#and it's just infuriating seeing a camp like every other attempt

[rhinocio]

I’ve been trying to figure out how to articulate this, but I think the core of it is: Leo is very, very much an ADHD-riddled, loud, dramatic Problem Child. He’s used to making himself the center of attention and paying for it; his default is to joke around until things blow up in his face, and then panic. He’ll defer blame over and over when the stakes are low, but as soon as the consequences of his actions become dangerous, he goes, “Here, make me the scapegoat! I’m used to it! I can take it!”

Like, okay, Flushed But Never Forgotten is a good example. It’s established in that episode that Leo’s the one who convinced his brothers not to confess to having lost Piebald. He doesn’t want to deal with the short term consequences of getting in trouble with his dad – doesn't want to be the Problem again – so he finds every possible way to avoid it. Make a dummy fish. Swear his siblings to secrecy. He says repeatedly that it’ll be Mikey's fault if they’re all punished for the mistake, even though Leo’s the one who took the avoidance of confession to an extreme degree. Leo, like Donnie, is happy to throw someone else into the line of fire when it means he avoids getting into trouble… until that trouble becomes lethal. As soon as it becomes obvious that his family’s legitimately in danger, Leo demands that everything be solely his fault. Hurt me, spare them.

Leo desperately wants acknowledgement but only knows how to attract it by being a pain in the ass. He’s got big ideas and a bigger personality, a constant desire for excitement and a constant fear of repercussions. Chances are he’s spent his whole life being a bombastic little shit and faced backlash for being too irritating, too infuriating, too much. So he leaned into it. Made it camp. Leo’s flamboyant and dramatic and that’s his BRAND, baby. He’s the comedy guy. He’s clever with words. He’s pretty enough that it offsets how annoying he is to be around. 

He’s used to people getting peeved at him, and after years of practice can pretty easily roll that off his back. When the only consequence of saying, “Yeah, that thing I did was definitely all Donnie’s fault,” is having Donnie and potentially a couple other people yell at him, Leo’s fine doing it. He hams up the interaction, makes a gag out of it, defaults to the class clown tactics of deflection and distraction. 

But when all Leo’s usual tactics fail – when he can’t deflect anymore, when the jokes fall flat, when the consequences of his actions are huge and dire and are going to result in someone getting hurt instead of just angry – then he starts scrambling. He’s exhausted his bag of tricks, and all he’s got left is, “I’m the Problem Child, and blaming me makes it better. So blame me.”

The irony of Leo’s whole situation is that in playing up his cool guy persona to hide how much getting rejected bothers him, he’s made himself more likely to be rejected. He gets those, “Yes, punish him!” reactions from his brothers because they’re frustrated with his drama, which reinforces Leo’s need to ramp up his clownery to hide how ganged up on he feels. He’s the guy who takes things too far, who antagonises and instigates and makes small problems into huge ones, and he knows that, but I don’t think that’s created a self-hatred so much as a desperate need to prove himself. Leo doesn’t see himself as worth less than others; he actually believes he’s very worth paying attention to, and desperately wants someone to acknowledge that. As his, “Why doesn’t anybody trust me?” line in Many Unhappy Returns highlights, Leo’s trying to prove he’s capable and intelligent and helpful, but his long-established habits and self-defense mechanisms are muddying up all those earnest attempts.

So here’s the thing: I don’t think Leo keeps self-sacrifice in his back pocket like an ace, really. It’s not his go-to last ditch plan on purpose, not an unreasonably-thought-out method of proving he’s good enough. Instead, Leo’s repeat instances of offering himself up to protect people he cares about is what happens when shit gets real and all that bravado and pageantry that he keeps around himself like a second shell gets thrown off. Sometimes there’s a guilty motivation helping his choices along, but for the most part there’s just Leo, who’s been taking hits his entire life for everything that he is and does and tries to be. It's not that he doesn't love himself, it's that he loves everyone else too much to let them get hurt.

He’s been playing the sacrifice since day one, and has confidently decided that nobody else deserves to.

#I just have a lot of feelings about this moron you guys #ROTTMNT #TMNT #leonardo #character analysis #ROTTMNT movie spoilers

[fallenclan]

random cat-specific headcanons

or i guess. canons. since im the guy who made the clan.

-silverbelly is extremely soft on any cat/kit that joined the clan young. especially if they're around the same age she joined the clan, 3 moons. she always takes extra care to show them around camp and assure them if they ever need medical attention she wants them to come and tell her, and she promises she'll help. because of this, a lot of cats who joined the clan young are also very soft on her in return, and will sometimes just come to the medicine den to hang out.

-Wormshade has TERRIBLE allergies. the worst. in newleaf his nose gets extremely itchy and he keeps scratching it even when Flyspots keeps telling him not to. sometimes it makes the scar on his nose hurt from all the itching, poor fella. his kids (Beefreckle & Mothspots) make fun of him endlessly for this.

-on the topic of FlyWorm. flyspots absolutely BEGGED wormshade to name their kits after bugs when they came along. wormshade wanted to name one of them after Nick, but agreed that Nickkit was a weird name and they went with bugs instead.

-Maplestar & Applebranch both forget that Honeygleam is dead sometimes. every so often they'll be hanging out and instinctively go to say something to him and find he isn't there.

-Silverbelly still has some of the dried herbs that were always stuck in Stormsight's pelt. she found them on her fur after the vigil and tucked them away in a little crevice. sometimes when she's really missing him she'll lie down and rest her face on them.

-about 80% of the clan is under the impression that Juniperfoot, Myrtleclaw, and Sandsnap are dating. this includes Ospreyswipe (Juniper's brother).

-when Hawkwish lost her leg, Applebranch helped her with her physical therapy, giving her tips on how to improve her balance after losing a limb. this brought them really close, and now sometimes Hawkwish will go to the elder's den after a long day and hang out with her grandma, who is happy to listen to her vent, chatter on about nothing, or just sit in silence and wash her granddaughter's ears.

-Eaglestripe & Hawkwish were never very close to Rabbitpounce. he didn't mean to have kits with Molesong, and (with Molesong's permission) wasn't really interested in raising them. he was more like the socially awkward uncle to them than a dad. despite this, Rabbitpounce was the one who gave Eaglestripe her full name when she went to receive it at the glow-cave.

-Willowsplash and Bub are the WORST EVER cats to get in an argument with (closely followed by Bluefern, Evie, & Newtscar). they will not only verbally tear you to shreds (backing each other up the entire time) but they find any and all attempts at retaliation funny. absolutely infuriating couple that loves to get silly with it.

-Bluefern and Newtscar were best friends since they were kits. they grew up in the nursery together, and then they were apprentices together. when Evie joined the clan, they would sometimes laugh about how they both had a crush on him, and along the way, they realized they both had a crush on each other, too. they became mates with the hope that Evie would soon join them.

-Waspflight often feels overshadowed by her siblings, but covers up this insecurity with an energetic personality, and lots and lots of jokes. she had a little crush on Salmonskip when they were apprentices, but grew to see her more as a sister when Salmon and Moosefall started to date.

-Mossfrog isn't sure how she feels about possibly being deputy one day. she knows that a lot of the clan expects her to, since she was always a prodigy and graduated so early, but she's terrified of the idea of being in charge of an entire clan, even if she does like the idea of being able to look after them. sometimes she wishes she could be deputy without the expectation of being leader.

-most of the cats around his age have a crush on Myrtleclaw. hes charming like that.

-out of all of her siblings, Hailcrash was always the least close with Moonstep. they got along, sure, but they weren't best friends--despite this, she still relies on him a lot, even if she's a little older than him (Moonstep is the youngest of all Toro's kits).

-Maplestar was always the leader of the bunch (the bunch being him, Honeygleam, Applebranch, Silverbelly, & Dawnshine) when they were young. he was the most mature, and a good decision maker, so he often found himself reining in Honey, Dawn, and Apple's chaos, and stepping up when Silver was too shy to. because of this, they would sometimes jokingly call him Maplestar. Applebranch always secretly thought he'd make a great leader; turns out she was right.

-Boulderstep still sometimes worries that clanborn Fallenclan cats don't trust him, since he came from a clan that was, at the time, at war with them. Fallenclan is on better terms with Shallowclan now, but he still makes a point to avoid their borders, and not mingle with any Shallowclan cats at gatherings.

-on the topic of gatherings. the first gathering that Maplestar attended as leader, he almost called it quits and went home. he still thinks that he's never felt as awful as he did in that moment, as all the clans watched him step out of the crowd and jump to the top of the gathering rock, where his father had stood for as long as most cats could remember. the only thing that kept him there was Applebranch grinning at him from the crowd, even as she cried.

-though Sorrelstem still misses Otterslip, the memory of him has become less soft over time. she never went out looking for him (though she often wanted to), but she always told her kits that he was on the right side of history. sometimes, as time went on, she wondered if that was true.

-Teddyfluff was glad that Otterslip got exiled. he gave him the creeps. he would rather die than admit this to his beloved wife.

-Crowflame tries not to show it, but sometimes he's insecure about his scars. he's easily the most scarred cat in the clan, and some cats (especially kits and apprentices) will stare at him, or make a remark. Blizzardfang (his mate) has become excellent at figuring out when he's feeling especially awful. if complimenting how handsome he looks that day doesn't work, she'll simply stand on his scarred side and press up against him until her fur covers the injury. he pretends to be mad, but secretly loves being close to her.

-Yewberry has a very short temper. Brambletuft has helped him soften it a little, but he still finds himself set off by some things--particularly if any cat brings up Otterslip. he'll snap at them to shut up and forget about the past, and usually stalk off. more lighthearted things that make him mad are when Ivybounce calls him "little brother" (he's only a few minutes younger, thank you very much) or when people laugh about how much bigger Brambletuft is than him (he is NOT that small. fuck you).

i will be doing more of these. peace & love forever

#fallenlore #i need a better word than canons though. just lore?

[snickerdoodlles]

I disagree with your chan headcannon

But I like your other headcannons so can I for macau headcannons if you don't mind

😂 well the good news is that i’m in the fandom minority with my “Chan is loyal to Korn only” camp and rarely ever post about him, so keep asking me about brothers and we'll be delighted together

and yes!!! MACAU MY DARLING BOY!!! i love him SO much, but i will limit myself to only three (3) headcanons for him on this post in a futile attempt to keep it from getting too long

Macau & Kim

his favorite way to piss Kim off is by making club mixes of chinese drama OSTs. he does this with Kim's actual songs too after those start rolling out, but this feud began long before they started posting to social media. Macau also starts off with a larger following for his mixes than Kim does for his covers, and while that eventually plateaus and Kim passes him in their follower counts by the time canon rolls around, Kim is still so fucking bitter. the day Kim starts to let it go is the day Macau posts a video of himself playing hot cross buns on the drama dizi* he stole from Kim years ago.

Macau & Chay

Chay and Macau do Not like each other. i know people like to make them friends, i just don't see it happening without a lot of work first and it's so much funnier to me if they're frenemies. i do love them as online gaming besties tho (before they find out who the other is), because then they both have to live with the mortifying knowledge that Chay once called Macau 'daddy' after he gave him a bunch of turnips in animal crossing, because they are teenagers and teenagers make stupid daddy jokes. any inclinations of trying to be friends because Porsche and Vegas are friends dry up faster than water on a hot pan after that.

Macau & Pete & Vegas

you know what's a great way to bond with brothers and in-laws? movies. you know what's the worst leisure activity to do with Pete and Vegas? WATCH MOVIES. every action scene is scrutinized and criticized and Pete keeps rewinding the same three seconds to mock the character's kick stance. any murder scenes are WORSE. Vegas hates romances and hates ballads. the only things not totally infuriating to watch with him are cooking shows and home improvement shows and the occasional gardening show and yawn. Pete's tastes are much broader thanks to Khun, but he also comes with so many opinions on how to properly watch shows and Macau doesn't actually want to dress up every time they watch a horror film.

so movie nights are almost a bust. they do find some movies they're all into, but it's usually an exercise in frustration. but then, one day while they're queuing up a film they're only 37% sure on, Pete's grandma calls with the hot town gossip--"do you remember Kobb Pete? yes, the nice old man who runs the fruit stand, remember how he gave you a mango on your first day of school and you dripped all down your new uniform? well, you'll never believe what's happened, you know how Kobb passed his stand down to his son Mew and Mew was training up his son Mod to take over one day, except they got into a fight on how to best display the pineapples and papayas and they had a fight, yes, right there in the middle of the road, and Mew fired his son, but Kobb backed Mod, so they opened a rival fruit stand with Mew's wife, but Kobb's wife sided with Mew and got the neighbors involved, and--"

it takes grandma forty minutes to regale the tale of the on-going fruit vendor feud. then she continues to update Pete on the rest of the hometown for another three hours. Macau and Vegas are enthralled. how often does your grandma tell you things Pete, can we be there for the next one, what's the full story behind the thing with Folk's fishing boat, why did you ask grandma if Sine's husband was in the garden--

listen, small town drama is the best drama. and Vegas is having a journey to discover which mafia things are things he likes vs which ones he forced himself to like to survive, and being a nosy cunt sniffing out all the juicy scandals is absolutely something he takes to with glee (he will become grandma's favorite when they visit, they are terrifying together). Macau just loves hearing all the petty drama and neighbors feuds that result in increasingly passive aggressive displays of garden gnomes instead of gunfire. movie night becomes grandma call nights and it's the best family bonding.

*inspired by Jeff buying one of the Wei Wuxian's flutes and the fact that he reportedly learned how to play it because he's a big ol' cql nerd ❤❤❤ this is also a reference to @majestictortoise's fic Middlegame, which everyone should read if they haven't yet and reread if they have

Send an ask, get a headcanon (prev: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9)

#kinnporsche #the cookie and tortoise joint kinnporsche headcanon universe #the 'kim is a chinese drama nerd' agenda strikes again! #re chay and macau as gaming besties: i swear i will post that 'you got mail' AU for them sOON 😂 #anyways i love macau he's so ripe for fun <33333

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC Review: Never Seduce A Duke by Vivienne Lorret

5/5. Releases 2/21/2023.

For when you're vibing with... Heroes that wear glasses (just like a daddy would), madcap hijinks, ridiculous sexual tension, a bit of traveling in your historicals, and Secret Secrets.

Meg is on a what you could consider the historical romance of a girl's trip, a finding herself moment, except she's traveling in the company of two spinster aunts (compliment, love them) who are on a mission to steal the best recipes in Europe. They're hitting the continent throughout the summer before Meg is officially on the shelf after two unsuccessful Seasons.

Mid-recipe-theft, however, she's discovered by the owner of said recipe--a hot, bespectacled, Stern Brunch Daddy duke who finds her infuriating (but delightful and a real boner popper, obviously). And after a family heirloom (a bejeweled Arthurian recipe book, yes, what about it?) goes missing, Lucien assumes that Meg is the culprit, leading to a pursuit throughout Europe, heavy flirting, maybe a little bit of tomfoolery, and like... Mistakes are made on the part of our dear Meg. And Lucien, obviously. It takes two to tango. Look at that official summary REAL GOOD if you didn't read How to Steal A Scoundrel's Heart (and you should read that book, it's another 5/5 read).

So this book is DELIGHTFUL. And swoonily romantic. And actually? Very sexy. Quite hot. It has the flavor of an old school romance, this one--which, actually, so did How to Steal A Scoundrel's Heart. There are certainly some bananas thrown around in this one, and I was incredibly happy to see them. If you think that things like wild family secrets and mustache-twirling villainy (I personally found this villain quite fun, but oh is the reveal wonderfully camp) and... a lot of withheld truths, shall we say, are annoying? Then this might be too much for you.

For a reader like me, who wants to like, hold a book to her chest and go "oh my Goooood" and laugh and feel all twitterpatted over how hot a hero is--this is pretty much a flawless book.

Quick Takes:

--Meg and Lucien are basically flaw-free leads for me. I already loved Meg based off her introduction as the Fun Flighty Little Sister of Brandon, The Wrong Marquess's hero (who makes appearances here, is generally quite fun, and is a great hero in his own right, go read that book too). This book made her learn a lot in a short amount of time, and her development is quite excellent. She really becomes a woman... in every sense... throughout this novel. Her journey to understanding what a cannoli is supposed to reference? What the filling of a cannoli is supposed to reference? True brilliance, we stan a queen who missed out on Sex Ed.

--Lucien, her hero? Also perfect. Every now and then, I forget that I actually do like a nerdy hero. As long as he isn't a big fuckin' dork. There's a difference between a nerdy hero and a dorky hero, and Lucien is the former. He wears glasses (probably like, 10 pairs throughout the course of this book because he's always breaking them, sometimes during attempted ravishings). He's super intense about his family's Arthurian history, even if he doesn't really believe in magic or fate or bullshit like that (his reasons are appropriately tragic). He spends a ridiculous amount of time trying to work on ancient recipes, gets hard when he meets Meg, goes "THE RECIPE MUST BE WORKING" then realizes, nah, she's just super hot. But also? Uhhhhh Lucien can put it DOWN. In many ways, if I were to compare him to a dude on TV, I'd compare him to Tom Hughes's version of Prince Albert in ITV's Victoria. Like, he's a fuckin' nerd, but you know he's like, got a 6 page diagram of the vagina, clit, and g-spot, and he gets off on making women weep with pleasure or some shit. In other words, he puts his nerdacity to good use.

--This book is fucking BOLD. I feel like a lot of new historical romances, perhaps by some fresher authors, have kind of followed the romcom lens many contemporary books have taken. (And don't get me wrong, this book is funnier than like... most contemporary romcoms.) While this novel never really felt overly heavy, it fully embraced being an adventure and featuring a lot of plot. In fact, the plot takes a hard left turn at the halfway point--for me, it was totally cohesive and seamless and I loved it. I felt like I got a little bit of everything in one love story.

--A great supporting cast! We see the heroines of the four previous books all show up again with their men. We get the aunts, who I personally loved, from The Wrong Marquess. We see again how much Meg is loved and supported by Brandon and Ellie, which is really lovely. It's all there!

--The heat and chemistry in this book was perfect. Vivienne Lorret is, to me, an author who's great at infusing her books with a lot of heat even when the characters aren't having sex. Every touch, every moment in the lead-up, the back and forth of Lucien and Meg... It's delicious.

The Sex Stuff:

Having read all the Mating Habits of Scoundrels books, I feel like Vivienne Lorret absolutely upped her game on the sex scenes over time. This one... keeps up with that trend. It's delightfully hot, and the sex scenes really fit the characters, with an edge of humor throughout. If you have a daddy kink, if you like glasses on a man--you're gonna love this shit. The irate fingerbanging? Be still my heart.

I'm trying to hold back on discussing the hook of this book, though it is fairly easy to guess. And I know that it's a hard sell for some readers, and seems very old school to others. But as someone who loves it when it's done right... This book does it right.

This was easily one of the most fun reads I've had in a while--and I can't wait for what Vivienne does next.

Thanks to Netgalley and Avon for providing me with a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review.

#romance novel blogging #arc reviews #netgalley #book recs #books #book reviews

[pbandjesse]

I am happy to be home. I missed James. Camp is fun and I love being there but also it makes me feel like being home is more special.

And last night was a little rough. After I did my post I would mostly just scroll on my phone and watched videos. The storm would pick up eventually. I would fall asleep around midnight. But at 5am I was woken up by how loud the rain was. It was really really bad. I would pull one of my blankets around my head to try to dampen the sound. And was able to fall back asleep until 8.

I felt a lot better when I woke up. I had felt so dizzy and bad last night. So it was nice to not feel so bad.

I got cleaned up and dressed. It took me a few minutes to get ready. I don't have a good system yet but I will figure it out.

I would walk down to the nurse's office to use the bathroom. And then to the lodge for a weird breakfast wrap. The kitchen had some weird choices for vegetarian options but they made attempts at least. And no onions.

After breakfast I just chilled and waited for what would come next.

They decided we would do the practice rotations today. Which was fine with me. Took them a bit to figure that out so I was sitting with Celia and Jaymie and told them about this blog and how I've been doing it, without missing a day, since 2011. It's pretty crazy. It's nice to be able to see everything of my entire twenties. I'm glad I keep doing it even if it's a little tough some days. Just to spend the time.

Soon all specialty staff and programs staff came up and we were assigned numbers and we told to go get ready for the group rotations. There were 10 rotations. And it was a lot! But honestly it was very fun for me.

I loved that almost everyone came to talk to me and I got to set my rules and expectations. And went through all my projects and materials and it was fun. Love a captive audience. And when my friends were there it was also just fun talking and being excited about camp.

Lunch was next. Which was only upsetting slightly. Because they had grilled cheeses with turkey? But no grilled cheeses. And all the vegetarians were really bummed. The tofu thing they had for us was a little spacier then I would have liked but it was good. The rice was to dry. But it was fine. We were all just sad about the lack of grilled cheeses.

After lunch Ty asked me to teach him look knitting. But we had to watch an absolutely infuriating video where a 4 year old boy drowned. 8 minutes no one noticed him!! It was horrible. And then I decided I needed to read the case study and it was so much worse then lifeguards not paying attention and a staff member roughhousing by throwing the kids in the pool over and over. The site was an unlicensed child care center. None of the life guards were trained in child CPR. Most of them had no training at all. The director claimed they didn't know they could get training. No one knew where the aed was. The front desk called 911 because no one else did. But told them it was a seizure so the fire department wasn't ready for a water rescue. The whole thing was horrible. And it just kept getting worse? The $1.5 million was not enough.

Ty would come and sit with me and I showed him how to look knit. He keeps wrapping the wrong way but we have caught it every time and he's doing great honestly. I'm excited that I was able to show someone so quickly. Loom knitting is just so accessable and I love that about it.

We would just sit and knit together while we had the rest of our training for the afternoon. And I would finish the rest of my yarn. Hopefully I can have time to get more tomorrow after the market. If I'm not falling asleep.

I would have a chat with Chris about an idea he had about making flags for the staff for ribbon awards and patches. I love the idea. I'm going to try to do some pricing and research on how we could do it. And then I went to help Celia move some tables and chairs.

Then as I was walking back to the lodge I saw that Ty and Dachelle and Chloe and the other horse staff was carrying goats and a turkey!! I was so excited to go and see them. I brought Ty his knitting he had left at the table. And I got to pet the goat. And see the turkey and it was so fun. I love when we have all these animals.

We had our last things. We went over to the office to go over drop off stuff. I was a little late and I heard Heather and Chris saying someone would be at the bears directing traffic and also being the first smiley face and I immediately was like. Let me do it!!!! I loved doing it last year. So I get to do that on Sunday and I'm very happy about that.

I would sit with Heather for a bit. And then we went back to the lodge to go over some schedule stuff. And then we were free.

I told Jeniya and Dame to meet me up at the art building. And I would head up to get a few things together. And we were able to get out right before it started raining hard again.

The ride home would be a little tough because if the rain. We saw two accidents and then a tree went down on the highway!! Which was wild to see!!

But I got them safely to the y. And I headed home to grab my husband.

James was waiting for me outside. And we had smooches and then we went to Chipotle.

Where we ran into someone James knew from highschool. And we ate and talked. And I made myself feel a little sick so I only ate half. And then we went to get me some camp groceries. Which was fun but my stomach was hurting. And I really wanted to go home. So we finished up and headed to the parking lot.

Where we saw a woman drop a bottle because her hands were to full but it didn't break!! And we were like can we help? And she had me reach in her pocket for her car keys. Just so much trust. But then she dropped the bottle again and it shattered this time and I felt so bad!! But we got her in the car and we all had a nice moment.

And then me and James went home. I was happy to see my Sweetp. And my fish and my from we got everyone fed. And I took a full everything shower and it felt great.

And me and James have been resting since then. Watching tiktoks. Enjoying each other's company. I am really happy.

Tomorrow I have the market. And hopefully a nap. And then buying some yarn while James records for a few hours. I hope it's a great day. I love you all. Sleep well!! Goodnight!!

[hopeymchope]

I know the surviviors get some flack for not grieving a whole lot for Kokichi, but Kokichi was horrible to everyone and wheverr people tried to question him, he'd push them away because he wanted to work on his own because of severe trust issues and he also did some questionable things that can't exactly be forgiven. They weren't exactly friends and it's a lot to take in.

Six total Kokichi-related asks in one post, now incoming!

WAAAAAAAHAHA Kokichi Time

Yeah, I agree with everything you're saying. I think that they eventually appreciated and respected his final effort to ruin the killing game, but for most of the trial, it was just deeply infuriating and upsetting for them. And even after that, there's a lot leading up to that trial that could only be infuriating for them. And in the end, Shuichi considers Kokichi just a frustrating enigma and utterly unknowable - "the very embodiment of a lie," as he says.

So you suspect that he has some personal connection to Killing Games in his past? Could it even be from a previous DR "season," then? I don't know how/why he'd have the luck thing, though. There doesn't seem to be anything to indicate that. I often wonder whether we'll get some kind of direct V3 sequel someday, in some medium. I'm sure there's got to be a temptation to explore where things wound up for the survivors and what the outside world is really like, who the survivors really are or aren't, etc. But if Spike Chunsoft eventually does this without Kodaka's involvement, it's going to ring hollow. Such a instance could easily become a story that openly defies and/or flies in the face of the implications of V3.

Interesting point. Even when he's seemingly treating Gonta nicely, it's just an attempt to get something he wants - trapping everyone in the "bug meet-and-greet," maneuvering Gonta into murdering Miu, etc. What's interesting about that is how he seems to genuinely befriend Gonta in Danganronpa S: Ultimate Summer Camp. But of course, his treatment of Keebo is always the same...

You may or may not have seen, anon, a previous Ask wherein a Japanese person said that bullying is a major issue there, but people tend to stay silent instead of calling others out. (I can’t seem to find the post where I responded to that ask now... ) So this might be part of that same cultural issue, then; Keebo is making it very clear how much he is upset by Kokichi’s behavior, but nobody really makes much effort to stop Kokichi anyway.

Well, I guess Kaede does try to distract him away from bothering Keebo in the very beginning. It’s something?

Actually, the fandom doesn’t even seem to hold this against Kokichi at all! Maybe they really do see Keebo as some kind of lesser being unworthy of any kindness just because of his physical nature??

(Friendly reminder to everyone that Kokichi is made aware very early on how much his behavior offends and upsets Keebo. So naturally, he keeps doing it anyway forever, in every single timeline - UTDP and Danganronpa S are no different. Because Kokichi’s just a really shitty person.)

Definitely. A big part of why his plans ultimately fail to lead where he'd hoped is because of the bridges he burned behind him. It's another reminder of the recurring "attempting to deal with the situation alone = misfortune and death" undercurrent through the series.

I get that, although he’s kind of a major part of V3′s narrative. He really drills home much of the “truth vs lies” theming. But, just like some previous antagonists, there are definitely things that would go much more smoothly if he wasn’t being a little shit about everything and was just telling people what he knows. Obvious solution: You excise the character who inexplicably knows everything about each trial but never wants to share any of his information from the entire equation.

But I think he’s still an important part of the story and its central focus, so maybe we could just... not make him be some kind of super-analytical secret detective? Because that always felt like it was kind of bullshit to me anyway. Much like his inexplicable ability to instantly know any time any character is lying about absolutely anything, we can just delete these traits and subsequently make him more believable as a person. He can still have his elaborate scheme to stop the killing game and still be an annoying liar who lies, but he doesn’t have to also be a mind-reading super-detective. Kill that element and I’d feel better about his role. 

#kokichi time #waluigi kokichi #asks #anon #anti-kokichi ouma #anti-kokichi oma #danganronpa #drv3 spoilers

[pwojo97]

If you park your camp next to Charleston Station, it is perfectly legal and understandable for me to to snag your crops, water, and scrap. If you have the audacity to block the most consistent spawn point for a random merchant that is the only one who sells super specific, arguably some of the most coveted clothing items, you need to pay the price.

#fallout #fallout 76 #i got into it while ive been off from work #every so often i try grinding for that random merchant #server hopping and all that #just to get the hunter's long coat #and it's just infuriating seeing a camp like every other attempt

[ptergwen]

smoke and mirrors

⇢ richkid!tom x richkid!reader ⇠

w/c: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, drinking, light angst, and implied smut

summary: because of your mother’s insistence on a pristine family image and tom’s messy one, you deny your true feelings for him

a/n: ok ok ok the pics of tom in monaco really made me think and i had to get everything out of my system so here we are! thank you and enjoy x

-

your living room is engulfed by a hushed chatter that comes from far too many guests. half the people, you hardly know. it’s overcrowded, superficial, and the last place you want to be. it’s one of your mother’s get-togethers, as she likes to call them. these things are always far from the casual affairs they sound like.

weeks go into planning, caterers and decorators making themselves at home in yours. the family’s image is everything to your mom, so being a good hostess is her top priority. ironically, she’s more concerned with throwing her gatherings than raising you. so much for family, huh?

the only reason you agreed to make an appearance tonight is that tom might do the same. he’s a really good friend, someone you’ve been able to count on through all the mess that is your lives. you met in high school, when he moved from london to the states. his dad was offered a job promotion he couldn’t pass up. plus, tom and his brothers would be receiving a stellar private education here in america.

it was a win for everyone, especially you. the freckle faced boy who got lost on his way to english class became your closest confidant. tom’s company is such a sweet escape. he’s not interested in opera or the stock market like most people you meet are. he sneaks you out to go on walks at dawn and does shots with you until you can’t stand straight.

as you two continue to grow together, revelations about yourselves have come to light. what you want beyond your inheritances, who you want beyond friendship. you figured out the second part on a faithful night recently. tom showed up to your place with a bottle of tequila. after you drank it down through lots of lime chasers and giggles, he kissed you. you didn’t kiss back.

your heart said to go for it, but your mind pulled you back in. you were so shocked and overcome with new feelings, you froze up. that, and you’d infuriate your mother. although she cares about tom a great deal, she loathes his public figure. he’s always getting papped in places and with people he shouldn’t be. the two of you together would just destroy her.

you still want to please your mom at the end of the day, no matter how deep under your skin she gets.

tom immediately apologized and tried play it off as him being drunk. you grew up with him, became part of each other’s families, which means you know him well enough to know he was lying. he meant every second his lips were on yours.

what you need to do now is something you’ve meant to for a while. the only problem is that you’re stuck at your mother’s party, and tom hasn’t shown up yet.

“y/n, darling,” your mom calls for your attention. she’s dragged you into a conversation with some bloggers, but you haven’t spoken a word. “why don’t you tell us about your trip to spain last summer?” she plasters on her award winning grin and squeezes your shoulder. it’s time to play along.

“oh, it was beautiful,” you halfheartedly reply, more to the bloggers than her. they nod in clear interest. one jots down notes. “we went for a few weeks and visited a bunch of different cities. i’d love to go back sometime.” the typical press formatted answer earns your mom’s approval. you’re off the hook. your eyes start to wander around the room, hoping to set on tom.

“we?” the woman taking notes asks. must everyone pry? “my friend and i,” you shortly reply. you’re standing up on your tiptoes to see over the crowd. you’d think six inch heels would do the trick. “i’m actually looking for him right now, so if you’ll excuse me,” you offer a polite smile and silently pray they won’t ask who. unfortunately, your wishes don’t come true.

the other blogger, a short and stubborn man, speaks up. “just a friend you say? come on, tell us. who’s the lucky fella?” he inquires. your mother raises a firm eyebrow, signaling for you not to.

tom has a reputation for his reckless behavior. it’s your mom’s worst nightmare when the media associates your names under most circumstances. you’re representing her, so she does whatever she can to control how you’re seen. you’re constantly in the papers, being a young socialite and all. it sucks.

“he’d like to stay out of the tabloids, sorry,” you cover for tom, on your mom’s behalf. “i should really go. it was nice meeting you.” the bloggers don’t bother to hide their disappointment as you shake their hands. your mother rubs your back in approval. “thank you for doing that. we’ll talk later,” she speaks lowly. “bye, mom!” you practically make a run for it. 

weaving through the sea of people, you end up by the main entrance. it’s hard not to get lost even though it’s your house. the place is packed with girls just a couple years older than you, wearing pearls around their necks. men’s strong colognes flow through the air. you’re in a form fitting red slip dress and louboutins yourself.

smoke and mirrors is what they call it. you show the pretty parts to distract from your ugly ones.

harrison suddenly comes waltzing in with a lady on either of his arms. you’d expect nothing less. he’s tom’s best friend besides you, considering the failed kiss attempt didn’t change that. their parents worked at the london branch of the same company. they each came to the states and met you. you happily introduced them to your world, helping to make it theirs as well.

“haz!” you meet him at the front door. he’s smirking while he leads the women inside. “fancy seeing you here, isn’t it?” he jokes. “very funny. i died laughing,” you deadpan, curiously eyeing harrison’s plus two. they merely giggle. “listen, have you seen tom anywhere? if he’s coming.” you’re fighting back a frown. “why wouldn’t he be?” harrison questions in a more serious tone this time.

“long story. you have guests to entertain, so i won’t get into it now,” you decide and manage a small smile instead. he perks up. “right. i’ll let you know if i see him?” nodding, you give him a wave goodbye. “enjoy yourself.” “you too, love. cheers!” the girls lean into him, harrison wiggling his eyebrows at you. he’s ridiculous.

hours pass by without word of tom. it isn’t like him to miss an event, especially if you’re in attendance. you despise these exhausting nights, and he’s supposed to be your rock during them. he should have his arm draped around your shoulders, whispering silly remarks to you while you hide out somewhere. you miss him more than you thought possible.

you’re just about to give up when you spot nikki ushering her husband inside. behind them follows tom, clad in a grey checkered suit with his locks perfectly tousled. he’s here. you waited the whole night, and he finally came.

tom kisses his mom on the cheek before strutting over to the drink table, not without a few reporters hassling him. they’re probably looking for another holland scandal to break. he declines their requests for comments on this and opinions on that, instead pulling up a chair next to harrison. the two exchange hugs and fix themselves glasses of champagne, you watching their encounter.

harrison fills tom in on the drama he’s missed tonight while they sip their drinks. tom keeps forcing smiles that don’t reach his eyes. he’s fiddling with his fingers, leg bouncing up and down steadily. those are the telltale signs he needs saving. however awkward it may be, you’re going to have to break your silence. it was bound to happen eventually.

“mate, i’m telling you. she fit her entire first right up her-“ “boys,” you cut into harrison’s story, greeting him and tom. his face tints deep pink upon your arrival. “don’t let me stop you. finish your charming anecdote,” you encourage him and subtly glance over at tom. he’s biting back a grin as he sets his elbows on the table.

“not with a lady present. let’s just… pretend you didn’t hear that,” harrison chuckles nervously and hops to his feet. “i’m gonna leave you two to chat.” humming, you move to take his chair. tom sucks in a breath. “what happened to the girls you brought?” you wonder. “they left. said they got bored,” harrison admits, tom stifling laughter. he elbows his friend for that.

“oh, fuck off. i’ll see you later,” he mopes, flicking your arm for good measure. tom salutes him and grabs his nearly empty champagne. “so long, bruv.”

it’s just you and tom now, seated side by side, silently so. he has no intentions of speaking first. he’s too embarrassed, and you don’t blame him. this is on you. you clear your throat before starting the conversation.

“can i top you off?” you tap the bottom of his glass with a tiny smile. tom shakes his head. “i’m alright, thanks.” he finishes the last sip and sets it down, turning to face you. your smile has vanished. “wasn’t sure you were gonna make it. i’m glad you did,” you change the subject. as if he’s considering the sincerity behind your words, tom furrows his eyebrows.

“mum wanted us to. she dragged me and dad straight off the golf course,” he explains and clasps his hands in his lap. his fingers interlock with each other. you fight off the urge to replace them with yours. “we would’ve been here sooner, but the paps are camped outside.” the hint of a smile forms on his lips, at last. “guess it’s not often you get the town’s finest under one roof.”

“you think i’m one of the town’s finest?” you tease, resting your chin in your palm. something flashes behind tom’s eyes. he looks right into yours, scooting closer. “absolutely. you’re the most eligible bachelorette in this whole building.” you allow a toothy grin to spread across your face. “tommy, stop it. you’re too nice to me.”

the nickname is music to his ears. tom looks you up and down, licking his lips simultaneously. “no, seriously. you look gorgeous,” he muses, you pushing at his chest. he exhales a breathy laugh, and you giggle yourself. “red’s definitely your color.” “reverse card. you wear it way better than i do,” you insist. your fingers tug at the collar of his suit. “too bad you didn’t match me.”

you’re relieved you two can talk like you usually do, light flirting and good vibes. it might not be so hard to put the kiss behind you. well, you can’t go on pretending it didn’t happen. you have to at least discuss the fiasco. tom should know why you didn’t reciprocate, then you can take it from there. whether he still has feelings for you, assuming he ever did, will depend on how that turns out.

“not to ruin the fun, but we still have to talk,” you murmur, tom’s body stiffening across from yours. he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss that. “can it wait? we’re at a party,” tom reminds you, running a hand through his styled locks. “yeah, my mother’s. don’t tell me you’re having a good time,” you playfully chastise him. he simply shrugs. “hardly. you’re the best part.”

you ignore the butterflies roaming about your body.

“you won’t mind a quick convo, then. it is with me,” you attempt to persuade him and place a hand on his knee. tom coughs a bit too loudly, the contact surprising him. “you know what? i think i’ll take you up on that drink first,” he decides with a mustered up smile. “coming right up.” you pat his leg before taking his glass. he chews on his lower lip while you poor the bubbling liquid. that was certainly… odd.

you slide tom his champagne back with an exaggerated wink. tom scoffs at this. “mm, thanks. care to join me?” he brings the alcohol to his lips, eyes never leaving yours. your mother specifically said no drinking tonight, since the press would be here. screw your mother, though. “please. could you hand me a glass?” you eagerly grab the champagne bottle. tom searches for an empty cup next to him.

you two are unspoken drinking buddies at this point.

“here you are, darling,” tom drawls, holding out the glass for you. every time he calls you that, you completely melt. “thanks, tommy,” you purr in response. you’re finally pouring your own drink when someone taps you on the shoulder, and hard. you look behind you to find your mother standing with her hands on her hips, less than thrilled. speak of the devil.

“hello, mother. can i help you?” you make sure to ask rudely. she responds with a smile that’s obviously fake. if tom weren’t here, you’d be getting scolded. “yes, my darling. those bloggers from earlier were hoping you’d finish your interview.” your mom shakes your shoulder in a motherly way. you squint up at her. “didn’t they leave hours ago-“ “they’re back,” she sharply informs you.

she’s lying, and you have a hunch as to why.

frowning, you hold tom’s hand in both of yours. “sorry, this won’t take long. why don’t you go find tuwaine?” you suggest instead. “he’s around here somewhere.” tom gives you an understanding nod and laces your fingers together, even if it’s only for a moment. “must be chatting up some producers or whatnot. i’ll see if i can help.” he’s such an incredible friend to everyone. he deserves the same from you.

“thomas, so lovely to see you,” your mom interrupts. tom stands up, kissing both her cheeks out of courtesy. “you, too. what a wonderful party. thank you for having us.” despite what the rest of the world believes, his manners are impeccable. “of course. give nikki my best, will you?” your mom puts her hands on his shoulders. he grins at her. “definitely. take care, mrs. y/l/n.” “always a pleasure,” she states, nudging you to come along with her.

you shoot tom one last apologetic look as your mother pulls you along and towards the crowd.

tom is no idiot. he’s well aware how she really feels about him.

when a swarm of guests is surrounding you, your mom lets go. you scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. “why would you do that? i haven’t seen tom in days.” she sighs without a care. “isn’t it time you branch out? expand your social circle?” her manicured fingers ruffle your hair. you push away her touch. “i’m social enough. we were in the middle of something really important.”

you begin to walk away, but your mother takes your arm. “whatever you’re about to do, it’s a mistake. he’ll make a fool of you,” she practically spits. yanking your arm from her grasp, you laugh bitterly. “of me, or of the family name? look around, mom.” you gesture to the spot beside her where your dad should be. “as far as i’m concerned, i have no family except tom. i’m gonna go check on him.”

you’re gone before your mom can stop you. she simply stands there, utterly mortified by what you said.

you run around the house to find tom, stumbling in your heels and not giving a fuck. you’d truly meant the part about him being your family. all the holland’s, honestly. they’re the most genuine and caring souls, and you don’t want to lose the one you’re closest to because of your mother’s delusions. 

tom is in a circle with harrison and tuwaine, the three of them chuckling amongst themselves. you’d hate to bug him, but this can’t wait anymore.

“uh, tom?” you mumble his name, appearing behind him. he steps away with another quiet laugh. “hey, y/n/n. that was quick, hm?” your face gives away your distress. his whole demeanor shifting, tom reaches for your hands. “what is it, love? is something the matter?” “just… come with me,” you croak out.

you manage to smile at harrison and tuwaine, dropping one of tom’s hands so you can lead him upstairs. they each return the smile and share curious looks.

following behind you, tom keeps your hand tight in his own. he’d thought you were going to grill him about the kiss that barely happened. it seems like this is a much more pressing matter. his outburst of emotions can be discussed another time. now, it’s time to deal with yours.

you drag tom into the first room on the second floor, which is your dad’s study. he’s away on business this weekend, so he luckily couldn’t make the party. tom sits down in the office chair. you sit up on the desk, in front of him. your lip quivers the second his worried features come into view.

“y/n/n, what’s going on? why are we in here?” tom wonders, his tone soft. your heart clenches. “i- i wanted us to have some privacy when i told you this,” you sniffle out and blink back the tears forming. you’re sort of shaken from the conversation with your mother, and mostly because you have no idea how tom will react to your confession.

his hands come to stay on your thighs, right below your dress. they feel warm against your bare skin.

“tell me what? i’m listening, yeah?” tom gazes up at you with so much love. “lay it all out for me.” god, he’s fucking amazing. if only you knew where to start. “do you, um…” you trail off, letting your tears subside and words settle. “do you remember when your family made your big debut in town?”

a grin replaces tom’s frown, painting his beautiful face. “how could i forget? you made it quite memorable.” he traces circles on your thigh and elicits a giggle from you. “i spilled a whole thing of soda on your white fucking button down,” you recount with a lighthearted sigh. “right before your dad was supposed to introduce you to everyone, too.”

tom presses his tongue into his cheek to hold back another grin. “took ages to get it out. dad went mad when i didn’t show.” he cocks his head to the side, you leaning back on your hands. “you held me hostage in the laundry room so you could do that bloody stain stick.” your mouth drops open in mock offense. “i had to clean up my mess! i wasn’t gonna let the world meet you covered in pepsi.”

that was one of your earliest memories together. the holland’s threw a party and invited everyone who was willing to attend. they had been hoping to properly introduce themselves to the town, and this was their way of doing so. although yours and tom’s friendship was fairly new, you spent all night together because you had experience with such events.

tom’s dad was making a speech to thank the guests for coming. you and him listened from the snack table, until his name was called. he rushed to go up there while you were pouring yourself a drink. he’d bumped into you, and the bottle ended up all over him. you snuck tom right off to his laundry room.

you’d felt terrible as he stood there shirtless and blushing, you aggressively swiping his button down with a stain stick.

“why do you bring that up?” tom questions and continues circling your skin. you purse your lips. “i dunno. it was the last party i actually enjoyed,” you admit, putting your hand over his that rests on your thigh. “like to reminisce when i’m suffering through one of my mother’s.” his eyes shift to where your hands are laced. “i see,” he affirms. “so, is that… all you wanted to talk about?” “not even close,” you laugh out.

a burst of courage coursing through your body, you say it. “when you kissed me the other night-“ “i won’t do it again,” tom cuts in, trying to avoid the rejection he thinks you’ll give him. “it was a mistake, and i’m so sorry. our friendship is more important than my feelings.” you seem excited to hear that, though it’s not for the reason tom expects. “you do have feelings for me?”

he’d forgotten about his i was drunk excuse.

“um, yeah. i do,” he admits, cheeks rosy and lip caught in his teeth. “but, i’ll learn to put them aside, if that’s what’s best.” “no, no. it isn’t,” you dismiss him and put your free hand on his chest. “i love you, tom. that’s what i was really trying to tell you.” your words bring an instant grin to his face. he chuckles in disbelief, standing from the chair.

“fuck, thank god. that’s all i’ve ever wanted to hear.” he’s between your legs now, his hands moving up to your hips. you’re beaming at him as your arms snake around his neck. a burning question comes to tom’s mind. “hang on. why didn’t you kiss me back, then?” he almost whispers, thumb brushing over your hipbone. “this is gonna sound weird, but… my mom,” you reluctantly let out.

“you’re gonna have to elaborate,” tom prompts you and raises an eyebrow. you can’t hold back your eye roll. “she’s never been a fan of the person you are in the media.” his lips form a line. “i gathered.” your fingers tangle in his curls at the nape of his neck reassuringly. “i was subconsciously scared i would be letting her down in some way, if we were together.”

tom allows your hands to work their way up to his scalp. he exhales contentedly as you play with his ever so soft hair. “i understand, she’s intimidating. what’s changed that brilliant mind of yours about coming clean?” your nose scrunches up when he pokes one of your temples. “oh, yeah. i yelled at her earlier ‘cuz she stole me away from you.” his face lights up. “sexy.” “shut up,” you groan. “someone had to tell her off.”

“good thing it got to be you,” tom agrees with a squeeze at your hip. “‘m proud of you, y/n/n. it’s not easy, standing up to mummy dearest.” you tug on his hair. “like you’d know. nikki is a saint.” “that’s what she’ll have you believe,” he says under his breath, you gasping. his lips turn up in a smirk. “on that note… i love you, too.”

“would’ve been embarrassing if you didn’t say it back,” you acknowledge with a cheesy smile. tom dips his head down to rest his forehead against yours. “yeah, yeah. save the attitude for your mum.” your legs easily wrap around his waist, tom’s breath hot as it hits your face. “let’s give that kiss another go,” you mewl. he doesn’t hesitate to reply. “with pleasure.”

tom’s lips land on yours, you kissing back right away. he smiles into it as your lips gently move together. “about fucking time,” he grumbles, your hands situating in his chocolate curls once again. he’s savoring every second you touch him, kiss him, love him. the taste of your mouth is one he’s craved for longer than you could imagine.

it doesn’t take long for things to heat up, you messing with tom’s hair and tom rubbing your hips. you lay back on the desk as his tongue enters your mouth. holding you by your waist, tom hovers over you. his tongue tangles with yours in a deep kiss. between that and his fingers beginning to massage your thigh, you’re done for. you’re ready to take this a step further by the time he’s kissing down your neck.

“tommy?” you grab onto his shoulders, your head back. his lips detach from your skin with a grin. “yeah, love? ‘s everything okay?” he coos, pressing a final kiss to your collarbone. “more than.” you tilt his chin up to peck his lips. “you wouldn’t happen to have a condom, would you? just thinking ahead.” he laughs breathlessly, reaching into his suit pocket.

“conveniently enough, i do. not sure your dad would like me fucking you on his desk, though.” tom sets his hand on your leg that’s still hooked around his waist. “my room’s always available. carry me?” you make grabby hands and bat your lashes. he hoists you up by your waist, not lifting you just yet. “that would break the news of us, no? your mum’s gonna go apeshit.” he keeps his arms around you, chuckling.

“let her. besides, i know a couple of bloggers that would love to announce our status update.” you peck tom’s lips, grinning as you do. you’re suddenly in the air and being picked up by tom. the surprise of it makes you squeal, clutching onto his broad shoulders instinctively. he gives you the look of adoration that’s reserved for you only.

“we’ll go pop a few bottles with everyone, then we’re celebrating on our own.”

#tom holland #richkid!tom #tom holland fluff #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine #tom holland fic #tom holland fanfiction #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker smut #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you

[clockworklozenges]

So, a good five or so years back, I played in one of the best worst DnD games I have ever been in. The DM had bought the Libris Mortis book, which, if you were unaware, was a 3.5 splatbook adding in a lot of undead stuff, including some monsters and undead player races and stuff. Wanting to try it out, me and my gaming group decided to play things from it, our then DM deciding to run a completely homebrewed session. This proved to be a...

Terrible Idea™

(for the uninitiated, never homebrew something you do not fully understand unless it's just cosmetic. If you want to make all elves worship the god of garlic bread, Ultimo-Metatron-Omega, go ahead, but unless you know how the game works, don't make mechanical changes). So we all picked stuff from the books-one player played a skeleton Sorcerer who in life was a tribal shaman, but an attempt at healing went wrong, turning him undead as his life energy was replaced with negative energy, explaining why most of his spells were necromancy and suchlike.

Another player played Krug, an antipaladin in very spiky full plate. He was a zombie made by a necromancer of a paladin who was fighting him, but his allies killed his would-be master before he could assert control, and not wanting to just off him, his allies just...yeeted his body into a portal and hoped it'd re-kill him. It did not kill him hard enough. It did, however, explain his stats which...oof. He had already got debuffs to some stats due to being a zombie, and rolled abysmally. Fortunately for the player, he played mostly to socialise, so didn't much care.

I played... Count Nox Feratu, the Campire. As in, a vampire with a very camp German accent, which I did not break for the whole time I was playing him. To the point where "ach, nein, I haf bin heet! Heal me, meine freunde!" was par for the course. My overly camp vamp was a wizard, but due to level adjustment was a bit of a shoddy one. For backstory, he'd been ousted from his clan for ineptitude, and had sworn revenge. I was going for a swordmage build but never got there. All his spells were utility or just necromancy spells.

Our last player played...sigh...Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of Nerull, God of murder and undeath. He was one of the clerics from the book's murder Domain, meaning that he got buffs to damage. He was a vicious arse both in character and out of it, and was so dripping with edge compared to the paladin with the same IQ as a horse after its trip to the glue factory, the shaman who thought killing fixed people and the Campire that if you gave him a pat on the back you'd have finely diced your hand into a red mist. Not going too outlandish with his backstory of wanting to dominate the world as his undead thralls, Damien F***ing Bloodmoon had only taken spells which either charmed live people, dealt negative energy damage or messed with ability drain and suchlike, which he used with aplomb on townsfolk on our way to our objective. He was also, importantly, playing an elf of some sort, I forget which kind. Meaning that of the party, only one was alive.

So, just as an aside, for those of you that haven't played 3.5e DnD or have only played 5e, in Libris Mortis, undeath was gone over in detail, and had a litany of pros and cons. For one thing, undead had only the HP they had-folks like Damien F***ing Bloodmoon could be 'dying', and had some time to be stabilised before meeting the reckoning of Papa John and dying proper. Undead did not, it was just how much you had and if you ran out, poof, you're dust, bones and fertiliser again. You were also harmed by positive energy, so healing spells hurt you, as did potions of healing. However, undead were kind of hardy - poison immunity, some had resistance to non-magical melee damage, stuff that drained your ability scores and levels didn't work on them, some crits wouldn't do extra damage, and the best part- negative energy healed undead. Meaning all the spells our party had which damaged others like the living Damien Bloodmoon were curative ones for us. Keep this in mind.

So, we began our quest, learning of a necromancer a nearby town was plagued by. After using our skills (to whit: Damien Bloodmoon charming and drawing the life force out of random villagers and the only potion seller in the town whilst we went shopping. Krug got a snazzy hat, which we put on top of his helmet, and we chatted to townsfolk as I looked alive enough to pass as human and the shaman had a fake beard and toupee that people were too awkward to point out was fake so went along with it) we learn that the necromancer has a base of operations in the cemetery. "Oh ja, zo original, dahlink. Ve vill need to educate zis guy on vhat is chic and vhat is just shabby!"

So we head there and the nightmare begins. Damien Leads the charge, using all of his knowledge to deduce that the shambling horde moving towards us were stronger-than-your-average-bear undead, and he was right. These were powerful armoured zombie mages of some sort, casting ability draining spells, negative energy ray spells and even having auras of negative energy that dealt damage on a failed Fortitude save. Even their punch and quarterstaves did negative energy damage as well as the usual bludgeoning or unarmed. However...only one of us was really in danger and the DM's face fell when the squishy casters walked up and began shanking their super-special homebrew zombie wizards, being healed by the damage of their attacks as we cut them down.

Like I said, one of the benefits of undeath is that negative energy actually heals you. So the strikes of the magic staves and punches that hit us did some basic damage. Which was then immediately healed by the negative energy their weapon strikes and spells were doing.

However, you'll recall that Damien Bloodmoon was an elf. And not dead. Being a Cleric of a death god doesn't mean that you have the abilities of an undead. That meant that even with the DM being merciful, by the end of the first fight he was covered in blood, mud and withered away to just above half his original strength and constitution. More were patrolling, so we had to run. But that posed a problem.

Remember Krug had heavy armour? And recall his awful stats? He in fact, hadn't got enough strength to wear the armour he'd been given for backstory. He didn't, according to the DM, have enough to remove his own armour. And we attempted to, but also failed our checks according to the DM. And Damien Bloodmoon refused to help, simply blaming Krug and his player. Krug's player thought it was hilarious, and Krug only had enough Intelligence and Wisdom to say his own name, so saw no problem. And Krug, Nox Feratu and Shaman realised that there really...wasn't a problem.

For us, at least.

We slogged through three combats dragging Krug and wading through the mud with him. His speed was so slow that for every step he took, we took about ten. The DM was confused and infuriated that his encounters weren't working, but refused to change them. So we had fun role-playing. Or at least three of us did.

Damien Bloodmoon refused to roleplay, and none of his ranged spells could affect the zombie mages. When he went into melee, he came out wounded as all hell. He went down twice, and it was only the healing supplies of the shaman that saved him.

All the while, he was... Let's say not best pleased. Damien Bloodmoon was getting increasingly wounded, exasperated and longing for the sweet embrace of death as reprieve from the humiliation. His player was getting increasingly redder and rage-filled as time passed. Each fight ended with our characters stronger than ever and his a bloody pulp on the floor, with poor in-character knowledge (and terrible rolls) preventing him from realising why.

Eventually, we reached the final boss, pausing only to paint Krug's armour in contact poison just in case, and to find a stick to help the now-partially-crippled Damien Bloodmoon, cleric of death and murder, walk after being beaten up by angry zombie wizards for hours. And it had, indeed, been hours. Among us, only Damien had a bonus to strength, and we had two swords, a mace and a staff between the four of us. Meaning it was re-death by a thousand cuts for the enemy and a slog and a half for us.

We reach the necromancer and, having taken so long due to dragging the oblivious Krug with us, his big ritual is complete- he raises a fist-sized black onyx egg aloft, crackles with arcane power and causes the bones around him to coalesce into one massive creature - an undead, giant-sized rust monster, radiating an Aura of pure negative energy. Krug opened his arms wide, eager for the metal-eating monster cockroach to free him from his poison-painted metal prison. It ignores him as he's still very far away. Me and the others have our weapons and armour devoured.

Our DM was very much a stickler for note-taking. So because Damien Bloodmoon hadn't written 'clothes' on his sheet, his armour being eaten by the monster left him naked and afraid.

It became clear that the DM had done another f***y-wucky. See, the Aura of negative energy healed me and the Sorcerer by more than its other attacks did. So whilst Damien Bloodmoon was naked, soaked in mud and bleeding to death almost crushed to a pulp in the fetal position, rocking backwards and forwards as his player seethed with hatred, the Shaman and the Campire set about beating the thing to death with our bear hands and a stick.

The session ended once we killed the necromancer, or rather when Krug walked up to him, closed his arms and just crushed the noodle-armed bad guy to death with the weight of his ridiculous armour and poisoned him with its paintwork.

We never revisited the game afterwards. We were told later on that the DM wanted us to use the non-undead races. But at no point had he said as much, even when we asked him about our characters and the restrictions on them. We also learned a valuable lesson. DM for the players who are there, not the ones who you have an idealised mental image of. Tailor your game, otherwise you'll get a sitcom featuring a camp nosferatu, a shaman with no healing, a paladin who could barely move and a Cleric of murder who was ironically the only one at risk of actually dying.

#dnd #dungeons and dragons #3.5 edition #Undead #zombie #vampire #adventure #libris mortis #Campire #paladin #wizard #Sorcerer #cleric #oh god why #Damien F***ing Bloodmoon #necromancy #necromancer #Skeleton #dnd shenanigans #dnd campaign

[mrsalwayswrite]

Fight For You (Ivar x Reader)

This is my contribution to @youbloodymadgenius​ 1k celebration! Congrats, love! 

My prompt was: You had my curiosity. But now you have my attention. (Django Unchained)

Warnings: a smidgeon of violence, talk of premeditative murder of a spouse, some possessive!Ivar? my poor attempts at humor and flirting.

Words:3900

  The talking of the other earls, jarls and king grated on Ivar's nerves. Instead of threatening to cut out all of their tongues and make a necklace of them, like he strongly desired to do, he silently reclined in his seat fuming. It was both boring and infuriating to listen to these lesser men squabble amongst themselves like children. But like Hvitserk frequently reminded him, the others needed to be included in the planning. Even if Ivar despised it. 

 So he sat back, pretending to listen to the others as they attempted to make a battle plan. Even if it was a piss poor attempt and honestly, laughable. He kept silent for now. For he had his own plan and when he felt he had given them enough time to argue, he would share what they needed to know to fulfill it. He never shared the full plan; he would never give another that kind of power and knowledge. 

 King Harald Finehair was the least incompetent of the warriors and since at least half of their heathen army was there due to him, many listened intently when he spoke. 

 "If our scouts are correct, our army vastly outnumbers anything the town has." King Harald placed both of his hands on the table, drawing the attention of those under the meeting tent to himself. "I say tomorrow we attack with our full force. If they barricade themselves in, then we burn the gate down."

 "How great will our casualties be then?" Earl Liefson questioned, eyeing most of Norway's King with scrutiny. 

 "Did you not hear King Harald? We outnumber them! Those that die during the fight will certainly go to Valhalla to feast with Odin and Thor. Let us attack without fear or worry!" Jarl Haakon boasted, slapping a hand to his broad chest in emphasis. 

 This time Ivar did not try to suppress his annoyance. He rolled his eyes at the Jarl, practically biting his tongue to withhold a scathing comment. Looking to his left, he caught the gaze of his brother, Hvitserk, who at least was better at hiding his irritation. 

 There were many men that Ivar detested, many men he loathed. Jarl Haakon was most certainly in the top five. The man loved the sound of his own voice and any idea spewed from his mouth usually equaled in value to a pig's fart. At first, Ivar could not fathom how the Jarl managed to stay in his position of power. Sure, he fought like a berserker and thrived on bloodlust like many Vikings…. but he was a pompous, narrow-minded idiot. 

 Yet once the meetings started, plans being drawn for this great raid, Ivar figured it out. 

 It was you. 

 In the beginning, some of the other earls initially protested when Jarl Haakon brought you into the meetings; especially since you were no shieldmaiden, you were only his wife. But when he flatly stated either you came with him or him and his men left, their protests died down. Those very men were further silenced when King Harald greeted you warmly and welcomed your company. 

 At first, Ivar loathed your presence, thinking you were there just to satisfy your husband's ego, his continuous need to show off his beautiful wife. It was only after plans were finalized and Jarl Haakon looked down at you, his hand possessively on your lower back, that Ivar realized you were not there just to look pretty. 

 You surveyed over the "map" drawn into the dirt, eyes analyzing. Then you did the most unexpected thing. You critiqued the plan. Perfecting it in ways that even Ivar had not seen. 

 And the bloodthirsty prince could only sit back in shock and awe. 

 It was after that first encounter, whenever you were nearby, his gaze never strayed far from you. 

 Now, you stood silently next to your husband, focused on the plan being discussed. Instead of fully listening to the others, Ivar watched you. The way you bit your lower lip in concentration, the faint twitch of your right eye when someone said something you disagreed with, the quiet way you controlled your husband with a simple word or touch. It all mesmerized him. 

 What inflamed him the most was the few times your gaze would rise to meet his. The way you would peek at him through your lashes like a shy maiden, as if silently asking for his permission, then speak to the group of men. The power and intellect you kept hidden would be unveiled with your words. It was enough to make Ivar salivate every time. 

 Most women bothered Ivar with their whimpering or tedious nature, even most of the shieldmaidens made him want to plunge a dagger into them. But not you. You were not most women. Ivar swore on all the gods that you were a Valkyrie sent from Odin to bless him, to confirm his favor with the Aesir and his lineage tracing back to Odin himself. 

 Yet somehow you were married to that fool of a Jarl….and Ivar hated it. 

 "What say you, Ivar?" King Harald asked, drawing the prince back to the current conversation. The gazes of the other leaders weighed heavily once their eyes turned to Ivar, but instead of buckling underneath their inquiry, he thrived. 

 "I say why waste time and men? Let us lead a main force from the river like they expect us to do. A second force will attack from the north, hiding in the woods. My scout says there is a second smaller gate that their hunters use to leave the town. Because of its location, it is not well defended. Using that, there will be no need for a siege." He confidently explained his plan, looking around the meeting tent. A knot in his core tightened as he saw the corners of your lips turned upward in a brief smile and the bright gleam in your eyes. His plan was flawless, but seeing your approval bolstered his confidence, made him straighten further in his chair. 

 "Why did you not tell us about this second gate sooner?" An older earl demanded. His fingers tapped on the axe he wore on his hip, either purposefully threatening or mindlessly was yet to be determined. 

 The dark-haired prince rolled his head to the side, glaring at the man with malice in his icy blue eyes. "I waited until the information was necessary. If you sent your own scouts, they may have discovered it themselves instead of wasting their time drunk everyday we've been here."

 "A second gate is fortuitous for us." King Harald interrupted before the earl could respond. "We will lose less men. I will lead the main attack with my men. Ivar will lead the second attack since you were the one who brought this information."

 Ivar cocked his head for a moment then nodded. "Agreed." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jarl Haakon turn to you with a silent question in his look. Without hesitation, you give a single nod and your husband smiled. 

 "What are we standing around for then? We have Saxons to kill and glory and riches to earn. Let us prepare!" Jarl Haakon loudly proclaimed, making a couple of the earls chuckle. After that everyone began to disperse back to their own tents and warriors. Word would spread to prepare for battle the next day. 

 Catching Hvitserk's eye, Ivar motioned for his older brother to accompany him. Together, they walked out of the meeting tent and past groups of warriors, tents and cooking fires. The noon sun blared down on them, causing many to seek shelter under tents or tree canopies. 

 "What is it?" The flaxen-haired warrior asked, falling easily into step with his little brother. 

 Ivar hated how easily his brother could keep pace with him, while he stumbled along with his crippled legs and crutch. It was not Hvitserk's fault, but it was a resentment that Ivar still held nonetheless. Keeping his gaze forward, he grunted a vague reply. "I have questions."

 "Ah." Hvitserk ran a hand over his mustache as he surveyed the camp around them. After a moment, he spoke up again. "Anything to do with y/n?"

 Ivar snapped his head around to glare only to meet the amused look of his smirking brother. His upper lip curled up in a snarl but Hvitserk cut him off with a shrug.

 "What? You're not as subtle as you think you are. You're lucky her husband hasn't taken notice of your…. attention."

 "Shut up."

 "Alright…. we are going to see her though, right?"

 Ivar did not respond, instead he grit his teeth as he pressed on to his destination. Beside him, Hvitserk laughed but kept pace and any further comments to himself. 

 The two princes walked towards Jarl Haakon's tent. From observing, Ivar knew that the Jarl would be off with King Harald, talking to their warriors and finalizing their own plans. Without fail, he always postured himself to the forefront in speaking to their warriors, most likely to make sure his voice was heard just after King Harald and to boost his own ego. Even if his usefulness in making the battle plans was nonexistent. He was a warrior, through and through, but not a strategist. His value lied on his ability to wield his sword and axe on the battlefield.  

 To Ivar's surprise, you always retired to your tent right away after meetings. He witnessed on more than one occasion where your husband tried to convince you to accompany him, all to no avail. Oh, it was obvious your husband cared for you, but he also thrived on the jealous looks from others. His hand continuously rested on your lower back or around your shoulders, pulling you against him, dwarfing you with his larger frame. Frequently, he loudly proclaimed how he was gifted with a wife from Freya herself, making sure to steal a kiss as he laughed boisterously. 

 A coy smile danced on your lips but Ivar could see it hidden in the depths of your eyes, the annoyance and disgust by your husband's actions. You were a goddess on Midgard. That simpleton of a husband was not worthy of you. He should worship at your feet, begging for a moment of your divine attention. Yet, you were his lawful wife.

 And jealousy threatened to burn Ivar alive as he looked on.  

 The son of Ragnar was further enraged as he approached your tent to witness no guards posted in front of it. How dare your husband leave you undefended? He was even more of a fool than Ivar thought.

 With his usual arrogance, Ivar drew back the flap to your tent without calling out for your permission. As he stepped through, he could hear Hvitserk mutter something under his breath behind him, but still followed into the Jarl's tent.

 You stood next to a short table on the far side of the tent. Your hair was out of its typical braids, catching the prince's eye. An image of him running his hand through your hair flashed through his mind without warning. With the cloth in hand and the shallow bowl before you, Ivar knew he had interrupted your cleansing. 

 "Prince Ivar," you started, dragging the cloth down your neck sensually before setting it softly into the bowl. "My husband is not here at the moment. Would you like me to send for him?"

 "That's alright. It's you I'm interested in." He smirked as he watched you straighten further, a faint furrow between your brows. Your eyes continued to hold his, sending a thrill straight down his spine. He moved to the center of the tent, drawing closer as if magnetized by you. Leaning on his crutch, he tipped his head to peer at you. Lesser men would fear being alone with him, a Viking known for his bloodlust and cruelty but not you. There was no fear, no concern for safety in your eyes, only interest….and that amused and enthralled the crippled prince. 

 "I confess, I find your relationship with your husband…. peculiar. At first, I thought you were another pretty face, just another useless wife. But I see now, you are far more cunning and clever than you let on. Even now. Your husband is a fool, but he is intelligent enough to recognize he's need for you. So, I have been curious. Why are you still married to that oaf? I suspect there are far better suitors out there for you."

 You shrugged, taking a couple steps closer to the center of the tent. "It was the gods' will, and he is a good man." 

 "He's an idiot." Ivar deadpanned.  A muffled snort came from the direction of Hvitserk behind him but he kept his piercing eyes on you. 

 "Perhaps. He is still my husband."

 "Mmm….and do you care for your husband?"

 You glanced over at Hvitserk, who stood near the entrance, leaning against a pole casually, and then back to Ivar. For the first time, he saw uncertainty flash across your eyes but it was quickly subdued. "Why does it matter?"

 He moved closer until he stood before you, the sound of his crutch muffled by the furs covering the ground. "He is always touching you, but you never reciprocate. You are…. complacent. Tell me, honestly. Does his intellect bore you? Is that why you run back to your tent?"

 "Ivar…." Hvitserk said in warning, only to be ignored. 

 "Would you bore me?" You asked coquettishly, looking at him from under your lashes, making his heart race. "I find most men…. simple."

 "I think you know the answer to that." His mouth curved in an arrogant smile. "Is that why you steal looks at me during meetings?"

 "Or is it because I feel your eyes on me already?"

 Gods, he wanted to touch you. As you stared into one another's eyes, a silent conversation flowed between you two. It was now he finally saw what he hoped for, what he silently prayed for. A longing lay hidden in your gaze that matched his own. An understanding. A hunger that bespoke of adventure and passion. The torturous desire was enough to drive him mad with need but he refrained. He would make you come to him though, he would make you touch him first to prove your want for him. 

 "Is this…. are you two flirting?" Hvitserk suddenly asked, shattering the revealing moment. 

 "No, brother. I would never flirt with a married woman." Ivar took a step back from you, feeling the space like a chasm between you two. "I think my questions have been answered." He turned around and started towards the entrance. 

 In anger, most people revealed their true selves. He had learned that if he could say the right thing, push people the right way, their true selves, their true desires would manifest. So he decided to see if the meek wife you portrayed was accurate or just a mask, if he could draw that longing out from you. He turned his head just enough to the side to make sure you heard his next statement. "It seems you are just another pretty face after all."

 In the next step, the sharp edge of a dagger pressed to his throat froze his step. Shifting his head slightly, the edge dug further, almost piercing his skin. You stood just behind him, the dagger in your hand. 

 "I may not be a shieldmaiden but I am no helpless Saxon woman." You slowly, teasingly, dragged the dagger's tip further up his neck to his pulse point. The whole time he never removed his eyes from yours over his shoulder. The tension glided across his body, shooting a shiver down his spine. He wondered if the heated look in your eyes matched his own. If he licked his lips, could he taste the ardor saturating the air between you.  

 When you spoke again, it was with a low and titillating tone. Your breath brushed against his neck, the feeling of your body almost touching his- tormenting. His hand clutched his crutch with a white-knuckle grip, his self-control slipping away with each moment. "I always have at least three daggers on me…. would you like to try and find them?"

 "I do!" Hvitserk said, raising his hand, breaking the tension. "I volunteer!"

 You winked at Hvitserk before withdrawing the dagger from Ivar's throat and taking a step back. Ivar continued to watch you as your gaze met his again. "Do not assume just because you cannot see something, does not mean it is not there. I may look like the submissive wife but that is far from the truth."

 To say he was aroused was an understatement. Spinning on his heel, he faced you, not even trying to suppress the hunger bubbling up within him. "You had my curiosity. But now you have my attention."

 "And what does that mean, 'I have your attention'? Is there a prize?" You raised an eyebrow but the devious smirk betrayed your amusement. 

 "I always reward those who…. interest me." He shifted forward to gently reach forward and caress your cheek. A sharp inhale and the fluttering of your lashes at his touch proved his effect on you. Carefully, you tipped your head, leaning your cheek against his hand. Never before had he coveted you so strongly. His instincts screamed at him to take your hand and lead you back to his tent, to make you his forever. You were a free woman though; the choice was yours. He wanted you to choose him. 

 "You are too smart for that idiot. Leave him." He muttered, tracing a finger over the seam of your lips. 

 "It's not that simple."

 "It can be."

 You pressed a kiss to the tip of his finger. "And what will I do then?"

 "You can be my woman!" Hvitserk declared, placing a hand over his heart. 

 You giggled at the harsh glare Ivar threw his brother over his shoulder. 

 "What?" Hvitserk asked in mock innocence. “You know I would share, little brother!"

 "Hvitty, say another word and I will cut your tongue out."

 The flaxen-haired prince rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Both of you need to work on your flirting. I did quite enjoy the little display you gave us, it's been far too long since someone threatened Ivar. We could make a shieldmaiden out of you yet, y/n."

 You stepped around Ivar to approach Hvitserk, much to Ivar's chagrin. He watched you give a quick peck on the cheek to his brother. Red began to color Ivar's sight, the tight grip on his crutch borderline painful.

 "I could make you very happy." Hvitserk said with a flirty wink, making you giggle. 

 The innuendo did not go over both Ivar and your heads. You smiled though, walking back towards the center of the tent. "I'm sure but I would hate to take that opportunity away from all the other women since I don't like to share."

 Ivar reached over and grabbed your arm, pulling you closer to him. The sweet smile lingered on your face but now directed at him softened some of his jealous anger. He cupped the side of your face, gazing down at you in something akin to reverence and longing. Silently, you placed your hands on his chest, staring up at him. He wondered if you caused his heart to beat or it beat for you. 

 "You fascinate me." He whispered, as if scared to utter the confession. 

 A sigh escaped you as you glanced downward at your hands on him. "If only we had met in another life."

 "Leave him. He doesn't deserve you. You deserve to be worshipped and recognized. Not treated as something to be shown off."

 "Perhaps one day." You lifted your eyes to meet his once more. "But I can't yet. An alliance relies on our marriage."

 He nodded, running his tongue along his bottom lip. It made sense. That would explain how you ended up married to the foolish warrior jarl. Lifting one of your hands from his chest, he pressed a lingering kiss to your knuckles, wishing it was your lips instead. Without another word, he started towards the entrance to your tent. His mind needed to process what it learned and how to best utilize that information for his plan. 

 Just before opening the flap, he turned back to you, surprised to see you still standing in the same spot but now rubbing your kissed knuckles across your bottom lip. Warmth and determination welled in his chest. 

 "Will you pray to the gods for our victory?"

 A smug smile curled the corners of your mouth. "I always do, but it is not necessary for who can defeat Ivar the Boneless?"

 He could not stop the grin from spreading across his face. "And do you pray for your husband's safety?"

 "That I leave to the gods."

 With one last heated look sent your way, he ducked out of the tent and back into the sunny camp.  

 "What now?" Hvitserk asked, walking beside him.

 "I need to talk with King Harald."

 "Ivar, you can't…. that’s…."

 He stopped to round on his brother, a scowl directed at him. "She deserves better than Jarl Haakon. Do you disagree?" He spat out, his wrath directed at your husband blazing once again. 

 Hvitserk sighed. "No, but…."

 "Then it's settled." Without waiting, he started in the direction of King Harald's tent. 

 Hvitserk rushed back to his side, falling into step. "So you'll pursue her after?"

 Ivar kept silent, mind already finalizing plans on how to best dispose of your husband. The battle coming up was the perfect opportunity, as if the timing was ordained and blessed by the gods. 

 "You won't be the only one. You're not the only man to watch her."

 Ivar sneered at the thought. "They will find themselves with my axe embedded in their guts if they even try."

 "So protective of her already and she is still another man's wife." 

 Ivar turned on his brother but Hvitserk just sidestepped the dagger aimed at his chest. 

 "If it's the gods' will for her to be your wife then I will help you." His older brother stated with his hands held up in surrender. "You know this. Besides I think you found your match with her."

 "She is…." The crippled prince started but his words trailed off. How could he adequately describe how you meant to him, how he longed for you, how he knew with you by his side he would be unstoppable and maybe for once in his life, actually happy. 

 "Is that Ivar the Boneless speechless? It must be love…. or the sun is getting to your head and you're going to be sick."

 "Shut up." Ivar snapped but without malice. 

 They walked for a few more minutes in silence before Hvitserk spoke up again. 

 "It will be pleasant to not hear his irritating voice anymore in meetings. We may be able to find an earl willing to just kill him for us."

 Ivar chuckled darkly. His thoughts returned to you and how he would willingly do anything to make you his wife. You were his Valkyrie, his goddess, you would complete him. Soon you would at his side, come death or Ragnarök, he would fight for you. 

#vikings #vikings fandom #vikings fanfic #vikings fanfiction #ivar the boneless #ivars heathen army #ivar x reader #hvitserk #harald finehair #youbloodymadgenuis1kcelebration #ivar lothbrok #vikings imagine #mzwrites

[abbysfrenchbraid]

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by  tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

-

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson fic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst/fluff #manny tlou #wlf #washington liberation front #abby anderson / reader #abby/reader

[tsukishumai]

HELLO! i was wondering if your requests are open,,, if they are can i pls request prompt 44 from angst with oikawa??? THANK YOUUU!!!. p.s the kita angst broke me i- TT

HELLO!! Yes, requests are open, tysm for requesting something! 💘 & aw I’m sorry haha, I wasn’t too confident abt that one so to hear that u liked it makes me uwu 🥺 hope u like this one!

Send me a prompt + ur fav character here :)

44. “What am I in your life? Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: Eek, again I suck at angst so I apologize if this is terrible <3

You really only had one goal in life, and that was to be successful. There was no nuance to it, no specific path you intended to follow. Hell, even which career you wanted for yourself was up in the air. But all of those things were just minor details. Regardless of whichever mountain you decide to climb, you had every intention of sitting yourself right at the very top.

It was only natural to want to be the best, isn’t it? You couldn’t think of one good reason why you should be satisfied with anything other than first place. That’s why out of all the applicants, you were the one awarded a scholarship to the prestigious Aoba Johsai. It wasn’t a stroke of luck, nor an answered prayer; and it truly irked you when people tried demeaning all your efforts by simply boiling it down to happenstance. You studied your ass off, spent days and nights with your nose buried in a book or camped out in a library, and in the end it paid off.

Not a lot of people understood. If people were trying to be nice, they would say you were just ambitious. But if people were trying to be mean, they would call you shrewd and cold. None of those things mattered to you either way; the view of their upturned faces as you looked down on them from your pedestal provided you enough fuel to warm your lonely nights.

It’s not that you didn’t value friendship; you managed to cultivate a few acquaintances, and it’s not like you sat by yourself a lunch. But high school just felt so arbitrary; Aoba Johsai was just one of many steps towards your future, what was the point in forming connections with people you would probably never have met if not for the fact you were all born around the same time? You watched as your classmates settled into their cliques, formed their little groups, and - as much as any high schooler could - fall in love.

You didn’t hate love. You just didn’t see the point, really. You saw the way some of your friends start obsessing over their significant other; friendships start to break, grades start to slip, mental health goes on the decline. Why would you want that? Not after spending all your time in setting up the foundation for yourself; there wasn’t a single part of yourself that you were willing to give to anyone else.

So why was it you were standing in front of Oikawa Tooru, eyes nearly swollen shut from the tears that forged a streaky path down the planes of your cheeks, snot disgracefully dripping from your nostrils as you desperately choked back a sob?

“How long have you known?” You asked, but you weren’t prepared for the answer.

“A year,” he mumbled shamefully, unable to even look you in the eye. If you did, you would see tears of his own threatening to spill, but at the moment all you saw was red.

“You’ve known... for a year?”

“Y/N,” Oikawa attempted to reach out to you, but you stepped back and slapped his hand away.

“Is this why you’ve been blowing me off lately,” you whispered, Oikawa’s odd behavior finally beginning to click in heard.

You haven’t felt the touch of Oikawa’s hands in weeks; the very same ones that always reached out for you, guiding you to exactly where you need to be with their permanent presence on the small of your back. His eyes that always seems to be able find you in any crowd were downcast, shifted away until you forgot what it felt like to melt under their intensity.

At first, you simply chalked it up to his devastating loss against his oh so beloved kohai. Nationals had been a dream of Oikawa’s that will now never come into fruition. You, of all people, knew the overwhelming heartache of coming up short. It was his passion and dedication to the sport that drew you to him, after all.

But after weeks of near radio silence, you start to feel yourself begin to unravel. Had you done something wrong? Was he still this upset about the loss? Is there something more you could to help alleviate some of his stress? Is he starting to lose interest in you? Maybe he doesn’t find you attractive anymore?

These were thoughts that would never have even had the chance to cross your mind before. Now, the lack of sleep and uneasiness building in your chest had you two seconds away from bursting.

Instead, you felt your whole existence deflate when you had been handed back your first failing grade. The angry red marks began to swim in your peripherals, wondering how you could possibly have let yourself fallen this far.

You had one goal. One clear goal. Now, your vision had been expertly muddled by wavy brown hair and bright teal volleyball shorts.

“And you just made this decision without even thinking of me?” Your voice cracked at the last accusatory word of your question, growing increasingly irritated Oikawa’s unusual silence.

It’s infuriating the more you thought about it, really. You didn’t want this. You never wanted any of this. You just wanted to graduate high school at the top of your class, get into a good college, and start working your way up in the world. You were content to stay in your little bubble if it meant that you’d be able to achieve your dreams.

But Oikawa was Oikawa. He was simply too bright to ignore. And like Icarus to the sun, you thought yourself invincible until you flew close enough to burn from his radiance.

“What am I in your life?” You spat out, and the words left a bitter taste in your mouth, “Because as of lately I feel as though I’ve been nothing to you.”

Oikawa’s head snapped up, anguish stamped on his features as he desperately said, “You’re not nothing to me!”

“Then how could you do this?” You pleaded, disgusted at your pathetic groveling.

Oikawa shook his head, as if begging you to understand. “It’s not about what or how much you mean to me. I have to do this for myself and my future.”

It was so ironic, it made you livid.

Oikawa Tooru had successfully wedged himself into your life, deconstructing your walls brick by brick, gracing you with the warmth of his presence and the ardor of his love.

Only so he could be face to face as he drove the knife into your heart himself, allowing you a taste of pseudo happiness until it was time for him to take it away.

“Good luck in Argentina, Oikawa.”

His eyes widened at use of his last name, panic shooting across his features as he tried to stop you from leaving.

“Wait, Y/N -“

“Good bye.”

And you knew it wasn’t fair to him. You knew he was only doing what he felt was right, you understood that much too perfectly. It was irrational of you to shed tears over the most logical choice for Oikawa to make. You should be supportive, you knew that. But the embittered thought of being left behind was just too heavy to bear.

You walked away and never looked back, leaving behind two broken hearts.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

(You look up at the sky as an airplane left trails of clouds that blasted through a sunset painted with pastel pinks and purple hues.

You briefly wondered if this plane was taking Oikawa Tooru back home.

It never is.)

#oikawa toru #oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa toru angst #oikawa imagine #oikawa fic #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! imagines #haikyuu angst #hq hc #haikyuu imagines

[toffrox]

The Nico di Angelo Protection Squad

Read on Ao3

Summary:

Will must have known what Jason was doing, Jason was certain.

But at every move Jason made, Will simply took it in his stride. Sometimes he even had an understanding look in his eye like 'it's ok, I'm hitting on your little brother, I get it' or he'd back off for a little while with an easy shrug like 'whatever, I'm not relying on this one moment to make my move, I respect Nico's friend time'.

Jason wasn't sure whether to be infuriated or impressed.

He tried to explain this to Percy.

"Oh, no." Percy shook his head. "We are not backing down this easy." He grinned and held up a single golden drachma. "Time to call in an intimidation expert."

-

When rumours about Nico and Will start to spread around camp, Percy and Jason attempt to intimidate him. It doesn't go as planned.

Percy

It wasn't long after the end of the war against Gaia when the rumours started. Maybe two weeks, or three, at the most.

Even to Percy, oblivious as he usually was, they did not come as a surprise.

He was in the Athena cabin, dropping by to steal Annabeth away for a few hours, when he first heard them.

Jess and Daniel were sitting on the front steps, deep in the last couple of moves of a chess match when Percy entered the cabin. By the time he and Annabeth were leaving, they were resetting the board and gossiping idly.

"-no way they have a chance with Solace," Jess was saying. "He's totally got it bad for Nico."

"Nico?" Daniel said skeptically. "di Angelo?"

"Obviously." Jess huffed. "What other Nico is there at camp? Besides, have you seen those two together? They're as bad as-"

Annabeth tugged impatiently on Percy's hand, jerking his attention away. He threw her an incredulous glance as they stumbled across the green together, heading to the beach.

"Did you hear that?" Percy asked.

"Hear what?" said Annabeth, not looking back, still pulling him along.

"What Jess said. About Nico and Will Solace!"

"Not really. Was she saying that they need to hurry up and make out already?"

Percy spluttered in response.

"What? Are you surprised?" Annabeth shot him a look over her shoulder like, surely he couldn't be that stupid. Percy rolled his eyes.

"Well, no! Obviously not." Percy clarified. "Of course they would be adorable together. I just didn't realise it was like - camp gossip, already."

Annabeth shrugged. "The rumour mill works fast."

Percy sped up to a jog for a couple of steps so that they were walking towards the sea side by side.

"Should we be worried?" he asked.

Annabeth frowned at him, half amused, half puzzled.

"Why would we be worried?"

"I dunno, I just…" Percy scratched the back of his neck. "Nico doesn't really like being the centre of attention and like… Don't you think it's a little soon for them to be getting into a relationship?"

Annabeth barked out a laugh. "That is so none of our business, Seaweed Brain."

"What do you mean?" Percy complained. "I'm just looking out for him!"

Annabeth smirked and gave his hand another little tug. "You worry too much, Jackson. Leave the poor kid alone."

As she spoke, she reached up to tug her hair out of its ponytail, probably knowing that would distract him. It was irritatingly effective. She stopped walking for a moment to lean up and press her lips to his jaw.

Maybe she was right. He should stop worrying.

-

Except that a few days later, the worry crept back.

He and Nico were sitting at the Hades table together. Jason had already had breakfast since he'd been up early to go for a run, so it was just the two of them eating.

They were midway through the meal when a pair of Aphrodite campers breezed passed them. They were chattering excitedly, probably unaware of how loud they were being.

"Did you see them practicing archery together yesterday?" one of them was saying. "So. Cute."

"Oh my Gods, you have no idea. He is always finding excuses to ask for help in the infirmary just so they can spend more time together."

Percy watched Nico's shoulders stiffen and his eyes widen as they both realised who the Aphrodite kids were talking about.

Nico's head snapped up and he met Percy's eyes with something like panic. Percy tried to act casual, even as the blush overtook Nico's cheeks.

"It has been pretty busy in the infirmary lately." Percy blurted, attempting to absolve Nico of some of his mortification.

Instead, Nico's blush only deepened and he scowled down at his breakfast. He scoffed down the rest of his meal as hastily as he could and then stormed back to the Hades cabin without another word.

Percy's stomach sank.

-

"I just think that maybe we should talk to him, is all!" Percy was saying later that day. He was sat on one of the unused bunks in Cabin One, arms spread out in front of him as he tried to talk Jason onto his side. Jason sat on his chair, which he'd flipped around so his forearms were resting on the back.

"And say what?" Jason asked. "It's not his fault Aphrodite campers gossip."

"Duh." Percy agreed. "But like, don't you think we should be making sure that he knows that this kind of thing might freak Nico out? He probably doesn't realise that Nico's not ready for a relationship."

"Dude. What are you talking about? How do you even know that?"

"I just-" Percy sputtered helplessly. "I dunno. I just think we should say something!"

"Percy." Jason sighed. "We are not giving Will Solace a shovel talk. You are being ridiculous."

Percy huffed.

Looks like this is going to be a solo endeavour, then.

He had been so sure that Jason would be on his side.

-

Will

It was late in the summer and a slow week for camp injuries. Will pattered around the infirmary, making beds. He was the only one on duty that afternoon.

At around 3o'clock, he got an unexpected visitor.

"Oh, hey Percy." He called, smiling up at the son of Poseidon.

Percy stood in the infirmary doorway. He had a strange look on his face, like he was mad about something. His black hair was getting shaggy and his sea green eyes were darker than usual. He wore a raggedy looking camp t-shirt and swim trunks and Riptide was hanging at his waist in sword form.

Sword form? That was odd.

Will's smile turned curious.

"Hello, Will." Percy returned his greeting, oddly formal.

"How's it going?" Will asked cheerily and Percy's eyes narrowed in suspicion. There was a pause. "Are… you alright?"

He kept his tone light, waiting patiently for Percy to find his words.

"I'm fine." Percy shrugged dismissively. "I just came by to…" He glanced around the infirmary, shoulders relaxing when he found it was only the two of them. "I actually came by to talk to you about something…" Percy made his way into the room, gaining confidence. "About Nico."

"Oh."

Will felt a thrill of nerves run through him.

Not out of any kind of guilt. Instead he found himself trying not to blush at the way his heart thudded at the mention of Nico's name.

Oh Gods. Percy knew about Will's feelings for Nico. Or he'd heard the rumours and was coming here to tell him Nico wasn't interested.

The tips of Will's fingers burned with mortification at the thought.

Calm down. The rational part of his brain cut over his rapidly spiralling train of thought. If you freak out and he doesn't actually know about your massive, embarrassing crush then the fact that you're having a panic attack about it will make it super freaking obvious.

He forced his limbs to stay casual and hopped up onto the bed he had just fixed up.

"Sure." He said, voice still as breezy as he could manage. He gestured for the bed opposite him. "We can talk."

Percy kept his eyes narrowed as he glanced at the bed and then back to Will. He took a seat.

There was a long silence.

"Sooo, what about Nico did you want to talk about?" Will asked. He hoped that didn't come out too snarky.

Percy raised one eyebrow and then seemed to psych himself up. He straightened his back and adjusted his sword, looking broader than he usually did.

"Well." Percy cleared his throat. "I've been hearing some rumours about you guys."

"Right." Will said carefully. He waited for Percy to clarify. This seemed to annoy Percy a little. Will smiled, hoping to ease the tension.

"Right. And er- I guess I just wondered… if there's any truth to them? To the rumours, I mean."

Percy watched Will's face so intently that Will couldn't help but feel a silent laugh tug at the corner of his mouth.

"What rumours are you talking about exactly?" He asked, still ever so casual.

Percy looked irritated.

Ok, don't overdo it, Solace.

"If you mean the ones about us being a couple then-" Will shrugged. "We're just friends."

"Right." Percy said again. "But do you maybe wish that you were more than friends?"

Will's heart thudded.

Casual. Keep it casual.

"Sure." Will smiled. "I mean, Nico's awesome. Right?"

Percy remained suspicious. Will wasn't deterred.

"I wasn't planning on making any moves though."

"You weren't?" Percy blinked.

Will laughed. "Of course not. I don't think he'd be comfortable with that considering how much other campers have been gossiping about it." As he spoke Will raised one pointed eyebrow. Percy had the decency to look embarrassed.

"Right. Ok." He said. He nodded himself, like he was trying to reassure himself of something, then puffed himself up like he had done at the start of the conversation and put one hand on Riptide again. "Well. Good. I agree."

Will's eyes rested on Percy's sword hand for a second. He smirked.

There was another silence, in which Percy attempted to stare him down. Will just tilted his head in a question.

"Is that all?" He asked.

"Um." Percy jumped up, looking a little deflated. "Yeah. Sure. That's all."

Will grinned and jumped to his feet too.

"Ok, cool. Well, see you round, Percy." He reached out to clap Percy on the shoulder and then turned his back, heading to the infirmary storage to get another set of fresh sheets.

Once he finally he heard Percy leave behind him, he let out a long breath and ran a hand through his hair.

Ok, so Percy Jackson knows about your crush on Nico di Angelo. It's not that big of a deal.

He tried to get his heartbeat under control as he snatched up a pile of linen and returned to the infirmary floor. He tried not to think about how nothing Percy said implied that Nico might feel the same way. He tried to feel relieved that at least Percy hadn't told him that Nico was sick of spending time in the infirmary.

He felt a shy smile creep onto his face as he thought about Nico. He thought about how embarrassed Nico got whenever another camper made a comment about them. He thought about the cute way his eyebrows knit together in confusion when someone complimented him. He thought about silky ink-black hair and shattered glass eyes.

He sighed wistfully into the empty infirmary.

Gods, Solace. You need to get a grip.

-

Jason

Percy barged into Cabin One, Riptide in one hand and the other hand carding through his hair in frustration.

"Impossible! He is the worst!"

Jason glanced up from where he was laying on his bunk, letting the book he was reading fall closed onto his chest.

"What?" He frowned at Percy, who was now pacing distractedly around his cabin.

Jason checked the statue of Zeus warily, hoping the sudden appearance of an enraged son of Poseidon wouldn't result in another indoor thunderstorm.

"That guy is impossible!" Percy said through gritted teeth.

"What guy? What are we talking about?" Jason asked, sitting up.

"Will Solace!" Percy cried out right at the moment he pivoted, still pacing. "I went to the infirmary to tell him he needed to quit flirting with Nico-"

"You did what?!" Jason's eyebrows flew up.

"-But then I couldn't even get the proper words out because he was so friendly and reasonable!"

Percy capped Riptide back into ballpoint pen and shoved it in his pocket, looking thoroughly pissed off that Will Solace had had the nerve to be a decent person. Jason stared at him, nonplussed.

"Percy, you do realise you sound insane right now, right?" Jason said dryly.

Percy glared at him.

"What did you even say to him?" Jason asked.

"Well I asked him if the rumours about him having a thing for Nico was true." Percy said, ignoring Jason's eye roll. "And he said yes. But then before I could say anything else he said he wasn't planning on making any moves because he knows that the rumours make Nico uncomfortable and he thinks Nico is awesome."

Jason couldn't help but smirk at the utterly disgusted look on Percy's face as he recounted Will's words. This earned him another glare from Percy.

"Hey, don't laugh!" He complained. Jason tried his best not to.

"Why don't you ask Annabeth to talk to him?" Jason suggested.

Both he and Percy knew that Annabeth was the most feared person at camp.

"She won't talk to me about it." Percy grumbled. "Says it's none of my business."

"It is none of your business." Jason agreed. Percy glared at him again.

"But she also says she doesn't need to talk to him, because she says he's smart enough not to be an idiot about a camp rumour!"

"She's right about that too." said Jason. "Look, I told you not to talk to him. Will's a nice guy. Everyone likes him. I don't get why you're so worried."

Percy's eyes narrowed.

"I'm telling you, man. This is not a good thing." He insisted. "I went in there trying to express how I was worried about Nico, and instead he just laughed at me and I looked like a total dork."

"I mean, in Will's defence, you are a total dork." Jason pointed out.

Percy simply shook his head gravely.

"You wait. This can only mean bad things for us."

-

Over the next couple of weeks, as summer wound to a close, Jason continued to be unworried both by the rumours swirling around Will and Nico, and Percy's suspicious glances.

Every time Will and Nico arrived at the dining pavilion together, prompting heads to duck together and whispers to erupt at the Apollo and Aphrodite tables. Every time Nico blushed when Will waved at him at the campfire or called to him across the green in the mornings. Jason always heard a voice in his head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Piper that said 'Will's a decent guy. And Nico can handle himself' or, 'This is cute. Nico deserves a friend like Will'.

It wasn't until after most of the summer campers had gone back to school and the Fall year-rounder season began that Jason began to see exactly where Percy was coming from.

Percy and Annabeth had returned to the city for school, both staying with Sally and Paul. Piper and Jason were staying at camp for a couple more weeks before heading out to search for Leo together.

In the quiet of the Fall season at camp, Nico and Jason had formed a daily routine together.

Jason woke up, went on a run, showered. Then he dropped by Cabin Thirteen and if Nico was awake they went to breakfast together. They trained together with the Ares cabin and whoever else wanted spar practice for most of the morning. Then lunch. Then, in the afternoon they'd split off for some kind of camp activity. Jason usually used that time to do research for his temples. Nico often hung out with Piper or helped the Athena cabin run mythology class. Lately, he'd been spending that time in the infirmary instead, helping the Apollo kids on duty.

And Will Solace was always on duty.

It was around the third or fourth day in a row that Nico arrived at dinner with Will and ate with Jason only to promptly leave the Zeus table and rejoin Will to spend the whole evening in the Apollo cabin that Jason started to realise that maybe this whole rumour thing wasn't just a rumour anymore. And that maybe Will's promise to Percy that he wasn't going to make a move had been forgotten.

Sometimes Piper noticed Jason watching the two of them walking together or planning a project on the deck of the Apollo cabin or sitting together at the campfire. She rolled her eyes at him, but never said anything.

One night, Jason was walking back to his cabin after an evening catch up with Thalia at the Iris cabin fountain when he spotted Will and Nico walking across the green together. Jason paused where he stood, in the shadow of the Hypnos cabin, so they wouldn't see him. It looked like Will was walking Nico back to his cabin for the night.

When they arrived at the steps to Cabin Thirteen, Jason noted how close together they were standing. At one point, Will reached out and put his hand on Nico's arm and Jason was shocked that Nico didn't pull back.

Nico leaned forward slightly to say something and Will tilted his head inward to listen, then threw it back in a laugh. Nico was grinning.

Jason saw Will give Nico a hug goodnight and then retreat across the green to Cabin Seven. Nico hesitated in the doorway of his cabin, watching Will leave.

Jason stood in the shadow of the Hypnos cabin, blinking dumbly for several minutes after Nico had disappeared behind the Hades cabin door.

His rational brain warred with a familiar protective instinct.

Nico seemed so smitten with Will. But why hadn't he said anything to Jason? Or talked about it with Piper, even? Why did he always change the subject whenever Will came up, even in the most innocent context?

Will clearly still had feelings for Nico, as he had confessed to Percy several weeks ago now. But why was he walking Nico home at night and inviting him to come and help in the infirmary all the time if he wasn't planning on acting on his crush?

Jason knew Nico could take care of himself. And he knew Will was a nice guy. And he knew that Nico deserved to be happy and loved.

And yet he couldn't shake the feeling that this was a risk.

'I'm telling you. This can only mean bad things.' Percy's words rang in Jason's ear.

From that moment, Jason resolved to be more attentive and more firm whenever he was around Will.

-

The next morning, Jason passed Will on his morning run. Will was just coming back from a hike with his siblings, fresh-faced and sunny as always.

As Jason passed the three Apollo kids he threw Will his best wolf-glare. Will raised his hand in a cheery wave, as if he hadn't even noticed.

-

At breakfast, Jason stared Will down across the pavilion. He was laughing and chatting with Kayla about something. He didn't look up once.

"Are you ok?" Nico asked. Jason nodded grumpily.

At the end of the meal Will jogged over and to chat with Nico. Nico's face lit up as they talked. Before he left, Will threw Jason a friendly grin.

"Hey, Jason." he said, before inviting Nico to hang in the infirmary with him that night.

-

At the next campfire, Jason made sure to be there early. He tugged Piper along to sit with Nico, taking Will's usual spot. Piper eyed him suspiciously.

When Will arrived, Jason watched him carefully, searching for a sign of disappointment that his seat had been taken.

Instead, Will barely seemed to notice. He gave Jason and Piper a breezy smile, then took up a seat beside Cecil and Connor, chatting with them. When Nico craned round to look for Will, he flashed him a quick smile too but didn't stop his conversation with the Hermes campers.

For some reason this comparative lack of attention to Nico made Jason even madder than the constant attention.

-

At Friday's head counsellor meeting, Jason was irritable. He shot down Will's admittedly good ideas for a new rota on music and archery training.

Jason could hear the pettiness in his voice as he spoke, but instead of arguing, Will just shrugged.

"Fair enough." He said easily.

Like it was no big deal at all.

-

That afternoon, Percy arrived at camp. He was planning to stay the night.

When he, Jason and Nico hit the arena to spar together, Jason noticed that Will dropped by to watch. He noticed how Will paid more attention to the matches Nico was in and cheered whenever Nico won.

Percy locked eyes with Jason at one point and Jason realised that Percy had noticed it too.

"You were totally right!" Jason said at dinner that night. Nico had left already with Will and the rest of the Apollo cabin for a music night in their cabin.

Percy looked at Jason in surprise.

"About what?"

"About Will!" Jason cried. "I've been trying to intimidate him all week because it seems like he's totally going to make a move on Nico, but it's like he's just ignoring me!"

Percy's mouth dropped open.

"I knew it!" He gasped. "See, I told you!"

"I know, I know." Jason dropped his head in his hands. "I just didn't get it when you said."

The thing was, Jason knew deep down that his actions to try and intimidate Will were immature. Especially without having talked to Nico about it. Except that Will's reaction didn't match up that way.

When Will grinned or waved at him after Jason glared or snapped, it wasn't malicious and it wasn't taunting. It wasn't ignorant either. Will must know what Jason was doing, Jason was certain. But at every move Jason made, Will simply took it in his stride. Sometimes he even had an understanding look in his eye like 'it's ok, I'm hitting on your little brother, I get it' or he'd back off for a little while with an easy shrug like 'whatever, I'm not relying on this one moment to make my move, I respect Nico's friend time'.

Jason wasn't sure whether to be infuriated or impressed.

He tried to explain this to Percy. Percy shook his head.

"Oh, no." Percy insisted. "We are not backing down this easy."

A curious gleam appeared in Percy's eyes. Determined and mischievous.

"So what do we do?" Jason asked.

Percy withdrew something from his pocket and held it up for Jason to see. It was a golden drachma. Percy grinned.

"We consult an intimidation expert."

-

Reyna

Reyna was hanging out in the Praetor's rec room when the Iris message came through.

Jason and Percy were sat on what looked like a bunk in the Poseidon cabin, their arms crossed and expressions serious.

Reyna straightened up immediately and frowned at them, alert and ready. "Hey guys. What's going on?"

"We need your advice." Percy said without preamble. Jason nodded.

"It's about Nico." Jason added.

Reyna quirked an eyebrow. Her battle instincts relaxed somewhat and she eased herself into a bean bag chair.

"Ok. I'm listening." she said.

The two boys exchanged a look, as if they hadn't thought this far ahead. After some kind of silent conversation, Jason took the lead.

"So we think that Nico might have a crush. On one of the campers here." He began.

Reyna blinked.

Ok. So that was… not what she was expecting.

Her mind ran quickly over the last couple of catch ups she'd had with Nico, scanning their interactions for new names Nico might have mentioned.

"It's Will Solace." Percy said, before she could land on that answer herself. "He's the head of the Apollo cabin."

"Right. That makes sense." Reyna said. When Jason and Percy looked at her quizzically, Reyna shrugged. "Nico never shuts up about him."

"Really?" Jason appeared momentarily distracted from his explanation of the problem. He leaned forward eagerly. "What does he say?"

Reyna narrowed her eyes at them. "Are you two trying to get gossip out of me? I didn't realise I was on the phone to two sons of Venus."

Jason and Percy exchanged highly insulted looks, which Reyna generously decided she would never mention to Piper.

"Why is Nico's crush on Will Solace a problem?" Reyna asked. "Does he not like Nico back?"

Reyna's stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought. From the stuff Nico had told her about how great Will was and the time they had started spending together, it certainly didn't sound like this crush was unreciprocated. But then again, Reyna had seen Nico's memories of his crush on Percy, and those early days had been plenty filled with romantic daydreams too. She hated to think that Nico might be in for another long stint of falling for a friend who didn't love him back.

Her uncertainty didn't last long however. Percy had scoffed at her suggestion and Jason was shaking his head.

"Oh no, he likes Nico. He likes Nico a lot. If anything we have the opposite problem." He said gravely.

"Your problem is… Nico has a crush on someone… and he likes Nico back?" she said slowly.

Percy nodded. "Exactly."

Reyna found her eyebrow quirking up once more. "I don't see the issue here."

Jason rubbed his palm against his face, knocking his glances askew and looking even more frazzled by whatever it is that was worrying him.

"The issue is that Will Solace is impossible!" He cried out in exasperation. Percy nodded again and threw himself onto his back on the bunk behind them in commiseration. Reyna tried not to laugh. She was still intensely confused.

"I thought that Will was pretty popular at camp?" She said. Her own memories of Will were positive. She remembered a warm smile and expert commanding of both the Greek and Roman medics, seamlessly coordinating the end of the battle against Gaia into a healing and rescue operation. She'd spent a bit of time with Frank in the infirmary after the battle and remembered being impressed with how calm and cheerful he had been with his patients, even though he must have been dead on his feet.

She also knew that Annabeth spoke very highly of him. That and Nico practically gushed about how nice he was whenever it came up.

Percy and Jason either did not seem to have these memories, or they did have them and they were somehow making all of this worse. Percy scowled and Jason's mouth twisted in distaste.

"He is popular." Percy growled out. "Obviously. He's impossible not to like!"

"Ok, so why is that a bad thing?" Reyna asked.

"Because he's been flirting with Nico!" Jason burst out, finally getting to the heart of the problem. "And everyone at camp is like egging them on which obviously makes Nico super uncomfortable, but then when we've tried to talk to Will about it he just ends up acting all reasonable."

Reyna frowned. Again.

"Reasonable." She repeated.

"Yeah!" Percy said, as if being reasonable was the very worst thing you could be.

"So uh… What exactly did you need my help with?" Reyna questioned.

Jason scooted forwards on his chair, all business.

"We need you to help us try and intimidate him." He said, clasping his hands together.

"Intimidate him?"

"Yes." Percy said eagerly. "We need someone to get through to him. Who better than Nico's toughest and most scary friend?"

"Thanks?" Reyna quipped.

"You're welcome." Percy said sincerely.

"You guys, why would I need to intimidate someone who is universally liked and who Nico also likes?"

"Because." Jason said, shaking one finger slightly manically in the manner of someone about to explain a conspiracy theory. "Because Nico is our friend. And he's been through a lot. Especially when it comes to his crushes-" He paused here to throw Percy a look, at which Percy had the decency to look guilty, "- and Will doesn't know that. And he said that he wasn't going to make a move on Nico when he clearly is!"

"Yeah!" Percy chipped in. "And we care about him so we need to warn him that if he does anything to hurt Nico we are going to kick his ass!"

It took a lot of physical restraint for Reyna to not roll her eyes.

"Jason, Nico is just as powerful as either of you. And way more powerful than me." She said. "Couldn't he just kick Will's ass himself?"

Jason shook his head and wagged his finger at her again. "Would he, though?" he said.

Reyna's first instinct was to laugh. But then she thought about it properly.

When Nico got hurt by monsters, or by assholes like Bryce Lawrence or Octavian, then sure, his tendency was to kick some ass…

But when Nico got hurt by people he cared about, well… He tended to blame himself. If Will Solace hurt him, it didn't seem all that unlikely that Nico might convince himself that he deserved to be treated that way.

After all, that's what he had convinced himself of in the past. That's what he was still trying to un-convince himself of…

Percy and Jason must have seen the shift of attitude in her face because they were both straightening up hopefully.

"Ok." She said slowly. "Ok, I see your problem. So what's so difficult about talking to Will about it?"

Percy leaned in eagerly. "Seriously, Reyna, this guy is literally impossible to psych out. Every time we've tried he either ignores us or laughs it off. He's like a wizard." Percy shook his head with a kind of starstruck look that Reyna had only seen on him when talking about Annabeth in combat. She fought another urge to laugh.

Jason wasn't laughing. He looked at Reyna through the Iris message with startling earnestness. Reyna pictured Will Solace in her mind and tried to conjure up everything she knew about him and other people she knew like him.

"Ok." She said, deep in thought. "Ok. Let me think on it. And the next time there's a visit from Camp Half Blood, I'll help you."

-

The next visit from Camp Half Blood turned out to be only ten days later.

Reyna, Frank and Hazel stood at the entrance to Camp Jupiter ready to greet them. When Hazel cried out and ran forward to wrap Nico in a hug, Reyna's eyes zeroed in on the blond kid who stood just behind Nico.

He didn't seem as relaxed as he usually did, which Reyna took as a good sign. But it could just be that this was his first visit to a new place.

Reyna and Frank greeted Chiron and the other campers. Almost all the year rounders were here, along with Percy and Annabeth who had tagged along to have their monthly Argo II reunion.

The trip had been arranged with Chiron to show the Greeks how things worked at Camp Jupiter, so for much of the first half of the day, Reyna found herself stuck firmly in Praetor mode. She and Frank sat with Chiron, Annabeth and Grover (the East coast's designated leader figures) at the welcome feast in the mess hall. Then, they led the entire camp on a highlights tour around Camp Jupiter.

The whole time, Reyna had one eye on Nico. He was usually wedged in at either Hazel or Will's side. In both cases he seemed relaxed and happy. Reyna did not miss the stolen smiles that Will kept throwing Nico's way, or the way he almost glowed whenever Nico laughed. At one of these moments, Reyna looked up to see Jason catching her eye. He nodded gravely.

Reyna knew she should be happy to see Nico so happy. And she was. Really...

But she couldn't get Jason's words from their chat ten days ago out of her head.

She watched the way that Will bantered with Hazel over the feast, making Hazel throw her head back with laughter, utterly charmed. She watched the way this made Nico grin dopily at Will over his cup. On Nico's other side, Percy narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

It should have been funny. And honestly, Reyna really did like Will. She fully intended for them to be good friends, eventually. But she needed to have a more serious conversation with him first.

After the camp tour, Frank announced that he'd be conducting a more thorough tour of the barracks and armoury. The Ares kids eagerly agreed and Kayla bounced along at Frank's side, enquiring hopefully if he could include a swing-by of the archery range.

Reyna turned to Will then, locking eyes with Jason and sharing a knowing glance before she did so.

"Will, would you like to see our infirmary set up?" She asked.

If her overly formal tone bothered Will, he didn't show it. His eyes lit up at the suggestion.

"Definitely!" He agreed.

"I'll come." Nico piped up from beside him.

"No, Nico, you should go with Jason." Reyna said firmly. "He said he'd show the others Temple Hill."

Nico frowned. "But I've already seen Temple Hill."

Reyna scrambled for a reasonable excuse to give him.

"I uhhh, wanted your opinion on the placement of some new Underworld God shrines." Jason cut in hastily.

Nico's frown deepened. Reyna forced a fake smile which prompted him to throw her a deeply suspicious look.

"Right, well we'll meet you at the gates to the city later then!" She said in a falsely authoritative tone. Nico scowled.

Reyna turned to Will, who looked perplexed.

"Ready, Solace?"

Will, bless him, smiled at her. "Sure." He shrugged.

-

In the infirmary, Reyna found it tricky to maintain her resolve.

As Annabeth, Percy, Jason, Piper and of course Nico had all pointed out to her, Will Solace was infuriatingly nice.

Will's smile was like sunshine personified. Which, she supposed, he basically was.

When they arrived, Will greeted his Roman half-siblings warmly. Rather than attempt to maintain the authority he had commanded in the Camp Half Blood infirmary, he quickly shifted into a polite and inquisitive guest, asking lots of intelligent questions and complimenting their storage systems.

He was excited to meet Pranjal again, the son of Asclepius and the head of Camp Jupiter's infirmary. Pranjal explained to Reyna that Will had been told by Apollo that he shared many of the powers of Asclepius, which was quite rare for a child of Apollo.

"Had to be some benefits to completely missing out on any music or archery talents." Will quipped.

Annoyingly, Reyna suspected that even this comment was simply Will being humble. At one point when one of the Apollo legacies threw a bottle of unicorn draught over for Will to inspect, he caught it in one hand effortlessly and later threw it back across the room without even looking. His aim was perfect.

He chatted to the Apollo and Asclepius children and legacies about Apollo himself and whether anyone had heard from him. When he talked about his father, Reyna saw genuine worry and care in his eyes. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen from a demigod towards their godly parent.

When Will spoke to Reyna he was cheery and unaffected by her military posture or Praetor's regalia.

Usually Reyna liked it when campers treated her like everyone else, rather than revering her in her position. But she couldn't help but think that in this particular scenario a little reverence would have been to her advantage.

They walked up the road to New Rome together, just the two of them, and Reyna picked her moment.

"Listen, Will." She said sternly. She drew herself up to her full height and straightened her cloak. Will was walking beside her, completely at ease. His body language did not change when Reyna adjusted her tone. "I was talking to Jason over Iris message last week." She began.

"Ah, is this about Nico?" Will asked. His eyes sparkled knowingly. He reminded Reyna of one of the older legacies that ran an intro to self-defence class for new campers: always one step ahead of everyone, but never flaunting his power.

"I-" Reyna scowled at him. "Yeah. It is actually."

Will laughed, though Reyna didn't miss his blush.

"Jason's been giving me his wolf stare for like a month now. I figured he'd maybe talk to you about it." Will spoke as if he was talking about the weather, or a camp chore schedule. "It's ok." Will chuckled. "Go ahead and give me the speech."

Reyna opened and closed her mouth, then steeled her resolve, refocusing. She wasn't going to let him psych her out.

"Look, I know you're not an idiot, Solace." She said brusquely. "And neither is Percy or Jason. They know you've been messing with them."

Will had the nerve to look curious at that.

"But I am not messing around here." She pressed on. "Nico is the bravest kid I know. Possibly one of the bravest demigods ever."

She glared full force at Will, daring him to respond. Will's face remained smooth and calm.

"I agree." He said softly, eyes not leaving Reyna's face.

"He doesn't trust easily." Reyna continued. "But you, with all your healing and diplomacy, have convinced him to trust you. And, I'm not saying you're not trustworthy. Obviously, the kids at Camp Half Blood all respect you. And I'm not saying that Nico can't make his own decisions, because we both know what he'd do to us if either of us tried to suggest that to him." Here, Will let slip an amused smile, looking a little lovesick in a way that further sharpened Reyna's focus. "But Solace, listen."

She stopped walking and grabbed Will's shoulder with one hand. Will was strong but Reyna turned him around to face her easily. She took a step closer. She was taller than him, just, and used the full weight of her Praetor authority as she locked eyes with him.

"You don't understand yet how much it means to have Nico di Angelo trust you. But if you're lucky, one day you will."

Will seemed to let that sink in. He still didn't look intimidated, though he was listening intently.

"Now, I'm not telling you what to do, Solace. But I am telling you this." Reyna ramped up the ferocity in her stare, channeling her training with Lupa as best as she could. "If you do anything- if you make one move that proves to me that you're not deserving of that trust. If you make one mistake and you hurt him, then Nico won't be the only one with an intimate knowledge of the Underworld. You got that?"

Will's eyes widened as she spoke. He leaned away ever so slightly. And for one glorious moment, Reyna thought she had succeeded.

And then, that sunshine sparkle returned to his clear blue eyes.

And Will Solace laughed.

The way he was was smiling at her… He looked almost fond.

"I can see why Nico likes you." He said warmly. His arm and shoulder was relaxed in Reyna's grip.

Reyna's jaw dropped even as she tried to scowl at him.

"You think this is funny, Solace?" She growled.

Will shook his head, still laughing. "No, no, of course not." He assured her. "I believe that you'll hurt me. I just really don't think you've got anything to worry about."

He looked so sure, so innocent, so smitten with Nico. It pissed Reyna off.

She glared at him again and stuck out one foot, pushing against the back of Will's calf and knocking him off balance. He cried out but Reyna maintained her grip on his arm so he didn't tumble to the ground with too much force.

Even so, he was on the ground. He looked around, disoriented, from his newfound horizontal position. Reyna towered over him.

"I told you I wasn't messing around." She said, one hand on her dagger hilt. Will instantly raised his hands in surrender, though his smile did not waver.

"I know, I know, I believe you!" He said quickly. He pushed himself up into a sitting position, but let Reyna maintain her position standing over him. His grin slowly softened. "Listen, you're a really good friend. But I promise, I'm not messing with you."

Reyna maintained her glare. Will remained unaffected.

"Seriously, Reyna. The last thing in the world I would ever do is hurt Nico. Swear it on the Styx and everything. Or on the Tiber, or whatever body of water it is that you make oaths to over here." His mouth twitched at the joke.

Reyna's resolve was slipping, though she was still annoyed that her intimidation tactic was proving so ineffective.

Will seemed to understand her dilemma. He leaned backwards, giving Reyna even more height on him, and held out one hand in a truce.

"I'll make you a deal." He said confidently. "If I ever hurt Nico, I'll report straight to you to get what's coming to me. I'll even swing by Hazel, Percy and Jason afterwards too, as a bonus."

Infuriatingly, he winked.

Despite it all, Reyna felt her frustration reluctantly ebb away. She leant forward to clasp Will's hand, hauling him up to his feet as she did so.

"Throw in a report to Annabeth, Solace, and you've got yourself a deal." She smirked.

At that, a kind of worry passed ever so briefly over Will's face. Reyna felt a brief stab of competitiveness.

Damn you, Chase.

Before she could think on that any further, the moment had gone. Will was smiling his sunny grin at her and firmly shaking their clasped hands.

-

Later that day, Percy and Jason joined Reyna where she was sitting with a mug of her favourite hot chocolate.

"How'd it go?" Jason asked quietly. He glanced surreptitiously around them to make sure no one was watching.

Reyna let out a sigh. Together, they watched Nico and Will chatting animatedly, walking alongside a thoroughly bemused Frank Zhang.

"I think it's time we gave it up, boys." She said, finally admitting defeat. "You were right. Will Solace is impossible not to like."

#super long oneshot #FanFiction WIP #headcanon #Nico di Angelo protection squad #Nico di Angelo #Will solace #Pining #will solace pining #solangelo #will and nico #nico and reyna friendship #nico and percy friendship #jason and percy friendship #jercy vibes though i won't lie #nico and jason friendship #will solace is a sweetheart #nico has good friends

[pitterpatterpot]

Hi if you're still taking prompts I would love a slightly angsty one shot (kinda imagine gavriel snapping at aedion) but it's completely up to you! I love how you write their dynamic x

31, 51, 79 ,122 ,197 and 202 all seem angsty (but you don't have to do all of them) xx

Not gonna lie, this completely got away from me and hit some deep spots.

~~~

31. “Don’t tell me how to calm down, you calm down!”

51. “Those things you said yesterday.. did you really mean them?”

79. “I think you’re just afraid to be happy.”

122. “Just leave me alone!”

197. “You are so infuriating.

202. “I’m not going to apologize. I can’t anymore.”

~~~

“Aedion, try to remain calm,” Gavriel winces.

“Don’t tell me to calm down, you calm down!” Aedion snarls, banging on the metal door of the small room they’ve been confined in. “Fenrys! Rowan!”

The sounds of his fist slamming against the door echoes through the small space, the hidden room in the liars temple just large enough to hold the two males. The door had immediately snapped shut behind them when they had gone to investigate, locking the two of them inside and halting their search for any left over explosives.

That had been half an hour ago.

“They’ll realise we’re in trouble when we don’t meet them at the entrance,” Gavriel attempts to soothe his son. “Aedion, breath.”

“I am,” Aedion glares, then softens. “I’m just... I’m not the largest fan of spaces this small.”

“I know,” Gavriel sighs, shifting uncomfortably. “Neither am I. We can only wait and be hopeful.”

“You’re right,” Aedion huffs, then grins. “Want to bet who will find us first?”

“You are so infuriating.”

That ushers a laugh.

“Do you think we should apologise for wandering off?” Gavriel questions.

“I’m not going to apologize. I can’t anymore,” Aedion murmurs in defeat, earning a concerned look from his father.

One hour in and both males are sitting against the walls opposite each other, idly talking. Aedion has a wide grin in place as his father struggles not to smile.

“So you and Kyllian-“

“Stole all of the generals whiskey,” Aedion laughs. “The bastard had it coming after all his prejudices.”

“Did you have respect for any of your elders or superiors?”

“They had no respect for me, so I had none for them.”

Gavriel nods, deep in thought. Aedion can see the conflict on his face. He raises a brow in prompt.

“How much of it was disrespect and how much of it was rank?” Gavriel asks. “You can’t be expected to be treated with the same reverence as a general as soon as you step into a war camp. You may have been overstepping at times. Some of those men must have deserved respect.”

Something in Aedion’s face shutters and Gavriel hastily scrambles to find standing. Just as he begins to form a semi-passable thought the door swings open, Fenrys and Rowan looking in on concern.

“You two alright?” Fenrys fusses. “Are either of you hurt?”

“We’re fine,” Aedion grins, jumping to his feet. “Ready to go.”

He offers his hand, and Gavriel takes it to stand. Despite the easy going nature of Aedion’s steps, Gavriel still feels something heavy settle in the pit of his gut.

~~~

Gavriel is familiar with guilt. It’s something he’s felt all throughout his lifetime.

But it’s a punch in the gut with the way Aedion swallows and averts his gaze.

“Those things you said yesterday.. did you really mean them?” Aedion asks, looking down at the gardens from the balcony they inhibit.

“No,” Gavriel stresses, linking his hands together. “At least, not in the way I think you think I did. Aedion, I was in no way trying to praise those who had hurt you.”

“I understand,” Aedion ducks his head. “I’m sorry, it hit a nerve. I don’t understand why I just- why these things hold on.”

“I think you’re just afraid to be happy,” Gavriel states, voice low.

His son spins to stare at him, eyes wide. A faint look of anger, disbelief and surprise all mix in his gaze. The tension in his broad shoulders and the hand gripping the balcony railing betray his anxiety at the statement. Something in Gavriel yells at him to halt, to not speak, but another part urges him onwards with a desperate cry.

“I am happy,” Aedion swallows.

“You are,” Gavriel agrees, “but you’re afraid to be. I know what it’s like, to find joy and be afraid to experience it out of fear of it being snatched away. Or to think you do not deserve it.”

Aedion looks away, grief twisting over him. Gavriel resists the urge to reach out, keeping his own stance calm and steady.

“You had to take on so much responsibility at such a young age,” Gavriel continues. “That leaves scars. Scars in the form of always evaluating yourself by made up levels of success and achievement. Of only valuing yourself when you achieve some kind of goal because there is no conceivable way your best could be good enough.”

Both of Aedion’s hands grip the railing now, the general staring straight ahead, jaw flickering. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And you don’t want to admit how deeply your own self loathing is,” Gavriel pushes forward. “All children who were raised in violence or high expectations experience it. A deep seed of questioning and constantly belittling your own self worth unless you are impressing or aiding another person. No matter how often you tell yourself you are over your past experiences, no matter how little help you say you need while still looking to others for approval. It’s dependency under the illusion of independence. It’s parasitic and ingrained in you and it will feed off you until there is nothing left if you do not break free of it.”

Aedion shoves himself away from the balcony, fire in his eyes. “Enough.”

Gavriel shakes his head, his own heart cinching painfully. “You are not valued by the benefits you bring others. You hold no responsibility to protect every single person you love and you certainly have no sentence of staying miserable for the rest of your life-“

“-Gavriel-“

“-just because you’re afraid of who you might be without your pain!” The Lion finishes, stalking towards his son as he near pleads with him.

He sees his words struck a chord with his son, sees the way Aedion’s mouth twists from shock into a scowl. The Wolf of the North turns and makes to storm off the balcony.

“Aedion-“ Gavriel reaches out.

“Just leave me alone!” Aedion roars, eyes glassy as he slams the balcony doors behind him.

#tog #aedion #gavriel #ask #no happy ending this time #as awful as it is sometimes you just gotta say/hear it #family feels

[write-r-die]

Prisoner - Part 2

Masterlist

Medieval AU

- Norman Invasion of England:

Henry Cavill is a respected Norman baron who has been tasked with finding Thomasin, an ill-tempered Saxon noblewoman, and returning her to London so the king can marry her off to a cruel Norman invader. The two grow close during the long journey, and Henry puts his own life in danger (more than once) to protect the woman he loves.

Warnings: mention of rape, a bit of smut

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll have to stop you,” Henry said with a wicked grin. “We don’t want the whole camp to hear you whimpering for me, do we?”

“I’ll be quiet!” Thomasin whined. “Please don’t make me stop.”

Henry leaned back. “Go on, then.”

Thomasin sighed with relief and bucked her hips forward, grinding her center against the knight’s firm, thick thigh.  

She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten into the Norman’s tent, let alone how she wound up straddling him, skirts hiked up over her hips to allow for freer movement. 

She hastened her movements, desperately seeking more friction as warmth coiled in her lower belly.

“There’s a good girl,” Henry cooed. His smile was still teasing, but there was tenderness in it too. “My good girl. Thomasin.” She couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. She concentrated on her movements, on Henry saying her name over and over, his voice growing louder with each iteration. “Thomasin. Thomasin.”

“Thomasin!”

She woke with a start, gasping for air after her climax was ripped away mere moments before it happened. She was so shocked that she might’ve fallen from the horse if Henry wasn’t holding onto her. He was far too close for comfort, especially after that dream. The dream! Thomasin was convinced he knew about it. Why else would he wake her? 

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Henry said. He kept his pale sapphire eyes straight ahead rather than glancing down at the young lady in his lap. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No,” Thomasin snapped defensively. She took a deep breath to calm herself. It was far too early to quarrel by her reckoning, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “Why do you ask?”

Henry shrugged one shoulder. “You were restless, to say the least.”

Oh, God. “How so?”

He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. “You were making an awful lot of noise.”

What on earth did that mean? Was she whimpering or moaning like a whore? Did she call out Henry’s name? Or was she snoring and snorting like an old man as her sisters had often accused her? That would be embarrassing, too, but she’d much rather be caught snoring than crying for a man to touch her.

“You should get used to it,” she said. “I quite enjoy the sound of my own voice, and I intend to make rather a lot of noise with it.” The end of her threat was lost in a yawn.

Henry chuckled quietly; Thomasin felt his chest bounce with laughter. She flushed with anger, grinding her teeth. She usually had such an easy time driving people off. She meant to infuriate the Norman, not amuse him. He knew this of course, and it only pleased him more.

He was pleased, too, that she seemed to have recovered from whatever dream was plaguing her. He could swear that she was weeping in her sleep, twitching and thrashing to fight off her imaginary attacker. He’d tried to soothe her as best as he could without acting inappropriately. He’d tightened his hold on her waist and tucked her up against him. At one point, he even hushed her and told her there was nothing to fear. He spoke quietly so the other soldiers wouldn’t hear him – perhaps too low for her to hear. She’d fallen asleep just before dawn and snored awfully until she started thrashing a few minutes ago. 

The snoring was loud enough for most of the men to hear. Henry had a hell of a time trying to bite back his laughter so he wouldn’t wake her. 

He woke her when it was clear that she couldn’t be soothed because he couldn’t stand to hear her cry. Henry hated weeping women, partly because they were a bloody nuisance, but also because he simply didn’t like it to see women cry, especially beautiful ones. 

It never occurred to Henry that Thomasin might dream of lovemaking. She was too pure for it. He could tell she was far more innocent than she let on. Thomasin presented herself as confident and worldly, but she had never spent a night outside of her castle’s walls, nor had she ever touched a man save for a kiss on the hand. That was all in the past now. She’d never see her home again, and the Cavill brothers, it seemed, had no qualms lifting or embracing her like a puppy. 

“It is only you and your two brothers, or do you have sisters as well?” Thomasin asked.

“I’m the fourth of five brothers. We have no sisters.”

“Five?!” She managed to turn enough in her seat to look him in the eye. “Your parents had five boys?!”

“Yes.”

She frowned and turned back around. “You’re jesting with me.”

“I’m not,” Henry promised. She could hear the smile in his voice. “Charlie!” he called over his shoulder. His brother urged his mount forward so he could ride beside Henry.  “Lady Thomasin doesn’t trust my word.”

“Oh?”

“She doesn’t believe me that we’ve two more brothers back in Normandy.”

“It’s true,” Charlie said. “Piers and Nik.”

“Good Lord.” 

Every nobleman in Normandy near Lady Cavill’s age must be kicking himself for not marrying her when he had the chance. What woman could be so beloved to God that He blessed her and her husband with so many boys, and didn’t burden them with any daughters?

“I can hardly tolerate one brother,” Thomasin said. “I can’t think of a worse hell than growing up with four Hammonds.” Not that she liked her two sisters much better.

The eldest, Stephanie, was Thomasin’s favorite. She had long since left the house to get married, but she was widowed after only a few months and chose to take the veil rather than letting her father marry her off again.

Perhaps Thomasin should’ve become a nun. It certainly sounded better than being handed off to the eldest son of her father’s cousin, a grand idiot with a sword who’d probably fall asleep on top of her. But living in a convent meant a great amount of being quiet and sitting still, and that was simply out of the question.

“Why did your king send you?”  Thomasin asked after a moment.

Henry smirked. “Am I not a good enough captor for you?”

She ignored his jab. “Why you, though? We were sure King William was sending his great terror for us.” It’s why all the women and children had fled the Latymer keep.

Henry wasn’t surprised that Thomasin had heard of Baron Lawrence. He was a fearsome enemy in battle and a devoted subject of his king – and about as kind as Lucifer himself. He gained infamy throughout England soon after the initial Norman invasion by making an example of a Saxon baron who refused to yield. He killed the baron, of course, and executed the baron’s sons when they refused to submit to the new king. That’s not what he was known for, though; that was simply the way of things when a noble family resisted.

He gained his reputation by beheading the baron’s wife and daughters, along with the servants who attempted to protect them. It was rumored that he allowed some of his soldiers to have their way with peasant and servant girls, and that some soldiers made the women’s husbands or fathers watch. 

Such a thing would be considered a war crime punishable by death if King William hadn’t pardoned him for it.

“The king didn’t think you would appreciate that,” Henry said slowly. “He thought you might be more inclined to cooperate with us.” The Cavills were gentlemanly, pleasant, and even-tempered, which made them ideal candidates to deal with the Saxon shrew.

“My lord!” one of the scouts riding at the front of the convoy pulled up just in front of Henry. “One of the lads found a place to camp for the night.”

“How far is it?” asked Henry.

“Quarter of an hour, I’d say. Maybe a half,” the scout replied.

Henry looked up at the sky. It was only the middle of the afternoon, but they’d been riding since before dawn without a single break. “Fine.”

“Thank God,” Charlie said. “It’s damn cold and I’m bloody fucking tired from all this riding.”

“Charlie!” Henry snapped. How dare he use such foul language in front of a lady!

Thomasin wasn’t bothered in the least. “I’m afraid England is always cold. If you wanted good weather, perhaps your Duke William should’ve invaded a different country.”

“It’s King William now,” Henry corrected. Thomasin made a noise of discontent. 

The spent the next twenty minutes in silence until they reached a clearing deep among the trees. Thomasin found a large rock to sit on while she waited for the men to set up camp. 

There were about a hundred men in Henry’s infantry. They split into groups of seven or eight to work building fires or tending the horses. A handful were erecting a tent with branches and fur pelts. Henry stood nearby, frowning fiercely with his arms crossed over his chest again. His tunic was loose, but holding his arms like that, flexing his muscles, made them fill out the sleeves so they were pulled tight across his muscles. 

Charlie stood next to his brother, talking quickly and animatedly about something Henry clearly wasn’t happy about. Good. Let him be miserable.

The bear-dog sat at his master’s feet, wagging his heavy tail and looking back and forth between the brothers as they spoke. He had the size and strength of a hunting or fighting dog but the demeanor of a lapdog.  He soon grew tired with the Cavills’ conversation and padded over to Thomasin. He sat down and looked at her expectantly. 

“I haven’t got anything for you to eat,” Thomasin said. The dog was unaffected. He opened his mouth, let his enormous pink tongue hang out between his teeth, and started breathing very heavily. “Go away, bear. I haven’t got anything for you,” she said again. The bear chose to lay down. “For heaven’s sake. “You must behave far more ferociously for people to respect you.”

The dog followed Thomasin around for the rest of the day, which she didn’t mind at all. She rather liked the thing. It seemed to please Henry, too; he could concentrate on his work without worrying about the girl. Kal would look after her. He could even do things that Henry and his men could not, most notably accompanying Thomasin into the woods so she could attend to personal matters.

Thomasin didn’t know this part of the country – she didn’t know anything beyond her father’s lands – but it seemed hospitable enough. She found a brook with cool, clear water and took the time to splash water on her face.

“Do you have a name, I wonder?” she asked Kal. “Or does your master simply call you Bear?” The dog wagged his tail in reply. Thomasin frowned at him. “Where does this brook go, do you suppose?” she asked after a moment. “I suppose it doesn’t matter, though. As long as it’s away from here.” She spent the walk back to camp plotting the route she would take through the trees when she made her escape, which she should probably do sooner rather than later.

Supper was ready when Thomasin finally returned: The men ate loaves of thick, unpleasant bread and dried strips of beef as they sat in small groups around the six fires they’d set up. Henry had something roasting over his fire.

“Do you like hare?” he asked Thomasin as she came over.

“Yes.” She sat down across from him. “Why did you go to all the trouble of catching it? I’m sure the food you brought with you would be plenty enough for me.”

Henry sighed. “In truth, dear lady, I worried you would complain over the quality of it. The bread has the consistency of tree bark, anyway.”

Henry cut up the rabbit when it was finished cooking. He gave one portion to himself, one to Thomasin, one to Charlie, and offered another to his dog in exchanged for performing a series of tricks. 

“Your bear has the temperament of a housecat,” Thomasin remarked. “I’ve never seen a fighting dog that acted like he does.”

“He’s not a fighting dog,” Henry said. “He’s a companion.” He was looking at her braid rather than her eyes. It seemed a small miracle that it could be so long and yet untangled. But he was more interested in the color of it. Thomasin’s hair was a pale strawberry shade in the sun, but it became a deep, rich copper as the sky grew dark. Henry couldn’t decide which shade he liked better. Either way, she had the trademark passionate nature redheads were known for; unfortunately, her passion exerted itself in the form of aggression.

He wondered if her siblings had the same hair. 

“I believe I’ll go to bed now,” Thomasin announced, rising to her feet. “Sleep well, gentlemen.” 

The tent was short but fairly wide. That surprised Thomasin. Why wouldn’t they make several small ones rather than one large one? Didn’t Henry and Charlie expect shelter?

 She got her answer a few moments later. 

Thomasin was just settling in for bed when the tent flap opened. Kal came through first. Henry had to crouch to get inside. He didn’t speak. He simply laid down on the other side of the tent and shut his eyes. 

Thomasin lay in silence for a few moments, waiting for him to explain himself. He didn’t. “What on earth are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep,” Henry replied without opening his eyes.

“In my tent?”

“This tent is in fact mine. I’m allowing you to share it as a courtesy.” He was tempted to open his eyes to see the expression on Thomasin’s face. He smirked at the very thought.

Thomasin wasn’t a killer, but she was quite sure she could cut off one of Henry’s fingers and feel no remorse. The man was a savage – an immature one at that. She may be his prisoner but she was not his whore or pet or plaything. But the only dagger in the tent was attached to Henry’s belt. Fine. She could wait until tomorrow to teach him his lesson. Most likely by shoving him off of his horse.

“You are positively indecent. I don’t know what you expect from me, but I assure you it will not happen. I’ll break your nose before I let you touch me. Aye, I will.”

“I have no doubt,” Henry said through a yawn. “Now go to sleep.”

“Do you know what?” Thomasin’s voice was deceptively mild.

Henry sighed. “No, what?”

“I believe your foul-mouthed little brother is more of a gentleman than you, and he is hardly a gentleman at all. Does your poor wife back in Normandy know she’s married a whore of a man with the courtesy of a donkey?”

“I have no wife.”

“Your intended, then.”

There was a pause. Henry opened his eyes and looked up at the roof of the tent. “I have no intended.” He did once, a beautiful young woman he showered with gifts and affection until she quite abruptly broke the agreement by marrying another. 

Thomasin bit down on the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling. She was pleased that he was unattached, but she couldn’t say why. What did it matter? “I’m not surprised,” she said. “Perhaps I shall ask my intended to castrate you once we’ve reached London”

Henry did smile at that. “Which intended? The unknown Norman baron William plans to saddle you with, or the Saxon coward that fled the moment our ships came ashore?”

“You know about Cerdic?” Her voice was more curious than accusatory. 

“Simon insisted we learn everything about you in case your brother or intended or some distant relation came to fetch you before we got to you.” Henry shut his eyes again. “It seems we had nothing to be worried about.”

There wasn’t much to say to that. Thomasin thought Cerdic was a horse’s ass and had once told him so. They didn’t like one another in the slightest, and it was no great loss for their engagement to be broken.

“Tell your bear to come to me,” Thomasin said.

“Why?”

“Because I’m cold and he’ll help keep me warm.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come to him. He stays by my side at all times. Or I suppose the two of us could come to you.”

The two of us! Well at least if he came close enough, she could grab the dagger at his hip more easily. Maybe she could stab him with it. Bastard.

“I’ll allow it.”

She lay on her side, facing away from them. The bear-dog fell to the floor with a great thump rather than taking the time to lie down gently. Thomasin scooched until her back was right against his. Henry lay down on the dog’s other side, his side pressed against the dog’s as closely as Thomasin was pressed to its back. 

“You shouldn’t be sleeping so close to me,” Thomasin chided.

“I was in your room with you when you changed your clothes and you’ve been sitting in my lap all day. I think we’re past the point of worrying about closeness, don’t you?”

“If you toss about in your sleep and get too close to me, I promise I’ll smack you.”

“Luckily for you, I’m a very deep sleeper. You’re the one that snores and kicks.”

“Goodnight, Henry,” she said pointedly.

“Goodnight, Thomasin.”

“Do be quiet, Henry. I’m trying to sleep.”

Henry chuckled; the sound warmed Thomasin’s heart. But it didn’t change anything. She wasn’t going to throw him off of the horse tomorrow; she wouldn’t be able to because she wouldn’t be there. She was going to escape. Tonight.

#henry cavill #medieval #au #actor #british #charles brandon #kal-el #clark kent #superman #geralt of rivia #man of steel #justice league #the witcher #the tudors #fluff #fic #fanfic #story #mission impossible #fallout #august walker #john lark #theseus #immortals fenyx review india #the man from uncle #napoleon solo #sexy #eventual smut #romantic #romance

[goth-surana]

The People Will Talk

Title: The People Will Talk

Pairing: Anders/Male Hawke

Main Tags: Secret relationship, banter

Summary: All of the main companions react to Hawke's new relationship, some before Hawke has even announced it. By the way, why hasn't he?

I participated in the 2021 Handers Gift Exchange run by @handers-time, here is my gift for @samsnak who wanted the companions commenting on Anders and Hawke’s relationship. I hope you enjoy!

Read on Ao3 or read under the cut

---- Part 1----

Merrill was more observant than people gave her credit for. Sure, she missed a lot of innuendos but that was just because they were different from the Dalish! She could tell a dirty Dalish joke with the best of them, but none of the others would get it.

Anyway, that was beside the point. The point was that Merrill seemed to be the only one of their companions who noticed that Hawke and Anders were a couple now. A very cute couple too, if you asked Merrill.

Anders was so much happier now, he looked less like a man holding up the weight of the world. He smiled more often, and his jokes didn’t have the same undercurrent of sadness.

Hawke was a tactile person, but he just could not keep his hands off of Anders. Not in a dirty way! Or, well, probably some times in a dirty way…

He took every opportunity to brush up against Anders, to put a hand on his shoulder, to give him a friendly hug. It was a wonder Hawke was fooling people at all with how obvious he was being.

That brought Merrill to the confusing part - they were keeping it a secret. Why? Why keep something so joyous a secret?

The group was off to Sundermount for some mercenary job Hawke took. Even with his mansion he still needed to pay for things, and he also couldn’t help but say yes whenever Kirkwall inevitably needed his aid.

Right now the group was clearing out a cave of spiders. Hawke had brought Anders, Merrill, and Fenris. A bit of a contentious group, but they were making it work. Hawke’s witty remarks had a way of defusing most situations.

“Even the spider guts on my clothes are covered in spider guts,” Hawke complained. “This cave had better have something of value in it…”

Soon enough they did find some locked chests, which Hawke went right to attempting to open. He fiddled with the lock a bit, but it wasn’t working.

“You know,” Anders offered, “I could just set fire to the thing and burn some of the wood away. Valuable treasure usually won’t burn.”

“Could be useful documents,” Hawke replied, his lock picking tools moving quickly.

“From what, a hundred years ago?” Anders asked. Hawke didn’t reply. He kept trying to open the chest and kept failing.

“One tiny tiny fire spell…” Anders reminded him, leaning against the cave wall and grinning. Even as Hawke grunted in frustration Anders looked at him fondly. Hawke wasn’t the only one who was obvious.

“Okay,” Hawke announced, “trying a new strategy.”

“Secret rogue technique?” Fenris asked him, a little sarcastically.

“Of course,” replied Hawke. Then, he picked up the chest and threw it across the room. It bounced off the wall and landed, not a dent on the thing.

Anders burst out laughing, which is something he never would have done before. Hawke looked over at him, and all frustration melted away. He wore a small satisfied grin, watching Anders laugh with open fascination. Oh creators, they were cute.

Eventually the group agreed to take the chest back to Varric and Isabela and see if either of them had better luck. The group decided to camp out that night in the cave since the sun was setting, and Merrill noticed how close to Anders Hawke put his bedroll. They could just be sleeping together if they weren’t trying to hide. It was quite silly, watching Anders look with open longing at the space between them.

At some point Hawke went out of the cave to gather some elfroot, and Merrill decided now was a good time to ask him why on earth he was hiding his relationship.

“Hawke…” Merrill said, walking beside him.

Hawke jumped, clearly not noticing her presence until just then.

“Maker!” He exclaimed. “You should wear shoes… why are you out here?”

Merrill grinned. “I just wanted to congratulate you! You and Anders,” she whispered.

Hawke was completely caught off guard, raising his eyebrows. “Me-me and Anders? What about us?”

“You’re together now!” Merrill continued. “Come on Hawke, don’t lie!”

Hawke let out a sigh, but then smiled. “Alright, alright. Yeah, we’re together now.”

Merrill let out a small squeal, clapping her hands. “Why ever are you keeping it a secret though?”

Hawke’s smile slipped from his face. “Anders. He’s nervous… about him getting me in trouble somehow. Lots of eyes on me, being the new blood in Hightown. I also don’t…. oh, never mind.”

It wasn’t like Hawke to sound that uncertain about something. Hawke always knew what he was doing, or at least looked and acted like it.

Right now he looked like he was holding onto something and desperately wished to unload that burden.

“Hawke,” Merrill chided gently, “you can tell me, whatever it is.”

Hawke considered her offer for a moment, an uncharacteristic look of vulnerability in his eyes that so often sparkled with mischief.

“I don’t know if he even knows how to be in a proper relationship,” Hawke said quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“Relationships are discouraged in the Circle,” Hawke explained. “So everyone had to be secret, and no couple were really an item exactly. It was all fleeting. This isn’t fleeting, but I don’t know how to tell Anders that.”

Well, the answer seemed obvious to Merrill. “Tell him just like you told me! You just said it.”

Hawke chuckled, slightly subdued. “I know, I know. Look, I may have a particular talent for running my mouth but I’d rather not be that careless with Anders. He deserves security.”

Merrill smiled. That was sweet, she thought. How ridiculous that Hawke was worried about this when he was clearly everything Anders needed.

“Well,” Merrill told Hawke, “however you have been handling Anders so far is-“

Hawke let out a snort of laughter.

“Stop it!” Grinned Merrill, realizing what she had said. “I’m trying to tell you something. I’m saying no matter what you’re afraid of, you’re good to him. I can see it, he’s so much happier now!”

Hawke’s expression was open, hopeful. “You think so?”

“I do think so, very much.”

—— Part 2 ——

Fenris and Hawke were drinking together at Fenris’s dilapidated mansion, trying to unwind from a stressful battle. Hawke had wanted company and a stiff drink but not the noise of the Hanged Man, so Fenris had offered his mansion as a suggestion.

Hawke was able to unwind quickly, going right back to his boisterous self. The man was somewhat infuriating and overly-witty, but he was Fenris’s friend. One of his closest friends.

It was getting late, and Fenris was just about to suggest they turn in for the night when Hawke says something that nearly makes him spit out his drink.

“I should really get going, don’t want to keep Anders up waiting.”

Hawke realized a second after he spoke what he had said, and just looked at Fenris for a moment. Fenris looked back.

“Fucking finally!” Fenris exclaimed, gesturing wildly. “Fasta vass, you two were insufferable.”

Hawke just blinked at him a few times. “Insufferable? Really, I know you don’t like Anders but-“

“Both of you,” Fenris clarified. “You, Hawke, were insufferable around the man.”

Fenris did not like the mage, he was not happy for the mage per se, but… he could be happy for his friend. And happy he could finally tell his friend what a lovesick fool he always looked.

“You two make doe eyes at each other from across the room, find any and all excuses to make physical contact, you stare at him when he’s not looking and he stares at you when you’re not looking - it was madness!”

Hawke still looked somewhat stunned, but seemed to be taking Fenris’s comments in stride. Maybe a little embarrassed. “I didn’t look that often,” he said.

Fenris actually laughed. “Oh please, you are the worse of the two!”

“Am not,” Hawke responded a bit drunkenly. He was slightly flushed, either from the alcohol or from embarrassment.

“What I am confused about is why,” Fenris continued, the wine making him bolder than usual, “are you not flaunting your sickening love to the whole of Thedas?”

“I don’t know!” Hawke said a little too loudly, waving a hand. “It’s...Andersdoesntwanna…”

“What?” Fenris asked. It was unlike Hawke to mumble. He said what he thought and made damn sure everybody heard.

“Anders wants to keep us a secret,” Hawke said, slumping his shoulders. He looked like a disappointed Mabari. How very Fereldan of him.

“And,” Fenris said, not quite believing he was actually trying to help Hawke figure out his relationship problems with the abomination, “you do not want to be secret?”

“Yeah,” Hawke frowned, leaning his chin on one hand. “Fenris, I wanna treat him right,” Hawke whined. “I wanna take him places and buy him flowers and-“

Fenris tuned Hawke out after that, waiting for him to finish his list of things.

“I had no idea you were such a romantic.” Truly, this was a side of Hawke he had not seen yet. Hawke was irreverent, not one for traditions like flowers.

“Well,” said Hawke, “mages don’t get to be romantic in the Circle. So I want to give him that. And I don’t know, I just… he deserves romantic gestures and all that.”

That was disgustingly sweet.

“But I can’t do any of that if we have to sneak around,” Hawke continued to complain. “And I don’t know why he’s so intent on keeping us a secret! It’s not the Circle anymore, no one will punish us for loving each other.”

“”Love” is it?” Fenris asked with an amused smirk. Hawke really did open up when he was drunk.

Hawke looked slightly mortified, but tried to collect himself. “So?” He asked defensively, “people fall in love quickly all the time. And it’s not like I just met him-“

“Certainly not, I have been there throughout the literal years of pining.”

Fenris thought he might have some idea of what the mage’s motivations were, but it was a little too close to empathizing with him… oh, fuck it he was trying to help his friend. He could imagine himself in the mage’s shoes for once.

“Hawke,” Fenris said gently, “have you considered…” ah, how to phrase this? Even going down this line of thought was a little too close to home for Fenris. He didn’t want to think of the past, did not want to admit to Hawke how it still clung to him.

“Have you considered that in some ways the man has not left the Circle?”

“Whadaya mean?” Hawke asked, squinting. Hawke had better not be too drunk to remember Fenris pouring his heart out to him.

“I… in Tevinter… at Danarius’s estate… the slaves were not permitted to form romantic attachments. Those who were found were punished or sold.”

Fuck, it felt like there was a rock in his throat. The damn things he did for Hawke… Hawke had better be grateful that Fenris was such a good fucking friend.

“I, even now…” okay, just breath. Just breath. “Find it frightening that I even have friends.”

There, he said it. Bandage ripped off, wound disinfected. It hurt, but it was over.

Except that Hawke still looked confused. Fucker.

“Just because the mage is out of the Circle does not mean his mind will operate so. Habits are hard to break. You said yourself that he has never known stability. He will resist it.”

Hawke frowned sadly. “That’s… wow. I’d never thought of it like that.”

He suddenly looked much more sober.

“Thank you, Fenris. And I’m sorry that you still struggle.”

Now the conversation was turned back on Fenris, and Fenris did not like that one bit.

Fenris took another drink.

—— Part 3 ——

Isabela gleefully stabbed her attacker in the throat, spinning around and slashing at another. There were a lot of Tal-Vashoth on the Wounded Coast, after the same bounty as them. Isabela tried to have fun during fights, it was better than fear.

Unfortunately her strategy began to fail as the battle went on. They were outnumbered, and even with magic aiding them it was a struggle. Finally, Isabela killed what she thought was the last enemy. She almost sank to her knees in relief, but that relief was short lived and cut off abruptly as she heard Anders scream out for Hawke.

Isabela whipped around to see Hawke on the ground with blood spilling from his chest. Anders was kneeling over him, putting pressure on the wound and casting. Fenris stood to the side, having just killed the man who injured Hawke.

Even though Isabela wasn’t a mage, she could tell something was wrong. The spell came in fits and bursts, unstable. Anders was breathing heavily, sweat beading on his brow. His mana must be running out.

Isabela wished they had been fighting someone who might carry a lyrium potion, because Anders was clearly out.

Isabela watched on helplessly as Anders’ mana made one final surge before the man collapsed across Hawke’s chest. Isabela ran to them, pulling Anders up and looking Hawke over.

The wound was closed. He was still covered in scrapes and bleeding from a few smaller cuts, but the main danger was over. Hawke opened his eyes, blinked up at the sky.

“Anders?” He asked, seeing the man leaning on Isabela’s shoulder.

Anders shot up at his name, and then something unexpected happened. Or rather, very expected but startling nonetheless.

Anders grabbed Hawke by the lapels, pulled him up and kissed him hard.

Isabela just stared for a moment, but then began to clap. That was certainly a good ending to a fight. It was just like them to need a life or death situation to finally - wait.

Wait. Hawke didn’t look surprised, just stared up at Anders lovingly. Wait a minute.

“How bloody long have you two been together and I didn’t know it?” Isabela asked in exasperation and amusement.

Both men turned to her. Anders averted his eyes, Hawke just laughed.

“About a month,” Hawke said, still sounding somewhat out of it. He still managed to sound casual though.

Anders covered his face with one hand and groaned.

“Now everyone will find out,” he sighed. “You certainly won’t keep your mouth shut…”

“I can keep a secret,” Isabela replied haughtily. She was still grinning, caught up in the rush of a finished battle and the relief her friend was okay.

“I already knew,” Fenris shrugged. Now Isabela wanted to know how that happened.

“Fenris knew before me?” Isabela protested at the same time as Anders turned to Hawke and asked “Really? You told Fenris?”

“Didn’t mean to…” Hawke said sheepishly as he slowly sat up. “I was a little drunk.”

Anders was still grimacing, avoiding the eyes of his companions. For someone so unapologetic, he was adorably shy about this. Isabela simply had to tease him.

On the way back Fenris had to carry Hawke on his back, as Hawke was still quite injured. Anders had offered to carry him, saying he was stronger than he looked as a Grey Warden, but Hawke insisted that he had overworked himself healing. Anders relented, walking silently beside the group.

“So,” Isabela asked, “which one of you asked the other out?”

“Oh Maker,” Anders muttered, “here we go…”

“I bet it was Hawke,” Isabela continued, “you’re too mopey and sad to say something first. Although lately you’ve been better, which I’m guessing has something to do with Hawke.”

“Yes,” Anders replied, blushing and still frowning,, “Hawke makes me happy.”

“Awww,” Hawke said, grinning.

“It’s also about time you got laid,” Isabela continued with a wicked grin.

“You have no boundaries whatsoever,” Anders complained. “None at all.”

“Hawke, you’d better be good,” Isabela said. “He deserves good.”

Hawke just laughed. “I’m the best.”

“Sure, sweet thing,” replied Isabela. “I’ve never met a man who didn’t think so.”

What followed was a playful argument about Hawke’s prowess, which was only ended by Anders declaring “Alright yes he’s good! Now shut up.”

Isabela grinned. Fenris made a disgusted face.

“You must cease this conversation until you are not on my back.”

“Save it for when Anders is on his back,” Isabela agreed, nodding.

“I hate you all,” muttered Anders. “See, this is why we were secret!”

“They’ll get over it,” said Hawke, unusually giddy for a man who almost died. If Isabela had to guess he was riding the high of being public with his relationship. Hawke always had to be the center of attention.

“What are you smiling for?” Anders asked Hawke.

“What? Can’t I be glad that I can finally talk openly about my handsome, kind, talented, sexy, selfless, amazing-“

“Oh Maker please stop!” Anders pleaded, blushing hard. He was so pale he couldn’t hide it at all.

“-Striking, strong, perfect boyfriend?” Hawke finished with a pleased look.

This was great. Isabela was absolutely loving this.

“Save it for your mansion,” Fenris grumbled.

“You two finally agree on something!” Isabela smiled, nudging Anders.

“Lucky day indeed,” the man replied. Then, “Varric will be the worst.”

“Oh definitely,” Isabela nodded, “he’s going to ask all sorts of questions. Better prepare your answers.”

“What’s to prepare, we can just tell the truth,” said Hawke.

“I’m not telling him about my sex life, that’s the limit,” Anders declared.

“Then hope Hawke swears off wine,” added Fenris. “He’s chatty.”

Anders looked over at Hawke, raising an eyebrow.

“I’ll not say a word,” he promised. “As long as I can keep talking about my special, sweet, beautiful-“

“Maker...,” Anders muttered again as Hawke went on another tirade of Anders’ good qualities.

Isabela spent the rest of the trip needling the pair with questions. Eventually even Anders started to smile, though he hid it well.

—— Part 4 ——

Aveline saw the absolute last person she wanted to when she responded to a claim of a bar brawl. Hawke. Of course it was Hawke.

He was slumped against the wall, face sporting a black eye and a bloody nose. The other guy didn’t look well either, leaning against one of his friends who also looked worse for wear.

“I’ll take him,” Aveline sighed to her fellow guardsmen.

Aveline led Hawke away, letting her friend put an arm around her shoulder to steady himself.

“You owe me yet another favor,” she grumbled.

“I’ll help with an investigation or something,” Hawke replied flippantly.

“Eventually you will run out of favors from me. What got into you this time?”

Hawke tensed beside her, stopped walking.

“He was a Templar, talking some shit about the mages under his “care””, Hawke sneered the last part. “Thought of them like animals, wasn’t afraid to let the whole bar know it. Bastard needed a good punch in the face.”

Aveline sighed. Hawke didn’t used to be like this.

“Hawke, that sounds like none of your business,” Aveline reminded him. “He wasn’t attacking you, you’re not even a mage.”

Hawke pulled away from her, stumbling slightly. “Bethany is, Anders is!”

“Bethany would not want you fighting Templars, she is perfectly at home in the Circle. Do not make this about Bethany, I know full well who is causing you to act like this.”

“Like what?” Hawke argued, “like someone willing to stand up for what’s right?”

“Like a troublemaker,” Aveline answered.

“Sometimes trouble needs to be made, it’s better than staying silent.”

Aveline rolled her eyes. Hawke was a ruffian at the best of times, and his new relationship was making him even worse.

“That sounds like a line straight from his manifesto,” Aveline replied.

“And that surprises you?” Hawke asked, raising his voice. “It surprises you that I support the man I love?”

“I had hoped,” Aveline told him, “that perhaps you would be a good influence on him. It appears he has influenced you.”

“You just want him silent, compliant, like all the rest!” Hawke snarled. This was worse than Aveline first thought.

“I do not hate mages,” said Aveline. “You know that.”

“But you don’t support them,” said Hawke as he leaned on a brick wall to take pressure off of his injured leg.

“I don’t support madness, needless violence.”

“You’re fine with me,” said Hawke. “Am I so different? I may live in Hightown now but I’m still a mercenary.”

Aveline contemplated this. It was true that her friendship with Hawke was somewhat...strained, but they had been through a lot together.

“You’re like family to me, Hawke,” Aveline decided on saying.

“Well Anders is my family now,” said Hawke. “And I won’t sit by while some asshole talks shit about my family. He needed a reminder to keep his shitty opinions to himself.”

“Hawke,” Aveline sighed. “Let’s just get you home. You’re still hurt.”

Aveline didn’t want to fight about this, they would never see eye to eye. This new development did worry her though. At first Hawke’s biggest flaw was that he cared too little, he breezed through life on nothing but witty one-liners. Now it seemed he took things too seriously, or at least believed that needless violence was the answer.

But as Aveline had said before, Hawke was her family. Hawke may flaunt his disregard for law and order constantly, may live by his own bizarre moral code…. but he was family. Aveline looked out for her family.

Hawke begrudgingly threw an arm around her shoulder, knowing he needed the support. The walk back to Hightown was awkward, neither of them speaking.

Aveline knocked on the mansion door, and a startled Bodahn answered. They were quickly ushered into the living room where Hawke collapsed ungracefully to the couch.

“Hawke?” Came the voice of Anders. “It’s about time you got home, I was getting w-“

Anders, looking a little sleepy and wearing Hawke’s house robe (which was enormous on him), rounded the corner.

“Maker’s breath, Hawke! What happened?” Anders rushed to Hawke’s side and sat next to him on the sofa.

“He fought a Templar,” said Aveline.

“Two Templars,” Hawke clarified. Anders looked mildly horrified.

“And why did you think that was a good idea?” He asked, placing a hand delicately on Hawke’s cheek as he began to heal the bruises on his face.

Hawke rattled off the same story he told Aveline, all the while Anders fretting over him and admonishing him for putting himself in danger. Unstable as he was, at least Anders knew how stupid what Hawke did was.

“This isn’t your fight, love,” Anders told him sadly. “When-“ he glanced over at Aveline, considering, but then continued talking to Hawke anyway.

“When we became involved I never wanted this for you! I want you to be safe, and my life isn’t safe!”

“It is too my fight,” Hawke replied. “It should have been my fight a long time ago, but it is now. I’m the son of a mage, brother to a mage, and now the lover of a mage.”

Anders bit his lip nervously, still looking upset.

“So what if I get into a few scrapes,” Hawke continued, trying for levity. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. And now I have a handsome healer to patch me up.”

Aveline pulled a face. “You can flirt when I’m gone.”

Aveline made for the door, but before she left she looked back a moment. Hawke was still trying to keep Anders from worrying, saying some nonsense or another. Anders continued to heal him, looking at Hawke with more care than anyone else did.

Maybe in a way, Anders was good for Hawke. Hawke looked after others, and until now no one was there to look after him.

Anders may be volatile, may be trouble, but… Aveline could see the devotion in his eyes. He may be dragging Hawke into trouble, but she could see he would do whatever he could to drag Hawke back out of it safe. Hawke needed someone like that.

—— Part 5 ——

Varric was waiting in Hawke’s living room, dressed far better than he ever had before. Kirkwall was throwing a party in Hawke’s honor after he was declared Champion, and Hawke had made sure all his friends got invitations. Varric had come to Hawke’s mansion to help him get ready.

“This is a bad idea,” came Anders’ voice from a room away.

“Nonsense!” Hawke replied jovially as he donned his fancy new coat. “Come on, show me how good you look!”

Anders entered the living room, wearing attire worthy of Hightown in a deep navy color. It looked striking against his pale skin and blonde hair.

Hawke whistled, and Varric could see why.

“You clean up nice, Blondie.”

“Hey, back off,” Hawke laughed.

“Told you, not into humans.”

Hawke continued to grin and Anders continued to look worried.

“I...I’m not sure I should go,” Anders said. “Everyone will be watching you, and a great many of them probably saw me use magic during the invasion.”

Hawke’s expression softened, but he still smiled. “Love, I couldn’t face those nobles without you.”

Anders didn’t look convinced. He wrung his hands nervously, not meeting Hawke’s eyes. “The Knight Commander will be there.”

“I won’t let her touch you,” Hawke said, voice suddenly hard.

Anders let out a sad laugh. “I’m not entirely sure you’re in control of that, love. But besides that you need to make a good impression on all of Kirkwall and that includes the Templars. You taking me with you as your guest is just...it’s as if you’re declaring…”

“That I love you?” Hawke asked, slightly incredulous. “I damn well hope that’s what it looks like I’m declaring, it’s what I’m trying to declare.”

Anders looked startled, his reply dying on his lips.

“You two are such a cliche,” Varric added, hoping to ease the tension but also unable to resist teasing two of his closest friends.

“If I wrote you into a story the reviews would all call it unrealistic!”

Hawke smiled, slightly abashed. Hawke was a shameless man, but when it came to Anders he was sometimes like a youth with his first love.

“Anyway,” Hawke said, his voice becoming serious once more. “I’m not hiding us. You’re part of my life, and those nobles can deal with it. I’m the fucking Champion, if that doesn’t let me dance with the man I love them what’s even the point?”

“You don’t like making things easy on yourself, do you…” Anders muttered, blushing slightly.

“I don’t care about easy, I care about you.”

Oh ancestors, they really were a cliche. It was so cute it was almost sickening.

“Writing that one down…” Varric smirked, indeed pulling out a notebook.

Anders frowned and Hawke laughed.

“I still don’t know about all this…” Anders said, voice soft and unsure.

“Anders,” said Hawke, getting to his feet and walking to him. He took the other man’s hands in his. “I want you there with me for all of Kirkwall to see. I want to be known as the lover of a mage because that’s who I am, and the world can screw itself if it doesn’t like seeing us happy. Your fight is my fight, always will be.”

Anders looked like he didn’t know how to respond for a moment. Then he spoke, only a soft “okay.”

Then promptly he decided he needed to check his hair in the mirror again and left.

“Your man’s a skittish one,” Varric told Hawke.

“Only about this,” Hawke sighed. “But one day he won’t be. I’ll make sure that one day he’s not afraid of happiness.”

“He’s probably more afraid of what could ruin that happiness,” Varric told his friend.

“If that were the only thing…” Hawke shook his head. “Well, I’ve got my work cut out for me, that’s for sure. Doesn’t matter though,” Hawke finished, smiling his usual carefree smile. “I’ll be with him ‘till the end, I’ve got time.”

Varric laughed at Hawke, fondly. “Maybe he’s just embarrassed because you say things like that. You truly have no shame.”

“The world’s got too much shame in it,” Hawke replied easily with a wave of his hand, “why add more?”

Varric decided to write that one down too.

—— Part 5 ——

“Come on Fenris,” said Isabela, leaning languidly against a pillar, her cleavage absolutely spilling out of her dress. “Admit it, they’re cute.”

She was looking out onto the dance floor where Hawke had finally coaxed Anders.

“They are repulsive,” Fenris huffed.

“They are not!” Merrill chimed in as she sipped from a champagne glass. “They’re adorable.”

Hawke’s band of misfits had somehow ended up all clumped together, enjoying the festivities but not the nobles.

“Well, I am happy for Hawke,” said Aveline. She wore her ceremonial armor, opting out of a dress.

“But I also saw the look the Knight Commander gave him. She’s not happy.”

“Lighten up,” said Isabela. “Hawke will be fine. He always is.”

“And I don’t think Hawke minds getting into more trouble,” said Merrill in a matter-of-fact tone, “certainly not if it’s for Anders. He does love showing him off.”

“Hey, it’s giving me more book material,” said Varric, “so I can’t complain.”

“I don’t know who is more shameless,” said Fenris, “you or Hawke.”

“Are you talking about my writing or Bianca?”

“Both,” Fenris said, a slight smirk on his lips.

The group watched on, somewhat captivated by how Hawke and Anders moved through the dance floor. It was a relief to all of them that the pining was now over, and they were all happy for their friends.

Anders had been right about their relationship bringing trouble, but Hawke was also right that he did not give a damn.

“Fine,” Fenris scoffed. “They are...cute.”

#handers #m!handers #anders/male hawke #anders/hawke #da fanfic