#the main draw for *me* at least would be getting a glimpse into the blue coats and cairn's beginnings; how it all came around

[umberpath]

it's too bloody soon to be fantasizing about writing a prequel novel when we aren't even sure it needs one...

[jaladdin]

Thinking quite terribly hard about Nick's costume design. More aptly about how completely plain it is next to everybody else's and how, in turn, that makes it unique. I think it also tends to add to the "Nick is just plain/boring/etc" agenda that a lot of the fandom has when - at least in my eyes - it's anything but.

Under a cut, because I doth yap.

Because Nick seems to pick out his clothes the way he does his actions — based entirely on how best to fit in the situation at any given moment and blend in. Hiding any real shred of who he is as a person.

In school hallways it's a letterman jacket; a jersey or a letterman is something you see before you even really see who's wearing it. it lumps him in with The Team, and there's no need for personal expression. The jacket does the talking Nick needs it to.

In the music classroom, it's a Keith Haring hoodie — the right kind of artsy that'll be quietly approved of, but still basic enough to blend him in, whereas something like a band tee would say something about him as a person and his interests. Things we know he is either trying to actively hide, or things he hasn't even really figured out for himself yet.

(You can also go the 'Keith Haring is a queer icon' route, in which case it's interesting that that's the only thing Nick wears that's really able to be identified as maybe-possibily being related to any of his interests. And that he hides it under his letterman in the hallway.)

We definitely see glimpses of that Real Person - the way he dances when nobody's watching, the jokes he texts Julie - but for the most part when there are eyes on him, he's pretty firmly locked away.

I have Other Thoughts on Nick's dance costume, but that's an entirely different ramble for another time. For now: everything about it blends in! The black of the hat against the wall, the blue denim bathed in blue light. Nick is, yet again, just part of the scenery. Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make. That being Nick is what he is surrounded by.

In dance class, it's a repeat of the letterman: a jersey that lumps him in with the team, and even though Nick is absolutely at the center, there's nothing that makes him stand out from the others. Just the way he likes it!

He's not even in the front. He's sometimes not even in focus. He's not even in the blue which at least draws the eye.

And then in episode 9, when he's already surrounded by the green of the trees and the plants and bushes, the green of his shirt blends right in. The sun hits the gold-ish of his hair. He's holding flowers to fit right in among the plants! Somehow, even though Nick is the only character in the shot, he might as well still be part of the background.

There is one singular exception to the rule, which is that Nick stands out in I Got The Music. Pretty drastically, actually! While everybody else is wearing vibrant color, Nick is in a black and white suit. He's not in the background, he's leading the charge with Julie.

Not only that, but the suit doesn't really fit/suit him well. At all. It doesn't look good, and the costume designing on JatP pretty much always looks good. So what the hell?

The thing to remember here is that this is Julie's fantasy. Nick stands out in this dream sequence because he stands out among the rest to her. But even in a fantasy, Julie can't put Nick in something well-tailored and flattering, because...

What does she know about him? Julie doesn't really know him at all. Flynn gets clothing in IGTM that suits her. One look at her wearing her outfit and you know exactly who she is. Because Julie knows who she is, and in her mind's eye it's easy for her to pick out a costume that works.

Nick? He's a blank slate for her to project on. And he's done a great job at locking away the fact he's a real person from view.

[its-freaking-jordan]

My special flower…

Yan!Muzan Kibutsiji x fem! reader

You were an ordinary human, living in the Entertainment District until, you laid eyes on Him.For you to be something he least expects., his blue spider lily

This includes;Blood,needles,killing, eating human blood,kidnapping,cussing, sharp objects,Stalking

Main idea was from @moonnime <3

Muzan never expected to find the Blue Spider lily in years, that is until you, a mere human, who caught his attention.

You are a pretty well known person that works in the ED, people loves each of your performance that you put on for them at night. They love your voice/dancing/singing skills, but there was this one person who you caught a glimpse at in the crowd that was watching you. He worse a black fedora with a suit, his eyes were like ruby’s in your eyes.

He caught a glimpse of you, and was lost in your eyes, your eyes were blue, like the blue spider lily. He need wants you, he just knows it. He knows that you would be his last piece..

Once your performance was over, you gathered all of your belongings together, and packed it up for the night, quickly you found your blindfold and put it on, changing your hair as well. You were making your way to a food stand, all of a sudden you blacked out..

You woke up to a new place, to you it looked pretty but also confusing. There was many rooms just by the looks of it, you can get lost in seconds, then you heard a Biwa play. You’re in a new room, it looked nice. The door creaked open and you saw the Man who caught your attention at the ED.

“So you’re awake, good. How are you my dear?” Before you can speak he interrupted you. “My name is Muzan..Muzan Kibutsji, you wont be needing this blindfold while you are with me..”

Thats how you ended up here, Everyday was a nightmare to you. You’re never able to leave, see the sun or your family and friends. Muzan swore to you that they are safe, but you highly doubt it. You met his Uppermoons but you are forbidden to speak to them. He had killed your family though, and ate them too. He didn’t want them to be around you, or try to find a way to communicate with you.

One time before he kidnapped you, he was watching you from afar. I mean he knew everything about you. Blood type, favorite food ect. He even sent his Uppermoons to watch over you when he couldn’t. He did knock you out cold, using his sharp nails to draw your blood and using a needle to take some it to use as a experiment.

“Y/N come here..” He sounded rather annoyed with you. You on the other hand was shaking like hell. You had no idea what you did, you did everything he said to do right? A giant pit was in your stomach, you heard Muzan from his lab area. Making you way to the door, your just standing there, debating is you really want to open the door or not. You know he has eyes all over the place, especially on you too. You sighed and opened the door to be met with a furious Muzan. He motioned for you to enter and close the door behind you, being scared enough you did it without a question. A hard slap was on your face, causing you to stumble back.

“Just the hell where we’re you last night and, did I specifically tell you to not leave?” He asked demanding you to answer him back almost instantly. Then it hit you, Akaza and you we’re outside watching the fireworks he told you about, but little did you know. Muzan saw you both. You were at a lost for words. “I.. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied almost instantly. Hoping he would buy it. Another slap was heard through the air, this time causing blood to drip off from your cheek.

“Lie to me again Y/N and it will be worse. I’m only doing this to protect you and, you should know this. You will love and obey everything I say.”

I will do a part 2 soon..But for now this is all I have <3 Im sorry if this is not the best, I’m trying to get better.

[sergeantbuckybarnes]

serendipity // bucky barnes

PART ONE

Summary: You end up stuck in 1942 without a way to come back, but when you meet the young and charming version of Bucky Barnes, do you really want to go back to the present?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: lack of ‘40s knowledge

A/N: As always, remember English is not my first language. Thanks to @punxgal​ for proofreading this. You’re amazing!

divider by @firefly-graphics​

next part | series masterlist | main masterlist

“Are you sure we should be here? You know how Tony is about people in his lab,” Wanda pointed out for like the seventh time but you kept on ignoring her. Maybe you should have listened to her and you wouldn’t be stuck in this situation. 

Tony didn’t allow anyone in his lab, he had his reasons, but the majority of it was because he didn’t like it when other people touched his stuff. You had the stupid idea of breaking this rule to go to see what he was working on, and of course, you bring Wanda with you, because if you are going to get in trouble you may as well involve your best friend.

You were a restless person and had the bad habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. It was something most people hated about you, you did nothing to change it, but this time took the cake.

You had messed with one of Tony’s new gadgets, the lights went off, an alarm ringing so loud you had to cover your ears. Then out of nowhere, a gust of wind swirled the room.

Wanda screamed at you asking what was going on, sparks lighting up the darkroom. You could feel what felt like someone pulling you and then your body hit the ground and seconds later Wanda was laying next to you.

Pulling yourself back up onto your feet, you looked around taking in your surroundings. You weren’t in Tony’s lab anymore. You were outside, in a dark alley. 

“Did Tony build a teleportation machine?” you asked confused 

“Not exactly,” you turned around to see Wanda, she was holding a newspaper in her hands with a frightened look on her face. You take a look at the paper to see what got her so shaken, and you saw it, the date. 

 “We’re in 1942?”

Was it really possible that you had traveled back in time? Had he really figured it out? You knew Tony was a genius but a time machine it’s too much, even for him.

“What do we do now?” Wanda was looking at you as if she was waiting for you to come with a solution, after all, you were responsible for this situation. If you haven’t sniffed around Tony’s lab you wouldn’t be here right now, you would be back at the compound, safe and eating ice cream while you watch some shitty show on Netflix.

You sighed, “I don’t know”

“They’re going to come for us, right?”

“I guess. The alarms went off in the lab, so they must know that something has happened, it’s just a matter of time until they put two and two together and come to our rescue.” But you didn’t know when that’s gonna happen. “We’ll just have to wait”

“Okay,” Wanda accepted, “What do we do until then?”

You decided the best thing, for now, was to look for a place to stay. You walked out of the alley and into the streets of Brooklyn. As you walked through the crowd you could see the strange looks people were giving you, trying to get out of your way or trying not to walk close to you at all.

“Why are they looking at us like that?” you inquired.

Wanda stopped walking and grabbed your hand, pulling you to a side of the street “I think it’s the clothes” she pointed out. 

“What’s wrong with our- “ you stopped your sentence when you took a look at what you were wearing. Jeans, t-shirts, boots, and leather jackets aren't the most go-to look in the ’40s.

You couldn’t walk through the streets like that. It was drawing attention and that’s the last thing you two needed right now. Wanda paused for a moment, you standing next to her, she was doubting if she should do what she had in mind or not, it was a good option, the only option you guys had. Wanda wasn’t a fan of her powers, especially with people often being scared and disgusted by her. Not that she didn’t blame them though. But it hurt you that some people didn’t see farther than her powers. She is not only your best friend, but an amazing person and who only deserves the best.

Wanda sighed. She didn’t have a choice. You looked at her and instantly knew what she wanted to do. It was one of the many reasons The Scarlet Witch was your best friend. There was no need for words to know what the other was thinking, even without her powers, there was a connection between you two.

Only a snap of her fingers and a few seconds later, you looked down to see your clothes. Your twenty-first century outfit had been replaced with a knee-length, A-line dress and a pair of peep-toe heels and your hair was now lying in loose waves. “Wow.” You looked at her with fascination that you’d always held when seeing Wanda use her powers. You didn’t understand why people could be afraid of her when she could do such wonderful things.

It was the next day when you were laying in the bed of the hostel you were staying at and the ceiling had never been more interesting. It had been more than 24 hours and still, you had no news from your friends. 

You hadn’t left the room, and you were starting to feel suffocated. 

“Let’s get out,” you proposed as you got up from the bed. Wanda tore her gaze from the book she was reading and looked at you like had grown a second head.

“Are you crazy? We can’t just go walking around the city like that!”

“Why not?” you pouted and sat in her bed next to her “What is the harm?”

Your careless demeanor was something that drove Wanda crazy sometimes. You never thought about the consequences your actions could have and you two being stuck more than seventy years in the past was the perfect example of that. And now you wanted to go out and have fun as if this were a normal Friday for you.

The witch sighed and closed the book in her hands. “We’re not home, (Y/N). We cannot go and parade around the city like we belong here.”

“I just want to have some fun!” 

“You wanting to have fun is what had brought us here in the first place.” Wanda muttered under her breath, you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you did. You got up abruptly from the bed and made your way to the door.

“Where are you going?”

You didn’t reply to her as you left the room, closing the door behind you as you made your way out of the building and into the streets of New York. You knew you were acting childish and you knew Wanda was right but you were too proud to let her know that. 

You walked through the streets with no particular destination in mind, you just needed the air hitting on your face. You had walked for at least twenty minutes when you spotted a building that caught your eye. A dance hall.

You crossed the street and made your way into the building. Jazz music flooded your ears as soon as you entered even though the club wasn't that large. It had enough room for various couples to be able to dance and that’s all that seemed to be needed. This scene was so different from what you were used to. It felt different but in a good way. You couldn't help but feel struck by the feeling that you were born in the wrong decade. You’d have loved to live like this. 

As your eyes explored the room, you spotted a short man aside from the crowd that you couldn’t help but recognize. You narrowed your eyes, trying to get a better glimpse of him. Oh my god... He was so much different now, but you would recognize the face of Steve Rogers anywhere. 

 You turned to leave as soon as you recognised him. Steve couldn’t see you. Yes, he had no idea who you were yet, but he’ll meet you in the future and this could affect all manners of things. What if you do something that changes the past and affects the future and- Now you were panicking, your mind running a mile per hour, trying to get out there when you turned and slammed straight into someone. 

“Careful, doll.” That voice, why did it sound so familiar to you? You looked up into the eyes of the man in front of you and there he was. A young Bucky Barnes. With those steel-blue eyes,  full of joy and that charming smile that never left his face. This version of him, at least. The Bucky you knew was nothing like the man that currently stood in front of you. 

“You okay?” he asked worriedly, and it was then you realized that you had been staring at him for too long.

You looked away quickly, muttering a quick, “Y-Yeah, sorry.”

You tried to walk past him and keep your original plan of leaving the club. If talking to Steve was a bad idea, talking to Bucky wasn’t a better one. As soon as you made to leave, Bucky grabbed your upper arm gently, turning your heels so you were facing him again.

“Come on, doll. You can’t leave me like that,” the smile never left his face and you thought how strange it was to see him smile so much. Nowadays, it was a rarity to see Bucky smile, not that you could blame him for his broody demeanor after everything that he has been through. But now you couldn’t shake how damn beautiful he looked with a smile adorning his features. “You own me at least one dance.”

He held his hand to you, and you knew you should have refused, it was the worst idea and it could affect the future but you weren’t known for making the right choices. So, you took his hand and danced through your second mistake of the night.

It was late when you walked into the room, but Wanda was still up, waiting for you on her bed. She was doing her typical ‘scolding a child’ pose and she could be intimidating when she wanted to.

“Where have you been?” she demanded.

You bit your bottom lip, a habit you had when you were nervous. “I fucked up….again”

His hands were on your back with yours wrapped around his shoulders. You swayed to the slow melody the band was playing. 

“So… I don’t think I got your name,”

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N),”

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His shameless flirting made you chuckle as you’d heard the stories from Steve about Bucky’s amazing luck with the ladies. But now that you had that same man in front of you, his hand wrapped around your middle and dancing so close to you, you could see why so many women fell for him. He really had a game.

“What about you, Romeo? Can I get your name?”

“Bucky Barnes” he smirked. As you kept dancing to the sound of the music, his eyes never left yours, not for even a second, and you wished in that moment that you had the power to read his mind.

He tightened his hands on your back as he leaned a little to be closer to you. “How is it that I have never seen you around before?”

“I’m just passing by” You simply state, not technically lying to him. You still held hope that your friends were working on a way to bring you home.

“Does that mean I’m not gonna see you again?” His voice sounded disappointed, almost sad. 

He brought one of the hands that were resting on your back to your face, caressing your cheek gently. Cupping your jaw, he looked into your eyes, asking for permission. When you didn’t do anything to stop him, he closed the gap between you, pressing his lips to yours. His lips were soft as they brushed gently against your own and you couldn’t remember the last time someone had kissed you with so much tenderness. Bucky has only known you for a few hours and his kiss had more meaning than any of the kisses you had received from any of your previous relationships. It was something you didn’t know you craved until now, so you let yourself get lost in the kiss, melting into the third mistake of the night.

“What the hell, (Y/N)!” Wanda raised her voice at you. “Do you have any idea of what you have done?”

“I just- I couldn’t help myself,” you defended yourself, “You should have seen him… I couldn’t tell him no.” 

“Since when do you have feelings for Bucky?”

“I don’t!”

“It doesn’t sound like it…. and it definitely doesn’t look like it. You practically light up every time you mention his name!” pointing accusingly at you.

You weren’t lying when you said you don’t have feelings for Bucky. You had barely talked to the man since Steve brought him to the compound. You didn’t know anything about him other than what basic information everyone already knew. 

He was quiet and shy, spending most of his time locked in his room. The times he did come out, he only spoke with Steve and Sam. He tried to stay out of the way of everyone, not wanting to be a burden.  

“What did you do after the kiss?” Wanda asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“I ran away...”

[luffles424]

Luminous

☼ Pairing: Jimin x reader 

☼ Genre: tentacle monster!Jimin, some fluff, smut, mostly just pwp

☼ Count: 9k

☼ Warnings: 18+, public sex (no ones around but they’re on the beach), tentacles (kind of a given), big dick jimin, manhandling, lots of cum, some cumplay, creampie, cum inflation/belly bulge (not a whole lot, just a small bump) unprotected sex, restraints, choking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, tit fucking, thigh fucking, oral (m recieving), deep throating, anal, double penatration, minor nipple play, praise kink, mating cycles, slight impreg kink

☼ Summary: The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here. 

☼ a/n:  This was written for Sol’s (jamaisjoons) collab event ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ and my prompt was ‘watching fireworks.’ Uhhh this idea was originally very different and then I started thinking about tentacles and now here we are 🥴🥴🥴 Hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Banner made by the absolutely amazing @jamaisjoons​ (who did such wonderful work on it and I hope the fic lives up to the beautiful banner she made me 💕💕💕)

You let out a small contented sigh as you slip your feet into the water. This is your favorite place in all of Busan, this hidden little jutty of rock just off one of the smaller, less popular beaches, more popular among locals only. You’ve spent more time than you can count out here hanging out with your friends, passing the time and using the salty sea breeze to help combat the heat of summer. You’ve been out here plenty on your own too, just like how you’re out here alone right now. 

The sun’s dipping below the horizon, the sky slowly turning an inky black. The perfect backdrop to what’s going to happen soon and the main reason you’re out here at all to begin with rather than at home. The summer festival is happening and once the sun disappears, the sky will be decorated with fireworks, and you and your friends discovered years ago that this is the best spot to watch them, unobstructed and no one around to fight for seats. 

You kick your feet idly in the water, enjoying the warmth of it as you lean back on your hands as you watch the last few rays of light slip away. You wished your friends could’ve made it though. But Namjoon was stuck in the city for work and Taehyung was out with his girlfriend at the festival. A brief feeling of sadness overcomes you because you had been planning to go with Taehyung and his girlfriend and your own boyfriend as a double date. Until he dumped you a week ago over text because he’d moved to the otherside of the country and apparently was nothing like the man you met since he didn’t even have the balls to break up in person. 

You suspect that there was a lot more than his flimsy excuse of it’s just not working and long distance is hard. It most likely has something to do with the new girl that you’ve been told about that has shown up on his socials. 

For what it’s worth, Taehyung and Namjoon both offered you company but you waved them off. Namjoon’s job opportunity is much more important and as much as you love Taehyung and his girlfriend, you didn’t particularly feel like being third wheel to their (normally adorable and heart warming) love. 

You think this is better anyway. It’s peaceful out here. The smell of salt being carried by the breeze brings a myriad of memories that all bring a smile to your face and it’s easy to forget about the hard things in this moment. It’s healing to be out here. As much as it sucked that you got dumped, you can’t be too upset. You saw the cracks forming the more he opened his mouth and talked, if he hadn’t done it, you likely would have been doing it soon anyway. You let your head fall back, letting your eyes slip closed as you simply enjoyed this. You should tell the others that you all need to make another trip out here soon. 

Plus you’d come much earlier when the sun was still high and swam some. Using the ebb and flow of the ocean to erode your worries and stress. Then you’d sprawled out on your beach towel on your rocky perch and let the sunset dry your skin before you slipped back into your shorts and tank top and allowed the peacefulness to swallow you. 

You startle slightly when there’s a loud, echoing boom and color flashes across the sky. You’d been lulled into such calmness and had almost forgotten why you were out here to begin with. You watch the sky passively, watching the occasional flash of color and shapes as the firework people warm themselves and the crowds up. You know the real show won’t start for at least another 45 minutes, knowing the tell by the fact that there’s still the faintest of traces of blue on the horizon. 

Your feet continue their idle movements in the water, until something slick brushes the bottom of your foot and you scream on instinct, quickly jerking your foot free from the water. You back up an extra foot from the edge, to the safety of the blanket that you spread across the rocks, just as an extra precaution. You’re sure that whatever touched you was probably just seaweed. Maybe a plastic bag or some other trash that someone carelessly threw into the ocean. But anything touching you in the water when the water is nothing more than an inky black expanse is enough for you to decide that’s enough soaking for the night.

Just as your heart rate is returning to normal, something slips over the edge of the rocks where you’d just been sitting. It gleams in the moonlight, silver, smooth, and shiny, as it makes a cursory probe at the edge, like it’s looking for something. It’s probably no thicker than your thumb and you deliriously wonder if octopi are even capable of coming up on dry land, let alone the reason why one might be coming up right now. Though the longer you stare at it, the more you realize that it’s far too smooth to be from an octopus, completely devoid of the telltale suckers. 

You shuffle a little further away. You really don’t want to move too quickly, not if you don’t know what it even is and if it can follow you or how fast whatever it is. But your slight movement only seems to catch it’s attention and to your growing horror, it lashes out almost faster than you can see and wraps itself firmly around your ankle. You scream again, because aside from that, there’s really very little you can do out here all alone with it on you.

Any attempts to free yourself prove futile, the slender appendage is far stronger than you would’ve expected from such a jelly-like creature. It gives its own experimental tug, one that pulls you marginally closer to the water before you once again scramble backwards. It lets you and that just serves to freak you out more.

Then, a few more tentacles appear over the edge of the rock, watering dripping and spreading out around them and then there’s a… hand? You frown as a seemingly human hand, if perhaps a little ashen looking, plants itself on the rock right alongside the tentacles. The fingers flex for a moment before something, somehow even more surprising, appears. A fairly human face, or at least up to the eyes as that’s the furthest it raises, peaks up over the edge, gaze quickly zeroing in on you. Your heart stutters in your chest as your eyes meet and its pale silver eyes gleam like its tentacles. It’s hair is wet and slicked back and, though the locks are currently water logged and a few shades darker, it’s clearly also a similar shade of silver as its tentacles and eyes. 

Another hand joins the first along the edge of the rocks and for a moment it doesn’t move at all. You stare at it, you know it’s definitely bigger than an octopus now. You don’t think you could take it. It’s dead silent aside from the gentle lapping of the waves and you’re terrified to move for fear of what it’s going to do to you. It gives the slightest of tugs on your ankle and when you don’t budge it finally lifts itself from the water. 

You try to back away again, but it’s grip keeps you in place and you let out a startled scream when another tentacle darts out to wrap itself around your other ankle. The… monster… sits on its knees at the edge for a moment after pulling itself from the water. 

It, he?, looks almost perfectly human. Skin a dimmed golden shade, frame small but packed with lean muscle… apparently well endowed in human terms. You jerk your gaze quickly away when you realize just where you're staring. Your life is on the line, now is not the time to to fucking ogle the monster and think about if he can get hard like a human and if it possibly gets bigger. You force yourself back to his face, cheekbones prominent and lips plush as he seems to be looking you over as well, though his gaze continually seems to dart behind you, brows knitting in confusion. 

His eyes appear almost human except that it doesn’t seem like he has a pupil, silver swallowing the whole of the iris. It’s slightly disconcerting. His tentacles shift behind him, drawing your attention to them finally. The ones not on you shift behind him restlessly, never seeming to settle. A thin one drapes itself on his shoulder before slithering across his skin to the other side, forming a strange sort of living necklace. It’s hard to pin down an exact number with them constantly moving, but there seems to be a lot and they seem to come in primarily two sizes, thinner ones like the one draped around his throat and wrapped around your ankles and thicker ones easily the width of 3 or 4 fingers, you try very hard not to compare their girth with what you had glimpsed between his legs. 

You’re trying to formulate a plan to get away when there’s another boom of a firework, bathing everything pink for a moment. And what you’re certainly not expecting is for the way the monster startles at the sound. The tentacles around your ankles tighten almost painfully and then before you can completely comprehend what’s going on, you’re being pulled closer to him. Once you're close enough, he’s leaning down over you and you squeeze your eyes shut, unsure of what’s about to happen but positive that it’s unlikely to be good.

But nothing happens and as the seconds stretch, you slowly peek an eye open. His face is almost directly above yours, but it’s not you that he’s looking at. Instead, he’s studiously scanning your surroundings, looking tense and on edge. When you glance at the way that he’s leaning over you, you realize that he seems to be almost… protecting you? Which only serves to confuse you more.

Deeming there to be no immediate threat, his gaze turns down to you and you freeze now that you're faced with him this close. He blinks down at you before his lips part and he makes a strange sort of clicking sound, but you’re more focused on the sharp teeth revealed when he makes noise. Definitely sharp enough to tear into you and eat his fill.

“Please don’t eat me,” you squeak out, hands coming up to cover your face.

There’s silence for a moment before a deep chuckle sounds from him. You peek between your fingers at him and there’s a smirk stretching his lips. 

“Oh, I have met your kind before.” His voice is soft and surprisingly melodious given the higher pitch the clicking was. 

You can’t help the words that slip from your lips. “My kind?”

His lips twitch and he tilts his head. “Humans. Are you not human?” He pushes himself up slightly to inspect you again. “You do not appear to be one of my kind.”

“There’s more of you?”

His gaze darts around. “A few.”

You swallow, about to speak again when another firework goes off. He startles above you and drops closer once more, body pressed firmly to yours as he glares around, trying to discover the source. 

You’d laugh at his constant startling if your throat wasn’t suddenly so dry. His chest is every bit as firm as it looked and you can feel every shift and ripple as he looks around. It’s incredibly distracting. Why did the monster have to be hot? You squeeze your eyes shut again. You should not be thinking about how it’d feel to touch the monster with your hands. Or how other parts of him would feel. 

He shifts off of you slightly. “It is safe for now.”

You blink your eyes open, frowning at him. “Safe? What are you talking about?”

His head tilts and he reminds you of a confused puppy. “Do you not hear the loud noises?”

A giggle slips out and that seems to perplex him further. “No, no. I do. It’s just… Have you not been around here before?” 

“I have always lived here.”

“Have you… been on land before?”

His brows pinch and there’s the slightest of flushes coloring his cheeks a deep blue-gray. “I come up here every year.”

“How have you not heard them before then? They’re just fireworks.” You see the streak of a new one and point to it quickly, drawing his attention to it just before it reaches its peak and explodes in a sparkling cascade of gold. “They’re for entertainment. They’re not dangerous.” You pause. “Okay they are. But not at this distance. The only people who could possibly be in danger would be the ones firing them.”

“Fire… works?” He mumbles, sitting back on his haunches as his face remains tilted towards the sky even though the phosphorus has long since burned out. “Will there be more?”

You slowly push yourself up, cautious of what he might do but his focus remains firmly upwards. “Yeah, they’ll keep shooting some singles off for a little bit longer then they’ll start the big show.”

He says nothing else and you wonder if you can use the time to slip away before you realize that he still has two tentacles wrapped around your ankles. There goes your chance for escape. At least he doesn’t seem interested in eating you. Yet.

Another firework goes and you watch his eyes widen as he follows its trajectory up until it stops in an explosion of color and sound. But you’re far more taken watching the childlike glee on his face and the way the colors gleam on his skin and tentacles. The colors add another level to his already stunning looks, making him look far more ethereal and angelic. He grins as he watches and he looks much less like a terrifying monster. Though you worry what will happen once the fireworks stop and there’s nothing to distract him. Maybe when the real show starts he’ll be so engrossed that you can slip yourself free of the tentacles and make a quick and quiet escape. 

You shake your head, looking away and up at the sky too. There’s nothing much you can do right now with their grip on you still too tight, so you might as well also watch the show. The fireworks are slowly starting to increase in frequency and he seems to squirm in excitement the closer together the pops of color come. 

“Do you have a name?” You ask suddenly, looking back over at him. Maybe you can text Namjoon or Taehyung and tell them that if you disappear to look for something with that name. Probably Taehyung. He’d be more likely to believe that you’ve been taken by a monster than Namjoon. He’d probably ask if you’ve drank or smoked anything. Get too drunk camping once and claim that bigfoot tried to kidnap you and you never get believed again. 

He doesn’t answer right away, doesn’t even seem to acknowledge that you spoke. But then his lips purse and he looks over at you for a moment. “Jimin.”

“Jimin?” He bobs his head and turns back to catch another firework going off. “My name’s Y/n.” You murmur, unsure if he’s even interested. 

It hurts a little that he didn’t seem interested in you back, but you suppose that you don’t know whatever his monster customs are. And you really shouldn’t look too deeply into why it hurts that a monster doesn’t seem interested in you. That should be a good thing. It means you have a better chance of getting away. 

There’s a long break in the fireworks and Jimin’s lips push out into an adorable pout as he turns to you with sad eyes. “Is it over?”

You laugh and shake your head. “No. It’s actually just getting ready to get started. Now it’s the big show. You thought it was good before. Just wait.”

He gives a simple nod and turns back to the sky, content to wait patiently for the rest. Silence descends on you both and you feel like you should be more worried about the tentacle monster sitting in front of you. But Jimin seems harmless enough, he certainly hasn’t tried to eat you or anything and that’s certainly got to count for something. He seems far more interested in the fireworks than in you now anyway. 

You’re just starting to relax when something cool and damp brushes the skin of your lower back. You freeze, back stiff as whatever it is tentatively touches the warm skin before slithering further up your shirt. You bite down on the urge to scream, you don’t want to startle Jimin again. Just because he was protective before, doesn’t mean that a scream coming from you would produce the same result. And before you can twist to see what is crawling up your shirt, the tentacles around your ankles slide a little further up your legs, ends timidly probing along your flesh as they go.

Another tentacle, one of the thicker ones, slides across your arm, wrapping once around your wrist and nestling the tip into your palm. The cool sensation is bizarrely familiar and it takes you only a moment to realize that whatever crawled up your shirt a moment ago is another tentacle. You’re about to speak when a thin tentacle trails up your arm to rest against your shoulder, gently tracing your jaw and neck. 

You swallow. “Um, Jimin?” All you get is a hum in response. Does he not realize what’s going on? “Jimin? What’s happening?”

Either your words or tone finally pulls his attention to you and when he sees his tentacles wrapped around you, he flushes a pretty blue. He scoots away, working to encourage them to release you, but this time of year they always have a bit more mind of their own. He makes an irritated clicking noise when they don’t move.

The one in your hand seems to respond to his sound though you’re not sure if it’s the way he wanted it to or not but it tightens around your wrist slightly before becoming… slicker?

You look at it, a weird mix of horror and maybe a little arousal. Maybe you shouldn’t have watched so much hentai when you were younger. You look back up at Jimin, at a complete loss. “Jimin?”

Jimin looks incredibly embarrassed, burying his face in his hands and making more distressed clicking noises. Probing tentacles aside, he looks adorable all flustered like this. A few of his tentacles wrap around his wrists and shoulders, patting his skin soothingly but that only seems to make him more distressed. 

The tentacle at your back has reached the tie to your bikini top beneath your shirt and is prodding at the knot with interest. You don’t know what to do to stop the distress you can practically feel coming from Jimin. The tentacle in your hand squirms slightly, drawing your attention back to it. You swallow, sneaking a quick peek at Jimin as you do the only, seemingly illogical, thing you can think of right now and you close your hand around the rowdy tentacle and squeeze. 

The result is instantaneous and certainly not what you had expected. Jimin moans. So then even if he’s not in control, he can still feel through them. Interesting to know. Jimin’s mouth hangs open for a moment before his gaze is meeting yours and you suddenly feel like maybe that was the wrong thing to do. 

There’s simmering fire in his eyes as he tries to speak as calmly and evenly as possibly. “I told you I come here once a year, correct?” You nod and he continues. “I come here to mate.”

You blink at him, mind completely blanking out. “M-mate?” You hate how high your voice sounds. 

He nods, sending a glare at the tentacles touching you. “When I saw you here, I had assumed you were one that I have spent the mating period with before.”

“Fuck, did I ruin your hookup?”

“Hookup?”

Your body heats with embarrassment. Maybe if you ask nicely, Jimin will let you go drown. “Whoever you were supposed to meet here. Did they not show up because I was here?”

He’s quick to shake his head. “I did not have plans. But sometimes if someone is near they will stop by. If they are not, I can take care of myself.”

The image of Jimin splayed out on the rocks by himself, tentacles sliding across his skin, wrapped around his cock, drawing more of those noises from him shoots straight to your core. Your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand accidentally tightens around Jimin’s tentacle again, drawing a gasp from him. 

“I apologize for not warning you sooner. The fireworks distracted me but it appears that it did not distract them.” He gestures to his tentacles. “Give me a moment and I should be able to free you so you can leave.”

His eyes slip closed and your gaze drags over him, startling slightly when you realize he’s started to grow hard too. You feel crazy that the first thing you think is how badly you want to touch. 

This is such a bad idea, but before you can stop yourself or second guess, you’re speaking. “What if... you didn’t though?”

Jimin freezes, but the tentacles seem to grow more restless at your words. Another thick one stretches the distance between you both to rest against your thigh, slicking your skin wherever it touches.

“You do not know what you are saying.” He grits out.

The tentacle in your hand squirms and you give it a small squeeze, maintaining eye contact with Jimin as you do so you get to fully enjoy the shudder that ripples through him. “I um, think I have a pretty good idea what I’m saying.”

He shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. You didn’t think it would be so hard to convince a tentacle monster that you wanted him to fuck you. This was by far the stupidest thing you’ve ever done. For all you know, he could eat his partner afterwards. If you live past this encounter, no one would ever let you live it down. If they even believed you. Your gaze drops involuntarily back to his cock and you find that he's fully hard now. And it’s almost a little intimidating how big he is, longer and thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before. You don’t think your fingers would be able to wrap around the girth. But any apprehensions you think you’d feel normally are nowhere to be seen, all you feel is overwhelming want. You want to try to fit him, to feel the burn as he stretches you out. You want to taste and you want him to absolutely ruin you. 

Unsure of any other way to convince him that you do want this, you switch tactics. If you can’t convince him with words, you’ll just have to show him what you want. You release the tentacle in your hand, though it keeps itself wrapped around your wrist, and move to remove your shirt. Seeming to know your plan, or maybe just through a stroke of luck, the tentacle that has been exploring your bikini top seems to have discovered how to undo the ties and as your top hits the ground beside you, your top slips to your lap.

His eyes dip to the scrap of fabric in your lap before they trace slowly back up, expression worryingly blank. You belatedly realize that this might not even be a good signal to him that you do want this. You don’t know what others of his kind look like, if any of them look anything like you. For the most part, he looks human enough, you’d think that maybe this was enough, that maybe this is at least sort of familiar to him. You feel suddenly self conscious, this was such a dumb idea. You really shouldn’t let the horny brain lead. You’re just about to cross your arms to cover yourself when the tentacle that had been on your thigh slithers up your stomach to sit between your breasts. 

You glance at Jimin and his eyes seem darker, jaw clenched tight. His tentacles seem to grow more agitated behind him and the ones around your ankles tighten to tug you closer, both to your surprise and apparently also Jimin’s. He flushes, staring down at you with wide eyes as your thighs come to rest against his. 

The tentacle on your chest squirms and Jimin’s gaze drops to watch. Your gaze drops too, intending to look at the tentacle currently writhing around on your chest and smearing slick there but you only make it halfway. Because Jimin is now fully hard, thick cock curving up towards his belly and the sight of it has you enraptured. He looked big when he was still soft, but now fully hard, or at least what you assume is fully hard, he looks positively massive. The skin of his cock is the same muted tan of the rest of him, the tip almost blue-gray, close to the color his cheeks turned but deeper in color, and it’s leaking more silvery looking fluid. You wonder if it’s the same thing that is leaking from his tentacles. 

Jimin shudders and it takes only a moment for you to realize that the reason is because a thin tentacle has wrapped itself around the base of his cock. It makes you want to touch too. So tentatively, you reach out, gaze flicking between his cock and his face to gauge his reaction and giving him more than enough time to pull away. 

He watches your fingers brush against the tip, dragging a smear of slick further down the shaft but he makes no move to stop you. He lets out a shaky exhale and, emboldened by the noise, you wrap your fingers around him. Or you at least try your best to because his girth keeps your fingers from meeting. 

Jimin makes a rumbling noise and then there are two more tentacles massaging at your thighs, working their way up until they meet the edge of your shorts. They only probe along the fabric for a moment before slipping beneath and continuing their exploration towards the apex of your thighs. They trace the edge of your bikini bottoms before one of them presses against your pussy through the thin fabric. 

You gasp and Jimin’s gaze is back on your face, attention wholly focused on you as his tentacles press again, but this time with a little more pressure. One happens to brush past your clit and you jolt, a moan slipping from your lips and the tentacles seem desperate to recreate that reaction as they narrow their focus to your clit. 

Jimin groans again and his hands come up to cup your cheeks, his tentacles all stilling for a moment. He waits until you look up at him. “Are you sure? It will be harder to stop once we start. Are you positive you can handle it? I do not mind spending the time alone.”

It’s sweet how concerned he is about you. But now that he’s started, all you can think about is being fucked by him while his tentacles play with every inch of you. You squirm back slightly and he seems to take that as rejection, if the flash of disappointment you catch on his face is anything to go by. You quickly undo your shorts, tugging them down your legs, assisted by his tentacles once they reach your ankles. 

He swallows and you watch as the tentacles from your ankles relocate to your thighs to keep you spread wide as the two that had been in your pants resume their work on your clit, now free of the hindrance of cloth. You bring your slick fingers to your mouth and keep eye contact as you lick them clean. It’s salty like the sea, but rather than the bitterness of cum, his has a hint of sweetness to it. It’s slightly addictive.

He stares at you for a moment and then he’s making another clicking noise and the tentacle that had been around your wrist unwraps itself and slips between your legs to join the other two already there, though it bypasses your clit to circle your dripping hole instead. 

“Needy.” He coos, though you’re not sure if it’s directed at you or his tentacles. Maybe both. 

He shuffles in close again, seemingly content to just watch his tentacles play with you. You whine, you like the feel of his tentacles, but you want him to touch with his hands and lips too. You want more. Maybe the needy was directed at you after all. He glances up at your noise, watching the way your mouth drops open as his tentacle finally wriggles it’s way into your pussy. It’s firmer than you expected from touching it, but still much more malleable than a cock would be. But it’s softer nature allows it greater freedom to explore your walls as it moves slowly in and out of you, certainly a different experience for you but you definitely can’t find it in you to hate it when it can reach all the right spots inside of you easily.

You reach out, grabbing the first part of Jimin you can grab, his arm, and tug him insistently down on top of you. He complies easily, seemingly curious as to what you want. You wonder if he’s ever kissed a partner before, if that’s something that his kind does. You hesitate and Jimin immediately notices, head tilting in curiosity. 

“What is wrong?”

You’re gasping before you can formulate your question, the tentacle inside you having quickly found your g-spot and is now making sure to rub it with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure rippling through your body. Jimin’s head dips down and his nose rubs against yours. 

“Are you okay? I have never been with a human and so I am unsure of what might hurt or bring pleasure. Please tell me if they are hurting you.”

He looks so sweet and it makes your heart stutter a little. You tilt your head, capturing his plush lips in a kiss. They’re warmer than you expected, giving the cooler temperature of his tentacles. It takes him a moment of inaction before he seems to catch on to how to kiss back. He makes a small noise when your tongue brushes his lips but he easily parts them for you. His sharp teeth skim your lip and it leaves you gasping into his mouth. He seems pleased with the response and he trails his lips across your jaw and down your neck. 

“You did not answer my question.” He murmurs, teeth gently teasing the skin of your neck, mindful of their sharpness. 

His tentacles are driving you mad, bringing you so close to your orgasm but seeming to know exactly when to slow back down to draw it out even longer. “What… question?” You gasp out.

“Are you okay?”

You’d scoff if the tentacles around your clit hadn’t started circling in tandem, winding the coil in your belly tighter. “So… so okay… Fuck, Jimin, are you sure you’ve never been with a human before?”

He pulls away from your neck enough to look down at you, a pleased smile stretching his lips. “I have not. Am I doing good?”

You nod enthusiastically, hands tangling in his hair to pull him back in for a messy kiss. He makes a pleased sort of clicking noise in the back of his throat and his tentacles speed up. And this time when your orgasm draws near his tentacles keep their speed rather than slowing again and you cum, back arching off the blanket as your pussy convulses around the tentacle. His tentacles continue their ministrations and Jimin pulls away to stare down at where his tentacle disappears inside you with wide eyed wonder. 

He groans as he watches with rapt attention. “Does it do this every time?”

You squirm, oversensitivity quickly setting in as his tentacles refuse to let up. The borderline painful feeling robs you of words to tell him to slow down and give you just a moment to breath. The tentacle inside of you swells and then everything grows a little slicker as Jimin chokes on a gasp. You struggle to reach out to grasp any one of the tentacles, to just lessen the sensations ravaging your pussy just a little, but before you can even make contact, another tentacle is wrapping around both wrists and dragging them above your head. 

“J-Jimin, please…”

Jimin pays you no mind, tentacles working faster under his focused gaze and it doesn't take long for you to be thrown into a second orgasm, though it feels almost like the first one never ended. You cry out, much too loud even if the beach is seemingly deserted right now. You shudder as your orgasm crests and Jimin’s tentacle seems to stiffen inside you before you feel suddenly wetter and stickier and full. The tentacle slips out of you after a few weaker thrusts and a small gush of thick liquid follows and the tentacle suddenly seems much less enthusiastic than its counterparts. Fuck, did that mean…?

“Jimin,” you whine, waiting until he finally tears his gaze away from your dripping pussy. “Do… do your tentacles cum too?”

His head tilts in confusion. “Come?” He thinks for a moment before realization seems to overcome him. “Ah. Do you mean do my tentacles also release?”

Embarrassment creeps over you. Something so clinical shouldn’t have you aching to be filled again when you just came twice and apparently already filled. You nod shyly. 

“Yes. They also release. It is to give the best chance of a successful mating.”

You swallow, eyeing the tentacles behind him wearily. “Do they all have to?”

He shakes his head, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “They do not. Only the big ones release. And from those, they do not all release every mating.”

You feel equal parts relieved and disappointed, though you know that you should probably question your disappointment. But you’ve already come this far, no reason to start questioning your potentially bad decisions now. 

He tilts his head. “Does it bother you? They do not need to do it near you if it makes you uncomfortable.”

You choke, unsure how to respond for a moment. This whole situation should really terrify and appall you. But you only find yourself growing hotter at the idea of being used by his tentacles and covered in their cum. You chew your lip before giving a small nod. 

His eyes trace over your face before he seems to light up and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Does the thought of that arouse you, sweet? I must admit, most of my previous partners were less than enthused about that aspect of mating.”

You groan, wanting nothing more than to bury your face in your hands in shame but Jimin’s tentacles keep your hands studiously bound above your head. Even his own kind didn’t like it. Why were you so weird? He giggles, leaning down to brush your nose with his own. His face is set with a kind smile, but his eyes still dance with mirth and lust. 

“I find it very arousing that you like it so much. Tell me what you are thinking about, sweet.”

To punctuate his words, another tentacle slips between your legs, rubbing along your sticky slit. You moan and Jimin’s eyes shine with fire. “I… was thinking about you fucking me and filling me up and leaving me all messy.”

He smirks. “I can do that, sweet. Just ask.”

“Jimin, please, fuck me… Fuck, ruin me…”

Jimin’s grin turns positively feral, sharp teeth on display. And for a moment, fear ripples through you as Jimin looks truly like a monster for the first time since he’s surfaced. But then his tentacles shift around him, eager for their chance to touch. Jimin shoos the thick tentacle away from your pussy, the ones around your thighs assisting him in situating you how he wants. He runs the tips of his cock through the mess left there by his tentacle and a pleased chirp leaves him. 

“You are already so full. Do you think you can take more?” He purrs.

You nod and his cock presses against your entrance. He presses just the tip in and he stretches your pussy more than the tentacle did. You gasp, breath robbed from you as the stretch borders on too much. But Jimin seems to sense it and pauses with just the tip inside, allowing you all the time to adjust to his massive cock. 

Jimin’s hands skim up your thighs, the tentacles resting passively on your clit once again coming to life and the jolt of pleasure has you squirming on Jimin’s cock. His hands rest on your hips, gripping them with bruising strength to keep you from moving. You whimper at the casual display of strength, at the way that he seems to not even be trying to hold you still while his tentacles slowly circle your clit to get you to relax. 

Two other tentacles slip up your body, pressing against your breasts and kneading at the flesh experimentally. The sensation is different, while the tentacles don’t have the surface area the way a hand does, they are capable of moving in ways a hand simply can’t. They grope at the flesh, exploring and testing the limits. One brushes past your nipple, causing you to gasp and suddenly both are on the pebbled buds, playing with them to draw even more noises from you. Their motions mimic the motions on your clit and pleasure sparks across your body once again. 

The tentacles shift slightly, long bodies draping down the sides of your breasts and then they press the mounds inwards, forcing the flesh together around the tentacle still resting on your sternum. Jimin grunts at the sudden pressure around his tentacle and your gaze drops to watch with fascination as the tentacle starts to thrust into the tight space, silvery tip gleaming with each press through. 

Your pussy clenches at the thought of it slipping a little further up and into your mouth, of tasting that salty, sweet slick from the source. A high pitched noise sounds in Jimin’s throat as his hips stutter forward at the feeling of your pussy tightening around him and you moan as he slips a little further into you, stretching you just a little more. Now though, the stretch makes you ache for more, the burn finally passed with the aid of the tentacles playing with your clit and nipples and slowly pulling your pleasure back to the surface. 

You really need him to be completely inside of you and when you dig your heels into his ass to try to get him to move, he seems hesitant. His tentacles, however, seem more than thrilled at the idea and more than happy to help you in your pursuit. The ones around your thighs tighten and pull you closer, until Jimin is buried to the hilt in the clutch of your pussy. The noise is filthy, the mess from his tentacle spilling out around his cock to smear on your thighs and drip down your ass. 

Jimin goes rigid when he’s fully inside you, eyes trained on where you’re joined. He seems transfixed by the sight of your cunt swallowing down every inch he has. Your whine has his head snapping up to look at your face, drinking in the way you’re moaning. The tentacle between your breasts slips a little further up, tip bumping your chin once before it’s shifting to your lips. Your tongue darts out, swiping through the salty fluid. Jimin shudders, hips flexing where they press into you and you let your mouth fall open for his tentacle to slip in. 

Your tongue swirls around the tip and it squirms, pushing in further than you expect and causing you to gag. It pulls itself from your mouth with a pop and you frown at it’s loss before shifting your gaze to Jimin, who seems to be glaring at the tentacle like it did something wrong. 

“Jimin?” When he looks at you, you give him an amused smile. “It’s okay. It just takes me a minute.”

His head tilts but the tentacle makes its way tentatively back to your mouth, hovering until you open again for it to slip back in. It goes a lot slower this time, keeping its thrusts shallow. You hum encouragingly, tongue pressing and massaging the underside as it moves and the tentacle slides a little deeper. You gag only slightly this time, much more prepared now, and after a few thrusts you grow used to the intrusion and it can slip just a little bit more down your throat. 

Jimin watches for a moment before groaning and then he’s pulling his cock out until just the tip remains before slamming back in. You moan around his tentacle, noise muffled as it delves further down your throat. It stays there for a moment and the lack of oxygen has your head start to spin. Your hands twitch where they’re still bound above your head, but before the real need for oxygen comes and you have to try to alert Jimin that you need to breathe, the tentacle is pulling out, switching to shallow thrusts while you get a quick break to breathe. The sudden rush of oxygen has you feeling nearly euphoric and you can only hope that the tentacle does it again. When you whine around it, it pushes back into your throat and the rest of the whine is muffled by it’s girth. 

Jimin’s fingers flex against your hips as he watches and feels how much of his tentacle slips into the waiting warmth of your mouth and with a moan he starts fucking into your pussy with a quick pace. Your hands grab at the tentacle binding you, needing something, anything, to ground yourself as Jimin fucks you senseless. You feel wholly overwhelmed at the way his cock fills you, the way the tentacles swirl around your clit, your nipples and breasts, at the way the one in your mouth begins to stiffen up. 

The tentacles shift on your breasts, kneading the soft flesh once again before pinching at your nipples. You moan around the tentacle in your mouth and it gives a shudder before flooding your mouth and throat. You choke slightly, jerking your head slightly at the sheer volume being released into your mouth, far more than you can handle. Spit and cum drip from the corners of your mouth as you struggle to swallow and the tentacle pulls itself from your mouth before it's finished, painting the lower half of your face even more in its silvery essence. Jimin’s eyes gleam at the sight, seeming to become even more frantic with his thrusts. 

“J-jimin…” You whine, voice rough from use. You’re not entirely sure what you’d finish that statement with.

“You are doing so well.” He coos and the praise has your mind going fuzzy. “You look so pretty like this.”

He reaches up, sliding a hand through the mess on your cheeks before letting his hand drag the mess back down your body, leaving a shiny trail down your throat, in the valley between your breasts and across your stomach. He slams in particularly hard and you cry out, voice echoing across the empty beach and ocean, much too loud but you no longer care.

Jimin glows golden, the light haloing him and your fucked out mind is sluggish to make sense of the sudden color change. Then you remember why you were out here to begin with and you make the connection just as the resounding boom of the firework follows just after the shower of color. The fireworks show must be finally starting because the next second Jimin is bathed in blue, then pink.

But as quick as your attention was taken by the colorful shadows splashed across Jimin’s beautiful face, it’s taken back as he shifts suddenly, hands leaving your hips to push your thighs together as he continues to fuck you. Your calves come to rest on one shoulder and Jimin uses the new position to fuck you even harder. 

Something slick drags along the crease where your thighs are pressed together and a second later a tentacle is pushing into the tight space. Your skin tingles where it presses into your skin and with every thrust it makes through the tight press of your thighs, it bumps the tentacles on your clit. Jimin presses a kiss to your leg and you feel the breath leave him as his tentacle speeds up and he hisses.

The sensations are nearly overwhelming, to the point that you almost miss the new slim tentacle kneading the flesh of your ass. It delivers a pinch to the skin that leaves you gasping and you’re much more aware of it as it runs along the seam of your ass. You squirm, or at least attempt to, because between the tentacles restraining you and Jimin’s firm grip on your thighs, you’re left nearly immobile as you get fucked. The tentacle slips a little further up, gathering some slick before it’s dipping back down to prod at the tight ring of muscle of your hole. 

You shudder and if you could move, you’d press down onto the tentacle, force it to fill you because you need it as much as you need Jimin’s cock in you. “Fuck, please, don’t tease…”

Jimin’s face is set in concentration and you don’t think he heard you, except a second later the tentacle breaches your ass. You moan, glad that it was a smaller one to start. It thrusts tentatively, growing bolder as your noises raise in pitch and then a second slim tentacle is joining, slipping past the tight ring of muscle to thrust in counterpoint to the first. 

Jimin’s thrusts slow, his head tilting back as he pants. He looks like a sculpture, so beautiful that it aches a little. Something that people should look at and marvel over. A moan slips past his lips as the tentacles in your ass speed up a little, taking some time to also shift apart and spread you open even more. 

“You… are endless…” Jimin breaths out. It sounds reverent. 

The tentacles slip from you and you have no time to mourn the loss before they’re being replaced by one of the thicker tentacles. The stretch hurts a little, but with so many other things happening to your body at the same time, you’re quickly distracted from the ache. The tentacle stills anyway, allowing you time to adjust to its thick girth. 

“You are so full of surprises.” He says, head dropping forward once more to let his gaze rake over your shuddering figure.

The tentacle in your ass thrusts in response to Jimin’s words and when you don’t indicate any pain, both pull out and thrust roughly back in. The tentacle between your thighs and in your ass thrust opposite Jimin, keeping you full and stimulated when Jimin pulls out. 

“Please… Jimin please, fill me up, you said you would…” You feel slightly delirious with need, every thrust of his tentacle adds extra pressure to your clit and you feel so close to cumming, teetering on the edge. 

Jimin gives you no verbal response, only that of him pressing your thighs together a little harder. A few more thrusts of the tentacle between your thighs has you clamping down on Jimin’s cock and the one in your ass as you cum, body shuddering as the tentacles and Jimin continue to thrust. You squeeze your eyes shut, vision nearly whiting out entirely as your orgasm slams into you. The tentacle between your thighs lasts only a handful more thrusts before its stiffening and releasing, splattering your chest, belly, and thighs in the silver cum. It gives a few weak final spurts before slipping back through your thighs as Jimin parts them once more. 

His cock twitches as his gaze falls over you messy form, the normally silvery liquid lighting up in splashes of color with every new explosion that happens above you both. He’s never seen a more beautiful sight. One of his hands lands on your thigh as the other bats his tentacles away from your clit, an action that you're grateful for for only a moment because he quickly replaces them with his fingers. You arch and cry out, jerking your hands with enough force that you seem to startle the binding tentacle and it releases you. Your hands wrap around his wrist, tugging futilely at it to get him to let up. 

You moan his name desperately, trying to squirm away from the sensation as his tentacles keep you held close as he continues to fuck you through your overstimulation. 

“Can you do that for me one more time? You feel so good when you do that, sweet.”

You whimper. You want to say no, that it hurts a little and that you really don’t think you’re capable of another orgasm. But the pout he wears stops you and you find yourself nodding without even thinking about how you’re going to get past the too much feeling currently overwhelming your body. 

Jimin gives you another feral grin, eyes roving over your figure as his fingers work quick circles around your clit. For no experience with a human, he’s an incredibly fast learner. He seems to know your body better than your ex had and the two of you had been together for almost 2 years. 

The tentacles on your breasts move to collect some of the slick covering you, smearing it around your nipples as the pinch and play with them, the slick adding a new layer of feeling to the actions. 

“Come on, sweet.” Jimin purrs as his cock seems to swell ever more and the tentacle in your ass starts to stiffen. 

Another rough thrust and a few twists of his fingers and you’re cumming again with a cry of his name. Your pussy and ass convulses around him and Jimin lets out a series of clicks and chirps as he finally cums, flooding your pussy and ass with more silvery slick. There seems to be a never ending stream from his cock and after a few moments, pressure on your lower stomach makes you look down, groaning at the sight of your slightly distended belly.

Jimin makes a contented noise, rubbing gently over the swell. “You would look so beautiful swollen with my children.”

His cock gives another twitch and a feeble last spurt of cum and Jimin and his tentacles seem to deflate. His chin presses to his chest as he takes in slow, deep breaths. The tentacles all slowly slip from your body and you mourn the slight warmth you lose. Another few moments pass and then Jimin is gingerly pulling his cock from your abuse pussy and gazing over your whole body with almost reverence. 

You feel too exhausted to do much more, but you can feel his cum dripping from you, forming a puddle beneath your ass. At least you're next to the ocean for easy clean up. If you had the energy to do that. Maybe in 5 minutes… Or an hour. You can’t even feel your legs right now. You’re pretty sure you’d just drown.

Jimin stretches out beside you, arm coming to wrap around your middle, seemingly unbothered by the fact that it lands in a mess. You blearily realize that his tentacles seem much smaller now too. His head tilts and you realize that he’s watching the fireworks again. Like he didn’t just fuck you within an inch of your life and leave you ruined for anyone who comes after him. 

You watch in silence for a while, endeared by Jimin’s ohs and ahs as he discovers new types of fireworks, the different shapes and effects that can happen. 

“Jimin.” You call softly. His nose brushes your shoulder in response. “Will… Nevermind. It’s stupid.”

Jimin pushes himself up enough so that he can look down at you, frown marring his pretty face. “What is it?”

You fidget, suddenly hating that you’re naked and still covered in him. You glance over at the water.

“Do you wish to go in, sweet?”

It’s an easy out and you don’t feel strong enough to ask the real question yet, so you give him a simple nod. He grins, scooping you up and gracefully sliding you both into the water, arm wrapped tight around your middle to keep you afloat. 

Colors flash around you as you stare into Jimin’s eyes, every color reflected there as well. Before you can second guess yourself, you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips. He lets out a surprised noise and then giggles when you pull away. 

“Do you wish to go again?”

Embarrassment fills you and you shake your head. “No. Um…” You take a deep breath. You can do this. “Will I see you again?”

Jimin’s face is unreadable for a painful stretch of time, though you’re sure it’s only a few seconds before he’s grinning. “I find myself quite taken by humans. I could certainly use a guide.”

You grin back, pecking him again. “First lesson, when humans like someone and want to spend time with them and go on dates, they give them kisses.”

He hums, giving you a kiss of his own, just a little deeper than yours. “I think I quite like kisses.” Then he grins and it’s full of mischief. “I think fireworks are my favorite though.”

You snort, prodding him with a finger. “You sure it’s the fireworks you like?”

He makes a thoughtful noise before nodding. “They make you luminous, sweet.”

[darth-tella]

for the prompts: 10. not wearing that for ten & donna (maybe with a little tenrose flavor, if you feel like it!)

Oops, I dumped in a lot of tenrose flavour. But Donna's there too so... XD

Disco Fever

Read on AO3

How did he let himself get roped into these things? One moment he was ready to whisk Rose and Donna away to the cliffs of G’tsio to watch a triple solar eclipse, the next they were setting a course to Earth in the 1970’s because the girls wanted to go dancing. The Doctor supposed he had himself to blame. He had been blasting Dancing Queen whilst working on the TARDIS console when he thought the two of them were asleep and that’s what gave the girls the idea to go to a genuine disco.

A very excited Rose and Donna headed down to the wardrobe and had a grand time picking out outfits. The Doctor nearly choked on his own tongue when he saw Rose in that sparkly halter top, tiny miniskirt and go-go boots. Donna went for a slightly more conservative outfit with a flower-patterned top, flared trousers and platform shoes.

“Well, have fun you two. Don’t stay out too late, and don’t make me have to synthesize an LSD antidote.” The Doctor smiled at them as he ushered them out the doors. But Rose didn’t budge.

“Aren’t you coming along?” She asked. For a moment, the Doctor seriously considered her offer. There Rose was in the tiniest of tiniest outfits that could draw in some lecherous characters. But then again, Rose wasn’t easily swayed; and her slap rivaled her mother’s. Plus, Donna would be with her. They’d be fine. Then again, he could be the one dancing with Rose, getting to feel how soft all that exposed skin was…

No. No, no, no, no, no! NO!

Rose was his friend. How dare he be thinking like that!

“Nah, you two run along. I’ll be fine here. I’m not much of a dancer this time around.”

“Liar.” Donna scoffed, “You were dancin’ up a storm just a little while ago. Although, you did kind of look like one of them inflatable tube men they put outside shops flailing around.” The Doctor just rolled his eyes at her.

“Well, if you say you’ve lost the moves…” Rose shrugged. Oh, not fair. Not fair at all.

“I never said I lost the moves!”

“And it’s not exactly like you to be shy.” Donna added. Blimey! Now they were ganging up on him!

“Oh, all right…” He affected a sigh and reached for his overcoat that was hanging over the rail, But Rose stopped him.

“You’re not going dressed like that. People will think you’re a cop or somethin’.”

And just like that, he found himself getting dragged into the wardrobe room.

The TARDIS was obviously also having a laugh at his expense. A midnight blue leisure suit, white platform shoes and gold chain were laid out for him.

“I am NOT wearing that!” The Doctor shook his head adamantly, “Too much polyester.” He shuddered.

“Yeah, you’d probably scare everyone away if you wore that.” Donna quipped.

“What about this then?” Rose picked a dark red shirt, high-waisted black trousers and black platform boots. It was still extremely tacky and probably also 100% polyester, but it was at least somewhat more palatable. The trousers weren’t those flared monstrosities the leisure suit had. The Doctor still wanted to argue. There really wasn’t anything wrong with his suit, but Rose’s smile melted his resolve. He took the outfit from her and retreated to the changing room.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the three-way mirror after he changed. He looked absolutely ridiculous! The things he did to make Rose happy…

Stepping back into the main wardrobe, he caught Rose’s smile. A warm fuzzy feeling developed in his chest right between his hearts. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

“Hold on, final touch.” Donna’s voice started him, and before he had a chance to react she had placed something firmly on his head and was now pressing some hairy object to his face just below his nose. “There you go.” Donna smiled devilishly at him, and Rose was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. The Doctor ran back to the mirror and gaped at himself in horror. He suddenly had a hideous mullet and fake moustache.

“I’ll bet you a hundred quid you can’t keep those on all night.” Donna laughed. The Doctor groaned. Of course, she would appeal to his competitive nature. The moustache itched like crazy, and he looked like a sleazy porno star, but he wasn’t about to let Donna win, no matter how idiotic he looked! A pair of sunglasses caught his eye and he slid them on.

“Two hundred quid.”

--

The Doctor would be forced to admit later that he had far more fun than he expected. Rose had no problem being his dance partner the entire night and even well into the next morning; except, it was an entirely different kind of dancing then. The Doctor did indeed find out just how incredibly soft Rose’s skin was.

As for that two hundred quid, well, that had to come out of Rose’s purse. The moustache tickled her nose a little too much.

Donna never forced her to pay up. She was just relieved those two boneheads finally stopped tiptoeing around their feelings.

yeeeeaaah.... I couldn’t resist.

[five-rivers]

Oooh, I just saw the big about prompts!

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

(Can be inspiration or an actual quote; do what ya want! :P)

The world ended on a Saturday, and it wasn’t Danny’s fault.  Even if that Saturday happened to be his sixteenth birthday.  

Okay, maybe that was a bit overdramatic.  But, honestly, neither he nor anyone else he’d ever spoken to knew why or how things had turned out this way.  Just that, one morning, reality shook, shuddered, and took a few steps to the left.  

Humanity woke to green-streaked skies, a rainbow sun, and a lot more universe than they were used to.  So did ghosts.  

This was a problem.  It might even be deemed the problem.  Humans and ghosts didn’t exactly get along, and even when neither the ghosts nor the humans involved particularly wanted to fight, the new laws of nature and the few who did want to fight tended to ruin things for everyone else.  (Cough, GIW, cough, Walker, cough.)

Hence the end of the world.  Or, at least, most large-scale governments.  

It could have been worse.

Amity Park stopped being a city that day, fragmented with Ghost Zone wilderness, landscape and spatial dimensions shattered in a spiderweb centered on Fentonworks, the portal a wellspring of wild power and unpredictable translocations.  Danny had worried that the portal had been the cause of the whole thing, but Amity Park was far from the only place with similar issues (look at New York), and Danny eventually was able to accept that not every bad ghost-related thing that happened was on him.  

(Probably.)

Honestly, once everything calmed down a bit, the new world was much more comfortable, physically and mentally, for Danny to live in.  Which was weird, but made sense.  The new world was split between human and ghost, just like him.  It was everyone else who was uncomfortable, now.  

Which, again, he felt guilty about, but, yeah.  He couldn’t do anything about that, so feeling guilty was counterintuitive.  Thank you, tiny Jazz in his head.  

It was Saturday again.  Time for the market fair.  

“Mom and Dad are already out?” asked Danny, leaning over the banister.  

“Yeah,” said Jazz, not looking up from her work transcribing an old ghost text into something more palatable to human eyes.  She adjusted her green lenses to sit closer to her eyes.  “An hour or two ago.  Some guys from Chicago came in last night, apparently, and they wanted to get a head start.”

“Okay,” said Danny.  “I’m going, too.  You want anything?”

“Nope.  I’d be going myself if I did,” said Jazz.  

“You sure?  Nothing for dinner?”  

“Nope, I’m all set.”

“Cool,” said Danny, padding towards the door.  He pulled his nice, dark coat, the one he’d gotten from Dora, off the hook, and shrugged into it, pulling up the hood.  

“No shoes today?” asked Jazz, who had finally looked up.  

“Eh,” said Danny.  “I guess not.  Doesn’t really feel like a shoe kind of day.”  He flexed his toes.

“Well, avoid blackberries, then,” said Jazz.  

“They should avoid me,” joked Danny.  “Good luck with that book!”

“Thanks,” said Jazz, waving as Danny left.  

Fentonworks was the same tall, brick-and-UFO building as it had always been, but now it stood alone on top of a small hill rising from a distinctly purple forest.  The dark grass waved back and forth like the tentacles of a sea anemone.  Bright green portal streaks, cracks in reality, stood out against the foliage, along with a few other buildings that had once belonged to the Fentons’ neighborhood.  The sun was blue today, but Danny predicted it would be green by nightfall.  

Danny walked down the path, the dirt on it declining to adhere to Danny’s feet.  He hummed, quietly, a tune he half-remembered from before the apocalypse.  He would not be walking all the way to the market fair, it was too far.  His parents had taken the Speeder.  

Danny, on the other hand, had a shortcut.  

He reached one of the portal-fractures and passed through to a part of the forest where the trees whispered to one another.  He took a moment to reorient himself, and continued to the next portal fracture.  

As far as he knew, he was the only person who could reliably travel like this.  He could have flown, but the market fair was busy, and he preferred to maintain his peaceful life.  Phantom was still a celebrity in Amity Park.  Even more so now, than before, as ghosts were no longer shot on sight.  

Some ghosts even came to Amity Park’s market fair.  

He walked through a wider-than-usual fracture which deposited him just outside the main fragment of Amity Park, near the erstwhile mall.  The mall and its attached parking lot being the place the market fair took place.  

It was busy.  There were trucks stamped with the seal of Illinois parked on the edges, presumably belonging to the delegation from Chicago.  There seemed to be more ghosts than usual as well, enough of them to make Danny shiver.   Had they come from Chicago, or was it just a coincidence?  If they had, that would be nice.  Chicago had a lot of local influence, and was one of the places that was still trying to hold together something like a national government.  If they accepted ghosts, others would follow more readily.  

Peace between the two worlds in places other than Amity Park would be very nice.  

Danny wandered down the paths of the market fair, not in any particular hurry to get to his parents’ booth.  He was always more interested in the other things at the fair.  Even if he rarely bought anything.  

People seemed to be mostly moving in one direction.  No, they were being drawn in one direction, with people tugging their companions onward.  Danny, not having anything better to do, went with the flow.  

Which led back to where the Chicago delegation was set up.  Several people were standing in front of the trucks, arguing.  

“How can you lose an entire bevy of ghosts?” demanded the man who appeared to be in charge.  

The target of his ire merely shrugged.  

“Can’t lose people like that, bub!” shouted someone from the crowd.  There was a titter of laughter.  

“Didn’t you have a big, fancy announcement, fed?” 

More laughter.  

“Yeah, what did you want to say?”  This voice had an echo to it, and the the man looked extremely aggrieved.  

Nevertheless, he took a deep breath.  “We were led to believe,” he said, cheek jumping, “by certain ghosts, that there was a way to negotiate with the ghosts and... reverse this nonsense.”

Wow.  So, Chicago got scammed.  That could have repercussions.  Danny hoped Amity Park wouldn’t see too much of the fallout.  

“Wouldn’t you jump on any chance to stop this?” demanded the man in response to the jeers, gesturing at the sky and its pulsing bands of light.  

“Tell us a better story!” shouted Ember, who had struck up a much more cordial relationship with Amity Park after the apocalypse.  “One that we’ll remember!”

The man turned away, throwing his hands in the air.  “Go find them!” he shouted, presumably to his subordinates. 

The crowd broke up.  

Danny was curious.  It was one of his defining characteristics, both as a human and as a ghost.  He followed one of the Chicagoans as they walked into the market turning this way and that.  

“So,” he said, “what story was your boss fed?”

The woman jumped and looked down at him, disconcerted.  (Yes, he was short.  That wasn’t his fault.  Except that it probably was, via the portal accident.)

The woman sighed.  “Why not, it’ll be out before too long.  We were told that the rightful king of ghosts was in hiding here, or something stupid like that.  I don’t think they ever said he could fix the world, even.  Only that he could be negotiated with.”  She kicked the ground.  “This is so stupid.  There’s no ghost king.  This is never going to get fixed.”

“It’s not so bad, is it?” asked Danny.  

“How old even were you when it happened.  Ten?” asked the woman.  

“Excuse me, I was sixteen,” said Danny, crossing his arms.  

“That’s cute,” said the woman, dragging her hand down her face.  “You’re like thirteen, tops.  Not nineteen.  Jesus.  Go bother someone else, kid.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Well, you aren’t wrong that there’s no ghost king.  Last guy who called himself that got beaten up and locked in a sarcophagus forever.”

Then, just to mess with her, because she’d been rude, Danny turned invisible and left before she turned around.  

Now...  He should probably try to warn people about the scam artist ghosts.  Or would they know from the other people watching?  

Danny flicked back into visibility and continued perusing the various stalls, making small talk with the owners, bringing up the Chicagoans when it was appropriate.  

He was passing by the covered entrance of the mall, one of the most crowded spots in the market fair, when his ghost sense went off, indicating an unfamiliar ghost was nearby.  He scanned the crowd for the ghost.  He didn’t have to look very hard.  Strange ghosts tended to draw eyes, even in Amity Park.  

Especially ones that looked like this.  Inhumanly tall, cloaked, and moving smoothly.  Glimpses under their hoods showed faces riddled with decay- or at least the appearance of decay.  The three of them held instruments.  Flute, drum, and summoning bell.

Danny stood to the side to let them pass.  After all, they weren’t doing anything bad as far as he could see.  

They did not.  Instead, they stopped in front of Danny.  Typical.  

Then they started playing their instruments.  And kneeling.  

Aaaand the crowd was getting bigger.  There was the person from Chicago, too.  Could he escape without turning invisible with all this attention on him?

Probably not without showcasing his ghost powers.  There were people who knew him in this crowd.  Like Paulina.  And Star.  

“Um,” said Danny.  “Hi?”

The leading ghost looked up as the sun’s light turned emerald green.  

“Blessings of rot and petrichor, my prince. May you have a home in the dark, and may the distant stars you reach for never fade.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Danny saw the Chicagoan’s jaw drop.  

“I think you might have the wrong guy,” said Danny.  “I’m not anyone’s prince.”

The ghost grinned, sharp and white.  “We came to give our blessings, my prince.  You do not need to accept them for them to exist.  We offer, also, our service and our hope in this new world that you are so suited for.”

Yeah.  This was going to be a problem.  

[tiffdawg]

The Light of Stars | Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

Gif: @bestintheparsec​

The Light of Stars

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandalorian x Reader (fem; no y/n)

Word Count: 5.5k

Rating: M | Warnings: the typical angst and a little smooching, mild language. No spoilers for season two!

Story Summary: In pursuit of the Child’s people, the mysterious Jedi, Din Djarin and his foundling find hope in a woman who shares the kid’s strange powers. Newly partnered with the Mandalorian, you are trained in the ways of the Force, but you’re no Jedi. You’re just trying to find your place in the galaxy.

A/N: Hi! It's been a while – much longer than I ever intended and for that I apologize. I want to say thank you to you all for reading my story and sticking with me. And to everyone who left comments on previous chapters, you have all my love for ever. I really do cherish each and everyone. You all inspire me to keep writing! Anyway, I'll stop rambling and let you read the latest installment of Jetii, Din, and Baby's (mis)adventures. This chapter is officially the beginning of the end!

Read on AO3

TLOS Masterlist | My Masterlist

… . …

Chapter Eleven: Disillusionment

The last few days were a blur as you cut across the galaxy at lightspeed. Time ceased to exist even as it passed you by, but it was uneventful in the best possible way as you spent what precious time you had left with the Mandalorian and his foundling quietly existing together.

You passed most of your time in the main cabin conversing with Mando. You always talked about your pasts. Never the future. But you considered yourself lucky to have that time with him. He spoke mostly of his youth with the Mandalorians and his early forays into bounty hunting, but occasionally he’d grace you with a story from his childhood. When he’d confessed that he hadn’t so much as said his parents' names aloud in decades but still found it within himself to share a treasured memory of them, you’d reached across the small space separating you to twine your fingers with his gloved ones as best you could. The words seemed to come a little easier after that. His life had been so full of sadness that you wondered if the last few weeks together had been an anomaly even with the chaos you’d brought into his life.

Down in the hull after tasteless meals of reconstituted food, you’d spent long hours reading texts from the Jedi holocron aloud to Mando while he disassembled, cleaned, and reassembled every blaster in his weapons locker twice-over. Other times he insisted on continuing your flying lessons but there wasn’t much to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. During the infrequent fuel stops on lonely planets, you’d stretch your legs and find a quiet place to practice with the kid in consolation for long days spent trapped inside the ship.

That day, you’d landed on Mygeeto, a cold, frigid planet a few sectors from your final destination. Mando and the kid seemed unfazed by the icy winds, but you’d had to dig out your old parka just to walk to the closet cantina while the ship refueled. It was also a decently populated planet, big on mining and banking and a hub of trade. You were on the outskirts of a smaller spaceport, but it wasn’t somewhere you wanted to linger.

The docking bay was crowded with a steady rush of people coming and going earlier that morning. Now, when you stepped into the small, outdated docking bay ahead of the Mandalorian but behind the Child’s hovering carrier, it was deserted. Instantly, your eyes went to the fueling gear still hooked up to the Razor Crest. A quick glance around the bay told you the lone mechanic was nowhere to be seen. Most likely off working on one of the other starships. That meant the three of you were stuck on that icy, crystalline planet for at least a little while longer. 

That meant trouble.

“Mando–”

“I know,” he sighed. “I made them back at the cantina. They aren’t with the guild, but they’re definitely hunters.”

“Were you just hoping they wouldn’t follow us back to the ship?”

“I wanted to get you two back to the Crest.” He entered a code on his vambrace and canceled the ship’s security protocols. After the ramp lowered, he closed the baby’s carrier and sent it into the hull of the ship.

“There are six of them,” you said, raising a brow at him, “and they’re right behind us.”

“Not a problem, sweetheart.” He placed a hand on the blaster holstered at his hip. 

“Gods, you're cocky sometimes,” you retorted. Still, you extracted your lightsaber from your satchel before tossing the bag into the ship. It pained you to think that neither the baby nor Mando would be safe until that ex-Imp was taken care of for good. And even then, you worried about who else might know about the baby. You could only wish that wasn’t fated to be their only existence together. With his visor trained on you, his helmet tilted to the side. You shrugged as you took your place beside him.

“Don’t think I can handle it on my own?”

“I know you could, but you don’t have to,” you assured him. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes and found him watching you.

“I–”

Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by a noise coming from just beyond the entrance. Both of your heads snapped in that direction, alert and ready for a fight. 

When the first blaster shot rang out, Mando returned it with one of his own.

. 

“How many of them are there?” you shouted over the blast that rocked the Razor Crest. You’d mistakenly assumed you’d escaped after you’d fended off the six bounty hunters at the docking bay. The gunship fired back at Mando’s command.

“Down to two,” he answered as he hit a series of switches in rapid fire. He pulled the yoke and the ship took a nosedive through empty space. “Told you that spaceport was too big.”

“You didn’t say that.”

“I thought it.

Another hit set off one of the alarms. “Mando!” 

“We’re almost to the hyperlane. Once we hit lightspeed, they can’t track us. Just hold on!”

You sighed in relief at the familiar streaks of blue light of hyperspace. Mando’s seat swiveled to face you and the Child. “You alright?” he asked the kid. He chirped happily in response. “I figured.” He turned to you, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward in his chair. “How about you?” 

“I’m fine,” you assured him. You might’ve been a little rattled, but you’d seen worse. “We’re those the Moff’s men? How’d they track us to Mygeeto?”

“They didn’t.” A beat passed as you waited for him to explain. “They were already here. They’re amateurs. Gideon probably distributed fobs throughout the galaxy.” 

While you’d gotten a decent glimpse of it on Vrogas Vas, you were beginning to see the severity of his situation. The Empire might’ve fallen years ago, but this former Imp had not. He had the resources and the reach to find the Mandalorian and the Child. And you didn’t like the thought of him taking on the Moff alone. “Mando, can you do something for me?” 

“Anything,” he responded quickly.  

You hesitated, doubting he would think that in a moment. “Will you send a holo to your tribe before you leave for Nevarro.” He straightened up at that, ready to protest. “You’re going to need all of the help you can get.”

“I can’t ask them to put the covert at risk for me. Not again.”

“So you know they would come for you?”

“Yes,” he answered, voice straining around the word. 

“Do you think they hold what happened against you? Do you truly believe that any one of them regrets their choice?” He didn’t say anything, but you knew your assumption was right. And you knew his guilt was misplaced. They wouldn’t have welcomed him back, called him their brother, if that was the case. “You have to forgive yourself, Mando.” You unbuckled your safety restraints and kneeled before him. With a hand on the either curved cheek of his helmet, you forced him to look at you. You leveled him with a serious look, but he was unflinching, as still as ever. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What?”

“They’re Mandalorians. They would want to fight with you. For you. How do you not see that?”

Wrapping his hands around your wrists, he pulled your hands away from his helmet. “I can’t do that for you.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” you snapped before you stood and left the cabin.

… . …

Drawing his eyes away from the streaks of light bending around the Razor Crest, Din found you still in your seat next to him and the Child carefully cradled to your chest. With matching expressions – eyes closed and lips slightly parted – you both slept peacefully. Din had half a mind to wake you and send you both to your room. Even that makeshift bunk had to be more comfortable than the contorted position you’d maneuvered yourself into in your chair. But as the baby moved in your grasp to snuggle further into you, tiny clawed hands gripping the front of your tunic even as he drooled on it, he hesitated to disturb the scene before him.

Somehow, in the span of a few weeks, Din’s entire universe had narrowed to the two of you. His foundling, of course, was already his primary focus in life. And then you showed up and without even meaning to, the three of you had become a family.

Din had a family.  

The realization struck him hard and fast, but quickly faded into something familiar. Something some part of him already knew because of course you were his family.

A soft smile pulled at the corner of Din’s mouth as the two of you dozed, bathed in blue starlight, until he realized that he wasn’t the only one who was going to miss you. The kid had grown fond of you, to say the absolute least. When he wasn’t toddling after Din or causing trouble, he was attached to your hip. But your days together were numbered.

He didn’t have time to dwell on that reality. He was suddenly pulled from deep within his own mind by the quiet beep of an incoming holo. With the flick of a single switch, Greef Karga’s figure, in miniature and cast in static blue light, appeared on the console.

Karga’s booming voice filled the silent cabin. “I’ve been trying to reach you for days, Mando.”

“I’ve been out of range.”

“While I’m sure your new quest has taken you to the furthest reaches of this galaxy, there are more pressing matters at hand here on Nevarro. Would you care to tell me why Moff Gideon, the man you supposedly killed, is amassing stormtroopers outside my city?” he asked pointedly. “Word is he’s looking for you.”

“I’m aware,” Din sighed. “I’ll be there in a few days. I have something I need to take care of first.”

“Something or someone?” Karga mused lowly with a deep chuckle. Din followed his line of sight. Next to him, you’d woken and leaned forward in your seat just enough for the holocam to pick up your image. You watched the guild leader with interest. “Who might this stunning creature be?”

“End of the week,” Din said curtly before switching off the holo.

“Who was that?” you asked. You spoke softly, mindful of the baby in your hold. Your tired gaze lingered on the spot where Karga’s figure stood a moment ago before drifting to Din. 

“No one.”

“Right,” you said with a gentle roll of your eyes. “I heard you mention Nevarro.”

“He’s an old associate.”

“A friend?” you supplied, brows lifting with the question.

“Sometimes.”

“Well, I imagine that means something coming from you.” There was a glint of humor in your eyes but faded into something more serious as you leveled him with a stern look. “Are you sure we shouldn’t go there first?” you asked, not for the first time. “You know I’m good in a fight.”

A small huff of a laugh escaped him. You could hold your own, of that he had no doubt. And the thought of having you with him for a few extra days was nothing short of tempting. Still, something told him that was how things were meant to happen. That was the original deal the two of you struck up, after all, and the course was already set. The Crest was less than a day out from the Lah’mu sector. It would be easier on his own heart to stick to it. Surprisingly, your argument from the day before had faded into the background. He’d come to expect more of a fight from you, but you’d rejoined him in the cockpit that morning as if nothing had happened.

He decided it was best not to prompt another argument. He stood and held out a hand to you. “It’s been a long day. You should go to bed.”

You placed your hand in his and let him pull you to your feet before you gently handed the still-sleeping baby to him. “You should too.”

 .

The kid didn’t so much as stir as Din placed him in his makeshift hammock above his cot. He started to remove his armor, stowing the Beskar for a few hours of much needed reprieve. Lost deep in his own tired mind, he didn’t hear you emerge from the ship’s small refresher.

“What’s that?”

 “What?”

“That.” He glanced over his shoulder at you just in time to see you gesturing toward the compartment.

“Exactly what it looks like.” That time he heard you move closer to him as you peered around his form.

“You’ve been sleeping here?” you asked incredulously. “I thought there was another bunkroom.”

“No,” Din answered flatly. He couldn’t see why that was an issue – especially at the late hour but the scowl on your face as you moved between him and the compartment told him that you expected a better explanation. “Technically there aren’t any bunkrooms on the Crest. Yours was extra carbonite storage for backlog. I converted it recently because the kid kept trying to crawl in here with me and there’s not exactly enough space for two. I wasn’t taking on any quarries so I figured it would work temporarily.”

“And you gave it to me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“It’s nothing,” he said, hoping to brush it off.

“Mando,” you sighed, sounding stuck somewhere between exasperation and gratitude. You pursed your lips as you looked back at the cot. “This the sorriest excuse for a bed I’ve ever seen. I’m not letting you sleep here.” 

“Where would you have me sleep?” he asked, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

“In your bed,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest. You could be so stubborn when you wanted. Almost as stubborn as him. 

“And you?” he asked.

“I’ll be there too.” There was a hint of a mischievous smile playing on your lips. 

“Last time–” 

Your voice dropped to a whisper, but it was enough to make him forget the rest of his sentence. “I miss having you in my bed.” 

A chill shot down his spine and settled low inside him as he watched you scale the ladder that led to your room and left him to follow. Just before you disappeared, you threw a playful insult back at him. “Di’kut.”

His chest deflated as a deep sigh fell from his lips. “Let me guess who taught you that,” he called after you, rolling his eyes at your receding figure. He sealed the small compartment and followed you up.

“You had your chance to teach me nice things in Mando’a,” you retorted. “Now I can insult you seven ways to Scarif!”

 “Great,” he muttered with a light laugh.

“To be fair,” you offered when he finally walked into your small bunkroom, “Paz called me an idiot too.”

Din froze at the threshold as a cold fear rushed over him. “He told you his name?” he hissed. 

“Yeah.” You said it almost lightly, but Din heard the slight edge undercutting your words. He knew you understood the significance of the act. He could see it in the way you teased your bottom lip between your teeth. “I didn’t ask. He just told me. He said it was okay,” you tried to clarify. “It’s not like I expect you–”

“Do you want to know?” he replied quickly despite not knowing if he was prepared to give it if you said yes. While there were a few select people who knew his name now, he had never shared it with anyone himself. If Vizsla could share his name with someone outside the covert, then so could he. Right?

“Of course I do. I want to know all of you,” you started slowly. You stepped closer to him, gently resting your hands on his last piece of armor. Your eyes followed the path of your fingers as you traced the mended edge of his cuirass. “But I only want what pieces of yourself you want to share with me. I would never ask.” 

“I know you wouldn’t. You never ask for anything.” 

“I asked you to come to bed with me,” you teased, trying to divert the conversation.

“No. You told me.” You smiled almost shyly and made to move away, but Din reached for your hands and held you in place. “Ask me for something. I’ll give it to you.” You eyed him for a long moment as you considered his request. He could see the thoughts racing in your mind. “Ask me for anything,” he repeated. 

“Anything?” 

“Yes.”

“I want you to promise me something.”

“A promise?” His brows furrowed behind the visor.

“Do you remember our last conversation that morning at the covert? Because I haven’t forgotten it.” Neither had Din. He nodded once and you squeezed his hands. “No matter what answers we find on Lah’mu, no matter where your journey takes you and your son next, no matter how many years or decades it’s been since we parted,” you took a deep breath as your voice wavered, “I want you to promise me that you will pursue a life that makes you happy. The both of you. Whatever that may be.” 

Din had no response to that. He’d given you permission to ask him for anything and for some godsforsaken reason you asked for his happiness. He was struck, hardly for the first time, by just how much good there was in you. That you could possibly care about him that way even amidst your own turmoil. He would’ve preferred you ask him to call his tribe members for help. “Sweetheart–” he tried to admonish.

“Promise me, you stubborn Mandalorian,” you demanded with a new fire in your eyes. “You said you would give me anything. That’s what I want. If I can’t— If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy.” When he didn’t say anything, you pleaded. “Please, Mando.” 

Lifting a hand to the back of your head, he drew you closer to him and gently pressed his helmet to your forehead, kissing you in the only way he could in that moment. “I promise,” Din swore even though that didn’t change the fact that there was only one way he ended up happy.

“Thank you,” you sighed as if he’d given you something you needed. Without parting, your fingers dipped beneath the edge of his cuirass. “May I?” He nodded against you and you pulled just enough to deactivate the magnetic hold. Others had tried to take his armor off in the past, usually by force, but with you it felt like a barrier. Something keeping him from what he really wanted. 

As Din laid in the too-small bunk with you, your words echoed in his mind. If I can’t be there with you, I at least want to know in my heart that wherever you are, you are happy. With every quiet moment that passed, each one somehow longer than the next, he seemed to move closer to you, and you to him, until you met somewhere in the middle. His forehead knocked against yours again and as your breath ghosted across his face, he fought his overwhelming desire to kiss you. Really kiss you. To show you just how much your care for him affected him. But he remembered what happened the last time you’d tried something like that. It ended with you crying into his chest as he held you through the long night. 

He asked anyway. “Can I kiss you?” he rasped.

“I thought you just did, Mandalorian,” you teased.

He rolled you over onto your back, caging you in as he leaned on his elbows to hover above you. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he rasped. 

Before you could offer some smart retort, he slotted his mouth over yours. Despite his eagerness, he felt clumsy and unpracticed. Considering he’d never kissed anyone before you, he absolutely was. You were the only one he’d ever wanted like this. Based on the breathy little noises you made for him, you didn’t seem to mind his inexperience.

He pressed the weight of his body into yours, pinning you beneath him, until there was no space between you. You were molded to him and him to you in a way that felt natural. It felt right. He was growing accustomed to it even as he knew he shouldn’t. But those moments with you, unmasked and exposed, were too enticing.

Din never said he was a good man.

… . …

In the light of an early morning, you ran through an open field surrounded by a forest of tall evergreens. Soft wild grass cushioned each stride as you sprinted toward the tree line, chasing the fresh, spicy scent. Behind you, someone pursued you at full speed. 

No. That wasn’t right.

You glanced over your shoulder only to find not one but two young children sprinting after you, squealing and smiling. Your heart practically burst at the sight of their unbridled joy and a laugh of your own bubbled past your lips. You slowed your pace, giving in to them easily, and two sets of arms wrapped around your legs. You knelt in the dewy grass, rewarding them with snug hugs and kisses on their chubby cheeks, and earning yourself another jubilant round of laughter from them both. 

Together, they begged you to chase them next, and unable to deny them anything, you readily agreed. You stood, shooing them off to get a head start. But they wouldn’t run away just yet. Not when they were too distracted by something behind you. Another pair of arms, only much stronger, wrapped around you.

The kids ran off, shouting catch us, dad! A low rumble reverberated through your back as the man behind you laughed at the children’s wild antics. Your eyes fell closed as you leaned into him, deciding you’d follow the children in a moment. Right then all you wanted was to savor his embrace. It felt like the closest thing to home you’d ever known.

You turned your head as if to look over your shoulder and a pair of lips met yours. Even after the kiss ended, you didn’t part. The feel of his smile hovering against your lips was almost as intoxicating as his kiss.

 “Good morning, Din,” you sighed.

.

You startled awake with a sharp inhale.

Disoriented and scared, you tried to make sense of what you’d just seen. That dream felt real. Too real. Considering the turn your life had taken in the past few weeks, you had no idea what it was. A remnant of your vision. An offering from the Force. Or just your imagination playing tricks on you. It seems like the closer you get to Lah’mu, the more the Force saw fit to taunt you with that other future.

Your eyes searched the pitch-black room for some sort of sign as to where you were, but you couldn’t see anything. Instead, you felt an arm around your waist, holding you securely.

Mando’s arm.

You were still on the Razor Crest, tucked away in your shared bunk that was too small for the both of you, and he was fast asleep behind you, warm and solid. You felt him shift behind you, lifting his head from his pillow to look down at you in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asked hoarsely. Even in sleep that man missed nothing. Mando’s hold on you tightened, pulling you back against his chest.

“Yeah,” you assured him. “Just a dream.”

“Another nightmare?” 

“No. Not quite. Just...” You screwed your eyes shut and tried to banish the lingering images, or rather sensations, of that other man from your mind. Mando’s voice cut through your daze as he called your name, drawing you back into the present. “Just strange. It almost felt like another vision.”     

“Of your future on Lah’mu?” 

“I don’t think so.”

Din shifted closer. “Your other future?”

“Yes,” you offered meekly.

“What do you dream of? With him?” The question hurt and you said nothing for a long time. The more time you spent with Mando and the baby, the more certain you were that you’d made the right choice. A life on Lah’mu as a lonely Jedi master was more appealing than a future with a stranger you could never love. Not when your heart belonged to the man lying next to you. Seeing him amongst his people had only reinforced your conclusion that Mando was not the man in your vision. It was not the way. His way. But you supposed that didn’t matter and you were only making yourself upset for no reason by reminding yourself of the fact. You’d chosen your path. “You can tell me,” he prompted again.

You shook your head and craned your neck to face him even though he couldn’t see you. You were so close your noses brushed, but he made no move to part. “No, I don’t think I can.” 

A tension hung between you as you waited for his response. “The offer stands,” he finally replied.

“And I appreciate that.” But all you really wanted was to put that dream out of your mind and forget about it entirely. The man next to you provided the perfect distraction. 

You closed that last bit of space between you, letting your mouths meet in a slow, lingering kiss. His soft, slightly chapped lips matched with yours with aching tenderness. Just like that, with him, you felt safe from all the uncertainties your future held. You decided you could indulge in it just a little while longer. Continue what he’d started the night before.

“Good morning, Mando,” you sighed around a lazy smile when you finally parted.

“Good morning, cyar’ika.”

He sounded happier, and your grin pulled taut and you turned in his arms. Holding his face with your hands, your lips melded with his again. He didn’t start at your touch anymore. He sought it out. With a hand gripping your hip, he pressed you closer.

“I could stay right here,” you murmured your confession against his lips in between hungry kisses, “forever.”

“Fuck, so could I,” he admitted. You slipped your tongue into his mouth as his lips parted around his words, earning a broken, desperate moan from him. 

He let you roll him into his back, and you moved so that you were on top of him, a knee pressing into the thin mattress on either side of him. Your hungry mouths slotted together once more.

You longed to feel his skin against yours again and as his hands slid lower, you thought he was going to free you from your tunic. But then his hands traveled further, past the hemline, over your hips and just kept going until he squeezed the swell of your backside, fingers digging into your fabric covered flesh, and ground your hips down against him. Against something hard.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped into his mouth. He chuckled darkly against your cheek as he did it again. That had no right to feel that good. You’d had your suspicions, but knowing he wanted you like that was a whole new thrill. “Eager this morning?” you asked as you searched for breath.

“You started it,” he said low and teasing while nipping at your bottom lip.

“Let me kiss you while I can.” He stilled his movements beneath you. You’d meant it as a joke, but it hurt. You pulled away and rested your head against his chest, letting out a long, slow exhalation as that all-consuming melancholy that seeped into the stolen moment. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s fine,” he ground out. It wasn’t fine. You could hear it in his voice. Even as he moved you off of him with the gentlest touch, you felt the distance growing between you once more. He slipped out of the bunk and you listened to him search for his helmet in the dark, but you sensed him hesitate and he turned back to you, cupping your face between his hands and pressing his lips to yours. There was something about this kiss that felt different. There was a desperate sort of passion that sends adrenaline coursing through your veins. You return it with equal fervor, pouring all your love for him into that kiss. 

“What was that for?” you asked when he finally parted from you.

“I never know.”

“Know what?”

When he spoke next, his voice came to you filtered through the modulator. “I never know when it will be our last.”

The truth of his words tore through you, leaving you feeling cold as you packed your things and emptied the converted bunkroom of all traces of you.

.

After descending the Razor Crest’s ramp, your boots hit the soft grass first, sinking slightly into the black soil that covered the planet. A cool, misty air kissed your skin as you stepped away from the safety of the ship. Your eyes scanned the green valley, landing on the small settlement that dotted the landscape.

You felt Mando approach. He stopped a half step behind you, but his presence felt heavy, almost overwhelming, as you tried to focus. Still, you knew he’d wait for your call.

“She’s here,” you announced quietly, voice barely audible over the crashing waves. You peered back at him over your shoulder, finding his dark visor already trained on you. His helmet tilted slightly. Your heart swelled with affection at the familiar, inquisitive movement. You were well beyond chastising yourself for the sentiment, even if it hurt. “And I think she’s close.” You tore your eyes away from him, ignoring the way the words seemed to get stuck in your throat. Finding your former master had been your goal for years. Now, for the first time in nearly a decade, the two of you were on the same planet. Yet you felt no joy at that momentous fact.

You felt a steady hand rest between your shoulder blades. “I’m right behind you, cyar’ika. Lead the way.”

.

After a few hours of trekking along the base of the rolling hills at the direction of one talkative settler, you found a lone woman meditating in a grassy field. She faced away from you, but the lavender hair styled in a low chignon and dark flowing robes told you exactly who she was.

“Wait here,” you directed without ever taking your eyes off of her. A familiar hand wrapped around yours, stalling you. “It’ll be okay, Mando, but you have to let go.”

You took another step forward and your hand slipped out of his. When you stopped a few paces away, you hesitated. Even after all the years you’d spent searching for your former master, you never figured out what you wanted to say. 

Before you could so much as open your mouth, a flash of violet light cut across your vision. Reacting on instinct, you reached for your lightsaber, blocking the attack at the last moment.

Falling back a step, you grounded yourself before meeting her next strike. A clash of blue and purple plasma sputtered before you. Over the cross of your sabers, you saw her calculating amber eyes flick to the side as she lifted a hand. Daring a glance back, you saw Mando frozen in place, blaster drawn and ready to fire. 

The force behind your next attack sent Zarichi reeling. 

“You hurt them,” you said through gritted teeth in between parries, “and I’ll strike you down where you stand.”

“You don’t have it in you,” she scoffed.

“You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“I taught you everything.” Her next drive, three strong blows you narrowly managed to counter, landed you flat on your back with her saber at your neck. The slightest move would’ve singed your skin. “And you’re out of practice, padawan.” 

Before she could so much disengage her lightsaber, she was thrown across the field by some unseen force. You watched her tumble to the ground in a heap before snapping your head to the kid. He stood next to his father, hand outstretched and eyes closed. “Damn,” you breathed.

Zarichi stood and dusted herself off, eyes locked on the baby at Mando’s side. “How curious,” she assed, with a hint of a laugh. Without another word, she set off back toward the settlement. Sighing, you fell back against the grass.

With the baby clutched to his chest and a hand on his hip, Mando appeared above you. “That’s your master?” He didn’t sound amused.

“What’d you expect?” you asked with a shrug. “She’s a Jedi.”

... . ...

Thank you for reading!

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[asstronauts]

don’t want no other shade of blue (but you)

rating: t word count: 2431 pairing: jemily bbs, the early days summary: in which we come to know why JJ loves her blue blanket so dearly, why she always wraps it so tightly around herself on the jet

read on ao3, if you’d prefer

---

"JJ," Emily groaned, pulling the pillow tightly around her ears to block out the blaring noise of JJ's ringtone. "Your phone."

There was a slight grunt in response, but no move to action came from the blonde beside her.

With great effort, Emily rolled over and stretched her arm past her sleeping girlfriend to where JJ's cell lay on the bedside table. She blinked a few times, allowing her eyes to adjust to the bright screen.

"It's Hotch," Emily whispered, placing a hand on JJ’s side. "We gotta get up."

JJ sleepily batted Emily's hand away, and despite the urgency of a call from the BAU at 3am, Emily smiled. How unbelievable it was to her that she had the privilege to call Jennifer Jareau her girlfriend, that they had spent the night simply enjoying every aspect of each other, enough to exhaust JJ into a state of ignoring Hotch's call. Seeing her sleeping soundly in Emily's bed, without a worry in the world, exposed a vulnerable side of the younger agent that she had never been allowed to see until recently.

For a moment, Emily considered answering the phone, if only to make the loud ringing stop, but the implications of that were far too great, and she was not prepared for Hotch to ask questions about Emily and JJ dating. After months of dancing around one another, they had finally settled into the rhythm of a wonderful relationship, and she wanted to keep the chats about professionalism and the inevitable teasing away from the exhilaration of it all for as long as she could.

The call went to voicemail, and a text popped up soon after.

Aaron Hotchner: Case in Augusta, Maine — urgent. Could you gather the team?

"Jayje," Emily tried again, this time shaking JJ's shoulder a bit. "We have a case. In Maine."

"Mmm...too cold."

Emily chuckled. "I know, babe. Next time, I'll tell the serial killers to hunt somewhere warmer, okay?"

"Yes, please," JJ tugged Emily's arm to wrap around her as she snuggled deeper into the covers.

"JJ," Emily protested, but she leaned into the embrace and curled her body around her girlfriend. "You need to call the rest of the team too."

JJ heaved a sigh as she took a moment to untangle herself and sit on the edge of the bed. Emily rose as well and tossed her a shirt from the floor.

"This doesn't fit. It's yours," JJ mumbled as she tugged it on.

"It looks good on you," Emily replied.

"You're not even looking."

With the both of them finally dressed, Emily rose to wash up in the bathroom and glanced at JJ, still seated in the same position. The older agent moved back and wrapped a blanket from the bed around her shoulders, drawing out a hum from her girlfriend at the sudden warmth.

"Wash up and call the team in ten minutes, and I'll let you bring the blanket onto the car," Emily promised with a grin, a bargain that finally motivated JJ to follow her to the bathroom.

---

JJ had passed out immediately during the drive, and Emily almost did not have the heart to wake her when they reached the BAU. She parked the car and took a moment to admire the woman slumbering on beside her, blue blanket drawn closely to her chin as she curled up tightly in the front seat.

The parking lot lights were not the most well-maintained, but in the hours before dawn, Emily could've sworn they were made just to illuminate JJ's sleeping face perfectly.

A loud knock on the window jolted both of them out of their respective dreams, as Emily was greeted by the smiling face and waggling eyebrows of one Penelope Garcia. She waved and held up a tray of coffee cups — an apology in advance for the merciless teasing she was about to unleash on the couple.

"Long night?"

"Give me those," Emily grabbed the coffee from her grinning friend and ignored the comment.

"You lovebirds are getting careless," Penelope tutted. "Spencer will take no time to notice that's not JJ's shirt on her, and soon, the whole team will know our little secret."

"You're only in on this secret because of your cyber-snooping," JJ grumbled, slowly dragging her body and blanket out of the car.

"I wouldn't need to cyber-snoop, if the two of you had just told me in the first place," the tech analyst defended herself.

Emily laughed and shook her head as she began to make her way to the building.

JJ frowned at her phone, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. "Hotch said to meet on the airstrip. We're briefing on the jet and headed straight to Maine."

"Must be a serious case."

"Kids," JJ's expression was difficult to read, but Emily knew she was struggling to maintain a steady voice as she read through Hotch's texts. "And an Augusta city council member’s two children are missing after a string of ritualistic homicides."

Without another word, the trio proceeded to the tarmac. Emily's hand dropped from JJ's lower back as they neared, seeing Derek and Spencer turn to face the approaching group.

JJ clutched her girlfriend's folded blue blanket closely to her chest, hoping it would hide the shared shirt from her frustratingly observant coworkers as they gathered to board the jet. If Spencer noticed anything, he remained silent, though the gravity of the case suddenly overshadowed any fear of their relationship being exposed.

Hotch handed out the case folders to each of them. “Thanks for coming in so quickly. Children in Augusta are being abducted in pairs,” he explained. “We have four victims so far, with two more children missing. Local police called us as soon as they recognized the ritualistic nature of the killings.”

“Looks like some sort of staging,” Derek observed, flipping through the crime scene images. “One kid is tied up in a chair, the other killed in front of him.”

Spencer hummed in thought. “But look at the way the head is restrained at that angle. It’s like he’s being forced to watch.”

“When we land, Morgan and Reid head straight to the crime scenes,” Hotch said, not looking up from his case file. “Prentiss and Garcia, I need us looking into victimology, any connections in these families beyond them having two children. JJ, we’re going to need to have a hold on what the press is showing, what with these latest abductions being from such a high profile family.”

JJ nodded, keeping an impressively neutral expression on her face, but Emily caught a glimpse of her shaking hands as she closed the manila file and placed it on the table in front of her.

Despite her concern for JJ, Emily couldn't help but stare lovingly as she bundled up in the blanket once more after the briefing, though the flight to Maine was far too short to make up for all the lost sleep from the night before. She dropped her gaze before the rest of the team could catch her staring, but they seemed too engrossed in the files before them to notice.

---

The cases with children were never easy.

Emily could see it in the way JJ's jaw clenched as they stood before the police department, in the tight nod she gave when Spencer asked if she was okay — how every thought was filled with fear over her own son. She could see the blonde wrestling over the fact that yes, Henry was safe with Will hundreds of miles away, but despite everything she knew to be true, the anxious thoughts remained.

“How are you doing?”

They had finally caught a moment alone, but in the middle of the police precinct, Emily didn’t dare to do more than hand JJ another cup of coffee and place a comforting hand on her arm.

“I'm fine."

She was lying, Emily knew. And JJ knew that Emily knew. But there was too much to unpack in the middle of the case, so she let it drop.

JJ picked nervously at her sweater. "I texted Will, and I'm gonna go pick up Henry for the weekend."

"Okay."

There was an uncertain silence.

"I'm not okay, but I will be."

Emily looked at her girlfriend. JJ was blinking hard, eyes searching for something in the room to fix her gaze and mind on. Emily knew how much it had taken to even admit she wasn’t okay, and in the moment, the older agent could offer only her unshakeable faith in JJ’s courage and a promise to be there for her until she came out the other side.

"I know you will."

---

Every press conference, every interview with the victims' parents, every drive to a new crime scene — each had been another crack in JJ's slowly crumbling facade, even after they’d caught the unsub. And after the exhaustion of hiding it from the public, Emily could see just how close she was to breaking down on the jet in front of her teammates.

JJ took her seat by the window and immediately pulled out the blue blanket, draping it loosely around her shoulders. Beside her, Emily longed to hold her close, pulling JJ's head to her chest, whispering words that everything would be alright until JJ had nothing to fear anymore. Instead she reached over and gave her girlfriend's hand a squeeze, a gesture that could at least be seen as platonic if any team members were watching.

JJ forced a thin smile, then turned away from her towards the window, pulling the blanket close.

Emily could sense JJ’s desire to withdraw and shut down, and she felt helpless against it. JJ's breathing slowed, and anyone who didn't know her the way Emily did would have assumed the blonde was asleep.

The dark-haired agent bit her lip and pulled out her phone, sending a quick text to Will.

Rough case today, could JJ talk to Henry?

Within a few moments of Will's 👍🏻 response, JJ’s phone rang, and Emily watched out of the corner of her eye.

JJ's face twisted into a strange expression of concern at the name on the phone, as though expecting the worst for her own child after the horrors they had witnessed on the case.

"Will?"

"HI MOMMY!"

Emily hid a grin as she heard Henry's cry of delight burst through the phone's tiny speaker.

"Hi Henry," JJ's face lit up, the worries from the case fading.

Despite JJ turning down the volume, Henry’s enthusiastic voice could still be heard rather clearly.

“Yes, I’m all finished working now, so I’ll be coming over to get you soon, okay?”

“Is Emmie coming too?” Henry asked.

Emily’s eyes widened, and she heard Penelope turn a fit of laughter into a horribly fake cough. She buried her head in her hands, refusing to look up and around the plane to see if anyone else had heard the nickname Henry had given her after a particularly wonderful date at the zoo.

“I, uh, I don’t know, bud. Maybe some other time,” JJ said quickly, shooting Emily an apologetic look before changing the subject. “I think it’s almost time for bed. Have you gotten ready?”

“I’m not tired,” came the mumbled reply.

“Well, mommy’s tired,” JJ argued. “What story do you want to hear tonight?”

“The moon one.”

JJ glanced out the window of the jet at the night sky and smiled. “The moon one, okay. This story is about two sisters who loved each other very much. They lived together on a farm out in the countryside with lots of animals…”

Emily watched as JJ chatted quietly with her son, beaming the entire time. Though the case had taken a toll on her, JJ would always cherish the little moments with the ones she loved.

The blonde hung up after Henry's bedtime story and fiddled with the fabric on her lap. "Thank you," she said softly.

Emily smiled back and reached a hand under the blanket to hold JJ's — just a hint of the amount of love she wanted to show, but enough to tide the two of them over for the remainder of the flight.

---

“Are you sure you’re okay? And don’t say you’re fine,” Emily asked, not taking her eyes off the road as they drove home.

There was a long pause.

“I don’t know how to protect him,” JJ said, her voice barely a whisper.

“Henry?”

JJ nodded. “We see the worst things every single day. How can I be okay with exposing him to all this? Doing what the unsub did — forcing him to see and know about death so closely.”

Emily took her eyes off the road for a second to look at her girlfriend. Her eyes were angry, but more than that, they were full of fear for her son. She picked anxiously at the blanket still on her lap.

“It’s not the same at all, JJ. You know that,” Emily reassured her. “We spend every day catching the bad guys, doing what we can to save lives.”

“Does it make a difference?” JJ murmured.

“Jayje, Henry admires you, the courage you have in your job. What you do...it shows him that there’s evil in the world, but it can be fought and overcome.”

Emily could see JJ turning the words over in her mind, pitting them against the lies her own thoughts had conjured of her inadequate parenting.

“He’s lucky to have you,” Emily added. “And so am I.”

JJ looked up and inhaled sharply as they turned the corner to Emily's apartment. "I can wash this blanket and give it back to you tomorrow."

Emily's forehead creased. In front of the team, she had been unable to do anything to ease her girlfriend's anxiety during the difficult case, but she had seen the way JJ wrapped herself in the blanket whenever she could, as though the warmth of the cover was instead a comforting embrace from the older agent.

Emily remained silent until the pair had exited the car and were standing hand in hand in front of the apartment.

"Keep it." After what felt like an eternity of not being able to hold her, Emily wrapped the smaller woman into a tight embrace. JJ's arms curled upwards to grasp at Emily's sweater as she buried her face into her neck. For a moment, the two of them rested in each other's arms, and nothing else mattered.

“Keep it as long as you need to, for all the moments I can’t hold you the way I want to.”

[theimprobabledreamersworld]

A Time of Magic

Merlin AU

I got really excited about writing this after getting so many great ideas from people! So I spent most of today on it :) I will make it clear now; some parts will follow how it went in canon, some parts will be similar to how it went in the show and other things I will be deviating from completely <3

Taglist: I’ll do my 'general writing taglist for now' but if you would like to be tagged (or not tagged if you have been) then please let me know via dm, asks or comments/tags! 😊💜

@psychedelicships @jwillowwolf @lost-in-thought-20 @red-imeanblue @writerwithtoomanyships

Summary:  “No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

Tags for this chapter: OC death, (not graphic in any way) description of execution, brief mention of a weapon, alternative universe (Merlin and human AU) 

Word count: 2,818

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 1: Into the Realm of Camelot.

“No one can know their destiny, no matter how grand that destiny might be. No one can truly comprehend how they wind up in the vast, complex tapestry of life. He cannot glimpse into the future of his great story. He will have to allow it to unwind for itself. Our young warlock must live to follow his destiny, and learn how to survive in a harsh world. His name… Virgil.”

The young man scrambled up the sandy hill and laughed when the grass brushed under his legs. He looked behind him at the vast expanse he had left behind. The blue and grey hues of the Brighsonee Mountain that would usually loom above him every day now seemed significantly smaller, for the first time in his life, he could actually see the dusting of snow that covered the sharp peaks.

This was the beginning of a new start.

He looked into the distance and saw the last wooden house of village he had called home for the last twenty years. The feeling of sadness threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn’t go back now even if he wanted to. Home was no longer safe, and he couldn’t put his mother through any more heartache. If he hadn’t been so reckless, he wouldn’t have been forced to leave his mother behind to fix his mistakes. He felt his eyes fill with tears at the thought, but he shook his head and violently wiped away the one tear that made its way down his face. There was no point looking back, he had to move forward.

“You must go to Camelot and find Logan. He will help you and protect you.” He listened to his mother’s words that echoed in his mind. He could feel the daunting pressure of the rising sun push him forward, with one final look at his past. He adjusted the bag on his back full of his meagre possessions and walked down the other side of the hill.

As he continued to walk for another two hours, he found himself in a wild forest. The path would come and go continuously, and he found himself fighting through trees while getting his dark brown jacket tangled in branches. He finally found the path again and stopped to remove a sharp stone that had somehow got in his shoe before freezing in awe at the sight in front of him. As he looked through another set of trees, he could see the walls of Camelot. It was clear to Virgil now why Camelot had been deemed the most powerful kingdom in the entire realm. He picked up the shoe that he dropped in surprise and put it back on his foot before moving swiftly along the path with a new-found burst of energy.

Virgil was so eager, but also anxious, to reach the town that he almost collided with a knight on his horse. The knight nodded politely as Virgil moved out of the way, his bright red cloak with the golden insignia of the dragon billowing behind him. At least Virgil could be reassured that he was definitely go the correct way. The sun began to beam brighter as the trees lessened. He could hear the hustle and bustle of the town somewhere in front of him, so he ran towards the noise. Virgil stopped just before the cobbled path of the town and took in the new surroundings, he was intimidated by how busy everything was. He knew it would be more chaotic than his miniscule village, but this was something else entirely. The main part to dominate his attention completely was the castle that towered over the town, just like the Brighsonee Mountain at his village.

A multitude of lean, square towers dominate the skyline of the castle and were connected by extremely tall, thin walls made of dark brown stone. Virgil was unable to count sheer volume of flags that fluttered in the breeze all around the castle. Small windows decorated are scattered generously across the walls in an asymmetric pattern, some decorated in stained glass, some left as they were to let the light in. He could also see symmetric crenelations for archers and artillery, that was a reassurance that Camelot was protected. Statues of kings were lined up outside of the castle gates, serving as reminders of the past. This castle had stood the test of time and despite knowing some very rough wars and battles, the castle still stood. It looked like it will do so for many years to come.

As he was accidentally pushed to the side by a townsman carrying goods on his back, he knew it was time to take the first step into his new home. He brushed off his torn purple shirt, then adjusted his classic red neckerchief before taking a deep breath and walking into the town. He smiled as he saw small children giggling and chasing each other through the crowded street. He watched as men and women wandered around the market stalls, Virgil couldn’t help but be fascinated by the food and jewellery stalls he passed. His stomach rumbled and it reminded him that he really needed to eat the food his mother packed for him, but that could wait. Right now, he really needed to find Logan. He caught a glimpse of the familiar red cape of a passing knight and followed him in the right direction of the castle entrance.

There were plenty of people walking in and out of the castle at a rapid pace, smiling as they went about their business and Virgil smiled back politely. As he walked over the drawbridge and caught a glimpse of the water in the moat, he had to admit to himself that he was pleasantly surprised. Part of him was expecting for the castle to be closed off and daunting considering how it looks from a distance, but the fact that it was so welcoming made him feel much more assured that he would be okay here after all.

He saw a significantly large group of people standing in the middle of the castle grounds and he excitedly raced over to see what had everybody so excited. They were standing around a square that had been cordoned off by rope, everybody was desperately trying to make sure they could see the spectacle. Virgil could just about make out a small stage with a block in the middle surrounded by a variety of weapons. There were guards to keep everyone from moving any closer and he saw one more man wearing a black mask over his face standing in the middle of the stage. Virgil was confused, why was there so much protection for a magic show? Before he could think about it any further, he jumped as two guards with bugles began to play a mournful fanfare. A man wearing a golden crown with a burgundy cloak stepped out onto the balcony high up in the castle, Virgil made a note that this must be a member of the royal family, most likely the King. It would explain the gold jewellery around his neck anyway. The serious expression on his face made Virgil tense up. He nodded and another set of guards played large drums at a slow marching pace while a townsman was dragged out into the courtyard wearing heavy chains. ‘This is going to be one intense show.’ Virgil thought.

As the man finally reached the stage with an incredibly morbid expression on his face, the crowd began to mutter excitedly before turning towards the balcony. Virgil followed suit as a loud, authoritative voice boomed out across the courtyard.

“Let this be a lesson to all who reside in Camelot. This man, Peter Robert Sclator has been judged as guilty.” There was a substantial pause, and Virgil took the opportunity to glance at the man before furrowing his brow.

‘Guilty?’ He looked around and saw people bowing their heads and nodding slowly, it started to dawn on him. Maybe this wasn’t a magic show after all. His heart began to fill with dread as the voice began to fill the courtyard once more.

“He is guilty of conspiracy. Conspiracy of using enchantments… and magic.” Virgil’s eyes widened with fear at the sheer distain in the King’s voice as he practically spat out the word magic. The way he gritted his teeth made every word much more sinister. Gasps filled the silence after his words reverberated around the walls. The man was desperately trying to make eye contact with people he must have known in the crowd, but everyone avoided his gaze. Virgil felt his heart beat rapidly, he wished he wasn’t so curious. He shouldn’t be standing here watching this, but if he left now, would he look guilty? If someone could be punished for conspiracy… what would happen to someone like him? He gulped as he trembled waiting for the next declaration to be made.

“In accordance with the laws of Camelot, I, Uther Pendragon, have decreed that these types of practices are banned… on penalty of death. I ensure that I am a fair and just ruler. For the crime of sorcery. This is the only sentence that will be passed.” The crowd were ushered into silence and Virgil had to grip tightly onto the handles of his bag so he didn’t gasp or draw attention to himself. Now the man bowed his head, completely resigned to his fate. Virgil didn’t understand, why didn’t he call out? Swear that he was only using his magic for good? He looked around as subtly as he could, and couldn’t believe that no one was standing up for this man, he must have friends… a family. He glanced up and saw one of the castle windows open slowly, someone looked out to the courtyard. Virgil couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming sadness on the young man’s face, almost pitying the situation as much as Virgil did.

As the man was dragged to the stage and pushed down to the block. It finally dawned on Virgil that this was real. This was how life was going to be in Camelot, and the thought petrified him. The drumbeat began to speed up and Uther slowly raised his hand into the air. He couldn’t watch so he focused on the ground, and winced when he heard the axe swoosh into the air before the inevitable groan of everyone who decided to watch the man’s fate. Virgil forced himself to look up and he saw the man in the window; the disgust, pity and rage on his face was palpable and his eyes looked like daggers aimed squarely at Uther’s head. Everyone slowly began to gather their things and walk away from the display, but Uther stopped the people in their tracks. Virgil was desperate to run, but again, the fear of looking guilty plagued his mind. Despite how disgusted he felt, he knew that he was compelled to stay.

“When I first arrived in Camelot. The kingdom was consumed with chaos. It was only thanks to the bravery of the people, that we were able to rise up and be free from the evil of magic. So I wish to declare a festival. Tomorrow marks twenty years since we captured the Great Dragon. Let us celebrate this joyous occasion.”

Virgil’s head began to spin as he saw the smug look on Uther’s face as he raised his arms above his head in pride. How could he look so proud after what he had just done? Magic was a source of good. There had been bad events though, there was no doubting that. If it was harnessed by a corrupted person, that was the only way magic could be evil… He didn’t understand why Uther refused to accept that. Virgil finally realised just how careful he was going to have to be, even though he didn’t even know how to control his abilities. He looked up and saw the window slam shut making the glass crack from side to side. He couldn’t say that he blamed that guy for his reaction. Virgil just hoped that he was okay.

He finally took a step and broke away from the shock of the last hour. He made his way to the far end of the courtyard searching for The Court Physician’s quarters. He needed to calm down, and he hoped that Logan would be able to reassure him like his mother promised. Virgil was still shaking but he swallowed his pride and asked one of the patrolling guards for directions. Despite hearing words coming out of the guard’s mouth, it didn’t process in his mind at all. So he nodded and walked in a direction, hoping it was the correct way.

After about five minutes, and two laps of the bottom of the castle. It was clear that he was lost because he hadn’t seen anything that looked like a space for the Court Physician. He sat in one of the gaps of the castle walls and let everything sink in. He must have ended up being there for a lot longer than anticipated because an older man with grey speckles in his hair looked at him with sympathy and knelt down to his level.

“Boy? Is everything alright? Are you lost?” The caring voice was enough to snap Virgil out of his overthinking mind. He looked into the deep blue eyes and immediately felt a sense of calm wash over him. He looked down and saw the large book on herbs that the man was holding close to his chest. Could this be…

“Logan?” Virgil asked hopefully, he was desperate for this day to end. The man’s eyes glimmered with agreement and he nodded in a calculated way. Virgil sighed deeply in relief, finally, this day might come to an end and he could start from scratch tomorrow.

“That is me, yes... Who are you?” The hint of uncertainty shone through in his voice and Virgil remembered the letter his mother wrote for him to give to Logan. He frantically opened his bag and searched desperately for the letter, he knew it was somewhere near the front, because his mother knew that he would lose it otherwise. He felt paper brush against his fingertips, and he pulled it out to hand to Logan. He was met with an apologetic smile, and he couldn’t tell what he had done wrong.

“I’m so sorry my boy, I’ve misplaced my glasses.” Virgil looked up and saw they were actually sitting delicately on Logan’s head, but he didn’t want to embarrass the man who would hopefully become like a guardian to him. So he smiled softly and began to introduce himself.

“I’m Virgil...?” The silence between them became almost uncomfortable until Logan beamed brightly as he seemed to recognise the name.

“Hunith’s son!” Virgil smiled back just as brightly. “You’re not supposed to be coming until Wednesday!” Virgil’s smile faltered as he worked out again how to say this in a delicate manner.

“Er, today… is Wednesday.” Logan went to say something but he stopped himself. He raised his eyes to the ceiling and calculated something on his fingers before sighing in realisation. He stood up and held a hand out to Virgil while pulling him out of his seat in the wall. They started walking together towards a set of stairs which led to Logan’s quarters. He had only just realised that it was quite late in the day now as the corridors were illuminated with burning torches. Logan stopped Virgil from coming in, and he could see him scrambling around lighting candles. When the rooms were sufficiently lit, he welcomed him in with open arms.

“Head to the bedroom at the back and put your things in there. I’ll get us some dinner while you get settled in.” He left swiftly and Virgil staggered to bedroom. He looked around and as he put his bag down on the floor, he already felt at home. He opened the window and saw just how high up they were in the castle. The flickering lights of the houses and the still open market stalls made him smile, it looked eerily beautiful. He closed the window and sat on the bed waiting for Logan to return, but his exhaustion got the better of him and he immediately fell asleep.

When Logan came back and didn’t hear any response to his calls of Virgil’s name, he was slightly concerned. He briskly walked to the bedroom and smiled softly when he saw Virgil fast asleep, so he left a piece of pie and a glass of water delicately on the table next to Virgil’s bed and blew out the candle before heading back into the main room.

The night was quiet except for a deep, intimidating voice calling out into the darkness.

“Virgil.”

[martuzzio]

To that one anon who sent me a lovely ask about how I would incorporate the MCC twitch games into this au (whose ask I deleted on accident): this is for you.

Iskall has had three main homes throughout his life: The Hermit Craft, the Hunt, and the Arena. All three homes have taught him different lessons to live by. Despite only living with the hermits for a few years out of his three dcades of life, the Hermit Craft has taught him a lot. Some of these things include joys like beds, regular meals, and friends. His friends teach him every day that there is much more to life than doing your job effectively and efficiently. There is more to the universe than subverting people that cannot be trusted.

The Hunt is the home Iskall has known for the longest out of the three. It is whenever he has a new hit, a new target to pursue. The next victim of the machine. This home is what eventually broke him, but it has also taught him a lot. It has taught him to value himself over everyone else in the room when needed. To examine someone from afar and learn everything he needs to know in a few moments. To take aim and shoot without blinking, without feeling. To complete what is asked of him – but only if the price is right.

The final home Iskall knows is the Arena. The Arena taught him one thing: how to survive. He has not been in this home for a long time. Until now.

Iskall sits in a dimly lit room with False, Wels, and Etho and listens to the thunderous roar of the crowd outside. He got a glimpse of the stadium before entering the waiting room and the size took even him by surprise. It’s a big one – the stadium looks like it could comfortably fit at least two million people, but the actual crowd size could be anywhere up to five. Who knows how many individuals the MCC people managed to squeeze into the arena this time. They know the participants are big names, so it makes sense that they would sell as many tickets as possible.

The MCC (which stands for something that Iskall can’t be bothered to remember) is a small and peculiar planet located deep within the anarchy sector of the universe. It is covered completely in metal and hosts far too many illegal activities to count. The most popular of these activities are the fighting competitions held in the hundred or so arenas scattered across the planet’s surface. The largest of these stadiums is where Iskall and his friends are currently waiting to compete.

When Xisuma announced to the crew over dinner that the ship was going to drop by the MCC in a week, Iskall was glad he wasn’t the only visibly confused person. Apparently the end goal is to attend a conference with the MCC leaders to gain more protection when traveling in the anarchy sector. The catch, however, is that in order to have the conference, some of the hermits need to participate in a non-lethal arena competition to hype up the planet’s visitors and bring in money for the leaders. Iskall gladly agreed to participate, eager to see what MCC arena matches are like when they aren’t to the death.

Back in the waiting room, Iskall is startled out of his thoughts by False’s swear when her knife slips from the whetstone. “That’s the third time I’ve almost nicked the blade.” She mutters when she notices Iskall looking over. “I should’ve just brought my plasma blade. It would’ve been less of a hassle.”

“But the real deal is so much better.” Wels interjects from across the room. From his own grip on his sword, Iskall figures that he’s trying hard to not ruin his blade on his own arena-supplied whetstone. “It’s all about the weight of the piece that makes it worthwhile. I can’t imagine fighting someone with a knife that weighs as much as a wooden spoon.”

False huffs a laugh, causing her glowing blue eyes to crinkle in the dusty light. “You’re in no position to form an argument because you’ve never tried any option other than your sword.”

Wels beams and shrugs one shoulder. “What can I say, you got me there.”

“The lighter blades have their own perks.” Etho adds conversationally. He’s perched precariously on top of a barrel in the corner of the room, fingers flying over his left gauntlet’s screen as he most likely plays that Hermit trading card game. “When they’re really light, it’s easier to carry as many as you want under your clothes.”

Iskall squints at his mysterious friend. “That sounds ominous.” Etho simply glances up and winks at him, drawing a grin to Iskall’s face.

“I like them because a lighter blade helps me to focus on the arms working the gun.” False supplies. “When I’m using blades and guns at the same time, having one set of arms as the dominant pair works out better. But that’s just me, though.” she continues and gestures to Wels’ sword. “When you can only fight with one weapon at a time, I feel like the best option to choose is the one you’re most comfortable with.”

Wels beams again at False but soon groans in expression when Etho replies with, “So that just means you need to become comfortable with all weapons.” When Wels stands up and pokes his sword in the direction of the barrel, Etho shrinks back and raises his hands, leaving his game momentarily forgotten. “Hey, hey! I’m right, you know! You’re just mean!”

Iskall doubles over in laughter at that. He’s so glad that these three are the ones that volunteered to participate in the arena competition with him. Not to discount any of his other friends, but the four of them are probably the best fighters on the whole hermit team. Or at least the best possible team of four. False is an absolute beast in battle, both real and practice. Her two sets of arms are a beauty to behold when she’s aiming a gun at one enemy while stabbing another at the same time. Then there’s Wels, who uses traditional techniques to make a statement. His confident movements and unwavering personality comforts Iskall on the battlefield. Lastly, there’s Etho, whose expert skill in thousands of weapons and techniques always results in a good time. His very presence seems to bring chaos. Iskall assumes it’s just because he’s Etho.

False reaches over with one of her unoccupied arms and flicks Iskall’s helmet visor. “Stop laughing so much.” She scolds. “You’re going to get a stomachache before we even start the match.”

Iskall curbs his laughter as Wels and Etho go “awww” in the background. Before Iskall has the chance to shoot a retort back, a clanging noise sounds out form outside the waiting room. He looks over to the door just in time to watch it wrench open with a screech.

“Good news, hermits!” A small android, as metallic as the rest of the planet, shrieks. Their pincer-like hands flutter in a way that makes Iskall think of Mumbo. “You’re up next! Ready your weapons now because the gate’s going to raise in less than a minute!” With that, the android reaches into the room and yanks the door back shut with a loud screech.

After a moment to process what just happened, Iskall claps his hands together and leisurely pushes off the bench. “Time to end that game, Etho.” He says with a falsely pained expression. Etho blinks sadly and shuts his gauntlet screen off with a swipe. He slides off of his barrel and pats around his body to probably double check his thirty or so different weapons hidden in mysterious places.

False sets the whetstone aside and rolls her two sets of arms back in their shoulder sockets. She smiles at the men in the room, throwing her blade into the air and catching it without looking. “Ready, boys?” She asks, wiggling an eyebrow for emphasis.

Wels laughs back and readies his own blade. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Remember, no killing anyone out there, alright?”

Iskall sees the other two nod and realizes that yes, this is an arena event where he cannot kill anyone. It’s a shock that hits him much later than he expected it would. At least it hit him before he was in actual battle, though, so he counts it as a small blessing. “Gotcha.” He says in response, facing the large gate on the arena side of the room and checking the grip on his gun one last time. False notices and checks the grip on her own gun as well.

The four of them are startled when the door slams open again behind them. “Time to fight!” The same android screams in the doorway. They smack one of their pincer hands onto a button on their forearm and the room’s gate starts slowly creaking open. The door slams shut again without another word.

The four hermits meet gazes for a moment, then shrug. They then all face the gate, which by now has thudded into place, fully open. Bright sunlight shines into the room and an unseen announcer thunders out a short intro for the team. The crowd thunders back.

“Let’s go, boys.” False says, and strides out into the area, head held high. Etho and Wels soon follow. As Iskall steps through the door and the crowd’s thunder turns into a roar, he grins, rolls his shoulders back, and raises a hand to greet his old home.

[timelordthirteen]

In All Things 28/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit (eventually)

Summary: A Rumbelle arranged marriage AU.

Chapter Summary: Belle goes on her ride, has a bit of a revelation, and later Gold has one of his own. ;)

Notes: Takes place immediately after the previous chapter. Continue to enjoy the fluffy cuteness before I start drop angst bombs on things.

[AO3]

Belle waited until she was out of sight of Thornhill to bunch up her skirts and sling her leg over the saddle.

After a moment of adjustment, she settled the fabric and made certain her cloak covered her legs to the tops of her boots. Then she nudged Philippe into a canter, and let out a delighted laugh as the rush of air blew her hood back. The thick braid she’d used to constrain her hair flopped against her shoulder in rhythm with her horse’s hooves, loosening some of the strands on the sides of her head so that they blew against her cheeks as they rounded the corner of the road.

There was a gap in the line of trees, and she slowed Philippe back to a jog, directing him through it and onto the path that would take her around the eastern edge of the estate. It seemed to be a well traveled lane, but free of ruts from wagon wheels, unlike the main roads. She followed it into the trees, heading north along the far side of the property, marveling as she looked around at the snowy landscape. Patches of bold green and deep browns broke through here and there, and she could see open spots among the trees where in the spring there might be flowers or other plants. The edge of the path was littered with dead leaves and branches, but it was easy to imagine the thick growth that would narrow it come summer. There hadn’t been time to truly explore Thornhill and all its grounds, and while she knew the break in the weather wouldn’t hold for long, she looked forward to getting to know these woods and hills as well as she did the ones around Avonlea.

Philippe slowed to a walk, picking his way over the remains of a fallen tree, and Belle breathed deeply, drawing in the cold, crisp air, reveling in the calm and beauty of nature around her. There was a sharp crack to her left, and she held fast to the reins, keeping her horse steady as she looked in between the uneven rows of pines to spy a large stag. She pulled up and stopped Philippe, wanting to watch what the deer would do, and also wanting to make sure there was no one out hunting that she needed to worry about.

The deer dipped his head, rummaging along the ground for something, bulky antlers clipping against a few low branches. When he raised up again, he seemed to be looking straight at her, and Belle felt as though she could see, hear, and feel everything. She took a slow breath as she watched the animal look one way and then the other, catching the scent of wet earth and pine. A light breeze crept up the large sleeves of her cloak, raising goosebumps on her arms, as somewhere nearby a creek bubbled and rolled along.

The stag looked at her again, holding for a long moment, until he suddenly flinched and bounded off through the brush, disappearing into the shadowed depths of the trees. She let out the breath she’d been holding, and smiled widely as she leaned over Philippe’s neck, patting him gently for staying so still and calm. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she shook her head.

This was what it must feel like to be free, she thought.

She would have never had this with Gaston, nor if she had stayed in Avonlea, but here she did. She was making friends, and had people she cared about, Bae, Jefferson, Grace, and Cameron. She had a sense of purpose and a future where she would be in control of an estate and her life.

That was what her marriage had given her.

Feeling that if she dwelled on it too much, she might be overwhelmed, she nudged Philippe onward. A little further ahead the path split, with one track continuing north through the woods and the other cutting back west towards the house. Not knowing how much time had passed, but seeing that the sun was lower and the horizon was alight with an array of pink and orange, she chose to head back towards the house.

It curved up a slow sloping hill, giving a glimpse of a valley beyond the next line of trees. She wondered if it was the valley in which the village of Lamton sat, and smiled as she thought about riding Philippe there to visit everyone who had been at the solstice ball. It would be so nice to spend the long summer afternoons in the company of friends, and to see what little shops and markets the area had to offer.

Soon they came out of the woods onto a wider path covered with the same fine gravel as the front lane of Thornhill. In the distance she could see a small building set back from the lane, and, curious, she tugged Philippe in that direction. The building became a cottage as they drew closer, with a fence that ran around the front and one side, marking off what looked like a garden of some kind, though one plot was all tall, bare trees instead of the remains of winter vegetables.

“Hello there?” came a loud, gruff voice.

“Hello!” Belle called back.

She stopped on the path at the spot where a dirt walkway from the cottage door met the gravel. A short, stocky man came over from the side of the house where a large stump was set next to a wood pile.

“No one ever comes down here to visit me.”

“Leroy?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the setting sun with her hand.

“Lady Gold,” he gasped, halting midway down the walkway to give her an awkward bow. He was holding an axe off to one side. “Forgive me, I didn’t know it was you.”

Belle shifted on the saddle until her right leg was pulled up and she was sitting properly again. “No need to be sorry. I hadn’t planned on interrupting your wood chopping.”

He shrugged and came closer. “I could use the break anyway, m’lady.”

She shook her head, smiling. “Please, call me Belle.”

Leroy gave her a small, crooked grin. “Then good afternoon, Belle.”

“Good afternoon,” she echoed. “Though not for much longer I’m afraid.”

He nodded. “Indeed. What are you doing out this way?”

“Oh, I just went for a little ride on my friend, Philippe.”

“Hello, Philippe.”

The horse whinnied and Belle laughed. “Do you live here, Leroy?’

“Yes, ma’am. This was the original farm house before the estate was built. When I started tending the gardens, Ms. Potts was always hollering at me for tracking mud and leaves into the house.”

Belle smiled. “That sounds like her.”

“Gold got tired of it, so now I live here.” She frowned, and it was Leroy’s turn to laugh. “It was my idea, actually. I told Ms. Potts that I couldn’t track mud on her floors if I didn’t walk on them.”

“Everyone’s happy then,” she replied., ginning. “And is that your garden?”

He beamed at her. “Yes ma’am. You should come see it in the summer. I have some apple trees that should finally be old enough to produce something this year.”

Her eyes went wide. “An orchard?”

“Hardly enough to call an orchard now,” he said. “But maybe someday.”

She smiled again, somewhat wistful for the rows of trees back in Avonlea. “I will definitely return, now that I know where you find you.”

“M’Lady.” He gave her another smile and a half bow. “Would you - could you tell your maid Astrid that I, um, send my regards?”

Belle bit her lip in amusement and nodded. “I certainly will. Good day, Leroy.”

He waved as she rode off, pushing Philippe back into a quick trot. The sun was nearly set, with only a dark pink glow to light the way, and she was anxious to be back at the house before it was completely gone. Fortunately, it took only a few minutes to see the wall of the gardens and Thornhill beyond it. A warm yellow light shone from the windows, and she smiled as Philippe made his way along the gravel path.

Having left Philippe in the stables, with promises to see him tomorrow and bring carrots, Belle entered the house through the front door. She left her cloak on the round table in the foyer along with her gloves, and headed straight upstairs to her room where Astrid was waiting.

“Oh, thank goodness you’re back,” said Astrid, hurrying over to Belle’s side. “It kept getting darker and darker outside, and I was afraid you’d gotten lost.”

Belle waved a hand. “I am perfectly fine, and now I know my way around one of the trails. The woods are so beautiful here, so many pine trees, and I think there’s a little river not too far off.”

Astrid could hear the pleasure in Belle’s voice and smiled. “I’m glad you were with Philippe at least.”

Belle let out a happy sigh as she sat down on the bench at the end of her bed. “Yes. I’m so glad to have him here. I’ve missed riding.”

Astrid knelt down to help her take off her riding boots. “Well, I have everything ready for you to wash up and change before supper. I laid out your favorite blue dress.”

“Oh,” she said, looking towards the bedroom door, “um, just help me get these boots off so I can put my slippers on. I have something to do before I change.”

Astrid tugged the first boot off, falling back on her heels, and then looked up at Belle. “Oh, alright.”

Together they got the second boot off as well, and then Belle wiggled her feet into a pair of soft leather slippers. She usually wore them around her rooms in the evening after her bath, but she only needed a few minutes to find her husband.

Gold was in his study, a room which she had never been in before, and she hesitated before knocking, unsure if he would be annoyed at having his work interrupted. He called out a second later, and she pushed open the door.

“Belle.”

She smiled at the soft surprise in his voice. “Were you expecting someone else?”

Gold shook his head and pushed back from his desk. “No. Jefferson and Bae are usually the only ones who disturb me here.”

“Oh,” she said, stepping back into the doorway. “I can come back later if -”

He had already covered half the distance between them when he reached towards her. “No, no, come in, please. You are always welcome.”

“Even if I’m interrupting your work?”

He waved his hand. “Of course, nothing that can’t wait. How was your ride?”

Belle smiled widely. “It was wonderful!” She came towards him, and then took hold of his hand, raising it to her lips to press a kiss to the back of it as had become their habit. “Thank you, so much.”

He gave her fingers a squeeze and shook his head again. “You have already thanked me.”

Then she took both of his hands in hers, bringing them against her chest. “Then you must allow me to do it again.”

Gold chuckled. “As my lady wishes.”

Her eyes met his and held for a long moment before she pushed up on her toes and touched her lips to his cheek. It was brief and impulsive, she knew that, but she felt she could take the liberty as she tried to convey all that she had come to understand on her ride and all that she was grateful for.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her nose brushing his jaw as she dropped back on her heels.

He swallowed hard and freed one of his hands, reaching up to brush a few strands of loose hair back from her forehead. “You’re, um, you’re very welcome. I should have done it sooner.”

Belle gave him another smile. “You did it at just the right time, I think.”

His lips curved crookedly, the little lines at the corners of his eyes showing more prominently, and she felt - something. It was a contentment, perhaps, with her situation in life, and despite what was coming for them in the next week, there was a lightness as well.

She stepped back and let go of his hand, brushing her palms over her skirts. “I need to wash up before dinner,” she said. “I’ll see you later?”

He gave her a small bow, still smiling. “Of course.”

As she turned to go, she spied something odd in the corner to the left of the fireplace. She moved closer to it, and then looked back over her shoulder at her husband. “Is that - is that a spinning wheel?”

Gold’s face shifted into an expression she couldn’t place, and he nodded. “Yes.”

Belle bit her lip and looked back at the wheel. It was a dark wood with a horizontal brass flyer and bobbin, that was at least a quarter full, and a brass plate on the treadle. On the floor next to it was a woven basket of carded wool.

“Do you - spin?” she asked hesitantly.

“Yes,” came Gold’s soft reply. “Sometimes. It - it helps me think.”

There was something about the machine that intrigued her. It was obviously well cared for and used, and kept in a place where few would see it, as everyone seemed to know not to bother the lord of the estate when he was in his study. Everyone except those who were closest to him. Did that include her now too, she wondered?

There were questions on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them down. “I, um, I’ll leave you be,” she managed, pulling herself away from the curiosity of the spinning wheel and towards the door. She looked back at him one last time to find him standing near the wheel, in a spot that would have been just behind her, his eyes fixed on it. It seemed she hadn’t noticed him coming closer. “Thank you again.”

Gold met her gaze and nodded. “It’s no matter.”

Belle put the spinning wheel out of her mind as she cleaned up and dressed for dinner, by delivering Leroy’s greeting to Astrid.

Astrid blushed furiously and couldn’t meet her eyes for fully five minutes, which amused Belle to no end. She had suspected at the ball, that Astrid and Leroy had established some sort of friendship, and that there might be more to it than either of them was letting on. Now she had evidence of it, and was delighted.

“So,” Belle said as she sat down on the stool at her vanity, “do you - like - Leroy?”

Astrid paused, hairpin hovering over the back of Belle’s head, and met her eyes in the mirror, pink faced and wide eyed. “I, um, I - I might, yes.”

Belle smiled at her. “He seems to like you.”

Another fierce blush made her wonder if her maid was going to turn completely red by the end of the evening.

“Yes, he - he does,” Astrid replied, slipping the pin into Belle’s hair and busying herself with combing out the curls beneath it. “But I - I’m not sure how much I - I like him yet.”

“I think it’s very sweet,” Belle offered, fighting to hold back the almost manic grin that wanted to break out on her face.

Astrid finding love would please her greatly. She wanted nothing but happiness for the person who had been her closest friend for so many years, who had seen her through the worst moments, and into what she hoped would be some of the best.

“Do - do you...like Lord Gold?” Astrid asked, setting the comb aside to reach for another pin.

Belle looked up and caught Astrid’s earnest gaze in the mirror. “Well, I - I suppose I do, but...it’s not -” She took a breath and turned on the stool to face Astrid. “It’s not the way you like Leroy.”

Astrid stopped, the hairpin dangling between her fingers, and gave Belle an odd look. “How are they different?”

Belle frowned.

“Forgive me,” Astrid continued, “I know you said that the two of you have an arrangement, and that it’s - it’s not perhaps a traditional marriage, but -”

She stopped and clamped her mouth shut, and Belle stood. She plucked the hairpin from Astrid’s hand and set it on the vanity before taking her friend’s hands in hers. “You know you must always say what you feel, Astrid. To me.”

Astrid worried her lip for a moment and then sighed. “I’m just - I’m confused because I - I can see how you are with each other - how Lord Gold respects you and - and how you sometimes hold hands, and today you hugged him in front of everyone and -and, well, it seems like the kind of arrangement I might want for myself.”

“I see. Thank you for being honest with me.”

Belle pondered Astrid’s words as they went about dressing her in her favorite blue dress. She hadn’t considered how it must look to others to see these interactions between her and her husband, how what was simply amiable sweetness between two friends could be viewed in another light by those who didn’t know the real reasons why they were married. It didn’t concern her so much what others felt about her relationship with Cameron, but what she might feel about it. There was a genuine fondness there when she thought of him, and a kind of quiet pleasure in the time they spent together, but there was something else as well, something that she wasn’t sure she understood yet. It wasn’t love; she was not so young and naïve as to conflate her feelings in that way, but it unsettled her that she couldn’t name it.

Perhaps it would resolve when they had faced their mutual enemies and returned from the palace. Perhaps it was nothing more than her nerves getting the better of her again. With a sigh, she thanked Astrid, and headed downstairs for dinner.

The fire snapped sharply, its glow the only light in the room.

Gold’s foot moved steadily, the loud crack from the hearth failing to make the gentle whir of the wheel falter even the slightest. He didn’t need much light for spinning, not after so many years. His good leg could still keep the pace for hours if needed, and the slip of the wool through his fingers told him whether it needed more or less tension easier than seeing the fiber it produced.

He hadn’t been prepared for Belle asking if he could spin. It was the only part of his past that he had held on to, and that made it special, even sacred in a way. No one who hadn’t lived part of it with him knew, and he worried that in telling her about it he might damage the happy companionship they had built in some way, that it might alter her good opinion of him.

There were other things, however, that would ruin the peace he had finally found for himself far more than telling his wife how he came to spin.

Sighing, he leaned over and picked up another clump of roving, twisting and feeding it into the strand that was already forming, keeping the wheel turning all the while. The muscle memory was something he never seemed to lose, so long as he didn’t think too hard about it. His body remembered the long nights, the cold of the tiny cottage, the winds that blew so hard they whooshed down the chimney and threatened to snuff out every bit of warmth and comfort.

Gold shivered and let his eyes drift to the fire, still going strong and in no danger of being blown out. The golden glow reminded him of how the dining hall had looked on the solstice, how it reflected off of the decorations, and made Belle’s dress shimmer as though it were made of magic.

His mind wandered easily back to that moment when she put her hand in his, when he led her out in front of everyone, and they danced around the room. Though he was nervous to attempt spinning her, her laughter had been the most delightful sound he’d ever heard, and it had the desired effect of bringing her out of her head and back into the moment. From there it had been relaxed and easy, as if they did this very often, as if holding her in his arms was a common occurrence.

You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.

He heard her breath catch at his words, and felt the slight shift in her body. She seemed on the verge of a reply, when the music ended, the horns softly fading as the last notes were played out on the violin. They stopped in nearly the same spot as they started, and the second her eyes met his he had the most ridiculous impulse. She let him do it, let him lean her back just a little, her back arching slightly against his arm, pressing her chest forward. He held her firmly, and sensed that she trusted he wouldn’t let her fall.

It was no more than a second, a blink, a crack of the fire that he held her, but he couldn’t breathe as he pulled her upright again. Her hand was still holding his, the other on his arm to steady herself, but the motion had pulled her close, almost against his body. She looked up, her eyes wide and bright and the most brilliant blue, and his mouth started to gape open. Her expression was soft but surprised, and he could feel a strange dizziness wash over him as though they were still twirling around the room. She blinked, and then her gaze darted down to his mouth. He raised their joined hands, nudging the edge of her chin until her eyes were looking into his again, and then he caught it - the slight shift, the light gasp, the tensing of her hand against his arm as if she were trying to pull him closer.

Her breath ghosted over his lips a second before he pressed them firmly to hers, and -

The fire popped and Gold’s hand jerked, yanking on the end of the wool and pulling it too thin. The strand of yarn snapped, whipping passed the wheel as its rhythm stuttered. The treadle under his foot squeaked as he released the pressure too quickly, and the yarn went flipping round and round over the bobbin, unraveling on the other side as it slowed.

He huffed and shook his head, startled by the direction his little reminiscence had taken. Tugging the frayed end back towards him, he held it between his fingers and glared at it before dropping it to the floor. The small clock on the mantle chimed, and he looked up to see it was well passed when he should have been asleep.

With another shake of his head, he pushed to his feet and moved over to the fireplace. A small bit of glowing ash lay on the edge of the hearth which he stamped out with the toe of his boot. After replacing the screen, and throwing one last glower at the wheel, he shuffled off to bed.

[viking-raider]

A Soldier’s Daughter - Chapter III

Summary: Skye and Geralt make it to Kaer Morhen and start settling in for the winter there. Geralt starts feeling something he’s desperately trying not too.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/OFC

Word Count: 7,255

Previous Chapters: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Witcher!AU, Language, Slow Burn, Jealousy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Inspiration: The Witcher on Netflix, with instances of the Games and Books.

Author’s Note: Tell me what you think! Thank you to the marvelous @wondersofdreaming for the encouragement and beta!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @bellastellaluna, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy​, @the-soot-sprite​, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996​, @dont8mind8me8eue​, @peaky-marvel​, @desperate-and-broken21​, @monstersnmoney​, @dancingwendigo​, @redhot-mystacism​, @thereisa8ella​, @black-ninja-blade​, @oddduckthatgirl​, @rosewinx​, @henrythickcavill​, @tinabean37​, @hnryycvll​, @msblkfire84​, @romangenesius​, @emelinelovesjc​, @strangerliaa​, @lovieebby​, @pinksdaydream​, @fanfictionaddiction99​, @seb-owns-these-tatas​, @oh-for-fic-sake​, @sauvage-et-libre​, @mis-lil-red​, @angreav​, @crazyandanonymous4u​, @the-mighty-jellybean​ @henrycavell​, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​, @iam-laiya​, @worshipping-skarsgard​, @thetruthandotherstories​, @ruthoakenshield​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @theonetheycallhannah​, @nina-skyee​, @thatgirly81​, @inanna999​, @suueeeeeee​, @spideysimpossiblegirl​, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8​, @beckster07890​, @daddys-littlewhitegirl​, @magic-and-the-macabre​, @stxphmxlls​, @radaofrivia​, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss​, @starstruckkittyangel​, @heartfelt-pen​, @stuckupstucky​, @dummiesshort​, @la-cey​, @singeramg​

Kaer Morhen, also known as the School of the Wolf, had been the home and stronghold for Witchers throughout the countless centuries. It was huge and bleak, its back butted up against the massive mountain ranges that composed the Blue Mountains of Kaedwen.

Several of its towers and walls were in sad disrepair, crumbling and toppled over through the years and years of neglect and inefficient means to repair them. As straight forward the path looked on the way up the mountain towards Kaer Morhen, it wasn't at all what it seemed to the inexperienced eye, or even an experienced one; many Witchers over the years had found themselves lost on the trail, after being away from school for so long, they had forgotten where to look. Anyone seeking entry into Kaer Morhen, and didn't know where to go, would only end up going in circles around the stronghold, and before they even finished the first go around, the Witchers inside would know of their presence.

Geralt and Skye walked along the mountain path towards the stronghold, the snow almost to her knees, the forest around them shushed in the thick blanket of the white powder, a sparse flurry of thick flakes stirred around them in the blowing breeze. The atmosphere around them was so peaceful and calming, the crisp air filling their lungs and making their cheeks rosy in color. Geralt paused for a moment, fumbling for something in Roach's bag, when something smacked him in the back, and he turned around to Skye, who looked behind her, then frowned back at Geralt.

“What?” She lifted a brow at him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her. “Did you just throw snow at me?” He asked, suspicious.

“I don't even know what that is.” She countered, frowning at him harder, but her green eyes danced with guilt. “Roach must have done it.”

“While facing me?”

“You're the Witcher, I'm sure you've seen crazier.” Skye grinned at him.

“Hm.” Geralt hummed, shaking his head at her and going back into Roach's bag. “Come along, snow thrower.” He called to her over his shoulder, moving off the path and vanishing into a thicket of trees.

Skye frowned and blinked, then moved after him, following the foot and hoof prints in the once virgin blanket of snow. “Why are we off the path?” She called after him, trying her best to catch up with him through the deep snow.

“Won't we get lost?”

“No, I know where I'm going.” Geralt replied over his shoulder, then paused, letting her catch up. “Here.” He stilled Roach, holding her reins tight and pulled himself into the mare's saddle. “We'll be going uphill the rest of the way and the snow is only going to get deeper. It'll be easier and less of a chore, if we ride Roach.” He explained to her, reaching down to her.

Skye hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, allowing him to boost her up into Roach's saddle behind him; she gulped as she settled behind him, thighs gripping Roach's sides. They had never been in such close and tight proximity, they rarely even touched, unless absolutely required, and even then it was only for a split moment, before breaking apart again. Skye was instantly surrounded by the intense heat of Geralt's body, which nearly matched Roach's, she felt the icicles that had frozen inside of her over the last two and a half days start to drip as they thawed between Roach and Geralt's body heat. It was by pure instinct, that she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chest against his board back, slipping a bit closer to him as Roach started forward.

Geralt's body was stiff as they rode towards Kaer Morhen, the solid and light weight of her body pressed against his caused the twinge that had been planted in the pit of his stomach, like a seed in the ground, to start germinate and threatened to send its thin and fragile roots even deeper into the Witcher's body, taking a hold of him, permanently. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing his body and mind to kill it, before it could properly grow and turn into something he simply could not allow to happen, not again.

He couldn't take it again.

As Kaer Morhen finally came into full view, Skye pushed herself up in Roach's saddle to see over Geralt's shoulder to check it out. It was huge, hulking, run down and gloomy, she felt her mood almost plummet, seeing the new home she would be spending the next three month in with Geralt and Vesemir. Her family farm wasn't much, but at least it was a sight better than this place was. She sighed and sat back again, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against Geralt's back, feeling his leather armor underneath his thick black cloak. He sighed softly, knowing she still wasn't happy about all that was going on, the situation seeming more dire than it really was, but they were both learning to tolerate it.

The rusted portcullis of Kaer Morhen's front gate was closed as Skye and Geralt approached on Roach, at last. But, a few feet from it, a groan sounded through the air, both echoing in the vast mountain range and hushed by the thick blanket of snow that surrounded it, an eerie phenomenon, that gave Skye a shiver. The rusted, iron gate started to draw upwards, complaining the whole way up, but Geralt didn't seem alarmed that the gate just suddenly opened, with no one seemingly controlling it.

They proceeded through the stronghold, Skye glancing around at the ruined structures, the wild and overgrown brushes and grass. It felt supernatural and uncanny, like they'd entered some strange and ancient graveyard. Skye felt like she could almost sense and see the residual energy of the Witchers bygone, like they haunted the grounds they had spent so much of their time on, being twisted into advanced humans with vile sorcery. They came to the main building of the stronghold and found a tall man, long gray hair reaching his shoulders and pulled back in a very similar style to Geralt's, with an equally gray, horseshoe mustache and honey-gold eyes.

Skye knew immediately that it was Vesemir, who else could it be?

“Geralt.” Vesemir called out in a deep and raspy voice.

“Vesemir!” Geralt called back with a nod of his head.

“You're late.” The older Witcher pointed out, lifting a gray brow at him. “I didn't think you were coming this winter.” He stated, head tilting as he caught a glimpse of Skye, nearly hidden behind Geralt's wide body.

“Well, I ran into a couple of challenges.” He replied, looking over his shoulder to Skye, who looked terrified, and gave her thigh a gentle pat, before dismounting Roach and helping her down. “Are Lambert or Eskel here?” He asked, tiptoeing around the subject of Skye's presence for a moment.

“Eskel arrived a week ago, he believes Lambert will arrive at some point.” Vesemir replied, cocking his head at Skye. “Who is this?” He asked, turning his head to Geralt, a stern glint in his eyes.

“She's my Law of Surprise.” Geralt explained, glancing between Skye and Vesemir, like he was waiting for a bomb to go off.

Vesemir's eyes narrowed, expression hard, then sighed. “You must be cold, how about some tea?” He inquired, looking at her for a moment, before turning on his heels and going back inside.

“Was that..” Skye turned her head between the door Vesemir went through and Geralt. “Was that a good thing?”

“He didn't throw us out.” Geralt replied, brows lifted and a faint smile, then followed after his old mentor.

Glancing around and clearing her throat, Skye ran after Geralt, following him inside the all stone and drafty keep. Sticking close to Geralt, they walked down a long hallway into a huge and vaulted room, a fire roaring in a massive fireplace, Vesemir standing near it. Geralt motioned Skye to a table and he approached the other Witcher.

“How did you get yourself tied up with a Child of Surprise?” Vesemir asked, staring into the flames. “A female one at that.”

“I saved her father's life, after he was attacked by several drowned dead.” Geralt replied, flexing his frozen fingers in front of the fire. “He was a soldier for Temeria, on his way home for the first time in ages. He didn't know anything about the girl, when we arrived at his farm.”

“But, there she was.”

“So, you brought her here.”

“What was I supposed to do with her?” Geralt snapped, scowling. “Abandon her? Come here and have you scold my ears off about not taking any payment for doing a job.” He argued, shaking his head. “She can be a pain in the ass.”

“And so can you.” Vesemir pointed out, giving Geralt a knowing and stern expression.

Vesemir had known Geralt since he was seven years old, nearly eight decades. He knew all about the Witcher's antics, from killing monsters to Geralt and Eskel causing all sorts of mischief around Kaer Morhen, along with Lambert. The White Wolf had two very different sides, depending on the company he was keeping at the time. In the freedom of Kaer Morhen, Geralt was more himself, than he was anywhere else in the world, but looking him over, Vesemir could see another change coming over Geralt, a change he could just put his finger on and could see Geralt was struggling to keep down and at bay. He looked over at Skye, sipping the tea he had set on the table for her and studied her, while she was unaware of his gaze, she reminded him a bit like Geralt, when he first came and before the trails effectively changed him into what he was now.

“Payment is payment.” He finally agreed. “Is she staying the full winter?”

“Where I go, she goes.” Geralt told him, bluntly.

“Fair enough.” Vesemir chuckled at him.

“Well, hello there!” A deep and raspy voice echoed, catching everyone's attention. “Who are you?”

“Eskel!” Geralt grinned at his fellow Witcher, who was a brother to him.

“Well, shave my goat!” Eskel let out a barking laugh, striding over to Geralt and grabbing him into a bear-hug. “It's good to see you, Geralt! How've you been?”

“I've been well, and you?” Geralt replied, returning the bear-hug.

“Getting older, but not any older than you look.” Eskel roared, his head thrown back.

Geralt had a huge grin on his face, shaking his head and rolling his eyes at Eskel, his body vibrating with an amused laugh. Skye stared at the three Witchers standing together by the fireplace, a smile on all of their faces, a real and fond smile at that, as they caught up with one another, trading jokes, friendly jabs and amusing stories from being on the road the last several months. She was surprised by the change that over took Geralt as he relaxed, the months of dealing with people calling him names, chasing after him and every other unfriendly thing they could throw at him, melted away, like an icicle in spring. A smile came to his face easier, his strong and thick body relaxed and his amber-gold eyes bright and alive. Skye hadn't realized she was smiling back, until Vesemir's eye caught hers and he smirked back at her, making her hide her smile and blush around the lip of her tea cup.

“So, who is she?” Eskel asked, tipping his head towards Skye, without looking at her.

“She's Geralt's Law of Surprise.” Vesemir replied, his eyes moving back to the other Witchers.

Eskel laughed and shook his head. “Geralt of Rivia, with a Child of Surprise.” He took unending amusement from this development. “Did you learn nothing after my business with Deidre?” He asked, smirking at him.

“Skye isn't Deidre.” Geralt growled, offended, and uttered her name for the first time since they met, then glanced at her. “She's different.” He said softly, comfortable in expressing himself to his two old friends.

“She's Human, that's why.” Eskel pointed out, glancing at Skye too. “Deidre was cursed.”

“Well, why don't you show her to a room, Geralt. So, she can settle in.” Vesemir suggested to him. “It'll help her transition smoother, if she feels she has a private space of her own.”

“Especially when she's surrounded by three, maybe four, male Witchers, who's best knowledge of women are whores and witches.” Eskel snorted to himself. “But, she seems sweet enough.”

“She has her moments.” Geralt rasped, feeling a root in the pit of his stomach wiggle deeper into his gut.

“Off you go, then. I'm sure you both want to settle in.” Vesemir said, nudging Geralt a little bit.

“Right.” He nodded and moved towards Skye. “Come on, I'll show you up to a room you can stay in, while we're here.” He told her, watching her finish her tea and stand up.

Geralt guided Skye through the massive and winding halls of the Keep, up several sets of spiral staircases, until he walked down a long hallway and pulled open one of the many doors. Skye stepped inside the room, finding it was as dark and gloomy as the rest of Kaer Morhen. Pure dark stone, a slit of a window, a small fireplace in the corner, crude table, with a single candle stick, and chair opposite of it, a simple dresser and a double, poster bed; there were throw furs on the floor and the bed. The room was cold, after so long in disuse, so Geralt, out of habit, built a fire in the grate to warm the room up for her.

“I'll be just down the hall, if you need anything.” He told her, once the fire was going.

“Okay.” She nodded at him, biting her lip and standing in the middle of the room.

It felt odd, for both of them, that they wouldn't be sharing a room together or be a few feet from each other as they had been, while camping out. They stood there in an awkward silence for a few minutes, before Geralt excused himself and left the room, going down the hall to the room he regularly occupied while he was at Kaer Morhen, it had been his room since his mother abandoned him at the School, all those years before.

A little while later, there was a soft knock on Skye's door and when she opened it, she found Geralt standing there with a wooden bowl of something steamy and a mug of something else.

“I brought you some dinner.” He said, lifting them a little bit higher.

Skye swore, if she leaned in just right and squinted hard enough, there would be a smile on Geralt's face.

“Thank you.” She said softy, carefully taking the bowl and mug from him, turning them back into her room to set them down on the table, then took the spoon Geralt held out to her.

“It's not much, just some venison stew.” Geralt explained to her, biting the inside of his cheek. “Eskel killed one this morning and so he decided to stew it.” He continued, licking his lips. “He's a really good cook.” He babbled, finding himself incapable of stopping.

“I'm sure that he is.” Skye replied, smirking at Geralt, seeing the confused fluster in his eyes.

“Do-” Geralt cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?” He asked, glancing around the room.

Skye had unpacked after Geralt brought her things up from Roach's saddlebags, her bed was neatly made, she kept the fire in the grate he started going, so the room was nice and toasty. It did have a slight homey feel to it that Geralt liked a lot.

“I don't think so.” She answered, biting her lip and glancing around, everything seemed to be in the place she wanted it to be.

“If you need anything, you know where to find me. Good night.” Geralt mumbled, moving back to the door. “Skye.” He whispered, just loud enough for her to hear him.

Her mouth dropped open as the door closed behind him, surprised to hear him utter her name. “Good night,...Geralt.” She whispered back, slowly sitting down to eat her dinner.

The next morning, Skye tip-toed around the Keep and checked Kaer Morhen out, getting familiar with the layout of where everything was at; all she needed was to get hopelessly lost. Most of the rooms were empty, used as storage, or locked all together. There was zero interest in going outside, a large blizzard had blown in during the night, dumping tons of fresh snow over the grounds.

“Hello, Skye.” A voice echoed into the hall, drawing her towards an open door.

Peeking inside the strange room, Skye saw Vesemir standing in the middle of the room, a sword in his hand. “Vesemir.” She replied, greeting him politely. “Good morning.”

“To you as well.” He smiled, leaning on his sword. “Wandering around, I suppose.”

“Not much else to do.” She chuckled, stepping closer to him.

“True enough.” He laughed, nodding his head and glanced around the room. “I spent most of my time here.”

“Doing what?” She inquired, tilting her head at him.

Vesemir pressed his lips together, his gray brows drawing down over his eyes as he regarded her. “I used to be the combat trainer for the up and coming Witchers of Kaer Morhen. This is one of the rooms I trained them in.” He explained to her, motioning to the walls of different weapons and the nicked and scarred training dummies pushed into one corner.

“So, you spend hours in here, wielding various weapons, beating on whatever and whoever.” Skye summed up, getting his point.

“Have you ever wielded a sword or weapon?” Vesemir asked, sizing her up.

“I know how to use a scythe, when my mother and I had to bring in the harvest at my family farm.” Skye replied, pressing her lips together. “If that counts for anything.”

“Well, you can kill someone with one of them. So, I'll give you points for that.” He chuckled, smiling at her. “Here,” Vesemir turned, walking up to one of the walls of weapons and took down a short sword, bringing it back to her.

“Try this.” He held it out to her, handle first.

Skye hesitated for a moment, but after an encouraging nod from him, she wrapped her hand around the hilt of the sword. It was heavy in her hand, but not too heavy that she couldn't hold it up and wield it with two hands. She looked at Vesemir and lifted a brow at him, waiting for what was next, and blinked, startled, when he raised his own sword.

“Are we going to fight?” She asked, worried.

“Yes.” He nodded, smirking at her. “I'll be gentle with you.” He promised, gold eyes dancing with amusement. “Hold your sword like this.” He instructed her, showing her how to properly hold it.

“Good, very good.” He praised her, nodding his head.

Vesemir gave Skye play by play instructions, moving back and forward with her, their blades barely touching, as he taught her how to block certain blows, to protect her weak points and push him back. He was surprised to find she seemed very natural with a blade, she was an impressively quick learner as well. It also felt good to have someone other than Geralt, Eskel and Lambert to square off with, though Vesemir was considerably more mindful and held back with Skye, knowing he could easily overtake and harm her, if he wasn't careful.

“That was fun.” Skye smiled, wiping the sweat off her brow with the sleeve of her shirt.

“You're a quick learner.” Vesemir complimenting her and nodding his head, impressed. “You'll overtake this poor old man in no time.” He joked, laughing, and dropped down onto a bench against the wall.

“Not a chance.” She laughed back, sitting beside him. “What was Geralt like, when he started training?” She asked, curiously.

Vesemir sighed and rubbed the side of his wrinkled face. “A handful.” He huffed, smiling. “He liked to get into a lot of mischief, him and Eskel, for that matter. They're close in age, and Eskel arrived only a few months before Geralt did, so they bonded that way.” He said, his eyes losing a bit of their focus as he recounted it.

“One of his first lessons, he nearly lopped all his toes off, dropping his sword after I disarmed him.”

Skye laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the stone room. “I can only imagine the anger he must have felt.”

“Actually,” Vesemir frowned, bushy brows knitting together. “It was quite the opposite. He broke out into tears.”

“Geralt?” She frowned back at him, it was hard to picture Geralt crying, for any reason.

“The same.” He nodded at her, meeting her eyes. “It's hard to tell, with the guard and walls, he's put up over the decades. He's had to put them up. But, Geralt is a good man, with an even better heart. If anyone is so lucky to see and touch it.” He told her, softly, with a tone that Skye felt in her own heart.

The vision Skye had of Geralt, formed when they first met and from what her mother had told her about what he had done in Blaviken, slowly started to shift, as Skye got to know Geralt more, as she encountered people that knew the Witcher almost better than Geralt knew himself.

The illusion of the Butcher of Blaviken, was just that, an illusion, that melted away after he told her about what had actually happened. How he had tried his best to stay out of it. But, pressing factors forced his hand, forcing him to make a choice to kill someone that wasn't all that different from himself, seen as a monster and a black spot on the Continent, someone that Geralt had grown to love. It showed Skye that he wasn't entirely the emotionless creature Witchers were made out to be. He showed her that, when he had gone out of his way to give her a birthday present, simply because he knew that's what people did for someone's birthday, because he had been affected by her sadness and wanted to give her something that would cheer her up; unconscionably touching the bracelet on her wrist.

She was starting to realize, as she walked the halls of Kaer Morhen and spoke to Vesemir, that Geralt also understood what it was like to be ripped away from family, to be forced into a situation with strange people, you didn't want to be with, but had no voice in the matter to change it. Geralt wasn't a Butcher, or a monster, or even a mutant, he was a man, changed by the force of others and circumstance. Kaer Morhen had taught him how to be physically strong and how to survive against monsters, then thrust him out into the world, with no safety net, when the human monsters attacked his emotions and tore down his thoughts. Geralt had to teach himself how to build those walls, how to survive those attacks, that his armor and potions couldn't. The result was a man everyone saw as an abomination, so hardened by the years of abuse, it was all he'd ever let anyone see.

Unless, as Vesemir put it, someone was so lucky to see and touch it.

“What are you two doing in here?” Eskel's voice rasped as he appeared in the doorway.

“I was teaching the girl how to wield a sword.” Vesemir replied, looking up at the young Witcher.

Eskel let out a barking laugh. “Do you still have all your fingers and toes?” He asked Skye with a smirk.

“Last I checked.” Skye replied, smirking back at him.

“I like you.” Eskel chuckled, nodding his head at her.

Pretty soon, Skye picked up a routine in Kaer Morhen.

She would get up just after sunrise in the mornings and go down to the kitchens and whip up some breakfast for herself and the three Witchers. She had made them breakfast on her third day there and the boys, namely Eskel, raved about it for the rest of the day. So, she picked up the chore of making them breakfast and dinner, letting them fend for themselves when it came to lunch. After that, she would go up to the training room with Vesemir to do some swordplay and instructions. Where she was getting increasingly better at wielding the weapon, finding her own style, blows and blocks becoming more and more like second nature, and moving quicker, managing to best Vesemir once in a while.

It was one afternoon about a month after she and Geralt arrived, and after her session with Vesemir, that Eskel appeared in the training room and asked Skye, if she would like to take a walk with him around the grounds of Kaer Morhen, seeing that a decent amount of the snow had melted away, making it easier to navigate.

“Sure.” Skye smiled, nodding her head and putting her sword back in its place. “Would you give me a moment to get my cloak?” She asked him.

“Of course, I would loath for you to catch a chill.” He nodded, smiling at her. “I'll meet you by the Keep door.” He said and gave her a low bow.

Skye chuckled at him, shaking her head, then went up to her room and grabbed her cloak, flinging it around her shoulders and clasping it closed, then met Eskel by the main door of the Keep. Smiling at her, Eskel opened the door for her, politely allowing her to step out ahead of him, bowing his head in a gentlemanly gesture.

“How are you liking Kaer Morhen, Skye?” He asked as they started walking around.

“I'm finding it a great deal more comfortable than I thought it would be.” She replied, looking up at the crumbling towers. “I thought for sure, I'd find evil and brain addled monsters.”

Eskel laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Well, you have one out of three right, we do tend to be addled.” He joked, spiritedly.

“Vesemir said, you and Geralt would always get into mischief.” Skye pointed out and looked up at him, curiously.

“Gods, yes!” He laughed again, shaking his head at all the antics he and Geralt had gotten into over the years. “You see that tower, over there?” He asked, pointing out a tower that was still mostly standing compared to the others. “We once stole another Witcher, Aubry, from his bed in the middle of the night, took him to the top of the tower, tied a rope around his ankles and dangled him out the window that used to be at the top of it.”

“Oh gods.” Skye laughed, grinning, as she pictured the poor Witcher hanging upside down from the window.

“He woke up and started shouting and curses, waking the entire place.” Eskel explained, still looking so proud of himself. “Geralt and I got our as—butts.” He quickly corrected himself. “kicked for it. It took a week for both of us to sit down again.” He reminisced, fondly. “Geralt and I also captured a giant forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug, when Vesemir found us rolling the grass, in a fit of laughter, he gave us a good row with a leather strap.”

“You two sound like complete trouble makers.” Skye chuckled, imagining Geralt dangling a fellow Witcher out a window, or laughing in the tall grass that covered the grounds of Kaer Morhen, only to get thrashed with a belt, it made her smirk.

“Still are to a fair point.” Eskel replied, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. “Oh, Geralt!” He smiled, as Geralt came in through the gate, leading Roach, who was carrying a large buck across her back. “Is that dinner?” He asked, nodding at the large animal.

“It is.” Geralt replied, looking between Skye and Eskel, their faces red and eyes damp from laughing. “What are the pair of you doing out here?” He asked, lifting a brow at them.

“I was giving Skye a tour of the grounds.” Eskel said, smiling at her. “Being you haven't yet.”

“Hm.” Geralt huffed, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest.

“Would you like help with the deer?” Skye asked him.

“No, I can manage.” He replied, shaking his head at her. “I wouldn't want to interrupt your and Eskel's walk.” He said, leading Roach away and back towards the keep.

“He's broody today.” She commented, watching him go.

“No more than usual.” Eskel told her, then turned and showed her the rest of the grounds.

“You're jealous.” Vesemir said, stepping into the kitchen, where Geralt was butchering the buck.

“No, I'm not.” Geralt grunted, glaring at the carcass on the table.

“Oh yes, you are.” the older Witcher chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “I've seen how you act when Skye and Eskel are together. Brooding, grumpy and standoffish.” He pointed out to his former pupil.

“Classic jealousy.”

“I'm not jealous of Eskel.” He repeated, angrily skinning the deer.

“Geralt.” Vesemir sighed, lifting a brow at him.

Growling, Geralt forcefully stabbed his bloody knife into the table and turned to Vesemir. “All right, fine. I am jealous of Eskel.” He admitted, begrudgingly. “She laughs at his stupid fucking jokes, she smiles at him, a lot. She hardly ever does those things when it's me.” His angered expression fell with his shoulders.

“She even gave him a hug the other day.” He mumbled under his breath.

“You don't exactly open up to her, like Eskel does, Geralt.” Vesemir was honest with the white-haired Witcher. “You barely utter a word to her, so how is she to laugh at something funny you said, if you never say it to begin with.”

Geralt grumbled at Vesemir, scowling, the closest thing to pouting he'd ever do.

“As for smiling, apparently, you don't look at the girl too often, do you?”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“That girl is, damn near, always smiling at you, Geralt. Especially, when she thinks you, or anyone else, isn't looking at her to see it.” Vesemir confessed, he'd caught Skye smiling at Geralt's back and several times, blatantly to his face, many times over the weeks.

Geralt gulped at Vesemir, had he been so blinded by his own jealousy, that he missed Skye smiling at him. Yes, he had been. Every time Skye laughed at one of Eskel's jokes or smiled at him, when he entered a room, or hugged him for some reason, Geralt would abruptly get up and leave the area. Needing to get away from them, before he ended up putting his fist through Eskel's face, for being so brass with her.

“I know, you're afraid of hurting her, like you hurt that Princess.” Vesemir said, slowly. “But, if you're not careful, Geralt, you'll end up hurting her anyway.” He told him, before leaving Geralt to finish the deer.

Geralt sighed, leaning on his hands against the table the deer laid half butchered on, head hanging and eyes squeezed shut, trying to get a handle on himself, to pull himself together, away from the jealousy and the growing fear that he'd fallen in love with Skye.

“Hey, Geralt!” Eskel called out, seeing Geralt making his way up to his room.

“Eskel?” He replied, lifting a brow at him.

“Have you seen Skye sword fight?” Eskel asked, motioning to the training room Skye and Vesemir were sparring in.

“No.” Geralt shook his head, chewing the inside of his lip, he had heard about Vesemir giving Skye sword lessons and that she was apparently very good at it, but hadn't gone to see for himself.

“Come on, check her out.” Eskel tried coaxing him. “She nearly took Vesemir's head off a second ago.” He laughed, grinning.

Feeling the root of his jealousy wiggle its way deeper, Geralt turned and approached the training room, standing in the doorway with Eskel. Looking into the room, he saw Vesemir and Skye in the center of the room, swords raised and trained on the other as they slowly circled each other, sizing the other up and waiting to see who made the first move towards the other one. He noticed Skye was wearing a pair of tight leather pants and a black shirt, the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows. It was her that made the first move, going for Vesemir's unprotected left side, nearly getting the blow in, before he twisted and blocked her blade, rotated his wrist and flicked her sword away from him. Geralt leaned his shoulder against the door frame, crossing his arms over his broad chest and watched Skye move and fight Vesemir, a soft smile on his lips.

Skye and Vesemir sparred for several minutes, before Vesemir was able to break through her blocks and smack the side of her thigh with the flat of his blade. Chuckling, they moved apart and smiled at each other, then looked to the door as Eskel clapped, making Geralt roll his eyes at him, but he smiled at Skye, feeling quiver in his stomach as she smiled back at him.

“I bet I can do a better job than Vesemir.” Eskel suddenly announced.

“I doubt it.” Skye retorted, giving him a smug lift of her brow.

“Oh yeah, you wanna put your money where your mouth is.” He quipped, moving into the room.

“I don't have any money, but I'm all right taking yours.” She told him with a wink.

“It's so on!” Eskel laughed, picking up a sword off the rack.

Snorting, Skye raised her sword, like she'd been taught all those weeks before and slowly started circling with Eskel, who was making stupid faces at her, trying to distract her and making her laugh, so he could slip her up. Vesemir moved to stand beside Geralt at the door, one eye on Skye and Eskel with the other eye on Geralt, whose body was unusually tense, watching Skye spar back and forth with the other Witcher.

“Upset it isn't you, she's sparring?” He asked Geralt, quietly.

“No.” He rasped back. “I'm worried he'll hurt her.” He confessed, his enhanced eyes watching every move the two made.

Skye suddenly pushed forward and flicked her blade at Eskel's, managing to send his blade clattering across the stone floor, too far out of reach for him to recover it. Vesemir and Geralt smirked, impressed and amused she'd managed it, Eskel didn't seem so happy about it, his temper suddenly spiking. Geralt tensed, seeing it and straightened up.

“No!” He barked, alarmed as Eskel threw out his three fingers for an Aard, in his frustration.

Geralt's eyes were wide with alarm, golden orbs darting between Skye and Eskel, before he rushed towards Skye, trying to reach her before the blast of the Sign could harmed her. Skye gasped and threw up her arms, her wrists crossing, just as the blast of Eskel's Aard reached her. Geralt slid to a stop, mouth dropping open as the shockwave was deflected off of Skye's crossed arms, only pushing her back a little bit, and other than that, she was unharmed. The mouths of all three Witchers were on the floor, when they realized what she had just pulled off.

“She just Signed a Heliotrop!” Eskel snapped, in surprise, his anger forgotten. “How the hell did she just Sign a Heliotrop!?”

“How?” Geralt whispered and looked Skye over, then met her eyes, still shocked and concerned.

“I don't even know, what a Heliotrop is...” Skye replied, looking back at him, startled.

“It's the thing you just did, by crossing your arms.” Eskel said, shaking his head at her.

“It's what I suspected.” Vesemir spoke up, pulling his jaw up off the floor.

“Suspected what?” Geralt snapped, looking over at him.

“She has Elven blood.”

“That's not possible.” Skye shook her head at him. “My mother hates Elves and my father is assuredly not one either.”

“You could be Quarter-Elf.” Vesemir pointed out.

Vesemir had a strange inkling that Skye wasn't completely Human, he just wasn't sure if it was Elven blood or a Mutation. But, after seeing her use a Heliotrop with such ease and effectiveness, especially being she'd never done one before, was aware she could do one or even knew how to do it, told the old Witcher what he needed to know. Only someone with some measure of Elven blood would have been able to pull off what Skye had just done.

“Quarter-Elves, and even some Half-Elves are capable of passing themselves off as normal, everyday Humans. So, you're at least Quarter-Elf.” He explained to her.

Skye looked between the three of them, a tremble making her lithe body vibrate. Tears sprang up in her minty-green eyes and her bottom lip wobbled, before she burst out of the room and blindly ran down the hall, needing to get away, far away.

Geralt turned on Eskel, jaw tight and lips pressed into a thin and angry line, before driving his fist into the other Witcher's stomach, as hard as he could, sending Eskel stumbling backwards into a wall of axes and maces. Eskel took several wheezy breaths, before he was able to speak again.

“Wh-wh-what wa-as th-that for!?” He demanded, arm pressed against his throbbing abdomen.

“For nearly killing her with your Aard!” Geralt hissed, starting towards him again, but was stopped by Vesemir's hand on his chest.

“She blocked it!”

“You didn't know she could block it, and you still fucking did it!” He growled low in his throat, before pushing away from Vesemir and going after her.

Geralt went to her room first, but found it empty, and started searching the rest of the Keep, before venturing outside to the grounds. He searched almost all of the crumbling towers and out buildings before he found her. He stopped in the doorway of the stables, smiling softly as she pet Roach in her stall.

“She's always great company, when you're feeling down.” He said softly, not wishing to startle her. “Especially, since she doesn't tend to talk back.” He added, with a quiet chuckle.

“What do you want?” Skye sniffled, wiping her hot and wet cheek on the shoulder of her shirt.

Geralt sighed softly, pushing off the frame of the door and approached her, gently resting his hand on Roach's nose, smiling at the mare's greeting neigh. “I came to see if you were all right.” He told her, petting Roach.

Taking a deep breath, Skye let it out with a sigh, she didn't know if she was all right. She was confused and scared, and angry. How could she have Elven blood in her, wouldn't she have known by now. Wouldn't her mother have told her that she did. Did her mother even know that she had Elven blood. Was it her mother that had the Elven blood or was it her father that did. She had so many questions.

“I don't understand.” She sniffled, pressing her lips together. “How can you have Elven blood, of any amount, and not know?” She asked and looked up at Geralt, like he had the answer.

Geralt wished he did have the answer for her, but he didn't.

“I don't know.” He replied instead. “With the persecution of Elves after the uprising, people became loath to admit they were the offspring of Elves. Afraid of what it would mean if people did find out.”

“Great, what's that make me?” She huffed, more to herself than Geralt, fresh tears dripping down her cheeks.

Biting his lip, Geralt reached out and rested his hand on her elbow, gently squeezing it. “It makes you, who you've always been, Skye.” He told her, with a soft sincerity. “Just because you have Elven blood, doesn't mean you're something else, other than yourself.”

“Don't let anyone, ever, tell or convince you otherwise.” He added, giving her arm another squeeze and gently pulled her in against him, carefully folding her into his arms.

Skye paused for a moment, surprised by Geralt's words and gesture, but lightly wrapped her arms around his waist, her forehead resting against his chest as they embraced. Both of them relaxed, Geralt gently tipping his head down to nose her hair, taking in the light scent of the soap she used to wash it, the pleasing warmth of her body resting against his. Skye took a deep breath, taking in the scent of Geralt's warm body, a faint trace of leather from his armor, the tang of Roach, a sweet, woody and smoky aroma from the burning wood fire in his room, and something else, beneath all of it, that was uniquely Geralt.

She found it alluring and comforting all at the same time.

“I promised to take you home.” Geralt whispered into her hair, not ready to pull away from her just yet. “We'll go back, after the first thaw, and get the answers you want and need.” He promised her, hugging his arms around her a little bit more as he felt her shiver.

“I'd like that.” Skye whispered back, softly, resting her cheek against Geralt's chest and closed her eyes.

“Good.” He smiled, and felt the germinating seed in his belly take a firm hold of him and grow a little bit more, into a delicate sprout. “Come, let's get you back inside, before you get ill.” He told her, slowly releasing her from his arms. “I'll even help you make dinner.” He smirked, slyly.

“That'll be the day.” She chuckled, teasingly.

“Hey, I did kill the buck you're using for dinner tonight.” He replied, lowering his head and lifting a brow at her, teasing her back.

“Oh, yes. I can see it going to your head now.” She rolled her eyes, playfully, at him. “Come along, Geralt, before your head gets any bigger and you can't get it through the doorways.” She called over her shoulder, heading out of the stables and back inside the Keep.

Geralt stood there a moment, smiling after her, and suddenly felt a profound happiness creep into him. He snapped out of it though, when Skye stopped and turned around to him, realizing he wasn't following her. He chuckled to himself and started forward to join her, feeling like nothing could ruin what was starting to really bud between them.

-- Chapter IV --

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter twenty-three: seduce and destroy

“So are we sure that Joey's gonna be okay with everything?” Sam asked Chuck.

“I'm sure of it,” he promised her.

It had been about a week since they had made that video tape and now that it was in fact closer to Valentine's Day, she, Chuck, and Alex had made the trip on back home to California. Sam may as well have seized the opportunity to take her couch with her back to her mom's house on Catalina Island, but then again, there was no way they could lug it into the plane altogether. As a result, she vowed for another return to New York City soon enough.

An hour long flight early that morning after, and the three of them had landed back in the heart of Berkeley.

Sam thought about Joey back home in upstate New York, and she knew that he wasn't around at that point. It would be some time before he surfaced again, and it would be some time before she could break it to her parents. As a result, she wasn't ready to head on back down to Los Angeles as of yet, given Testament had a whole two months listed there at that lovely studio with the purple plush carpet. Upon their landing at the Berkeley airport and their awaiting a ride from Eric and Greg, she tapped on Alex's shoulder and he took a glimpse back at her.

“What's up?” he asked her; she ran her tongue along the edge of her top row of teeth. Even in the dim pale light from the morning fog, he had a bright twinkle in his eye as if he had just seen treasure: he raised his dark eyebrows at her a bit and those deep eyes brightened even more. The gray streak stood high up on the crown of his head like a little needle.

“You wanna hang out?” she offered him. He bowed his head forward a bit.

“You—wanna hang out—with me?” he repeated it.

“Go for it, Alex,” Chuck told him from in front of them.

“Yeah, let's do it,” she said.

“Okay! Uh—what do you wanna do first?”

“Well, I want to see your old high school,” she suggested.

“Yeah, we can do that. Eric'd have to give us a ride over there, though.”

“We're actually not too far from there, though, Alex,” Chuck pointed out.

“You just want us to walk, Chuck,” Alex scoffed, and Sam laughed at that.

“At least it's not raining, Alex,” she pointed out to him.

He then turned to her with his eyebrows raised again.

“You know, I just got an idea,” he said in a low voice, and he gestured for her to follow him down the sidewalk and towards the end of the driveway.

“And here comes Eric!” Chuck proclaimed right then, but they were already about to round the corner there. Alex led her up the street, up to the corner there. Even on foot, and even from another angle, Sam already recognized that neighborhood. She walked side by side with him all the way up the sidewalk to that familiar block.

“Oh, this is where the studio is!” she decreed, and he looked over at her and eagerly nodded at that. He reached that door step first and he pushed the door open, much to both of their surprise. She bowed inside of there first and he held the door for her.

“There's no one here,” he declared with a chuckle. “There's no one here and yet the door's standing wide open.”

He shut the door behind him, and once they had taken off their jackets and hung them up on the wall there, he gestured for her to follow him into that main room once more. But rather than congregating around the sound board and the telephone there, he kept on going onward to the far side of the room, towards the door there.

“What's in here?” she wondered aloud as he held the door for her. She ducked into the large spacious room with a long smooth linoleum checker board floor and a long low pool table. On the far wall stood a low minibar.

“Eric told me about this room here,” he replied, and then he turned to her. “You shoot billiards much?” he asked her in a soft voice.

“Not really.”

“Aw, man! It's real easy. I'm not a big sports fan—never got the sports bug growing up but I don't mind a little shootin' pool, though.”

The pool table stood long and low there on the floor before them, with the balls already in place in their respectful triangle; Alex took two long dark cues right off of the rack on the wall, and he handed one to her.

“You don't really think of it as a sport, either,” said Sam.

“Nah, it's more of a game of wits,” he explained as he approached the triangle there on the table top. “When we were recording The New Order, Eric showed me how to do it.”

“All I know is you can't get the pure white ball in,” she told him.

“Nope, otherwise you get a scratch,” he replied and he lifted the rack: all fifteen balls stayed in place. “The eight ball's last to go into the hole, too, lest the game is over...” His voice trailed off and he hesitated with his free hand rested upon the table's edge.

“What's the matter?” she asked him.

“Hey, you know what—seeing it's just you and me in here,” he told her, “and I'm seven months away from turning twenty one—and you're twenty four now—” He stooped down and opened the fridge door; and he handed her a beer bottle.

“As long as you don't drive home,” she said as she took the bottle.

“Nah—we're not too far from my parents' house,” he replied as he took a bottle for himself.

“I don't know if you can walk home drunk, though,” she confessed.

“You can't.”

“A little job for me then,” she concluded as she pried off the bottle cap and she was met with that intense smell of fresh hops straight out of the bottle. She took a small sip where Alex guzzled down a straight shot first hand. He shook his head about and then he looked over at her with his eyes bright and bold with life.

He set the bottle down on the side of the pool and launched the white cue ball forth to the closest point of the triangle. All fifteen balls sprawled out over that green surface.

“Okay, so—you wanna start from the bottom with the number one ball,” he said, and he lingered right next to her as she brought the tip of the cue to the solid yellow. They hung over that side of the table together, such that the front of his shirt brushed against her back. She could feel his hips within range of hers, and yet he never brushed up against her.

She extended her left arm out and cradled the tip of the cue between her fingers.

“Yeah, just like that,” he said right into her ear. “Now just tap it.”

She did, and that yellow ball rolled over to the corner pocket.

“That was excellent,” he remarked as he stood upright and rounded their corner of the table for the second one up. He lingered close to her with each of her shots, while she watched his face take on a serious expression with each of his.

“Alex, I like—half expect to see you with a cigar hanging out of your mouth,” she confessed at one point, and he stuck out his tongue in disgust at that. In between his shots, he took a swig from the beer bottle.

That first round he hit the eight ball into the far corner, away from the door and in the direction the minibar.

“Do it again?” he offered her.

“Please!”

He pressed a button on the side there and there was a soft grinding noise. All those gentle marble noises caught her ear and all fifteen balls gathered into a glass slot right by their knees, and together, they set them all back onto the green surface. He handed her that black triangle and she brought them all back into that familiar shape right before them.

“Solids and stripes are forever, dear Samantha,” he said in a low voice as he rounded the side of the table and back towards the minibar. As so long as he didn't overdo it, she was sure that he would be fine with another one.

She got that first shot that time around, and she knew that he would have the eight ball in the corner that time.

“You get a scratch with the white cue ball,” she reiterated.

“I'd like to scratch my white balls with the pool cue,” he retorted, which in turn made her giggle. He tapped the cue ball which rolled forward and hit the red stripe right square in the middle. He took a rather large swig of beer that time, and another when she accidentally made that black eight ball fall into one of the holes.

“Aw, damn!” she scoffed.

“It's okay, it's okay,” he assured her as he pushed the button again.

One more time around and she was sure that he had had his fill of beer: she had already barely finished her first one as he took another large swig from the bottle. She peered up at the dimly lit but high ceiling overhead and the sight of fluffy blue and white clouds painted over the tiles.

“I never realized just how much I love this studio,” she remarked once she took a shot. “I like, really love this place.”

“Same here,” he added as he strode over to the other side of the pool table for another shot.

“Remember how kinda dumpy and dingy the hole in the wall was?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as he took a swig from the bottle. “It was cold in there all the time, too!”

“Right? At least this place has a heater.”

“I mean, Samantha—I could not get warm. Louie couldn't, either! You know it's cold when the guy keeping rhythm and working out more than us can't even keep warm.”

Another shot from him, followed by her.

He took another swig from the bottle.

Three more stayed there in the midst of the table, the black eight ball, the solid blue, and the cue ball. At that point, after what felt like fifty swigs from the beer bottle, he rubbed his eyes and held the pool cue close to his chest.

“You okay?” she asked him as she held onto the cue with both hands.

“Yeah,” he replied, and he swallowed, complete with a tilt of his head. He fluttered his eyelids a bit and then he bowed forward. He extended his arm out before him: his aim seemed a bit more off than before with the cue ball and the solid blue. He let out a low whistle, and then he took a shot. The tip of the stick slipped out and the cue ball spun around about an inch from the solid blue.

He stood upright so she could have a shot at the eight ball in the center hole. He sniffled and rubbed that full tip of his nose.

“Call it a draw?” he asked her and even from across the table, she could see it in his eyes. There was no way he could drive home, or even so much as walk home, especially since he wasn't even twenty one yet. She set the cue down on the edge of the pool table, and she sauntered over to him, complete with a slight sashay to her hips.

“I don't want you to go,” she begged him as she set the pool cue upon the edge of the table.

“It's funny, I—don't want me to go, either,” he replied; he staggered back a bit and leaned back against the wall. He showed her a little grin right before he let out a soft hiccup.

“I wanna—I wanna do something with you,” she sputtered; something had overcome her right then and there. Cliff was gone and Joey was back home in upstate New York recovering from awful. Here she was, face to face with Alex and a bottle of extra hoppy beer.

“When do you guys plan on releasing your new album?” she asked him in a low voice.

“Hopefully the springtime,” he replied as he licked his lips. “That's the hope, anyways. The plan. What we've got in mind for ourselves.”

“Alex,” she started again.

“Huh?”

“How many bottles of beer have you had so far?”

“Just—a couple,” he replied with a hiccup.

“You sure about that? 'Cause—I'm looking over here at the table and I'm counting three.”

He bowed his head and stifled a belch. She chuckled at that. Whenever Joey drank too much, it was obvious that he didn't want to do it. But Alex had let himself loose a little bit, and all for her.

“You know, my boyfriend is away,” she told him. He hiccuped and fluttered his eyelids so as to keep himself awake; she inched closer to him and she could smell the hops on his breath. He raised his eyebrows at her and locked eyes with her.

“And I—like that he's away from here.”

He rested his hand on her shoulder and he stroked her arm. She had nestled up close to him twice and both times he wasn't nearly as willing to get down such as this.

“What're you doing?” she asked him when she felt his hand on her hand.

“If we pick the forbidden fruit together, would you eat it?” he asked her; his speech was slurring a bit.

“Maybe,” she replied as she cozied up right before him: she eyed that prominent Adam's apple and the point of his chin. Maybe it was in fact the alcohol talking but she wondered if his skin really was as soft as it looked. Not even twenty one years old yet and yet something about him warranted something more. He was already loosened up: she could see it in his eyes. That soft look of love, albeit the look on alcohol. But she could sense it between them: all the times Joey let go still hung fresh in memory.

But then he blinked a few times, and his eyelids hooded more and more with each time. He moved in closer to her lips as if he had been waiting this whole entire time to do it. But she lunged away from him.

“Alex,” she stopped him and she put both of her hands on his chest, “—Alex, what're you doing?”

He put his hand on the small of her back and he brought her face closer to hers: those lips within range of her own.

“You tell me,” he said in a husky voice.

“Alex—Alex, please—you're tipsy,” she told him.

“So?”

“You're tipsy!” She gaped at him. She wanted to laugh but she also knew that he was loose. It loosened up Joey when he so felt like it; she could see it in his eyes and in those slightly parted sensual lips.

“Samantha, I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I—I got it!” he insisted and he shook his head about: the gray streak fluttered about like a little feather. He breathed hard as if he had just run a whole mile. He then reached up to his shirt collar and unfastened the first two buttons. He showed her his tongue all the while.

“I've always seen booze as a truth serum of sorts,” he explained, “it makes you wanna—do the things you really want to do but couldn't—because—something was holding you back.”

“Like doing it with me?” she teased him; he undid a few more buttons and he showed off his body to her.

“Make love to me,” he begged her in a hushed tone. “Please—make love to me.”

Sam put her arms around his slender waist, still very soft from childhood.

“You're a dirty boy,” she teased him as she brought her mouth closer to his. “You're a dirty, naughty boy—I'm gonna give it to you.”

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

“What?” she sputtered.

“You wanna slap my thigh or should I do it?”

Her hand slithered around his hip and her fingers did the trick with a little squeeze.

“I said my thigh,” he insisted.

“I don't care,” she said in a low voice. “You have a nice ass—such a nice little caboose.”

He hunched his shoulders a bit as she squeezed him again. His hands grazed over the small of her back and then underneath her blouse. Those slender fingers rode up her spine and towards the hooks on her bra. They were about to let loose for real in that room. It was all happening so fast.

It was all so spontaneous and so sudden.

“Eight ball in the corner,” he breathed.

“Eight ball right in the corner,” she echoed as she brought her lips to his. They both had had a bit to drink, especially him, and yet she found herself coming so much closer to him than ever. Their walls lowered a bit more right then and there: she kept her hands pressed onto the seat of his jeans but she could feel something right in front of her. She looked down at his body, at his bare skin right there in front of her.

He had been so sensual up to that point: as if he had been seducing her this whole entire time. She scanned his chest and his stomach, all the way down to his waist and the top of his jeans. She reached down and undid that button for him. Slender and very soft.

“Oh, my god—you're such a babe,” she breathed out.

“So are you, my goddess,” he retorted; she lunged for his warm tender body once again.

“You're such a fucking—babe,” she breathed harder into his ear. “You're so hot. You're so hot!”

“So are you!” he moaned out as he let his jeans fall right off of his hips and onto the floor.

He tilted his head back so she could kiss his neck and nibble on his skin a bit. He gritted his teeth and let out a soft little grunt at the sensation. They were both as loose as anything else; it was as if she knew right off base as to what pleased him. Every little nibble there on the base of his neck coaxed a little whimper from his throat. That big strapping strong boy had been made into jelly by the mere feeling of her teeth. Her hands ran down his chest and onto his stomach.

His skin was like silk, the finest she had ever witnessed before. He gasped and then he groaned even louder as she bit down a bit harder on him. He then pushed her out of the way and he darted across the floor to the window there. He yanked it open and leaned right out there.

“Oh, my god,” she blurted out over the sound of his wretching. He spat and then he lifted himself up for a better look over at her.

“I'm sorry, that—that was the booze—that wasn't you, I swear,” he told her. “Ugh.”

He spat once more out the window.

“Would you like some water?” she offered him.

“Yes please,” he groaned in a broken voice; his little body, previously seen as beautiful, began to shudder and shake from the feeling. She hurried over to the minibar for one of the water bottles and she screwed off the cap before she handed it to him.

“Ohhh, god, thank you.” He tipped it back and took a large drink of it. She rubbed his back and looked right into face: his skin had washed out to a soft pale tone but his eyes were clear again.

“You okay?” she asked him as he took another large drink, and then he nodded at her.

“I think so,” he confessed in a low voice. Sam huddled closer to him as he breathed heavy from that feeling within him. He stood there next to her in his underwear and with his shirt still open and loose all around his body. Everyone else was either gone or somewhere else: she had to be there with Alex from that point onward.

“Any other girl gets you, I'm gonna give 'er hell,” she vowed. “You're so perfect, Alex. I'm never gonna let you go.”

“I'm not perfect,” he told her, “I mean, you just saw me right there. I'm far from perfect.”

“But you're perfect to me, though,” she insisted as she kissed the side of his neck. He closed his eyes and smiled at that. “You're more than perfect to me.”

He let out a low whistle and he took yet another drink of water.

“Besides, I thought you saw Joey as perfect,” he pointed out as his voice broke some more.

“I do,” she stated, “but you are, too.”

He polished off the water and then he stepped away from the window and back towards the side of the room for his pants. Sam walked back with him, complete with her arm around his back in order for him to keep his balance. He picked up his jeans and then he hesitated.

“Do you hear that?” he asked her with partially closed eyes.

“Hear what?”

Silence on the other side of the door. But then there was a soft shuffling noise there.

“Is there someone here?” he wondered aloud. Sam adjusted her blouse before she opened the door for them.

Ruben stood there before the sound board with a clipboard rested before him. He lifted his head and his eyes widened behind his glasses at the sight of his daughter with a strange boy.

“Sam!” he greeted her.

“Dad!” Sam exclaimed.

“Mr. Shelley!” Alex blurted out. “Oh, shit—oh my god—”

“What the hell's going on in there?” Ruben demanded. He flashed Alex a dirty look, especially since he had only his jeans on over his legs, and on part of the way. He hoisted up his jeans and almost face planted right into the carpet, but he caught himself on the doorknob of the sound room.

“Who are you?” Ruben demanded as he pressed his hands to his hips.

“Dad, this is Alex,” Sam introduced him; her face grew warm, and warmer than usual as well. She ran her fingers through her dark hair so as to keep it off of the side of her neck and her face.

“Alex—you look like the kind of kid who I would've avoided while growing up because you just look way too old to be with my little girl—what, with those grays up top there.”

Alex swallowed out of nerves but Sam rolled her eyes at that.

“Where have you been, by the way?” she asked him as Alex closed a single button on his top.

“Here in the Bay Area,” he promptly replied.

“Yes, but where exactly?”

“Berkeley and also up in Castro Valley.”

“Castro Valley, where Cliff was from?” Sam was stunned by that. Alex almost lost his balance once more and he stumbled forth onto the sound board, but he caught himself before he could fall head first onto the telephone rested there on the ledge. Ruben frowned at that.

“You alright, son?”

“Yes,” he stammered as he picked himself up off of the floor. “I mean, no. I mean, yes? I mean—”

Ruben sniffed the air behind them.

“I smell hops,” he observed, and then he turned to Sam still with a stern look plastered upon his face. “Have you kids been drinking?”

“I haven't,” Sam replied, and he turned to Alex as he fixed his pants.

“It's—It's really not what it looks like, Mr. Shelley,” he sputtered.

“Well, what does it look like?”

“Um—uh—uh—”

“I will say this, I do appreciate your manners, though, son,” Ruben said as he placed his hands to his hips.

“Just doin' what I can, Mr. Shelley,” Alex replied as he straightened himself into an upright position. He ran his fingers through his dark hair and tried to keep himself still right there before them.

“Dad, we were just having a bit of fun,” Sam explained.

“Samantha!” Alex sputtered.

“What? It's just the truth, Alex. We were having fun.”

“Uh—yeah. There's a—a, uh, billiards table in there.” Ruben peered into the room behind him and then nodded his head at that.

“I'll be right back,” he told them, and then he doubled back out the fron door. Sam and Alex gaped at one another.

“That was close,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, I'll say,” she added as she ran her hands over the crown of her head.

“I don't know—I don't know what happened,” he confessed with a bit of a stutter.

“You got taken aback, that's what happened,” she told him, “but if it's any fairness to you at all, though, Alex—I did, too. I want to know how he found us.”

“I do, too!” he exclaimed. “It was really just the weirdest thing for him to show up unannounced like that.”

He stood right there before her with his back to the door frame. Even though he had vomited it all out the window, the look of delirium upon his face and his lazy eyes told her that he was still drunk in the head.

“No one can know about this, though,” she told him in a low whisper. “That you and I were both in there and—doing you know what. No one can know. Not even your parents.”

“No way,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You are my best kept secret after all,” she said as she eyed the base of his neck and the little hickey she had left there for him. “Although, you might wanna do something about—”

“Oh! Oh, damn it.” He buttoned his shirt all the way up but she giggled at the sight of him.

“Hang on a second,” Ruben's voice floated back into the main room there. He gestured to Alex. “You're that kid, Skolnick, right?”

“Yes?” He raised an eyebrow at that, and Ruben snapped his fingers and showed him a smile.

“I thought you looked familiar! I just saw the video for that song 'Over the Wall' literally just last week. You sure are a hard working boy, aren't ya? Mr. Lead Guitarist.”

“Again, I—I try my best, Mr. Shelley,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

“Anyways, you didn't answer my question, Dad,” Sam recalled, “why are you here?”

“I'm working for the label now,” he announced.

“Our label?” Alex was stunned by that. “Testament's label?”

“Yeah.”

The two of them glanced at one another, bewildered.

“The position opened up right when Sam's mother and I got divorced and I just had to take it up mainly because I love the Bay Area and—I, too, miss Cliff. He was like the son I never got to have. It also pays really well and—” His face softened at the sight of Sam right there in front of him, in her jeans and a blouse, and the fire opal bracelet Chuck gave her and the pendant Joey and Ronnie had given her. “—apparently I get to see my little girl again!”

“So you left the door unlocked,” Alex stated.

“I just went up the street real quick, son,” Ruben told him. “I was coming right back.”

“You still left the door unlocked,” Alex insisted.

“I was coming right back,” Ruben argued, albeit with a straight face. He returned to Sam and his eyes lit up again. “So where are you staying at right now, Sam?”

“Well, he and I just got here from New York City—right now, I've been staying with Mom down on Catalina. I just didn't feel like going back down again.”

“That's a hard trip to do, too,” he remarked. “I mean, I'm preaching to the choir on that, too. Going across the country is already a challenge. You know, I finally found a place in Castro Valley, and I have a spare room, too. You know you're more than welcome to come on over any time you're here in the Bay Area.”

“Yeah, you don't have to stay in a hotel,” Alex pointed out.

“What he said! I'm almost on my lunch break, too. Let me take you out to lunch.” Ruben turned to Alex. “Alex can come along if he so wishes.”

“Oh, that's real kind of you, Mr. Shelley, but—I'm not feeling too good right now. I think I'm gonna go home and lie down. Besides, I want the two of you to have some time together anyway.”

“Hard working kid and he's a gentleman,” Ruben remarked, and then he raised a finger to them. “I'll be right back.” He doubled back to the front door, and then Sam and Alex glimpsed at one another again.

“No one can ever know about us,” she whispered to him, to which he shook his head.

“Not a soul.” She extended a pinky finger to him and he hooked his around it. She gazed into his face as the color washed out again.

“Go have some more water,” she encouraged him in a hushed voice.

“Yeah, I feel like I'm gonna puke again...”

[thereisonlyoneoption]

Maggie Stiefvater~Rant YA edition pt.2

I know, I know that I had to make a part about world-building but I’m pissed, I failed my exam I am at my friend house and it’s Fourth of July so I must do this.

Joseph Kavinsky.

First of all I don’t condemn his actions and yes, you can like a character but don’t agree with their actions.

My journey with The Dream Thieves was rocky, like really rocky. It was worse than The Raven Boys, I felt psychical pain while reading this one but there was only one good thing that help get through it AND IT WAS KAVINSKY.

From the first scene I liked him, I was intrigued by him and I was curious why Gangsey hates him so much. I mean what M*ggie give us are just rumours, that's when I asked myself “Why such a hate? What did he do to them?”.

And then the yo mama jokes, priceless by the way. Okay, maybe my sense humour sucks but let me tell you in polish translation “twoja stara” is golden I laughed for several minutes.

But the thing went down pretty quickly, like my face went from a happy to grim in a second and stayed that way while reading this, just to cry at the end. After that it was just anger and to this day I’m angry at M*ggie for what she did.

Lets start from beginning.

1. Kavinsky-Description

The first time we see Kavinsky it’s in the chapter 3 where we got rumours about him:

“Of course it was Joseph Kavinsky, fellow Aglionby Academy student and Henrietta’s most notorious recreational forger. Kavinsky’s infamous Mitsubishi Evo was a thing of boyish beauty, moon-white with a voracious black mouth of a grille and an immense splattered graphic of a knife on either side of the body. The Mitsubishi had just been released from a month-long stint in the police impound. The judge had told him that if he was caught racing again, they’d crush the Mitsubishi and make him watch, like they did to the rich punks’ street racers out in California. Rumor had it Kavinsky had laughed and told the judge he’d never get pulled over again. He probably wouldn’t. Rumor had it Kavinsky’s father had bought off Henrietta’s sheriff. To celebrate the Mitsubishi’s release from impound, Kavinsky had just put three coats of anti-laser paint on the headlights and bought himself a new radar detector.“

Right from the bat, characters expressed disdain of him:

“I hate that prick,” Adam said.

Then we get the “description” of him: white sunglasses, golden chain, which already is kinda lacking but then we get the infamous “refugee face”

“He had a refugee’s face, hollow-eyed and innocent.“

Okay okay, so like it wasn't already offensive, we learn later that he’s Bulgarian and as a person also from Slavic group, this description just looks bad and leaves bad taste in my mouth, because I'm fed up with Americans view of Slavs like we are all simple people, still in communist era somewhere in the Europe, who came to America to steal low income jobs.

On the other hand, how does “refugee face” looks like? Yeah, we get the line “hollow-eyed and innocent“ but it still feels offensive to Slavic group.

Luckily, in my translation it was changed to “runaway’s face” which holds the same idea but it isn't offensive and fits Kavinsky’s character better.

“There was nothing about Kavinsky that wasn’t despicable”

Just... ugh why they hate him so much, I asked myself back then but I didn't know that from this point, all went down hill.

“He was unmistakable: the sort of raven boy who was clearly an import from elsewhere.“

Okay first of all, you can import things, not actual people Blue. Second of all, combining this with “refugee face” it made me so angry like M*ggie, why can’t you describe Kavinsky normally without possibly offending half of Europe. He is human, not your new brand German car.

After that we get the rest of description “Like many of the other raven boys, he sported massive sunglasses, spiked hair, a small earring, a chain around his neck, and a white tank top.“ and that’s it. It’s all we get. There might be some things missing, like hair colour but we can forgive that.

2. Backstory

In M*ggie’s now deleted tumblr, she once wrote:

"Kavinsky has a very logical backstory that leads him to this place.”

And what did we know about Kavinsky? Practically, nothing. He’s a son of a Bulgarian mobster from New Jersey, he’s rumoured to kill his father, he’s mother is a drug-addict, he’s rich, Prokopenko is his favourite forgery and he got away with replacing him and possibly his dad. It gives the idea to what shaped him as a person but it doesn’t explained everything, like if he killed his dad, why wasn’t it? How did it ended up with him replacing Prokopenko? Why he is his favourite forgery?

But okay M*ggie say what you want but I and my friend made better backstory for him in ten minutes (like it wasn’t hard really).

3. ”We matter”

“Closing his eyes, Gansey leaned his head back on his seat, chin tilted up, throat green in the dash lights. There was still an unsafe sort of smile about his mouth — what a torment the possibility in that smile was — and he said, “There was never a time when that could’ve been you and me. You know the difference between us and Kavinsky? We matter.“

That said Gansey, the character we are supposed to like, about the kid who is not only his age but also drug addicted and possibly abused. I was furious at him for saying that because who k*rwa he is to say things like that. Is he some frigging higher being to judge someone like that?

And he was smiling while saying that? What an.. and nobody called him out on that?! It only gives the reader the idea that people like Kavinsky don’t matter and to those who relate to him that they don’t matter.

And Blue, who again made me want to throw my phone, later in the book asked  literal a hitman, who offered to go to “talk” with him to “make him feel worthless” while doing it.

It’s the next example when I felt the main characters are lacking a basic human empathy, like again he is just a kid not “H*tler” like Ronan compare him to.

4. That scene

That f*king scene, we all know about.”R*pe of Ronan” as stans like to call it.

I heard the reaction of the fans to this scene even before reading this books. Of course, I was anticipating this scene and when it came:

“After a moment, he heard the hood groan as Kavinsky leaned over him. Then he felt the ridged callus of a finger drag slowly over the skin on his back. A slow arc between his shoulder blades, drawing the pattern of his tattoo. Then sliding down his spine, tensing every muscle it moved over.

But when his eyes slitted, battling sleep, Kavinsky was just doing another line of coke off the roof, body stretched over the windshield. He might have imagined it. What was real?“

I was baffled, because its bad but its nothing like fans making to be. All Kavinsky does is drag his finger on Ronan’s back tattoo, while he is falling asleep but afterwards Ronan said he doesn’t know, if it was even real, so the reader can’t tell if it was. Somebody would argue, that is a molestation but once again, we don’t know if it was real. Maybe if we got K’s PoV we could get information about this situation but now we are left in the dark what really happened that night.

And then, there is “Consent is overrated” scene

This is one of the main argument of stans preaching that K is a r*pist. Yes, that sounds horrible, we don’t have to argue about that but people missed the context of situation in which it was said.

“Ronan replied, “Not such a thief tonight.”

“Some nights,” Kavinsky said, all teeth, “you just take it. Consent is overrated.”“

Ronan and Kavinsky are referring to pulling things out of dreams and how Kavinsky is doing it aka not asking permission to take them out, unlike Ronan. But without this context, the world “consent” is mainly associated with one thing. You know what...

The bottom line is that, if we got K’s PoV, it would shine a light on his intentions and motivations to say and possibly do all of this. We can only thanks the author for that.

5. Relationship with Ronan Lynch

Maybe that will sound scandalous but I don’t think Kavinsky loved Ronan. All of their interaction seem more like obsession to me and after the dreaming of Camaro, it seem desperate.

At the beginning, after main characters expressed disdain of K, only Ronan thought something different:

“Ronan knew he ought to hate him, too.“

And I thought “Okay maybe Ronan know more about him than the rest” but as the chapters went, I wanted the end of it all.

It was toxic. I know, I know but I was hoping for a least little glimpses of possible friendship. Instead of that, I got throwing over cars, punching and exploitation between them. With Kavinsky saving Ronan from the night horror (which fans forget about in their rants how bad K is) and helping Ronan dreaming a new Camaro, I expect at least some decency? gratefulness?? at Ronan side, because nobody forced Kavinsky to do this but when Ronan got what he wanted he just peace out?! Like Kavinsky was doing all of this as a favour?

“He rolled down the window. “I’m going.” For a moment, Kavinsky’s face was perfectly blank, and then Kavinsky flickered back onto it. He said, “You’re shitting me.” “I’ll send flowers.” Ronan revved the engine. Exhaust and dust swirled in a wild torment behind the Camaro. It coughed at twenty-eight-hundred rpm. Just like the Pig. Everything was back the way it was. “Running back to your master?” “This was fun,” Ronan said. “Time for big-boy games now, though.”

And

““I never lie,” Ronan said. He frowned disbelievingly. This felt like a more bizarre scenario than anything that had happened to this point. “Wait. You thought — it was never gonna be you and me. Is that what you thought?”“

And what was Kavinsky’s reaction after he was “used” by Ronan without even a thank you?

“Kavinsky made a gun of his thumb and finger and put it to Ronan’s temple. “Bang,” he said softly, withdrawing the fake gun. “See you on the streets.”“

Not anger but disbelief about what just happened and then the “he said softly“ just seems sad to me. He got used by the man he, de facto, wanted to befriend. He for sure felt cheated and used but the next thing what he does seems just OOC for me. He kidnapped Matthew, Ronan’s younger brother, to force him to come to the Fourth of July party. Before it looked like he wanted Ronan just to have a fun but after the Camaro something broke in him. But once again, it only my interpretation, because K is the only TRC antagonist that doesn’t get PoV, so I can wonder, what was going on in his head.

I’m tired of this, because most of the things could be explained, if we got his PoV, because without it his actions seems random.

After the text “bring something fun to fourth of july or we’ll see which pill works the best on your brother“, Ronan called K demanding where is Matthew and K responded:

“Ronan demanded, “Where is he?” “You know, I asked nice the first few times. Are you coming to Fourth? Are you coming? Are you coming? Here, have a motherfucking car. Are you coming? You made it ugly. Bring something impressive tonight.”“

It doesn’t sounds that evil to me more like desperate (repetition of “are you coming”) and hurting (”you made it ugly”). It made me feel more curious about what was going in his head and what lead him to kidnapping more than being angry at him for kidnapping Matthew.

Kavinsky was looking someone like Ronan, to share problems and to destroy themselves together. And Ronan was the closest thing to it, dreamer and all. He was looking for connection but in the end, Ronan didn’t want anything to do with him and that ended in tragedy.

6. Fourth of July

Ah yes, the main reason why I’m writing this post. We know how this goes. Gangsey arrives at party. Ronan demands where is his brother. Ronan follow K into a dream.

"Kavinsky laughed the word. "Reality! Reality's what other people dream for you."

"Reality's where other people are," Ronan replied. He stretched out his arms. "What's here, K? Nothing! No one!"

"Just us."

There was a heavy understanding in that statement, amplified by the dream. I know what you are, Kavinsky had said. "That's not enough," Ronan replied."

One again K got rejected and it was told to him he "wasn't enough" Okay, Ronan doesn't own him anything but what happened next is more fucked up

Kavinsky dreams fire dragon, Ronan night horror. They fight. Gangsey search for Matthew.

Ronan demands K to tell him where is Matthew and K just said “He’s all yours! You missed my point, man. All I wanted was this —”“ while gesturing at their creations and ONCE AGAIN I REPEAT ONCE AGAIN we are not sure what K meant: dreaming together? fighting? One chapter from his PoV couldn’t hurt Maggie you know?

Matthew got rescued, Ronan shielded him from upcoming dragon then this:

"He shouted to Kavinsky, ”Get down!”

But Kavinsky didn’t look away from the creatures. He said,”The world’s a nightmare”.

Ronan once again shouted to him but Kavinsky didn’t answered and let the dragon to kill him.

“A second later, the fire dragon exploded into Kavinsky. It went straight through him, around him, flame around an object. Kavinsky fell. Not as if he was struck, though. Just like when he’d taken the green pill. He crumpled to his knees and then slumped gracelessly off the car.“

And we know K is dead, because both the dragon and Prokopenko fall asleep.

And that’s all and what was all for? Because they thought he was draining the ley lines (but Adam fixing the lines seems to do the trick) and because Ronan didn't want to come to Fourth of July. After that comes nothing. No reaction from the cast and the dream pack who supposedly were his friends (In later book Jiang talks to Ronan like nothing happened) there is no funeral of which we know and the town is silent. Like K never existed.

What kind of message this sends to a reader? That if you are like Kavinsky in any way nobody will mind if you are gone. You are not even worthless to remember. On one podcast M*ggie said she don’t want to be educational in her books and that’s f*cked up because she is writing YA, young people who are easily influenced and after reading how K is treated the majority will close the book with belief that people like K don’t deserve help and they are goners not worthy of redemption.

While in the same book Gray Man, adult hitman who killed people on pages, was hunting down Ronan, relieved to be murderer behind a Niall's death, beat up and threaten Declan with a gun to tell him where the Greywaren was not only forgiven by everyone (including Ronan) but got redemption arc and love interest. Let me repeat adult man, literal a hitman gets redemption arc but not mentally ill kid. Okay Margaret what the f*ck was that. Where is the logic, where is the lamb sauce?! Does she knows how her writing can influence young people? And it seems most of the fans agree with her.  

Conclusion

Joseph Kavinsky was handled terribly through the whole book. With main cast hating him from the get-go. Narration that tried to make him the great evil (with some fans of TRC calling him the worst villain) and after the book got published the fans and the author themself further demonised him, 17 year old boy with a drug addiction, mental illness and with possible history of abuse.

I can only shake my head every time, I see someone calling him the devil. What Kavisnky needed was rehab and therapy, not death! If she wanted to find solution to stop him from dreaming, why couldn't she just moved him outside of Henrietta or Virginia, not lead him to commit s*icide and public s*icide mind you. He was a bad person but nobody deserved to die like this.

To end this post (I wrote this post so long that in my country is no longer Fourth of July), I still to this day think about Kavinsky and what would happened, if the author didn't choose the easy way to "get rid of him". And do not tell me, it was impossible to end it differently, because it was possible. Ronan just grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him off the car. Sending him to a rehab or just talking with him, instead of assuming from the start, that he wouldn't listen. His only crimes were, he needed help and he wouldn't listen to Gangsey telling him what to do.

[thelargefrye]

E3 SHOWCASE EVENT HOSTED BY JOY.

hello and welcome to largefrye’s conference here at e3. i’m park sooyoung and i’ll be your host for this event.

today, you will be shown a great lineup of games that our team has been working on recently. we have many new one-shots and collections for everyone to enjoy.

sequel to “senses” available on daybreak collection. here’s the trailer to dangerous.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── all he brings is sorrow in his wake.

hongjoong stumbles threw the apartment door in a slight daze. all the lights but the living room lamp were off and he wonders if you had already went to bed. how weird, he thinks, you usually wait for him to come home, but he shoves that thought away in favor of getting a drink from the kitchen.

he smells another scent lingering apart from yours and his wolf immediately catches on to it. he didn’t want another wolf around you, leaving their scent in what was his home, but hongjoong could care less. he knew that you wouldn’t leave him, not after the heartache you suffered after your first meeting. 

hongjoong makes his way to your shared bedroom, attempting to be quiet in case you were asleep. but when he opens the bedroom door, he is met with nothing but an empty bed. 

“y/n?” he is answered with silence and he feels something in the pit of his stomach turn as he starts to look all over the apartment for you. he does find that some of your things are missing. then that lingering scent came crashing on his senses and he felt a sudden rage course through him. 

you left with wooyoung. he took you from him. you’re his mate, not wooyoung’s. his jaw is clenched, hard, and he feels ten times more sober than when he walked into the apartment. wooyoung had no right of taking you from him. 

turning, hongjoong immediately makes his way towards the front door before slamming it behind him as he makes his way towards wooyoung’s place.

coming november 2020.

introduced originally as “project psycho” back in march. a new installment in the polyteez franchise, desire.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── after meeting the eight men in the club, you soon become entangled in their world. whether you like it or not. 

“what happened?” you gasped in shock as you saw yeosang enter the house basically carrying san on his back. the latter of the two all beaten and bloodied.

yeosang carried san over and dropped him onto the nearest couch. san let out a groan as he opened his eyes to see you leaning over him. 

“i must be in heaven because there’s no way hell would allow me to see my beautiful y/n,” san groans as he reaches to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear.

“you’re not dead, you overdramatic asshole. at least not yet,” yeosang spits out with a glare and tries his best to fix his now slightly dirty suit.

“what happened, sanggie?” you ask turning to the slightly older male with a concerned look, however yeosang doesn’t appear to be all that worried about what happened to him and san.

“the meeting was a trap,” yeosang says before he leaves and comes back with a first aid kit. 

you help san sit up as you take off his blazer and unbuttoned his shirt and move it to the side to look at his wounds.

“a trap? like a set up?” you ask and both males nod. san lets out a hiss when your hand gently touches one of his wounds. 

“ah, baby, be carefully. i’m fragile.” yeosang lets out a snort from behind you. you feel the couch dip just slightly from behind as yeosang sits down and starts to watch as you treat san’s wounds.

“i’m sorry that happened, loves. is there anything i can do to help?”

“not unless you know where bangtan’s base is,” yeosang says.

“bangtan?” you mumble, the name sounds familiar but you can’t quite remember from where. “why does that sound familiar?”

“maybe you heard us talking about them in the past,” san suggest, but you know that’s not it. you shake your head before putting a hand to your head in a thinking pose as you try to remember.

“oh i know!” you quickly get up and run up to your room digging through your draw before pulling out the small business card and running back downstairs where you had left the two males. “here,” you say handing the business card to yeosang who takes it and starts to look at it as you go back to treating san. 

“w-what? how did you get this?”

“you remember when i went out with my friends a few weeks ago to that fancy restaurant?” both males nod, “well this guy came up to me and started talking to me, and before i left he gave me this. apparently he owned the restaurant.”

“oh, my sweet angel!” san says bringing you down to crash his lips on his making you laugh and smile into the kiss. 

“does this mean i get to help you guys?” you ask, hopefully.

“maybe,” yeosang says as he looks down at the card his hand. they might actually have a chance to win against bangtan for once.

coming november 2020.

our next game is our first installment into a new series called “love montage.” the first game “blue ocean” is set around three main characters, hongjoong, y/n, and seonghwa. you take the role as each of those characters and decide whether they end up together or apart.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── seonghwa is happy with his life. he just moved into his own apartment, he’s going strong in his two year relationship with his girlfriend, and he’s passing all his classes. nothing could be better for him. well, that is until he catches a glimpse of what actual happiness and love is in the form of his two neighbors.

or a story about seonghwa questioning if he is truly happy with his life, and you and hongjoong are there to help answer those questions.

seonghwa rest his head in your lap, looking up at you lazily as you run a hand through his newly dyed hair. hongjoong is spread out beside you both with a smile on his as he looks at you both fondly. his brightly and newly dyed blue hair a stark contrast to the cream bedsheets. 

“thanks for helping me dye my hair,” seonghwa says making you smile down at him. hongjoong reaches over for his hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss the older male’s knuckles before he holds his hand against his chest.

“no need to thank us, love. y/n has helped me dye my hair so many times that it must be nice to do someone else’s for a change,” hongjoong teases making you laugh at your boyfriend.

“your black hair will be missed, but this new color is so nice and pretty! it really fits you, hwa!” you say with a smile. 

“why don’t you play with my hair like that?” hongjoong pouts as he playfully smacks your leg.

“oh hush, you big baby. i play with your hair all the time,” you reply as you return the playfully smack, but to his chest as that was closet thing you could reach.

seonghwa can’t help but smile and laugh at you and hongjoong and goes to sit up. you watch him with curious eyes as he leans in to kiss you. you hum into the kiss and before you can depend it, seonghwa pulls away. you pout before watching as seonghwa leans over hongjoong and kisses the male as well. 

"i love you both so much,” he says after he pulled away from hongjoong, who sat up beside you.

“we love you, too, hwa,” hongjoong says as he runs a hand through the older’s hair. the both of them smiling at each other before turning to you, who was happily watching the both of them.

“i can tell.”

coming november 2020.

“project satire” is still in the early stages of development. anything seen is subject to change and does not fully represent the final project.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

"alright, guys, we have to come up with an idea for this trailer,” smalls says standing at the end of the makeshift conference table.

“what trailer?” mingi ask, completely caught off guard by what smalls had just said.

“our trailer. for our new game we’re working on,” she explains further.

“which one? you have like thirty?” san says causing smalls to just stare at him.

“san, go stand in the corner.”

“but i don’t want to stand in the corner.”

“go stand in the corner!” san only grumbled as he stood up from his chair and walked over to one of the few corners in the room. clapping her hands together, smalls gathers everyone’s attention once more. “alright, so let’s get back on track. ideas, anyone got anything?”

“what game is this for?” yeosang asked.

“project satire.”

“why is it called project satire?” yunho asked confused as to why it was still being called the project name.

“because i don’t have an actual name for it yet, so its project satire until further notice,” smalls explains.

“wait... so project satire isn’t the final name?”

“no, mingi, project satire is not the final name. can we please forget the name and focus on the trailer!?”

“wait a minute,” you say causing everyone to look over at you. “does this mean i have to wear a sundress?”

“correction, sundresses,” smalls says putting emphasis on the ‘es’ of the word. 

“hey smalls,” seonghwa begins looking directly into the camera before turning to look at the young woman, “why is there a camera in here?”

“what?” she says, before looking over at the camera that had been filming them the entire time, “oh right. i forgot that this meeting was suppose to be the trailer.”

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── your sister and two best friends fake a bunch of love letters and send them to all the guys you had past crushes on in an attempt to help you finally gain a love life and to let you experience what little time of high school you have left.

“y/n...” jiah’s voice trails off as she and gahyeon watched you sit at your desk from your bed. chaeyoung was standing in the doorway as they all waited for you to say – or do – anything. 

“y/n look, we didn’t mean for this all to happen. we just... you had been looking so depressed lately and we thought that maybe if you got out and talked to more people... that maybe it would cheer you up.”

“i know,” is all you said still refusing to look at any of them. you know they were just trying to help you get out there more, but with everything that happened with san... you just wanted to be left alone. 

you just wanted to be left alone for the rest of eternity. you feel so embarrassed knowing that san is probably with some of the other guys, laughing at how stupid you must have looked and how much of a loser you are for actually thinking he might have liked you. 

“i’m a fucking clown,” you say out loud, tears welling up as you took a deep breath.

“you’re a clown! san is an asshole for playing you along like that!” gahyeon said, standing up from your bed. fist clenched as she waved in the air, probably to an imaginary san. 

“sis...” chaeyoung finally speaks up after staying silent since coming home and finding you like this. “i’m sorry for causing all of this. i just tho–

“it’s okay, chae. i know you guys didn’t mean any harm,” you cut her off, finally turning to look at your two friends and sister. your eyes were slightly glassy, but you quickly blinked and wiped them away.

suddenly you all hear the doorbell ring and chaeyoung is quick to dash out of your room and run down the hall where she quietly watches her father go and open the door.

“hi, can i help you?”

“hi, um, i was wondering if y/n lived her?” your sister’s eyes widened when she catches a glimpse of the guy at the door and quickly dashes back to your room to tell you who’s at the door.

“guys, guys! you’ll never believe who’s at the door!!”

“who?” jiah and gahyeon ask in unison, now the both of them are standing up and looking at your sister curiously.

“hongjoong,” the name left your own lips before your sister who get it out and she looks at you in curiosity before realizing you are now standing up from your chair. chaeyoung turns around to see the older male standing behind her. she then notices the light pink envelope in his hand.

“hey, art buddy.” 

coming november 2020.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── after running away from your old pack with your mate, seonghwa. the two of you find a new home with a new pack... and your seven remaining fated mates.

“what are you doing, yunho?” you ask with a laugh as the tall male rubs his nose against your neck. you were currently walking down the hallway to the bathroom, having just gotten up when the beta had appeared behind you and trapped you in his arms.

“you smell so good. i can’t help it,” he says before kissing your neck making you let out another laugh at how it tickled slightly.

“well you need to let me go, so i can go pee,” you said trying to nudge him away from you, but his grip only tightened.

“i don’t mind watching,” he says and you make disgusted face.

“no, ew, don’t be gross. the bathroom is for my privacy and alone time.”

“we have alone time in there together.”

“yunho i’m being serious,” you say and finally he lets go with an exaggerated sigh. “don’t sigh at me you big baby. i think wooyoung is in the kitchen so go cuddle him.”

“don’t think this is over between me and you,” he says before turning away and running down the hall and to where you presume wooyoung is in the kitchen.

walking the rest of the way to the bathroom you open the door and you’re surprised to see jongho already inside.

“oh, i’m sorry jongho i didn’t know you where in here,” you say, feeling a little flustered at walking in on him.

“it’s fine. i’m done anyway,” he says and you step aside in order to let him out. when you walk into the bathroom, you’re about to close the door when jongho stops you and steps back into the bathroom.

“what’s wrong?” jongho doesn’t answer but instead pulls you to him as he shoves his face into your neck. “j-jongho! what are you doing?”

“you smell really good.”

“oh, not you too. what is wrong with you guys?” you let out a sigh before pushing jongho away. the youngest pouts before pulling you to him one last time to kiss before running away leaving you confused.

you roll your eyes before closing the door and you manage to get halfway through your morning routine before a knock sounds on the door. you open it, toothbrush hanging out of your, to be greeted by the sight of seonghwa.

“morning, love,” he says stepping inside the bathroom and closing the door behind him. you turn on the water in the sink as a way to drown out the awkward sound of him peeing.

“why couldn’t you use the other bathroom? you know the bathroom is my alone time,” you whine, hitting his arm as you step aside to let him use the sink.

seonghwa only laughs at you before leaning down and kissing your cheek. his face lingers close to yours before he moves down to bury his face in your neck like yunho and jongho had did previously.

“why do you smell so good?” he asks, pressing his body up against yours as a way to feel closer to you.

“i don’t know, but yunho and jongho did the exact same thing,” you say and you watch seonghwa lift his head up thanks to the mirror in front of you. 

“they did?” you nod and you can tell he’s thinking due to the expression on his face. “hm, is your heat starting soon?”

“i don’t think so.”

“well i guess we should just be carefully for the next few days,” he says and you nod your head before finishing brushing your teeth and kissing seonghwa on his the cheek before leaving the bathroom and heading down stairs.

coming november 2020.

“the love that kills you inside” is a new game in an upcoming three part series, star hero.

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

── you and yeosang were nothing more than a business relationship. he was your group’s manager, and you were one of his idols he had to manage, but now after a scandal the two of you are brought closer together.

“are you dating yeosang-oppa?” luna’s voice is full of concern as her and the other two girls look at you. you had just gotten back from spending time with the older man when you saw the three of them sitting on the couch, waiting for you.

“um... maybe,” you answer, your stomach starts to sink at the thought of what could happen to you both if they told the ceo. 

“y/n... do you realize what could happen if this kind of news got out?” luna asked and you slowly nodded, head dropping to look at your feet.

“i... i’m sorry, guys. my feelings... i couldn’t stop them. he really helped me after everything that happened with soojin,” you explained, you felt your palms start to sweat and your heart was racing even faster than when you confessed to yeosang. “me and him, we know the risk and we’re being careful.”

“guys, i haven’t seen y/n this happy in a long time. maybe her and yeosang-oppa should date,” dia spoke up and you looked up at her in surprise. you are meet with her kind gaze and you feel yourself tear up.

“do you love him?” taehee asks and you nod your head without a second thought. “i thought so. i’ve been noticing the lingering gazes you give each other.

“how long have you guys been going out?” luna asks with a tilt of her head.

“four months,” you say with a shy smile thinking about all the times you’ve spent with yeosang.

“well i guess you have four months of catching us up on what your relationship has been like,” she replies with her big sister smile that she always gives you. you nod your head as you rush over to join them on the couch as you begin to tell them everything about your relationship.

coming november 2020.

“project gxxd boy” is still in the early stages of development. anything seen is subject to change and does not fully represent the final project

── the following you are about to see is a game still in the early stages of development. everything is subject to change.

"do you miss them?” yeosang’s voice is quiet as the two of you lay next to each other on his bed. the random movie flashing on the tv being forgotten and now only acting as a source of light for you both. 

“i don’t know. at the time when i was with them, i was so in love with both of them, but i was so lonely. yewon got both mingi and mine’s attention and she would always get upset if either of us acknowledged the other. i thought it was normal because i had never been in a poly relationship before and i figured that since she was the reason for our relationship, then she got the most attention.”

“but that isn’t how a relationship works. you and mingi ended up connecting only when she wasn’t there, right?”

“yeah... i thought maybe he was actually interested in me and loved me like i loved him, but that wasn’t it. he just wanted someone to occupy him while yewon was gone. i think walking in on them after being stood up by him made me finally realize how unhealthy the relationship was for me, no matter how much i loved them.”

yeosang turns on his side in order to look at you. you turned your head to look at him, curious as to why he changed positions.

“i’m glad you left them. they don’t deserve you, wooyoung would always tell me how he hated the relationship you were and how unfair it was for you,” he says making you smile gratefully at him.

“thanks yeosang.”

and that has been largefrye at e3, i would like to thank everyone for watching and please look forward to all these amazing games coming in the future!