#always interesting to see the thoughts of someone who's typical-minding in the exact opposite way that i am

[demona-andariel]

Object of Obsession - 25 / 46

Fandom: Halloween

Pairing: Michael Myers x OFC

Summary: In Haddonfield everyone knows the legend that was Michael Myers. Content and at ease, they’d forgotten what it was to feel fear in the month of October. But now, he finds himself back and ready for blood but then a bond forms between him and one of his victims. A bond he can’t seem to break. And it starts to make him do things he never thought of doing before.

Warnings: (Encompassing the whole story in no particular order) kidnapping, noncon, explicit sexual content, smut, loss of virginity, rough sex, blood and violence, knifeplay, canon-typical violence

Author Note: Minors DNI!

Word Count: 4,873

Chapter 25 - The Calm

Gretchen chewed on her thumbnail and stared into nothing as she thought. No visions, no headaches, no whispers in her ears, no random thoughts that didn't belong to her, no Brandon. It was just her and Michael in the house. He'd stayed.

He'd stayed and he was probably regretting his decision. Of course, she'd been giddy, excited, and happy about the fact that he'd stayed. She immediately remembered her own want a few days ago. The want and need to explore every bit of him, just have it be the two of them together. That was how she decided the day should go. Only, that didn't happen.

Any time Michael went in for a kiss, she felt uneasy. It wasn't "Presence" uneasy. Just her own silly brain wondering if the ghost was watching. It shouldn't have bothered her. She knew that she shouldn't have cared. Brandon didn't have to watch like some kind of pervert. If that really was his ghost.

It is.

"You're confused about who the real enemy is here." His words echoed in her mind. Was she? The problem was, Brandon seemed to be the one interested in her dying, while Michael wanted her to live. What kind of topsy-turvy world did she suddenly live in?

Gretchen let out an exasperated sigh. She had hoped, that having a quiet, normal, uneventful day would put her at ease. Help her gain her mental strength back. It had done the exact opposite so far. It put her on edge as she waited for something to happen. Something always happened. Things had been escalating. But now, today of all days, the house was quiet, the day uneventful, and she had no idea of what to do.

It couldn't just be because Michael stayed. Oh, gods. Michael is never gonna stay home again now. Home? Shit.

Gretchen sat on the couch in the living room. Michael was gone. He'd be back though, probably. He had, for the most part, occupied the same room she was in. Always finding the darkest corner to stand in and watch and wait. There were a couple of times when he would just randomly disappear. But, he didn't stay gone for very long. And she never once felt as if something or someone meant her harm.

Gretchen leaned back and looked out of the living room window at the darkening sky. Actually, there was one change in the house. Maybe that was what he was doing when he disappeared. A couple of the windows had lost their boards. Not the bars though. She still was in a prison of sorts. But she could actually see the outside.

Michael. Gods, she was conflicted about him and the way the day went with him around. She had tried to make small talk but, other than the two words he'd said in the morning, he remained quiet. He was, surprisingly, passive. Each time she rejected his advances she saw the spark of annoyance and anger in his eyes. But, he didn't force her. There was a part of her, albeit a small part, that almost wanted him to take charge.

She was on edge. She wanted to relax. He could get her to relax, get her to forget. Put her in a simple state of bliss where all that was important was her and him and the pleasure they shared together. Especially now that Brandon was cockblocking her brain. She couldn't get past the thought of Brandon watching them. Judging her.

But Michael didn't take charge. He mainly just stood there. Her quiet companion. Which meant she ended up spending most of the day thinking. Unfortunately, that was a bad thing, since her thinking turned into overthinking. Had she gone crazy? She needed him. She felt it earlier that morning. If Michael left she wasn't sure what state she would have been in when he got back. Not a good one, that was for sure. She needed his strength for whatever was coming. Yet, nothing happened. It was as if the world was conspiring against her. As if life and her mind decided to make her appear crazy.

Crazy.

Gretchen rubbed her face with her hands and let out a loud dramatic sigh. Maybe she was crazy. She had to be. Michael literally killed people, but she felt safer with him than with the ghost of her dead boyfriend. The boyfriend, that up until recently, she had thought was the love of her life, her freaking soulmate. Now, he felt as if he were her enemy.

Why? Because he is. She shuddered. There was something about the way his ghost was acting, something about the way he phrased his words. It was rubbing her wrong. And Michael, despite making it clear that he didn't love her, seemed as if he wanted to protect her. In his own way.

"Always trust your instincts, mija," her mother had told her many times. "Your visions are a helpful tool. But you cannot always trust what you think you see."

She wasn't wrong. Gretchen had misinterpreted her visions before. Her uncle, on the other hand, seemed to have an easier grasp on figuring them out. He probably would have told her that her vision led Brandon to his death. That it would lead her down a path to becoming the lover of a serial killer. Gods, she was messed up.

What would her parents think of her current life's decision? Her father wouldn't have been happy and would have scolded her at the very least. He always wanted her to be more "normal". But her mother. Well, her mother was different, special. Maybe it was because of her life before meeting Gretchen's father. The life she refused to talk about.

"As long as you're happy and healthy, mija."

"Even if it's with a serial killer, mom?" she muttered to herself.

She frowned. Her uncle knew about her mother's past. Her uncle knew a lot of things. A lot of things he promised he'd tell her. Her mother's past, the family history, her visions, the supernatural, and maybe other topics. But, for some unknown reason, he refused to delve into any of the subjects. Twenty-three. She had to be twenty-three, an odd and seemingly arbitrary number he probably pulled out of his ass to avoid talking about things that made him uncomfortable. And the subject on the family and her parents made him uncomfortable.

Gretchen frowned as she sat up. Shit. That day was coming up. She'd have to figure out how to convince Michael to let her call her uncle. An in-person meeting would probably prove to be disastrous, no doubt. And she didn't want any harm to come to her uncle and cousin. They were the only blood relatives she had that she gave a damn about.

A tall form caught her attention and she pushed the thoughts of her birthday and how to get in contact with her uncle away. There was still some time to figure that out. Not much, but some.

Standing up from the couch, Gretchen felt a smile threaten to cross her lips when she spotted Michael.

Come to whisk me away to bed?

His hand ran down her face, cupping her chin. He bent down and kiss her.

Yup.

His lips, his kiss, the way his hard body rubbed against her own, and his hands. He gripped her tightly, before letting them roam to touch her. She felt his cock press against her and she couldn't help but be proud that it was her he desired. Gods, she didn't want him to stop. "So you can slut it up with your murderer without feeling guilty?" Brandon's taunt came unbidden to her mind.

Gretchen pulled away, letting out a loud sigh. "Not tonight, Michael," she said as she turned her back to him. Damn the ghost. He succeeded in doing what she had been begging her brain to do the last couple of days. He made her feel guilty about her choice to be with Michael. And she hated him for that. She wanted to get rid of him. Gods, she really crazy.

Not tonight? Not tonight?! Michael felt a rage build up inside of him. He had spent the whole day waiting. Waiting and watching and absolutely confused. She asked for him to stay. There was fear in her voice, desperation, and a plea. He'd stayed. Because he had a feeling that he would lose her. And yet, nothing happened. She even seemed confused by that.

Maybe her nightmare was just that. A nightmare. An illogical dream filled with fear that pressed upon her conscious mind, making her believe she was in danger. When in reality, she wasn't.

She had spent most of the day partly sulking. Any time he'd kiss her, attempted to get her in the mood she would eagerly reciprocate. Only for her to shut down a few seconds later and tell him. "Not now".

He shouldn't have respected that. Yes, now. Of course now. When I want, not when you want. But, despite those thoughts that ran through his head, he waited and watched.

But now, the day was done and he was horny as shit. His killer side was angry at having "wasted a day". He had no more patience for her sudden prudish ways. Or whatever game she decided she was playing. The look she'd given him when he reappeared was one of desire. A look he was starting to recognize rather easily now.

Not tonight?

"Michael, wait! What the fuck!" she screamed.

He dipped down and wrapped one arm around her thighs, lifting her up. She fell forward over his shoulder. Her fingers grabbed onto his back.

"Put me down," she demanded.

He ignored her as he headed up the stairs.

Yes, tonight. Every night. Should have been all day long.

She let out a little grunt but didn't wiggle. With her ass near his face, he couldn't help but give it a smack, making her yelp in surprise.

"Michael!"

He bent forward, allowing her to drop back onto her bed and bounce on the mattress. She gave him a glare, but her face was flushed. And the way she breathed gave him a completely different message.

His mouth was back on hers and she relaxed. Her fingers immediately went to his zipper as she started to pull it down.

One of his hands went to her breast, fondling her over her clothes. While he used the other to keep his balance on the bed. He slowly moved forward, so that she'd move back, placing his knee between her legs to keep them open.

"Wait, wait," she said softly, pulling her lips away. She placed her hand on his chest and gently pushed him back.

He gave her an annoyed look but stopped for a moment to see what she wanted. Perhaps she wanted to experiment. Better not be "Not tonight".

"I, um." She looked around as if she were searching for some sort of excuse. "This isn't a good idea. Really. Not tonight."

A good idea? Her heavy breathing, the slight glistening of her skin, the dilation of her eyes showing clear arousal, and the way she spread her legs for him told him she wanted him. Not a good idea?

He shook his head. Clearly, he was hearing things. He placed one hand behind her head and forced her to kiss him again. She pulled away, shaking her head.

"Not tonight, Michael," she said as she placed her hand on his chest more firmly to push him away.

Her boldness in trying to take control when they were fucking was amusing and interesting. But, telling him no? She didn't realize just how obsessed he was with her, did she? How unlike him it was for him to hold himself back. She couldn't tell him no and expect him to respect that. She asked him to stay and he agreed. She had to pay the price.

"I'm not playing," she stated.

Neither am I, he thought. He had no more patience left. He'd been dreaming of burying himself in her sweet pussy all day long. He was glad she was wearing a dress. A part of him was half tempted to go and grab his knife to cut it off her, but it was in his room. A trek he wasn't in the mood to make.

He slipped his hands under her dress, pushing it up. She didn't fight him, raising her arms up so that he could take it off. She covered her breasts immediately though. He'd let her get away with that for now. He desperately unzipped his clothes, letting them drop.

He moved one hand over her breast, but she slapped it away, shaking her head at him.

"Not today," she repeated. "It's not a good idea."

His eyes narrowed. There it was again. Not a good idea? As if he was going to stay home and do nothing but sit there and watch her all day and then go to sleep. She didn't make the rules. He did. He grabbed her arms and moved them off her breasts. She struggled against his hold.

"Seriously, stop," she argued.

He let her go for a moment so he could slide off his boxers. A smirk crossed his lips when he saw her eyes widen as she looked down at his crotch. She unconsciously bit her lower lip while she consciously shook her head.

"No," she said. Although this time, it sounded as if she was partly trying to convince herself.

He dug his hand into her underwear and smiled as she gave him a slight moan as his fingers slipped into her folds. He raised his eyebrows at her, she was rather wet.

"No," she said again, shaking her head. "Not today. I-" Her eyes darted around the room as if she were looking for someone. But her body, her emotions, he didn't feel the fear or urgency he'd felt earlier. This was as if she were anxious about being caught.

He pulled her panties down and she grabbed his arm. "Michael. Awe shit."

He didn't give her time to say no again as he placed his mouth over her pussy. She dropped back onto the bed. He really would have rather had a long session, but he was horny as shit and quite tired of waiting. Plus, all her "nos" were annoying him.

She moaned, running her hands down to grip his hair. She wanted him, so why did she resist? It didn't matter.

"I don't think-"

"No," he said firmly this time, rising up. He stopped to kiss her scars for a moment, before going back up to her lips. No more talking. No more thinking.

Despite her protest, she eagerly returned his kiss. Her fingers ran along his arms and then chest and she grabbed his cock. To his annoyance, she let him go just as quickly and shook her head.

"Michael, I-"

He flipped her over onto her stomach, forcing her head down into the bed while moving her legs so her ass was up. He didn't want to hear her protest. Her body was screaming to be fucked.

"Horny, bastard," he heard her mutter. He quickly opened the drawer where she kept the lube. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her move further onto the bed. He expected her to try and leave, escape somehow. A chase? That caused his heart to rise and the killer part of him to slightly wake up with excitement. That would be fun. Chase her around the house to catch her and fuck her instead of killing her. But instead, she grabbed a pillow and put it under her stomach, keeping her ass slightly raised.

Perhaps later. He got back on the bed, feeling it dip under his weight. She let out a little gasp as he trapped her legs under him. He ran his fingers down her slit and grinned as she moaned. She refused to look at him though.

Once again she was fighting an internal battle, resisting her wants. No more thinking, Gretchen. Time to let go once and for all. She'd come around soon enough. He teased her with his cock and she groaned a little in response but stayed still. Setting his arms on either side of her, he leaned in closer. His skin pressed against hers and he heard her let out a little hum of delight. No sooner had she started to relax when her body went rigid.

He placed his lips on her shoulder blade, kissing the first light scar he’d ever made before giving her a small nibble. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her turn her head. Her eyes met his. They were filled with worry but wanting.

"Relax," he said softly, giving her another nip. He rolled his hips against her ass. Either his word or his cock or a mixture of both finally did it.

She curled her left arm over to touch his face, bringing him closer to kiss her. Her mouth was so warm and demanding. He brushed his cocked along her slit again, pushing in just a little bit, splitting her labia, teasing her.

There was a feeling of satisfaction as the muscles in her arms tensed and her hand clenched onto the sheets under her. Her breathing deepened as she readied for his plunge in. Now she wanted him. But, it was time to get her to beg for him. She had been saying "no" after all. Time to see if she really meant it when she said "no".

Her hazel eyes gazed into his blue ones, clearly waiting, but he pulled back.

She whined. “Stop teasing.”

He let out a huff. A storm flared up in her eyes at his action as they shifted from lust to slight annoyance. That amused him. She really didn’t like it when he did that.

“Ass-”

He didn’t let her finish. With one hand guiding his cock, he pushed into her, making her gasp and moaned. She pressed her hands onto the bed while raising her hips up for him.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Her breath caught as her knuckles went white from clenching the sheets under her.

He couldn't agree more. She was already tight, but apparently, trapping her legs made her even tighter. She was divine. Whatever it was about her, every time he entered her felt amazing. Her silky walls embraced his cock, welcoming him back into her depths. He let out a groan of his own, setting up a slow rhythm. Her body was so small compared to his and yet she took his size with ease. It fascinated him, to say the least.

He leaned in, just to watch her face shift and change at the feeling of his cock in her. She shot him a little glare. Still fighting. With an evil smile, he picked up his speed. Her eyes rolled slightly and her face scrunched as she moaned. The way she moved her arms, how her hands clenched onto the sheets, the sounds from her mouth. He huffed. She may have been saying "no" but clearly she meant yet.

He leaned back and watched as his cock moved in and out of her. He rubbed her ass. So round and firm. Could he even fit in there? How much of a fight would she put up? Although, at the same time, he didn’t want to hurt her. Instinctively, he smacked her ass, making her yelp and slightly jump in surprise. Her pussy clenched around him. That surprised him. She moaned loudly, pushing her hips back into him.

Fuck. Placing his hands on either side of her, he pounded into her.

She muttered something between her moans. He leaned in, trying to push back the satisfying sound of his skin slamming against hers, of the wetness of her pussy allowing him to easily slide in and out. He wanted to know what she was saying.

“Stop.”

His face twitched slightly at the word. And here he thought she was into it. He slowed down, as his brain started to try and figure out what to do. Stop? She wanted him to stop. Maybe he should. Stop and never give her his cock again. Wait. Why did he care if she was enjoying herself or not? He shouldn't stop. He should go harder, faster. Really drill her, make her mean it when she said stop.

Her fingers tightened their grip on the sheets, and she gave him a side-eyed desperate look. “Don’t,” she pleaded. “Michael. Please, don’t stop. Harder. Faster.”

His name, her begging voice, desperate eyes. He pulled all the way out, watching with satisfaction and amusement as her brow furrowed into distress. He pushed the tip in, fighting back his screaming senses to pound the shit out of her. He had her.

You said "stop" didn't you? He wanted to ask.

Her mouth opened and she said something, but it was far too low for him to hear. He moved in shallowly, barely giving her what she wanted. What he wanted, but he had to resist. Her eyes fluttered a little.

“Fuck,” she said softly. She shook her head, clearly trying to resist the urge to beg him like she had moments again.

He leaned in again, eyes focusing intently on her, filling her up. Her mouth trembled. Their eyes locked.

Say it, his eyes demanded her. He pulled back and pushed back in, steady but not fast or hard.

Her jaw tensed, eyes narrowed slightly in defiance. Never, she seemed to say.

Say it! he demanded, this time using his body with a faster harder thrust, before slowly pulling back.

“Oh gods,” she mumbled. She grabbed the sheets and pushed her ass back to him. “Fine! Just fuck me. I want to come. Fuck me, Michael!” she demanded.

His mouth twitched into a large smile at her words. His name. She said his name yet again. Whatever strength he had that stopped him from fucking her was gone. He set his arms on either side of her for better control. Giving her ass one last smack for good measure, he pounded into her.

“Fuck! Gods, Michael!”

It was the first time he heard her let out a high-pitched scream. Her whole body tensed and convulsed marvelously on him. His own orgasm hit him by surprise. He knew he was close. But he thought he had a little bit more time. He felt the familiar pressure of his own release. He never would have imagined coming with her. It was marvelous and different to say the least, as her pussy walls gripped him tightly. And his own familiar pressure of his own end and releasing inside of her at the same time.

Michael rested his weight on his arms as he panted over her. She said his fucking name. He figured he'd get her to say his name eventually. But, not quite yet. She was still struggling. Still struggling with the moral dilemma that she actually liked fucking him. That was probably what all her "noes" were about. He was a man who killed without remorse. A man who took her and forced her to stay in his home. The one who killed her boyfriend, possibly the very man she thought was the love of her life.

And yet, her protests were little more than a formality it seemed. Something she felt like she had to do. She wasn't quite yet ready to completely give in and let go.

He watched as her shoulder blades moved while she seemed to try and figure out if she wanted to get out from under him, or just lay there. The light discolored scar along her skin from his cut seemed to glisten with her sweat. She looked as if she were going to try and get up, but then she collapsed onto the bed.

“Michael,” she whispered, putting her hands up on top of her head. "Fuck. What do you do to me?"

As he leaned back, he couldn’t help but smack her ass one last time for good measure. She exhaled loudly. Grabbing the unused pillow, she bunched it up and put it under her face. She let out a muffled scream, much to his amusement. He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. The sweat from their fucking made her skin glisten. The scar on her shoulder blade just demanded some attention. He didn’t regret his actions. He could never regret that.

He moved over her again, bending down to brush his lips against her skin before giving her another light bite.

You said no, he huffed. And still, you screamed my name.

She stirred a little, turning her head so she could see him with one eye. He dropped onto the bed, letting out a loud sigh, he placed his hand on his chest. They could have made a day of it. Next time.

He could feel her eyes on him but didn't look down at her, focusing on the ceiling instead. She moved, slowly sitting up. That made him look at her. He reached out, running his fingers along her scars. Her stomach twitched, but she didn't pull away.

My name. He wanted to tease her. He opted to give her a knowing smile.

"Do you want kids?" she asked.

He frowned and sat up. That question came out of nowhere. He looked at her stomach real quick then back at her. That was impossible. It was far too soon for her to even assume she was pregnant. Wait, was that why she said it wasn't a good idea? Shit. Did he want children? It was a possibility he could get her pregnant. Maybe. He wasn't quite sure.

"I don't think you should have children," she said.

He huffed, giving her a smile in agreement. But, if he had children then he had children. It would be their misfortune, having him as their father.

"I wanted kids," she said, looking away from him. She looked at the doorway. Her hands rose up to cover her chest.

"For a really stupid reason. I wanted to stick it to my dad's extended family." She let out a sigh and laid down on her stomach next to him, grabbing the comforter to put it over their bodies.

He leaned back. She ran her index finger along the sheet in front of her, tracing an invisible line.

"See. I told you, my dad's family didn't like my mom. I heard them talking about her 'poor genes'. I think they blamed her about the fact that I came out a girl. But you know. It's my dad's fault. Anyway. When I was younger, I used to fantasize about having kids. A little brood of them. Take them to the family reunion, little boys and girls to show them off and my mother's 'poor genes'."

She chuckled. "Two reasons why they thought she had 'bad genes'. One, I was born a girl. There hasn't been a girl born in the family in about one hundred and twenty years. Give or take a decade or so. But then my dad marries my mom who wasn't approved by the patriarch or whoever. And has me. And two, I was very sick as a kid. Like the whole, deathly ill, kind of sick. And that just shows how bad her genes were and made them look bad. So I would daydream, of growing up to have a family of my own. Prove to them I wasn't fragile."

She let out a loud sigh, resting her head on one arm. "My parents didn't have any other kids. They didn't even try. I asked them once about it. My mom said that I was their focus, their treasure. Which basically meant, either, she was worried about bringing in another kid like me. Or, she was worried that having to spend so much time on me another kid would get neglected."

She moved her finger to trace his bicep, inhaling deeply before letting out a long exhale. Slowly, she ran her finger up, then rose, pressing her naked chest against his arm.

"I'm twenty-two," she said, holding his gaze. "I'll be twenty-three in a week. Give or take a day. For my birthday present, you will let me talk to my uncle."

His eyes widened at her demand.

"I have questions. He has answers. Now." She patted his chest and sat up. "I'm hungry and thirsty. I'm getting a snack." He sat up as well, partially wondering if he should just follow her again or leave her alone.

She got out of bed and slipped on her dress and underwear again. She started to head out then changed her mind and walked over to her duffel bag. He watched her as she suddenly dumped all the contents onto the ground. She sifted through everything. Putting a lot of jewelry and two shirts to one side before throwing the rest of the items back into the bag.

"Next time you're out if you could stop by my apartment and get me a few things? I can give you my address if you need it." She bundled up the items she'd taken out of her bag. "I'm going to set this on the console table downstairs. If you could get rid of it?"

She started to walk away then turned and went over to him. She sat down at the edge of the bed and gazed up at him.

"You're a killer," she said.

He nodded his head.

"You won't stop."

He nodded his head again in agreement.

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. With a sigh, she got up. "I'm fucking crazy," she muttered as she walked away.

He huffed in agreement. There was no way there wasn't a little bit of madness in her.

Chapter 26 - Before

[1101001]

THE GIRL WHO FLEW DOWN THE STAIRS _

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‘ the story of akashi meeting you and all the events after that made him realize he was falling for you ’

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character .. akashi seijuurou

word count .. 1.3k

tags .. fem!reader who is energetic but also thoughtful and likes to learn (as requested) , lowkey pining? , s h o g i , written from akashi pov , requested by the lovely bean anon <3 

Akashi’s first impression of you wasn’t anything bad. It wasn’t exactly good either. It was certainly memorable though. ‘The girl who flew down the stairs, knocking him onto the ground, and landing on top of him with a thump’ is how he remembers you. 

The moment was almost cliche. If your eyes had met and lingered on each other, both aware of the position you were in but not moving away, then it possibly would’ve been a scene straight out of some cheesy romance novel. 

Instead, you seemingly bounced straight up upon impact, not even bothering to spare Akashi a second glance. You proceeded to give him a quick apology, running down the next flight of stairs immediately after.

It was definitely one of the odder interactions Akashi had with his fellow students at Rakuzan High, but it amused him nonetheless and made him notice you much more often around campus. Even though you weren’t in any apparent rush anymore, you still radiated this energy that was all bubbly and seemingly ready to burst. 

It brought a small smile on his face every time he saw you, bouncing along hallways without a care in the world, chattering away with your friends. Sure you seemed like the typical happy-go-lucky person, but Akashi couldn’t help but see you as a bit more unique.

Your second interaction with Akashi was an interesting one too, in Akashi’s opinion at least. 

The basketball team had just won a tournament the other day, so Akashi was free this afternoon. He had decided to go challenge some shogi club members to a few games. 

In the middle of one of those games, you walked into the club room.

Akashi didn’t think you were part of the club, and his suspicions were confirmed when another member of the club went to ask if you needed anything. Akashi was definitely not eavesdropping, no he was paying attention to his game (the one he knew he would easily win anyway) when you pulled out an envelope and he happened to overhear you telling the club member that someone asked to meet you. 

Nobody in the room came forward to claim they were the one who sent the letter though. 

After a few awkward, silent moments, you moved to take a seat with some of the other club members. It was an action that surprised Akashi. He figured you would’ve just left because the whole did seem like a waste of time. However, you just sat there asking some club members to teach you how to play. 

Akashi could sense genuine curiosity in you and, needless to say, it intrigued him. It seems like there’s more to the “girl made of energy” than he originally thought.

The clock ticked, and a few rounds later, Akashi decided it was time to head home. Saying his formal goodbyes, he walked out of the clubroom. 

He didn’t expect you to come running after him, almost slamming into him again in the process. 

“You shouldn’t run around school so much, you know. You could end up bumping into people and maybe even hurting them.” The words left Akashi’s lips sounding a lot more teasing and flirtatious than he intended.

You blushed and started rambling out apologies. ‘Cute’ Akashi thought. 

His brain froze. 

Wait. Cute? How-

“Anyway um.. you left your notebook back there…” you said, holding out what was indeed his notebook out towards him.

“Oh…” was all he could say. He rarely forgot his things, especially things as important as his notebook. It seems his mind must’ve been too distracted by... other things. “Thank you L/n-san.”

He saw a slight shock on your face. “You know my name?” 

His brain froze yet again. How was he supposed to answer this question without seeming like a stalker?

“Well yes…” he started before you cut him.

“Didn’t expect the Akashi Seijuurou to know my name.”

He scoffed at that. “I think I’d know the name of the girl who jumped down the stairs and knocked me to the ground.”

“Again, I’m really sorry about that…” you said with a smile, although Akashi could see the guilt that lingered behind your eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” he quickly said. “I was just…”

He was just what? Flirting? Was he actually flirting? Him. Akashi Seijuurou. Flirting??

“…you know,” he finished quietly.

You didn’t say anything in response but instead looked at him with a peculiar sort of gaze. 

“Um.. hate to make things awkward by asking this but… were you the one who sent me this?” You held up the envelope Akashi saw earlier.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Oh… okay then.” Was it just Akashi’s imagination or did he hear a sliver of disappointment in your tone? “I suppose you don’t know who it is either right?”

He shook his head.

A lot of thoughts rushed through his mind. Did you actually expect him to send you a love letter? Did you hope it was him? 

He sensed you were about to leave though, so before he could regret it, he asked you, “Why do you want to know who sent it anyway?”

Your eyes widened slightly at the question.

“I understand the curiosity and wanting to know who it is but… if they didn’t show up, why are you still waiting?” He clarified.

“Akashi-san, you’ve never confessed to someone have you?”

He gave a slight nod.

“Well, I don’t see why you’d need to,” you mumbled more to yourself than him. Clearing your throat, you continued, “The thing is, confessing takes a lot of courage. And writing this letter asking me to meet them here would’ve taken a whole lot of that courage already. I think that, if they were able to go that far, then I should at least hear them out right?”

That… surprised Akashi. 

“But then again, there’s always a possibility this is just a prank,” you added as an afterthought. 

Unsure of what to say, he just nodded. “It is possible, considering how long you had to wait.”

You smiled, “The wait was fine though. I had fun learning shogi.” 

You actually had fun learning how to play? Looking back, it did seem like you were enjoying yourself… 

It’s strange. Akashi realized just how much his view of you changed in one afternoon. Earlier, you were that bubbly, energetic girl bouncing through the halls. Now, you were this thoughtful and kind person who liked to learn. You also said you had fun playing shogi, which nearly made Akashi’s heart skip a beat.

Oh. 

Oh.

He gets it now. The reason his brain was acting all slow was you. With that thought, everything became clearer. 

Now he wishes that love letter really was a prank.

“Ah Akashi-san, I think I have to go home soon,” you said, holding up your phone. “You’re heading out too right? Wanna walk with me?”

He blinked in surprise but quickly agreed.

“Great, just let me get my things first-” And with that you rushed back into the club room.

Akashi stood staring at the empty hallway, still caught up in his thoughts and trying to process what just happened between you two just a few seconds ago.

When you came back out with your things, he couldn’t help but smile softly. The two of you fell into conversation easily, and by the time you walked out of the school gates, you were still in a talk that showed no signs of nearing an end.

He wanted to continue walking and talking like this, but there was a car and a driver waiting for him in the exact opposite direction of where you were headed.

“Well, goodbye then L/n-san,” he said, hoping the reluctance wasn’t obvious.

You smiled in response. “Goodbye Akashi-san. It was nice talking to you.”

With that the two of you went your separate ways. Throughout the car ride home, Akashi could think of nothing but you. It would seem… he has taken quite the liking to you.

He isn’t sure what’ll happen next, but he’s looking forward to seeing you again and hopefully, talking more with you too.

. . .

note .. THIS CAME OUT LONGER THAN ORIGINALLY INTENDED but anyway i actually enjoyed writing this,,, yk all the stuff potentially going thru akashi’s mind when he has a crush intrigues me and uhh i hope u guys liked this and if u do PLS LMK WHAT U THINK !! it would legit mean the world if u guys did <3

[thesedangeroustemptations]

Baki Boy’s and a fearless/overly-outspoken s/o

Hi y’all! This is my very first headcanon and it’s something that just came to mind while insomnia decided sleep wasn’t allowed. Some are going to have a S/O who speaks out and acts the way they do due to past feelings of restriction and inability to do so, and some are just personality traits in general so a small TW is in order I suppose. I hope you all like it! 

Baki: 

At first, he had no idea how to deal with that. He was used to Kozue who would only ever speak on her feelings when pressed for them, so when he saw his S/O immediately snap back at Yujiro for his comments and general way of being unprompted, he felt a bit of fear for their safety but also a swelling of pride began to grow in his chest. 

He knew they were free spirited and spoke their mind from the beginning, what was apart of what drew Baki to them in the first place, but in the face of The Ogre? 

He was shocked to say the least and every alarm in his head was going off to get them out of there before they ended up dead, but Yujiro simply laughed, smirked at his son and gave him a dark warning.

“Don’t let them bark harder than you can bite, that might just be what puts them down.”

The longer that they spent together, the more accustomed to their general ease with saying whatever floated through their head at the time, and lack of care for the outcome of what was said/done. 

This has lead to more than a few occasions where Baki has had to pick them up and sprint away from the situation to keep from having to beat someone’s face into an unrecognizable pulp the second an advance was made in the direction of his S/O.

He comes to appreciate their honesty and finds it easier to be around them compared to other people due to the low probability of them hiding anything from him, and it being far easier for him to tell when something is wrong.

Will ask their opinions when making big decisions because he knows they have no fear going forward in life and will tell him their exact thought process regardless of whether it fits with what he’s wanting. To them, it’s what’s best not what is wanted if you’re asking their opinion.

Would support them saying whatever is on their mind/heart, but worries for their safety when he isn’t around to watch out for them.

Loves them for them regardless of if they lack the ability to keep their feelings to themselves while Baki himself is rather reserved.

Jack:

To say he was surprised to have this tiny (anything is compared to him-) individual he hadn’t seen before snap at him for hogging the bench press during his routine workout at his favored gym would be an understatement. 

The man was an absolute giant who towered over even the tallest of men and could easily break most in half, yet here this tiny firecracker was getting angry at him. An interesting development indeed.

From then on, he set out to make it his mission to get to know this unique person. For someone to get his eye off of getting stronger and defeating his father is an award all it’s own, but for him to actively chase them was an entirely different thing. 

Does eventually win them over through a mixture of gentlemanly behavior and healthy sarcasm, while proving he’s a trustworthy person to hold their heart and guard it.

Jack found himself growing protective over them when he witnessed them exchanging heated words followed by blows over a dispute in a bar he miraculously found himself at the same time as them.

He decided that moment he was going to make them his, and he was going to keep them safe forever, especially from Yujiro. 

Hundred percent would do his best to keep them separate, but Yujiro, being Yujiro, would find a way to make his son’s life harder and intervene, belittling him in some way around his S/O and that would be the end of it. 

Jack thought he had seen them go off before? Oh, no, no. Not when it came to someone they care about deeply. They started spewing every insult they could think of at the red-headed Hanma giant, feeling not an ounce of fear in their body- that’s because all of it entered Jack’s the moment they opened their mouth.

Used every bit of endurance he built up to grab them and run as far as he could in as quick a pace as possible to get them to safety. 

Knows there’s no way he can change them, and that he wouldn’t want to. Their outspokenness was what made him fall for them after all. 

Katsumi:

This man has a thing for outspoken S/O who takes charge, he may seem like an alpha male but he would instantly fold the moment his beloved gives him the look. Is not to afraid to admit this and chalks it up to his love and respect for their opinions. 

Instantly fell for them the moment they entered Shin Shin Kai in a full-blown fit, eyes raging, nostrils slightly flaring and sights set on a member of his class. Obviously they did something wrong, but when he approached to find out exactly what was going on as any teacher would, he was instantly shut down. 

“I’m not here for you, so if you don’t want your head bit off, I’d stay the fuck out of my way”

Needless to say, he was intrigued at this type of response from someone so much smaller than him, in his own father’s dojo, and after a few more prodding questions and standing in the way of what they wanted, he got the answers he was wanting as to what was going on. 

Being the relatively peaceful guy he was, Katsumi managed to calm down the situation while somehow getting a date out of the whole scenario.

 Everyone thought he was crazy for wanting to go out with someone as outspoken and rude like that, but he saw beyond that. He could see there was someone fearless and thoughtful under there, and he wanted to see what else was buried beneath the surface. 

Man, was it worth it. They didn’t fear anything it seemed, always willing to try new activities with Katsumi and his friends, be it new roller-coaster to cliff-jumping on their days off at the ocean, it didn’t matter. They were always up for it, the acts seemingly bringing them closer each time. 

He grew to love and respect them greatly, reminding them daily how much he admires their ability to speak their mind without fear and has no issue setting anyone straight regardless of who it is.

Would never admit it to their face or out loud but he really worries about them when he’s gone, knowing that not everyone can see the kind person they are inside and could easily take their words or actions the wrong way.

One of the few who actually trains his S/O in martial arts, even just the basics, to keep themselves safe when he isn’t around. 

Doyle: 

Oh boy. 

This idiot would be voted most likely to attempt to kill his S/O for opening their mouth about how he doesn’t seem as tough as everyone is making him out to be. 

Has the hardest time out of all of the men to adapt to having a S/O who speaks whatever comes in their mind and letting him know exactly what they think of his actions, good or bad. This is not something he is used to and not being able to just leave or kill the person saying it was something that was completely new to him. 

Would be the definition of opposites attract. Doyle is known for being more reserved, keeps things to himself and generally reminds others of a cat with his observant and quiet behavior. In comes his lover who is open about her thoughts and feelings regardless of who asks, will shout and loudly express themselves when upset or frustrated, and is basically a dog personified. 

Doyle catches himself watching their surroundings more cautiously when they go out due to not knowing exactly what is going to slip out of his lovers mouth, and being fully prepared to cut the tongue out of anyone who dared breath in their direction wrong.

Eventually he learns what will set off his S/O quicker and what is the best ways to calm them down when they are feeling like they need to be heard about a certain scenario. 

He’s a very observant man, and when spending nearly everyday with a person he cares for, he will swiftly find ways to make things easier for them without their noticing. He can’t have them thinking he cares too much. 

Around the other inmates or Yujiro Hanma is the only time Doyle feels any inclination of fear, prompting a fight, flight, or freeze response to which he typically chooses the middle option with his S/O in toe. 

He would rather be viewed as a coward for fleeing with what is his than lose it because they don’t have the ability to keep their damn mouth shut for someone looking at either of them wrong. 

Would enjoy having a S/O who expresses what they’re feeling, but would hope for one who had some sentiment of common sense so he didn’t have to constantly worry. 

Retsu: 

Probably handles them the best out of all of the boys to be honest. 

Is used to hotheaded and outspoken people himself already (*cough* Katsumi *cough*), while also having been one in his past, Retsu is the most suited to dealing with their outbursts and reckless actions due to a lack of fear. 

Likely met his S/O while in Japan for the Maximum Tournament and overheard them going off in the distance about something that was a passion of theirs that they felt had been disrespected. 

Retsu could relate given his overprotective nature in regards to his Chinese Kenpo, so when he saw them chest to chest, red-faced and still going at it while showing no signs of backing down, he knew he had to step in and defuse the situation before their beautiful/handsome face was ruined over an argument.

Has no problem with letting them rant and rave about things their passionate about or that bothered them throughout the day/week that they managed to hold in for Retsu’s sake.

Expresses his feeling the easiest out of the men except for possibly a tie with Baki, so makes it known that he worries for their safety and wants them to try their best to keep it together while they’re apart, being rewarded with whatever treat they would like followed by cuddles and a venting session. 

Comes up with different means for them to let out their frustrations with the world without having to blow up on everyone/everything that upsets them; i.e. gives them swearing coloring books to create art out of every swear word/insult they could think of.

Doesn’t want his S/O to keep things inside or to change, he just simply wants them to learn there is a time and a place for going off about things you’re passionate about, but when faced with the strongest being in the world? That is not the time, and even someone like Retsu, who believed that nothing could beat Chinese Kenpo, could recognize that.  

If things ever got heated out in public and his S/O began to argue with another person, don’t think for a second that Retsu wouldn’t break a man’s jaw for talking to his love with any kind of bass in their voice.

Loves and accepts his S/O for who they are, but is likely to help try and gently mother hen them into channeling that into a healthier outcome. 

[chouhatsumimi]

Hi! I am trying to become a japanese to English (& vice versa) translator. I can't find any sources to check the English to Japanese translation. It is difficult to get which grammar must be used since I am not a japanese native and don't know any natives to ask either. I have studied till N2 level but have no experience and must start freelancing to get experience so I need to figure out how to translate on my own. I can only use free translation software but I am not sure about it's reliability. I have seen questionable translations when it's for Japanese to English. Do think you can give any suggestions or anything that might be helpful?

Hi! I did put in a little time searching for the kind of tools you might have had in mind.

It seems that there are many that function in the exact same way but have different interfaces. Here are two of them. Many others can be found by searching "日本語文章校正ツール" or similar keywords. https://dw230.jp/kousei/

https://so-zou.jp/web-app/text/proofreading/

While they can point out some things to look out for, from the testing I did with them, they overlooked some pretty obvious errors, while also catching some things that I couldn't figure out why it thought it was wrong/sounded bad, or how to fix it.

There was one more I found that I didn't try, because it involves downloading software. This page explains the software, and another page on the site offers the download. The webpage is sponsored by a university, so I think it's safe to assume its trustworthy, but it might be a hassle and I can't say for sure if it works.

https://www.pawel.jp/outline_of_tools/tomarigi/

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

That said, it's most common for translators to work from one language INTO their native language. While interpreters often have to go both directions (J <--> E), translators typically work either (J -> E) [English native speakers] OR (E -> J) [Japanese native speakers]. If you grew up bilingual, maybe you can translate both ways. But if English is your native language and you learned Japanese as a second language (which is true of my situation), it's pretty much not going to be worth bothering to do E->J translation, unless there are extenuating circumstances. The reasons for this are 1) You can't be sure that the translation you produce reads smoothly or is error-free 2) While you might think, but yes, if I do a really thorough check and compare it against native Japanese examples, I can be pretty darn sure it's perfect, the amount of time it takes you to do that is not going to be cost-effective. Like anything else, people purchasing translation as a service usually want the end result to be done well, in a timely manner, and as cheaply as possible, so it doesn't make sense to hire you for E -> J when they could hire a native Japanese speaking translator, or send their work to an agency to find that translator for them.

If you ARE translating into Japanese and are not a native speaker of Japanese, it is a good idea to have a fellow translator who has the opposite native language you do (in this case Japanese & English), and ask them to check it over for you (which, considering that's part of their job, you'd probably pay a small fee for). They could do the same to have you proofread their translations into English. Some translators consult friends/spouses, etc., but I think this can get old for them sometimes, so it's advisable not to rely on them for your job. You mentioned not having any native speakers to ask right now, but this is still an idea you can file away for in the future when you meet more people and get to know other translators.

In short, if you're aiming to become a translator working with Japanese but are not a native Japanese speaker, don't worry about translating into Japanese. Just focus on translating from Japanese into your native language.

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

Translation software: let me make a distinction here between "machine translation" and "CAT [computer aided translation] tools".

Machine translation is Google Translate, DeepL, anything like that. There are times when they work well, but particularly with a language like Japanese that likes to imply a lot of information instead of stating it directly (such as who is doing the action described in the sentence), they're pretty much always going to miss something. In any situation that someone is looking to pay a translator to do work, it's because they already know machine translation won't cut it. One thing that's becoming more common is MTPE (machine translation post editing), where a translator "fixes" what's wrong with a machine translation (or more often than not, just re-translates it from scratch because what the machine came up with is mostly useless).

CAT tools, on the other hand, are widely used by translators. Paid CAT tools such as Trados, MemoQ, Memsource, etc. can be very expensive, and are often provided by a translation agency to their translators. (Also, most of them require a PC operating system.) There's more I could say, but since I haven't been in any situations that require them, I don't have any personal experience. I do have experience using OmegaT (free, works on Mac) and Felix (free, I use it on Windows). They both take a little tinkering to figure out how to use effectively, but basically what they do is, once you've translated a segment of text, they store the original segment and the translated segment, and for each new segment you go to translate, the CAT tool compares it to segments that you've previously translated to see if you can re-use any of what you came up with before. They can also have a built-in dictionary function, but that's basically just having your typical web-based dictionary but more automatically and in a more convenient location.

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

For going into freelancing, I have a few recommendations.

Apart from CAT tools, some resources that I refer to frequently are http://nihongo.monash.edu/cgi-bin/wwwjdic?9T (basically looks up all the words in a sentence at once), http://thejadednetwork.com/sfx/ (if you're doing anything with sound effects, like manga), https://tsukubawebcorpus.jp//search/ (this is a corpus, I have another post on how to use it -here-, it's probably going to be your best bet when it comes to checking grammar), https://books.google.com/ngrams (for when it comes to figuring out what turns of phrase are commonly used in English), and https://yomikatawa.com/ (for figuring out the readings of names in Japanese, though there are other sites that work similarly).

When it comes to practicing, contests are a good place to start. The two I know of now are run by JAT in October (https://jat.org/events/contests) and JLPP deadline of 7/31 (and they're long, so it's probably too late for this year unless you're free between now and then: https://www.jlpp.go.jp/en/competition6/competition6en.html ) You can also practicing doing translations for fun. Any kind of media you enjoy (manga, video games, variety shows, newspaper articles) is a good target for doing a practice translation. Just be wary that it's not a good idea to post your translation in a public location on the internet, because it could be infringing copyright/licensing agreements, etc. Finally, there are websites like Gengo, Conyac, Fiverr and others where you can do gig translation work. They can be useful for practice, but also have the pitfall of paying, like, 5% of the rate you should be getting. This is an ongoing debate because on one hand, you can get practice while still getting a little money for it, but on the other hand, if customers can get people to do that work for 5% of a livable wage, that makes it harder for aspiring and working translators to find enough work that pays well enough to support themselves doing only translation for a living. Entertainment (primarily manga) scanlation groups also a significant enough force to merit a mention here- many aspiring entertainment translators find themselves a part of such a group. Practice is practice and developing your skills is important, but they also have many many of the same problems associated with them as I mentioned above, namely infringing on copyright and contributing to the inability of anyone to turn entertainment translation into a livable full-time job.

Another recommendation I have is to join some J/E translation-focused groups. This page lists a number of them: https://shinpaideshou.com/translation/ I can personally vouch for JAT as I am a member and I got my current job by being part of their directory. They run an online training program (eJuku) once a year around April, and applications only stay open for a few days, so if you're interested make sure you keep your eye out. Another one not listed on that page is https://swet.jp/ which is not entirely about translation, but it is heavily related and they host some good events. Twitter is also a very good place to be if you're getting into J/E translation. I prefer to keep my tumblr and twitter separate but if you DM me, I can give you my handle so you can see who I follow and who among that seems worth following to you.

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

In closing, I see you say "I have studied till N2 level but have no experience and must start freelancing to get experience so I need to figure out how to translate on my own." I'd say, give yourself some time. Even at N1 there's still going to be a lot you don't understand (or at least there was for me, that's why I started this langblr). I'm sure there are differences in our situations, but it was about five years ago for me that I started diving into translation- I think I was between N2 and N1 then. I've done a lot of translating and gotten a lot of experience since then, but I also have and am experiencing a lot of burnout. (In fact, I'm procrastinating right now by answering this....) Many translators have a job and translate on the side, and it's also common to gain experience with a company or agency before diving into supporting yourself on freelance work. I'd encourage you to take a breath, get experience when and where you can, and remember that if you keep at it long enough, you're sure to get there- just don't wear yourself out or worry to death in the meantime!

OH and definitely keep track of what projects you do, how long they are, and how long it takes you to do them! Knowing your speed is important when it comes to setting your working rates. I am always doubting these, and they differ from person to person, but my current estimates are that I can do 600 moji (Japanese characters) per hour, ~10 min. of audio per hour, and I try to aim for $45~$60 per hour. Generally the lowest acceptable standard rates are $0.05-$0.06 per moji and ~$5 per page of manga. You'll definitely get requests lower than that, so remember your sanity and don't be afraid to say no, there are plenty of opportunities out there!

[kaorisun]

keep your distance

pairing : diluc ragnvindr x bard! reader

tags : gender neutral reader, angst, hurt no comfort

author’s note : my very first fic i ever posted on here! looking back makes me nostalgic <3

Diluc Ragnvindr lived through many things in his life. Loss, pain, grief, revenge— just about every negative emotion he could imagine, he’s experienced. That being said, it’s caused him to become a black sheep among pyro users. Unlike the joyous Klee, or the outgoing, overly optimistic adventurer, Bennett— Diluc never set himself up to allow for any disappointment or loss. He’s lost too much and at this point, he feels as if he knows better.

This mindset is the exact reason he refuses to repair his relationship with Kaeya, or why he’s even hesitant around the traveler that came by every so often— he was afraid of losing the things he cherished. The relationships he held dear to him often shattered at his touch, and it was something he could not bring himself to forget. Perhaps, this was the more metaphorical reason for his gloves.

However, keeping his distance wasn’t always easy. Bartending at Angel’s Share meant frequent interaction with the people he tried so desperately to keep at a distance. What he hadn’t expected, however, was to meet someone persistent enough to attempt to break down the obvious walls he built around himself. (y/n). That was their name, if he recalled correctly.

They were a bard— however, a bard unlike Venti, or the six-fingered man who came to the tavern so often— no, (y/n) wasn’t optimistic without a care in the world. They took their music rather seriously, a contrast from what he was used to seeing in typical bards. (y/n)‘s song choice was always something with a more solemn, gloomy nature to it, and Diluc couldn’t help but be entranced every time they so gracefully played their melodies on their lyre. It was music that resonated with a part of himself deep within his soul, a sense of loss and pain that he could truly understand, and that he felt understood him just as well.

Despite this, the bard never once let slip as to the reasoning behind such music. Every question of their musical inspiration was brushed off, or answered vaguely with something along the lines of “I simply play what resonates with me.”

These were frequent conversations that he overheard at the tavern, and even once had asked the bard himself, but simply got a just as vague answer. (y/n) was very honest and straightforward with Diluc, blatantly stating that they were more interested in getting to know Mondstadt’s Wine Industry head himself, their persistence showing clearly, however, Diluc found it strange that they never seemed to allow any conversation that involved their own background. Not that he minded much, anyways.

After a while, he’d grown to enjoy the bard’s company so frequently. Every night, they would come in, strum and sing a tune or two, then sit at the bar to converse with Diluc.

As per any other night, the bard is right where expected. However, Diluc wasn’t working, instead taking up the seat next to the bard while Charles took post as bartender for the night. As much as Diluc hated to admit, he’d grown to care for the bard quite deeply, in a way he couldn’t place. Or perhaps, he knew exactly what it was, and simply refused to acknowledge it, not that his bard friend seemed to mind, anyway.

Lately though, (y/n) had seemed increasingly distant. Of course, it’d be hypocritical for him to say it bothered him. He kept people at arms length due to his own fear. Even so, he couldn’t bring himself to say that he didn’t care when it was quite the opposite. He was worried. He was unsure how to express that though.

“You seem to be in your head more and more, Diluc. Care to enlighten me?” (y/n) asked with a small, curious smile. Diluc snapped out of his thoughts and let out a quiet sigh before shaking his head.

“It’s nothing to be concerned with. Just thinking about things regarding the business, shipments.” Diluc commented, earning a small hum from the bard.

“Running the wine industry must be tiring. Especially when you can’t stand the stuff.” They started, before pausing and placing their drink down.

“Diluc. Have you ever thought about leaving Mondstadt? Not like a getaway, I mean uprooting entirely and leaving.” The bard questioned, a distant, almost wistful look present in their eyes. Diluc raised a brow before looking at them.

“I have. After a few… losses in my family, I left Mondstadt. I came back, though. Since then, I can’t say I’ve ever considered leaving again. Especially a permanent move. I’m comfortable with my life here.” Diluc responded honestly.

“Why? Has leaving been on your mind?” He asked, a slight strain in his voice. He’d gotten used to this routine with the bard, and though he’d never want to stop him, he’d be upset to see them leave after so long. The bard went quiet before averting their gaze, nodding.

“Don’t get me wrong. I love this city, the freedom, the bustling city, the people. It’s all lovely, but there are memories here that I don’t wish to carry any longer. And there are other nations out there I want to experience. I feel as if I’m missing out on so much life that’s out there, beyond this nation.” (y/n) explained, a longing look in their eyes. Diluc was quick to recognize it as loss, regret, pain. Feelings he knew all too well.

“Why haven’t you left sooner? If your music says anything about how you feel, you seem miserable here. Why stick around?” Diluc asked, a concerned expression fixed upon his face. The bard paused, looked at him, and contemplated for a moment before hesitantly reaching over and gently interlocking their hands in his own. His eyes widened softly before he looked back at them.

“There are certain people here that make it worth while. Despite what my music may express, I’m always happy when I get to end my days talking with you at the bar. I’ve always found you interesting, even before I started talking to you every night.” They admitted, a soft smile adorning their features. Their grip tightened slightly as their expression slowly fell, crestfallen.

“But… you always seemed so far, Diluc. No matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I talked to you, the wall around you is solid. I know I made progress considering you don’t brush me off, but I feel like I hardly know anything about you, aside from your name and your job. And I suppose I can’t be mad— I haven’t said much about myself either, but… it’s not without reason. I know you must have your reasons too. Kaeya told me as much. But it feels like you don’t trust me even with the little things. I share my emotions with you through my music, on a day to day basis. But you’re always so stoic towards me.” (y/n) murmured. Diluc was speechless, he understood the nuances in the bard’s music so well, felt as if he understood their emotions so deeply, but he’d never cared to express as much. A fault he’s only now coming to realize. He turned his gaze downward and gripped the other’s fingers a bit tighter, a silent plea to not let go, a gesture he hoped expressed how he felt. The bard gave a sad smile, giving one last squeeze before releasing his hand. Diluc looked at them before finally speaking up.

“I… I really like you. I’m sorry, it’s definitely about due time I said that clearly to you. I really enjoy your company, and having you around is comforting. I know I’m not as… expressive as most people. I don’t ask for anything and find it troublesome to do so. I apologize for making you believe I wasn’t interested in you, (y/n).” Diluc spoke, choosing his words carefully as to ensure he was as clear as possible. The bard nodded as he listened to his words before meeting his eyes.

“Would it trouble you too much… if you asked me to stay?” The bard asked in a soft whisper, wanting to keep the conversation as private as they could within the tavern. Diluc felt his heart wrench, he wanted so badly to ask them to stay— to ask them to play music for him every night, to accompany him in life, however, the shattering images of his brother— his father— flashed through his mind and he felt the words get caught in his throat. Asking them to stay felt too selfish. With how miserable they looked in Mondstadt, with how much he could tell that they longed for new experiences, he knew that the real mercy was letting them go. He suddenly felt as if he understood the underlying meaning behind the question, and let out a quiet sigh.

“You know I can’t, (y/n). You don’t want to be here. I want you to stay, I do, but I can’t force that upon you. And I also know that I cannot join you. I have unfinished business still left for me in Mondstadt. I cannot leave, and you cannot stay.” Diluc explained in a steady, yet saddened tone. The bard gave a knowing smile, upset, but relieved. He understood fully now, just as he did with their music, he understood their actions.

They didn’t want to leave with any regrets, and didn’t want to leave anything unsaid.

“That’s what I was expecting… you’ve always been so selfless, Master Diluc.” They said, a light teasing tone in their voice in attempt to mask the onset of tears and shakiness. Diluc gave a soft smile, reaching over and gently brushing away the tears that had fallen from their eyes.

“Would you allow me to be selfish, just for a moment?” Diluc asked in a whisper. The bard gave a nod in response, looking at him with expecting eyes. He leaned in, softly locking his lips with theirs in a gentle kiss, expressing all he had felt in the small gesture. The bard tensed, before relaxing into the kiss and returning it.

After a few moments, they both pulled away. As much as Diluc didn’t want to, wishing he could treasure the moment forever, he knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable.

“Is this goodbye?” Diluc asked, leaning in closer towards the other. They smiled, shaking their head as they stood up, enveloping the other in a tight embrace.

“No. Simply a ‘see you again soon.’ I’ll be back here someday, and I hope you’ll be around to say hello. Don’t wait for me though, you hear? I don’t know when I’ll be back, I don’t want to keep you waiting.” The bard said with a gentle smile before pulling away. Diluc chuckled and nodded. Easier said than done, he thought, but he would do whatever they wanted to make them happy.

“Promise me you’ll stay safe, (y/n). I’ve lost so much. Even if you’re far away, I don’t want to lose you too.” Diluc pleaded in a gentle tone. The bard gave a smile before nodding. They hesitantly pulled away, grabbing their lyre off the bar before slowly heading towards the door.

“I’ll stay safe, Diluc. After all, I have Celestia’s favor. I’ll be just fine.” They said with a smile and one last longing look before they turned their back to the other and the door to Angel’s Share rang, announcing their official departure from the tavern, and from Mondstadt as a whole.

And as Diluc watched them leave, for the first time, he didn’t feel as if he lost anything, as no matter where the bard was, they were still out there, and the moments they shared all positive. There was no death, no lies, no deceit— just two people who had the pleasure of the company of the other.

—

At least, that’s what he had so foolishly allowed himself to believe, and my, what an idiot he had been. Though he was used to it at this point. Loss was nothing new to him,

And if anyone asked about the beautiful lyre hung up above the bar in Angel’s Share, he’d simply give a solemn smile and give the same response every time.

“A gift from someone I should’ve asked to stay.”

[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—

[peeterparkr]

The Holiday.|Tom Holland

chapter one: The Prince and the Pauper. (Pauper.)

↳ read Sophia’s version here and a little bit of Tom. (Tim fic)

So, the christmas series is finally here! This is a 2 fics in one, meaning I’ll write Tom’s fic and @jambrosemc will write a Tim Chalamet fic, if you’re not familiar with the concept, it’s based on the movie The Holiday, where two women after being heartbroken switch their homes and lives for a bit. Both fics are reader insert, however Emma’s character will be named Sophia in this fic and my character will be named Iris in her fic. Remember the fics are connected and that Tom’s introduction is held in @jambrosemc​ ‘s fic. And so Tim’s introduction is here. Hope it’s not complicated and we hope you love it. 

STORY SUMMARY:  Two women troubled with guy-problems, one who’s in love with love and one who doesn’t believe in it are both suffering from a broken heart, with little reasoning and nothing left to lose, they swap homes in each other's countries for the holidays, where they’ll meet a local guy who will probably change their destiny. 

chapter summary: The heartbreak of an unrequited lover. pairing: tom holland x y/n | warnings: Chad, mentions of sex, alcohol, mentions of cheating.  word count: 7.2k

story masterlist. 

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There is something unequivocally  known about love, everything that’s been said about it, is almost true. We’ve been bombarded with love songs, romantic comedies, romance novels, poetry, it’s everywhere. There can never be enough love songs, because no matter how incredible it never seems to be the same, you’ll never see two pieces that are identical, some of them are similar, of course, but they all speak from a very deep side of Love.  Love isn’t one thing that is written down, not an exact science. There’s no right formula to whatever love is. But every single thing written about love might be true, at least to someone. Love is something so personal and yet we can all relate to it, but then again there’s never two loves that will feel the same. There can be two love stories starting at the same time but you’ll never feel like it’s the same. But everytime someone dares to write or speak or sing about love, it’s most likely to be true. Or so you’ve learned throughout the years.

In Romeo and Juliet,  Romeo asked himself ‘Did my heart love till now?’, and there's common sense to it, we’ve all felt that…We’ve all wondered if you’ve known love before you met the one.  You believed you had, you thought you had it all figured out. How much can one learn about love? We’ve all felt it. At some point, or another. You had. It’s incredibly easy to understand that though love is unique in its own sense, love is universal.

You did believe that everything concerning love was true. Shakespeare also said, "Journeys end when lovers meet."

Was it true? You loved to rely on that thought, that we were meant to travel until we found the one. That two people are destined to meet in the middle and start a new one together.

You loved to think about love more than anyone did, you were hopeless. It’s incredibly complex, and subtle and it’s got the power to change someone, and a story, completely. Love is not easy.

Love is also blind, you, perfectly,  knew about that. It was smart to know that you’d been blinded yourself.

Love fades. Love is lost. Love is complicated. Love can be something eternal, or love can only last for a night.

Then, there was the one love you knew, the one you’d been living for a while. Unrequited love. No one really talks about that one. All love stories rely on the fact that the two lovers will end up together. But the unrequited love? No, no one dares to write about it. Maybe because they’re too sad in their sorrow to even think of that. You always wondered what would be of that story if someone ever dared to write it. And what’s the destiny awaiting for them?

Always the bad luck, the ones with the blinded reason, but always foreign to that one feeling of joy. Always wounded, and always left when the sun is out. The handicapped of hearts.

You were one, you were one of them, the one who is in love with that one guy who never dares to love back.

It gets even worse around the Holidays, everyone speaks of it. It’s everywhere. You go to the mall and see people buying gifts for their significant others, you turn the TV on and there’s the usual bad romantic films that you ended up watching, always the same, the girl goes from the big city back to her old town and her high school sweetheart is in love with her still, all while there’s an angel or Santa Claus, or whatever they come up this time, and she finds herself falling back in love with her old town, and she’s a painter or whatever and she lets go her dream of the big city to go back to her pathetic love interest.

Yet you always watched them, curled up in front of your TV with the candy that you were supposed to give out on Halloween but instead kept them for Christmas.

That was you, a hopeless romantic who was desperate for love.

You were there, wrapping a delicate christmas present that probably was not wanted but that you were too blinded and too stupid to see that. Also trying to wrap your own mind whether you’d give this out or not.

You were pathetic, and there he was in all his splendor. Chad.

Of course, maybe that’s what you get for being in love with a man named Chad, but he didn’t live up to his name. He was handsome, and incredibly perfect, and you were always so mesmerized by him. You had been in love with him for three years now, three miserable years. And honestly it’s been the worst years of your life, worst birthday, christmases, Halloween, New Years Eve’s that needed wine and Xanax. The biggest curse. All because you’re in love with a man who’s never and will never ever love you back.

He probably wasn’t conventionally good looking, not for most girls around anyway, but he had a confidence and a sly sexuality that could get you to your knees in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, dear, please tell me you’re not deeply lost looking at Chad?” Angela, your coworker and probably closest thing to a friend asked.

“What?” You were snapped out of your trance. “No, no!” Though you had been.

The holidays party at the newspaper you worked at. You wrote the only good news, you’d say, the column of UNIONS, when you described marriages and gave the couples a little bit of spotlight to their recent and new found joy. You wanted to write way more than that, honestly, but you didn’t mind. Though you knew you were probably wasted potential. Potential, everyone said you had it.

“I thought that was over,” Angela pointed out.

“It is! It is—“You tried to say. “It—is, mostly.”

Angela rolled her eyes, “thought so,” she snapped. “What even was the deal with you two? You used to fuck him right?”

“I—“you coughed. “Yeah, I used to sleep with him, but more importantly I was in love with him.”

Still were, for that matter.

“Oh, great, and then—you discovered he was fucking that other girl in accounting, Denise.”

“Yes, I did find out and hence why I stopped… sleeping with him,” you whispered, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to talk about this at the party.”

“But like I always see you two together, so he cheats on you and you keep being friends with him?” Angela pushed to your own disarray. “Plus, I’m like 300% sure you’re the one who writes the articles for him, he hasn’t one ounce of talent and you do.”

You did write his stuff. But couldn’t get anywhere yourself.

“I well-”

“And he cheated, y/n.”

“Yes but he didn’t cheat, you see in his mind we weren’t in a relationship and we were in mine… but like—“

“So if you’re not in a relationship that means you have to expect he’s going to fuck other women?” She pointed out.

“I—“ you didn’t know what to say. “No, no, I mean—but I was so in love with him, but—“Somehow this had opened a gate that you hadn’t opened in a while. “Wait—No, no I can’t cry,” you said to yourself feeling like there was going to be a cascade pooling your eyes. “Does it look like I’m crying?”

“Y/n, maybe—Look,” she wiped off a tear, I—“She coughed. “Did he ever say he loved you?”

“I—yes, three times.” You had counted them. “When I reminded him of that he said it must've been a  question and it most certainly was not.”

“You see y/n, when you catch a man fucking another woman you’re not supposed to remain friends with him, you’re supposed to make a scene, threaten to chop off his dick, throw things at him, like I did with your brother.”

You rolled your eyes, “Tim didn’t cheat on you,” you said. “You slept with him once, didn’t talk to each other for like a month and he found someone else and you made a scene.”

You knew your brother was many things but he wasn’t a cheater, he was not a bad person. Tim was someone with enough confidence to know what he wanted and sure, he did find a one night love with strangers every now and then, but he wasn’t a bad person. He probably was too confused. He’s the typical man who is afraid of commitment and has no follow through.

He never fell in love, that wasn’t his thing. The opposite of you, who fell in love deeply. Tim never—wanted any commitment. He could have a one night stand and never follow through.

“But—you see that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Angela continued.

“But I’m not doing anything, we just—text,” you admitted with pity, “and sometimes we FaceTime but like that’s it, and we’ve gone out for lunch and look, he says we’d be idiots to give up our friendship but—“You couldn’t continue.

“Fucking men, they’re trash, all of them, he’s got you right where he wants you, who wouldn't want a fantastic girl like you in love with him ... hanging on his every word …?” She asked. “Chad knows anytime he wants to crawl back …”

“And he is… Look, today he—he said we should go out and he gave me a Christmas present.”

“Which was?”

“A set of lingerie but—“

“Oh my god y/n,” she snapped. “I can’t believe how pathetic you are.”

“Is it pathetic really? To think the world is near perfection every time I’m with him?”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Very. It’s...Chad.”

“I… is it wrong, really? I just want to be loved.”

“And you chose Chad?”

Before you could say anything, your boss called out. “Everybody gather around. I have an important announcement to make,” your boss said. “First of all you, I want to wish each and every one of you a Merry  Christmas. It’s been a year, hasn’t it? I’m proud of what we’ve accomplished,”he kept rambling on their achievements or whatsoever they had done throughout the year, you couldn’t care less. “Given that, we may be able to get by with a smaller announcement—Which involves y/n—y/n? Are you there?”

Angela raised your hand.

“Well y/n your column on weddings has been lovely,” he said.

Was it though?

“And—Well, a wedding was privately announced earlier, and I don’t think any other paper in town knows about it and I want you to be the first to report on this particular union,   as it is between two of our most esteemed colleagues got hitched! Bring a loud cheer for Chad Bloom and Denise Higgins!”

Boom.

It all felt...no.

You tried desperately not to cry. Everyone could see you there. Were you dreaming? This was a nightmare.

You didn’t know how you got the guts to get out of that office without crying. You’ve never felt braver before, but you had to give the politest of smiles to Chad and everyone around to then proceed to get your coat and head home. How pathetic did you look in your car crying to a guy who definitely was going to do that.

This felt like a nightmare. The love of your life was engaged.  And you couldn’t do anything about it. Because you didn’t believe in multiple loves, only one, love wouldn’t come again and knock on your door. This was it, you were destined to be lonely and stay lonely. This was your very worst nightmare, all that time wasted upon and there was nothing you could do about it.

It hurt, your heart was wrenched. You’d open the Halloween candy sooner, and you’d bought ice cream, three pints of ice cream.

Just a week before he had given you the set of lingerie and said he was eager to see you wearing it. Honestly, you had lied to Angela. You had seen him a couple of times, and sooner or later you’d end up in between the sheets because you had absolutely no self control when it came to him. He knew how to press your buttons and where to touch you and he’d try to charm you each time and you’d end up falling for it. He’d say that he’d changed and that he always believed in you.

Honestly, you always fell for it because you thought you were both destined to be in love.

But now it was all gone, you’d lost him. He was going to marry someone else.

This probably was the lowest point in your life, it really was. Because it was so stupid to fall in love with someone who was just going to step on you, and you needed someone. Time was passing by, it was getting darker and night was only drowning you more. You needed someone to talk to, who’d listen. But someone who wouldn’t judge you just as bad or who couldn’t judge you as bad.

You were getting tired of crying but you couldn’t help it. You felt insignificant and as small as humanly possible. So very crushed.

You called your brother, because though he probably would judge you, and he’d probably not care, he was kind of forced to listen because you were relatives and you did help him from time to time. Lately more than you wanted to.

“Y/N—?” Tim answered, and you could hear there was music playing behind him. Of course he’d be awake in the middle of the night. He probably was out clubbing.

“Tim—I need—I’m not okay,” you admitted.

“Y/N I can’t really—“he laughed in between. “Hear you.”

“Chad is engaged!” You said louder.

He laughed. “Chad, what a stupid name.”

“Tim I’m serious!” She stated.

“How serious can this be his name is Chad!” Tim giggled. He was clearly drunk.

“Tim! I—He’s engaged I—I can’t believe it just a week ago he said he—“

“We’ve both known Chad is an asshole y/n, his name is Chad for fuck’s sake,” Tim pushed. “We both—I thought you were over him.”

“I… well.”

“Fuckin’ hell, y/n.”

“I’m never gonna love again,” you stated.

He scoffed. “Love doesn’t exist, y/n,” he stated. “Not for someone named Chad.”

“Stop.”

“He—“Tim sighed. “Look, we both knew he was an idiot, and we both knew he was going to break your heart and—He already had! May I remind you of that? He cheated on you!” He stated. “He is an asshole who doesn’t deserve any of your tears and I’m a hundred percent sure you are crying.”

You were, for that matter. Love for you was also always shedding tears.Sad tears. Love hurts. “I love him.”

“And I love this vodka on my hand,” he stated. “That—means nothing, okay?”

“You’ve never been in love,” she snapped. “You don’t know how it feels to have your love taken away—“

“Don’t go there, y/n.”

“I—I just—I can’t—“

“Y/N you need a break,” Tim said without really caring. “I’ll call you back later alright? I’m busy.”

A break.

Yes, that’s exactly what you needed. A break from your stupid and pathetic life, a break from your little fantasy. A break from Chad. Honestly, you were tired of it. Always having the worst of luck. You needed a break from men, though you barely had… Being completely honest, it only takes one man to lose faith in humanity. They hold that power.

You knew what love was and well, you’d never have it. You were destined to be the side character, the best friend and the one plot device. Not relevant.

Because honestly how stupid were you.

But was it really so bad to feel that way? To long for love, for someone who would run to you, and whom you could fall so deeply with. Guess now you had to build up walls. Because now you couldn’t get nobody else to hurt you again, nobody was worth this pain. Nobody should ever feel this way. You never wanted to let anyone hurt you again.

Honestly, you so needed a break.  But where and how?

You couldn’t stay in your place, it held too many memories, lots of them of you being stupid with Chad because you were such an idiot for letting him in your house and corrupt your place. You needed a break because everything would remind you of him, your car, his car, his house, this town, everything. Also your place was too sad.

You could go away. You had to, because you couldn’t let yourself drown in more sorrow. You were so unbelievably tired of it.

You had to go. Away from him, away from this place and your stupid house. Hell, if you could, you’d go to another country.

You rang Timmy again.

“What- y/n?”

“Where should I go?”

“What?”

“Yes on vacation,” you added.

“How do I-I don’t know, fuck it eh, oh wherever they speak English, bye.” He hung up on you again.

Where did they speak English?

England, of course.

Hell, maybe that’s why Chad didn’t love you, you were stupid, probably. England. London. You’d always wanted to go there. Anywhere really, but you never went anywhere because you were still waiting on Chad. Jesus, how much time did you spend wasting on that man?

England.

You opened up your laptop, ready for it. You needed to get away and not waste the holidays watching old and bad Hallmark movies eating ice cream by yourself. Or maybe yes, just far away from your own house.

Airbnb.

You went straight to London, it always seemed like a dream, besides it could work. And you scrolled through houses, big ones, small ones.

Then you found one. ‘Cozy, lovely place above a bookshop’. It did call your mind, it gave the idea of a perfect fantasy, it seemed nice enough.

And far, very far. And so different from whatever her fantasy with Chad had been, what was his thing? Island in the Caribbean.

You kept reading.

“In the other direction, the Bayswater Road will take you to Notting Hill (location of the Julia Roberts/ Hugh Grant film of the same name) and its fantastic local restaurants and bars, boutique shops, and the famous Portobello Road Market.”

That caught your mind. It seemed… perfect but to live with that fantasy of yours to live in a stupid romcom. Could it be?

No, no. You had to go in with the idea that no matter how romantic, you had bad luck and not even such a romantic place would make you have someone to love. You were really supposed to be always lonely. But the idea… of leaving did thrill you.

You didn’t think much of it, but the next morning, you still had that thought roaming in your mind, and eventually… you tried to reach out. It had closed, however. But you had saved the ad.

Sophia.

That was her name.

Hey! I’m interested in your house! That seemed too weird. Besides she had closed it.

You decided to reach out anyway.

“Hey, I was interested in your house! I don’t know if someone else rented it but I thought it was worth the shot. Is it still available? I’m sorry if it’s not. I just really liked your place! It’s okay if it’s not! Sorry! Thank you!” You sent it in. Wondering if you’d apologized just enough times.

You knew she’d probably not respond.

“Oh, sorry! I was renting it because I was planning to go on holiday with my boyfriend but plans changed. We broke up recently so I won’t be going anymore,” she answered.  That had been quick. Lucky she was online but the place was no longer available.

This was your bad luck only. Of course she wasn’t going to rent it. The dream seemed too far away. But… she had just broken up, she probably was feeling awful.

“Oh, I’m sorry!  why did you break up with him?” You asked.

Then read again what you’d just asked. What was wrong with you? This was a stranger. They didn’t need to give any explanation.

“I’m sorry you don’t have to answer that. I don’t know why I asked.” You added.

She was typing. “No, don’t worry! I guess it’s pretty complicated but long story short, he cheated on me.”

Been there, you thought to yourself. But probably at least most likely she was dating him and they were in a relationship not like you with your stupid “whatsoevership” with Chad.

“Men are trash,” you texted her.

“To say the least,” she answered.

You bit your lip. You knew you had to open up to. Well you didn’t have to, but you… felt the need to.

“I’m really sorry, I know how it feels. I was actually looking at your place to escape from a man myself. The love of my life, Chad, just got engaged.”

As soon as you sent it you saw how stupid you looked. You were absolutely pathetic.

“Chad?” Sophia asked.

You chuckled. You could see the smirk from the other side.

“I know. It’s my fault for falling in love with a Chad. Lives up to his stupid name.” Was your response.

It honestly was. But thought it seemed fun to poke on his name, it really didn’t occur to you that it was because of his name that he was an asshole, don’t blame it on a name.

“Well, I’m sorry that “Chad” had to be the love of your life. It sounds like we both need to get away.” Sophia sent.

Yes, you too were sorry.

“Definitely, but I’m gonna keep looking. I need to be at least 500 miles away from him.”

You really were going to keep looking, maybe not as perfect as the place Sophia had but at least go away.

“Maybe we could work something out?” Sophia asked.

Huh.

You grinned before chuckling. “Let’s switch lives like in The Parent Trap, although we’re not twins we’d be switching breakup lives.”

That would be a fun idea, impossible of course but you secretly hoped it could be done.

“Sounds interesting! Where are you from?” She asked.

Was she really up for it or was she just like you? Bored and alone enough to be talking to a stranger you’d met over Airbnb. Some people do tinder, but guessed you did Airbnb to make friends with other women who’d fallen under the sorrow that is falling in love with men.

“Astoria, Oregon. Pretty boring compared to London I guess.” Was your answer. Of course if she was remotely interested on switching before, all hopes would flush now.

“Not at all! All I care is that it’s far from here.” Sophia answered.

Was… it for real?

“Me too.”

You answered in hopes, but not really she’d back away.

“So, should we switch?” She asked.

You stared at the screen, not believing it. You had to make sure. “You’re serious? My place is nothing like yours.”

“Surely it’s not too horrible.”

It wasn’t, honestly. It was pretty. But not exciting, it was only normal. It was clean, it was full of books.

“I have a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom, living room. That's it. And I’m not near a romantic location like yours. I do have a dog, though.”

You didn’t know why you were sabotaging yourself. Matter of habits, maybe.

She didn’t.. Back away. “That’s perfect, I want far away from romance.”

So weird, you wanted to go near something romantic to be reminded love exists, or whatever. You didn’t understand why. Honestly, it probably was only a way to cope with this.

“Well, this is your chance.”

Honestly, this place was everything but romantic.

“Can I ask you one thing?” She asked.

She was going to back away. “Sure.”

“Are there any men in your town?” She asked.

Well, there goes your chance. You had to be honest about it. “Honestly? Zero.”

You waited for the ‘not interested' answer, instead she gave you: “When can I come?”

You scoffed with delight, not believing it. “Tomorrow too soon?” You asked, half-joking only. Honestly, you had to get away now.

“Tomorrow’s perfect actually.”

You couldn’t believe it. “wait wait wait but like are you for real?”

“Absolutely, or would it be too crazy?”

It ws for that matter, but when you’re brokenhearted you have no common sense. You didn’t have one of your own, that is. But this was exciting and this seemed like an adventure. A great idea for the one book you’d promised yourself you’d end up writing one day, instead of writing every other article for Chad.

You thought about it, you really wanted to go through with it. “It is but I’m down for it, but like, okay do you want pics of my home or something so you don’t think I’m a creepy old man who might kidnap you?”

And that would bring less of suspicion, god, why were you like this?

“Umm, yes actually :) that would be great.”

Yeah, she’d say that.

“Okay, wait, want my phone number so we’re not talking over air bnb?”

“Yes, I feel like that might be better.”

What was going on? Why were you exchanging numbers with a girl who you had never met and who lived in a completely different country. Besides, it was even crazier to think you btoh were thinking about switching places. You were crazy, completely off reason. Yet you didn’t know how or why you ended up both texting more, and talking. Showing each other’s places and ranting about men.

You couldn’t blame her for not believing in love, of course she wouldn’t. The ne guy she gives her heart to cheated on her. You wouldn’t blame her, at all. Besides, it was just…

You both had a very different version of it, but it was… Different. Yes, different, you guessed there was no other way to put it into it.

The texting didn’t cease, it continued more than you ever thought it would. Because sometimes it’s easier to rant to a stranger about life and love’s misfortunes. It seemed incredibly stupid how you both were talking about men who decided to ruin your lives. How in this world had you ended up venting to a stranger?

Danny blamed it on her. Danny seemed like the typical male who wanted to have a girlfriend and well, there was Sophia. It seemed sad, seemed like they both settled for it. Not even Sophia seemed to talk about him with love. She was just so… Not into it. Just talking about someone who she used to share time with.

She had given up on it. You couldn’t understand that. If the one who wasn’t the one could make her happy at some point, how happy would she be with the one?

However, you both seemed very alike, and both of you probably were in the same situation. Well, of course, the cheating part was different. But you’d gone through it as well. But Sophia explained that Danny, her ex, hadn’t even felt sorry for cheating.

You knew that story like the palm of your hand. Chad well… He blamed it on you, too. And he had said it, he didn’t cheat.

And though the stories were so different, the feeling was the same, of wanting to take a break from your pain, from a heartache and being so damn unreasonable to think of this. Honestly, though the idea of London seemed romantic, you knew you’d end up curled up crying on the other side of the world.

Sophia seemed to be very well put together, she had her bookshop, which added to her life. And sure, she seemed like a workaholic but she seemed to be kind. Someone who had the guts to follow her dreams and someone who barely had time to think about love.

You wished you were a bit more like her. She seemed like a main character. Even her name was a main character one.

The texting, not sure how or when, turned into a facetime call, and there you were, facetiming with a stranger about the lack of love you’d been involved with.  You pitied her, though. Not in a bad way, but in a way you could completely understand what she was going through. She seemed tough enough. But for her, love had rules. It had to be a certain way, and life had to have a certain balance and everything had to be merely perfect. But love for her was simple, the only rule was not to cheat.

Danny, her ex, had broken that rule. Which honestly, from what you’d gathered she was someone who actually tried. But… No, Sophia had seen him fade out. It always scared you to see that, to see how someone falls out of love. Sophia had seen it. But maybe Sophia’s belief, or lack of, of love was just… Surreal. But you understood it, not completely. But you did.

How could she believe in love when she’d never had it? Truly had it.

And she spoke of love as if it was a disease. Maybe it was, a disease. But was love really the disease or the aftermath the true one?

She didn’t believe in love. And not in a way that everyone has gone through, not in the way when you’re so brokenhearted that you don’t believe in it for a while. No, she didn’t want to give it a chance. For her, life was supposed to be about her success and her job, and the thrill of owning a bookshop.

Maybe she was the one who was right, after all you'd proved that love only could hurt. And how could you, after all of this, believe in it?

“So how long were you with him?” You asked her, as you were pacing around your kitchen, honestly you didn’t care if a complete stranger was seeing you in your ‘Chad reaction’, the bottle of wine, the chips, the cookies, your pj’s. Your pug dog, Tommy following you around.

Yet she was there, so elegantly, with her glass of wine. How was she handling it so well?

She gave it a thought. “About four years. What about you? How long have you loved Chad?” She smirked at the thought.

Four years. It seemed… enough. You rolled your eyes at the mention of his name. “Oh god it does sound super stupid,” you groaned. “But… Three stupid and miserable years, it’s a low point,” you said before finally opening up the wine and pouring a glass.

“No, it’s not stupid,” she answered. But it was, his name was Chad. “But, I can imagine how it would be a low point.”

Very, very low point. “But like you told me—He blamed it on you?” You couldn’t put your mind to it, at least Chad had accepted he’d slept with Denise. Of course, he didn’t say he cheated but he hadn’t… blamed it on you.

“He did,” she admitted. “He said I worked too much, and that I didn’t give him enough attention.”

You clenched your jaw, incredulous of how stupid he was. If you met the guy you’d probably slap him. “Fuck him, honestly, you’re successful bet he was intimidated by your success.” Because that’s how men work.

Sophia sighed. “Hmm, I doubt it. He just seemed… “ She paused. “bored of me.” You could see she was hurt. “I mean, he was right about one thing. I do spend most of my time at work, but that doesn’t give him any right to do that.”

“No. it doesn’t,” you agreed as you plopped on your couch, your dog jumping to your lap .” Why—Why are men—Like—”You didn’t know what you wanted to ask. “No, never mind that’s my question,” and it was. “Why are men?”

She let out a soft laugh. “Why are men indeed. More specifically, why is Chad?” She joked.

You laughed, too, with distress, running a hand through your face. “Ugh, don’t even mention him,” you whined. “He’s an asshole, can you imagine just a week ago he wanted to sleep with me?” You snaked with disbelief.

She groaned. “What I really have trouble understanding is why you ever wanted to sleep with him.” You had the question backwards, why had he ever looked at you? “Maybe his personality, but he seems like such a wad.”

You didn’t know how to answer the question. Then again, you had the same question for her. Why Danny? Why, being such an incredible woman, had she chosen Danny? Love is blind. You’d learned that over the years.

Maybe because ‘Danny and Sophia’ sounded like something with balance. But did it really? How could she see it so simply?

“Look—I—” You took a deep breath. “I believe in love at first sight,” and you did, in your own way. “and I don’t know, I guess—I saw the fantasy, you know?” You explained. “Thought we could—I don’t know, he was charming,” because he had been, at very first, he had been charming and he’d learned how to make you fall in love with him. “I guess I wanted that, you know the whole love story,” you sounded so childish and stupid but how could anyone ever apologize for being in love. “And he made me believe he could give it to me and then he just never—”You had to face the truth. “He only wanted sex and I fell in love,” it all ended so simply. Maybe Sophia was right all along. “Pathetic right?”

She watched you, and you saw it, the pity in her eyes. Yet someone else feeling sad for you.  She probably did think you were pathetic. “No, I don’t think it’s pathetic… I think… well, I’ve come to the conclusion that love isn’t worth any cost,” she answered. “Not really, especially since it doesn’t even seem real.” You wondered again, how come she’d never felt it. “Love makes people get their hopes up. It makes us… give too much of ourselves to other people, when we don’t even know what our future with them looks like,” she explained. Yes you were probably a mental woman to her. “But I don’t think it’s pathetic that you wanted to believe in something that only seems to come from fairytales, I just think that’s what most people do.”

How bad is it to want a fairytale? “Love is worth it, though,” you said, because how come a beautiful feeling could carry so much pain. “It’s men who are the problem.”

She grinned, defeatedly. “Suppose you got me there…”

You had to ask though. “But you... like really don’t believe in love?” You asked. “Then why were you with Danny? Didn’t you love him?”

She grimaced and took a sip of her wine. “You know,” she paused to think a bit. “I thought I loved him, and I thought he loved me.” You understood that part, believing someone loves you back and then it turns out they didn’t… Well, it hurt. “But, I guess he just…”She probably didn’t understand it herself. “And it just made me realize that, even if love is real, it comes so rarely that I don't believe I would ever find it.” That you could understand, though you were so enthusiastic about the feeling, you knew you weren’t meant to find it. “I just don’t think most people do.” She watched you, curiously. “Why have you put so much into it if you were hurt?”

It was an escape, really. Love seemed to make people happy and you wanted to be happy. She reminded you so much of Tim, talking trash about love and not understanding the thrill for it. Being so done with the feeling.

“I think… I dunno, love isn’t a one time thing,” you started with that, because it was true. “I think the problem is I suffered from unrequited love, but I think I… I dunno, I think we get chances,” you said. “Not me though,” you scoffed. “but it’s… I don’t know, I think I’ve always read about love and I’ve always wanted that, and love is complicated, that’s it,” you said, because love could come in so many ways. “I don’t think you can easily-“You shook your head. “I mean I do believe in a sort of thing like love at first sight but I mean, I believe in second chances, but like not for everyone,” seemed like believed in second chances for Chad. “ I guess I… I think there is such a thing as love I’m just… “ you took a deep breath. “super unlucky and maybe that sweet fantasy of any Julia Roberts’ romcom isn’t for me, I’m destined to be a side character who gets no… attention.” Or love.

Sophia probably believed you were helpless. You were. “Oh, come on Iris, that’s not true,” it was easy for her to say. She was the main character. “I mean, if you do come here then you’ll have plenty of opportunity to live a Julia Roberts movie. People seem to find this place so thrilling…” Why wouldn’t they. “I don’t seem to know much about love, or to really be the one to talk to about it, though… “ She admitted truthfully. She gave it a thought. “You know, you should talk to my friend, Tom, if you come. I think you’d get along well, he gushes on about love all the time.”

Your dog raised its head as soon as he heard his name. Tom. You smiled and petted him. “It is thrilling I mean, it’s near Notting Hill,” you were excited. “I just need Hugh Grant and that’s it but…”You knew it wouldn’t come. “You might come here and hate on love with my brother, he hates everything related to it.”

He really did. Tim was even worse than her. Tim never, ever had believed in love. He said he didn’t want to bother about it, no commitment, not ever seeing someone twice because why would he? He said it was a waste of time. Shades of gray on love. And he said he didn’t want to risk just to get hurt. He said love was… a mystery he didn’t want to explore. He liked simple things.

“Really? He sounds better than most men already,” she commented.

You laughed. “He’s not.”

If you ever bumped into someone like your brother you’d end up running the other way.

She chuckled. “Aren’t siblings meant to support one another?”

You scoffed. “You’d think that,” you pointed out. “But no, he’s a man,” you stated clearly. “I don’t know who’s worse men who hate love or men who pretend to love love,” you snaked. Probably the second one. “Your friend is probably the second one.”

Men who don’t believe in love at least are direct about it, and the second type they know and try to hurt you.

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. He seems to really believe in it, maybe more than you. He’s really sweet, typically… “She said. “I mean, he is a man so he has his days”

You heard her…. And then you clicked it. Tom, that friend of hers, he probably was in love with her. “Oh,” you closed your eyes. “Of course…. so… Right, right,” she chuckled. “But you don’t believe in love and...Right, right,” you thought it was ironic. You hadn’t even met the guy but you could tell that he probably was so smitten with her and she didn’t see it. A perfect love story.  Why couldn’t she see it? “Perfect setup, see?” You said. “This town is perfect for you, nothing that has to do with romance. It’s a great way to get away from everything romance.”

She seemed confused, because of course, she didn’t see it, she couldn’t, for that matter. But god, how did she not see it?

“Then I can’t wait to go, really,” she went along. “I mean, it seems perfect for you here, too. You can surround yourself in things to remember the “fantasy” of love again,” she offered. “So, are we really switching tomorrow?”

You couldn’t quite put your mind to it. It had been hours of you speaking with this stranger. And all because you wanted to change lives with a stranger. Were you actually going to go through with it? You wanted to.

“You think there are any flights?” You asked, half joking.

“I’m sure there have to be some. Should we check?” She offered.

You smirked and reached for your laptop, conveniently in front of you. “Definitely.”

You expected her to back up.

“Wonderful.” She hadn't. “How long are we doing this for?”

Forever? You wanted to say. “Uh, depends, holidays are coming soon… “ You pointed you. “So, even though I have no interest in spending Christmas here, what’s your idea?”

Because you didn’t want to spend Christmas with your family and hear that question, because you’d promised you’d bring Chad for Christmas. Why? You didn’t know. Because you were an idiot.

Sophia wrinkled her nose. “Nothing is really keeping me here for it, honestly.”

“I’m just-- you’re okay with dogs, right?” You asked as you pointed the camera at your puppy, honestly you had lied, Tommy was the love of your life. A young pug who loved to follow you around. “Because little Tommy here is going to miss me.”

She smiled at him. “I’d love to take care of… did you say…”She tried not to laugh. “l-little Tommy?”

You grinned as you hugged the dog close. “Yeah, his name is Tom. He’s the only male that matters.”

“Oh, I love that. I would love to trade Tom’s with you,” she chuckled.

Oh god, why didn’t she see it?

“As long as I don’t have to feed that one,” you chuckled.

“I do hope that you don’t have to, he seems somewhat capable of caring for himself,” she grinned. “Oh, by the way. He’ll be running my shop for me while I’m away, sometimes he stays later for work so if you hear him downstairs don’t worry.”

Of course he was, he was in love with her. You chuckled and then started to actually look for flights. “I probably won’t notice, honestly…” You scrolled through the flights and there was one. “Okay so here’s a flight, can you believe there’s actually one for tomorrow?”

She probably was looking for flights. “I found one too, shockingly enough… Are we really going through with this?”

Were you?

You were excited, scared but excited. “I think we are.”

“Well, alright then… “ She seemed to be rational yet.

“On three then….?” You asked, knowing this decision would probably change your entire life, not sure why. BUt you had a feeling that this was either the worst decision you’d ever made or the best one. This was the so-needed break you needed, you needed to breathe, and this was the perfect way to do so. Yes, this was unplanned and this was mysterious but this was what you needed an irrational decision.

“One…”She started.

“Two…”

“Three!” You said at the same time.

You’d bought the ticket. There was no going back now. You were going to London to a Stranger’s house for the Holidays.

sophia’s version <- REMEMBER TO READ TO KNOW WHAT’S UP WITH TOM. 

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[headcanonsandmore]

“Fell In Love With A Girl”, Chapter Four

Summary:  After Luna's shocking kidnap at the hotel, Ginny is desperate to save her girlfriend. But how will they find Luna in a place as large as the Amazon Delta?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagging: @cheeseanonioncrisps @lytefoot

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                   Read on FFN.                                             Read on AO3.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny was gently led downstairs by Tonks, and sank into a chair.

Her eyes were all red and irritated from the tears she had cried. She felt exhausted, but she couldn’t focus on it. All she felt was terror for Luna.

Kidnapped. In the clutches of the crime syndicate they had been trying to stop.

‘Kid?’

Ginny turned. Sam had placed a hand on her shoulder.

‘Y-yeah?’

‘We’re gonna get her back,’ he said, gruffly. She could tell he wasn’t good with handling emotions, but she appreciated the effort. ‘Those bastards aren’t gonna know what hit them.’

Ginny smiled, despite her tears.

‘T-thanks, Sam.’

The scarred man shrugged.

‘We’ve got a DNA match.’

Ginny’s head whipped round to the side. Remus was stood by a computer across the room.

‘From the bedroom upstairs, you mean?’ Sam asked.

‘Yeah; forensics just got back to us,’ Remus replied, tapping the computer screen. ‘A fragment of skin was left on the windowsill. It matches a low-level criminal who we suspected of being a member of the crime syndicate. Now we’ve got proof.’

At that moment, Tonks burst into the room.

‘Found this in Luna and Ginny’s room,’ she said, holding a book aloft. ‘Thought it might be of use.’

‘T-that’s… that’s Luna’s journal’ Ginny mumbled. ‘It’s…’

She trailed off, before grabbing the book from Tonks and slamming in down on the table and riffling through the pages.

‘Ginny?’ Tonks asked. ‘What is it?’

‘The newest pages are missing,’ Ginny said, pointing at the frayed bits of paper sticking out at odd angles. ‘Luna must have been writing ideas down.’

‘Ideas like…’

‘Amazonian Octarine-Flame,’ Ginny said, her mind connecting the dots. ‘It has variations that grow both above ground and in underground cave systems. The syndicate were obsessed with it, which means that they couldn’t find it in the rainforest. But Luna must have known where it grows; why else would they wait until I left before grabbing her? They need her knowledge.’

‘And kill two birds with one stone,’ Tonks finished. ‘Try to scare us off, and get the Octarine-Flame.’

Sam smiled.

‘You’re good, kid. So, where do we go?’

Ginny’s enthusiasm suddenly vanished; she didn’t know. Luna hadn’t told her where the plant was.

However, her eyes then landed on the map.

‘Oh, it’s where all those reports were coming from!’ She exclaimed. ‘No wonder the locals noticed something was up; the syndicate have been combing that area the whole time! They just need an expert to pinpoint the exact location of that plant!’

Remus nodded.

‘That would also explain why this area seems to be such a target; the network of underground caves stretch out for miles underneath the rainforest. I’m surprised they didn’t just force one of the locals to show them where the plant was.’

Sam chuckled, darkly.

‘Knowing this lot, I imagine they probably didn’t think the locals knew. Typical colonialist nonsense.’

Tonks nodded.

‘The syndicates base must be in that area too,’ Remus said, typing frantically into the computer. ‘They’ve likely got a base of operations close to where the plants are. Somewhere far away from the government authorities.’

‘That’s the problem with these syndicates,’ Sam said, giving a wry grin. ‘They always think that setting up operations in the middle of nowhere will keep them out of attention. But all it does is send up a flare of exactly where they are!’

‘You can hide a bee in a beehive easily,’ Ginny continued. ‘But stick it in a library and it’s impossible to ignore.’

Sam slapped Ginny supportively on the shoulder.

‘Damn, you’re good, kid!’

Ginny smiled.

Evil organisation or not, no-one messed with her girlfriend.

 *

  Luna stumbled forward. The members of the crime syndicate glowered at her. She had been blindfolded ever since she had been kidnapped from the hotel in Rio. They had only removed the blindfold when they had wanted her to inspect a plant.

Amazonian Octarine-Flame. It was the only one they seemed to be desperate to find. Luna wasn’t sure why they hadn’t just forced one of the locals to do it, but she wasn’t about to argue with the rifles the syndicate members were all carrying.

Gritting her teeth, Luna bent down and inspected the plant.

‘Tell us,’ instructed one of them, tapping his rifle in warning. ‘Is that the plant?’

Luna sighed.

‘Yes, it is. It’s the variant that grows above ground.’

‘Good.’

Luna stood back up. The members of the syndicate moved around her, and promptly dug up the plant, placing it and the earth around its roots into a special container they had brought with them.

‘Now, we head back to HQ.’

One of the syndicate members stepped forward, and pulled a mask roughly over Luna’s face.

‘For goodness sake; how am I supposed to walk if I can’t see?’ Luna asked, becoming very aware of how uneven the forest floor was beneath her feet.

‘We’re directing you where you should walk,’ said the syndicate member nearest to her. ‘We can’t have you knowing where our base is.’

‘I’m a florist, not a spy!’ Luna snapped. ‘You’ve got what you want; let me go!’

The syndicate members ignored her, and began to nudge her forward, using the butt of the rifles to do so. They weren’t quite as rough as Luna had been expecting, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

Don’t worry, Luna told herself, Ginny will find me.

As she stumbled forward, Luna’s mind began to work. The syndicate clearly didn’t want anyone to know where their base was, but they’d kept her mask off until she’d identified the plant. That mean… the base was nearby.

They walked on for a good distance. Luna wasn’t sure for how long but, given how many steps she was taking, it couldn’t have been for more than a few miles. That meant that they were still within the area that Remus and Tonks had discussed with Sam the other day.

There was a crackle in front of her. One of the syndicate members had pulled their walkie-talkie out of their pocket.

‘Viper company at section omega with person-of-interest 49?’

They were here. The base entrance must be nearby. Oh, if only she could see!

Luna was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she wasn’t prepared for the push behind her. She crashed to the ground, awkwardly landing on her hands and knees.

‘Get her up,’ grumbled the syndicate member in front. ‘That’s the sixth time she’s fallen over. We should have carried her the way; the last thing we want is the locals noticing the weird foot-prints.’

As Luna was pulled to her feet and pushed forward, she was vaguely aware of her hair swinging into a low-hanging tree branch. Thinking fast, she bit her lip, and gave her head a quick jerk in the opposite direction. There was a sharp shot of pain in her scalp.

The syndicate members didn’t seem to notice this as they bustled her forwards. Before she knew quite what was happening, she could feel herself being led down a steep passageway, out of the sunlight reaching through the rainforest trees.

 *

  Ginny climbed out of the jeep.

They had driving for… she honestly couldn’t remember how long. It could have been ten minutes or ten hours. Ginny hadn’t noticed; she had been focusing too much on Luna. On finding her and getting her out of harms way.

Tonks and Remus climbed out of the jeep. Sam was already standing a few feet ahead, and they all walked to where he was stood.

The rainforest completely surrounded the long dirt road they had travelled along to this spot. Ginny’s t-shirt was already soaked through with sweat due to the humidity, but she didn’t care; she was used to sweat.

Nearby the trees were stood several Amazonian tribespeople. One of them walked over, an elderly woman with kind eyes. She was clearly a local leader of some kind.

‘Hello, Sam.’

The grizzled agent shook hands with the woman.

‘Thank you for agreeing to help us,’ he said. ‘I know the last thing you want is more Westerners intruding.’

‘True,’ she replied. ‘But, by the sounds of it, the redheaded girl has an idea of what the syndicate is after. Which means we know where they’ll be.’

Ginny nodded.

‘Don’t worry,’ the woman said, placing a hand on Ginny’s shoulder. ‘We’ll find your Luna.’

Ginny blinked, quickly.

‘T-thank you,’ Ginny said. ‘Er, what did you say your name was?’

‘I’m afraid you probably couldn’t pronounce it in my language,’ the elderly woman replied, smiling. ‘But, in English, I go by Sky.’

‘Thank you, Sky.’

Sam laid out a map on the bonnet of one of the jeeps. They had marked the area of syndicate activity in red ink; sure enough, it was laid out in a twenty mile perimeter. The end of the dirt track was tantalisingly close to it.

‘Ginny, we don’t blame you if you want to stay here with the jeep,’ Remus said, kindly. ‘We can keep some agents back here with you until it’s safe.’

‘No,’ Ginny replied, her mind set. ‘I promised Luna I’d keep her safe, and I’m not letting a criminal gang hurt her.’

Remus smiled.

‘Okay.’

Leaving the jeeps behind on the track with a few agents, they ventured into the rainforest, using an old well-worn path. Sky and the local activists with her were leading the way, making sure that the MI6 agents avoided any dangerous plants or bugs.

The Amazon was unlike anything Ginny had ever seen before, and it honestly took her breath away. Trees and foliage spread out in all directions, and she could hear the calls of various birds and animals in the canopies above them. If she hadn’t been so worried about Luna, she would have been transfixed.

‘Footprints.’

Sky was crouched down on the ground a few feet ahead.

‘Someone came this way very recently,’ she said, ‘A group of them, and wearing deep-soled boots. Except one, who was just wearing shoes.’

Tonks and Sky nodded at each other.

They continued along the path.

Eventually, they rounded a corner, and came across a large tree. And Ginny’s eyes immediately zeroed in on something.

Hair.

Blond hair.

Luna’s hair.

It was snagged on the low-hanging branch.

Ginny locked eyes with Tonks, who nodded.

The agent exchanged looks with Remus and Sky, and the agents around them began to move into position. Sky mouthed the phrase ‘underground cave network’. The base was below where they were standing.

Gotcha. Ginny thought. Don’t worry, Lu; I’m coming.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed it!

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

Beginnings (1/9)

Mammon x ace gn!MC x ace!Leviathan

Words - 12,000ish (total)

Content warnings - angst, some internalized acephobia, insecurity, polyamory, asexual relationship, lots of cuddles and fluff and comfort

NOTE - Mammon and MC have a 100% consensual sexual relationship. No details beyond that are given.

Prompt/inspiration - a new take on my existing headcanons and previous stories

Summary - One day you suggest a polyamorous relationship with Levi to Mammon, and he loses his cool. Will Mammon be able to make things right? And will Levi ever get a chance to tell you how he feels?

[ AO3 | Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 ]

You and Mammon were practically inseparable.

From your first day in the Devildom it seemed, the two of you were always together. Of course, those first few weeks weren’t exactly while you were on the best of terms with each other. But soon your choice to spend time together came from a genuine interest in one another. And after awhile, you both had even fallen in love.

You just fit so well together. You shared a similar sense of humor, you enjoyed the same sorts of movies, you both even had a mutual love of spicy food. Physically, you felt the two of you were quite compatible as well. You loved how good he was at taking care of you, and nothing made him happier than having you shower him in affection and praise. And sure, his sex drive was definitely higher than yours, but you both were figuring things out and making it work.

Mammon wasn’t the only brother you were getting close to, however. While you enjoyed cooking with Beel and swapping book recommendations with Satan, your time with Levi in particular was special to you. He always had a way of helping you relax, and his desire to stay in the comfort of his room gave you an excellent place to unwind and decompress. Despite the fact he could barely contain himself when speaking about one of his special interests, he typically kept to himself when immersed in whatever activity had caught his attention in that moment, which made him excellent company when you needed peace and quiet.

For the longest time, you thought friendship was all you wanted from Leviathan. And Levi made it pretty clear on numerous occasions that he considered you his best friend and nothing more. Well, at least that’s what he said. In the past few weeks you had caught him staring at you more than once in a way that was reminiscent of the love struck look Mammon often got when he didn’t think you were looking either.

You had heard from Asmodeus pretty early on in your stay that monogamy wasn’t the usual practice for demons. He had made sure you were well acquainted with certain aspects of demon relationships, partly to gauge your interest, and partly to stop you from inadvertently making a move on a random demon at RAD. You and Mammon had never talked specifically about the idea of an open or polyamorous relationship, and you got the dinstinct impression that he would have trouble sharing, but the more you thought about Levi, the more you wanted to see if you could make it work with both of them.

One evening after dinner, you were relaxing in Mammon’s room, doing nothing in particular. He was reading some magazine about Devildom fashions (and where to buy them), and you were reclined with your head in his lap as you scrolled through Devilgram.

“Got somethin’ you wanna say?” Mammon finally asked with a light blush on his cheeks. Apparently you had been staring at him for the past few minutes and it was making him a bit self conscious.

“Wha? Oh, sorry,” you replied, giving him a soft smile before you nuzzled against his leg. You looked up at him again, only to find that he was now attempting to hide his face behind the pages of his magazine, hoping you wouldn’t catch sight of the smile that was tugging at his lips.

“Hey, Mammon. Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah sure,” he was glad to have something to talk about that he could distract himself with.

“What do you think of polyamory?” you asked, raising one of your hands to comb through what you could reach of his hair. You just loved how soft it was, and it had quickly become a habit whenever you two were talking that you would run your fingers through it as you were doing now.

“Eh? I dunno. Why?” Mammon sat his magazine down to give you his full attention. This was definitely an odd conversation topic, if there ever was one. He thought maybe Satan had given you some weird book recently, because it never would have occurred to him what you were about to ask.

“Well...I was wondering if you’d be open to trying something like that…?”

“Pfft, like you’d need anyone else with the Great Mammon to keep ya company!” he teased with a cocky grin. It was simple - there was no reason for you to be close to anyone else like that, because he was so good at making you happy...right?

“Oh,” you tried to shrug it off and turn your attention back to your DDD. This wasn’t how you had hoped this conversation would go, though you weren’t sure exactly how you had hoped it would go either.

But Mammon noticed the look on your face, and a small seed of doubt had started to take root in his heart. Just a tiny twinge of pain. The thought of you being any less than satisfied with him was one he spent a considerable amount of effort avoiding, but now it was creeping up on him.

“Why? Didya have someone in mind?”

He had only meant it as a joke, really. He wasn’t expecting you to answer. Or rather, he was hoping you wouldn’t. And when you didn’t respond immediately the sinking feeling in his gut only grew.

You looked up at Mammon and could see the strain in his smile. He was trying hard to look unaffected, but it was obvious to you that he wasn’t too keen on this idea. So you sat up, tucking one leg under yourself as you turned to face him on the sofa. You were having second thoughts now about bringing this up, but you knew that if you tried to back out of the conversation now, Mammon would surely only get more anxious and panicked.

“Well, I was thinking about Levi…” you answered, cautiously, carefully studying Mammon’s face as you tried to gauge his reaction. You knew he never would have entertained the idea if you had said Lucifer, but a small part of you hoped since he and Levi were pretty close, he’d be more receptive to the possibilities.

You would, of course, be wrong.

In fact, you saw the exact moment Mammon’s heart broke and his emotions shifted from insecurity, to hurt, to anger. You went to open your mouth, to try to explain, but he did not give you the opportunity.

“Him? Why wouldya wanna go out with that weeb?” he asked, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Hey! If you don’t like the idea just say so! You don’t have to attack Levi!” you stared at Mammon, shocked at his reaction. Hurt and tears wouldn’t have surprised you, but this anger was something else and you weren’t sure where it was coming from.

“Oh so ya gonna defend him?”

“Of course I’m going to defend him. He’s my best friend,” you snapped back, your eyes narrowing.

“And what am I then? Huh?”

“Mammon, that’s…”

“What, ya got one Avatar so you thought it would be easy to snag another? Who ya gonna go after next? Lucifer?!”

SLAP

“Don’t. You. Fucking. Dare.” by now, angry tears had started to gather in your eyes, and you could feel your hands shaking, your palm still stinging from the contact, “If you don’t like the idea, fine. But don’t you dare belittle my feelings for you or your brother.”

You glared at Mammon for another moment before swiftly pushing yourself off the sofa and heading towards his door. When your hand touched the door knob you paused, giving Mammon an opportunity to take back what he said, but all that was to be heard was a deafening silence.

Without another word, you left, slamming the door behind you.

——————

In the days that followed, you made a point to avoid both Mammon and Levi. Even though Levi wasn’t at fault, you knew spending time with him right now would only muddy the waters further, and that was the last thing you needed. So, if you saw one of them coming, you were quick to adjust your course and head the opposite direction.

And you knew avoiding them both wasn’t exactly the mature thing to do. But you didn’t know what else to do either.

Was this it? Were you just supposed to break up with Mammon?

The memory of what he had said to you still made your heart ache whenever you thought of it, even if you knew he had been speaking from a place of hurt. You wanted to believe he didn’t really see you that way; that he knew how much you loved him, even if he didn’t know anything else, because you didn’t think you’d be able to stay with someone who thought so little of you.

So what was the alternative? Trying to talk to him again?

The thought was enough to make you laugh. You were certain that would go over like a lead balloon. It’s not like anything would have changed since the last time you had spoken to him. You still felt how you felt, and he was opposed. Which would have been fine had he been respectful about rejecting the idea. But he hadn’t, and instead lashed out at you in his typical tsundere fashion, just dialed up to 10.

You let out a sigh as you flopped on your bed, finally back in the safety of your room after an exhausting day at RAD.

Just what were you going to do?

[morganaseren]

Warden Niamh/Warden Bethany AU

So because there seemed to be interest in the idea, I decided to expand on the second prompt on this list of AUs I made for Bethany and my Niamh Cousland.

Since Bethany is a Circle Mage in Niamh’s canon verse, I really wanted to experiment with Bethany in one of her other potential routes We don’t talk about the ones where she died not long after escaping Lothering or down in the Deep Roads. Like, what are you talking about? Lalala~ and see if I could work together a happier ending than what the games canonically gave her.

Like most of the AUs I’ve already written about though, this is just a snippet into the verse, so it’s not as polished as I’d like it to be, and the pacing isn’t on par with my main fic. However, there are still 50+ pages for your reading pleasure! Depending on reader interest, I’ll be more than happy to write more about this or other AUs once OtSttCA is completed.

Disclaimer: Any section written in present tense beneath the Read More contains notes or scenes that I’ve yet to expand upon properly.

CliffNotes version of what goes on:

This whole thing takes place sometime after Bethany becomes a Grey Warden and continues on through the years-long breaks between the Acts of DA2. The epilogue will be set sometime after the Trespasser DLC is completed.

Niamh is the Grey Warden who Morrigan chooses to do the Dark Ritual with, and through the obvious use of magic, Kieran is conceived. Because of this, Niamh’s sister Saoirse escapes her otherwise canonical death and gets to be happily married to Leliana.

Because of their mutual respect for one another, and the fact that Niamh went through the trouble of finding Morrigan through the events of the Witch Hunt DLC (she was worried about her friend and their son), she and Morrigan remain in close contact and co-parent Kieran together. Their relationship is often mistaken as a romantic one though.

Bethany eventually falls in love with Niamh over the years, but because she believes the other woman is in a relationship with Morrigan, she keeps her feelings to herself. As such, this is obviously going to be a slow burn romance much like OtSttCA.

Bethany only confesses (albeit by accident) when Niamh nearly dies during a darkspawn ambush when the two woman accidentally find themselves trapped down in the Deep Roads.

There’s a romantic kiss out in the rain along with a semi-NSFW scene later on, which explains why the Read More is in place beyond the fact that this is already super long despite the fact that it’s unfinished...

They both go off in search of the cure to The Calling not long after the Kirkwall Rebellion, and they both eventually get married sometime after the Trespasser DLC with Divine Victoria (spoilers: it’s Leliana) officiating their wedding.

Interested so far? Click below to read more!

“You’re originally from Ferelden, no?” Stroud asked, drawing Bethany’s attention from where she’d been listlessly staring at the cobblestones as they walked away from Amaranthine’s sea port.

The city itself seemed to be thriving with fishmongers and traders of all kinds rattling off their wares to passersby. Save for the workers carrying about lumber and other building materials, one might not have even believed that Amaranthine had suffered its fair share of woes during the onset of the Fifth Blight or the consequent, mysterious darkspawn attack upon its walls nearly a year later. Still, the denizens of the arling were ever a hearty people. For whatever hardship befell them, they continued to persevere. 

She supposed she couldn’t bring herself to be too surprised by that.

The Storm Coast had spawned some of Thedas’ most fearsome raiders once upon a time, and they had proven the bane of Orlais in the rebellion that had spanned over half an Age. For the empire’s trespass upon their freedom, they had fought back with a ruthlessness that matched the raging waves of the sea that was as much a home to them as the land. In the face of such an unsympathetic enemy, they depended on one another to see themselves and each other through to another day. Such faith eventually earned them the liberation they had long sought against Orlais.

Bethany could still see evidence of such camaraderie in the way the people greeted one another so whole-heartedly, stopping to make conversation or help with the transportation of wares. It was such interaction that she’d miss in all the time she’d been away.

Kirkwall had lacked such sincere enthusiasm.

Still, in the two years since she’d left it, she was finally back home, but Bethany knew it was yet another decision she hadn’t had a say in. She hadn’t agreed to returning to Ferelden any more than she had agreed to becoming a Grey Warden. Her jaw clenched, remembering how her sister had simply handed her over to them even when faced with the proposition that they’d likely never see one another again.

Was it really so easy for you to leave me behind, Sister? she thought bitterly, and perhaps upon sensing her melancholy, Stroud changed the subject.

“I realize it seems a rather abrupt choice in returning you here, but what I seek is far too dangerous for someone so new to our way of life to accompany me with,” he explained. “I’m meeting with the Warden-Commander of the Fereldan branch so that I might share some information in the event that things go awry. Their group is smaller than the ones seen across Thedas, but no one can deny their efficiency.” Stroud spared a small chuckle at that. “A bit like your sister and her crew, I suppose; I thought perhaps you would be more comfortable in such a setting.”

It had been a thoughtful suggestion; Bethany knew that. Still, she couldn’t help but sigh. She had always felt that the individuals whom had made up her little social circle were more Emrys’ friends than they had ever been hers. Her older sister had the type of presence to draw anyone to her with her rakish charm and absolute battle prowess.

…which was the exact opposite of her.

As an apostate, it was far easier to stay out of trouble by being unobtrusive. If she gave the Templars no reason to suspect her, she wouldn’t be taken away from her family and the quiet life she had always known. Yet, for all her trouble—and for all her desperation to abide by the rules of a society that had long hated mages like her—she had found herself alone anyway.

Bethany sighed as she looked down at the blues and silvers of the brigandine and tabard of her outfit that signified her status as a Grey Warden. Even with her staff openly displayed across her back, she supposed she no longer had to fear being turned into the authorities. Save for a few curious glances, no one so much as batted an eye at them.

She wasn’t entirely convinced this new life was better than the one she’d left. She could have dealt with the ever-present uncertainty in Kirkwall and the endless, interpersonal squabbles of their ragtag group than spending the remainder of her years surrounded by strangers and fighting darkspawn.

But the choice wasn’t hers to make.

Very little ever was.

---

“So that’s Velanna. She took over as Archivist for our branch when the Warden-Constable was promoted to her current position by our Commander,” Nathaniel said as he took Bethany and Stroud through a tour of Vigil’s Keep since the fortress’ respective Warden-Commander and Warden-Constable were currently out on business.

Their latest stop was a library filled with seemingly endless rows of bookshelves and even more that lined the walls of the chamber that consisted of three separate levels. It was impressive, and Bethany was half-convinced she could have spent an Age in this room alone and never be able to read the entirety of its collection.

At Nathaniel’s commentary, she spared a cursory glance at the woman writing intently at one of the tables furthest away from them, paying little mind to her audience. As was typical of most elves, Velanna was a slight woman. Her hair was a shade of blonde so pale that it was nearly white, but there was a surliness in her pensive expression that gave Bethany pause. It was something that suggested the other woman didn’t welcome the company of others easily, and she seemed to have been proven right by Nathaniel’s words.

“Don’t mind her if she’s a bit standoffish at first. Velanna’s usually that way with everyone until she starts warming up to them,” he assured.

“Oh?”

“Yes. She didn’t really like humans all that much to begin with—hardly a surprise considering how terrible some of them were toward her former clan. Truthfully, I think the only people she really respects are our commanding officers—the Constable mostly though.” He spared a soft chuckle at that. “Granted, the Warden-Commander could lead a damn army from one side of Thedas to the other, but only her sister has the type of negotiation skills that could somehow end up with a High Dragon allied with a sheep of all things.”

“Probably a good thing,” said Varel—the Keep’s seneschal. There was amusement in his dark eyes as he stroked his beard, which had long grown grey with age. “Actually succeeding in getting the Warden-Constable angry is a terrifying sight to behold.”

“Please don’t remind me; I still have nightmares from our first meeting…” Nathaniel muttered with a shudder.

Bethany found that curious, but before she could begin to question him, she saw how he blinked at further movement inside the library. She followed his gaze to see that a dark-haired, dwarven woman had entered through one of the side entrances, carrying two, steaming mugs. One had been set before Velanna, who whispered something quietly, but both of Bethany’s brows rose when she saw how the elf’s cheeks quickly reddened by the kiss that had been pressed to them by her latest visitor.

“Ah. And that’s Sigrun there—another one of those few, honored individuals who Velanna won’t immediately snap at,” Nathaniel remarked humorously.

The tour then continued elsewhere with the party entering the Mess Hall. While neat and tidy, it would have otherwise been unremarkable were it not for the lone dwarf snoring loudly atop one of the tables—an empty cask by his side. Bethany and Stroud shared bemused glances while Varel only cursed next to them, running a weary hand down his face.

“I told you we needed better locks for the cellar if we’re to keep Oghren away from the wine stores,” Nathaniel deadpanned.

Oghren grumbled nonsensically in his sleep before promptly rolling off the table and right onto the floor, loudly overturning more than a few chairs in the process. Despite the fall, he continued to doze away, and his snoring only seemed to grow in volume. They then watched as the poor seneschal wearily hauled the dwarf back to his quarters before he could cause another incident in front of their guests.

“…well, that was Oghren,” Nathaniel muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a weary sigh. “Quite the interesting fellow, that one. With him, you’ve pretty much met every Warden in the Keep save for—”

He was interrupted by the sound of voices coming down the hallway.

“I told you that I’m more than capable of walking on my own!” protested a feminine voice, irritation evident within it.

“Says the woman who was nearly side-swiped off a cliff by an ogre,” came the deeper timbre of another woman’s amused reply.

Unlike Nathaniel or herself, the latest arrivals didn’t seem to bear the typical, Fereldan accent or even Stroud’s Orlesian one from what she could tell. Bethany could hear how some of the vowels lilted somewhat as they spoke.

“It didn’t really give me any choice in the matter,” was the dry response. “It was either stand before its charge or risk the family in the wagon being swept over the edge instead.”

“I was hardly questioning your bravery, Sister. The people in that caravan certainly wouldn’t, but perhaps leave the more death-defying stunts to those of us with the armor to handle it, hm? I shudder to think what our brother or Aunt Eithne (writer’s note: pronounced Eth-Nah) would say once they find out about this...”

“Perhaps that you were lazing about while I was doing all the work as per usual.”

“Hey!”

Two women appeared in the doorway of the Mess Hall then, and Bethany was startled to find that one of them rivaled her older sister in both height and size. She was a warrior through and through if the impressive greatsword over her shoulder and her overall physique was any indication. Her mane of hair was the color of pale wheat, the length of which was held in a braid that trailed down half her back, and her eyes were a deep, stormy grey. The woman she was carrying—her sister, according to their conversation—was much slighter in comparison.

Rather than sharing in the warrior’s blonde-haired looks, hers was a stark, raven-black. The loose curls trailed to roughly chin-length with a longer fringe that covered one of her eyes—the color a whisper of smoke than the darker grey her sister had. The woman’s arms were also crossed over her chest as she regarded her sister—deeply-unimpressed—before her features cleared at the sight of their visitors.

“Ah. Stroud. Glad to see you and your companion made it across the Waking Sea safely. We weren’t expecting you both for at least another day, or we’d have sent an escort to meet you at the port.”

“No need for the trouble. The winds were kind during our voyage, Warden-Constable,” he said before tilting his head in concern. “Although it appears we’ve arrived too late to help you both. Has the darkspawn presence been more troubling as of late?”

The warrior whom Bethany deduced to be the Warden-Commander merely snorted. “They’re not as plentiful as they were a year ago thankfully. With Niamh’s and Velanna’s respective magic, our branch here has slowly been sealing any access tunnels we’ve come across, but our enemy may just be as awful as vermin with how they manage to reappear in other areas.”

“The incidents have been isolated so far as we can tell, but they’re capable of disrupting travel all the same. On that note…” The Constable trailed off as she turned her gaze toward the Warden who had been showing them about the Keep. “Nathaniel, we have guests from the caravan mentioned earlier. As it’s getting rather late, Saoirse and I decided it was best not to press our luck by letting them travel so soon after the darkspawn attack. Could you and Varel direct them to the guest quarters? We’ll arrange an escort for them to Amaranthine first thing in the morning.”

He pressed a fist over his heart respectfully as he bowed his head. “Of course.”

“Wonderful. Now—”

“Now we get you back to your quarters so that we can tend to your injuries,” her sister interrupted, cheerily grinning when it led to the other woman scowling outright, as if she had been reminded of her current position.

“And I’m more than capable of walking there on my own. Put me down!”

“And risk you further injuring yourself? What type of sister would I be if I were to allow that to happen? Now then!” The Commander directed a smile Bethany’s way, and she jerked in place at the sudden attention. “You’re the latest to join our Order, aren’t you? Stroud mentioned you were a mage. I don’t suppose you know any healing magic, do you?”

“Oh.” Bethany blinked. “Um, well, yes. I have some experience with it.” She had tended to her sister’s and their friends’ injuries often enough back in Kirkwall.

“Excellent. Would you mind tending to Niamh here as best as you can while I go find Velanna? I’m pretty sure my sister fractured a few ribs in that fight earlier.” She chuckled. “And don’t worry if she gives you any trouble; she has a history of being a terrible patient,” she added, earning a pained grunt for her troubles when the woman in question elbowed her sharply in the chest.

---

And before Bethany knew it, she found herself alone with the Warden-Constable in her quarters.

She was trying not to blush at the sight of the woman reclined against the propped pillows at the headboard of the bed. Modesty didn’t seem to be an issue for the other mage. Without another word, she had undressed—with a few occasional winces here and there as the movement pulled at her injuries—and was now bare from the waist up, save for the bindings around her breasts.

Bethany couldn’t help her own wince when she saw the livid bruising that covered the right side of the woman’s torso. It almost looked like the trunk of a tree had been slammed against it if the abrasions and bits of bark embedded into the cuts were any indication.

And she kept insisting to try and walk on her own with an injury like this? she thought in absolute disbelief before delicately pressing the tips of her fingers against the bruise. Despite being as gentle as possible, it still drew a sharp hiss from the Warden-Constable, and Bethany jerked her head up to see the other woman’s clearly pained visage.

“Sorry!”

“No, it needs to be done. Keep going,” she insisted even as pale eyes closed themselves to focus on breathing in and out evenly—albeit with some difficulty.

With permission given, Bethany laid her hand out over the woman’s side, drawing her magic out with a silvery-blue light. From there, she began sounding out the extent of the Warden-Constable’s injuries by feeling where it burned hottest beneath her palm—an indication of how bad the damage was. There was always a tickling sensation that spread out to her fingertips whenever she gently coaxed broken bones back into place. It was akin to puzzle pieces slowly sliding back together before she could encourage them to heal, and she waited for the pulsing waves around them to fade into a dull echo before focusing on the next fractured bone.

As for the bruised muscles surrounding them, they were far easier to deal with. Bethany poured magic beneath the skin in gradual increments—droplets of rain spilling into a cup one by one—until she felt the burning heat simmer down to a more bearable ache. She continued the process, slowly sliding her hand along the woman’s side until the patchwork of blues and blacks which had covered its expanse faded into a yellowish tinge and the superficial cuts had closed themselves. Bethany pulled away then with a satisfied smile.

“What song was that?”

Bethany blinked, turning her gaze up to see silvery eyes staring at her curiously. “Hm?”

“You were humming something while you were healing me.”

“Oh.” She felt heat gathering along her cheeks at the revelation. “It’s an old lullaby my mother used to sing to me. When my father first taught me healing magic, I used to hold my breath while I was performing the spell, but as you can imagine, it’s not a very sound idea unless you want both an unconscious healer and patient.” Embarrassed laughter spilled out of her then as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear self-consciously. “After a time, I learned that humming a few songs was useful in reminding me to breathe.”

“I see.” The Warden-Constable smiled, looking a great deal more relaxed as she reclined further against the headboard. “Well, thank you.”

“Of course.”

The Warden-Commander walked in then with Velanna in tow, and the warrior seemed surprised to see her sister still in bed. “Did you actually manage to get her to stay there the entire time?” she asked incredulously.

Bethany blinked in confusion at that since her patient had otherwise been well-behaved. As it was, she could only nod tentatively, causing the other woman to grin openly.

“Hah! Well done! I didn’t expect Stroud to send me someone who could cow her into submission.”

The Warden-Constable’s eyes narrowed then. “It was not my hearing that was damaged in that fight, Saoirse. You would do well to not make such comments before me,” she deadpanned, and despite the threat, it only drew hearty laughter from her sister, who soon drew her attention back to Bethany.

“Stroud said your name was Hawke, right?”

She shifted uncomfortably, having grown too used to her surname being used to refer to Emrys, but she nodded all the same. “I’d prefer just to be called Bethany if that’s alright.”

“Ah. Understandable. Can’t tell you how many times my sister and I both answered ‘yes’ in the same room whenever someone called out for a Warden Cousland.” She smiled. “In any case, welcome to the Fereldan branch of the Grey Wardens, Bethany. We’re glad to have you with us.”

---

After that, Bethany settles into Vigil’s Keep.

She sends letters home every now and then, but they’re usually only addressed to her mother. They’re never really long—just enough to let her know that she’s alive and well. Although Bethany realizes it’s a petty thing, she doesn’t ask about Emrys or send her anything for that matter. She’s still angry and resentful that her older sister managed to escape their adventure down into the Deep Roads unscathed while she got cheated out a future, leaving her to a life of killing darkspawn until the Calling finally takes her into the abyss of death. 

Melancholy is ever her constant companion, but eventually, she gets paired with Niamh for missions, who teaches her much about their duties as Wardens over the months, which takes them all around Ferelden. They deal with darkspawn sightings and document areas where they’ve sealed off underground routes into the Deep Roads with earth-based magic, hopefully preventing them from returning so regularly to bother nearby provinces.

As partners, they slowly become closer.

---

"Do you regret it?" Bethany asked one night as they sat by the campfire, watching as Niamh effortlessly flicked a hand to control the size of it just as a strong wind passed beneath the rocky overhang they'd taken shelter under. "Being a Grey Warden, I mean?"

Niamh paused, giving the matter some thought. "There are worse things to be, I suppose." She shrugged. "For a time, I hated the idea of being a mage because it took me away from my family. However, my being a Grey Warden was likely the only thing that saved me from being slaughtered with the rest of them when Howe plotted his coup. It likely also saved me from dying at the hands of my colleagues in Kinloch Hold when one of the Senior Enchanters overthrew it with blood magic and his followers.” She looked over at Bethany then. "Truthfully, I enjoy being able to see more of the world than through the cage the Chantry kept me in. I like the experience of being a part of it even in the moments that people dislike most."

Niamh held a hand out past the edge of the overhang, casually catching droplets of rain in her palm. Bethany watched as a slow smile spread across her features at the sound of another crash of thunder, and she couldn’t help how her own heart seemed to quicken upon seeing that serene expression.

"Our lives are more finite than they ever were," Bethany said distractedly, knowing all Wardens had only a few decades at most after their Joining.

"They are," she conceded. "That’s why I intend to make the most of it." Niamh's expression then turned sheepish as she turned back toward her. "I’m sorry. That probably wasn’t the answer you were looking for, was it?"

"No," she admitted, but as mellow as the other woman was, she was hardly surprised. Niamh had a way of remaining positive despite everything else life seemed to throw at them. Bethany smiled in spite of herself. "It was an honest one though. Thank you."

---

Every day is always an interesting adventure.

If not darkspawn, they deal with brigands out on the road or aid people across the countryside. To Bethany’s surprise, their help is openly requested sometimes when they reach a new town or village. Following the Blight, the utter bravery of the Grey Wardens had earned them Ferelden’s deepest respect. Thus, despite the fact they’re two mages traveling about, their regalia draws easy admiration and conversation alike.

It’s admittedly an odd feeling to have as a mage: to be wanted.

Bethany slowly grows to enjoy it though, especially when she can help with her magic so openly without being reviled for it.

Sometimes the jobs asked of them are simple enough: deal with a band of thieves, rid the area of rabid animals encroaching too close to farmland, helping out with some odds and ends around the village, etc.

Given that Niamh is a veteran of the Fifth Blight, Bethany also ends up learning a lot of survival skills from her during their travels together. She’s endlessly amazed by how the other mage utilizes her magic in combat and with other tasks such as hunting or fishing.

Bethany’s understandably shocked when she realizes that Niamh knows how to shapeshift, often scouting the skies as a raven to search for any nearby danger or roaming the wilderness as a sleek-looking, black wolf to hunt for game. It’s an unexpected revelation, especially since the other woman admitted to having been a part of the Circle most of her life before being recruited as a Warden.

She’s never met another mage so intriguing.

While Anders had been a benevolent healer, offering his skills to those most in need, it was his restless anger—an almost blind righteousness—over the plight of mages that gave Bethany pause.

Merrill was sweet in comparison, of course, and Bethany never minded talking with her even if there were the occasional cultural gaps that led to amusing misunderstandings at times. Still, the other woman held an interest in blood magic that Bethany wasn’t entirely certain she was comfortable with. After all, she had grown up hearing about the dangers of such magic from the Chantry. Then again, Andrastian religion also denounced who she was as a person as well, which was depressing in its own right…

While Niamh’s aptitude for elemental magic alone is impressive, Bethany is certain the woman’s shapeshifting draws upon some form of ancient or arcane magic—something well outside of the Circle’s teachings. It draws her curiosity endlessly. As such, Bethany asks her about the skill one day. Niamh just smiles, idly toying with the wooden ring that sits on a cord of black leather around her neck, revealing that a former companion taught it to her.

And that’s how Bethany learns about Morrigan.

---

“What?” Bethany exclaimed when Saoirse revealed how she was able to survive the slaying of the Archdemon. “You’re telling me that she and Niamh were able to…” She trailed off, trying to fight the blush burning across her face as her mind began imagining the possibilities of how such a conception was possible.

“You know, I thought to ask Niamh the technicalities of it once, but given she’s my baby sister—and obviously lacks the essential, uh, tool for the matter—I just decided it was best not to pry,” Saoirse answered dryly. She idly waved her hand about. “I don’t care to learn about her intimate life any more than she cares to know about mine,” she added before the corner of her mouth lifted into a lazy grin. “But for all intents and purposes, Kieran is my nephew, and Morrigan’s very much family now despite her protests to the contrary.”

“And he has the soul of an Old God?” she asked quietly as she turned to look at Kieran and the two women who were his parents.

Oghren had heard of their latest visitors and was—

Bethany squinted in confusion.

He was doing some type of weird jig in front of the baby, who was currently in Morrigan’s arms. Unfortunately, the erratic, uncoordinated nature of it did nothing to amuse him or his mother. Seemingly uncomfortable by the sight, Kieran gave an unhappy whine before reaching out toward Niamh, little fingers grasping repeatedly in her direction. Morrigan transferred him easily into the other woman’s arms when it was clear she wouldn’t mind holding him, allowing her to dryly berate the dwarf while Niamh comforted their son.

“So Morrigan says, yes,” the warrior answered with a shrug. “I originally turned down her ritual because I couldn’t bear the thought of subjecting an innocent life to such a fate, but I can’t be mad at the result. I still have Leliana because of it, and I can see how much Niamh adores both Kieran and Morrigan.” Her smile softened. “She has a piece of the happiness that I always wanted for her—something Niamh felt she could never find in this world, terrible as it is for mages at times.”

Bethany couldn’t help but agree at the latter sentiment.

Looking at the three of them, they certainly did seem like a happy family. Still, Bethany couldn’t help but feel some small pang of envy. While she had discovered that Niamh could draw just about anyone into easy conversation with her, she was rather private about her personal life. It wasn’t until recently that Bethany discovered she was even in a relationship—let alone one involving another woman. She had no issue with the idea or with Morrigan for that matter. The other mage was well-matched with Niamh on the basis of intrigue alone, but…

Bethany bit her lip.

After all those long months together with Niamh, she couldn’t help but feel—

Bethany nearly swallowed her tongue when she realized sharp, golden eyes were staring at her over Niamh’s head—as if somehow reading her thoughts. Morrigan was tall for a woman of Fereldan origin, but not nearly as much as Saoirse. With her dark hair and pale skin, she was as bewitching as she was powerful—her magical aura a fount of seemingly endless, wild energy. Bethany almost felt like prey beneath the other woman’s gaze, and she averted her own nervously.

Thankfully, Morrigan made no comment about it, but Bethany did wince when she heard her suggest turning into bed early to Niamh. She and Kieran had arrived relatively late in the day after all, so they were no doubt tired from their travels. Niamh gave no objections, and they soon headed off to the woman’s personal quarters.

Bethany sighed soundlessly.

She was no stranger to infatuation. Her attraction to Leliana back in Lothering was a testament to that fact. Granted, it was also somehow deeply ironic that her commanding officer was now married to the same lay sister who had since gone on to become the Left Hand of Divine Justinia.

Sometimes she couldn’t help but think the Maker enjoyed toying with her in subtle, annoying ways. In any case, like with any other infatuation, she would just have to wait for the one she had on Niamh to run its course.

It couldn’t last forever after all.

---

Spoilers: it does.

---

During one of her occasional visits, Morrigan left Kieran temporarily in the care of Niamh to follow up on a magical lead involving some of her arcane research. As they weren’t needed outside of Vigil’s Keep for anything, Bethany also got to watch over him as well, and as she did, she brought up a question that she had long been curious over.

"You said you started the ritual with Morrigan when you were already a Warden, weren't you? I thought Wardens became barren after the Joining though?"

"Hm. That's the assumption, yes," Niamh said as she idly waved a stuffed griffon over Kieran, delighting the baby instantly as they laid on the floor together. "I’d been a Warden for a little over a year at that point. Perhaps it was still soon enough that infertility hadn’t affected me yet, or the spell did something to compensate for it."

Bethany just nodded as she looked over at the two of them. "I see bits of you in him."

"Do you?"

"Yes," she admitted easily enough. "There's his sweet nature, the way he seems far too clever for his own good at times, and how his eyes light up whenever he smiles or laughs."

Niamh chuckled, flattered over the assessment. "Morrigan and I are always arguing about it. I see more of her than me in him, but then she retorts that he’s retained my love of sweets and just about every known creature in existence." Her smile widened when tiny, grasping hands finally succeeded in pulling down the stuffed griffon in her hands, and Kieran wasted little time in snuggling the toy to his chest with a pleased hum.

"Do you regret not being able to see him whenever you wish?"

"Sometimes," Niamh answered, "but Morrigan’s mother…" She trailed off with a frown even as she ran a hand affectionately through her son’s hair. "She’s powerful, and she’s hurt her before. I can understand her caution. I’m willing to go years at a time without seeing them if it means they’re safe."

---

Morrigan eventually returns, and she takes Kieran with her to hide and do magical stuff as Empress Celene’s Arcane Advisor in Orlais as per canon.

Several months pass.

Although Niamh had professed to understanding the need for her little family’s relocation, the distance means that visits from them are now few and far in between. Bethany can see how much the other woman misses them and how she worries about their safety. She often catches Niamh distractedly playing with the ring on her necklace, her thoughts clearly elsewhere.

As if anticipating that, Morrigan does send letters to Niamh every now and then, and Niamh’s entire expression lights up every time she receives them, learning how the other woman and Kieran are fairing in Orlais along with how their son continues to grow by leaps and bounds.

She cannot fault the happiness Niamh has found with Morrigan, but it also serves as a constant reminder of what life will never offer to Bethany.

Eventually, it gets to a point where Bethany grows resentful of their relationship because her own feelings for Niamh are just so strong by then. It causes her to lash out at Niamh one night in camp, angry with how calm and positive she always is despite knowing they all have a death sentence over their heads.

---

"What world do you live in that you see it through such an idyllic lens?! You can wax poetic about this life all you like! I never asked for this! I never asked for the darkspawn to steal what little I had from life only to be made the gatekeeper against the very things I despise most in this world!"

And Niamh was quiet for the longest time, having stopped mid-sentence over Bethany's sudden tirade. As the silence continued to drift over their camp, so too does a veil of sudden cold air, and Bethany realized far too late that she’d crossed a line with the other woman.

"No one does, really," Niamh admitted at last, the warmth gone from her voice. "Save for Saoirse and my brother, I lost most of my family, but the terrible thing was that it wasn’t even darkspawn that killed them or even the Blight. It was just one man’s petty greed for what he felt was owed to him. He pretended to be my family’s ally for decades, and under the cover of night, he used his men to slaughter nearly the entirety of my bloodline. My parents, my sister-in-law, my nephew… He was only eight when it happened, you see. Oren wanted to a warrior like my siblings. He was trying to defend his mother with one of those wooden swords young boys tend to play with, but against the likes of Howe’s men...”  She clenched her jaw. “They gutted him just like everyone else."

Another pause stifled the air between them even as Bethany stared at Niamh, horrified.

"Darkspawn are terrible, yes, but they’re not always as terrible as people," Niamh said, eyes narrowing as she looked into the fire. "We can be so far worse. If I'm at all patient, it's because I try to be kind in a world that offers so little of it. I want to believe it can be better than it was before. I want this to be a better place for our people, but I also want to ensure that tragedies like that never happen again. That the people caught in the middle—victims of simple circumstance—don’t have so suffer. If it means I must be a Grey Warden in addition to a mage, then I accept it. To do otherwise damns them as much as me."

With that, Niamh then gracefully rose to her feet and headed back to her own tent, leaving Bethany alone at the campfire.

The rest of their journey back to Vigil’s Keep passed without much conversation between them despite Bethany’s attempts. Niamh only said enough to give a suitable answer, but she never offered anything more beyond it. A vault door had seemed to close behind the cool grey of the eyes that had long enraptured her, offering little warmth. It was clear Bethany was no longer privy to the other woman’s innermost thoughts and feelings

Niamh wasn’t petty, however.

She still hunted when necessary so they didn’t starve, and as was long part of their agreement together, Bethany continued to cook whatever game she caught. Other than that, however, Niamh offered no friendly greetings in the morning when they woke or any words that allowed her to wander off peacefully into the Fade as she slept.

Bethany didn’t realize just how much she’d miss them.

---

When they finally return to Vigil's Keep, Saoirse is confused by how quiet and despondent her sister seems to be. Given how amiable Niamh normally is, she has a right to be concerned.

She pulls Bethany aside one night to ask what happened since they normally get along so well, but Bethany and Niamh haven't even spoken a word to one another since their return.

Bethany ruefully explains the situation, but she doesn't reveal the actual reason why she lashed out to begin with. As such, Saoirse just assumes it was just the usual stress of being a Grey Warden.

---

"Ah. It happens to the best of us, really. Here." Saoirse handed Bethany a tin box. Something Orlesian, according to the script on it. "Leliana’s currently away on business in Val Royeaux, but she sends care packages out to me whenever she can. This one's for Niamh though. It's tea," she explained with a laugh. "She loves this stuff more than anyone else I know."

Bethany still felt badly over the situation however.

“What if she doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“Oh, Niamh’s too well-mannered to outright ignore someone,” Saoirse insisted with a brief snort. “If anything, she becomes more… Well. ‘Distantly-polite’ as my wife would describe it. Besides, I have it on good authority that she never turns down a good cup of tea.” A lazy, conspiratorial grin played on her lips then. “Especially if there’s a spoonful or two of honey in it.”

That eventually culminated in Bethany making tea for Niamh that evening, who had been locked away in her office as of late. Bethany was still nervous despite receiving permission to enter the room, allowing her to face the woman who she hadn’t seen in nearly a fortnight. Concern grew within her when she saw the shadows beneath Niamh’s eyes—a familiar indication that she had been working far too hard. She watched as Niamh struggled to blink the exhaustion from her eyes as she regarded her, but she otherwise said nothing, simply waiting to hear what Bethany required of her.

“I’m sorry," Bethany said at last, contrition clear in her voice. "This isn’t the life I would have wanted for myself, but I shouldn’t have lashed out at you when you were merely trying to help.” She held out the still-steaming mug of tea in her hands—the very thing Saoirse had convinced her would make for a suitable peace offering. “Here,” she offered with a tentative smile. “If you’re going to be working through the night again, you should at least drink something.”

For a time, Bethany believed the other woman was just going to remain silent. It would have been well-deserved given how terribly she behaved the other week, but then Niamh reached out to gently take the mug from her.

"Thank you," she said at last, the ice slowly melting behind those wintry eyes, and as they did, Bethany could feel the vice around her heart gradually unhinge itself in relief.

---

Things pretty much go back to normal between them.

Niamh and Bethany are back on the road again, especially after several reports of wandering darkspawn near the outskirts of a town.

As expected, however, Bethany's longing toward Niamh is still there—constant as an evening star. Even with the taint of death coursing through them, Niamh’s aura emanates with so much life—like a forest in winter, cool and refreshing with the scent of pine buried beneath its depths, waiting to burst into spring’s lively greenery with just the barest spark of magic.

It fascinates her.

She often wonders if such single-minded focus is a side effect of the Joining other than the enhanced physical strength and the ability to sense darkspawn. She feels a hunger that is never sated, a thirst that is never parched, and also…

Amber eyes wander over to where Niamh is disrobing to bathe in the nearby river, and she catches sight of the elegant play of muscles along her back before she studiously turns her gaze away. She feels the way her face burns even as she feels something else stir in her veins.

---

While still traveling, they get attacked by some hapless bandits, and while the two women aren't hurt, they manage to lose one of their tents to a stray grenade.

They end up sleeping in the remaining tent together, but it’s small, and they huddle together inside it for warmth against the pouring rain outside.

Bethany is surprised when she unexpectedly wakes up in Niamh’s arms—one is around her waist, and the other is curled behind her shoulders—which pull her closer in sleep. Sometimes she’s amazed at just how warm the other woman is, and although she knows she should pull away to avoid any awkward conversations in the morning, she can’t bring herself to do so. This is probably as close as she’ll ever get to the intimacy she desires with Niamh, and while the moment won’t last forever, it’ll be one more memory she can cherish—something no one else can ever steal from her.

Idly, Bethany listens to the rain outside—now a gentle pattering instead of the rage of a growing storm—falling against the material of the tent, and the sound is so rhythmic that she begins to doze off again.

---

Sometime after that, they receive a letter from Stroud, who requests their assistance with a matter out in the Free Marches. Saoirse stays behind to oversee things at Vigil’s Keep, which leaves Niamh and Bethany to travel across the Waking Sea with Nathaniel as additional support.

They arrive in Kirkwall several days before the qunari invasion begins in full, but not long after they do, Nathaniel’s reconnaissance around the city reveals something terrible:

Bethany’s mother was murdered.

Bethany is understandably upset, but Niamh and Nathaniel do their best to comfort her. They end up holding a small wake in honor of Leandra.

By the time they manage to rendezvous with Stroud, the qunari invasion has already begun, and they’re caught in the middle of it, leading to the Wardens running into Emrys Hawke and her companions.

Emrys obviously wants to talk to her little sister, but Bethany is resistant to the idea since her emotions are still riding high with the news of their mother’s death and the ever-present resentment regarding how she was made into a Warden without her say so on the matter.

Niamh recognizes Bethany’s tension and politely tells Emrys to leave the matter be for the time being. There is little point in having a conversation if one half of the party isn’t ready to have it after all.

Running on adrenaline, the warrior objects and tries to push her out of the way, but Bethany retaliates immediately on Niamh’s behalf. She presses her hand against her sister's chestplate and essentially shoves her back several steps, momentarily forgetting her Warden strength. Both Hawkes seem surprised by the ease in which she can do that.

---

“Bethany?” Emrys uttered in confusion, especially as her sister outright glared at her.

"You do not accost Warden-Constable Cousland that way!"

“Wait… ‘Cousland?’” Emrys looked over to the woman in question, taking in the obvious staff situated across her back. A wolf’s head ornament adorned the top of the weapon in exquisitely-sculpted silverite, and her eyes slowly widened in realization, remembering tales of the mage who could bend the very heavens to her whims. “Wait, you’re the Storm Wolf of Ferelden? Sister to the Hero of Ferelden?”

The woman merely gave a long-suffering sigh in response. “I suppose I was being too optimistic in assuming Leliana’s tales would’ve lost their weight this far past Ferelden’s borders…”

---

Despite the chaos ravaging itself across Kirkwall, the Wardens can’t stay to help. As such, they’re not there to see the end of the invasion. It isn’t until Bethany returns to Ferelden with the others that she receives a letter from Varric, saying that Emrys nearly died in her duel against the Arishok.

While Varric takes the time to mention that Emrys is recovering, and that her bravery led to her becoming Kirkwall’s Champion, the idea that Bethany had nearly lost the very last member of her family is so shocking that she's left inconsolable one night.

---

"I was such an absolute wretch to her before we left, and she nearly died afterward!” she wept when Niamh came to check on her in her room. “She’ll never forgive me!"

The other woman’s eyes are sympathetic as she held her in her arms. "Don’t be so sure."

"How can you say that?" Bethany demanded as she looked up at her, eyes red and swollen with grief.

"I’ve seen the way you talk about her, Bethany. The memories stir up more than just hurt within you,” she explained. “They light your eyes up with joy in remembrance of them. I’m sure she misses you and wishes things had gone differently. She wouldn’t have bothered sending all these letters to you otherwise over the years.

"My siblings did the same when I was still in Kinloch Hold, where I often wondered if my family had forgotten all about me. There were times I feared my being a mage would have meant their love for me would have gone away, but it didn’t. I received letters from them all the time—sometimes over the most asinine things like Saoirse’s warhound tossing bits of her armor into the pig pen." Niamh rolled her eyes, but Bethany could see the fondness in her gaze before they refocused on her.

"Your sister has asked for nothing in return even in the times where you never sent word back. I won’t tell you how to resolve this. You were right in saying that no one truly asks for this life, but I believe she only had the best of intentions when she entrusted your safety to Stroud. Trust in that if nothing else, and if you still find the matter wanting, tell her so." Something sad and brittle lingered on the smile she shared with her. "The what-ifs hurt more than the reality of things at times. No one deserves that."

---

Niamh helps to cheer Bethany up over the course of several weeks.

They’re off in a nearby town, investigating more sightings of darkspawn, and Niamh goes downstairs to pay the innkeeper for breakfast while Bethany packs up some of her belongings to continue their journey. When she reaches for her staff, she blinks, startled to find an ice flower blossoming on the end of it. She stares in surprise at the door the other woman had left through because there’s no way someone else could have done this.

It's almost like something out of a scene from one of those romantic tales Leliana used to tell her back in Lothering. She had thought them nonsense at first—that surely no one actually did such sweet things in real life—but now…

Bethany gently brushes her fingers over the beautifully-conjured petals and leaves, feeling the cool aura radiating from them.

Now she’s not so sure.

---

During their travels, they’re ambushed by darkspawn, and in the middle of the fighting, the ground manages to crumble beneath both women’s feet. The fall is long and painful as they slide down an old mine shaft, and soon they find themselves down in the Deep Roads. Unfortunately, it's an area they haven't charted yet, so they have no idea where they even are.

They have rations from the last time Niamh hunted and smoked some game, but they know it won't last forever. They can feel the press of darkspawn everywhere against their senses, and it's difficult to get any real bearing down in the tunnels because of it. The ambushes are sporadic throughout the days as they try to find their way back to the surface. They have taken to sleeping in brief shifts so they’re not caught unaware.

One fight lags on long enough that they have to retreat, but their enemies lead them right into the lair of a broodmother.

Bethany has never seen something so hideous in all her life, but when she turns briefly to Niamh, she’s disquieted to find the other woman looks more terrified than she's ever seen her. She barely has time to think over that before the darkspawn attack them again, but now they have the broodmother and her various tentacles to dodge as well.

The fight rages on for quite awhile, long enough that Bethany voices the thought they might never see Vigil's Keep again.

---

“No.”

"Niamh—"

"No!" she repeated firmly, glaring as she lashed out with an arm, incinerating an advancing line of darkspawn to their right. "I am getting you out of here! I swear it!"

You.

Not us.

What are you planning, Niamh? Bethany couldn't help but think worriedly.

Then she felt the sudden rush of magic—causing Bethany to almost stumble in place at the overwhelming sensation—as Niamh’s aura manifested itself more tangibly in an array of colors. Blinding arcs of lightning and lines of roaring flames raced across her form, and Bethany could see her own breath forming in rapid, exhausted puffs as the temperature inside the entire cavern seemed to drop even as the stone walls rattled ominously from the breadth of absolute magic being conjured.

The power of it was soon unleashed as Niamh slammed her staff end into the ground, allowing countless rays of energy to simply explode from her body. They radiated out like spectral hands of vengeance, and the cries of the darkspawn were nearly drowned out entirely as utter destruction rained down upon them. Each blast hit like deafening peals of thunder, and the echoes of them spanned for several long heartbeats, leaving Bethany’s ears ringing even after everything eventually fell silent.

As the dust and debris finally settled from the turbulent winds, she could see the other mage leaning heavily upon her staff, utterly exhausted. Each breath she took seemed to be a laborious effort, but Bethany watched as those eyes remained keenly alert to their surroundings, waiting to see if any of the darkspawn she had laid waste to would try and attack them again. They both tensed upon hearing the low, wailing groan of pain, and they looked to the far side of the cavern to see the broodmother still alive—albeit barely.

While already repulsive, it was now a macabre mass of flesh, bleeding sluggishly from the wounds inflicted by Niamh’s attack. Bloated skin bore severe burn marks, and entire chunks of flesh were missing. One of the broodmother’s arms had been severed completely, but the heat from one of the elemental attacks had unintentionally cauterized the fat stump even if Bethany grimaced upon seeing the pink-tinged bone that still protruded from it. The broodmother’s entire form seemed to slump back with what they assumed was her final breath, but then the sudden sound of earth breaking behind them alerted them far too late to a final danger.

Bethany turned her head just in time to see a lashing tentacle sprout from the ground, and her mind barely registered the sight of it before she heard the frantic call of her name along with warm hands pressing against her side.

"Bethany!"

As if time had slowed itself, she watched in horror as Niamh pushed her out of the tentacle’s swooping path, but in doing so, the other woman took the brunt of the attack entirely. Niamh was sent flying into one of the naturally-formed pillars of the cavern, impacting it hard enough that it broke at its center, raining rubble down upon the mage resting eerily still at its base until she was buried beneath it.

Bethany’s eyes remained fixed on the sight even as she shakily rose to her hands and knees. An overwhelming sense of disbelief overtook when her longtime partner didn't emerge at all out of the stone pile. In fact, there's a terrifying lack of anything in that direction.

Nothing of the taint in Niamh's blood.

No sound.

No magic.

Just... nothing.

Distantly, she could hear the half-dying moans of the broodmother somewhere beyond her peripheral vision. Although Bethany was all too aware of how dangerous her current situation still was, all she could feel was a staggering rush of absolute rage building inside her. It seemed to grow with every beat of her heart until she could hear it pounding inside her ears—a drumming sound of accusation over the fact that she had been powerless to help someone dear to her yet again.

It was her anger that gave birth to the sudden burst of power—whether a second wind or simply a dying gasp, she didn’t immediately know—but Bethany whirled to face the grotesque beast, magic already gathering within her hands. With an infuriated cry, she pressed her palms out, and she felt the immense displacement of air around her immediately as she summoned enough force magic to take up almost the entire space of the cavern. The pressure of it proved too much against the broodmother, and Bethany watched impassively as its enormous body was flung toward the far wall with enough violence that it was reduced to a grisly splatter of darkened blood, pulverized bone, and putrid meat.

With its death, Bethany felt the presence of darkspawn waiting beyond the cavern retreat even further, as if afraid of tempting her fury. Safe from any immediate threats, however, she wasted little time in rushing over to where she last saw Niamh. She used her hands and magic to try and dig her out beneath the rubble, but when she found her, fear took hold of her immediately when she realized the other woman wasn’t breathing anymore. Desperately, Bethany tried to use her healing magic in an attempt revive her, but to her utter dismay, the chest beneath her hands remained impossibly still.

“Oh, no…” she breathed. “No. No! You can’t be dead! Niamh, get up!”

But her cry fell on deaf ears.

Despite her best efforts, no matter how much healing she tried to force through the other woman’s veins, Niamh didn’t respond. As each minute continued to pass by in silence, Bethany began to wonder what she’d have to tell Morrigan if she ever made it back to the surface, let alone the little boy with Niamh’s kind smile. It would be such a terrible thing, she knew, informing them the woman they loved died trying to save her.

Just like everyone that ever entered her life.

Leaving before she even got the chance to give her goodbyes.

Bethany withdrew her healing magic and began conjuring lightning beneath her hands instead—the same way Niamh had taught her once upon a time—desperate for anything that could attempt to shock some life back into the other woman. Niamh’s body jolted with each burst of power, head lolling about along the dirt, but she still remained impossibly beyond Bethany’s reach—perhaps now wandering past the Fade and into the Maker’s embrace.

At the thought, her anguish soon gave way to anger.

“Damn you, you selfish wretch!” she shouted as she pressed her hand over the woman’s sternum with another pulse of electricity. “I never asked you to try and save my life! You don’t get to do this to me! You don’t get to just leave me here when I never had to chance to tell you everything! Not when you don’t even know I love y—”

Just as she went to jolt the other woman again, Bethany felt a hand firmly wrapping itself around her wrist.

Shocked, she looked up toward Niamh's face, especially as she heard a very weak cough. The other mage hadn't opened her eyes yet, but she saw how the still blue-tinged lips began to move—too soft for her to hear anything. Bethany lowered her head to listen more closely and soon heard a quiet question.

"...are you alright?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and fresh tears began to fill Bethany's eyes again in spite of herself.

Even after everything they had both suffered through, Niamh's first concern had still been solely for her.

With a shaky breath, she carefully curled herself up against Niamh’s form, crying silently even as she rested her hand against the other woman's stomach to continue and apply weak, healing magic.

That was how the other Wardens found them later.

"There they are."

Bethany didn’t pick her head up off the floor, but there was little mistaking Morrigan's distinct voice. Saoirse’s own followed soon after.

"I owe you my thanks for this, Morrigan."

“Thank your sister; I would not have been able to find her were she still not wearing the ring I gave her years ago.”

A weary chuckled greeted the mage’s words. “Ever the sentimental woman, my little sister…”

The sound of heavy footsteps treading closer caused Bethany to look up, and she could see Saoirse kneeling down next to them. The warrior’s face was worn with stress, but there was nothing but relief in her eyes as she saw them both together. "It appears I owe you my thanks as well, Bethany." She jerked her head up then, shouting out an order. "Get a litter for them now!"

"But I'm not nearly as injured," Bethany protested, drawing her hand away from Niamh’s body self-consciously, especially when Morrigan appeared and began to take over healing and stabilizing the woman’s condition with fresh magic.

"No," Saoirse admitted even as her lips lifted up into a tired smile. "But you and I both know what a terrible patient my sister is. I’ll be depending on you to make sure she behaves herself if she wakes up during our trek back to Vigil’s Keep.” She gently clapped a hand over Bethany’s shoulder. “Thank you. I owe you a debt.”

“Warden-Commander—”

“No. Niamh and I have lost enough in our lives. It would have hurt me to lose her as well.”

---

Niamh remains unconscious for several days as she recovers back at Vigil's Keep.

Bethany and Morrigan basically take turns looking after her.

Despite the other woman’s position as a member of Orlais’ Imperial Court, it seemed Morrigan returned to Ferelden after receiving a frantic letter from Saoirse, saying that Niamh and Bethany had been missing for several days following a routine mission.

As mentioned in the previous section, Morrigan gave Niamh a ring, which would allow her to find her were she ever in danger. It proved especially useful when Niamh and the other Wardens were imprisoned in Fort Drakon, where Saoirse essentially put her foot in her mouth and ruined their attempt to sneak Queen Anora out of the estate she had been held captive in.

I believe the ring is only canonically available if a player is in a romance with Morrigan. However, I’m headcanoning that because she held Niamh in such high esteem, she gave it to her anyway.

Kieran is also present at Vigil’s Keep because there’s no way Morrigan was leaving him behind in Orlais. He’s about five years old at this point, and he’s grown to inherit both his mothers’ looks. A crown of dark, loose curls sits atop his head much like Niamh’s, and he even fashions a forelock like hers, which hangs in front of his right eye. His gaze is a piercing shade of gold reminiscent to Morrigan’s own. As a possessor of an Old God Soul, he’s also begun to speak cryptically at times, which is understandably jarring to those around him.

Bethany happens upon one such conversation by accident, and she immediately pauses in the doorway when she sees Morrigan and Kieran standing at Niamh’s bedside.

“Sire was caught within the paths of the Fade, Mother. She heard the voices of old ghosts calling to her, but she didn’t follow them.”

Morrigan indulgently runs a hand through her son’s hair. “Indeed; she did not.”

“She missed them though, but she still returned to us.”

“Of course. Why would she desire an eternity without you?” she asked with a fond smile, causing Kieran to giggle.

“That’s not why, Mother! Not completely.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She would have missed the Sunshine too much. She’s been following her warmth for years. It would have hurt her to be without it.”

Kieran’s words pull at Bethany oddly, but she soon pushes them out of her mind and quietly walks away, feeling too much like an intruder upon the small family.

Thankfully, Niamh regains consciousness not long afterward, and everyone is understandably relieved by this news.

As per usual, however, Niamh proves herself to be an exceedingly stubborn patient, but perhaps wanting to set a better example for Kieran after her near-death experience, she remains in bed for the duration of her recovery. The other woman doesn’t seem to mind too much, especially given that her son continues to keep her company, telling her of the various odd things he’s seen around Orlais and the even odder people.

After several weeks under Morrigan’s watchful eye, the witch begrudgingly says that Niamh's okay to begin light duty around the Keep, relieving the other mage immensely. She goes out herb-gathering, an excuse just to get out of the fortress, and Bethany volunteers to go with her.

Things are quiet between them for a time as they begin picking up elfroot to place in the shared basket between them. Their conversations as of late haven't been of anything too substantial. A good thing, Bethany thinks, considering her feelings for her and how close she’d been to revealing them. Soon, however, they're caught in the middle of a light rain shower, and Bethany says they should head back. She begins to lead their way out of the forest when Niamh’s words stop her in her tracks.

---

"I was waiting for you to say it again, you know."

Bethany looked over her shoulder in surprise to still see Niamh standing in the middle of the clearing, her gaze expectant. “What?” she asked nervously.

"When I nearly died, I heard you say something… significant to me,” she revealed, causing Bethany’s heart to pound as she stared at her in disbelief. “However, when I recovered and you never repeated those words again, I thought it might have been little more than a fever dream of mine." Niamh's smile turned sad then when Bethany said nothing else to her words. "Perhaps it was after all... I’m sorry. I’ve made this rather awkward then, haven’t I?” She took a few steps closer, reaching toward the basket of herbs Bethany still held in her hands. “Here, let me—”

But Bethany just let it drop to the ground before she reached out to grab the collar of Niamh’s cloak. The other woman seemed taken aback, but before she can even begin voicing a question, Bethany pulled her forward to kiss her desperately in the rain, swallowing her gasp of surprise.

As far as first kisses went, it was a touch awkward as their teeth clicked together, lips mashed between them. Bethany felt a moment of panic as Niamh pulled back, but before the urge to run away in mortification could overtake her, a warm palm pressed itself against the back of her neck, keeping her in place. There was the brush of knuckles as they ran along her jaw, and Bethany was just able to catch the silver of Niamh’s eyes before all thought fled from her mind upon feeling the soft press of the other woman’s mouth on hers.

Bethany followed into the easy guidance being offered, and they both soon settled into a comfortable rhythm that sent pleasurable shivers down her spine. She felt light-headed with giddy delight, and her hands reached out to hold onto Niamh’s hips, helping to ground herself there, as their kiss continued. There was a soft sound as Niamh sighed contentedly into her mouth, as if she had been waiting just as long for this moment between them.

The thought seemed almost too impossible to comprehend, especially when she knew Niamh was committed to someone else. As such, Bethany pulled away first despite the sound of protest it caused. Despite her resolve, Bethany was reluctant to pull away from Niamh entirely, so she settled for gently leaning her forehead against the other mage as they panted quietly in the rain.

"I'm so sorry," she said breathlessly, practically speaking the words against Niamh’s lips. "It wasn't my intention to interfere with your relationship with Morrigan."

As close as they were, there was little mistaking the clear confusion in the eyes across from hers. "'With Morrigan?'" Niamh repeated. "What does she have anything to do with us?"

"But… I thought—” Her brows drew together in consternation. “Aren’t you both together?"

"What? No," Niamh answered, almost amused by the idea. "When we laid together for the ritual, it was an agreement of mutual benefit meant only for that night. She's not—Well." An exhale of breath escaped her in the form of laughter. "Morrigan's admitted she's not interested in women—or anyone, really—in quite that way, but none of the male Wardens with us at the time dared to lay with her even if it meant sparing us all from death. She trusted me, and I her. I consider Morrigan one of my dearest friends, and we share Kieran together as a result of that night, yes, but we are certainly not bound together as others seem to believe."

And Niamh’s answer suddenly changed everything.

What Bethany had been feeling, what was now possible between her and Niamh...

She couldn’t help but smile as she finally realized she could have a bit of the happiness she’d always wanted for herself.

---

So everyone knows that they’re a couple after that.

Niamh becomes more overt in the romantic things she does for her—the very same things Bethany had thought were the woman simply being thoughtful. She finds out that Niamh had apparently been interested in her for awhile and had actually been ready to confess her feelings a few years ago, but their first argument, where Bethany had accused her of being too idealistic, had stemmed the thought immediately.

Niamh had been understandably heartbroken by the words, which was why she’d had been so despondent for weeks following the incident, believing Bethany had no romantic interest in her whatsoever. The apology in her office later had restored their friendship, and while Niamh had been disappointed it likely would never evolve into anything more beyond that, she was still determined to be a good friend to her if nothing else. 

Bethany’s completely exasperated at the idea that they could have been together long before now, but she realizes it was likely better this way.

She had needed time to get over her anger and resentment regarding her life as a Warden.

She needed time to get past her guilt and the complicated thoughts regarding herself and her faith.

And she needed time to grow into herself and discover who she was as a person.

She’s grateful that Niamh’s been so kind and patient over the years, and Bethany finds great joy in the new facet of their relationship together.

They’ve kissed and been involved in heavy makeout sessions around Vigil’s Keep—much to the exasperation of their colleagues—but barring the incident that led to Kieran’s conception, Niamh’s been celibate for years, and canonical dialogue in DA2 reveals that Bethany’s pretty much a virgin. As such, she’s understandably very shy and nervous about the whole thing. However, she knew every part of her would be in good hands with Niamh when they finally reached that point.

Their first time together takes place several months after their first kiss, where Niamh tries her utmost to make it a memorable thing for them. She takes Bethany to a grove they frequent together outside of Vigil’s Keep for a midnight picnic. The moon is full, and the skies are clear, revealing an endless sea of stars. Little fireflies dance over the surface of the lake while they sit on the grass along its shore.

It’s a casual reminder that for all their hardship, life goes on and finds a way through a magic all of its own.

They stargaze for and handfeed each other little bits of food in between kisses, but soon things start getting a little more heated. Niamh gently tugs Bethany onto her lap, who follows willingly, settling her knees on either side of the woman’s hips. Bethany takes some initiative of her own, pushing at Niamh’s chest slowly until she lowers herself against the grass, and then…

---

Bethany’s breath caught in her throat upon seeing Niamh’s features haloed by the soft glow of the little fireflies. Normally pale eyes had darkened at their edges with both pleasure and interest as she regarded her, leaving Bethany flushed, especially as she realized she doesn’t quite know what to do from there on out.

Perhaps having sensed that, Niamh reached up to gently run a thumb along the corner of her mouth, and Bethany barely resisted the urge to press her lips against the pad in a kiss as slim fingers then went to cup her cheek gently.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” Niamh reassured as she brushed a few strands of Bethany’s hair behind an ear. “I quite like kissing you.”

But Bethany did want to.

She knew Niamh had more experience with sexual intimacy, and she worried she couldn’t be able to compare against the woman’s past paramours. There was no expectation in those starlit eyes however. Niamh was as relaxed as she had been when they first started, and Bethany knew she would have been more than content to lay with her beneath the stars if that was all she desired. She was always considerate with her feelings, never pressing her to do more than she was ready.

Thus, Bethany knew Niamh would be patient with her during their first time together.

“If I asked, would you show me what to do?” she whispered tentatively, and she watched as the corners of those lips turned up into soft smile.

“Always,” Niamh answered, gently tugging Bethany’s hand toward the buckle holding the front of her leather and steel-riveted brigandine closed. “Here. Help me out of this first please.” 

From there, Bethany quickly realized it all wasn’t quite as simple as the tawdry novels Isabela used to loan her made it out to be. Nothing really prepared for the warmth of the flesh beneath her fingertips as she gradually disrobed her lover of the layers that made up their Warden regalia. Fortune favored the bold, she knew, and she experimented by pressing kisses against skin as more was revealed to her. She smiled against Niamh’s sternum—pleased—when she heard the exceedingly rare quiver in her voice.

As promised, however, the other woman continued to give suggestions on what types of touches would best give pleasure, but she also allowed Bethany to set the pace of whatever she felt most comfortable with. With each encouraging whisper against her ear, each caress and rock of her hand became more confident. When Niamh shuddered beneath her for the first time—the barest hint of magic curling against her own—as she reached her peak, Bethany was convinced that she had never felt more triumphant.

And she didn’t think she had ever felt so unfettered when Niamh later returned the favor by kissing a line of fire down her bare body. Those mist-grey eyes never left her own gaze though. Bethany had long known how attentive the other mage could be. As their lead tactician, there was always a studious quality in how she approached anything set before her.

Feeling the full magnitude of that attention focused solely upon her, however, was another matter entirely. Niamh stared at her as if she had hung the very moon and the infinite tapestry of stars into the night sky. It was like she was her very reason for drawing breath, and the thought of that brought forth a stunning wash of emotions over her as she saw the clear reverence in those eyes—so much so that she couldn’t help the tears beading themselves across her lashes nor her soft, surprised exhale of laughter when Niamh leaned up to gently kiss them away.

It was only when she assured her lover that she was ready to continue that Niamh returned to her exploration. The woman was committed to learning every part of her, gauging every physical response—the touches that made her moan breathlessly or sigh in contentment with the press of lips against her skin—before reacting accordingly. She felt that dedication most vividly as a warm mouth settled between her thighs and began working itself thoroughly there.

Bethany couldn’t help but break eye contact with Niamh as she threw her head back against the cool grass, lost to the new but pleasant sensations coursing their way through her body. Her hips seemed to move of their own volition, especially as the almost overwhelming heat of a tongue pressed itself flat and lapped languidly at her.

After a time, it felt like she was freefalling, and she blindly reached out toward Niamh. One hand sank itself easily into the tousled waves of raven-black hair, but with the other, Bethany found slim fingers gently intertwining themselves with her own. There was strength and reassurance within the warmth of that grasp—a steady tether to ground her—even as Niamh continued with her ministrations, quickly unraveling the foundations of her world.

Were you the answer this entire time?

Were you the one whom my heart was always waiting for?

Bethany found her answer just as her climax crested over her.

---

The next scene takes place several months after Niamh’s and Bethany’s first time together but just before the Kirkwall Rebellion.

Niamh heads over to Amaranthine to see her aunt, Eithne Mac Eanraig, since she's the Arlessa there.

Now, here’s where I’m veering off from canon.

Per the events of Awakening, the Warden ends up becoming the Warden-Commander, and for their services during the Fifth Blight, Vigil’s Keep along with the entire arling of Amaranthine was given to the Grey Wardens. The fortress and the territory originally belonged to the Howes, but after Rendon Howe’s betrayal, all titles and properties were stripped away from them. As such, the Warden-Commander would also become the Arl or Arlessa of Amaranthine.

Per my headcanon though, Saoirse felt that she couldn’t tend to both her duties as a Warden while also ruling over the arling. Thus, she suggests to King Alistair to let her aunt oversee it instead.

While Eithne is technically my own creation, it was canonical that Eleanor had three siblings prior to marrying Bryce Cousland. All the children of Bann Fearcher Mac Eanraig—also known as the Storm Giant—were exceedingly skilled raiders although Eleanor was the most infamous of them. Still, I headcanon that Eithne’s own prowess allowed her to take over as head of the family and their impressive fleet after her father’s death sometime before the events of DAO.

I also headcanon that the Mac Eanraigs and their fleet proved instrumental during the Fifth Blight, allowing desperately-needed supplies to travel to the country without fear of them being intercepted by pirates. When the reconstruction of Ferelden began in full following the defeat of the Archdemon, Eithne opted to expand the services of her family’s fleet, offering to escort any incoming and also outgoing cargo ships. This allowed trade to flourish in Ferelden since the threat of piracy was reduced greatly against the might of the former raiding family and their respective crews. With goods being consistently transported and received, it led to the otherwise pricey import and export tariffs being lowered significantly.

It expanded the influence of the Mac Eanraigs considerably to say the least, and while they were of minor nobility compared to the Couslands, the family was already well-respected for their long connection to the Storm Coast and their role in the Fereldan Rebellion as well as the Fifth Blight.

As such, no objection was given by Ferelden’s Bannorn when the Mac Eanraigs were consequently raised further in nobility by the decree of King Alistair and Queen Anora, allowing Eithne to officially be named Arlessa to the city of Amaranthine.

---

"Aunt Eithne," Niamh began, walking into her office, "may I have access to the castle's forge?"

The older woman was sat behind her desk, looking through various reports when she glanced up at her. Kind, weathered features warmed instantly. "Ah, there's my wee Storm Pup," she said as she rose to her feet to meet her. "You know you’re welcome to anything within the castle, lass. I take it that blacksmith of yours is being stubborn at Vigil’s Keep again?"

As per usual, Niamh found herself looking up at her aunt as she rounded the edge of her desk. While her late mother Eleanor had been roughly her own size, the Mac Eanraigs as a whole towered over most people with their intimidating height and broad-shouldered frames—traits that Fergus and also Saoirse inherited as they grew into adulthood. In her youth, Niamh remembered that her Aunt Eithne had also possessed her mother’s pale blonde hair, but it had since turned silver with age and was now kept in a neat braid that dangled in front of her right shoulder. She imagined that Saoirse would likely resemble their aunt greatly in looks over the next few decades.

…provided they find a cure against the Calling first, of course.

Morrigan’s arcane research had turned up several possibilities, but the latest one she’d found seemed especially promising. Still, Niamh put the thought from her mind momentarily to answer her aunt’s question.

"You and I both know Master Wade won’t allow anyone to go near his forge. He’d pout for weeks on end before we could convince him to resume work again,” she said dryly before shrugging. “Just as well, I suppose. He can’t keep a secret to save his life. What I have in mind is more of a personal project."

Dark grey eyes blinked. "Oh?" she intoned curiously.

"It's... Well." Niamh shifted from foot to foot, a tad nervous to put her thoughts into words. "I'm making matching torcs for Bethany and I, so—oof!"

No sooner after she had stated her purpose did Niamh unexpectedly found herself drawn up into a crushing hug by her aunt, who lifted her clear off her feet with the force of it.

"Haha!" Eithne crowed with delighted laughter as she twirled her about. "Wait until I tell your uncles about this! Why, it’s been ages since we’ve had a wedding in the family!"

"We had one a year ago for Fergus and Olithia," Niamh corrected hoarsely as she tried to wriggle out of her aunt's grip to little avail. Corded muscles built over a lifetime at sea ensured the woman’s strength was nigh unbreakable. "And there was another for Saoirse and Leliana before that."

"Details, wee niece, details," she brushed aside when she placed Niamh back on her feet again, placing large hands over each of her shoulders with a grin. "Honestly, I was half-convinced my ashes would be scattered across the sea before I saw my last niece be married off! Dermot!" she called out loudly beyond the walls of office to her second-in-command, leaving Niamh wincing from the sheer volume of it. "Break out the casks! We’re celebrating tonight!"

Niamh merely sighed, somehow glad that Bethany was currently away from Vigil’s Keep with Nathaniel to tend to a matter out in another seaside province. There was no way she’d be able to surprise her with a proposal otherwise.

---

Bethany didn't know what to really expect when Niamh took her out to their favored grove, but then she was offered a… necklace of some sort. It was thick and sturdy but exquisitely-crafted. It formed an incomplete circle, but there was no clasp holding both ends together. As she took the necklace into her own hands, she found there was a certain pliability to it as she stretched the space between the twin, silverite wolf heads open a bit more.

"I spent weeks getting the details just right," Niamh admitted. "The hardest part was finding the perfect bits of citrine to match your eyes," she added, pointing to the small, gemstone orbs held in the maw of each wolf.

"You made this for me?" Bethany asked, awed.

"Yes. It’s a custom from the maternal side of my family. They’re generally gifted to those of status or individuals who have achieved great deeds. The more bands woven together designate one's importance." Niamh's expression turned somewhat sheepish then. "I don't think it needs to be said that I think highly of you."

Bethany looked at the thick braiding and saw that there were at least five bands wound together in a cord and then welded together.

"I..." Niamh wet her lips briefly, as if caught beneath sudden nervousness. "I realize marriage is usually just a matter of settling titles and heirs, but I believe you know by now that my family tends to eschew commonly-held norms. As such, I would consider it a great honor if you were to become my wife. As for anything official—a wedding for instance—we needn't concern ourselves with it right away. Not if you don't wish to certainly." Silver-colored eyes rolled themselves. "Honestly, my family uses any type of excuse available to throw a celebration. They’ll likely still drink the night away, knowing that I’ve finally settled down with someone."

Bethany couldn’t help but laugh at that. "They were that invested, were they?"

"Before you, they had a tendency to think I was more married to my duty within the Order, and I can’t say that were not wrong in thinking so."

"And that’s changed?"

"Well... I was managing day by day as well as any of our comrades, but I won’t lie in saying that there came a point when you were all I could ever think about in the many moments in between."

It was… quite the confession.

In an instant, all the stories her mother had ever told her of romance paled in comparison to this moment.

"Yes," Bethany said at last, watching as the ghostly-grey eyes across from her widened, but there was little hiding the hope building within their depths.

"Yes?"

"Yes to the—" She stumbled a bit over the word. "—torcs, you said?” Bethany asked in clarification, earning her a nod along with a very relieved sigh. “I don’t want a ceremony.” She bit her lip as she stared down at the thickly-braided necklace. “At least not just yet, but I like the idea of the promise these contain.”

“You would like to have your sister here when the time comes,” Niamh deduced understandingly. “Very well.”

“You can wait?”

A very warm smile burnished beautiful features that she had long fallen in love with so many years ago. “A Chuisle Mo Chroí,” she began, voicing an endearment that never ceased to make her heart flutter, “for you, I would gladly wait a thousand Ages and more.” (Writer’s note: A Chuisle Mo Chroí is phonetically pronounced Ah Khush-lah Muh Kree and means “Pulse of My Heart.”)

The words earned her a heartfelt kiss of gratitude. If Niamh noticed Bethany was trembling, she said nothing of it. In fact, they both had little to say at all as they slowly lowered themselves to the grass and surrendered themselves to the night and the promise of everyday thereafter.

---

The Kirkwall Rebellion still happens in this verse, and because Saoirse's busy butting heads with the higher-ups at Weisshaupt, she sends word to Niamh, asking her to go to Kirkwall to provide Leliana backup if things get bad. Bethany is concerned as well about the well-being of her sister Emrys, and she asks to go with her. Niamh, of course, can't really deny her anything, so they both take the fastest ship across the Waking Sea.

---

"There you are," Bethany declared when she managed to come across her sister and her companions despite the chaos around them. She settled her staff over her back, walking through the tangle of defeated Templars around her to meet them. "We’ve been looking everywhere for you. I'd almost feared you were dead."

Emrys hadn’t expected Bethany’s presence in the city, but she’s beyond elated to see her. At her words, the warrior merely preened. "As if they'd be able to best me. And, uh, what’s this about 'we?'" Emrys asked, confused. “Did you bring the other Wardens with you?”

“Just one.”

As if attuned to her thoughts, Niamh made her entrance then by Fadestepping through a handful of Templars—who had arrived on scene as backup—freezing them in their tracks. She and Bethany had momentarily split up to try and cover more ground in search of Emrys.

Bethany arched a brow at her sister while gesturing toward her lover with an emphatic wave. "You remember Warden-Constable Cousland, don’t you?"

Emrys had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed as she recalled their last meeting, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she regarded Niamh. "Oh. Yes. Uh, about the last time we met—"

But Niamh seemed amused more than anything, waving aside the apology graciously. “Bygones, Champion. No need to worry yourself about the past. My sister’s a warrior as well; I’ve fared worse on the rare occasion."

"In any case, Sister, if you need help, we’ll gladly give it."

“Really?”

“Yes. I…” Bethany swept a bit of hair behind her ear nervously, but as Niamh settled alongside her, offering her wordless support, she continued on. “I wanted to apologize for what happened down in the Deep Roads and for how we parted the last time I was here. You saved my life, but I couldn’t see past my own anger back then. I’m sorry,” she whispered, contrite. “I should have said it long before now. You’re all I have left of our family, so if you need help against the Templars, say the word.”

Emrys looked beyond thrilled at the prospect of having her at her side again. “I’m certainly not going to turn away help now of all times, but…” She shot a look of confusion over toward Niamh. “I thought Wardens weren’t to involve themselves in political matters?"

The other mage merely sighed. “While true, that follows a line of policy that my sister and I strenuously object to, especially given the matter involved here. She and I will deal with the leadership at Weisshaupt later if need be." Slim shoulder shrugged themselves then. "Of course, even if my sister-in-law weren't nearby, Bethany wanted to help, and that was good enough reason for me to be here."

Emrys’ dark brows rose at the claim, and she immediately turned a searching gaze over toward Bethany, who couldn’t help but turn her own away, flushing somewhat.

"Yes… Niamh and I are a bit of a package deal these days."

Unfortunately, the minor shift in movement allowed for something else to be revealed, and Isabela took notice of it immediately as her eyes darted toward the area of her neck just beneath the collar of her uniform.

“Wait… is that a torc?" she asked, brows raising, impressed.

“A what?" Emrys asked, flustered, especially when she saw the matching one that Niamh was also wearing.

“It's a little bit of tradition from my mother’s side of the family,” Niamh explained. “They’re beautifully-crafted pieces of jewelry, but they can be as symbolic as rings, especially in the ceremonial sense."

"'Rings?'" Emrys parroted with a choke. “‘Ceremon—’” The warrior paled instantly as she realized the implication, shakily pressing her hand against a nearby wall to steady herself when she began swaying in place. “Oh, Maker’s breath… I think—I need a moment,” she murmured, and Bethany watched—concerned—when Emrys practically folded in over herself, working to catch a breath. After a time, Emrys’ comically-wide blue eyes turned over to Niamh. “You’re married to my baby sister?"

"Engaged, technically," Niamh answered, blinking owlishly at her reaction. “I proposed to her before we left Ferelden."

---

Annnnd then Saoirse shows up because she got worried about Leliana, and she and Emrys get along like peas in a pod. They’re exceedingly competitive with one another though...

---

“Hah!” Saoirse crowed, grinning smugly at Emrys as she rested the flat of her greatsword along her shoulder. “Is that the best Kirkwall’s Champion can do? I managed to neatly cleave my opponent in half.”

Emrys merely scowled, matching pace with Saoirse as they marched toward The Gallows. “Only because I helped! Besides, that strike wouldn’t have held against him if he had a shield as well!”

“Yes, it would have!”

“Lies!” Emrys scoffed. “It would have been caught halfway through the shield before you would have been able to reach his armor!“

“Not with the proper leverage it wouldn’t have!”

As they argued heatedly about sword techniques, Niamh and Bethany shared a long-suffering glance with one another before moving on ahead of their respective sisters.

“Warriors…”

“Indeed.”

---

Eventually, this all culminates in that huge battle at the end of DA2, where Meredith is defeated. As per canon, it becomes clear that it’s no longer safe for Emrys and her companions to remain within the city without eventually facing possible repercussions from the Chantry. As such, they begin scattering to the winds not long after the end of the rebellion.

---

"You could come with us, you know," Emrys suggested.

Bethany looked over to where her sister stood next to Isabela, ready to board the ship that would take them to Antiva. Emrys’ expression was almost painfully hopeful, but Bethany knew it wasn't meant to be. Although she had resented it once upon a time, she had a duty to the Wardens, and she would not easily abandon it. She said as much to her sister.

"No. Niamh currently seeks a cure that affects the lives of every Warden."

"A cure for the Calling?” she asked, surprised. “Is that even possible?"

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. She is easily the cleverest person I’ve ever met though. If there is a solution, she will be the most likely one to find it, and I will not stand to be apart from her."

"I see.” Emrys rubbed the back of her neck, shoulders slumping somewhat. “So… this is goodbye again."

It was admittedly a bittersweet feeling, knowing that this had been the first time in years they had seen one another and it would likely be several more yet before they would meet again.

"For now,” she answered quietly. “You have your life, Sister, and now…" She glanced over at Niamh, who was talking to the captain of a ship heading back to lands far to the west—ones that had never been touched by the Blight, according to Morrigan. “I have mine.”

Emrys followed her gaze. “You seem happier."

"I am."

“That’s all I ever wanted for you, you know? Just to know that you were happy.”

“I know that now." Her smile turned more genuine as she stepped forward to wrap her arms around Emrys, hugging her for all she was worth. "I wish the same upon you always. Safe travels to you and Isabela, Sister."

---

And as mentioned in the bullet points up above, they spend several years traveling abroad. Some days are harder than others as they meet their fair share of challenges, but Niamh and Bethany support each endlessly through it all.

They both return to Ferelden several years after the Trepasser DLC when they’ve found a cure for the Calling. With the taint purged from their bodies, they’re guaranteed the long life that would have otherwise been denied to them. As such, Niamh and Bethany finally get married—torcs gleaming bright—as Leliana as Divine Victoria officiates the wedding.

---

And that’s pretty much it.

I have about 20 pages of random scenes I’ve yet to elaborate on for this AU, including one for the huge battle at the end of DA2, so while I don’t see it as being nearly as long as OtSttCA, it’ll likely make for quite the lengthy read when I finally get a chance to work on it properly.

Still, if this verse interests you, leave me a like, a comment, or just swing by my inbox to tell me your thoughts! Until next time, readers! Take care!

[uponrightful]

Second Chance Ch. 6

Read Chapter Five Here

Warnings: Injury, Angry/Sad/Confused/Depressed? Din, Cursing, Bad Guys Die in canonical ways & as always my terrible editing.)

Authors Note: I have no idea what possessed me have such a fucking sad chapter. (Insert Fair Warning Here) But not only did I personally need this, the plot needed this. 

Word Count: 11.5K

Mando woke up to the low ambient noise of his quarters funneling through the amplified speakers in his helmet pressing up against his ears. His body felt stiff, and his mind felt fuzzy from the unusual amount of sleep he’d somehow allowed himself to have. The windowless hull afforded him the luxury of not being able to discern daylight from dark and the deflector mods for some reason had darkened his HUD. With a low grunt he reached for his vambrace with his opposite hand and adjusted the brightness on his display before hauling himself back to his feet with another defeated sigh. His swim with the girl still weighed heavily on his mind despite his long sleep and as he walked into the empty hull the silence surrounding him only made his conscience weigh heavier. The door to the girl’s room was swung wide open with no sign of her boots, or her anywhere to be seen. Only an empty can of soup sitting next to her bed gave Mando any sign that she’d been on the ship any time in the last couple hours.

He knew better than to think she wasn’t confused with him, but that didn’t help his own confusion when it came to how easily she affected him. With an empty ship he took the opportunity to find some food for himself and quickly get it down his throat ignoring the opportunity to fully remove his helmet in the chance that she did come back soon. Glancing over the ration stock he took note of its reorganization, the corners of his mouth twitching up in appreciativeness of the unnecessary job she’d completed. After a couple checks of the Slave, he made his way to the cockpit in a habitual routine of checking fuel and water levels before noticing the bright light flashing on the comm link. He felt the hair on his neck raise as he stood looking at the anomalous sight of a missed comm.      

As unusual as it was he pressed the strobing light, bracing himself for what was to come. His stiff muscles stayed bunched in anticipation until he saw a familiar green and red Mando helmet staring back at him through the blue tint of the HUD. Boba Fett and a his gruff tone urged him to respond at his soonest -convenient or otherwise- opportunity, letting Mando know just how irritated he was in the strict posture he held.

Begrudgingly, he turned to look towards the ladder to the hull and listened for any sign of the girl’s approach before connecting to Fett’s last link. Glancing back towards the ladder again, hoping that she wouldn’t walk in right in the middle of this unexpected conversation and get caught in the middle of Fett’s -admittedly- unavoidable charm.

“Find someone better to talk to last night?” Mando could sense Fett’s irriation and mocking in the strict sound of his tone. “Maybe you’ve found someone to warm up that bed you’re not doubt not sleeping in.”  

“Why complain if you’re the one wasting time?” he barked back with impatience.

“A group of Hothian’s came looking for you, asking questions about a beskar Mando and a little slip of a girl he was keeping hostage.” Fett almost chuckled after mentioning the girl, finding humor in the terrible reasoning for the girl being with him. “Of course there was no one with any helpful information or a sighing… but that didn’t keep them from upsetting a few of my contacts.” He tone settled back down, lulling back into a more business-like tone that unsettled Mando more than his typical grumbling.

“Did they talk to you?” Another bad feeling crept up Mando’s back and settled at the nape of his neck, biting hard into his conscious.

“I hardly blend in.” he remarked, tilting his head down to motion towards the helmet. “I said there was no Mandalorian for parsecs. They were more than ready to leave with a unfriendly warning.”

“Combative?” he questioned, watching as Fett’s shoulders sagged as he blew out a breath.

“Approaching anyone with blasters on a foreign planet is kriffing unusual… but that didn’t keep them from shoving them in anyone’s face that looked suspicious enough.”

“You didn’t lie. We’re perfectly safe here.” Telling Fett their exact location wasn’t necessary, even if the other Mando was simply trying to warn them.

“That’s bantha shit. And from the way you keep looking over your shoulder I expect you know it to.” He pointed into the holocall transponder, straightening his posture with a satisfied smirk perceivable on his shielded face. “You’ll receive encoded coordinates in the next minutes. I expect you can read Mando’a.”

“I’m not leaving without kriffing good reason for it.” Mando was aware of how his pride was getting the best of him. Fett wasn’t overacting, but it wasn’t sitting right with him that Boba was keeping such close tabs on him and the girl for no good reason other than personal intrest.

“My offer stands. I expect you’re in an uncharted sector, but that only deters the Imperials. Anyone after you certainly knows their way around all of the little hiding places you’ve found rat hunting.”

Mando and Fett stood silent in a battle of wills, completely content to wait one another out until the other conceded. However Fett was the first to break this time, growling impatiently when the familiar sound of Cleeah’s voice echoed from in the distance. Mando couldn’t make out the entire sentence, but she sounded like she was in a hurry. No doubt Fett was leaving Coruscant before the Hothian’s came knocking for a follow-up interrogation. Even in the best of circumstances Fett wasn’t willing to risk his posh hideaway under any conditions. He surmised that Fett was inviting them to a secondary location; One where Mando was unhappily admitting to being safer than anywhere he’d taken the girl up to this point.

“Mando’a.” It was all Fett said before the holo disappeared and Mando was left to decide on whether or not to leave.

***

FOUR HOURS EARLIER

A walk would clear her mind. After all, it was too pretty of a morning to waste it sitting on the ship.

Mando weighed heavily on the her mind, more so than she’d ever anticipated. He was the embodiment of emotional whiplash, steeled over from any real infiltration by the thick glittering beskar jacketing him. She tried her best to gauge his moods and respond accordingly but the more she thought she understood, the Mandalorian seemed more than happy to prove otherwise. Mando had a knack for using her lack of control against her in the worst moments, leaving her with more than a knotted up stomach and tangible mortification. The waterfall hadn’t been an accident, he was the one who said he would teach her… but after he’d shown interest it immediately dissolved like sugar in a hot cup of tea. It wasn’t like she could see through that kriffing visor of his; something kept her from acting on the obvious -yet confusing-  ways he acted around her.

He must believe that she wasn’t good enough.

The girl’s stomach dropped at the thought of him preferring someone else to her even though it was a ridiculous idea in the first place. She didn’t belong to him, or vice versa so it shouldn’t really matter anyways. Mando was a man with undeniable magnetism no matter if you hated him -or had began to develop a certain liking- for the bounty hunter. She wasn’t jealous, but after hours of imagining the woman she believed to match Mando, it was like shooting herself in the foot with a blaster… nothing but pain and no benefit to herself. All of the imaginary women were like Cleeah, exotically unattainable with beautiful clothes and lifestyles that exposed them to all of the things she lacked. The longer she compared herself to these illusory women it became apparent that as long as they weren’t her nothing else really mattered. She was too small, and couldn’t defend herself like Cleeah. The names of changing seasons were still new to her, along with the idea of swimming in water that wasn’t cold enough to freeze a person in minutes. She could shoot a blaster, but that didn’t mean anything to a trained bounty hunter… nothing she did made a difference

Maybe learning a few things would impress him? Then he might not think so lowly of her.

Despite her perpetually adverse sentiments towards herself, there was one thing she knew she was lucky to experience… Mando. Living on the ship gave her more than enough time to soak in his small idiosyncrasies - when he wasn’t paying enough attention to mask them – and without anyone to discourage her, she paid painstakingly close attention to them. It wasn’t smart, and she knew that doing so wasn’t helping her growing infatuation towards the Mandalorian; pouring fuel onto the fire that licked at her core when he was around. Every day she found more and more parallels between him and the many suns they’d passed travelling through the galaxy.

Domestic things that Mando did made the biggest impressions. Seeing him rinse out a cloak in a stream and hang it to dry, or mindlessly rubbing his gloved fingers rubbing at the dirty spots on his thigh plates to clean them was radically opposite to his typically statuesque personality. He liked to cook, or at least when it was available for him to, and for a man who lived on the edge of certain death laying low on this moon suited him right down to the ground.

Every living thing gravitated towards him, from the tall waving grass to the low hanging tree branches that skimmed his pauldrons and helmet. Inherently he looked more machine than biological, but every movement was fluid and effortless like there wasn’t anything unnatural about him. Mando blended into his environment, letting the mirror-polished shine on his beskar envelop him until he was almost a shadow against his surroundings; Like he was the perfect hunter with the entire moon assisting in his hunts. The girl couldn’t be sure if Mando knew how well he blended in or if it just naturally happened; Either way it was always something she had begun to love about him.

Quietly she slipped out of the ship, hoping not to disturb Mando as he slept through the morning. Hopefully until after she got back… There was nothing worse than the feeling of his hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her back again him after she’d wandered too far from his eyesight. It had nothing to do with  the thought of him tracking her down, but more so with the way he did it. Feeling the icy surprise of his steel curiass against her back and the slow rise and fall of his chest made more than her chest clench. It was hard to think straight with Mando so close, and the idea of him chasing her down was more than enough to have her trembling.  

She neglected her boots, opting for the soft padding of the grass under her feet. Saying this moon was anything less than divine was a discredit to just how beautiful it was. She couldn’t imagine a prettier color than the deep browns of the soil sticking to her toes and the hundreds of shades of green covering every inch of the valley. Of course, Ashas Ree had been beautiful but not a single drop of rain had fallen since they landed and it was nice to explore without getting wet. After deciding on a heading, she made out towards the waterfall hoping one last visit would get it off her mind before Mando woke up. A clear head would make talking to him much more approachable when she returned back to the ship.

It wasn’t long before the familiar sound of the water reached her ears, and an even more familiar feeling of dread filled her stomach when the sizeable resonances of voices layered over the spray of the water. The girl stopped in her tracks and dropped down to the ground behind a tree placing a hand over her chest; Trying desperately to calm the thumping feeling in her heart that racked against her sternum. There were at least six different voices she could differentiate, but from instinct she estimated there to have been more than ten people rummaging about at the base of the cliff and waterfall.  

Get yourself together, and find out what’s going on before you lose your kriffing mind.

Her next exhale was shaky, but not as bad as her knees when she peeked around the thick tree trunk to look between the thick trunks towards the sounds. One ship sat at the top of the cliff, it’s durasteel paneling just barely peeking through the canopy of densely needle-covered branches. Less than a hundred feet or so, stood a group of men preoccupied with setting up tents and another group sitting around a stump with playing cards in their hands. Immediately she recognized them playing Sabacc and slowly came up to her feet, taking two careful steps backwards. All of them were covered in grease, and filthy beyond any real recognition of who they might’ve been. That didn’t keep the girl from identifying that they were smugglers, just getting ready to settle in for the day.  

She needed to get back to Mando before they noticed the Slave sitting in the middle of the valley… or her spying on them.

The girl didn’t have enough time to realize anything but the dull throb of a fist swiping across her cheek. Her whimper covered the sound of her body slamming back down to the ground from the heavy assault. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring the tall figure towering above her who presently stood resting his hands on his hips, laughing darkly at her.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing way out here?” his scratchy voice rumbled as he roughly yanked her to her feet, sneering with blackened teeth. The girl winced away from him, still feeling the awful pain in her face and fearing another blow. His awful breath blew in her face leaving her feeling doubly sick in her current situation.

“Please, don’t hurt me.” She cried out unable to resist the need to let her tears flow. The man laughed aloud this time, shoving her in the direction of the camp she’d desperately been trying to  hide from.

“Oh I expect we’ll have some fun first.” He laughed again, calling out to the men nearest to them. “Look what I found boys!” Her gut churned as she struggled against the man dragging her, violently kicking and jerking her arms in attempt to get away before someone else could come to help her attacker.

“Please let me go!” she screamed, praying that somehow Mando might hear her before anything happened to her. It was all in vain for the quick reflexes of her captor who clamped a hand over her mouth, pressing down hard against her already aching face. Her ability to breathe slowly worsened as they got closer to the camp, multiple voices coming closer and almost echoing in her pulsing ears.

A black rim started closing in on her vision, collecting at the corners of her sight and slowly dotting closer to the center of her field of view. The girl couldn’t fight much longer, and the outlook of her situation ending positively made resisting feel that much more unreasonable. Maybe it was the overwhelming helplessness that enveloped her right as she was passed through the flaps of one of the many tents that she’d been observing Or it might’ve been her body’s lack of oxygen mixed with her quick hyperventilation that caused her to pass out. Either way she wasn’t awake to feel the second blow to her face, or hear the way her body hit the ground after being tossed carelessly to the floor by her attacker.

PRESENT TIME

Mando was growing more impatient by the second as he waited for the girl to return. The girl had never been away from the ship this long, especially without giving him some type of idea as to what she was doing before she left. He tapped his heels impatiently on the floor, watching the valley in front of him, as if his thoughts alone were going to be enough to make her appear from thin air. It wasn’t the first time he’d went out searching for her, and he was sure this time wouldn’t be the last either. His mind raced with instinctual thoughts, running through scenario after scenario until he’d worked himself just short of full-blown fury before he collected his blasters and set out to find her.

There was a certain coldness in the air around him as the sound of distant voices were picked up by his helmet, chilling past his weighted armor and icing over any of the emotional turmoil that the girl had created in her absence. The sun still shown bright but Mando couldn’t feel anything other than that prickling sense of death creeping up on him. A slight breeze rustled the trees but for Mando it sounded like millions of whispers all crowding out any thought that didn’t have to do with his girl. Even death seemed quite willing to agree with Mando in the moment and he was certain that even if death wasn’t willing it wouldn’t have mattered anyways.

Laughter and the unawareness of the smugglers were telling. All of their tents were set up, and sabacc decks were huddled around by a few groups of men, all of them either yelling or doing their best to keep their tell from showing. Baudy jokes and drunken howling set the background of a hellish encampment of men who most likely wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to steal away a stranded pretty girl. Mando bristled at the sight before him, instinctually targeting the tents in search of any movement that might mark if she’d been taken by them. He could see multiple heat signatures, but at this distance there was no definition to the blurry red blobs in his HUD. She was here… he knew it.

If the smugglers hadn’t been engrossed in their petty gambling they would’ve been shocked to see the imposing figure lurking right out of eyesight. It would’ve looked like the gods had created the image of hell right in front of them. The shadows of the trees clung to Mando, radiating outwards like an ominous haze of black unfurling like heavy wings around his statuesque frame. A reaper had taken form in the shape of a bounty hunter, more destructive than any known to walk the galaxy. Mando knew that death clung to him but he didn’t know that this was what set him apart from all others. Others didn’t see him as a purveyor of death’s wishes, what others saw was the incarnate of revenge and prowess. Power and menace fearfully evident on the slate black visor of The Mandalorian. This was what the girl hadn’t seen of him. Nothing she’d heard or ever would hear about Mando would compare to the malevolence displayed before these smugglers. The sunlight that she saw, swallowed whole by the all-encompassing rage that flowed through Mando as he paced imposingly towards the center of the camp. His calmness only proved the efficiency of his body and the instinctual way he was able to concentrate his intensity for the most lethal means.

Only after a dried branch that had been carelessly tossed to the edge of one of the groups snapped under the weight of his boot did one of the men look to meet Mando’s emotionless stare. The man’s eyes widened in panic just long enough for him to remember that he wasn’t the only man there. He collected his fear long enough to nudge the man sitting next to him who still sat focused on his hand of cards, unaware of the mental battle Mando was waging on the now standing smuggler. The Mandalorian couldn’t help but smile, wickedly content with the silent terror he was providing.

“Who the fuck are you?” the man finally spat out, masking his voice well enough that his partners wouldn’t notice what Mando was privy to. All eyes in the camp looked up from their cards to stare at the beskar-clad reaper. Mando’s silence unsettled the entire clan and the unanswered question rang true in the minds of all the grease-stained men. After a long moment, one of the larger men singled himself out and approached Mando with an obvious false-confidence that screamed out for attention. His long blonde hair was coated in filth and ratted into knots that collected mud; freshly dried blood coating the knuckles on his right hand.  

“We were under the impression this moon was deserted.” The man smiled, unable to help himself from smiling at the inside joke Mando was also privy to. “My men and I just settled in for the evening… I expect you’re coming to say hello?” The man reached out his blood-stained hand to Mando, who momentarily thought about shooting it clean off.

“I came to get what’s mine.” He growled lowly, lowering his visor to meet the eyes of the man speaking.

“I have nothing of yours.” The man responded casually, settling his tightly clenched fists on his hips. He even took a glance down at the blaster strapped to Mando’s hip. “We just dropped our shipment, so there’s nothing for you to take anyways.” It wasn’t a convincing bluff, but the other members of the crew were obviously certain that it would deter the man in front of them into leaving. Their visible relief diminished once Mando rested his palm over the handle of his blaster, slowly resting his fingers over the well-worn finish of the weapon.

“You’ll die in five seconds.” He pointed to the tents gathered behind all of the men with his free hand. “If you don’t return what you’ve taken.” Mando’s mind wasn’t allowing him to speak of her, despite his honest attempt in saying that she was his. His anger blocked any real thought of sentiment, protecting himself in the chance that they would try and use it against him, or worse realize that she meant something important to him.

“We don’t have what you’re after.” The man sneered quickly drawing out his own blaster. The action end trained itself right at the center of Mando’s chest, gently wavering in the anxious hands of its owner. Mando sneered under his helmet at the pitiful challenge in front of him, feeling just how threatened the man felt under his unhuman stare.

Everything happened quickly. The first shot between the two men were almost in sync, Mando’s dropping the man to the ground in a fit of screams. The first blast Mando took was to the chest, knocking him off balance long enough for others in the encampment to pick up arms against him. Only a couple others picked up blasters, issuing three more inaccurate shots to his beskar; These men were the next to fall. The rest preferred hand to hand combat, assuming that Mando couldn’t fight off more than a couple men at once. His Whistling Birds allowed him the space to fight off the remaining stragglers that didn’t catch the attention of his heat seeking projectiles. In his haste, he checked the tents and found that one tent still carried the signature of three bodies huddled in a corner. Before he could move close enough to see inside a booming voice echoed over the rocks of the cliff surrounding them.

“Get any closer and she dies!”

Mando moved to stand in the opening, allowing himself to wince at the sight before him. Two men -bigger than any he’d seen- crouched over the still form of the girl, one pointing a blaster at Mando while the other held a knife to her throat. He was in terrible position and any wrong move would result in a stray blast hitting her, or a knife wound that couldn’t be healed on the ship. There had to be some way to get them away from her.

“What do you want with her?” he asked coolly, letting his modulator mask the infinite levels of fear and rage mixing with his tone.

“A fuck.” The knife wielding one spat, touching the edge of the blade to the girls throat with a an evil snarl.

“She’s a criminal.” -he lied- “Wanted for murder on Hoth. I hunted her to this moon, so she could stand trial.” It was his only chance. Even horny smugglers didn’t like the idea of fraternizing with well-known criminals.

“You’re a bounty hunter.” The second man surmised, “Then you’ll pay to get her back.” He smiled, glancing down at the multiple satchels attached to Mando’s belt, his eyes widening at the thought of making even a few extra credits.

“I wasn’t given an advance. Instead you’ll split the bounty head.” He quickly thought on his feet, watching as the gravity of the situation began to lift, if only by a minuscule amount.

“How much?” The first man asked, glancing down at the girl who was still breathing evenly despite how weak she looked.

“I take half. You split the other.” They would be insane to not take an offer like that from any bounty hunter… especially from a man like Mando.

The two men shared a glance, and nodded before removing themselves from overtop of the girl, and tucking away their weapons. It was foolish of the two smugglers, but Mando already knew how much power money held over every sentient being in the galaxy. The two men followed a silent Mando as he brought them back towards the center of the camp, and turned around to face them, mimicking the actions of finding something in his belt. He listened as the two men talked, mentioning how simple of a fight the girl had been.

“She’d gone down in two punches. Kriff, I can’t imagine how she’d killed anyone bigger than a child.” It was the man who held the knife who laughed as he imagined the false scenario of the girl.

“You think that’s the best part? I’m guessing you didn’t get the chance to smell her did you?” The second man emphasized his addition to the conversation with an exaggerated inhale. “Sweeter than any candy I’ve ever tasted.” He chuckled, turning to Mando who’d finally had enough of the charade he was orchestrating.

“Did you get more than a smell?” Mando prodded with a low growl, watching as a grin crept across the man’s face.

“I may have sampled the goods.” He chuckled before leaning in just far enough that he could reach Mando’s implied ear. “That little curve at the top of her tits… well, let’s just say it couldn’t resi-.” The register of Mando’s blaster echoed in the trees, barely muffled by the point blank contact with the man’s chest. It was followed by confused shouts and a loud groan, but it all fell on Mando’s deaf ears. There was nothing stopping him from finishing this, these men had been dangerous; Now that they were away from the girl Mando could fully punish the bastards for what they’d done to her.

Those horrific thoughts kept replaying in his mind long after he’d dispatched of the other man who’d been to startled to even make a reach for his knife. Mando’s entire body was trembling with emotion as he lifted the opening of the tent to face his failure to protect her. She was still out-cold, and a deep blue bruise was already forming on her face as Mando gently collected her in his arms to abandon the now silent camp. She didn’t move a muscle the entire walk to the ship, and Mando did his best to keep her close to his chest in case she was more injured than was visual. He could feel that shadow of darkness trailing behind him, it’s draw to seek out any of the men left alive dissipating with every step closer to the ship. He looked back down at her and set his jaw, doing his best not to scream out in frustration at the pain he’d allowed to fall on her. The outline of knuckles were already imprinting themselves onto her face, with a gut wrenching trail of blood running from her nose.

“I’m so sorry little one.” Mando’s broken gasp spoke louder than any apology he could ever verbalize. “I need to clean you up.” He murmured as he shut the hatch door behind him, feeling the need to separate her from the world outside the ship.

He laid her in his bed, cradling her head down into the pillow as he checked for any other outward signs of injury. His shaking body jerked even harder the longer he stood over her, waiting for her to open her eyes. He smoothed her hair back out of her face, and let his fingers lace through the strands for a few minutes, in his own mind thinking it might soothe her knitted brows and tightly shut eyes.

“Please wake up little one.” He begged quietly, “I need to know you’re okay.” If he’d not been paying attention Mando might’ve missed the slight twitch of her fingers followed by a quick  reaction of pulling her knees to her chest, and wrapping her arms over her face. His heart clenched with helplessness as she opened her eyes and peeked through the space in her arms to face him kneeling down at her side.  

“You found me.” She whimpered still protecting her face. He nodded silently, losing all of the words he’d been speaking before she’d had the ability to look back at him. Her shaky inhale was followed by another whimper as she touched for fingertips to her bruising cheek; Wincing, she lowered her arms back down and slowly scooted herself closer to the edge of the bed, judging Mando’s reactions closely.

“I didn’t protect you.” His sadness was pitifully evident as he lowered his eyes down to the floor in front of him. Nothing he could do would make up for the hurt that she’d displayed after touching her cheek. He felt her hand rest on the crown of his helmet, pushing gently as to ask him to raise his head back up. At first, he protested unwilling to face her after such a breach of trust.  

“Look at me Mando.” Her voice was raspy, no doubt from screams that he hadn’t heard. It was another blow to his gut as he relented and met her soft gaze. “You found me. Saved me.” It was her acceptance of his apology, however he was almost sick to accept it. Nothing he’d done deserved such an honor as her acceptance of his failure, and it was enough to drop him to both knees under the weight of her hand on his helm.

“I don’t understand you.” He murmured, the weight of her hand traveling over the back of his helmet towards the sides and back up to the top where she seemed content to hold it. “I almost lost you.” He admitted, finally able to allow some of the weight of his emotions to strip away.

“You didn’t, and you won’t.” she assured. Mando was astonished at her bravery after what she’d endured, and he found it hard to believe that she was the one reassuring him as he shook with adrenaline release on the floor next to her. She let out another whimper, this time letting her arm fall back down across her eyes, biting her quivering bottom lip. Even in his wrecked state, he could tell she was trying to be much stronger than she needed to be.

“Where does it hurt?” he questioned her gently, making sure not to touch her as he repositioned himself to stand up.

“My head.” she whispered. “They hit me… and other things.” Her whisper broke into small sobs as she began to remember the encounter much quicker than he’d hoped she would. Mando didn’t know what to do this time as he watched her rub small circles at her temples.

“What can I do little one?” His voice broke again.

“I want it all off me.” She whined. “ ’Fresher…” she mumbled, pulling at the hem of her dirt and blood stained shirt in attempt to pull it off. “Help me… please?” Her tears welled in the corners of her eyes, as she looked up at him.

“Can you stand up?” He asked, keeping himself from touching her. Nothing would be worse than another man touching her without making it clear first. She tried, but didn’t get further than sitting at the edge of the bed before she looked back up at him, pleading eyes and a wobbling bottom lip.

“Please.”

Mando broke, and nodded gently before setting to his armor slowly removing it piece by piece until only the much preferable fabric of his shirt flight suit remained. Nothing could be worse than having her feel the cold beskar, he’d always noticed her gasps when the cold steel made contact with her skin. She reached up to grip ahold of his shoulders, defiantly wanting to do as much as she could independently while Mando supported her at her hips, keeping an arm secured around her as they slowly made progress towards the ‘Fresher. The girl did her best to hide the pain but Mando knew it was making this easy walk virtually impossible.

“Sit down here.” He whispered, sensing how easily it affected her to hear loud noises. Tired and frustrated at her lack of independence, she let Mando ease her down without even trying to do it herself anymore. He opened the water valve and let the heat rise until it was comfortable enough on the back of his bare hand before turning back to see her staring in the mirror in front of her.  

“I look hideous.” She furrowed her brows and frowned, upsetting the sore muscles in her face again. She moaned at the frustration situation and looked back up to Mando who was already crouching down next to her again, tilting his head as he searched her face for any signs of sever injury.

“Can I check something?” he lifted a bare hand up towards her face, watching as her eyes widened at the sight of his scarred skin in the light for the first time. “I won’t hurt you.” It was a weighted statement; One that the both of them understood to mean more than the current circumstance at hand. She hummed a quiet okay as he touched the edge of her cheekbone, just underneath of her eye feeling along the edge until an abnormal angle caught his attention.

“What is it?” her brows pulled together for a moment before forcibly relaxing again.

“Let me look at the other side.” He removed his other glove and mirrored the same path he’d followed on the bruised side hoping that the edge he’d felt was just unique to her bone structure. Mando let out a deep sigh when he didn’t palpate that landmark on her other side. “You’ll need bacta… more than a patch.” His hands dropped away from her face. “You’ve got a fracture… that’s part of why the bruising is so bad.” There was a certain softness in his voice, only attributable to his need to soften the edge of hearing that her wounds looked awful.

“I just want to get clean.”

Mando helped by pulling the narrow legs of her pants from around her ankles, not allowing her to reach any further than necessary; Also by cutting the side out of her shirt so she didn’t have to reach above her head to remove it.

“You’re always cutting my clothes off.” She remarked with the slightest intonation of humor, and Mando couldn’t help but stifle a chuffed laugh. It wasn’t the most endearing thing to be known for, but it did seem to interest him that she didn’t seem the least bit upset by his newfound propensity for ruining her clothes.

“You can have something of mine when you get out.” He offered turning his eyes towards the floor as she reached around to unwrap her breast band. Mando worked at his own boots, sitting them out of the way as he waited for her to make the next move. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder and gripped tightly onto the fabric as she tried to push up onto her feet.

“Give me a second...” She sighed before once again attempting to get to her feet.

“Take your time. I’m right here little one.” His endearment plus the small support of his words seemed to give her enough stamina to get onto her feet, and remain there long enough that she felt confident to let Mando get her the rest of the way into the ‘Fresher.

It wasn’t comfortable in the small stall, and the sopping wet feeling of Mando’s flight suit didn’t bode well under the hard water pressure either. The girl rested against Mando as she slowly worked soap over her face, cleansing off the dirt and blood while Mando took the liberty of washing out her hair. It didn’t take long for her to get so tired that she couldn’t continue, and simply let Mando finish what she couldn’t. All of the necessary places she’d done herself, and he couldn’t have been more grateful that she’d spared him from the experience. Even if the situation was ideal, he wouldn’t have had any way of knowing just how she did things, and he didn’t want to get it wrong.

“I’m cold.” She murmured against his chest, nuzzling her unscathed cheek into him a little more as he ran his hands down her soapy back to remove the excess lather.

“You’ve been in the water too long.” She only nodded in response, and relaxed further into him as he turned off the water and reached outside of the door for a towel to wrap around her. “Here. Take this.” He wrapped it around her back, handing both ends to her with his head turned to the side.

She was about to lean away, but Mando had already decided that she wasn’t walking back. Without much effort he pulled her off the floor and kept her tight against him as he brought her back into his quarters. The room was already darkening due to night approaching, and it made transferring her onto the bed a much simpler process without the impropriety of seeing her without the towel. Mando himself reached under the bed and blindly pulled out a dry set of underclothes for himself and retreated into the girl’s room for the old shirt of his that she’d taken to wearing to bed. He changed before returning, running a towel over the wet strands of hair that strayed from underneath his helmet and donning a pair of socks and his gloves. After he'd hung his flight suit over an active draft grate and returned to his dark bedroom with the shirt and the highest strength bacta patch he could find in his supply stores.

“This should keep you warm.” He held the shirt out blindly, hoping that he was close enough that she could take it.

“Thank you.” The sound of the fabric rustling gave Mando a sense of calm and he was prepare to leave her in peace when she hesitantly mumbled something. It wasn’t loud enough to hear, but he knew it was directed at him off instinct. Patiently, he waited for her to repeat herself, either her courage or energy needed the chance to catch up.

“Say it again.” He prodded gently, taking a step towards the bed.

“Would you stay?” Her voice sounded much like normal with that sweet intonation that reminded Mando just how innocent she really was. He went cold then hot in a matter of seconds, feeling the pull of fear and desire pulling at his conscience. He stood in silence, weighing his thoughts until he just couldn’t stand the idea of needing to rationalize every decision he made when it came to her.

In two strides his knees his the edge of the bed, and he felt his way up towards the head where he nervously sat down, and brought his legs up beside hers. He crossed his arms over his chest, and took a deep breath to calm himself down. The girl made her own small adjustment and settled down closer to his side, intent on seeking out the warmth that she apparently wasn’t getting from the shirt or sheets. Quietly, he placed a hand on her face turning it so that he could apply the patch. She hissed under the cold contact, but stilled after a few minutes of letting the analgesic treatment work into her damaged muscles and bone. The girl rested an appreciative hand on top of his arm and gave a gentle, sleepy squeeze.

“Are you still cold?” He asked through a tight jaw, still feeling the radical effects of her gentle touch vibrating though his arm. She gave another light squeeze, and nodded a little before tilting her chin upwards to look at him though the dark room.

“A little.”

Responding quickly, he turned onto his side and laid still as she turned onto her side to fit herself right against his chest. Even her legs fell flush against his thighs as Mando lifted the blankets over her. The girl let out a warm sigh of approval and Mando released his own withheld breath, only his held the strain of her bare legs entangling with his own. For someone that felt like they were running a fever, Mando couldn’t understand why she’d become so cold all of a sudden. Her light snores lifted into the bedroom within minutes; Already sleeping by the time he’d found the mental capacity to think about something other than the way her skin scorched though his compression pants and shirt. Under his unnecessary justification that she might still be cold he draped an arm over her waist, and gently pulled her closer watching to make sure he didn’t move her head more than necessary.

The steady rhythm of her breathing gave him time to think for the first time since he’d went searching for her. It pained him to think that he’d been so close to losing her… a group of smugglers who hadn’t had any idea of who she was or that there were men after her. Even worse, she was seriously hurting and the only thing that was keeping her from feeling it was the adrenaline still slowly passing through her system, drip feeding protection from the fracture in her cheek. He looked down at the bacta patch, studying the dimly lit lights glowing on the surface, lighting up her face just enough that Mando could trace her features. Mando couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such a pretty face, and he was even more certain that he wouldn’t find someone that beautiful for the rest of his life. Freckles had begun to appear on her skin after being in the sunlight, darkening the smattering of color that collected on her nose and on the apples of her high cheekbones.

All of the darkness that he’d felt when walking into the camp had faded into grey, mimicking the steel tone of the beskar that lay abandoned in the floor of the ‘Fresher. It felt like he was finally able to escape the draw of battle for once in his life. Simply laying with her was enough to keep that biting instinct to hunt and fight away, even if just while he held her. He tightened his grip on her waist further, dreading the moment that he’d need to leave, and pilot them away from the maker-forsaken place forever. There was one person he needed to tell before they left.

Inside the safety and sound-proofing of his helmet he comm’ed Fett, letting his hand trace along the curve of the girl’s hip as he waited for an answer. He toyed with the frayed hem of his old shirt, feeling how low it rode on the girl’s thigh and silently admiring the drastic incongruity in their sizes.

“Mando.” Fett sounded quite tired, and for a moment he wondered just why he hadn’t comm’ed early in the morning instead of in the dead of night. He didn’t dwell on it for much longer than it took to register the thought.

“She was attacked.” He admitted, watching the miniscule reaction in Fett’s shoulders as he took in the information. Mando recounted details of the smugglers and their assault, leaving out nothing as he made certain to reassure Fett that none of the men had gone unpunished for the attack and that the girl was still unlocated by anyone other than the two of them.  

“She’ll need healed.” He growled back to Mando, emphasizing the glaring issue at hand.

He had failed…

“They shouldn’t have died so easily.” He added with a sinister tone that Mando wasn’t very accustomed to hearing.

“I didn’t think… It was all I could do to get her out of there.” His voice broke under the pressure of his admission. “You’re offer still stands?” Mando asked quietly, glancing down to look at the girl who’d nestled herself tight against him, resting peacefully under the physiological sedative she’d been fighting against in the shower, mixed with bacta.

“Bring her here, she’ll be safe.” Fett’s typical tone of flattery and undercurrent of sexual tension was absent as he resent the coordinates to Mando even after he’d denied needing them a second time. Fett asked more questions about the girl, more so about her condition than anything. Repeating himself when Mando couldn’t keep his train of thought in one coherent strand as he delved deeper into the missing minutes of her rescue that had gone blurry in the midst of the blaster fire.

“She’s sleeping. It was kriffing impossible to help her do anything… Her way only.” He murmured, more to himself than Fett with a slightly frustrated sigh. Fett grunted in appreciation of her determination, although the mood wasn’t light enough for any real laughter. Boba took the lull in conversation to discuss the security procedures that he preferred -more so demanded- Mando take when approaching his landing on arrival.

“Drop straight in on the location. Don’t waste time. There aren’t inhabitants close, but if you come in at cruising altitude I’ll shoot you out of the sky myself.” Fett threatened, altogether serious in his attempt to covey the strict measures he necessitated.

“Fine.” Mando nodded, though Fett couldn’t see the physical acknowledgement.

“Make sure she doesn’t wake up to an empty bed… She’ll be feeling the full force of this tomorrow… bacta patch or not.” Fett added, dropping his visor with an lowly with a disheartened sigh. Of course he couldn’t fault Fett’s reaction, if anything he wasn’t surprised at how seriously he took the care of the women in his life when it came to safety and being overly protected when the situation called for it. Boba Fett might’ve been the most irritating man Mando had ever met, but he was still respectable in Mando’s visor. More than ever he was beginning to think that getting the girl her own comm link was one of the best decisions he’d made since bringing her aboard.

The comm ended, and Mando returned his full attention to the girl, didn’t move an inch the entire night and neither did Mando; He didn’t sleep, but that wasn’t anything new. She had lulled him into a state of complete resignation when it came to thinking about getting up. He couldn’t bring himself to disturb her obviously comfortable position. It would be the best sleep she’d get for at least a couple days, and Mando was set in the idea that he wasn’t going to be the one to ruin her opportunity. He spent the hours rubbing her back, and smoothing her hair back out of her face until he was certain she’d need a shower to clean the smell of his blaster residue- covered gloves.

She wouldn’t wake up until late morning, with a low groan and a deep stretch that made her muscles quiver. Mando watched as her grogginess wore off and the gravity of the situation fell onto her face. He was fully prepared to answer any questions she had, practicing his responses throughout the night in the idea that he would be more than competent to provide any information she wanted.

His work went completely untested.

The girl took a moment to reach up for the patch covering her cheek, letting out a whimper when the light pressure she applied intensified her pain. When she recovered, her sleepy eyes fell on Mando who still had his arm possessively tucked around her middle. No amount of preparation prepared him for what she finally asked him;

“Did you sleep well?”

Awestruck by her comically causal statement he gave a swift nod, feeling the edge of his helmet gently bump against the crown of her head. He touched the spot with his free hand, hoping that it hadn’t hit her hard enough to cause any discomfort. When she happily sighed, and relaxed back into his palm heat spread through his chest, warming the cold anxiety he’d been harboring throughout the night. They laid in comfortable silence for what felt like an eternity to Mando, as she let him continue running his fingers through her hair without any complaint to the way it gleamed with oil from his gloves or the tell-tale smell of a freshly fired amban rifle. It was enough to have Mando feeling like he was back in the water, toeing the edge of an endless cavern, dangerously warm and inviting.

“I’m taking you somewhere safe. Where I can be sure that you’ll be safe even if I leave.” His voice rumbled with the lazy intonation that could be felt in every inch of the rest of his body.

“I shouldn’t have gone so far from the ship.” The girl shifted onto her back, looking up at him with an apologetic look that fired his fury towards her attackers all over again. He didn’t know how else to tell her otherwise, feeling contrary to her point of view and blaming himself for the attack.

With a deep breath he lowered his helmet to rest his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and hoping that she understood what he was incapable of telling her. It was an unfamiliar intimacy that Mando was already impatient to get more of. Nothing compared to the subtle way her presence cleared away his anger, and effortless ability to blind the dark shadows he could feel lurking patiently just outside the door to the bedroom. The girl was the first to break away, only to press another kiss to his visor and settle her forehead back against his. She was the one hurting but found the necessity to calm his unspoken distress.

“When are we leaving?” Her hot breath fogging up his display.

“It’s up to you little one.”

***

With a fresh bacta patch and some soup Mando was thankful that she slept through the entire flight. It wasn’t a long journey -no more than five standard hours- but by the time Mando’s landing gear hit the ground it was night on Aeos Prime. Nothing but the sound of water could be heard over the Slave Two’s engines as Mando piloted the ship above what looked to be a bombed out shelter of some kind as he took note of  the jagged edges of durasteel, melted and bent from the long-past impact. Endless ocean surround him and for a moment he was unable to register just how much reach Fett had across the galaxy.

“Kriffing impossible.” He breathed out, watching as a shield rose up from beneath the thrashing waves to push away the water that covered a ship-sized lock gate nestled into the sand at the sea floor. Hesitant to push through the blue forcefield, he slowly pushed though watching as the penetrable shield bent around the ship until he was fully within it’s protection. The angry water raged against the power shield, trying it’s best to thrash at the charged wall separating Mando from the risk of losing another ship.

The lock gate below him opened with a metallic thud, allowing access so the slave could descend into the cavern below. Once his revelation faded, Mando was left to observe a single ship sitting in the underground loading bay… the sister to his own ship, the Slave One. Old cargo crates sat at the wayside, along with old land speeders retrofitted to haul the same crates that sat strewn about the ground. The grey duracrete walls and steel support beams looked almost untouched compared to the reinforcements above ground. Although everything was well preserved, abandonment was obvious. Dust covered the once striped floors, and deactivated droids sat at the edges of the bay, rusting from the lack of maintenance. All of it screamed military property or something of the like, what exactly he wasn’t sure of… but it reminded him of the Imperial Base on Nevarro that they’d blown sky high. That didn’t keep him from opening the hatch and stepping out into the recycled air of the underground world he’d been so hesitant to enter.

“I told you to haul ass, di’kut.” Fett’s booming voice echoed through the empty loading bay as he appeared from one of the long tunnels that connected to the giant room.

“Don’t act like that’s normal…” Mando challenged, feeling the slightest bit embarrassed that he hadn’t ever experienced something quite as unreal as disappearing underneath the ocean. Fett approached with a somewhat friendly smile, and clapped a hard smack over Mando’s pauldron before turning his attention towards the ships.

“What a pair.” His voice beamed with pride as he looked at the sister ships. “I haven’t seen them together like this in longer than I’d care to admit.” His slight chuckle eased Mando’s taught nerves.

“What is this?” Mando took his own glance around the bay, trying to find some marker of property or ownership.

“It was a city… at one point. But now it’s almost a dead planet.” Fett explained, wandering towards the Slave Two’s open hatch. “Only beings are on the opposite side of the planet, and they keep to themselves… all twenty of them. But I don’t like giving them the opportunity to do so anyways.”

Mando could only silently agree. Not just for the consistency in Fett’s operational standards, but for the safety of the girl who still lay asleep in his bed.

“How is she?” he asked, lowering his voice when he came into the hull of the ship.

“Sleeping for now. But I’m afraid she’s got a fracture, or maybe more than one.” Mando hated saying it, but there was nothing he could do but help her heal at this point. If that meant telling Boba, then so be it; It wouldn’t’ve been the first time he’d swallowed his pride in the presence of the green Mando.

“I’ve got everything she’ll need.” Fett nodded back in the direction of the way he’d come, before turning his attention back to the ship’s ration supply crates. “Bring these along… and anything else you can think of needing. If we are caught, there’s nothing worse than being without everything.” It was directed at The Crest, and no matter how badly Mando wanted to defend himself he could tell that Fett was simply being rational. Within the hour, Mando and Fett had loaded one of the speeders with rations, a third of Mando’s weapons closet and the two small boxes that the girl kept her belongings in.

Lastly, Mando made one last trip to get the girl. She was still dead asleep when he lifted her off the bed, bringing along the blankets she’d wrapped herself in to keep her bare legs from being exposed to the cold air and Fett’s possible wandering eyes. In her dream-filled slumber she nuzzled her face under the edge of his helmet, breathing steadily against his neck. Boba gave Mando a nod of approval, ignoring the opportunity to make a comment about her unconscious desire to seek him out; Instead he opted to settle behind the controls of the speeder, and pilot them down the long tunnel. Mando shielded her from the wind, keeping his back towards Fett as they traveled the long distance deeper into the darkness until the arcing floor grew tall enough to block the view of any light from the loading bay.

Further underground… He thought, instinctually wrapping the girl tighter in the blankets to keep the cold from getting through. Even the duracrete walls seemed to get darker the further they traveled below the surface of the planet. Fett slowed the speeder outside of a sealed door at the end of the hall, taking a look at his own vambrace before unlocking the thick security doors. He pulled though, and resealed them before turning to face Mando.

“Take this hallway,” -he pointed down the one to his left- “And you’ll see the common area. From there, pick a door and that’s where the two of you will stay. Full accommodations.” He gave a curt nod, and began unloading the supply crates without giving Mando any further instruction.

The room he found himself in was similar to the loading bay, but not available for any ship to enter. Most likely a docking station for speeders. He examined the room another time before following the general direction that Fett had given. Once down the hall he came into the ‘common room’ as Fett had called it, seeing the generic markers of a kitchen and dining table with a large portion of the room being occupied by a wall of instrument panels, communication equipment and radar monitors encompassing a remarkable distance around the central location of this base. Mando found the furthest door from the entry hall, shouldering through the door to find what he could only describe as the most domestic place he’d ever seen.

A bed was centered at the back of the room, with a full ‘Fresher off to the side through another side door, accompanied by three geometrically designed shelfs molded from duracrete in the walls of the room. Left untouched, the room looked empty despite its somewhat lavish accommodations. Even simulated moonlight peered from behind a thick curtain that hung over the false window in the wall.

Kriffing impossible. He repeated to himself, feeling the girl stirring in his arms. She let out a tiny whimper, sleepily brushing her hand against her face. The girl opened her eyes and looked around for a moment before resting her head back against Mando fully contented to stay right where she was as long as he would let her.  

“Are we safe?” Her voice coming much clearer than her physical reaction to waking up.

“Yes. How do you feel?” He strode over to the bed and regrettably sat her down so she could gather herself without the struggle of being bunched up against him. He saw how difficult it was for her to move her mouth without the pressure being too overwhelming and quickly changed his tactics. “Are you hungry?”

She nodded quite quickly, her eyes widening at the thought of getting something to eat. Mando was more than pleased, feeling much better knowing that it wasn’t deterring her from wanting something to eat. He studied the way she looked about the room, bringing her palm up to her cheek and a small wince forming on her brow.

“Do you feel like walking?” It was a test question. Of course he wasn’t surprised when she shook her head ‘no’. Quietly he thanked whoever was listening that she didn’t say yes.

He wanted to prolong her interaction with Boba as long as he could without drawing attention to how miserably obvious it affected him. He bowed out of the room, leaving her to fully wake up and take some time alone while he went to check with Fett who’d made himself busy settling the final two crates in the common room. His own stock was nothing compared to Fett’s towering collection of non-perishables and water supply that looked just re-stocked. In silence the two men worked to collect everything into designated shelves before either of them felt the need to speak to each other.

“You don’t trust me around her.” Fett stated with a somewhat smug tone, sharply snapping his gaze toward Mando who was still sitting the final few cans of soup on the shelf.  The tone in the air was charged at the quick bite Fett hadn’t been able to hold back any longer.

Mando swiftly turned to meet the hard stare in the man’s eyes, scanning the almost black rims of his eyes. Their silent battle seemed endless as both fought under the pretense that they were the clear dominant. Both had a damn good reason to stand their ground no matter who’s floor it belonged to, or what physical prowess the other possessed. Mando didn’t understand what he’d done to Fett, or why it mattered if Mando trusted the girl’s life in his hands. He hardly trusted himself with her…

“I don’t.” He finally growled out straightening his posture so Fett would have to look up at him.

“You’re foolish to think you deserve any part of her when you can see past your fucking helmet boy.” The venom of the truth dripping from the Mandalorian’s words poisoned any calmness that Mando had been carrying. The space between the two stayed out of arms reach, but that didn’t keep them from slowly walking a dangerous dance around the common room.

“I’m nothing to her. Therefore what I think has no importance.” Mando couldn’t argue against Fett, but he wasn’t willing to abdicate the challenge from a man who had no reason for desiring the fight in the first place. “I am not your son.” Mando’s words gritted under the his tight throat and the urge to show Fett just how much he was willing to prove his blood superseded Boba’s. His chest swelled with the pressure of a tightly wound coil, slowly twisting tighter with every second that Fett didn’t leave the subject alone.  

“You’ll do well to keep her alive.”

It was the last straw.

Both men lunged at each other, in a clash of armor and wordless communication verbalized in low growls and grunts as they wrestled each other back and forth. Both men pinned the other to the walls of the room, struggling when the other gained the upper hand with a swift punch or a well-placed grapple that caught the other off guard. By the time each man hand found a hand on their blaster each had their sights set on the weakest target on each man. Mando found the center of Fett’s forehead most preferable, while Fett had chosen dead center on Mando’s hips with a more than deadly look filling those dark eyes.

“Mando!” The girl’s scream brought him out of the haze he’d fell into but he couldn’t drop his sights from Fett, who was fully focused on the girl who no doubt had a horrified expression. The full weight of her crashing into his exposed side rocketed him the rest of the way from his stiff posture towards Fett.

“Please don’t hurt him Mando.” She pleaded with a wobbly voice, as she gripped tightly to his cloak and the edge of his chest plate. Her hard tugs at his armor finally unwound the bunched coil around his focus. Finally realizing what the girl had said, his entire body burned to hear her say it again. Mando relished in the knowledge that Fett would have to live with the idea that she thought him superior. It stroked his flaring -and bruised- ego long after the tension in the room faded through the floor both men still stood bonded to. Again she tugged on his chest plate, pulling him to break the hard stare that as still fixed to Fett’s profile. Her whispered pleads, mixing with fear brought him to look down at her shielding his weaker side as she stared up at him with expectant eyes, looking at his outstretched blaster, then back to him.

“You don’t have to prove anything.” She quietly soothed, reaching a hand out to palm the cold metal of his barrel and assist his frozen muscles in lowering it. “I’m not going anywhere.” She seethed, taking a hard glance towards Fett who had replaced his hard stare with a somewhat amused smile in her direction; Obviously finding her irritation with him humorous. With one final pull on him, she broke his feet from their holds finally letting herself grimace from the overuse in her mouth.

Mando could see fresh blood soaking into the backing of her bacta patch, and he was quick to exit the room away from the both of them towards the Slave 2. Fett was right. No matter how much he wanted to ignore the truth, he’d only proved Fett’s accuracy within three minutes of him speaking. The girl called out for him to come back, and she followed for a short while down the tunnel before she realized that he wasn’t interested in listening to what she had to say. He needed distance from her, more than ever before. A burn in his chest only accentuated the pain that floated through his mind as he replayed the times he’d let himself fall into her lull of security, thinking that maybe the old woman had been right. That even a damn soul could find some solace in the arms of a sweet girl who didn’t see his blood-stained hands, or ink-black soul.

He shut the hatch to the Slave and ripped his helmet away from his head, throwing it into the wall with a loud cry of desperation. In a fit of rage he balled his fist and slammed it into the durasteel wall, frantic for some release in the constant war he’d internalized. Mando wanted to go back to her, and ask for the relief that was unique to her. Let go in the heat of her arms and feel that acceptance he was finally able to admit he desired more than anything. Another loud scream scraped though his vocal chords, irritating his throat from the demanding use he’d suddenly used. It rattled the ship, an empty canister suddenly being filled with the bottled up anger of a man who’d suffered more loss than he could bear the weight of.

His rage continued on throughout the night crashing down on Mando like the thrashing waves of Aeos Prime hundreds of feet above him churning like an monster with an endless instinct to devour or demolish anything in it’s path. He wallowed in the loss of control that Fett had placed upon him, and there was only one way he knew he could solve it. It only made the blow worse, when he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Sealed in his quarters with his armor strewn about the hull along with his helmet and flight suit he finally collapsed onto the bed with a singular need to seek out any traces of the girl on his sheets. Even in the solitude he’d chosen over the presence of the girl, Mando found himself burying his bare face in the pillow searching for her comfort in the only way he knew how. Underneath the heavy scent of leather and metal he could finally smell that sweet mix of her sweat and something else foreign to anything he could ever guess to describe.

He found what he needed.

It smelled like her.

After all this time of keeping his distance he’d never allowed himself the purely selfish indulgence of knowing what she smelled like, and now he laid writhing like he was in pain to get just another hint of her. It was unlike him to be so unhinged; Only after Grogu had been kidnapped had anything ever felt so severe to him. Now nothing but his own guilt and fear stood guard over the one and only thing he’d ever realized he wanted. He stayed wrapped in the subtle reminder of the girl in his sheets, battling with the shadows of his training and the creed just hiding in the corners of his room and doing everything he could to fight them away just for a little while longer. Those dark figures and the evil laugh of death in the hull echoed for hours into an undetectable Aeos Prime daylight.

@spacedaddydinn​ @absurdthirst​ @crazybirb​ @hornystarwarsbisexual​ @roxypeanut​ 

@bookloverkat​ @kat-r-in​ @clairobeatmeup​ @auty-ren​ @justbecausewecan​ @roseallisonparker​

@peterztinglez @theamuz​ 

@jade-jax​ 

@hoodedbirdie​ @strawberryperegrine @panndastasia​ 

@bel-ppa​

[adenei]

Day 19: January Word Challenge

a/n: there’s more under the cut, so don’t be fooled into thinking this is a short one!

New

Year 1:

Hermione walked through the maze of corridors of her new school. She was a witch, and she was learning magic! It was a fresh start for her, and one she hoped would have a better outcome than her experiences in primary school. Sure, she missed the subjects she studied at her old school, and her eleven year old aspirations of becoming a lawyer were probably all for naught now, but she wouldn’t trade any of that for this amazing new world.

She understood why she was different now, and why odd things tended to happen when she grew up. Hogwarts was meant to teach her how to control and refine her magic, and she’d read all of the textbooks twice in preparation of fitting in. Hermione was worried she was already behind because she didn’t come from a magical family, so she focused on the one thing she was good at to help her get ahead. 

Thankfully, her teachers were already impressed with her work ethic, and she was proving that she did actually belong here. Sure, she missed her parents and wrote them several times a week, and she reminded herself that it would have been like this if she’d been sent off to boarding school, too. She held up the newest letter that had been delivered at breakfast. Her mum had asked if she’d made any friends yet. Hermione’s face fell as she reread her mother’s words. Not yet, she thought, but she was still hopeful. New beginnings meant a fresh start, and that went for her attempts at making friends as well.

Year 2

It wasn’t a fluke. She really did make new friends last year, and they still wanted her in their lives upon returning to Hogwarts in the fall! Sure, it was probably a little out of the ordinary for her two friends to be boys, but she wasn’t complaining. Originally she thought that being friends with Harry Potter would help her befriend the others in her year, or at least her fellow Gryffindors, but that didn’t seem to be the case.

Their recognition and brief popularity for winning the House Cup last year was soon forgotten once the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Honestly, she’d been holding her breath, thinking that Harry and Ron would drop her because the monster was targeting muggleborns. She was quite relieved when they turned out to do the exact opposite. 

Ron had come to her defense and had thrown up slugs because of it. It was the nicest, and most disgusting thing anyone had ever done for her, and she wasn’t sure how to repay him. The word really didn’t mean much to her, but Ron’s reaction was notable. 

She wasn’t sure why her heart felt funny when he stood up to Malfoy for her. Maybe that’s just what true friendship felt like. Yes, surely that was it. She would have felt the same if Harry had been the one to defend her, right? 

Year 3

Hermione couldn’t believe it! A pet of her very own! He may not be a kitten, but he was new to her, and she was certain he would be the best cat! She was sold on Crookshanks the moment she laid eyes on him when they’d entered the Menagerie, and much to Ron’s discontent, she’d chosen the ginger animal.

The store owner seemed both relieved and excited at the prospect of Crookshanks finding a new home, having been looked over for years now. Hermione snuggled him closer as they sat in their compartment on the Hogwarts Express at the recollection. She felt a connection with Crookshanks, knowing what it felt like to be looked over and dismissed for friendship and camaraderie. 

Hermione smiled, knowing that her new pet would keep her company at night when Lavender and Parvati excluded her in their whispered secrets. Now, she’d have someone to whisper her own secrets to; ones she couldn’t tell the boys. Like how she still didn’t understand the way her heart thumped faster when Ron would smile at her, and she felt nothing when Harry did the same. Of course, Crookshanks couldn’t speak, but it still comforted her to know she’d have someone to talk to who she could trust with her innermost thoughts.

Year 4

Hermione couldn’t believe she actually had a date to the Yule Ball. Sure, it wasn’t her first choice, but it beat going alone. Maybe it’d even make a certain someone wake up and notice her.

It was a strange new feeling, being wanted and desired. She’d spent the majority of her fifteen years being looked over and not given a second thought when it came to personal relationships and friendships. Now, an international quidditch player had shown interest in her, of all people! 

Shouldn’t she be feeling more excited at this prospect? Wasn’t this what she’d always wanted? Not only was she being included, but desired. Someone wanted her on their arm, for the whole of Hogwarts and the visitors from the other two schools to see! And yet, she wasn’t satisfied. 

If anything, her heart hurt more because she still wasn’t noticed by the one person that mattered the most. She glanced up from across the Gryffindor table and watched a certain redhead working on some assignment. Maybe she should forget about the stupid crush she could no longer deny. Yes, that was it. 

Hermione resolved to put her feelings for him aside, and embrace the new companionship, or maybe more, that Viktor was offering. It was the perfect plan to get over her childhood crush. 

Year 5

Well, this is new, Hermione thought to herself. Since when did Ron give her meaningful gifts? She was staring at the bottle of perfume Ron gifted her Christmas. On the inside, she was absolutely giddy, but the outside didn’t match those feelings. Ron couldn’t know her secret, so Hermione vowed to hide it at all costs.

She’d done a poor job of trying to hide her excitement. Well, no, she actually did too well of a job. Her reaction was less than stellar, and not what she’d intended. She told him it was interesting. How barmy could you be! Interesting? Why couldn’t you have said, ‘it’s lovely, Ron, thank you!’ No, you had to go and say it’s ‘interesting,’ Hermione berated herself in her own thoughts.

This very well could have been the moment she’d been waiting for, and she’d gone and buggered it up. Yet instead of trying to fix it, she let it go. She figured that if she wore the perfume on a regular basis, then he’d know she liked it. 

Year 6

Hermione felt like her insides had been gutted and her heart ripped out of her chest. She’d give anything to go back to the dull ache and pining over Ron as she wished that they could be something more. Maybe she’d wake up and realize it was just a nightmare, that this new heartache wasn’t warranted after all. Yet the days continued to pass, and that stab of pain remained fresh every time she witnessed the boy she fancied attached by the face to her dorm mate.

Slow and steady wins the race. That’s what the fable always taught her. But it wasn’t true; at least not this time. There was no way she could ever compare to the likes of Lavender, who possessed such a natural beauty that she could have any bloke she desired. 

There was no way Ron would ever look twice at her, especially not now. His new relationship only exacerbated the estrangement she now faced with him. The loneliness was almost too much to bear since he wasn’t speaking to her. 

It was typical Ron and Hermione. He was mad at her for some unknown reason, and now she couldn’t allow herself to forgive him for his betrayal. Their friendship now obliterated in its wake. She was stupid to think she’d even had a chance. Her offer to attend Slughorn’s party was tossed aside far too quickly when a better offer arose. 

A new wave of tears flooded her eyes. When it was all said and done, she couldn’t blame him. Who in their right mind would pick plain Hermione Granger over the illustrious Lavender Brown? Book smarts didn’t matter when it came to fancying someone. Now that Ron had Lavender, she wasn’t needed anymore.

Year 7

Hermione felt Ron’s lips kiss her gently as he leaned down. Hermione hoped she’d never get used to this feeling. They were finally together now. Somehow, they’d survived more near death situations than she could count. The war was over, and they could finally be honest with each other. It felt like a weight was lifted off of her shoulders. She no longer had to hide how she felt. Her hand found his, and for the first time in years, she felt peace. 

There was no doubt they’d stumble along the way as they transitioned from friends to something more, but they were willing to do whatever it took to make this work. Every kiss between them felt like a promise, and for the first time she no longer questioned where she stood with her best friend. Hermione smiled as she finally allowed herself to fully embrace their new relationship.

[jacks-jester]

Silent Treatment

[Jerome Valeska x Reader]

Words: 1,675

Warnings: Murder, violence, attempted sexual harassment/assault

Requested: Yes / No

Request: “ Hello Beautiful Person! I'm your new follower. Requests are opened right? Not sure how violent or graphic asks can be so I just give it a shot ok? Can I get Jerome x reader in Arkham but no one knows why she's there cause she seems too innocent and totaly normal, but she's more dangerous then they think. After killing a guard in front of everyone for harrasing her, she confesses to being a serial killer but she only kills other killers? (I was watching Dexter) J has a crush on her from day one. “ - Anonymous

Summary:  Jerome tries getting to know Arkhams newest victim, a young girl who seems too innocent to be stuck in a place like that. He is quickly proven wrong when her crimes come to light after attacking and killing a prison guard.

A/N~ Love Dexter, love this prompt. Thanks for the response, I hope you enjoy!

Arkham Asylum held the lowest of the low, that included the staff, inmates, and anyone else who dared venture into the shitty institution. Gotham held a lot of bad apples, most of which were comfortably tucked away inside of the padded walls of this penitentiary. Arkham Asylum was disgusting place, the city clearly not caring about the upkeep of the rotting building. The state of the building was laughable, mold growing in every shadow and crevice, rats and cockroaches littering the halls, half the food was rotting in the cafeteria, the guards had no repercussions or supervision, the walls were literally crumbling, and most locks were broken or malfunctioning. The only thing they made sure of, was that guards were armed at all times, assuring brutality between patients and guards, because lets be honest, who would care if an insane inmate of Arkham Asylum was found dead. It was easy for stories to be twisted where guards were the victims of the whole operations, the mentally ill always being the villains. 

Arkham’s inmates mostly consisted of men, all ages, all sizes, all different types of fucked up. Arkham accepted anyone deemed a danger to them selves of society so Arkham became a big mixing pot of problems.Serial killers next to muggers, cannibals next to rapists, even some innocents mixed in with the bunch. The few innocents in Arkham never lasted long though, either being killed or becoming corrupted themselves. See that was the thing about Arkham, nobody got better by going there, if anything it reaffirmed their anger and resentment towards the corrupt city and its inhabitants. 

Arkham was it’s own special breed of poison for the mentally ill.

───※ ·❆· ※───

You were fairly new to Arkham Asylum, only having been there a week so far. It was no surprise that several of the more lonely inmates had taken to trying to flirt with you,claim you as their property, you didn’t take the bait though. You opted to follow the same route as some of the other female inmates: stay the fuck away from any other inmate in this god forsaken hell hole. You weren’t crazy, you knew that, nobody else here did though. To guards an inmate was an inmate, all the other prisoners having the same mindset as the guards. To everyone in here, you were just another loony who got caught and locked away.

The only thing that seemed to catch people off guard, was your quiet and respectful nature. You never got in fights, never had a melt down, and always were compliant with the prison rules. Most people were the most defensive their first week here, you were the exact opposite of the usual response to being locked up. This had peaked the interest of a particular red headed carnie who had just been locked up himself. Jerome was a curious person by nature, a quick learner, and a very big people person - granted he despised most people though. 

Your demeanor drew him in from the start, your physical attractiveness also helping though. Jerome had attempted to talk to you several times, each time being completely ignored or dismissed at the wave of a hand. You always had a book on hand, opting to sit in the far corner of the leisure room and read to yourself while the other inmates played amongst themselves. You were never one to snap easily at people, having learned to bite your tongue to avoid conflict.

Jerome still persisted though, every day opting to sit near you and talk to you, though her never got a response. You’d think a person like Jerome would get worn out and tired of the routine, but if anything he saw it as a game. He wanted to be the first person to get you to talk, he wanted to break your quiet, it helped that he had a bet going with Greenwood though. Greenwood said Jerome would never be able to crack the quiet girl, Jerome begged to differ, and Jerome was never wrong.

───※ ·❆· ※───

It was another day at the Asylum: same shit food, same worn out clothes, same awful staff members, same boring routine. You made your way towards the leisure area, relieved to get a break from your cell. The asylum ran in shifts: high security offenders had the third break of the day - the break you were taking now. You were growing tired of the sorry excuse of a bed the penitentiary gave you, a metal sheet, a blanket, and a flat pillow. It was impossible to get a good nights sleep on those cots, leaving you in an annoyed state for the day. You had gotten no sleep last night, between uncomfortable sleeping conditions and the loud screaming of one of the patients down the hall, it was impossible.

You finally made your way to the checking station, guards typically frisking down patients to ensure that they do not have any weapons on hand. More than once had you seen patients try bringing in pens, wires, sometimes even getting their hands on shards of glass.  You approached the guard station, holding your arms out in a T position and separating you legs slightly so they could ensure nothing was tucked in your pants. You had refused to wear the Arkham dresses, not wanting to deal with peoples stares, specifically Greenwood and Sionis. 

It didn’t take long for the newbie guard to begin frisking you, his hands gently patting you down to ensure there were no potentially dangerous items on your person. You watched him closely as you felt his pats becoming more prolonged, seemingly taking his time - most guards barely graze an inmate before allowing them in, this new guard seemed to be getting to familiar for comfort. You tensed slightly as he began running his hand up your leg. “Watch it.” You said it with a venomous tone, warning lacing your voice. 

The guard only looked at you with a narcissistic smirk, “Mind your manners, you gonna do something about it?” You could feel the rage boiling over in your stomach, “Last chance, knock it off.” You snapped the moment you felt his callous hand brush over you ass, his finger groping lightly, “Try something, I dare you.” You closed your eyes and sighed, “I warned you.” Without another word you brought your elbow, crushing into his face, immediately snapping his nose. Almost instantly blood began gushing from his pig like nose, misshapen and red. He clutched over, his hands both going to his nose as blood freely poured from the new injury. “You fucking bitch!” 

You watched as his hand went to grab his gun, the pistol hanging loosely off his left hip. His movements were clumsy however, his hands slipping anxiously off the pistol, you figured it was the shock of having his nose caved in, a headache more than likely forming. Your eyes widened as he went to reach for the gun, your instincts quickly taking over your rational thoughts. Your leg quickly slung over his arched back, getting in a piggy back position as your hands found the curvature of his neck, your hands quickly twisting in the most unpleasant way.

His body instantly slumped beneath you, falling ungracefully to the floor with a sickening thump, your legs catching you before he could pull you down with him. His head was jarred at a strange angle, his jaw slack, eyes wide with shock, hand resting against his holstered gun. Your eyes widened as you came to grips with what had just occurred, you’d broken your code, well kind of. You didn’t consider yourself a criminal, you simply took out the garbage, only killing criminal who were walking free. So in a way he did fit into your normal range of crime, he was obviously someone who delved in sexual assault and harassment so you didn’t feel guilty about it. 

You only turned around upon hearing a low whistle from behind, a whistle you knew all to well. You swore under your breath before turning to face Jerome who took to slowly clapping his hands together, as if to show his gratitude for the act just displayed in front of him. “Didn’t think you had it in you.” He let out a laugh, kneeling next to the fallen guard, quirking his head to make ye contact with the security guards wide eyes. “Did quite a number on him, didn’t cha?” You rolled your eyes, your gaze flicking to the corpse. “Fucker got what was coming to him.” Your voice was quiet but loud enough for Jerome to hear.

He turned to you with feigned shock, his jaw open as he looked at you with wide eyes. He placed his hand over his chest as his mouth formed a wide grin, “I’m honored doll, finally got you to break after a week.” You rolled your eyes at the excited red head, his eyes gleaming with twisted amusement, though there was a small hint of genuine surprise within his ebony pools. He circled you for a moment, “Maybe you’re not as boring as I thought you were, not so innocent.” You raised an eyebrow, “You don’t know a single thing about me.”

He only nodded with that same impish grin, “Not yet.... not yet.” He reached down, grabbing the keys from the guards body, opening the leisure room door for you. “After you, we’ve got a lot to talk about.” You looked at him for a moment before sighing, going with him for one reason or another. Death wasn’t uncommon at a place like this so after everyone was securely in the leisure room, the guards body was eventually dragged away and to be disposed of. You and Jerome had taken to sitting in a far corner of the room, a game of Candyland splayed between you two. He made his move before resting his cheek on his fist, peering over at you. “This is gunna be fun.Now then, I want to know everything.”

───※ ·❆· ※───

Time: 2 hours 38 minutes (Mania made it incredibly hard to focus, I kept getting stuck)

[willcwthewisp]

false god complex | ben & willow

LOCATION: university of maine, white crest. PARTIES:  @professorbcampbell and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: ben is more than happy to lend willow a helping hand.  CONTAINS: elements of grooming.

Willow’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her car in a near death-grip, already dreading what was to come. Why had the telemarketing company thought she was a good person to deliver toner? She’d done her best to avoid getting too close to anyone in the office, constantly afraid that she’d end up throwing someone through the flimsy walls that made up their miniscule cubicles. But somehow they’d settled on her to make a delivery that required a signature. She couldn’t even find peace in the knowledge that she’d be able drop the package and run. No- the telemarketer would have to come face to face with an actual person. This was the exact opposite of what she’d signed up for when taking a job that was about being away from people.

Pulling into the university, she struggled for a moment with the box of printing supplies, finally managing to balance it on her hip as she locked her car. One slow and deep breath later, she was steeling herself as she walked towards the closest building. Just find a person. Have them sign. And get out. That’s all she had to do. At least it was later in the day, getting closer to a time of the evening when less students were on campus. Throwing a college student into the quad fountain was also on her list of scenarios to desperately avoid. And it was a rather long list. Why were there so many people in the world? Turning the corner into a hallway, she scanned for any nearby lifeforms, finally spotting the back of a man’s head down the way as he walked away from her. “Um- excuse me!” she called out, her free hand waving with uncertainty above her head as she made an awkward shuffle towards him. “Excuse me! Sir? Sorry- I just- well I’m dropping off this toner, and it needs a signature. Do you think- well would you mind signing for it?”

Thumbing through his mail, Ben scanned the various letters. Hardly anyone sent him physical mail anymore, but he made a point of checking his mailbox once a week. It was good practice to walk through the halls, make a show of being polite and friendly to all of the cubicle dwelling student workers and pitiful staff members who didn’t have access to offices of their own. His office was on the third floor of the building, and while he didn’t have a corner office just yet, he had it on good authority that the next vacancy would be his. Tossing a few pieces of junk mail into the recycling bin, he headed out of the mailroom back to his office. He would finish up some emails and then take home his remaining essays to grade. Perhaps stop by the coffee shop, see if he could arrange a serendipitous meeting with a student--

As he walked down the hall, Ben was caught off guard by the sudden flash of movement and a woman’s voice calling out to him. Toner? What, did she take him as a secretary? It wasn’t his job to make sure the printer room was stocked. But, he offered an easy smile instead and hurried towards her. “Here, let me take that.” He said, taking the heavy package of toner from her easily. “You’re a ways off from the printing room. I can carry this and sign once we get there?” He said with a nod.

“Oh- oh no, you don’t have to-” Willow began, but he’d already taken the package from her hip in a movement so smooth she almost forgot to be nervous about the proximity of him. Almost. Realizing how close she’d come to potentially grazing against the man, and therefore possibly tossing him into next week, the medium took a healthy step back. “Sorry- it’s been so long since I went here, and I swear they moved everything around,” she breathed with half an attempted chuckle, trying to set herself at ease after the close call. “You really don’t have to, though,” she started once more, hating to be any sort of inconvenience. “I mean- I didn’t mind carrying it! And it’s not your job, you know?” As she said the words she finally did a cursory one over of the man in front of her, blinking a few times in quick succession as she began to fully understand just how handsome he was. Oh god- now she was nervous again. “And I mean- you could just sign here, if you wanted! Then I could just take it to the printing room or wherever and set it and leave it there since you...signed for it. And it’s just toner! I don’t think anyone wants to take toner or anything, right? I mean, have you ever heard of anyone ever stealing toner before?” Willow ended on an semi-awkward chuckle, practically begging herself to stop talking before she said anything else that sounded equally, or god forbid, more idiotic.

Hefting the box in his arms, Ben made his expression one the model of politeness and patience. It was irritating to have to maintain his role as the good-nature professor for someone who so clearly wasn’t worth his time. Well. She was cute, in an out-of-sorts kind of way. Which was typically how most women acted around him. “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a heavy box and it’s easiest for me to just carry it while I have it now.” He said with an easy smile and tilted his head. “The printer room is on my way back to my office, so it’s no skin off my back. Two birds with one stone, hm?” He said as she rambled on and on. Incredible. She just kept speaking without providing anything of substance. “No need to worry. And no, I can’t begin to imagine why someone would steal toner of all things. Unless they’ve got a massive printer at home, I can’t see why they’d do that.” He laughed. “Ah,” Just shut up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by just taking the box from you. You just looked as though you were struggling and I wanted to offer a hand. Or two.” Ben gestured to the box resting in his hands.

“Oh- well...thank you, then.” Willow wasn’t about to argue with a man who was being so perfectly polite about helping her, especially when he looked as handsome as this one did. After all, who didn’t enjoy it when a good-looking man helped you of his own accord without seeming threatening or overbearing? Feminism be damned. “Sure,” she agreed, feeling like she’d be doing that more often as the conversation went on. His words and actions were so confident that they nearly even set her at ease, which was no small feat. “Thank you, again.” She should make conversation, shouldn’t she? It was only polite after he’d helped her. “So you’re...a professor here?” That much was obvious given his mention of an office. “”What do you teach?” For a moment she laughed with him, still somewhat amazed that she’d been able to do so in the first place despite being at risk of telekinetically throwing someone in a public setting. “I guess so. Unless there’s some toner black market that I’m completely unaware of.” It was her own attempt at a joke. “No, no-” she began, not wanting him to think she was upset. “It was nice of you- really. I just wasn’t entirely expecting it and-” She didn’t like people getting close to her. Not when she was a ticking time bomb. “-and I appreciate the two hands.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Ben said with a kind smile he didn’t mean in the slightest. This woman looked familiar, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She looked to be around the same age as him, perhaps a few years younger. Blonde, brown eyed, classical bone structure, but why did she look familiar to him? Perhaps he’d be able to worm the information out of her. “Please, it’s really not a problem. And yes, I am. I teach the classics. Greek and Roman history, culture, and philosophy for the most part, but I dabble in most ancient Western civilizations.” As he always did for the more nervous types-- and this woman struck him as quite nervous-- Ben offered a self conscious grimace. “But, it’s hardly the most interesting field.” He said as he led them through the halls at a leisurely pace. A toner black market. Knowing some of the creatures who roamed this town, there very well might be. “Well, my apologies for startling you. It wasn’t my intention at all. Do people generally let you,” Flounder “Struggle without offering to help? That’s hardly the sort of behavior I’d expect of people here.”

He seemed like a very nice man. Or a well-meaning one at the very least. The more he spoke, the more Willow settled into the situation she’d been handed, figuring there was little she could do at this point if he was going to be so insistent about helping. She just had to keep her distance, and everything would be alright...right? “Oh- well that’s all very impressive sounding,” she replied with a tentative smile, as if she were testing the waters when it came to the expression on her face. “The closest I ever got to the classics or anything like that when I was here were the art and visual culture classes for the eras.” While Ben carefully practiced humility, Willow was already shaking her head in denial of his words. “Oh no- if it’s interesting to you, that’s what matters, right? And I’m sure there’s plenty of people who find it really stimulating.” As she walked along with him, her eyes scanned the hallways, curious to see how her alma mater had changed in the years since she’d roamed it. “No, really- you don’t need to apologize at all. I mean- you were just being thoughtful. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all! Pretty much the opposite, actually. As for other people...I guess I wouldn’t know- I’m not really a ‘delivery’ sort of person, but the usual person was out today.”

Walking alongside the woman, Ben continued to appraise her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit which had resulted in, thankfully, less rambling. Some people rambled in productive ways, providing little insights into their lives, their minds. This woman? Not exactly. She spoke as though she had to fill the air with sound or else there would be dire consequences. “Ah, thank you, though it’s hardly impressive.” Ben said with a shrug. Oh, he was very impressive. Department co-chair, associate professor, and well established within the college at his age? No, he was impressive and he knew it. “Art and visual culture? Are you an artist?” He asked with interest, though internally he couldn’t care less. “Indeed! That’s how I find it as well.” Ben nodded as they continued down the hall. Rounding the corner into the printer room, he set the heavy box on the counter. “Ah, in that case, I’m quite glad I was there to help. It’s never pleasant when you have to take on the responsibilities of others.” He said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned against the copier, waiting for her next move, curious to see how she’d fill this new gap in conversation.

“Don’t say that,” Willow insisted, apparently gaining confidence where Ben carefully lost it. If there was one thing she was confident about it was boosting the spirit of others. “You know something that plenty of people couldn’t even begin to really grasp. Isn’t that impressive?” A friendly nod had her head bobbing up in down as he asked about her, blonde hair bouncing along with the motion. “I majored in Fine Arts when I was here, and then opened a gallery a few years out of school.” A smile grew more comfortable on her lips while he continued to be perfectly amenable. “Well then I’m glad you agree,” she finished with a small chuckle, finding herself more at ease with every moment. “Oh- well I was definitely lucky that you were there to help. And that you’re obviously more than happy to lend a helping hand.” A shrug tugged at her shoulders. “It’s alright- I don’t mind helping.” At least that was usually true when it didn’t put her in public situations that might result in someone getting broken in half. “But um- if I could get that signature from you now, that would be great?” She offered him the little electronic device they’d given her at the office, a pen attached to it. Holding it by the very ends, she desperately tried to ensure that no contact would be made when he took it. 

“I suppose it is.” Ben said and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile as the woman admonished him. So she was one of those types. An optimist, someone who tried to lift others up. Naive. Interesting, very interesting. He couldn’t help but weigh and measure her, even if he had no real desire to lure her towards the way of his Lord. But who knew. She might be able to be of use to him, one day. It never hurt to cultivate “friendships.” Just as he thought, an artist, one of those creative types. “Now that, that sounds quite impressive.” As she held out the little device, she watched the way she kept him at arms length. As though she was scared of him? No, not quite. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so frightened. “Of course.” Ben signed off on the machine with a smile before handing it back to her. “Ben Campbell. A pleasure to meet you..?”

Willow’s grin widened as the man agreed, happy to see that he wasn’t planning on minimizing his accomplishments anymore for the time being. Why shouldn’t he be proud? She was fairly certain everyone had something to be proud of in their lives, and if they couldn’t see that then she was more than happy to help show them. “Oh no- I mean- it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow fell naturally into the persona that Ben had cultivated for himself over their conversation, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks at his praise. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Relief flooded her as he didn’t offer a hand to shake along with his introduction, knowing she would have only made the conversation terribly awkward as she refused to take it. “I’m Willow- Willow Finch. And thank you for the signature, Ben,” she said warmly, already taking a step back as she reminded herself that she was testing the limits of her telekinesis simply by talking to him. “I hope you have a good day, Professor Campbell.” Then she was starting to head off, wishing she could have counted the man as a new friend, but knowing it wasn’t possible with her current situation. But it had been nice to pretend for the length of the walk down the hallway.

[birbleafs]

[fic] A Much Ado About (PSI)oulmates

Series: Saiki Kusuo no Ψ-nan || The Disastrous Life of Saiki K. Rating: T Genre: Humour, Breaking The Fourth Wall Character(s): Saiki Kusuo, Aiura Mikoto, Satou Hiroshi, Akechi Touma, Toritsuka Reita Warnings: None, save for canon-typical shenanigans Summary:  Aiura decides to combine her divination abilities with Kusuo’s powers for a super special comedic segment on Affinity Levels. Fic can also be read on AO3 _______

Excerpt taken from clairvoyant Dame Mata-Mata’s advert for Amazing Psychic Services:

99.9% accurate affinity readings and guaranteed life-long happiness! Discover your twin flame with as little 10,000 yen per hour! Some would say it’s foolish to risk your future and wallet on such clandestine offerings, but we assure you, we are no worse than the underhanded brand marketing on children’s television series! Call 1800-TWINFLAMES -1234567 to book a reading today!!

***

Anyone who would believe such clandestine and shady offerings isn’t just a fool but a complete buffoon, Kusuo scoffs impassively at the flyer before him. This is definitely worse than the underhanded brand marketing on children’s TV shows.

“They’re a total noob at it, fer sure!” Aiura says, leaning in too close and posing next to Kusuo as she takes a wefie with her phone. “Like sure, the concept of twin flames and soulmates ain’t new, but to claim everyone has half a soul yearning to get jiggy with its other missing half for life-long bliss is like, a gross oversimplification.” I don’t really care to be honest, Kusuo deadpans. He stares sullenly at how Aiura’s arm is still wrapped around his; she offers him a cheeky grin and a peace sign, snapping yet another wefie before she finally slides away to the opposite seat. “Soulmates just have more natural affinity for each other,” Aiura says, batting her eyelashes at him coyly. “But just like with everything, it doesn’t mean you don’t need to put in any effort to make it work! Hey, speaking of which—the author has a super special birthday tradition where she writes and/or posts up a new story, so this fanfic can totally be about Affinity Meters, right?!” Don’t know what you’re going on about and still don’t actually care, Kusuo retorts, shoving a spoonful of coffee jelly into his mouth as he resolutely tries to enjoy his Sunday afternoon. But Aiura persists, easily breaking the fourth wall to elaborate further: “Just like how Kusuo can use the Affection Meter to quantify a person’s love for another, today we’ll combine Kusuo’s telepathy and my own divination abilities to measure soulmate compatibility via Affinity Levels! So, without further ado, let’s go, let’s goooo!” Aiura, no, Kusuo groans in quiet despair. “Miko-chan, YES!” Aiura whoops, fist-pumping the prologue away as the scene fades out. _______

i.

Satou Hiroshi

Conventional. Moderate. Regular. Behold the quintessential stock background character, the pinnacle of normality—Satou Hiroshi. Standing at a height of 169.9 centimeters and weighing at precisely 61.0 kilograms—the exact national average of a healthy sixteen-year-old Japanese male—he is the gold standard, the epitome of normal. It’s a shame then that few recognize Satou-kun’s remarkable ordinariness, Kusuo muses, watching said background character ambling down the sidewalk with an approving smile. Nevertheless, perhaps that may be to my benefit. Surely our Affinity Levels must be pretty high; after all, we’re both normal and regular high-school teens who do not stand out much— “I don’t think using your powers to make yourself inconspicuous counts though,” Aiura says as she glances over Kusuo’s shoulder, puzzled at his fixation on someone so… well, boring. Kusuo isn’t even listening. We both have regular aspirations and hobbies, seeking only to live peaceful days! “Funnily, I now remember peeking at Normal-kun’s fortune for Hii-chan. And get this, his biggest dream is being on stage as a rock star! Like seriously, how typical can he get?” —So, taking into consideration all of the above, Kusuo presses on, undeterred by Aiura’s commentary, surely we would hit it off as friends with optimal affinity levels! “Uhm, Kusuo?” Aiura nudges him with her elbow, pointing at the meter hovering beside them. “Not to be a wet blanket and all, but the Affinity Meter started running again as you were waxing lyrical earlier, so now it’s showing that Normal-kun and your Affinity Levels are like, really just two stars at best.” She leans forward, squinting at the screen. “Simply because he thinks you’re okay but still a bit of a weirdo. Dayum, the nerve of this twerp!” Kusuo stares wordlessly at her for a beat, slack-jawed. A-Ahyuu…?

Affinity Level: ☆☆ _______

 ii.

Akechi Touma

“It pains me to have to do this,” Aiura lets out a dramatic sigh. “But since Childhood Friends is a pretty popular trope in animanga, and therefore in fanfiction, I guess there’s no avoiding it.” Kusuo scowls, not liking where this is heading at all. It can totally be avoided. We can just avoid talking about it altogether. “Is that you, Kusuo-kun?” Akechi says as he suddenly appears at Kusuo’s side, curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, I see Aiura-san is here as well. I couldn’t help but notice how you two were standing and talking together so I thought I should come say hello, even though I was rather hesitant at first. I didn’t want to abruptly barge into your conversation, you see, as that would have been awfully rude, and I certainly don’t wish for you to think of me as rude, Kusuo-kun.” Yet here you are barging in anyway, blathering on incessantly like a runaway freight train, Kusuo remarks drily. “Well, I couldn’t help but overhear the mention of Affinity Levels,” Akeichi beams as he continues, unfazed by the jibe. “And I can’t say my curiosity isn’t the least bit piqued, even if I have little to no real interest or belief in the notion of soulmates. In fact, the existence of an actual soul remains debatable in scientific circles—” Exasperated, Aiura tries to interject. “Since you ain’t all that interested, mind if you just zip those lips for like five minutes? My hair’s gone all frizzy from the heat of your endless jabbering!” “However, these debates on the existence of the soul had also been instrumental to the understanding of the anatomy and physiology of the human body—” “Oh my God, please just stop yapping for ONE sec—!!” Aiura shrieks, tugging at her curls in frustration. She accidentally kicks the Affinity Meter to start running, and the lights blink and flash in a rapid blur before the meter gradually slows down to display four bright stars upon its screen. There’s a beat; the trio leans forward, staring at the meter in awkward silence. Kusuo’s brows are furrowed at the unexpected results; he shrugs it off as a fluke. Clearly there’s some technical issue with Affinity Meter (never mind that the meter works, in part, based on Aiura’s divination abilities, which have, to date, always been accurate). There’s just no way Akechi could ever beat Satou-kun on that scale, he’s too much of an abnormal— But Aiura is already moving forward, reaching out to grasp Akechi’s hand in a firm handshake. “Aiura-san? Is there something…?” She acknowledges Akechi’s curious gaze with a curt nod. “All right, I can’t deny it any longer. Not with that impressive detective aura of yours and with results like that on both Kusuo and my own Affinity Meter.” Oi, oi. Don’t start spouting weird nonsense now, Miss Abnormal! “All right, Akeinu! I hereby deem you a worthy rival in the fight to stand as Kusuo’s trusted sidekick!” “Oho! You’ve even given me a cutesy nickname as acknowledgment! I must say I’m quite flattered, Aiura-san.” How about I side-kick both of you out of my life right now? Kusuo sighs, mildly perturbed by this unexpected turn of events.

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆ _______

iii.

Toritsuka Reita

…… …… …… What, did you seriously think Toritsuka was getting a proper scene? He’s already way too pathetic. NEXT— “W-wait, did you just cut my scene?!” Toritsuka shrieks from the void like a headless chicken. “Don’t just write me off, Saiki-saaan!!” —Saiki exits stage left, pursuing normalcy. “And don’t just narrate yourself out!!”

Affinity Level: N.A. _______

iv. Aiura Mikoto

“At first glance, you might think we make for an odd couple,” Aiura says with a coquettish smile. “And how it seems absolutely cray that we could get along. Or like, that we don’t mesh just ‘cause our personalities clash way too much or somethin’.” She chuckles at the notion, running perfectly manicured nails through her luscious locks. “I mean, it’s obvs only those inexperienced with the inner workings of the heart would think that. Because opposites attract, y’know? It’s the push-pull dynamism between us that spices things up! Like two tango dancers stirring up a flame on the dance floor—it keeps things refreshing and exciting, but still comforting and familiar in the end, like sharing a nice, warm bath at the end of the day, or cuddling up together at the sofa, feeding each other spoons of dessert…” Aiura pauses, blushing when she catches sight of the Affinity Meter fluttering gently by her shoulder, at the line of stars glowing from the screen, a beacon of reassurance of their status as soulmates. She turns towards Kusuo, suddenly self-conscious as she tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Say, Kusuo… How about we head to that nice dessert buffet together and—” Only to realize she had been practically talking to thin air all this time. “H-Huh?! Aww, gimme a break! Where did you run off to this time, Kusuooo?!”

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆☆ _______ v.

Coffee Jelly

Good grief—finally some peace and quiet. Kusuo sighs as he leans back into the leather seat of his booth, in a nondescript cafe far away from his usual annoyances. He dips a spoon into his dessert bowl, lifting a dark sliver of coffee jelly to his mouth, and smiles in absolute contentment. There’s a soft whirr, and then a ping from somewhere below. He flicks a furtive gaze at the Affinity Meter hovering at the empty space beside him, curious despite himself. The endless line of glowing stars are probably a bit much, but he smiles anyway at the screen. Huh. I guess it works after all.

Affinity Level: ☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

—End— _______ Notes:

It’s tradition for myself to spend my birthday writing and/or sharing a new fic (happy birthday to me!! lol). I also had this sitting in my draft for way too long and decided to kick myself to finish it. Apologies for any typoes/errors.

Comments and critique are always welcomed for my fics—I'd like to hear what you think, if you've enjoyed this! Thanks for reading :)

[ralphsspiritualstuff]

Moon Sign Interpretations

I used to not be a huge fan of pre-made interpretations, but I remember when I first started studying astrology how helpful they really were in getting me to where I am now. So, that being said, here we go.  *If you resonate with this post (or if you do not), please drop a comment and/or share. Feedback is always helpful! Plus, it’s always fun to hear what people who HAVE a certain placement have to say about their experience with it.* What is the moon? It represents our intuition, of course. How we see the unseen, how we feel what we can’t directly view. Each sign has its own way of doing that.  Moon in Aries: This placement tends to see things as they are. In fact, of all the moon signs, they’re the least likely to assume or read into anything. This is a double edged sword, as they read into something, but they are also extremely likely to miss something “between the lines” in another person’s actions. They also have a tendency to assume that everyone is as direct as they are, and can become frustrated by the roundabout other moon placements go about things. Their simplicity, however, allows them be firm in their opinions and devote less time to forming them and more time to acting on them. Sometimes Aries moons are inaccurately judged as mean or trying to be hurtful when they are simply unaware something was expected of them. This sign is almost never devious, and when they are upset, they are well aware and will make sure you are as well.  Moon in Taurus: This placement tend to decide very quickly whether or not they like something. It takes quite a bit to get them to change their mind, since their instincts are going to insist that they stand their ground. Even when they do change their minds, Taurus moons can be prone to harboring a lingering sense of their original judgement call. This rootedness in their opinion, however, makes them much more difficult to deceive, as they don’t forget their original perception of how something was once they see it. 

Moon in Gemini: This placement tends to be the hardest for other moons to pin down. Gemini is possibly the most versatile placement for the moon, as someone with this placement can feel one way one moment, and then completely different later on. This emotional range can cause them to be prone to a bit of an identity crisis, as they easily identify with very different groups of people. As quickly as they arrived at an opinion, they’ve found someone else with a new way to look at it to listen to. 

Moon in Cancer: This placement has an amazing capacity to gain an intuitive feel for just about anything. It analyzes and feels situations in great depth, far more than other moon placements do. Because of the amount of emotional energy this placement expends in gaining a strong understanding of its initial experience with something, it can become upset when it has to redo this learning in a new environment.  Their strong understanding comes from a tendency to estimate, because they instinctively know they don’t always see the whole picture. So, they fill in the details with their imaginations. On one hand, their estimations can seem almost psychically accurate, but occasionally they get too much in their own heads trying to figure something out and are a bit off. While it is capable of adapting, it takes it much longer to do so than faster placements because of the amount of work that goes into gaining real understanding rather than cursory knowledge. Cancer moons can be prone to “rejecting the new” (people, ideas, ect) as a result, but eventually do warm up to it. 

Moon in Leo: This placement is often hyper-aware, subconsciously, of how precious their time is. They can sometimes appear to other placements as conceited or too self-important to be bothered, but they are probably the only placement who realized how precious life is. Now, they tend to direct this thought more towards their own life, but they can also have extremely warm and inspiring opinions for those they care about because they intuitively feel how precious and amazing those people are. 

Moon in Virgo: This placement, while actually quite peaceful by nature, is easily stressed out. Once they are made aware of an issue (contrary to popular belief, they do not LOOK for things to correct, those things are forced into their awareness) they have an intense compulsion to fix it. Virgo is quite spiritual by nature and has a natural understanding that small things are best handled before they become bigger things. This sense of how things incur over time leads them to want to do everything NOW, despite their frustrating human limitations. They can also feel bitter because they are painfully aware of how many things they can’t control are going to snowball, but without them so many things that are in their control do NOT snowball, and most other placements do not realize how frequently this is the case. 

Moon in Libra: This placement has the unusual ability to understand both sides of an issue and simultaneously empathize with both points and neither of them at the same time. While most people assume those with this placement are stuck between seeing two ideas as equally good, they are more often in the precarious position of seeing both options as equally bad, and are forced to come up with an alternative. To reiterate, they do not have a hard time deciding. Most of the time, when given two choices, a Libra moon’s instinct is to sort of “nope” out of them both, giving the illusion of indecision. This is because they intuitively know there is a better option to be found somewhere. This can, however, take a lot of time to discover, and sometimes opportunities where taking the lesser of two evils would have been preferable to inaction pass them by. Just as often, though, they find an option that is better than either original proposition.  Moon in Scorpio: This placement tends to be pretty chill. While outwardly, they may seem sad, they typically just have resting bitch face (I’m sorry, but you know it’s true.) and are in a calm state. Scorpio moons understand that everything in our world is temporary. They’re actually capable of feeling immense joy because of how present they can be in an imperfect moment. Other placements can’t seem to understand why something makes them so darn happy, while they seemingly don’t care about anything else in the world. The simple answer is that when they’re happy, they know they weren’t owed it and there’s no guarantee it’ll happen ever again, so they feel it all at once. This can also leave them apathetic to others’ pain, because to them, the awareness of something’s temporary nature is so plain it’s almost funny to them when someone else thought something would last forever. They aren’t as callous as they appear, but they will always be reserved around those who do not share their understanding of how fleeting things really are. 

Moon in Sagittarius: This placement has an intuitive understanding that there is always something more to be found, whether it be in a person’s actions, an event they watch happen, or even their own understanding and existence. They are constantly trying to figure out how things relate. The world, however, has many layers and while Sagittarius moons accurately connect some of those layers, sometimes they miss others and think they have the whole picture before they do. Often times, they have enough of the picture put together to make something work that everyone else assumed would fail, but other times they have to completely redraw their mental map from scratch, which they do with surprising glee and fervor. That forward drive allows them to recover from things that would cripple other placements, although they may find those situations are often self made. 

Moon in Capricorn: This placement embody’s survival of the fittest. They can seem cold, but really, the just have a strong sense of what will work and what will not. They are often ashamed of their own flaws far more than other placements, and tend to cope by compensating heavily with growing stronger. Capricorn moons have a very hard time ignoring facts for their own comfort, much less the comfort of others. Concrete truths ring true to their core, and as much as they may try to bend them, they always come back to what they know will work and what will not based on the facts. 

Moon in Aquarius: This placement has a natural curiosity unparalleled by other placements. They can be prone to intrusive thoughts and impulsive actions because they simply want to see what will happen, and may do things that go against widely accepted social codes both intentionally and unintentionally. They learn how to intuitively find solutions to a multitude of life’s problems, but are much more interested in finding the solutions than implementing them. This can leave them in a great position to give advice to other people and even themselves, but unless the circumstances are compelling, their unlikely to follow their own good advice. They simply prefer to find a different way to do something. It looks like reinventing the wheel from the outside, but for Moon in Aquarius folks, life is simply begging to be played with, and doing something the simple way isn’t living at all. It may take them years, but they almost always find a workaround. 

Moon in Pisces: This placement instinctively reverses everything it feels. While they do connect to the opinions and feelings of others, their tendency to also acknowledge the opposite position can leave them feeling equally connected and isolated, as if they have a second personality. Pisces moons can exist in two worlds at once completely, which tends to manifest as inaction on their part. While they may outwardly act one way, their imagination compensates by wondering how things would go if they did they exact opposite of what they do. Their dual nature can make them easy to connect with halfway, but almost impossible to connect with fully. They can seem a little melancholy on the outside because they feel a sense of sadness that other placements can’t keep up with how fast their imagination works and how crucial understanding their imagination is to understanding not just how they interact with the world, but how they feel about those interactions. 

FREE READING OPPORTUNITY

If you liked this interpretation of your moon (or someone else’s moon) and are curious about a reading with me, I’m actively screening for participants in a research project that includes doing a free reading for anyone selected. I have a survey to find candidates who meet the criteria I’m doing research on. 

https://www.survio.com/survey/d/R0Y8Y8C5U8B5U5S4U

I strongly encourage you to share this link with your friends who are maybe on the fence about astrology, as I’m trying to get a decent sample size. If everyone I survey are astrologers themselves it could impact my results. Normally I do not offer free readings to people I don’t know, but it’s essential I don’t have a personal relationship with the person I’m reading for this particular study. 

Anyhoo, I hope to hear from you soon!

-Ralph