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cheri-translates · 4 years ago

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[CN] Gavin’s S2 R&S - A Proud Heart

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers from an R&S (骄傲之心) which has not been released in EN! 🍒

Features S2 Gavin

This R&S was released on 3 June 2021

Highly recommended that you read S2 Ch 11 before proceeding!

[ Chapter One ]

After retiring from the STF due to an illness, He Jian Qiu opened a bookstore in a small street that isn’t really lively, and very few customers visit the shop. To him, however, he isn’t relying on this to make money. He simply wants to be at leisure and at ease.

On this day, he’s reading a book by the window as usual. As though he suddenly spotted something, he stands up violently, brisk walking to the entrance of the shop. After hanging a “On a Break Today” signboard outside, he returns inside.

He leans against a bookshelf in the shadows, furrowing his brows.

He stares fixedly at the wall. Before his eyes, the scene of the street outside the window surfaces, and a man is walking towards the bookstore -

He Jian Qiu has a very unique Evol. Within a designated scope, he’s able to share the sight and hearing of other living organisms. Thanks to this ability, he used to be the “eyes” of the previous generation of STF members. Under his perfect commands, his team members were able to carry out many successful missions.

Even after retiring, he retained this cautiousness.

He Jian Qiu’s eyes are blazing like torches. Everyone in the crowd, birds, and even stray cats can become his eyes as he follows behind this young man.

He recognises this young man. If possible, He Jian Qiu would rather not meet him.

He hopes this young man is simply passing by.

He Jian Qiu makes a quiet prayer in his heart.

Unfortunately, the young man halts directly outside the shop entrance, a gentle breeze brushing the stray hairs in front of his forehead, revealing a pair of resolute amber eyes.

He glances at the signboard hanging outside the door, then knocks on the door lightly, lowering his head slightly as he pulls it open slowly. His footsteps are very light, as though he’s unwilling to disrupt the tranquility belonging to the books. He steps into the shop, but his feet stop at the entrance.

“Captain He, sorry to disturb you.”

The young man calls him by his former term of address. His voice is resolute and steady, leaving the latter feeling slightly resigned.

He Jian Qiu sighs softly in his heart, then steps out from the shadow behind the bookshelf slowly. The young man in front of him brings with him travel-worn weariness. His shoulders are perfectly straight but unable to conceal his fatigue, as though a certain silent darkness is quietly clinging to his surroundings, corroding him beneath the sunlight.

He recognises this young man.

Gavin, who has only recently taken up the post of the new captain of the Special Operations Team, and the youngest Commander in the STF. Such a person has a limitlessly bright future, and his prospects are boundless.

Such a person has no need to appear before a man who has half his feet in a coffin.

“Gav, this is the first time we’re meeting. I’m really happy that you’ve come to greet this retired old man. Do you want something to drink?”

He lowers his head and walks to the counter, picking up a teacup, wanting this meeting to become an idle, amiable chat between a senior and junior.

“Captain He, I’m investigating the ‘New Year’s Eve Change Incident’.”

There is absolutely nothing hidden in his clear and simple words. It shoots him directly, reminiscent of a fatal bullet.

[Note] This incident involved a majority of Evolvers who staged a riot and had to be suppressed. Gavin suspects that there’s more to the incident than what was publicly announced because it’s incredibly difficult to find the people related to it

[ Chapter Two ]

The sound of churning tea fills the quiet air. After He Jian Qiu hears Gavin’s words, his face remains unaffected.

He places the poured tea on the counter, the dense steam causing Gavin’s face to turn slightly hazy. “Wasn’t the case concluded four years ago?”

He Jian Qiu retrieves a slightly flattened cigarette box from his pocket. “The military and STF arrested many Evolvers who started the chaos on the spot. I remember that you provided assistance back then. There isn’t anything worth investigating, is there?”

He glances at the teacup which hasn’t been picked up, then hangs a cigarette bud at his mouth, looking at Gavin. “I used new tea leaves I just received from the south to prepare this. Try it.”

Gavin doesn’t move an inch. His gaze sweeps past the teacup, then fixes itself onto He Jian Qiu’s face.

“I met an Evolver who escaped during the New Year’s Change arrest.”

Loud blares from vehicles outside the window barge in, puncturing the peace in the bookstore. Gavin’s expression is calm, without a hint of wavering. “He told me a few things related to what happened back then.”

“And you simply believed him?”

“There are many doubtful points related to this incident.” Gavin doesn’t seem to mind the teasing tone in He Jian Qiu’s voice. He continues, neither servile nor overbearing. “All the materials related to the New Year’s Change Incident, all materials related the location and the criminals who were arrested have all been handed to ‘the other side’. Apart from that, everyone who was involved in the matter were either transferred to another post, went missing, or died. All that’s left in the materials are the words ‘Evolver Riot’.”

“Do you really think these are all just coincidences?”

This question...

He Jian Qiu can’t help but laugh in his heart. Instead of calling this a question, it’s more accurate to call it an interrogation.

Even though he didn’t participate in that operation, he did provide a certain level of assistance behind the scenes due to his unique Evol ability.

“But Captain He should have ‘seen’ something, am I correct?” Gavin’s face is against the light, but his eyes are especially bright. “Otherwise, I should have had the opportunity... to become a team member under Captain He.”

Gavin’s words almost make He Jian Qiu choke on the cigarette bud in his mouth. He can't help but chuckle aloud, taking a more careful look at this young man’s face.

Persistent, resolute, unwavering, unconceited, but the words he speaks are exact and deadly.

While appreciating this, he sighs in his heart. “You think too much.”

He Jian Qiu picks up the teacup Gavin has yet to touch. The steam has dispersed since a long time ago, and only a faint warmth is left. “It’s very normal for young people to go on a wild goose chase, but you have to know when to turn back when it’s appropriate to do so. The New Year’s Change Incident is a concluded case. Everyone has accepted this truth as of today, and there’s no need to continue investigating further.”

“NW is keeping watch on me.” Gavin’s voice is slightly gloomy. “If there aren’t any issues with the case, they wouldn’t need to do that.”

“Since they’re merely keeping watch on you, it means they trust that you wouldn’t be able to find anything.”

Hearing He Jian Qiu’s agile response, Gavin is silent. He watches him quietly, as though still perplexed about something. He Jian Qiu lights another cigarette, looking out of the window and at the magnificent sunlight. “You’ve met Old Yan, haven’t you.”

[Note] Officer Yan was introduced in S2 Ch 11. He's an ex-police officer who was involved in the New Year’s Change incident. At present, many people are hunting him down, either to find the truth or to silence him for good. He managed to meet Gavin once, resulting in his motivation to investigate the matter

In that instant, Gavin’s expression slackens for a moment, and his body quivers involuntarily.

“Do I need to be clearer? Officer Yan - the old police officer who has been investigating the New Year’s Change Incident. His left arm is gone. You claim outwardly that you haven’t found him, but you’ve actually already met him. After meeting him, you heard about what happened during the New Year’s Change Incident and Old Yan’s conjectures. You were swayed because of that, and went to look for your ‘female friend’...”

“That’s enough.”

Gavin suddenly speaks, interrupting He Jian Qiu’s words. His hands subconsciously clench into fists, and He Jian Qiu simply puffs out some smoke calmly.

"There are no airtight walls in this world. You still have many opportunities and many futures. There’s no need to waste your time on this matter. Old Yan’s job is gone, his arm is gone, his family is gone, his lover is gone.”

“There’s no need to become like that too.”

As though dealing a final judgment, the air in the surroundings is as quiet as death.

In the end, He Jian Qiu hears Gavin’s soft question. “Is that how you persuaded yourself?”

[ Chapter Three ]

He Jian Qiu knows what that young fellow Gavin meant.

A day after Gavin left the bookstore, an unknown number flashes on his phone screen.

“Old He, how have you been?”

The voice which hadn’t appeared in a very long time unexpectedly and lightly tugs at certain memories which he intended to toss to the back of his mind.

He Jian Qiu swallows, the subtle sound in his throat secretly betraying his current anxiety.

“Why are you nervous?” The person at the other end of the line laughs. “I’m just asking about how business is at that bookstore of yours.”

“You didn’t meet anyone inappropriate, did you?”

He Jian Qiu blinks lightly. “Yesterday, that new captain from STF dropped by. Gavin - you know him, don’t you? He said he wanted to learn from my experience, but you should also know that I have nothing to teach him.”

“My eyes aren’t doing that well either. So we just drank some tea, and he left. But that young man is pretty good. You can tell he’s capable just by looking at him.”

“He’s pretty good.”

The voice at the other end of the line is light, as though this call is nothing more than an ordinary exchange of pleasantries.

After hanging up, He Jian Qiu pretends to continue reading his book calmly, but not single word goes in. He tosses the book onto the table roughly, shutting his eyes.

Gavin’s investigation in the New Year’s Change Incident is far deeper than what he imagined.

When Old Yan became a fugitive back then, his eyesight became progressively poorer. He used this to falsely claim that his Evol was affected, and he fled from the STF. After all, whether good or bad, he had seen too many things.

He Jian Chu’s gaze leaps from countless eyes in the city, and he very quickly finds Gavin. There’s a “tail” following behind him, but he’s unwilling to give up, continuing to seek intelligence from informants in the grey areas.

However, Gavin doesn’t seem to meet Old Yan again. They probably have a special mode of communication, which is very smart.

Over the subsequent days, He Jian Qiu continues following after Gavin’s tracks.

He has been looking for several officers who participated in the New Year’s Change Incident. He Jian Qiu is very familiar with that group of people. Most of them genuinely have no idea about it, and were simply following orders. They wouldn’t know of any inside information.

But Gavin persistently inquired about any strange points during the operation. Some of them cooperated, but some...

Through the eyes of a sparrow on an electric pole, He Jian Qiu watches as Gavin is asked to leave a house. The family member’s face is furious. Gavin simply lowers his head, bowing in a polite manner.

Quite a number of team members lost their lives during that operation. To their family, this was a tragic matter which was conferred honour. They gave up their lives to maintain the safety and peace of society, and protecting the dignity of STF. Even though Gavin understands this, the process of investigation will always make one feel a slight knot in one’s heart.

With the cold sound of the door shutting, Gavin stands in place quietly, the sunlight above his head brilliant yet harsh, casting his shadow beneath his feet. It’s as though there isn’t a single trace of darkness hidden in the entire world.

After a very long time, Gavin lifts his head, then turns around to leave.

After several days of interviews, Gavin is unable to find any useful leads or information. He Jian Qiu watches as he walks on the main street slowly, passers-by facing him and walking in the opposite direction.

He’s walking down the old road that Old Yan had taken, walking in the direction contrary to everyone else.

He Jian Qiu retracts his ability, then looks out of the window. He wonders why Old Yan would take the risk to meet him, but he hopes that these unsuccessful days would enable Gavin to understand clearly that putting the New Year’s Change Incident aside isn’t a bad thing for him.

After all, he still has a future.

[ Chapter Four ]

Gavin’s investigation continues.

When faced with such people who are unwilling to give up, He Jian Qiu can’t help but release a fierce sigh.

He believes that Gavin clearly understands the degree of danger in investigating the New Year’s Change Incident. Worried that they would get silenced for getting involved in this matter, the informants he had contacted before retracted their actions before crossing the danger line.

Nobody wants to die, especially not due to supplying information. They are slicker than anyone else.

With regard to this, Gavin understands.

This is why he doesn’t insist on too much. Once he has given these people remuneration, he continues with the investigation alone.

He returns to the very place where the riot started back then - an old and slightly dilapidated street in the suburbs of Loveland City.

Back then, Evolvers were not in an optimistic situation. People were filled with fear and bias against them. As such, Evolvers either concealed their abilities and hid amongst the crowd, pretending to be ordinary people, or search for other Evolvers, and collectively form a place with only Evolvers.

These few streets were one of the places where activities would be held for only Evolvers. Nobody knew what they gathered here to do. When news eventually spread to civilians, it became the starting ground for the “Evolver Riot”.

Gavin leaps over the sealed wire meshes, heading deeper down the street. The place had already been burnt into a vast expanse of white, fragments of broken tiles and tattered clothes lying on the scorched ground. From time to time, the terrifying sound of rats nibbling on food drifts in the quiet surroundings.

Gavin doesn’t halt in his footsteps, which surprises He Jian Qiu.

Could it be that he discovered something?

Just as He Jian Qiu suspects that he has seen something, Gavin suddenly takes action. He ducks into a blindspot near a building, instantly firing a shot in a certain direction behind him.

The sudden attack causes the person behind Gavin to panic. In an instant, a fierce wind rises. The man is rolled into the wind, and is then lifted into the air in the next second.

The other party is likely well-trained. He immediately adjusts his centre of gravity in the air, bringing the gun in his hand to his chest.

- it’s just that Gavin’s even faster.

Gavin’s bullet strikes the palm of the other party accurately. When he falls to the ground, Gavin gives him a steady punch. Gavin doesn’t give the other party a moment to breathe, striking his joints with every move. In just a few strikes, the other party is left unconscious.

His movements are clean and smooth, and done in one swift motion.

Just as He Jian Qiu thinks that Gavin would do something after handling this “tail”, Gavin lifts his head, meeting the eyes of a crow, and meeting the eyes of He Jian Qiu.

“Captain He.” Gavin speaks mildly. “There aren’t any other surveillance cameras here.”

He Jian Qiu sighs, then takes out a new phone card from his drawer, pressing on a series of numbers.

“You beat him up just like that?”

“I simply realised that someone was following me, and acted in self-defence.” Gavin narrows his eyes, which are filled with a wilful sharpness. “But I forgot to ask who he was.”

Seeing Gavin before him, He Jian Qiu truly admires him.

He’s capable, skilled, and able to make judgements. He can have a great future, and doesn’t have to be like Old Yan - nesting in darkness like a mouse, searching for an abstract justice and truth, remaining nameless till death.

There’s no need to.

He Jian Qiu has a nameless fire in his heart. That pair of resolute and unstained amber eyes render him incomparably restless. “Must you really get involved in this trifling matter? Do you think you’re really just, and want to be a hero?”

“I’ll tell you this - I’ve seen many just people. Some of them talk about ‘justice’ and ‘protection’, but end up doing somewhat inhumane things.”

“Right now, aren’t many people looking for CORE? Can’t you investigate that instead? Look at the future of this world. Why make a special effort for a group of dead people?”

“If a person is unable to face the past properly, he can’t move forward.” Gavin’s words are very soft, but are incomparably resolute.

“If someone has to search for the truth, that person could be me.”

[ Chapter Five ]

In the end, He Jian Qiu guides Gavin in evading various modes of surveillance and gazes, and returns to his bookstore.

“You seemed to be interviewing the officers who were involved in that operation and the family members of the Evolvers. But in actual fact, that wasn’t the case, was it?” He lights a cigarette bud, but his eyes are not on Gavin.

Gavin arches his brows, lifting the corners of his lips. “Captain He, does this question mean you want to help me?”

“You rascal. Don’t speak nonsense.”

He Jian Qiu says this quickly, but he knows that the balance in his heart is tilting slowly.

He pours a cup of tea for Gavin, and there’s a drizzle outside the window.

“Back then, I was sent from the police academy to assist, so I was just there as an outsider to control a few absconding Evolvers. The only thing I did back then was to carry out orders.”

Amid the soft sound of light rain, He Jian Qiu listens quietly to Gavin as he relates every moment of his assistance in the New Year’s Change Incident.

“I heard afterwards that the family of a rioter came to the STF, and said their child couldn’t have done such a thing. But in the end, there was nothing definite. Only after I joined the STF, and only after I saw even more people, I realised that the New Year’s Change Incident might not tally with that was announced publicly.”

“Perhaps many people knew about it, but no one really wanted to do anything.”

“Many people died, but they didn’t have to meet such an ending - dying while shouldering the name of a rioter.” Gavin looks at the steam rising from the cup. “I visited the home of one of the Evolvers who died. His mother committed suicide after finding out that her son participated in the riot. The old man who was left behind was discriminated by the masses, and was chased out of his rented house. I heard that he eventually went insane.”

“Captain He, should they have such endings?”

He Jian Qiu is suddenly left speechless.

Of course he knows. He’s able to see. In fact, he's able to see more things than ordinary people.

Being involved in this matter would lead to even more unseen dangers. Agony, objection, and even hopelessness, and walking in the opposite direction as everyone else.

He can’t help but smile. In Gavin, he sees what he once saw in Old Yan, and perhaps there are even more things he has yet to see.

He knows why Old Yan chose him. Even though he really hopes for Gavin to walk beneath the sunlight, he stretches out his hand.

“You lost.”

A sound drifts from behind the door. A man peeks his head from behind a bookshelf, and Gavin is dumbfounded when he sees the new arrival.

“Officer Yan...?!” He shoots a glance at He Jian Qing, reacting immediately. “The reason why Officer Yan could evade them...”

He Jian Qiu doesn’t say anything, and simply smiles while raising his hands, indicating a surrender.

Gavin looks at Old Yan. “Was Officer Yan testing me the other time?”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to live this long.” Old Yan simply arches his brows, lighting a cigarette. “Now, you truly have no way of turning back.”

“I’ve never thought of turning back.”

He Jian Qiu looks at the young man before him. Amid the dense light, he’s forthright and persistent, as though nothing can defeat him, nor can anything taint him.

“Come. Let’s head somewhere else.”

He stands up, pushing both Gavin and Old Yan into a dark room within the bookshop.

Their figures cross over the dividing line between light and shadows, fading into the darkness slowly, though they seem to be emitting light.

💙 More S2 content: here

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#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin

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unohanadaydreams · 5 years ago

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Can you do 💍 and 💦 with Unohana and a fem!partner please!

YETH!! Unohana, ma’am pls let us adoring fans be carried away in your strong embrace. I was thirsting so hard that this is almost 2k words, so to everyone in lesbian with miss Unohana: come get your mf JUICE.

Also forgive me for using a non-manga cap, but google said only blood thirsty unohana and i cried.

RETSU UNOHANA + Arranged Marriage AU

“Will you marry me, despite the thorns?”

Proposal:

When Yamamoto summons her to the 1st division, she assumes the purpose is clerical error. On his part--of course. Her underlings know far better than to hand in faulty reports. She’s relaxed and unassuming in the soft morning light, not yet brought rigid by disrespectful patients and the unskilled hands of Academy interns. Yamamoto takes his time getting to the point and comments on the good old days--the uncertain future--the pretty bird song outside the window. They sip at delicate white tea, steeped perfectly, at ease.

Only once she’s thanked Yamamoto for the relaxing chat does he lean forward with a heavy sigh and spill the bitter truth of the visit. Unohana knew his plan to arrange the marriages of eligible captains—to garner a secure future with stronger children—but she had thought herself getting entangled in such a plot unthinkable. The strength he sought could not be manufactured. Only the most prejudiced adversity churned out the strength of Hell itself. The monster that wore her skin in youth could not be born in comfort and raised by loving parents.

Nonetheless, he persisted. Yamamoto raised his voice in that insufferable tone that spoke of ‘noble causes’ and the ‘good of everything’ and demanded her cooperation. Unohana gave him a wonderful back and forth—made him endure the arguments of every devil’s advocate she could summon. Backing down without an enjoyable fight (or performance) was beyond her. The mix of free flowing tea and frustration in Yamamoto’s voice made for a wonderful morning spar.

But all swords must be drawn, eventually. After all, Unohana had chosen this as her lot in life. She was the captain of the 4th division and would aid the Gotei 13 to the best of her ability, for as long as she was able. Her only terms of surrender were: that she be able to propose and that she marry a woman. Not that Yamamoto could force her to marry a man on his best day.

Explaining the exact process of artificial insemination--to a man so entrenched in tradition there was a monthly fight between he and the other captains over the banning of soul phones—was enough for Unohana to leave smiling despite the bitter news.

Unohana has never considered herself a romantic. Considering her peers—like Jushiro and Shunsui--, she might be considered hostile to the idea of relationships. Avoiding romantic entanglements had been self preservation when she first joined the 4th division. Plants don’t properly grow when forced to share space.

She was thankful for her conviction to wait, too. Unohana has planted long, lush roots over the years. Marriage might be nice at this point. Someone to share her thoughts and frustrations with--someone to kiss in the mornings and hold at night--someone to grow in love with. The thought of growing roots with someone was only…somewhat daunting.

The manila folder sat on her desk the next day contains only sparse details. A glossy photo of you, draped in the beautiful silks of an expensive kimono, is on top. She stares at it for some time, trying in vain to parse how well you’ll fit into her life purely from the superficial, before being rushed to the side of a shinigami lucky they weren’t torn completely in half by a hollow.

It’s after the sun has set that she finds time for the singular page of written information in your ‘file’. There’s more sentences dedicated to the accomplishments and pedigree of your noble family than your self. But she takes earnest note of your listed hobbies and passions, even if they are sanitized into one unfeeling list, and smiles at what you both have in common.

The proposal is awkward, considering it’s also your first meeting. A calm face and gentle voice can only ease someone so much when their entire life is in upheaval and Unohana isn’t sure for who’s benefit she’s being purposefully placid for. She suggests a short walk, away from the shinigami chaperones that accompanied you. The smile she gives them when they start to follow churns your stomach. But she asks easy questions and you give expected answers and she is perfectly wane while addressing you.

When you start to smile back, your shoulders no longer up to your ears, Unohana invites you inside. The room she escorts you to is in full bloom. Rows of vivid flowers are paired in well-made arrangements behind a pile of haphazard lain blooms on towels. Two cushions sit with empty vases prepared, between the piles. You can only stare--all of this for you?

Her smile is serene when she directs it toward you. “I find occupied hands do well to ease tensions.” With an easy grace, she gestures to a cushion and does not move to sit until you’ve taken the wordless invitation.

Your tensions rise at the change of pace, despite her words. You feel confused and your sentences are stilted as you stumble over them. You know how Unohana came to sit here, in the Gotei 13—any good noble knows the pedigree of important figures. This—casually arranging flowers--was not what you had expected. All day, you had been prepared for a thin veil of manners concealing a fierce and unknowable menace.

Unohana stops your hand from falling victim to a thorny rose with a gentle hold of your wrist. You start, wrestled from your thoughts by the touch. Eyes wide, mouth gaping, you watch her don thick gloves and de-thorn the stem with practiced sweeps of a pairing knife.

The pale yellow rose seems like a peace offering when she hands it back to you, “you’re nervous.” Flushed, you apologize. She hums, continuing as if you hadn’t, “It was careless of me to leave the thorns.” You settle the rose into your arrangement and your nerves slowly settle with it.

It’s there, trading bits of conversation and odd silence, that she asks. As though she even needs to. “Will you marry me, despite the thorns?” There’s no expensive ring or desperate declaration of love. Just a vase of flowers, beautiful in its riot of colors, that she turns for you--so you may see its best side. Remembering her diligence in protecting you, you say yes.

Wedding Night:

You’ve heard whispers of what misfortune can take place in a marriage bed. Despite the oddity of your marriage, you still feel the tickle of fear slide down your back upon entering Unohana’s bedroom—well, your bedroom. She wears a beautiful kimono, like you, but her hair is free and her face is bare beyond a kiss of eye shadow and blush. The gruesome scar trailing the top of her kimono had taken much of your attention during the ceremony. Now, your eyes are transfixed on the large bed.

“On the chair there,” Unohana pointed toward a simple wooden chair to your right, “put that on, if you will. The bathroom’s to your left.” Nodding, you unfolded the black clothes on the seat of the chair to find…a shinigami uniform. You turned to ask why, only to find the room empty.

The more you were around Unohana, the more you realized how much of a captain she was. Never really asking questions so much as telling and always assuming it would be done. Nonetheless, you donned the uniform, taking off your wedding kimono with some regret—it really was a gorgeous creation of silks and embroidery. You assumed the bathroom was for your hair and make up to be taken down and off. It felt odd being bereft of all your wedding trappings when finished. Hours of preparation undone so quickly, with so little fanfare.

You didn’t have time to analyze how it all made you feel. Unohana was in the room again, when you shuffled out of the bathroom. “Come this way,” she smiled. “Unless you’re ready to sleep?” Did she mean sleep or…? Actually. You didn’t want to find out yet. “Where are we going?” “My dojo.”

The room was smaller than you expected. And barren, compared to the image you’d conjured in your mind—a few cushions, a thick mat on the far side, and some wooden swords resting against a wall were what greeted you. The walls were decidedly barren of wicked, complicated weaponry. Unohana went for the wooden swords. “I prefer katas over meditation before bed, nowadays.”

You’d never done a kata. You said as much. The sparkle of mischief in Unohana’s eyes ensnared you--enough to agree when she offered a lesson.

First, you observed. Her body moved slow, focused. She was beautiful to behold and your eyes danced from place to place, observing the small ways her graces manifested as she commanded her body from form to form.

“There,” she said. “A simple set to start. Come here.”

Leaving the cushion on shaky knees, you took the wooden sword she offered. The first two stances weren’t hard to find, but to keep. Your arms were wobbling as you searched for the third stance. Unohana chided you, like she’d seen the mistake a thousand times, and slid behind you, her front pressing to your back until you felt molded into the correct position. Even her arms, her hands, seemed a second skin over yours.

You looked back and instantly regretted it. Her face was inches away. Flushed, you couldn’t help but think how scandalous this all felt. The intimacy of her strong form guiding yours into the fourth stance and the feeling of her muscles flexed, keeping you from collapse dizzied your thoughts. “Is this our wedding night?”

“It is,” her voice was steady--frustratingly unaffected. “B-but. Is that allowed,” you whispered. Her face was so, so close. “We make the rules. It’s our marriage.”

The idea of an unconsummated marriage filled you with dread. You had no desire to fulfill your wifely duties tonight, but your family had always emphasized its importance. Spluttering just that—the importance of consummation—you insisted on…well, something!

“You’re sure?” It was her first real question. Too overwhelmed by the press of her body to resist, you said yes. With a clatter, the wooden sword dropped from your flimsy hold as her arms circled your waist. The first kiss was like an attack, sudden and firm. You were certain her grip was the only thing keeping you from collapsing. Especially when her tongue slid between your lips.

The confident way she conquered your mouth, as you were sure she conquered everything, left you buzzing. You opened your eyes, gathering yourself enough to put substantial weight on your legs again.

Unohana’s pupils were blown wide, her face flushed. The physical proof of her affected state made you feel pleased--almost giddy.

“Do you feel consummated?” “Y-yes. But I don’t think I can do anymore katas.”

Laughing, she lifted you into a bridal hold in one smooth motion. “It wasn’t a bad wedding night, then.”

#retsu unohana #retsu unohana x reader #bleach #imagines #bleach imagines #bleach headcanons #mars made it #unohana said: IM A LESBIAN HAROLD #i dont wanna talk about how long i spent on this #laksdjf;laksdjf

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myherowritings · 6 years ago

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autumn with the boys 🍂

BAKUGOU KATSUKI

bakugou loves the colder seasons because this boy gets hot and sweaty so easily, he’s thankful for the cool breeze and lower temperatures of the fall

plus, he’d never admit it, but he enjoys seeing you in oversized sweaters and likes having an excuse to wrap his arm around you at all times

“don’t smile at me like that, baka. i just don’t want you to get cold because then you’ll get sick and guess who the unlucky fucker who’ll have to take care of you is? that’s right-- me.”

you just nod along, pretending you believe him while snuggling closer to his chest

bakes you pumpkin pie

(extra cinnamon for added spice and you have to pretend you love it)

also makes apple pie with the lattice detailing

acts like it’s no big deal, but really it takes him a whole day to make because pie takes forever in the oven

during train rides, katsuki stares outside the window as he watches all the colors on the trees change

you think he looks uncharacteristically sweet and angelic, so you try taking as many photos of him as you can before he catches you

(but you forget to turn the flash on your phone off and he catches you in an instant)

“what the fu--?!”

but when you give him a pout and pleading puppy-dog eyes, he scoffs and lets you take a photo

“fine-- just one. and you better not post it anywhere!”

“i promise i won’t”

(you post it on every social media you have, tagging bakugou with a caption saying ‘the best season with the best boyfriend ever!’)

the smile you give him when he finds out is so cute, he can’t even bring himself to be mad

he’ll let it go but only because fall puts him in a good mood

TODOROKI SHOUTO

oversized sweaters

sweater paws

todoroki is cute naturally, but him in neutral-colored cable knit sweaters? it’s an overload of adorable and you hardly know how to contain yourself

he likes when you call him cute, yet gets rather embarrassed at the same time

a light flush dusts his cheeks… a small, dimpled smile makes its way to his face as he tries to hide it… the works

autumn usually equates to the cold and flu season and, while you succumb to the germs, shouto just seems to have the strongest immune system ever

as you’re coughing and sniffling, he’s completely unaffected

so he decides takes on the task of caring for you when you get sick

he tries to make you soup even though he can’t cook (but when you’re sick you can’t taste anything anyways, so you eat it to make him happy)

he buys you tissues and cough medicine and fruits and literally everything he saw on a “what to get your sick s/o” post online

you don’t need half the stuff he bought, but his effort is enough to make your heart swell

shouto is the best heating and cooling pad who is right there at the touch of your fingertips

warms you up with cuddles when you get cold

you buy him those yummy, pumpkin-scented candles you know he loves the smell of

no matter how many times you see him ignite the wick with his fingertip, it’ll always be the coolest thing in the world to witness

hot chocolate late at night while you watch a halloween movie on the common room couch is something the two of you do every weekend

(your classmates always walk by and you have to pretend not to notice them taking photos of “the cutest couple in 1a”)

best snuggle buddy to enjoy the season with

KIRISHIMA EIJIROU

he’s more of a summer/spring person, but likes to use fall/winter as an excuse for more cuddles

because the colder it is, the more cuddles are needed, right?

as much as he loves cuddling with you indoors, he also likes taking you out to do the fun cliche “autumn things”

kirishima laces his fingers through yours as he pulls you along to complete the best fall bucket list ever

he makes piles of fallen leaves and jumps in with you

takes you out on coffeeshop dates because “y/n, quaint coffeeshops are the perfect place to fall in love in the autumn! i read it online somewhere!”

brings you to a pumpkin patch and you have a competition to find the biggest, brightest pumpkin out there

enters the two of you in a couple’s baking contest and you fail miserably

(but it’s okay because neither of you can stop laughing the whole entire time)

you buy kirishima the biggest bag of halloween candy you can find and you guys finish it in less than a week

he’s hyper and jittery and the sugar rush seems like it’ll never go away

but it was worth it because candy

with the pumpkins you picked earlier this week, you have a jack-o-lantern carving contest with each other

you both carve the best design you can think of and tell your friends in 1a to vote for whose is best

when you finish, he shows you his

“um… kirishima? what’s that?”

“well, i tried to make crimson riot but it didn’t turn out as planned…” he scratches the back of his head. “what about you?”

you turn yours around and show him

“mine’s a shark baring its teeth! because it reminds me of you”

he starts tearing up and your eyes widen in alarm until he gives you a big hug

“h-how manly! we don’t have to call kaminari and ashido-- you already win”

any season is the best season with kirishima

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mousehole5000 · 5 years ago

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this is it... the final post.... 226 through THE END!!!!!

this shit with mu qing and the river of lava is SOOOO dramatic im loving it

oh my god theyre on a FUCKING bridge of course they are okay let’s go boys

“You’re right. We’re alike. You think me odd, I think you to be rather weird too.” - so what im getting from this is that xie lian and mu qing are the only characters in this book with working gaydar okay yup got it this checks out

god... the fact that xie lian is ready to be like “look mu qing we can just forget about the past it doesnt matter we dont have to be friends i know you dont like me but im not gonna let you die over it” and then mu qing is like “.... god i really do admire you huh”

“You...certainly...are rather amazing. You’re...also...a better person...than me. Long story short, I...very much wanted...to become your f-f-friend.” - going to think about this for the rest of all time im about to become utterly unintelligible im overcome with emotions

“And, at the end of the white silk band, Feng Xin was gripping Ruoye with one hand while the other was holding on to a steel-faced Mu Qing, and he shouted towards him.” - the fucking IMAGE of this im gonna cry this is everything i could have asked for im so happy also mu qing dangling there like “ welp. guess ill live“

“Feng Xin was almost burnt by that pillar of fire, and he shouted in outrage. “WHAT’S WITH THIS BAND OF DOG SHITS, ATTACKING PEOPLE WHILE THEY’RE DOWN, SO VILE! FUCK YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!” Xie Lian responded, “IF THEIR ENTIRE FAMILIES ALL LOOK LIKE THAT, YOU SURE YOU WANT TO FUCK THEM??” - theyre so funny!!! and theyre best friends!!! theyre joking together now in the middle of all this i could cry theyre back!!!

“Using sticks as arrows, he held the bow with one hand and used his teeth to bite back the bowstring.” - no clue how practical this is but okay archer boy. hot

i actually have so many little quips between the three of them highlighted but we’d be here all night if i included them all. im literally so delighted by this omg worth the wait

“Each sabre strike slashed to the bone. It wasn’t like Xie Lian had never seen Hua Cheng use the sabre before in the past, but his style had always been easy and leisurely, nonchalant and casual. Rather than say he was handling a weapon, it was more like he was toying with a small knife. Yet those blade marks were filled with killing intent. It was easy to imagine just how skilled the one exchanging blows with him was, and how perilous this battle.” you have no idea how mad i was when i read this and thought we missed witnessing the fight between hc and jw omg

“Behind him, Feng Xin muttered, “Dear fucking god, may all the gods and buddhas grant their blessings, that better absolutely be Crimson Rain Sought Flower, otherwise he’s gonna go mad!” “Stop your rubbish,” Mu Qing berated. “We’re all the gods and buddhas ourselves and we can’t grant shit, just keep up with him! Look at the stumbling way he’s running, he’s gonna trip and fall to his bloody death before he even sees the man!” - okay i know i said no more quips but this is literally too funny i just wanted to read it again

“ However, for whatever reason, that vicious ghost, in its muddled state, took that large group of live mortals under its wing and fled for many days. In the end, they were still surrounded by millions of ghosts, trapped in a dead end, and it was going to be eaten along with those humans.” [...] “That vicious ghost almost made a move against those humans, but for some reason, in the end, it didn’t. It instead used one of its own eyes as the price to forge a blood weapon. That vicious ghost was already forcibly hanging on with its last breath; after digging out its eye it should’ve broken apart completely. Yet somehow something had shocked it, and it instead woke to its senses completely. “ - THIS IS AMAZING ARE YOU KIDDING ME???? IS THIS ALL WE GET ABOUT HIS GHOSTLY LORE?????? HUA CHENGGGGGGGG

“What a terrible offence, his old habit had come out, and he quickly apologized. “I’m sorry! You don’t have to listen to me!” Hua Cheng, however, only smiled happily. “Everything gege tells me is the best advice, so why wouldn’t I listen?” - this isnt the fucking time afjdkfjsdkl they really never stop

“So you can hold the illusion of a perfect Crown Prince of Wuyong to face and dismiss the Jun Wu now. Isn’t that your objective? Did you think I don’t know what you’re thinking?” “THAT’S NOT IT!” Guoshi cried. “Stop getting tied up in right and wrong, victories and defeat, I’VE NEVER THOUGHT THAT WAY BEFORE!” - jun wu only being able to see xie lian as his successor and believing that thats all anyone else sees too... okay

honestly this whole final showdown was a blast i cant put everything in but it was so much fun to read. the DRAMA the LAVA the SHOUTING t

“Hua Cheng had poured too much spiritual power into him. There really was too much, so much that it was completely outside the amount the cursed shackle could withstand.” - okay.... okay... the love you give will set you free... okay....

“With Jun Wu in his grip, he carried both their bodies and forcefully slammed into the incomparably-solid rock wall! He used all of his power in this smash, and in the rumbling and crashing of rocks, he also heard the sound of something breaking.” [...] “A moment later, Jun Wu suddenly asked, “That move. What is it called?” “...” Xie Lian raised his sleeve and wiped away the blood on the side of his face. “Shattering boulders on the chest.” YES!!!!! YES!!!!! xie lian actually lived that life!!!!!! i loved this detail so much

“After a moment of silence, Xie Lian took off the bamboo hat carried on his back, took it in his hand, and covered it over Jun Wu’s face.” - xie lian... good... another detail i love. a hat that protects from the rain, given in a moment of need, even to someone who has caused you hardship... we do not forget the kindness granted to us

“There was gratefulness, there was shame, there was heartache, there was wild joy, but above all else, there was incurable love.” - :pleading: i wish it was just that easy tbh. “i have to tell you about the worst parts of myself” “ive already seen them and i dont care i still love you“ truly the dream

“ It’s been so long since anyone listened to me talk, won’t you stay? Don’t...actually do this. I won’t be able to take it. Twice, it’s been twice already! I really don’t want there to be a third time!!!” - the bit about just wanting someone to listen to him talk... xie lian... :(

emily corpse bride moment.... i knew it had to happen.... butterflies.... death and rebirth.... inevitable

xianle trio bickering about ruoye..... mu qing complaining but not letting anyone else fix it... im so happy

“The Rain Master sat down on the spot, looking like she was going to perform a passing service for her. After all, Xuan Ji was the only one left of the Kingdom of Yushi besides herself.” - xuan ji you sure the hell were... a character. this little moment tho..... yushi huang... many thoughts

“ Who hasn’t made promises, or swore to the mountains and the seas when they were young? Talking of affection, of love, of forevers. But, the longer I hang around in the world, the more I understand, something like ‘forever’ is impossible. It’s never going to be possible. Having it once was already good enough. No one can truly achieve it. I don’t believe in it anymore.” - jian lan im happy for you bummer it didnt work out with feng xin but yeah that was looooong ago. also this quote me same mood kin but its chill. having it once was already good enough

although yeah tbh if theres anyone who can have a forever like that... it would be a ghost and a god

fasdfjadklfj GOD... pour one out for ling wen.. but is that not the truth of this world? the one can be pardoned for being good at paperwork that no one else wants to do? isnt that the plot of the shawshank redemption?

okay but the fact that all xie lian’s friends come to visit him while he waits for hua cheng is making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.... fengqing coming together to try to get him out of the house but get scared off by his cooking... amazing

“Last time, they spent eight hundred years running towards each other. This time, it only took an instant to fall into each other’s embrace.” - im completely unaffected by this. im not lying i swear (i am lying im very emotionally affected)

okay i love this final wrap up chapter party its so fun. mu qing moving on from the broom thing!!! good for him!! the beggars get their reward!!! the fun ghost city chefs!! SQX!!!! and he xuan is?? here too??? he’s hungry??? fjadlkfjsdl

“The grounds that Feng Xin and Mu Qing had just swept were once again filthy from that giant crowd of muddy feet. Mu Qing gripped his broom, looking like he felt someone had infected him with fleas, and his eyes were wide.” - me when my dad comes into the kitchen when ive just finished washing dishes i get it king

the little folklore bit... fun!!! oh my god its over..... :(

that was really fun i had a blast reading it and on the whole really liked it i WISH soo badly that hua cheng had gotten more outside of being cunty and devoted even tho those are both important i just wish there was more about like how he got by during those 800 years and like did he ever have doubts? what shaped his worldview was it all xie lian or was it his experience as a mortal as well? why is he so mean to e’ming? theres bits and pieces here and there and i know it was already SO long but that really would have been great if there was more about hc cuz tbh by the end, at least for me, the hualian relationship didnt actually feel as fleshed out as the xianle trio relationship like i still liked hualian’s dynamic and it was really sweet how much they clearly really liked each other and everything but i kind of wish some of the other subplots had been dropped or diminished in favor of more hc development i think that would have been cool

but anyway thats some of my thoughts and i really did enjoy the hell out of book 5 that was a riot and uhhh thanks to everyone who read these or commented *lends you spiritual energy through a high five*

#tgcf liveblog #it is Complete i can move on now #i actually have a lot more thoughts about hl because i uhhhh relate. to things. and have opinions due to my experiences #but its also quite Personal soooo i might just keep them tucked away #anyway im freeeeeee #mouse mumbles

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tsuki-chibi · 5 years ago

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Harry Potter Valentine’s Fic: The Rules

Read it on AO3!

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"Harry? What are you doing still awake?"

"Waiting for Charlie."

The room brightened briefly before Ginny extinguished the tip of her wand with a flick. "It's almost 3am. Charlie owled last night to say it might be after sunrise before he touched down..."

"I know," Harry said, not moving. He was curled up on the window seat in the living room of the Burrow. The fire was banked, providing just enough light for him to be able to see Ginny's thoughtful expression. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she would put up an argument the way that Hermione had. She hadn't wanted to leave Harry down here alone, and it had finally taken Ron practically dragging her out of the room before Hermione gave up and went up to bed. That had been about two hours ago, by Harry's best guess.

"Okay," Ginny said finally. "But here." She padded across the room to a chest and opened it, pulling out a thick blanket that had doubtlessly been knitted by Mrs Weasley. It was a riot of colours, blues and purples and greens fading into yellows and oranges, but blessedly warm when she walked over and settled it around his shoulders. Harry snuggled into the blanket gratefully, not even having realized how cold he was until that moment.

"Thanks," Harry said with a small smile.

Ginny smiled back. "Good night, Harry."

"Good night." He watched her go before he turned back to the window. It wasn't snowing tonight, but the clouds were thick and heavy with the promise of an on-coming storm. Wizards were fortunate, Harry reflected, in that at least two of their ways of transportation were unaffected by snow. Travelling by Floo didn't even require stepping outside. But Charlie had said that he was coming as far as the next town by train, and then he was planning to fly the rest of the way by broom. Mrs Weasley had spent a good deal of time tutting under her breath about boys and their brooms.

But Harry could understand where Charlie was coming from. He knew from the letters that Charlie wrote that the reserve was extremely busy lately, so Charlie didn't have much of an opportunity for flying. There was nothing like a good flight to clear your head, so it made perfect sense that's how Charlie would want to start off his vacation... to Harry, anyway. Which he figured was part of the reason why he was the only one waiting up.

Then there was the other part.

His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and he pulled his knees up against his chest, draping the blanket over his cold feet. Upstairs, there was a spot for him on Ginny's floor - or so he suspected, considering that Ron and Hermione had gone upstairs after Mrs Weasley had gone to bed. But there was also another spot for him several miles away: in Draco's bed. And while Harry had been very happily claiming the latter every night for about five months now, he needed to talk to Charlie desperately before he could do so another night.

Luckily, Christmas was a convenient excuse. Draco was spending the night with his parents, but he had agreed to come to the Burrow tomorrow morning. Harry fully expected that Draco would be here no later than seven, because both Draco and Lucius usually woke up around six, and an hour was more than enough time for Lucius to be his usual self and piss Draco off to the point where Draco would leave rather than say something that would upset Narcissa. That meant Harry had - he checked his watch and sighed - about four hours to talk to Charlie first.

He rested his head against the cold glass for a moment, then straightened. Had that been a flicker of colour off in the distance? He strained his eyes, holding perfectly still, before biting back a whoop. That was definitely someone on a broom, and there would only be one person heading for the Burrow at this time of night. Harry jumped up, bringing the blanket with him as he dashed over to the door. He stopped just long enough to jam his feet into an old pair of trainers before he threw the door open and rushed outside.

Charlie was just touching down, though had Harry not known it was him he wouldn’t have recognized Charlie at all considering how heavily he was dressed. His dark blue cloak was pulled up around his face and he was wearing a hat pulled low over his forehead and ears. But that couldn't disguise the huge smile that appeared when he saw Harry, and he lifted his gloved hand in greeting.

"Hey Harry! Happy Christmas!"

"Happy Christmas," Harry said, crossing the snow towards him.

"You didn't have to wait up for me," said Charlie, tucking his broom beneath his arm.

“It was no big deal,” Harry said with a shrug. He shivered. The blanket really wasn’t enough to ward off the chill.

“Let’s get inside,” Charlie said, motioning to the door, and Harry eagerly complied. The Burrow felt wonderfully warm after just a minute outside, and he couldn’t imagine how Charlie was feeling. He stood aside and watched as Charlie shed his outerwear, hanging it all up on the pegs.

“What happened?” Harry asked, noticing a bandage Charlie’s right forearm.

“New dragon at the reserve. Bit prickly, but she’s coming around,” Charlie said. “Mum’ll sit me down to one of her lectures about finding a safer job, I’m sure.” He grinned, not looking bothered by the thought, and gave his head a toss. He’d grown his hair out, Harry realized; it wasn’t as long as Bill’s by any means, but it was long enough to be tied into a tiny ponytail at the nape of his neck. Something else Mrs Weasley wouldn’t be pleased about, no doubt.

“So, your work is going well?” Harry said politely.

“Harry, forgive me, but I don’t think you waited up until 3am to ask me about my work. I’m very tired, so if we could skip to whatever is bothering you that you don’t want anyone else to overhear?” Charlie’s voice was very kind, but Harry still flushed.

“I – sorry. It can wait –” Harry turned to go upstairs, inwardly berating himself, but Charlie’s hand caught his shoulder before he could take more than a few steps.

“Hey now, that’s not what I meant. I’m happy to talk to you anytime.” He chuckled. “Besides, if we wait, who knows how long it’ll be before we have a moment to ourselves? The house is stuffed to bursting right now.”

He had a point. The Burrow was big, but right now it was already stuffed with Bill, Fleur, Fred, George, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, Harry, Charlie, and Mr and Mrs Weasley. Later this morning, Percy, Draco, Sirius, Remus, Angelina Johnson and Katie Bell were slated to show up – and there was no telling who else might wander in. Mr and Mrs Weasley prided themselves on the Burrow being a welcome space to any friends who needed it this time of year.

“If you’re sure,” Harry said, still ready to rush upstairs at the slightest suggestion that Charlie was too tired for this.

“I’m perfectly sure. Come here.” Hand still on Harry’s shoulder, Charlie towed him over to the kitchen table and made him sit. Then he started poking around the kitchen. Harry watched, not sure what Charlie was looking for, until Charlie opened a pot on the stove and made a sound of satisfaction. He grabbed two mugs and filled them, then brought one over to Harry.

“Hot chocolate?” Harry said, blinking. He’d expected tea.

“Good ol’ Mum. She knows I love a cup after I travel.” Charlie sat and looked at him expectantly. “Well?”

But now that the time to talk had come, Harry found himself tongue-tied. He fidgeted, lowering his gaze to the table as he wondered how best to explain. Charlie waited, watching him patiently, which just made Harry feel guilty. He was positive that Charlie was thinking longingly of his bed upstairs, and here Harry was keeping him up longer… Finally, he forced himself to say it.

“I think I broke the asexual rules!”

… That wasn’t how he wanted to say it.

Charlie snorted with laughter, then covered his mouth and cleared his throat. “Err, what’s that now?”

“I… um…” Harry mumbled, so embarrassed the tips of his ears were burning.

“Harry, my lad, you know there are no rules that you can really break,” Charlie said gently. “We’ve talked about this; there are no asexual Aurors who are going to break the door down. Just tell me what happened.”

Right. Harry could do that. He stared harder at the table and said, “I think… I mean, I’ve been dating Draco and it’s going well… really well. I-I love him.” He suspected that wasn’t surprising news to Charlie. It certainly hadn’t been to anyone else. Even Ron had greeted that pronouncement with a weary resignation, like it was something he had long ago got used to.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you,” Charlie said sincerely, as Harry had known he would: he’d already told Charlie as much in his letters. Charlie and the twins had been the most accepting by far.

“But lately I… I realized…” Harry clenched his hands into fists. “I think I’m attracted to him.” He blurted out the second bit and hunched his shoulders.

Charlie was quiet for a moment, then he said, “You mean sexually?”

Still not daring to look, Harry nodded miserably. He couldn’t even quantify how long he’d been feeling this way, but he thought it might have been a month or two: it had hit him suddenly last week, when Draco got out of bed naked and stopped to stretch right in the middle of a patch of sunlight. The golden light had lit up the panes of his body, making him look like a god, and Harry had felt a surge of lust so strong it nearly knocked him off his feet.

It had freaked him out big time. Harry had never felt anything like that before. It was the first time in his life he could honestly say he wanted to have sex with someone. He wanted to have sex with Draco. He was sexually attracted to Draco! And had been for some time, though he hadn’t realized that what he was feeling was sexual attraction until that stretch.

Now he didn’t know what to do. Back in his seventh year, when Charlie had pulled him aside for a chat right before Bill’s and Fleur’s wedding, the whole world had opened up. Suddenly, Harry had a label for himself that made sense and explained why he wasn’t sexually attracted to anyone. Romantically, well. That was a whole different story, as in the months following the war, he’d fallen head over heels for Draco.

Sex had never been a big deal for them. Harry still liked sex; it made him feel good and he liked making Draco feel good too. They did it once or twice a week, depending on their busy and varying schedules. But he had never wanted it before with a specific person. He’d never wanted to pin Draco down and do things to him. It was honestly a little scary to suddenly feel this way.

“And that’s bad,” Charlie prompted when the silence had stretched without either of them speaking.

“Well, yeah! I’m asexual! I’m not supposed to feel this way!” Harry said shrilly.

Charlie snorted again. “Oh, Harry. There are no rules about this sort of thing.”

“But you said –”

“I know. I know what I said,” Charlie said. He shifted, and finally Harry looked up at him. Charlie was smiling as he added, “Sexuality can be fluid. Some people go their whole lives relatively set in their ways, but others can change. It happens.”

Harry chewed his lower lip, mulling that over. He supposed it made sense, but… “But… then I can’t be asexual, right?”

“Well, technically no,” Charlie admitted. “You can keep using that label if you want to, but honestly it sounds more like you might demisexual.”

“Demisexual,” Harry repeated.

“Yeah. I have a friend like that. They don’t feel sexual attraction unless they form a strong emotional connection with someone. For them, that’s not limited to romantic relationships. They’ve been attracted to friends before too. But for you, it could be more limited because there’s so few people that you really trust.” Charlie lifted his mug and sipped at it, watching Harry with shrewd eyes.

He had a point. Harry’s circle of friends hadn’t widened much in the years since the war. It didn’t help that in the end, he had foregone Auror training and decided to take up the mantle of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. So, he saw the same people – his fellow professors – on a regular basis, and you weren’t really allowed to be friends with students, so his scope was limited.

Draco was really the first person Harry had ever seriously dated. There had been Cho, but that hadn’t ever gone anywhere. He’d dated Ginny briefly post-war, but both had been too damaged to really make a go of it, and now Ginny was happily dating Luna. There had been a couple of other women after Ginny, but no one that really made Harry feel anything close to what Draco did. Enemies or not, he could never deny that Draco had always inspired feelings of passion.

And he did trust Draco. More than he had ever trusted anyone except for Ron, Hermione and Sirius, to be honest. Enough so that Harry had started to talk about what had happened during the war, including things that he had never told anyone. He drummed his fingers on the table, thinking about the way Draco would hold his hands during those moments, and the way that Draco always seemed to know exactly when Harry needed a hug or when he didn’t want to be touched at all – often before Harry himself even realized.

“I love him,” Harry said again in a tiny voice. “I love him a lot. So that’s why…?”

“It’s my best guess. Harry, listen.” Charlie leaned forward. “I wouldn’t let this freak you out too much, okay? You and Draco have a really good thing going on. I can see how happy you make each other. As long as he keeps making you happy, that’s what you should be focusing on.”

“Right.” Harry took a deep breath, feeling the knot in his chest loosen some. “Do you think I was always demisexual and didn’t know it, or was I asexual and changed?”

Charlie shrugged. “I’m not sure, sorry. You’ll have to figure that one out on your own.”

That made sense. Harry leaned back in his chair and finally took a sip of his lukewarm chocolate. Demisexual. There was a name for it, for what he was feeling, and that was more of a relief than he really wanted to admit. Because if there was a name for it, he wasn’t the only person that this had happened to. He wasn’t a failure as an asexual: he was demisexual. He liked that.

“It was scary,” he said at last. “Feeling that way suddenly. I didn’t expect it.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine.” Charlie made a face and stood up. “Just… take it slow, maybe? I hear that kind of thing can be overwhelming at first. Did you talk to Draco about it at all?”

“No. I wanted to get things clear in my own head before I told him. Knowing Draco, he’s going to take it as a huge compliment that he was the one to awaken my sexual desire.” Harry sighed and rolled his eyes as Charlie sniggered.

“Probably,” Charlie said, amused as he took his cup over to the sink. “Are you okay now?”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Charlie,” Harry said. He was surprised when Charlie came over and hugged him, but quickly sank into the hug.

“No problem, little bro,” Charlie said, ruffling Harry’s hair. Harry yelped and swatted at him, and Charlie laughed again and disappeared upstairs.

Rather than follow, Harry rinsed out his cup and went back to the couch. He curled up, feeling better now that he had spoken to Charlie. Now that he had a word for it, he’d be able to talk to Draco. And to Hermione: as soon as she heard about this, she’d be tripping over herself to do research. Harry would shortly know more about being demisexual than he’d ever wanted to know.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep but did. He only woke up when someone began to gently shake his shoulder; he opened his eyes and found himself looking into Draco’s beautiful grey eyes. Harry blinked, realizing that he could hear Ron, Luna, and Sirius laughing. A smile crept across Harry’s face and he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Draco’s shoulders.

“Hello to you too,” Draco said, laughing.

“Mm, what time is it?” Harry asked, rubbing his nose against Draco’s neck. Much as he might tease Draco about the expense, he loved the smell of Draco’s cologne.

“Just after 6:30am,” Draco replied. “My father woke up early.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said with an inward grimace.

“I’m not. It gave me an excuse to leave.” Draco was smirking, Harry knew. He pulled back to look and – yup. The smirk made Harry’s heart flutter, and it also made certain other parts of him interested. That was new. He’d have to get used to that.

“Can we talk tonight?” Harry whispered.

Draco’s eyebrows furrowed. “Talk? In a bad way?”

“No! In a very, very good way,” Harry said, smiling in that way that he knew Draco thought was sexy.

“Colour me intrigued,” Draco said, and was just leaning in for a kiss when -

“Harry!” Sirius yelled, descending on them. “Happy Christmas, you two!”

“Happy Christmas!” Harry said, laughing as Draco squeaked indignantly when Ginny, Hermione, and Luna all piled in on the hug. Draco was trying hard to look annoyed, but even Draco couldn’t stop himself from smiling when Ginny and Luna kissed his cheeks at the same time.

“Better now?” Ginny asked him when Draco managed to squirm free. Sirius chased after him, threatening to change into his dog form and lick Draco’s face all over. Hermione and Luna collapsed into giggles, and even Remus, standing in the doorway, started to laugh.

Harry smiled. “Much better.”

#harry potter #charlie weasley #draco malfoy #demisexual #drarry #demisexual harry potter #asexual charlie weasley

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shipmistress9 · 5 years ago

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FTLOAP: Chapter 47: All Of My Memories Keep You Near

For The Love Of A Princess Masterpost

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

AN: Okay, I'm going to be honest with you guys. I expected much more of an outcry after the last chapter, and for a day or two, I was even a tiny bit disappointed. But then I realised my mistake. This is an HTTYD fanfiction! So, naturally, there are certain expectations when it comes to certain future plot points. You can't know what I've planned so you're not worried. After this truth sank in, my disappointment vanished. And got replaced by…

Anyway, it's been ages since I updated. That wasn't planned, but you might have noticed that the world is a crazy place. Me and my family are all good, but being under lockdown with three kids doesn't exactly leave much time for leisure activities. So I'm really happy that I'm able to finally update again! (It's also meant as a gift for my birthday next week from myself. :D)

This chapter's title comes from the song Memories by Within Temptation. It's one of my favourite bands, and I'm so happy that I can use some of their lyrics again. It wasn't a title I had planned for long, but when I listened to that song a while back, I knew that I had found the perfect title for this chapter.

PS: I made some minor changes in the previous chapter. Namely, the number of days scheduled for the Hunt and its preparation.

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If you want to support me you can buy me a coffee. I love coffee 😊 (Ko-Fi)

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No matter how hard she tried, Astrid couldn’t keep her hands from shaking. Standing in the corridor behind the audience room – alone safe for Ruff and Tuff – all she allowed herself to do was focus on her fingers, on keeping them still.

It wasn’t working.

Over and over, her father’s announcement repeated itself in her mind, how he’d snatched away what she'd thought already firmly in her grasp – again. It wasn’t fair!

All that had kept her from screaming out in frustration right there in front of everyone had been Eret, his hand on her arm and whispering soothingly into her ear. “Breathe. Don’t panic, okay? This can work in our favour. You’ll see, everything will be okay.”

So she’d followed his advice, had taken a deep shaky breath and had focused on staying calm. Just like she was doing now. She concentrated on her chest, rising and falling with her breathing, and deliberately relaxed part of her body on each exhale. Her shoulders, her jaw, her forehead. It wasn’t easy; everything she’d been so sure of only an hour ago was slipping through her fingers yet again.

But… she trusted Eret. If he said that it would be okay then, maybe, not everything was lost.

“All right. I’m done,” he said when he finally joined her in the corridor.

“What took you so long?” It didn’t concern her, not really. But it had been odd that he’d sent her ahead with a whispered ‘Wait outside, I’ll be there in a minute’. And it provided a little distraction.

Eret shrugged. “Nothing major. I just had to talk to Dagur for a moment and didn’t want to risk for your governess to come up with some new plan for your day. But let’s go now.”

Astrid nodded gratefully. Enduring another lesson in etiquette now – no, that would have been unbearable. She tried to keep up appearances as long as they were in the more public area of the castle, but once they were alone in the corridors that led back to Eret’s rooms, she abruptly stopped. “What did you mean?” she demanded, turning on the spot to address Eret. Her voice was close to breaking, her hands still trembling. “How can this work in our favour?”

She really hoped he had a solution, because, frankly, she was running out of patience and strength to come up with something new every time again. She had enough of all this heartache, the anxiety. She just wanted to leave it all behind her and live the peaceful life she and Hiccup had seen in their vision. Even though, logically, she still knew that eloping wasn’t an option... it became tempting again.

“Because if we do this right, it will draw less suspicion,” Eret said calmly, then raised a hand to ward off her next question. “Not here. Let’s head back to– We should talk this through together.” Eret’s eyes burned into hers, reminding her that these corridors might not be as deserted as they looked.

Astrid nodded, fighting again to release the tension from her body and thought of Hiccup and how everything would somehow work out. It kept the panic at bay, for the moment at least.

Eret had a point. Even if they tried to be vague, any discussion they had here in the corridors was bound to draw attention eventually. But even as she tried to appear composed and unaffected, she still had to fight hard not to rush or outright run to Eret’s rooms. Toward Hiccup. And once they were there, she threw herself directly into his arms, clinging to him as tightly as she could.

“Uh... okay?” Hiccup was clearly worried, his own tension tangible even as he rubbed her back to soothe her. “I assume you have bad news?”

Astrid didn’t know what to say, just stifled her sobs against his chest and tried to keep from trembling. Why, why, why couldn’t things be simple and work as planned at least once?

“How did you even guess that?” Tuff commented dryly, closing the door after he and his sister had entered the room behind Eret.

“We should have talked to them last night,” Astrid whispered, not sure if anyone could even hear her. But it had been more to herself anyway. If they hadn’t – admittedly sensibly – waited until the morning to approach their fathers, then their plan could have worked. She wanted to kick herself but knew that it was futile to lament past mistakes. She neither had the energy nor the time for that.

“Eh, bad but not too bad news, I’d say,” Eret replied. He walked over to a sideboard to pick up an apple.

Feeling his gaze on her, Astrid looked up into Hiccup’s eyes, filled with determination and reassurance. It’ll be all right! they seemed to say, his hands on her back comforting her as he turned toward Eret. “And what exactly does that mean?”

“It means,” Eret mumbled past a mouthful of fruit, swallowed, then went on, “that using Astrid’s boon won’t work. But don’t worry, I already have an idea. You see, instead of the planned entertainment of the coming days, the King’s holding a Dragon Hunt. The winner earns glory and honour – and will become the new Count Ravenledge.”

“A Dragon Hunt?” Hiccup paled, his whole body becoming rigid.

Eret took another bite of his apple and nodded. “Yep. They just explained the rules and the plan for the next week. We have three days to prepare, then we’re all going to travel to Oramond. From there, we’ll start the Hunt on the following day. It’ll go on for five days before we’re all coming back here. Just in time for the betrothal. The winner is going to be whoever managed to kill a dragon and bring its head, or, in case more than one man accomplished that deed, the dragon species and size of the head are going to be deciding. There was a ranking… Terrible Terrors rank lowest, then Deadly Nadders, Gronkles, Hid–”

“A Nadder head is sure to get you noticed,“ Hiccup murmured, interrupting Eret. His eyes were cast to the far wall and he sounded as if he was quoting some well-learned lines. “Gronckles are tough. Taking down one of those will definitely get you a date. A Zippleback? Exotic. Two heads – twice the status. And then there are the Nightmares. Only the best fighters go after those. But the ultimate prize…” He trailed off, shaking his head, then looked back at Eret. “Yeah, I know that ‘ranking’. It’s what–”

Hiccup broke off when the door opened without a knock, both he and Astrid reflexively shying away from each other. But it was only Dagur, rushing in and shutting the door behind him again before he looked around the room. “Ah, everyone’s already here, good.”

“Where else would we be?” Eret replied, tossing the apple core to be put away later. “Did you find out something helpful?”

Astrid cocked her head, bewildered.

“He went to talk to his father,” Eret explained helpfully. “County Ravenledge belongs to Southshore, so we figured this would make more sense than me approaching my father for further information.”

“Yeah, and I got some interesting information,” Dagur said, uncharacteristically grim for once. He slumped down into a nearby chair and ran both his hands through his already messy hair. “The call for help from Oramond is almost entirely just a front, just like you expected. Yes, they had a dragon attack or two, but they have those every year at this season. Nothing uncommon. The destroyed storehouse was bad luck, but still no major problem. No, the real reason, or at least part of it, is to keep you alive.” He pointed at Eret, who grimaced and absentmindedly scratched at his chest. “All these tournaments don’t serve their purpose anymore, and apparently our old men decided that it’s not worth risking you getting killed. Very kind of them, don’t you think?”

There was something off in Dagur’s voice, something that didn’t quite fit his words. There was underlying anger that felt oddly out of place given that keeping his lover safe was in his interest, too.

Unsurprisingly, Eret noticed it too. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes fixed on his boyfriend. “What is it, Dag? What do you mean by ‘they don't serve their purpose anymore’? What did you learn?”

Dagur snorted harshly. “It’s all been just a charade. And I mean everything. The festivities for old King Ragnvald’s anniversary, Astrid’s wedding, all these tournaments and hunts; they all only served one purpose: to reign in the endless riots over land and titles by making the overly greedy among the noblemen fight and kill each other.”

Stunned silence followed. Astrid stared at Dagur, eyes wide as her mind tried to comprehend.

“Well, I’d say it worked wonderfully,” Tuff commented dryly.

His sister nodded, grimacing. “The death toll certainly looks like it. And, you know… That explains a lot.”

Astrid closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against Hiccup’s chest. His arms around her drew her closer and she was grateful yet again for his never-ending support. Here, surrounded by his warmth, she was able to tune out the others completely and think.

Ruff was right. All these events where her suitors had competed for her attention even though her father knew she wouldn’t enjoy them. Setting her up as a coveted prize. Even pulling her wedding forth in the first place. With this new information, it all made sense now.

And she hated it!

She hated having been set up like nothing but a piece of meat simply for such a political gain. Of course, her wedding had always been meant to be about politics, about the alliance she could gain for the crown. But this? This was different. Worse! It had all been only for political intrigues, with her as just another figure to be pushed around on the board. No, even worse. She'd been nothing but a bait to lure countless men into death. Maybe they were men who deserved it, but that thought still made her sick. So much death...

Although... In a surreal and twisted way, it was also oddly soothing. Her father hadn’t been out to destroy her dreams, hadn’t deliberately aimed at hurting her. He was just doing what he thought was in the best interest of the Kingdom. She might not like that, but she could respect it.

And, well… In hindsight, it had even been to their advantage, even through some painful detours. If it wasn't for this whole mess about her marriage and the tight time limit it had given her, she and Hiccup would still be hiding in the outer stables without anyone knowing. No, not even that. They would be separated for months without knowing when or if they would see each other again.

Instead, they now had the support of their friends, and even though they still had no solid plan, she was glad to be here now. She just had to focus on their goal and not lose herself in worries and hopelessness.

Pushing away all troublesome thoughts for the moment, she snuggled closer against Hiccup's chest and smiled when she felt his breath in her hair. It wasn't long now anymore until she and Hiccup would be married – she refused to believe anything else.

"So, this Dragon Hunt is just another plan to set the overly greedy lords up against each other?"

Eret's voice pierced through her thoughts and drew her attention back to her surroundings. She stayed where she was, her head still leaned against Hiccup, but she opened her eyes to at least follow the conversation around them.

Dagur nodded. "Yep. Now that 'gaining the Princess's favour' isn't a viable decoy anymore, they had to come up with something else."

"But that doesn't make any sense," Tuff threw in. He sounded confused. "I thought County Ravenledge is in too bad a state. Wouldn’t that make it a rather bad decoy? Why would anyone go to such length to gain it?"

"Oh, that," Dagur grinned grimly. "Aye, what you and Astrid overheard was the truth; it really is in a horrible state. But that's not exactly common knowledge yet. From what Father hinted at, it's like this. For now, County Ravenledge is hot property, a large piece of fertile land that's not too close to the war with Maladur, and it even comes with a good title. If it were commonly known that it's vacant, many would apply immediately. But it is as I thought, they want to use it as a White Elephant, want to ruin a rival or three before they put effort into saving it. Or its people..." His hands balled into angry fists, but he kept himself focused. "Anyway, simply gifting the County to a rivalling lord wouldn't work, even the stupidest of them would get suspicious. So they set up this Dragon Hunt, for more than one reason. One, this way, it looks like a valuable prize and people will put much effort into gaining it along with the glory of winning. And even if nobody actually wins the Dragon Hunt, they can keep using it as bait. And the second reason..." He paused, grinding his teeth and shaking his head. "Well, the second reason is that... that with everyone being out in the countryside, away from watching eyes, they expect even more accidents to happen. Rivals taking each other out. And even though I hate this plan, I have to admit it has value. Gods, what would I give to see such an accident happening to Thuggory, for example."

During Dagur's words, Astrid paled. Certainly not for Thuggory's sake, but he wasn't the only one who could be affected by this plan. "But what about those who are loyal to the crown, the innocent?" she asked, disbelievingly. "Does my... does the King really risk them getting killed, too?"

Dagur shook his head. "Not quite," he sighed, tiredly. "This is how they see it. In the old days, a Dragon Hunt wasn't taken very seriously. It's incredibly hard to find and bring down a dragon on your own, so many didn't even bother trying. Our fathers expect that those who are content with the current situation of the Kingdom won’t actually participate in any real fashion. In fact, they don’t expect anyone to win at all. The inns and temples around Oramond will be rather crowded during these days as many noblemen will simply use the Hunt as an opportunity to rest and relax. Only those greedy enough to fight and risk lives – their own or those of others – for land and title will actually be out in the countryside. And those will be the ones that are going to kill each other. In addition, there will be guards patrolling the area, keeping an eye open to protect those loyal to the crown."

Astrid pressed her lips together and nodded. She didn't like the plan; there were far too many deaths involved. But she could see the merit in it, if grudgingly.

"Okay, that's a nice plan, and all," Ruff commented, wrinkling her nose. "But that’s not really our problem? This Hunt puts a heavy dent into your idea of Hiccup becoming the new Count. So now, we have to come up with something new, right?"

Astrid's shoulders slumped. Ruff was right. Dagur’s news had momentarily distracted her, but now, the realisation came crashing down on her again. If Hiccup couldn’t become the new Count Ravenledge, then they needed to come up with something else. Maybe they could use the Hunt as a distraction. Maybe they could come up with a way to run away after all, without causing any troubles for others. Maybe–

"Not necessarily."

Eret's interjection kept her thoughts from spiralling downwards. He looked thoughtful and then nodded to himself, even as everyone in the room was curiously watching him.

"Well, first things first. It’s as I said, we can’t use Astrid’s boon anymore. But that doesn’t mean all is lost. All we have to do is make sure that Hiccup wins this Hunt. Sure, the boon would have been the easier option, but this one might be safer. If Hiccup becomes a count by legally winning this Hunt – and nobody ever mentioned that the winner has to be one of the formerly appointed noblemen! – then that would be far less suspicious than the King just handing it over as a gift on Astrid's request. This way, it'll draw less attention and you can keep your relationship hidden until the betrothal ceremony. We’d have to talk to them right after the hunt, but if we’re all vouching for his character, then that should be enough to convince our fathers of his worth. The announcement and remuneration of him as the winner could be part of the festivity of the betrothal. And once Astrid openly declares to marry him instead of me and they’re officially betrothed, Hiccup will be under the crown’s protection."

"Yeah, but that's assuming he actually wins," Dagur deadpanned. "First, he has to find and kill a dragon. Not an easy deed, as far as I know. And it has to happen in a way that won't look like it's your success, with him being your servant and all. And that's not even taking into account the men who won't hesitate to attack us if they see us as rivals, with or without guards. How are we supposed to avoid them? This is going to be dangerous!"

Astrid shuddered, her heart pounding. She didn’t like this plan, not one bit! Because Dagur was right. Odin, even her father counted on a certain death toll during this hunt. And Eret planned to go out there? With that target already on his back, after he’d just escaped an assassination attempt? What if something happened to him? Or, by extent, to Dagur? Or to...

A low whimper escaped her, her hands clutching tightly at Hiccup’s tunic. No, she wouldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about that. Not now!

Desperately, she looked at Eret, hoping for some kind of explanation, an indication that he hadn’t been serious, that he had another idea. A safer one! But for a minute or two, Eret simply chewed his lip, thinking as all eyes lingered on him. Even Hiccup was oddly quiet when Astrid looked up at him. In fact, he hadn’t said a single word in a long while now. Instead, he seemed to be lost in his thoughts, as if he was far away and hardly even listening to what was happening around them.

"I think that’s all manageable," Eret eventually said. He looked around at them all, and the optimism in his eyes gave Astrid hope despite the dire circumstances. "First, Hiccup will have to travel alone – no, hear me out."

He warded off her protest before she’d even opened her mouth. He had to be joking! He couldn’t be serious, couldn’t send Hiccup on this hunt, not alone, not with all the men willing to kill for it!

But apparently, he was serious.

"People will set out in small groups,” he went on. “Some with their squires, some with friends, some with guards. But Dagur's right, if we did that too then it wouldn't matter whether Hiccup killed a dragon; I would be declared the winner. Plus, it would be seen as odd if I were to participate for real. I'm heir to a Grand-Dukedom, I don't need a county on the other side of the Kingdom and my father would end up having to distribute it to one of our loyal vassals. No, that wouldn’t work.”

She was shaking now, clinging to Hiccup as if she could keep him safe. This was a bad idea, bad bad bad… She jumped when Hiccup placed a quick kiss to her forehead before prying her hands off him. Confused, Astrid followed him with her eyes as he walked over to where a carafe of wine stood and poured himself a glass. Not a bad idea, she thought with a grimace and even found herself longing for some wine for herself as well. She didn’t trust her legs, though, and instead turned back to Eret, hoping desperately that he was about to come up with a twist that would keep Hiccup safe.

“So what we're going to do is this. Dagur and I – along with our retinue, as I assume our fathers will give us an escort to ensure our safety – will travel together until we find a nice inn to spend this short vacation. Once we've settled, Hiccup can sneak away and head out on his own. That way, I’m not involved and it’s all his glory. But it’s also important that he ditches us, because he’ll be able to travel faster as a single man than as part of a noble’s retinue. I know Oramond and the surrounding area. There are no dragons living close by; travelling distance is not a problem if you can fly like these beasts. Now, if we only have five days, then even those who try to win this Hunt will only travel for one day, if that, before they start searching the woods. But that close to the city, they won't have any luck. You have to travel north until you reach the edge of the swamps before you're likely to encounter any dragons. If Hiccup rides hard and brings a spare mount to swap out or has the means to change them, he can reach the swampland on the second day, leaving everyone else far behind. Then it's just him out there, no threat of any rivalry or even competition."

"Aye, that could work," Dagur nodded.

There was a grin on his face now as he shared a look with Eret, but even though a part of her understood why Dagur would enjoy certain aspects of this plan, Astrid couldn’t be happy for them. She was still shaking, her arms wrapped around herself. There was logic in Eret’s words; if Hiccup rode ahead of all other participants, then he would be relatively safe. But still… She didn’t like this idea. Somehow, she had a bad feeling about it.

“It will,” Eret nodded at Dagur, not feeling the same reluctance as Astrid. "And as for finding and killing a dragon… There is not a single man among Astrid's former suitors who I think capable of actually succeeding, except for Hiccup. Lucky for us, the Tribes didn't send anyone to gain her favour, so Hiccup is the only one who actually has any experience with fighting dragons. He’d have two and a half days, that should be enough to find and kill one before he has to travel back. We just have to prepare and equip him suffic–”

CRASH!

Astrid jumped, as did everyone else, at the sound of glass shattering. She whirled just in time to see Hiccup fall down onto his knees, crying out in apparent agony.

Her heart was racing as she rushed toward him in an instant, trying to understand what had happened. Had he somehow hurt himself? Or was it some form of attack? Was he injured?

To her relief, he appeared to be unharmed, even though he was crouching on the ground, hunched over, and his hands were clenched into white knuckles as they clutched at his hair. But at least he wasn’t bleeding...

Scared and confused, she kneeled down at his side. “Hiccup?” she said, her voice quiet but urgent.

He didn’t respond though, so she tried to draw his attention by placing a hand on his arm. He flinched at the contact, but when he still didn’t react Astrid decided to give him a few moments. He clearly needed time to calm down, so instead of demanding an answer, she looked around and tried to understand what had happened. There were shards of glass on the ground from where the noise had come from, a dark red spot on the tapestries. Wine? Had Hiccup thrown the glass? But why?

With a low groan, Hiccup stirred, and Astrid turned back to him immediately. She could see his face now, ashen white and his eyes hollow.

“So it’s happening again,” he gasped, his voice trembling with an odd humourless laugh. “It all boils down to me killing a dragon. Again!”

. o O o .

Hiccup’s hands were shaking, his mind in shambles. Only dimly, he was aware of how the others were talking around him. It was something important, he was sure of that much. Probably something he should listen to. They were all doing so much for him and Astrid, Eret especially; Hiccup owed it to him to at least listen. But no matter how hard he’d tried, he wasn’t able to pay attention.

His mind was too full, flowing over with memories, images, impressions. Like a cup of wine having a full jug poured into it, the feelings spilling over the sides. Heat and pain, sorrow and fear, a wild beast, burned wood and smoke.

And guilt.

So, so very much guilt...

The thought raced through his head, dominating everything else.

Fire.

It wasn't my fault...

Smoke.

It wasn't my fault!

Burned flesh.

It wasn't my fault!

“The chief and his family are dead.”

It wasn’t... my... fault...

The mantra against his own sense of overwhelming guilt echoed in his head, drowning out all other noises around him, his eyes screwed shut. He felt like curling into a ball, like covering his ears with his hands, like screaming until these memories left him in peace. There was a pain in his chest, like a burning hole, the pain of losing his family as intense as on the day it had happened. At that moment, he just wanted to crumble and dissolve into dust, anything to escape the pain.

But then there was something else, something holding him back. It was strong, like a soothing warmth, thrumming and glowing. It was enough to dull the pain, to balance the sorrow. Enough to keep going.

"Hiccup?"

Hiccup sighed, shakily. Her voice was like a lighthouse, an anchor. Something to hold on to and to lead him out of the darkness.

He needed a few moments, blinking to clear his vision. Astrid was kneeling right in front of him, looking at him with those deep blue eyes of hers. They were so full of life, of love, of trust and support. Something to focus on until his thoughts had settled.

With a low strangled sob, he pulled her into his arms, his face once more buried in her hair. She was all he had left. All he needed. His future. He had to focus on that or he’d drown in sorrow again.

"Hiccup, are you all right? What happened?"

Her voice was muffled against his chest and yet he felt as if it was ringing cristal clear directly in his head. What happened? Never before had she asked. She had always been patient with him, had never pushed him to say more than he could. And he knew that she didn’t mean it like that now, either. All she wanted to know was why he'd thrown that glass, why he'd screamed. Had he screamed? He wasn't sure anymore.

But that didn't matter. What happened? She might not have asked after his past, but that wasn't the point. The point was that he had to tell her. It wasn't about admitting his weakness and reliving that nightmare, not anymore. If their plan actually and honestly depended on him killing a dragon...

His eyes wandered around from one confused face to the other. They didn’t understand why he’d reacted so strongly, and how could they? They couldn’t know what ‘fighting a dragon’ would mean to him. Which was why it was important now to tell them everything. Eret might suspect something, depending on what he’d heard, and Astrid… she only knew that something bad had happened. But if their plan was based on him going up against a dragon… then they had to know the truth. That he might not be able to win.

"No," he mumbled. His voice felt weak, brittle. "No, I'm not all right. But it's okay. I'll be okay."

Astrid grunted, clearly confused and not fully believing him, and from around them, similar noises echoed to his ears. When he looked up, he saw Eret, Dagur, and the twins all throwing puzzled looks, at him and each other. Sighing, he closed his eyes again, breathing in her mayweed scent to gather his courage.

"You ask what happened? If you really want to know, then we better sit down. It's a long story..."

. o O o .

Once more, they all settled in the chairs around the room. It made the atmosphere a little cosier than it had been during their discussion before, and Astrid had a feeling that this might be needed. She and Hiccup sat on a cushioned bench, and since he hadn’t let go of her even once, she opted to cuddle as close to him as she could. He didn’t say anything, but she got the impression that he was grateful for it, his arm around her trembling as he returned her hug. And if he really would talk about what she thought, then he would need her support. His head was angled to the side, and with his face half-buried in her hair, he took a deep breath before he began to speak.

“I… better start at the beginning,” he said in a low voice. He wasn’t looking at anyone now, his gaze fixed on the floor. Maybe that made it easier to talk. “Among the Tribes, we have this… this rite of passage, you can call it. Maybe you’ve heard about it, I don’t know… Being a warrior is less a job or profession but a title. It’s an honour. Everyone, men and women alike, who wants to call themselves a warrior once they legally become an adult, at the age of eighteen at the earliest, has to kill a dragon first. Most people who’re willing and able to become warriors kill a dragon during one raid or the other, it’s practically unavoidable. And even if it takes them months or even years longer… it doesn’t matter too much, doesn’t make a difference.”

Astrid listened apprehensively. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but from how he’d always shied away from even thinking about his past… Well, it wouldn’t be anything good.

“For me, it was different, though,” he went on. “As the son of the High Chief and heir to the title, everyone’s attention was on me. And on the fact that I hadn’t killed a dragon by the time I turned eighteen. Me becoming a warrior was an important event, a sign of my strength, that I would be able to lead our people in battle. There were voices of concern, worried that I might not be capable. And, well... To be honest, they weren’t entirely unfounded. I wasn’t bad at fighting per se; not overly strong but fast and good at learning different techniques. But when it came to fighting dragons, I was… I guess you can say I was not as enthusiastic as others.”

There was a low snort coming from Eret. Did he know what Hiccup was talking about? When the two shared a quick glance, she noticed pain in Hiccup’s eyes and understanding in Eret’s before Hiccup continued his explanation.

“You see, the Tribes… We’ve been fighting dragons for generations now. I don’t know whether the beasts have difficulty catching their own food where we hunt and fish or whether they’re just lazy, but they regularly steal our livestock and stored fish. And when we ward them off, they typically set things on fire, like houses. So, in order to keep us and our food storages safe, we fight them off whenever we see them. It’s like a reflex, self-defence.

“This sounds like I’m trying to excuse what we did when it should be normal to defend your life. But you see, it wasn’t always like that. Or… at least not if you believe in the old legends. Most say they are nothing but fairy tales the elderly like to tell around campfires and nobody believes them to be true. According to these legends, we didn’t always fight the dragons. Reportedly, there were times when the dragons and the Tribesmen were friends and some even claim we once rode on their backs through the air. And ever since I can remember… These legends always fascinated me. I always wished they were true. I mean, wouldn’t that be amazing? I often dreamed about how that would be, not just riding a horse or the waves on a fast ship, but soaring high through the winds.” He paused, a wistful expression on his face, then added with a sad smile, “Dad wasn’t exactly thrilled, often cursed the decision to name me Hiccup. I’m still not sure how serious he was.”

Confused, Astrid stirred. “Why? What does your name have to do with everything else?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled.

Hiccup’s lips twitched, but before he could answer, Eret beat him to it. “Did you never think that ‘Hiccup’ is a rather odd name?” he asked, a slight chuckle in his voice.

Astrid felt Hiccup’s eyes on her, curious for her reaction. But she merely shrugged. “Not really. I know that it’s a relatively common name among the Tribes. The entire Royal Guard is made of Tribesmen, remember? I’ve met a few Hiccups before.” She looked up, relieved to see Hiccup smile, if tentatively.

“You’re right, it’s a common name,” he confirmed. “But there’s a reason for that. You see, according to the old legends, it was a man named Hiccup who was the first to ever befriend and ride a dragon. As children, we often hear these stories, fairy tales to keep us entertained on stormy days. But they fascinated me long after that age, and I often spent my time reading about these old legends and digging through archives for more information when I instead was supposed to practice dragon fighting or help in the forge to build more weapons. And every time the dragons raided our food supplies, I found myself reluctant to fight them. So, yeah… Dad wasn’t thrilled that I apparently took after my namesake.

"But... I couldn’t get rid of these thoughts. What if these old legends were true and the dragons could be our friends instead? I always did my best to chase them off, but it became noticeable that I wouldn’t harm them. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt them, not with these stories always fresh in my mind from when I told them every night to Tooth–"

Hiccup suddenly broke off and Astrid cocked her head. "Tooth?" she asked. The way he’d said that word had made it sound like a name, if a strange one. But what drew her attention even more thoroughly was how Hiccup flinched as the name slipped off his lips and how his face crumpled in pain.

His hand around her own tightened noticeably, and he took a moment to hide his face in her hair before he answered, his voice nearly breaking.

"Toothless,” he gasped in a weak whisper. “My… my little brother. His real name was Teitr, but my sister and I often called him Toothless. It was… an in-joke of some sort.” He paused, taking a deep shaky breath before he continued in a sober voice. “According to the old legends, the dragon that Hiccup back then rode was a Night Fury named Toothless. And when Teitr took nearly a year to eventually get his first teeth… well, it seemed fitting and the nickname stuck somehow."

. o O o .

Just as expected, the pain was almost overwhelming. Hiccup clung to Astrid as if to dear life, deeply inhaling the scent of mayweed and her to keep himself sane as the memories came crashing down on him.

…

"...and this is why you should never anger a Death Song."

Hiccup closed the book and placed it onto the table next to him.

"No, read another one! Please?" Teitr looked up with a pout, his green eyes wide and pleading.

Hiccup groaned, but was spared an answer when unexpected laughter sounded from behind them.

"It's your own fault, Hic. You are the one who started his obsession for these legends. Now live with it."

Arndis threw him a smirk, then grabbed one of the swords from a stash near the door. She made a few steps until she’d reached the open area in the workshop’s middle, then whirled around with the sword in hand, going through a series of motions and battle stances. When she was done, she nodded approvingly. "This one is balanced perfectly, good job. Who's is it?"

“Uh, the one with the big pommel?” Hiccup had to crane his neck to take a look at the list at the other end of his desk. "That's for Master Svenson." He took a pen and made a sign behind that order. When Arndis said the sword was balanced, then he didn't need to double-check for himself.

She came over and placed the sword onto the table, a safe distance away from Teitr's pudgy hands.

"Read more?" their little brother demanded, holding up the book to his big sister.

But Arndis just shook her head, chuckling as she ruffled through Teitr's auburn locks; the same colour as hers and Hiccup's. "Sorry, Toothless, but Mother asked me to sew something for her. A traditional shieldmaiden's outfit. I think it's supposed to be a gift?" She shrugged. "Anyway, I don't have time today, little monster. Stay here and play with Hiccup, okay?"

Hiccup threw her a deadpan look. As if he didn't have enough work to do, too. But then, he loved spending time with his little brother, and luckily, Teitr loved to help him wherever he could.

"All right, how about we go to the stables and see if they have something to do for us?"

The little boy squealed at that suggestion, eager to pet his little pony, so Hiccup lifted him up and onto his shoulders.

Arndis chuckled. "You realise that's kind of the wrong way around?" She gestured at her two brothers, Toothless riding on Hiccup’s back.

Hiccup rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling fondly as Teitr giggled.

“Giddyup!”

…

"So, what happened then? I guess they made you fight in the arena?”

Eret’s voice tore him back into the here and now with painful brutality. It took Hiccup a few moments to push his painful memories aside and focus on his surroundings again. Gods, he missed them so much! But once his mind was clear again, he gratefully nodded at his cousin. His words hadn’t been just curiosity, Hiccup knew, but also a deliberate distraction, and he appreciated the sentiment.

He nodded. "It's the official version of the rite of passage," he explained for the others. "A one-against-one fight in Berk's grand arena. As I said, it doesn’t happen often, but my case was special enough…”

At his side, Astrid became rigid, her hand twitching. “You fought a dragon,” she whispered. “And you didn’t win.”

Pained, Hiccup looked at her. How did she know? Or was she finally realising the obvious, how much of a failure he was?

“That’s what you told me once,” she reminded him. “When you showed me your leg and I asked what had happened.”

Hiccup relaxed, if only a little. Stupid, stupid thought!, he reminded himself. Her feelings for him were just as strong as his were for her… even if, for a moment, his self-doubts had let him forget.

“Right…” He nodded. Out of reflex, his free hand moved down to rub at his leg, the memory alone enough to make the pain flare up again. “Yeah, that’s when it happened. The leg and…”

...and so much more!

“What happened?” Eret coaxed, gently.

Hiccup pressed his eyes shut. As if that was enough to keep the painful memories away… But, of course, it was no good. And it wouldn’t get any better, not until he’d told the whole story and could move on.

“I don’t even know what exactly went wrong,” he said in a low voice. “They set me up against a Monstrous Nightmare, of course, they did. The most dangerous dragon they could get a hold on. After all, I had to prove that I was worthy of becoming High Chief one day. And… and I was confident that I could do it. I’d practised fighting dragons for so long and I’d been preparing myself for weeks, knew what to do. I should have been able to do it! From what I remember, I had done my best in that fight.” He sighed. “But it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t able to defeat it. And even now, I’m still not sure whether I held back for some reason, maybe because I didn’t want Teitr to watch me kill a dragon, or whether I was just not good enough, whether I was too slow or made a mistake or…”

He shrugged, feeling useless.

“Either way, I couldn’t defeat it. It was too fast, too fierce. It… it’s all a blur. In one moment, I was facing it with my sword and shield, and in the next…” He sucked in a sharp breath. “In the next, I was lying on the ground, unable to move as guards rushed into the arena to capture the beast and put it back into its cell. All I remembered was that I had somehow lost my weapon in-between. And the pain. I didn’t notice at first, only when the other men rushed past me and I tried to get up and help. The Nightmare had hit me with its claw, one long gash from my ankle up and past my knee, bleeding and... I must have passed out then. The next thing I remembered was that I got carried out of the arena, the dragon contained again.”

He trailed off, his head dropping until his unruly hair fell around his face to hide it. The sober words he used to tell his story didn’t do his memories justice. But how could he put into words how it had been to face that monstrous beast in an open fight? How could he explain how disoriented he’d been, surrounded by flames and noises? How could he admit how frightened he’d been, how helpless and useless he’d felt. How could he make them understand how all-consuming the pain had been, even when his mind had numbed the actual sensation?

Or how crushing the guilt and embarrassment still was…

“It was mortifying,” he eventually went on, murmuring quietly, and if the others hadn’t been listening attentively, they surely would have missed his words. “I was the firstborn son of the High Chief, the heir to his title. The one who was supposed to lead the Tribes in a couple of years. And I wasn’t capable of fighting and killing a dragon. Nobody said anything to me, but I could feel it in the way they looked at me, the pity and disappointment in their eyes. And I-I couldn’t stand it.”

Hiccup trembled as he remembered how ashamed he’d been. He’d failed...

“They’d brought me to the healers. But before anyone had tended to my leg, I had slipped out again. I know how foolish that had been but…” Again, he shook his head. “I just wanted to get away, to hide from everything and everyone. Somehow I made it into the forest behind the village, limping and without anyone noticing. I can’t say for how long I stumbled through the woods. I had lost all sense of time. It must have been hours though because eventually, night fell. It was cold and my leg hurt terribly, but it was too dark to find my way back and… and I didn’t want to go back anyway. I didn’t want my mother to comfort me, didn’t want to listen to Arndis teasing me, not even gently, didn’t want to hear Teitr’s innocent encouragements. And most of all, I didn’t want to see the disappointment in my father’s eyes… I couldn’t stand even thinking about it!”

But, oh, what would he give if he could go back, could see and hear them all again. Just one more time…

“It was cold that night, especially in the forest. Icy. Sleet and rain and wind, and I didn’t even have a coat, much less a blanket or any other equipment. And my leg hurt. I knew I’d been stupid to not let anyone treat it, but even worse was the dirt that had gotten into the wound out there in the forest. I thought I would die that night, bleed out or maybe freeze to death. And a part of me thought that it would be better that way, that it was what I deserved for failing and for running away.”

It took Hiccup a moment to realise that the trembling of his hand wasn’t his own. Astrid was shaking, her hands holding his not tight enough to cover it. He squeezed them and dared to look up into her eyes. As expected they were wide, unshed tears shimmering along the edges. Tears for him, for his former self.

Almost involuntarily, his lips twitched into something like a smile. He brought her hand to his lips to brush a soft kiss onto her knuckles, then sat up to huddle against her. Her warmth, her strength, her love. That was all he needed.

“It was past dawn before I returned to the village. I barely remember the night or how I made it back, only that I was freezing and wet and that my leg hurt somewhat terribly. I was barely lucid, stumbling around, and at first, I didn’t even notice that something was off. There were far too many people up already, all agitated and running around. And that horrible smell in the air…” He shuddered involuntarily. “I wanted to go home, to let my mother take a look at my leg and to rest. But I couldn’t find it. I remember laughing at myself at how confused I was, not even finding my own home anymore… And it took me far too long to understand that… that my home was gone.”

“What do you mean by ‘it was gone’?” Astrid asked into the silence that followed, tentatively.

Hiccup stared at the floor, eyes empty. “It was simply gone,” he whispered. “I’d been looking for the colourfully decorated front and the high roof with the dragon emblem on top of it. But none of that existed anymore. Instead, there was only a large group of people, gathered around some burned ruins. And it took me far too long to understand.” Behind his unseeing eyes, the memories rose once more, of burned beams reaching into the morning sky, of smoke and still-glowing embers here and there. And of the dread that overcame him at that moment – a feeling that had never really left since then.

“I later learned,” he went on in a hollow voice, “that during the night, the entire building had burned to the ground. And… and that nobody had made it out alive. I only saw them when they carried the bodies outside; they wouldn’t let me into the ruins. But from what I’ve heard… My parents had apparently been lucky.” He scoffed. “They died in their sleep. They were still in their bed; my father had been easy to identify with his massive body and the same was true for my mother as well, taller than most and lying next to him. My only solace is tha-that they died peacefully. My siblings didn’t have that luck.” He gulped, leaning into Astrid’s arm as she squeezed his shoulder. “They must have woken up and tried to escape along with a couple of serving girls. Their bodies had been found on the floor of the living room. Teitr’s body had been clutched in the arms of one of the girls and… and it hadn’t even been possible to determine if it had been Arndis or not. They couldn’t tell the girls apart.”

“Oh, Hiccup. That… that’s horrible.” The pain in Astrid’s voice was real, as was the sincere sympathy he felt thrumming through their bond. It felt like a comforting touch to his soul, soothing and maybe even a little healing.

Dagur and the twins were silent, radiating sorrow. Only Eret reacted, leaning forward on his chair and placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, we heard about the fire,” he said in a bleak voice. If anyone could understand his pain then it was Eret. He’d known his parents, had practised sword-fighting with Anrdis and had let Teitr ride on his back. For him, the loss had been painful, too.

It was… funny, in a way. No, not funny. Weird. He’d thought that reliving all these memories would be impossible, that he’d break down like he’d broken down before whenever he’d thought about his dead family. But instead, he felt… lighter somehow. As if by talking about them, a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. They might be gone, but they weren’t forgotten. He would always remember them, always keep them close to his heart.

“But how did you end up disowned and exiled?” Eret continued after a short pause. “How could they blame you for something that must have been an accident? You weren’t even there.”

“Exactly,” Hiccup muttered. He took a deep breath, then straightened. “It’s never been a secret how the fire happened. The Nightmare I’d been supposed to kill the day before escaped from its cage and, presumably following my scent, went straight to our house. It was brought down quickly, but by then, the fire was already too big to be contained.”

The body of the dead dragon had still been there, carelessly left to be dealt with later. A silent reminder of his failure.

“You ask why they exiled me?” His eyes met Eret’s, finding comfort in his earnest concern just like Astrid next to him gave him strength and courage. Here, he was among friends. They wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t believe what his fellow Tribesmen had accused him of. “Because they suspected me of having caused the fire on purpose. What a ‘lucky coincidence’ that I hadn’t been there, that I had survived. As if me hiding in the forest hadn’t been an act of cowardice but just a fake alibi instead.” He shook his head. “They only had suspicions and leads, of course, no solid proof. But that was enough for them to distrust me. The dragon couldn’t have escaped on its own, it was securely locked away. Had I released it, not knowing it would directly go to our house? Or had I directed it there on purpose? Had it been an act of spite to cover up my weakness and failure of the lost fight or had I actively planned for my father to die so that they had to appoint me as High Chief?”

Seeing the disbelief and anger in Eret’s eyes helped to keep his own in check. Hiccup took another deep breath and let it out slowly, focussing on Astrid’s warmth next to him instead of the pain of betrayal and guilt he still felt. “The rest you know. They locked me up until judgement was spoken and then exiled me. They… they didn’t even let me attend my family’s funeral. And even though I didn’t do what they accused me of… they were also right on one point. It was all my fault...”

“Hiccup,” Eret said, but he didn’t let him finish whatever he wanted to say.

“If I hadn’t run away like a petulant child then maybe I could have prevented it. I often stayed up late, maybe I would have noticed the fire in time. Maybe I could have saved them, or–”

“Or maybe you’d be dead now, too,” Tuff deadpanned.

Pressing his lips into a tense line, Hiccup nodded. “Or that,” he agreed, quietly. “And I’ve often thought that, maybe, that would have been the better option.”

Next to him, Astrid flinched and sucked in a sharp breath. Hiccup turned toward her and threw her an apologetic look. He couldn’t help that those had been his thoughts in his weakest moments. But not anymore, he tried to convey with every ounce of sincerity he had, and she seemed to understand, nodding with her lips pressed tightly together. She snuggled closer to his side, equally offering and seeking comfort and strength. Sighing, Hiccup leaned into her, pressed a soft kiss into her hair, and gave himself a moment to bask in her presence. With her around, he felt lighter, as if nothing was impossible.

“I don’t see how any of this was your fault,” Dagur eventually threw in. “To me, it sounds as if they’d only been looking for a reason. Weren’t there some riots before that already? Some groups rebelling against House Haddock’s lead? I think I remember having heard about that.”

Sighing, Hiccup nodded. “Yes, you heard right. Not everyone was happy with how my father and the King used to be friends. They thought it would make us weak, that we should rebel and rule ourselves again, without a King. And that’s probably what happened, that these voices then grew stronger and took over. But it’s still my fault.” He held up a hand to ward off any protest. “If I’d simply killed the dragon as I’d been supposed to, had proven myself worthy of our people’s respect, then nothing would have happened. They would still be alive…”

There was a heavy silence as nobody was able to contradict him. Hiccup pressed his lips together and nodded. It had been his fault, even if only indirectly.

Eventually, Eret cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention. “You know… as much as I’d like to give you time to process now – we don’t really have much time. But before we dive head-first into further planning and preparations, there’s one question we need to address above all others.”

Hiccup looked up and cocked his head, wondering what Eret meant.

“Do you think you can do it? Can you kill a dragon?”

. o O o .

*Once again hides under rocks and waits for the storm to blow over*

ALso, if you want to get added to the tag list, just contact me :)

Next Chapter

#For The Love Of A Princess #FTLOAP #Hiccstrid #fanfiction #httyd #Medieval AU #Royalty AU #feels #ALL THE FEELS

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punkbuttt · 5 years ago

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To be honest, when I went to the protest on Saturday , I really had no idea what it would turn into. I was fully expecting the demonstration to end at 3:30 line the event page said, but it didn’t and I was naive to think that in the first place.

We walked peacefully, there were a few people who were spray painting occasionally, but other protestors stopped them. That was the worst of it in the beginning. Just some spray paint on a building that could pay to have it removed ten times over. It wasn’t until we got close to the highway that protestors at the front started telling us to turn back. But my friends and I kept going. A barricade of police officers and their bikes stopped the march, and that’s when the tone changed completely.

Some people jumped on top of car and started smashing it. They were white. Then, canisters of smoke were released into the crowd. I don’t know what the smoke was but it wasn’t tear gas. I won’t lie as soon as I saw it I panicked. Other people did too. But we stayed. I’m so glad I wasn’t alone, but also very grateful we happened to run into my one friend at the beginning. They have experience with preotesting and we’re able to get us through it safely while still being helpful.

Then flash bangs started going off, and the car was on fire. We moved away just in case of an explosion. My friends and I ended up right in the front line of the protest, linking arms with strangers to hold the line. Yes, I was wearing a mask and so were the protestors. Only a handful of cops were, and even less than that were wearing body cams.

At one point they told us to move back. And without giving us any time to respond, or follow their order, we were being shoved with bikes. I took a handlebar hard to the gut. On cop shoved my friend as hard as she could to the ground. But we still held the line. Across the intersection from us, cops had surrounded a group of protestors with their bikes and wouldn’t let them go at first. When they finally did, two of the cops bikes were stuck together and they couldn’t get them apart without dismantling the bikes. A nice comedic break for a moment.

After a while, it seemed like the protestors on the other side of the intersection left to go back to city hall. I saw one person get arrested when this happened. Right before that, a counter terrorism group of police officers appeared in full riot gear. They walked off into the crowd opposite of us. I don’t know what happened with them. After a little while longer, and when more cops left, we went to city hall too. We walked to the municipal building first though, where the Frank Rizzo statue is. Frank Rizzo was the police brutality icon of Philadelphia mayors. This statue should have been taken down long ago. It was absolutely trashed when we got there and about 50 officers were guarding it. A fucking statue.

Cops came up from behind us to join the others guarding the statue. If you were in their way and didn’t move immediately, you got shoved or hit with a baton. We heard a girl ask for a nurse because she got hit and thought she may have a concussion. People were getting pepper sprayed by cops on the street. A girl ran out of the crowd with a bloody nose.

I heard some screaming and saw a white man holding a fucking Molotov cocktail. All the protestors around him shamed him into it throwing it at people. But he did smash the windows of a cop car and use the Molotov cocktail to light it up. And then the car park a few yards away went up in flames. And car a little further up from that one was lit on fire. And so was another. It almost seemed like it was being done to push the protestors back. We just stood there an watched the cars burn in front of city hall for a bit.

I didn’t realize how much my feet and legs were hurting until we sat down in front of city hall. We had been protesting and on edge for hours at that point. People were handing out masks, food, and water. It was around 6 at this point. I had originally thought I’d be down at 3:30. A Starbucks on the other side of city hall was burning. There’s a fire station about 5 blocks away and it took them forever to respond.

After hanging around city hall for a while, the 8pm curfew was announced. We had about an hour left before then. It had been a very long day, so we decided not to push our luck and head back to my place before curfew. On the way back, we saw some looting. I couldn’t care less. Some places that weren’t hit were starting to board up though.

Once we were at my apartment, we ordered food from a place close by and unaffected by the riots. Essential businesses, i.e. restaurants, were allowed to stay open. I hadn’t eaten all day. I took a shower and put all my clothes in a plastic bag to be washed separately.

We talked through what happened. We watched some shows to decompress. But there were long moments of silence just going through all social media, keeping up with what was still happening outside. Checking in on friends and family. You can’t just forget about what happened as soon as you leave the protest.

My one friend stayed over and my other friend left to go back to their house at 3am. At this point, worrying about corona was pointless. We had been around each other all day and strangers too. We’ll see what happens with that. But I couldn’t let that stop me from standing up for what’s right.

The next day, I stayed home. There were check points all around the city and Septa wa shut down so I was without any reliable transportation. But I spent the whole day arguing with family over it. I don’t know how many times or how many different ways that I had to make the point that black lives are more important than property. But I can’t let it slide anymore.

My mom called me later that day. I hadn’t told her I was at the protests, but since my aunts knew because of a Facebook argument we were having (it’s still going on, almost a whole day later) I wanted to tell her myself. We got into a huge fight. At the end she was weeping. I had a breakdown after that call and cried too. I don’t like to make my mom cry or worry about me. But it’s nothing compared to how black parents feel everyday.

I’ve been continually checking in with friends to make sure they’re safe and to see what’s going on in different parts of the city. I downloaded the citizen app to keep up with what’s going on around me. As I wrote this, it was hard to concentrate with all the information coming in from friends and the media. I heard multiple explosions. A fire started in a home near a coworkers house. The looting is starting to get closer and closer to me. I’m slightly worried because I live alone, but my apartment is basically in the back of a building and none of my windows face the street. I think I’ll be ok.

If you go out and protest, be safe. You’re risking catching and spreading a very contagious and deadly disease. Wear a mask, bring hand sanitizer. Take a shower and separate your clothes as soon as you get home. Sanitize what you brought with you to the protest. Social distancing is impossible so be prepared for the worst. Yes, protesting the quarantine was wrong. This isn’t.

It will be scary. This was the first time I’ve ever experienced a protest like this and there were point where I was shaking and on the verge of tears I was so terrified. Prepare yourself for that. And prepare yourself in general. Make sure you eat beforehand, bring lots off water and snacks, bring medical supplies, and know your rights.

If you’re white, don’t speak over the POC protestors. Let their voices be heard and protect them at all costs. Put yourself between them and the cops. It works.

Don’t feel bad or guilty if you can’t physically be there. You can still raise awareness, call people out on their racism, and donate to bail funds and other places to help the protests. Those are actions that we still need. And if you do go out and protest, don’t forget to take care of yourself after. Take an hour or two off of social media to reset and protect your mental health.

I’m writing this up because I don’t want to forget the details of what happened. Also I hope this helps inspire you to act. I know I don’t have a great following on here and I don’t care either way. But if this is the motivation someone needs to do something, I’ll be happy.

#personal #philadelphia #philly

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thecreaturecodex · 6 years ago

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Sahkil, Mayurch

“Chimera” © Yare Yue, accessed at their ArtStation here

[Commissioned by @wannabedemonlord, who wanted a parcel of sahkils to fill up the rosters of PFRPG’s newest, least developed fiend subrace. I’ve done a number of sahkils already, in large part because I like them. They have a strong thematic link of fears, and the visual style is broad enough to incorporate a wide range of art. Incidentally, several other folks have commissioned me to work on sahkils for them--it must be the Halloween hangover.]

Sahkil, Mayurch CR 4 NE Outsider This animalistic creature has patches of singed fur covering a luminous, seared body—bones and tissues poke from its wounds, and its flesh seems to be moving as if sloughing off with severe heat. Its head is skull-like, horned and fanged, and a second head grows from its tail. The air around it is filled with smoke and the stench of charred meat.

Mayurches are bestial sahkils associated with the fear of fire. In the Ethereal Plane, they cavort among the ghosts of burned down cities and fire-scarred landscapes, and they seek to enter the real thing whenever possible. Unlike more powerful sahkils, they cannot enter the Material on their own accord, instead relying on unwary summoners calling them for their destructive potential.

To a creature unprotected against fire, a mayurch is an overwhelming foe, capable of inflicting immense damage very quickly. They preferentially target those that succumb to their look of fear, knowing that their flames will sear them all the more badly. Unlike many fire creatures, they are resistant to cold, and so may goad foes into attacking them with it in order to amuse themselves with the disappointment of their enemies.

If left to its own devices, a mayurch will gladly amuse itself destroying property rather than killing people directly. They delight in the despair as houses, crops and prized possessions are lit ablaze. Once fires are lit, they will then target those that try to fight the fire over those merely fleeing or trying to recover a loved one or precious object. They are somewhat impetuous and short-sighted, as befitting a creature as flighty as a flame, and other sahkils often steer their actions to amplify them from cruel to truly devastating.

Mayurch CR 4 XP 1,200 NE Small outsider (evil, extraplanar, sahkil) Init +3; Senses all-around vision, darkvision 60 ft., Perception +8, smoke sight Aura stench (20 ft., DC 13) Defense AC 16, touch 14, flat-footed 13 (+1 size, +3 Dex, +2 natural) hp 32 (5d10+5) Fort +5, Ref +6, Will +5 DR 5/good; Immune death effects, disease, fear, fire, poison; Resist acid 10, cold 10, sonic 10; SR 15 Defensive Abilities burning body; Weakness vulnerable to quench Offense Speed 30 ft., climb 20 ft. Melee 2 bites +8 (1d4+2 plus burn), gore +8 (1d4+2) Special Attacks burn (1d6, DC 13), look of fear Spell-like Abilities CL 5th, concentration +7 (+11 casting defensively) At will—burning hands (DC 13), scare (DC 16) 3/day—pyrotechnics (DC 14), scorching ray 1/day—dispel magic, fireball (DC 15) Statistics Str 14, Dex 17, Con 12, Int 7, Wis 13, Cha 14 Base Atk +5; CMB +6; CMD 19 Feats Combat Casting, Lightning Reflexes, Stealthy Skills Acrobatics +10, Climb +17, Escape Artist +12, Perception +8, Stealth +16 Languages Abyssal, Celestial, Infernal, telepathy 100 ft. SQ easy to call, emotional focus, spirit touch Ecology Environment any land or underground (Ethereal Plane) Organization solitary, pair or riot (3-6) Treasure incidental Special Abilities Burning Body (Ex) Any creature that strikes a mayurch with a natural weapon, touch spell or unarmed strike must succeed a DC 13 Reflex save or be affected by the creature’s burn ability. Look of Fear (Su) Will DC 14; range 30 ft.; effect creature is shaken for 1d4+1 rounds. While shaken, it is treated as having vulnerability to fire. The save DC is Charisma based. Smoke Sight (Su) A mayurch’s vision is unaffected by magical or mundane smoke. Vulnerable to Quench (Ex) Even though a mayurch does not have the fire subtype, it takes damage from quench and similar effects as if it did.

#mayurch #sahkil #chimera #pathfinder 1e #commissions

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themaskedwriter · 6 years ago

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Fairytale Symbiosis (with a side of world domination, of course)

Platonic! Eddie Brock x reader, martial arts! Reader (who, for story purposes is short and a teenager.)

Warnings: swearing, body horror (a bit, pretty mild), symbiotes, martial arts, imprisonment, carnivores, inappropriate humor, basically anything from the movie Venom will apply here. VENOM SPOILERS

Synopsis: Y/N has always hated the entitled, world-destroying, no-soul types- and Carlton Drake fits that description perfectly. Naturally she sneaks into his lab intending to do some damage, but gets much more than she bargained for. This isn’t a war she can sit out of, not when world domination is at stake, so helping Eddie and Venom is the natural choice…for her. Her symbiote, however, may have other ideas.

CLUE: If adorable symbiote fluff isn’t what you’re looking for, I dabble in plenty of other fandoms- my blog is a pretty creative mix of many things, including my animals- one of which is referenced quite often in this little fic (little, by my standards, that is.)

word count: 2607. will probably be continued on my account, once revealed.

–

A Host. It needs a host- badly.

The containment tank walls are as bare as usual as it paces back and forth, sliding along the substance, slamming against it every few seconds. It’s hard to breathe in there: hard without a host.

Homeless, the Drake man calls them- the hosts he brings as offerings. Their fear when it takes over is palpable. The emotion leaves a taste in its mouth that drives it to the brink, but just as it thinks it will be satisfied, the body dies. The host dies. None of them have the fight in them that it requires.

“Open it.” Carlton orders as the newest prospect finally looks at it.

It slides out, creeping toward the human, the pheromones in the air enticing, empowering, delicious-

The back door to the lab slams open, admitting four security guards holding a girl between them.

It doesn’t look, just slips up the smooth cloth of the man’s pants. Beneath it, the human quivers in fear. It wishes it could drool…soon, soon, but the fear- the fear is so palatable, so tangible…

A shout. It pauses, looks.

The girl moves so fast the other humans have no chance, but to its trained eyes…

Jiu-jitsu, itthinks, karate, muy-thai, as the girl wraps her legs around the neck of one security guard, using her body to flip him onto the floor. Blood spurts as his head slams into the ground, but she’s unaffected, already moving. The second security guards’ arm breaks under her touch before the third shoots a taser into her back. Can’t be more than a youth, itthinks, noting the height and weight differences between her and the others. Not ideal…but that attitude, that skill…useful.

It absorbs into the host offered to him as the girl drops to her knees, fighting through the electricity to rip the taser cords from her back. Flesh is ripped as well, but she screams and throws a punch.

“Why did you bring her here?” Carlton Drake demands, watching the girl as she tries to get up on legs that waver. She glares daggers at him, spitting blood. He does not bother to flinch, doesn’t even smile when she’s physically restrained by the guards- who are more careful this time.

“We found her sneaking through the containment area, sir.” One says. He gives the girl a solid shake.

“I’m lost,” she growls, spitting blood once more. “Dunno how I got here. Dunno where here is.”

It can smell her lie. She knows exactly where she is.

“Kill her.” Drake commands, turning back to his experiment- to them.

“I want her.” Chaos snarls, its body and the humans’ flickering back and forth. Even as the body fails, even as it drops to the floor and the klyntar steps out of the crumpled skin, it watches her.

She hides her fear well.

Drake jerks his head and it’s done- she is dragged, incapacitated, into what it’s come to consider its cell, then thrown to her knees before it.

Chaos pulls itself up before her as the door closes, watching her body shake. She stares defiantly back at it, her fists clenched.

For a second, girl and symbiote watch each other. Drake, on the other side of the glass-like material, seems perplexed. Chaos, however, almost can’t do it.

As much as it’s always been the perfect soldier, even it has limits- and it can’t help but to think this girl is too pure for it, too innocent, too young. After all, where it comes from, the young are prized above all. it doesn’t want to take her if she doesn’t want to be taken. Her fear is unlike anything it’s ever smelled; it’s tinged with anger and resilience.

But it can’t wait any longer, it’s already gone too long without a functioning host, not some drugged-up addict whose body was bordering on death even without the klyntar.

Chaos, the largest and most deadly of the symbiotes, touches the girls’ hand gently at first, sliding from her fingers to her palm, up her wrist and forearm, to her bicep. She quivers, breathing hard and fast, but she does not scream. I do not want to hurt you, it whispers against her mind; she jerks at first, eyes widening in surprise. it can sense her thoughts going a million miles a second- she knows there is no fighting, but she has not given up. She’s already thinking of revenge. I do not want to do this without…how do you say? Permission.

Her quivering stops. Confusion replaces fear as it gives her a vision of what they can achieve together- it can already sense that she’s a perfect match- perfect as if born to it.

“No one has even asked before.” She murmurs, eyes darting up to Drake, who watches with fascination as Chaos curls around her arm. She takes a deep breath, lets it out through her teeth. Her gaze remains locked on Drake as she consents- then as Chaos slips into her body like a glove.

She screams in rage, its voice echoing hers as they fuse, symbiote and host, one.

“Chaos,” it growls through her mouth. “I am Chaos.”

Drake’s eyes light up like a child on Christmas morning, watching as Chaos envelops its new host, its perfect host. Her body, small but wrapped and corded in muscle, disappears under it as it takes over, protecting and defending her.

What now? She asks it.

Now we bond. Itreplies to her and her only, receding into her chest. Now we plan.

–

HUNGRY. it snarls, angry at everything. Caged…caged like a beast. Caged like a dog. Not a dog. NOT A DOG.

“Chaos,” you murmur, eyes closed as you meditate, “not helping.” Then, to the space between your minds, I’ve been caged too, remember? We will get out. We will get out of here and leave this place behind us, forever.

It goes eerily quiet.

What aren’t you telling me? It’s been three days, three long days since you were thrown into the cell, since scientists have started poking and prodding at you, watching you around the clock, monitoring your vitals. You feel like a lab rat and being so damn close to Carlton Drake isn’t helping; you’re within strangling range if you could just get out of there.

We will eat him first. Chaos says, dodging your question. You sigh. It’s always the same with it.

What happened to no secrets? You ask the klyntar -whose species had been revealed to you during a long, boring night- as it wraps around you, manifesting in coils like a snake.

This, itreplies, a hint of sadness to its gravelly voice, this I cannot tell you.

Outside of your cell, there’s movement. Drake.

Riot. Chaos growls, perking up.

“Let them out.” Drake commands. His words as their law, the scientist standing beside him does as asked and opens the door. You stand, Chaos guiding your movements as you stand before him. Your fingers twitch to be around his throat, the backstabbing, murdering, all around awful person- but Chaos recognizes the one it’s been trained to follow all of its life and so it holds you back.

Drake’s smirk makes Chaos’ control falter. “Hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the homeless man down the hall, oblivious to the conversation.

Chaos smiles, but you don’t. we can’t eat him, he’s innocent.

He’s food.

You thought I was food when you first saw me. Now we’re besties.

Silence. Then, we must do as Riot commands.

So you take orders from it without question? I thought you weren’t a dog.

It snarls, puffing up at your comment. I was born and bred to obey him.

You are your own being. No one can control you.

A pause. Isn’t that what you are trying to do, little human?

I am trying to help you. It’s not exactly easy.

It scans your mind, finding images of the unfortunate, the kids made homeless because of their sexuality, their gender identity, because of circumstances out of their control. It sees your own struggles, the perseverance. For a second, it thinks of how easily you accepted its pronouns, the tiny nuance to the English language it had deemed very important, thinks of your banter, your acceptance of another species in your body. It sees your drive, and something in the symbiote is moved by it.

You’re making me soft. Itmurmurs to you.

I’m giving you a conscience.

We must do whatever it takes to get out of here.

…fine. But I don’t have to like it.

It walks your body over to the homeless man, lets the human underestimate you. Lets him think you’re not a threat. Then it takes over, swiftly killing the human before it can feel any pain.

Compromise, it thinks, knowing Riot will never be able to tell the difference and wondering when exactly it became your protector instead of its leaders’. An ideal shift of that magnitude couldn’t’ve happened without notice, surely, except it did. And it cannot be bothered to care.

– Your chance comes quite quickly; with both Riot and Drake believing that Chaos is in control of you instead of just inhabiting your body, you are given all of the freedoms that the symbiote had on its home planet- and while you know you won’t have a chance at killing Drake, Chaos assures you that Venom (who recently escaped, hence the added security in the form of you,) would do quite nicely as a distraction. With its display of blatant disregard, Chaos was beginning to wonder if Riot’s concerns were, in the end, based in truth. Were the humans truly a dangerous species, despite all of the klyntar blustering? It curls inside your chest, a seething biomass, slowly learning your internal functions the same way it learned from the other hosts- the ones whose bodies attacked it at first contact- and it thinks that maybe, just maybe, humans may be worth saving.

Atleast one of them is.

Chaos keeps guard as you walk out of the front door of Carlton Drake’s building, unmolested by the guards who’d only recently thrown you into a cell. It watches, silently, bristling at every new sound, until you are blocks away.

“We made it,” you whisper as you stop, leaning against the brick façade of a building a mile from the lab.

We, Chaos murmurs questioningly, so quiet that you can’t hear. It wonders at the feeling in what would be its chest. We.

And just like that, you have the undying loyalty of a klyntar.

To your habitat then? Chaos asks you, snaking over your arms under the black jacket you wore. It coils around your wrists, squeezing gently before absorbing back into your skin.

You snicker. “It’s called a home, silly, but yes. Home.” For a second you walk toward your small loft apartment, but your steps quickly falter. Chaos senses your sudden apprehension.

We will pack what you need and leave, they will know where you live. We cannot stay long.

So you don’t stay.

–

Eddie Brock, once a journalist, is used to people thinking he’s insane. At least borderline. But he’s never been insane like this- looking over his shoulder every two seconds, knowing that Venom is right there, feeling the symbiote in his every blood vessel, every pore. It’s like tripping on acid, the feeling of the black sludge all over and yet nowhere.

“Whose idea was it, huh?” Eddie growls, head twitching to the side as if he were talking to someone who isn’t there- the action gains him a few odd looks, but he doesn’t really care, stomping down the street anyway. “The kiss, I mean.”

Not important, Venom says. How are we going to stop Riot? He has things we’ve never seen-

“Not my problem, V, I told you I was done after all of that-“

World domination isn’t your problem?

Eddie growls, turning into a side alley that cuts through to the next street over. It’s a long alley, long enough to be creepy, but he’s got a symbiote. What do the criminals have, guns? Laughable. He’s never been afraid of dark alleys anyway, not truly. “You or Anne? It had to be someone. There are plenty of other ways to get-“He cuts himself off as a small, hooded figure steps out in front of him. Venom is assessing before Eddie can even blink. “Can I help you?” She’s standing square in the way, hands in her jeans pockets, hood shading her entire face.

Food? Venom asks.

“No- Eddie snaps. The girl doesn’t flinch.

“You’re the one who needs help, Eddie.” She finally says, looking up at him. “With your little problem.”

Normally, when someone says that to him, it means he’s got an awkward boner- so naturally he’s surprised for a second, frowning at her as she stands there like it’s perfectly natural to accuse someone of indecency. He opens his mouth but doesn’t know what to say for a change, and Venom’s silence doesn’t really help. Finally, his mind catches up…somewhat. “What?” he splutters, walking quickly towards her. “Who are you?”

A few steps away, Venom breaks its silence.

Eddie, STOP.

And Eddie is pulled to a sudden halt, blinking at the unassuming teenager in front of him.

Venom envelops him in a heartbeat, leaving Eddie no time to protest the change. The girl, once again, doesn’t even blink- and that’s when Eddie understands. Riot? He asks his symbiote.

“Chaos.” Venom says to the small girl. “Why are you here?”

A grey-blue head manifests over her shoulder, staring up at Venom with those opalescent white eyes they all share. It’s all fangs, white veins webbing over it like scars. Even still, Eddie can’t help but notice that it’s severely less ugly than Riot. But then he sees the girl who the head is connected to, and he wonders why he didn’t see her in the lab. She would’ve been hard to miss, simply because she looks like she’d beat the crap out of anyone who stood in her way, simply by the steely gaze.

“Venom.” Chaos greets the klyntar. “It seems we have both found a host.” It squints. “Did you pull yours out of the trash?”

To its credit, Venom only shrugs. “If you are here to insult me, you can leave. I am perfectly happy continuing to ignore you.”

Chaos grins, a feral grin that somehow speaks of bloodlust. “We are here to help you defeat Riot.”

Eddie, inside of Venom’s protective shell, can feel the shock that rolls through his symbiote. “You?” Venom asks, deforming into just a head, mirroring Chaos himself. “But you’re-“

“Was. I was Riot’s right hand.”

“Literally?” Eddie squeaks, picturing that monstrous right hand separating itself into a pile of goo-

Venom wants to believe Chaos, it really does, but its seen the other klyntar in action, and finds it rather hard to believe that it could turn on its leader so quickly.

“I could’ve killed you fourty-three different ways by now.” Chaos helpfully points out. “But I haven’t. Because we have a common goal.” It glances at its host, who raises her hand to stroke down its cheek. Something unbelievably like love passes over the grey biomass. “I’ve found something worth rebellion.”

“Alright.” Venom says, darting its tongue over sharp teeth. “Where do we start?”

–

Later, when everything is said and done and Eddie is finally somewhat alone on his couch, staring at the wall in quiet contemplation, he only has one thought.

He takes a sip of his well-earned beer and sits back.

“So she’s got one up her ass too.”

#fic

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som3thingcr3ative · 6 years ago

Text

Fairytale Symbiosis

It’s finally home! This was posted on the lovely @themaskedwriter ‘s blog, and now it is here on mine! Chapter two will be posted very soon!

Fairytale Symbiosis (with a side of world domination, of course)

Platonic! Eddie Brock x reader, martial arts! Reader (who, for story purposes is short and a teenager.)

Warnings: swearing, body horror (a bit, pretty mild), symbiotes, martial arts, imprisonment, carnivores, inappropriate humor, basically anything from the movie Venom will apply here. VENOM SPOILERS

Tags are open!

A Host. It needs a host- badly.

The containment tank walls are as bare as usual as it paces back and forth, sliding along the substance, slamming against it every few seconds. It’s hard to breathe in there: hard without a host.

“Open it.” Carlton orders as the newest prospect finally looks at it.

It slides out, creeping toward the human, the pheromones in the air enticing, empowering, delicious-

The back door to the lab slams open, admitting four security guards holding a girl between them.

A shout. It pauses, looks.

The girl moves so fast the other humans have no chance, but to its trained eyes…

Jiu-jitsu, it thinks, karate, muy-thai, as the girl wraps her legs around the neck of one security guard, using her body to flip him onto the floor. Blood spurts as his head slams into the ground, but she’s unaffected, already moving. The second security guards’ arm breaks under her touch before the third shoots a taser into her back. Can’t be more than a youth, it thinks, noting the height and weight differences between her and the others. Not ideal…but that attitude, that skill…useful.

“We found her sneaking through the containment area, sir.” One says. He gives the girl a solid shake.

“I’m lost,” she growls, spitting blood once more. “Dunno how I got here. Dunno where here is.”

It can smell her lie. She knows exactly where she is.

“Kill her.” Drake commands, turning back to his experiment- to them.

She hides her fear well.

Drake jerks his head and it’s done- she is dragged, incapacitated, into what it’s come to consider its cell, then thrown to her knees before it.

Chaos pulls itself up before her as the door closes, watching her body shake. She stares defiantly back at it, her fists clenched.

For a second, girl and symbiote watch each other. Drake, on the other side of the glass-like material, seems perplexed. Chaos, however, almost can’t do it.

But it can’t wait any longer, it has already gone too long without a functioning host, not some drugged-up addict whose body was bordering on death even without the klyntar.

Chaos, the largest and most deadly of the symbiotes, touches the girls’ hand gently at first, sliding from her fingers to her palm, up her wrist and forearm, to her bicep. She quivers, breathing hard and fast, but she does not scream. I do not want to hurt you, it whispers against her mind; she jerks at first, eyes widening in surprise. It can sense her thoughts going a million miles a second- she knows there is no fighting, but she has not given up. She’s already thinking of revenge. I do not want to do this without…how do you say? Permission.

Her quivering stops. Confusion replaces fear as it gives her a vision of what they can achieve together- it can already sense that she’s a perfect match- perfect as if born to it.

“No one has ever asked before.” She murmurs, eyes darting up to Drake, who watches with fascination as Chaos curls around her arm. She takes a deep breath, lets it out between her teeth. Her gaze remains locked on Drake as she consents- then as Chaos slips into her body like a glove.

She screams in rage, its voice echoing hers as they fuse, symbiote and host, one.

“Chaos,” it growls through her mouth. “I am Chaos.”

What now? She asks it.

Now we bond. It replies to her and her only, receding into her chest. Now we plan.

HUNGRY. It snarls, angry at everything. Caged…caged like a beast. Caged like a dog. Not a dog. NOT A DOG.

It goes eerily quiet.

We will eat him first. Chaos says, dodging your question. You sigh. It’s always the same with it.

What happened to no secrets? You ask the klyntar -whose species had been revealed to you during a long, boring night- as it wraps around you, manifesting in coils like a snake.

This, it replies, a hint of sadness to its gravelly voice, this I cannot tell you.

Outside of your cell, there’s movement. Drake.

Riot. Chaos growls, perking up.

“Let them out.” Drake commands. His words as their law, the scientist standing beside him does as asked and opens the door. You stand, Chaos guiding your movements as you position yourself before him. Your fingers twitch to be around his throat, the backstabbing, murdering, all around awful person- but Chaos recognizes the one it has been trained to follow all its life and so it holds you back.

Drake’s smirk makes Chaos’ control falter. “Hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the homeless man down the hall, oblivious to the conversation.

Chaos smiles, but you don’t. We can’t eat him, he’s innocent.

He’s food.

You thought I was food when you first saw me. Now we’re besties.

Silence. Then, we must do as Riot commands.

So you take orders from it without question? I thought you weren’t a dog.

It snarls, puffing up at your comment. I was born and bred to obey him.

You are your own being. No one can control you.

A pause. Isn’t that what you are trying to do, little human?

I am trying to help you. It’s not exactly easy.

You’re making me soft. It murmurs to you.

I’m giving you a conscience.

We must do whatever it takes to get out of here.

…fine. But I don’t have to like it.

It walks your body over to the homeless man, lets the human underestimate you. Lets him think you’re not a threat. Then it takes over, swiftly killing the human before he can feel any pain.

Compromise, it thinks, knowing Riot will never be able to tell the difference and wondering when exactly it became your protector instead of its leaders’. An ideal shift of that magnitude couldn't have happened without notice, surely, except it did. And it cannot be bothered to care.

Your chance comes quite quickly; with both Riot and Drake believing that Chaos is in control of you instead of just inhabiting your body, you are given all of the freedoms that the symbiote had on its home planet- and while you know you won’t have a chance at killing Drake, Chaos assures you that Venom (who recently escaped, hence the added security in the form of you,) would do quite nicely as a distraction. With its display of blatant disregard, Chaos was beginning to wonder if Riot’s concerns were, in the end, based in truth. Were the humans truly a dangerous species, despite all the klyntar blustering? It curls inside your chest, a seething biomass, slowly learning your internal functions the same way it learned from the other hosts- the ones whose bodies attacked it at first contact- and it thinks that maybe, just maybe, humans may be worth saving.

At least one of them is.

“We made it,” you whisper as you stop, leaning against the brick façade of a building a mile from the lab.

We, Chaos murmurs questioningly, so quiet that you can’t hear. It wonders at the feeling in what would be its chest. We.

And just like that, you have the undying loyalty of a klyntar.

To your habitat then? Chaos asks you, snaking over your arms under the black jacket you wore. It coils around your wrists, squeezing gently before absorbing back into your skin.

You snicker. “It’s called a home, silly, but yes. Home.” For a second you walk toward your small loft apartment, but your steps quickly falter. Chaos senses your sudden apprehension.

We will pack what you need and leave, they will know where you live. We cannot stay long.

So you don’t stay.

Not important, Venom says. How are we going to stop Riot? He has things we’ve never seen-

“Not my problem, V, I told you I was done after all of that-“

World domination isn’t your problem?

Food? Venom asks.

“No-“ Eddie snaps. The girl doesn’t flinch.

“You’re the one who needs help, Eddie.” She finally says, looking up at him. “With your little problem.”

A few steps away, Venom breaks its silence.

Eddie, STOP.

And Eddie is pulled to a sudden halt, blinking at the unassuming teenager in front of him.

Venom envelops him in a heartbeat, leaving Eddie no time to protest the change. The girl, once again, doesn’t even blink- and that’s when Eddie understands. Riot? He asks his symbiote.

“Chaos.” Venom says to the small girl. “Why are you here?”

“Venom.” Chaos greets the klyntar. “It seems we have both found a host.” It squints. “Did you pull yours out of the trash?”

To its credit, Venom only shrugs. “If you are here to insult me, you can leave. I am perfectly happy continuing to ignore you.”

Chaos grins, a feral grin that somehow speaks of bloodlust. “We are here to help you defeat Riot.”

Eddie, inside of Venom’s protective shell, can feel the shock that rolls through his symbiote. “You?” Venom asks, deforming into just a head, mirroring Chaos himself. “But you’re-“

“Was. I was Riot’s right hand.”

“Literally?” Eddie squeaks, picturing that monstrous right hand separating itself into a pile of goo-

Venom wants to believe Chaos, it really does, but it has seen the other klyntar in action, and finds it rather hard to believe that it could turn on its leader so quickly.

“I could’ve killed you forty-three different ways by now.” Chaos helpfully points out. “But I haven’t. Because we have a common goal.” It glances at its host, who raises her hand to stroke down its cheek. Something unbelievably like love passes over the grey biomass. “I’ve found something worth rebellion.”

“Alright.” Venom says, darting its tongue over sharp teeth. “Where do we start?”

Later, when everything is said and done and Eddie is finally somewhat alone on his couch, staring at the wall in quiet contemplation, he only has one thought.

He takes a sip of his well-earned beer and sits back.

“So she’s got one up her ass too.”

#the masked writer #symbiote #venom #venom the movie #eddie brock / reader #platonic! eddie brock / reader #martial arts! reader #/reader #chaos the symbiote #symbiote fluff #angst #fluff #multi chapter fic #monsterfucker #implied relationships #future symbiote x reader #mostly canon compliant

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jewels2876 · 7 years ago

Text

I Like Your Style

Pairings: Reader x Scarlett Johannsson, Reader x Elizabeth Olsen, Reader x Sebastian Stan

Word Count: 2421

Warnings: swearing, condom reference - but mostly FLUFF and shopping

A/N: Oh my god, the rewrites! I kept adding and deleting; I don’t think it’s one of my best but I wanted to keep writing – it’s good for my soul!

divider by @firefly-graphics

You had been a fan of Sebastian Stan the minute he stepped on screen in Captain America: The First Avenger. His beautiful blue eyes alone had been enough to draw you to him; that is until you saw Captain America: Winter Solider. The sheer virility on screen had you hot with desire; he only had one line and it still broke your heart every time you re-watched the movie. Since then you had indulged in every movie, show, video, ANYTHING you could get into your hands.

With the approaching Infinity War untitled movie, Marvel had thought it would be a great idea to set up contests for fans to meet their favorite Marvel heroes. Marvel was woefully naïve about the turnout they were expecting. Fans worldwide had crashed the Marvel site; the female contest numbers were through the roof and Marvel had to scrap the idea all together.

Or so they had led the world to believe – One of the contest sections, aside from the standard name, age, and email address, had been deceptively obtuse, asking the person to tell them who their favorite character was and why in 150 characters or less. Most of the entries had been underage teenagers telling emoji stories, while the vast majority of female entries had admitted vulgar suggestions for the actors involved.

You had chosen to answer honestly: I’ve been a huge Bucky fan – living in a world that never wanted to accept him, I could empathize – I learned my place was to help others, and I think he’s learned that as well. The only other question Marvel had put on the online form was a daytime phone number. So when your cell phone rang, showing a California number, you hesitated. You were on your lunch hour, what would one phone call hurt? Apparently, it could hurt an eardrum! You screamed louder and higher than normal when Marvel asked if you would be interested in walking their red carpet. Um, duh!

So here you were, at LAX, looking around for the car service. You spotted the sign “Y/l/n” with a sharp dressed man in sunglasses. You approached him with a smile. “Hi, you’re waiting for me.” He nodded without saying a word, which you thought was just a tad weird. But hey this is LA, right? They have weird people too.

You approached a large black town car, your luggage in tow. The driver put your luggage in the trunk, then opened the door for you. “Thank you,” you smiled again. He seemed unaffected as he moved around to the other side. You chuckled to yourself and shook your head. As you slid in you noticed the driver in the front seat already. The car started up quickly and in short time he dropped you off at your hotel. You thanked him again and left him a tip.

The hotel was standard by your experience. You weren’t expecting the royal treatment; the only thing you were really here for was the movie premiere! But as you emptied your luggage you realized the dress you brought didn’t seem nearly as special enough. You reached for your phone and dug around your emails. Marvel had said if you needed anything to call them, and what you needed now was directions to the nearest shopping mall and maybe a partner? Before you overthought it too much, someone answered your call and put you through to Marketing. The woman you spoke with didn’t even hesitate when you asked; she promised another car and a shopping partner in one hour. You thanked her and hung up to put away the rest of your stuff.

An hour later, the front desk called your room to let you know someone was here; you grabbed your purse and room key and headed down to the lobby. As the elevator deposited you on the lobby floor, you scanned the room. “Over here!” you heard someone yell. You did a double take at a blonde woman who was waving you over and the brunette beside her. You gave them both a polite smile. “Um, hi… Sc….”

“Shhh! We’re on a covert mission to get you a hot dress,” Scarlett Johansson deadpanned. “This is our deciding vote, Liz.” You giggled and extended your hand. “Y/n.”

“Enough with the introductions, let’s get out of here!” Scarlett ushered you out the door and into the other black town car they brought with them. The next hour flew by as you befriended the two actresses; even going so far to admit your huge crush on Sebastian. “Really?” Elizabeth smirked. “I’m pretty sure the guy’s single at the moment.” You blush hard. “Let’s not go there right now. I have a red carpet to get past, then I’ll let you set me up.” Elizabeth giggled. “Yes!”

The car finally came to a stop; Scarlett and Elizabeth got out first, you at their heels. When you step onto the sidewalk, your jaw drops slightly. “Um, I think we’re in the wrong place?” The two women smirked as you stared up and down Rodeo Drive. “No seriously, I’m not going to be able to afford anything here!”

Scarlett pulled out a card from her back pocket. “Who said you were paying?” You squealed in excitement. “OH MY GOD! Ok I have to chill, I know, but this is so NOT what I expected when I agreed to do this.” You stared again at the street full of stores, trying to put a game plan together.

“No way,” Elizabeth stated firmly. “We’re starting at Saks; if you can’t find something there this could be a lost cause.” You laughed and agreed to let the two pull you in tow. It didn’t take long for you to find a tasteful sheath dress, a standard little black dress. Scarlett gave you the once over in the fitting room. “I mean it’s nice, but it’s not… red carpet, wow, awesome. You need something… vibrant!” You liked your reflection in the mirror, but agreed to keep looking. Another hour and three dresses later, all of you were getting a little frustrated and punchy. You spied a bright blue dress, pulling it out to view. There were small cutout on the sides, but the back was nothing but straps and cords at the top. You hopped back into the dressing room again. Your eyes popped out a little and your jaw went a bit slack; you looked… hot! You stepped out of the dressing room and heard a few audible gasps.

“That’s the dress,” Elizabeth intoned. “I’ll say,” Scarlett concurred. With a satisfied fist pump, you went back into the fitting room and changed back into your clothes. Scarlett took the dress from you and went to be rung out; Elizabeth waited for you just outside the dressing room. “Well that was fun! You two are a riot!” you thanked them both in the car ride back to your hotel.

“Did you think this was over?” Scarlett asked. “We are taking you out; you cannot come to LA just for a lousy movie premier!” You stared at her in mock horror. “Did you just call the Infinity War (part 2) movie premier LOUSY?” The three of you all fell into a fit of laughter. “Seriously though, I have hair and nail appointments tomorrow; I’m glad I saw those silver strappy shoes on our way out or I would have needed another shopping trip! I’m tired.” To emphasize that point, you sank back into the car seat.

Elizabeth looked at you thoughtfully. “You know, you’re right. You’ve been flying all day; we kidnapped you to go shopping on Rodeo Drive. You get a good night’s rest; I think you’ll need it for tomorrow.” She grinned and winked at you. You groaned good-naturedly. “You guys are going to do something crazy to me aren’t you?” The car pulled up to your hotel lobby. You gave both women a hug goodnight. “You never know with us,” was Scarlett’s parting reply.

You woke up with a start; the blackout curtains were open just a tad so you could see soft sunlight peeking in. You glanced at your watch on the bedside table and groaned inwardly. It was early enough that you had nothing to do but kill time until your hair appointment, but late enough that you should not consider lying in bed for much longer either. You decided to keep up the yoga stretches you had been doing to de-stress, so you hauled yourself out of bed. Thirty minutes later and several yoga poses later you felt more refreshed. You started into the bathroom when you heard a knock at your door; you cracked the door to see your new friends. “Come on in ladies,” you held the door open. “What brings you here this early?” Scarlett threw herself in the armchair while Elizabeth settled onto a corner of the bed. “We’re here to take you to your appointments; make sure you get to your destination in one piece.”

“Ok, entertain yourselves then! I’m going to jump in the shower,” you grabbed the plushy bathrobe. “Should I be expecting anyone else before I get out?” Elizabeth chuckled at the question. “No,” she answered, “but we all get a memo this morning about treating our ‘fan’ with lots of attention.” She gave you a side-glance. “If that dress is any indication, I may not have to play matchmaker!” You blushed and giggled, the bathroom door closing behind you.

Four Hours Later

“Oh my god, this is fucking amazing!” A pair of strong hands was massaging your hands, as someone else finished your pedicure. You took off the cucumber slices and turned to the other women. “If this is the pampering you get for being an actor, I’ve been in the wrong business!” The nail tech declared your pedicure done. You admired the bright fuchsia polish on your toes and the French manicure on your fingernails. “This looks awesome! Thank you so much!” You shuffled off to pay for the services; Scarlett waved the black card around in the air. “Don’t even think about it y/n! Marvel is still footing the bill, I promise!”

“No way! I can afford a mani/pedi, along with the lunch and hair appointment,” you handed over your own debit card. “I came for a premiere, not for all of this.” You waved your hands around to make your point. “You ladies have been great friends; I think footing my bills is going a bit overboard.” Scarlett and Elizabeth snickered as their own pedicures were finished. Elizabeth confirmed everyone was done and you went with the two women to change.

Two and a half hours later, you emerged from the hotel all glammed up; your two pals gave you a once-over just to be sure there were no rips, tears, makeup stains, etc. “Damn y/n the guys are going to be drooling!” You smiled and clutched your purse a little tighter. It was holding the only things you needed that night: your phone, lip-gloss, and what Scarlett jokingly referred to as a “lucky charm,” a condom. You made your way down to the hotel lobby and escorted to a limousine. You slid in, followed by Elizabeth & Scarlett. The driver sped off; you used the time to calm the butterflies starting in your stomach. Elizabeth seemed to notice your distress. “Don’t worry; most people at a premiere are here to get us ‘big’ stars so you won’t have to worry about cameras being shoved in your face or being asked stupid fashion questions. Who are you wearing by the way?” You continued to stare out the window as you answered “Aidan Mattox dress, Jimmy Choo shoes.”

The limo came to stop; you started to get out, but Scarlett held you back. “Let me go first, then Elizabeth, then you. Let’s see what kind of trouble we can get you into.” You chuckled to yourself as you watched them get out. The bulbs were already flashing and the butterflies hadn’t left as much as multiplied. It was your turn, and already the lights had ebbed. You flashed a grin and stood tall for just a moment getting your bearings.

You heard a low whistle and turned to your right. The limos had been lining up, and right behind you had been none other than Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan. Your heart did a flip, and then flopped HARD. Sebastian’s hair was shorter, but the beard had been trimmed back to just scruff. His blue eyes were bright and shining, which seemed to match your dress. The two men approached you with friendly smiles. “Are you the fan we’re supposed to pay attention to?” Chris asked. You nodded, not trusting what might come out of your mouth. “I don’t think we’re going to have much trouble with that, are we Seb?”

“Nope, not at all,” Seb smiled and offered his right hand out. You glanced warily at him, not 100% sure of the intention, but took his hand. His other hand rested on the small of your back and he escorted you up the carpet. “I might give you all my attention,” he murmured low in your ear. Other parts of you were clenching in desire. Dear LORD, what that man’s voice was doing to you was sinful enough. You let him lead you a short way before the reporters started getting his attention. He let go of your hand, and whispered, “Don’t move” while he keeping a hand on your back and answered questions easily, with you by his side.

One reporter, whose microphone had the ET logo, asked how long the two of you had been dating. Without missing a beat, Seb answered “It’s new” with a smirk in your direction. You couldn’t help it; you rolled your eyes and laughed. He laughed with you, thanked the reporters, and continued further down the carpet. The process repeated a few more times, the last time one actually asked you about your outfit and you answered with a friendly smile.

Finally, you made it into the theater, trailing just behind Seb, taking the experience all in. “You ok babe?” he asked. “You seem awfully quiet.” You took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m just… happy, you know? This weekend has been awesome. The minute that movie is over, this is over for me. But meeting you, seeing this movie, I’m going to remember this.” He squeezed your hand back. “Who says you won’t see me again?”

Tag list: @sarahivi @lokiandbuckyaremine @pseudonymfox @puckerupplum @writing-for-a-chance @woodworthti666 @greenarrowhead @thejemersoninferno @marvelc00kie35 @lovely-dreamer19 @moondancewrites @ticklikeabomb @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @thenormreedus @lionhe04 @yafriendlyfangirl @lokilvrr

#marvel #rodeodrive #elizabeth olsen #scarlett johansson #fanfiction #fanfic #sebastian stan #chris evans #fluff #shopping #et #scarlett johansson x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #sebastian stan x reader

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almostafantasia · 7 years ago

Text

Lancelot (13/14)

Lexa Woods, an impeccably dressed British secret agent for the covert Kingsman organisation, whose latest mission sees her sneaking through the corridors of the White House in the middle of the night, finds herself having to seduce the daughter of the newly elected President of the United States in a bid to save the world. It’s a surprise to Lexa when she ends up falling for her target as fast as she does, meanwhile Clarke doesn’t expect her gorgeous date for an international political gala dinner to drag her into a world of thrill and danger where one wrong move could cause a global disaster.

a clexa kingsman au | chapter 13/14 read on ao3

Lexa doesn’t know where her jacket is.

It’s clearly not the most pressing issue at the moment, not when there are doctors checking up on each guest, not when there are armed members of the secret service with body armour and riot shields swarming around.

It was a very nice jacket though. The fit was just right and the red velour a striking colour that filled Lexa with confidence. Lexa will be disappointed if she can’t find it and ends up leaving it behind. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have another one like it, not unless she asks the tailors at Kingsman to make another one identical to it, but that would mean having to admit that she’s been careless enough to misplace the first.

Clarke would look good in Lexa’s jacket. It would suit her much better than the oversized men’s jacket she still wears over her dress. Lexa shudders even at the thought of Clarke wearing something that belongs to Roan Azgeda, when there is a perfectly good jacket belonging to Lexa that would keep her just as warm and make her look twice as good.

If only Lexa could locate it…

“Lexa! There you are!”

Lexa’s head snaps up as she hears her own name, to find Anya striding towards her with purpose in each step.

“Have you seen my jacket?” asks Lexa. “It must be around here somewhere.”

“That’s your biggest concern right now?”

Of course it isn’t Lexa’s biggest concern. Lexa is worried that one of the guests will have slipped away without being treated for the poison, she’s worried that she’s going to get arrested and tried for murder even though she only shot Ontari to save everybody else, she’s worried that Clarke won’t forgive her and that she’ll have to live the rest of her life with the knowledge that she’s betrayed the one person she’s allowed herself to truly care about. But it’s easier to suppress all of that and pretend that it’s all about a jacket.

“It’s a nice jacket,” shrugs Lexa. “It would be a shame if I didn’t get to wear it again.”

Anya reaches out and rests her hand on Lexa’s arm.

“You’re allowed to feel things, Lex,” Anya tells her, voice full of concern. “It’s not a weakness.”

Lexa can’t help the way that her gaze flicks across to where Clarke sits next to her father across the room, still huddled up under Roan’s jacket.

“Look where feeling things got me,” Lexa mutters bitterly.

Anya must sense Lexa’s resentment because she swiftly changes the topic.

“Anyway, they’ve arrested Nia Azgeda on her way to JFK to flee the country. She and her son are both going to face charges of treason, attempted murder, and attempted assassination of a President, to name a few.”

“So that’s it?” asks Lexa. “Job done?”

“I think so,” nods Anya.

Lexa pauses, looking around the room at all of the lives she’s saved tonight and wondering why she doesn’t feel better than this about such an accomplishment.

She voices this to Anya.

“Somehow I don’t feel as good as I should about that.”

“Me neither,” admits Anya.

“I think it’s pretty close call as to which of us is Kingsman’s worst agent,” jokes Lexa, hoping to lighten the mood.

“Bullshit,” snorts Anya, shaking her head in disagreement. “It’s very obviously me, by a long way.”

Lexa tries to protest, knowing that this mission has had its fair share of hiccups that have been a direct result of mistakes that she has made.

“But I…”

“Saved the lives of hundreds of people while I was too busy shagging Raven to care,” interrupts Anya, completing Lexa’s sentence before Lexa has the chance to say something self-deprecating about her own involvement in the mission.

Lexa considers Anya’s words and, realising that she doesn’t have the energy to protest, concedes half-heartedly.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“You needed me and I wasn’t there,” says Anya. “And I can only apologise for that and promise you that it won’t happen again.”

“It’s all fine now,” says Lexa. “We did it. We saved all these lives.”

Lexa gestures around the room, to the masses of guests that could have ended tonight as corpses, had it not been for a Kingsman intervention and the quick-thinking and hard work of Lexa and Anya. Lexa shudders even at the thought of it. All it would have taken is for one thing to have gone differently over the last couple of weeks, and there could have been a death toll of more than one here tonight. Lexa doesn’t want to imagine what would have happened if things hadn’t played out like they did, if she hadn’t agreed to go to that bar with Anya and bumped into Clarke again after Merlin specifically forbade them from leaving the hotel.

It’s a dark thought, and Lexa tries to swim away from it by lightening the mood.

“Jesus, I can’t believe I saved the life of a Tory Prime Minister,” she says, rolling her eyes dramatically as she watches the British Prime Minister across the room, talking rapidly over a phone.

Anya doesn’t laugh, and Lexa glances up at her oldest friend to find anxiety written all over her face.

Lexa tries to put herself in Anya’s situation and imagines how she would be feeling if it was Clarke who ended up in the back of an ambulance with a bullet in her leg. She knows that she would be beside herself with worry, unable to do anything at all until she had the physical proof that Clarke would make a full recovery. Hell, Lexa is already worried about Clarke’s wellbeing, and the girl only sitting across the room, unharmed by bullets or any other weapons.

“Is Raven going to be okay?” asks Lexa, unsure how Anya is staying so unaffected by it all.

“I think so,” nods Anya. “I wanted to follow her to the hospital but she told me to stay here and make sure that everybody else was okay too. But I phoned the hospital pretending to be her mum and they told me that her condition is stable.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Lexa says truthfully. “You could probably go, you know. I think there’s enough people here to have everything under control. I’m sure Raven would appreciate a familiar face at her side.”

“I don’t know,” shrugs Anya. “I don’t want to abandon you here again. I would die if something happened while I was gone.”

Lexa shakes her head and rests a reassuring hand on Anya’s shoulder.

“Now who’s the one hiding from their feelings?” asks Lexa, shooting Anya a teasing grin.

“Oh, piss off!”

Lexa wakes up to a knock on her hotel room door. A quick glance at the screen of her phone tells her that it’s just gone four thirty in the afternoon - she’s slept for nearly ten hours, but Lexa’s eyes are still heavy with tiredness.

Lexa is far too exhausted to give a shit about her appearance. She still wears the clothes from last night, or at least the shirt and trousers, both crumpled and a little blood-spattered and not at all appropriate for answering the door in. But the list of people who could be at her door is only three: Anya or Merlin here to update her on the arrangement for leaving America now that their job here is done; or one of the hotel’s maids who, Lexa reasons, has probably seen some much weirder stuff than a little blood on a guest’s shirt.

The person outside knocks again, and Lexa reluctantly hauls herself up onto her feet and trudges over to the door, where she unlocks it with a click and turns the handle to open it.

“Um, hi.”

It’s Clarke. Not Anya, not Merlin, definitely not a maid, but Clarke. Lexa wishes now more than ever that she had taken the time to shower and change her clothes before she fell asleep. In comparison, Clarke looks as clean and as fresh-faced as she would if she hadn’t had the night that she did at the gala dinner.

“Clarke,” says Lexa, trying not to show how surprised she is to find Clarke outside her hotel room. “I … uh, I fell asleep as soon I got back here. I was completely wiped out.”

Clarke glances down at Lexa’s attire and nods once.

“I can see that. Can I come in?”

Lexa steps aside immediately and Clarke takes hesitant steps past her and into the hotel room. Clarke hovers near the door, not quite making herself at home, and Lexa is left feeling only even more awkward about the way they left things last. It seems strange to be this careful around each other, especially given the memories they made in this very room just days ago after their date, but Lexa has to remind herself that Clarke has every right to still be angry at her.

“Clarke, I just want to start by saying that I’m so…”

“No,” Clarke interrupts her. “You don’t get to apologise yet. I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this - thinking about you - and I’ve practiced ten different versions of what I want to say to you, so you don’t get to say anything until I’ve got this out.”

Lexa closes her mouth and nods obediently, waiting for Clarke to say her piece.

“I’ve been trying to get my head around why you lied,” admits Clarke. She lets out a sigh, then continues animatedly, “Like, it frustrated the fuck out of me at first. I thought we had something special and how dare you think you could play me like that? But also, how could I be stupid enough to fall for that?”

Lexa wants nothing more than to interject, to tell Clarke that they do have something special, that she hasn’t been able to think about anything but Clarke since they first stumbled into each other in the halls of the White House. But she knows that Clarke still has so much more to say, and Lexa forcibly keeps her mouth closed and saves her apologies and explanations until Clarke gives her permission to speak.

“If you said to me that you needed to be at the dinner because of your mission, I would have invited you in an instant,” continues Clarke. “You must have known that!”

Though she stays silent, Lexa gives a little nod in response.

“And that’s when it hit me,” says Clarke. “You wanted that date. You wanted an ‘us’ that was more than me just being a girl you met on a mission.”

Lexa’s eyes start to prickle with tears, and an uncomfortable lump forms in her throat, making it difficult for her to swallow.

Clarke continues, her voice softer and more thoughtful than before, and her blue eyes boring into Lexa.

“Our date and that night we spent together felt incredibly real and I don’t think it would have happened like that if you’d just asked me to take you to the gala dinner. At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Because the only other option that makes sense is that you saw an opportunity to play me and get laid, and I really hope it wasn’t that.”

Lexa shakes her head and wipes at the tears in her eyes before they have a chance to spill down her cheeks. This conversation is important and it’s going to be difficult enough without having to force the words out past wave after wave of tears.

“I told you that I don’t do this often,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t do feelings.”

Lexa’s knee twinges in pain and she grits her teeth as she mentally wills her old injury to go back to sleep, before she continues talking.

“There have been girls on missions before, but that’s always been easy,” Lexa tells Clarke. “There’s things that you can say to make a girl swoon, things you can do to push the right buttons and get what you want, and that’s easy because it’s a routine that I’ve practiced before. It’s easy because I have no personal investment in those girls.”

“But you do in me?” asks Clarke, her eyebrows raised.

There’s something that looks like hope in her eyes - a glimmer that reignites something within Lexa’s chest, a feeling that maybe there is still a chance to make things right with Clarke.

But of course there is still a chance. Clarke wouldn’t have come here if there wasn’t at least a small part of her still holding out for Lexa. It would have been way too easy to ignore Lexa, to let her fly back to England and forget about her entirely. The fact that she’s here says as much as any words could do.

It’s especially important for Lexa to get this right. Clarke has been kind enough to give her a chance to explain herself, and Lexa will berate herself for a long time if she takes that opportunity and fucks it up beyond repair.

“From the very second I first saw you, I knew I was in trouble,” admits Lexa, recalling their first meeting and the fluttering in her chest she felt when she first laid eyes on Clarke. “I don’t want to call it love at first sight, but I could feel some kind of connection straight away.”

Clarke is quiet for a few seconds, and she takes a seat on the end of Lexa’s bed, before she finally concedes, “I felt it too.”

Lexa’s heart flips just like it did that very first time, in inexplicable rush of excitement in her chest at Clarke’s admission that their first meeting had the same effect on her too.

“I don’t think I’ve told you this yet, but I was wearing an earpiece that night,” says Lexa, smiling to herself at the memory. “I had Anya howling with laughter in my ear the entire time I was trying to make an impression on you, because even she knew that you were going to ruin me. And then ever since, I’ve had the real Anya reminding me that this is a mission, that you weren’t allowed to be anything more than another mark.”

“So really, Anya is the one I should be mad at right now?” asks Clarke.

“No,” says Lexa, shaking her head. “Because if it weren’t for Anya, I never would have been in the bar that night, and I wouldn’t have asked you to get me into the White House again, and I definitely wouldn’t have asked you out on that date. Without Anya, I would have run away from my feelings and never spoken to you again.”

Clarke’s eyebrows furrow together in thought.

“So should I be throwing a drink in Anya’s face, or buying her a thank you card?”

Lexa blushes a little bit at the reference to last night, remembering the feeling of the cool drink hitting her face and the betrayed look on Clarke’s face right before she stormed away. It doesn’t quite seem like that was only less than twenty four hours ago. So much has happened since then that Lexa feels as though an entire lifetime has passed since.

“I guess it depends what happens next,” answers Lexa, shrugging her shoulders.

Lexa knows what she wants to happen next. And if she gets her own way - if Clarke agrees that she wants to put things behind them and try to move forward together - Lexa thinks that maybe she will be the one who owes Anya and thank you card.

“When do you fly out?” asks Clarke.

“In the next couple of days, I think,” replies Lexa.

She hasn’t yet spoken to Anya or Merlin since she returned to the hotel very early this morning, but Lexa doesn’t think that they’ll be staying in America long. The events of last night will likely be plastered all over the media and it’s unlikely that Merlin will let them stick around for long enough to get their faces associated with it all. Besides, now that their mission is over, there’s no longer a reason to stay over here.

(It’s a lie. There is a reason, and her name is Clarke Griffin.)

“And I’m supposed to return to college tomorrow afternoon,” Clarke adds. She lets out a disheartened sigh, and then says, “It feels a lot like the universe is working against us.”

Lexa’s heart catches in her throat. She almost doesn’t want to believe what Clarke has said, wants to think that it’s just a product of her own hopeful imagination. Because it sounds a lot like Clarke has just admitted she wants to make things work with Lexa.

“Am I forgiven?” Lexa dares to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

Clarke pushes herself up into a standing position and her hands reach out to seek Lexa’s hips, fingers gripping tightly as soon as she makes contact like she never wants to let Lexa go.

“You idiot,” exhales Clarke. “Of course you’re forgiven.”

The way their lips crash together is inescapable, like the opposite poles of two magnets unable to stop themselves from flying together. Lexa nearly starts crying right there - she thought she had lost Clarke, thought that her own actions might have pushed Clarke away for good - and the noise that slips from her lips as she suppresses those tears ends up sounding like a choked whimper.

The noise seems to encourage Clarke. She takes two steps backwards and sits on the end of the bed again, and the hand on Lexa’s hips cling impossibly tighter. Lexa finds herself leaning forward as Clarke sits down, lips still unwilling to leave Clarke’s even for a second. There’s a moment where Lexa thinks that she’s free-falling, a split-second in which gravity seems to take over and the only thing tethering Lexa to reality is Clarke’s touch on her hips and on her mouth, but it’s over in a flash. Lexa finds herself sitting in Clarke’s lap as Clarke pulls her forward even further, until Lexa’s full body is pretty much covering Clarke’s on the bed.

It would be so easy to get lost in each other, to keep kissing until long after hands wander and clothes come flying off, but Lexa knows herself well enough to know that there’s a high chance that she’ll either burst into tears or pass out within moments of orgasming, and she isn’t ready for that just yet.

They still have a lot left to discuss.

“Wait, wait, stop,” Lexa mumbles against Clarke’s lips, forcibly lifting her head and rolling off Clarke’s body to the side. “We should figure this out first.”

“Buzzkill,” says Clarke, rolling her eyes and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand as she sits up. “No, I’m kidding. You’re right.”

Lexa moves to sit on the edge of the bed, putting a little bit of distance between them so that Clarke and her distractingly kiss-hazed eyes aren’t right there in Lexa’s immediate vicinity. She needs a clear head for this next part of the conversation, and that won’t happen if she and Clarke are practically on top of each other.

“I have something else to tell you,” confesses Lexa. “I don’t work for MI6.”

Clarke’s mouth falls open and she frowns at Lexa in confusion, before she asks, “You don’t-? But if you’re not a secret agent then-”

“I work for an organisation called Kingsman,” explains Lexa. She laughs to herself, then adds, “I don’t know if I’m even allowed to tell you this but I’m fed up of lying to you. Actually, I think Kingsman is probably so secret that it wouldn’t even count as treason to tell you about it.”

“What’s Kingsman?” asks Clarke.

“A secret intelligence organisation based in London,” clarifies Lexa. “Most of what I told you is completely true. I really did join the army straight out of school but had to drop out because of injury. Then Anya, who I had known since school and was already working for Kingsman, put my name forward for the recruitment tests. I passed and they offered me this job. I became Agent Lancelot.”

“So you’re a secret secret agent?” asks Clarke, a trace of awe in her voice.

Lexa nods, her lips twitching up into a little smile.

“I guess so. And I’m sorry for lying to you. About this and about the dinner.”

“Lucky for you, I really like you,” smiles Clarke, reaching out to take one of Lexa’s hands.

“Are we going to make this work?” Lexa asks hopefully. “It’s a five hour time difference when I’m back in London.”

Clarke shrugs, and then says, “Could be worse.”

Lexa laughs softly under her breath, because it most definitely will get worse than that.

She tries to explain this to Clarke.

“Of course, there’s no guarantee how long I’ll be in London for, or even where I end up going next,” says Lexa. “Or if I would be able to contact you at all. When I’m really deep undercover it sometimes isn’t safe.”

Clarke’s face falls a little bit, apparently having been so caught up in the excitement of making up after their disagreement that she had forgotten the nature of Lexa’s work and the fact that she might be constantly travelling all over the globe.

“That sucks,” admits Clarke dejectedly. She glances up at Lexa, a glimmer of positivity in her eyes as she adds, “But I’m not the kind of person who needs to be texting somebody I’m into all the time.”

“No, me neither.”

Clarke grins and holds one of her hands up in the air, palm facing Lexa.

“High five to maintaining healthy relationship boundaries.”

Lexa can’t help the bubble of laughter that leaves her throat, and she awkwardly lifts her own hand to press a soft palm against Clarke’s.

Clarke blushes, realising what she’s just done, and mumbles, “Sorry, that was weird. Carry on.”

“Right,” says Lexa, trying what they were talking about before the high five. “We wouldn’t be able to talk all the time, and we definitely wouldn’t get to see much of each other.”

“I could come and visit you,” suggests Clarke. “I get three months off for summer. I could spend some of that with you.”

“And I’ve been working a lot this year,” adds Lexa. “I’m due some time off this summer.”

Clarke reaches for one of Lexa’s hands, much less awkwardly than the last time their palms met, and laces her fingers through Lexa’s.

“We’re actually doing this,” says Clarke, with the air of a giddy child about her voice as she speaks. “We’re going to make this work.”

“I have no idea what’s going to happen in the long term,” confesses Lexa, “but we’ve got the short term figured out. The rest we can work out as we go.”

Clarke pulls on their connected hands, encouraging Lexa to come closer again, and Lexa is too weak around Clarke to do anything but comply. She settles on top of Clarke again, this time with Clarke’s legs wrapped around her waist and locked at the ankle behind Lexa’s hips, effectively trapping her in place. Not that Lexa minds. It’s a very nice place to be trapped.

“As for the super short term…” says Clarke, tipping backwards until her back hits the mattress and bringing Lexa with her.

“Oh, you have some ideas about that too?” teases Lexa, her face just inches from Clarke’s as she uses one of her arms to prop up her body weight.

“First of all, we’re going to take a shower,” says Clarke, rocking her hips up so that her pelvis grinds against Lexa’s lower stomach.

“We are?”

“Yeah,” says Clarke, curling a hand around the back of Lexa’s head and drawing her closer so that she can whisper into Lexa’s ear, as if she’s imparting some big secret that needs to be kept from the rest of the world, “and then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck you stupid. Then you’re going to let me take you out to dinner, and after that we’re going to come back here and have sex again. And probably again after that.”

Lexa’s brain short-circuits at the phrase “fuck you stupid” and she barely registers the content of the rest, only Clarke’s husky voice and the obvious implications of her words from the way that her hips slowly move and seek out contact from Lexa’s body.

“I really like this plan,” says Lexa, her voice breathy with arousal.

Clarke grins at the admission.

“Why don’t we move this to the shower and you can show me just how much you like it?”

“Is Raven okay?”

The question comes to Lexa’s mind when she’s naked in bed, tangled around Clarke and the bedsheets, some time after round three has reached its conclusion. Somewhere along the way, the idea of Clarke taking Lexa out to dinner became forgotten, and a cart once laden with room service stands at the foot of the bed, now carrying plates of half-eaten food and an empty bottle of champagne that Clarke insisted on ordering to celebrate saving the world.

“That’s the first thing you have to say after I make you cum?” asks Clarke, propping herself up on one elbow while the fingers of the other hand brush stray curls out of Lexa’s face.

“I mean,” admits Lexa, “I’m feeling guilty that I’m here enjoying this - enjoying you - and she’s stuck in a hospital bed with a bullet in her leg.”

“They took the bullet out in surgery,” Clarke tells Lexa, her hand still absently playing with Lexa’s hair, curling loose strands around her fingertips. “Last I heard, she was high on pain meds and trying to persuade Anya to dress up as a sexy nurse.”

Lexa snorts to herself.

“I bet Anya loved that.”

“I think if Raven hadn’t just come out of theatre, Anya might have been less sympathetic,” grins Clarke.

“I’ll try and visit her before I leave for England,” says Lexa, voicing her thoughts aloud. “It’s mostly my fault that she got shot.”

“When do you fly back?” asks Clarke, a trace of sadness in her voice.

“I don’t know,” confesses Lexa, nestling her head against Clarke’s shoulder and draping her arm across Clarke’s bare stomach beneath the cotton sheet that shields their sweaty bodies from the chill of the hotel room. “Within the next day or two, I would guess. And you go back to college in the afternoon?”

“Mmm.”

Lexa lifts herself from Clarke so that she can reach for the phone on the nightstand, unlocking the screen to check the time. It’s just gone midnight, and time is passing much faster than Lexa would like.

“But,” says Clarke, rolling Lexa onto her back and covering Lexa’s body with her own as she nuzzles her face into Lexa’s neck and sends a hand lower, “I don’t plan on sleeping tonight until I’ve had you at least twice more…”

“Clarke, I’m not sure I can go again,” protests Lexa, even as her legs fall open to let Clarke’s exploratory fingers dip into her folds, still wet and sensitive from the last round.

“Sure you can,” sniggers Clarke, sucking the skin of Lexa’s neck between her teeth as her fingers tease and probe.

Clarke, Lexa quickly decides in that moment, is going to be the death of her.

Lexa can’t wait.

#clexa #clexa fic #clexa fanfic #kingsman au #clarke griffin #commander lexa #can you believe this fic is almost over?#the last chapter is just an epilogue #the plot is basically done now #i'm so unbelievably nervous about posting this #i think my anxiety increases with each chapter #i hope you like it

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deergoeshome · 4 years ago

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You Are Here: A Month Long Road Trip Across The Southern US

I went on a road trip two months ago as I was inspired after reading Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley: In Search of America. I had little interest in a cross-country road trip initially as my plan was to go somewhere tropical and surf this winter, but my options were limited due to the pandemic. So I decided to travel around the southern part of the United States, starting in California, working my way over to South Carolina, and visiting friends along the way before I turned around and headed back to Colorado. Ironically, out of Steinbeck’s 10,000 mile trek and my 7,000 mile journey across the US, I believe our paths crossed only once in Amarillo, Texas.

When I say I was inspired by Steinbeck’s story, I mean that it was for similar reasons that I decided to set out on a long trip to learn about my home and country. After an established career as a writer, Steinbeck comes under the conviction that the America about which he writes is the America of twenty years prior. Current events are all filtered through the lens of the media, and the author feels like he is out of touch with the real and current America.

I’ve lived in a bubble for the last two years, a bubble that was made even more apparent by the impact (or lack thereof) that the happenings of 2020 had on me personally.

I continued to go to work. I get to see my friends everyday. I almost never need to wear a mask throughout the work day. In comparison with the majority of American society, my life has changed very little even with a pandemic, a polarizing election, protests and riots, and the largest wildfires in Colorado history this past year right outside my little bubble.

And even now, as an Asian American living in a time where the hashtag #stopasianhate has become a trend necessary to remind society to remain decent human beings and not be complete assholes to each other, my life continues on unaffected by something that many of my peers cannot escape. I don’t go about my day with the fear that I will be targeted and attacked or slandered. Really, the only reason I am even aware of the state of our current society is because I catch a glimpse every now and then on social media, with which I can engage or disengage to the degree that I choose.

So yes, I am ashamed to say that I often times feel out of touch with reality. I am also so incredibly thankful to say that. My ignorance allows me to experience both bliss and guilt. I felt that I needed some way to engage with my society without getting caught up in the emotionalism of the times.

I like this picture that was taken at Cadillac Ranch, one of the only attractions in Amarillo, Texas. It makes me think of a song from the musical Come From Away that is about the experiences of a bunch of strangers during 9/11. I was only six years old when it happened, so I only vaguely remember society feeling like it was the end of the world. I can remember cultural changes taking place that created a filter for the way I see others, particularly foreigners of a different faith, during some formative years. I remember the halt on international and domestic travel as well as the lasting effects that it had on travel in general ever since. Feels kind of like deja vu in that the current, stressful times seem to impact me minimally in the way that a six year old can’t fully comprehend the implications of a major terrorist attack.

You are here, wherever you are. Right now, at this point in history, I am here. For the past two years, I’ve been here. Middle of nowhere, Colorado, living my best life while almost everyone I know is there in the real world. And for a couple weeks this past winter, I am thankful that I was able to travel to there.

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talesoftheinquisition · 8 years ago

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Such Deep Thoughts

So the MEA fic is starting to trickle out. This has some spoilers for the duel on Kadara by the way and is Scott Ryder x Reyes Vidal. It’s a little bit thoughtful and just a little bit naughty too...because Reyes couldn’t help himself.

Scott was still in two minds about what he did… or didn’t do… in regards to Sloane Kelly. He’d talked to enough people both inside and outside of Kadara Port to know that she wasn’t a good leader. Effective maybe. Strong certainly. But she was a leader who ruled for the power it gave her, not for the benefit of the people she ruled over. She ruled with an iron fist and not even one that was shielded by a velvet glove.

There was an argument that such a rule was warranted in a place like Kadara Port and Scott could certainly see that. But… he could also see the argument against it. The people – the Initiative people – who had come to settle here weren’t lawless hooligans. Well, alright, some were or had taken the opportunity Kelly offered to become that way. Most had just had grievances, legitimate or otherwise, against the leadership on the Nexus and had been exiled for them.

Scott couldn’t judge whether the response had been the correct one or not. He hadn’t been there at the time. For all he knew, exiling them had actually not only been right but the kindest thing that could have been done. In fact, given the straits they’d found the Nexus in when the Hyperion had arrived, there was certainly an argument that exile was a kinder response than locking them up. With the dwindling supplies and rations, there would have been even more unrest with a bunch of prisoners being locked up on the Nexus, cooling their heels in cells, getting fed without having to do a thing. Riots had started over less and in riots, things happened. Bad things.

Even the Angara who had been here before the exiles arrived weren’t necessarily bad people. The Angara had told him that Kadara had been a thriving trading port that they been forced to abandon when the Kett arrived and that only thieves and scavengers had returned. But abandoning it like that could not have been easy for either side. The Angara on Aya and the other Angaran worlds had suddenly lost access to everything that Kadara provided and Kadara had lost any protection that they might have once had.

On the whole, the resentment from all parties was certainly understandable and Sloane Kelly had certainly played into that. To give her some credit, she was a hell of a politician, just one who’d gone down the dictator path instead of…

Scott snorted and took a sip of his drink. He was in Reyes’ private room at Tartarus while the other man dealt with some business he’d sworn would be brief. His absence was giving Scott too much time to think. About many things including what kind of leader Reyes would be now that he was in charge.

He actually wasn’t sure what path Reyes was planning on going down. The man had only been in charge for a couple of weeks but Scott liked the changes he’d made so far. The open gates that allowed the people stuck in the Badlands to actually come in and trade and seek shelter was a major improvement. There’d be some hiccups now and then as people sought to take advantage of it but there’d be no more cases like Remi Tamayo since he knew that Reyes wasn’t demanding protection money to stay in the Port. In fact, from what he’d seen, for someone who liked to proclaim himself as a terrible man, Reyes was a pretty good leader for a place like Kadara Port.

Which made it a little easier to accept the outcome of that non-decision of his but not really the decision itself. He’d seen the sniper. He could have said something. Maybe there had been a way to compromise with Sloane and if he’d just had the chance, he could have found it.

“Such deep thoughts you are thinking.”

Scott gave a start then swore when that spilled his drink over his hand. He put the glass down and started licking at the spilled alcohol. He didn’t see the way Reyes’ eyes darkened until his hand was suddenly grabbed and pulled away from his mouth.

“Reyes…” he began before breaking off with a strangled noise when Reyes raised his hand to his mouth and began pressing open-mouthed kisses over the alcohol-wet skin, sucking the cheap whiskey off Scott like it was fine wine. Reyes’ dark gaze never left his as he did that and Scott swallowed hard as a stab of pure want and desire shot through him. From the sudden gleam that appeared in Reyes’ eyes, his reaction had been written all over his face.

He let out a breathy moan when Reyes sucked his fingers into his mouth, his dextrous tongue swirling around them. Then as quickly as he’d started, Reyes pulled away and let go of his hand, sitting down next to him as though the last couple of minutes hadn’t happened.

Scott let out a frustrated noise, aware that he was now feeling very horny, his dick was very, very hard and… he’d been completely distracted from his previous thoughts. That must have shown on his face as well because Reyes chuckled.

“That’s a much better state of mind to be in when you’re with me,” Reyes teased.

Scott licked his lips then with a mental ‘fuck it’, he swung himself around so that he was straddling Reyes’ legs and settled comfortably into his lap. Reyes’ hands went almost automatically to his hips, his thumbs nudging under his shirt to brush over the skin on his sides. His eyelids fluttered just enough for Scott to know that the man was in no way unaffected by what had just happened, no matter what front he might be putting on, and when Scott rocked forward a little, the moan he got made him smirk.

“You are a menace,” Scott said, letting Reyes see that smirk.

Not that it mattered, all the other man did was echo it. “That I am,” he said smugly. He then cocked his head slightly. “And what thoughts were you having that left you in such a dark place?”

Scott went very still, a little hesitant to voice what he’d been thinking. Reyes raised an eyebrow at him.

“Ah, something you think I will not like.”

“Sort of,” Scott said with a sigh. They had promised some honesty with the big things. He should try it. “I… what happened with Sloane Kelly isn’t… sitting well with me.”

Reyes cocked his head but from the way the man sobered and seemed suddenly defensive, Scott knew he’d hit a nerve.

“You think she should have been left alive?”

“Yes. No.” Scott sighed and closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t know. Considering the number of Roekaar, bandits, pirates and whatever I’ve killed, I’m not hypocritical enough to say that killing is bad. Well, it is but sometimes it’s also necessary. That doesn’t mean I like it.” The warmth of Reyes’ hand against his face made him open his eyes. He gave a wan smile. “The coward in me wishes I hadn’t been there that day but… I was.”

“She would never have backed down. She loved power and the exercising of that power far too much,” Reyes said softly. “Believe me, I had tried many ways to oust her in a more… peaceful manner. In the end, I had to accept that the only way to end this was for one of us to die. I just preferred that it wasn’t me and since I am far more comfortable acting from behind the scenes… hence the sniper.”

“And me?” Scott said with a hint of rancour in his voice.

Reyes hesitated. “I would have preferred you were not there. I didn’t know Sloane was going to ask you to… accompany her. Had I known of her plans, I would have… offered you a distraction. Something… important, more fitting to a Pathfinder. And a long way away.” He caressed Scott’s cheek. “That sort of nastiness? I would not have had you involved.”

Reyes sighed and the hand still on Scott’s hip slid under his shirt to rest against the small of his back. “There was much to admire about Sloane Kelly,” he said thoughtfully. “That she inspired such loyalty in someone like Kaetus is proof of that. Had she not been so in love with power and maintaining her grasp on it by any and all means necessary, she could have been a formidable leader.” He smiled faintly. “I do not know how good a leader I may be but I have at least learned from her what not to do. I shall surely make my own mistakes, no doubt.”

Scott snorted. “I know how that feels. It still doesn’t make me feel any better about what happened.”

“I… regret that it was necessary,” Reyes said slowly. “But I do not regret ridding Kadara Port of her brand of corruption and greed.” He looked like he was about to continue then he frowned and his gaze drifted to the side, staring into nothing. “I… disappoint you, don’t I?”

Scott turned Reyes’ back to face him. “No. What I was thinking before was that I wasn’t sure what the answer to Sloane Kelly was. I don’t like that you had her killed but as you said when this all started, I don’t live here and I’m not popular here. I don’t have the right to pass judgement, quite honestly.”

“And now?”

The look on Reyes’ face confused Scott for a moment before he figured it out. Reyes thought this was a deal breaker. That this would be enough for Scott to toss him aside. He wanted to laugh at that. Did the man not know how head over heels Scott was for him? Clearly not. One decision that he didn’t exactly agree with wasn’t going to scare him off.

“And now… nothing,” he said with a wry look. “I don’t like that decision but I’m also not in charge of anything except my ship and my crew.” He rolled his eyes and gave a rather wry smile. “And sometimes I wonder about the latter.”

“But…” Reyes let out a breath and shook his head. “You constantly surprise me, Scott.”

Scott rolled his eyes again, this time at Reyes. “Would I like it if you’d found a better solution? Yes. Though it sounds like you tried…”

“I did.”

“Would I like it if you never used that solution again? Sure.” Scott sighed. “But I’m not in charge here. You are and I trust you to do the right thing for the people of Kadara.”

The look on Reyes’ face was heart-stopping. It was wonder and surprise and disbelief. But Scott remembered what Reyes had said after Sloane’s party. He’d come here to be someone. But it had been easy to see that he didn’t want to be someone at any and all costs. That despite what he said, Reyes Vidal was still a man with some principles. The smile that grew on Reyes’ face was small but it was honest and there was some pride there, as though he found Scott’s faith in him worthwhile.

“If I do not do the right thing for them, I’m sure they will let me know,” Reyes said with some of his normal attitude, though that little smile was still playing about his lips.

“So will I,” Scott added.

“Good,” Reyes said as he worked his hands under Scott’s shirt and splaying them over his stomach, sending sparks of arousal shooting up his spine. “Now, onto more important things… how long are you here for?”

“’Til morning,” Scott replied, more than a little distracted by what Reyes was doing. “Vetr-ahh!” He moaned as Reyes pinched his nipple with one hand while the other slid around his side and into his pants to squeeze his arse. “Vetra’s doing some… acquiring,” he concluded a little breathlessly.

“Excellent,” Reyes said as he shoved Scott’s shirt up and put his mouth where his fingers had been. “Then let us not waste any more time.”

If you like my writing, why don’t you buy me a coffee!

#meas effect andromeda fanfiction #mea fanfic #reyder #reyes vidal x scott ryder #scott ryder x reyes vidal #scott ryder #reyes vidal #m!ryder x reyes vidal

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