letting the words fall from his mouth like marbles. “Might you be able to tell me where I could hire passage on a ship?”

Her face twisted shrewdly, and she gave him a quick once over as she straightened and said, “Depends on where you’re goin’. And how much coin you’ve got t’ spend.”

Rowan nodded, making sure to keep his clothes hidden with the cloak, knowing that an accidental glint of silver from one of his hidden blades might be enough for her to call for help from inside the tavern. And that last thing he wanted was trouble. “When was your last ship headed for Adarlan? And when will you be expecting the next one? It doesn’t have to be fast, or comfortable.”

Her expression tightened, but she answered reasonably enough. “We get a fair few ships headed to the western continent this time o’ year – the sheep’ve just been shorn and ships head that a-way bearing wool to trade for furs from the north, and steel from the south. I’m pretty sure we had a ship go through this morning.”

“And the next?” Rowan prompted, his expression schooled into neutrality.

“If you ask around the dockyards, I’m sure you might find another ship headin’ that way – once the tide comes in. And if not, then I’m sure there’ll be another come tomorrow.”

“Thank you.” Rowan slipped the girl a coin. “By chance, you didn’t catch another traveler come through here today, heading the same direction – asking questions? Tall, dark hair, harsh look?”

The shrewd look fell into a scowl. “Maybe. Either way, my answer’ll cost more’n just a copper.”

Rowan slipped her another couple of coins, and she pocketed them. But her scowl didn’t soften.

“I might’ve seen your man. Came through around mid-morning, in a massive rush. Massive man, at that. Huge. Musta been six, nearly seven feet? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man that tall. And he nearly knocked me over coming in the pub to ask after passage to Rifthold. Kept his face covered though, so I couldn’t be sure.”

Rowan nodded again, but before the maid could turn to leave, he asked, “Oh – and do you happen to know a place where I could send a letter?”

“If you give it to me, I can get it to my mother and she’ll give it to the courier when he comes ‘round in the mornin’. You gonna come in for a pint?”

The maid held open the door, and Rowan followed her in, thinking it much easier to just go along with the girl, and far too wrapped up in his thoughts to come up with a polite refusal that wouldn’t leave her even more suspicious than she already was.

The tavern wasn’t bustling, but it was far from empty either. A few farmers sat at a table in the far corner, enjoying a few beers after a long day’s work, while a few younger boys, perhaps their sons, were laughing and joking across the room. There were a few other individuals – travelers like himself, or people who lived and worked in the village. But the majority of the bar was filled with sailors – teasing and joking and climbing all over each other, celebrating their last night on dry ground for many weeks to come.

Rowan headed for a quiet corner, flagging down the waitress and settling onto a creaky wooden bench. He ordered some bread and ale, which she had brought over in mere seconds, and he began to pick at it mindlessly.

There could be no doubt. Lorcan was heading for Adarlan, for Rifthold. For Aelin.

Maeve had sent him to go after Aelin. And she had ordered him to pass by Mistward, Mistward specifically, so that Rowan would be drawn into the conflict. Maybe they were planning on using him to get to Aelin, to follow him in order to find her.

The question was, why only Lorcan? Where were the twins? Gavriel? Vaughan? Would they follow Lorcan? Were they already headed for Adarlan?

Rationally, Rowan knew that Aelin was safe. That she was still somewhere in the middle of the ocean, on her way to Rifthold. But it took all of his self-control to keep himself from shifting right there, in the middle of this tavern filled with mortals, and fly out into the ocean skies to find her.

What really worried him was the idea that he would get there too late. That even if he got on a ship right at that moment, he would get to Rifthold after she had already been found, taken, overwhelmed. The idea that there were already forces there, waiting to seize her.

And no matter what, Lorcan would arrive in Rifthold hours or days before Rowan would be able to, and well before Aelin could read any letter he sent. Not that he even knew where he could send a letter. All he knew was that she used to own a hidden apartment in the slums, and that for the past six months, she had lived in a stone tower in the castle.

It seemed unlikely that she would return to either. Both were compromised, the castle being an obviously insane choice. Unless of course she had something hidden up her sleeve that she had kept from Rowan. Which felt distinctly possible. And Arobynn had to know about the apartment. She had nowhere safe to go, and Rowan had nowhere safe he could send a warning.

So the only way he would be able to tell her about Lorcan would be to go there himself. To break his oath.

Rowan knew that he could, and without much difficulty at that. But it still felt wrong – a violation of trust. If he left Wendlyn without being told to by Aelin, he would be going against her wishes. He would be taking advantage, both of the flexibility of their bond and of her trust in him.

And it definitely didn’t make things any easier that he so desperately wanted to leave in the first place. It felt like he was exploiting the opportunity to be close to her again, no matter how rationally necessary it might be. And there was a chance that she might not forgive him for it.

But no matter how much that might sting, he couldn’t live through following her requests to the letter, and Aelin dying because of it.

So, Lorcan was headed for Rifthold. And soon, Rowan would be heading there as well.

Rowan tore into the bread, newly reinvigorated. He didn’t see any reason to return to Mistward, there wasn’t anything there worth sacrificing another day for. But he did feel bad about leaving without any notice. Deserting Emrys and Malakai, and…Luca.

So as he ate, Rowan dug out a piece of paper from his pack and began to write.

Emrys,

I’m sorry. Something came up. Tell Luca to remember to practice swings off his left side just as much as his right, I don’t care if they hurt more.

When I see her, I’ll tell her you say hello.

Then he folded up the paper and sealed it, leaving it unmarked. Hopefully, even if someone – such as that suspicious maid – opened the letter to see what it said, what he wrote would be meaningless.

He spent the rest of the evening listening to the sailors’ conversation, until he heard mention of a crew headed for Rifthold. The barmaid hadn’t lied – it was a ship bearing crates of wool heading to Adarlan to trade for steel. This was their last night ashore, and they were setting sail sometime in the early morning, just before the tide shifted.

So Rowan waited a few minutes more, then left the waitress his fee, gave the maid his letter, and walked out into the lamplit village, his jaw squared and his shoulders set. Determined.

···

Fenrys returned to broken furniture. Splintered wood and broken glass. Twisted metal and shattered stone. That was the first thing he noticed.

The second thing he noticed was the silence. It stretched its fingers through the walls and corridors and archways, until it brushed through to his skin. Until it was the only touch he could feel.

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

Where there should be sound.

The third thing he noticed was the bodies. Their touch was even colder than the quiet. There was no red, no black. None of the usual gory signs of death. Just nothing. An absence.

Fenrys worked his way through the wreckage, his hands empty of feeling, his heart a stone in his chest. His intestines resting somewhere near his toes.

Until he reached their rooms, and found Connall in a dark huddle across the sea of space, and he was still breathing and it felt like Fenrys could breathe again too, but then Connall spoke and sound returned to the world, “Why did he leave? Why did he leave us?” and his voice was so full of fear that Fenrys felt tears sprout from his eyes like wings.

“Who?” Fenrys asked. “Who, Con? What happened?”

But then the palace stones began to thunder, and the questions that had seemed so important only a moment ago fell from his mind on a scattered breeze.

···

Rowan flitted into a dark alleyway around the back of the tavern, and once he was sure there was no one there to see, he shifted into his hawk and flew out over the small village.

From his eavesdropping earlier, he had learned that the ship headed for Rifthold was an old galleon vessel near the edge of the docks, bearing white and yellow flags. It had a large enough cargo bay that hopefully Rowan would be able to find a place to stow away, but wasn’t so large that the journey would take even longer than it should. Which was already far, far too long for his liking.

Rowan circled high above the ship a few times, making sure that he appeared as nothing more than just another sea bird, hunting for its dinner. Although most of the crew, including the captain and first mate, appeared to be drinking away their pay on the floor of the tavern in the village, the ship wasn’t completely empty.

His winds told him that at least three men were asleep below decks, their rumbling snores echoing through the wooden beams. But a few lamps still shone, and with their light Rowan could see a few flickering shadows just beneath the upper deck that made him think not all of the sailors were yet asleep.

So Rowan would have to be extremely careful in making his approach.

He waited for long minutes for those lights to vanish, and shadows to disappear. And the second they did Rowan was sailing down among the rigging, twisting and turning around the sails and masts until he could be absolutely sure that there weren’t any watchful eyes to mark his presence.

Then Rowan was swooping down into the maze of rooms below decks, making sure to avoid the various sleeping quarters, kitchens, and officers’ cabins. Heading towards the hold at the very bottom of the ship in as straight of a path as he could.

Rowan found a dark corner behind a case of flour and barrel of barley, and then shifted back into his Fae form. Once they passed the halfway mark between Adarlan and Wendlyn, magic would stop working, and he wouldn’t be able to move between forms. He had to find a place he could hide in during the day that was large enough for his Fae body. A task far easier said than done.

A ship like this had a crew in the dozens, and quarters were cramped all to hell. Every piece of available space was used, from every corner to closet and even the toilets. Only the captain would have room to stretch his legs, and even then, it was barely by a few feet. Nothing like the space he would need in order to not attract attention.

Rowan looked over the hold once again, scanning for anything that could possibly be large enough. Then he nearly huffed a laugh when he realized exactly what he needed to do.

···

When morning came, Rowan was crammed into a wooden case lined with wool. The back panel carefully pried out and its nails removed, but then leaned carefully back into place to allow him a quick exit. And the majority of the wool was now taking a trip down the coastline.

He had spent an hour or so that night carefully removing armfuls of the fiber and tossing it overboard, using his wind to propel it from the shipyard and out to sea, leaving only just enough room for himself. It was crammed, scratchy, uncomfortable, and smelled like sheep dung, but it would do.

Now, as the ship slowly meandered its way through the reef and out into open ocean, with the occasional shouts and curses of the sailors toiling above, Rowan had nothing to do but think.

For the next month.

It might just be the longest month of his life. At least he couldn’t complain about not having enough time to plan.

Aelin certainly would have a strategy, and by the time he reached her, she would have been working away at it for nearly two weeks. And while he could only guess at her aims, he knew that when he reached her, he would do whatever he could to help her reach those goals.

The question was, should he reach her at all?

Rowan knew he needed to warn her about Lorcan, but once he was actually in Rifthold, that could be done in many ways – not just by contacting her in person. And deep in his bones, Rowan knew that Lorcan had dragged him here on purpose. That the male had wanted him to follow, to pursue. There were faster ways to travel from Doranelle to the sea than to go by Mistward.

So wouldn’t it be playing right into Lorcan’s hands to join up with Aelin? Giving him exactly what he wanted?

Lorcan wasn’t familiar enough with Aelin’s scent, nor with the city of Rifthold, to track her down by himself. He would be digging in the dark – except for the trail that Rowan would give him, as easily as handing over their lives like so much coin.

Perhaps Rowan could go to Rifthold, warn Aelin anonymously, and track down Lorcan by himself. And the faster he rid himself of his former commander, the sooner Rowan would be able to reunite with his Queen.

The pain of that future made him physically flinch.

And it wasn’t only the idea of being in the same city, or even just on the same continent, as Aelin and not being beside her. It was the thought of Lorcan, Lorcan, his commander of nearly three centuries, someone he had almost once thought of as a brother, or even a friend, Lorcan, as someone he needed to dispose of.

Someone who was his enemy.

It was a heavy, uncomfortable weight. It felt strange, and wrong, to have someone he had so trusted become such a dangerous enemy. No matter how necessary he knew it might be, Rowan couldn’t really think of killing him.

It would be like destroying a part of himself, an old part, but a necessary one.

Without Lorcan, he wouldn’t have become the person he was today, wouldn’t know the things he knew, or understand what he now did. About war and sacrifice and leadership and teaching.

Lorcan had been a pillar in his life when he needed one. And while Rowan hadn’t loved him, he had respected him.

And now they were enemies.

Rowan scowled, the crate somehow becoming even more uncomfortable.

What he did know was how Lorcan worked, how he operated. If Rowan did decided to reunite with Aelin, then he would have to keep his distance. Because Lorcan was expert at finding pressure points, and using them to his advantage.

Lorcan already knew that Aelin had turned Rowan away from Maeve, knew that Rowan had chosen her over his oath, over his life.

Idiot. He was such an idiot when it came to her.

If Lorcan found out that there was anything more, that there were other, deeper feelings –

No, Rowan could keep his distance. He could keep those thoughts under control because he had to. Not only because they did no good, but because they might get Aelin killed. Or worse, captured and taken back to Maeve.

But Rowan knew that he wouldn’t be able to deal with Lorcan without her – that he wouldn’t be able to return to Rifthold without reuniting with her. No matter how much easier it might be to keep her safe if he stayed away.

The only thing that was keeping him sane was the thought that at the end of this journey through hell, stuffed in this tiny rutting box that smelled like dung, unable to lay down properly for weeks, was an image of Aelin’s face. Even if she wasn’t happy to see him, even if she didn’t forgive him breaking his oath.

For the first time in weeks, he was heading towards her, instead of away.

So Rowan curled up and turned on his side, and tried to get some sleep, as the shouts of the sailors above him faded into the rising dawn.

···

Across Wendlyn, Emrys was stirring a large pot of rabbit stew, listening to the potatoes crackling as they fried on the stove. It was a lot of work, feeding this many people each and every day. But Emrys loved it, caring for this large family of his. Making sure they were all fed. Taking in strays.

Aelin Galathynius had been such a stray, and he couldn’t say that he didn’t miss her. But he knew that she was where she was meant to be, doing what she was meant to do. No matter what that prince said, or how much he tried to hide, Emrys knew that Aelin had survived her encounter with Maeve, that they both had escaped. Together. And now she’d moved on to other – perhaps even greater – foes.

Even when she was all the way across the ocean Emrys was worried about her.

The old male just sighed, then shuffled over to the counter to begin chopping scallions to add to the stew.

But before he could start, he was interrupted by the afternoon courier, bearing a letter for him – of all people.

Emrys wiped his hands off on his apron, and took the letter from the boy’s fingers. It was unmarked, but the paper was old and worn. As if it had lived in someone’s saddlebags for some time.

Emrys ripped it open, then read through it. Unable to keep a smile off his face.

That scoundrel.

He began to untie his apron, then headed out of the kitchen to go find Luca. Emrys couldn’t really find it in himself to be disappointed in the prince, even if he had abandoned them. Had left Luca with his grief and his guilt.

The boy had finally told him and Malakai about what had happened, and they had talked and cried together into the wee hours of the morning. Even so, Emrys had really hoped that Rowan might be there to help Luca through that grief. He knew that Luca had too.

But it was not to be. Perhaps they might see each other again, in years to come. Perhaps Rowan might even be their king one day.

Emrys almost wanted to laugh. He could already see the scowl that would twist Malakai’s face when he told him the news. Rowan, gone off to chase the future. Leaving them to tend to this little piece of the present.

When Emrys told Luca what was in the letter, the boy smiled too.

···

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[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (44) || atz

“I still can’t believe they want to parley.” Yunho whispers to you in shock, standing next to you on the main deck as you watch the little rowboat grow closer and closer to you, bobbing on the surface of the deep blue sea. There’s a growing sense of trepidation in you as you watch it draw nearer, Mingi ordering a group of men to lower ropes into the water to pull the rowboat up.

From the bulwarks, you can see six people on the rowboat, a sign of neutrality and peace, Yunho had told you. Worried by how Yeosang might react to seeing his father, Hongjoong had sent the navigator to the galley and told him to stay there until someone called him up. Wooyoung had… well, gone with him. Your captain didn’t tell you why, but curious as you were, you had sort of resigned yourself to the fact that you would never know.

“You have to eat Wooyoung’s shoe now, you know?” You mumble out of the corner of your mouth, trying to distract yourself from the terror you feel. Yunho swallows nervously, eyes fixed on the rowboat as it stops next to the Treasure.

“Don’t tell him I said that.”

“...You also have to eat your own shoe.”

“I don’t recall any of that.”

“And you have to admit the mizzenmast is better.” You end off, fingers wrapping around his wrist. You’re shaking from nerves, but you don’t have to say it, Yunho can feel it in the way your hand is as clammy a dead fish around his.

You know Seonghwa is somewhere in the rigging with a loaded musket, ready to blow a hole in the head of any troublemaker, that the crew of the Treasure outnumber the people on the boat by several times, but part of you is still worried, a sinking feeling in your chest that borders on sheer paranoia.

“We should just kill them as soon as they step onto the ship.” Mingi mutters as he strides over to all of you, Hongjoong’s expression carefully smoothed into a neutral mask in preparation to meet the man in charge. From what Yunho has told you, the enemy captain is likely to be Commander Kang Yongsun, a prominent captain of the Royal Navy’s pirate hunter force, someone who specialises in hunting down pirates in exchange for monetary rewards offered by the Crown.

He’s also Yeosang’s biological father.

Your captain sighs, gripping his cutlass tight. “They did put up a parley flag, though.”

Snorting, the quartermaster jabs a thumb at the Black Crow floating just far off enough to not be considered a threat, its jet black shape looming against the bright blue sky like a blot of ink on paper. “Has the Royal Navy ever not want to kill us?”

“That was what I thought.” Yunho mumbles uneasily, his spear in hand as he fidgets with the shaft. Your own hand rests on the hilt of your cutlass, adrenaline already buzzing in your veins as you anticipate the fight that might probably come.

“They’re likely to be plotting something. And whatever it is, it’s not going to turn out well for us. It could be a trap. We should just blow them out of the water now. I’m sure Wooyoung could do it easily.” Mingi continues to reason insistently with his captain, probably feeling the same sinking sense of foreboding as you are. But your captain doesn’t respond to his quartermaster’s warnings, instead simply gazing at the rowboat silently with his single green eye.

When he speaks, his voice is solemn.

“I’m aware it could be a trap, Mingi. I’m not a fool. But I doubt the Commander would be foolish enough to come to us without an irrefusable bargain.” Hongjoong says as he looks straight ahead, not looking at any of you. “Besides, they did put up a parley flag, and I’m not going to be the one to break the vow.”

“We did it all the time in the past though.” Mingi reminds his captain softly, his voice reminiscing of those days of long ago that they had been a merciless pirate crew, from the stories he had told you about the last time. Your eyes widen. They had ignored the white flag? Preyed on ships that had been on the verge of surrender? Destroyed vessels that had put up the universal symbol of parley, massacring entire crews without mercy?

Yunho stiffens next to you, obviously remembering their sordid past as nothing more than despicable law breakers, and you feel your heart sinking. Exactly what kind of people had the crew of the Treasure been before you had come to the ship?

You glance at your captain for a moment, wondering how he would look like with a sadistic smirk in place of his usual, soft smile, whether his viridescent eye would gleam poisonously with corrosive venom instead of burning with the eager desire to live out his life like a blazing inferno that you know.

The thought scares you more than you dare to admit.

But now, there’s a contrite, almost sorrowful expression on his face, his green eye unfocused and lost in the past for a moment, and deep inside you, you feel your heart twist in sympathy for the man who has too many regrets to count.

“We’ve changed our ways.” Hongjoong finally answers honestly, watching as his crew work to haul the rowboat up the side of the ship. Yunho and Mingi remain silent in their guilt, but you can see their captain’s words lifting a burden they never knew they had off their chests. “We’re different now.”

The rowboat reaches the bulwarks on the port side and six people step out of the small watercraft.

With those final words, your captain steps forward to meet the infamous Commander Kang.

Your first impression of the commander is one of intimidation.

Kang Yongsun is not at all a tall man, in fact, he’s dwarfed in size by some of your taller crew mates on the Treasure. He’s lithe, slimly built with nothing too daunting about his stature, but the first time he looks upon you, even if it is merely a sweeping glance over the ship, sends a chill running down your spine.

You can, without a doubt, see Yeosang in him physically. They have the same razor sharp jawline and facial structure, similar noses, identical soft lips, but that’s where the resemblance ends. For all the similar features they share, their eyes are completely different. Not so much in the physical appearance of it, the deep brown hue of their gazes are nearly identical, but Yeosang’s eyes are infinitely kinder, softer, something that you can’t help feel grateful for.

Kang Yongsun’s eyes are as piercing as those of a bird of prey, staring down his next victim with a silent, lethal confidence that you have no wish to fall prey to. Even though he’s surrounded by hostile crew mates, all brandishing all manner of weapons at him, he doesn’t seem to be the least bothered by it, and perhaps that’s what scares you the most of all.

His escorts surround him immediately as soon as they step on board, cutlasses in hand and at the ready in case of any threat. One of them though, doesn’t seem to be wearing the same uniform as the rest of them do, a hood pulled low over his eyes, hiding his face in shadow. Instead of the customary cutlass that most seafaring men carry, there’s a massive longsword in his hands that looks like it could do some serious damage.

Your captain steps forward to meet him, Mingi and Jongho flanking him. The younger battlemaster is hefting a heavy iron bar mace over his shoulder, while Mingi holds onto his double sided battle axe, the edge glinting cruelly in the sunlight. Your captain hasn’t drawn any weapons, but his hand rests on the handle of his musket, ready to fire at the first sign of any danger.

“Kang Yongsun, captain of the Black Crow and vice-commander of the Royal Navy’s Red Rose pirate hunter fleet in service of her Majesty the Queen and the Crown. State your name, pirate.” One of his guards spits haughtily, as if he can’t believe that he’s actually speaking to what society considers the vermin of the seas. Mingi scowls, grip tightening on his weapon, but Jongho lays a hand on the quartermaster’s shoulder, a silent request for him to keep his cool.

Your captain merely sighs in exasperation, completely unruffled by the man’s imperious tone. “Kim Hongjoong, captain of the Treasure. What is your business with us?”

The guard who had addressed your captain earlier scowls furiously, beginning to brandish his cutlass at your captain. “You impertinent scum, speak with respect when addressing the vice-commander-”

But before he can get any further, there’s a razor sharp blade resting against his neck.

“Don’t test my patience.” Mingi growls, his deep voice a rumble in his chest that sends a frightened shiver down your spine. You’ve never seen a bear before except in books that San has showed you, but if you had to imagine one’s snarl, it would be something akin to Mingi’s voice now. He holds the weighty axe with so much ease it almost deceives you into thinking it weighs nothing more than a toothpick, but from experience you know that you can barely lift it with both hands, let alone hold it steady like Mingi is now.

The man squeaks in fear, pupils dilated as he eyes the blade so dangerously close to his neck. One second of tense silence passes, then another, then-

“Rumil, stand down.” The commander says smoothly, and the guard, though quivering in both terror and rage, sheathes his weapon. Hongjoong then turns around to speak quietly to Mingi, and with great reluctance, the quartermaster lowers his axe as well, although his eyes never leave the vice-commander. The man turns to look at your captain with cold, carefully neutral eyes.

His next words shock you out of your mind.

“Captain Kim, I have come to offer you a deal.”

You have to give it to your captain for not reacting in the least, because Yunho’s jaw practically smashes into the deck next to you. There’s the moment of stunned shock, the crew barely able to believe what has just left the commander’s mouth.

A deal? The Royal Navy wants to make a deal with pirates?

Maybe you haven’t heard them correctly, because you can’t have heard them correctly.

Your captain holds up a single hand in the air and the entire deck falls silent in response, waiting for their leader to speak. Hongjoong meets the commander’s steely gaze with a skeptical one of his own.

“Why would the Royal Navy want to make a deal with us?” It’s small, almost completely undetectable, but you can hear the tiny note of genuine curiosity in his voice.

“We need several things that are currently in your possession.” The commander states simply, as if the two of them are not mortal enemies who’ve been at loggerheads with each other since the very beginning. You can see Hongjoong stiffen slightly and you flinch, from Yeosang’s memories, he must be talking about the navigational charts that Hongjoong took from him.

But your captain keeps his cool, folding his arms as he looks at the commander seriously. “And what would you offer us, commander, in exchange for what you want? Our freedom?”

At his jibing words, the deck erupts into nervous, derisive laughter. You almost want to follow, but you’re too tense to do so. Even then, you recognise the absurdity of your captain’s words, there’s simply no way the Royal Navy would offer the most wanted pirate crew a pardon from all the crimes that they’ve already committed. You may not know the full extent of what they’ve done in the past, but your captain is the Pirate King of the Caribbean for a reason.

“That’s ridiculous.” You hear Yunho mutter under his breath and you can’t help but nod in response. “As if the Royal Navy would ever-”

“Exactly.” Commander Kang answers calmly.

For the second time that day, you feel like you’ve gotten slapped in the face with a dead pollack.

What.

The entire crew hushes in a split second, clearly as shocked as you are. The silence rushes through everyone on board, plunging the deck into eerie silence as that one, single word sinks into all of their minds.

Freedom?

Briefly, you imagine a peaceful life for them. Yeosang as a bookkeeper in an archive, being able to read all the books he desires to, gaining the knowledge he’s so hungry for, Yunho finally being able to put down his spear, never having to fight another day in his life ever again. Your master opening a small apothecary, venturing into the forest every morning with Shiber at his heels to search for rare herbs and plants, bringing back the occasional spice for Seonghwa, who’s opened his very own eatery and comes up with creative new dishes for Hwaseong to try every week.

You dream of Jongho being the fisherman he’s always wanted to be, taking after his father’s footsteps and sailing the sea in a tiny boat, humming to himself as he casts his nets. Hongjoong sitting on a beach, overlooking the sea as he writes tales of his times as the legendary Pirate King, Mingi pointing out his spelling errors and inaccuracies as Wooyoung comes up to the two of them with cups of hot tea in his hands and a bright grin on his face, his wrists finally free of the shackles that have bound him for so long.

For a moment, that yearning is so powerful, so strong, that you would give almost anything to let  them have that life. One of happiness, joy and peace, free from bloodshed and battles and running from the Navy. If anyone deserves it, you think, it’s them.

Next to you, you can hear Yunho’s sudden intake of breath. He must be as shocked as you are, because his spear nearly falls from his grasp as he stares at the commander. Even your captain’s facade seems to have cracked a little down the middle, his one green eye wide with surprise.

But then Hongjoong fights to keep his voice steady, fingers flexing on the handle of his cutlass as he eyes the commander with a dubious gaze. “And you would offer us what sort of freedom, exactly?”

“All previous charges held against you and your crew by the Crown will be completely cleared.” Kang Yongsun speaks without a trace of falsehood in his voice, as if what he’s saying is the complete and utter truth. It’s so silent you could hear a feather fall to the ground, the crew hanging on to his every word even if some part of them doesn’t dare to believe such good news. “As long as all of you do not commit any crimes against the Crown after receiving the pardon, you will be free men even in the territories of her Majesty the Queen.”

If it is possible, Yunho’s jaw crashes even more to the ground. At this point, it could probably break a hole in the deck.

Commander Kang turns to face your captain, whose mouth is hanging slightly agape in shock. “As the captain, her Majesty would like your service as one of her battle strategists against dealing with other piracy problems in the Caribbean waters. You will be paid in full for your work, with the prestige that comes with being a senior officer in the Queen’s own service.”

You almost can’t believe your ears. These words are too good to be true! This deal is almost irrefusable, and even your captain looks like he’s about to be swayed for a moment before he catches himself, rational mind whirring furiously.

“Freedom…” You hear Yunho whisper under his breath and you glance at him, only to see him with the broadest grin ever on his face, his eyes uncontrollably bright. “We’re going to be free people, Chin Hae!”

You can barely find the right frame of mind to answer him, the word freedom echoing over and over in your mind. All of you can be free! Make an honest living with your own hands and establish your own lives, normal lives, as free people, not as fugitives running from the law. But your captain’s word interrupts your train of thought.

“Wait.”

Glancing up, you see your captain’s face suddenly set in suspicion. He must feel like there’s something off, because there’s no way the Commander would offer them such a fair trade if he isn’t about to get something of bigger worth in return. Hongjoong’s jaw clenches as he looks at Commander Kang with slitted eyes.

“What exactly do you want from us, commander?”

Commander Kang shakes his head. “It’s very simple, Captain Kim. All I ask from you are four things; the maps you stole, which in the end you would have to return anyway as it is considered property of the Crown. Another thing I need is the knot around your neck with which contains the sorcery required to cause a hurricane.”

You gasp in shock. How would the commander know about this?

Your captain obviously feels the same way, because his fingers immediately tighten protectively around the short length of rope there. “How did you know of it?”

“Back in Nassau, the Head of Port Investigation, Leon Bastiville reported that his attempt of arresting one Kim Hongjoong and his crew was thwarted when you, the captain, undid a knot that caused a strong wind to blow your ship away from the harbour.”

A shiver goes down your spine at the mention of that man. You remember the heat of his breath as it ghosted over your ear, the coldness of the gun pressed to your temple, the cries of your captain as he had been flogged before your eyes. From the tightening of your captain’s mouth, he obviously remembers it too, one hand reaching up to touch his shoulder unconsciously.

San may have healed the wounds well, but his body recalls the agony of the whipping.

“I didn’t take the Royal Navy for one to believe in superstitions and sorcery.” Mingi hisses, clearly still quite unconvinced that the Royal Navy is here for an honest exchange and the mention of Leon doesn’t make him any friendlier. But Commander Kang turns to him, eyes narrowing.

“My superior commander has studied several ancient literary sources. They all state that the rope in your captain’s possession is a Legendary Treasure of the Sea, spoken about in many historical texts and containing enough power to rival that of a divine being.” Kang Yongsun then turns to look very deliberately at your captain, who is staring down at his rope necklace in shock, as if he can’t quite believe that this simple knot in his possession is capable of such damage. “However, if you do accept this pardon, there would be no need for you to have such a dangerous artefact, so you might as well give it up to me.”

You see your captain swallow. This knot is precious to him, you can tell. It’s his last link to the person who’d saved him so long ago on that deserted island when he’d been abandoned and shot in the eye by his father. But what is he to do? Exchanging it for the freedom of all his crew mates… is it worth it?

“You mentioned another two things.” Hongjoong fights to keep his voice steady, staring down the commander. “What else do you want from me?”

At that, something prickles at the back of your neck, a chill sweeping over you as the hairs on your arms raise uncomfortably. You don’t know how to describe this feeling, but the next best thing you can say is that you feel like someone has just walked right across your grave.

You soon find out why, because the Commander turns slowly, before raising a finger at the thing he needs from Hongjoong. Simultaneously, everyone’s mouth drops in sheer shock at the absurdity of his request, or they flare up in rage from the outrageous nature of his demand.

“He’s crazy.” Yunho whispers in a daze from next to you, his wide eyes meeting your own terrified ones.

“I want the woman you have on board.”

He’s pointing straight at you.

[o-wise-corvid]

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”