#his idles are so good; i like how he holds the dagger in this game(and the spinny twirls he does sometimes)

[yespolkadotkitty]

Querida

Oh, fucking hell. This fic has eaten my life for the past 2 (?) days.

Tovar and William arrive at the Great Wall and things change irrevocably.

Warnings: first time, shameless smut, indulgent smut, no actual plot.

Word count: 4,000

When the outsiders were dragged in, they looked more animal than human, long hair and thick, knotted beards, covered in thick, dirty armour and furs. You struggled to make out their features from across the huge hall.

If this was what existed beyond the protective barrier of the wall, well, you weren’t missing anything. 

The only other Westerner you’d seen was William Ballard, the former mercenary who’d been held here since he tried to steal black powder over twenty years ago. You were only a small girl then, but over the years he’d taught you English, gained your slightly dubious trust. 

You saw him eyeing the two strangers - one fair haired, tall, one darker, stockier, and wondered if he’d try and make friends.

Ballard was polite to you, even kind sometimes, but you never suspected that he’d stopped trying to escape. He always looked furtive, always seemed to have an agenda crawling under his skin, barely concealed.

The strangers were led off to the barracks. You could smell them from here, and, disgusted, you dipped your head back to your bowl of hot, fragrant stew, pairing it with soft, spiced bread.

You hadn’t missed the way the captured soldiers had eyed the food and suspected they were hungry. Maybe even starving. According to reports from the scouts, there was precious little in the way of vegetation of sustenance in this part of China, so they’d have been hard pressed to stay well fed.

******

As you trained with the fellow members of your patrol unit, all the gossip centred around the two strangers, and how yīngjùn  - handsome - they were after cleaning up in the barracks. You bent to your task and tried to ignore the idle chatter. Sometimes you indulged, but ever since your mother had been savaged by a Tao Tei that breached the wall, costing her her arm, you’d forgone any sort of idleness or pleasure, focusing on being strong, preparing to fight the monsters, and helping to work on strategy against them.

At dinner, you joined everyone in the great hall, and after gathering your food and sitting, you found yourself opposite the two Europeans. You stared for a moment, reconciling them with the two hairy, unwashed oafs you’d seen only yesterday. 

“Evening to you,” the fair-haired one said in a lilting accent. He elbowed the darker one. “Tovar.”

Tovar looked up from his food. “Buena noches.” He’d shaved all his beard save a moustache and some scruff around his jaw. The removal of the scraggly beard showed off the shape of his face, drew attention to his big, soulful brown eyes.

“That’s “good evening” in Spanish,” the fair-haired one added, amused. “I’m William.” He seemed to have a sunny disposition, his jaw also freshly shaved, hair tied back as he ate amiably. In contrast, Tovar ate in silence and you noticed a wicked-looking scar arching over his left eye. He glanced around as he chewed, as if worrying someone might remove his food at any moment.

You introduced yourself. “Thank you both for helping. Yesterday, against the Tao Tei.”

Tovar grunted in response. William smiled lopsidedly, his manner affable and relaxed. “You’re welcome.”

******

After that, you didn’t see much of the Westerners. Every day it seemed the weaponsmiths came up with new methods to keep the vicious Tao Tei at bay, and you immersed yourself in learning, as usual, between visits to your mother in the secluded gardens within the widest part of The Wall. She was in good spirits for once, letting you help her eat, laughing at your descriptions of the stinky Europeans.

When you left her, you stopped by the armoury to change your daggers. The ones you’d been using for a few days would be sharpened by the boys drafted there. No one could afford a blunt weapon when every moment the Tao Tei seemed to be evolving; everyone needed to be as sharp as their blades.

Yours were useful in targeting the eyes, you’d trained hard and your aim was often true.

You stopped dead at the sight of Tovar in the armoury, hefting an axe as if testing the weight. You must have made some sound, because he turned, brown gaze raking over you suspiciously. He did everything suspiciously, it seemed.

“Where’s William?” you asked, to cover the fact that you’d started to admire his broad form in the leather armour.

Tovar scoffed. “You like him, do you?”

You shrugged. “Everyone likes him. He’s friendly.”

Turning the huge axe in his hands, Tovar scowled. “And handsome, I guess you’re going to say next.”

You weighed your words carefully. 

Yes, William was easy on the eye, and several of your fellow soldiers had said so. You suspected even Commander Lin Mae had a crush, though she held her cards close to her chest like any good military-bred woman. But your dreams had been filled with soulful brown eyes and what the touch of scarred hands might feel like. How it would sound to have Spanish murmured in your ear in the darkness.

“He is pleasant to look at,” you said at length. 

Tovar looked away, muttering something, and for a second before he’d turned, you thought you saw a flicker of sadness pass over his stocky features, but the light in the armoury wasn’t good enough to tell.

You left him to his grumpiness.

****

You woke with a start at the sound of the horn blasting - an attack was on its way.

Dressing deftly with practiced speed, you hurried up to the wall to see several lines of soldiers already in place. Other women and men from your unit joined you in full armour. A few feet away, William and Tovar were also fully armoured up, grim expressions on their faces. Unlike you, they’d only faced Tao Tei once before in their lives, and although they’d proved themselves formidable, it only took one mistake, one slip in a pool of blood, one misjudged dagger throw, and a warrior could be cut down in an instant.

The crane unit deployed as the creatures climbed over each other, jaws snapping, eyes blinking red and gold in the half-light of early morning, the lit torches only adding to the atmosphere of the scene unfolding.

As usual, Ballard hid behind a pillar, only half his face visible.

Then two creatures breached the top of the gargantuan wall, and all hell broke loose.

You swung your swords as best as you could, holding the line with your unit, the armour of the soldiers atop the wall a cacophony of colour and reflecting light as the fighting raged.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tovar and William battling the second, hulking Tao Tei, jaws stringy with saliva, reptilian eyes wild, claws scrabbling. Tovar caught it in the belly with an axe as William scored an arrow in its left eye, and the scaly beast crashed to the floor in a pool of blood, twitching.

You turned back to your own fray as lightning crackled, luminescent and fierce. Thunder followed, the sound splitting the pitch black blanket of the sky. The remaining Tao Tei on the wall tossed its head in fury, its jaws snapping and catching the soldier in front of you by the spear, hurling them over your head, knocking out William, whose bow went hurtling away across the stones.

Frozen in fear, you stood rooted to the spot as the Tao Tei opened its jaws, and you stared into the yawning darkness of its mouth, towards certain death.

The scream of an axe flying through the air broke the spell and just in time, you ducked as the spinning blade sliced through the jaw of the hulking green beast, throwing it off its stride. Undeterred, it reached out a huge claw, dripping with the thick blood of your comrades, and swiped-

The air was knocked out of you, and your back hit stone, cushioned by your thick armoured doublet.

Tovar stared down at you, breathing hard. “Eager for death, querida?”

Embarrassed both because you were caught like a deer in headlights, and because you’d reacted instantly to the feel of his hard body pressed intimately to yours, you shoved him off. “I can look after myself.”

Tovar lay on the stone for a second, staring at you, and then shook his head, standing. “Obviously.”

You struggled to get your head back in the game after that, but managed to use your throwing knives to cut out the sight in one of the Tao Tei’s unblinking eyes, internally sighing in relief that you weren’t rendered totally useless in combat.

****

It took a long time to cut up and drag away the two dead Tao Tei. Sometimes, they were tossed over the wall, but this time, Strategist Wang had deemed that too big a risk before the bricks broken today were repaired.

You headed to the courtyard garden to lick your wounds - mainly your pride, thankfully - and stopped short, seeing Tovar sitting on the edge of the fountain, washing his face.

He looked up at your approach and then looked away, a scowl crossing his darkly handsome face. Come to think of it, you’d never seen him smile.

You sat a polite distance away, decided that washing might feel good, and scooped up water.

As you looked into the reflective surface, your face as well as Tovar’s looked back at you. His hair curled damply, the scar across his eye pale in the morning light, his mouth set into a grim line.

“What I said earlier,” you began.

Tovar looked away. Forget it, si?”

You couldn’t forget the look on his face. The one that said he’d handled a lot of rejection and now expected it, handled it with standoffishness and grumpiness. He stood up, his shoulders set, and turned away.

“William is pleasant to look at,” you ground out, “but I prefer looking at you.”

Tovar stood stock still, so you knew he’d heard you.

“Do not make fun, querida,” he said, very softly, but his words carried to you in that husky voice.

“I’m not.”

He turned back to face you very slowly, his face set in a serious expression, and then a slow smile slid over his face, lighting it up, and for a moment he was so handsome, he stole your breath.

****

From then on, whenever you saw each other, you and Tovar would sneak little glances. Sometimes if you sat together at the long dinner tables, his thigh would touch yours, and your heart would thunder in your chest.

For his part, Tovar seemed much happier to be within the confines of the Great Wall, joining in the combat drills and showing some of the patrol units his axe throws.

Life continued, without any attacks from the Tao Tei, for some time. Spring started to bloom all around, and the three large cherry blossom trees in the garden courtyard sprouted perfect, pale pink flowers.

The morning after they bloomed, you found one waiting for you, tucked into the door handle of your small quarters. And another, the day after that, until the blooms dropped to the ground and were swept away.

“Thank you,” you murmured to him at dinner.

“De nada,” he smiled, looking at you with those dark eyes, and you wondered what he wanted. What his endgame was. All you knew was that when he looked at you, you melted inside, and each little touch stoked the flames, until you’d reached fever pitch.

You finished your food, went to stand, and he touched your arm. “Meet with me, si? In the courtyard. When the moon is high.”

You nodded shakily, your heart somersaulting, ready for your little routine of smiles and heated glances to move to the next level.

******

The full moon hung waxy and heavy in the sky, surrounded by pinprick stars, when you entered the courtyard on stealthy feet. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness and you made out Tovar’s silhouette under the cherry blossom trees, now entirely green and leafy.

He tipped his chin in silent greeting as you crossed to him, standing awkwardly for a second, unsure what to do, how to act.

Fantasizing about him covering you in the night, his deep voice murmuring to you in Spanish, was very different to being only inches away, breathing in the scent of his rosemary soap and just a hint of the lemon oil he cleaned his armour with.

“Querida,” he whispered. “You want this, no?”

The edge of trepidation in his tone made your decision for you, and you closed the distance. Tovar cupped your face in his gentle, scarred hands, and dipped his head to kiss you. You met his lips eagerly, if a little clumsily, and drunk in his little groan as your tongues danced. He tasted of spice and tea, addictive, and you slid a hand up his neck into the silky mass of his dark hair, threading your fingers through the strands.

Tovar was not the first man you’d kissed, but the incendiary feelings this kiss incited in you made the others pale into insignificance.

He slid his arms around you and pulled you close, aligning your body with his, and you thrilled to the feel of the evidence of his desire hot and heavy against your belly.

You sucked in a breath when Tovar broke the kiss, his dark gaze searching yours. “You truly do not fear me, little one?”

“I never have. Should I?”

“Never, mi corazón,” he whispered. “I should fear you. What you could do to my…. Old, scarred heart.” He tipped your chin up with a gentle hand. “Do not give me hope where there is none, si?”

“But there is.” Sweet man, you thought, pulling him in for another kiss. “Come…. Back to my quarters?”

He nodded silently, and you felt something drop in your stomach, as if things were about to change irrevocably.

You led him by the hand up the steps to the main gatehouse, and through the silent corridors to your quarters. The sound of the key in lock seemed loud, but then Tovar shut the door behind you, and he dominated the space in his black tunic, leathers and breeches. 

Unsaid words littered the space between your bodies, the only light a faint glow from the wall sconce above your tiny desk.

Anticipation pooled in your belly, warring with nerves. “I.. I’ve never done this before-” Twenty-four summers old you might be, but when you lived in a cold, stone fortress, with the constant threat of a Tao Tei attack and cared for your mother, there wasn’t much time for romance.

“We will start slow, then.” Tovar closed the gap between you and again cupped your face in his hands, kissing you again, seducing you by tiny increments. You felt your body begin to relax as the kiss turned leisurely, and your hands slid up the wall of his chest, his heart beating a ragged tattoo under your palm.

His armoured leather spread warm and soft under your hands, but you wanted more. His breathing hitched when you started to unlace the tunic fastenings, but he slid his hands down to your hips, letting you have your way.

Outside, an owl hooted in the distance. Your own heart thundered in your ears, desire making your blood feel syrupy, as you pushed the leather off his shoulders, only the worn, soft fabric of his black shirt underneath. You met Tovar’s gaze and found something dark and hot and yours in his tea-dark eyes, and it made you greedy, so you gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it up. Tovar helped you, lifting his arms and bending, and you’d seen what his arms and hands could do with an axe, so his gentleness both humbled and aroused you.

The shirt fell to the floor on his armour, and oh God, he was big and broad and muscled. Fascinated, you spread your hands over his chest, your skin pale compared to his golden tan, mapping the myriad scars over his chest. A wicked one ran from one nipple down to the side of his hip, the end white with age, and, overcome with how painful it must have been, you bent and pressed your lips to it.

He was silent, breathing ragged, as you did the same for all the scars you could see, tracing them with first your fingers and then your lips, learning the feel and taste and smell of him as his heart thundered, hands clenched on your hips.

A sound that might have been pleasure or pain escaped his lips, and you looked up, meeting his gaze, seeing fire there. “Enough,” he bit off, and he lifted you off your feet and carried you to the bed, laying you down as gently as if you were the most precious of jewels, and in the next breath he covered you, and your arms wound around him. 

You spread your palms over his back greedily, drinking him in by touch, and he lowered his mouth to yours, starting the whole process anew. Kissing you until that fluttering starting in your belly again, until you were arching your hips to get closer to him, to feel more of the hard, hot length of him against you.

Curious, and eager, you snuck a hand between your bodies to cup him through his breeches, and a muttered slew of Spanish passed his lips as he bucked into your palm, then grabbed your wrist.

“Next time, perhaps. It has been too long for me, comprende?”

He guided your hands upwards, set them on the pillows above your head. “I want to focus on you.”

And wow, that made want and need clutch at you, deep inside.

Tovar undressed you slowly, and you watched his scarred hands work in the low light from the flickering sconce flame, peeling back each layer of your robes. “Hermosa,” he whispered reverently, and then, as if remembering you didn’t speak Spanish, he added, the butterfly wings of his breath warm against your skin, “Beautiful.”

His words warmed you inside out, and then he touched his mouth to your skin and all thoughts left your head.

Aside from a handful of nervous fumbles in the armoury, right now was the closest to sex you'd ever been. As Tovar drank you in, his tongue learning the flavour of your nipples, you broke the invisible hold he'd put on your wrists and touched him, raking your fingers through his hair and smoothing your palms over the golden skin of his broad back.

He mumbled what you guessed was praise in Spanish as he licked and kissed endlessly. You felt him hard and unyielding against your thigh, but he seemed uncaring of his own needs, existing, for now, purely for your pleasure.Time ceased to exist and your world narrowed to each lick of his warm tongue, each stroke of his big, scarred hands, over your skin.

“What did I do to deserve such beauty?” he mused, moving down to feather kisses on your stomach.

“You… bathed,” you muttered, completely at ease with him, and he coughed out a surprised laugh.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life under water, querida, if this is my reward.”

You opened your mouth to reply, but then he spread your legs and put his mouth on you, and nothing else mattered, save the curl of his tongue where you were damp and ready, the glide of his lips on your inner thighs, then the tickle of his facial scruff across your clit, the press of his fingers inside you. You clenched your muscles around his digits and felt him sigh against you, pleasure and anticipation wrapped up inside that single breath, and you arched into his face, chasing the sweet release that every flick of his tongue promised.

Your thighs trembled as Tovar gentled the pace, then sped up again, keeping you on the edge of your climax. This was nothing like what you’d experienced at your own hand, you were bent to his will, control out of your hands-

He licked a long strip over your with the flat of his tongue and you came with a keening cry, turning your face into the pillow to keep from making a sound. The walls might be stone here, but it was better not to take chances.

Tovar propped himself up on his elbows, and the pleased look on his face made your stomach flutter anew.

“Now, I think you are ready, hermosa.”

He disrobed quickly, and you watched every inch of tanned skin revealed in the half-light from the wall sconce. The sliver of moonlight through your window kissed the curve of his shoulder, the scar across his eye, and you had never seen anyone so beautiful.

You sighed with pleasure as he moved atop you again, gloriously naked, and his skin was smooth and hot, and instinctually, you shifted and wrapped your legs around his hips. Tovar growled into the curve of your neck and positioned himself, and your inner muscles clenched greedily in breathless anticipation of this, the first time having a man inside you.

“I will be gentle,” he promised, and you nodded, mumbling his name, not sure what you wanted, but just knowing you needed-

The hot press of him inside you kindled another fire deep in your belly. The head of him brushed the sensitive bead at your apex and you arched desperately -

The pain sliced through you, and Tovar dropped his forehead to yours, going totally still inside you. You felt him trembling slightly, braced on his forearms, his dark eyes filled with concern.

“It’s..” A tear rolled down your cheek and he went to pull away. The fact this big, world-weary, grumpy, strong mercenary would stop, without a word from you, made your heart turn over, and you banded your arms around him.

The pain gave way to a feeling of fullness, and you experimentally clenched your inner muscles around him. Tovar bit off a string of curses in Spanish, shifting slightly, and the movement sent little licks of pleasure ricocheting inside you.

“Good?” he whispered against your lips.

“Good,” you agreed, breathing him in, tasting yourself on his mouth when he brushed a kiss over your lips, the breath shuddering out of him.

He moved slowly, seducing you again with his gentleness, capturing your little gasps of sensation with his mouth, until there was more pleasure than pain, and you needed to feel all of him. Testing, you lifted your hips, dragging him deeper, and he made that addictive growl again, his hips moving faster. You clenched your hands on his big shoulders, digging your heels into his thighs, urging him on. 

“Carajo,” he cursed, his hips stuttering, and he thrust out and back in again, touching a spot inside you that crashed waves of pleasure through you, and you keened his name, pressing your face into his shoulder.

Tovar went still, eyes closing for a second, then pulled out, taking himself in hand and finishing across your stomach, his breath coming raggedly, before he collapsed beside you on the narrow bunk.

After a moment he turned on to his side and stroked damp strands of hair back from your face. “Querida.”

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“Darling.”

He dropped a kiss on your lips and then moved off the bunk, finding your bucket of water, refreshed each day, and soaking a cloth, wringing it out before gently cleaning off your stomach, then standing awkwardly, his gaze searching yours in the low light, questioning.

Your heartbeat settled. Tomorrow you would have to wake up with the sun, and train again, and fight for your life. Tomorrow you would have to decide what you wanted to do with this new thread between you and Tovar, the emotions that lightened your heart and swam in your head. But for now, it was night, and you wanted to push the Tao Tei and the fighting away, to not think about whether Tovar would one day want to leave the safety of the Wall.

So you crooked your finger and lifted up the blanket. “Stay.”

Relief crossed his dark, handsome features, and he did as you bid, gathering you close. You snuggled your cheek into his warm, scarred, solid chest, burrowed into his warmth, and, forgetting about everything except the sound of his heart beating, you dropped into sleep.

Thankyou so much to @restingnurseface​ for the company, read-throughs and encouagement.

Tagging people who might like this @bunnyart-blog​ @spacegayofficial​  @tiffdawg​ and my regular “whole shebang” taglist: @wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @just-the-hiddles​ @littlemissthistle​ @palaiasaurus64​ @adorkabeezle​ @myoxisbroken​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ please ask to be added or released!

[aaluminiumas]

Kill for Me

Doflamingo, idle as usual, was fiddling with a quaint, exquisite dagger he was holding in one hand.

Monet had never seen anything quite like that; the knife looked older than any weapon she encountered; moreover, it seemed considerably more refined than any stiletto, karambit, dirk, bayonet, or poniard she had ever laid her fingers on. The black leather handle, inlaid with jewels, mostly rubies, revealed a peculiar curlicue of gold snaking across the crosspiece; the gold quillon, however, remained minimalist – save for the tiny faint engraving underneath a set of crystals. The freshly polished blade with a baroque floral pattern shone so brightly in the dim light of the room that it hurt to watch. Nevertheless, the woman kept staring at the dagger, finding herself unable to take her eyes off the weapon.

Oddly enough, the knife did not fit Doflamingo’s tastes: he was notorious for being superfluous to a ridiculous, even preposterous extent, but this thing looked nothing but remarkable and elegant. Obviously, he had been concealing this side of him – the side that adored weapons ordinary humans used. Probably, Monet thought, the surplus of garishness simply diverted people’s attention from his genuine passions – business, luxury, and antique armory, that is.

“Do come in, Monet,” Doflamingo invited the woman, standing on the doorstep. His voice seemed uncharacteristically calm and almost unctuous.

Entering the room, Monet looked around, trying to guess his mood by mere details, but before she managed to deduce a conclusion, the woman spotted a weird glimpse behind the cherry-colored glasses. She couldn’t put her finger on the reason behind it, but, seeing his pensive and peaceful self, she decided to simply wait. With a man like this, one never knew what could trigger him off – and while he considered her a trustworthy member of the Donquixote Family, she’d rather not push the boundaries in attempt to learn how far she could go. Monet had honed her skill to navigate conversations with her Young Master, and, for the time being, it sufficed.

Unmoving, with his face unperturbed, Doflamingo kept scrutinizing the blade, indifferently reflecting the patrician features. He looked bored – actually, he constantly looked bored – unless there was a chance to participate in good combat.

Monet approached the couch and sat down next to him. For the first time, she realized how close he, in fact, was: not only could she hear his steady breath, she also sensed the redolence of his expensive aftershave mingling with a weak fragrance of sea salt his swarthy skin exuded. However, she caught something else, another odor – an astringent and yet sweet, almost intrusive tang that tickled her nostrils. Not necessarily unpleasant, it made her conscious of his real power over her – and, trying to ignore that thought, Monet strove to comprehend whether this scent belonged to him as well, or it was his pretentious pink fur coat that emitted it.

All of a sudden, he spoke again – and his eyes, always hidden behind the crimson-colored glasses, swiveled in her direction.

“Would you kill for me, Monet?”

The blade of the dagger he was so lovingly holding in his lanky digits darted towards her face and stopped inches from her pallid cheek. The yellow avian orbs swerved to peruse the familiar, imperturbable visage – despite the pause, her voice didn’t falter when she responded.

“Yes, Young Master,” she uttered calmly, without a sign of hesitation, her optics glued to the blade. “I would.” A sardonic and satisfied smirk distorted the refined features: Doflamingo certainly liked the answer. Out of the blue, he grabbed her by the hand, pressed the blade into the skin and waited for the rivulet of blood to emerge. The scarlet droplets eventually painted the dagger; Monet licked her lips that stretched in a salacious grin she failed to suppress – he had just marked her as his, admired her, needed her. She might not be in the same position as Diamante or Trebol, she might not be his close confidant as Vergo, but he definitely respected her and wanted to see her among the highest ranks, not some underling doing the menial work. That would be her trial, a so-called exam for further promotion – he had elaborated it just enough by simply asking a question.

“Then do that, Monet.” Doflamingo said in his honeyed voice that dropped down a notch causing her to hold her breath. “Kill for me.”

And kill she did.

Sympathy was never her forte, Monet knew that for a fact. Actually, she low-key relished the feeling of lukewarm blood streaming through her fingers and painting her pale skin scarlet. While finding her Master’s methods rather straightforward and a little too obviously brutal, the woman did not reject atrocity – she embraced it, but in daintier ways.

In attempt to save herself and her sister, Sugar, Monet had had to kill viciously and indemnify what was dear to her – it taught her to enjoy a clever round of cat-and-mouse and drop the game whenever it became dull and stultifying. Thus, her adversary should be smart to last longer, otherwise… she would get bored.

However, it was her first ever murder under Doflamingo’s command, so it had to be memorable. Not only would it prove her devotion to the Donquixote Family, but it would also let her push her inner boundaries, unleash her potential and remove all the restrictions that kept her quiet for so many years. Holding the dagger, the woman smirked to herself: that man, whoever he was, had dumped her Master, fobbed him in hope to get away with it. That won’t do; Doflamingo Donquixote may not be a high-profile pirate – yet – but he definitely possessed all the qualities and the crew to achieve his goals.

The nimble fingers traced across the blade thirsty for blood – and in a moment, it turned red.

[themadlostgirl]

Abandoned (2)

*Doubt comes in*

~~~

It felt like I was walking into a trap as I ventured into the jungle in search of the music. For days it had been calling out to me, bidding me to follow it. Now here I was doing just that. I tell myself I’m doing this to end the music. If I stop the music then I’ll stop forgetting. Simple as that.

The deeper into the forest I went though the more my confidence wavered. The music was getting steadily louder and more hypnotizing. My steadfast march turned idle like I was taking a leisurely walk. The grip on my sword slackening. I hadn’t even realized I sheathed it again until the music suddenly stopped.

My senses started to return and panic began to set in. I was in the middle of the jungle in the dead of night with no recollection of how I got there or how to get back to my hut. How could I be so careless? I’m smarter than this! Okay. Deep breath. Don’t panic. All I needed to do was start backtracking. I must have left a trail, I just needed to find it.

If I did that though then what would have been the point of me coming out here in the first place? I came out here to stop the music for good. It must have stopped because I was close. I needed to keep going. With a deep breath I turned back around and searched high and low for anything or anyone that could be playing the music. Not exactly easy since everything was shadows.

“There in the field stood a flower rare. Its petals bright with beauteous flair. Along came a bee buzzing through the air. And sat on the flower without a care.” A voice in the shadows spoke and from them emerged Pan, “Then the flower closed and became a snare. The moral of this story I now will share. Even pretty things can cause a scare.”

“Aren’t we a little old for nursery rhymes?” I wrapped my hand around the hilt of my sword.

“Never.” He grinned.

“Is it you?” I asked, “Are you the one that makes the music every night?”

“Oh, so you can hear it. Good. You never moved from your camp on the beach so I was wandering if you could yet. How long have you been able to hear it?”

“A few weeks. Why?”

“And you held out this long. Gotta say, I’m impressed.” He pulled a set of pan pipes off his belt. “These are enchanted. Only certain people can hear the music when I play it. The music itself has interesting side effects.”

“What people? What side effects?”

He brought the pipes up to his lips and played a short tune. Immediately the melody wrapped around my brain and the world around me softened out of focus. When he stopped I blinked as if waking from a daydream. He smiled at me.

“The music attracts those that feel unloved and unwanted. It softens the heartache of such a sad life, erases all the bad memories. All you have to do is let it in.”

“But I--I’m not--I’m not unloved or unwanted! I don’t want my memories erased!”

“If you can hear the music then I have to say different. Ever since your father left you’ve been spiraling further and further down. Wondering when he’s gonna come for you. Holding onto a useless hope that you’re ever gonna see him again. But you know the truth, don’t you? All the evidence adds up but you’d rather hold onto a childish hope than accept it.” He circled me like a beast of pray. Even in the dim light of my lantern I could make out the wheels turning in his head. “You’re lost, spitfire. So helplessly lost.”

The flame of my lantern blew out casting everything into darkness. I drew my sword listening for any snap of a twig or breath of air that indicated he was near.

“Boo.” His voice whispered in my ear.

“Raaah!” I swung and my blade hit another. Pan had blocked the hit with a dagger.

“Quick reflexes, swordfish. But mine are quicker.” He disappeared again.

“Come on out and face me like a man you codfish!” I shouted.

“Who wants to be a man? Grown ups have such little fun.” I tried to pinpoint his voice but it seemed to echo from all directions. “But us, the young blood, we can make games out of anything. Just like we are now.”

“This isn’t a game, Pan.” I growled. “If I get the chance I’ll run you through.”

“No you won’t. Want to know why?” My lamp flickered back to life and Pan stood before me just inches away from the tip of my blade. “Because you’re having fun.”

I lunged the sword at him and he side-stepped it with ease making me stumble forward.

“There is such fire and fight in you. It’s been bottled up and suffocating on that ship. Now you’re free.” He kicked me to the ground. “Free as you are, you still don’t know what to do with yourself. My poor little Lost Girl.”

“I’d rather tie boulders to my bootstraps and throw myself into the mermaid lagoon before I became part of your dumb crew.” I spat, shooting back to my feet. “I came here to stop that infernal music and I plan to just do that. Either by destroying those pipes or by killing you. I don’t care which.”

“The only way you’ll destroy these pipes is if you pry them from my cold dead hands.”

“Then I guess that only leaves us with one option.”

“I suppose it does.” He grinned wider. Like the prospect of dying was thrilling to him. “To die would be an awfully big adventure. I look forward to it. The first move is yours, swordfish.”

With that he was gone.

That bilge-sucking, arrogant, underhanded, codfish! This was not some game! What was it going to take to get that through his thick skull?! Maybe a knife to the eyesocket. I gathered my lantern from the ground and turned around. The path I had taken here was much clearer than it had been earlier.

Another trick of Pan’s.

I came here to stop the music and I think I may have just made things between Pan and I worse. Before he left me alone but now he thought there was fun to be had with me. A part of me wanted to continue my mission and charge further into the jungle until I hunted down Pan again and fight till the last breath. The more rational part of me told me to pick my battles carefully.

I turned around and took the path back to my camp. I would deal with Pan tomorrow after I had devised a new plan.

Storming his camp wasn’t a good idea for multiple reasons. One, I didn’t know where it was. Two, even if I did know where it was the Lost Boys would outnumber me twenty to one. My only hope was to get him alone but I didn’t know when that could be. The only time I’ve met him alone is when it was on his terms. He had either drawn me in or showed up on his own. If I wanted the upper hand I’d have to take him alone and by surprise.

For that to work though I’d have to know his pattern of movement. He has to have one. There’s no way he’s around Lost Boys all the time. But to learn his patterns I’d have to track him down and try not to be detected while I spied on him. That in itself was another headache seeing as how he could appear and disappear in the blink of an eye. I could be tracking him for hours and then he’d blink away to the other half of the island and I’d have to track him down again.

Maybe a betrayal? Pretend to want to be part of his camp and get him when his guard is down. No, that wouldn’t work either. Not only would Pan’s trust take too long to obtain but if I started acting nice now he’d know I was planning something. What am I supposed to do?

At the very least I should find out where his camp is. I don’t know if he moves it but I can’t see why he would since there are no enemies on the island. None except for me. I don’t see him moving his entire camp because I came upon it though.

In the morning as the first light of the sun started to creep up over the horizon I gathered my things and ventured into the jungle. I had no idea how long it may take but I wanted as much time as possible before any of the Lost Boys woke up. I didn’t know a lot about Pan and his Lost Boys outside of what papa and the crew mentioned but I did know that they stayed up very late. So early morning was probably not their friend.

I was hiking through the jungle for maybe a good two hours before I noticed paths naturally leveling out around me. Well worn, some even had fresh tracks in them. I was getting close to the camp. I followed along the path until I noticed a break in the dense forest of trees. Sticking to the morning shadows and creeping as quietly as I could I got closer. I stepped over a tripline and scanned the ground for any other traps or alerts that may have been set up.

This was it, Pan’s camp. Lost Boys were abundant and all soundly asleep either in tents, swinging in hammocks, or passed out on the ground. The remains of what looked to be a bon fire sat in the middle of the camp. I crept around the perimeter searching the faces for Pan’s but I couldn’t spot him. Was he in one of the tents?

Best not to go looking. I knew where the camp was now, that was enough for today. I should get out of here before the boys wake up. I made not of the way to get back as I retreated to my own camp on the beach. Maybe if I can find Pan while he and the boys are asleep then I could get him. It was bad form to attack someone while they’re sleeping but this boy had already taken so much from me. I didn’t care about bad form anymore.

I hunted down some breakfast on my way back to my camp and sat down to relax. I stared out over the ocean praying that I would see the Jolly Roger come sailing out over the horizon. As long as I watched though it remained the same.

I pulled out my pocketwatch and clicked it open again, listening to the metronomic ticking sound it issued. He has to be coming for me. He has to.

The next few days I spent getting up early before any of the boys awakened and hiking back to scope out the camp. No matter how many times I went or how hard I looked I could never spot Pan among them. Did he sleep somewhere else? Why? Wouldn’t he want to be with his camp in case of an emergency?

This was useless. I wasn’t gaining any new information and it was clear that Pan wasn’t here. I’d have to think of something else or else try to find where he does rest his head if not in his camp. With a sigh I turned around back towards my own camp and check the traps I set. I never had much use for snares on a ship but I was thankful that papa taught me now. Not a whole lot of wildlife was on the island outside of birds, frogs, snakes, and a whole lot of bugs. There were some boar but they were very inland so most of my food came from fishing. Hopefully something good had taken the bait I put out.

I checked the traps and felt my stomach constrict when they turned up empty. I guess it was berries for breakfast...again. I never thought I would miss cook’s dried herring jerky so much.

I grabbed a pouch and wandered back into the jungle. I was trying to forage for more than a handful of berries when I felt a small chill go up my spine. Someone was watching me. I slowly reached for my dagger and turned around.

Pan was standing behind me looking bored. “Really?” He gestured to the dagger I had aimed at him, “Aren’t we past this yet?”

“What do you want?”

“Hungry?” He held up an apple. “Probably more filling than a handful of berries.”

“And the price?” I raised an eyebrow.

“No price.” He tossed me the apple and I caught it. “I figured you might be hungry.”

“What brought on this unexpected generosity?” I cut off a slice with my dagger. “Hoping to get on my good side?”

“What if I am?” He pulled out another apple for himself. “Would that be so terrible?”

“Wasn’t it a couple of nights ago that you looked forward to me trying to kill you? Why would you want on my good side? Doesn’t that ruin your little game?”

“Can’t play the game if you die of starvation.” He shrugged. He knelt down next to me studying me from a distance. “Also, seeing as how you won’t make a move in this game I’m getting bored.”

“You don’t know what I may be planning, Pan.” I don’t even know what I’m planning.

“Oh no, I know what you’re planning. Isn’t it bad form, even for a pirate, to do someone in while they’re sleeping? Very bad form, Lady Jones. I’m a little disappointed really.”

“I--” There’s no way he could know that! “How did--”

“You’re up at the crack of dawn every day scoping my camp. You’re more than welcome to come by at a normal time for people to be awake if you’d like. We have plenty of food to share.”

“You knew?!” I fumed. I thought I had been so quiet and clever! No one had ever spotted me. No one had ever been awake. How could he have possibly have known unless... “The reason I never saw you sleeping…”

“If it makes you feel any better it was an accident that I came upon you that first day. I woke up earlier than I expected and saw you skirting the perimeter of the camp. I thought about scaring you or something like that but I wanted to see what you would do. Then you didn’t do anything and that was boring.” He groaned with a great roll of his eyes, “The next day and the day after that you kept coming back and not doing anything. I left out food close to the perimeter to see if you’d try snagging it but you didn’t. I never would have thought the daughter of pirates would be so frustratingly cautious. Shouldn’t recklessness be part of your blood or something?”

“I’m not dumb enough to charge into situations and conflicts blind. Reflexes and being able to adapt to a tough situation are one thing, researching and planning is another. I’m not in an immediate life and death situation so I prefer to be methodical.”

“Life and death, huh?” He turned the apple core over in his hands. “Let’s test that, shall we?” He chucked the apple core at my head. I ducked out of the way just in time.

“What was--” He charged at me with his dagger and I rolled out of the way. It was too early for this!

“Come now, spitfire!” He grinned like the devil, “Life and death situation, what are you gonna do?”

“I’m going to kill you is what!” I pushed to my feet and unsheathed my sword.

“Sword versus a dagger?” He asked as I took a swing at him, “Isn’t that a little unfair?”

“Coming from the boy with magic.”

“I’m not using magic now.” He teleported behind me and prodded his dagger at my back, “But thank you for reminding me.”

“Don’t.” I thrust my blade behind me making Pan jump out of the way. “You know if any real harm comes to me then my father will have your head.”

“I doubt that.” He scoffed. The dagger in his hands grew until it was a sword the same size as mine. “Do you still believe he’s coming for you?”

“I know he is.” We moved over the terrain of the jungle fighting blade to blade. The metallic sound echoing over the otherwise quiet island. The area around us grew more open and the ground softer as we stepped out onto the beach. My footing was less sure here but then Pan’s had to be too.

“You really do not want to face the truth do you?” Pan sighed. “He left you, swordfish. Your rum drunk father left you here to rot.”

“No! You’re lying!” I let my anger fuel me as I started to regain ground and go on the offensive.

“I’m not.” Pan blocked my attacks with a frustrating ease, “You wanna know how I know that he isn’t coming back for you? How I know he abandoned you here?” He twisted my blade around and knocked it from my hands. “He left because I told him to.”

“What?” I stared down the sheen of the blade he had pointed at me.

“I told him that if he abandoned you here on the island then him and the rest of his crew could go free.” Pan said.

“No.” I shook my head, “It’s another lie. You’re trying to trick me.”

“No tricks here, swordfish.” He held up his hands and the sword shrunk back to that of a dagger that he put on his hip, “I swear on my life. I came to him with an offer. A trade: you for freedom.”

I tried to go for my sword but Pan kicked it further away. My hands fisted into the sand. “Even if you are telling the truth why would you want me?” I demanded “You could have asked for anything. Why me?”

“Well at first it was because I thought that it would be funny. Hook giving up his precious daughter would cause him the most pain after all.” Pan chuckled, “But then I imagined how much fun it would be having you around. I only ever got to meet you once but you had such fire in you. Needless to say I was not disappointed. I am having so much fun with you.”

“Cause that’s what it always comes down to with you.” I said, “Everything is a fun game. You might think that but I sure don’t! These mind games you play are not fun and I will not give into them. You really think I would believe that my own father would trade me away to someone like you?”

“You should. Cause he did.” Pan looked past me further down the beach where my camp was set up. “I never thought that he’d actually do it but I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised. Adults are so disappointing, especially parents. Selfish enough to sell their own children off to make their lives easier.”

He spoke with a malice that bordered on vengeful. I think that was the first time I had ever seen him look truly angry. As quickly as it came upon him it left to be replaced with his cocky smile. “Consider yourself lucky. You could have ended up somewhere much worse than here.”

He waved his hand and a sack was now in his hands. He tossed me it and I almost fell back with the weight. Inside was a variety of food. “Since you’re too stubborn to come to the camp for food this should last you a couple of days. Have a nice morning, Lady Jones, think about what I’ve said.”

Then he was gone again.

I took the sack of food back to my camp and happily munched on some boar jerky within. I looked around at my camp with a growing sense of doubt. Papa...he wouldn’t trade me for freedom. He wouldn’t.

Would he?

---

(Previous) (Next)

[bffsoobin]

01|02

↳ when your beloved throwing team finds itself lacking on equipment within a school that claims to value athletics, you take it upon yourself to find the right person to remedy your problems. little did you know, the right person would be perpetually busy and you would be stuck trying to barter with one of his friends. how long will it take for you to convince Beomgyu that your team is just as important as his? 

➤ highschool!au, thrower!reader x volleyball player!beomgyu, rich kid!beomgyu, fluff, very light angst, mentions of other members and members of BTS (go read @btxtreads sister series Perfectly Perfect!!!)

Word Count:1,777

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you all enjoy it even though it’s been a hot minute since part one!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

You were staring daggers into the back of Beomgyu’s head. It was the end of a very long school day, and the sound of him complaining about how sore his arms felt from the game the night before lit hatred in your chest. You were still close to boiling over the blatant ignorance he had displayed toward you last night on the court. If you owned a burn book, Choi Beomgyu’s name would be at the top of every page. 

All day, you had tried your best to forget his arrogance, but the fact that you spent so many hours of your school day sharing a classroom with him only made your annoyance tick upwards. The longer he spoke, the clearer it became that your emotions were seconds away from eruption. In the middle of an intense staredown with your history textbook, you heard your name. 

“Right, Y/N?” Beomgyu was leaning toward you but not lifting himself out of his seat so that his ring of adoring classmates wouldn’t be in between the two of you. 

“Huh?” Although you had missed what he said, you could only imagine what kind of annoyingly arrogant comment he was in the middle of making. 

“I was just saying that even you came to support us last night. That was sweet of you!” 

Your blood was boiling just under the surface of your skin, and the devil on your shoulder told you to let all of your anger loose on the boy right now; but the fact that so many of your peers were also listening in had you thinking twice. 

“Oh, yeah, I was there. It was a good win, but too bad Yeonjun couldn’t keep himself together and had to sit out at the end. I’m sure your coach wasn’t too happy with all of that...” you watched the way his eyes had narrowed slightly, “trouble.” If there was anything you knew for sure about the men’s volleyball team, it was the fact that they held their teammates very close to their hearts. And after yesterday, you wanted to hit Beomgyu as close to the heart as you could. 

Now, as you saw the subtle way his jaw shifted, you felt a tinge of regret. Maybe you’d gone too far, insulting one of his best friends. Just as you opened your mouth to apologize, the bell rang and a bustle of students began their exit from the school. Within the bustle, you made your way over to where Beomgyu was shoving notebooks into his bookbag. 

“Hey. I’m sorry,” though his back was to you, you could sense his hesitance to accept your apology. “I didn’t think about how mean that would be. I really did enjoy watching the game though, even if we got into a sort of fight afterwards.” 

You rocked back and forth on your feet as you waited for him to turn around. Once he did, there was no way to miss how intimidating his tall stature made him. 

“Thanks for the apology,” you let out a sigh of relief at his acceptance but it stilled in your throat when you caught his blank expression. “Although I definitely wouldn’t call our talk a fight,” he began to walk out of the classroom and some magnetic force had you following him in lockstep. You hated the way you hung around and waited for the next words to fall from his lips. He was too captivating for his own good.

He slammed his locker shut. “After all, we have to be civil at our meeting tonight.” He leveled his gaze with you as he leaned casually against the metal and crossed his arms. Feeling like a deer caught in headlights, you knit your eyebrows together in confusion.

“A meeting? About what?” Much to your own annoyance, your voice gave away your utter confusion. Beomgyu smirked at your response and you knew he had secured some type of upper hand.

“Me, you and our coaches are meeting tonight. To talk about that funding you need?”

“What? Really?” The excitement of possibly getting funding won out over your need to convince Beomgyu he didn’t hold as much influence over you as he thought. As you celebrated, you thought you caught a glimpse of his mouth quirked upwards before he backed away to head toward the exit.

“Coach Jungkook’s office, 4 pm!”

——

Around 3:55 pm, you found yourself hovering outside of Coach Jungkook’s office. A small voice in the back of your mind had convinced you that you couldn’t walk in any earlier than 4 o’clock, so you settled for leaning against the wall and running through your mental list of needs for the team. You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t even register the sound of the door creaking open. 

“Y/N,” your neck whipped around quickly to see Beomgyu holding the door open, staring down at you expectantly. “Were you...waiting out here this whole time?” You could hear the start of a laugh at the back of his words that made heat rush from your neck up to your hairline. 

“Shut up, Choi,” you pushed past him, keeping your gaze on the carpeted floor until you saw the coaches come into view. 

“Ah, there you are!” Jimin called out to you in lieu of an actual greeting. You wondered briefly if all three of the men were waiting for your arrival as you simply stood in the hall; but you cleared your throat and attempted to focus back on the task at hand. Jungkook’s office was extremely spacious and well decorated. The walls were plastered with photos of his beloved volleyball team from every year since he began coaching here. You even spotted some older pictures and trophies from the man’s own days on the team.

There were oddly comfortable looking armchairs located in front of his desk, one of which was already occupied by Beomgyu, who was spread out comfortably as if he owned the place. And truthfully, he probably did. Jungkook gave you an easy smile as you stood idle in the space between the empty chair and his desk before gesturing loosely. 

“Go ahead, sit down!” His sunny disposition always threw you slightly off guard, especially after knowing the way he acts on the court. Nevertheless, you sank down into the inviting chair and tried your best to return his grin. 

“So,” he continued, “Jimin told me you guys need a little funding help?” You felt three pairs of eyes drift to you, and suddenly the importance of helping your team began to outweigh your nerves as you began to explain your situation. 

“And given the...extra boost the men’s volleyball team gets from Beomgyu’s family,” you scratched the back of your head gingerly as you glanced at the boy in question. “Coach and I thought you would be willing to help our team out.” Your heart was beating erratically in your chest as you waited for Jungkook to say anything. 

“Well, I certainly think I can help you guys out. If you’re on the way to big competitions, I want you to have the best chance possible,” he slides open a drawer with ease and you can see Jimin’s eyes light up with excitement. Jungkook drops a sleek black checkbook onto the desk in front of him and nods Beomgyu’s way. 

“Why don’t you take Y/N and show her around the trophy room while Jimin and I talk numbers?” The idea of being shown around the volleyball team’s trophy room would normally make you gag, but right now you’d do just about anything for Coach Jungkook. Beomgyu agreed easily and got up to leave so quickly that you had to sputter a poor “thank you” to the man saving your team’s skin before practically running out the door. 

While the trophy room was located behind a normal door, the inside was excessively intricate. A fancy thermometer was set to an exact temperature to keep the expensive wooden shelves from warping under the weight of their wins. Beomgyu took an easy lap around the room before stopping in front of a ceiling tall glass case boasting an insanely tall golden trophy. 

“This was from our nationals win last year. The winning game was so close that we played for what felt like three hours. Soobin played with an injured wrist and Taehyun had strep throat but we still managed to pull it off.” You wandered closer, genuinely interested in seeing such an expensive trophy up close. Once you stood in front of the case, you could really admire the careful engraving that shone underneath the small led lights that were embedded around the case. For some reason, you found yourself holding you breath, whether to avoid fogging up the glass or just from the proximity to Beomgyu, you weren’t sure. He was standing so close next to you that a single twitch of your wrist would have you grazing fingers. 

“You guys are really good,” you didn’t turn your head to look toward him, but you caught part of his smiling reflection in the glass. “I mean it. As much as I shit on you guys, you’re really good at this.” You glanced sideways to see a genuine smile on his face that kicked your heart rate up. 

“Thank you. We work hard. I think sometimes people forget that,” you swallowed hard, unable to avoid the thought that the statement included you. 

“But I think we also forget that other people work hard for their sport.” A warmth spread through your body at his confession and you noticed the way the lights from the trophy case accentuated the sharpest features of his face. He licked his lips and your eyes tracked the movement eagerly. His cool eyes met yours just seconds after, and you prayed that you hadn’t been caught in the act of staring. 

“That’s why I’m happy to be helping you out, Y/N. My team and I can be...closed off. Because we know we’re good and nobody bothers to humble us.” He hummed in thought for a second before laughing out loud. You raised an eyebrow in silent question of what was so funny. “Actually, I think you’re the first person who’s dared to try and humble me since I joined the team,” he had begun walking toward the door of the trophy room and you once again found yourself following without question. 

He paused by the door, swinging it open and gesturing you to exit before him. “And honestly,” he shut the door with a resounding click. “I think it’s really cute.” 

[lailannajacobs]

A Shattered Promise and an Unbreakable Bond | Counterfeit Criminals pt.12

Pairing: Loki x fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: Some serious stuff happens up in space. 

Warnings: Lotta angst and pain, sorry my friends 

Word Count: 1.9k 

A/N: So....yeah....all I’m going to say is that this is not a long chapter, but a lot happens. Hope you enjoy! Always love to hear what you think! <3 

Chapter Twelve 

Swearing was the first thing you were conscious of. It was in a language you didn’t know, and you could barely hear it over the ringing in your ears, but you knew it was swearing. Loki was swearing - that was something you’d never heard before and you knew that whatever was happening wasn’t good.

The world around you blinked into focus as you cracked your eyes open, one of them sticky with, what you realized with tender finger to the temple, was blood. You turned slowly, trying to remember where you were and what had happened. Somehow, you were buckled into the passenger seat of your ship. A massive boom hit the ship, the impact shook you around, your weak body tossed around in the seat. Loki’s frantic voice edged its way out of the fog of your memory and into the present as you began to piece together what had happened. You couldn’t have been out for long, but the pounding in your head was too fresh for you to do much more than tilt your head.

“Loki,” You croaked, your voice hoarse as if you hadn’t spoken in days.

His attention snapped to you so fast you wondered if you had shouted his name instead of whispered it. Relief filled his face when his quick scan of your body revealed nothing new but was quickly banished by cold efficiency that bordered on murderous.

“Where is your ship’s shield?” He demanded, eyes darting across the console.

It took you longer than usual to process the question, your mind still in a daze, “I don’t have one.”

He stilled, whatever realization he’d come to worse than you had first thought. Focusing on your breathing, you waited until you felt close enough to normal that you could ignore the pain from the blast and direct that adrenaline into a plan of action.

With the seeds of a plan taking root, you were about to unbuckle yourself when his hand shot out, pinning you to the seat with a hand on your chest.

“Don’t,” He warned, eyes dangerous.

The look didn’t deter you, especially not as he swerved to avoid another hit, “I’m not sitting this out. Don’t think I haven’t recognized the Praxians out there. They’re here for me.”

“You almost died,” He stated as if that was the end of the discussion.

Like hell it was.

“It happens,” You growled, throwing his hand back at him and unbuckling your seatbelt, “One of the many perks of being human. Now, unless you want to guarantee my death, move.”

If he was surprised by the fact that you’d caught on and were ready for battle so quickly, he didn’t show it in anything more than a piercing look and a clenched jaw. If anything, he looked downright furious, but not enough so that his pride made him stay in his seat. He evaded an incoming shot before relinquishing control.

Buckling yourself into the seat, you assessed the damage. Your heart dropped. You were only going to be able to remain space-bound for another twenty minutes or so.

“How many?” You demanded, scanning the radar.

“Only three.”

You searched for the relief in his voice, but it wasn’t there. The Praxians weren’t known for their bedside manner - they shot to kill. Still, the odds could have been worse. They were good enough for your plan to possibly work.

“I’ll keep the ships distracted,” You began, feeling his eyes on you as he waited to hear what you had in mind, "Can you teleport into the enemy ships and take them out from the inside?”

He nodded, changing into battle gear before your eyes. Another blast skimmed the back of your ship and you swore, straining to keep it steady. Loki marked the Praxian ships on the radar with his finger, outlining his own strategy so that you wouldn’t shoot him out into space.

Caught up in the plan, you barely managed to avoid a shot that would have torn the ship in two. Loki still didn’t move.

“Go,” You ordered when he shot you a long look.

He pursed his lips, dipped his head and then vanished.

The strange look he’d had on his face was imprinted in your mind, but you had to push it aside and concentrate. You’d be no use to him if you were dead. You aimed the ship back toward the astroid field, using the massive rocks as cover. It would make hitting the other ships harder, but that wasn’t your job - you needed to keep their attention off Loki for as long as possible.

The next fifteen minutes were the longest of your life. Every shot, you took afraid you’d hit Loki by mistake. Once he had taken down an enemy ship, he returned to yours, murderous, but always looking for you and scanning to make sure you were all right before returning out to the ships. You shot at the Praxians relentlessly, but you never knew if your diversions were working or if they even helped. Your muscles strained and your hands were cramped but you continued without fail, not about to leave him helpless.

An eternity later, the last ship went down, but nothing even close to relief went through your body. Jamming the ship into idle, you stood up and paced back and forth, wondering where the hell he was. He had to be alive. He had to. You checked your radar, checked every sensor on your ship and still nothing showed any evidence that Loki was still alive.

Your ship’s alert system blared through the ship, warning you that you only had a few more minutes until it was no longer functional. You stilled, unable to follow the warning; not when it would take you less than a minute to get to his planet. You weren’t leaving without him unless it was the only way you’d make it out alive.

A strange zap sounded through the air and you knew immediately what had happened. Whipping around, you found Loki collapsed on the floor, struggling to get back up. There was so much blood everywhere, it was all you could see.

You ran over, helping him back up, “Loki!” You fingers fluttered to his face, trying to find the source of the pain, “What happened?”

“Are you hurt?” He demanded, the ferocity in his eyes not dimmed by the amount of blood covering his shirt.

You desperately hoped it wasn’t his, but judging by the grimace on his face, your hopes were in vain. All you could manage was a quick shake of your head. The relief on his face told you that was all the answer he needed.

You lifted his shirt, only to see a gaping hole in his abdomen. You sucked in a breath, your heart stopping at the sight.

“I’ll heal,” He replied gruffly.

With a pointed look in his direction, you whispered, “You’d better.”

He forced a smile, but it lacked some of his usual insouciance.

The alarm picked up again, reminding you that you had less than two minutes to go before you’d be stranded. As much as you wanted to stay by his side, you knew you had to go. You weren’t out of the woods yet, but you hadn’t gone through all this to die now.

“Don’t move,” You ordered, knowing he was liable to try and steer the ship himself.

You were steps away from your seat when Loki shouted your name, the sheer panic in his voice rooting you to the spot. Somehow, he was at your side, shoving you out of the way seconds before an enemy dagger came down on you. Only it hit Loki instead, piercing him in the chest. You screamed.

The Praxian lifted his head, eyes locked on his target - you. Loki crumpled to the ground, the second injury too much for even his body and the man stepped over him. His dagger dripped with blood as he advanced, guarded, but ready to attack.

You weren’t afraid. The mix of anger, grief and adrenaline had made everything perfectly clear and you knew this man would die the moment you reached your gun. The sight of Loki’s pale body on the floor of your ship and the blaring alarm meant there was no room for error. He’d stabbed Loki. He had to pay for that.  

Your body moved as if someone else was pulling the strings, your mind shifting into a state of cold detachment until you’d taken the two steps to your gun, aimed and pulled the trigger. The man collapsed, taking the last of the threats with him.

Or so you thought.

Loki groaned, the sound hollow and unlike anything you’d ever heard come out of his mouth. You were at his side, knees hitting the ground with a pain you didn’t feel, cupping his face in your hands. You searched for any sign that the man in your arms was an illusion, but you’d gotten too good at your little game to think he wasn’t real. This time, nothing about his injuries were fake, especially not the gash in his abdomen and the knife still sticking out of his chest. His eyes began to glaze over. It was a miracle he was still alive, but it wasn’t looking like he would be for much longer.

You needed to stop the bleeding. You needed to do something. He needed to live. You couldn’t let him die.

“YN,”

“Loki,” A tear drop fell on his chest and you realized you were crying, “I need to fix you up, okay?”

A watery smirk pulled weakly at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t stand the sight. He had accepted his fate. He knew he was dying.

“I figured it out,” He wheezed, gripping onto your hand as if it was a lifeline.

You shook your head, choking on a sob, “Don’t. Tell me after.”

There was so much you wanted to say to him, and so much you’d said that you wished you hadn’t, but those green eyes were dimming and he wouldn’t let go; he wasn’t letting you save him. You wanted to fight him, beg him to hold on a little longer, but you couldn’t seem to move.

With his free hand, he brushed away one of your tears with his thumb, forcing his sly smirk back into place. If it hadn’t been half as alight as it usually was, you might have been able to stop the tears from flowing even harder.

“I figured out what I’m good at,” He rasped, his breathing shallow and laboured.

“Tell me later?” You begged, “Please.”

He pulled you close for a soft, fleeting kiss, his lips cold on yours.

“I’m good at keeping you alive,” He murmured, the hint of a small, satisfied smile on his mouth.

Then his eyes fluttered shut, his head falling back to the floor with a thump.

“Loki,” You croaked, feeling his hand go limp in yours.

He didn’t answer.

You checked for a pulse.

[diddlesanddoodles]

DUMPLING ch 46

There was no preparation anyone could have made to ready her for the sheer sound of a room full of sixty plus giants all speaking at once. Though it was nothing but idle chatter, the sound bounced off the walls and made her chest vibrate with the force of it. She was hesitant to admit it, but so many giants in one place made her very nervous. There were just so many of them and yet she knew not a one.  

They were dressed in such finery and jewels that they whole of them seemed to sparkle as they milled about. The marble floor had been polished to a high sheen and the Vhasshalan sigil hung from banners all across the ceiling. The entire room was red and gold and white and glittering.

...and very intimidating.

Long tables lined the edges of the room and were adorned with deep crimson table clothes trimmed with gold fringe. There were glittering white plates of bone china and crystal glasses with far more utensils then seemed necessary. To add to the extravagance of everything else, tucked away in the corner were literal stacks of wine barrels. However much wine sixty or so giants could consume over the course of a single dinner, Nenani was worried that by the end of the night that the entirety of them would be too sloshed to find their own feet. Let alone be sober enough to open their purses.

“You’d think that,” Jae told her with a grin, adjusting his sleeve over bulk of his split. His arm was healing very rapidly thanks to Yaesha’a careful ministrations and perhaps one or two healing tonics from Maevis, but he would still need a split for a little while yet. He was dressed in a very finely tailored doublet of a deep green brocade with silver embroidery and his hair was combed neatly across his scalp. To Nenani’s eye, he looked so very different then his normal self, but he presented very well and she had to turn away to hide her blush when he caught her staring. He very politely deigned to not notice. “But you’d be surprised how lose your purse strings become the more wine you drink.”

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a hapless shrug, playing with the end of her hair. It had been washed, brushed, and braided with intricate plats and the bottom tied with a small clip embedded with an opal. Not too dissimilar from from her fire opal, but an eighth of the size and more white than orange. “I don’t drink wine and I don’t have any money.”

Her dress felt very heavy, the sleeves alone seemed to weigh her down most of all. She had tried to sneak on her belt beneath her shift before she slipped into the dress, but the amulet created too distinct a bulge. And so the belt and amulet she was forced to leave behind. However, she was able to slip on her vambraces before either Lolly or her mother spotted her and just as she knew they would, the billowing sleeves hide them perfectly. They made her feel a little more prepared for what was to come. And though there was no physical battle ahead, it would still be a battle of sorts. She lamented that she could not find someplace to slip her dagger.

Never in her life had she worn so much...stuff. Any one piece of her garb was likely worth more than several months or even a year’s wages would bring to someone back in their fishing village in the Souhthlands. If tonight did not bare the fruit they sought, perhaps they could simply sell her dress. Surely it was worth a gold piece or two.  

……………..

The plan was simple enough. Once the wine had made its precursory rounds, Master Donal would announce the King and Queen and from there, they would make their formal entrance. Once they had been seated at the head table, Donal would then announce Oira’s entrance...

As Queen Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara.

It had been the subject of much contention at the previous day’s supper, but eventually Oira agreed with Warren’s argument. If there was ever a way to get the Lord’s attention and quickly...it was the abrupt announcement of the restoration of the Silvaaran throne. Rumors had spread like wild fire among the gossipers and what was needed was a good splash of cold water.

It was from there that Nenani would make her official court debut. Ostensibly to create a sort of distraction from the reaction Warren knew they would receive by her mother’s entrance. Escorted by Jae, she was to walk all the way around the head table and bow to both King Warren and Queen Rosanna before taking her place beside her mother with her title and rank confirmed. Warren would then follow that with a proclamation declaring the Crown’s support in recognizing Oira as the true heir to the Silvaaran throne. In Nenani’s mind, having her mother recognized as Queen of Silvaara seemed much more important that her being introduced to the court. Lolly had much such a fuss about it.

The notion of presenting both the Queen and a living heir was apparently too strong of a lure, however. So much so that Rosanna argued for it vehemently.

“If there is one thing the Lords are beholden to beyond the allure of coin, it is the laws of inheritance and the value of of a healthy living heir. And with the little prince as a spare, any claim that your bloodline is too weak will have little to no standing. And don’t worry a bit about any claims the Princess is a bastard. I’ve heard such gossip and a declaration of legitimization is simple enough to have written up. If there is one thing being raised in the Ibronian court has taught me, it’s how to play the game of inheritance.”  

The more Nenani learned about how a court operated in general, the less and less it seemed to make sense. So she chose to see the night not as a party, but like Jae and Farris both told her: It was a dance. A game of chess or a deck of cards. Everyone was a skilled player and all vying for the winning hand.

Farris’s last warning to her before she went to get ready that morning seemed very apropos.

“Don’t expect a drop of truth from any damn one of them,” he said. “Most of those fuckers in that room will be the same Lords and Ladies who backed the Blood King in his path to genocide. They ain’t yer friends, Dumplin’. Keep yer wits about ye and be smart. Be safe.” He had paused and gave her an encouraging smile, pinching her arm teasingly. “And try not to light anyone on fire.”

She refused to make good on any such promise.

...........…………

Master Donal was dressed much in the same manner he always seemed to be and Jae confirmed Nenani’s observation with a grin. “He’s always dressed to impress. If you thought Lolly was strict on decorum and manners, she’s got nothing on Donal. The man has a pair of socks for every day of the week, plus back up, and a spare. Just in case one gets a hole and throws his entire rotation off. And he always wears black. For the longest time I thought he might be a widower and was just in forever morning, but nope. He just liked to wear black. His wife lives down in the village. Met her a few years back. Really nice lady.”

Nenani and Jae stood a little off to the side of the small waiting room. The royal couple stood close to the doors, waiting to make their entrance and Rosanna was fidgeting with the collar of Warren’s doublet and adjusting is sleeves until she was satisfied. Oira stood alone in the back of the room, silent and staring off into space. She was dressed in a long gown of silver velvet and gold silk with sleeves that far surpassed Nenani’s. The high collar hid most of her scares and gave her a very regal appearance. There had been discussions of whether or not she should wear a wig, but ultimately it was Oira who decided not to hide her chopped locks.

“Let them stare,” she had said. “I will at the very least have their attention.”

In the end, they settled for a subtle distraction in the form of a diadem of white gold studded with an enormous ruby. A small, thinner diadem was chosen for Nenani with single pearl emerald that hung down from it at the center of her forehead. If she shook her head, it jingled and she found it a useful way to distract herself in the long hours of quiet beforehand.  

Standing there alone and lost in her own thoughts, Oira failed to hear Warren call her name until the third time and her head jerked up. “Y-yes?”

He gave her a patient smile. “Are you ready, m’lady?”

There was a world of weight to those words and everyone in that small room felt it. Nenani picked nervously at the edge of one of her vambraces under her sleeve.

“Yes,” Oira replied, her chest rising and falling as she took several quickened breathes. “I am.”

Warren nodded and then looked to Master Donal who gave a small bow of acknowledgment. Two footmen passed them and each took hold of one of the doors, opening them wide, and the sound from the great hall spilled inside. Master Donald stepped out and all at once the droning sound lessened as dozens upon dozens of eyes turned towards him in heightened expectation. He stood to the side of the door and in a loud, firm tone said, “His Majesty, King Warren I and her royal highness, Queen Rosanna.”

Arm in arm, the King and Queen of Vhasshal entered the great hall as one and there came a great rustling of clothes and hard bottom shoes on marble as the whole gathering of lords and ladies bowed deeply as their liege entered. The forms of the royal couple disappeared from Nenani’s sight as they turned to take their places at the head table and there was a long pause before Donal turned his gaze to Oira, a silent question on his face. Nenani watched her mother straighten her shoulders and look towards the door and it was then that she understood it was not just her that was viewing that night’s event as a sort of battle. Her mother was too and if her stance was anything to go by; she was ready for it.

Her mother gave Donal a curt nod which the Steward returned with an almost encouraging smile. But when he turned back to the room, his face was placid and neutral. Oira turned to look at her daughter and for a moment they simply stared at one another. Inexplicably, Nenani had a thought and she smiled.

Papa would be proud of you.

Almost as though she heard it, Oira gave her daughter a taught smile, eyes shinning, and then Donal’s voice rang out.

“Her royal highness, Queen Aine Elaine Oira of Silvaara.”    

They did not break eye contact as her title and name were announced and only when the giants beyond began to murmur and whisper did Oira turn away and begin her march. Beside Nenani, Jae gripped her arm. “It’s gonna be all right. She can do this. And so can you.”

She turned to Jae and tried to smile, but suddenly felt emotions well up inside her. “...I’m scared.”

“I’ll be right here the entire time,” he told her. “You have nothing to worry about. No one’s going to want to risk their social capitol by making a scene and there will be guards all over the place. Besides, you’re a lot braver then you think.” Jae seemed to consider her for a moment and then leaned down to delicately plant a kiss on her forehead, just below the hanging gem of her diadem. When he pulled away, her face felt hot and she could meet his eye. “Sorry for teasing you earlier.”

Before she could formulate any kind of response, Donal’s voice rang out for a third time and the bottom of Nenani’s stomach dropped to the floor.

“Her royal highness, Princess Nenani, Duchess of Ravenwood.”

…………….

She did not remember much after hearing her name and title. Oh Gods, she had an actual title now. Ravenwood. Where the hell was Ravenwood? She was a Duchess. But also a Princess. How? How did that work? Why had she not bothered to ask? Oh Gods, it was too late now...

She remembered walking from the dim side room and into the blazing light of the great hall, the noise wafting over her like waves. Jae was beside her and gripping her arm as he escorted her, but then there came a point where he had to release his hold on her and she had to step out into the fray alone. Giant faces watched with giant eyes that stared as she stiffly walked to the front of the table and curtsied to the King. She did not remember looking him in the face and yet she recalled him smiling and gesturing for her to come join them. Jae was at her side again and he helped her up the steps and when she finally came back into herself she was sitting beside her mother who was saying something to her in a low voice, but she could not hear.

In the corner of her eye, she saw the King stand and she craned her neck to stare up at him, her mind still a thick fog of shock. Her mother stared too, but a hand reached back to grip Nenani’s and that seemed to bring her out of it. She stared at her mother’s hand and felt her trembling fingers.

She squeezed back.  

“My honored guests, Lords and Ladies: I hold no pretense to the truth of my intentions tonight. Many of you, most in fact, are well informed of a particular rumor. That of the resurfacing of a surviving member of King Haeral’s family; his youngest daughter Aine Elaine Oira. In my younger years I was happily acquainted with the Princess as she was an intimate of my dear late brother, the Crown Prince. He considered her a close friend and confidant and I too share that familiarity. So it is much to my pleasure I am able to confirm beyond all suspicion and conspiracy that the woman before you is indeed the same Princess whom loved and cherished Thadeus just as we all did and still do. And it is my interminable honor to stand here before you this night under the Gods’ watchful eyes and our great country’s sigil to declare that I, King Warren, recognize and welcome her majesty, Aine Elaine Oira; Queen of Silvaara.”

She was not sure what she had expected beyond this point. All at once, whatever planning had been made passed their initial entrances was lost to Nenani as both her and her mother stared out into the crowd of giants. They looked so different than the kind and friendly faces of the other giants she knew. The King said what he had said and then…what?

It started off with silence. A stunned silence. And then from the back came a loud hoot and several giants began to clap enthusiastically and slowly the rest followed until the only thing to be heard was the thunderous rush of applause and intermittent cheers. But between the smiling and cheering faces, Nenani could see some other dip down to whisper fervently between one another. And some did not bother to clap or hide the distasteful expressions from their faces. After nearly a minute, Warren held up a hand and the din ebbed away. Nenani’s ears were ringing.  

“A decade ago, Vhasshal and Silvaara were great allies with a thousand years of peace between us. Tonight, in the spirit of reconciliation and the restoration of the Silvaaran throne, I bid you all to drink and dine with me as we welcome her highness the Queen and her daughter and heir, the Princess Nenani to our court.”

Warren’s gaze met Nenani’s and with the eye facing away from the crowd, winked.

…………………………

It had been Nenani’s intention to sit quietly and allow the festivities to go one without her participation, but others seemed to have a much different idea. Several lords and a ladies made a beeline for her to introduce themselves though no real conversation was had beyond pleasantries. Their names were nearly all but forgotten by the time the next lord was waiting for introductions.  

Off to one side of the room, her mother and Warren were already in a deep discussion with a small group of lords and Rosanna was speaking to several ladies. But at last, there was a lull and Jae and Nenani were left to their own devices at the table and she was given a moment to breathe and relax. Or rather, attempt to. Though she was not a fan of it, Nenani had already drunk her entire glass of hippocras, hoping the mildly alcoholic drink might calm her nerves. It just made her tummy hurt and everything taste like cloves.

“It seems to be going all right so far,” Jae commented lightly, sounding pleased. “No outbursts. Everyone seems to be behaving themselves.”

“There’s still a lot of wine left to drink, though,” Nenani replied. “That might change.”

“All that wine,” Jae grinned and leaned back into his chair. “It must be killing Keral not to be here.”

“Oh, aye,” said a voice from behind them. “It’s just plain murder...”

With a start, both Nenani and Jae turned in their seats and stared in shock to find Keral leaning against the wall just behind them. He was dressed not in his blue ranger’s coat, but a gray jerkin with black trousers and his hair was neatly brushed and pulled back into a loose queue.

Jae barked out a laugh. “Did you brush your hair?”

The ranger raised an eyebrow at him. “As a matter ‘a fact, I did. I see they brushed yer’s fer ye.”  

With a frown, Jae raised his hand up to run his fingers across his hair. “Her majesty the Queen doesn’t believe I’m capable to brushing my own hair anymore.”

“I’m inclined to agree with her,” Keral chuckled.  

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in normal clothes before,” Nenani said with a smile.

“Hard to believe I own anything else, eh?” Keral asked. “Had to dust this old thing off. Surprised it even still fits. Haven’t worn it since before I became a ranger.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” Jae asked and then added with a cheeky smirk, “Tryin’ to sneak some of the good reserves?”  

“Unfortunately no,” he sighed. “I’m workin’.”

“Working? Doing what?” Nenani asked.

Keral regarded her with an amused smirk. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on you two. You attract trouble like flies to honey. And there’s quite a lot of flies buzzin’ ‘round in here.”

“Hey,” Jae frowned. “We resent that.”

“Oh I’m sure ye do, lad. I’m sure ye do plenty,” Keral chortled, his shoulders shaking. He looked passed them, a sly glint entering his eye, and he pushed off from the wall to gestured out towards the crowd. “But I’ll leave this particular fly to ye. Since I know how much you must’ve missed his company.”

“What? Who?” Jae asked and turned back towards the front just as Keral walked away.

She heard Jae cursed.

“What?” Nenani asked, turning back around as well and catching sight of a giant making his way towards the table.

  She knew Lord Colem before he even opened his mouth to introduce himself. Just as Jae and Queen Rosanna had said, his garish yellow coat was a startling sight and was visible from half way across the room. The yellow was faded and slightly greenish as though the fabric itself was feeling ill. The cuffs and collar were lined with black bear fur and the buttons were made of brass and polished to a high sheen. It was a long, ugly thing that billowed out around his knees and his white linen and lace cravat puffed up from his collar, pushing against his pointed chin and smartly groom goatee. The whiskers of his mustache were waxed and twirled, making it look as though he had fine tusks protruding from under his nose.

And to further his eccentricities, instead of walking across the room he...more or less danced. Or rather, his steps were so flowing and exaggerated that Nenani wondered if she was supposed to laugh. She regretted Keral’s departure all the more.    

“Oh no,” Jae grumbled and leaned over to whisper at her. “Abandon your dignity, Princess. It’s about to be stripped from you.”

Nenani felt her entire body stiffen as the prodigal lord approached the table.

As he closed in, his entire upper body dipped into such a deep bow that for a moment, he disappeared beneath the edge of the table before sweeping back up with an expression of pure delight. “Princess, it is my deepest honor to make your acquaintance. I am Oliver Colem, third Duke of Westchester, at your grace’s eternal survive.”

He held out his hand, index finger out, and Nenani was struck dumb with how to proceed. Jae jerked his head and pressed the back of his hand to his lips and Nenani frowned. But she turned back to Colem, who did not looked put off at all. Rather he looked highly amused. Carefully, placed her hand onto his offered finger and his large head dipped down and kissed her hand. Her entire hand. And most of her wrist. When she pulled it back, moister than before, she shuddered.

“Um...hello, my lord,” she replied, trying to discreetly dry her hand on her skirt. Her nosed burned from the strong odor of his cologne. “L-lord...Colem. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“I must tell you, your grace looks absolutely beautiful,” he said, placing a hand to his breast. “Yellow compliments you so very well. As you may have surmised, I am very partial to the hue myself.” He then turned his attention to Jae, his smile widening into an excited grin. “And young Master Jae, my dear boy. Look how much you’ve grown! And how smart you look in that brocade.” As he rambled, Lord Colem reached out and patted Jae on the head. Large fingers brushed against his carefully combed hair and made a quick mess of it. To add salt to the open wound of Jae’s shrinking tactile tolerance, Colem then pinched Jae’s face between two fingers and cooed at him, “Oh, I haven’t seen you in such a long time, you were just a little smidgen of a thing but only a few seasons ago and now look at you! Why you’re practically a man!”

“O-oh okay, that’s enough,” Jae said, red faced, and he pushed the lord’s fingers away from him. “There’s only so many ways I can tell you, Colem. No. Touching.”

“Such a miser you are, Jae,” Lord Colem pouted, but his eyes sparkled with good humor. “You use to be such an affectionate little boy.”

“Forgive me for giving you the wrong impression all these years,” Jae replied flatly as he tried to fix his hair. “Because I do not recollect ever enjoying being stroked like a lap dog.”

“Oh you wound me. Truly, I mean no offense. Just tell me off should I overstep my bounds.”

“Overstep?” Jae scoffed, still trying to brush his hair back down. “Colem, you danced across them.”

“Well then please allow me to make some amends,” Lord Colem said, turning his eyes back to Nenani. Though he was still smiling, there was a sudden serious tone to his voice. “It is my understanding that King Warren and Queen Aine seek to rebuild Silvaara. And to raise the capitol needed, you look to our house of lords as potential investors. Am I correct, your grace?”

Nenani nodded meekly and feeling quite out of her depth. “Yes. But...I’m not very good with all that.”

“Well, let me not overly complicate things, then,” he said. “I wish to contribute to your cause, Princess. But not as an investor.”

Jae was glaring at Colem with high suspicion. “As what then?”

“As a benefactor.”

“What?” Jae scoffed and crossed his arms. “So you’re just gonna what? Give us money without any expecting any sort of return?”

Lord Colem nodded, eye bright and grin wide. “Precisely! No expectations or strings or conditions.”

Jae blinked, squinting at the man, and then looked to Nenani who could only shrug in equal confusion.

“Wait? You mean...really?” Jae asked, the hard edge he showed to Colem softening slightly. He eyed the giant up and down. “...how much?”

“Fifteen thousand.”

Jae nearly choked. His eye were wide and he regarded Lord Colem with an unabashed bafflement. “You’re joking...”

“Oh, I do enjoy a good jape,” Lord Colem declared. “But in manner of business and money, I never jest. I am quite serious.”

“That’s...I mean...whoa. That’s...a stupid amount of money.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, placing a hand on his chin and nodding thoughtfully. “A handsome sum to be sure, but what good is money if you cannot spend it on that which you hold dear?”

Jae tilted his head as he seemed to look at the lord afresh. “Never realized you were such a Silvaaran sympathizer...y’know. Seeing how close your father and Captain Acker were and being such good pals.”

“Who’s Captain Acker?” Nenani asked.

“Before Keral was captain of the blue rangers,” Jae explained. “There was a man named Acker. Some people called him the Blue Wolf. He’s why the rangers have the terrible reputation that they do. Lord Colem’s father and he were good friends. His estate supplies the indigo dye used to make their coats. Without the Colem family, we wouldn’t have the rangers.”

Colem’s expression soured and he stood back to his full height. “I would prefer if we keep my family out of these conversations, Master Jae. I live for the future and what better things may lie ahead of us. Best we leave the past where it belongs.”

“Uh-huh,” Jae replied, not seeming convinced. “Well, you can understand why I would be suspicious of a man who readily gives a decently sized portion of his family’s fortune to forward a cause that is at complete odds with his father’s legacy and family reputation.”  

“Is it so hard to understand?” Colem asked. “As you pointed out, my dear boy; my father became a wealthy man under King Nethrin. And I to this day still reap the rewards of that plunder. But answer me this: how well might you sleep in a bed bought with coins earned through thoughtless killing and murder?”

“So is that why you’re giving so much?” Jae asked. “Guilt?”

  Lord Colem gave a shallow bow, his eyes growing distant. “I will only say this: His Majesty is not the only one who eagerly seeks to rewrite his family legacy.”

......................

BONUS ART:

Poor Oira looks like she’s drowning in all that velvet...

[im-a-slut-for-an-accent]

The Party

Prequel to Embarrassing Breakfast

A/N: I really love Sam Wilson and I had the idea for a prequel in my head and @that-damn-girl​ told me to go for it so I did. I made it for them and me. 

Summary: This is how you and Sam Wilson finally made it to bed.

Rating: Explicit. Sex. Lots of sex, like mostly sex. 

              Dad knew how to go all out, you thought as you stepped into the party. You were arriving a little late after deciding to finish some paperwork before the weekend started. Also taking an extra amount of time to pick out an outfit, you knew that Sam was going to be there, and you really wanted to impress.

              You had your hair up in a semi messy bun, tight jeans, and a black crop top. You have dealt with some self-hatred towards your body over the years, but you decided enough was enough and it was time to embrace every curve. Even though you weren’t a size two you still looked good and you were happy with the way you looked almost sure enough to finally get Sam Wilson.

              You knew Sam had to be at least a little bit interested. The two of you had a very flirty friendship. Nat and Wanda both assured you several times over the past two months that he was more than just into you. When Wanda told you to trust her you sure as hell didn’t argue.

              There were still several doubts floating around in your mind. What if he was only physically attracted to you? What if it didn’t work out? Things would surely be awkward if they didn’t. Would he be weirded out with such a large age difference? What would the press think? All these questions ate at you, but you knew the only way to find out any of these answers would be to shoot your shot.

              Sam watched as you walked into the party, his mouth went dry and his heart pounded in his chest. Damn you looked good, the thought of lifting the crop top and exploring the rest of your exposed skin went through his mind.

              “Earth to Sam,” Bucky waved his arm in front of Sam’s face.

              “Y/N just arrived we no longer have his full attention,” Steve informed Bucky.

              “Good, maybe now I’ll have a chance to win.”

              Sam had started to worry that you weren’t going to show after the first half hour of the party and when you didn’t show up by the first hour his heart sank with disappointment. Now here you were, and he couldn’t be happier.

              You looked around the party trying to find Wanda or Nat, even Sam. Then you felt a pair of eyes watching you, looking around you noticed Sam staring. He was watching you, you blushed but looked him right in the eye gave a smile and then a wink. Sam smiled back and you caught his tongue dart out to lick his lips. You considered it a win on your part.

              You weren’t one for too many games but decided to play a little, see how far you could push this before one of you snapped so instead of walking over to Sam you found Nat and Wanda chatting with Maria and headed in that direction.

              When they noticed your arrival, Nat looked at you and gave a whistle and said, “I told you that top would look amazing on you.”

              Maria smirked, “Yeah, Sam seems to love it too.”

              Your mouth dropped open, “Who told you?”

              Maria laughed, “Honey, no one had to tell me anything. We can all see it, well except maybe Bruce and Tony. They seem oblivious to these kinds of things.”

              “Great,” you pouted, plopping down on the couch next to Wanda as she handed you a drink.

              The four of you sat around chatting for a while enjoying your drinks and the idle gossip about the lower level agents that Maria oversaw.

              Sam really was trying to focus on the pool game but every time you laughed his focus drew back to you. Steve sighed, just a tad annoyed, “Why don’t you just go over and talk to her?”

              “Because that means he’d have to have game,” Bucky chuckled as he made his shot.

              “Shut up, Boomer.”

              “Excuse me but we are the greatest generation and you are just a little millennial,” Bucky poked Sam with the pool stick.

              “Whatever just shut the hell up,” Sam smiled.

              The party slowly began to die down until it was just Wanda, Tony, Nat, Clint, Sam, Steve, Bucky, and you. Everyone filtered into the lounge area, you sat on the floor leaning against the front of the couch. Soon Sam was sitting next to you even though there were at least one or two spots he could’ve sat down at.

              Nat smirked and you mouthed, ‘shut the fuck up,’ at her only causing her smile to grow.

              Everyone sat around chatting, you even got into a heated debate with Clint on how gif was pronounced, he was of course wrong.

              As the minutes ticked by and everyone seemed to get a bit drunker you felt a rough but very warm hand touch your back, you let out a little gasp causing Sam to remove his hand.

              “Don’t stop,” you whispered hoping that only Sam could hear you and Sam gave a small smile as he put his hand back on you, rubbing small circles with his thumb.

              It felt so damn good and you craved more. You began to feel lightheaded unsure if it was the alcohol or Sam’s hand on the small of your back, most likely the mix of them both.

              “Y/N, are you alright?” Wanda asked, obviously faking her concern.

              “Uh, yeah, just a little lightheaded. You know how it is ton of alcohol with no food never mixes well,” you answered somewhat truthfully.

              “Sam, why don’t you help Y/N to her room,” Natasha did her best to seem helpful. Still you shot daggers in her direction.

              “Oh, uh, yeah, sure, let me do that.” Sam sat down his beer, smoothly removing his arm from behind you so no one saw. Standing up he pulled you to your feet. The sudden lift causing you to wobble. Sam expertly held you till you could properly stand.

              “Let’s get you into bed.”

              You blushed at the comment, unsure if he meant it how it sounded. “Good idea.”

              This time Sam’s cheeks heated. Sam wrapped his arm around you to keep you steady as he walked you out of the room and to the elevator.

              Once you were in the elevator Sam dropped his armed to his side. Your face fell at the lack of contact.

              “Sam-.”

              “Y/N-.”

              You spoke at the same time causing the two of you to chuckle.

              “You go first,” Sam insisted.

              Sam’s kind stare and soft smile had you at a loss for words. Instead you leaned up and captured his lips with your own. He tasted of beer and salty pretzels, it was intoxicating, and you wanted more. In mere seconds Sam had you pressed against the wall of the elevator. One hand holding the back of your neck as his other hand flattened against the side of your hip.

              You kissed like that until the elevator dinged and opened the doors. The both of you stepping out of the lift. No one spoked until you reached your bedroom door.

              “Would you like to come in?” You asked.

              Sam looked at you then looked down, “I better not.”

              Your heart jumped into the back of your throat, “Why not?”

              “It’s not that I don’t want to because by God I do but you’ve had a lot to drink tonight and Tony would probably kill me and-.” Sam rambled.

              “Stop before you dig the hole too deep,” you placed your hand on his chest. “I am not that drunk, and Dad will just have to deal. I doubt he would kill you anyways, now if you don’t want to come in then I will take your no gracefully but if you do want me, us, then please come in because I can’t take this anymore. I really do want you to come in.”

              Sam grinned, “You really want me that bad?” Sam teased.

              You smacked his arm playfully. “Maybe not now, you being such a cocky bastard and all.” You turned to leave to enter your room, pretending that you had changed your mind, but Sam grabbed you by the waist, his arm around you pulling you back to him. You could feel his hardness against your lower back.

              “I think I will come inside, if the offer is still open,” he whispered into your ear.

              You nodded, “It is.”

              Entering the room Sam wasted no time in flipping you and pinning you against the door as his lips pressed into your own. You gasped as his lips traveled down your throat and his hand traveled up the front of your shirt.

              “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” he rasped in between kisses. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

              “You can have me,” you gasped as he bit your neck softly.

              Sam groaned as he bucked into you, “Clothes are in my way.”

              You reached up and began to unbutton his shirt. He only removed his arms from your body to shrug out of his shirt before he was removing you of yours. Your lips once again connected. Sam patted your legs letting you know he wanted you to jump. You did and he wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed laying you down gently.

              He looked down at you, staring. “See something you like?” You teased.

              “Yes, I do, and I would like to see a whole lot more.” He answered as he reached down to undo your pants. He had a difficult time removing them. “Baby girl as much as I love seeing you walking around in these tight things, they are kind of a bitch to get off.”

              You chuckled, deciding to help, you lifted off the bed and as sexily as possible you removed them from your body.”

              “Now that’s more like it,” Sam cheered.

              Instead of getting back on the bed you dropped to your knees in front of him. Slowly you undid his jeans bringing them down to his knees. You were pleased at the lack of underpants as Sam’s cock was standing almost upright.

              Sam hissed as the cool air. “You-You-don’t-.” Sam was cut off as he moaned when you wrapped your lips around his tip.

              Sam was large, much larger than anything you’ve ever had before but you were determined to give him the best blow job of his life. You bobbed your head sucking as your hand grabbed ahold of the base. Sam’s hand undid your hair tie, letting it fall but quickly tangling his hand in your hair as he slowly began pumping himself into your mouth. He wasn’t rough and he never pushed farther than you could take, which you were very grateful for.

              Soon he tried to pull you off of him, but you weren’t having it, you wanted him to cum, you wanted that power of having him come undone by just your mouth.

              Sam gripped your hair tighter as he came down your throat. It wasn’t the most pleasant taste, but you swallowed what he gave you.

              “Baby girl, that was the hottest thing I have ever witnessed.”

              You smiled at his praise. You stood up but yelped in surprise as Sam pushed you back, landing on the bed.

              “Let me return the favor,” his hand slipped down your torso and then he finally noticed.

              “Are you wearing Captain America panties?”

              “Oh, um, yeah. They didn’t have any Falcon ones,” you shrugged in embarrassment.

              “These have got to go,” Sam raised his eyebrows at you as he ripped them off your body, discarding them somewhere across the room.

              “Hey! Those were comfortable.”

              He lightly slapped your thigh, “I will not have my girl wearing my best friend’s logo on her ass.”

              “Well then I definitely can’t show you the winter sold-.” you were cut off as Sam slowly licked through your folds.

              You moaned as he sucked your clit and slipped his fingers inside of you. You wondered how he became such and expert on eating women out but instead of commenting you enjoyed it as you toppled over the edge. He continued as you rode out your orgasm.

              Sam grinned as he used the back of his muscled arm to wipe your juices from his face which frankly just turned you on more.

              “I need you now,” you begged.

              “What was that baby girl?” Sam smirked as he climbed above you, his cock rubbing against your opening.

              “You cocky bastard. I Need You Inside Of Me.” You punctuated each word making sure your want was made very clear.

              Sam chuckled, “That’s all you had to say.” He slowly entered you, causing the both of you to moan. He went slow, letting you both adjust to the sensation.

              Once he bottomed out you nodded your head letting him know he could continue.

              His pace started out slow but as your hips began to push down to meet his, he picked up the pace. The room was filled with moans, grunts, and the sound of sweaty flesh meeting each other.

              Sam was rather vocal, and it had you close. “Baby girl, you feel so damn good. You gonna cum for me?”

              You frantically nodded your head.

              “Use your words baby, you gonna cum?”

              “Yes, Sam, Yes. Please make me cum!”

              Sam leaned down, capturing your lips as he reached down to rub circles across your clit. You were impressed and so fucking close.

              “I’m so close Sam,” you moaned.

              “Cum baby, cum on my cock.” Sam ordered.

              That’s all it took and you came for the second time that night. Sam following you soon after. You both laid there for a few minutes as his hard frame pressed against you, his breath was heavy as he tried to catch it.

              He eventually rolled to your side.

              You entwined your fingers with his. “Will you stay?” You asked.

              “I’ll stay with you as long as you want me,” he squeezed your hand.

              “I want you to stay.”

              “Okay.”

              “Okay.”

              You rolled into his arms as the two of you fell asleep.

[cousinslavellan-archive]

Commander of My Heart

[Silly fluff, based off a certain new Author and book we run into in game. Couldn’t resist. Enjoy some fluff guys I’m trying ♥ Braham/Terra, minor spoilers for Icebrood]

There’s three features of the Eye of the North that Terra is extremely thankful for.

First, the new Asura Gate, so that it's always accessible.

Second, the ability to talk to Aurene that it provides, something she’d been dearly missing since they’d defeated Kralkatorik.

Third - and probably her favorite, honestly - is the private rooms they’d discovered and taken over, off a hidden hall past Aurene’s perch.

She’d woken after being nearly killed by Bangar in one such room, and she and Braham had now claimed it for their own use - discovering the door only responded to them, now.

It’s a little like living together, which is sort of strange, but incredibly nice, even if they’re always on their toes, listening for news of Bangar.

The Scrying Pool’s given more insight into the Charr’s treachery, and Terra steps out of another vision with a frustrated sigh, annoyed at the lack of progress.

She can see the pieces of the puzzle - can tell there’s more there then she’s realizing - but she can’t seem to connect them, no matter how hard she tries.

“You are tired, Champion.” Aurene soothes, catching her emotions through the Bond they still share, “You should rest. Forcing yourself through the vision over and over will solve nothing.”

“I just feel so useless, right now.” Terra blows a breath out her nose, turning to face the Dragon, “All I’ve been doing is laying around, recovering. I should be out there.”

“Untrue. You are stronger, for your rest. The Brand has healed nicely - and your Spirit needed the time, as well.” Aurene bends, bumping her with her muzzle, “Braham returned while you were in the vision. I believe he is in your chambers.”

That makes Terra smile, reaching up to pat the Dragons nose fondly, “Thank you, Aurene. I think I will turn in for the night.”

“Sleep well, Champion.”

Terra makes her way down the now-familiar hallway, tucked away from the main Hall by a cluster of bright crystals. No one else is out, which tells her it is definitely later than she’d expected - probably why I feel so tired, Spirits, what time is it?

The room she shares with Braham is roughly halfway down the hall, and the lock clicks open at her touch on the handle, door swinging silently open and then shut behind her.

“Hey.” Braham calls, not looking up from the book he’s holding, “Was starting to get worried. You been in the Scrying Pool again?”

“Seems to be all I can do, right now.” she sighs, heading for the small chest they’d had brought in, “Welcome back. How’s Taimi?”

“She’s good - working on her thesis, staying out of trouble, surprisingly.” Braham’s lips quirk as he flips the page, “She says hi - and that she misses everyone. But-”

“-It’s better she’s not here, I know. But we miss her, too. I’m glad she’s well.” Terra sets her sword and dagger down by the chest, working at stripping out of her armor, “No news on my end, I’m afraid. I know I’m missing something in those visions, but I can’t figure it out.”

“You’re pushing yourself too hard again.”

She can hear the quiet reprimand in his tone and sighs, piling her armor up and pulling on the huge nightshirt she’s taken to sleeping in - Norn made, acquired during one of their stops in Hoelbrak. 

Soft and light and comfortable, easy to put on… easy to take off, depending on a certain Norn’s moods.

“I know. I’m sorry. You know I don’t like being idle this long.”

“You haven’t been idle. You’ve been healing. But I get it.” now there’s humor there, “Remember when I busted my ankle and still wanted to go chasing down bad guys? I can’t exactly talk about being patient.”

“Too true.” Terra laughs, turning to head towards the bed and letting herself enjoy the picture for a moment - Braham sitting against the headboard, bare chested and covered from the waist down by their blankets, book in hand - wait…

“Braham…” she squints as she climbs onto the bed, brows raised, “Why in Tyria are you reading that?”

“What, this?” the redhead grins cheekily, holding up the book - a cover she recognizes all too well, considering it’s been a source of embarrassment the last week, “I thought it was pretty entertaining. I mean, he clearly doesn’t know you at all-”

“Braham…”

“-and I want to say parts of your lover are based on me, except even I’m not this dumb, so I don’t know where he got his inspiration for for them-”

“Braham!” oh, if she could just crawl into a hole and never come out… “Give me that book!”

“Hell no, this is way too funny!” Braham flips the page and guffaws at a passage, “Oh Spirits, who writes like this? This is that… what’s it called? Purple prose?”

“Stop!” she tries to tackle him for it, barely managing to grab onto it before Braham has her looped in his other arm and cradled securely against his chest, the book held high over her head, “Arg, Spirits, dammit, Braham!”

“Relax, Ter. The book is ridiculous.” he’s grinning widely, amusement and affection clear in his tone as he lifts her, nuzzling his nose against hers, “Other than some good-natured teasing, no one’s gonna care. You shouldn’t care.”

“Ugh.” she grumps petulantly, giving in to his affection and letting herself relax against him, fight draining as his warmth envelops her, “Fine. But only because I am exhausted and all I want to do is sleep.”

“You do look tired.” Braham agrees, turning to drop the book near the side of the bed and then shimmying down a bit so she can lay down properly, still cradled against him, “It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”

“And don’t call yourself dumb.” Terra mutters, eyes slipping closed as she snuggles closer, “You’re not dumb. You just prefer punching things.”

Braham barks out a laugh, and she feels him press a kiss to the top of her head.

“You know me too well, Commander of my Heart.” he whispers cheekily, but she’s too sleepy to smack him.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day One | Shining Armor ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ]

[ Previous || Next ]

It all comes down to this.

Checking and double checking his gear, Obito can’t help a worried sigh. For weeks he’s been considering giving a new hobby a try, and even before then he’d started saving for something to do. He stumbled across a possible activity completely by accident when making a detour home one day from work. In a park he’d never visited was a group of twenty or so people - adults, mind you - doing what looked to be some kind of...really involved make-believe.

A little research revealed it to be called LARPing. Live-action roleplaying. Like taking one of his favorite fantasy videogames or a tabletop campaign, and making it as close to real as one can really get: literally acting it out, in real time, with real people. Dressed up as their characters and everything!

He was hooked.

Hours of research later, he’d gotten started: crafting his outfit, weapons, supplies, and a character to play. A barbarian warrior...something he thought suited his build, and his appearance.

No real need to explain his scars, that way.

It took a while to build up the nerve, but he finally approached one day and asked about how to join. Most events were just day-long ones as opposed to full weekends, he’d learned. And an entry fee helped cover a few costs like extra props, costumes, and even food for the players over the course of the day. Fifty bucks and he could hop in.

He hadn’t done so right away, still fiddling with all the details of his character. He wanted it to be perfect…! But eventually there was nothing left to procrastinate, so...he packed up his gear and headed out.

And now here he is, standing with a few other newcomers. Thankfully his underclothes were normal enough to walk here in, and he starts strapping on armor he’d made. It’s nothing too fancy, but he managed to get some metallic paint to make it look like real steel. Overall, for his first go of it? He’d say he’s done well. There will always be time to improve as he goes, right?

It’s a high fantasy setting, as he’s learned. Elves, magic, that sort of stuff. Pretty typical, as far as he’s read. And while he’s set to be a moldable, playable character, so too are there those who play more static roles for the players to interact with...as well as those helping to craft the stories. Each only takes six to eight hours, as not to drag on past each day gathering. But some end up interconnected. Today, it seems, given all the new faces, they’re starting a new event.

The main coordinator and storyteller gathers the characters together to give a brief overview, as well as introduce the NPCs before they start. But once it begins, there’s no breaking character. Hours of being someone else for a day - no longer is he Obito, but Garver the Crushing, complete with a mace and shield he found tutorials for online.

With the plot set, everyone disperses, taking their places and readying for the game to begin. Obito, along with a few others, start by browsing the “town” to gather supplies for an upcoming battle set to take place. His character doesn’t know any magic...but he can certainly use things like throwable weapons, and potions to ensure he doesn’t get taken down too easily.

But the NPC selling potions is swarmed first, so he idles around for a bit, browsing a selection of weapons available for gold...or in this case, real-world quarters used in place of anything too fancy. In the end he picks up a dagger, not wanting to eat into his character’s savings too much.

He then finds the potion “shop” empty of other patrons, and shyly makes his way forward.

Right away he can tell, this one’s a pro. Not only does she have a good array of props, but her outfit looks entirely legit. Within an actual period-appropriate tent are few shelves, complete with a banner: White Dragon Remedies, it proclaims. Bottles filled with shimmering liquid are made of a squishy, clear material to prevent any breaks. She also has some “enchanted” clothing: more glittering fabric to indicate their magical properties.

Turning to face him, she reveals more of her outfit. While her actual dress is a rather plain dark grey, it’s her cloak that makes his jaw drop comically. White with silver embroidery work, it’s a piece of art in and of itself. It sweeps the grass, a wide hood draped over her head, still revealing her fake (but very convincing) elven ears.

Her eyes are a light grey, almost white to match her colorless locks. Even her brows and lashes are white! He wonders if it’s makeup and a wig, or if this is how she actually looks.

“Greetings, traveler,” she offers with a smile that makes his chest clench. “Are you in need of my brews…? Or perhaps something laced with magic to protect you?”

Still a bit shell shocked, Obito flounders for a moment like a fish out of water. Clearly she’s a long-standing player to be this prepared and decked out. “Uh, I...y-yeah. Um…”

As he stutters, she can’t help a glint of amusement in her eyes he’s pretty sure isn’t in-character - she’s actually having to hold back a laugh, he can tell. “I have a wide variety of wares,” she offers, clearly trying to help him regain his head. “Potions of healing, articles of protection, and even scrolls of contained spells for those unable to cast enchantments themselves. All highly valuable on the battlefield for a warrior such as yourself. Is there anything specific you’re looking for…?”

Trying to delve back into his character, Obito looks around. What would Garver like to take with him…? “I’ll take healing potions, at any rate. What do they cost?”

“I’ve one that can heal a minor wound, and one for a more...serious injury. The former is ten gold, and the latter twenty.”

Ooh, he...won’t be able to get too many. His ears turn red in embarrassment at his both in- and out-of-character poverty. Weighing his coin pouch, teeth nibble the scar along his lip in thought.

“I also have garments that help reduce damage taken. More costly, but also more effective over time. You’ll need fewer potions for as long as you have it, my lord.”

“Oh, I’m no lord,” Obito quickly refutes. Garver is a simple mercenary, after all.

“Any patron of mine receives my respect,” is her polite rebuke. Reaching for a verdant scarf, she holds it aloft for him to look at. “This will halve any damage you take. A robust enchantment indeed.”

Something about it catches his eye. “...and the cost?”

“Fifty gold is all. And, since you’re a new face in town, I’ll throw in a lesser potion of health for good measure, no extra charge.”

“But -?”

“Dark times lie ahead, traveler. We must all be cautious. And you’ll need to survive them to visit me again when you’ve more coin to spend, hm?” She winks an eye, and his chest flutters again. “Consider it an investment in your well-being. And perhaps mine, if you ever return.”

Blinking at her, Obito then looks down at the scarf. It does sound like a pretty good deal… “...I’ll take it.”

“Excellent!” Folding the scarf as he counts out his quarters, she fetches one of the blue sparkling potions. “I wish you luck, traveler. May fortunate winds blow at your back.”

“A-and you,” he stutters in reply. “...thank you.”

“Save your thanks for when that scarf saves your life, stranger.”

“...Garver.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I - my name, it...it’s Garver.”

Her expression brightens. “Ah! A pleasure, lord Garver. I am Wyria of the White Dragon. I hope our paths will cross again sometime.”

Not sure how to reply, Obito just gives a sheepish nod before retreating. Nearby, another male player seems to evaluate his gear.

“Well met,” he offers, nodding to Obito in greeting.

“Hello.”

“Been to stock up on potions, have you?”

“Er...yeah. Yes. I...can’t afford much.”

“A mercenary’s life is spent in constant search of coin, eh? You must spend it to make it.”

The corner of Obito’s mouth twitches. This interaction seems a lot...easier. “True enough. Though just once I’d like to get ahead.”

“All it takes is one lucky break! And just one unlucky one to have it all come to a screeching halt. We walk a blade’s edge, my friend.” Holding out a hand, he offers, “Irkvar.”

“Garver,” Obito replies, shaking it.

“So...what think you of the potion seller?”

“What do I...think?”

The other man grins. “A beauty, isn’t she? Not often you see elves this far north. They seem to prefer the warmer climates. But she keeps us all stocked and alive.”

Before he can stop it, Obito’s brow furrows. “...seems we’re lucky to have her, then.”

“Indeed.” Glancing around, the man then leans in and whispers, breaking character for a moment. “She’s a professional cosplayer. Goes to cons and makes big bucks with photos and shit. She’s huge on Instagram, too. All-natural hottie - no wig or anything, that’s just how she looks. Makes her super popular if the cosplay fits well. Wouldn’t mind getting to know her better but she tends to ghost once the events are done.”

At the rather...objectifying language, Obito scowls. “Can’t imagine why,” he mutters sarcastically.

But his tone seems lost on his companion, who then slides back into character. Yet even as the idle speech drags on, Obito can’t help but remain annoyed with the guy.

What an ass.

Once the prologue is completed and the characters found to be ready for the next phase, Obito manages to evade his new “friend” and immerse himself more into the story. The city has received word of an impending attack...and he has a choice to make. Stay and fight for the city, and receive less gold...or betray them and join the attacking force, which has more gold to spare.

Thinking of the goods he could acquire with some extra spending money, Obito nonetheless finds himself tugged toward the moral high ground. So after some debate, he decides to remain in the city. A few more darker-aligned characters actually swap, and he finds himself preparing to face them.

It’s them, or him.

Hours pass as skirmishes start and stop. Strategies are laid out, twists in the story guided by the NPCs. Obito, scarf around his neck, manages to keep his character alive, relying on his single potion as the battle seems to wane.

But then the boss appears...and he realizes he’s made a grave mistake. There’s no way he’s going to make it with no more potions! He could do the cowardly thing and run, but -?

“I cast Wall of Spectral Light!”

Jolting, he turns to see the potion seller. A hard glint is in her eyes, staring at the boss with a snarl.

Seems she’s decided to work to protect her home.

The narrator calls out the spell’s effects, proclaiming that her actions help protect a section of the defending army...including Obito. No damage is taken, but the barrier can only repel so much damage. From a belt at her waist, she begins tossing extra potions to the players.

“I’ve no gold,” Obito replies.

“We’ll settle any debts later, should we live through this,” she replies, looking to him gravely.

For a moment, Obito forgets this is all a game. He meets her desperate gaze with one of his own, and there’s a sort of...spark.

But they don’t have much time to chat.

The battle rages on, player characters calling out spells as Wyria and other NPCs lend scripted hands. And just as the sun starts setting, someone lands the final blow...and the boss collapses, dead.

A chorus of triumphant cries echo out over the park, and characters celebrate, embracing and beating chests. Obito sags in relief. In truth...he’s exhausted. More so than a day at work!

And as the cheering goes on, it’s joined by children who had stopped to watch, Obito sheepishly waving to them and earning more excitement. Seems they’re convinced this is all real: the joys of childish imagination.

Looking just as tired as the rest of them, the NPCs offer their congratulations to their heroes. And Wyria greets Obito, much to his surprise.

“So, seems that scarf served you well, Garver,” she offers with a wry grin. “I think you can properly thank me, now.”

“It did...as did your potions. I owe you more than just gold - I owe you my life.”

“You and a few others,” she replies cheekily. “But all debts will be settled in time. I’m sure  I have a job or two you can do for me sometime.”

Grinning tiredly, Obito watches her for a moment before everyone is gathered for a final celebration in the town. As it begins to wind down, the storyteller declares the event over, and everyone is allowed to break character at last.

Sighing in relief - yet wholly satisfied with his Saturday - Obito glances around. It’s then he realizes he didn’t see Wyria in the party, and indeed she’s instead been packing up.

Seems the man from before is right - she doesn’t waste any time. It wilts his expression, as he’s pretty sure he understands why. Keeping his helmet tucked under his arm, he sheepishly approaches. “...need any help?”

At his voice, she spins around, eyes wide, still dressed in her attire. But she softens as she recognizes him. “Ah, sorry...I thought you were, uh...nevermind.”

“I think I know who you mean,” Obito assures her. “So I thought I’d lend a hand, if...you want it.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.”

They finish dismantling her setup, which Obito compliments. “This must’ve taken a lot of time.”

“And money,” she assures him dryly. “But...I love it. It’s been worth every dollar and hour. I love acting and dressing up, so...it only makes sense. I was one of the people who helped set up the LARP group here.”

“Really?”

“Mhm! Right out of high school. It was really small and...cheap at first. But we’ve grown a lot over the years. We even put on shows for schools sometimes. Which helps earn more money to keep the group going.”

“That’s awesome!”

“Maybe you’ll join us for one?”

“Eh…” At that, he hesitates. “...maybe. I’m still, uh...new. And…” He gestures to his face, wilting. “...not sure I’d be good around kids.”

“They seemed to love it before. And they’ll just believe it’s part of your character. Are…?” It’s her turn to pause. “So...those are real?”

“Yeah.”

“Me too. The hair and stuff, I mean.” Her eyes roll. “Used to get me bullied, but I do pretty well thanks to it now.”

“Someone mentioned you cosplay professionally…?”

“Mhm. It’s not a full gig, I still work. But it helps. And it’s a lot of fun, when...people aren’t being jerks.”

Obito sours. “Yeah...I caught a whiff of that earlier. I’m sorry.”

“It comes with the territory. Just...wish that it didn’t.” After a pause, a box of stuff in her arms, she offers, “I...just realized I never introduced myself! My...real self, that is. I’m Ryū.”

“Obito.”

“Nice to meet you. And thanks for the help.”

Helping her load the last boxes into her car, Obito can’t help but ask, “So...do you always play an NPC?”

“I do. As much as a character is fun, I enjoy being part of the structure. And since I’m one of the founders, I feel more...set in stone that way. I play Wyria every time. So I’m almost like a playable character, just...set to a script. I’m the same person for every story, but I enjoy it a lot. I feel like a piece of the foundation that way.”

“I think I understand.”

Closing the car door, she gives him another look. “Thanks for helping me pack up. And…” She glances past him for a moment, and his head tilts. “...for helping ward anyone else off.”

Obito nearly turns to look, but brightens in understanding. “...oh! Yeah, sure. Any time.”

“So, will you be back next weekend?”

“Er...maybe.” He itches his neck guiltily. “The, uh...ticket price is a little steep for me.”

“Yeah, it can be. Very few people come every week. Mostly it’s every other, or once a month. It keeps the group fluid, though. A different pool every time.” Ryū gives a smile. “But it’ll be cool to see you again. You did really well for a first timer!”

Obito feels himself get warm at the compliment. “Y-yeah?”

She nods. “Did you do any theater in high school?”

“A little, yeah.”

“That helps. And it only gets easier the more you do it. I’m sure Garver will be a staple pretty soon. And Wyria will always be happy to sell him some potions...for the right price.”

Smiling bashfully, Obito then stiffens. “Oh -!” He reaches up and takes off the scarf. “Here, I -”

“No, that’s yours.”

“...but -?”

“You bought it in-game, so it belongs to Garver.” She waves a hand. “I get material and stuff pretty cheap, don’t worry about it. And players trade things back in for upgraded stuff, so it usually cycles back. Just don’t lose it, okay?”

“Oh...well, thanks.”

She just smiles in reply. “Well, I guess I’ll see you whenever you can make it back in! Take care, Obito.”

“Yeah, you too.” He steps aside, letting her pull away from the park’s lot in the dusk of evening.

He needs to get home, too...it’ll be dark by the time he gets back. Stripping off his gear and putting it back into his duffle bag, Obito smiles to himself. It was a really good day…! Better than he’d feared. And maybe he’s even making a new friend, both in and out of character. Sadly his low wages mean it might be a while before he can come back, but...well, it’ll be worth the wait.

Replaying it all in his mind, he starts back toward home, unable to help but linger on the scenes with Garver and Wyria. Partly he feels bad - he doesn’t want to be like Irkvar. But, well...her character is interesting! And Garver just...enjoyed her. That’s all.

...that’s all.

     Aw yisss, we’re back with another ObiRyū October, y’all! And the first piece is set in a modern verse with some LARPing, cuz...Obito is a canon professional LARPer, after all xD And the prompt just fit too well, I couldn’t not do it lol      I have a few buffer days built up JUST in case I fall behind (as I...always do), but I’ll still be writing to try and keep up. Otherwise, as per usual, I’ll be doing my best to post once a day through the whole month in celebration of my OTP!       So on that note...I better start working on more xD Thanks for reading!

[imaginemae]

Adrien Agreste’s Inferiority Complex - SPOILER ALERT

This has been a long time coming:

-Telling Theo that he’s actually “the one in charge anyway” when Ladybug doesn’t show up (Copycat)

-Attempting to defeat an akumatized victim without Ladybug’s help, knowing damn well that he can’t capture akumas or fix everything (Copycat)

-”Why do I have to deal with these freaks, while you get to slip calmy ‘round back?” (The Pharaoh) 

-”You know sometimes I do have ideas” (Reflekta)

-Being expected to believe that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth without being given any evidence or explanation. “I’m supposed to just accept that? (The Collector) 

-Ladybug being able to know Rena Rouge’s identity (Sapotis, Syren)

-Being kept in the dark about Master Fu from Ladybug and his own kwami (Syren)

Where am I going with this?

Adrien has exhibited thoughts of inadequacy in/out of his suit. 

I think this is worth examining a little bit more.

In the episode “Syren” Adrien gets irritated by Ladybug’s lack of communication with him. 

She knows Rena Rouge’s identity, she has access to Master Fu, and she “can’t tell” him about any of it. 

Ladybug took the grimoire, Ladybug suspected Gabriel, Ladybug often knows where akumas are hidden, and Chaton has been left in the dark about how she knows so much.

Because these instances have to do with her identity Marinette is stuck in a situation where she can’t tell Chat Noir. She can’t tell Chaton how she got the book because she stole it from Adrien which equals: Ladybug knows Adrien IRL.

She can’t tell Chat Noir about Master Fu because Chat Noir knowing could then equal him going to meet Master Fu himself which then equals Marinette and Adrien possibly running into each other.

Ladybug could tell Chat Noir that Rena Rouge is actually Alya Cesaire because Alya has helped them out before, but Alya being chosen as Rena Rouge could also arouse suspicion that Ladybug knows her IRL. 

The danger of having Chat Noir in the know is also amplified because Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth. One little slip up on Adrien’s part can/will be a huge problem (though the characters are unaware of this).

I have always been against Chat Noir not knowing as much, not because of their identities, but because they stressed so often in season one that they are a team. It’s not like Batman and Robin, it’s closer to Cloak and Dagger. One cannot do everything without the other - they are equals - yin and yang. 

So Adrien being upset about this and getting fed up is incredibly justified. Why is he the only one who has to fight for information? Why does he have to bribe his own kwami (granted Tikki wouldn’t tell Marinette anything until they got the book)? Why does he have to get left behind while Ladybug does not? 

A negative reaction from Adrien has been a long time coming, and the way his civilian life is does not help, but we’ll talk about that soon.

What ultimately bothers me is this: Adrien was willing to blackmail Plagg by threatening to take off his miraculous and leave it idling unless Plagg gave him information.

Let’s all think about that for a second.

Adrien Agreste, whose only source of freedom is through that ring, was willing to give up being Chat Noir because he wasn’t being treated as an equal. Even more so than that, he felt like he was being treated as if he was less significant than Ladybug. Adrien doesn’t feel like he is important. 

He explains in “Syren” that “no one will care” if he’s gone or that he’s “no one”, as if he, Adrien Agreste, is not needed as Chat Noir. Even though he’s proven again

(Taking the hit for Ladybug in “Timebreaker”)

(Taking the hit for Ladybug in “Dark Cupid”)

and again 

(Holding off an army while Ladybug was busy Marinette-ing in “Darkblade”)

(Scoping out the land for the Mime in “The Mime”)

(Catching that Ladybug’s miraculous was about to get stolen in “Antibug”)

and again

(Helping a struggling Ladybug take down Kagami in “Riposte”)

(Handling another army while Ladybug was busy Marinette-ing in “Befana”)

(Moving Ladybug away from danger while she was distracted in “Gigantitan”)

(Being the key component in taking down Gorizilla literally as Adrien and Chat Noir in “Gorizilla”)

(Sacrificing himself so Ladybug has a chance to fix everything in “Zombizou”)

that Ladybug clearly cannot do everything without him. He is needed. Just like Ladybug could not be just anyone, neither could Chat Noir.

Unfortunately, this isn’t just about Ladybug withholding information. 

No, this issue stems from Adrien’s civilian life as well. It’s not that he believes that nobody needs Chat Noir, it’s that he believes no one needs Adrien.

Inferiority Complex:  “an unrealistic feeling of general inadequacy caused by actual or supposed inferiority in one sphere”

Does everyone remember in “The Gamer” how Marinette breezily beat the video game and Adrien was struggling? Does everyone remember that little conversation they had??

That was a direct look into Adrien’s mindset. He actually believes he is "lame”. 

Let’s examine a few facts about Adrien’s life that we know:

1. He had one friend (Chloe) as a child, even when his Mother was around

2. He is not allowed to go outside without an entourage

3. He adored his kind, “overly dramatic”, and maybe controlling Mother (that’s another theory) who is now gone

4. His Father won’t tell him shit about Emilie’s disappearance and he knows for a fact that Gabriel hides stuff from him because he saw the safe behind the painting of Emilie

5. Gabriel shuns friendship like it’s the plague (”We Agrestes are solo artists”, Captain Hardrock) and won’t let Adrien hang out with his friends. He didn’t even want Adrien to go to school

6. Gabriel almost never eats dinner with Adrien, but won’t let Adrien make other plans

7. Even though he’s usually vibrant and outspoken as Chat Noir, he’s very careful about what he says to Gabriel whenever they have a conversation by being overly polite and kind

8. Adrien does piano, fencing, kung fu, Chinese (and apparently other languages) to never be shared or used with anyone else because GABRIEL WON’T LET HIM.

Notice the pattern? 

In Adrien’s little bubble his purpose is to...sit still and look pretty? Do everything Daddy says? Have things decided for him? And anything he wants is consistently put aside?

So in the actual world - where Ladybug is curing akumas and coming up with brilliant plans - what is his purpose? 

To the audience he is incredibly well-loved and important (I’d even go as far as to say he is the fandom’s favorite character), but to Adrien it feels like he believes that he is just another accessory, and the fact that Ladybug knows more about what’s going on adds to his feelings of insecurity.

The people who love him for modeling, his friends who love him for being kind - Adrien doesn’t see that as being needed or noticed because that’s not his true self. Chat Noir is closer to his true self, and Chat Noir gets overshadowed by Ladybug ALL THE TIME.

But then what about Ladybug herself? Ladybug who has always put her trust in Chat Noir? Ladybug who was willing to give up her miraculous to save him? Ladybug who found out Chaton was in love with her and then immediately gave him closure? Ladybug who convinced Master Fu to start including Chat Noir?

This is where I get pissed off. 

Ladybug does see Chaton as someone important and she has proven it even as Marinette.

-She has expressed how irreplaceable he is to her (”Anansi”)

-She has expressed she cares about and respects his feelings (”Glaciator”, “Frozer”)

-Tells him that Ladybug is lucky to have him (”Weredad”)

-Is never afraid to show how much she depends on him (”Antibug”, “Gorizilla”)

It’s because Adrien has been cut-off from the world all his life that he is so

O B LI V I O U S to it. 

In any other show, Adrien would be/become a villain. 

I got nervous in “Glaciator” and I got anxious in “Syren”. 

Adrien is a wonderful character because he is a good person despite all the misfortune in his life, but he has a breaking point.

The most recent episode “Chris Master” has led me to believe that we will see the crux of Adrien’s inferiority complex as there is a single moment where he seems genuinely taken aback that Ladybug is considered the most well-behaved kid in the world.

Despite the fact that he also made a similar comment in “Puppeteer” (”There’s only one goody-two-shoes around here, and I’m not her”).

The fact that Ladybug joked about it is worrisome because she did not catch the serious tone behind Chat Noir’s comment which could fuel Adrien’s inferiority complex. He may start believing that even Ladybug believes she is superior.

My theory is that this will blow up in everyone’s face this season. Chat Noir may turn into a villain, or be manipulated if someone else catches on to his insecurity (i/e Lila/Gabriel).

Next topics of discussion:

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Guilt Complex

Marinette’s Dupain-Cheng’s Major Character Flaw

Adrien Agreste’s Major Character Flaw

[garethlyons]

Gareth as a snarky blond in-game follower.

How your character acts as if they were an in-game follower!

Selection Line: “[laughs] Things are about to get much more interesting, I can sense it!”

Class: Rogue

Weapons: Daggers/Fist Weapons

AI Behavior:  Gareth will stay stealthed until combat. After combat initiation, Gareth targets your target with force, along with one interrupt.

If idling, Gareth will fix his hair then practice use of his weapons briefly before putting his weight to one hip as he looks around. The odd time if using daggers, he may fumble one, step out of the way of the blade and pick it back up to return it to it’s holster.

Battle Lines:

“Gotcha, now!” - Fight start “Wait - hold on. [Uses primary ability] Hah! There it is!” - In combat <60 seconds “Hey! Over here!” - Taunt “Let’s make this a bit more interesting. Heh.heh..” - Disappear “Now you’ve right pissed me off!” - Brawl style “Surprise!” - Mid-combat

Exiting Battle:

“Well. That was... mildly entertaining.” “I give that one an A- for attempted murder. Minus since the attempt failed.” “*Gareth plants a little white flag beside the now non-existent enemy.* I’d like to think it gives someone hope after resisting.” “This better pay it’s weight in gold, or you’ve got another problem on your hands.”

KO’d:

“Dramatic deathline, HNNGH-” “So much for a truce.” “Almost had them..”

Resurrected:

“Phew. Thought I was a goner. Oh, wait..” “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Nevermind, my internal organs are all here. We’re good!.” *sarcastically* “You rang, Master?”

Tagged by: @latildarommel

Tagging: @explosivesorrow, @summysparklesprocket, @dardillien-ward, @leahdarkspear, @belillinafireseeker

[anonymouswriter2311]

Badge’s and Barmaid’s, Chapter 11

Game. Set. Match. The Dingles women were ready and roaring. Joseph Tate had taken too much from them already, and it was time they showed him who was boss. Their plan was simple, with only one objective in sight: to destroy him at all costs. Debbie was done playing nice, and while Charity wanted to see the rich prick demolished she couldn’t get Vanessa out of her head. So, tonight was more than just a chance for revenge. It was her opportunity to get the blonde Detective out of her system once and for all. So she got dressed up to the nines, revealed the perfect amount of cleavage and got her war paint on because no matter how much the blonde invaded her mind, she wasn’t planning on going home alone tonight.

 “Don’t ya think this is a bit much?” Chas joked as she watched the blonde apply her last layer of lipstick and examine herself in the small mirror. “Expecting your lady love to be there?” The brunette teased, shocked when she saw that her comment did nothing to alter the blonde’s surprisingly good mood.

“Don’t be daft, and she’s not mine.” Charity laughed as she puffed her mane of hair out slightly, ignoring the twinge of excitement that surged through her body at the mere thought of Vanessa being hers.

“Is that a smile I see?” The brunette smirked while Charity carefully put away her makeup, most of it new and usually unused.

“It might be.” She smirked back before helping herself to a large glass of wine. “I have decided that I am done waiting around for little miss perfect…and I’m gonna have some fun tonight!” She informed her shocked cousin, who had been hoping that this relationship would work out for her.

“Too right!” Debbie suddenly appeared, looking absolutely gorgeous. She had pulled out all the stops, and she knew that she would have any man at that party like putty in her hands with one glance.

“Woah babe, you look amazing.” Charity winked playfully at her daughter, who began to strut over to her like she was on a catwalk.

“Need to show that prick what he’s missing right?” She smiled mischievously, as her Mum handed her a glass of wine.

“You and me both babes.” The blonde gently clinked glasses with the younger woman, before downing most of hers.

“Mum! Can I order my pizza yet?” Noah shouted as he bounced into the small living room.

“Go for it, cash is on the table!” Charity smiled sweetly at her son while refilling her glass.

“Can me and Samson go to his and chill?” He asked as he jumped over the back of the sofa, and landed with a blop.

“What? No one is in at his, so no.” She stomped over to him and ruffled his hair playfully. Samson’s house was far too close to home farm for her liking, and with Joe Tate out for Dingle blood, she felt more at peace knowing that Chas was going to be watching over her son while she was away. “You two can ‘chill’ here.” She smirked as a look of protest crept onto Noah’s face.

“But he’s got the new VR headset!” Noah exclaimed as he pulled away from her touch.

“Then you can play with it tomorrow.” Charity sternly replied putting an abrupt end to the pending argument. “Now, give me a kiss, tell me I look amazing and stay here!”

“You look alright.” He rolled his eyes before placing a quick kiss on his Mother’s cheek and disappearing up the stairs mumbling something about waiting for Samson’s pizza order.

“That’s my boy.” Charity called after him, flinching slightly as the loud bang of his door echoed through the home.

“Hey, did you mean what you said?” Debbie spoke softly as she reached out to gently rub her Mum’s arm. “About giving up on Vanessa…” She pressed, hoping that it was the wine talking.

Charity sighed as she shook her head, trying to sort out her messed up feelings. “Debs I put myself out there for her, and she doesn’t want me….so, I’m going to have some fun tonight!” And try and get those gorgeous blue eyes out of my head, Charity thought to herself as Debbie reluctantly agreed with her statement.

 “If that's the case, then let’s show Detective Inspector Woodfield exactly what she just missed out on!” Debbie winked playfully as she grabbed her jacket from the back of the sofa.

 “Hopefully by not getting arrested or anything,” Chas spoke up from her place at the table. “You’ve got a shift tomorrow night, and I’ve got a date with Paddy.” Charity rolled her eyes playfully at the older woman before the three started to laugh and secretly pray that the night didn’t end in one of their arrests.

***

Vanessa had cursed Matthew’s name the entire way to the police station. The look on Johnny’s face had almost killed her on the spot when she told him about her missing out on yet another night together, but after the promise of ice-cream and a visit to the duck pond had been offered up the little boy soon brightened up a bit. She hated this part of her job. The long night shifts, and the unexpected shift changes. It had almost made her reluctant to apply for the promotion in the first place, but she needed the money and knew that it would be a whole lot safer than being patrolling the streets.

 The night had been a slow one. Vanessa had spent most of it doing paperwork for her latest case and scowling at her partner, who had apologised multiple times since her arrival. The blonde wished for something exciting to come in, anything that would pull her away from her desk and make the hours remaining fly by. She finally got her wish towards the end of her shift when the Chief Inspector walked into the shared workspace.

 “Matthew’s, Woodfield!” He bellowed, making Vanessa do a tiny fist bump out of his line of sight.

“Yes, sir?” Vanessa was first to reach him, ready to get started on whatever he had for them straight away.

“Got a new case for ya. Seeing how interested you were in the last Dingle matter, here’s their newest one.” He smirked as he handed the blonde woman the newest Dingle related file. In a blind panic, she quickly flicked through the rough report, talking in as much as she could before handing it off to Matthew’s.

“This come in tonight?” She asked, trying to hide the emotions creeping up her throat. She had feared the worse when she read the report that was lacking in some major details. All she could put together was that one of the Dingle’s homes had been knocked down while two people were inside.

“Yep, one of you go to the crime scene, and the other to the hospital. They’re claiming that they didn’t order for the house to be knocked down, so find out who did.” The Chief Inspector nodded firmly before taking his leave. The Dingles were not a bunch that the police wanted to be wasting their time on, so he wasn’t going to provide any real manpower for the investigation.

“Flip a coin?” Matthew’s asked as he placed the file on the closest desk and reached into his pocket to pull out a handful of loose change.

“Nope, I’m not freezing my ass off when it’s meant to be my night off!” Vanessa smirked as she pushed past the plump man. “I’ll text you from the hospital.” She shouted over her shoulder before she quickly walked out of the station and headed towards her blue beetle, planning to head home after talking to the Dingles.

 Vanessa had been kicking herself the entire way to the hospital. She regretted waiting and not replying to Charity. She regretted letting idle gossip get to her and she prayed that the blonde was okay. Matthew’s had called her from the scene of the crime to fill her in on the missing details from the report. A wave of relief fell over her when she heard that it was two boys that had been rushed to the hospital and not her blonde barmaid. She still felt terrible though. She knew that both Charity and Debbie had young children, and she knew that emotions would be running high when she reached the hospital.

As she waltzed into the hospital waiting room she wasn’t surprised to see a large group rallied around the blonde woman. “Charity?” The DI quickly clamped her jaw shut as the word involuntarily left her mouth, prompting the group to shift their attention angrily to the intruder.

“Now she shows up!” Charity muttered shooting daggers at the nervous blonde woman, who began to approach with caution.

“Mum!” Debbie whisper shouted at her Mother, cursing the amount of alcohol the blonde had consumed.

“What are you doing here Vanessa?” The blonde pushed herself up to her feet, her head reeling and speech slightly slurred.

“I’m actually here on official police business…” Vanessa gulped nervously as she stood her ground, not prepared to show any sign of emotions to the blonde, not while she was on duty.

“Of course! Because that’s the only time you let your standards slip.” Charity spat nothing but pure venom laced in her voice. “Here to play hero again? Oh, but wait. You’ve forgotten your cape at home! Better run along and get it!” She exclaimed forgetting that she was in a waiting room with most of her family. Vanessa frowned slightly as Charity’s words seeped in. She wouldn’t hold them against the blonde though. Knowing that the majority of them were due to the alcohol she had obviously consumed, and the looming worry for her family.

“Do you two know each other?” Lisa spoke up, brutally reminding Charity that she had an audience.

“She moved into Tug Ghyll a few days ago.” Chas quietly replied as she watched on in anticipation of what else was to fall out of her cousin’s mouth.

“I’m not here for a fight Charity. I’m here to find out what happened.” Vanessa spoke calmly, trying to maintain her level of professionalism.

“My son almost got crushed to death because I was out trying to forget abo-”

“I think it’s best you leave it for tonight.” Charity’s shouting was quickly cut off by Debbie, who abruptly stood and walked over to the pair. “We’ve all had quite a bit to drink, and things are a little hazy.” She nodded towards Vanessa, as she gently wrapped her arm around her Mum’s.

“Of course. I’ll come back tomorrow to get a statement.” The DI nodded back, as she put away notebook. “Charity, a word in private please?” She whispered softly so that only the pair in front of her could hear.

“Of course DI Sunshine!” Charity rolled her eyes as she pulled out of Debbie grip, silently followed the small blonde.

“She’s gonna get herself arrested if she keeps that up,” Zak muttered as the two women disappeared down a corridor.

“I don’t think Vanessa is interested in arresting her,” Chas smirked, shooting her niece an amused glance.

“Shut it, Chas!” Debbie rolled her eyes while re-joining her family.

“What’s up buttercup?” Charity asked as Vanessa gently pushed her into an empty break room, that she had originally asked to have for interviews.

“Drop the act Charity, I know that this isn’t you.” Vanessa snapped gently while taking a seat on the nearby sofa.

“You know nothing about me, Vanessa and you never will!” The blonde hissed directly into Vanessa’s ear, before settling herself on the sofa facing the smaller woman. Silently she studied the blonde woman, she was wearing one of those stupid pantsuits again, and she hated it. She hated how adorable it made the smaller woman, and how much she wanted to rip it off her and take her right there on that sofa.

“I wanted to…” Vanessa muttered, avoiding the barmaid’s intense glare. “Look, I’m sorry…for not texting you back.” She hesitantly apologised, thinking of how to explain her reasoning behind it without hurting the blonde anymore.

“No water off my back…why didn’t ya?” Charity shrugged nonchalantly, as she ran her tongue over her pearly whites.

“If I tell you will you even remember in the morning?” The DI smiled amusingly, seeing right Charity’s tough girl act she was trying and failing to keep up. She saw the hunger hidden behind the eye makeup and the way the barmaid studied her body. She knew that no matter what Charity claimed, she still wanted her just as much as she did.

“Probably,” She shrugged while picking at her freshly painted nails.

“I let idle gossip get the better of me, and that was wrong,” Vanessa admitted, ashamed of her actions. But after Charity’s outburst in the pub, everyone seemed to have an opinion on her relationship with the barmaid and not many of them had painted the blonde in a positive light.

“No, it wasn’t…you should listen to them. They know me better than anyone else.” Charity whispered softly, prompting Vanessa to finally meet her gaze. Their eyes locked with ease, and it was as if nothing else in the world mattered. They both could see how much they wanted each other, and how much the past few days had hurt the other.

“Well, I don’t believe that for one second.” The DI stood and took a seat next to Charity, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the blonde.

“I meant what I said…well wrote.” The blonde muttered, her whole body buzzing with excitement. It had been so long since she felt this strong of an urge to reach out and feel someone skin against hers, to pressed her lips against Vanessa’s wanting ones and trace her hands all over the blonde's body. “I am sorry for how things went down…I had actually been talking myself into buying to another drink, only an off shift one.” She reluctantly admitted, allowing the DI to see a softer more vulnerable side that didn’t surface very often.

“I’d like that if the offer still stands?” Vanessa whispered, as her fingers brushed against Charity’s, freaking the blonde woman out slightly and prompting her to pull her hand away.

“Maybe, in a bit. Tonight made me realise that I’ve been focusing too much of my attention on myself and everyone around me and not on my boys.” She spoke quickly, with a hint of an apology dancing on her tongue. She wanted to allow Vanessa to touch her, to let her in and take down the walls that have been building over the years. But she was scared, scared that the DI would take one look at the woman she really was and run the other way. Scared that her past would catch up with her just as it had in all of her previous relationships.

“I get that, I should be at home with Johnny right now…” The smaller woman smiled sadly, thinking about how she didn’t get to tuck her little boy into bed yet again.

“But instead you’re here taking abuse from me.” Charity joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly. This was the longest conversation she’d ever really had with Vanessa, and she secretly wished that it could go on forever.

“I’ve been in worse situations, and besides at least I’m not stuck out in the cold.” Vanessa pointed out a hint of amusement to her voice. She could already imagine her partner, with his cheeks rosy from the cold, cursing her name.

“And the company isn’t too bad as well.” She threw the DI a cheeky wink, relieved that all the awkwardness and hard feelings had left them at last.

“Of course there’s always that!” The smaller woman quickly agreed before they both let out a series of soft giggles that were definitely a welcomed sound.

“I should get back, in case the doctor or something comes looking.” The soft smile on Charity’s face was quickly wiped away as she thought back to the reason why she was stuck in the hospital in the first place: Noah. The doctors hadn’t been able to tell her much when she first arrived, and they had been awaiting any kind of news on both him and Samson when Vanessa showed up.

“If he’s anything like his Mother, he'll be just fine.” Vanessa’s words were quiet and soft, and just what Charity needed to keep her from breaking down. Unexpectedly, the barmaid reached out take placed her hand over Vanessa’s, her own unique way of thanking the DI without having to actually say those words.

“Are you staying on the case?” Charity whispered after a few moments of content silence, both relishing in the feeling of their hands joined as one.

“Right through till the end. Apparently, I’m some sort of Dingle charmer now.” Vanessa smirked as she squeezed the blonde's hand gently.

“You wish.” The blonde snorted playfully, as regrettably stood and pulled the tiny blonde up with her. “I really should get back though.” She smiled gently as their joint hands swung mindlessly between them.

“I’ll come around tomorrow morning to have a little chat with everyone, either here or at the pub depending where you are.” The blonde nodded as they walked to the door, reluctantly letting their hands drop as they walked out of the room.

“I will look forward to that.” Charity smirked playfully, prompting Vanessa to roll her eyes at the taller woman, an action she had a feeling she’d be doing a whole lot more now that Charity was in her life.

“Goodnight Charity,” Vanessa smiled brightly, before taking her leave, ready to head back to her house, her shift finally over.

“Hey, you and that girl…did it work out?” Charity shouted down the hall when the annoying voice of doubt wouldn’t shut up.

“Nope.” Vanessa stopped and turned to face the nervous looking blonde. “She wasn’t mouthy enough for my liking!” She winked playfully before strutting away, making sure to put an extra sway in her hips because she had a feeling that a certain set of emerald green eyes would be locked onto her until she disappeared, and she wasn’t wrong.

AO3 Link

[asheewrites]

Tavern Blues

A little story after this wonderful tavern banter: 

Alfyn: That should do ‘er! Now the ale’s ready for drinking!

Cyrus: And we’re all here, right on time.

Therion: …But I want everyone to know that drinks can be enjoyed all the same in complete silence.

Olberic: Come now. Where is the fun in that?

Alfyn: I now pronounce the Official Drinking Games underway! Gentlemen, you may begin!

Cyrus: …I…I concede.

Alfyn: Giving up early, ain’t you, Professor?

Cyrus: Indeed. You must forgive me, but I’d rather drink at my own pace, or not at all.

Therion: (Out, but not down, huh?)

Olberic: (He’s a man who likes to savor his drinks, it would appear.)

Alfyn: I’ve got to hand it to you fellahs. Guys back in the village would already be under the table. 

Therion: Thieves who can’t hold their liquor aren’t long for the business. 

Olberic: I, too, oft had need to drink in my younger days. Familiarity breeds resilience. 

Cyrus: …Indeed. But there are limits. Practice and familiarity can only take you so far.

Alfyn: Well, I ain’t done yet- another round!

Therion: …All right. I’m calling it quits.

Alfyn: Hahaha. You lily-livered milksop! I’m good for another cask!

Therion: I know when to cut my losses. But I’ve got to hand it to you: you’re stronger than you look.

Alfyn: That’s what they all say!

Cyrus: (’Tis a wise bandit indeed, who puts down his glass before his agility is adversely affected.)

Alfyn: It’s just you an’ me then, Olberic!

Olberic: Haha! Let the duel commence, my medicinal friend!

Alfyn: Uh-oh…

Olberic: Hohoho…

Alfyn: (By the gods, he’s like a bottomless barrel! He’s been smilin’ and relaxed like he’s only on his third mug- what’s it gonna take to knock him out!?)

Olberic: Hohoho… (Demons take me, but I cannot seem to stop giggling… I haven’t been pushed this far in a drinking game since my contest with Erhardt- a match that I lost.)

Alfyn: (I reckon the next glass will be his last, though…)

Olberic: (Have I met my match once more…?)

Therion: All right, that’s enough, you two.

Alfyn: Wh-what d’ya mean? I’m just getting’ warmed up…

Therion: Tell that to the tavern master. 

Cyrus: I declare a tie- you are both victors.

Alfyn: Ah, shucks. Well, if they ain’t servin’ no more, I guess we got no choice…

Therion: Exactly.

Olberic: Hahaha…ha…ha…

Cyrus: It appears Sir Olberic continues to be amused. Nevertheless, what do you gentlemen say to finding another tavern that’s still serving?

Therion: (In the end, none of us can hold a candle to this guy…)

 According to the barkeep, there was supposed to be another place willing to give a few wary travellers the time of the day, even after midnight. It wasn’t a long walk. So, for reasons only known to the gods, the party decided to follow Cyrus’ inane suggestion. And here some people still accused him of being the smart one.

Ignoring my glowering stare, everyone started walking. The fresh air giving everyone the false feeling of sobering up. Again. False. Cyrus talked even more than usual – about the history of taverns, as I figured. Alfyn tried to tell us all about the effects of alcohol on one’s body – the sentences sometimes started four times, and rarely ended. And Olberic, well, he seemed equally amused by both stories, chuckling during pauses and sometimes patting his neighbors backs – they stumbled forward and he excused himself every time.

I trotted after them, kicking stones. I didn’t look forward to the headache tomorrow – I knew it was coming - and helping Olberic home would not be an easy task. Here is to hope he wouldn’t lose consciousness.

But we did reach the tavern. Old building, someone who is sure to get an offending price for terrible ale behind the counter, the floor worn out and as creaky as the door hinges. Joy.

We still settled on a table, each with a glass in front of us – Cyrus took wine, the utter maniac – and listened to Olberic talk about his youth in the army and how he was constantly surrounded by other men, he likes having that again. Alfyn almost hit the table when he got a hand slammed on his back this time. The boy contered with his own adventures with Zeph, how they I watched them drain their glasses and listened and nodded sometimes, taking in the information – a force of habit, really.

I was glad I sat on the other side of the table, though. The safer choice for my back and my rattled brain, really. My own ale got drained only in fractions.

“… and you’re still a maniac.” I said, glancing at the wine glass in Cyrus’ hand.

“Ah, but I must protest. It is the finer choice of drink, sun filled grapes filled in a glass, distilled to a great aroma and better taste. Perfect to quench your thirst, especially while studying.” He said this with a perfectly earnest expression.

I stared at his cravat, at the cloak held together by a brooch, the root-decorated vest, the belted together, poofy sleeves and said: “… that explains a lot”

To his credit, he only thought about it for a few seconds. Then: “I’ll have you know it did not inhibit my deduction or reasonable thinking in any way whatsoever. It is a very common way to preserve water. Alfyn can surely tell you all about its disinfectant properties, isn’t that right, Alfy-“

There was a thud.

Alfyn had hit the table. Or at least his arm had. His head rested against Olberic’s arm. Snoozing.

“Oh, not again…” I sighed and stood… at least this time he would get back home.

“What do you mean, again? I wasn’t aware this happened before?” Cyrus asked, because of course he does.

“You don’t have to know everything, professor… you take Olberic. He’s useless, too” Evidenced by his giggling. He giggled and pat Alfyn’s head. It wasn’t a shining moment for anyone.

With an arm around my neck – Cyrus had to distract the big man so I could grab it – I paid the barkeep before he could get nasty on top of old. And then we started our trek home.

Alfyn told me I’m his bestest best friend in slurred words and bad breath while trying to choke me to death. And Cyrus – the bastard – got carried by Olberic. Who was wholly amused by the endeavour. There was some distress on the scholar’s side when all his words did not keep the big man from running against a wall, but at least I could join into the constant giggling that way. If only for a moment. Because Alfyn laughed, too. Carrying him did not get easier.

But we moved onwards. And somehow reached the Inn.

The girls told us we smelled had to get our own room. Ophelia should not be subjected to this. Primrose was a filthy traitor this moment. And she should be ashamed.

This truly, truly was not my day. I leaned my head against the door to have a moment of rest.

Cyrus still talked. Olberic still giggled. Alfyn still slurred. And I was still done with eberything. Great.

It was late. The innkeeper already asleep. I was frustrated. The lock of the next door was picked before I could even think about it.

There were six beds in the room. At least something went right. I put Alfyn in the one closest to the door, grabbed a water skin and went outside. Maybe taverns were just too work-related by now. Not much fun anymore. Especially in groups.

Get some water in, a bit more fresh air without weird breath and extra weight and I’ll be good. So I took a few deep breaths, standing in the silent street. Felt a little more normal that way. Finally alone again.

No one to take my mind off the next target. By getting overly excited about it. Or telling me it was of historical importance. Or how it would look good in her hair. Or taking it away to go and sell it for some medicine a kid needed.

They all were against stealing, too. But let me do it all the same. Even agreed to rob the house with me. Weird, stubborn bunch of people. Didn’t know an ambush from an opportunity.

…

I hadn’t put a bucket next to Alfyn’s bed. Last time had been ugly for both of us and-

The door to the inn opened.

“You left rather fast, Therion! Our compatriots needed care before they could rest! Is something the matter?”

Cyrus. Slightly rumpled, straightening his cloak when he came out the door.

“...” I took my hand off the dagger at my side. “… needed some peace.”

“Ah, well met, the taverns were rather stuffy, were they not?”

I looked to the side – he apparently did not catch my drift.

“Anyway, a diluted wine preserves the drinkability of water, it is completely normal and perfectly acceptable choice of drink” He said, nodding resolutely.

“… are you seriously starting this again? Now?” I was not sure if I was amused or annoyed.

“You seemed to think I can not properly study with a diluted drink of whine, but I assure you it has no effect on my judgement or mental capabilities whatsoever!”

“… like right now?” Because he could have judged to leave me alone, but instead, he came here. Which contradicts everything I ever told him, really.

“Right now, we all have imbibed more than that. A lot more” He even looked a little proud of it.

“But it explains your tolerance. Must have ‘hydrated’ a lot” I really wondered why it was so fun to rile him up. Maybe because it was so easy. Easier than usual right now, too.

“I did not *drink* while studying. The alcohol is a mere preservation! We can not drink bad water! Diseases happen from that, we had enough examples on our journeys!” Really, it was too easy.

“Mmmmhmh, this preservation might have made me less allergic to academia, too, I suppose”

“I must protest this wrong assumption, truly, you can’t-“

I interrupted him: “I came out here for some quiet, can’t you just leave it?”

“I didn’t mean to say you are unfit for academia. My recommendation still stands. Any and all steps to enter the field would be very welcome, I should not have formulated it this way. I apologise.” He even looked guilty. How did I ever deal with this man.

“If you aren’t going to shut up, I’m going to make you, I’m serious.” I was, too. He was in melee range, after all.

But he smiled. Brightly. Right next to me. And continued with: “This is an idle threat! You have shown great involvement in all our well-being. You are a good friend. And you give Alfyn more work than he already has now, would y-MH!“

I kissed him. Grabbed his stupid cravat and pulled him down and kissed him. The silence made me take a relieved breath. He smelled of burned fabric and cold winter nights and of broken revenants. I kind of wanted to pull him closer.

But I didn’t. I let go. And looked into a very confused, lightly frowning face. He was silent. Thank the gods.

I patted his shoulder: “Told you”

And walked back in, there was a bed waiting for me. I could rest easy with the knowledge that Cyrus actually put a bucket next to every bed. He was a good guy after all.

[elvensemi]

The Curse Ongoing (Part 2): The Fortune Teller

Sometimes I write things for my D&D campaign. Weary uses a neopronoun because using they/them was too goddamn confusing in the context of a group, and you all just have to cope with that, okay.

[Part One] 

Weary had trouble believing they'd actually gotten out of the town of Barovia with so little trouble... in the relative scheme of things, in any case. Some wolves, which had gone poorly until it hadn't. Ey ran idle fingers across the letter they'd found on the corpse in the woods that the wolves had been so curious of. From the old Burgomeister, about Strahd. Pieces of a puzzle, but ey already knew what the picture would look like when it was done.

And now ey was here, in some tent with an old woman who knew who ey was, knew who they all were. Why had ey agreed to a fortune reading? Ey knew eir damn future already.

She gestured to the card on the right. "This card tells of history. Knowledge of the ancient will help you better understand your enemy."

"Sounds neat," announced Chara, reaching forward to flip over the card. It was eerie to behold, a hooded figure looming over two undead with pentagrams on their horned skulls. Weary wrinkled eir nose in distaste. Ey needed no occult arts to tell em eir enemy was a damned undead. Didn't they all know that by now?

"The Necromancer," the old woman informed them. "This card represents unnatural events and unhealthy obsessions; those who follow a destructive path... A woman hangs above a roaring fire. Find her, and you will find the treasure." Her voice had gone weird, neutral and droning, her misty eyes had grown mistier. Ey did not care for it. Then, she gestures to the card closest to em.

"This card tells of a powerful force for good and protection, a holy symbol of great hope." Ey perks up, curiously, reaching out to the card. Ey hadn't been certain ey'd take part in this little game, not when the children seemed so interested, but a holy symbol certainly caught eir interest. Ey flipped it; the card underneath bore an image of a large man, some kind of lord by his garb, pointing at a thin man, who was hiding a dagger behind his back.

"The Traitor," she told them. "Betrayal by someone close and trusted; a weakening or loss of faith." Ey stiffened, fingers curling hard enough they nearly tore the corner of the letter. Eir jaw twitched; she'd seen eir symbol, even knew eir name. She was surely doing this on purpose. As if faith had ever been eir strongest suit, hmph. "Look for a wealthy woman. A staunch ally of the devil, she keeps the treasure under lock and key, with the bones of an ancient enemy."

That boded ill for em getting eir hands on that holy symbol, then. Ey wanted nothing to do with any ally of the devil in Barovia. Disinterested, ey looked away, scowling. The others, however, were entranced as she gestured to the card on their left.

"This is a card of power and strength. It tells of a weapon of vengeance: a sword of sunlight."

"Weapons are my strong suit," announced Zur-snag, who had been watching curiously from Weary's back, leaning onto eir shoulder. Now he scrambled forward; Weary leaned forward accommodatingly so he could flip over the card. It showed a picture of an odd man holding a mask, winking and smiling.

"The Charlatan... Liars; those who profess to believe one thing but actually believe another." No one here, ey suspected, but ey couldn't help eir eyes from drifting slightly over to Phin, the young paladin who stood in the back corner, arms crossed and scoffing. "I see a lonely mill on a precipice. The treasure lies within."

They all perked up in unison at that. "The mill!" Chara exclaimed. "Lil G--"

"She just said his name," Weary said, frowning.

"That was a name? I thought she was dying."

"Chara!"

"No, I get that a lot actually," the boy in question, more often called Bambam but more accurately called an adorable little brat, interjected.

"Anyway, you got a deed for a mill, didn't you? In that fuck--"

"Language," Weary said, automatically. Chara rolled her eyes.

"In that weird house," she corrected, then stuck her tongue out at Weary.

"Yeah, I totally did! It's legally mine now and everything!" Bambam said proudly.

"There is only one mill in Barovia," the fortune teller, Madam Eva, informed them.

"I guess we're going there first," Weary decided. "Do you know how to get there?" This, ey directed at Madam Eva.

"Follow the road." It was Weary's turn to roll eir eyes. There was only one damn road. No shit they'd be following it.

She gestured next to the card closest to her. "This card sheds light on one who will help you greatly in the battle against darkness."

"Oh, new friend?" Horse asked curiously, reaching forward to flip the card over. They were still in their marionette get up, mask and everything, but it didn't seem to bother the fortune teller at all. The card was as unsettling as the first one had been, a gaunt, cloaked, undead figure on an equally gaunt mount, wielding a sword.

"The Horseman! Death! Disaster in the form of loss , a horrible defeat, or the end of a bloodline."

"Oh, great, it's good news," muttered Phin sarcastically from behind them.

"I see a dead man of noble birth, guarded by his widow. Return life to the dead man's corpse, and he will be your staunch ally."

"Um," Weary said, clearly uncomfortable. "That's actually kind of the opposite of what I do, so."

The woman simply gestured to the final card. "Your enemy is a creature of darkness, whose powers are beyond mortality. This card will lead you to him!"

"Finally, the good part!" Bambam exclaimed, moving forward. Wincing, Weary blocked his hands, which prompted a very angry glare. Ey didn't want to know where Strahd was, except maybe in order to avoid em. If this lady thought otherwise, she was out of her mind... well, she clearly was at least slightly, ey supposed.

"You can barely see onto the table, let alone reach," Weary said. Not a lie, though a rude observation. "Let me help." Ey lifted the child--always so light, alarmingly so--onto eir knee, then flipped the card over emself. This card held the picture of an androgynous figure in tight clothing, a fan covering half of their face, smiling eyes looking over the top.

"Ah." The woman grinned wickedly up at him. "The Tempter. One who has been compromised or led astray by temptation or foolishness." Eir jaw twitched in irritation again, more at her grin than anything. And this was meant to be a card for a child? Ey held the boy a little tighter, glaring back at her. "I see a secret place-a vault of temptation hidden behind a woman of great beauty. The evil waits atop his tower of treasure."

A place to damn well avoid, then, though Bambam lit up at the mention of a 'tower of treasure.'

"Let's go there!" he announced.

"We'll go to the mill, if it's on the way." Weary said firmly. Ey stood up, placing Bambam back onto the ground. "Why don't you go see if the Vistani would be kind enough to share their food and camping spot with us tonight?"

The others filtered out, murmuring amongst themselves about the reading, already debating meanings. Weary stayed behind, eyes drifting over to the old woman.

"Madam Eva, was it?"

[jaybeartodd]

Colleagues Pt. 6/17 -- Jason Todd x fem. reader

Y/N finds herself taking on a new job and working late hours. This leads to a late night encounter with Jason.

Warnings: alcohol 

Word Count: 2100

Tags: @sarcasmismyfirstlove @tsctd

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17

A/N: Oops, this is long. Sorry for the slow buildup between Y/N and Jason but I did add some fluff in here. I am having a lot of fun writing this and I am hope y’all are equally enjoying it! 

One week. One whole damn week has passed since you learned of Nick’s so-called criminal activities.

“We needed money and and it was a good opportunity,” Nick had sputtered out after you connected the dots. Your little brother; a goon for Black Mask.

After explanation after explanation, he finally admitted to the previous night.so events. 

“I had no idea you were going to be there. He was planning on killing everyone he could, Y/N. If I hadn’t made you appear dead you would be.” he said grabbing at your hands but you pulled back and looked at him with tired eyes.

“Never again. You hear me Nick?” you had said softly. 

“Y/N look,” he tried.

“NEVER AGAIN,” you screamed completely fed up with the situation. He jumped back and looked at you with wide eyes.

“You killed people, Nick,” tears welled in your eyes but you swallowed them away. “I will never forgive you for that. But you’re my brother so I won’t turn you in… on two conditions.” 

His eyebrows raised at this. 

“Anything,”

“First, give me all of the information you have on him. If you won’t take him down I will,”

“Y/N, no it’s way too dangerous,” he protested.

“I wasn’t kidding Nick. This is how you’ll repay those poor victims and their families and how I will live with the guilt knowing my brother had a hand in it. But most of all, it’s the right thing to do,”

He hesitated but then nodded.

“Second, you will never be in contact or help that man again.” he opened his mouth but you shushed him.

“Do you accept or am I calling the police?” he looked up with sad eyes and nodded slowly.

Now here you are staring at the notes you had drilled out of Nick for the millionth time under the light provided by the library for late students. He didn’t know where he was hiding out so you are just studying the different hits Nick was hired onto hoping to predict his next move. 

You rub the exhaustion from your eyes and see the few scattered students with matching yawns. You admit you have been avoiding the apartment as much as possible lately. It is hard being around Nick. Without intention you find yourself blaming yourself. You moved in with him to help him out and look where he has ended up.

Through your blurred, sleep-derived eyes you see a tall figure strolling towards you. You lower your head as instinct when a stranger passes by.

“See if they had told me zombies go to this college I might have considered it myself,” an all too familiar voice pipes up next to you.

You look up to see the leather jacketed, handsome tousled man himself. Bruce gave the staff a week off for, well, obvious reasons so you haven’t seen the smug grin in awhile. Yup, as annoyingly charming as ever.

“If they’d told me I’d be approached by assholes while trying to study I would have reconsidered going here,” you say rubbing your face. 

“What are you studying anyways..” he reaches for your notebook but you snatch it away and shove it into your book bag. That would take an elaborate explanation.

“None of your business,” you say grumpily. He raises an amused eyebrow at this. As if on cue, your stomach makes a loud grumbling noise.

Why does your stomach need so much food and all the time?

“Oh ok. That explains a lot,” he bends down and grabs your book bag slinging it across his back.

“Wait, no!” you make a lame attempt at grabbing at it but your tired arms don’t seem as riled as you are.

“Come on, Y/N. I’m taking you to dinner,” he says grabbing your hand and pulling you up.

“Where in the world are we going to go at 11 o'clock?” you ask as he pulls you towards the door.

“Well considering it’s 1 in the morning I find that question irrelevant,”

You pull out your phone. Crap, he’s right.

You are now outside walking down the street. He let’s go of your hand and you secretly miss its warmth. Very secretly. As in so secret the world is never allowed to know.

“When is the last time you ate? Or slept for that matter?” he asks appearing concerned. 

“Somewhere between all of the raves I hit,” you chuckle at your own joke. He turns a curious eye towards you and shakes his head.

“Ok,” he stops in front of a motorcycle and bends down, “You wear this.” He places a large red helmet in your hands.

Oh, hell no.

“Yeah actually,” you place the helmet back in his hands and point behind   you,” I was perfectly fine and you know not risking my life in the library.”

You start to walk backwards and a taunting grin pulls at his lips.

“So you will literally leap under a falling chandelier to save some guy you just met but getting on a motorcycle with a very experience and handsome  colleague of yours is just too much for little Y/N?” he raises his voice at the end which simultaneously, but not coincidentally, raises your temper. He holds out the helmet as a challenge.

You stomp over to him and aggressively take the helmet out of his hands. Placing it on your head you take a hot breath and turn towards him feeling your head wobble with the new found weight.

“How do I look?” you ask with your hands on your hips. Through the tinted eye protection you see him grin widely.

“Like you were born to ride,” 

You put up your hand in a rock and roll fashion. “Let’s rock and roll buckaroo,”

He laughs heartily and puts on his much more proportionately sized helmet. He swings a long leg over the bike and kicks in the stand. If you didn’t feel like you would vomit, pee yourself and have a heart attack all at the same time you might have thought it was hot. 

He pats the seat behind him. “I promise I will take care of you, Y/N.” he says in a soothing voice.

With one more deep breath you climb behind him and grab ahold of his waist awkwardly.

“You’re going to have to hold on a little tighter Doll,” he laughs and you roll your eyes at him.

“Are we going to eat or will my stomach eating itself provide a nice ending to your yapping?”

He makes a growling noise to match your fear-induced cattiness. His growling fades away into the engine’s as he turns the handles. 

“Here is how I die,” you think and he takes off. You let out a yelp, squeeze his abdomen tight and press your helmet on his back with closed eyes. You can just feel the smugness rolling off of him in large annoying waves.

The wind blows hard at the hair escaping your helmet and you feel your stomach drop every time the bike turns slightly. Damned if you open your eyes though. Suddenly you feel the bike slow down and the engine cut off as the bike idles. You pry your eyes open and let out a relieved breath. 

Realizing you still had your arms wrapped tight around him you let go thoroughly embarrassed. You step off the bike and slip the helmet off only imagining the worst when it comes to your appearance. You hold out the helmet for Jason but he is standing there staring at you.

“What?” you swipe at your wild hair self-consciously.

He shakes his head and runs hand through his own untamed hair. “Uh, nothing. Here I will take this,” he grabs the helmet and places it next to his.

“Ready to eat, Dopey?” he asks.

“I’m resenting that nickname.” you grumble and he laughs. You start walking towards a dark, sketchy building.

“Nervous?” he asks clearly amused. You throw a nice pair of daggers at him.

“Well,” he swings open the door and gestures in “ You go first and pinky promise you’ll protect me?” he juts out s pinky but you just stroll past him into the building.

He shrugs and follows you inside. You first notice a dimly lit bar and then the tables to the left come into view. There are a few leather clad individuals that are intimidating but for the most part you feel comfortable.

“Jason Todd. Shouldn’t you be halfway through your 6th drink now?” a female voice emanates from the bar. You turn and see a woman around your height, probably in her mid-fifties and a t-shirt with a logo on it that reads “Gotham Way”.

Jason steps in front of you and takes the spot at the bar across from the woman.

“Aw Francis, that’s less than what you told the last girl. You need to step up your game if you’re going to rope in this handsome bachelor.” Jason makes a lasso  motion with his finger. 

Francis purses her lips. “Yeah, nice try since this is the first time you’ve brought a girl here. Oh and I’ve seen handsome many times in my day, now I’m looking for that slippery bastard commitment,” she winks at you.

“Don’t be shy,honey take a seat.” you sit down next to Jason and he smiles at you. You give a hesitant one in return.       

“I’m Y/N,” you say outstretching a hand. She takes it and shakes it firmly, “Francis.” 

You feel yourself warming up to her in inviting spirit. 

“Two orders of your finest chicken tenders please. And a beer for me,” he looks at you questioningly.

“Water will be fine, thank you,” she smiles at you warmly and makes your drinks. After she paces them on the bar in front of you she goes to the back where you assume the kitchen is. 

“So,” Jason takes a sip from his beer and turns towards you, “How did you enjoy the bike ride?” 

“It was a lot of fun! It was a gorgeous trip,” you lie through your teeth.

He nods humming. “You never opened your eyes did you?”

You shake your head. “Didn’t even consider it. That machinery was handcrafted to be my personal living hell.” 

He laughs at this and you tuck your hair behind your ear feeling your mood being lifted with his. 

The   rest of the conversation continues to flow between  bites of chicken just as it did the  night of the ball. 

You say your farewells to Francis and prepare yourself for the upcoming hell ride. You let Jason know where you live and even manage to peek once during the ride to help him when he gets a little lost only to squeeze them tight in horror.

You pull up to your apartment and Jason parks the bike. You both get off the bike and remove your helmets. Jason’s eyes twinkle from a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline from the ride. Or so you tell yourselves. 

“Um, thanks again for the ride,” you say biting your lip.

“Uh yeah sure thing,” he says running his hand through his hair. you watch as the white streak you’ve grown attached to falls loosely over his brow. He leans in and just as something you didn’t anticipate is about to happen you are broken away by an angry voice.

“There you are Miss Y/N!” your neighbor, Brady, brings his old wobbling self out.

“Yes Brady?” you ask irritated.

“Your brother and his friends made a lot of racket while I was asleep and-” you tune him out.

His friends?

“I’m sorry Brady I will fix it,” you say now distracted.

“Thanks again Jason,” you say and he looks at you concerned.

You rush up the stairs and shakily unlock your door. Swinging it open you find the entire place torn apart.

“Nick?”

You begin frantically searching the apartment. In the kitchen lays your brother in his crumpled form littered with fresh bruises and cuts.

[ellebeebee]

♡: Accidentally falling asleep together- For the Arcana, if you're up for that :)

Haha, this sort of grew beyond the bounds of the prompt???  Oh, whatever. Thank you so much for the prompt~~ :D

-

Asra plans a Completely Platonic date to starwatch with Xan, and they succumb to a Completely Platonic falling asleep together situation which is Completely Platonic.

2357 words, Asra/Apprentice (Completely Platonic tho!!!), teen by AO3

-

In a cold country many leagues away, where the air bites with the scent of pines and the homes huddle together against the abuse of icy winds– a woman makes clocks.  Her workshop spans wide, and dozens of apprentices bustle through the sawdust and the copper shavings.  On the exterior, the woman’s creations gleam with gilding.  But on the interior cogs and wheels and delicate arms and counterweights reveal themselves like the labyrinth that is the human anatomy.

The inner workings of these clocks are so fussy and convoluted, that if just one miniscule part goes amiss then the whole thing could fail.  He had seen several of the clockmaker’s apprentices told off for letting the workshop grow cold; the chill saps the energy of those mechanisms like blight.

Asra wondered just what mysterious little inner part of him had gone so astray as to leave him to do the things he did.

The restaurant owner sneezed again. “Those damn things in the cellar are gonna kill me.”

“I’ll be sure to give you a poignant eulogy,” Asra smiled. “All about what a saint you were, helping a dear customer.”

The man snorted. “A customer that sits on a tab and lets his apprentice pay for it.”

“Hmm,” Asra hummed. “As enlightened as you are, I’d have thought you beyond materialism.”

The man made a disgusted noise and turned away.  He snuffled.

“I swear.  Pollen’ll be the death of me one of these days.”

As the restaurant owner turned his attention to a handkerchief, Asra topped off his tea with the warm pot sitting on his table.  He cradled the delicate porcelain of the cup and gazed back out the open arches into the square.  The sun sat heavy in the sky, and the bleached blue of day took on the peaches and tangerines of an encroaching evening.  The stall hawkers set up in the square and the cafe owners lining it had returned some hours ago from the midday siesta the whole city took everyday when the heat became truly unbearable.

Now, even the lazy late business hours would come to a close and the taverns would light their lanterns, inviting them all in to forget the sweat of the day.

Asra watched the half-hearted work of the stall owners.  He watched the strolling passerby laden with packages or empty-handed and merely looking for social calls.  He sipped his tea.  It flowered on his tongue, and made him think of a bundle of blooming amaranth and jasmine tea he had sitting on the shelf at home.

He saw her and he straightened in his seat, leaning back into the restaurant’s shade.

Xan emerged from a side street.  In a flutter of sheer dusk-colored silks, she circled around the plaza with steps that always reminded him of the eternally smooth ebb and flow of the ocean.  And she could always catch you, hold you and your gaze hostage, even from leagues away with her brilliantly red lip-paint.  Or at least it seemed that way to him.

Asra’s hand rotated his teacup by rote memory of idle behavior as his eyes followed Xan.  She stopped at their favorite vegetable peddler.  If you were just another city dweller, you’d have to get up in time for the best of the day’s wares, but the shopkeeps in their area tended to stick together.  This peddler always saved good pickings from her stock for Xan to pick up when she had time at the end of the day.

As Xan chatted away, the sun slipped low, hovering above the horizon with a glory of gold spilling into the world.

This, honestly, had been what he’d sat at this table for hours for.  The reason he’d skulked around town and avoided all the more talkative gossips.  The reason he’d returned to Vesuvia and hadn’t instantly turned his feet toward home.

He watched light paint her soft and rich.  It made gilding of her dark hair, and glitter of her amber skin.

The restaurant owner plopped a fresh tea pot on his table and Asra jumped.  The man gave him a look.

“This your last pot?” he asked.

Asra smiled and made a show of considering this. “Most likely.”

The man huffed and muttered something along the lines of ‘Why does she put up with him.’  Asra nursed his tea again and waited until Xan finished her shopping.  She left the square in the direction of her shop.  He put down his cup and gave the restaurant owner a new order.  The sun was properly setting by the time he left, and dark blue threatened the wisps of gold and pink in the sky.

“Ready to go home, Faust?” Asra asked.  

Over his shoulder, he hefted a large cloth-covered bundle emitting delicious spiced steam, and on his hip he clutched an enormous bouquet of roses, blush and many-petaled and decidedly chilled from the restaurant’s cellar.  Faust uncurled from around his collar.  She poked her head into the roses, and wiggled off his shoulder into them.

“She’ll like that,” he laughed softly.

He trailed pink petals and mouth-watering scents through alleys and lanes all the way home.

Slipping around the side of the building, he had to set down the flowers on the step by the backdoor as he dug out his key.  He always half-expected (half-dreaded) for things to be different when he came back.  Occasionally new silks went up in the windows, or a container of tea would disappear, but the smell of incense and herbs and lemon balm was always the same.  A canvas bag of vegetables and bread sat on the wobbly kitchen table (the one she was always threatening to turn into kindling), and a fire had been lit in the brick oven.

Attracted by the sound of the door and his clatter in putting down the food, Xan appeared in the doorway.

She blinked at him, brandishing a bottle of wine and a dagger.

His chest tightening, Asra raised a brow. “I guess I’m relieved to know it’s not just Faust protecting this place.”

Silent, she studied his face.  Her eyes dropped to her hands and the dagger; she laughed.

A line of tension in his back loosened.  Truly, he still did expect that one of these days he would return and the locks would all be changed and she would no longer give him a laugh and a smile like that.  In fact, the partings were growing harder.  Her face stony and her words clipped and ironic, she wouldn’t look at him as he said goodbye.

But even so, she always met his return with a smile.

As evidence of his cruelty, of the single faulty cog destroying his mechanism, he sometimes wanted to leave just to have that smile turned towards him again.

Xan put the bottle and dagger down. “I couldn’t find the corkscrew.”

She held out her hands and fluttered her fingers, her lips curled with self-satisfaction.  Asra’s stomach flipped.  He stepped closer and placed the enormous bouquet into her waiting arms.

With the warm light of candles casting a reflection of the roses’ pink color up onto her face, Xan hummed as she stuck her nose into the petals and their perfume.  Faust burst from the flowers, and Xan jumped.

She laughed and pet the top of her little head with a single finger. “Well, hello to you, too, cutie.”

“Shouldn’t you greet Faust, too?” Asra asked.

Xan glanced at him.  She rolled her eyes.

“Yes,” she said, staring him down. “It’s good to see you, too.  You’re also terribly cute– Faust.”

She punctuated this by leaning forward to peck him on the cheek.  As she bustled around him, he did his best to squash his rising blush.  Xan put down the bouquet, and Faust slithered off to find a warm spot.

“What’s all this?” Xan asked, untying the cloth bundle he’d brought in.  She opened the tins of food. “This is from Maro’s– did you put all this on tabs?”

Asra bent to the oven, flicking a little spell out to dampen the wood fire.

“And the flowers, too–”

Crouching, Asra looked up at her with a soft smile. “I thought we could make a picnic of watching the meteor shower.”

Her emotions clearly battled one another as she gazed at him.  She relented with a reluctantly amused sigh.

“I really thought you weren’t going to make it,” she said.

“It’s only once every few decades,” he said. “Who knows where we’ll be the next time?”

Something passed through her eyes. “Hmm.  Hopefully not too far.”

Asra just smiled.  He plucked a rose from the bouquet and snapped off the long stem.  With light fingers, he tucked it into the hair piled on her head.  His hands fell, and lingered on her shoulders.  Xan was just a bit taller than him, and the problem with being similar heights was that it made a flush and a charged expression all the more evident.  Much closer and harder to escape.

He stepped back.

They busied themselves with taking the food, the flowers, the wine, and a blanket up to the rooftop terrace.  Another trip for every cushion and pillow in the house, and they sat together in the encroaching darkness, laughing when they mixed up the dishes and played a dangerous game of who could get the wine open without properly seeing it.  And then an even more dangerous game because they’d forgotten the glasses and passed the bottle between them, tasting the lingering heat of each other’s lips.

Juvenile, but he couldn’t stop himself from thinking about it.  He was glad of the dark and the quickly emptying bottle of wine and the quickly opened second bottle.  He was glad of these screens against her gaze, which he knew would so easily discern that faulty cog within him.  All the faulty cogs that broke his mechanism and froze him in eternal suspension, never ticking ahead.  

He feared her seeing him for who he really was one day: petty and cruel and heartless.

Undeserving.

Surely, surely she must already know.  But if she did, then how could she smile every time he returned, how could she lay there on the roof with him, their arms burning where they touched, and laughing as he spun some elaborate, exaggerated tale from far away for her?  

Even so, he wanted her to continue laughing like that, mouth wide and lip-paint smudged and tears leaking from her eyes.  He wanted her to come closer like that and let her legs tangle with his.  He wanted her to spill to him the secrets of her heart, all her insecurities.  He wanted all of it without reciprocity.  He wanted all of her beautiful defects without revealing his own.

Those were the lengths his selfishness would go.

“Xan,” he whispered. “Xan.”

She breathed deep against his shoulder.  Her hand rested on his chest where his vest parted, below his sternum.  The warmth of her palm against his bare skin hurt.

“Xanthioppe,” he said.

She’d long banned him from using her full name; that was for great-aunts and lovers, she’d said.  Asra reached up to lightly touch the flower he’d put in her hair.  She breathed deep.

For a while, he just watched the slow turn of the dark heavens and the blue stars with the heavy scent of roses pulling his heart tight.  The wine in his head wore down, and the awareness of her body against his made him want to squirm.  He froze, trying to steady his breath.

One brilliant spark shot across the sky, and then another.  And another and another until his heart pounded and trembled in his chest.  A great flock of rampant lights fled over the black dome above.  Asra’s breath caught.  The heavens and the earth moved, the whip-lash leaving him paralyzed and breathless.

He should wake her.  He should let her see this and he should watch the dance of starlight mirror in her eyes.

But he couldn’t bring himself to disturb her.  It would mean she’d move from him and take away her closeness and heat.  It would break the spell the night and the wine and the flowers had cast over them.

-

Xan opened her eyes to an expanse of azure, green, and gold above, dotted with wispy clouds.  She shifted, aware of Asra beside her and a stiffness in her limbs.  She sat up with a small sigh.  The rose has fallen out of her hair and gotten crushed at some point, its petals littering the blanket and sticking to her skin.  The city rooftops sprawled around them and the small sounds of the populace stirring drifted up.

“I missed it,” she said.

Soft movements led her eye down.  Asra had a forearm lifted to shield his eyes, and a small frown sat on his lips.  He never was much of a morning person.

Mindful of the little plates and open tins around them, Xan stood and padded to the steps down into the house.  She returned as the blue and green of first light had warmed, juggling a covered cup of hot tea in one hand and a hooded falcon on the gauntlet of the other.  She laid the tea beside Asra’s head where he could smell the jasmine.

Straightening, she smoothed down the speckled plumage of Pazu’s breast.  He made an inquisitive chirp.

At the edge of the terrace, Xan pulled his hood away.  His black eyes considered her before she held her arm aloft and let him fly free.  He promised to bring her back a rabbit; much better than the magician’s ill-smelling offerings.

She laughed under her breath and watched Pazu go.

Her gaze drew back to Asra.  He gazed back.  Her laughter died.  He’d seen something she hadn’t, and he made it difficult to meet his eyes, as prickled and thorned and caught all over her as they were.

She padded to the blanket and sat back down beside him.  He straightened, sipping his tea, and they watched as the sun rose in a furor of orange.

She slipped her hand around his, and squeezed.