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bridgertontess · 1 year

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The Best

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Author’s Note: Just a little fluff Benedict story. AU. This is my first try at writing Bridgerton fanfiction. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Summary: You are an up-and-coming art agent in NYC and Benedict Bridgerton is your most talented client- and one of your best friends. You’ve scheduled two art showings in one evening. You arrive very late to Benedict’s art show which is a source of frustration for both of you. AU. 4.5 k. Fluffy fluff.

“Where are you?”

You shook the raindrops off your cell phone to ensure you were reading Benedict's text message clearly.

Damn thunderstorm …. you thought to yourself.

If only you hadn’t forgotten your coat and umbrella at Sebastian’s art show, you wouldn’t have to fight the thunderstorm you found yourself in to make it to Benedict on time. Even though you were new to the job as an art agent, you knew better than to schedule two art shows in one evening. Your stomach tightened at the thought that Benedict may pay the price for your ambition.

You considered texting Benedict back but decided it would detain you even more. You would be at Benedict's art show soon enough, bringing with you pathetic excuses and abuses of your friendship. Benedict's artistic talent was astonishing and you were proud to have him as one of your best clients. As he quickly became one of your best friends in the city, you discovered that his artistic endeavors weren't his only talents. His kindness and charm set him apart from most of the people you met in New York.

Occupied New York City cabs whizzed down the street next to the sidewalk. Not only would you never be able to get a cab on such a busy Friday night, but each cab also seemed to mock you by spraying you with cold water from the street puddles as they sped by.

One more block. Don't give up now.

You drew a deep breath and redoubled your efforts. At some point, you lost the heel on your left pump. You couldn't be bothered with its recovery.

Your body nearly slammed into the glass door of the gallery. Stepping back, you pulled the door open aggressively thanks to the adrenaline that was coursing full speed ahead in your bloodstream. Your gasp echoed through the barren lobby. You blinked the droplets of water from your eyelashes to make sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you. Instead of a hoard of artists and collectors, you saw sculptures from past art shows. The easels that held signs announcing Benedict’s art show were still where you had placed them the day before as the two of you took your time readying the lobby and adjacent gallery for tonight's show.

The empty bar against the wall instantly beckoned you. Ignoring your meandering stride, you hobbled your way toward it in search of brain-numbing wine. Glancing over the counter to the other side of the bar, you saw the unopened boxes of Benedict's favorite chardonnay that you had ordered for the event.

First things first.

Supporting yourself against the counter of the bar, you quickly tried to make yourself look remotely presentable. You tugged the dripping hem of your short black skirt and adjusted your water-soaked red sweater. You had taken extra care that morning to look especially professional for the day's art shows. Being new to the profession, you knew you had a lot to prove to a lot of people. You smoothed your drenched hair in a pathetic attempt to deceive yourself into believing that you could still pull off a fabulous look for the art show.

And for Benedict.

You searched for a living breathing person among the sculptures and statues while you internally searched for a reason why the lobby would be empty of guests.

You caught sight of Benedict standing alone in the corner of the foyer that led to the inner gallery where his work was being displayed. A shudder went up your spine as you tried to convince yourself that you were shaking due to the frigid thunderstorm rather than the fact that you were still wrangling with an imposing infatuation with him since your mutual friend Granville introduced you months before.

His stare was transfixed on the screen of his cell phone as if he was expecting it to beep with an incoming text. He glanced upward in frustration when it remained silent. While gulping from the oversized wine glass in his other hand, he put his phone into the pocket of his custom-tailored jacket.

He held his usual casual stance despite the growing irritation with the silent phone. You had grown familiar with his usual attire of paint-splattered jeans and frayed t-shirts. So, his dapper look that evening provided yet another layer to your attraction for him. His fitted black pants and crisp white shirt beneath his jacket hugged his toned frame. If any of the artwork in the building were to ever come to life, they would have been jealous of this masterpiece of a man.

Why did he have to be so stylish and attractive tonight?

You placed your cell phone on the counter of the bar, drawing Benedict's attention in your direction. His rapid-fire blinks told you that you were a sight he wasn't expecting. Just a few short hours earlier, you allowed yourself to fantasize about stunning him with your appearance. As his mouth gaped open and his eyebrows rose, you knew you had reached that goal- just not in the way you had hoped. You heard his audible intake of breath as he did a double take of your chaotic condition.

Way to make a graceful entrance.

His quick long strides brought him to where you stood leaning against the abandoned bar. He stole a glance at the puddle of water collecting at your feet.

"What happened to you? Are you ok?" he asked as the edge in his voice cut through the lobby. He shook his head as he scanned your body from head to toe and back again. He quickly took another drink from his wine glass before setting it on the counter. Unable to resist, you reached for his glass and took a swig of his wine for yourself before returning it to the counter.

You began to unleash a manic narrative on your evening to that point, gasping for breath between each phrase. “I'm sorry... Sebastian knew I only had time for a quick drop in… he kept pulling me in a million directions..I don’t know why I thought that I could make two art shows in one night… and then, the storm…”

Breathe.

He took off his jacket and helped you into it without breaking his gaze on you. His jacket was still warm from the heat of his body. You caught his distinctive scent as it enveloped you. You knew it well. After every Netflix mathathon you had shared, he regularly left his scent of vetiver, sandalwood, and his natural musk on your afghan that you kept on your sofa.

During our marathons, it didn't matter that he preferred foreign films and you were all about rom-coms. The two of you made it work over a bowl full of M&M's. However, you often spent your marathons watching him as he arranged the candies according to color in the palm of his hand before eating them all in one big gulp. You had made a habit of fooling yourself into believing that you always looked away quick enough so that he never saw your stares.

“Better?” he asked as he pulled the jacket tighter around your body, startling you from your memory of when you were confident that you could always work things out in the name of friendship.

A weak smile was your only answer as guilt continued to bubble inside of you.

Crossing his arms across his chest, he opened his mouth to speak. Instead, he looked away with his mouth silently gaped open. His long fingers massaged the back of his neck as he shook his head.

He finally found his words. “I can't believe that you took such a risk tonight. I know tonight was important to you. It was important to us.” As he unbuttoned his cuffs and began to push his sleeves up his forearms, he pulled his lips back, seemingly to keep from saying anything more.

You stumbled a step backward struggling to keep your breathing even. Closing your eyes, you could no longer bear to see the frustration written across his face. Just as it was unlike you to take such a risk with both your careers, it was unlike him to express dissatisfaction so readily.

“Benedict, I can't believe it either.” Instinctually, you reached out your shaking hands to grab his in an attempt to apologize. You still couldn’t allow yourself a glance at his disappointed face.

He sandwiched your cold hands in his, allowing his electric touch to warm them. His gesture of kindness paradoxically calmed and excited you at the same time. Taking a deep breath, you risked looking up to his face again. You caught his stare before he quickly looked away. The corners of his mouth turned upward. He had traded his frustration for concern as he pulled your hands against his body. You took an extra forward step for good measure.

Benedict cleared his throat. “I wish you would have called or texted. I had no idea what happened to you. I was really worried. If it weren't for you, I'd be lost.”

“Well, I wasn't a very good agent tonight. I am truly sorry.”

An exasperated sigh escaped him. “I’m not talking about your job as an agent. I meant that I would be lost...” He quickly looked away, seemingly searching for a way to end that sentence. He shook his head and seemed to abandon that search.

He placed his hands on your shoulders, before allowing one of his hands to slip into the curve of your neck. “Don't be so hard on yourself. Being one of the newest art agents in the city brings with it a lot of pressure. You deserve better treatment than you received from Sebastian. He knew you were just dropping in quickly as a favor. He knew you were sure to get caught in that storm.”

You felt palpitations in your chest when it dawned on you that his frustration wasn’t because you had made a mistake by overscheduling yourself. His frustration came from the fact that he had been concerned for your well-being.

“I am amazed by your understanding when you have every right not to be.” Your mind volleyed back and forth as you tried to decide if it was emotionally safe for you to hope once again that his concern for you indicated more than friendship. Giving in to your desire for Benedict meant risking your professional relationship as well as your friendship.

But wouldn't it be worth it?

He pulled your soaked hair away from the back of your neck and moved it toward your shoulder. He squeezed the water from it and you watched as his eyes tracked a raindrop down your chest into the plunging neckline of your favorite red sweater. You pulled a quick breath into your lungs as he was brave enough to trace its path with his fingertips which were still slightly stained with paint from his other inborn passion. Since the moment he came into your life, you had longed for his tender touch. You had fantasized about feeling his touch on your skin, but you never let yourself believe that it would actually happen.

He. Is. Worth. The. Risk.

"Still cold?" he asked huskily as he brought his gaze back up to your eyes.

“Hot” you breathed before you could stop yourself -even though your teeth were still chattering.

He fluidly bent down to contain you in an embrace while he nuzzled his 5 o'clock shadow into your neck. You felt the traction of his cheek pull along the side of your neck as his parted lips landed motionless on the corner of your mouth. You breathed in his exhale of sweet wine.

He hesitated for a moment that felt like a lifetime before blessing your lips with a tentative kiss. Passion and fear waged a war in your mind. As he pulled his face back, you were provided with the freedom to touch his smooth lips with your fingertip. He pressed his lips against the pad of your finger while stroking your face with the back of his hand.

It no longer mattered that he saw you staring. You drank in his face without fear. You were no longer concerned that you were risking potential heartache to give in to your desire for him. His eyes held your stare with one of his own. You reached up and pulled his face down toward you. Passion had won.

As you turned your head to ready yourself to kiss his beckoning mouth, he unexpectedly mirrored your head tilt with his. You quickly recovered by tilting your head in the other direction again to avoid a dreaded nose crash. You feverishly gave him a decidedly deliberate kiss on his mouth.

He shakily inhaled as if he was preparing to dive into a pool. He plunged into your mouth with a desire that had been squelched for far too long. Clutching his hair, you pulled him even further into your kiss. You grabbed his shoulders as if you were drowning in a wave of your own passion.

You pulled your face upward to steady the panting gasps of your breathing. He took advantage of the access to your throat and planted staccato kisses up and down each side of your neck. He was mapping your body with his mouth as if he had been planning it since the moment you met.

Stopping for a moment, he breathed into your skin “Are you sure...” You didn't allow him to finish his question before forcefully pushing a kiss onto his words. You parted your lips as an invitation to him to invade your mouth. He cradled your head in the palm of his hand as he accepted your silent request. As he darted his tongue into your mouth, you answered with an exploration of my own. You didn't want the kissing to end in case he had notions of telling you that it was a mistake as soon as your kisses subsided. You wanted to pull in every moment for the kisses seemed too important to end.

“Finally,” he said into the shared breaths between you.

Finally.

The crack of the lightning from beyond the doors gave you a brief and unexpected firework show. The rumbling roll of thunder that followed shook you from the bliss of finally allowing yourself to give in to the charms of his man. You both peered beyond the doors to discover that the downpour was growing even worse.

“I’m impressed that you took it upon yourself to run through that storm,” Benedict suddenly remarked. “I imagine getting a taxi would be impossible on a night like tonight. I have to give you credit for your efforts.” Benedict absentmindedly glided his fingertips across your collarbone as he continued to look at the menacing storm.

“I work hard for my favorite client,” you answered as you returned to staring at this man’s dazzling face.

Your mind awoke to the fact that your newfound passion was preventing you from entering the gallery where Benedict’s work was displayed. You longed to make up for your tardiness by at least completing his art show triumphantly.

"But,” you began, “we shouldn’t keep everyone waiting even longer. Let's go to the gallery that has your work. I invited some art collectors that I can't wait for you to meet. Maybe I can do some damage control and they will consider me fashionably late." You glanced down at your disheveled appearance and added “Well, on second thought, I might not be able to pull off “fashionably.”

Your joke fell flat. "Too late,” he winced. “It's over." Glancing around the lobby, you immediately felt foolish for not realizing this sooner.

You grabbed my cell phone from the counter and took a passing glance at the time.

"Already?" You took yet another look at the time.

"You can't will your phone to turn back time by looking at it again," he laughed. You dropped your phone back onto the counter with a little more force than you intended.

"Where did everyone go? I had so many things lined up for you.” You stole a glance at one of the signs you had placed throughout the lobby the day before.

Benedict tenderly took your face in his hands and directed your attention back to him. “Listen to me. The show was a success. I had some really good leads. But everyone started leaving early to beat the storm.” He nodded in the direction of the glass doors where the storm continued to try to beat its way in. “Granville was here but he left too. He took with him his posse of art friends to celebrate the enthusiasm of art collectors everywhere.”

“And you didn't leave with them? I've never known you to pass up a good party, Benedict”

“And miss this sight? This is not your usual look,” he smiled before turning thoughtful. “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Me? Alright? Well, I've proven tonight that this is debatable” you sighed.

“Hey now,” he comforted while bending down to assure that you were making eye contact, “neither of our careers is ruined over one rained out art show. We are both too good at what we do for that to happen.”

“Benedict, you are the best,” you smiled.

“Okay. If you say so.”

You nodded quickly to indicate that this was exactly what you thought. “Well,” you confessed in an attempt to redeem yourself, “while I was at Sebastian's show, I sold that amazing landscape that you finished last week. So tonight wasn’t a total loss.”

“Tonight will never be a total loss.” He took a handful of your hair and squeezed more water from it. An awareness came over his face as he realized what you had just said about his painting. His eyebrows rose as he cackled. “Wait! You actually sold MY painting at another artist's show? That is really ballsy!”

His laugh made your heart flutter as you let yourself grow just a bit proud of yourself. “I know my priorities. You are my priority. Your art sells itself.”

“Well, why are you getting commissions then?” he joked. He smiled with satisfaction.

You shivered.

As he circled his arms around your waist, his large open hands rubbed your back to warm you. Gradually, he gave way to slower strokes along your back. He stopped moving his hands completely as he pulled you closer to his body. You both froze in place. Lingering a stare into your eyes, he moved his fingertips to your face to gently brush away the raindrops that had beaded there.

He reached under his jacket that was now encompassing your body and grabbed at your flesh- each hand moving independently to cover as much of your body at once as possible. You reached around him and traced your open hand down his spine before grabbing the cloth of his shirt as if you could hold on to him and the moment forever. Your desperate desire compelled you to reach for his toned ass in a desperate attempt to pull his body even closer against yours.

“HEY!”

A gruff voice from across the lobby startled both of you and you dropped your hands from each other as if you were schoolchildren caught kissing on the playground. You had forgotten that you weren’t alone in the world, much less alone in the building. You looked over and immediately recognized the security officer of the building.

“If nobody is here for this thing, I can lock up as soon as you leave.”

You wanted nothing more but to leave and get Benedict someplace isolated so you could continue to discover each other with new touches and new kisses.

“We are gone,” Benedict called back as you felt his ample hand grip your ass, away from the prying eyes of the guard. He leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I want you alone. All to myself. It’s been a long time coming.”

An eager nod was your only response as your mind quickly flashed all the ways you had always imagined the two of you having each other.

The guard left the room to turn off the light in the galleries or retrieve keys or whatever security guards do. You didn’t care at that moment. You just felt grateful that he was kicking you out of the building so the two of you could escape to someplace private.

“So y/n, I guess this just means we have an excuse to plan another art show together.”

“Well, that declaration is the best part of my day”

“So far,” he said his voice low and seductive.

You tried to think of something clever to say, but his flirtation struck you so hard that you forgot how to speak. Your only answer was a frozen smile that you were sure bordered on demented. You pulled yourself together and exchanged your smile for a wink and wondered if that was any better.

“So,” Benedict continued, “Granville has his celebration. It's our turn to celebrate.” He reached over and raised his nearly empty wine glass in my direction. “To selling MY painting at Sebastian's art show. To misadventures that lead to adventures. And finally,” he raised his glass higher as he added flirtatiously “to the way that sweater looks on you.”

You bought yourself time by pressing your cold hands against your blushing cheeks to warm them. You needed to up your game beyond a demented smile and a wink if you had any hopes of matching his flirtations with your own.

"Well," you began, "my coat and umbrella have indeed abandoned me and my heel is probably floating down 23rd street. Since they seem to be having quite a time tonight, I think it's only fair that we follow suit. So, what is this adventure you spoke of in your toast?"

"Our usual go-to? A movie marathon at your place?”

It was your turn to be inviting. “Well, maybe not quite so usual this time.”

Raising an eyebrow, he commanded, “Uber it is. We need to get you someplace warm.”

Someplace hot.

“Great,” you cheered, “I'll grab a bottle of your fave chardonnay. You deserve only the best”

You pulled yourself up across the bar to reach for a bottle of wine. Because it was just out of reach, you wiggled your body further across the counter, flailing your arms toward the wine. Giddy at the idea that your night was not over yet, you giggled “To us!” as you continued to thrash across the counter of the bar.

“What in the hell are you doing? What is THAT?” You heard him laugh as you continued to wiggle on your stomach. “You are leaving puddles of rainwater everywhere.” You felt his arms encircle your waist as he pulled you down from the bar. He spun you toward him as he pulled you into his body. He didn't let go, pressing himself harder against you. Every part of him felt hard against your body. You could no longer resist the feel of him. Not that you ever could.

Vetiver. Sandalwood. Musk.

You felt the earth move beneath you as you stumbled into him. Your damaged shoe sliding on the wet floor, coupled with finally succumbing to your desire for Benedict, knocked you off your balance. He reached down, hooking both your thighs from behind to lift your feet completely off the wet tile floor. Instinctually, you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without a word, Benedict pulled your shoes from your feet, each in its turn. He smirked, throwing the shoes across the floor and you both watched as they knocked over an easel that held a sign announcing his art show.

You felt a sudden jolt as Benedict repositioned his hands to grab your butt to stabilize both of you. You laced your hands around his neck as he pressed his forehead against yours. Your rapid breathing was in perfect syncopation with his.

You pressed against his cheek as you whispered into his ear, “I've wanted to do this for a very long time.” Pulling his collar away from his neck, you lapped at his bare skin to pull the taste of him into your mouth. Goosebumps rose from his skin with each taste.

He cleared his throat. “Me too,” he rasped. “And I want to keep doing that for a very long time.”

As if to prove his point, he pushed his face into the bare chest above the scooped neckline of your sweater and traced his tongue along its neckline. You never imagined that his lips discovering your body could feel so blissful.

You heard the insistent honking of a car horn outside the building but you couldn't bear to turn from Benedict to look outside. He glanced over your shoulder and you both knew that your Uber had arrived. You couldn't resist another lingering kiss.

"Let's go," he breathed into your mouth with authority and you both knew his demand had more than one meaning. He easily reached one arm over the counter of the bar and grabbed a bottle of wine. Wrapping his arm tightly around you while holding the bottle in his hand, he said “Running barefoot through the storm is not on the agenda for tonight.” He smirked as he carried you into the raging storm.

He literally threw you onto the backseat of the Uber, landing you butt first to the other side of the car with your legs across the backseat. He playfully stalked you on all fours crawling toward you across the seat. He called out your address to the driver without breaking his predatory eye contact. His white shirt had been drenched by pressing into your sweater during your make-out session and further by the storm. You couldn't wait to rip it open to reveal his chest. So, you didn't wait. You had waited long enough since the day that you met him.

The driver called back. "Between the storm and the traffic, you are in for a long ride"

He climbed on top of your body which was soaked in every way possible. His usual cheeky nature couldn't remain at bay as he whispered into your ear "That's what she said".

You both exploded with laughter as he said to the driver, "Take your time." He leaned into your neck and whispered against your ear "I know I will."

A guttural sound escaped your lips. It could only be followed by your favorite sound in your vocabulary.

Benedict…

“Benedict.”

The sound of your own voice startled you as you realized that you had said it out loud instead of in your own thoughts. “You are the best,” you added.

He answered by exploring your mouth with a deep soul kiss. As he pulled back from your lips, his trademark impish grin made another appearance across his face as if he was enjoying his own thoughts.

“Well,” he smiled, “the best is yet to come.”

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction

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cellphishthekaiju · 2 months

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Crackpot Headcanon: Vlaakith's 'Grand Design' for Lae'zel (and the Githyanki)

Back again on my raving bullshit for Baldur's Gate 3 (D&D and Forgotten Realms by relation), this time we're looking at the Lich Queen Tyrant, Vlaakith CLVII... cause I have lunatic thoughts of this bitch that fuel the fanfiction I write.

As with all my lunatic fandom ravings, spoilers abound for Baldur's Gate 3, associated materials, and course, take this all with COPIOUS amounts of salt. I get most, if not all, of my 'canon' info from the Forgotten Realms wiki and try to doublecheck the sources but I don't always have the time or means to.

So what is known of Vlaakith is actually very little. The one in Baldur's Gate 3 is, presumably, the 157th githyanki to hold this title and has reigned for a thousand years (mostly as a lich). She has no known heirs and aspires to ascend to godhood (primarily through spam-casting Wish). D&D Lore is very sparse on the githyanki and even more so when it comes to nuances with the githyanki. They have existed since the days of AD&D (Advanced Dungeons & Dragons) but we didn't have much about them, canonically, for a long time.

So, lunatics like myself, let the brain worms fill in the blanks.

We know that Gith, for which the people get their namesake, was the figurehead and Leader of the rebellion that led to the toppling and near extinction of the Illithid Empire unknown millenia before. At her side, I believe both Vlaakith and Zerthimon assisted her (as advisors in different capacities... and to some unknown extent, her only 'confirmed' blood relative, her son Orpheus). As to their exact roles, it is unknown how Vlaakith advised Gith in the matters of her rebellion but given she is referred to as the first of a long series of Lich-Queens that rule the githyanki, her capacity likely involved her skill and knowledge in the arcane/Weave.

After the rebellion, it is believed Gith and Zerthimon fell to infighting, as Gith presumably was so consumed with righteous fury, she single-mindedly wanted to continue hunting down the remaining illithids while Zerthimon, seeing they had won, wished to carve a new life for the 'gith' now that they were free.

In my deranged mind, I suspect/believe that the Proclamation of Two Skies (how the gith refer to their civil war that led to the creation of the -yanki and the -zerai) was stoked and brought to fruition by Vlaakith I. She was always manipulative and concerned, primarily, with her own ambitions. Having witnessed how Gith roused and united the gith, how they called her 'mother' may have stoked jealousy in Vlaakith and so she conspired to take that power and reverence for herself, especially under the suspicion I have that Gith and Zerthimon were lovers/mates (I wrote a theory pointing at Orpheus may be their son).

Vlaakith conspired to turn Gith and Zerthimon upon each other but her plan had an unintended consequence; the division of the gith people into the Githyanki and the Githzerai (and with time, further fracturing in the form of Pirates of Gith, Sha'sal Khou and the Githvyrik (dunno how canon this is anymore because only occurs in one novel)). However, Vlaakith saw an opportunity in this fracture; Gith to be the sacrificial lamb on the altar of her ambitions.

It's believed Vlaakith I's first attempt at bargaining with Baator (The Nine Hells) was seeking a pact with Dispater. However, Vlaakith's attempt(s) failed for one reason or another... likely because Dispater is far more paranoid than Vlaakith is and saw no merit in a deal with such a conniving creature.

Having failed in bargaining with the Lord of Dis, Second Layer of Baator, Vlaakith found herself bargaining with Tiamat. It is, still, unknown the terms of their pact (or how she even got to bargaining with the Chromatic Dragon Queen to begin with) but the bargain was successful and Gith ended up being part of the price.

After the githyanki retreated into the Astral Plane, since the civil war left them weakened (and the githzerai went to Limbo), Vlaakith convinces Gith to travel to Avernus (First Layer of Baator), likely with promises that fed into Gith's violent ego and giving no indication that Gith was not going to make it back. With the bargain paid, Tiamat imprisoned Gith among her hoard (presumably) while Vlaakith returned to the githyanki on the back of Ephelomon, Tiamat's Chromatic Red consort. Together, the two convinced the githyanki that Gith had martyred herself in the bargain and commanded that Vlaakith guide and rule their people in her absence.

This is where the canon gets messy, as there appears to be a discrepancy in the order of events. In the 5e Monster Manual, it suggests Vlaakith sealed the bargain with Tiamat before the Proclamation of Two Skies happened. Texts like Mordenkaine's Tome of Foes suggests the bargain with Tiamat was struck after the split. I'm more inclined to agree it happened after, since the Githzerai and other non-yanki Gith do not benefit from the terms of the pact (mainly the access to Red Dragons)

So, what's this all got to do with the current Vlaakith?

Vlaakith CVII is more than I (want to) believe Larian has told/shown us.

Like her namesake, Vlaakith CVII is a lich that has, supposedly been in power for, roughly, a thousand years by the time the events of Baldur's Gate 3 happen. She upholds the teachings, protocols, and ambitions of her originator and predecessors yet has no known heirs (blood relative or otherwise).

My crazy idea is that Vlaakith CVII is actually Vlaakith I... and all other holders of the 'title' before her have just been Vlaakith. Vlaakith is too vain and ambitious to let something like death get in her way and likely sought every means possible to buy herself the time she needed to achieve her ultimate ambition; Godhood.

Vlaakith's insanity is well in line with the 'canon' behavior of liches, especially 'long-lived' ones. Now, she is just a creature driven by the all-consuming desire to ascend and achieve the ultimate power by any means necessary.

Ascending to divinity/godhood in D&D is... not very clear. The primary factor is faith, as a god needs followers to thrive and derive power from. By controlling the githyanki in all aspects of life, establishing castes like the Inquisitors to hunt down and silence dissenters, sealing Prince Orpheus within the Astral Prism (and infernal chains), using Gith's name and 'sacrifice' as a catylst to keep the people's devotion on herself... but this is a slow process so Vlaakith also encouraged and regulates the militaristic structure of githyanki society to produce powerful warriors that she can, later, consume and sacrifice in her spam-casting of the Wish spell and whatever other means she uses those poor souls for (aside from the husks she keeps)

So, how and why does Lae'zel factor into all of this?

Literally, this is all because of one dialogue line Vlaakith gives in Act 3 of Baldur's Gate 3: Promising to make Lae'zel Baht Vlaakith, the Commander of Dragons; her Chosen (despite having no true divine power). She offers Lae'zel's greatest ambition; to be Kith'rak, to ascend beyond even the standards of her people and serve at Vlaakith's feet.

Weird thing to say to someone you can just Thanos-snap from existence, which Vlaakith does if your party refuses to comply with her at Creche Y'llek. (Seriously, this woman will waste a Wish on you just to remove the entire party from existence for 'waving hello' at her)

Vlaakith has determined Lae'zel as her 'heir' and needs her to return so that she may possess/control her (either through the use of spells like Domination or something more sinister, like excising her soul and possessing her body; no clue if liches can do this). I believe some githyanki that held the title of 'Vlaakith' were simply thralls to Vlaakith I, enhancing her duplicity to make it seem like the title passes on between individuals (despite having NO information on how this is determined within githyanki society).

The only other 'brain worm' I have about why Vlaakith attempts to bargain with Lae'zel one more time about killing Orpheus instead of, I dunno, simply Wish-murder the party, is there is something important about Lae'zel that not even the githyanki herself is aware of. Not to the degree of a psionic null zone but perhaps something Vlaakith has been nurturing through controlled breeding to accelerate her consumption of power... or as an offering to Tiamat.

Hells, if you talk to Withers in the Epilogue about the fate of a Vlaakith aligned Lae'zel... he says she's just gone. Her soul no longer exists.

A fate worse than death and Lae'zel went to it, oblivious.

Yep, there it is... more cracked brainworm thoughts for Baldur's Gate 3.

I'm also not a fan of Vlaakith but hey, I feel like there needs to be way more depth and analyzing some of this stuff my brain just does on its own.. and it fuels my fan-fic writing (which you should totally check out)

I hope folks are enjoying my insane ramblings.

#baldur's gate 3 #fan theory #crazy fan theory #the brainrot is terminal #vlaakith I #theorycrafting #baldurs gate 3 #lae'zel

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thatredheadwriter · 2 years

Note

hi bestie can i request “when someone's like… i don’t know… hurt or something… and the other person's like… tending to their wounds… and then just… wrap their lover their arms, thankful they’re alive” for loki?

Home

loki x reader

This is a one shot requested by my lovely mutual @sylvieofasgard from this prompt list. I’m a slut for some Loki finally getting taken care of and loved like they deserve. This was an honor to write. I’m not sure if I completely nailed the prompt, but I like the way it turned out, so it’s alright.

This is a SFW preference for (implied female) reader with Loki (MCU). This work does not contain smut, however it may contain mature language or themes, and as a rule my blog is only for those over the age of 18 (or the age of majority in your locale). As a writer, I will attempt to make accurate warnings for each of my fics, however I cannot guarantee that I will identify each and every sensitive topic. My works regularly contain swearing, allusions to/mentions of sex, and canon level violence.

Warnings Include (but are not limited to):

Blood

Injury

Mentions of a mission gone bad

Fluff

Pretty mild angst

Please read at your own discretion and consume your fanfiction responsibly.

You leaned against the cool glass, watching as rain droplets raced down the surface. It’d been a day or so since you’d heard from Loki, which in itself wasn’t odd, but you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread that grew in the pit of your stomach as the hours passed.

As evening turned to night, you shuffled about the apartment–cleaning and straightening, fluffing pillows that were already perfectly fluffed, baking cookies. Anything to keep your hands, and hopefully your mind, busy. Finally you faced the inevitable and settled into your favorite chair with a cup of tea and one of the many books Loki had left on his visits.

When you woke, your tea was cold and forgotten on the table beside you and the poor book had fallen to the floor. At first, you weren’t sure what had stirred you, but a dark shape moving by the window made you jump and let out a small scream.

“Shh, shh, it’s just me, pet,” a familiar voice grunted. You flipped on the lamp by your seat and were shocked to see Loki in the floor, leaning against the wall beneath the window. His clothes were cut up and you could see blood leaking from several wounds.

“Loki!” you gasped, flying from your chair to kneel by his side, “What the hell happened?”

Your hands hovered over his injuries, your fear to touch him outweighing your need to assess their severity.

“I-I was helping the bloody Avengers,” he groaned, trying to sit up more and failing, “Apparently someone couldn’t keep their mouth shut, blew the operation. We were ambushed.”

“Why did you come here? Why aren’t you getting medical treatment?” you zeroed in on a particularly nasty gash across his ribs, wincing as you moved the fabric that covered it.

“I don’t trust them.”

“But you trust me?”

“With my life.”

His eyes met yours as he said that, and you knew deep in your soul that it was true. Lost in your own world, it was Loki’s ragged breathing that brought you back to the situation at hand.

Springing into action, you leaned down further so you could get your shoulder up under his before attempting to stand, his body mass dragging you down as you did. He grunted a bit but didn’t cry out as you moved him to sit in a dining chair.

“Um, we’re going to need to take your clothes off…so I can see your wounds that is,” you hoped the slight tremble in your voice didn’t give away your embarrassment, but you weren’t counting on it. Instead of dwelling on that, your hands flew over Loki’s torso lightly, where most of the wounds seemed to be, and found buckles and straps all over.

You cursed under your breath as you worked at a particularly difficult fastening, earning a breathy chuckle from Loki as he watched you.

“Don’t you laugh at me,” you scolded half-heartedly, prompting the god of mischief to contort his face into a barely contained smirk.

A few moments later and you’d finally freed him from the majority of his clothes, save for his pants and shoes. It took all your effort not to stare at his bare chest. Even bloody and bruising he was still magnetic, drawing you in. You could see how people mistook him for a god.

But if there was one thing you were good at, it was keeping busy. You grabbed the meager first aid kit from your cabinet and set to work cleaning and dressing his wounds, breath hitching every time your fingertips brushed his cold skin.

An hour and a mess of rubbing alcohol and gauze later, you slumped tiredly into the chair across from him, hands trembling as you looked him over once more. He was still in one piece, and conscious, which you considered to be a good sign. Luckily none of his wounds had been deep enough to require stitches.

Your thoughts were broken through when Loki groaned, trying to stand as he leaned heavily on your worn dining table, a thrift piece you’d gotten for a great bargain at the local flea market.

“What are you doing?” you stood quickly, blocking his path as he attempted to pull on the tattered remains of his shirt.

“I should go,” he sighed, “I’ve intruded on your evening already.”

“No!” you said far too quickly, panic lacing your voice. Loki’s eyes studied your face as you collected yourself with a deep breath, “Please stay. Just for tonight.”

“Only if you’ll have me.”

For a moment you forgot about his injuries and pulled him into a haphazard embrace. He stiffened at first. You were afraid you’d hurt him and were about to let go when he melted into your touch. His nose pressed into the top of your scalp and suddenly you were the only thing holding him up.

“Let’s get you into the bed,” you chuckled, partially releasing your hold on him so you could guide him towards your bedroom.

“Look at you, pet. First you undress me and now you’re trying to get me into bed,” he joked halfheartedly. You simply rolled your eyes and helped him limp along into bed.

He looked comically large in your four poster bed. He even made your room seem smaller, his giant form sprawled across the light-colored duvet. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to crawl in next to him, to hold him. To feel his presence and just know that he was alive and ok and in one piece. But it wasn’t about what you wanted, so you excused yourself.

“Where are you going?” the anxiety in his voice was impossible to miss, and it broke your heart.

“I-I was just going to sleep on the couch tonight. You need to rest.”

His face was serious as he spoke. “I will rest much better with you by my side. If it’s not too forward of me to say.”

Tears sprang to your eyes and you swallowed hard to be able to speak.

“Ok,” you squeaked.

You padded back across the old hardwoods and climbed into bed beside him. At first it was awkward, uncomfortable. You were afraid to touch him again, despite how bad you wanted to.

“It’s ok, pet. I’m here. I’m ok,” he whispered.

The dam broke and you pulled him in close to you, holding him like he might disappear otherwise, because any other time he would have.

You ended up halfway underneath him, being comfortably smushed into the mattress by his weight. One hand was tangled in his raven hair and the other was tracing patterns on his exposed bicep. At some point hot tears started rolling down your face and soaking the neckline of your shirt.

“What’s wrong,” he whispered.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” you sniffled, “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“I will always come home to you.”

“You better,” you grumbled, sniffing through the tears.

Your hand left Loki’s arm for a moment to reach and turn out the light on your nightstand.

In the dark, listening to his breathing, you reminded yourself that he was ok, and safe. You reminded yourself that Loki was a man of his word. And that he would always come home to you.

thatredheadwriter's Masterlist

#loki #loki x reader #loki fluff #loki angst #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader angst #loki oneshot #loki blurb #loki headcannon #loki imagine

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letsloveimagines · 3 years

Photo

Title: Crush II

Pairing: Corpse Husband x fem!youtuber!reader

Collab with: @the-winter-sxldier-posts

Requested by: Anonymous

Request: You HAVE to write a part 2 of crush where they meet! It would be so cuteeee!

Word Count: 1667

Warnings: a little swearing but mostly fluff

Note: The images doesn’t belong to me, all the credits go to the respective creators. I only made the collage. Also, I will not make anything to make Corpse uncomfortable, if he ends saying he doesn’t like fanfiction about him, I will delete this.

Part I: Here

♦⋅☆⋅♦ Y/N pressed her left foot on the clutch pedal, turned the car key and heard the engine roaring loudly afterwards. She added the address on the GPS, looked at herself in the mirror for a moment taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm and focused. She put the car in first gear, and started driving from her apartment complex's private parking lot to the main road.

As her small and comfortable car drove through the streets of Los Angeles, the girl kept listening to what was on the radio. Every now and then, her stomach would churned with nervousness but she would take a deep breath and smile uncertainly to herself, trying to convince herself that everything would be okay.

Fed up with the podcast she was listening to, turned her car's Bluetooth on when she had to stop at a red traffic light, she switched to her current favorite Playlist.

Distracted by the music and humming softly accompanied by Rihanna's voice, she put the first gear back on, moving the car forward when the traffic light turned green, quickly shifting to the second and then putting on the third.

Her mind was racing, however.

Life had gone well since that specific day... since Y/N and Corpse confessed their feelings to each other. Their mutual friends that they played with knew the truth and were extremely happy for them, which was wonderful and soothing. Outside of them, no one else knew what had happened.

Corpse and Y/N talked every day, stayed on the phone every night until one of them fell asleep unfortunately, the girl always fell asleep first, and saw each other through FaceTime whenever they could.

In other words, the two could say that they were basically dating already... Even though there was never a real question. But perhaps that was about to change, for the day had finally come when they would meet physically.

A sound of receiving a phone call invaded the car and interrupted her thoughts. With a smile on her lips already knowing who was, Y/N clicked on the answer button and waited while entering a roundabout.

"Hey." That characteristic deep voice was heard.

"Hey you." She replied while looking briefly at his name written on the car screen.

"Are you on your way yet?"

"Yes, I just left the house. I'll be there In about two hours, depending on the traffic today."

Corpse cleared his throat and Y/N almost visualized him playing with his rings, and messing with his dark curly hair. "Are you sure you haven't forgotten anything?"

"Well, I hope not. I’ve had my bags packed for two days, but I think I have everything that is necessary with me. If not, there is no problem really." She replied.

"This is going to... This is really going to happen isn't it?" She could hear the smile in the man's voice.

"Yes, Corpse, it is. We will finally meet in person."

"I can't wait to see you." He whispered.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm for a moment, and she knew that if she looked in the mirror she would see a dark pink tone on her skin. She bit her lower lip in an attempt to stop the huge smile. "I can't wait to give you a big hug and tell you everything face to face."

Corpse laughed deeply, his tone was warm and full of emotion. "I know... I am anxious, and I am not going to lie about it. I'm super nervous. My hands are shaking so much that I don't even know how I haven't dropped my phone yet."

"Oh, Corpse..." Y/N whispered with a heavy heart, but was attentive to the road at the intersection where she was. "There is no reason to be nervous, it's just me. It’s just us."

"I know..." He sighed softly. After a few minutes without speaking, enjoying the comfortable silence between the two and listening to the sound of the Y/N’s car motor, he continued. "Well..." Corpse cleared his throat. "I will let you concentrate on your driving. Be careful and pay attention to the road."

"I will, I’ll see you later."

"Bye."

"Bye, Corpse."

The call ended but the anxiety and nervousness did not. However, only the sound of his voice and the small conversation they had was able to make Y/N smile all the way to San Diego.

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Y/N pressed the turn signal, the green arrow flashing to the right, and parked the car in an empty parking space in front of the building. The woman's neutral and almost robotic voice came from the GPS saying: You have reached your destination. Shaking in her place, the girl put on the brake and turned off the car, taking a deep breath trying to calm herself once more.

It was now or never... Should she send him a message to let him know she was already there? Should she just knock on the door? Her hands were shaking so much, and her heart was beating so hard and so fast that it almost hurt.

She sat in the driver's seat for a few more minutes, so nervous she might pass out. It is better to just go there, she thought, the longer it takes the more nervous I will become.

She took a deep breath, unbuckled her seat belt, removed the keys from the ignition and quickly got out of the car, closing the door behind her, and going to the trunk to remove the pink suitcase. When it was on the floor next to her, she closed the trunk and locked the car safely, looking at the intimidating building in front of her.

Without further ado she approached it, opened the entrance door, climbed the stairs with some difficulty to his floor, and trembling, she shyly knocked on the door with her knuckles.

That door was opened so fast that it even scared her.

They were both looking at each other almost stunned... Finally they were there, in person, just a meter away and with a spine of the door separating them. Corpse was even more beautiful in person, and Y/N found herself lost in his dark eyes for a while.

"Hi..." She said sheepishly.

Corpse looked at her examining her from head to toe as if he couldn't believe she was real. Finally he smiled so beautifully that she almost forgot to breathe. "Hi." He replied.

Y/N dragged the suitcase a little closer to her, uncertain how to proceed. She didn't have time to think, however, as Corpse seemed to get tired of the waiting and shyness between them, crossed the space between the two and took her in his arms. His body was warm against hers, extremely hot, and his embrace was loving and passionate. Y/N inhaled his attractive scent - a mixture of soap, men's perfume and something else - and Corpse laughed through her hair.

"You’re here!" He exclaimed loudly, laughing deeply, spinning in circles with her still in his arms laughing out loud like he was.

When the two were inside the apartment, Corpse released her and pulled her suitcase inside as well, closing the door to prevent any curious neighbor from trying to see what was going on.

The two of them stayed there with smiles so big on their faces that their cheeks hurt… But it was definitely a good pain.

"I don't even know what to say..." Y / N confessed, practically shaking with excitement in her place.

Corpse smiled again, taking her hand timidly and gently, caressing her skin and interlacing their fingers and pulling her closer to him. "Me neither."

They were silent just enjoying the moment, and enjoying the fact that they were there, together... that it was real. How many times had they imagined this? How many times had they dreamed of that moment?

Corpse lowered his head slightly looking into her eyes intently, but his brows furrowed as if something troubling was going through his mind. "I…"

"What is it?" Y/N questioned worriedly.

Corpse made a shy expression. “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Y/N's cheeks caught fire but her smile was so big, and she was so happy that she felt like she was going to explode at any moment. "Yes! Yes, of course you can…"

The young man approached, with his hand on Y/N's waist to pull her closer and the other one climbing up her arm, her shoulder, then her neck and resting on her burning cheek, where he was caressing the hot skin. Their fresh, labored and nervous breaths mingled, closing the distance until their lips touched, finally in what felt like an explosion of fireworks or an explosion of magic. Corpse's lips were soft and warm against hers, kissing her tenderly, as he brought their bodies together even more almost as if he was afraid that she would disappear at any moment.

The kiss was a mixture of lips and tongues, longing, passion and mostly love. It ended faster than they would have liked, but they stayed in each other's arms, sharing passionate smiles.

After a moment, Corpse whispered, "I still think this is a dream, and that I'm going to wake up after the normal three fucking hours that I can barely sleep."

Y/N laughed with her heart leaping and butterflies in her belly, playing with the laces of the black sweatshirt he had worn that day, wrapping it around her fingers and looking him in the dark eyes. "Me too, I've pinched myself hundreds of times today just to make sure this was real. But if this is a dream, I don't want to wake up anymore."

"I will punch the face of anyone who tries to wake me up." Corpse joked making Y/N let out the laugh he liked so much to hear.

"I love you." She whispered dizzy with emotion.

"That’s good, because I love you too."

♦⋅☆⋅♦

Tag List: @breathygasps @unicornblood4ever @mintchip17 @jay-jay-love

#corpse husband #Corpse Husband Fandom #Corpse Fandom #corpse fanfiction #fanfiction #imagines #one-shot #corpse husband imagine #corpse husband oneshot #corpse x reader #corpse x y/n #corpse husband x reader #corpse husband x you #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband x female reader

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stephspurs · 3 years

Text

ONLY ANGEL - A John Stones Fanfiction

STEPHSPURS. - THE MASTERLIST ONLY ANGEL - FANFICTION MASTERLIST

The lights go down, the room turns dark, a murmur of people still trying to find their seats settles into the otherwise silence. The floor to ceiling screen behind the runway awakens to show a video montage of arguably the most famous supermodels in the world. “It’s difficult being a woman, and other women understand that...but it’s also fun to be a woman and I think we should be able to own that”

The Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show is unlike any other in the world, it is the equivalent of the SuperBowl for supermodels. Bodies like Gisele Bundchen, Heidi Klum, Tyra Banks, grace the runway year in year out for the most-celebrated lingerie event in the runway calendar. A change of scenery for the traditionally American-based fashion show saw the glittery stage set up and a plethora of beautiful women touch down in London town.

Josephine Andersen, a 25 year old Danish-born supermodel found herself sitting backstage in hair and makeup, in a scantily-clad lingerie set with the iconic barely-there silk wrap adorned with the famous branding across the back of her shoulders and ‘Angel Josephine’ across her left side, right above her beating heart. Make no mistake, Josephine was meant to be here. She had worked hard every single day since the last runway event that she was fortunate enough to have walked in for the lingerie brand, to prove her rightful place as an Angel.

Yes, success is the direct result of hard work - and there was no denying that Josephine was a hard worker. She knew that she wasn’t special, and like most, she would have to work for what she wanted out of her life. What she didn’t know before going into the modelling industry at the ripe old age of 13, was that it was as mentally challenging as it was physical. Everyday was a constant battle between her head, her heart, and her agent. Nevertheless, she was aware of how difficult it was to be a woman, but she was also aware of just how fun it could be too.

John Stones, a 27 year old Barnsley-born (although his mate Kyle Walker would argue the point that his postcode says Sheffield but that's a story for another time) footballer for Manchester City Football Club, found himself sitting front row of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show in London. He had never attended an event quite like it before, his mates sat either side of him ready to enjoy the spectacle that he didn’t think he would ever have the pleasure of attending. With the current season underway and the fact that his home club was a whole 4 hour drive away from his current location, it was a small miracle that the group of lads from Manchester were allowed to attend at all. These boys were down for a night of beautiful women, lingerie and getting up to no good.

The music started, the screen went black, the crowd erupted in applause for the first model through the parting screen - Angel Josephine. Strutting down the runway to Harry Styles' live version of Only Angel, John was mesmerised by the woman before him. She was working the crowd, sensual glances, little smirks, a cheeky grin here and there. Standing at the end of the runway, facing the abundance of cameras, Josephine gave her best smile and a confident wink to the camera before tossing her hair over her shoulder and proceeding to walk back up the runway.

John hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of the girl, he wasn’t sure he had blinked since she stepped foot out on the runway - if he closed his eyes for just a millisecond he would miss too much. He was addicted to her beauty, never having seen something so ethereal in his life. Maybe it was the atmosphere, maybe it was the champagne, but he honestly believed that there was an angel before him. Following her with his eyes as she walked back towards where he was seated, he made eye contact with her and she held it. Sending him a wink, and blowing him a kiss before smirking to herself and exiting the stage. She had no idea the effect that she had on the otherwise cocky man, she had reduced him to a puddle of mush, too intimidated by her beauty. The moment she was out of his sight, it was like he could breathe again, the sound that was previously muted around him returned to its full volume and his tunnel vision had widened to take in the whole show. Taking another sip of his champagne, he caught the eye of his best friend Kyle (yes, the same Kyle from earlier) who smirked and gave him a pat on the shoulder. Kyle had seen the whole interaction, albeit limited and largely one sided, and knew exactly what kind of trouble his friend could get himself into here.

Backstage Josephine was being ushered from the runway to the small curtain that was hanging from a clothes rack, providing a make-shift dressing room for her to strip off of the current segments undergarments and into the next set that had been so kindly draped over the top rail by one of the wardrobe assistants. Normally she would be thriving under the fast paced nature of the evening, the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a drug, however she was encumbered by her own thoughts of the devilishly handsome man in the front row. His eyes were engraved in the back of her mind, when she shut her own eyes she could see the intensity of his stare - it was numbing her, slowing her down. She was desperate for another glance at him, being brought back into the moment by the yell of a backstage hand asking for her to hurry and get into her next wings, she stripped and redressed. Was she lightheaded from the pressure that she had placed on herself to prepare for the evening, or was it because he seemed to take up all of the air in the room and space in her brain? She could argue that she was fulfilling her role as an Angel by winking at him and blowing him a little kiss. It was her job to flirt with the crowd and put on a show after all, but she knew exactly what her intentions were and they were nothing but devilish.

Perhaps the only event more iconic than the fashion show itself, the afterparty was what most people involved in the show looked forward to. The humans, even with their celebrity status, had the opportunity to mix with the angels - who, for one night only, let go of their halos and swapped them for horns. For one night, the beautiful women of the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show in all of their angelic glory; could be as bad as they dared to. This was the unspoken truth of the after party, and if you had the fortune of being able to attend, it was not an event easily passed up.

John found himself once again surrounded by his mates, mingling with the models and his celebrity pals alike. Not once had he forgotten about the first angel he had ever laid eyes on, he didn’t even know her name but by God did he know her body. It was as though the 30-odd seconds she was before him his eyes scanned her from head to toe, every curve of her body engraved into his memory. He could remember how the light reflected off of the body shimmer she had bathed in before walking the runway, how the curve of her waist continued at the perfect degree to complete her perfectly-sized derriere. Before long, he felt the room get smaller and smaller, the air was thicker and his hearing had started to muffle. She was standing in his direct line of sight - not that it would matter if she was standing on the other side of the room, behind a crowd of people, John’s eyes would find and fixate on her.

John watched as she worked the room, obligatory pleasantries flowing from her lips as she double kissed the cheeks of men who were old enough to be her grandfather. He watched their leather-like hands wrap themselves around her lower back, too low for his liking. He watched her smile and pretend that she was comfortable, but he could see the look behind her eyes scream that she shouldn’t trust their words - that they didn’t want to just buy her a drink. Without realising, his hands started to curl around his scotch glass until he had to put it down on the table before him and excuse himself from the company of his friends and the new company they had invited to their table. Weaving his way through the crowd, eyes never leaving the side of her face, he began to make his way towards her. No plan of action, nothing to say, anything would be good enough in an attempt to rescue her from what is looking to be her own personal version of hell. As though the universe had willed it, she looked into the crowd and locked onto the gaze of the tall man who was currently striding towards her. The look on his face told everyone around them that they weren’t to get in his way, to mess with him.

Reaching her, she held her breath and waited for his next steps. Josephine didn’t know what to expect, but the handsome smile that erupted from his previously pursed lips and filled up his face had sent her heart into a frenzy. For just that moment, she chose to believe that that smile was reserved for her and only her. Reaching forward and coincidentally knocking the older man’s arm from around her waist and replacing it with his own, he leant forward and planted a loud kiss to her cheek before wrapping her in a hug that warmed her soul. Her whole body pushed into his, she was unable to see his face but she could hear his heart and it told her that she was safe.

“I’m so proud of you, babe. I reckon I'm the luckiest guy in the room to be able to call you my girlfriend” He said into her ear, loud enough for the group of older men to hear and begin to talk amongst themselves after realising they had no chance with the Danish beauty, not that she ever gave them that impression to begin with.

Pulling away from the tall man, she looked up at him and gave him her best smile, a sincere smile. She ran her hands down from his back and found his hands that were placed on her waist, lacing their fingers together and pulling him off into the crowd to the bar.

“So, boyfriend, do you have a name?” She spoke whilst picking up the vodka on the rocks - not her favourite drink but it had little to no calories and anything that had a calorie count lower than her weight, which was difficult enough to find in the first place, was a win in her eyes.

“John, but I prefer to be called your boyfriend, even if it's only for one night” John spoke back to her, looking down at the angel who had covered herself up a bit more since the last time he had the pleasure of looking at her. However, the outfit she was currently wearing still allowed John’s mind, and eyes, to wander. A secret moment shared between the two in an overcrowded room.

PART 2. (smut warning)

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professorsnape394 · 3 years

Text

The Potions Master’s Apprentice

Chapter Seventeen: Heart or Head?

A/N: This is the seventeenth part to my fanfiction ‘The Potions Master’s Apprentice (Severus Snape x OC)’. Chapters 1-17 can also be found already uploaded on Wattpad under the same name. Feel free to leave requests in my inbox for anything Snape related you want me to write. Leave a comment below or send me a message if you wish to be added to my tag list.

Pairing: Severus Snape x OC (Dumbledore’s Granddaughter)

Summary: A talented young witch is employed as an apprentice professor at Hogwarts, but who will she be working under? Severus Snape is not best pleased with his new responsibility of taking on an apprentice, however she is relentless to create a friendship between them. Will she be successful? Or might the friendship just go a little two far? With the eyes of her grandfather constantly watching over them, an attempt at a relationship might not be in the cards for Aria Dumbledore and Severus Snape.

Word Count: 1756

Warnings: n/a

Credits to Gif Creator

"Severus. Aria. May I speak with you both?" Dumbledore requested the next morning after breakfast.

The two professors exchanged an awkward glance, rising from either ends of the headmaster, unsure of the old wizard's intentions.

The hall bustled with noise, students and teachers alike eager to escape the great hall, enjoying their last day of freedom before yet another week begun.

The trio remained behind, exchanging not a word nor glance, until Dumbledore spoke once more.

"I assume you know what this is about." Albus questioned, his eyes travelling between the pair suspiciously.

Unable to force their eyes to meet the headmaster's, both Severus and Aria's minds began to race. Each of them suspecting that the other had divulged unto him the events of last night.

"I'm afraid not, Headmaster. Care to enlighten us?" Severus finally found the courage to say.

"As I am sure you were both made aware this morning at breakfast, Professor Karkaroff has found himself in a rather unfortunate state." Dumbledore explained, his eyes still surveying their faces through the top of his glasses.

Aria let out a huge sigh of relief, glad that Snape had not humiliated her further. Severus too was more than thankful his employer remained unaware that he had both seduced and rejected his beloved granddaughter in the early hours of the morning.

"What does that have to do with us, Grandfather?" Aria asked innocently, knowing fine well who was responsible for the wound.

"Nothing, as for as I'm aware." Dumbledore hummed. "There is no concrete evidence of what happened to Igor has anything to do with the two of you. However, given that the two of you, along with Professor Karkaroff were significantly late to breakfast, and given the state in which the two of you look, I have my suspicions."

"And what reason would either Miss Dumbledore or myself have for harming the man in question?" Severus retorted. "And surely you must be aware that I, as I always am on October 31st, was in my office until the small hours of this morning. I cannot, however, speak for your granddaughter's whereabouts, and why she looks so uncharacteristically dishevelled this morning."

The potions master glared at his apprentice out the side of his eye. It was the first he had dared to look at her all morning. Her face was bare; clearly she had made no effort to apply a face of makeup this morning, but a slight trace of eyeliner and mascara was still visible around her tired puffy eyes. She had hastily scraped her hair back into a tight ponytail, a half-hearted attempt to salvage her borderline greasy hair. Admittedly it was the worst he had saw her look since their meeting, but even then he could still appreciate her true beauty. Once again Severus Snape found himself getting lost in the woman's features, enchanted by her mere presence.

"The party." She blurted uncontrollably, upon noticing her mentor staring. "The Halloween party, it went on very late. I apologise, I should have been more responsible." She turned to the headmaster.

"Very well. I believe the two of you have very solid alibis, therefore I have no reason to suspect you any longer. As of now Igor is yet to come forward about the incident, so until he does, that is if he does, the two of you are... what's the phrase? 'Off the hook'." Albus said, raising an eyebrow, throwing his hands in the air.

Sensing that the pair were very eager to leave, Dumbledore took his chance to stop them once more.

"I would, however, like to make it known that Igor Karkaroff, along with the rest of Durmstrang school are here as our guests and should be treated with the utmost respect by Hogwarts students and Professors alike. However first and foremost, Aria, you are my granddaughter. And if a problem had to occur, that deserves appropriate repercussions, I should hope that any of my professors would be able to confide in me. And the issue would be dealt with by me, and me only. That being said; is there anything you would like to tell me, my dear granddaughter?"

She remained silent. Her eyes once again falling to the floor.

"And you Severus? You have never lied to me before. Is there anything you have to say on the matter?"

Snape paused for a moment in deliberation, remembering the promise he had once made to obey his employer entirely.

"Like I said. I was in my office all night." He lied, never once looking away, breaking his gaze.

The headmaster looked between the pair, disappointed and frustrated.

"You may go." He sighed.

Taking off in the blink of an eye Professor Snape disappeared from the great hall, his assistant following not far behind.

"Severus, wait." The young professor called out, trying to rush her way past the small clusters of students that filled the halls.

The potions master slowly came to a halt, clearly unsure whether he wanted to hear what she inevitably had to say.

"I want to talk about last night." She confessed, lowering her voice as she caught up with the potions master.

In three large strides Severus Snape turned to the woman, grabbing onto her forearm and walking her backwards into the hard castle wall. It was obvious he was paranoid of anyone, student or staff, overhearing what she was about to say regarding the events of the previous night.

Taken aback by his sudden movements Aria took a moment to catch her breath. Meanwhile Snape had gathered his thoughts on the matter.

"I am unsure of what you are referring to Miss Dumbledore, but as far as the staff are aware we never crossed paths last night, and I would like to keep it that way. Forget about whatever you want to say, anything that may or may not have happened is now considered null and void. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

Almost instantly Aria found herself becoming defensive in the face of the Professor's aggression. She had come to him with heartfelt intentions, but she'd be damned if she allowed another man to walk all over her again. She was quickly tiring of Severus' yo-yoing insight on their friendship.

"Do not tell me what I can and cannot say, Professor." Aria said, ripping her arm from her colleague's grasp. "However much you'd like to erase the of memory of the two of us, at this moment in time it remains a reality, and I have something to say on the matter. I will not let you silence me for nothing but your own benefit."

"Very well." Snape huffed, slightly impressed that she had stood up to him. "Say what you have to say, if you must, but be quick about it, I would like to enjoy the last day of the weekend without you pestering me for once."

"I wanted to apologise." The witch admitted, raising her head to lock eyes with her mentor.

Snape cocked an eyebrow curiously, silently permitting her to go on.

"I want to apologise for... for try to take things a bit too far last night. I shouldn't have expected you to... well, you know." She shrugged, eyes darting below Snape's belt.

"There is no need for an apology, Miss Dumbledore. After all, it was I who initiated the whole... situation. Like I said, I would prefer if it could be forgotten about to entirely."

"But Severus I- "

Snape held up a palm, signalling for her to stop.

"It was a mistake." He insisted. "You were drunk, Aria, and I took advantage, it was wrong of me. Besides, you're in a relationship, and I would very much appreciate if I were to remain entirely uninvolved in any of your possible drama."

Aria's multiple attempts at interrupting went unsuccessful. Snape was adamant that he wanted to forget the whole thing, therefore it was clear to Aria any attempt at convincing him otherwise would be futile. Sensing the finality in his tone Miss Dumbledore took a step away from him, letting him go.

"Just one last thing." She blurted, causing Severus to pause halfway down the corridor. "We broke up. Just, if that means anything to you."

Aria waited hopefully for him to turn back to face her, but he never did. It was clear he had heard her but had chose not to acknowledge her words as he disappeared into the labyrinth that is Hogwarts.

Once again Severus Snape found himself consumed in thoughts of his assistant. Ever since his lips touched hers he couldn't get his mind off of her. With no idea what had come over him to make a move, he was sure she would reject him. But when he found that no only had she returned his kiss, but was willing to go further, panic set in.

He wanted nothing more than to let her do it. To just let her hands wander freely over his naked body, allowing him to do the same to her. He could have had her right there in his office if he wanted, but he was scared. Scared that he was right about what he said all those weeks ago in the Three Broomsticks, or scared that she would change her mind all together, but mostly he was scared that after it all, if she did actually go through with it that is, she still had a boyfriend and he would inevitably be tossed aside, forgotten and rejected all at once.

So, he convinced her, and himself, that it had all been one drunken mistake, and that it meant nothing to him. He refused to let her think for one second that he feelings of any kind for her. He would not allow himself to be humiliated by her of all people.

It would all have gone just as he had planned if Aria hadn't said those few words. 'We broke up'. Why did she tell him that? What difference did it make to him? Was she trying to get in his head? Or was she trying to tell him exactly what he wanted to hear?

Deliberating over the meaning of her confession kept the potions master preoccupied all day. In his heart he wanted to believe that she felt just as he did. But his head told him no one would ever be able to love a beast like him.

Soon enough all of Snape's uncertainty was to be put to rest by a single knock at the door.

Taglist:

@ayamenimthiriel

@lizlil

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lovequinn · 2 years

Text

mushy shit about some recent events

open the cut if you dare bc it's just me crying and rambling and being very sentimental over things but y'all asked so

over the past week and a half i was lucky enough to do two things that meant the world to me: i saw harry styles in concert (harryween n2 supremacy!) and i had the chance to meet/speak to anna kendrick.

i will start with harry bc i feel like that is the one that surprises people more lmao and to save myself the effort of typing this all twice, i will copy and paste my blubbering from instagram:

in 2012 i made it my mission to become as involved with one direction as possible. i was a closeted teenager in a hostile, primarily republican town who didn't know how to deal with the feelings i was feeling, and the obvious solution to me was to blend. so like every straight girl i knew, i bought all the albums, i went to the concerts, i even waited 5 hours on line to meet them and have them sign my cd (in the stone ages when people still did mall tours). not to say i didn't enjoy myself, because i really did find a lot of fun in being a part of that era, but for me it was never exactly the same as it was for everyone else. i often sat with the discomfort of knowing i was using this band to hide a large part of my own self.

watching harry styles, whose solo music did end up reaching me in a place one direction's never could, unabashedly ignore the norms of gender and sexuality has felt personal in a way i can't describe. the other night i got to watch him sing about confidence and kindness on a stage littered with pride flags, back to back with the song that was ever present when i was hiding all those years ago (wmyb) as if he were acknowledging how much things have changed. i watched the entire arena glow with a rainbow of lights. and while the me of 9 years ago was someone very different, that poor kid's heart would have been bursting the same way it is right now. in 2021, this feels right.

and now ANNA.

at the same time in 2012 that i was pulling my "yes haha i totally want to date the 1d guys i'm being so convincing" act, i also watched pitch perfect for the first time. and like any good blossoming gay, i saw beca and chloe together and went oh...oh. i had a tumblr already because of (surprise surprise) one direction, and i had already made my first forays into reading fanfiction (thank you degrassi), but i had never really experienced fandom before. much less lgbt fandom. i remember sitting one night and searching the pitch perfect tag, just out of curiosity. and i found the bechloe fandom, and these wonderful, friendly people of all kinds, most importantly other people like me. bechloe was my very first time participating in a community with other lgbt people in a time when i needed it most. i remember feeling lonely and ostracized at school each day, but being able to come home and find myself among a group of people who understood. i have never shyed away from saying that the bechloe fandom raised me, and i mean it; alex, cole, cam, hanna, so many others (some of you who are still mutuals with me here, some of you who became off-tumblr and irl friends, some of you who are out there somewhere even though we lost touch) were my family in so many of the ways that mattered. this fandom listened to me when i needed an ear, watched me try (and often fail) at my first attempts at writing, eased me through crushes, helped pay for my textbooks when i got older. even if your interests changed, or if you drifted away from social media altogether, i've never forgotten a single name or a single conversation. and it was all because we couldn't shut up about two girls awkwardly in a shower singing acapella who were OBVIOUSLY in love while having embarrassing urls like "tonerforsnow" (guilty as charged).

i've always felt like i owe that community to anna kendrick and brittany snow. despite every show or movie or whatever i jump to focus on next, they will always hold that special place in my heart. they didn't shy away from their lgbt fans, they played along with us and weren't afraid to talk about a wlw ship and in turn strengthened that little circle of family i'd found. over the years their other projects, onscreen or off (i.e. scrappy little nobody and love is louder) and even just their general attitude has brought much needed light into my life and given me many a smile when nothing else could. i am well-known in all my irl circles as the connossieur of all things anna and brittany and i wear that title with pride lol

i've never met brittany, and while i got to ask anna a question at her book tour a little over four years ago (still embarrassed over how nervous i sounded rip), i'd never spoken to her face to face. i was lucky enough to attend the season 2 premiere of love life last sunday (a great example of one of anna's projects that has touched my rotted heart) and by a stroke of luck had the chance to talk to anna and briefly thank her for how much her work has meant to me over the past 9 years. and whew nothing really compares to the feeling of finally telling someone "hey, what you've done and what you've put out there has changed me in a really profound way."

she could not have been kinder to me (suck it tiktok weirdos), which i'm super grateful for because i was admittedly shaking like a wet dog and didn't want to impede on her space at her event. i also had been having a really rough couple of weeks and didn't realize how much i just needed someone to say something nice or give me a casual compliment, and i especially didn't realize the person to give me that compliment would end up being anna kendrick.

anyway this was a lot of words that no one will read and it was mostly all for me to get it out but idk the past week and a half has been super cathartic for my inner child and my spirits are super high. i am the first person to criticize celebrity culture and toxic standom but i also have my fair share of good experiences with it all and i'm happy i had the chance to do some time travel of sorts lately. ok i'm gonna go watch anna on corden now ❤️

#personal #anna kendrick #harry styles #for the anons who wanted to know abt anna i'm sorry this is so long whoops

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repressed-wangji · 3 years

Text

FAN FICTION: The Untamed Episode 51 "Epilogue"

As much as I love this fandom's fanfiction and fanart that depicts CQL Wangxian becoming canon, sometimes they just feel too good to be true…

So, trying to keep in the style of CQL as a show and the style of romance presented in other C-dramas, here is my attempt at answering: If censorship was no longer an issue, what would a truly realistic Wangxian reveal look like? The following is my attempt at writing a script for a hypothetical Epilogue episode! Think of it as a one-off special. This was a great way for me to try my hand at script-writing, and mimicking the style, translation, and aesthetic of the show.

This is Part 1. Enjoy!

[No content warnings]

1. EXT. A GRASSY CLIFFSIDE. DAYTIME.

We see Wei Ying playing the flute. He is playing Lan Zhan’s song.

CAMERA ON- WEI YING.

Wei Ying’s eyes are closed as he plays to the wind. He is in a different outfit than we last saw him. Then:

LZ: (Softly, Offscreen) Wei Ying.

Wei Ying stops playing. In slow motion, he lowers the flute and turns. We see him smile, an expression of pure joy.

CUT TO- WIDESHOT.

Lan Zhan is standing a distance away, his white robes shining in the sun. A soft smile is on his face. They share a long look.

CUT TO- ARIAL SHOT.

Slowly, Lan Zhan begins walking towards Wei Ying.

CUT TO- WIDESHOT.

We see Lan Zhan walk towards the camera through tall grass.

CUT TO- SECOND WIDESHOT.

The two men are seen in profile. Lan Zhan stops a few feet in front of Wei Ying. The two men face each other, drinking in the other’s face. Their song plays softly.

WY: Hanguang-Jun.

LZ: (Warmly) You’ve returned.

Wei Ying nods.

WY: I told you that I would. If the past has taught you anything, it is that I will always return to you, Hanguang-Jun.

CUT TO- LAN ZHAN.

Lan Zhan’s breath seems to catch.

CUT TO- WEI YING.

WY: (Earnestly, shyly) It is good to see you, Lan Zhan.

LZ: It is good to see you, too, Wei Ying. You look well.

WY: I am well. (Pause) And you?

LZ: (With meaning) I am well, now.

They share a long look. Wei Ying becomes shy, unsure what to say.

LZ: (Cont.) You have been gone a long time, Wei Ying.

WY: Lan Zhan, I.. (Pause. Lightly) How are things in the cultivation world? So much must have changed since I left.

Lan Zhan does not answer him.

LZ: (Gently, but firmly) Wei Ying, I didn’t expect to see you here.(Subtext: I didn’t expect to see you again.) How long will you be staying in Gusu?

Wei Ying tries to decipher Lan Zhan’s expression, then twirls his flute to avoid his gaze.

WY: (Aloof) Oh, I’m just passing through. Maybe I’ll stay a day, maybe a week, I haven’t kept track of how long I’ve been staying in any one place.

Lan Zhan looks down, softness gone. Wei Ying stops twirling the flute. There is a coldness that blooms between them. Wei Ying realizes he has said something wrong.

WY: Lan Zhan... (Pause. Change of tone) You know, I think yours is the first familiar face I have seen in many months. (He smiles coyly) Stony as it always is, I am happy it’s you that I saw first.

Little Apple pulls away suddenly.

WY: (Cont.) Ay! Except for you of course, Lil Apple. Yes, yes. So sensitive.

He playfully slaps Little Apple’s neck with the reigns and smiles. Lan Zhan says nothing. The coldness remains. Wei Ying tries again.

WY: Tell me, has the food in Cloud Recesses improved since I left?

Lan Zhan obliges the unspoken request.

LZ: If you would like to, you are welcome to come for dinner, and stay in Cloud Recesses for as long as you need to.

Wei Ying smiles softly.

WY: I would be honored to be a guest of his Excellency.

He bows sincerely.

WY: (Cont.) And anyways, even rabbit food is better than going to sleep with an empty stomach under the stars.

He laughs. An obliging smile in response.

LZ: Come, I will walk you back to Cloud Recesses. They will not let you in on your own.

Wei Ying rolls his eyes.

WY: (With affection) Your clan and their rules. Strict as ever.

Lan Zhan takes Little Apple’s reigns and begins walking, Wei Ying follows. They walk shoulder to shoulder in silence. Lan Zhan eyes the ground. Wei Ying eyes Lan Zhan. He smiles softly.

WY: It’s funny, actually. Once I realized I was near Gusu, I indeed hoped that you would find me if I played your song. Now that I know this is how you recognized me, I thought it would be appropriate that it be how you found me again. I have played it here and there- (He stops himself. Subtext: Missing you.) And well, how appropriate I find you back where I started. Don’t think that I’ve forgotten: I am still waiting to hear what you’ve decided to name this song. I’m sure I’ve given you enough time by now.

LZ: I already told you, it has long since had a name.

WY: Well, and you still won’t tell me what it is! Really, it’s unfair. We being the only two people in the world who play it, don’t you think I should know what it’s called? I may have to come up with my own name after all. I have thought of some...

He puts his flute to his chin, feigning contemplation. Lan Zhan looks like he is about to say something, but stops himself. He isn’t upset by Wei Ying’s joking, but he isn’t amused by it either.

WY: Well, maybe I won’t give mine away just yet. I must hear what you’ve come up with first and decide if it is acceptable. (Change of tone) Lan Zhan, is A-Yuan at the Cloud Recesses?

Lan Zhan shakes his head.

LZ: He is gone night hunting with Wen Ning and a few of the other cultivators. They are expected back in a week or so.

Wei Ying is visibly disappointed.

WY: That’s a shame, I was hoping to see him. Is he well?

Lan Zhan nods.

LZ: He is very well. He excels in his studies, and he has now led many night hunts. He is very like you were in skill at that age, but with a more even temperament.

WY: Ah! There was nothing wrong with my temperament! I just also knew how to have fun, that’s all. (Thinking, voiceover) Something I will need to teach A-Yuan, it seems. (Aloud) Lan Zhan, I won’t accept you spreading this type of slander to the cultivators! It’s unfair when I am not here to defend myself!

Lan Zhan smiles lightly.

WY: (Serious) But really, is he being safe? You’re not sending him into danger needlessly?

LZ: He is very capable. Rest assured: He is safe. (Subtext: I have always kept him safe for you.)

WY: Well, I guess if he is trained by Hanguang-Jun, then he must be alright. (Pause. Affronted) Now really, Lan Zhan, I have been gone for how long and you have yet to ask me a single question about where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing. I’m beginning to wonder whether you even missed me at all.

He bumps his shoulder into Lan Zhan.

LZ: (Obligingly) Tell me, where have you been, and what have you seen on your travels these past months, Wei Ying?

Wei Ying smiles and launches into stories we do not get to hear.

CUT TO- ARIAL SHOT.

The two men walk side by side across the spanning mountain landscape.

FADE TO BLACK.

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

2. EXT.- SILENCE HALL. NIGHT.

FADE IN- A NIGHT SKY.

We see a shot of white orchids in bloom in the foreground. Lan Zhan walks into frame and crosses the threshold of the hall, followed by Wei Ying.

CUT TO- CLOSE UP OF WEI YING.

He looks around, pensive.

FOCUS- THE BED.

We see a flashback to Wei Ying as he first wakes up in Cloud Recesses after 16 years. We see his view of Lan Zhan playing the guqin.

FOCUS- THE TABLE.

We see a flashback to Lan Zhan, pouring him a drink. Lan Zhan looks up at him softly.

FOCUS- THE DOORWAY IN THE ADJACENT ROOM.

We see a flashback to the two men standing side by side in the snow.

BACK TO- PRESENT.

Wei Ying smiles softly at these memories. Lan Zhan is opening a cabinet door across the room. He pulls out 2 bottles of Emperor’s Smile.

WY: (Surprised) Ah! Since when does the honorable Hanguang-Jun keep liquor stored at Cloud Recesses? Imagine the stir it would cause if your disciples knew you were hiding liquor in your quarters. Why do you have that here anyways? Don’t tell me that your tolerance for liquor has improved these past months, I won’t believe it.

Lan Zhan ignores him and instead pours a cup. He places it at the seat across from his. Wei Ying understands the invitation and sits down. He lifts the cup and smells it deeply. Lan Zhan pours himself a cup of tea.

WY: You know, in all my wanderings, far and wide, I sampled many hundreds of local drinks. Not one of them compares to the Emperor’s Smile of Gusu.

He smiles and downs the cup in one gulp. Lan Zhan refills it. Wei Ying lifts the cup again.

WY: A toast.

LZ: To what?

WY: To you! You have gained quite a reputation these past months, you know. There is not a place I traveled where the praises of his Excellency were not sung… (A question) Who I hear has also been appointed as the new clan leader of Lan…

Lan Zhan looks down, but nods. Wei Ying is momentarily surprised, then sighs.

WY: (With feeling) Along with the contents of this cup, you have become a mark of the true greatness of the Lan Clan of Gusu. (Raising his cup, with a smile) So, a toast!

He downs it. Lan Zhan smiles, pleased with the compliment, and drinks his tea. He refills Wei Ying’s cup again.

WY: (Shaking his head) Clan Leader Lan... Lan Zhan, why on Earth has your brother stepped down?

LZ: After the events at the Guanyin temple, Brother has been overwhelmed with guilt. He feels that he should have perceived Jin Guangyao’s true nature, and that many evils could have been avoided if his judgement had not been clouded. (Pause) He has confined himself to the cold ice pond as penance.

WY: (Shocked) The cold ice pond? For how long?

LZ: He is not being held. He will contemplate as long as he needs to.

WY: But... How could he have known? Jin Guangyao was a snake. No one perceived him, not even his own family. Your brother is being too hard on himself.

Lan Zhan lifts the teapot and begins pouring himself more tea.

LZ: Nevertheless, he holds himself accountable. He was Jin Guangyao’s sworn brother. If he was not responsible for stopping his evil, who was?

Lan Zhan stops pouring the tea, realizing the parallels between his brother’s situation and theirs of the past. This is not lost on Wei Ying. A shyness blooms between them. They meet each other’s eyes briefly before looking away. Each man takes a drink.

WY: (After a long moment) Will it be painful?

Lan Zhan looks up, surprised. His eyes ask what Wei Ying knows. Once he realizes, he sighs, looks down, and nods solemnly.

LZ: He will suffer, but he will survive.

WY: (Shyly) Your brother told me about your confinement there. Ah- But don’t be angry with him! I made him tell me. Besides, he knew you would never tell, no matter how I may try and force you. (Pause) I was gone, Lan Zhan. It wasn’t necessary for you to suffer so.

LZ: I accepted my punishment willingly. My conscious is clear.

WY: (After a long moment) 3 years there, and 300 whips. And... that brand on your chest... How did you come by that? Your brother did not say.

Lan Zhan seemingly ignores him.

LZ: There is other news you should know. The Su clan has been dissolved. Its members must repent and accept punishment in order to return to their parent clans, or else face exile. Also, the Jin clan has assumed new leadership.

WY: (Brightly) Ah? Jin Rulan? How is my nephew faring?

LZ: The memory of Jin Guangyao is still fresh. The Jin clan, and the Nie clan, must work to rebuild their reputations and their leadership. Clan Leader Jiang has been aiding Clan Leader Jin much. (With a dry smile) Several times, they have even accepted my counsel.

Wei Ying lets out a disbelieving laugh.

WY: Jiang Cheng accepting counsel from you? Things have certainly changed since I left.

He shakes his head and takes a drink. Lan Zhan lets himself smile.

WY: So, does that mean that my nephew is no longer the self-important peacock he’s always been?

LZ: He is still young, but with guidance he has shown that he is willing to learn.

WY: (Shaking his head) Clan Leader Jin. (With emotion) If only my Senior Sister could see it. I hope she would be proud.

LZ: (Earnestly) She would be proud. (Subtext: She would be proud of you.)

Wei Ying meets Lan Zhan’s eyes. Wei Ying smiles, eyes wet. There is a lull in the conversation. The tone then shifts. Now is the heart of the matter.

LZ: (Softly) Wei Ying, why did you really come back to Cloud Recesses?

There is emotion behind this question which Wei Ying would rather avoid.

WY: I told you, I am just passing through. Of course, I could not pass by without a taste of Emperor’s Smile!

He looks at the cup and smiles playfully. Lan Zhan is stony-faced.

LZ: It is getting late. I will let you rest.

He starts to rise, but Wei Ying grabs his sleeve and pulls him back down.

WY: Ah, now Lan Zhan! Don’t be like that! Fine, I will be honest with you. (Pause. Change of tone) You’re right. I wasn’t just passing by here. I came here because... I wanted to.

LZ: (Firmly) Why?

WY: Why are you upset? If you would rather me leave Cloud Recesses, I will go.

LZ: No. I…(Pause) I want you to tell me the truth.

WY: This is the truth. I came back here because I wanted to. (He sighs) In my travels, I went further than any cultivator before me has ever dared to go. I traveled far beyond the Burial Mounds, so far that I did not see another soul for weeks. So far, that I encountered people who speak in foreign tongues with foreign faces. I saw lands and peoples I had never imagined. But… (Pensively) I didn’t expect it. No matter how far I went, I found myself... missing. Jiang Cheng, A-Yuan, Wen Ning... Most of all, you, Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan is still stony faced. Wei Ying considers him closely.

WY: What is wrong?

LZ: But you are just passing by. You would leave again so soon.

Wei Ying does not reply to this. He looks down.

LZ: (With emotion) When you departed from Gusu, I thought it unlikely that we would meet again. I chose to take on the duties of Excellency, as clan leader... (Pause) I imagined what life you would choose to lead.

He trails off. These words hang between them heavily.

WY: (Confused) And yet you still let me go?

They share a long look. Lan Zhan’s eyes say what his mouth cannot.

WY: (Gently) Lan Zhan... I understand. But I was not gone this time. I promised you that we would meet again. (Pause) I even wished for you to come with me, remember?

LZ: I do remember. But it was my duty to stay. (Pause) Where will you go from here?

WY: I’m not sure. I had half a mind to visit Clan leader Jiang and the ancestral shrine in Yungmeng... Now I must check on Jin Ling in Jinlintai...

LZ: And then?

Wei Ying falters. He takes a drink. Lan Zhan sighs.

LZ: Why do you lie?

WY: Ah? How do I lie?

LZ: If you have nowhere you plan to go, why do you say you are only passing through?

Wei Ying examines his cup, feigning aloofness.

WY: Well, so what if I have nowhere to go yet? I will simply go where I please.

LZ: (Angry) Why must you always joke about these things?

Lan Zhan stands abruptly and strides to the door. His back is to the camera.

WY: Lan Zhan!

LZ: (Cutting him off) You cast those who care about you aside as if they mean nothing. Even after everything that has happened, you still have not learned how your actions affect others.

Wei Ying puts his cup down.

WY: (With growing anger) And what about those who have cast me aside? Every person. Every single person who has claimed to love me has at one time hated me, despised me, or feared me. What kind of devotion do I owe to anyone then? Whom has cast off whom? (Pause) Even you fought against me back then.

CUT TO- CLOSEUP.

This hits a nerve. We see Lan Zhan’s fist clench behind his back. His only response. Wei Ying stands and approaches Lan Zhan.

MEDIUM CLOSEUP- WEI YING.

Wei Ying is seen just over Lan Zhan’s left shoulder, both facing the open doorway. Wei Ying is in focus, Lan Zhan out. Lan Zhan’s face is out of frame.

WY:(Pained) Lan Zhan, can you really blame me for wanting to be on my own? In this world, what companionship can I hope to keep? At one time, I believed that the Jiang clan were my family, and yet they cast me aside when I tried to do what I thought was right- what I know was right- all in the name of saving face with the other clans. I believed that the Wen clan survivors would be my family, and yet they were murdered by those who hated them without reason- who hated me. I was resurrected into the body of a man whose family despised him and tortured him to the point of sacrificing his own spiritual cognition in the name of revenge. (He considers stopping, but continues) At one time… I even believed that you could be my family, Lan Zhan.

CUT TO- CLOSE UP.

Lan Zhan’s fist is still clenched.

BACK TO- WEI YING.

WY: (Cont. Sadly) And yet you have said it yourself: You have duties to the other clans now, to your own clan, to your pupils, and to yourself. What freedom does that leave you? Hm? Lan Zhan…

CUT TO- MEDIUM SHOT.

We see the back of Lan Zhan’s left shoulder. He trembles as we hear:

WY: (Cont.) I would not have you sacrifice your reputation, nor your doctrine, to stay by my side.

BACK TO- WEI YING.

WY: (Cont.) I may no longer be the hated and feared Yiling Patriarch, but I will never hold a place of honor in this world. Not like you. (Pause. Desolate) I am a clan of one, Lan Zhan. That is my destiny. What roots… what could I possibly rely on in all this?

We still do not get to see Lan Zhan’s face, only his back as Wei Ying looks at him. His eyes are filled with grief. He looks down.

CUT TO- WIDESHOT.

We see the two men standing in the doorway. The Black facing the White. White orchids bloom in the foreground.

CUT TO- CLOSEUP OF LAN ZHAN.

We finally see his face, and it is streaked with tears. He is trembling with anger... among other emotions.

LZ: (Quietly, with emotion) You do not get to decide who loves you, Wei Ying.

We see him swiftly turn, we think he is going to attack.

CUT TO- CLOSEUP OF WEI YING, REACTION.

CUT TO- MEDIUM CLOSE-UP.

Both men are centered in the frame, in profile. In a swift second, Lan Zhan turns, grabs Wei Ying, and kisses him. Roughly. Angrily. His brow is furrowed, eyes closed, hand tense. He is trembling. This is not the fight we thought was coming.

CUT TO- WEI YING.

We see Wei Ying’s face. He is shocked. He does not pull away. His eyes are open, glued to Lan Zhan. This is the moment Lan Zhan, and the audience, has waited for. The moment lingers as their theme plays. They do not move.

Lan Zhan finally breaks the kiss, immediately turning and striding away. We do not get to see his expression as he goes. We are left with only Wei Ying’s stunned expression in the frame.

CUT TO- WIDESHOT.

Wei Ying is left standing stunned, frozen, alone, in the doorway. Lan Zhan is already gone.

THE MUSIC AND SCENE FADE.

———————

Part 2 here.

#epilogue episode #myfic #the untamed fanfic #wangxian #wangxian fanfic #cql fanfic #wei wuxian #lan wangji #the untamed #also pls notice how I tried to make the ratio of wwx/lwj lines realistically TOTALLY skewed lol

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famouskittychild · 3 years

Text

Cheeky Mandos - ...and we're off

(Sorry I had a terrible writer’s block in the past 6-ish weeks - I went from reading fanfiction and being inspired by other’s visions to “I’ll never be able to write anything like these and I’m useless” in a single day :( I’m getting back into the groove finally, so I’m hoping to post more soon.)

There will be 18+ content (in the coming chapters soon) so if you are a minor, please don't read further.

Also the characters will be quite open and relaxed about things like gender, attraction, sexual activities, relationships etc, so if you prefer your Din (and their partner) possessive and/or monogamous , this won’t be a good read for you!

***

This pairing is Din Djarin x gn reader / tall reader. I’m short (and cis and woman). There’s so many short (and female) reader stuff out there, I wanted to write for people on the other end of the “why is your height not normal” / "definitely female" spectrum. If I make mistakes or you have advice, or ideas you'd like to see, please tell me!

Word count: 4267

Summary: You’re an armourer and some shiny guy just showed up.

First full piece/chapter/course! In which people seem to catch things. Thoughts? Viruses? Dropped facts? Who knows!?? Also contains a dilettante’s attempt at space electronics and some barely-canon-reminiscent Mando world-building. Still no spiciness sorry, marinating is a long process :P

Rating: T for some mentions of heavier topics.

CW: Mentions of mandalorian history, playing somewhat loose with canon lore (as in, my SW knowledge is patchy. sorry.)

Author’s note: I tried to find more info but it seems like the mandalorian alphabet doesn’t have names for the individual letters so I used aurebesh (also I liked the little Dorn(e) meta in there). And sorry for the bad puns. They’ll keep coming.

Prologue

One - ...and we're off

***

You aren’t worried about taking a stranger on board, you’ve done that plenty of times before. You hope he’s willing to put in the effort himself, too, just as he promised at the assembly.

The stranger leaves behind his ship, saying a friend will come to pick it up together with whoever might want to join the cause. You spot him from the cockpit as he walks over with a repulsor pallet in tow. He stops for a moment when your droids surge past him, busy at their pre-flight tasks, before moving on towards the ramp.

All his baggage is a satchel at his hip and a small bag on his shoulder, and two large crates of weaponry. You put him up in the spare cabin, the one that had been Sal’ee’s, your former apprentice, before she went on to be a journeyman. He stands in the middle of the room, staring at the two cots on opposite sides of the room, the lockers, the fresher in the corner.

“All mine? Where will you sleep?”

You don’t understand the surprise in his voice.

“Over there” you show him, pointing at the cabin opposite from his. It’s much more lived in, some of the blankets and trinkets and pillows visible through it’s open door. “There’s a third cabin that I mostly use for storage but has more fold-up bunks in case I need to transport more people. That’s rare though.”

“Ohh.” He nods, then turns to look around his room again. “Okay. I thought all of these rooms were cargo space.”

You smile, and quickly think through your to-do list. You’ll have to rearrange your schedule somewhat but it’s not that big of a bother.

“Come on, I’ll show you around the ship.” Before he gets lost in its cavernous interiors, you might add - but you don’t. If his reaction to a separate cabin and his current ship - an old ARC170 - is any indication, he must be used to very cramped quarters.

***

Your trusty Brick, a beat-up YV 929, is armed to the teeth and ugly, just as you like it. The ship is a scavenged one, gutted from most of its original factory issue armaments, engines, and even wiring. It was perfect for your former master when she found it at a scrap heap: she wanted to rebuild it herself, deliberately piecemeal; panels sourced form here, engines from there, concealments added. She modified the inner workings of the engines so that the power lines could be redirected to a concealed forge.

That forge is your pride and the main reason you haven’t settled at a permanent place yourself. When your master retired from travelling, the ship passed to you, and you continued her mission of offering your knowledge and expertise to those of your people who otherwise had no access to an armourer.

…

The next standard month is spent with adjusting, both for yourself after getting used travelling alone again since Sal’ee left, and for the stranger who found himself a passenger on someone else’s ship. Apparently he used to live a very similar life to yours, with the exception that he was a hunter not a craftsman.

You travel together, share meals, research the places you are directed to. He joins in the effort that is maintaining the ship. Still - he is very taciturn at the beginning, keeping his words to the bare minimum. The first few days it feels as if you are still on your own aside of your droids. By the middle of the month, he progresses from short answers, through sharing information, to willingly starting to tell stories; but you know that chatting will never be his defining feature.

His armour seems to fill the spaces of the Brick’s corridors. You feel as if it’s not him who has the presence, but that set of glinting, perfectly made handwork of an armourer you already admire. Some of the pieces were sourced elsewhere, you can tell by the different shapes and designs; they seem haphazard and mismatched compared to the rest. Most of the set is the work of a single person. On those, there’s not a single uneven line, a broken curve, an edge at the wrong place. The angle of the panes of the metal, the ridges, the simplicity and elegance of them all - you have to hold yourself back from touching them, to admire them. You would give a lot to hold those pieces in your hand, to study them, to analyse them with your eyes and hands and with your tools.

You’re a master, yes. But so much knowledge was lost. So many masters gone, with their knowledge and their workshops. Apprentices became heads of Forges in the absence of the more skilled. The survivors still to this day have to piece together half-remembered lessons and forgotten details, experiment with techniques that were known before but the methods got lost as decades of civil war and occupation and murder kept eroding your heritage.

Sometimes a set of armour comes along that is just made in a way you never had an opportunity to learn. Often the person who forged them is long gone. Not the stranger’s armourer though. As far you can tell, she’s alive. Or at least was, when he last saw her. Not too long ago; though your usual method for guessing forging dates is mostly useless as it is based on the condition of the suit’s paintwork. Which he doesn’t have, so you can only guess from the small amount of scratches. You try to ask once, but whilst he’s forthcoming with general stories, he doesn’t go into details.

It’s a common theme with him. He talks about people and planets and events, and leaves out a lot - and you don’t even notice it first. Only when you try to glean information about his armour do you realize how well he fuzzes over those facts and nuances. It’s only up to the peculiarities of Basic and its use of gendered pronouns that you know his Armourer is a woman, or at least he considers them so. He doesn’t even tells you his own name, and when you ask your Elder in one of your communications, she tells you he didn’t gave it to them either. You keep introducing him as a friend, and that is the end of it for a while.

***

The visits to this first few coverts with him are… interesting. You can see him fidgeting from the corner of your eye. He always follows half a step behind and off to a side, as if not wanting to be in your way. He keeps quiet and doesn’t mix much, and around small children and droids, he is positively withdrawn. He only comes alive when he talks about his mission.

You had learned early on during your apprenticeship that keeping the helmet on is a safe bet when meeting with unfamiliar mandalorians. That led to later getting in contact with his type of believers too, despite their notorious secrecy even from the rest of the People. When you tell the stranger about that, he immediately showers you with questions, but you can’t give an answer to most of them. You never met with anyone from his particular covert, or heard of it. No name, no description seems familiar. It’s painful to watch his shoulders slump after daring to hope.

During the course of the month spent travelling, he gradually comes to be more social. He starts to stand and walk beside you. He doesn’t withdraw to the background anymore; he can actually be quite chatty if approached the right way. Droids still make him stop, though he warms up to kids in his own way. He’s good with them, at least in your opinion, though you know some would still call him aloof and distant. He isn’t a cuddler, nor does he crouch down to ask cutesy questions. He juts sits nearby them, and in that way of children having a good sense about adults, they know he’s trustworthy. They go up to him to chatter, to hand him a toy to hold, to ask him to fix a latch on their boots; than they go back to play.

He teaches you too, inadvertently at first during everyday conversations and later by his own volition, about his Way. About his Creed. It keeps throwing you off how much it differs from most that you had met before. Not even meeting briefly with people who followed the same Way as him could prepare you for the details that he does share. The degree of strictness, the loyalty, the barest bones Old Tradition beliefs and their willingness to follow them is very rare amongst the People as far as you can tell. Their devotion earns your respect.

At other times, your jaw hangs open and you can’t believe you are talking to an adult roughly around the same age as yourself, who by his own admission had spent three decades living as a follower of the Creed - not knowing about things children are thought through plays and songtime. His ignorance is so staggering, your admiration towards his unknown Armourer wavers. How could she keep so many things hidden from them? Why not talk about your own history? Your greats? Your artefacts?

About the many other who would call them vod’e, siblings?

You are an armourer, a craftsman, a person who makes a living by making things with your hand. You’re not a leader, or a scholar, or someone who decides what to tell your people. You do have a status within the community, but that is a status of service. From what the stranger says, their Armourer was a leader in every aspect: elder and lorekeeper and moral guide and more. All in one. It is something you can see developing from the old songs and histories amongst groups who take tradition more literally.

You are good at observing people, even at copying their habits to make them feel more comfortable with you, but less good at determining their underlying motives. The reason you think of him as “the stranger” even after travelling with him is because it’s so hard to figure out what drives him. There’s a melancholy to him that overrides the more typical mandalorian fight-readiness or aggression. You see how he gazes off to the distance sometimes, turning his head to the side and freezing. How he keeps to himself when he can. But you can’t tell why. Grief? Regrets? Determination to change? Planning something greater and being preoccupied with that?

He doesn’t pick fights to test you. He spars with you when you invite him to, he helps when you ask, and often even without it. He’s polite and considerate; he keeps conversation to practicalities and interesting stories, and doesn’t bother you with anecdotes or insistent questions about trivialities or your private life. He even does the dishes.

He’s deadly boring in his reliableness.

You are used to being on your toes around people all the time. When you meet a new group, it’s all unknown people. With ones you had already visited, the problem is having to remember them. They remember you of course, the ‘wandering armourer’; and surely you remember them too.

What is worse, when people stay the same but you don’t remember them, or when they change and you just can’t place them?

He becomes a good excuse after you’ve been to several coverts together. It’s interesting to notice how your dynamics change even further once you two get into a comfortable routine. You start to retreat to your forge and tools, and let him take all the attention. And he doesn’t just talk about his mission anymore, or lets little ones play around him whilst he’s quiet. He converses with people about news, about their children, about weaponry. You have more time to focus on your work.

Sometimes, people ask you what do you think of his mission. You tell them that you will follow what your clan decides, and that’s mostly true. It is something people don’t often debate, at least.

He quickly becomes a part of your everyday life. You are content with your usually solitary travels. You know that your family, your clan and your friends wait for you at home. They message you and you can find the time that suits you to message back. You don’t miss the constant hubbub of the covert most of the time. But now that you have someone that is not a droid, someone who is your equal in every aspect, on board again, it’s not even lonely anymore.

***

“So what’s up with you and droids?” you ask one day, after you got back from a covert and are safely in hyperspace to the next destination. You tinker with your astromech’s navigational systems. Poor 2-T keeps bumping into walls and crates. Again.

The stranger looks at you and your droid, than over at Mouse who for a change isn’t zooming around at foot level.

“Bad memories.”

“Gunk sat on you?” You tease. You hope it’s just something silly and not him having some sort of snobbish organics-are-better philosophy. He is quiet, and you focus on your work. He’ll talk if he wants to, that much you know already about him.

Inside the body of your astromech, a rivet from stars knows where is stuck between two circuit boards and blocks the access to a short-circuited piece of wire.

“Kriff. Toots, this will take a while, sweetie. Can’t access that kriffing panel.” He chirps back something and you read the translation on the small display. “No, it’s not that. My hand can’t fit in that small space. Let me find those pliers… should be in that other drawer somewhere.”

You search in the chest of tools, and despite your usually good organization, you can’t find them amongst the droids’ tools where their place is.

“Let me help.” The stranger’s voice beside you makes you jump. He can be awfully quiet. “Sorry. I think I might’ve put them back into the wrong drawer. I used them the other day when I fine-tuned that scope.”

He points at another drawer, where you keep your fine electronics stuff. No wonder he mixed them up. He stands beside Tootee a bit awkwardly until you find the tool.

“Here! No problem by the way. “ You turn back to him and to the droid, than have an idea. “Do you mind a bit more help? You can say no if you don’t want to work with the droid, I’ll understand.”

He doesn’t object yet, so you go back to 2-T and show the stranger the area you’re working on. You see him lean closer in your peripheral vision.

“That’s where I need to get that burned piece of wire out and install a new one, but first, I need to get that rivet out of the way.” You point at the root of the problem, than explain your plan, pointing out each part in turn. ”If you could hold those using this, than I could get here, remove this, with that tool, than have to get those bundles out of the way too, so than that wire there could come out. Easy.”

You look up at him, and his helmet is way closer than you expected. You can almost see your reflection in that black visor as it stares back at you for a second, and you almost apologize again, when the stranger starts to speak.

“Just have to hold the wires to the casing, or pull them like…” he moves his hand in the air, showing what he means.

“Hold them to that panel, there, with the pliers, so I have room to access the rest.”

He thinks for a moment, than he starts to tug one of his gloves off.

“You don’t need to take that off, just hold the pliers” you tell him, but he shakes his head.

“No, I can fit my hand in there, I’m pretty sure. If not we can try it with the tool.”

You realize that this is the first time you see his skin. Than it occurs to you that he might very well misunderstand this whole situation. You just asked him to hang his hand inches from yours in an enclosed space; inside a droid nonetheless, just after you basically told him you noticed he has a problem with them. It would be so easy to get caught up in there, to touch his hand, and hush it up as coincidence. Especially now that he took his glove off as well. He might even think that it was a careful plan of yours: have an area to work with were your slightly larger hands don’t fit but his might.

Your fingertips already tingle from knowing you can’t make mistakes. Which means you’ll probably do. He reaches between the panels and gets to the part where you got stuck. He wiggles his fingers a bit and scrapes around.

“Ha, found some wires. Are these the ones you need out of the way?”

You peer down into the quagmire of electronics, trying to find the best angle to see everything.

“Yes, those are the ones. Just hold them like that.” You try to focus on what you are doing, but after those earlier thoughts, your hands are jittery. You somehow manage to remove the obstructing rivet, than find the burned out part and replace it without accident, the stranger patiently holding things out of your way. You direct him here and there, occasionally stumbling as it’s a lot of instructions, or at least a lot of “could you please” and “thank you”. It gets particularly awkward when you stumble over the lack of name spectacularly.

“Could you pull those the other way, so they aren't that taut, please? Thank you, you. I mean thank you.”

“Din. Din Djarin.” Your head snaps up while the rest of your body freezes. “I should have told you my name sooner, but I’m so used to not telling it… and it just became more awkward to bring it up as time passed. I apologize.”

You close your mouth that of course was hanging open in surprise, than shake your head.

“I thought at first that I missed it when you said it so I was ashamed that I didn’t remember.” That did happen before, and it was one of your greatest worries about meeting new people. “I actually asked my elder. Sent her a comm. So when she told me you went nameless, I didn’t wanted to demand it.”

He doesn't answer right away. His voice is softer when he speaks a bit later.

“Thank you. For being considerate.”

You smile and try to wave it off. Which results in your hand slipping and pawing at his, still motionless and stuck in the inside of the astromech.

“Oh shucks, I’m sorry… didn’t meant to.” You withdraw your hand quickly, and start to look for your tools to cover your mistake.

He doesn’t seem bothered, luckily. You calm down, reminding yourself not to behave like you drank one too many glasses of your cousin Ree’s home-made tihaar, and finish the repair.

“You can let those go now, I’ll finish from here. Thanks for your help.”

“You’re welcome, any time.”

He sits back on a nearby crate and watches you work for a while, ignoring Mouse zooming around the room. You’re surprised a bit: you didn't expected him to stick around. And than he starts to ask about 2-T. How long you had him, is he temperamental, can you install a vocoder on astromechs, and why not. His tone is somewhat cautious, his voice stiff, like someone asking about a dangerous predator. You remember how you asked him about his distance with droids, but don’t want to push that question. He already told you his name today.

…

By the time you finish with the rest of the repairs, clean Tootee up and tidy around your workplace, interrupted by having to leave hyperspace and land at a spaceport, it’s the middle of the night in local time. You planned to have a nap and search out the local covert just before dawn.

You go to the galley to have a bite before turning in, and the stranger - Din, you remember, although his last name is less clear - is cleaning up some dishes. There’s another bowl in the middle of the small table, covered by a plate.

“That’s for you, if you’d like to have it. Used up the last of that spice mix we got” he tells you as you enter. You sit down and stretch your legs out one side. As you take the plate off from the steaming bowl, you think about how nice it is to find warm food on the table and not having to cook your own all the time.

“Thank you.” You pull the bowl close and take the spoon that he put beside it. You swirl the soup - it looks very good: clear broth with lots of veggies and other fillers in it - and gather your thoughts. “So ummm… I want to ask something before it gets awkward again.“

He finishes piling the bowls and cups and sits down on the seat opposite. You blurt the question out before you might change your mind.

“What was your name again? Din, that was clear, but the rest… sorry but it sounded something like “jarring”?”

He chuckles, and it’s a clear sound even with a vocoder, no snort or sigh to distort it.

“It’s Djarin. Dorn-jenth-aurek-resh-isk-nern. Djarin.” You nod, a bit embarrassed, and he continues. “Don’t worry, you aren't the first to ask. Probably not the last either.”

“Thanks for being patient. I’m not the best with names, to be honest.”

He tilts his head.

“Is that why you are always so focused when someone introduces themselves? I can ask them to repeat their names for me too if you want to, than both of us can try to remember them.”

You blink at him.

“That’d be…” Unnecessary, and don’t bother, and it’s not your job, you think - but stop yourself. That would actually help. No shame in accepting it. ”That would be nice. Thanks.” You are good at a few things, like making things with your own two hands. Not gaping when something surprises you, or remembering faces or names, any names, not just people? Nah.

You tuck into your soup, and the two of you sit in companionable silence. You wander if Djarin sits there because he wants to, or if he’s waiting for more questions from you. You asked a lot from him during the last few hours, and he was really kind with all his help and telling you his name and not being bothered when you misremembered it.

You are halfway done with your meal when he stirs. He leans forward with his lower arms on the table, and takes a deep breath. You wonder what his question will be - you commit to answer whatever it might be. He deserves that after today.

“So you asked earlier about me and… droids, right?”

Your hand with the spoon stops in the air. You weren’t expecting this question, at all.

“Yes…” You want to say he didn’t have to answer. But you already told him that. You’re sure he remembers that too - since he brought the topic up again. “Yes, I did.”

He shuffles on his seat a bit, and looks out to the side like he sometimes does. You lower your spoon and eat, letting him gather his thoughts.

“When I was a kid… I don’t know how old you were then, but during the war. The Clone wars.” You nod, understanding what he’s getting at, and he continues. “We were… the place I lived came under attack. Some separatist battle droids. Mandalorians saved me.”

You swallow your soup. That was the shortest possible description of someone having their entire life and probably everyone they knew ripped away from them and finding a new way of life for the decades to come.

“I’m sorry” you say, because really, what else is there to say. He nods, and gazes off again. Than he shrugs his shoulders, as if he wants to shake the weight of the past from them.

He gets up, and walks around the table on his way out. He stops beside you for a moment and hesitates, and you almost turn towards him to ask what he needs when you feel him squeeze your shoulder. Than he straightens and steps away.

It’s warm where he squeezed it, and you remember how long ago it was that someone touched you.

You need to talk to your friends asap, and hug at least some of them. He turns back from the door.

“Get some sleep before dawn, all right? Have to be sharp to remember all those new names.” You don’t see him wink but you’d bet he does behind his visor. You scrunch your nose at him and pout before smiling, and he dips out of the galley.

Your hand is still hovering in the air, holding the spoon, while you listen to his footsteps getting more distant as he walks down the corridor to his cabin.

It’s just your luck that you don’t need your wits the next place. It’s only two people with the same, simple name and you met both of them before.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x tall reader #din djarin x gn!reader #post season 2 #mandalorian oc #armourer oc #cheeky mandos #my writing

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mittensmorgul · 3 years

Note

Hi, I have a question, and I hope it would be interesting for you too... Could we talk about angel's wings and feathers?..

I always thought that angel's wings were a part of their true form, a kind of energy which we can only see as a shadows or electric sparks or ash or something like this.

And I didn't think that it could be a real wings with feathers as bird's. Until, while rewatch, I've noticed that angel's feather were mentioned in SPN at least twice (maybe you've noticed more?):

1) In 8.12 when Henry Winchester time travels he uses an angel feather in spell. And then Dean tells that Henry stole an angel feather from the trunk of the Impala. So feathers are reall??? Why did the Winchestets keep the feather in the trunk of the Impala and where they get it? (ok, maybe they found it in the bunker)

2) In 12.13 Sam uses a white feather in spell returning Gavin back in time (we know this spell needs an angel feather)

So now we can see how the real angel feather looks like???

Does that mean that the angel's wings can be presented in physical world like a real wings with feathers and this is not fanfiction? I like this idea so much.

I think that the creators of the show didn't let us to see it, as many other great things, that is sad...

I would really like to know your thoughts about this.

(Sorry for my bad english, it is not my native language...)

Hi there! First off, your English is fine! (lol it’s my native language, and I just typed it “Inglish” by accident, so you’re already doing better than I am :’D)

ETA: DON’T REBLOGGY THIS YET. I forgotted something that @thayerkerbasy just reminded me of, and I’m editing this post... brb... okay NOW YOU CAN REBLOGGY!)

As far as I know, those are the only times in canon we ever see or hear mention of an angel feather, and both times it’s for the same exact spell. They reference that it’s Henry’s spell when they use it again in 12.13, but make no mention in dialogue of it being an angel feather. Yet Sam had a whole jar of fluffy little pin feathers, so the assumption is that they’d been collecting them for a while (unless those were either found in the Men of Letters’ spell ingredient stockpile when they moved into the bunker, or otherwise given to them by Cas at some point).

It’s weird, because they seem like a very limited commodity, especially after the angels fell and their wings all burned up. Even after Cas got his original grace back, his wings never seemingly recovered. When we did finally see his wing prints in 12.23, they were still... not healthy... So my thinking is that any spell that would require them will become impossible to cast when their current supply runs out. All the other angels-- at the end of the series-- were either dead or locked in Heaven with their broken wings. We never learned any of their fates. Maybe they were all rendered obsolete under the Heaven Remodel?

A little behind the scenes from the early days of SPN as a bonus, since it’s tangentially relevant:

When they were filming the very early episodes of SPN, they had a lot of choices to make about what to show us based on what their budget would allow them to portray. Think of an episode like Wendigo, 1.02. One thing I see people say often was that it was a shame we didn’t see more of the monster, but only saw like... bushes shaking, or a vague form moving through the underbrush, or a blur. They made a stylistic choice right there to keep it within budget.

The options they faced were showing us a “dude in a rubber mask” type monster and showing it more, versus one really terrifying shot of a Proper Monster™ dying in spectacular fashion. Rather than go full-on cheesemonster, they chose to leave most of it up to our imaginations, giving us glimpses or hints of the monster.

They went back and forth on this a bit over the years, attempting to show us more on occasion, but most of those times the audience reaction has been varying degrees of wtf... Think about some of the scenes where they attempted to give us more than a glimpse at the supernatural, or a blood splatter, or whatever. It didn’t always work well. Think: the wire fight from 13.23...

I mean, it took us until 11.14 to ever see an angel “flap away,” when we saw Casifer zap Dean off the exploding submarine.

For the most part, I appreciate the fact that they understood the limitations of their own budget and didn’t give angels cheap little wings just to be able to show them on camera. Over time, only being able to see them as shadows, or as char after the angel died, became part of the lore of the show.

I blame Adam Glass for writing that spell, because he probably thought it sounded cool or whatever, that it was effectively a throwaway line because no other spell they’ve ever used has required an angel feather as an ingredient, and in story it was only linked into this larger Men of Letters Legacy plot that in retrospect feels like Chuck tying up loose ends and putting previously “deactivated” plotlines back into play.

I do find it kind of interesting that both iterations of this spell (the second resurrected by Bucklemming) were both tied to Abaddon. Henry’s spell in 8.12 brought her into the story from the past, she eventually travelled to the much further distant past to bring Gavin into the present (presumably with her own power alone, no angel feather required), and then after she was killed, they used the spell to return Gavin to his own time. So in a a way, the spell was part of a closed narrative loop, never to be referred to again.

Kinda wild that we’d never heard of angel feathers being a thing for spells until we learn that Dean apparently had some just stashed in the trunk, though... :’D

As for how corporeal angel feathers are/were, they exist in the earthly plane enough to leave char marks when they burn, when an angel is killed, so they must always have had the potential to manifest physically. I can’t imagine they ever would’ve had a budget to show us anything more than what we usually saw, though. It did give them a LOT of flexibility over how exactly they presented them to us when they DID show us. And I can’t even imagine the suffering Misha would’ve endured as an actor spending all those years wearing some weird wing harness rig. It would’ve been... impractical. And the CGI the show could’ve afforded-- especially in earlier days-- would’ve been... bad...

But what they were able to show us? Was often awesome. Remember when Raphael showed off his wings in 5.03? LIGHTNING!

And when we finally did see actual corporeal-appearing wings in 8.23... it was Dramatique™

And for More CGI Is Sometimes A Bad Thing Science, please have the attempt at Michael’s “true form” from 14.01:

It’s kinda a super-letdown after AU!Michael’s previous shadow wing displays from 13.01, but more specifically from 13.22:

those... were... badass...

Even the pre-wire-fight wing shadows on Dean were badass:

But if they’d tried to show us more of them, to make them move through action scenes for example, it would’ve been... bad...

So what we’re left with is the knowledge that there is some sort of corporeal element to wings that we simply can’t see most of the time, but clearly angels have the ability to show or hide them at will, even from other angels. Could it be an act of will on the part of the angel that manifests a bit of their grace in the form of a physical feather? Honestly, that’s the theory I’ve personally adopted toward canon. In fanfic, I’ve read tons of various headcanons about what angel wings are and how they function-- everything from “a manifestation of their true form” to “angels share a lot of traits with birds” to “an extension of their grace,” and everything in between.

I personally, in canon, like to think of it as akin to how they’ve used angel grace for other spells. I mean, when we recall that angels haven’t been on Earth much for the last few thousand years (aside from at least a couple of known incidents where angels interfered with humanity, like Ishim and Company in 12.10, for example, and the presumptive extension that the Men of Letters knew of the existence of angels and likely summoned one up a time or two the same way Lily Sunder had, giving one explanation for how Henry Winchester knew of this spell and had an angel feather to use for it, but also recontextualized when Lily Sunder taught us that humans can use their own souls to power spells in the same way angels used their grace... which sort of makes the notion of needing an angel feather AND his own soul to charge that particular spell in 8.12 a bit redundant unless Lily’s knowledge of angelic magic was more advanced than Henry’s... hrmpf.... so much tangent... back to the point)...

We did eventually learn of other spells that required an angel’s actual grace, not concentrated in the form of a feather. The Angel Fall Spell in 8.23 being the prime example. Metatron took ALL of Cas’s grace for that one, even if he didn’t use all of it for the spell and left a “fragment” (Metatron described it as “not a lot, but enough.”).

ETA: HECK. I have 9.03 on the tv right now and it’s distractedly made me disgusted enough to have forgotten something that Thayer just reminded me of: Lucifer’s “fossilized feather” in 12.07. It held enough grace to restore and heal him after Rowena’s spell in 12.03 had degraded him. Which really only adds to the theory that “feathers” are simply bits of grace that have been rendered solid somehow, but that can be transformed back into grace as needed.

And then there was the Rift Spell for travelling to alternate universes that required archangel grace, as well as the time travel/ward breaking spell that Sam found in 11.14 that ALSO required archangel grace specifically. Would these spells have worked with an archangel “feather?” Possibly, if material feathers are somehow just crystalized bits of grace, but since we never got a full explanation in canon, and never even really saw corporeal feathery wings that dropped feathers or could be plucked, and never even had mention of corporeal feathers outside of their use in this single spell, it’s really up to our own interpretation. And I kind of like it that way, because that way we get to have fun little discussions like this one. :D

I know this isn’t a definitive answer, but it’s how it all makes sense to me, in the hand-wavey sort of way that all of canon works. :’D

#spn 8.12 #spn 12.13 #spn 8.23 #on the nature of angel grace #angels and souls #sigils and symbols #heck i know i used to have a spells tag...#spn 11.14 #spn 5.03 #spn 12.10 #spn 13.23 #spn 13.22 #spn 13.01 #spn 14.01 #Anonymous #spn 12.07

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detectiveidiotboy · 3 years

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His Time In The Commonwealth IV: Danse

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth.

i had to take a break from posting for mental health and to deal with some things in my home life, but i'm back now! and with me comes the continuation of this mini-series. now, on to part 4!!! Danse's story.

The walk from Listening Post Bravo to Nordhagen Beach took three days. Had Danse been in top shape and traveling in his power armor, he was certain he could have made the trip in less than two, but speed wasn’t a priority in this mission; this was a pilgrimage.

It had been twelve weeks since his banishment, eighteen days since he’d last had contact with Nate, and seven since the Prydwen had been destroyed.

Danse had only learned about the attack the day before his journey began as he was attempting to trade with a nearby settlement. Nate had been his only source of supplies since he’d begun his self-imposed isolation, and since Nate had stopped showing up to visit, Danse had been left to ration his dwindling supplies until there wasn’t anything left to eat. He had considered allowing himself to starve to death down beneath the earth - continuing his existence was a waste of resources now that he wasn’t even able to serve Nate or the Brotherhood - but that plan only lasted two days after his last meal.

Nate had told Danse to stay alive. Nate had given him orders to care for himself until he returned because Danse was special to him. Danse understood what he was: he was a tool, a synth, a man-made creation meant to serve and obey humankind. If he could not be of use to the Brotherhood directly, then the next best thing he could do was dedicate himself to serving one of their best. Really, if he were honest, the idea of being Nate's personal synth wasn't unappealing to Danse. If anything, it wasn't fair to Nate that Danse be kept around to tempt him into violating Brotherhood rules. Sexual relations with machines was strictly prohibited, as was homosexuality, but Nate carelessly disregard both rules when it came to Danse, and Danse couldn't be more grateful. He was an abomination, therefore it wasn't his place to question a human such as Nate; Nate wanted him alive, and in good health, and because of that Danse had packed a bag with the few things he had to trade and walked to Tenpines Bluff.

As soon as Danse arrived, he was met with guns and suspicion.

“Stay back,” The settler warned, warding Danse back with the barrel of a rifle. “We don’t want nothin’ to do with you or your freak of a friend.”

Danse had been aware that Nate had a… reputation around the Commonwealth. He’d been a witness to several violent (bordering on psychotic) outbursts from the man. However, he had accompanied Nate several times to this particular settlement, and the people there had never been hostile before.

“I… am sorry for any confusion,” Danse said, licking his lips. He was severely out of practice after two weeks of near-total solitude, “Paladin Nate is not accompanying me at this time.”

The settler narrowed their eyes at Danse. “You… don’t know where he is, do you?”

“I have not had contact with Nate in weeks,” He confirmed. The sights came down after a moment of deliberation and the settler sighed.

“Jesus, I’m sorry,” They stretched their head with a hand. “Look. You just missed your buddies, but you should probably keep clear of them - they seemed to think you might have teamed up with Nate when the ship was attacked.”

“Ship? Which ship?” Danse felt his stomach drop, the pieces of the puzzle having presented themselves yet he dare not assemble them.

“The big one you lot got up by Nordhagen,” They said, expression turning from tired to something almost pitying. “You really don’t know what happened? The whole ship was blasted out of the sky. Damn near everyone in Boston had to have seen it - what, have you been livin’ under a rock for the past week?”

“There was an attack on the Prydwen?” Danse asked, taking a panicked step forward. The settler adjusted their grip on the rifle and Danse reminded himself that even without power armor, he was a large and unfamiliar man to these people. “When? Who?”

“About five days ago, I think,” The settler said. “We just heard about it when the survivors came through and raided our supplies - grilled me and my wife for hours about everything we knew about Nate.”

Danse’s heart stopped beating, he was certain of it. Why would the remaining Brotherhood want to know about Nate? The answer was obvious, blindingly so, but Danse couldn’t bring himself to even think it. Nate was Brotherhood, through and through - it was not the place of an Institute machine to question the loyalty of a flesh-and-blood human dedicated to the betterment of humanity.

Swallowing, Danse forced himself to put on a brave face and ask his question. “Was Paladin Nate there at the time of the attack?”

The settler actually laughed, though the question wasn’t funny and neither was his answer. “Was he there? I’m sorry but if what your pals said was true, he was the one that blew the damn thing up.”

Danse had ended up leaving his supplies with the settlers. There was at least 250 caps worth of ammo and scrap in the sack, but it would just weigh him down on his journey. The settlers insisted that he at least stay for dinner and leave in the morning, but Danse saw the state of their garden after the Brotherhood had been through and politely declined. It would be a waste to force humans to part with anything valuable to sustain the functionality of an obsolete machine. He had completely forgotten his hunger anyways; all that mattered to Danse was finding out if what he’d been told was true.

By the time he was close enough to see the empty spot in the sky where the Prydwen should be, he had his answer. Travelers, settlers and raiders alike had confirmed the story with identical depictions of events. According to the few witnesses left, Nate had walked onto the bridge of the ship with a gun and, without speaking to anyone, began assassinating high-ranking members of the Brotherhood, starting with Elder Maxson. The bloody massacre ended with Nate walking into the engine room and detonating an explosion - one that most likely came from the very mini-nukes that Danse had helped Nate secure.

Danse had tried to withhold judgment - he should wait to hear what Nate had to say. The descriptions all came second hand, after all. The Brotherhood survivors had all either retreated or were being treated in what was left of the major settlements. And the description of Nate that he was being given didn’t sound like his friend, his trainee, his partner one bit.

Except…

When Paladin Danse first met Nate, he had been backed against the wall by several hundred feral ghouls threatening the lives of his scouting team. While he would likely be fine so long as the fusion core in his armor held, Hayen and Rhys were vulnerable. He’d already watched the ghouls descend on Keane, tackling the knight in waves. Danse had shot them down, but it was too late. Keane never came back up.

So when Nate walked into the scene, rocket launcher in hand, and blew half of the mob to dust before Danse could finish warning his team to check their fire, he had been inclined to ignore the sinister, psychotic look of glee that Nate wore as he ripped apart the ghouls. Hell, Danse had delighted in it, feeling his men had been avenged. The moment the battle was over and those steel-blue eyes locked onto his, Danse knew he had found someone special.

Nate’s reputation hadn’t quite formed yet, but from the handful of missions that Danse accompanied him on it was clear to tell he would make a fine soldier. He was resilient and a fast shot; anything that stood in his way he took down. It was as if the man was made for the Brotherhood.

Danse offered Nate knight-ship several times before he was taken up on his offer. Nate rarely came to visit when he was in Cambridge, and when he did it was almost always to trade or ask for spare jobs to make a few extra caps. It was only when the Prydwen came rolling through that Nate seemed to seriously consider Danse’s offer. It was strange - Danse feeling honored for Nate to join his ranks rather than the other way around.

Nate made him feel a certain way, something he hadn’t felt since Cutler. Danse could watch Nate fight for hours, muscles flexed under his vaultsuit as he clubbed in the head of a ghoul or gunning down a cluster of synths. His nights were often spent imagining exactly what it would look like if it was his neck that Nate was crushing between those smooth hands and not some random raider. It was foolish, and wildly inappropriate behavior as Nate’s sponsor.

Maybe that was what made him overlook some of the man’s more obvious flaws.

By the time Nate was inducted into the Brotherhood, his reputation as a ruthless and cunning man had become fairly well known. Maxson was willing to overlook Nate’s violent past thanks to a combination of Danse’s vouching and the fact that most of Nate’s targets were shared with the Brotherhood. He had infiltrated and collapsed the Railroad, dismantled the Institute's hold over Diamond City, and struck down the mayor of a mostly-ghoul city in east Boston. His methods were harsh, but they were necessary - at least, that’s what Danse told the Elder.

“Still,” Elder Maxson had said. “It’s best we keep an eye on him. I’m not sure if our new recruit’s heart is in the right place.”

“Believe me, sir,” Danse had told him, “I would trust Knight Nate with my life.”

“That may be so…” Maxson said, “but I still have my doubts. It’s best not to take the word of a known liar at face value, and Nate has quite the reputation of betrayal.”

The truth had been there the entire time. Danse recalled the first time he had met someone who knew Nate outside of the Brotherhood, a young woman by the name of Curie. It had been shortly after the destruction of the Railroad and just before his induction into the Brotherhood. She had seemed nervous around Nate, agreeing a little too quickly to what he said and keeping her eyes on him the entire time. Haylen had taken to her rather quickly, both girls having bonded over shared medical knowledge, and Danse remembered well what she had to say when asked if she liked traveling with Nate.

“Oh- o-oui… I mean…” Her fingers tightened around the cup of tea she had been sipping at. “Monsieur is… complicated, in his motives. I am sure he has good reasons for what he is doing… I simply must trust him. He has done so much for me already.”

Danse had felt her words were foolish. She was lucky to have so much of the man’s attention, and it seemed strange that she didn’t recognize that. Less than a week later Danse watched as Nate dragged her into an abandoned shack, barred the door, and set the house on fire. Later, Nate informed Danse that the girl had been a synth and that he was only doing as the Brotherhood instructed of him. Danse had been forced to agree - despite the vast wealth of knowledge that Curie held, her existence was far too dangerous to be tolerated.

The screams that came from the house as the woman burned alive haunted Danse no matter how many times he reminded himself they were from an artificial being. For a while he wondered if synths could simulate humanity so closely as to feel pain; he had his answer now, he supposed. That girl had died in agony.

The Nate described to Danse during his expedition to the beach was far closer to the Nate in those memories than the idealized soldier that Danse had stuck in his head. The Nate who had eyes like Cutlers and spoke to him as if he were human, even after his synthetic nature was revealed. The Nate who had kissed him in the center of the old radio station on their first official mission into the Commonwealth. The Nate who would disappear for months at a time and then reappear at a moment’s notice, ready to drag Danse along on whatever new quest had taken his fancy. The Nate who never slept in the same bed as Danse after he came around for a quick fuck. The Nate who was rumored to have murdered his girlfriend a year prior. The Nate who had set his previous partner on fire when he was done with her, then walked across the field to press a loving kiss to Danse’s lips as she died. The Nate who had promised Danse to be there for him after his exile only to leave him to waste away in solitude. The Nate who had destroyed the Prydwen.

They were all the same Nate.

When Danse finally made it to the airport, he was surprised by just how familiar it seemed. The carnage had been mostly scraped away by local settlers, leaving behind only the hollowed out remains of training camps and supply stations. The opportunity for a new settlement hadn't been lost on the local population; by the time Danse arrived there were already the makings of several homes under construction. Upon arrival Danse was recognized by his uniform and a handful of the new settlers offered him their condolences. He was shown the way to the resting place for those who had been recovered - little more than a mass grave dug behind the airport marked with scattered crosses and hung holo-tags. It was more than Danse had been expecting. The locals he had met in this area before had despised the Brotherhood with a passion - the fact that they hadn’t just left the bodies to rot while looting everything they could hold from the abandoned stores was a genuine surprise. He walked along the grave sights, checking the tags for names he recognized. He found several, but Haylen and Rhys weren't among them. Whether that meant they were still alive or among the hundreds of nameless casualties, Danse would never know.

Danse turned away gifts of food and offers for a place to rest. His body was at its limit, exhausted and starving, but anything put into it now would be a waste. All of this destruction and death was because of him; he was not the victim, but rather the perpetrator. Danse intended to answer for his sins against humanity.

After politely asking for a moment alone from the concerned settlers, Danse left to walk through the empty airport. He had hoped that there would be something left of the Prydwen on land for him to do this in, but the majestic ship was resting with many of her inhabitants at the bottom of the bay. So Danse found the next best place - the first-story storage area that had been cleared out. He retrieved his pistol from his jacket pocket and knelt down before pressing the end of the barrel to the hollow of his temple.

“I am asking for you to do the human thing here, Knight,” Danse pleaded, knees on the cold, damp ground of the listening post.

“And I’m telling you I don’t want to,” Nate had argued, stubborn as ever. “I like you, Danse, synth or not. I’m not ready to give you up just yet. I need you to stay alive.”

The words had felt so kind at the time. Danse, who was nothing more than a machine lamenting the loss of what it had never really owned, had leaned into those words. They became his anchor, his world, his reason- no- his excuse to keep on living. Looking back on them after seeing the graves of his fellow soldiers - some hung with the hats of squires who were too young to have been given tags yet - he saw those words for what they were: selfishness. Nate acted for his own sake. He served no one but himself, and he had used Danse in every conceivable way. What else should Danse have expected? It was the nature of a machine to be useful to those who took advantage of it.

Danse was a foolish, treacherous, malfunctioning thing, but the very last act he would commit would be a human one. If reincarnation was something that existed for synths, he hoped he would get a chance someday to be more than just a cheap imitation of humanity.

“You know, I’m not an expert with pistols or anything, but I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to put that end there.”

The gun dropped from Danse’s forehead. He unclenched his eyes and turned to face the newcomer.

“Mind your own business, Scavver,” Danse said wearily, though still managing to push through some of his commanding tone from a previous life, if only so he didn’t prolong this longer than necessary. He could already feel his resolve wavering.

“Aw, come on, man,” The person in the doorway stepped into the room, arms stretched out behind his head in a relaxed pose. A pair of mirrored sunglasses reflected Danse’s haggard appearance back at him. “Haven’t the guys around here had to bury enough bodies this week? Why add to the trauma?”

Danse’s eyes narrowed, but he did stand up and put this pistol back in his pocket. “You make an excellent point,” He said, headed for the door. “I will relocate myself to a more remote location as not to disturb the population.”

“Thaaaat’s not quite what I meant,” The man blocked the exit with an arm and refused to stand down, even as Danse towered over him. “Actually, I have a proposition for you - nothing weird - I promise-” He said, holding out his hands in a show of good faith. Danse used the opportunity to sidestep the stranger and walk out of the old hanger and into the hallway. The man scurried behind him. “So, I can imagine what is going through your mind right now - who is this guy? How did he get to be so handsome? Why doesn’t he want me to blow my brains out in an old-world aircraft hangar?”

Danse ignored the man, which did nothing to stop his ranting.

“In order - My name is Deacon, I moisturize daily, and I want you to join my super awesome resistance movement to take down the rat bastard known as the Sole Survivor of Vault 111-” Danse stopped dead in his tracks. “-though I suppose you were close enough to know him as Nate, right?”

Danse turned to look over the man - Deacon, as he claimed to be. He was bald, as evidenced by his ill-fitting wig sagging just enough to show his absent hairline. He was dressed like a civilian, but up close Danse could see the ballistic armor plates hidden under his flannel shirt. There was a look about him that Danse recognized from some of the scribes, specifically the ones who had been tasked with recon. His eyes twitched at Danse's every movement, and the slight tremor in Deacon's fingers pointed him in the direction of a pistol tucked into the stranger's pants line. In short - Danse’s summary of the man was that there was more to him than just a scavenger with delusions of grandeur.

Still, he turned back around.

“Even if what you are saying is true, I cannot in good conscience accept your offer,” Danse said, continuing his long walk. Deacon kept up pace beside him.

“Really? You’re still loyal to him even after he turned half of your buddies into flaming corpses?”

Danse felt rage hit him in a wave, but years of emotional control stayed his hand. Still, he faltered in his gait. “Nate is dead to me," He said with all the contempt he had left in him. "Should I have the opportunity I would gladly put that monster down myself. My issue is not with your cause, but rather with myself. I am a synth. Taking me into your organization would be too great of a security risk.

“Oh, right, that. Yeah, I already know about that, don’t worry,” Deacon said flippantly. Danse pushed open the double doors leading to the exterior of the airport, and despite letting the doors fall back on Deacon, the man kept following. “I asked a whole bunch of the Brotherhood guys if they wanted to join up, but most of them turned tail and headed back to the capital. But there was always this one guy who they kept mentioning, yeah? A pal of Nate's who turned out to be a synth. The guy was supposedly still running around in the Commonwealth, one M7-97.” Danse took a deep breath, hating every second he spent listening to this man speak. “That’s you right? See, I figured if I hung around here long enough I’d see you. Nate isn’t exactly… good to his friends when he’s done with them. And I’d say blowing up the Prydwen was about as done as done gets.”

“As stated, I am no longer affiliated with him,” Danse said, pausing at the water’s edge when he realized there was no shaking the persistent little pest. “If you are looking for intel on his current location, I have nothing to offer you. Last contact was precisely eighteen days ago at Listening Point Bravo.”

“Oh nah, I didn’t expect anything like that,” Deacon said, coming up beside Danse. He reached down for a rock in the sand and skipped it along the bay. “I just figured joining up with us might be a decent enough alternative to suicide.”

“It is not suicide, it is turning off a broken machine,” Danse clarified. He couldn’t see the man’s eyes, but he was almost certain that Deacon rolled them behind his glasses.

“Well, when that machine is sentient, we call it suicide,” He said with a sigh. “Look, man, I know what you’re going through, believe me.”

Danse’s eyes narrowed, no longer able to keep his contempt from his face. “How could you possibly know that? The Brotherhood was humanity’s best hope for a better future, and because of my malfunction its ranks have been compromised, possibly irreparably.”

Deacon fell down onto his ass, stretching out so his bare feet were caught by the waves as they lapped the shore. “I know 'cause you’re not the only one he’s stabbed in the back,” Deacon said, looking out across the water. “I was part of the Railroad.”

Danse’s neck snapped to the side, looking down at the man. His mouth opened in a prepared lecture about the folly of mistaking synths for human beings and the role of the Railroad in humanity’s doom, but he saw Deacon remove the sunglasses from his face and for the first time he was looking into the other man’s eyes.

“Nate took us out in the dead of night. No one saw it coming,” Deacon continued. “He was a new agent, but the higher-ups put a lot of faith in him, because someone they trusted had recommended him - me.” Deacon looked back towards the waves, propped up with his hands behind him. “Look, I’m not gonna sit around and babysit you. If you want out, there isn’t much I can do to stop you. But right now, I’ll be honest, the only thing keeping me going is revenge, and that’s a hell of a lot better than being dead.”

Silence fell between them. Danse had no idea what to say to all that. On the one hand, he was perfectly happy with the destruction of a dangerous underground movement such as the Railroad, and on the other, the parallels between his and Deacon’s story were not lost on him. Danse knew that the right thing to do was to decline Deacon’s offer - possibly even take the synth sympathizer down with him before he caused any more harm - and continue with his plan to terminate his existence.

But Danse didn’t want to die, or whatever one would call it when a synth ceased to be. And more than that, he didn’t want Nate to keep on living. There were hundreds of people on that ship - men, women, children . Not all of them were good, Danse was well aware of the unsavory types that were often attracted to the military lifestyle, but none of them deserved to die the way they did only to end up buried hundreds of miles from home in a mass grave.

Maybe it was selfishness, maybe it was revenge, maybe it was raw, human (or at least human-like) emotion, but Danse finally came to his decision with a decisive nod of his head.

“Okay.” He said. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

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koushisatori · 3 years

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Anniversary

First of all: If you happen to stumble across this, please cut me some slack and be gentle with me. English is not my mother tongue, and on top of that, I got rusty by procrastinating everything (literally) for the last half-year (*μ_μ) I am apologizing in advance if something is weirdly written.

This is also my first ever piece of fanfiction, so I have to get used to that to :(( So if you got ideas or anything, I’ll gladly try to fulfill your wishes to simultaneously improve my writing.

Hmm, is there anything else? I hope not, and if there is, I’ll add it !!

tendou x f!reader

genre: small bit of angst, fluff

warnings: none

word count: 2.7k

note: /

__________________________________________________________

usually, your relationship with Tendou is smooth sailing, both of you decided to take the step of moving in together relatively early, exceeding the common couples limit by not only doing this barely a year into your relationship but doing so in a different country far from your family and friends

(both of you learning french together to survive a new life in an absolutely foreign country...however, the first months of grocery shopping were disastrous )

you both became a couple in your last year at Shiratorizawa, surprising absolutely....well,...no one, honestly

every person just seeing a moment of your interactions with each other would have guessed that you already were dating

Tendou and you were the embodiment of being disgustingly in love - like people see you and feel s i n g l e wanting to have what you two obviously found with the other

(SemiSemi, to this day, shudders violently thinking about how he caught you two making out in the storage room a week after Tendou finally confessed to you <3)

anyway

while Tendou followed his dream of becoming a chocolatier, you began to study - enter: stress

after finishing his required training he got a job at a high-class factory (everything his handmade and super expensive?? You’re just so lucky to be his better half and get to taste his creations for free)

they value his skills and invest in him to become better, but that also means that his time for you shrank even more

you understood that, of course, and it's not like you didn’t spend a lot of your times crouching over books either with being close to receiving your first degree

in general, your fights are stressed-induced, and as quickly forgotten as they came up bc...let’s not beat around the bush, both of you are shit at staying mad at the other, especially if it means cutting short the already sparse time you currently have <3

they’re usually about petty stuff, too

recently though it happens more regularly and they ever so slowly started to border on painful

he stays at work for longer to perfect his already otherworldly skills; and your patience is running thin with all the deadlines and exams putting immense pressure on you

both of you are just so unsatisfied and stressed and...so fucking tired

it’s always forgivable though

you don’t mind planned dinner dates turning into movie nights with him falling asleep on you after what feels like seconds

because he’s there, pressing his face into your side or stomach hard enough for you to wonder if he’s trying to suffocate himself, while his long arms are around your waist holding onto you as if his life depends on it

he doesn’t mind being splayed across your lap watching the latest episodes of his series while you type away on your laptop, even though you were supposed to enjoy a nice weekend lazying in front of the tv with him

a forgotten date hasn’t killed you yet as well, but the amount of times it was currently happening allowed insecurities to have their way with you

both of you always make up for it one way or another (leaving an apology breakfast or even taking it to bed, buying flowers, sharing the sweet kisses you were supposed to enjoy the night before,...)

but this time, he didn’t just forget to be on time for any date.

he completely missed your anniversary

you spend the whole afternoon cooking his favorite dish for dinner, making yourself all pretty for him, wearing the jewelry he got you for your birthday, it was some kind of tradition by now

just to be stood up, dinner turning cold and your mood sour

no message, no callback

around 11pm he - finally ! - gets in touch with you

‘‘(Y/N)!! Bunny, did something happen? Did you miss me so much?’’

you could hear the dopey grin he was wearing while teasing you, one you usually loved, one that was contagious

but it didn’t help the pain and disappointment nesting in your heart, right now

he really didn’t remember

was the date so insignificant to him? were you no longer a priority?

you swallow around the lump in your throat, desperately begging your brain to not amplify your insecurities even more

‘’No...it’s...it’s alright, I just wanted to know when you’re home...’’ your attempt to keep the doubts and pain you experienced that second hidden was pointless, because even on the phone, your boyfriend was able to look right through you

‘‘Bunny what’s wrong?’’ he asks worriedly

normally you’d say that it was alright, that you’d speak later or directly say what was bugging you so terribly

this time...you didn’t feel like talking or maybe even fighting, scared that he might confirm your thoughts and leave you

‘’It’s nothing, Tendou,...’’ you hear him wince, you can’t remember the last time you called him that ’’don’t bother with me if it’s not as important to you.’’

‘‘Not as...’’ a moment of silence follows, in which he checked the date and, lastly, Tendou understood ‘’Oh. Oh shit, (Y/N),...Bunny, please, wait for me, please, let me explain...’‘

It’s not the answer you wanted (on the other hand, what answer would that be?)

‘‘I waited...and I’m tired,’‘ you add without thinking, hanging up before he even got the chance to answer

while you don’t want things to end...you can’t help but think ‘what if?’ - that thought alone though is enough for the dams to burst

With a soft groan, you blink your burning eyes open, noticing your spine protesting and pop from the uncomfortable position you fell asleep in. A glance at the alarm clock elicited another tired groan, the 4 on display mocking you.

The burning and overall sluggish feeling controlling your body immediately reminded you of the things that had taken place. That his scent surrounding you arose solely due to his pillow in which you had pressed your face.

While you obviously weren’t on the best of terms right now, a small part of you was still hopeful and reached out across the bed in search for the warmth your red-haired better half usually provided. Unsurprisingly, your hand met a cold bed half.

An annoyed sigh later, you sat up and rubbed over your eyes angrily. You were hurt, which should be understandable, but remembering his overly happy tone even with evident tiredness underlaying it, you guessed that he didn’t stay behind on purpose and that, maybe, something good had happened. So to say, you as well behaved like an idiot.

Suddenly, you remember the last sentence you said. Realizing what it implied, you felt like banging your head against the wall. You wanted to be understood by him. What you didn’t want was to give Satori the time to allow his anxious tendencies to fester while he was alone, foregoing untrue, negative ideas. The fact that he still wasn’t in bed with you, was proof enough which lead to you cursing out loud.

While your last words towards him told something differently, you surely didn’t want to leave him or him to leave you. Both of you could work things out, you always did, and…well, you always hoped that it would stay that way until you had lived a fulfilling life as a couple, with grey hair and wrinkles taking your last breath together wherever life would lead the two of you.

The simple solution was to communicate like the grown adults you are.

Determined to talk through it the way you should have done earlier and maybe...just maybe get some cuddles afterward, you swung your legs out from under the blankets. After you quickly put on some warm, worn-out socks, you quietly leave the bedroom and tip-toe through the hallway.

You expected the apartment to be silent, to be dark. What you didn’t expect is the soft light coming from your shared kitchen. Or the clinking noises of bowls and pots colliding lightly, lowly muttered, sleepy curses, and even quieter sniffles interrupting the barrage of words from time to time.

Upon hearing those little sounds - no doubt coming from your anxious boyfriend - your heart clenched painfully in your chest. This is your injudicious doing. Straightening your back, you stepped into the kitchen, slightly squinting against the much harsher ceiling lights assaulting your eyes.

The original plan was to offer a heartfelt apology, and follow it up by an honest declaration of love and the proposal to talk about everything. There were a lot of things that needed to be cleared up between you and Tendou. But after entering the kitchen, you came to an abrupt halt.

Your eyes wandered, lingering on cuts, burns, and blisters that blemished your boyfriends' pretty fingers. Slowly, your gaze continued to move up his arms and shoulders, tensed and screaming out his fear of losing you. For a moment, you hesitated, but you eventually lifted your gaze to meet his wide eyes, as red-rimmed and puffy as yours. He looked like a deer caught in headlights. Normally, you would find it adorable and stretch your hands out to cup his cheeks (not to pull him down, definitely not) and press a kiss to his lips...but right now? You really just felt like crying, seeing your Satori so heartbroken over something you said carelessly in the heat of the moment.

Suddenly wincing, Tendou quickly pulls back his hand to his chest away from the hot stove. Yet, he did not dare to break eye contact with you. Seemingly afraid that what he currently saw is nothing but a sleep-deprivation induced hallucination. That you would just vanish if he so much dared to even think of blinking.

The stupor rooting you to the spot though vanished in favor of closing the gap between the two of you to help him.

‘‘Tori...’‘ you croaked worriedly, eyes flickering down to his hands and back up to his watery, sad eyes. ‘‘I’m so sorry,’’ you whispered. Any louder and your voice might break. ’’...let me take care of you.’‘

You turned off the stove before you gently tugged Tendou behind you to the bathroom. Making him sit on the edge of the small tub, you gathered everything you needed to patch him up with rehearsed movements.

For a while, both of you were silent.

You carefully worked on disinfecting cuts and putting special creams on the different wounds and burns, while not hurting him any further. Concentrating on ignoring the thick tension of untold apologies, and fear. Doubt weighing heavy on the two of you.

Meanwhile, Tendou couldn't help but admire your features. Your soft hair - faintly smelling like peaches and anis - falling into your face, hiding away your pretty (Y/E/C) eyes. He loved to get lost in them. Or how your tongue poked out between your lips in concentration and the little scrunch of your nose when you thought that you could have done better.

Even in this hazy state of mind, he knew for certain that he would try to hold onto you for as long as possible. That he would do anything to make you forgive him.

After you finished gently wrapping band-aids (silly ones with colorful patterns just the way you both love) around his fingers, on his palm, and back of his hand, he quickly moved them to hold onto yours.

‘‘Don’t leave me.’‘ Tendou's voice is just above a whisper, and if you wouldn't have been that close to him as you were, you would have missed it. But you could hear him, and your eyes immediately met his, filling with tears all over again.

‘‘Satori, I’m-’‘

‘‘(Y/N), please...please, don’t leave me. I’m so sorry. Of course, I care. Our relationship, you...nothing’s as important to me as you are. It was the only thing keeping me sane that last week. I don't know why I forgot about it. I truly feel horrible.'' he started. ''Please, believe me. I love you so, so much. I...I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to.’’ Even with his voice quivering, it was crystal clear just how serious his words were to him.

He needed to get it out in the open. There was no way in hell that he would allow any doubts about your relationship to fester in your mind.

‘’I was held back to talk about the upcoming Christmas preparations that I’m supposed to be leading this year, and then I was called into the boss’ office and I couldn’t check my phone,’‘ the desperation to explain still evident, Tendou resorted to rambling about the happenings of the day.

‘‘I’m sorry for hurting you, but Bunny, I beg you...I know that we haven't had enough time those last weeks, that we didn't have any if we’re honest. I understand that you must feel neglected. I will change that, give me a chance to make you forgive me, please.’‘

It wasn’t like you wanted to cry again, but the tears rolling down your cheeks seemed to have a mind on their own. ‘’ ‘Tori...’’ you sniffled, your voice breaking away at the last syllable. ‘’Can I hug you?’’

The relief on his face spoke volumes, and before you even got the chance to make good on your words, he already stands tall in front of you, enveloping you tightly.

Securely wrapped up in Satoris’ arms, you feel like coming home after months away. Or like taking in the first gasp of fresh air after holding your breath underwater for too long. With Tendou holding onto you like this, you found the strength to answer.

''I'm sorry, too...I love you so much, and...I know you always have a reason, and it was childish to hang up on you and leave you worrying alone instead of talking to you. And...if you neglected me those last weeks, then I did the same. We both were too busy for each other...''

After a short pause, you ask: ''B-but we can work it out, right?’’ Slowly, you looked up to him. ‘’I want to spend my life with you, Satori. Don’t listen to dumb me 5 hours earlier. 5-hours-ago-me was so stupid, and petty, and does not reflect my true wishes,’’ you added. ’’No one of our old friends wanted to put up with me the last week because I’m so head over heels in love with you and all I do is tell them ‘’You should have seen what Tori did for me’’ and what I plan to do for you...I can feel them roll their eyes from the other side of the world!’’

Suddenly aware of your very honest words, you pushed your face against his chest to hide your burning cheeks. Embarrassment painting them in a pretty hue of pink.

Tendou hadn't realized that he had actually held his breath listening to your words until he chuckled a bit breathlessly. The remaining tension possessing both of your bodies faded away after that, allowing you to relish in the feeling of having the other in your arms again.

After a while, you bravely gazed up at him again, even with your cheeks still set ablaze. ''Come to bed?'' And with a sweet smile, one that reached his eyes and made your heart stutter, he nodded.

Things between the two of you weren't ideal quite yet, Tendou kknew that much. But they would be. Tomorrow would be a new day. You would hopefully agree to celebrate your anniversary a day later. He hoped, that you would agree to spend it with him from the first second you woke up to the very last before you fell asleep. You will hopefully enjoy the news that his promotion was topped with holidays that allowed you to spend Christmas and New Year's Eve with your families in Japan.

He also hoped for you to say yes when, surrounded by your friends, he would ask you to marry him under the Cherry Blossoms in spring.

Things weren't quite ideal, but watching your peaceful expression while sleeping on his chest, he knew, all the up and downs were worth powering through. He would embrace every hardship if that meant keeping you by his side forever.

#Haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyuu x reader #is this a headcanon? idk but I'll tag it like that for now until I know better #haikyuu headcanons #Shiratorizawa x reader #Tendou x reader #Haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios

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crookswithbooks · 3 years

Text

Constellations

Karkat discovers something new about the humans.

“What’s that?”

Dave looked up, pausing his incessant scribbling for a moment. It really was good art. Great art in fact. Maybe even some of his best. He raised an eyebrow at Karkat, who was staring intently at his face.

“What’s what?” he asked, turning his attention back to his drawings. He would have to show them to Rose. Surely she would appreciate his hard work. “If you can’t tell, I’m kind of in the middle of something here.”

“ ‘Something’ being drawing more dicks all over our only source of information on this godforsaken meteor you mean,” Karkat scoffed. “Can’t you keep your perverse fantasies to yourself?”

“Shut up, this is art.” Dave pulled his headphones down, hanging them around his neck. He turned in his chair to face him. “What do you even want?”

“I was trying to ask you what those weird little dots on your face are.”

Dave raised an eyebrow. “Um, dude, what?”

“Those dots.” Karkat moved forward, and without any warning poked Dave’s cheeks. Dave liked to think of himself as a pretty chill dude, sophisticated, put together, but hell if he didn’t freeze up at that simple touch like an intellectually challenged deer in the face of oncoming motor lights. “You have them all over your face. At first I thought it was another dumb human thing, but Egbert doesn’t have them so again I ask, what are they?”

Dave recovered from his momentary lapse and pushed Karkat’s hands away, his face resuming its neutral position. “You mean my freckles?”

“What are freckles?”

Dave grabbed the back of his neck, struggling to think of a way to explain it. “It’s like… little dots on your face caused by the sun.”

“The sun marks your face?” Karkat looked horrified. “Does it hurt?”

“Nah, not really. You don’t even feel it. They just kind of appear suddenly.”

Karkat leaned back, crossing his arms. “How come Egbert doesn’t have them then, if they’re caused by your human sun?”

“It only happens to some people,” Dave explained. “Like, with lighter skin and all that.”

Karkat frowned at him for a moment. His head was tilted slightly to one side, examining him. Dave shifted under his gaze, feeling a bit too much like a science specimen. “What?”

But Karkat didn’t say anything, only stared. The silence was a bit weird in and of itself. To distract himself from it, Dave went back to his drawing. He traced over some of his previous lines, adding in details and shading, and by the time he looked up again, Karkat was gone.

For a while the matter was forgotten. Dave came up with new raps and Karkat wrote his weird fanfiction and the Mayor drew them both into architectural masterpieces involving many cans and several of Rose’s books which said sister in question was less than happy about. Life on the meteor was boring, not a single life-threatening occurrence aside form the occasional ominous HONK from the vents, and while it seemed totally uneventful to some, Dave thought it was kind of nice. They hadn’t had boring in so long. With Jack not constantly on their trails, they could just relax, hang out as friends. Dave spent more time with Rose and even helped her arrange some of her dates and write passive aggressive, euphemism filled love notes to Kanaya (Kanaya herself was not as happy about his involvement as some). He got to know Terezi better and together they honed each other’s skills—Terezi gave Dave tips on some of his drawings and Dave engaged Terezi in many a laborious and dildo-themed rap battle. The mayor was, of course, rad. As always.

And Karkat…

He had never expected things to go the way it had with Karkat. He hadn’t even liked Karkat when he first came to the meteor. The two had been at each other’s throats constantly, so much so that Rose had made many suggestions as to the true color of their relationship. But after a while… he wasn’t sure. Things calmed down. It seemed silly after a while to antagonize each other over things that had felt so important a while ago, but now seemed dumb and inconsequential.

And then the kiss had happened. It had been sudden and unexpected and somehow completely right in the moment. The two of them had stared for a moment, frozen and dumb in the face of it all, and then Karkat had leaned forward once more and everything had locked into pace.

They began dating soon after that. They didn’t have a big announcement or anything, but living on a meteor in close quarters with each other like they were, it didn’t take long for everyone to find out. They were met with raised eyebrows whenever they excused themselves to ‘work on art’ as they called it, and Dave had quickly excused himself from an awkward and graphic conversation Rose had attempted to have with him on whether or not they were using a pail or a condom.

They were comfortable. Dave had never felt so at home with someone, nor had he ever expected someone’s rants to become so familiar. It was nice.

They were on Dave’s bed when the conversation topic finally resurfaced. Dave lay in only a pair of boxers on his side, his preferred sleeping method. He tended to find pants too restrictive. Karkat didn’t understand how he could sleep so exposed but Dave insisted it helped him connect with his body. Karkat had then made a jerking off jab and the conversation had devolved from then.

That particular day, Dave found himself in the comfy stage in-between sleep and consciousness. Karkat’s body was warm against him, and his hair was crushed haphazardly against the pillow. His eyes were closed and was about to fall back asleep when he felt a soft touch gently trace along his shoulder blades.

“You have them on your back too.”

“What?” Dave grumbled, swatting lazily at the touch. Karkat ignored him, continuing to poke and trace his skin.

“The freckles,” Karkat explained. His voice was wondering, a soft innocence as he traced constellations with the spots on his back. “They’re on your back too.”

He drew a line through his shoulder blades and down the curve of his spine, the action idle and curious. If Dave was being honest, a rare occurrence, he found the troll’s interest sort of cute. Not that he would ever say anything.

“They’re sort of everywhere,” Dave explained sleepily. The gentle tracing was doing nothing to help his drowsy state. He drew in a yawn, pressing his face into the pillow. His next words were mumbled as he said, “Can you stop that, it’s super annoying.”

“Make me,” Karkat growled, but Dave had no such intentions. It did feel kind of nice and before he knew it he found himself asleep again, snoring gently. Karkat rolled his eyes at the noises. It was kind of fitting how even in sleep Dave wouldn’t shut up. He continued drawing lines in between the pale dots, connecting them into various shapes.

Sometimes he found it hard to believe they had created the humans. Often this was because the humans were dumb and loud and unbelievably vulnerable to things like death and stabbing, but other times it was because of beautiful things like this that made his breath stop short. He wrapped his arms around Dave, burying his face into the back of his neck and feeling at ease for once in his life.

How could he have possibly created someone like Dave who held the multitude of the galaxy on his back?

#dave strider #karkat vantas #homestuck #fiction #davekat #fanfiction

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huxs-waifu · 3 years

Text

Shifted- Chapter Five - Touching Is Electric - ** smut**

This is cross posted on A03 - link here - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27559456/chapters/67407712

masterlist for shifted - https://huxs-waifu.tumblr.com/post/670680039555252224/shifted-master-list

pin interest board reader : https://www.pinterest.co.uk/vintagekola/shifted-fanfiction-hero/

Kylo Ren/Reader, Ben Solo/Reader, Armitage Hux/Original Female Character(s), Matt the Radar Technician/Reader

chapter summery :

Bare with this chapter it starts off Hux and Violet but will all make sense by the end ! Smutty smutty at the end of the chapter with matt ;) from the emotional sweet start with violet and Hux to the smut ending with reader and Kylo it has drained me !! originally the Hux and Violet bit I wrote as a separate bit but found it to be a nice contrast to what happens in the chapter! as always please comment share etc I really like peoples thoughts on here and A03

*mention/ implied sexual exploitation with Violet and SMUT*

*** one year ago***

"so pet let's see what you can do." climbing on top of violet her sinking down in submission placing her arms above her head. Wincing saying in one last attempt

"I'm not a pet or a whore or whatever it said I'm in that box. I'm a person who was put in a position I couldn't refuse. I woke up on Canto Blight with no memory as to who I was. "

"Well then if you can not consent to this. Good night." Hux when from towering over her on all fours to laying down on the bed next to her. Letting out a sob of relief violet sat up and hugged her knees. "I'm not in a habit of raping Pretty women."

swallowing hard "Then why did you take me?"

"Your no use to the first order, it would just have turned into a sport of using you, I don't want my men getting distracted. Your safer here for the moment"

"So you've claimed me for just you? I'm not a pet, I'm human. I wish to be treated like one if you're willing. "

Turning his head on the pillow to look at her. "I've not claimed you. I'm protecting you. I'm going to try to keep you safe before I can figure out what to do with you. What's your name?"

"My name? everyone keeps calling me violet . So I guess I'm Violet" Sighing, stretching out her legs a little.

He lets out a little snort from his nose. " Violet? like the colour? Your kidding me"

"Yes is something the matter with it?"

"Not at all, Just finding the irony in it. As a teenager I'd play with ultra violet rays in my room, while others were out having fun." He goes off glassy eyed as if he's transported to a time he'd kept locked away. " I was alone, always alone, allowed no attachments, I might as well be like one of the storm troopers. Armitage weak as a slip of paper father would say" He muttered "Now all these years later i've got 'Violet' in my room" letting out another snort moving his head to face the ceiling again, hands behind his head.

"But you're not alone this time." violet goes to pat instinctively but stops. “I've been alone growing up, I was ill, a blood disease. People seem to forget me, always tried included in things at school and other places, I've always been forgotten, almost as if I wasn't there. Now I'm here everyone seems to want a piece of me.” Remembering that he had asked for consent and never actually laid a finger on her all day. Sure he had given her his greatcoat to walk down through the hanger, to his quarters. He had organized a standard nightie as she only was sent with flimsy rippable purple underwear, that she was boxed up in. Even given her a bowl of something, all just guessing it would end in him wanting to use her in some way in return. "Do I have permission?"

He looks at the hand in mid air then back to the ruddy tear stained face of his supposed ‘toy’ he now had in bed with him. Big violet eyes an iris colour he'd never seen before but for some reason was so taken by when looking at them. Seeing a flash of light bink through them like his rays all those years go. "You may." looking back towards the ceiling, eyes fixated on the blank steel canvas above.

She places a hand on his bicep. feeling the rush of life or something that you feel when you just do something at the right moment. He lets out a strangled gasp of almost pleasure himself, before regaining a blank composure. turning slowly to face those beautiful eyes again, then looking at her hand. "is that ok?" She replies alarmed by the noise but just making the hand placement feather light before snaking the hand around to cup fully

"Sorry I've just haven't had any human skin to skin contact in a very long time. I wasn't expecting it to feel so- well right" dragging himself into sitting up, looking at violets placed hand. she keeps it on there as he adjusts completely to kneeling beside her. " may i?" gesturing to her own bicep. Just a slow nod comes from her. "I can't do this without your verbal consent."

"Then you may." she replies in the quietest of voices, making full eye contact looking at the ice cold blue of his own eyes. His hands did much the same as hers and didn't know where to place. Violet takes it as a cue to adjust herself to, grasping a tiny bit more on him to move. barely grazing her skin he strokes her upper arm. then placing a palm against it. Almost paining him to do such a normal thing of touching someone ,cups it. Feeling a healthy run of endorphins in doing so, like he had moments before from her touch. licking his lips letting out a relieved breath with a hint of a smile playing at his twisted lips, just looking at his hand making the contact.

"Wow." gulping " There's someone paler than me." watching as his pink and freckled hand twitches in the softest grip, inspecting the skin "I think your You're so beautiful, I didn't want you hurt, like I always was. That was the first thing that crossed my mind when I saw you delivered, I didn't realise you were going to be human." he confesses.

Looking up at his face to study in real detail this time but all she sees is that he's still enchanted by just touching the exposed skin of her arm. In the luminescent light of the ship at the same time they stroked each other, with small circles just on the upper arm, not sexual just comforting, soothing strokes . Building up his confidence the rest of the night just holding on to one another in some form or another, exploring the pale skin over their exposed arms and hands with the sweeping of touches . Before finally laying down, Hux joining by Violet's side just shoulders touching, his hand sneaks to one last touch of her own hooking his little finger into hers. "You don't have to be alone anymore. Keep me safe Hux."

***Present day***

After finally calming Hux enough to leave, you revealed your dress plans remembering one in the more colourful wardrobe. Packing up to leave back to your room you'd actually ended up being there for hours, mainly as you thought it was in your best interests to learn what you could about the world. Violet had done her best to give you a run down of what had happened to Hux and Kylo at the very atlest. What a jedi was , the war between the light and the dark side came up. She explained again that it would be best for you to cooperate with Ren for as long as possible, not only was he a powerful man but could physically manipulate you, as you'd already discovered the day before. Violet urged you to go to the state dinner tonight and just think of it as going out like on earth, let kylo be the one to talk as he would know what's going on.

Stood yet again at the steel doors of your room. The dress was sure to annoy Kylo tonight. It was warmer than the nights before in a thick brocade fabric covered with a layer of lace. Puffed three quarter Sleeves, sweetheart neckline and full ball ball gown skirt. Gold snake like belt drawing in the waist. The best part of it all was the colour , it was a golden bright yellow. The colour you thought may piss Kylo off the most as everyone seems to just stick to black in this place under his guidance. Bright sunshine reflective gold hints dazzled on the wall.

The door opened to Phasma standing there. “I'll be escorting you tonight, kylo hopes there will be no funny business with me . He doesn't seem that impressed with you in Hux’s quarters this morning.”

“So you're not there protecting violet tonight either is that kylos plan?” walking down the corridor with Phasma.

Entering the lift phasma gestures you in getting in to. “She will be quite alright.” The lift starts once you're both in.``I hear the Huxs are having tip-yip for dinner tonight”

“What the hell is tip-yip?” Phamsa stays still your question going unanswered. The lift reached some sorta floor and opening. His back turned but still in his normal black flowing and matt cracked helmet, stood your husband to be. He looked over his shoulder taking a second glance then facing forward again. You felt like he had maybe taken a gulp but brushed it off that you would find it impossible to tell under all that armour. Phasma stayed in the lift nodding for you to go first. Stepping out next to him in his modulating voice hearing him speak.

“You're looking, well Urm. Good princess."

"As you can see I'm very capable of dressing myself in the future." keeping your eyes forward brushing down your front, as if there was lint.

"Please do if you look like that."

"Sorry what was that?"

"I mean you remind me of my grandmother. " the modulator blurts out.

"Ok you know that's even worse!"

"She was a famous empress and was gorgeous from what I saw in pictures."

"So you never knew her?"

"No or my grandfather, a lot would say I take after him."

Kylo raised an arm keeping face to the door.

"This is only for show” placing yours on top

"Cooperate tonight princess. Be quiet there's no need for another show, just keep eating so you have an excuse not to speak ."

"Oh so you're hoping that if my mouth is filled I won't talk back to you?" Snatching her hand away again.

The doors rise to a large set table with two chairs at the head. Again the room was filled with unknown faces of aliens. You now wished you would have stayed closer to Kylo, this was all still a shock to you the thoughts of actual aliens hadn't hit you till just then from what you could tell this was very much real compared to the last time. Yet you do feel a hand on your side tucked around your waist, pushing you to walk. “Move” you hear ring through your head, feeling a pang with it. “No one will hurt you while I'm here.” Kylo was communicating with you. Nicely at that, as you do take a few steps into the room, being led to the head of the table. Once seated you were handed a glass tumbler of a drink.

Sitting there for what seemed like hours, you had been fed and water multiple times but you hadn't said anything. Swirling your drink around in the tumbler it was your 3rd. Finally a blue man a few feet away from you piped up and asked a question.

“So princess I'm surprised you are not wearing silk from your own planet.”

On the spot you suddenly feel a pressure like that first day in the back of your pushing you to look downwards.

“I'm sure there as been a misunderstanding. The princess-'' Kylo starts to speak through the modulator. Somehow though you manage to cut through the pushing sensation. Kylo's hand attaches to his own head in pain.

“Surely it's not only my planet who will be benefiting from this union, why shouldn't I also use other planets' clothes? I'm sure the whole idea of this all is to unite the galaxy.”

“Interesting stance , I take it that will also mean your view is the same with other resources such as oil ?”

Going to speak, actually wanted to back up what you said now you had spoken. You had a feeling this person was fishing for something on your planet. You had in the back of your mind that maybe this princess you were meant to be was actually there to help. You want to reply but again are overwhelmed, head being pushed forward again, mind a complete fuzz.

“The princess will not be selling any resources, that's the The First Orders domain.” kylo speaks for you.

“Supreme leader i feel unwell i wish for Phasma to take me back, Im clearly not need here” Giving a fake smile rising from the table, bowing and walking to the door.

“Don't do this again.” You have chime through your brain.

“When You can communicate properly with me I will return, good night all.” giving a curtsy to the room.

Once back in your room , just face palming on to the bed. Feeling like he was still there with you in some way shape or formal you just couldn't shake him tonight. Kylo Ren seemed to be the only thing on your mind again. “I just want to think about something else for a while ” murmuring to yourself into the silk pillows. That had been why you stayed so long with violet as it was a distraction from this beast you seemed to be marrying. Tonight's interactions had fluxed a bit, the mention of his grandmother seemed to soften him a little making him seem human for that moment.

As if by magic the door seemed to open. “Kylo if that is you go away.”

“Uh, I was just going to check your lift but if you need to be alone?”

It was Matt, for some reason your heart leapt. Something normal, someone normal to take your mind off Ren. Like you'd just willed it.You see Matt stood there in all his weird glory, it may have been the alcohol that was making you think irrationally or the rage of Kylo filling your brain but you walk straight over to him.

“I'm just sick of this place not being able to do or say anything that's me, my mind now seems to be splitting between wanting me truly , princess and kylo. I just could take it tonight.” crumpling on the floor . the yellow dress spreading out around you.

“What did he do tonight, Matt crouched beside you.”

“He wouldn't let me speak for myself.” looking up into matts very striking looking face, traveling down to his plump lips. Then the rest of his jumpsuit, thoughts turning in your head. “ I thought it was a good idea to maybe piss him off with the dress tonight, maybe it was my fault really.”

“I doubt a dress would upset him that much, maybe you need to just say calmer around him and he wouldn't be such a butt to you.” Matt says kindly but with a slight hold of the tongue.

“Maybe, i should listen, but the other part of me really wants to do stuff that i want to do and not follow him like a lap dog. He needs to understand it, I need to piss him off to show that I'm independent of him and he doesn't need to manipulate me every time we meet. ”

Matt places a hand on your waist to guide you up. Feeling the touch of another person seemed like a rush of endorphins. You follow his lead, standing.

“Then I'm sure there's a way you can get him to notice you.”

Gripping on to his bicep, you looked into matts deep chocolate brown eyes. “No, I really want to piss him off. Besides he said he wanted me to be quite with my mouth filled”

“I don't think that's a good idea.”

You drop back down to your knees. “No if I'm meant to be a princess, i'm going to start doing things that i want.” The alcohol was definitely setting in, ” How can kylo control me when he's not here.” Feeling like kylos presence was still following you tonight, you were going to give him a show. Pawing at the front of his jump suit where you had rubbed against him, his hard on was clearly forming under the cheap material.

Matt seemed to freeze up. “Are you sure you want to annoy him this way?”

“To be honest Matt I feel a connection with you more than anyone on this ship, more than the man I'm about to marry. My mind is burning just being with you, I really feel like, i need you tonight. I need normal.” a few beats of hard silence seem to pass between you two.

“Then let me move to the bed.” Offering his hand. You looked at the long slender fingers of the large hand taking it. The rush and need in you seemed to be doused with a warm pleasurable feeling of calmness.

“Oh. That almost feels better than anything i've felt in this place.” watching your hands you instivly threading your fingers into his. His reaction must have felt something as he takes your other hand and threads together his other set of fingers, leading you to the bed.

“Are you 100% sure you want to be doing this?” as he sits down, knees parted on the bed.

Sobering up a little from the meal. “ Yes more than ever now. This just feels right” Looking down into his dark almost black like orbs that were fixated on you with some sort of longing, almost pleading you to touch him more. You kneel between his legs, reattacking at the bulge that was now very visible in front of you.

“Y/n.” placing his hands on your shoulders. “I don't want to act too soon if its going to spoil this as you say it feels right.”

“Matt please, I've had everyone focusing on me since I've been here, I want to do something for someone else. You seem -”

Matt leans forward and captures your lips melting into it feeling the connection deepen.Moving in time with his plush lips your hands move up to trace your lips.Your mind seems to block out everything just feeling matt arousal causing through meeting your own. Parting slowly from the kiss it draws back in slightly “Your special everyone one is just acting in your best interests, that's why everyone keeps a fussing over you and kylo.”

Sitting back on your knees “I didn't ask for any of this matt, I wish Kylo would understand. I just want to be normal again.” whether it was the drink that had given you the confidence or the kiss you did not know but began to tip toe up your fingers up matts leg. Again pawing at the hard on showing.

“I'm going to ask you one last time are you sure about this Princess?” he says with a growl his crotch shifts upwards into your hand at your touch with a jerk.

“Uh don't go all kylo on me now matt!” He softens and cupps your cheek, the touch feels warm and pleasant like a river of warm water is flooding through your veins, as he starts to massage your ear. You too soften again, unzipping his jumpsuit finally. His erection springs out, larger than expected but not unwelcome. You had other sexual relationships back in real life but most of them you would have considered average. This dick was something else completely to tackle. This wasn't just hate for kylo fuelling you now you were truly filled with lust for this man in front of you.

You were no shy virgin, taking the cock in your hand giving it a light tug. Matt's head rolled back in pleasure . hearing the words “Oh fuck bitch.” confused as to where you hear it though guessing it was Matt himself that was overwhelmed. Hips hips lazily roll up into your hand. Moving up furth to roll the nib of the member with your thumb. Soft palatable moans fill the room from him. He's looking down on you with darkened eyes, like he's barely ever been touched before. He cups your face again, your own lust bubbling in you. An intense urge to move forward and place a kitten lick on the seed of pre cum forming.

Sticking the tip of your tongue out it barely touches as you already taste the precum melting on your tongue. Lapping more forcefully at the connection on the shaft and the head. You fill matts, hands cup your head, almost lovingly. Finally taking the tip fully in your now drooling mouth, looking up at this geeky glasses wearing blond man in front of you. He was your focus now not some asshole, despite doing exactly what he had asked of you earlier . “be quite and keep eating.” And ending you did suckling on the tip like it was the best thing you'd eaten since you'd been there feeling Matts pleasure flow through you as you took on more inch by inch.

Matt himself seems to be working off your pleasure, his hips rolling the more you took of him. His hands gripping into your hair, before sliding under your chin to help work your jaw up and down. The slick texture gliding over your tongue. Churning the wet mixture of your mouth, your movements being more rapid. Experimenting by touching and fondling his ball sack. This was the golden ticket, his hand pushing you down in full by your hair, his hips twitching up into you. His moans became more and more feral, while he used your face now forcefully rutting at speech just using you. Lost in the pleasure until his hips stutter, you pull back in shock as his dick erupts a batch of silky cum over your chest and down the dress.

“Yeah that will definitely piss him off.”

chapter six - A03 ( * extra drabble * Baby Names just violet and hux)

chapter 7 - story continues soon...

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