#she keeps them on her bed at her base or tucked into her armour when she's out

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Gem has a large collection of plushies.

Adorable! I wonder if she owns any of the Hermit plushies? That would be hilarious...

- Mod Shade

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 11

CLICK HERE IF YOU ARE A FIRST TIME READER

TW for this chapter: more mild smut. more memes. more hijinks and shenanigans. coffee make the brain go skrrrt. bruce fluff & thor being a good bro™. some1 is catching ✨feelings✨. Previous chapters in the link above the cover pic.

Beta reader is @miscmarvelwritings so don't be shy, give her a read. She's the PB to my jelly.

"I don't know about you..." Taylor Swift softly sang from the speakers.

"Bitch, I hope the fuck you do!" I shouted, tumbling into the kitchen with the grace of a giraffe on acid. The smell of coffee and fresh omelettes was mouthwatering. 

"You look… Good," Peter stared at me, his coffee mug frozen halfway to his mouth. The tone of his voice bore very little understanding of the situation he found himself in.

I didn't sleep that night, instead pursuing a scientific quest right after being finger-fucked by Tony Stark. I blame the suits - he had one partially disassembled not ten feet from the puddle my juices had made on the floor - and well, I never said I had a great attention span. One terrible, inappropriate joke had led us to smirking to each other from both sides of the suit as we brainstormed how to best modify it for impromptu bondage sessions. If Peter could have heard us go at it, he'd never set foot in Tony's lab ever again.

On my mighty quest to quench the thirst for knowledge, I completely neglected basic hygiene, so the me that rolled into the kitchen that morning still had yesterday's outfit consisting of fishnets and Tony's hoodie, possibly stained with cum and pussy juice. As a bonus feature, infamous raccoon eyes had made an appearance, courtesy of me rubbing my face multiple times throughout the night.

"I'm feeling my oats," I declared proudly, sitting down next to Peter, making grabby hands at the coffee machine.

"I'm tempted to ask..." Clint handed me the steaming hot dish full of holy bean juice. "But I think I'd rather not." Pointedly, he moved away from me, just enough to make it known he was wary.

"What just happened?" Stephen Strange blinked owlishly.

Boy was he a sight for sore eyes. The wizard wasn't Tony, of course, but his plain white tee left very little to imagination, pulled tight across his toned chest and lean arms. The grey sweats? Illegal. That's a bonk and a ticket to the horny jail for me.

"You didn't get to sleep? Again?" Peter asked, exasperated.

"Sleep who?" I chirped, feeling way too energetic for someone running on some illegal drugs and a single orgasm. It was easy to shrug off the concerned stares I kept getting from the adults and Pete since my already wacky attention span decided to quit it's job without notice.

"Guys, have you seen… oh, there she is!" Tony scrambled into the kitchen, holding his head. That manic look did nothing for his complexion, but then again, I'd take him even filthy and crippled. "Don't just disappear like that!" He snatched the half-empty coffee cup, downing it's remnants in one go and immediately going for a refill. "We didn't finish programming in the shibari function..." He mumbled, absentmindedly running a hand through his messy, greasy hair.

"I..." Peter was still frozen. "I'm not sure I, uh, follow."

"So, me and Tones had this absolutely BRILLIANT idea ..." I started, leaning back in my chair. "But the execution, as usual, needs more work."

"Yes, I can see you've been having ideas," Pete's sass was ignored by both me and Tony. The man was kind enough to clumsily plop a coffee cup in front of me as he was beelining for the fridge. "What are you trying to install? Shib-what?"

"You don't want to know, Pete, trust me," Clint made big eyes at me from across the room. "I'm scared of you," He added, pointing an accusative finger in my direction.

I gave him my best manic stare, probably overdid it by a wide margin. Barton shrunk back, slinking subtly behind Stephen who cleared his throat.

"So I've heard you had an incident yesterday," The doctor was looking at me with concern and pity. "Do you need to visit the medbay?"

About a dozen unsaid and very inappropriate responses later, I simply shook my head negative. My mouth was not to be trusted whilst I was so distracted. Plus, he was hot. I kind of tended to think with my vagina instead of my brain around hot people.

"Good morning," Wanda entered the room, stopping briefly at my side to give me a hug. "Ugh, finally," She muttered the words, looking first at me, then at Tony. 

I raised my eyebrow in a silent question and she just smiled, reaching for her own coffee cup.

Tony mercilessly towed me back to his lab once I polished off two omelettes and another cup of coffee - what would've been my fourth was snatched out by an amused Stephen, all stern and firm and magical, meaning he simply whooshed it out of existence as I was raising it to my mouth. He didn't appreciate my choice of expletives, either, none too fondly rolling his eyes and beginning a lecture on heart attacks. Whatever, Tony was my knight in shining armour and we left the kitchen quietly plotting our mechanical plots right over the annoying doctor's mumbling. 

There was quite a lot of delicate soldering involved in the gauntlets of the new suit. Having to construct and fix everything on the go proved to be harder than building a robot; even for Tony, the genius engineer himself. We had burned ourselves and nearly dislocated our wrists too many times to count. Thankfully Friday ran the calculations in the background, so we just did the manual labor part.

And coding. The pounding in my skull, the acid in my loins. My God, I hated coding during a hangover. Tony didn't fare any better and that was the best consolation, really. Despite the consumed caffeine, he passed out somewhere during the initial stage. I held out not much longer, barely catching myself as I was reclining against him on the very floor we were building on, scattered cups and tools and glowing holo-screens keeping us company. 

My sleep was deep but not deep enough to miss a pair of deep male voices contemplating how to best move mine and Tony's sleeping bodies somewhere more comfortable. The engineer was a cuddler, it turns out, and refused to unwind himself from my prone body, going as far as to kick one of the men - I later learned it was Thor who got a swift punt in the shins from Tony when the Asgardian and Banner attempted to untangle our combined limbs. In the end, they settled awkwardly piling me on top of Tony and Thor single-handedly carried us all the way to Tony's penthouse, depositing us in the absolutely magnificent fluffy, enormous bed.

The bed? I wanted one as soon as I landed on it.

The fishnets? They were beginning to cut into the soft parts of my body, causing an uncomfortable stinging and itching sensation whenever I moved.

"Bwucie," I slurred with my eyes shut, feeling the man rustling around with a blanket, tucking us in. He was just the sweetest scientist.

"Sorry, we tried not to wake you up. Go back to sleep, Princess," He whispered, leaning closer to my face. His breath tickled my hair.

"M'kay, jus' wanna get these off," I weakly pulled at the offending piece of clothing.

The man chuckled. "That looks uncomfortable," Before softly sliding his hands up my legs, hooking his fingers under the stretchy waistband and pulling them down. His hands were hot and soft; my moan was softer but he heard it nonetheless, hand briefly stilling on my thigh.

I snuggled deeper into Tony, rolling onto my side and unashamedly throwing a leg over his hips, happy to find his jeans were off, too.

It appeared that Tony's teammates had already developed some sort of care protocol for their resident mad scientists. Bruce's and Thor's actions had been executed with a practiced care and gentleness. The warm fuzzy feeling in my chest blossomed fully as Bruce once more tucked the blanket around me, tenderly patting me on the back and Tony on the shoulder.

"You'nThor, y'the best," I managed to wiggle out the words out of my muddled, uncooperative brain before returning back to the dreamland.

It felt like another ten minute nap when I woke up again. The lights in the room were off, the NYC skyline providing the illumination instead. Tony was still in bed with me, his breathing even and the quiet hum of the arc reactor steady under my ear. It was the first time I'd been close enough to him to hear the sound of it. 

Sleep slowly seeped out of my body, lead disappearing from my limbs. It seemed like I hadn't moved at all. Once my head cleared up, the confusion seeped in. I'd gone to second base with Tony and we did science and never spoke of it again. He didn't kiss me, didn't touch me more than usual - but didn't resist a good ole sleepy cuddle.

What now? I never thought I'd actually get this far. Some part of me - probably the same part that sent me on a romantic novel reading spree a couple of years ago - thought he'd wake up, confess his secret love and attraction for me and we'd seal it with a kiss. Yeah, no, that sounded disgustingly unrealistic even to my own ears. There was no way I would be kissing someone with this swamp I had going on in my mouth.

I wasn't actually that naïve. Why would a man like him pursue something serious with a girl like me? I was a child in his eyes. In fact, all of the Avengers minus Wanda and Bucky treated me like a child. I knew why and I still hated it. I've been taking care of myself in all the ways but financial for years, surely, they had to have noticed that. Teachers in school certainly did. Bruce did, to some extent, I had to admit begrudgingly. Even if his behaviour was really peculiar sometimes.

"Do I make a comfortable pillow, Princess?" A chuckle startled me out of my musings. Tony sounded relaxed and warm and cosy.

"Yeah," I answered honestly, tilting to see his face. He was giving me that lopsided smirk, the one he previously saved for science and Peter and Clint's baking ventures. Something within me stirred, painfully tightening my chest, and I fought against it to preserve this memory like this - happy, carefree.

His thumb found it's way around me, tracing the line of my jaw with surprising tenderness. He was looking at me like I was made of glass. Like I was the most beautiful sculpture he'd ever seen.

I scrunched my nose when his finger found my lips. "I need a shower and a toothbrush," I declared, not knowing what else to do. All of this - the atmosphere, the shared comfort, the looks - it felt too intimate somehow. Having to be on full display of his intelligent, deep brown eyes was terrifying: I felt like crying one moment and laughing the next.

"I was having a moment here," Tony snorted indignantly but relented nonetheless, slowly pushing himself up in a sitting position. 

I admired his broad shoulders and the dips and valleys of his arms as he stretched; he caught me staring and winked, of course. I retaliated with skimming my fingertips under the hem of his tee, lightly scratching my nails over his defined abs, delighted with his shiver. 

"Behave," He sternly mouthed, following with a smile.

"Never," I smiled back, slipping into banter with comfortable familiarity.

He then led me to the huge walk-in shower, unashamedly stripping off his shirt and socks on the way. Boxers were the last, flying somewhere over my head. My hormones were a raging inferno, or, at least that's what I would have said if someone asked me why the 'loading' icon was hanging over my head as I stared at Tony's round, firm ass. I had to touch it. I absolutely had to touch it, at least once in my life. 

My dignity was saved by my own yawn. Tony's hands used the opportunity to slide his hoodie (RIP) over my head, exposing me to the cold air. I shivered in my lacy bra and panties until they were gone, too. My flaws stared back at me from the wall-length mirror and with the way Tony's hands gently settled over my stomach, another hand copping a feel of my breast, I couldn't bring myself to care.

"Beautiful, Princess," He simply said, having noticed the frown on my face.

"No, you," I automatically replied, smirking.

"Me? Nah," He shrugged nonchalantly, gesturing to his arc reactor. "Sexy, however... I'm definitely fucking hot," He leered, pressing his hips into mine with a knowing smirk.

I wiggled my butt, taking my time to turn around and face him. I saw right through the defenses he'd put up. The team didn't start calling me "girl version of Tony" without a reason - I knew we were quite similar in the less desirable character trait category. Impulsive, selfish. Defensive.

Angry red lines spanned across his chest, some faded, some raised. In the middle of it all, the arc reactor shone like a blue little sun in its metal framing. I traced around it, feeling the uneven skin, bumps and dips of it. "It keeps you alive. That's more than enough. For me," I placed a chaste kiss right in the middle of it. 

I wished he didn't have to have the thing. I wished he'd never had to go through what he went though in Afghanistan - for me, the press release I'd read was enough to get a grasp on the fact he was tortured and hurt and fucked up in there.

Stepping into the shower, I retreated from him, retreated from my feelings getting in the way and ruining the fun. The least I wanted to do was humiliate myself by crying out of... Out of what, pity? Lovesickness?

"I'm starting to see why everybody else thinks we might be related," Tony's chuckle sounded tired and slightly forced.

"I hope not," A moment to figure out what knob to turn and hot water rained down my body. Almost instantly, the tension in me melted away. "I'm not really into incest and shit."

"Ew," He walked under the stream, sighing agreeably. "But you're into bondage, so you've got that going on for you."

"Yep. Bondage and hot old dudes," I shrugged, reaching for the shampoo.

"I definitely qualify for all three," Tony promptly snatched the bottle out of my hands, standing behind me to do the tedious task of washing me. I allowed, guiltlessly enjoying the treatment. His dexterous fingers massaged my scalp, caressed my body. 

A moan slipped out of me at the glide of his hand across my nether regions.

"Tut-tut, Birdbrain is going to pitch a fit if we're late for dinner!"

"Fuck the Chicken," I announced petulantly, attempting to follow the motion of his hand with my hips. He held me firmly by my stomach, only succeeding in adding fuel to the fire within me. "Tony-y-y..."

"Nu-uh," He replied, but the smile hidden in my shoulder and the boner poking me in the hip gave him away.

"Sir?" I tried, getting a low groan in response. "Master? Owner? Daddy?" 

His breath stuttered at the last syllable, teeth closing none-too-gently around a patch of my skin. I felt a bruise bloom under his mouth, the delicious pull of it making me realize I'd be marked by Tony for days. A full-body shudder erupted from me at the thought. 

"You're trouble," He growled, grinding his own arousal into my ass. "Filthy, spoiled brat," Tony punctuated his words with another claiming bite on my shoulder blade. 

"I'm your trouble now," I smirked, relishing in all the attention my body was getting. The fingers that granted me sweet ecstasy at night a fresh memory in my mind, I relented my own urgent need in favour of repaying the man of my dreams for his troubles. 

One smirk and my knees rested comfortably on the strangely soft floor of the shower. I came face to face with Tony's hard cock. It stood proudly, the flushed tip of it dripping - with water or pre-come, I didn't know, but was eager to find out. 

"Fuck," Tony gasped, gazing down at me in astonishment as I tongued the slit of his cockhead. "You dirty little thing," He seemed to gather his wits quickly enough, bracing himself against the wall with one hand. 

He was just about to find out how dirty, I decided. There was something satisfying on a purely primal level, seeing a powerful man absolutely losing it with his dick in my mouth. Rapidly, I swallowed as much of him as I could. His girth throbbed. 

"Ruin me?" I popped off, resting my cheek against the hardness of it, tugging on his free hand to place it in my hair. My own arousal flared in response to his bewildered hunger.

Tony wasted no time in fisting a hand in my hair, carefully but firmly putting my mouth onto his cock. Inch after inch disappeared within my mouth; I was breathing through my nose as he slowly began fucking my mouth.

"Fuck, Jesus Christ, Princess, fuck," The mantra fell from his lips, echoing in the large room, mixing in with the water still pouring onto our bodies from above. The heat of it had nothing on the smouldering fire in my belly where it coiled tight and low. Tony's musk on my tongue, the firm hold on my hair. He truly held me, in body and in mind. There was nowhere else I'd rather be than on my knees for him.

I moaned around him causing a stutter in the moderate tempo. Our eyes met: his, wide and gleaming captured my own and I couldn't look away. With a wanton moan, Tony increased the pace, it quickly became brutal and punishing. I held onto his thighs for dear life, wordlessly pleading him to use my mouth for his own pleasure. 

And he took it, shamelessly, emptying himself into my mouth with a groan that nearly made me come untouched. It was beautiful and I swallowed every drop of him, refusing to let the evidence of his bliss go to waste. 

"Fuck," His voice was ragged. 

I rested my cheek against his thick thigh, catching my breath. "Good?" Just to quickly be pulled to my feet, trapped between his hot, wet body and the chilly tiles of the nearest wall. The shiver that ran through me was only partially caused by the sudden change in temperature.

"You did so good, you're my good girl," He mumbled against my lips, sliding his tongue into my mouth without any restraint. His other hand slid between my legs, immediately toying with my clit. That and the hastily spoken praise coupled with the feverish way he was licking himself out of my mouth sent me over the edge, until I was falling, stumbling head-first into an ecstatic abyss.

"Mmm... Tony," Dreamily, I savoured the moment.

"Oh, we're back to first name basis?" He snarked, finally turning off the water.

Pliant as ever, I followed him out of the shower and into his walk-in closet where he pointed at a row of t-shirts and hoodies. I grinned mischievously as I took my pick. "Daddy?"

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps @pilloclock @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @softie-socks @sleep-i-ness @gigglyfox01 @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn

[pressedinthepages]

Allure

next fill for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

also big thanks to @childoffantasy for beta-ing and @sometimesiwrite for helping me spin this story together <3

Prompt: Non-human genitalia

Relationship: Lambert/Essi

Rating: Explicit

Content Warnings: siren!essi, smut, non-human genitalia, discussion of a/b/o dynamics, cum play, squirting (sort of), a tad bit of overstimulation, oral (f/non-human receiving), penetrative sex.

Summary: Lambert hears a voice calling over the cliffs and instead of finding a threat, he finds some welcoming company.

Scents of salt and sea-crisp breeze filled Lambert’s senses as he tred beneath the moonlit coast. His coin purse was light, and he had found himself searching the shoreline for drowner nests or rotfiend camps. He had been walking for hours and hadn’t seen hide nor tail of any of the scaly fuckers, couldn’t even smell the deathly sweet tinge of decay on the air. Lambert had just about given up when he heard a voice, sweet and ethereal, calling out in a language unknown over the craggly cliffs.

His medallion hummed lightly on his chest and he tred carefully, his boots pushing through damp sand and sea glass until he rounded the base of a low cliff. Lambert stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, golden-blond hair glowing in the light of the moon and the stars where she stood atop the cliff. She looked down, her voice carrying over the waves and the unrelenting breeze that threatened to lift her away. She held out her hand and stopped singing, and Lambert’s medallion stilled on his chest. He raised his brow, gave a quick glance around, and sighed.

Eskel’s been getting to me.

Lambert hopped up onto the lowest rock at the base of the cliff and followed a hollowed out trail set deep into the dark stone, keeping his steps light and his hand braced in the sign for Quen, just in case. The wind whipped through his short dark hair as he crested the bend, finding lucious beds of grass leading straight to the woman’s bare feet.

She stood with her back to him, her shoulders and hips relaxed. She wore a simple dress that was so thin, so light, that it was almost sheer, the curves of her shoulders and her waist silently taunting Lambert from where she stood. Her hair fell in light blond waves down the line of her back, dancing and twirling in the wind. Lambert took a deep breath in, trying to decipher what was her and what was picked up on the air.

His mind swam with her. She was of chaos and serenity, spice and salt, a sweet spring day and the sharp tang of poison. She was dangerous, and Lambert was fucking hooked.

Lambert cleared his throat and kept his eye trained on her, waiting for the pin to drop. “You uh...you alright?”

The breeze carried her breathy chuckle to his ears as she slowly turned around. Her eyes were blue, and just a bit too...shiny? Sparkly? Both? Eh, who gives a shit. “I’m doing quite alright, thank you for asking.”

Lambert took a hesitant step forward, keeping his hands by his sides to show no outward signs of aggression. “What are you doing up here?”

The woman glanced around and shrugged, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Singing.”

“To?”

“Whoever will listen.”

“Uh huh. Right…” Lambert nodded and took another step towards the woman. “What’s your name?”

The woman smiled kindly, showing canines that were maybe just a little too sharp, but it could’ve just been a trick of the light. “I am called Essi. And you?”

“Lambert.”

“A witcher, correct?” Lambert nodded and Essi crossed her arms. “Have you been sent to kill me?”

Lambert furrowed his brow as he held the intense gaze of the woman with the magical voice before him. “Should I have been?”

Essi shrugged and gestured widely to the bare evening around them. “People, these days, tend to fear what they deem ‘different.’ I am no exception.”

Lambert stepped closer once more, enough to feel the subtle shift in the air around her and catch the tinge of salt on his tongue. “You look human. I can tell you have magic, and that song...it’s enchanting...and not just in the complementary way.”

“You’d be correct. It’s a siren song, meant to ward off predators.”

Lambert nodded. “Part siren, then? Huh. How’d that happen?”

Essi tilted her head and sighed. “I’d...rather not get into it. It’s not a terribly happy story, I’m afraid.”

“Fair enough,” Lambert crossed his arms and breathed in the cool night air. “Are you...safe here? I mean, as safe as someone can be nowadays…”

Essi shook her head, her golden curls bouncing over her shoulders and around her collarbones. “Not really, no. I’m headed for Skellige, though. Just wanted one last night here…”

Lambert cleared his throat, watching her sparkling eyes dance over the tides. “You uh...you need any help? With anything?”

She looked back at him, her eyes slowly dragging down his body and back up again, burning with their intensity. Something darker, sweeter floated across the breeze and Lambert could almost taste the honey-sweet aroma that threatened to send him under.

“I could use your company for the night, if you’re offering.” Essi reached up and undid the button on one of her shoulders, letting the gauzy fabric fall open. Lambert swallowed thickly as the curve of her breast was bathed in moonlight, her nipple already pebbled from the chilly breeze that could cut through skin.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, I’m offering,” he said, closing the distance between them and finally reaching his hand out to touch her. Essi’s fingers tangled with his, pulling a shuddering gasp from the back of Lambert’s throat at just the simplest contact.

“Sensitive,” Essi drawled, baring her throat as her eyes gleaned down to where Lambert’s pulse beat beneath his wrist, “good.”

She pushed him gently as she stepped around him, still holding his hand and pulling him along. Lambert watched the waves of grass skirt along her ankles as she stopped, the wind still carrying her in an endless dance. Locking her eyes with his, Essi brought Lambert’s hand up to her breast and pushed his fingers into the tender flesh.

“Don’t-uh…” Lambert glanced around even as the insistent thrum of her heart sang up through her impossibly soft skin, “don’t you wanna find somewhere more private?”

Essi shook her head. “No one will bother us. The song, meant for so long to keep away those that would wish us harm, now keeps any and all at bay. The only reason you were able to find me is because I allowed it.”

“Why?” Lambert breathed, his hand resting still above Essi’s heart.

“Must there be an answer?” Essi tilted her head and ran her fingers down the line of Lambert’s jaw, watching the muscles shift and twitch as he clenched down and drew in a shuddering breath. Her other hand drew up past Lambert’s on her chest and released the other bit of her dress and let it fall to her hips, revealing the plane of her chest and the dips of her collar. Her nipples, dusky pink against the pale alabaster of her skin, pebbled in the cool air and Lambert was overcome with the urge to wrap his lips around them and drag his tongue over the sensitive nubs.

Lambert swallowed thickly and shook his head. “N-no, I guess not.”

“Good,” Essi whispered like leaves on the wind as she pushed up to her tiptoes and finally closed the miniscule distance that was left between them.

Lambert inhaled sharply through his nose at the first glance of her lips against his, his skin almost surprised at the gentle touch after so long without. She tasted of ocean air, light and crisp and it was almost as if he could feel the call to go deeper to sea in her kiss. He carefully squeezed the flesh of her breast in his hand as he brought his other to rest comfortably on her hip, toying with the edge of her dress where it still sat, momentarily forgotten.

He deepened the kiss, swiping his tongue over the seam of Essi’s mouth and groaning when her lips parted, her fingers threading up into his hair. He felt just the barest tingle of her magic along his scalp and down the line of his spine as she pulled him impossibly closer, slotting his leg between her own and dragging herself along his thigh. Lambert’s medallion offered a little vibration on his chest, which was dutifully ignored by its host.

Essi ran her hands down Lambert’s neck and to the straps of his scabbards on his shoulder. “May I?” Essi breathed into his mouth.

Lambert took a deep breath and brought his head back enough to look into her too-blue eyes, searching for that last little hint of ill-will that would make him take his swords and scram. All he found, though, were pupils widened with lust and lips swollen and shining from his own. He felt her fingers fiddling with the metal buckle on his shoulder and he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah alright. Go ahead.”

Essi hummed with a cheeky smile as she slid the leather out of the buckle, taking his swords, so deadly and threatening to anyone who would wind up on the wrong end of them, and setting them safely on the ground with a reverence one would typically reserve for precious jewels or beloved mementos. She undid the ties at his neck holding his jerkin closed, sliding her hands beneath the heavy armoured fabric and pushing it off of his shoulders and down his arms.

Lambert felt struck dumb as she went about undressing him, his arms hanging limp at his sides as his jerkin was set down on the ground with as much care as his swords had been. Essi fiddled with the ties on his codpiece, her fingers just barely glancing over his cock that had been willfully ignored for far too long.

He surged forward, digging the pads of his fingers into the softness of Essi’s hips as he fit his nose into the crook of her neck. He breathed her in while she yanked his linen shirt from where it had been tucked into his trousers. Essi’s hands, while still gentle and deliberate, moved with fervor as Lambert nipped and sucked on the delicate skin above where her pulse beat erratically.

Her hands were oddly cool on his skin as she pushed his shirt up over his head, Lambert’s lips leaving Essi’s neck for only the briefest moment as it was shoved aside. He brought her back to him, pressing their bare chests together and rubbing his thumb over one of her nipples, relishing the throaty gasp torn from her chest. He could feel the pull of chaos building behind his belly button, the fish hook yanking backwards into places within him yet unknown. Goosebumps erupted along Essi’s skin as Lambert’s hand passed over it.

“Your fingers tingle with magic hidden beneath the skin,” Essi whispered as he dragged his hands down over her stomach.

“Not like yours,” he said, pressing his lips into the hollow of her collar, “mine was trained into me. You...you’ve got magic older than what time can rightly tell.”

Lambert slid his hand down to the apex of Essi’s thighs and went to run his fingers along her slit. Though...it didn’t feel quite how he was expecting, even through her dress. But gods, he felt the gasp that she bled into his mouth like a punch to the gut, and he really couldn’t find himself to care just what lay beneath the thin layer of windswept linen.

Essi’s nails dug into the meat of Lambert’s shoulders as his hands dipped under her dress and over the swell of her ass, pushing away the fabric and leaving her bare in the moonlight. She stepped out of the dress as it pooled onto the ground and kicked it away, letting Lambert’s eyes dance over her naked form. She was fully aware that she didn’t look precisely human while nude, but she had been around long enough to not care, and to know that a great many humans didn’t care either.

“I’m sure you already know this,” Lambert breathed, dragging his fingers lightly up the outside of her thigh, “but you really are beautiful.”

Essi felt herself blush as she pulled him down for another kiss, her hands working at the laces of his codpiece and pushing it aside, reaching in and wrapping herself around the weeping cock hidden away. She smirked against his lips when he bucked into her hand. “You’re not so bad yourself, especially like this.”

Lambert smirked right back at her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and led her to lay in the grass, letting her golden hair splay around her head like spilled starlight. He kicked away his pants and boots and kneeled down by her knees. “I’ve never really had anyone like...this. Tell me what feels good?”

Essi nodded. “You’re doing well already. Not many ask my preference.”

“Well, then they’re assholes.”

“I won’t argue that. Slip your fingers into my slit, feel around. Tell me what you find.”

Lambert quirked his brow with a roguish grin. “So mysterious. I’m always excited about research…”

He slipped his fingers down into the warm embrace between her thighs, finding...something that might remind him of a small cock without much use of his imagination. But it was ribbed along the base and came to a finer point rather than the bulbous head he was so familiar with. As he parted her slit, it sprung free and bounced up to rest by the crook of her hip, clearly rigid with blood in the way that he might also expect. What he didn’t expect was the color. The slick, smooth skin was a deep navy blue, which transitioned to the color of the blushed corals that grew along the shoreline.

Lambert tilted his head and dragged his fingers down the stiff line of Essi’s length, watching as her back arched and she let out a strangled gasp. “Well,” he smiled, “I have found something that seems to feel very nice indeed. And quite lovely to look at. What do you call it?”

Essi chuckled as she ran her fingers through her hair. “Well...I think that the technical term is ‘anchor,’ though I don’t think that’s terribly sexy. I usually just call it a shaft and move on with my life.”

“And, ah, have I been treating it properly?”

Essi dragged her fingers down over her chest, lightly rubbing her nipples as Lambert almost started to fucking drool. “You’re on the right track. Now, you can gently wrap your hand around it and stroke up and down, almost like your own. Though I don’t much care for the squeezing. Touch me like you’d touch a glass with a bolt of lightning contained inside. It’s very powerful, sturdy. But it can shatter with the smallest push too far.”

Lambert nodded with a wink, “Sounds like something I’ve handled successfully before.” With that he took her gingerly in hand, feeling the smooth weight of it in his palm. It was slipperier than he was used to, which eased its movement in his loose fist. He didn’t have to go far, it fit almost perfectly in his hand with the exception of the coral-pink tip which seemed to be the most sensitive area. He worked slowly, carefully, despite the voice in his head screaming for him to get on with it. He wasn’t an idiot. There was a right and a wrong way to do this, and the wrong way meant a good time had by no one.

Essi felt a pleasant shock rumble up through her stomach and across her chest, her hips following Lambert’s loose grip as her breathing became deeper and more drawn out. “Ah, ah just like that. You’re a natural-”

“Can I taste you?” Lambert interrupted her, his eyes almost black with how dilated his pupils were. He could smell her arousal, that thick heady scent swirling straight down to his cock and fucking Gods he just really wanted to use his mouth on her-

Essi chuckled breathily, “Alright, yes! Again, just be gentl-nnngg…”

Lambert felt his cheeks flush when he realized that he had actually been speaking aloud, but he hid himself by dragging the flat of his tongue slowly up the line of her shaft. He could feel the ridges catching before smoothing out towards the tip, which he only barely lapped at when he felt her thighs tense around his head. Gods, she tasted like a gulpful of air on the purest beach.

After a few successful laps at her shaft, Lambert tilted his head, adjusted his angle, and carefully took her entire length into the wet heat of his mouth. Essi gasped and keened loudly over the cliffs, and Lambert wagered no one else had bothered to think of doing that. Numbskulls didn’t know what they were missing. He felt cool fingers weave into his hair as he worked, rubbing the textured base with his thumb and forefinger, which prompted a guttural groan from above him.

“F-fuck, al-” Essi swallowed thickly, willing herself to see this out. Gods-be-damned, he was good. “Alright. T-take your fingers and go back a bit, I ne-fuck I need something inside of me please.”

Lambert’s fingers stopped their back and forth drag around Essi’s shaft and dropped lower, sliding between slick lips and fitting comfortably into an opening that fluttered around the intrusion, drenching his hand with a fresh wave of arousal. It was quite the familiar spot for Lambert to find himself in, though it was...unexpected, what with her shaft having held the forefront of his attention so far.

He pulled away from her shaft long enough to make sure he knew what he was working with, “H-how...Essi, is this what I think it is?” Lambert’s voice was incredulous, almost sounding as if he had never known anything that had made him quite this happy.

“Essentially, yes.”

“Fuck, you’re incredible.”

Essi smiled, that oddly sharp canine tooth glinting under the moon, “All sirens are either Alphas or Omegas or Betas, and have the corresponding equivalent anatomy. With our own little twist, of course. I would be considered an Omega, if I were a full-blooded siren, but being half-human, I have my own unique variations. You should be more or less familiar with this territory. Unless I’m much mistaken.”

Lambert sighed happily. “Gods, woman. You are just a whole bunch of extra fun, aren’t you?”

He shuffled around for a moment, bracing himself on his knees and elbows with his head level with her core. Essi felt the warm fan of his breath over her before he slowly pushed two fingers inside of her, moving back and forth at a languid pace while his other hand resumed its gentle exploration of her shaft. “Is it extra sensitive down here too, or can I give you a little more?”

Essi shook her head as she felt Lambert’s tongue lap at the base of her length, teasing the ridges back and forth. “No more than typical I’d say, at least for what experiences with human women I’ve had. Th-the tip is the most sensitive, so you, uh...you can go for it. Just not too fast all at once, alright?”

Lambert nodded and carefully nosed down the line of her shaft and down to her entrance. His hand still moved loosely over the base while he licked into her core, broad strokes matching the pace of his hands around her and inside of her. Essi looked down and watched him with an odd expression. His eyes were closed and the high planes of his cheeks were flushed pink as the dark blue skin of her shaft bumped against his forehead with every stroke of his fist and tongue.

Meanwhile, Lambert was having a religious experience in the liminal space nestled between Essi’s thighs. Time didn’t exist outside of that spot, and for all he knew the world could’ve ceased turning and was hurtling towards oblivion. And if it were?

Well, he really didn’t give a shit.

His own cock was achingly hard, leaking pearly strings onto the grass between his knees. Lambert relished every twitch of Essi’s thighs around his head as he pushed his tongue into the warm embrace of her slit. He moaned from deep in his chest, his nose bumping against the ridges on Essi’s shaft while he still moved his hand around her.

Essi gasped and writhed as Lambert very gently ran his thumb over her extra-sensitive tip, not lingering or pushing her too far, just the barest shock of intensity before resuming his gentle exploration. Her hands flew to tangle into his hair and she could feel his smirk as he pressed his lips in soft kisses to the insides of her thighs. His chest rumbled with a hum as he slipped his fingers from her core and shoved them into his mouth, licking them clean.

“W-” she breathed, feeling the golden flames of his eyes trail over her skin, “why’d you stop?”

Lambert braced his hands on the ground and pushed himself up, the scruff on his chin shining with her arousal and the endearing smile on his lips. “Just don’t want this to be over before it starts. C...can I fuck you?”

Essi smiled and ran her hands over Lambert’s stomach, through the dark coarse hairs that led down to his cock jutting just next to her own hard shaft. “Yes,” she smiled, her blue eyes boring into his, “but not like this.”

She gently pushed Lambert’s shoulders back and sat up with him, slotting their lips together briefly before she flipped herself around onto her hands and knees.

Lambert groaned, running his hands up the back of her thighs and giving the soft rounds of her bum a squeeze. He slid his finger down to the slickness between her thighs. “Oh, fuck me sideways, woman.”

His hands were reverent, skirting tracks of stardust along her spine and down over the gentle swells of her hips. Essi arched her back and shot a devilish smirk back over her shoulder, waving her ass back and forth enticingly. “Come on then,” she said with a glint in her eyes, “be good to me.”

Oh, and if that didn’t go right the fuck to Lambert’s cock. He scooted forward on his knees and took himself in hand, running the head of his length through her slick folds a few times, catching on her entrance. He felt a queer growl reverberate through her skin and he chuckled. “Alright, alright. Patience, you.”

He pushed in slowly, feeling her envelope him in the most indulgent heat he had ever had the great grace to know. Lambert dug his fingertips into the meat of Essi’s ass, while Essi’s nails dragged tracks along the soft grass pillowed beneath her. As his hips blissfully met the backs of Essi’s thighs, Lambert let out a shaky breath in an effort to keep his mind clear in the hazy mist of Essi’s pleasure.

“You ah-” Lambert sighed as her walls fluttered welcomingly around him, “you alright?”

Essi reached back, grasping onto one of Lambert’s on her hip. “Very,” she breathed, her chest heaving and her cunt clenching and flexing around Lambert. “Now if you would kindly move, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“You know,” Lambert said as he slowly shifted his hips back before rolling back in, looking down at her shiny lips trying desperately to keep him buried within her, “you’re quite the spinstrel. You-nnng, you should be a bard…”

Essi chuckled lightly. “A half-siren bard with enchanted songs? A cliche if ever there was one.”

“Just a thought, trying to keep myself from finishing before we really get anywhere,” Lambert grunted, his hips picking up just a bit more speed. Essi planted her hands firmy back on the ground and met him thrust for thrust, the claps of their skin echoing back from the cliffs.

Both of them were being swept out to sea by their pleasure, rushing waves slamming back and forth between them. Lambert’s eyes flitted over every inch of Essi before him, from the soft waves of her golden hair that bounced with each snap of his hips, down the delicate slope of her back arching into him, the curly fuzz that surrounded her slit and brushed against him as he buried himself inside of her.

Lambert slowed himself, grinding his hips up and down. Essi grit her teeth and keened quietly, pushing herself back in an effort to encourage Lambert’s pace.

“C-can I flip you over?” Lambert huffed, tracking his hands over Essi’s hips. “I know it’ll be a lot, and if you don’t like it, we can go back to this. But...I think you might enjoy it-”

Essi gasped as Lambert’s cock just barely brushed against the tender bundle of nerves nestled deep within her. She nodded frantically, “Y-yes, we can-fuck, please Lambert…”

Lambert looked down, his eyes locked on the sweet blushed lips of Essi’s cunt as he dragged himself from her embrace. He groaned as he fell from her, thin tendrils of her slick still attempting valiantly to tie them back together. Essi slid down, slinking and twisting onto her back. Her shaft lay up on the mound of soft curls at the base, shining with her arousal as Lambert crawled atop her.

He leaned down, resting their foreheads together and searching those far-too-deep eyes. He could smell her lust dripping from her skin, but could see just a hint of worry hidden in her glances. “Hey,” Lambert whispered, brushing their lips together as he spoke, “like I said. You don’t like it, say the word and we stop. No questions asked.”

Essi took a deep breath and nodded, swallowing thickly. “I promise, I want this. So fucking much. It’s just...going to be a lot. I don’t want to push too far...but I also kind of want to push too far, if that makes sense.”

Lambert pressed his lips softly along the line of her jaw and down into the hollow of her neck. “It absolutely does. But not too far, not tonight. Maybe, if we see our paths cross again, we can have some fun with that.”

Essi waggled her eyebrows and gently rolled her hips, gasping when the base of her shaft rutted against Lambert’s cock. “Please, fuck me.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Lambert hummed as he lined himself up in her slit beneath her shaft, pushing back into her warm embrace with a growl that tore through his chest. The cool air on his back was shocked in great contrast with Essi’s body, hot and wet and so fucking tight.

Lambert gave a few good thrusts until he was buried deep within her, and fuck if he didn’t want to stay there until the world stopped turning. He leaned down, wrapping his arms underneath Essi’s back and letting his hands grip onto the backs of her shoulders. He felt her walls flutter valiantly around him and he groaned into her mouth.

Essi was shocked with just how much she felt Lambert. In her, on her, around her. Everywhere. He was fucking her slowly, intensely. Deeply. He wasn’t even really thrusting anymore, just grinding up into her and the coarse hairs on his stomach leading down to his groin brushed against her shaft every. Fucking. Time. She was almost delirious with the intensity, but instead of wanting to dance away from the ache, she found herself with the low burn of craving that had her fingers itching for every ounce of Lambert that she could reach.

Essi dug her nails into the short strands of his hair, mussing it before smoothing her hands down his neck and over his shoulders. Lambert shuddered over her, beads of sweat collecting at his temples as he nipped at her chin. Through the haze of her building climax, Essi only barely had the wherewithal to rub her thumbs over his nipples in time with the rolls of his hips.

And sweet fucking Gods above that was almost enough to do Lambert in. Just barely hanging on by a thread, he persists, determined to see Essi through to a satisfying finish. He felt her shaft pressing into the cushion of his stomach, the ridges along the underside sliding along the tender space of skin nestled right above his cock. “F-fuck,” he moans, tasting his own arousal on her lips, “w..what do you need? I’m so close, I-I need you to-”

“T-touch me,” Essi whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as another wave arousal threatened to send her over, so close but not quite enough. “The t-tip, not a lot, jus-aaaahhhhhhh-”

Lambert reached between their bodies, lightly glancing his fingers in gentle strokes over the blushed tip of her shaft. Her back arched high and he could taste her tears of overstimulation as the wave of climax finally, blissfully overtook her.

And...well. That was an experience that Lambert found himself woefully underprepared for. Sure, he was familiar with the sensation of a fluttering cunt flexing around his cock. But holy fucking shit was the rest of this uncharted territory.

Essi’s shaft spurted out long streaks of spend, much thinner and wetter than he expected. It actually reminded him of a woman he had been with years ago who let out a long release of liquid when he hit a certain angle over and over again inside of her and drenched the both of them in her slick. The same happened with Essi as she spent long and hard, spurts of her arousal wetting the downy hairs on Lambert’s chest and pooling in the soft valley between her breasts.

Lambert’s hips faltered and he ground himself once, twice, thrice more before pulling himself out and stripping his cock, frantically letting his own orgasm white out his senses. He spent pearly white ropes over her shaft and her stomach, letting it drip down into the petals of her cunt.

His chest heaved as he felt his senses poke and prod at his climax-squishy brain. He could feel Essi’s hands smoothing down his arms and up to cup his face, her lips pressing soft kisses across his cheeks and into his slack mouth.

It was the scent of their spends mixing atop Essi’s skin that brought Lambert back to the present, Essi’s saltier and with a sweeter musk than he would think. He leaned down and ran his tongue between her breasts, his hands cupping the tender mounds while he tasted her pleasure. Her spend was clear with a light blue-grey tinge, and fuck it was addicting. She ran her fingers through his hair as he mouthed at her, moving down her stomach and over the hairs at the peak of her core. Her shaft had softened and slid itself back away, but she still glistened beneath the moonlight with the evidence of their climaxes.

Lambert sat up, bracing his hands on either side of Essi’s hips. “Well,” he smirked, but Essi could see a soft twinkle in his eyes, “did I do a well enough job to earn an encore?”

Essi laughed lightly, “I’d say yes, with certainty. Though, not for quite a while. I think you may have ruined me for taking any lovers in the near future. Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”

Lambert dipped his head and captured her lips, letting their tastes mingle on their tongues. “Shall I come find you in Skellige?”

Essi hummed, “If you like. I shall not turn you away should you find me.”

“And if you find me first?”

Essi pushed his shoulders back, shifting and rising to meet him on her knees. “Then I shall call for you, just as I did here. Just follow my song.”

[flyboytracy]

It’s easter! It’s the final day of Earth and Sky week! It’s Scott Tracy’s birthday! and this lil fic is about none of the above because Scott wouldn’t shut up 👌 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

It’s three in the morning when Thunderbird One begins her final approach to Tracy Island. She always lands a lot more quietly than when she launches but her pilot takes extra care to settle her back onto her launchpad beneath the pool with as little noise as possible when the world outside is dark and most of the bedroom lights are out.

Of course he knows which bedroom light belongs to whom. One room in particular is almost always dark because its occupant lives in space and Scott has to tilt his head back to say goodnight to a tiny little pinprick of light as it blinks in the skies above instead...

Another room is glowing brightly but Scott’s not too concerned because the middle of the night for them is the afternoon for a certain agent of International Rescue and he’s got no desire to walk into another conversation between the lovebirds. He’d stuck his head ‘round the door the last time he’d landed to find Gordon awake at two am and really, really wished he hadn’t. Tonight he’ll brush his fingers over that door on his way past and wonder again what happened to the little kid he used to take to the pool every weekend when dad wasn’t home. When did that tiny brown-eyed boy turn into a man ready to be a family with the woman he loves?

It was probably around the time that their dad went missing, only Scott was too occupied with trying to fill in that bottomless hole that dad left behind to notice all the tiny little cracks and crevasses that opened up too.

Thankfully Virg had always been Scott’s man on the ground since the moment Scott’s feet first left it, and he’d been there to stabilise and fill in those little fractures when Scott was too deep in his own hole to notice that others had opened up. Then he’d toss down a rope and haul Scott out before the sides could cave in and bury him forever like their m…

It’s been a long, long day. Scott’s glad to see that dad’s bedroom light is out, as is grandma’s. It hasn’t been easy for dad to readjust to life on a full sized planet but he’s making excellent progress because he wishes to be the one to walk a Lady down an aisle – if they have an aisle and either of them actually ask the other because the whole marriage and babies thing isn’t something everyone wants these days. Either way, Scott had accidentally overheard a snatch of conversation by the pool last month that’d made his eyes weirdly hot and he’d had to retreat to Thunderbird Two’s hangar to get a grip on himself.

Virg had been there but he hadn’t said a word because he hadn’t needed to. He’d drawn his big brother into a one-armed hug before pushing him in the direction of the giant vats of grease and they’d had a very calming afternoon oiling anything that squeaked on Thunderbird Two.

Scott’s surprised to see his brother’s still awake because Thunderbird Two had her own mission today which Scott wasn’t involved in but kept an eye on nonetheless. Virg was in the exo-suit for hours thus Scott’s surprised to see his room’s still aglow despite the late hour. He’ll check on his best friend after making one other stop first. Alan’s lights are on and if he’s old enough to pilot a rocket then he’s too old for a bedtime, but Scott worries anyway. Troubles weigh more in the dark and his youngest brother carries more than most teenagers his age. Dad coming back into their lives has rocked Alan’s world more than most because the rest of them are old enough to remember Kansas and the man their dad used to be before International Rescue took him from them twice.

Scott can remember when dad was just dad; that giant fella who gave him a ride to Rescue Scouts every weekend and took him to GDF airbases even when it wasn’t a bring your kids to work day. He knew the person dad was before they lost mom, whereas Alan’s far too young to remember their dad as anyone other than the Commander of International Rescue and it shows. Alan never got to lay on the roof of the jet with him as stars wheeled overhead and they talked about anything his boy had on his chest.

Instead Alan spent his formative years hearing about the legend of Jeff Tracy and Scott knows he’s kinda to blame for some of that. He built their dad up to be this unstoppable, undefeatable force inside his own mind and Alan picked up on it, as kids do. Scott didn’t even realise how tall he’d built that statue of their dad until the day after they brought him home and the reality of the situation kicked in. Scott wasn’t even sure what he’d expected; part of him had expected to be too late because who the hell could survive eight years in deep space on a ship vastly understocked for such a voyage?

Of course Jeff Tracy had survived, but the reality of that was a father who’d left his children behind and returned to find they’d grown up with Scott instead of him. It made things awkward sometimes, like when Al’ went to his oldest brother instead of their dad for advice. Whatever advice Scott gave him wouldn’t be the same advice dad gave him because Scott’s advice was based on the young man he’d raised but dad’s advice was for the little blue-eyed boy he’d left asleep in his bed on the fateful day he disappeared. Then there was the issue that his advice was based on his experiences with his four oldest boys, but out of the five of them, Alan had the most freedom to follow his own dreams and didn’t need to be told what to do with his future. He just needed to know that he’d got the support of his family behind him no matter what.

Scott might not be a fan of all of his little brother’s decisions. His friendship with a certain Mr Berrenger gives him hives, not to mention the way Alan’s newest desire to race cars across unfriendly terrain littered with hazards makes his eye twitch. However he’ll defend Alan’s right to make those decisions, and then go bother Virgil until the big guy installs VTOLs or something in Alan’s car that’ll keep him out of danger.

In the mean time, Scott treads heavily down the corridor, smiling to himself when Gordon’s light briefly flickers out. Alan’s light remains on, which surprises big brother until he looks round the door to find a couple of bodies on the floor. Virgil’s sprawled on a throne of blankets with a little brother asleep on top of him just like the old days when Al’ refused to go to sleep in case one of them went away again and never came back. For a moment he thought they’d both fallen asleep in front of the TV, but then Virgil yawned like a bear and a little figure dressed in green armour went sideways off a cliff and died in Alan’s game. Big brother couldn’t help chuckling at the bewildered “Ah,” and the slightly later “….oh.” when the game over screen appeared.

“Hey, short stuff.” Scott kept his voice down low to avoid disturbing their youngest brother as he crouched, sliding an arm beneath Alan’s bony knees and the other went around his ribs before scooping him up effortlessly. Virgil could’ve done the same anytime he wanted but he’d chosen to remain on the floor. It reminded Scott of someone perching on the very edge of their bed to avoid disturbing a kitten fast asleep in the middle of it. “I think it’s bedtime for both of you. Need a hand?”

“No. Maybe.” Virg conceded when he tried to get off the floor only to find his tired muscles wouldn’t bend far enough, “Just leave me here, it’s fine. I’m fine.”

Scott just smiled and dealt with his youngest brother first, pulling off his socks and t-shirt so he wouldn’t overheat before tucking him into his actual bed. He pressed a quick kiss to that golden hair just because Alan was asleep enough for him to get away with it, and then turned his attention to the rather bigger little brother on the floor.

“C’mon, HeavyLifter2, I gotcha. Up you get.” Scott reached down for those big hands and hauled him up, not quite as easily as he could move Alan out of the way, but he’d had a lot of practise at shifting brothers over the years. Giving Gordon piggy-backs home from school when it’d been a long day and they weren’t gonna make it back before dad got in. Lifting Al’ up onto his shoulders so he could get a good view of the air displays they used to go to before International Rescue made regular things feel mundane. He’d even carried Virg home one time after he’d taken a tumble climbing down from their tree house and it’d damn near killed him to carry his not-so-little brother all the way back to the farmhouse, but there was no way he’d have ever left Virg behind, even if it was just to get help.

He’ll never leave a brother behind. Dad left them behind and it wasn’t exactly intentional but they’ll be dealing with the repercussions of that for the rest of their lives. He might be home now but it’s not easy to let go of the past eight years. It’s not easy to step back from his brothers to let their dad back in. It’s not easy to just stop worrying when it’s all Scott’s ever known.

“Hey.” Virg rumbles sleepily, all slow and soft like thunder in the distance as they trudge to his bedroom, “Stand down, Scotty. Everything’s okay.”

And Scott believes him.

[fanficshiddles]

Trust, Chapter 12

‘What are you doing?’ Loki drawled as Darcy crawled into his bed under the blankets beside him, her back to him.

‘Sore head. Tired. Feel like I’m gonna die. Supposed to be babysitting you. But I am not leaving a comfy bed, so that means we stay here.’ She said firmly, snuggling down into the pillow. ‘And we never speak of yesterday again.’

Loki chuckled. ‘Why-ever not? Your dance moves were rather spectacular, I must say.’

Even while drunk, he had been rather surprised when she started taking off her clothes to dance around. The alcohol had affected her very quickly. He may have drunk a lot to catch up with her, let loose for a while. It had been rather fun. Though Darcy seemed to certainly be suffering a lot more than he was.

The team had been shocked upon finding them. Thor ended up helping Loki back to his chambers in the late afternoon and Natasha and Jane took Darcy back to hers. The two had passed out in their beds for the whole night, but then Darcy woke up feeling like death.

‘Pity can’t say the same for your moves.’ Darcy teased. Though even drunk, Loki was pretty graceful.

‘I’m naked, by the way.’ Loki said flatly, thinking it would maybe make her change her mind about being in his bed with him.

‘As long as it doesn’t touch me, I don’t care.’ She grumbled, not opening her eyes.

Loki smirked. If it had been anyone else but her climbing into his bed first thing in the morning, he would’ve kicked them out instantly. But because it was Darcy, he let it slide. Besides, he felt rather warmed that she obviously trusted him enough to do such a thing. That she would also sleep in his presence, where she would be at her most vulnerable.

Even if her snoring was annoying.

He managed to get back to sleep for a while too, after conjuring up some decent earplugs that drowned out her noise.

When he woke later, Darcy was awake too and watching TV. So they ended up just chilling most of the day, getting snacks and bringing them back to Loki’s room to eat. It was nice, just being in one another’s company. Loki read for a while too. They found they had plenty to talk about, but at the same time they had comfortable silences.

-

A couple of days later, Loki was finally able to show the team that he was willing to try and redeem himself.

There was a mission and Thor wanted to take Loki with them. So after a brief discussion, they all agreed.

Loki was excited at the thought of getting to fight. His armour, with his cape and helmet formed on him as he grinned excitedly.

‘Are you coming, Darcy?’ He asked.

‘Nope. I would likely just run headfirst into the fight and get killed straight away, so it’s probably best I stay put.’ She grinned. ‘Good luck though!’ She gave him a pat on the shoulder before heading off.

Darcy decided she better head to the lab, see what Jane was doing and if she needed anything. When she entered, Jane looked over at her a little sheepishly.

‘Hey, Darcy.’

‘Hey. What you up to?’ Darcy headed over to her.

‘Thor brought me back a piece of the Bifrost. I’m just examining it.’ Jane said as she looked through a microscope.

‘Ohhh cool. Need a hand?’

‘No, I’m good. But if you could get me a coffee and something to eat that would be great…’ Jane then straightened and looked to Darcy. ‘But don’t lick or spit in it… I’m sorry if I haven’t been treating you right since we came here. It’s just been hectic and so incredible to actually be here with the Avengers, to have access to this kind of tech.’

Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘It doesn’t take any time away from science to say thanks.’ She spun on her heels and headed for the door.

‘Darcy. What’s gotten into you? Since Loki kidnapped you, you’ve been… weird. Spending so much time with him, have you two got something going on?’ Jane put her hand on her hip.

‘Seriously? You’re worried that you’re not the only one dating a God, is that what it is?’ Darcy snapped.

Jane clenched her jaw. ‘No… I just… He’s not right for you.’

‘One, I am not dating him, we’re just good friends. Two, even if I was, it is none of your business to tell me if he’s right for me or not. He’s paid me more attention than you and the others ever have. Tell me, did you all even bother to come up with a plan to come and rescue me?’ Darcy folded her arms over her chest and glared at Jane.

Jane faltered. ‘Well… We did. Thor tried to find you…’

‘He obviously didn’t look around the Universe for very long considering he was here when we returned. THREE DAYS later, on Earth time!’

‘Darcy… We couldn’t just give up the tesseract like Loki wanted.’

‘Were you even going to try anything to rescue me?’ Darcy asked firmly, wanting an answer.

Jane looked down, her face falling. ‘We wanted to… It’s just, with Loki it was a bit… complicated.’

‘I knew it.’ Darcy shook her head and continued heading out.

‘Darcy!’

‘Get your own fucking coffee from now on.’ Darcy said as she flipped her the finger on her way out.

When Loki returned with the team a few hours later, he had a few cuts on his face, but they were healing quickly. They’d been battling some Hydra modified animals in Latvia. Humungous vicious dogs and a gigantic gorilla that had six limbs. Not to mention a bunch of Hydra soldiers, too.

But Loki was riding on a high after the fight. He searched around, looking for Darcy. But there was no sign of her.

‘Has anyone seen Darcy?’ He asked the team who were heading to fill in what happened with Fury.

‘Nope. But you need to come with us, so we can tell Fury about the mission.’ Steve said.

‘No, I need to find Darcy.’ Loki frowned and teleported away from them before they could say anything else.

Loki was almost at his wits end when he couldn’t find her. Part of him was wondering why he cared so much about finding her, but there was a bigger part of him that knew why. Because she was the only person who believed in him from the start, it was thanks to her he was here in the first place.

Experiencing that high from fighting was incredible for him, and not that he would admit it but fighting alongside Thor again was quite nice. Especially when he had to save Thor’s ass not once, but twice, earning great gratitude from the fellow God was something Loki wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

He checked her bedroom, all the public places including the library but there was no sign of her… Then it clicked, he had one last place to try.

-

Darcy was sitting on the roof with her legs tucked up under her chin, looking out across the countryside that surrounded the base. She could see the city in the far distance. It was just starting to get dark, so the lights were starting to come on.

Loki appeared behind her, his face falling slightly when he saw her body language.

‘Darcy?’ He said softly, stepping over next to her.

‘Oh, hey!’ She put on a smile as she looked up at him. ‘How did the mission go?’

‘It went really well, we defeated them, so you mortals are safe once more.’ He smirked and sat down next to her, but his smirk dropped. He could see there was something wrong.

‘What’s wrong?’ He frowned.

‘Nothing’s wrong. Tell me about the mission.’ Darcy tried to keep up the act.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her and took off his cape. ‘You cannot lie to the God of lies, Darcy.’ He draped it around her as he didn’t want her getting cold. But as soon as the cape was around her, she let out a small sob, but she tried not to cry on front of him. ‘Now you’re really worrying me, what happened?’

‘They didn’t even bother looking for me properly.’ She whined, hating herself for feeling so upset as the water works started. ‘Jane was making up half assed excuses.’

She leaned to the side against Loki, her head against his upper arm. Loki hesitated, but then slipped his arm around her and let her lean into his chest. He rubbed her arm and rested his chin on top of her head.

‘I am sorry, Darcy… Truly. They don’t deserve you, they really don’t. But please, do not let them upset you so much. One day they will realise how much of a valuable team member you are, I promise you that.’ He spoke softly.

Just having someone embrace her and someone to talk to that understood was a huge help. She already felt so much better. After a few minutes of silence, she sat up again and wiped her eyes.

‘If you tell anyone that I was crying I’ll be the one pushing you off here.’ She said with a slight smirk, making Loki chuckle.

‘Deal. We both have appearances to keep up.’ He grinned.

[lokifae42]

You’re On

If anybody wants to be tagged for future fanfics feel free to send an ask!

Taglist: startrekkingaroundasgard

Chapters: 4/?

Fandom: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Loki - Fandom Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s), Thor (Marvel)/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Thor (Marvel), Loki (Marvel), Odin (Marvel), Frigga | Freyja (Marvel), Original Characters, Original Character(s) - Character Additional Tags: Fluff and Smut, Smut, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Crushes, Competition, Jealous!Loki, Elven Character, Asgard Summary: Thor offers a bet to Loki. Loki realizes just how much he likes the visiting princess.

Read on AO3

Aurelia woke up to sunlight on her face. Her favourite way to wake up. She carefully opened her eyes to see Estel opening the drapes.

    “Good morning princess,” She said

    “Good morning,” Aurelia stretched

    “How was your time with Prince Loki yesterday?” Estel asked,

    Aurelia took her time reminiscing, she sat up in bed and wrapped a blanket around her naked body trying to keep warm. She smiled to herself, but Estel noticed.

“I am assuming you had a nice time based on that smile of yours,” Estel smiled with mischief.

    “I believe it went well, yes,” Aurelia continued to smile.

    “Do you intend to visit the library with him today?” She asked

    She thought about it for a moment, she did want to see the famous Asgardian library. She could tell that it was one of Loki’s favourite spots. Her heart did flutter a little when thinking about him. There came a knock at the door. Estel went over and opened it a crack. Aurelia could not hear who was at the door.

   "Was it Loki?” Her mind called. Her heart fluttered again

    “I’ll let her know,” Estel said and shut the door, her expression unreadable.

    Aurelia bit her lip.

    “Thor has requested he show you the training grounds today,”

    “Oh” Aurelia’s mind deflated

    Well, it wasn’t that bad. She did enjoy his company that night at the feast. His laughter was loud and contagious. All of his stories were about the beasts he had killed or all the men he could fight at once. Aurelia laughed a little to herself.

    “Seems you have both princes vying for your attention,” Estel too laughed a little. She made her way over to the closet and started to pick out some gowns. She held one up what had a hint of red blush underneath a cream gown. Aurelia nodded, if she was to marry a prince, may as well appeal to them.

    She lifted from the bed and stretched again. What an interesting turn of events.

~~

Thor and princess Aurelia walked the halls of the palace and made their way to the training grounds. Thor was hoping to show off his abilities in front of the princess. He thought that he had the high ground in this competition with his brother.

    Just as Thor thought about his brother doesn’t Loki turn the corner and greet them.

    Loki nods his head to the princess, “Aurelia,” he simply nodded to his brother, “Where are you going?”

    Aurelia spoke first, “Thor is to show me the training grounds,”

    Loki simply hummed with his hands behind his back. Deep inside he was seething. He hated to see the princess in the company of Thor. So he came up with an idea.

    “Oh? Are you going to spar?” Loki asked

    Before Aurelia answered, Thor, piped up, “I don’t think she would want to fight me,”

    Loki’s brows raised, “So you’re simply going to spar against a dummy and she watches? Where is the fun in that?” There was a pause in the conversation. “Why don’t you and I spar?” He asked Thor.

    Thor straightened his spine, he didn’t expect his brother would want to fight him. “You’re on, brother,”

    The three of them walked the halls towards the training grounds. Aurelia found herself seemingly nervous, although she did not know why.

~~

Aurelia sat in a seat just above the training grounds. She could see Loki and Thor clearly as they wore average padded armour. Some other warriors around quietly stopped their own training to come to see the spectacle of the royal brothers fighting each other. Thor wielded a small sword in one hand and a shield in the other. Loki was clearly aiming to be quick on his feet as he had chosen two daggers, he slid a third one into a holster on his thigh.

    Aurelia fiddled with her hands, there was a nervousness in the air but she also was amused.

    “How symbolic, ” She thought “ The two most eligible bachelors fighting against each other”

    Thor struck first. His sword flew through the air. But Loki was quick, he dodged Thor’s sword. Loki flicked the knife in the air. They circled each other.

     The fight continued, each giving each other blows. Loki was quick and spry, he was lethal with those knives. But Thor had his strengths, he eventually figured out the patterns of Loki’s strikes. Loki changed his tactics again, he almost taunted Thor to strike. But one blow Loki did not see. Thor’s elbow came knocking into Loki’s face, sending him backward onto the ground.

    “Damn him. If I could use my magic, he would have surrendered by now,” Loki thought. He was out of breath, wanting to be finished with this embarrassment. He held his hands up in surrender.

    The crowd cheered and Thor held out a hand to Loki. Loki bit his lip and half-heartedly accepted Thor’s help.

    Aurelia stood and clapped. The symbolism hit her, was she to marry Thor?

    Red anger soared through Loki, he watched Aurelia clap, her eyes flicked from Thor to himself. He exited the training grounds. Pure red rage flowed through him, he hated that Thor always had to win, always had to be better than him. Always had women fawning over him, just like Aurelia. That name brought both calm and more rage. Clearly, she was clapping for Thor’s win, her eyes clearly went to him simply for pity. Loki took off the padded armour and dropped it on the floor as he left. He discarded the daggers on a table as he left.

    Loki made his way to his chambers. The doors flew open with a flick of his wrist, he entered and slammed his fist against the wall. His jaw tightened as his knuckles cracked. He thought about giving up this ridiculous competition. Thor would always win, no matter how hard Loki tried.

    "What is the point?" He thought.

~~

Aurelia searched for Loki, she found the discarded armour and the daggers on the table of the training grounds. She heard Thor approach her so she put a smile on her face.

    “Congratulations Thor, that was well fought,” She said

    Thor gave a big smile, he felt pride swallow him. She would be his in no time, and he wouldn’t have to do any of his academics anymore. He gave a small laugh as well. “Well, I am the strongest,”

    Aurelia burned at his comment, The nerve of him! She thought. She continued to smile, pretending to be interested in this whole situation. But she could feel the anger Loki was giving off after his defeat. Before she was about to speak Thor interrupted.

    “How about I show you the rest of the city?” He asked.

    Aurelia bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to find Loki, see if he was ok. He was clearly upset and embarrassed from the spar with Thor. But she cannot just say no to the crown prince of Asgard. Clearly, she needed to impress at least one of the Asgardian princes for the sake of her kingdom.

    She gave a nod, “Sure,” She spoke softly

    Thor held out his arm, and reluctantly Aurelia took it. She tried not to think about the sweat on his arms.

    He led the princess out of the palace and they made their way to the center of Asgard. The city was bustling with vendors of all sorts. Some in carts some and some of the streets had shops built along. Crowds dotted the street and Aurelia continued to walk beside Thor. The energy was awkward. People stopped and bowed before the prince and Aurelia felt as though she was on display as Thor’s woman. A seed of anger bloomed inside of Aurelia. She was not Thor’s, Yet. Her mind spoke. She let go of his arm and clasped her hands behind her back as she strode along with Thor.

    He looked at her and a sliver of disappointment crept inside him. This competition would be harder than he thought. He loved this challenge. He looked at her and imagined her sprawled on his bed. The feeling of satisfaction went through him. He smiled, he would win her and no more academic work.

    Aurelia saw the smug smile on Thor’s face, it confused her but also unsettled her. She pretended it didn’t bother her.

    “How do you like the streets of Asgard?” Thor asked

    “I love the liveliness of the streets, reminds me of the trading centers in Alfheim” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

    Thor watches as she tucks a piece of hair behind her pointed ear, “What is Alfheim like? I have yet to visit,”

    They continue to stroll down the busy street. Aurelia looks at the vendors and stores. She should grab a souvenir before she leaves. She meets Thor’s eyes. “Alfheim is relatively similar to Asgard, but the differences are… very large.” She laughs, “We don’t have many feasts… and when we do they are full of delicate music and traditions”

    Thor nods and he imagines her dancing at the feast that had just passed. How he wished to grip her waist as she writhed beneath him. He blinked his eyes, focusing back on her words.

    “Elves are much more carefree about life, we simply wish to enjoy nature and what it has to give us.” She was tempted to talk about how elves are carefree about nudity and such but advised against it.

    The sun was getting more golden as it hit the horizon, the neighbouring planets were more illuminated.

    “Shall we head back?” Thor suggested,

    Deep inside Aurelia gave a sigh of relief. “Yes, don’t want to worry the parents,” She gave a small laugh.

[what-the--curtains]

Alliance

Chapter 8 – The Foil

(Mando x f!reader)

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Summary: Outposted on Hoth while you heal, you, Cara and Grogu keep each other company. But your nightmares quickly return, and the dark forces sending them can no longer be kept at bay.

TW: Major character death (briefly), blood, swearing

Notes: Thank u all for reason still every like makes my heart go 🥺 and every reblog/comment makes me WEEP with joy! Hope y’all are staying safe! Two chapters left!!

Word count: 4.6k

Tagged: @crazycookiecrumbles

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

“What?” Din asks, noticing your face scrunch as your feet hit the ground.

“What is this?” you question, squatting down and picking up a handful of the white powder covering the planet's floor. The cold bites at your bare skin causing your hand to instinctively release.

“What never seen snow before?” he taunts, in a manner you had often used on him, as he and Cara stride ahead, each carrying bags twice the size of the average person. An impressive sight that left you feeling less than inadequate. You kicked at the snow turning around to grab a bag from the ship in an effort to demonstrate you could carry your own weight. In the meantime Grogu had managed to form the snow into a small ball which he promptly pelted towards the Mandalorian hitting him square in the helmet.

The thunk causes you to turn around in time with Din whose head was accusingly cocked towards you. You point to the kid who mirrors your movements causing him to grin underneath his helmet. He watches as you throw a bag over your shoulder, wincing in pain when you bend down to pick up the child. Anya bounds behind you, enamoured with the snow. The Mandalorian stops and begins tracing his steps back towards you.

“Here” he says reaching for the bag, any other day he wouldn't bother, he knew you could carry your own weight, hell you'd carried his literal weight before.

“If I can carry your ass, I think I can handle this bag” you roll your eyes, as the bag strap digs further into your shoulder causing you to quickly move past him. He watches you push through the snow and towards the concrete base a few feet ahead. He wished you’d let him help you. He knew you were strong; he wished you were a touch less stubborn.

“Well not the beach vacation I was hoping for, but it’ll do for now.” Cara say’s placing the sac carrying the medical supplies and food rations on a nearby table. You drop your bag the second you enter into the abandoned rebellion base. Slowly rolling your shoulder out attempting, and failing, to masquerade your pain. Din comes in behind you grabbing the bag you'd just dropped effortlessly tossing it, along with his own bag, up on the table with the med supplies.

“Looks like there's plenty of room here, enough bunks for us to have our own, amenities seem to work well enough, not sure about hot water, but at least its water.” Cara says appearing from a hallway.

“What about the camouflage? Is it still in place?” you ask as Din begins to type away into one of the dust covered computers. He grunts hitting the machine rather harshly while swearing under his breath.

“I can't tell, we need parts to fix it.”

“Should be some on the base.” Cara offers, more as a question than a statement.

“No, we need new technology to reinstate the old. I'll have to go out and get some.”

“That safe?” Cara asks

“If it's just me? Yes.”

“So I'm playing caretaker. You wanna tell her that or is that gonna be my job” she says, looking over at you as you unpack the preservatives into the kitchen area with Grogu tucked under your arm. The Mandalorian emits a low grumble. This wasn't going to go over well.

“We need food, I’m going to get some,” he states firmly, but from a safe distance.

“I'll come with you, you’re not much of a hunter” you say, placing Grogu down on the counter and brushing your hands off on your pants.

“Not hunting here, I'm going to get credits, I need to buy some parts to get the camouflage working again.”

“Alright, well I can help with that too” you say, confused as to why he was being so dismissive.

“No, you're injured,” he says, taking a cautious step towards you.

“I’m fine” you reiterate for what feels like the hundredth time since they’d saved you.

“Really?” He says rolling up your left sleeve, revealing scars still raw from the electrocutions. You push his arm away and roll your sleeve back down wincing when you graze the raw flesh. “When was the last time you slept? Really slept”

“No worse than it was before” you mumble out.

“You spent two weeks with the empire being treated like a caged animal, you need to rest.” he persuades, placing a tentative hand on your arm. The contact briefly causing you to shift away before settling into the gentle grip.

“And you’re leaving Cara here to babysit me?” you ask, eyes skirting to the side.

“ Yes. Normal circumstances you’d be fine, but you’re not in any shape to be fighting.” slightly taken aback by the honesty, but not surprised by his lack of bedside manner.

“This is crap you say.” shaking your head, if positions were swapped, sure you would be saying the same thing, but there's no way he would listen to you.

“If someone comes, you and Cara need to be here,” he states. Why he didn't just say ‘I just got you back, i'm not risking losing you again’ he doesn't know, but he’s sure it’s for the best. With no response from you he takes his leave. You watch his cape sway in the wind as he renters the ship and takes off leaving you behind once again.

“He’s infuriating.” You say to Cara who's hesitantly appeared by your side.

“Yup. But he’s also right. Common I want to see your light saber.” She says tugging on your elbow until you comply. You enter into one large open area of the base where various mismatched chairs littered the scene. You pull out the box containing the lightsaber as Cara burritos Grogu into a blanket propping him up on one of the strewn about chairs with a cushion.

“You're probably gonna want to hang back” you say, turning it on. The light purple aura shoots out vibrating softly. You move across the floor swingin it about a bit before finally closing it.

“Not bad,” Cara says, a smirk forming.

“We got anything disposable here?” you ask side eyeing her, eyebrows slightly raised.

“Ya. Want me to throw it at you?” she responds, seemingly reading your mind. You nod your head excitedly. What started as a relatively safe game of toss and slice had progressed into something slightly more dangerous. You were blindfolded, three beers deep and Cara was no longer throwing soft items at you. After another piece of food smacks you in the face you rip off the blindfold only to see Cara giggling like a schoolgirl.

“You know if I was smarter I'd say you were doing this on purpose.”

“Good thing you're not any smarter.” she laughs, waking up Grogu who immediately reaches for the saber.

“No,” Cara says, grabbing him in the knick of time. You both begin to clean up the mess you had made, well at least the half that would smell bad by the morning. What would have been a 15 minute job turned into an hour long ordeal with most of the time being spent preventing Grogu from eating the splattered food and opening up the lightsaber.

“He’s got a predisposition for danger” you say, grabbing him away from the saber for the 90th time that night.

“I wonder where he learnt that from,” Cara laughs.

The next morning you wake up from another nightmare, at least it had been of the no name variety this time, nothing quite as drastic as being suffocated in your sleep. You pull yourself up onto a barstool and lean over the counter clutching the back of your head as a plate of food enters into your eye line.

“You're chatty in your sleep” Cara says, watching as you take a bite.

“Sorry did I wake you up?” you ask scrunching up your forehead and hiding your face in your hands.

“No, don’t worry I’ve got my own demons keeping me up at night. You sleep walk as well, had to turn you around or you would have walked right out the front door.”

“Well, that's embarrassing. Thanks for stopping me from freezing to death, ill strap myself into the bed tonight” you say with a chuckle.

“So what are yours about?” she asks.

“Some weirdo in a cape” you say, taking another bite. “you?”

“The war mainly,” she says “if you ever need to talk”

“Thanks, you too” it was nice to have her in your corner.

“Sorry by the way if you know, what we did to you has caused any nightmares” it was the first time you’d seen Cara look remorseful and soft.

“Ya those stopped after a few months, around the same time the bruises did. Not sure if it was thicker skin or I just got better at fighting.” Cara nods, emitting a relieved sigh.

“Who do you think would win in a fight? Me or Mando.” she asks, stopping any further awkwardness from continuing.

“Tough call, doesn't matter though i'd beat you both.” You smirk.

‘Oh please I could drop you with my pinky finger!” She laughs waving around the frying pan she’d been cooking with.

‘I’m stronger than I look” you say pointing your fork at her with a mouthful of food.

“I know that but i'm a better fighter. At least at hand to hand combat. Though from what I've heard if I give you a spear or a bow you’d probably destroy me.”

“Games were more rigged than you think. It was largely a performance.” you admit.

“Killing the devaronian part of that?”

“No, that was a fun surprise. They like to pit fan favourites against each other. Who told you about that, or were you there?”

“No, I don't take pleasure in forced fighting. Mando told me, when I asked if you were a strong fighter. He was convinced. Also told me you saved him from drowning. How'd you do that his armour weighs as much as a ranakor.”

“Gods I honestly don’t know how, could barely move the next morning between the freezing water and unexpected heavy lifting.” you respond, shaking your head.

“How’d you survive it, cold waters a killer even if it doesn't drown you?”

“Fire, thank god his cape was fast drying or I think the hypothermia may have gotten him.”

“Just the cape that kept him warm?” She asks innocently enough

“What did he tell you?” you shoot back, your eyes telling her there was more to the story.

“I don’t know what he should have told me?” she says now increasingly interested

“Is this why you made me a delicious breakfast? To grill me? You laugh

“Oh you are not getting out of answering that question by complimenting me”

“Body heat” you mumble, quickly stuffing more food into your mouth to shut yourself up.

“So you guys have..” she starts.

“No, oh my god, I don’t even think he's allowed to. No in order to survive we had to maintain body heat. Which we did with our clothes on, there's nothing more to it”

“Well from what i've heard he's definitely allowed to, and has on multiple occasions, but if there's nothing to it.” she lifts her eyebrow.

“Survival was the only thing to it.” you stress.

“Oh im sure neither of you enjoyed being cozied up to each other”

“I’ll get the saber if you're not careful” you threaten stuffing more food in your mouth in an attempt to shut yourself up.

“Seriously, him lugging around that armour all the time, he must look pretty nice under there and I mean, you’re... you so nothing to not enjoy there.” she rambles on.

“I'm getting it” you say sliding off the stool.

“Threatening to kill me, won’t get you out of this” she hollers after you

“Oh no Cara don’t worry it's for myself. Gonna use it to burn out any remnants of this conversation.”

“I'm just sayin!” Of course she was just saying, of course he hadn't told her about that because it meant nothing. Would you mind being wrapped up in his muscular arms again no of course not, you're not blind, but your also not stupid. You know there was nothing more to it than a debt and a friendship, and that was fine. F-I-N-E, fine with you.

*************************************************

The Mandalorian walks towards the base sporting a bag holding parts he hoped would patch up the base's broken down systems. The sun had set and the white snow glowed a light blue from where the moonlight reflected down on it. The grey clouds forming above indicated that a storm was brewing and the last thing he wanted was to get caught out in a blizzard. The doors whir as they close behind him preventing any cold from seeping through. Placing the bag down on a nearby table he pulls out some food and warmer clothes he'd grabbed while he was out. He walks over to the kids room cracking the door and peering in. The sound wakes Grogu causing him to start fussing only stopping when he's picked up. Din follows the trail of inanimate objects sliced and strewn across the floor until he sees Cara whose on the couch carving a wooden stick into a point.

“Welcome back” she says, not looking up from her project.

“Got the stuff, he wasn’t too much trouble?” he asks, referring to the kid and tossing her a blanket.

“Nope” she smiles, catching the quilt and wrapping it around herself.

“You two have fun?” he asks, directing her attention to the various metals that she had meant to clean up before he got home.

“You know we should really get lightsabers, it's not fair only Jedis can have them. She's something else, I can see why you enjoy her company so much” Cara says, hoping to provoke a reaction.

“What's that supposed to mean?” he spits out.

“Well it wasn’t supposed to mean anything but, I guess it's more than her company you'd like to enjoy? I heard about the cave, interesting the details you left out” She says, eyes glancing up at him as a smile spreads across her face. He's about to respond, but the distinct sound of doors opening brings about a silent truce as they shift into action mode, blasters in hand maneuvering quietly towards the door. Noticing a figure, Din takes aim, but Caras hand stays his shot.

“What’s she doing?” he asks, reholstering the blaster and moving towards you

“Sleepwalking.” Cara responds “she didn’t do this when you were around?” he shakes his head, he knew about the nightmares but this, this was an escalation he didn't see coming.

“We should wake her up, she’s going to freeze” he says

“You’re not supposed to wake them up,” Cara returns

“So we just let her wander out and die?” Din argues

“No we just turn her back in the direction of her room smart ass.'' The argument ceases when they remember the door being opened. You had managed to make your way out into the blizzard concerning both Din and Cara. He hands Grogu to Cara and trudges through the thick snow, which you were moving through with ease. Cara, not one to be left behind, follows him out sheltering the kid under the quilted blanket.

“Someones with her.” Cara shouts over the wind. She's right; he watches as you reach out for the cloaked figure turning it around to face you.

“Y/N!” the Mandalorian calls out.

*************************************************

Your name being called pulls you back to reality. You look down seeing Anya whose ears are back and emitting a sound the likes of which you’ve never heard. Your name’s called again further indicating this was not a dream, despite the surroundings feeling uncannily familiar. The figure stands before you, unmoving, still present, what the fuck was going on. Your heart races as you reach out this time your hand makes contact with a bony shoulder. Your eyes widen as you turn the figure around to face you. Your eyes flutter side to side trying to piece together the situation playing out before you. You hear the Mandalorian shouting for you, but you don't turn away.

Your hand reaches up to pull down the hood as you do a familiar buzzing fills your ears as a scarlet flash lights up the sky. A burning sensation radiating in your stomach causes you to look down just as the saber retracts back into its hilt, the red light dissipating as it does. Your hand grasps at the cloak tearing a piece off as the figure disappears into the night. You fall to the ground, it's cold, you can feel your light fading, it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

************************************************

Din makes it to you first, dropping to your side. He places a hand under your waist lifting you onto his lap scanning your body for the damage. Your hands cover your abdomen. He moves them away revealing a substantial hole where the saber had cut straight through you. There was no blood, there was no fixing this, there was nothing he could do. Too many vital organs had been hit. He watches as you try and fail to intake the surrounding air into your lungs. He can see the panic in your eyes as you try and fail to breathe. Cara’s run comes to a halt. She stares down at the Mandalorian as he cradles a body that would never heal. You’re trying to say something, but all that’s emitted is a series of bloody splutters as you cling desperately to life. You look at Cara and the child before looking back up at him. Your purple eyes bore into him as your body goes limp. Anya throws her head back howling loudly into the night as Cara continues staring down stoic as even, placing a hand on the beskar armour. The Mandalorian doesn't move, he can’t, he won’t let you go. Why didn't he say anything, why couldn't he offer you some comfort in your final moments. He had failed you. As the howl fades back into the wind the silence becomes deafening.

Cara sees them first, Dins hand moves to your chest where small palpitations seemed to be occurring. His head swivels around staring up to see Grogu’s small green hand reached out, head wrinkled and eyes squinting in focus. As quickly as it had stopped your breathing begins again punctuated by a loud cough and several gasps for air which launch you upwards. The Mandalorians arm braces your shoulder as you do. He pulls up the hem of your shirt running a hand over skin that was beginning to smooth over. Grogu collapses back into Caras arms. Din breaths out for the first time in what felt like forever, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat back down. Your hands found their way up to his helmet tracing around its edges in an attempt to ground yourself.

“It’s okay, I’m here, you’re alive, you’re safe.” he whispers, as he brings his helmet down to your forehead pressing them together lightly. Your arms quickly wrap around him as you bury your face in his chest. The metal suddenly feeling like the most comfortable thing in the world.

“Makers get a room” Cara shouts. He hears you mutter something which he eventually makes out as “the child”

“He’s fine,” he says, watching the relief rush over your face as your arm reaches out to pet Anya before your eyes start close again.

“We have to get her inside, and warm, she’ll be fine, but we have to move quickly.” Cara says as Din lifts you up carrying you back inside.

The following days blur together for Din he left shortly after you were secured back in bed in search of supplies and medicine that would help ease your recovery. In all truth it helped keep his mind off the fact that you may not wake up. Despite Grogu’s best efforts you had been dead for a solid five minutes, that's not something many people recover from. He took up a few extra bounties along the way hoping they may have some answers as to who was with you in the blizzard that night, but nothing turned up. The killing helped him feel better, and coming back with supplies made him feel useful. No matter where he was, he always made sure to return with blankets and warm gear, especially after Cara had said you felt cold to the touch. He couldn't have that.

“I think we’re good for blankets, Mando anymore and she’ll sweat to death” Cara says with a small laugh unpacking yet another massive sheet made from some type of animal hide.

“You said she needed to be kept warm” he states, as if his actions were completely normal and reasonable.

“Well why don’t you just crawl in there with her that'll keep her nice and toasty” she teases “or you could just wait until she wakes up then you’d be able to keep her really warm, at least based on what I’ve heard from some of your past lovers” she laughs, as he leaves the room embarrassed.

*************************************************

Your mouths dry, that’s the first thing that alerts you to the fact that you were still alive. You open your eyes slowly permitting the fluorescent lighting to creep through causing a dull ache to pulse in your forehead. Closing one eye you move up in the bed causing multiple blankets to cascade down from your shoulders pooling in your lap. You turn to the side reaching for the glass of water precariously placed on your bedside table. A sharp pain shoots through your body as you reach out causing your hands to jolt down to the source of the pain. The scar tissue reminds you just how lucky you were to be alive. Your hands positioning is quickly changed as Anya nuzzles her snout underneath it. You scratch her ears, smiling as she licks at your face. You're distracted by the sound of footsteps inching closer to your door. You sit up and straighten your shirt, suddenly aware of how you must look and smell. Your fussing with your hair as the door clicks open.

“You're up!” Cara exclaims “wait here there’s someone who’ll want to see you. “

“Like I can go anywhere” you respond, shifting slightly as you do. She re-enters with Grogu who she places in your arms. He stares up at you with his big eyes, his hand reaching out for your chin. You lower your head so he can touch it eliciting a small contented gurgle.

“Thanks for saving me,” you say, as he worms his way underneath the blankets.

“Mando’s off getting supplies, mainly bringing back blankets for you though” Cara remarks causing you to roll your eyes.

“Five bounties so I’ve been out what? a day?” you ask shuffling through the thick fur covers which were, to be fair, keeping you nice and toasty.

“How are you feeling”

“Like a shish kebab”

“You looked like one. Do you remember anything about that night?”

“What apart from dying? I remember taking this” you say pulling out the small swatch of fabric you had torn from the figures cloak. “Nothing after that. I figured the only way this hole was closed was because of Grogu. Did something else happen?” Cara contemplates telling you about the tender moment she had witnessed between you and the Mandalorian, but opts to let him tell you himself.

“No, nothing. Get some more rest, you look like shit.” she laughs leaving the room allowing you to fall asleep with Grogu tucked neatly under your arm.

“Fuck” you shout, shooting awake. Your eyes water and your chest heaves. Another nightmare. Whoever this figure was, it knew it had not succeeded in killing you. Whatever it was you, and your friends, would not be safe until they, or you, were dead. You maneuver out of bed, careful not to wake the child as you do. Your feet hit the floor with a light slap, the sound being enough to rouse Grogu from his slumber. He blinks sleepily watching as you grab some clothes, a blanket and the ripped fabric tossing it all into a small leather bag. You whistle for Anya who begrudgingly hops off the bed and makes her way over to you. The child, now awake and apparently savvy to your plans scowls.

“I know, but we’ll be back once it’s dealt with” you say leaning over the bed to stroke his ear.

“Once what’s dealt with?” the familiar modulated voice asks behind you. “You’re leaving.” he continues, noting the rucksack tossed carelessly over one shoulder.

“Just for now.” You say, offering him a reassuring smile as you turn to face him, “I have to deal with something.”

“We can help.” He responds. You turn back to face the wall, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Not this time I can’t put the kid at risk. It’s too dangerous. Whatever came here, it’ll come back once it feels I'm alive. I’m going to find it. See what it wants.” you unpack and repack your bag making sure everything you need is there.

“How do you know this isn’t what it wants you to do.” he poses, causing your hands to stop shuffling around inside the bag.

“I don’t.”

“And how do you think you’re getting off this planet.” he asks, a touch too smug for your liking. Especially considering you had not figured that part out yet.

“Gotta be some spare parts around here, maybe even an old ship.”

“Can you even fly?” Was that worry you detected in his voice, or amusement at the notion of you piloting a spacecraft.

“I'll be fine.” You say closing your bag.

“Let me help you.” he takes a step towards you, closing the space between you both.

“I’ll be alright” you say, turning and haphazardly throwing the bag over your shoulder. He steps in front of you, not willing to let you pass without a conversation. Not wanting to put him in danger you stand on your tiptoes and place your hands on the helmets sides, causing him tense up. You pull his face down to meet yours planting a kiss where his mouth would be.

“You’ve helped me enough” you say staring into the visor and slowly removing your hands. He remains where he stands, giving you enough time to skirt around him. Entering the kitchen you grab some preserves and a knife out the cupboards tossing them into the bag.

“Tell her she’s not leaving,” Din asserts to Cara, who had witnessed the previous events from a nearby chair.

“You can’t go by yourself, you’re smart enough to know that. Let us help.” She says. Realizing this isn’t a fight you can easily win you agree.

“Someone has to stay here with the kid. He won’t be safe where we're going. Din you should stay with him ” you say.

“I can’t fly a plane.” Cara lies in an attempt to force you both to confront your feelings for eachother, though she wasn’t entirely sure either of you knew how deep said feelings truly ran.

“I’ll take you.” Din says without hesitation

“I know you don’t like to be away from him.” you whisper quietly, your actions from before suddenly creeping to the forefront of your mind.

“We won’t be gone long” he says, evidently unfazed by the kiss. “You know where we’re going.

“No, but she does.” You nod in Anya’s direction.

[jumpship90]

i have to leave, you can't come with me, and this goodbye kiss, it's going to last longer than any of our other kisses because i can't bear the thought of not having you near - Kiss prompt for Jaq and Phin please :)

Thank you so much for this prompt! It was perfect for Jaq and Phin and I'm probably going to make this a stand alone chapter of my long fic for them! This one is super indulgent and mushy and angsty and romantic - roughly 1500 words, so more under the cut

Byzantium had never seemed more soulless to Jaq than when they walked Phineas to the landing bay and into the shadow of the shuttle that would carry him back to the Hope.

The rain that had been threatening all day had finally started to make itself known in the form of a fine drizzle that left the ground beneath their feet slick and created a haze in the air. Though they could feel themself growing damp already, Jaq couldn’t help slowing their stride, eking out each step in an attempt to fend off their inevitable parting.

The knot of tension that had been sat in their chest all afternoon tightened as they glanced over at Phineas. His expression was drawn and resigned, agitation showing in the deep lines that creased his brow. It was nothing like it had been this morning, when they had awoken still tangled together beneath the sheets and both grinning the elated, unrestrained grins of partners who had spent a night in each other’s arms.

A single night, Jaq thought in frustration, as they surveyed the man walking beside them. A single night and now who knew when they would see him again. The deposed Board members were planning a coup and even after everything Jaq had done, it had once again fallen to them to thwart the grasping, greedy ambitions of Halcyon’s former elite. It seemed even in its death throes, the Board was still managing to take everything from them. They gripped the hand in their own a little tighter and felt Phineas return the squeeze.

Despite their slow pace, eventually, they both halted before the shuttle, the Unreliable squatting beside it. Junlei and a handful of mardets were waiting at the base of the landing ramp and the Chief gave Jaq a nod to acknowledge their arrival. Jaq didn’t wish to keep her waiting, grateful that she had agreed to safely see Phineas home for them, but still they stalled, turning to him.

“This is becoming something of a routine for us, isn’t it?” he said, a wry smile turning up the corner of his lips. “You dashing off to save the day, me toiling away in a laboratory, awaiting your heroic return.”

They knew the bitter note to his voice wasn’t aimed at them, only the reality of their situation, but still, Jaq felt the words strike a sharp blow.

“One day, we might get to spend longer than a few hours in each other’s company,” Phineas continued his fingers worrying at their own. “Until then, well, I suppose we just have to make do with memories don’t we? A shame mine’s not quite what it used to be.”

He gave a forced, strangled laugh at his joke and Jaq’s attempt at stoicism in the face of their departure crumbled entirely.

They wrapped him in their arms and clung to him, his wiry, angular frame pressed as tight to them as they could manage, and when they buried their face in his neck they could still smell a trace of the expensive Byzantine products they had bathed him in the night before. The scents didn’t seem quite right on him - on their brilliant, eccentric scientist. He should smell of chemical and old leather and the grease of frying cystybits. Of all the things that had come to mean home to them.

“I’m sorry,” they whispered in his ear as bony fingers clutched at their armour. The slow pitter-patter of raindrops against the metal encasing their body was beginning to increase. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to leave you again.”

“I know,” he soothed, and pressed his lips to their cheek. “I know. I’m sorry too, Jaq. I’m sorry things are like this. That those corporate swine are still breathing down our necks. Still stealing from us.” He relaxed his grip on them a little and drew back just enough that Jaq could see the determined, near manic spark in his eyes. “But you’ll stop them. You’ll put an end to their meddling. I know you will.”

With that, he kissed them.

It wasn’t the tentative, gentle kiss that they’d both used at first, still so careful with each other and terrified to break the new, fragile thing between them by pressing too hard, too soon. Nor was it slow and indulgent, like the kisses they’d shared in bed the previous night as they’d enjoyed exploring each other for the first time. This was firm and certain – a promise. I’ll come back and I’ll be waiting for you.

When finally they parted a fraction, Jaq was conscious of the rain picking up. Drops coursed down Phineas’ cheeks, soaked through his hair, dripped from the end of his nose. It didn’t matter, they thought, as he cupped their face in one broad palm and followed the tracks of moisture down their skin with a weathered thumb. It didn’t matter that strangers running through the deluge to the interstellar shuttles might be watching them. It didn’t matter that Junlei and her mardets were waiting to leave. Nothing mattered but hanging onto this, onto him, for just a little bit longer. Jaq found themself wishing now more than ever that they could control the time dilation effect that plagued them, wished they could bring Phineas into it with them so that the two could defy the laws of the universe itself to snatch a few more precious moments together.

They returned to his lips, wet now and shining, the raindrops adding an unfamiliar taste to him. The two of them probably looked ridiculous, Jaq thought. Soaked through and clinging to each other like some clichéd scene in a corny aetherwave romance. They didn’t care. Phineas didn’t seem to either, and Jaq kissed him until they’d run out of air, until they couldn’t have continued for a second longer.

This time when they parted, a piercing whistle cut across the landing bay. Jaq looked over Phineas’ shoulder to see a mardet twirling his finger in a “wrap it up” motion. The engines to the Groundbreaker’s shuttle were warming up and Junlei was wearing an impatient - albeit apologetic -expression as she sheltered from the rain. There was no delaying any longer.

Phineas, following their gaze, glanced back and gave a humph of consternation.

“Don’t they know who they’re talking to?” he grumbled. Jaq laughed but reluctantly released him and he followed suit.

They crossed the last few feet to the base of the landing ramp together and just as Phineas took his first step upon it, Jaq suddenly remembered their gift for him.

“Wait!” they said, and grasped for his hand. Phineas turned, concern arching his brows as they dug in their pocket, groping about between the odds and ends they always carried until their fingers met something soft. “I forgot to give you this.”

Turning his hand over, they pressed into his palm the cork from the bottle of champagne they had shared in the bath the previous night. Phineas peered down at it, turning it in his fingers and tracing the lines where Jaq had carved both their initials into the surface. His lips parted in a silent “oh” of surprise.

“Something to jog your memory,” they offered with a weak smile. It had just begun to slip as Phineas’ lips met theirs in a final, brief kiss.

“Keep safe, Jaq,” he said as he drew back. “Please.”

Jaq nodded and took the cork for a moment, tucking it away in the breast pocket of his jacket. “I will. And I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

With that, they took a step back and watched through the rain dripping in their eyes as he climbed the gangway, surefooted despite his unfamiliarity with Terra 2’s gravity, and disappeared inside the airlock.

The last of the mardet crew followed suit and Jaq turned to Junlei.

“Thank you. For seeing him home for me.”

The Chief nodded and extended a hand in a firm shake. “Only right to return the favour. I’ll pass on my well-wishes to Parvati. Good luck, Captain.”

By the time Jaq had made their way into the cockpit of the Unreliable, the shuttle had taken to the skies, and before ADA had finished running through the take-off protocols, it had disappeared entirely behind the thick banks of cloud. Jaq let out a shaky breath and finally took their seat in the captain’s chair.

“Take us into orbit, ADA.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

[jaskierswolf]

Witcher Poet Queen

Based on a prompt via my AO3 by rubychatterbox (on AO3), who wanted a fic based on “Soldier Poet King” By The Oh Hellos. It being me... I made it Dandelion. Is anyone really surprised at this point? ________________

The Lord Viscount, Julian Alfred Pankratz of the Lettenhove estate and personal friend of the royal family of Cintra had a remarkable gift for bedtime stories. This was because to those outside the royal court of Cintra he was also known as Master Dandelion, famed poet and troubadour, and loyal friend to one Geralt of Rivia. There were only a few select people within Cintra that knew the full extent of the Viscount’s identity. His dearest friend, Geralt, had essentially ruined all his dreams of playing for Queen Calanthe as a bard with his blasted claim of the Law of Surprise. Dandelion was not impressed in the slightest. He hadn’t even been there to witness the events.

And it really had sounded like the most wonderful tale. It had had everything the troubadour loved in one dramatic package; royalty, heartbreak, curses, true love’s kiss and more magic the than halls of Aretuza.

No, Dandelion was not impressed at all. He was even less impressed with Geralt’s determination to leave his child surprise, abandoned at the fate of Destiny herself. Well, maybe that was a little melodramatic. Geralt kept saying he would go back to the child when the time was right, but that wasn’t nearly as exciting a tale.

“Julian, will you tell me my bedtime story tonight?” The young girl with emerald eyes and ashen blonde hair asked. She had her night gown on already and really shouldn’t have been roaming the castle. It was most improper. Dandelion had to laugh. Ciri had never been one for propriety. She would get on well with his witcher. When he finally remembered to actually visit her.

Dandelion tilted his head as he smiled down at the young princess. “Of course, my lion cub. What daring adventure would you like to hear tonight?” He asked with a melodic laugh. He knew her answer. It would be the same story that she always begged him to tell. The story of the White Wolf.

Ciri’s sparkling green eyes lit up and she grabbed his hand, tugging him towards her bed chambers. He grabbed hold of his hand and let himself be pulled down the empty stone corridors of the castle. There were a couple of guards stationed outside her room, their hands gripping the hilts of their swords. Dandelion gave them a quick two fingered salute as he was dragged through the door.

“Princess Cirilla demands a bedtime story!” He called as they passed but no one blinked an eye. The Viscount was often yanked into the young princess’s room in the evenings. He wasn’t sure whether it was his own bond with the witcher, but he was starting to see Ciri like his own daughter. She was the only reason he returned to the castle each winter, and occasionally during the year depending on his travels with Geralt.

“Tell me about my Destiny!” She pleaded as she crawled into her bed that was far too big for any child with silk sheets that were more expensive than his entire outfit, maybe even his entire wardrobe. He perched at the edge of the bed as she pulled the covers up to her chin.

“Your Destiny…” He sighed wistfully.

Geralt. He hadn’t seen his witcher in over a year now. They’d parted last winter, as they often did, and their paths just hadn’t crossed that summer. He missed Geralt terribly. He hoped Geralt was alright, surely Yennefer or one of the wolves of Kaer Morhen would have sent word to him if Geralt had been hurt. Dandelion always kept an ear open for news about his witcher and he’d heard nothing. That must mean that his dearest Geralt was alright. He wasn’t entirely sure what he would do without him.

“There are rumours in court you know.” Ciri stated, sounding very much like the princess she was raised to be.

Dandelion raised an eyebrow at her, his lips quirked in a curious smile. “Oh?”

“Some say that you know him, know Geralt.” Ciri’s eyes were wide and shining with unbridled curiosity. “That you, Viscount Julian, are in fact the bard, Dandelion.”

Dandelion laughed and shook his head wearily. “Ah.”

Ciri beamed up at him, sitting up sharply in her bed. “It’s true! Isn’t it, it’s true?”

He nodded with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, Cirilla, but you mustn’t tell anyone, especially not your Grandmother.”

Ciri scrunched up her nose, “Why?”

“Because Queen Calanthe, as I’m sure you are well aware, is not Geralt’s biggest fan. I’m afraid Dandelion the Bard has been unfortunately tarnished with the same brush.”

“So you lied?” Ciri gasped with the widest of smiles, absolutely delighted in the thought that someone might try and hoodwink her grandmother.

Dandelion laughed. “Oh no. Not at all. I am indeed the Viscount de Lettenhove. Although not many people are aware that Dandelion and Lord Julian are one and the same person. It is of the utmost importance that you keep this a secret. Can you do that for me, Cirilla?”

Ciri nodded. “But you must tell me the best story!” She announced. “Otherwise I will feed you to the dogs!” She giggled.

Dandelion gasped dramatically and his hand flew to his chest. “The dogs?” He gasped. “Oh well then, listen carefully, young lion cub, for I will tell you the most daring of tales.”

She giggled and snuggled back onto her pillow. Dandelion smiled softly down at her. She really was an absolute delight, nothing like the other royals he had had the misfortune to meet. She was incredibly tenacious and stubborn, just like her grandmother but she was kind, a trait the good Queen seemed to lack. Ciri hated injustice even at her young age and often snuck out of the castle to play with kids her age in the streets. She would bring them sweet honied rolls from the kitchen, tucked into her skirts. None of the street children suspected that their friend Fiona was the princess but they all eagerly awaited the treats she would bring.

“Now this is a story of three acts, my dear girl. A tale of Destiny and of family, the kind you aren’t born with, the kind you find for yourself.” He announced with a flourish, his voice taking on the familiar air of a thespian as he transformed from Viscount to bard. “The first act tells of a white knight in shining armour.”

“Geralt!” She shrieked a little too loudly.

“Shh.” He put a finger on his lips. “Quietly, you know that no one is allowed to mention the witcher in the castle.”

Ciri giggled and put her own finger on her lips. “Geralt!” She whispered loudly, more of a stage whisper than anything else but Dandelion knew she was trying.

He winked and nodded with a smile. “Geralt.” He agreed. “The noblest man you will ever meet. The witcher who made up his own code to follow when there was none. A man of morals, with the kindest heart.”

Ciri stared at him scrupulously with her tongue between her lips. “Dandelion?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you love Geralt?” She asked plainly as if she hadn’t just shot an arrow through his heart.

He paused as he considered his answer. She was too smart to lie to and honestly he didn’t want to lie, not to her, but if he was clever then he should be able to weave an answer that wasn’t entirely the truth. He sighed dramatically. “Well he is my best friend.” He tilted his head as he watched her reaction carefully. “It would be a very sad life indeed if I didn’t love my best friend.

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Yes but are you in love with him?”

Dandelion pulled nervously at a lock of his hair. “I love him. I have always loved him. I will continue to love him, and I will love him in anyway that he lets me.” He ruffled her hair fondly. “Now stop interrupting, or I shan’t have time to finish!”

She pouted and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Fine.”

“Good. Now where was I? A knight!” He cried as he fell back into his story. “or a witcher, I suppose. There will come a witcher who carries a mighty sword!”

“I thought witchers had two swords.”

“Who carries two mighty swords!” He amended with a wink. “And he will tear your city down—” “What!?” Ciri shrieked. She looked horrified and paled at the thought of her beloved city falling.

Dandelion took her hand and squeezed it gently. “A metaphor, the city represents the walls around you, Ciri, the ones that take away your freedom.”

“Geralt will give me freedom?” Ciri scrunched up her nose.

“He will tear your city down.” Dandelion repeated with a reassuring smile. “oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord” He added in song. His mind was already spinning with the wisps of a melody that he could add to this poem. It would make the most beautiful of ditties. Ciri giggled and hummed the tune back at him.

“There will come a poet,” He started the next stanza, not bothering to announce the second act of the tale.

“That’s you!” Ciri grinned.

He nodded. “That’s me, Geralt would be lost without me, princess. So there will come a poet whose weapon is his word. He will slay you with his tongue.”

“Slay me?!” Ciri cried.

“Another metaphor.” He hummed trying not to lose his patience with the young princess.

“Oh ok. That’s good. Grandmother would kill you before you could hurt me.”

Dandelion chimed a laugh and nodded. “He will slay you with his tongue.” He continued, pushing his story forward before Ciri could get distracted again. “oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord.”

Ciri was finally starting to calm down, her eyes drooping as he head lay back on the pillows. She hummed the song again, but it was more of a mumble this time and Dandelion breathed a sigh of relief. He adored the princess but she really did have so much energy. He could barely keep up.

“There will come a ruler.” He sang softly as he watched the young princess succumb to sleep. “With hair that’s ashen blonde. She will steal her people’s hearts. oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord, oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord. She will steal her people’s hearts….” His voice was now barely above a whisper as Ciri began to snore. A smile tugged on his lips and he felt a bloom of love for the young girl in his heart. “oh lei-oh lai-oh Lord.”

He glanced over at the door but the guards were paying no attention so he gently brushed her long hair away from her face and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Sleep well, Ciri. Dream the sweetest of dreams. Your Destiny, my Geralt, will find you. If he doesn’t then I will drag the fool kicking and screaming before Calanthe. You do not belong here, child. Your heart is a wild thing and they will only try to keep it locked up.” He sighed and closed his eyes.  “Don’t let them do that, my dear princess. You must follow your own path.”

His heart clenched in his chest. Was he talking to Ciri, or perhaps his younger self… or even Geralt? He couldn’t be sure.

“Witcher, Poet… and Queen.” He murmured before carefully standing up and heading for the door. He chewed on his bottom lip as he turned to give the princess one last look. She was now sleeping peacefully. He chuckled. She was lucky, in a way, to be able to sleep without a care.

His own dreams would be haunted by golden eyes and wolves, but he didn’t mind, not if his dreams reunited him with his heart, if only for the night.

_________

Tag list: @abluescarfonwaston @artistsfuneral @slythnerd @elliestormfound @moonysourenza @victorieschild @hailhailsatan

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Behind a Name

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars + Original Character

Collection/Series: N/A

Pairing: Captain Bear (Clone Trooper OC) x Female Identifying Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Drinking)

Warnings: Characters, not the reader, drinking. Swearing. Yearning.

Summary: Out at a Cantina with Bear and his men, you ask a burning question that’s been on your mind ever since you first met him.

Notes: Hi, yes, i’m still on my Captain Bear Bullshit. 

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It’s not something you usually do, grabbing drinks with the clone troopers, but Captain Bear’s little troop had whined and moaned at you about leaving medical for five minutes and actually letting your hair down. The most vocal being Sunny and Kal, who had been adamant that you actually socialise even if it was just with them. 

You liked Bear’s little rag tag group of soldiers. They were friendly, approachable and oddly enough not quite as straight-laced as some of the others. You often caught them breaking rules and turned a blind eye, little, harmless things that made them entirely more human and entirely more individual and likeable. You didn’t have friends so to speak, but they were the closest to something like that for you.

Captain Bear was the most intriguing of the bunch. Leading the little troupe he was both a captain, authoritative and strategic, and an almost father like figure to his brothers. You noticed the little things he did for them; making sure they ate enough, got to bed on time, had their wounds seen to, that they were doing okay in every little way. Despite his large size, standing at an impressive 6ft 5 with the broadest shoulders you’d ever seen on a man, he was seemingly one of the gentlest of the clones you’d ever met. He spoke softly almost always, was gentle in the way he hefted younglings onto his shoulders and spoke to them as they drew on his armour. He was a rather good case of not judging a book by its cover, and he made you incredibly curious. 

You didn’t know much about them, any of them. They were right when they moaned that you barely ever left medical, that you barely ever socialised beyond small talk while tending to injuries. It was a sudden realisation that you didn’t really have any friends and that maybe it was time that you stopped being ‘doc’ all the time and started being you, a friend. That’s what convinced you to go out that night, that’s what convinced you to ask a burning question that had been on your mind since you met the Captain. 

“So how exactly did you decide on the name Bear?” You ask him as you lean back in the booth, your preferred beverage in your hand and your legs swung over one of Kal’s. Each trooper chose his own name, after the Jedi had made a point of encouraging more individuality. Each trooper had a reason for the name he chose and it was something that fascinated you endlessly. 

The men around you chuckle, Bear included who looks at you with a soft little grin that shows his teeth. It’s annoyingly distracting, the way his smile looks, comforting and inviting. 

“You know what a Garu-Bear is?” Sunny asks you before Bear can answer your question, wide grin across his face, stretching the scar across his lip. 

You shake your head, assuming some sort of bear like creature but not having heard of that particular species before. Although the vastness of the galaxy it seemed like every other day you heard about another creature that you’d likely never see in person. 

“Massive bastards and very, very protective of their cubs. Big parental instincts, pretty soppy for something that can take your head off.” Delta chimes in, explaining what one was. Before Sunny shoves him over to take charge again, “Well, he’s as big and as protective as one, that’s why he’s called Bear.”

“Cause he acts like our damn Papa Bear all the time! Can’t even go out for a drink without him worrying over whether we’ve eaten enough or drank enough water!” Delta chimes in with a guffaw, practically slapping his knee over his own joke, spilling his spotchka over Kal who shoves him away from him with a groan. 

“There isn’t any shame in looking after my troops and making sure you eat and sleep.” Bear insists although it’s clear from the way his brow furrows upwards in the middle and the less natural curve of his smile that he’s a little embarrassed by the teasing. It’s sweet, you think, the way he looks out for his brothers, his men. Even if they tease him for it. It’s sweet that he actually cares. You’ve seen captains who put distance between themselves and their men, who don’t seem to care, not truly. 

“Then there’s the younglings! He’d adopt every kid we come across if he could, drawn to them like Sunny’s drawn to stray lothcats.” Kal puts his two credits in, leaning across the table and gesturing in the air, drink in hand. His words are a little slurred and you can’t help but smile at how at ease each of the men are in Bear’s presence, even as he, himself, shifts a little uncomfortable in his seat. Bear scratches his beard as if to simply give his hands something to do. 

“Hey, don’t be too rough on the captain, not like he’s allowed to have any of his own!” Sunny chimes in in the man’s defence, but you can see how it only embarrasses Bear more. It’s a known fact that the clones weren’t allowed families, weren’t allowed romantic relationships let alone to have children of their own. It’s sad and unfortunate you think, considering Bear would probably make a wonderful father. It breaks your heart a little to know that something so simple as having a family of his own is out of his reach, something he clearly craves on some level. 

“Alright, alright! Enough! Why don’t you interrogate the good doctor now, huh?” He gestures towards you with a large hand covered in little scars, pulling the attention away from him as he goes to drink from his cup. You give him a glare that’s not truly annoyed so much as teasing as Delta turns on you this time, clearly the tipsiest of the bunch. 

“She’s as much a mama bear as you’re a papa bear. Always fussing over us like we’re her kids!” 

“In my defence whenever I see you, Delta, you’re usually filled with blaster holes!” You don’t have much of an argument against it, in truth, because he’s not wrong. You are a naturally caring person, that’s why you went into medicine. Combine that with a healthy sense of right and wrong and a protective streak and it was evident that you could in fact be a bit of a mother bear. 

“Yes, ma’am, doesn’t explain all the times you bring Sunny those little sweets he likes or how you remembered that I like spotchka the best.”

“Okay, okay...I'm a mama bear, are you happy now?”

“Oh, plenty!” 

The night continues in that vein. Questions are thrown about and answered, with many a teasing remark as you get to know them all a little better and in turn they learn a lot more about you than they ever thought they would.

Once Delta and Kal are a little too drunk to keep going responsibly, you all make your way out of the Cantina. Bear with Delta slung fully over one shoulder and with his free arm underneath Kal’s as he helps them on their way back to the barracks. Delta being by far the most intoxicated. You trail behind with Sunny, making sure the tipsy, but not quite as drunk, man doesn’t fall over or run into anyone either. 

Bear and yourself are it seems, the only two sober individuals. It almost makes you laugh, how clearly caring the two of you are, that you fell into the role of the sober friends without meaning to. You just did it because it made sense to ensure your friends got back to barracks okay. It was a startling similarity between the two of you.

Once the two of you have dropped all three men back into the barracks and effectively tucked them into bed, you turn to leave and make your way back to your own quarters across the base. But a gentle hand on your wrist stops you, careful as if worried he’d break you just with a little touch. 

You face him, not shrugging off the touch, in fact revelling in it a little too much. A sure sign that your lack of social behaviour has led to you being just a little bit touch starved. It shouldn’t feel that good, shouldn’t cause a yearning in your chest, to have someone hold your wrist gently. 

Bear looks at you as he brushes that curl out of his face, the one that promptly falls back into place across his forehead. He’s gentle as his thumb strokes your wrist and he smiles softly at you, those teeth peeking out from behind his lips, dimples forming at the corner of his mouth. 

“Let me walk you back? Please?” You don’t need to think, just nod with a bashful smile and slip your wrist from his hand only to bravely slip your hand into his. He twines your fingers together, his so much larger than your own make you feel delicate in a way you haven’t ever felt before. 

You feel the warmth in your cheeks, the stutter in your chest as you walk together back towards your quarters. It is early in the morning and no one is wandering about, it makes it easy to forget that you’d both be in trouble if caught with your fingers locked like that. Makes it easy to forget that he’s not allowed an entanglement of the romantic sort. 

Despite his significantly longer legs, he slows his pace to match yours, considerate of the difference in your walking speeds. Something little, something that shouldn't matter, but it does, it makes your chest ache. You don’t talk on the walk back, just enjoy each other’s company, the warmth of your hands in each other’s the brush of your arms and the feeling of something new. 

There are a few moments where you catch his eye, the two of you caught staring at the other and you laugh awkwardly and look away, warm and giddy and decidedly not feeling like a qualified doctor, like an adult in charge of a series of medical droids and nurses. You feel like a child, a little one with a brand new crush.

But, it’s not new. You have to admit to yourself that you’ve been attracted to Bear since you first saw him, since he introduced himself and his team. He is handsome, warm, and inviting. Like a summer’s day, a soft breeze that plays with your hair and a beaming sun warming your skin. He is gentle and kind too, something which is a stark contrast to so many of the men you are surrounded by every single day. He is careful with his voice, his words, and his actions. Aware of every move he makes, aware of how he is perceived and how he can intimidate. It is his consideration for those around him, his care and protection that warms your soul. You want to be one of those people, one of the people he cares for, protects, looks after...and you want to look after him in return. 

Your quarters are isolated, the head doctor, you are given private quarters away from everyone else. A privilege that has often left you feeling isolated, now as the two of you stand in front of your door, hand in hand, you are thankful for the quiet and isolation. 

His thumb strokes the back of your hand as you look up at him. Eyes roaming over the freckles on his brown skin, the scar that covers his cheek, that stubborn curl that falls over his forehead no matter how hard he tries to move it. 

“Goodnight, Mesh’la.” The mando’a falls off his tongue like honey, soft and sweet it caresses your ears and brings a sigh from your chest as he watches you intently. 

“Goodnight, Captain.” But neither of you actually pull away, neither of you untangle your fingers or make to leave the other. Instead the two of you stand there staring at each other in silence, fingers tightening and loosening against each other as you shift them. 

You want him to kiss you. You want him to ask to, your tongue sliding across your bottom lip, nervous and full of anticipating. You’re sure he wants to kiss you too, his brown eyes follow the motion, glancing between your eyes and your lips as if ready to ask, to move. 

He doesn’t. He takes a deep breath as if steeling himself and pulls away, slowly, ever so slowly, untangling your fingers with a sad little smile that is filled with regret and longing. 

“I...I should get back to the barracks...in case the commander comes by.”

“Of course...of...of course.” You can hear the disappointed loud and clear, riding your voice, and so can he, but Bear knows it’s a bad idea. It’s a terrible idea no matter how much he wants to kiss you, he knows he shouldn’t. Knows it’s against the rules, knows he can’t offer you what you deserve. You don’t deserve to be a dirty little secret, a hidden relationship. So he pulls away. 

You watch him, leaning back against the door to your quarters as his broad form walks away. Watch him look back not just once, but twice. Watch the sad dip of his brows, the longing smile as he moves away from temptation. He rounds a corner and then he is gone and you wonder if you will have to live with this ache in your chest for all your days. If it is your burden to bear.

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

                                                  All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18​ @beccaboo929​

[love-fireflysong]

Hey hey hey! Trope #3 is in the bag baby! Nothing exciting to note about this one, except that poor @jesus-hotsauce-christmas-cake guessed the number while hoping for some more chrashley. And instead she landed on one of the Tale of Phantasia prompts (I’m so sorry, oops!)

For anyone that would like to read it on ao3, here ya go: What are Rivals if not Friends in Disguise and for the rest, the fic is under the cut.

What are Rivals if not Friends in Disguise

Trope: Rivals Fandom: Tales of Phantasia Characters: Chester Burklight, Cress Albane Words:  2036 Rating: General Author’s Notes: Let’s do a ToP story to mix things up a little! Just a little of Chester and Cress growing up together and trying to one up each other like all the time. Ah friendship rivals, what would we do without them.

For as long as Chester could remember, Cress had been his best friend. The two of them would run together, play together, train together, and fight together. Most of their friendship was based on trying to one up each other honestly, trying to prove who ran the fastest or was strongest. And for a long time Chester had thought that that would be his life, trying to prove that he was better than Cress.

And then Chester’s parents died and his life as he once knew it had spiralled out of his control.

One day he was a simple ten year old boy whose only mission in life was to play with his best friend and tease his sister, and the next he was an orphan with a five year old sister to take care of, a house that now seemed unbearably empty, and the bow in his right hand that was the only reminder he had of his mother. Gone were the days of carefree play, now when he woke up it was make breakfast, wake Ami, clean the house, go shopping, make lunch, fumble his way through trying to patch up a hole in his shirt, wash the blood from the shirt when he inevitably stabbed himself, make supper, clean up the house, and tuck Ami into bed, before falling asleep himself.

Not that the other villagers hadn't tried to help out of course. Cress's mother Maria came over as often as she could to teach him how to sew and bandaged his fingers every time he screwed up. Gloria from across town would usually drop off some leftover stew or the extra bread she had made by accident. Whenever he stopped in to buy groceries from Goalie, Findley always seemed to have a sale going on that let Chester buy far more than he should have with the ten gold he had been able to scrape up from doing odd jobs around Toltus. And anytime he had to go and wash the clothes in the stream that cuts through town, Ruth almost always materialized next to him with her own family's laundry to do and help him out. They tried to make it seem like it was always chance that they needed his help with some trivalty, but Chester knew better: they pitied him and thought he couldn't do it, that he wasn't strong enough to take care of the only family he had left.

But it was fine. The only thing that mattered was trying to give Ami some semblance of a normal life, even if he almost always managed to burn supper just a little bit and tended to miss sweeping the corners of the room. He tried, and he knew that the others thought they were helping so he swallowed his pride and accepted the help anyways. If it made Ami smile then it was worth it in the end in his point of view.

The worst thing about all this though was he couldn't hang out with Cress anymore. Not that Cress had a whole lot of free time either now. Since his tenth birthday, training with the sword had only ramped up and now all his time seemed to be spent running through drill after drill, and strengthening his body so he could do more and more physically demanding artes. And everytime he came by to show Chester the newest move he could now accomplish, Chester burned with jealousy and hated that though the two of them had once been on even playing fields with almost everything, he was quickly falling behind.

And so, one night months later, Chester found himself grabbing his mother's bow from where it had been gathering dust against the wall by his parents bed and sneaking out into the area behind the house. Earlier on in the evening he had set up some targets facing the stream, and with the heavy and familiar—yet almost forgotten—weight of the quiver on his back, Chester took his stance that his mother had drilled into him over and over again all those years ago. He tried to pull back the string on the bow and was horrified to find that it was almost impossible. Had he really lost so much strength in so little time? Taking a deep breath and centering his weight, Chester tried again and while this time he was able to pull it back a bit further, it was still not nearly enough to successfully shoot an arrow five feet, much less the twenty he needed to hit the target.

Terrified that he had really fallen behind that much, Chester stole into his house, and careful not to wake Ami, uncovered the bow that he had been using months ago, the one that his father had helped him build for his eighth birthday. And a couple of quick test pulls from the safety of his room revealed to his utter relief that while he wasn't able to draw it back with quite as much ease as he used to, it was still about to pull it back fully. His mother's bow had just been too big for him, he had to get stronger first before he could use that one. And he would, he promised that he would get strong enough to not only draw that bow to its full potential, but protect Ami as well.

The first night of his training was terrible though. While the first shot he takes does fly from the bow, it lands much too short from the target. The second he overcompensates with power and it flies wide and lands into the river with a soft plop. The third and fourth and all the ones after that are all the same. While some started to land closer and closer to the targets he had placed, none of them actually hit the targets in question. It isn't until he moves the target much, much closer that he's able to finally land one; the accomplishment fills him with as much relief as it does horror. He can't believe he fell so far in such little time. Nonetheless, he continues his practice and when he finally does go to bed that night with the moon high in the night sky, it's with his arms and shoulders burning from the overexertion and he revels in it.

He can't control the fact that he has no family other than his sister anymore, and he can't control that he has been forced to grow up in so little time. But this, this he can control. He can control the flight the arrow takes through the sky and so he will.

From then on, his days are spent much the same as they were since he lost his mother and father, but now he takes time to oil and polish his mother's bow so it will be ready for him to use one day. And on the days he has the time, he will spend it with Cress in the dojo, training his body to its full potential. He races with Cress every chance he can get now, whether it is to the well or to Goalie to the forest's edge. They have challenges over who can carry the most logs or the most water. Over who can do the most push-ups. Find out who the strongest and fastest of them is. And sure, he tends to lose more often than not now, but whether Cress realizes it or not, Chester refuses to fall behind again.

The first time he tried to go out hunting again with the others was a challenge. Not because the hunt itself was hard or dangerous, but because he's worried about leaving Ami all alone for the entire day. She's only seven now after all, still far too young to be left home alone. And yet, she shoves him out the village walls, cheeks adorably puffed out in anger and hands on her hips when tells him not to come home without food. He worries the entire time, but his aim is true and manages to fell a small boar that the others let him keep as a trophy for his first kill in far, far too long. It's a feeling he missed, the thrill of the hunt and hunting with his best friend alike, and when he arrives back home it's to the house even more spotless than when he’d left that morning and stew bubbling happily away on the stove. He later finds out that a couple of other women, Maria and Gloria included, had come over when Ami had begged and pleaded that they show her how to cook and clean properly so that Chester doesn't have to all the time. And while he certainly does continue to take a majority role in keeping the house, knowing that Ami will be safe and can easily take care of herself while he's gone is a load off his back.

The promise of a hot meal when he gets back certainly helps as well.

Over the next few years, Chester learns many things through his rivalry/friendship with Cress. He's definitely the faster of them for one—even when Cress isn't wearing his sword or armour—but Cress has the stamina. Chester will tire out the quicker of them when traveling long distances, while Cress will just happily continue ahead for another few hours without realizing that he had tired out a long time ago. Chester also finds a humorous rivalry with Cress for Ami's affections, but he's pretty sure that that one is a little more one-sided considering that Cress isn't even aware of the huge crush that his best friend's little sister has on him.

It is the day after his fifteenth birthday though that Chester stands in front of the bow that was once his mother's. Gingerly he picks up the smoothly polished wood, gleaming in the sun coming through the window, and restrings it with the care and reverence that he feels this bow deserves. And taking a deep breath, he gives a couple of test pulls and finds that the wood bends easily in his hands, much easier then when he had first tried pulling it nearly five years ago. Pleased with that much at least, Chester ruffles the top of Ami's head as he leaves the house, letting her know that he's going to be spending the day hunting in the nearby forest with Cress and to try not to burn down the house while he's gone. She sticks her tongue out at him, but reminds him to be safe and try to be home for supper that evening.

When he meets Cress at the edge of the village, Cress notices the new and much larger bow on his back with upturned eyebrows but says nothing about it, instead starting to stretch his limbs for the race that they both know is coming. Chester stops by him and with a shared grin, the two of them get ready with a runner's stance before racing each other to the forest as fast as they can. Unsurprisingly to both of them, Chester pulls ahead quickly but starts to flag after a few minutes giving Cress a chance to catch up with his slower but more steady pace.

It only takes them another ten or so minutes to reach the forest, which Cress reaches first by pulling out a burst of speed he had saved away at the very tail end of the race. Chester joins him only a few seconds later, and the two of them are gasping for air as Chester throws his arm over Cress's shoulder congratulating him on his win, but letting him know that he'll get the next one. Cress only laughs, and accepts the water pouch that Chester holds out, taking the victor's swig before handing it back so Chester can do the same. Once they manage to catch their breaths, the two of them ready their weapons and stalk into the forest for prey.

The first shot that Chester makes with his mother's bow flies straight and true, and further then he could have ever possibly imagined.

[imagine-loki]

Trust, Chapter 12

TITLE: Trust CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 12 AUTHOR: fanficshiddles ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki kidnaps Darcy Lewis, in hopes of getting the tesseract in return for her. Imagine his surprise when he grows rather fond of the mortal, finding that she understands him better than anyone else ever has.  RATING: M

‘What are you doing?’ Loki drawled as Darcy crawled into his bed under the blankets beside him, her back to him.

‘Sore head. Tired. Feel like I’m gonna die. Supposed to be babysitting you. But I am not leaving a comfy bed, so that means we stay here.’ She said firmly, snuggling down into the pillow. ‘And we never speak of yesterday again.’

Loki chuckled. ‘Why-ever not? Your dance moves were rather spectacular, I must say.’

Even while drunk, he had been rather surprised when she started taking off her clothes to dance around. The alcohol had affected her very quickly. He may have drunk a lot to catch up with her, let loose for a while. It had been rather fun. Though Darcy seemed to certainly be suffering a lot more than he was.

The team had been shocked upon finding them. Thor ended up helping Loki back to his chambers in the late afternoon and Natasha and Jane took Darcy back to hers. The two had passed out in their beds for the whole night, but then Darcy woke up feeling like death.

‘Pity can’t say the same for your moves.’ Darcy teased. Though even drunk, Loki was pretty graceful.

‘I’m naked, by the way.’ Loki said flatly, thinking it would maybe make her change her mind about being in his bed with him.

‘As long as it doesn’t touch me, I don’t care.’ She grumbled, not opening her eyes.

Loki smirked. If it had been anyone else but her climbing into his bed first thing in the morning, he would’ve kicked them out instantly. But because it was Darcy, he let it slide. Besides, he felt rather warmed that she obviously trusted him enough to do such a thing. That she would also sleep in his presence, where she would be at her most vulnerable.

Even if her snoring was annoying.

He managed to get back to sleep for a while too, after conjuring up some decent earplugs that drowned out her noise.

When he woke later, Darcy was awake too and watching TV. So they ended up just chilling most of the day, getting snacks and bringing them back to Loki’s room to eat. It was nice, just being in one another’s company. Loki read for a while too. They found they had plenty to talk about, but at the same time they had comfortable silences.

-

A couple of days later, Loki was finally able to show the team that he was willing to try and redeem himself.

There was a mission and Thor wanted to take Loki with them. So after a brief discussion, they all agreed.

Loki was excited at the thought of getting to fight. His armour, with his cape and helmet formed on him as he grinned excitedly.

‘Are you coming, Darcy?’ He asked.

‘Nope. I would likely just run headfirst into the fight and get killed straight away, so it’s probably best I stay put.’ She grinned. ‘Good luck though!’ She gave him a pat on the shoulder before heading off.

Darcy decided she better head to the lab, see what Jane was doing and if she needed anything. When she entered, Jane looked over at her a little sheepishly.

‘Hey, Darcy.’

‘Hey. What you up to?’ Darcy headed over to her.

‘Thor brought me back a piece of the Bifrost. I’m just examining it.’ Jane said as she looked through a microscope.

‘Ohhh cool. Need a hand?’

‘No, I’m good. But if you could get me a coffee and something to eat that would be great…’ Jane then straightened and looked to Darcy. ‘But don’t lick or spit in it… I’m sorry if I haven’t been treating you right since we came here. It’s just been hectic and so incredible to actually be here with the Avengers, to have access to this kind of tech.’

Darcy rolled her eyes. ‘It doesn’t take any time away from science to say thanks.’ She spun on her heels and headed for the door.

‘Darcy. What’s gotten into you? Since Loki kidnapped you, you’ve been… weird. Spending so much time with him, have you two got something going on?’ Jane put her hand on her hip.

‘Seriously? You’re worried that you’re not the only one dating a God, is that what it is?’ Darcy snapped.

Jane clenched her jaw. ‘No… I just… He’s not right for you.’

‘One, I am not dating him, we’re just good friends. Two, even if I was, it is none of your business to tell me if he’s right for me or not. He’s paid me more attention than you and the others ever have. Tell me, did you all even bother to come up with a plan to come and rescue me?’ Darcy folded her arms over her chest and glared at Jane.

Jane faltered. ‘Well… We did. Thor tried to find you…’

‘He obviously didn’t look around the Universe for very long considering he was here when we returned. THREE DAYS later, on Earth time!’

‘Darcy… We couldn’t just give up the tesseract like Loki wanted.’

‘Were you even going to try anything to rescue me?’ Darcy asked firmly, wanting an answer.

Jane looked down, her face falling. ‘We wanted to… It’s just, with Loki it was a bit… complicated.’

‘I knew it.’ Darcy shook her head and continued heading out.

‘Darcy!’

‘Get your own fucking coffee from now on.’ Darcy said as she flipped her the finger on her way out.

When Loki returned with the team a few hours later, he had a few cuts on his face, but they were healing quickly. They’d been battling some Hydra modified animals in Latvia. Humungous vicious dogs and a gigantic gorilla that had six limbs. Not to mention a bunch of Hydra soldiers, too.

But Loki was riding on a high after the fight. He searched around, looking for Darcy. But there was no sign of her.

‘Has anyone seen Darcy?’ He asked the team who were heading to fill in what happened with Fury.

‘Nope. But you need to come with us, so we can tell Fury about the mission.’ Steve said.

‘No, I need to find Darcy.’ Loki frowned and teleported away from them before they could say anything else.

Loki was almost at his wits end when he couldn’t find her. Part of him was wondering why he cared so much about finding her, but there was a bigger part of him that knew why. Because she was the only person who believed in him from the start, it was thanks to her he was here in the first place.

Experiencing that high from fighting was incredible for him, and not that he would admit it but fighting alongside Thor again was quite nice. Especially when he had to save Thor’s ass not once, but twice, earning great gratitude from the fellow God was something Loki wasn’t going to forget anytime soon.

He checked her bedroom, all the public places including the library but there was no sign of her… Then it clicked, he had one last place to try.

-

Darcy was sitting on the roof with her legs tucked up under her chin, looking out across the countryside that surrounded the base. She could see the city in the far distance. It was just starting to get dark, so the lights were starting to come on.

Loki appeared behind her, his face falling slightly when he saw her body language.

‘Darcy?’ He said softly, stepping over next to her.

‘Oh, hey!’ She put on a smile as she looked up at him. ‘How did the mission go?’ 

‘It went really well, we defeated them, so you mortals are safe once more.’ He smirked and sat down next to her, but his smirk dropped. He could see there was something wrong.

‘What’s wrong?’ He frowned.

‘Nothing’s wrong. Tell me about the mission.’ Darcy tried to keep up the act.

Loki narrowed his eyes at her and took off his cape. ‘You cannot lie to the God of lies, Darcy.’ He draped it around her as he didn’t want her getting cold. But as soon as the cape was around her, she let out a small sob, but she tried not to cry on front of him. ‘Now you’re really worrying me, what happened?’

‘They didn’t even bother looking for me properly.’ She whined, hating herself for feeling so upset as the water works started. ‘Jane was making up half assed excuses.’

She leaned to the side against Loki, her head against his upper arm. Loki hesitated, but then slipped his arm around her and let her lean into his chest. He rubbed her arm and rested his chin on top of her head.

‘I am sorry, Darcy… Truly. They don’t deserve you, they really don’t. But please, do not let them upset you so much. One day they will realise how much of a valuable team member you are, I promise you that.’ He spoke softly.

Just having someone embrace her and someone to talk to that understood was a huge help. She already felt so much better. After a few minutes of silence, she sat up again and wiped her eyes.

‘If you tell anyone that I was crying I’ll be the one pushing you off here.’ She said with a slight smirk, making Loki chuckle.

‘Deal. We both have appearances to keep up.’ He grinned.

[snarky-starks]

Could you imagine how fucked Geralt would be if Yen and Jaskier became BFFs?

Geralt knows that at some point his lifestyle will catch up to them and lead to Jaskier’s demise (if some adultering woman’s husband doesn’t manage to get to the bard first). He’s not happy about it, Jaskier is the first person who chose him despite the fact that he’s a Witcher and Geralt doesn’t usually allow himself to linger on the topic of Jaskier’s human fragility.

This all changes one day when a hunt becomes too dangerous and Yennefer shoves Jaskier and Ciri through a portal. She yells out to him where he can find them when it’s all over before the portal closes behind her.

The fight eventually ends. Geralt is battered, bruised and bloody. He’s got a cut on his arm and his armour needs tending to but the creatures are on the ground, heads separated from bodies. Geralt wipes his sword on his already disgusting pants before trudging off through the forest to find a river to jump into.

The water is frigid and Geralt can almost imagine Jaskier’s shrieks and Ciri rolling her eyes. He quickly rinses off the blood and guts, stripping down to let his clothes dry on a tree branch in the sun. While the clothes dry Geralt calculates in his head how long the trip will take. Half a day back to the inn where they left Roach and at least a dozen to get to Yennefer’s current base of operations.

Geralt grimaces at the thought. Not of the travel but at the thought of what he might find when he gets there. Yen and Jaskier don’t exactly... get on. At all. They don’t hate each other, not the way they did in the earlier days but Geralt wouldn’t lock the pair up in close quarters unless there was a third person in the room Geralt truly wanted to suffer.

Eventually his clothes dry and he can re-dress without his armour feeling uncomfortable. He takes off at a steady pace and ends up taking less time than he had originally calculated to get back to the inn. He wants to leave immediately but he knows there are things he needs to do first, things like getting paid for the contract fulfilled and getting his armour sorted.

The lord looks disappointed at having to hand over the coins but folds easily when pressed. Geralt buys food for himself, feed for Roach and things he needs to deal with his armour. He’s learned enough through his decades of travel that he can fix his armour enough to be serviceable. Geralt will have to get someone to actually look at it eventually but baring any major issues it should keep him protected until he can get to the others.

Geralt pushes Roach. Not to her breaking point, never to her breaking point, but more than he has done in years. It reminds him of the djinn and Jaskier slumped and dying against his back. He doesn’t have a whole lot of faith in finding Jaskier whole and uninjured (Yen wouldn’t harm him, per se, but Geralt knows that Jaskier is more than capable of pushing people to the point that they just decide to not warn him of any upcoming self-inflected injuries) but he thinks that with Ciri there to act as a buffer he might not actually arrive to a situation where Geralt has to take sides.

He really hates it when he has to take sides.

Yennefer didn’t talk to him for a year the last time she and Jaskier had a blow up.

Roach proves herself once more to be Geralt’s favourite travelling companion when they arrive to their destination in ten days. He leaves her at the inn with a threat to the innkeeper who doesn’t look too happy about his sudden appearance. The man’s wife is obviously the brains between them because she takes his coin happily with a roll of her eyes at her husband and a promise to take care of Roach. Geralt hears the man grumble about the woman being soft about horses and grins to himself when he hears her response: a snap of damp cloth on skin that has the man cursing.

It isn’t hard to find Yennefer’s home. He walks up to the nicest house in the town, a three story building with dandelions growing in planter boxes beneath windows. The door swings open before he can knock and Geralt is taken aback by the sound of laughter.

He finds Jaskier and Ciri draped across each other on the couch, Jaskier’s feet propped up on a short table cluttered with candles, books and what looks suspiciously like the knife he gave to Ciri for her last birthday. Yennefer is sitting across from them, wine in hand, and Geralt isn’t sure he’s ever seen her look less put together. She’s wearing a loose, flowing gown and the only piece of jewellery he can see on her is a small discreet necklace around her neck.

She looks comfortable with her feet tucked underneath her as she continues to tell a story to Jaskier and Ciri, ignoring Geralt’s arrival completely.

“Did you put a spell on him?” Geralt asks, interrupting her tale about her early days in Aedirn. He can’t think of another reason why Jaskier would be so enraptured by anything Yennefer has to say.

“You really think I would have done this if I’d thought I could get away with putting a spell on him?” She asks.

No. Geralt’s sure she would have banished Jaskier back in the beginning if she had thought Geralt would allow her to do such a thing. “Well I know he’s not drunk.”

“Yen and I are friends, Geralt!” Jaskier declares with a wave of his hand. “Not in the way you and I are friends, of course, but in your absence we have found common ground.”

Yennefer snorts. “I would much rather not be that kind of friend, Jaskier.”

Jaskier laughs and Geralt ignores them both and turns his attention to Ciri. “What happened?”

Ciri shrugs. “The portal closed, Yennefer showed us around and they got drunk?”

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “A two week long drinking binge? That’s impressive even for you, Jaskier.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “Only for the first three days. Believe it or not, Geralt, we are adults. Would you like some ale? Jaskier can help you set up a bath.”

“It’s wonderful, Geralt, the water stays hot and the beds here are so soft you can sink into them and sleep for hours,” Jaskier gushes. “Yennefer showed me the magic behind it.”

“The rooms are large too,” Yennefer smirks. “Plenty of room for you and Jaskier to share.”

Geralt knows what she’s implying, that the room isn’t the only thing that is large. He wonders if Ciri understands what she’s saying but his ward doesn’t seem to be interested or phased by the current conversation. “No.”

Jaskier frowns. “What? Geralt?”

“I don’t like it.”

“You don’t have to like it,” Yennefer says as she walks up to him and pats him on the cheek. “You just have to accept it. Forever is a long time.”

Geralt’s brain stops. “Forever?”

Yennefer drinks her wine. “I’ve decided that it’s hardly fair for the both of us to live forever while Jaskier ages. Once I’ve procured everything we need he’ll be like us.”

“Like us?”

“Immortal.”

[justimajin]

A Lone Wolf’s Howl ☾ Part 8

⇾ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

⇾ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Action, Eventual Smut

↳ Werewolf AU

⇾ Words: 4.6k

⇾ Warnings: mentions of blood 

⇾ Summary: Jungkook and you have been like two peas in a pod for the majority of your lives; whether it was going through the ups of downs of the horrid teenage change, to transitioning to the racing world of attempting to be adults. Simply put, you’ve been inseparable and glued to each other’s sides longer than you can remember. But one fateful day seems to completely change everything you had faith in and you begin to wonder if there was ever a time where you and your best friend even knew each other’s true colors.

⇾  Moodboard Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

“Y/N.” 

A smile is on your lips, turning to view the wide expanse of the training camps over the horizon. Majority of the members are female, training in black armour and bursts of orange flashing through the bright blue sky. From a distance you can see them, and an ancient smile carefully watches them from afar, fascinated by their range of progress. 

“They’ve improved.” You note it down, drawing out her thoughts already. 

A deep chuckle resonates from the bottom of her throat, “Of course, they are trained by the best.” 

A small smile arises on you from that, feeling the slight breeze against your cheek as you sit down on the flourished grass. “Why do you only watch them? Why not fight alongside them?” 

Although she smiles, it doesn’t capture the melancholy look residing in her eyes, the way they spoke of a tender story filled with too many sorrowful words, “My time to fight has come to an end.”

The slim fingers reach out, cold against your cheek but still filled with a gracious amount of warmth, “Go on now, do not keep your sisters waiting.” 

You nod, hurriedly getting up and mummering words before casting your sword, rushing towards the other children practicing. For the briefest of moments, you turn – you know she will be there, like she has always been, carefully and cautiously looking after you. It's foolish to even doubt, but it brought down the uncertainty brewing inside you. 

She smiles; dressed in hooded black robes and old silver eyes watching you run away. You instantly beam, drawing your sword out as a sign of respect before bowing, but when you lift your gaze a swirling breeze passes by. 

She vanishes into thin smoke and you’re only left behind staring with torn eyes, the silver now shifted to gold.

***

Uncomfortable silence rests within the four walls of the room, a sense of defeat mixed in with utter disbelief spreading across. No one dares to break the tense silence, instead, Hoseok and Namjoon continue to hover over the gray bed as Namjoon cuts white strips of cloth at the speed of light and hands Hoseok any necessary supplies he needs. There is no exchange of words, only the shared need to keep going. 

Yoongi and Jimin stand off to the side, watching the two work together diligently with stern eyes and silently hoping to themselves that the unconscious wolf doesn’t remain in such a battered state. Taehyung is nowhere to be seen, resting in an adjacent room after pushing himself past the limit and needing his own recovery.

A series of footsteps draw them out of it, both of them turning to view Seokjin joining them before he quietly whispers among the dead silence. 

He keeps his eyes trained on the wolf as well, not invested in giving Jimin any eye contact at the moment, “How is he now?” 

“Not good.” Jimin states, crossing his arms with a sigh when he watches Hoseok wipe the sweat trailing down his forehead, “They’ve been trying to stop the bleeding, but the wound is too deep.” 

Seokjin hums, eyes still latched onto the wolf who doesn’t seem to be waking up anytime soon. “I wasn’t expecting them to be so powerful, let alone put on such a fight. To think they would injure Jungkook…”

Jimin stiffly smiles, “Seems like he wasn’t the only one injured during the fight though.”

Seokjin raises a questioning brow at that, but Jimin’s eyes trail elsewhere, locking onto a certain individual currently huddled on the floor in a fetal position. 

He’s taken aback a bit, not quite expecting you to be watching the wolf get treated just like the rest of them but from a farther distance away. He carefully observes you, noticing how your knees are brought up to your chin level and how your eyes are cracked with streaks of red. However, you don’t even turn in wonder when he’s blatantly staring at you. Instead, you keep your eyes trained on Jungkook only, like a shadow in the background. 

Hoseok’s coarse words drag him out of it, causing him to redirect his attention over to the attending pair. “It’s too much.” He wipes his forehead again, this time shaking his head at Namjoon, “The bleeding is too much.” 

It’s almost as if Hoseok looks towards Namjoon for answers, a solution, anything that could possibly help, but the blank expression the man gives him in return only serves to cause his desperate one to fall even more. He clenches his teeth, stepping away from the bed with remorseful eyes and Namjoon lets out a deep exhale, scrunching his brows and setting his lips into a firm line. 

They both back away from the table, a helpless sight dwelling in their eyes when they left to simply watch, watch as there’s nothing else they can do. 

From behind the shadows, you see the whole ordeal play out and you abruptly rise from the ground, exiting the room with a vicious swipe of your sleeve against your eyes. 

***

It’s just like a tug of war. 

A part of you is screaming on the inside, telling you to go back and watch something that deep down, you never even wanted to see unfold. However, there’s another part that’s seemingly dragging you away from it all, completely evoking something else you didn’t even realize was inside you. 

Fear. 

Fear of losing Jungkook. 

Despite everything, your training, your upbringing, your chosen path – there was a part that truly didn’t want to see Jungkook becoming the final end to it all. 

Deep inside the whole twisted scenario, you were silently wishing Jungkook would be alright. 

Your hand rests against the wall as you force yourself upright, coming across the same window that you had witnessed countless rays of orange. That same day, Jungkook had left you with a hug, a silent message that there was a chance he wasn’t going to come back. 

But you wanted him to. 

You always did. 

“Y/N?” 

A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, not hearing their light footsteps trail after you once you left the room. What throws you a bit off guard isn’t the fact that he followed you, but how for the first time, he seemingly looks at a loss. 

“What?” Your voice cracks just as another wave resurfaces in your eyes. Bringing your arm up, you attempt to quickly swipe them away again, but this time it isn’t as easy. 

An arm comes around you and you’re taken by surprise when Jimin encases you into a hug, but it only serves to have it all hit you at once and the tears drench your cheeks at an alarming rate. You don’t mean to, but you cling onto him desperately when you can’t keep yourself upright anymore. 

“Shhh.” Jimin whispers, placing a gentle hand on your head, “He’ll be alright Y/N, I know he will be.” 

“How can you say that?” You suck in a harsh breath and your shoulders shake within his grasp, “There’s so much blood and he isn’t waking up, h-how can you s-say that…?” 

Jimin holds onto you tighter, “He’s strong. Much stronger than he looks. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened.” 

“But it’s the first time it’s happened because of me.” You choke out, “I was so angry at him about everything that the thought of losing him…” 

A rush of tears hit you again and your words are silenced, clinging onto him again. The list could on – what you wouldn’t have said, what you should have said, what could have been. In that moment, you were void of any anger you had against Jungkook when all you felt was anger towards yourself. 

“Y/N…” Jimin separates from you, holding onto your shoulders and somberly looking into your wet eyes. It’s odd, you had never established any type of relationship with Jimin for you to be pouring out all the chaos havocking inside you right now, but there was something, something that made you feel almost at ease being with him. 

Your eyes widen, truly getting a closer look at him when somehow the pieces begin to come together. 

The silver-blue hair, the way he approached you with the hug, the way he held you in his arms an- 

The look in his eyes. 

“You…” A shaky finger points to him, “You saved me…” 

There’s grief reflected in his eyes, watching you with bitter tenderness, “You remember.” 

He smiles at your blatant confusion, stepping closer to you and it’s when you notice that there was something pleasant about having him near you, like it was almost reassuring. You can only freeze in place when he reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, hovering his hand near your neck before stepping back completely, “And you can sense it too.” 

He whispers it so quietly that you barely catch it, but you press onto the question you want an answer to, “Why did you save me?”

Your expectation starts off with a range of answers, perhaps he didn’t know you were a slayer at the time or thought you had needed help from being caught in the crossfire of the hunt. However, he simply replies with a collection of words that have you shaken to the core.

“You’re my mate Y/N.” 

You take a step back, any coherent words stuck in the base of your throat, “I knew it was you from the moment I first saw you.” A hopeful smile laces on his lips, yet its paired with dark eyes, “But I was too late.” 

Your hand automatically reaches out and touches the faint tracings of Jungkook’s bite, now completely healed with only a scar remaining on the skin. Jimin’s eyes follow the movement and it strikes you at how contrasting emotions his eyes hold. On one hand, they hold such tenderness and comfort, but at the same time they’re twisted with reality, a reality that can never happen. 

“When Jungkook bit me…” 

“So that I wouldn’t be able to get to you first.” Jimin regretfully says, “He knew I would have claimed you as my mate if I did.” 

“But why?” Your hands fall down, not being able to follow along as you take a step closer to Jimin and raise your voice, “Why did he claim me?”

Jimin’s words silence your thoughts completely, “Because he loves you.” He looks at you straight in the eye, “And decided to choose you. Wolves only mate once in a lifetime, you know that Y/N.” 

Your mouth falls agape, “I-I…” 

“You’ve chosen him too, whether you know it or not.” Jimin states it as a fact, causing you to look at him in more disbelief, “If I was currently on that bed right now injured, I know I wouldn’t have caused this same reaction.” 

He gestures to your red swollen eyes and frenzy appearance, causing you to stumble even more on generating any possible words to counteract. It drops onto you like a brick; why Jungkook didn’t choose to tell you anything, why he was fighting to keep you safe. 

He chose you even when you didn’t think to chose him. 

However, that doesn’t mean his way of choosing was right. “Jimin… “ 

He raises a hand and smiles, “Don’t. What’s done is done.” Narrowing his eyes, he looks down, “But I do think you should at least give Jungkook a chance Y/N.” 

You nod, being able to come to terms with yourself more. Although you hadn’t been expecting Jungkook to be hiding such a thing from you, it can’t overshadow that you do care about him, no matter how many times you tell yourself you don’t. 

And Jungkook cared about you through the silence. 

Raising your head, you’re about to thank Jimin for letting you know the truth and helping you, but the words are caught in your throat when you notice the slumped figure against the door, holding onto it for dear life as he smiles through his exhausted expression. 

“Jungkook!” Instantly you rush over and notice the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead, his wet hair sticking to him and the dark circles underneath his eyes. 

His eyes brighten when you come closer to him, but then they trail over to the person standing behind you and he settles down onto that field of vision. You’re not sure if its perhaps because he was injured, but Jungkook isn’t able to maintain the contact when his gaze falters, fixating itself onto the ground inside of looking straight at Jimin. 

It takes you a moment to decipher it, but it clicks in right away when his entire stance is too recognizable. He sucks in a deep breath, his grip tightening on the door, “You told her everything…didn’t you Hyung?”

Your eyes turn wide and you wonder how long Jungkook had been standing there when you were conversing with Jimin. 

Turn to view Jimin’s expression, you can see the surprise wash over his features too until it contorts into something else, like he was swaying into acceptance gradually. It’s strange for you – how it was almost like you were dangling in between both of them, so close to the whole situation and yet so incredibly far away. 

Jimin sighs, taking light footsteps closer to the door until he stops completely in front of it. From your view, you notice how his expression is now absent of the same hints of resentment and detest conjured up in it prior, sharing the same stance that Jungkook holds. 

He reaches out, placing a hand on the younger member’s back before he pats, “It’s alright.” 

Jungkook instantly looks up, tired eyes growing in size and flickering over the blue-haired man’s face. “In the end you chose each other and I’m not going to stand in between that.” 

Jimin smiles, perhaps the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile and Jungkook’s shoulders sag down, as if he had just let go of a breath he had been holding in for far too long. “You’re still like a little brother to me after all.” 

You stand to the side when you can clearly see the water surfacing in Jungkook’s eyes and you find yourself smiling when Jungkook nods and Jimin’s pats his shoulder again before leaving. He sends you a look before doing so, the same one he had given Jungkook as a way to settle that everything was going to be okay. 

After Jimin leaves, Jungkook attempts to stand up straight from the door frame and instantly you rush over. You let him loop his arm over your neck, resting some of his weight on you and limping himself over to your bed. He plops down with a sigh and you stand in front of him, watching him occasionally wince as he tries to readjust himself. 

After a moment of silence, you softly speak up, “How are you feeling?” 

“Tired.” He manages to get out, swiping his sweat-drenched hair back and rubbing his half-awake eyes, “And sore.” 

You hum, eyes trailing down to notice that his entire torso was soaked with sweat and the light traces of crimson started to peek out from under his shirt. Reaching out, you plant a hand against his forehead and the heat isn’t drastically high, making you let out an exhale of relief. Jungkook watches you, his doe eyes carefully watching every single one of your moves despite still being in pain and you find it hard to ignore his gaze. 

“Were you worried about me?” 

You nod and Jungkook can’t take his eyes away from how vulnerable your own eyes look, like they were faced with something they didn’t want to see. “Namjoon and Hoseok had given up.” 

“Seeing you…like that, I thought…” You exhale, your orbs suddenly filling up water and threatening to drop down your cheeks, “I thought you were going to die.” 

Your voice cracks at the end and Jungkook immediately reaches out, interlacing his hands with yours, “Hey.” You look up with glossy eyes, looking into his tender ones, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

“I know, I just- “You sniffle, the words dying out in your throat when you hastily pull up your sleeve to wipe the falling tears. However, Jungkook doesn’t allow you to when he pulls you closer to him and wraps his arms around you. 

You don’t realize you’re trembling until your hands come around his back, watching yourself crumble in his arms when you didn’t even think you would have gotten a chance to see him again. At the thought of that, you press yourself tighter against him and Jungkook flinches, making you realize that he had just woken up after being injured. 

You immediately detach from him, noticing him holding onto his wound carefully but still offering you a genuine smile, “Sorry…” You whisper and he shakes his head, as if it didn’t even matter because he was holding onto you. 

Sitting down on the bed next to him, you face the doorway, “Jungkook.” 

“Hmm?” He pushes himself back a bit, relaxing his shoulders. 

“Before you came, I…I talked to Jimin.” You attempt to bring your eyes over to look at him, but they falter and land onto the ground instead, “He said, well,” You take in a deep breath, “He said he was my mate.” 

When he remains silent, you continue, “If he was my mate, then why did you mark me Jungkook?” 

He doesn’t speak, not a single word and it starts to eat you up when the seconds keep ticking by. From the corner of your eye, you can see him frowning already, like he was attempting to put his thoughts into coherent sentences. You know Jungkook isn’t the greatest at explaining and that he needs time for that, but the amount of time he takes just makes your heart sink further and further down. 

When it becomes too much, you turn yourself fully around to view his expression and you’re taken aback by what you see. 

It’s something you rarely see cross Jungkook’s features, only arising in the tensive of situations, such as discovering earth-shattering news. 

Fear. 

His eyes are blown out and his jaw is tensed, but his expression changes when he notices you staring at him. 

“Y/N I- “ 

“Do you love me?” 

If you thought Jungkook’s eyes were wide before, they stare at you in pure horror now. 

“Well I-I, when y-you put it like that, I-I-“ 

“Jungkook.” He immediately stops his broken rambling, growing silent as he turns to you, “Real words, please.”

Jungkook sighs, his head falling down as if he had just lost a battle he knows he can’t win, “Yes.” 

If you had thought learning of this news from Jimin was bad enough, hearing Jungkook directly admit it has the air knocking out of your lungs. You can only resort to simply staring at him, in a mixture of both awe and confusion. 

“Since when?” 

“Since forever?” Jungkook looks up, appearing so similar to a child being discovered of doing something wrong, “I don’t know what to tell you Y/N. I’ve loved you for as long as I can even remember.” 

“But I’m your friend, and you had so much else going on. Those girls-“ 

“An attempt to forget about you.” Jungkook bitterly chuckles, “Really, a bad choice.”

Your jaw drops down and you freeze. The fact that Jungkook, this whole entire time, was harbouring feelings for you while you were fixated on him being in a good relationship for his own sake, leaves you with no words. 

“Y/N…” Jungkook’s hand faintly touches you and draws you out of your impending thoughts, causing you to face him with the same guilt-stricken expression, “I had always hoped that maybe,” He sucks in a breath, squeezing his eyes shut before looking at you more determined, “You’d be willing to give me a chance?” 

You stare at him with wide eyes. 

“But I do think you should at least give Jungkook a chance Y/N.”

Jimin’s words ring in your mind like a bell and you attempt to process all this, process how your best friend was in love with you for so long. You look up, meeting Jungkook’s expectant innocent eyes and a part of you really wants to give in, knowing how much you love your best friend and can’t stand anything ever happening to him. 

However, something sparks in your mind, an image of two people lying lifelessly on the ground and an image with a roaring fire before your eyes. An image filled with only blood and left with remainders of tears, an image that seemingly rips your heart out when you can only stare at Jungkook with broken eyes. 

“Jungkook.” He leans forward instinctively, eyes growing in size and intent on your words. You sigh, planting your hand over his, “I-“ 

The door comes bursting forward, a mop of brown hair flashing before your eyes at the doorway, “Y/N!”

You and Jungkook both jerk away, staring at Hoseok when he heaves a breath, “Namjoon needed to talk to you, something about the woman you were fighting on the grounds?” 

You instantly get up, but then turn around when you see Jungkook still seated on the bed. You meet his eyes and he gently shakes his head, slowly rising with a hand pressed against his wounded side and sending a nod in Hoseok’s direction. 

“Take us to him.” 

***

Although you had just gone through a tsunami with discovering Jimin’s identity and the rise of Jungkook’s feelings, electricity buzzes you at the prospect of knowing more. It was as if it was a load sitting on your chest that you couldn’t quite shake off, a prick in the back of your brain that was constantly bothering you. 

Jungkook was injured. 

By no one else, but her. 

The door to the library is thrown wide open when you enter, Jungkook slowly trailing behind you and coming face to face with a Namjoon lost in thought. He jerks when his ears pick up on the sound of the door, turning to see you enter and a satisfied smile crosses on his lips. 

“Please,” He gestures to the couch, “Have a seat.” 

Nodding, you sit down and a deep breath escapes your lungs. You had been in that room many times to know that Namjoon wasn’t going to dangle around the topic, but rather he has a strict and direct motive. 

Information. 

You can feel a thousand nerves buzzing over you when Namjoon sits in front of you, his Alpha presence already being overwhelming. A hand softly touches yours and you turn to see Jungkook right beside you, sending you a reassuring smile that you are honestly grateful for in that split second. 

“Now that Jungkook is alright,” Namjoon begins, glancing over at his youngest member before bringing his attention over to you, “There are some questions I have, if you don’t mind.” 

You stiffly smile, knowing that Namjoon was going to extract answers out of you whether you liked it or not either way. “Jungkook tells me you had referred to the person that injured him…as your mother?”

You nod, catching a flash of confusion on Jungkook’s face from the new topic and knowing that although you needed to give Namjoon an explanation, Jungkook deserved one too regardless. 

“She isn’t my mother, well, biologically speaking. I refer to her as one because she’s like a mother to me.”

“The Elder.” Namjoon states, leaning back down in his seat as he crosses his legs and presses a thoughtful finger against his lips, “The leader of the Crimson Clan, correct?” 

You hum, “I was trained by her.” 

“I see…” Namjoon stares at you intently, but then his eyes swing over to Jungkook who is simply listening to you speak. “Do you know anything else about her? We weren’t expecting her to easily overpower us, let alone injure our youngest.” 

Nodding, you pursue your lips and wrack through your mind. Truthfully, you weren’t sure if they needed to know the exact information, but you do wonder what their reactions would be, especially the reaction of the person currently sitting right beside you. 

It’s not the type of details that you ever wanted to throw upon them, but Jungkook was injured and you believe you too need some answers now. 

“The Elder is the leader of the Crimson Clan and very powerful. She’s been extremely kind and caring towards me…especially when she needed to take me in.” 

Namjoon frowns at that and you attempt to steady your breathing, well aware that you were starting to walk into a place you had long forgotten. “The Elder took me in…after my parents were killed by werewolves.” 

The room drops into an eerie silence when Namjoon can only stare at you and Jungkook visibly reacts, brows furrowing at the mention. You look up to meet eyes with Namjoon and you notice, despite the calm composed manner he sits in, he too does seem taken aback with the new piece of information. 

He clears his throat, attempting to contain himself as he sits up in his seat, “Your parents were killed by werewolves…” He repeats it to make it sound like a confirmation, but you know he was just trying to allow the new fact to sit in better with him more. 

You’re expecting a lot from telling them this – remorse or even worse, pity. Pity that they had done this to you and pity that they had taken away something so dear and precious to your heart. 

However, when Namjoon finally speaks up again, it’s like someone struck an arrow through your heart instead.

“That’s not possible.” 

You stare at him with wide eyes, “W-what? What do you mean?” 

“Y/N…” Namjoon faintly smiles, seeming amused, “I’m not sure as to how much you were told, but werewolves would never go out of their way to attack a family like that.” His eyes turn serious, leaning forward as they bore into your own and throw a dash of the truth at you, “Slayers and werewolves have been enemies for centuries, but slayers were originally made to control werewolves after the population went rogue.” 

“Werewolves haven’t been rogue for years, the only way for them to exist is for the population to be recreated somehow.” 

“So what you’re saying is…my parents weren’t killed by werewolves?” 

“I’m afraid not.” Namjoon speaks, “That’s not something I would ever allow my pack do, or any other pack for that matter.” 

Namjoon leans back and you are frozen in your spot, breathing rapidly when it feels like a ton of bricks had just been dropped on you. You turn to face Jungkook with blown up eyes and he seems just as shocked as you are, mind spinning as he can’t believe what he was hearing either. 

Namjoon slowly rises, grabbing a book from his shelf before leaving the room and letting you have some privacy. 

You lean forward, planting your hands against your face and shaking your head, “This…this doesn’t make any sense Jungkook…” 

Jungkook leans over, attempting to see your face among all your fallen locks of hair, “Namjoon is right though Y/N. Me or any of the other members wouldn’t do something like that.” 

“B-But it happened Jungkook.” You stare at him with tear-filled eyes, “I saw it with my own two eyes.”

[acourtofhopeanddreams]

Nobody can predict the Future

Written for @jonsa-week​ Day 1 based on the prompt: Past AND Present AND Future

There are nights Sansa can't sleep. Because the past is haunting her. Because she's afraid to live in the present. Because she fears that the future might take every bit of happiness away again. Luckily Jon is always there. To soothe her, to calm her and to protect her against all the monsters in her mind.

Post-Canon

The darkness of the night surrounded Winterfell.

Even though Sansa knew they were destroyed she could still hear the screeching of the white walkers thrumming in her ear. A shiver rolled down her spine and to comfort herself she searched for the whining tree, somewhere in the distance.

It was still there. Guarding them. Watching over them. Seeing them for who they were, without their crowns and without their armour. The tree never asked questions and never provided answers. But the tree always soothed and calmed. It had lived far longer than Sansa could even imagine. And it would live even longer still.

“Sansa…” Jon’s arms circled around her shivering body and he pressed a soft kiss on her uncombed hair. His arms were warm and where his fingers touched her her skin glowed. “The bed is cold without you.” His voice sounded hoarse and sleepy and when Sansa turned around she saw his tangled curls surrounding his face. The lines on his forehead had deepened and would probably never recover from everything they had been through. He seemed older than he should be. Wiser too. Too old. Too wise.

Just like herself.

“Do you ever wonder if they will come back one day?” Sansa looked over her shoulder and focussed on the strong wall surrounding Winterfell.

They had not stopped Theon and his iron men from climbing over them. They had not protected her from Ramsay Bolton and everything he did to her. They had seen things no one liked to talk about. They had witnessed massacres, bloodshed and pain.

But they were still standing. Fierce and strong. Protecting the castle and its children living in it. They had also watched people falling in love and getting married. And they had taught young boys to climb and conquer the world.

“Who?” Jon shook his head and he pressed the palm of his hand to Sansa’s cheek.

“The white walkers, the night king, the army of the death.” Sansa shivered again and Jon wrapped his arms around her, pressing her tightly to his strong chest. He hadn’t fought in a long time. He didn’t need to. But he was training every day. Just in case.

Jon shrugged. “People have thought them gone before.” He hesitated. “But they hadn’t killed them. They hadn’t won the war. They hadn’t seen them falling and becoming dust.” He took a deep breath. “I hope they’re gone. And I hope that no one will ever make new ones again.”

Sansa smiled. “We hope many things. And yet, sometimes I feel like we’re never learning from the past and keep on making the same mistakes.”

“We won’t. Not yet.” Jon rocked her back and forth. “We won’t forget what happened to us. We won’t forget what we’ve fought. Who we’ve fought and who we were fighting for.” He paused and in the sudden silence Sansa felt Jon’s heart beating against the palm of her hand. “And we will tell our children and they will tell theirs.”

“And soon everything we’ve endured will be nothing but stories parents tell their children to scare and teach them. The fear will fade. The lessons will fade.” She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold winter air. “And then everything might start again, back to the beginning, to kings fighting over iron thrones and monsters claiming houses that are not theirs to claim.”

Once upon a time she had loved those stories. Stories about brave knights and beautiful maidens. Stories about great wars and heroes being born. But reality wasn’t just a story. Those brave knights were scarred for the rest of their lives, reliving the terrors of what they have seen and the guilt of what they had done. The beautiful maidens trembled when loving hands attempted to touch them and tender lips tried to kiss them. And all those heroes had never wanted fame. They had simply done what they had to do. They had simply acted even though they were afraid. And most of those heroes had eventually paid for their heroic deeds with their lives.

The ghosts of heroes wandered through the halls of Winterfell at night. The souls of heroes danced all night in the courtyard. And the bodies of heroes paved the fields surrounding the castle.

“We can’t control or change the future of the world.” Jon buried his face in her neck. “Just like our parents couldn’t change our futures.”

Sansa took a deep breath. “Jon…” She reached for his hand and placed it on her belly. “How can we protect our child?”

Jon’s eyes widened and a smile spread across his face even though Sansa hadn’t allowed herself to feel happy thus far. “By teaching it all we learned and by hoping that the world hasn’t forgotten the lesson either.”

“What if we fail? What if the world fails? What if someone tries to steal the throne from Bran? What if they come for the North, attempting to claim it back, to make it a part of the seven Kingdoms again?” She placed her hand on his and thought about the child, small and breakable and vulnerable, growing inside her.

Jon pressed his forehead to hers. His nose brushed hers gently and then he covered her mouth with his. “As long as I live, I will protect this child, and all the other children we will have, with my sword and life.” His hand kept on rubbing her belly. “Just like I’ll protect you.” He took a deep breath and he let their foreheads meet again. “You’re allowed to be happy, Sansa.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with his free hand and then he buried his nails in her neck. “You just made me the happiest person alive.”

Sansa allowed herself to smile and she squeezed his hand while she kissed his lips again. “ I am happy. And therefore I am also scared. Because now I’ve got one more thing to lose and I don’t think I can ever bear losing any of the people I care about again.”

“We’ve been through enough. I hope the old Gods, the new and the God of light know that.” He stepped back and reached for Sansa’s hand. “Come back to bed, Sansa.” He pulled her along towards the giant bed in the middle of their room. The bed that had once belonged to her parents and was now hers to share with the man she loved. “Let’s tell our child our stories. And let’s tell our child the world is now safe and good and true and welcoming.”

The smile on her face brightened while she stepped into the bed and hid in his arms. She wasn’t sure about the world, but at least his arms were safe and good and true and more than welcoming and once their baby was born, so would be hers.

[overwatchworks]

McGenji Week, Day 2: Proving Them Wrong

@mcgenjievents

Here’s the link to the Ao3 version too! :)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19935304

Genji growled in frustration, hitting the training dummy with his shinani sloppily. He had been working for hours each day to get better, and yet the elders still refused to let him train with Sensei like Hanzo did.

He was too young to understand what he was doing, to make the decisions he had, they said. That it was not a girl’s place to be training for battle, simply to further disrespect him. Genji thought they were too old to be making his decisions for him, much less to still be alive, but he wasn’t telling them that.

The problem was, he still was not out yet, too afraid to go against the tradition he had been raised to follow and honour. So he trained to get his frustrations and fears out, Hanzo teaching him what he had learned from Sensei. Encouraging. Genji was grateful for it, gave him hope for when he eventually told the rest of his family.

“Widen your stance and do that again, but try this time,” Hanzo called, Genji rolling his eyes with a loud sigh.

“Do it.”

“Fine!” Genji groused, focusing on the dummy again. Calming his breath, steadying his footing.

He hit it precisely in three places, circling around it, placing his feet meticulously. Practiced, severely. Hit it again, the satisfying thwack of bamboo and wood against straw centering him. It felt good.

“There, perfect. You’re good at this, so keep training hard and they will notice,” Hanzo told him. Genji wiped the sweat from his forehead, shoulders dropping.

“No, they won’t! They refuse to notice, even when they know I’m just as capable as you are!" Genji exclaimed, setting his shinani down and sitting heavily, leaning on his arms.

Hanzo came over and sat next to him, tucking his legs underneath himself.

“Prove them wrong, then.”

Genji frowned, glancing up at his brother.

“What?”

“Prove them wrong. Show them you can do this. Make them see that you are Genji Shimada, and that Genji Shimada does not take no for an answer.”

Genji’s cheeks warmed as he smiled, then curled his hands into fists as he stood, face set in determination.

“Yeah! I won’t take no for an answer, you old fucks!”

“Maybe don’t call them that...”

“I’ll call them that until they start calling me Genji!”

“Well...Fair enough, I suppose,” Hanzo shrugged. He ruffled Genji’s hair as he went back to his own training area.

Genji picked up his shinani again, a new fire in his eyes as he started moving around the dummy once more.

-

“What do you think?”

Jesse scratched the back of his neck with a slight grimace, Ashe leaning back in her chair, hand hitting the table with narrowed eyes. B.O.B stood quietly in the corner, ever watchful.

“I dunno, Ashe...I mean, it’s just the three of us right now. Who’s gonna follow a few kids promisin’...God knows what we’ll have to promise ‘em to get ‘em on board,” Jesse muttered.

“We have a thing goin’ here, Jesse. You and me, against the world. I’ve had your back through Hell and then some, so what’s happenin’ now that I need you to have mine, huh?”

“I still got your back, ain’t said nothin’ about leavin’. All I’m sayin’ is to think about this more before we just go blunderin’ in head first.”

“It’s worked for us every time before, and it’s not like this is a brand new idea here,” Ashe shrugged, Jesse chewing on his lip.

He tapped his fingers on the table, Ashe raising a brow.

“I got money. That’ll get us through the hard part. We just need recruits, and that’ll be up to you. You know people, you’re the silver-tongue. People trust you, and I got some folks that owe me some favours, so it’s a start.”

Silence, Jesse staring at the table, brows furrowed.

“Come on, Jess, I know we could do it! You, me, and the Deadlock Rebels.”

“It does have a nice ring to it...”

“So, you got my back here?” Ashe asked, a light in her eyes, face settled like she knew she had already won. Jesse sighed.

“I know some fellas who might be interested.”

“‘Atta boy. We’ll get the people who told us no, that we were nothin’. We’ll prove ‘em all wrong.”

Jesse huffed, as he stood, nodding to himself. That they certainly would.

-

Genji slipped back inside the compound silently, avoiding the guards easily even with how much alcohol was coursing through his system, making his vision blurry. He climbed up to the roof, scaling it, counting the number of windows he passed until he made it back to his room. Hopped through the screen he had left open, stretching with a sigh.

It had been a rowdy night, just like every other, Genji losing himself in the crowd, in the drugs, the alcohol. Forgetting about the Shimada clan for a few hours, the things he had to do in the name of it.

The week had been horrible. Two assassination assignments, Genji struggling to prove himself again and again. Barely being able to lift the sword, arms like lead as it swung down, sliced in a fluid, strong movement, blood spraying, hitting him—

Genji closed his eyes with a slow inhale, rubbing his hands over his face. Even borderline unconscious, he still could not erase the images completely.

Genji stumbled to the bathroom, hovering over the sink a moment after he turned it on, watching the water run. Dipped his hands into it, letting it pool there before he gulped some down, splashing the rest on his face. When he looked up, he was met with a stranger reflected in the mirror.

Red-rimmed eyes, unfocused, dark circles beneath them. Hair messy, sticking up in odd angles, stiff and bleach damaged. Genji sighed, looked away from the disaster he had faded back into now that he could not hide it any more behind makeup and a cocky smirk. Hobbled back to his futon after managing to get into a clean pair of pyjamas.

He silently sent his thanks to whichever servant had made it for him and cleaned up the room as much as possible as he fell into bed with a grunt. Genji stared at the ceiling until exhaustion suddenly hit him like a train, eyes heavy and mind foggy. He hoped he would actually be able to sleep some tonight, but did not count on not having any nightmares.

They were all he had anymore.

-

Jesse always figured he would end up in a jail cell one day, be left in it to rot for the rest of his godforsaken life. And as far as life went, he never thought he would live to be much older than twenty-five, if he was lucky. Didn’t plan on anything farther than that.

So when he was dragged into an interrogation room at seventeen, shackles on his wrists and face bloodied from running his big mouth, he found himself unsurprised.

Ashe had run while B.O.B covered for her, shouting Jesse’s name as he ran towards the retreating members of the gang. He had been grabbed, smacked with the butt of a gun, vision darkening for a moment. Ashe’s screams had gone silent, a strange ringing shutting out the gunfire and chaos. Next thing he knew, Jesse was forced into a chair, arms behind his back, unable to move.

They had taken everything he’d had on him, and kept him waiting. The gunslinger looked at himself in the double-sided mirror, seeing a stranger reflected there.

Face bloodied and bruised, one of his eyes swelling, a hopeless, blank expression fixed there. He really was going to rot in jail for the rest of his life. Jesse looked away, glaring at the table instead, cursing whatever god that had given him the worst luck—hell, make that the worst life—on the planet.

The door opened with a slight hiss, Jesse’s gaze snapping to it, to the man that walked through. A soldier of some sort, though, the armour did not look quite right. An agent of some sort, perhaps? There was a symbol on the shoulder of his jacket, one Jesse didn’t recognize.

The man had dark eyes, brows furrowed low, arms crossed. Harsh and wary, frown deepening the longer he looked at Jesse. He sat across from the gunslinger, leaning back and lacing his fingers together on the small metal table.

“What’s your name?” He asked bluntly, Jesse sneering despite getting broken nose and bloody teeth for doing the exact same thing.

“Fuck you. I don’t gotta tell you nothin’.”

The man sighed.

“Listen, kid. We can do this the easy way,” He paused, shifting as his hand reached back. Jesse’s eyes widened slightly as it reappeared with a pistol, the man setting it down between them.

“Or you can not do it at all. I’ve got other people I can get the information I need from.”

The gunslinger swallowed, eyes flicking back up to him defiantly.

“The name’s Jesse McCree. And who are you supposed to be?”

“Gabriel Reyes, commander of the agents that busted your little pow-wow back there. You Deadlock shits have been giving me a headache with the stunts you’ve pulled recently. Got a little too bold, so I was sent in to clear you out. Wasn’t that hard, you scare easy,” Reyes shrugged.

Jesse curled his lip.

“You’ll get yours when Ashe comes back—”

“You mean the girl we sent running for her life? She left you real quick, kid.”

“You’re lyin’!” Jesse hissed, panic starting to rise in his throat, sharp like bile.

“I’ve got no reason to lie to you, McCree. I don’t need to. You’re helpless here, and you know it. So, I suggest you answer all my questions truthfully, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Jesse set his jaw, waiting for Reyes to continue.

“If you have another base near here, a back up facility, safe house, any and all places you can think of, give me their locations.”

There was a hesitation, a long one. Jesse’s eyes flicked to the pistol again. Ashe would have his hide for this, if he managed to live through get out of this place.

“We...We got one further in the canyon. It’s an old cave we built into, just past the river...But it’s mostly just for supplies.”

“Safe-houses?”

“The old saloon basement. And another one further in town, an old warehouse off the main road to the West about ten minutes.”

“How far does the gang territory reach?”

“Stretches all along the canyon, the whole town, and a bit into the city.”

“How many associates do you have? Give me a rough estimate.”

“‘Bout thirty suppliers, and double the amount of members if you get all of ‘em,” Jesse mumbled, hearing Ashe’s voice in the back of his head, reprimanding.

No one likes a squealer.

He would be killed for this. It was either death by the man sitting in front of him, death in prison, or death by Ashe’s rifle. No good options.

“How long have you been in the gang?” Reyes continued, Jesse still feeling a slight swell of pride as he answered.

“I helped start it, so as long as it’s been around.”

“You helped start it?”

“Yeah, me ‘n Ashe pulled it together two or three years back.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one,” Jesse grumbled, Reyes raising a brow.

“Bullshit. I said truthful answers.”

Jesse stared at the table, fists clenching behind him.

“Answer me, now.”

“Seventeen. I’m seventeen.”

“Well. Shit.”

Jesse looked up, Reyes running a hand over his brow, rubbing it as he exhaled slowly.

“Alright, I’m gonna give you one chance here, and one chance only. You’re a dead shot from what I’ve seen, and you’ve got smarts. Information. Skill. Skill I could use. You join my crew, you join Blackwatch, or I’ll take you to the nearest jail cell and let you rot there for the rest of your life for the crimes you’ve committed.”

Jesse frowned. One good option. No real choice in it, but it was better than any of the alternatives.

“I’m pressed on time, McCree. I need your answer.”

“I’ll do it.”

Reyes gained a hint of a smile, and he nodded. He stood and took his gun back, tucking it away once more.

“Good choice.”

-

Genji never thought Hanzo would be the one to raise his sword against him. Never thought his older brother could be swayed enough by the elders to actually do it. The same brother that had stood up for him and protected him for years. Or maybe Hanzo was not the same brother anymore.

Because Genji had been proven wrong.

-

In all eleven years of Jesse’s time at Blackwatch, he had never seen someone torn up so badly. And he’d thought he had seen it all. Fights gone wrong, missions gone south, bullets to the head and chest, explosions, war zones, corpses, and yet none compared to what had been wheeled in to the med bay that evening.

Hardly recognizable as human.

Jesse had only been in there to get a report for Reyes over their latest post-mission diagnostics when the doors slammed open, Dr. Ziegler shouting orders as she held on to what was left of someone. The gunslinger had only gotten a glimpse, but it was enough.

Then, the sick smell of copper and death hit him like a bullet. Whoever was laying on the gurney no longer had the lower half of their jaw, arm mostly removed from its socket, blood spilling out from the lacerations covering their body. Strange, black vein-like scars running up what skin could be seen.

Jesse slapped a hand over his mouth and looked away before he could process more of the guts falling out of the person’s torso, the tubes and wraps barely keeping them together, tasting bile.

And then Ziegler and her crew were gone down the hall to an operation room, their noises muted.

“Jesus Christ almighty...” Jesse murmured, sucking in a breath through his mouth. The decaying stench was still lingering in his nose. He shook his head, leaving as fast as he could.

Jesse thought he had seen it all. That certainly proved him wrong.

~~