#fuck rationality ask them out on a day to watch the pink moon and tell them their beauty makes the gods question if they can ever

[starres-stuff]

FFXIV Writes 2023 | Day 18 | Fish out of Water

some adult humor/language contained within this post

Dimitri earns the nickname fish out of water

“Xixa what is this going to teach me?” Dimitri was supposed to work on fixing the stairs today, not that he had a clue how to actually fix stairs outside what he had read in the books that he borrowed from the Carpenter’s Guild in town. He knew he could have asked Laurent for a hand, but it was the beginning of the week and he would be preparing for another three-day duty. So instead he decided to learn how to be a handyman around his new home while letting Kit, his fox, run aimlessly in the falling leaves out in the yard. He soon found his plans dashed to pieces and his Fox wrapped around the Miqote’s pinkie finger as she was lavished with pets and good girls quickly turning her into a little brat or at least she would be later when he wanted to paint and she wanted to drape herself over his shoulder.

“It’s going to teach you to let me drink my tea for one, and for two how to focus that Aether of yours. You glow like a beacon across the road Sonny, need to tone that down before you piss something off. Not going to haul my old bones up here to save you every time.” a wide grin appeared on her face, the very grin he already came to detest because it always arrived right after she had either saved his arse again or knew there was no way for him to debate his way out of it.

“Xixa you are five cycles older than my partner. He walks malms a week without a complaint. Your bones are not that old.” He thought it sounded rational, until she threw her apple core at his head, resulting in a dead hit in the middle of his forehead. “OW FUCK” he yelled, only to find himself showered in acorns from above his head as if the tree was reminding him to watch his language or something.

“Your partner has a name, it is Laurent.” Xixa snickered, and then Kit snickered, even the fox was amused by the last few days a little too much and Dimitri felt betrayed because of it. This time he glared at the little creature who had captured his heart the day he met her and there she was sprawled across Xixa’s lap getting belly rubs, her tongue lolled out of her mouth.

“I feel like a fish out of water.” He grumbled as he picked acorns out of his hair and politely set them down on the ground. He had already been yelled at once for throwing them on the ground, and when he tried to toss them into the high grass the grass threw them back at him. He was beginning to wonder how generations of his family had managed to live here, with all the strange activity from the local spirits.

“Well, I’ll be damned, you do pay attention, look Kit he is setting them down carefully. By the way, you look like a fish out of water to me. Your sister didn’t look this bad when I first met her, did you? It is going to take me Moons to get the Sharlayan out of you. Shouldn’t be too hard at least, I’m sure Laurent knows ways to get it out of you.” She grinned at him again, this time it was even wider than the first time.

“Xixa! Must you?” That had been the other part of the three days her ability to turn anything into a healthy helping of innuendo. There were even tell-tale signs of pink in his cheeks and ears as Dimitri for all the bad flirting he had done in his day, and how sexy he found his partner still had not adjusted to open jokes about sex. It was just something that he had not experienced growing up or in Sharlayan at all.

“Well shit Sonny if you keep your panties in a bunch you are going to burn yourself out before you are my age. You need to learn to laugh at things as well.” She drawled out, then flicked a claw at a piece of apple stuck between two of her teeth. “This is the Shroud, not some stuffy City like the one I hear you are from. You can go on down to Druthers and know who is screwin’ who by supper. It’s normal! Hells bells it is healthy. There’s nothing to be afraid of, bet you’d be shocked if you saw your Laurent with the other Wailers wouldn’t you? We all grew up here! Most of us known each other since before I had tits.” she was about to say more when she saw Dimitri grimace again at her choice of words.

“Matron help this boy wedge the stick of cedar out of his arsehole? I’ve heard some fun things about stretching.” she paused, looked at Dimitri’s now red face, and then proceeded to add one “Never mind don’t want to ruffle your feathers again, Sonny. We’ll work on it. I’m pretty stubborn, you'll find not going to give up until you can give it back to me as well as I can put it out. Just have to get to the point that your mouth works before your brain. Life is too short for all that thinking. Live, Laugh and Fuck is what I tell my kids. Now let’s try that exercise again.” She quickly changed the subject, catching Dimitri so far off guard that the poor thing looked like he had whiplash.

“You are right.” The Duskwight hated to admit it, the words were so sour that he gave himself the shivers when he heard how they sounded. “I am a fish out of Water. I was raised in a very proper house. My adoptive parents certainly never told us to Live, Laugh and Fuck. I could not even tell them that I had very little interest in women or their life agenda for me. Which was Marriage, Children, Forum member by Forty. They have already sent people to look for me. My adopted Sister, Patience, is here somewhere in Eorzea. She has been calling my family linkpearl frequently for the better part of a week and a half. It is very likely she has one of my colleagues with her in case I have been led astray.” Dimitri wasn’t certain why it all came out, it just did, and when it was over he sat there looking mortified at the things he had said.

Xixa on the other hand looked as angry as one of those hornets he had been warned not to mess with. They were big things, with stingers that looked like they could pierce through your body before stinging you. It was said you died before you even knew you had been stung. “Over my dead damn body will you be going back to that. You are a grown man, Sonny, almost twenty-nine years of age. No one has a say in what or who you do at this point. You’ve found your birth family, their Sharlayan politics has no place in the Shroud and that is the end of that. Throw away that damned ear thingie of yours and forget those people even exist. Treatin’ people like property is a touchy subject around here. You even had a chance to talk to any of your roots yet? You think I can’t see the Duskwight on you? There’s things you need to learn from your Kin if any of them are still alive. I’ll sniff that out later. See who I can turn over in that part of town. Best part of being a Keeper, they tolerate us around here. Better than sending a Wildwood out to find out.”

Dimitri found himself flabbergasted by the woman, and then eventually he mustered the only word that he could: “Thank you. Vi hinted that my Father is still alive and here living in the Shroud, at least from what she read in Mother’s journals after her passing.”

“Tsk, don’t talk to me about your shrew of a Mother, Sonny. I was very close to your Aunt Doshaine. I know more about that woman than you think I do and I know damn well what wasn’t in that body anymore.” Another grin formed this one was filled with malice and then she pointed a bony finger at him.

“Let’s try the exercise again, and then I’ll make lunch, my little fish out of water.” To this, Dimitri tried but he soon returned back to what he had been doing before their conversation. His mind was still reeling from all that had been said.

#ffxivwrite2023 #ffxiv rp #my ocs #my writing #dimitri stories

[honeyyedtea]

giving my friends advice on how they should talk to their crushes based on how rom com worthy the situation is >>>>

[embrassemoi]

Surrounded by the Moon and Stars ✷ 22

Pairings: Sirius B, Remus L, [F]Reader      CW: Language, angst, violence, blood A/N: thanks for all the comments/asks xx

Chap 22 Playlist

【 Masterlist: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter 】

Chapter 22: How I'm imaginin' You

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March 15th, 1976

It was just over ten past eleven when they called it a day.

“Night, Reg! I’ll see you later!” Y/N called. Regulus beamed, waving back before scurrying in the direction of the Slytherin common room. For the past week, she had brought him to the small hidden room by the library she found over the winter break. Red and green blankets clashed together on the old couch, pillows and candles, books and even his violin was there. It became their — or mostly his safe place.

She’s kept quiet about their secret meetings, mainly because Regulus seemed so skittish at the mention of other people and simply because he was a Slytherin. It put her into a tricky position considering not many Slytherins were like Regulus — they weren’t nice to those of her blood status. Besides, house rivalry was no joke and honestly, Y/N was confused. What did he mean that he couldn’t be seen with her?

The bitter cold began to subside as April neared. The full moon had risen, nearing its peak as she walked through the empty corridors, way past curfew. Distantly, she could hear footsteps becoming louder but made no move to hide once the student came into view with no prefect or Head Boy or Girl pass. That was until the hunched figure seemed to drift closer, coming into her direct line of view. Once they passed, the student knocked into shoulder roughly, making Y/N stagger back into the rough jagged wall.

Crinkles formed in her skin, frowning. They knocked into her purposely. The first thing she took notice of was their tie, a Slytherin. Of course. But when her eyes continued to drift up, she wasn’t surprised to see who it was: Snape.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says, a nasty leer on his face.

“You better watch yourself. Must be obsessed with me.”

“Is that a threat?” It wasn’t, not really, but Snape’s ego is a fragile, fickle thing.

Snape stands taller, his shoulders squaring to appear intimidating but it does nothing but make Y/N’s lip curl up before suppressing it.

“Seems like it to you.”

Seething, his skin becomes an angry blotchy pink. Greasy hair never mattered to her, some people even rocked it but on Snape — anything on him seemed to irk her. His hair seems to stick to his face and an intrusive thought wiggles in and suddenly, she wants to ring it out — see if enough grease would come out so she could cook with it.

But, she readjusted her vision, observing the tight grip he has on his and that he managed to draw without her noticing. On instinct, Y/N slips her out too, her other hand ready to use wandless magic.

She remembers a long time ago, her mother always told her to never start a fight, but to finish it. She guesses that there wasn’t another other option but to listen.

“You’re foul — wretched trollop —” “What did you just call me?!”

Snape jabs a nasty finger into her shoulder before she slaps it down, hard. “You heard me, trollop. Things were so much better when you weren’t around.” His voice drops low, dripping in venom.

“Could say the same thing. I wonder if Lily knows the way you treat women when she isn’t around.” Y/N dangles the threat above his head for leverage. “I bet she would be in for a real shock if I told her.”

There was an ugly pause.

Snape’s nose flares and she would have backed down but since she hadn’t gotten to defend herself last time around Lily, there was no way she wasn’t going to this time.

Snape steps closer in a challenging manner. Eyes burned strong in detest that she even feels it. His hand trembles, going white from how hard he’s gripping his wand. A wild look crosses; he looks feral — like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.

A spell is already forming on his tongue before she raises her wand, throwing up a shielding spell she learned. A bright blue sheet, in the shape of an invisible dome explodes from the tip of her wand just as Snape shoots a spell. The curse is powerful, making her knees buckle. It was at that moment she realized that maybe she should’ve just walked away. Y/N was good at defensive charms — great — but not at offence charms and clearly, they were among Snape’s specialties.

As shoots another spell, Y/N focuses and puts all of her concentration into the shielding charm — so strong that it pushes Snape back roughly and an item from his pocket slips out, plummeting to the floor. In strong silver letters that made her skin raise with goosebumps, it read: The Dark Arts. The overpowering sensation of revulsion and outrage fuels her, beginning to shake.

“You’re a fucking freak,” she blurts.

It touched a nerve. “Watch it, you dirty little mudbl —”

Most people (and Y/N would include herself with them) like to think of themselves as rational beings; civil, thoughtful, just, benevolent, humane. However, when things ripped at the seams without a given warning, people — we — are no better than wild animals. Even if you don’t know it, there’s an animal inside all of us, waiting to pounce and protect.

Without a beat, filled with pure adrenaline, hate and shock, the protective spell fell and Y/N stormed up to him, drawing her entire arm back as her fist curled into a ball. In a flurry, she delivered a sharp blow as hard as she could in the nose.

There was a loud cracking sound that ricocheted through the corridor, simultaneously, thick blood gushed out of Snape’s nose like a waterfall. It sprayed all over their robes, the ground and covered her hand.

She winced in pain, flicking her wrist a few times, noting the skin splitting around her knuckles deeply. Her ears rang like a whirling fan, radio static, a hissing radiator as Snape stumbled back, a hand shooting up to stop the bleeding. His eyes were filled with tears.

“Call… me that again…” her breathing was ragging and voice shaky, “And we’ll see what else happens.” Before Snape could retaliate, Y/N spun around and dashed off to the Gryffindor common room.

Her footsteps echoed around as she felt her eyes sting with tears but made sure to squeeze her eyes shut. Out of all people, she wasn’t going to cry because of Snape.

She wasn’t a mu — a mudl — she wasn’t that. She was more than that word.

She needed to tell Lily.

Tears were replaced with anger. There wasn’t a single coherent thought that seemed to force its way out.

Before the Fat Lady had time to ask for the password, Y/N shouted it out, nearly ripping the portrait door off. The force resulted in a large — BANG! — then slammed shut and Y/N distantly heard the portrait yell.

She took a deep breath, bending over while a hand clutched her knee. Distracted, it caused her to miss the familiar boy sitting on the opposite side of the room who stood up.

Her fist began to ache once the shock slowly wore off. A quiet, dejected groan slipped out as she stared at her clothes. She must’ve looked insane.

The sound of the wooden floorboards creaked and Y/N peered up. There, dressed in all black clothing was Sirius, staring at her bewildered. His eyes scanned her entire body, noticing the rusty blood staining her white blouse and hand.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” She gritted out defensively. She wasn’t in the mood to be anywhere near Sirius, let alone hear another insult. Without the ability to think rationally, Y/N wondered if she’d had the restraint to not punch him if he said something idiotic.

Sirius’ brow raised, not expecting that response but didn’t bite back. “I — Merlin — what happened to you? Are you okay?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, attempting to shield herself and moved towards the stairs. “Like you care.”

“I don’t,” he counters quickly. But he sighed, gravitating towards her and lightly grasped her elbow. Y/N turns around harshly, ripping away from him.

“Who do you think you are? Don’t touch me!”

Sirius’ hands raised, signalling submission; similar to a prey to its predator. “I’m not going to hurt you and I’m certainly not going to let you bleed everywhere! Come, sit — I’ll patch you up.”

She eyed him warily, then closed her eyes. Y/N’s chest rose in irregular intervals, weighing out the pros and cons.

She’s heard that he’s gotten into fights and probably wasn’t lying about knowing how to patch up wounds.

He’s an asshole.

He didn’t like her.

She didn’t trust him

Why would he want to help her?

But the stinging sensation flooded in again. Y/N desperately sought to gauge for any underlying motive but Sirius was unreadable. If anything, his grey quartz eyes weren’t as hardened; more blue bleed in, looking brighter — her heart gave a little thump.

With a nod, Sirius gave a weak smile and led her to the couch closest to the fireplace for light. He told her to stay put, took his jacket, threw it on the couch opposite, then ran up to his dorm and grabbed a medical kit along with a bowl and cloth. Rushing back, Sirius set down his supplies and with a flick of his wand, the bowl was instantly filled with water, his hands sparkling clean.

Body angled to face her while sitting, Sirius gently took her hand and submerged the cloth in water, ringing it out, then diligently worked to clean off the blood.

Why didn’t he just use magic? He wouldn’t have to touch her then…

She burned more from his touch than the wounds themselves. When it came to James or Remus, there wasn’t anything that made her skin tingle or spike in sudden shyness when she touched them. But whenever Sirius was just near, she felt her heart speed up, palms start to sweat and brain go completely blank.

They sat in silence. Every now and then, Sirius would glance up. Only when he had a disinfectant, he flicked his hair out of his face, seeming to be in deep thought and spoke;

“What happened?”

Y/N remained quiet, a faraway look now settled in her eyes. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that she broke Snape’s nose. She’s seen what broken noses looked like — she grew up colouring nose and sinus anatomical charts in the O.R gallery while she waited for her mom to finish surgery. She was in deep, deep trouble if Snape were to rattle. Detention, house points, expulsion — a possible criminal assault charge.

Shit.

“Hey, Y/N.” He placed a hand on her knee, the cool metal of his rings seeped through her stockings. That caught her attention. That was the first time he’d ever said her first name. His voice was soft — the softest he’d ever spoken to her before. “It’s okay, you don’t need to tell me but I promise I won’t tell a soul. Not even Potter or Evans. It’ll be our little secret.”

She breathed, “I… um —” She stopped and Sirius gave an encouraging squeeze. “Snape, he… he called me a you-know-what and I…” The rest was self-explanatory.

Sirius’s body became stiff. There was a subtle change in his micro-expressions as his jaw tensed, sharpening his features even more. His eyes, which burned with a fiery rage contrasted greatly as he cradled her hand as if she were made out of glass. Sirius huffed, mumbling out ‘thank you for telling me’ and proceeding to clean the wounds. She winced as the cotton pad touched her knuckles, her free hand clutching onto his shirt.

“I know this part’s shit. I’m sorry, sorry…”

She bit down on her bottom lip to prevent pained noises from slipping out. Sirius applied a light magical cream that helps reduce scarring and wrapped gauze around her hand; holding it in place with a magical seal that made it into a light cast. He added a few magical seals along with waterproof charms.

“There.”

She marvelled at his work, he did an amazing job and whatever he did, her pain reduced drastically. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me…” His voice trailed off, a small smile appearing, “Anyone that hates Snviellus is… okay in my books. And what are co-parents for?” He tries to joke. At this, Y/N perks up, a sharp exhale of air forced its way from her lungs; emulating a half-light-hearted scoff.

But soon their smiles disappeared and something strange flashed in Sirius’ eyes. Suddenly, the air around them shifted, becoming tense and enclosed.

Sirius was oddly close to her — since when did they become that close?

Her heart pounded wildly in her ribcage and Y/N wondered if he could hear it over the crackling fire. He’s so close that she could feel his breath fanning her skin. She registered his thumb grazing over the bandage. The warm colour from the fire illuminated his face, different from his usual cool-toned skin. His face looked sharp, more refined than usual. He looked enchanting, so regal and otherworldly without trying to — like a painting.

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but he trails off, leaning closer. His hand trailed up, touching her arm lightly and moved to cup her cheek delicately. The entire time, his eyes trained on her for any glimmer of irritability or discomfort. His thumb began to stroke her skin and she lent into it. It’s large and warm and his touch feels so, so fucking good.

Sirius chooses his next words with caution. “Can I?” He murmurs but the question is clear — louder than any screaming match she had with him. His lips are millimetres away from hers.

In times like these, that Gryffindor bravery was nonexistent.

Y/N’s mind is vacant, internally freaking out but still manages to choke out, “Yes.”

Frozen in place, his eyes flicker from her eyes, then lips, and back to her eyes. He tilts her head back slightly using his hand before it travels to the back of her neck and leans in. But, there’s something in Sirius that hesitates.

The hesitation is too long because a voice could be heard from beyond the portrait and the sound of it swinging open causes them to break apart. She misses the contact already. Sirius stands hastily, wand swishing to clean up the mess around them in a daze. A beautiful blush settles on his face; a hand runs through his hair, rings catching the low light and widens the gap between them. He put his jacket back on.

Y/N’s brain hadn’t caught up yet. Too much happened too quickly. 

“Pads? Where have you’ve been? The moo —” the moment he sees her, his voice draws out, “— ooooony! Moony! He’s waiting for us. Whiskers! Ugh — h-hey!”

Peter fucking Pettigrew, in the flesh.

She makes sure to hide her hand and bloodied shirt from him. “Evening, Pete.”

Sirius coughs awkwardly and clears his throat, Peter doesn’t look suspicious. “Yeah, ugh — right. Sorry,” he takes a pause, eyes drifting momentarily to her and back to Peter, “Was busy with our Puffskein. Let’s go.”

“Night, L/N!” Peter acknowledges. He even sends finger guns.

Y/N is left stunned, watching Sirius leave. The door clicks and her body slackens.

In a haze, she padded into her dorm: quiet and dark, everyone fast asleep. She took a very cold shower, changed into her pyjamas, brushed her teeth and threw out her bloodied robes. Then, she pulls back the curtains around her bed. A floating candle burned brightly as Lily was there, writing in her journal.

“What took you so long?!” Lily chirped, sliding over to give her more room to slip in. Letting the drapes fall shut behind, she hummed in response.

“Puffskein. Oats.” She’ll talk to Lily about Snape another day — that is if Dumbledore doesn’t expel her.

Y/N rolled over to her side, facing away from Lily. The cool pillow did nothing to help chill her heated skin. It’s like she can feel the ghost of Sirius’ fingers graze her cheek still.

Lily babbled — something about Dorcas and Mary inviting them to skate one last time before the ice melted. But it all went in one ear and out the other.

God, she thought, mad at the realization. There was no point in denying it anymore; she’d been doing so for months and clearly, it was fruitless. I like Sirius Black. I really, really like Sirius Black.

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She didn’t get a wink of sleep. Her mind reeled the entire night, replacing the scenarios again and again, analyzing everything he said, his actions — that look on his face. All she thought about was Sirius: his eyes, his smile, his hair, his skin, his hands, his fucking lips — Argh! Sirius was the personification of Firewhiskey and all she wanted to do was drink more of him — and they hadn’t even kissed!

Sirius is arrogant, rude, cold, cat-called her — insulted her! A part of her felt disgusted — disgust how her heart raced wherever the mere thought of him appeared in her mind. Disgusted how her heart leaped whenever he was near. Out of all people, why him?!

She fucking hated Peter Pettigrew right now — or loved him, she wasn’t sure. Maybe he saved her from making a terrible mistake.

Okay, okay! First things first, she had to stop thinking about him! She forced herself to think about something else: Charms — Professor Flitwick — Peter’s grandma in her ‘purple knickers’ — Slughorn — Slughorn in his underwear — yes, that certainly stopped any more lewd thoughts. Her mind and body were at war.

“Rise n’shine, darlings!” Marlene sang in a high-pitched Victorian accent as she tripped the blinds back. Y/N peeked out from the small gap in her curtains, watching Marlene tiredly. Everyone groaned, Dorcas even threw a pillow at her. Y/N, unaffected, blinked and perched herself against the headboard, yawning. “Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!”

“Marls…” Dorcas groaned. She rubbed her eyes and squinted at the clock that hung above their large window, quickly collapsing into bed and dove under the covers. “It’s six in the morning…”

Marlene hopped over and ripped off Lily’s covers only to realize she was with her. She skipped her way over, ripping the drapes back and jumped into her bed. Toulouse hissed, jumping off before Marlene snuggled up to Lily, proding her cheek.

She gave Y/N a once over, “Morning sugar.”

She continued to poke Lily who forced her eyes open, trying to swat at her. Lily flipped over, moving over to Y/N. Marlene rolled her eyes, but a hurt pang flashed her face before she covered it up. Instead, she bellowed, taking hold of Lily’s shoulders and shook.

“EVANS! EVANS — YOU TOO L/N, WAKE UP NOW!”

“McKinnon! What do you want?!”

She gave a triumphant smirk. “Quidditch! It’s Gryffindor versus Hufflepuff today!”

Marlene was already decked out in her tracksuit, ready to go on a jog around the castle with the rest of the Gryffindor team. Once everyone woke up, they all gave her one of many pep talks and ushered her off.

The morning was slow for everyone but Y/N. Her thoughts drifted away from Sirius, only to think about the next worst thing possible; Snape.

Damn… she had to tell Lily, but how? ‘Hey, Petals! One of your friends — if not your best friend, called me, a Muggleborn — which if you forgot, you are too —the cruellest word there is! And he was caught with a book about The Dark Arts!’

She would tell her, but not today, or at least until after the Quidditch game.

As Y/N got ready for the day, everyone noticed the bandage around her hand (which she lied and made an excuse using Oats), then headed down for breakfast. The Gryffindor team was huddled around Marlene and James. Mary and Alice sat close, giving her a small wave.

Downing coffee after coffee, the caffeine strangely made her sleepier as she listened to James and Marlene’s agonizing rambles. Lazily flicking through sections of the Daily Prophet, she waited for a letter from her mother. None — again. Until a hand came out of nowhere, snatching the paper from her grasp, leaving Y/N to huff out.

She didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. “Mornin’ Professor,” she mumbled, reaching over to grab it from him.

“You look like you’ve been shagging the whomping willow,” Remus jokes, shaking his head with a smile.

At this, Mary leans in and whispers into her ear, “Didn’t we suggest Remus —” “Or Black? Not a tree!” Marlene adds.

She ignored them but felt her stomach drop at the mention of Sirius. Remus wore his gold oversized glasses today. His curls were tousled, eyes slightly bloodshot and he seemed to be sluggish that morning. She scooted over making room as he took a seat next to her. She grinned back, “You look like shit too, Lupin.”

Remus’ smile turned brighter.

James floated two plates to them, filled with their favourite foods while Y/N poured Remus a mug of coffee, dumping an ungodly amount of sugar in, handing it to him. From all the times they brought coffee or tea for each other, whether that be for study groups, lounging in the common room or walking past the kitchens while heading to class, they knew how they liked their beverages by heart.

He flashed a tired smile, humming as he took a sip. Their dating rumours hadn’t calmed down yet, so when a couple of students passed by, looking between them enviously, they both side-eyed each other humorously.

“We’re such catches,” she whispered to him.

“Abso-bloody-lutely — hey!” He randomly cuts in, pointing to her bandaged hand, “We’re matching.”

He raised his hand, showing a couple of his fingers taped together before a long bandage was wrapped around his palm and travelled down his wrist, disappearing beyond his red sweater.

Y/N mused at it before grabbing a quill from Marlene who’d been sketching out the Quidditch pitch and dipped it into an inkpot, handing it to Remus.

His head tilted, “Hmm?”

“Sign mine and I’ll sign yours?”

His long calloused fingers took the quill from her, doodling on the white bandage gently. He drew Dumbledore with pom-poms, cheering for the upcoming Quidditch game, along with a smiley face, his initials and a couple magical creatures. Then passed the quill back, placing his bandage hand on the table and flicked open the Daily Prophet. A few splotches of ink splattered around as she drew The Beatles on broomsticks, all chasing a Golden Snitch. She also drew Remus as David Bowie’s cover as Aladdin Sane, using his scars to make the lightning bolt and quickly signed her name.

Lily and Peter had come in, taking a seat and Y/N had become hyper-aware of Sirius sitting down directly across from her. Both of them stiffened and she continued to avoid his gaze as she drew on Remus.

“We’re going to be fine, it’s only Hufflepuff.”

“Nope, Hufflepuffs know how to get shit done,” Peter says, his mouth stuffed with food. “Never underestimate them — what the fuck?!”

Everyone in the Great Hall collectively held a breath, looking up at the Slytherin table. Lily’s eyes almost bugged out in rage, her ears becoming red as she got up and walked over.

It was Snape, but it wasn’t his nose that caught people’s attention. No — his nose was fine — he must’ve gone to the hospital wing that night.

“What happened to him! Ahah!” Peter cried out, “He looks like my house elf!”

There, Snape stood completely bald with no eyebrows and wearing Gryffindor robes.

Y/N slapped a hand to her mouth, desperately trying to calm her shrieking laughter but couldn’t. She and Remus lent on each other, trying to not tip over the hall bench. Everyone whopped loudly, James even whistled.

But as everyone was occupied with the sight, the person who she expected to be howling in laughter that most definitely should’ve been was Sirius. He simply drank from his goblet, his eyes peered over to her with a knowing look and bowed his head ever so slightly and looked away.

Oh.

Ohhh.

She was left with more unanswered questions than ever.

#remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #marauders fanfiction #reader insert #Sirius Black #young!sirius black #sirius black x y/n #Remus Lupin #remus lupin x y/n #Remus Lupin x you #Sirius Black x you #Marauders #the marauders #marauders era #harry potter marauders #young marauders #the marauders imagine #Harry Potter #harry potter series #harry potter fanfiction #HP series #hp marauders #Sirius Black angst #sbtmas

[ackerslut]

of all i am made of (perhaps you are too)

ao3

Hugo does not believe in soulmates.

To be fair, he doesn’t much believe in anything but the feeling of coin in his pocket and the clever bite of his dagger. What use has he for god and destiny when he carves his own path of lies through time, with a sharp tongue and a cocky smile.

Why should Hugo believe the universe would gift him a soulmate when it already has made it perfectly clear that nothing is free?

Besides soulmates are rarities of the past--legends and folktales on the lips of elders and religious fanatics; the former clinging to superstition from the od era, the latter feeding false promises and hope to the instupid masses.

Soulmates are for hopeless romantics and tiny children. Not for Hugo.

“That does not surprise me,” Nuru says, the beginnings of a smile forming on her face.

She’s lying down in the golden field where they’ve set camp for the night. The contrast of the bright yellow against her dark skin is stunning-particularly in the moonlight, with her dark hair fanning out about her head.

Hugo, who is sitting upright a few paces away and playing with his daggers, frowns.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks, unsure if he should be feeling defensive or not.

Nuru folds her arms beneath her head, propping herself up enough to make eye contact with him. “Even if you had a soulmate, you wouldn’t know what to do with them,” she scoffs.

He snorts. “ You believe in soulmates?”

“Is that so surprising?”

“Yes, actually. I thought you were the rational one in this party.”

Nuru gives him an expression that indicates how stupid she thinks he is. “I might be the only person who can keep their head in a crisis, but that doesn’t mean I can’t believe in a higher power, Hugo.”

She rolls over, so that she’s laying on her stomach, facing him. “Burning stars fall in my homeland every year. There are stories of a sun princess who’s tears heal the dead. Varian somehow hasn’t strangled you yet. I think you’d better start believing in a god.”

“Or soulmates apparently,” Hugo mutters.

“Or soulmates,” Nuru says. “Would it really be that far-fetched?”

“Do I believe there’s someone out there who shares my dreams? Or has my name written above their heart? Hard pass, Princess.”

“Alright then, how about sharing the same soul?” Nuru asks, folding her hands together and resting her chin on them. “You’re telling me that doesn’t sound at least a little romantic?”

“I don’t have a soul.”

“Now that,” she says, a grin stretching across her face, “that I can believe.”

___

“I think Anya’s my soulmate,” Yong says dreamily, staring at Varian’s redheaded cousin like she hung the fucking moon.

Hugo, despite secretly adoring the round child, rolls his eyes. Hard. “Do you even know what that means?”

“It means we share the same time threads,” Yong replies distractedly.

Varian and Anya are nerding out over something-something Hugo would find interesting or fun to mock them over, but right now, for some reason, he’s more interested in Yong’s adorable-if not misguided-crush on Varian’s little cousin.

“Time threads,” Hugo laughs, cracking his knuckles. Yong winces at the noise, momentarily taking his eyes off the two babbling alchemists. “Alright, color me curious. What are time threads?”

Yong frowns. “You’ve never heard of time threads? Every child in Koto learns about them.”

Ah, must be some religious poppycock only spread in the fire kingdom.

“Well, I’m not a child living in Koto, am I?” Hugo replies lightly. “Spill, little pyro.” He pokes the kid in the shoulder repeatedly until he gets swatted.

“Her lady, Odiyesi, spins a thread for each person,” Yong recites in a sing-song voice. “This thread contains the beginning, the middle, and the end of our lives. If she so chooses, two threads will be intertwined-maybe even beyond the Snip, if she wills it.”

“The Snip?”

“Oh yeah, that’s when you die,” Yong says, side eyeing Hugo.

Hugo ruffles Yong’s hair. “And you think Anya is your thread partner. That’s so cute .”

Yong ducks out from under his hand, scowling. “Why did you ask if you don’t even believe it?” he mumbles, face pink.

“You know what I think?” Hugo asks, pretending like he doesn’t hear Yong. “I think you should go right up to here and tell her all that. Give her a heads up about your eternally bound souls.”

“Your soul is eternally bound to the underworld,” Yong shoots back, with a surprising amount of fire.

Hugo bursts into laughter. “That,” he says, “is the first thing you’ve said all day that makes sense.”

___

“What do you think about soulmates?” Hugo asks mildly. He has a glass of wine in one hand, but he’s barely tasted it. Instead, he stands, staring out the stained glass window and into the courtyard.

Donella, sitting behind her desk, looks up from Varian’s Ulla’s journal-recently procured by Hugo.

The amount of deception and sneaking around he’d gone through to actually get it out of Varian’s line of sight had been painstakingly difficult. And it had been even harder coming up with an excuse to Nuru why he needed to spend the night somewhere other than their current lodgings.

He doesn’t really remember the lie. Just the trust in the Princess’s face when she’d briefly patted him on the shoulder, telling him to be back by sunrise.

Donella closes the journal with a snap, leaning back in her chair. “What a curious question. And from you, no less.”

When Hugo turns around, she’s smiling that sharp smile-the one that makes his stomach plummet with discomfort. Something in him churns at that dangerous expression now, unsure of what he’s suddenly gotten himself into.

He gives a casual shrug, raising his glass to his lips. “Just making idle conversation, I suppose.” The wine tastes terrible. Still, he takes another sip before setting it down on an end table.

“Hmm.” His mentor eyes him skeptically. “What do I think about soulmates?” she muses, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “I suppose the proper answer would be that I hate them.”

He frowns. “So you don’t believe in them?”

“You can’t hate something you don’t believe in, Hugo. Of course I believe in soulmates.” Donella must see the surprise in his expression because she laughs after a brief pause. “I would be hard pressed not to believe in them after seeing it with my own two eyes.”

Hugo blinks, startled. “You met someone with a soulmate?” he asks, disbelieving.

“You could say that.”

“How do-how did you know they were-”

She opens the stolen journal again, long scared fingers deftly flipping back to her reading place. “Because I could feel when she was in pain. Now shut up, Waif, I still have three quarters of this tedious reading to get through and only five more hours to do it.”

___

Even though Eugene has decided to make the conscious effort not to kill Hugo, the guy still shows mild animosity. And by mild, Hugo-of course-means that he drags him around, making him do tedious tasks and scowls whenever he gets close to Varian.

Whatever. It’s not as if Hugo’s going to complain, considering that it’s mostly his fault there was a demon monster briefly unleashed onto Corona that destroyed most of her capital city. As long as Varian isn’t blaming himself, Hugo calls it a win.

So he lets the Prince Consort drag him around the city and put his alchemy to work.

“You don’t have to stay,” Hugo says, at one point, when it becomes apparent that even though Eugene has no idea how alchemy works , he was still going to hover. “I’m not going to cut and run.”

The man had snorted. “Yeah, I already figured that one out for myself,” he’d muttered and then proceeded to not explain what that meant.

So here Hugo is, with an ever present shadow, hovering like he’s a fucking five year old. Hugo honestly doesn’t see what Varian sees in the guy-or Queen Rapunzel for that matter. She looks at the ex-thief like he hung the moon and all the damn stars in the sky.

“It’s because they’re soulmates,” Eugene’s buddy-Lance, Hugo thinks-had said when he caught him staring.

Hugo had scoffed.

Now, bored and overheated after a long day’s work, Hugo watches Eugene frown over some blueprints in the Queen’s study. Hugo’s not exactly sure why he has to be present for this particular part of the renovation project, but he’s too tired to protest.

“Are you and the queen soulmates?” he hears himself asking.

Eugene lifts his head, eyes alight with surprise. He glances back down at the blueprints once, before leaving the table to join Hugo by the open doors leading to the balcony.

“Weird question, coming from you,” he snorts, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. “But yes. We are.”

Hugo doesn’t know what to make of that. “How do you know?”

The older man hesitates, something like understanding dawning on the man’s face. A small smile crosses lips. “Have you ever met someone that no matter how many times you tried to walk away, you couldn’t?”

Hugo swallows.

“That’s how I know. Now,” he claps Hugo on the shoulder. “If you’ll stop messing around, I need your opinion on whether Yong’s demolition idea or Varian’s solvent solution is going to work best for the lower district’s avalanche problem.”

___

At the end of all things-or perhaps the beginning-Hugo finds Varian on a rooftop.

It’s not hard to find him, as when Varian is brooding, he likes to perch. It’s a habit that the alchemist has either picked up from spending most of his time in a castle with high roofs or perhaps it’s born of chasing his dumb racoon into precarious positions.

Either way, Hugo learns early into his friendship with the darkhaired boy, that when he’s being introspective, he likes to pick a high roof and perch like a fucking woodland creature.

So when Varian goes missing in the middle of Corona’s lantern festival, it takes precious few minutes to find him.

“You are so predictable,” Hugo says, dropping down next to him. Heights don’t usually bother him, but the castle is impressively tall.

The other alchemist doesn’t really seem to mind, however. He lets his legs dangle over the edge, occasionally swinging in the air.

“Or maybe I wanted you to find me,” Varian replies easily. His head--tilted up, toward the stars that are mirrored in the constellations of freckles on his face-is wearing a peaceful expression.

Something in Hugo’s chest clenches tightly at the sight of it. There was a time, not too long ago, where he was convinced he’d never see Varian happy again.

But now, Varian turns his face toward Hugo and offers him a smile. “Or maybe I’m just predictable to you.”

The tightness in Hugo’s chest dissipates. What is left aches for something he can’t have.

“Or that,” Hugo says, instead of doing something stupid like trying to hold Varian’s hand or kiss the stupid expression off his face.

Varian turns back to the stars.

“You know, they say shooting stars fall in the direction of your soulmate.”

Hugo rolls his eyes. “Not you too,” he groans, eliciting laughter from his friend. “I thought out of everyone, you would be on my side here.”

“Aw, don’t believe in soulmates?” Varian teases, grinning boyishly. “Sun and moon, I should have expected that.”

“Yeah?” Hugo raises his eyebrows. “How so?”

“You’re so cynical. And not in the way Cass is-she’s like realistically -cynical. You’re just oh poor me I could never have a soulmate because my soul is made of garbage -”

Hugo clamps a hand over Varian’s mouth, shrieking when he tries to lick him. “I- stop -I don’t have to listen to this slander -”

“-and if you ever did find your soulmate you would be insufferable about it,” Varian goes on, catching Hugo’s wrist when he tries to silence him again. “You would spend the entire time trying to prove to yourself and everyone else that there was no possible way they could be your soulmate and when you couldn’t you would-”

He stops. Blinks at Hugo with realization dawning across his face.

Hugo’s wonders if Varian can feel his pulse racing where the smaller boy’s fingers wrap around his wrist.

“Yeah? What would I do?”

Varian’s lips purse. “I don’t know what you would do. I’d hope you would be smart about it.”

He lets go of Hugo.

Hugo immediately misses his warmth.

“And what would be the smart thing.”

“Well,” Varian draws out the word thoughtfully. He scoots close enough to Hugo that if the taller boy wanted he could wrap and arm around his shoulder. “Well, an excellent start would be telling them.”

“And how would you tell them? If it were you,” Hugo adds quickly, when Varian shoots him a questioning look.

Varian leans back on his hands, head tipped back, exposing his throat to the sky. “I would tell them my heart started beating at the same time as theirs when we touched. That there’s a silver dagger inked on my shoulder that burns when they’re angry and sings when they’re sad-”

“Varian.” Hugo’s heart clenches so hard he briefly wonders if he’s having a heart attack.

“-I would tell them that I dreamed in color the first night we lay side by side in the forest,” Varian goes on, ignoring him. “I would tell them that when we touch I see every color-even the ones that don’t belong here.”

“Varian.”

Hugo’s hand finds his soulmate's.

Varian turns his head to the side slightly, finally meeting Hugo’s eye. With his free hand, he cups the side of Hugo’s neck, tentatively.

“I would tell him that our souls are made of the same thing.” He smiles gently. “It’s just science, Hugo.”

Hugo laughs, pressing his forehead into Varian’s. “How is that the most romantic thing you’ve said yet?”

“Because you’re a closet nerd,” Varian says, right before he leans in.

Underneath a starlit sky, Hugo kisses the boy made of the same stuff as him.

___

#varigo #hugo vat7k #varian #nuru vat7k #yong vat7k #eugene fitzherbert #my fanfic #vat7k fanfic #tts #tts fafic

[heli0s-writes]

crystalline*

A/N: Instead of attending to the rest of my WIPS, here’s 1.6k words of Bottom Bucky and Service Dom reader. Throatfucking. Erm. Cathartic crying. 

Warnings: Bucky working out trauma. Please stop reading if you are not 18+

brooklyn after dark masterlist

You teach him how to want things again.

His pieces from the past, the joys he used to have taken too soon— you tell him he can have it all back.

It started with food, predictably. No longer being tube-fed slurry, Bucky quickly embarked on discovering all the new flavors of the 21st century.

Chocolate alone was a month-long passion as he attempted to scrub out the standard issued combat rations haunting his tongue. Chalky cuts like cold pressed gravel— fuck that. The first time you broke off a square of unroasted, dark, sprinkled with Himalayan sea salt chocolate, Bucky’s head hit the back of the couch with a pathetic mewl and a million things rushed through his mind of all the ways he could keep feeling this good.

Sleep came next— something he thought he’d had enough of, but the difference between getting perma-frosted every decade and lying face down in whatever memory foam’s made out of is lifetimes apart.

Bubble baths. Streaming apps. Nice clothes.

Attention and affection. Kisses. Braids in his hair. Tickles for extra laughs. His ego’s in overdrive because he has half a thought about anything and you’re fulfilling it like his personal genie. You say he needs all the dopamine he can get and you’re gonna give it to him.

And you give it to him in spades.

Orgasms. Jesus fucking Christ, he’s spoiled rotten.

Morning sex, afternoon sex, sex before bed. Blindsided in hallways and under conference room tables. The compound pool’s been properly christened more than once, and if Tony ever found out just exactly how many of those precious luxury cars have seen the imprint of Bucky’s ass, he’d set them all on fire.

But, reconciliation comes for him eventually. Spend long enough feeling all good he figures it was about time he starts screwing it up. He turns greedy, he starts wanting for too much. His girl’s an insatiable little beast, but even beasts have limits.

-

Bucky went shy when he asked, stuttering about how it’s okay if you didn’t—if you weren’t—it’s kinda strange— but you’d put your hand over his and tilted his chin up.

“Bucky,” you said fondly, “Baby,” and then a sweet smile curled over your pretty pink lips like spun sugar, “I’d eat your ass like a five-course meal. I’ll let you fuck me on the moon. What is it, huh?”

He could’ve kissed your dirty mouth silly.

“I want you to use a toy—"

“We do all the time.”

“—on me.”

And that sweet candy pink smile turned red hot and wicked. No limit in sight.

-

You approach the bed like a fever dream and all the blood in Bucky’s body congregates south.

Nothing on but the 2-day-shipping-because-the-phone’s-a-genie-too leather harness sitting snugly on your hips and a grin. The heaviness between your thighs hangs like both an offering and a weapon.

He asked for it. He wanted it. Just—maybe, to start— can you be rough with him. Then, stuttering once more because he doesn’t know how to justify why. It doesn’t make any sense and it’s hard to say out loud that with all the things you let him have, that after nearly a century of being out of his own body, he… wants to give it away.

He’s messed up, baby. Sick down to his rotten core.

You only shushed him. If it’ll make you happy, I’ll rough you up real fucking good. No why’s necessary.

Fleshy weight brushes against your inner thigh, swinging idly from one side to the other. “This okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky breathes, still dressed at the edge of the mattress, skin beginning to prickle, nerves taking a hard left into arousal. When your hand finds rough landing in his hair, he thinks he must be the luckiest bastard in the entire world.  

Bucky drops on his knees like dead weight, nearly tearing off his clothes, feeling the upsurge of heat in his cheeks and chest. His eyelids are fluttering, your face going fuzzy but he can still see that look of adoration you reserve for him.

He’s pondering if that old saying is true—if there can be too much of a good thing, if he’s become spoiled sick, or if he could overdose on pleasure when you start thumbing the edge of his mouth.

“Pay attention,” you say with a glimmer in your eyes. “Open.”

He’s tingling when you put two fingers in, moving around his tongue, scissoring them against his inner cheek. They explore for a while, bolder each passing second. He can tell you’re getting excited too, your chest heaving gradually, watching him with curious intent.

“You like this?” You ask, lip between your teeth, and Bucky nods, leaning further in, spit following the path of your hand down to his neck. You palm the cock like it’s always belonged to your body and he’s mesmerized at how it rises from your grip, moving over his face to rest on his cheek.

“It’s big, baby.” You warn, full on now. You stroke the outline of his jaw with it, leaving a burning path in its wake. “You sure?”

He quietly likes that you ask—honey-toned and patient, needing to hear it, knowing that he needs to hear it from himself. All those things he’d been made to say with his body and not with his mind.

Now he gets it back, as you said. Gets a part of himself back, too.

“Yes—ah—yes.”

Bucky’s words are slurred into your hand, but he’s begging with his eyes. Yes. I want it. Please let me. Please make me. Please fix me.

You replace your fingers, sluicing up the cock with his spit. Then, you fuck his mouth slow, feeding it to him inch by inch before dragging it away. Bucky’s lips are quivering for more, jaw slack, panting hoarsely. He feels overcome at how you stand over him, mesmerized by him, too.

“Yeah, honey,” you croon, and Bucky’s heart swells with pride. “You’re doing so well, pretty boy.”

He’s licking blindly and sucking between ragged gasps when he attempts to say your name, knowing full well he’ll never get the whole word out before you wedge back into him. And god, it’s hot. It’s dirty and filthy and so fucking sweet.

You grasp the base of his skull, keeping his head still and laying into his mouth rhythmically. The cockhead hits Bucky’s throat, pushing into the soft palate, reaching further. His eyes are rolling, whimpers catching where the toy ends, caught in the breath of air in his mouth.

“Take it, baby,” you command, and Bucky gags. One hand scrambles for your thigh, other clawing his own, pressing red crescents into the flesh. It hurts. It hurts good like it never did before and Bucky chokes it down, eyes squeezed shut now, tears prickling from the ducts and collecting at the corners.

“Oh, you’re so good,” and his body just keeps lighting up. “You good boy. You perfect, perfect boy.” And he’s nodding desperately, needy, gut coiled tight like a spring.

“So fucking dirty,” you hiss, pulling hard on his hair, “Look at you— leaking all over yourself.”

He is. He’s a goddamn mess, sticky lines of precome down his shaft and collecting at his base.

“Drooling all over my cock like this. You’re hungry for it, aren’t you?”

“Uhhngg— hnnng—” He moans weakly at the things you do to him and for him.

“That’s right, you are. Keep going, show me how much you want it.” Jesus, the way you make him feel— like he could be exactly who he is and never have to apologize for a goddamn thing. Broken and ruined but you’d still give him the whole fucking world.

The noises Bucky’s making are muffled and obscene as he fists himself, shuddering and pumping erratically. One more final drive from your hips and he’s bursting at the seams, shattering to pieces, coming with a strangled cry.

You don’t let up, taking his throat unrelentingly, watching him sob and fall apart. He’s going limp in your clutch, letting his eyes well up like pools, your smiling face so beautiful in the crystalline light.

If he’s sick, then you must be the fever he can’t sweat out. The fire burning through his bones until he’s nothing but smoldering bits of debris afterwards. Grains and soot of him floating in the steady flow of your faithful current.

When he’s made a perfect mess of himself, come-covered and quivering, you finally let him breathe again, pulling out wetly.

“There you go,” you say, kneeling to kiss his panting mouth, “Did that feel good?” 

Your lips are a cool balm on his swollen ones and Bucky hums a response, body still thrumming. “Yeah,” he sighs, sensitive like a wound, raw and open and tender. “Real— good.”

You rub his back and run your fingers through his hair, letting him rest in your arms. You wipe away the tears on his cheeks and over his trembling eyelids.

Gentle words tumble from your lips. Promises of love and of good memories to replace the bad ones. More kisses. More affection. More reclamation.

All those little granules of fractured time, you collect in the soft surrender of his mouth. Wet and salty, they fall together there, and Bucky feels himself clicking into place. Perfect and whole and treasured like an iridescent pearl.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #smut #bucky barnes #marvel #mcu #reader insert #fanfiction #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and Dating Randall “Pink” Floyd

(Excuse the shit gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Fun fact: I had no idea Jason London had a twin and literally just found that out)

- You and Pink met for the first time after you missed your bus. He’d just finished talking with his friends and was heading out to his car when he noticed you stressing over the payphone, trying to fish quarters out of your bag so that you could possibly get a friend to pick you up.

- You were just about ready to walk home when he tapped you on the shoulder and asked if you were alright. Sighing, you gave him a quick rundown and he immediately offered to give you a ride. You were a tad hesitant, mostly because you didn’t want to be a bother to someone you barely knew but he insisted, telling you that it was no problem.

- A wave of relief washed over you and you gratefully thanked him, following him as he led you to his car. To be clear, you did know of him. You vaguely recalled your friends telling you about him and how nice he was, and of course you’d seen a few of his football games so it wasn’t like you were just hopping into a total strangers car.

- The thing about Pink is that he’s pretty much friends with everybody. No matter who you are, where you come from, or what clique you’re in; he’s down to chat and he’s pretty damn good at it. You’d expected at least a little discomfort and awkwardness during your car ride but there really wasn’t any. He was as sweet as could be and you found yourself actually really enjoying the conversation he’d started.

- Once you arrived at your house, you thanked him profusely to which he only laughed and assured you that it was no trouble at all. Before he left, he gave you a smile and said he’d see you around school. As he pulled away, you realized that you might have unwillingly developed a crush on the boy. ...Little did you know he felt the same.

- When you went to school the next day you hadn’t really expected anything to happen. You figured that he’d given you a ride and that would be that but as you were putting your things in your locker you felt a familiar tap on your shoulder. You turned a bit and there he was, standing behind you with a smile that made you melt.

- He greeted you and asked if he could walk you to class to which you obviously agreed. This sort of thing continued on for nearly a week before he stopped you outside of your classroom and asked if you’d like to come hang out with him and his friends after school. You weren’t about to pass up an offer made by a boy you were really starting to crush on so you said yes. He smiled and told you he’d meet you by your locker after the final bell.

- You spent the entire day anticipating the moment school let out. The instant the bell rang it took everything you had in you not to shoot out of your seat and run down the halls. You took a second to relax, checking yourself over before you started the short trip to your locker.

- By the time you made it there, Pink was already leaned against the lockers beside yours waiting for you. You got your things and the two of you headed out to his car, driving over to where his friends were meeting.

- Once you got there, he introduced you to everyone and excused himself to talk with the guys for a few minutes. You spoke to some of the girls in your grade before he came over and stole you away, leading you to a more secluded area where the two of you could chat in private.

- Prior to this, you only ever really had short conversations so you were more than happy to finally start getting to know each other better. As the two of you sat down, he jokingly proposed that you play twenty questions. You responded “ask me anything” and so the game began.

- For a while, you were both just asking whatever came to mind: what’s your favorite color, favorite food, favorite subject, favorite band, etc. Then you got to the good stuff, the questions that prompted jokes and stories which had you laughing till you nearly cried. It was after one of these stories that he got to ask the question he’d been saving all week.

“When’s the last time someone took you out for dinner?”

“Hmmm,” you laughed, tapping your chin as you pretended to think. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“How about tonight?” You nearly choked on your drink.

“Tonight?” You questioned, wanting to make sure he was saying what you thought he was saying.

“Or now or whenever....” he added, shrugging his shoulders as he attempted to appear nonchalant.

“Yeah, sure. I’d really like that.”

A smile spread across his face as you agreed. “Great,” he told you. “So I’ll pick you up at six?”

- Later that day, he took you to the drive-in and bought you that dinner he’d promised. The two of you went bowling afterwards and you ended the night with a long kiss in the parking lot.

- After a few more dates the two of you became official and you were both as happy as could be.

- There’s not a ton of pda in your relationship but he makes sure everyone knows you’re together. 

- Hanging out on the moon tower. 

- He’s always ready to defend you when things suddenly go south. 

- He’s constantly subtly looking out for you. He always has you walk in front of him so he knows where you are, asks a bunch of people if they’ve seen you when you disappear somewhere, walks on the side of the sidewalk closest to the street, etc.

- It’s the little things that show you he cares. 

- He can cuddle any which way you want but he’s a pretty big fan of laying his head on your chest while you thread your fingers through his hair. He’s a big baby but you’re the only one allowed to know that.

- When you want to be cuddled he pulls you into his side and traces patterns down your hips and thighs. 

- Goodbye kisses. 

- Handholding.

- Handshakes. 

- Sitting on the back of his car with him.

- Getting him to think more rationally and stop overreacting about the sign up sheet or whatever else is bothering him. 

- Inside jokes.

- Playing with his necklace.

- Constantly swapping cars throughout the night. 

- It was the 70′s, everybody smoked weed, and he has a pretty good dealer so if you want to try a little bit of the devils grass then he’s down to supply you with it. 

- Concert dates.

- Late night cruising.

- Sometimes he’ll stumble through your window late at night or really early in the morning, a little drunk and wanting to cuddle... or fuck. 

- Early, early morning drives where the two of you are still a little buzzed but also tired. 

- Cheering him on at his games even though he isn’t fond of playing. 

- Hanging out on the football field. 

- Ruffling his hair.

- Doing a lot of stupid, reckless shit together. 

- Making out a lot. 

- He’s a horny boy, especially when drunk, so be prepared to be felt up every once and a while, or at least for him to attempt to. 

- Let’s not forget that Pink cheated in his girlfriend, alright? Scummy move, obviously, but I feel like their relationship wasn’t the greatest to begin with? Like he really did not seem into her at all 90% of the time and she seemed like she knew exactly what was up whenever he was doing something. So I feel like under different circumstances he wouldn’t cheat on his girlfriend. 

- He flirts and teases you a lot. He loves getting you all shy and flustered. 

- Hearing about all the crazy shit him and his friends get up to, he just scratches the back of his neck and shoots you shy smiles when you look over at him.

- Laying your head in his lap. 

- Sitting on his lap, he sits really far back in his seat in general so you’re always able to gently plop yourself down without any fuss. 

- Since Pink is a bit of an overreacter I can imagine he gets quite jealous. When he does, he doesn’t say anything but he noticeably watches you and the guy until you come over to him. 

- When you’re fighting, he gets super passive aggressive and annoying so you tend to just sigh and give up after a while. Give him some time  to himself and hope for the best, that’s all I can say. 

- He really can’t stand seeing you cry. He hates when you’re upset, he always gets super uncomfortable and just tries his best to cheer you up as quickly as possible. 

- Whenever you have a test, he always tells you not to worry and that you’ll do great. He likes being able to calm you down and be the reason you feel better. 

- Constantly being introduced to new people since he makes friends every other minute. 

- Hanging out at the emporium.

- Going to parties with him. 

- Double dates with Michelle and Pickford. 

- He has a habit of holding/pulling you by the belt/belt loops. 

- Watching him and Dons little comedy routines. 

- Being gently rough with each other, like he’ll “tackle” you down and start making out with you or you’ll slap each others hands away to keep each other from something. 

- Letting him rant when he needs to, even if you think what he’s getting upset over is a little silly. 

- Spending entire nights together. 

- Jamming out to rock albums and going to the record store together. 

- Playing pool and Foosball together. 

- He’s really good at charming your parents and other relatives. Leave it to him, he’ll make them fall in love with him in the span of a barbecue. 

- He loves when you gently touch him. Brushing something off his cheek, pulling something from his hair, things like that. He has and will always melt when you do. 

- Letting him copy off your homework and notes when he ditches class. 

- He says “I love you” sparingly so it always means a lot when he does say it. 

- You don’t really talk about the future but he’s convinced it’s going to be much better than high school... maybe because you’ll be married?

#dazed and confused x reader #dazed and confused imagine #dazed and confused headcanon #dazed and confused headcanons #dazed and confused #90s movie #90s movie headcanons #90s movie imagine #90s movie headcanon #pink headcanons #pink headcanon #pink imagine #randall pink floyd #randall pink floyd headcanons #randall pink floyd headcanon #randall pink floyd imagine #randy pink floyd headcanons #randy pink floyd headcanon #randy pink floyd imagine

[babypinkboobear]

Stars Who Listen

Chapter 4: They Listen to Friendships

The food in Bright Moon was so much better than the ration bars Catra ate when she was in the Horde. They had these things called “Chocolate covered Croissants” which were quite possibly the best thing Catra had ever tasted. For some reason she was only allowed to eat them in the morning though, Adora said she didn't get why either. Catra mostly just liked food that didnt come out of a package though. Which meant anytime there was food in front of her, Catra ate, as much as she could. Adora too. It's like they were scared the food would disappear.

“Guys, slow down! The food is not going to disappear if you take more than five minutes to clear your plate,” Glimmer said, clearly exasperated that her friends hadn't broken this habit yet. 

“Glimmers right,” Bow said, laughing, “It's not going anywhere”. They both knew that neither Catra or Adora had any plans to break this habit, ever. Adora had eaten like this when she first came to Bright Moon, so they assumed it was some kind of leftover Horde training. 

Catra glanced up, mismatched eyes flickering between Glimmer and Bow as she finished chewing what was in her mouth. “You don't know that, Arrow Bow. It could disappear at any moment or Sparkles could poof out of the room and cover it in glitter and ruin it,” She laughed as she said this though. Adora had missed Catra’s laugh.

 Of course Catra knew this was bullshit. Her and Adora both remembered the days when they wouldn’t quite eat fast enough and the older kids would steal their rations. They went hungry a lot when they were younger. Adora always used to share her rations with Catra if hers got stolen. Adoras rations only got stolen a few times, and the kids who stole hers always ended up in the medbay for a few days. They had been attacked by some animal with sharp claws. 

Catra had no clue what may have done it. It definitely wasn't her though. Nope, definitely not... Okay so maybe it was her, but she’d never do that now. Of course she wouldn't, she was a better person now, a kind, forgiving person. Didn't mean she regretted it though. They had stolen from her best friend. 

“ Ha I finished first, I win Catra!” Adora said, standing up, “and on that note, I have to head out to help Adare, Glimmer mind teleporting me there? We can go out into the hall so we don't ruin Catra’s food with your glitter” she said, before leaning down to kiss Catra goodbye.

“I love you, Catra. I should be home around dinner.” 

“I love you too, be careful”

“Always am”

“Promise?” Catra whispered.

“I promise” and Adora walked out into the hall, Glimmer on her heels.

Catra returned to her food. She didn't like being away from Adora, especially so soon after such an uncomfortable conversation. Hopefully, she got to stay with Glimmer and Bow. or maybe she would go hide in her and Adoras room with Melog. 

Out in the hallway, Adora was telling Glimmer about her and Catras conversation. It's quick and to the point. Adora asks Glimmer for one favor. 

“Don't leave Catra alone. She needs you and Bow to be there for her.”

~

Catra finished eating before Glimmer came back. She didn’t know if she should stay or leave, but when she stood up Melog basically slammed her back into her chair. She figured she should stay. Bow glanced up when that happened, laughing.

“Are you okay?” he asked, still fucking giggling.

“I'm fine Arrow Boy,” Catra replied, pseudo-irritation in her voice. She broke soon after, giggling along with him. “I guess Melog wants to hang out with you and Glimmer.” 

“Yeah I’m sure it's Melog who wants to hang out with us, ms. I-think-they-react-to-my- emotions.” Bow said, taking another bite of his food. He glanced at the door, clearly wondering what was taking Glimmer so long. He glanced back at Catra, “How much you wanna bet she got lost?” 

Glimmer poofed into the room. “Sorry guys, I got lost!”

Bow winked at Catra, and she had to cover her mouth to hide the giggles. Apparently it did jack shit all because Glimmer immediately said, “hey what's so funny” but she was clearly not in the slightest upset at Catra laughing. Her and Bow shared Adoras love of Catras laugh, it was nice to see her laughing so freely.

“Whatever, Bow do you mind coming with me to my room for a few minutes. Catra why don't you go change, we were thinking of going swimming. Sound good? We’ll grab you on our way back down.” Then she grabbed Bows arm and poofed out. A very common occurrence with Glimmer.

“Don't spend too long making out!” Catra said to the empty room, standing up and beginning the too long trek back to her room. Oddly she didn't mind swimming. Its water sprays she hates, and deep deep water. She stuck to the shallower end of pools, but she did enjoy them. Catra had grown used to Glimmer's bossy-ness, she didn't mean to be rude, she's just really hyper and gets excited easily. She felt lighter walking to her room, she was honestly happy that Adora had confronted her. It felt nice not to lie. Like a massive weight had been lifted off her chest. She just hoped there weren't many other princesses at the pool. She wanted some alone time with Glimmer and Bow. She wasn't sure when she had gone from merely tolerating their presence to actually enjoying spending time with them, but she was very glad she had. They were some of the best friends a girl could ask for. They had seen her at her worst and still came back, and she didn't feel like she owed them as much. Like with the other princesses she had to pretend to be happy-go-lucky like the rest of the rainbow squad, but Glimmer and Bow knew she was a bitch and still stuck around. It was nice.

Melog nudged her, and she blinked herself back into the real world. She had been doing that a lot, getting lost in her thoughts. She didn't remember the walk to her room, but here she was, in front of those absurdly ornate doors. She walked in, grabbing a bathing suit that was basically a sports bra and spandex bottoms, but it was white and gold. Adoras colors. She had been wearing Adoras colors a lot lately. It was like being surrounded by the woman she loved all the time, she loved it. She also grabbed a pool cover, a lacy thing that served no purpose, but Glimmer said she just had to have one. It was white and gold and it was Adoras. Hers was dirty actually because she had been swimming pretty often, which was funny considering before coming here the only time she would swim was during those awful training scenarios. They forced the horde kids to almost drown for hours at a time. Those were Catras least favorite training ‘simulations’. They were not simulations, they were very real. She had watched kids have to be given CPR and taken to the medbay on multiple occasions, so no not simulations. 

A massive poof of glitter brought Catra out of her thoughts. She had done it again, disappeared into her head. She had no clue how long she had been staring out the window.

“Are you ready to go swim! I'm so excited!” Glimmer was bouncing off the walls as usual. She had relaxed a ton since the war ended. If she wasn't actively doing her ‘Queenly Duties’ she let herself have fun. Catra was happy to see her happy (so was Bow of course, but he's her boyfriend so it's expected). And Catra actually was excited to swim.

Glimmer's suit was a pink and purple bikini with hearts all over it. Clearly a nod to Bows classic crop top. Bow was in swim trunks and when the sun hit them just right they glittered pink and purple, again with the whole wearing the significant others' clothing/colors. Catra was learning that it was a tradition in Etheria, one she hadn't been exposed to in the horde but one she loved nonetheless.

Glimmer moved to teleport Catra and Bow to the pool, but as she was about to grab Catras wrist she stopped, one hand hovering over Catra’s wrist, her other holding Bow's hand. “Actually let's walk” She said, and Catras heart filled with happiness. This is why these were her best friends.

The walk to the pool was slow and peaceful. She felt light as air, like she could float away into the stars and die peacefully. She loved it here, knowing her girlfriend loved her and was safe, knowing she had friends who cared for her even after everything. They chatted about everything and nothing all at once. And Catra was happy.

~

“So I looked at the guard and said how did the picture end up in jail?” Bow said, clearly containing his laughter, “It was framed!” 

Glimmer visibly cringed, glancing at Catra with a look that screamed this is the man I have chosen to be with. Catra giggled, jokes weren't really a thing in the Horde, unless it was at the expense of someone else. She actually really liked Bows jokes, she always laughed at them, and at glimmers face when he told them.

“What? It's funny,” Bow said, a tad bit insulted. He really thought Glimmer would laugh at that one. 

“Nothing babe. It was totally funny. Catra laughed!” Glimmer said, laughing at Bows offended face. He really was the cutest.

“Yeah but i wanted to make you laugh,” Bow said, pouting. Glimmer kissed him in sympathy.

“Gross guys, seriously do you really need to do that right now?” Catra groaned, splashing water at the two. She missed Adora and they didn't need to rub in the fact that her girlfriend was off being She-ra and not here holding Catra. She quickly realized that splashing those two was not a good idea, because Glimmer and Bow decided to splash her back. “Hey, two on one isnt fair!”

“You started it,” Glimmer said.

“What are you, 12” Catra said, “You started it, blah blah blah, you run Etheria with that childish attitude?” Catra knew she was being snarky, but they had splashed her, which she fucking hated. 

“Break it up ladies,” Bow said, nudging Catra, “you did start it though”. 

Catra was about to absolutely destroy her best friends in a splash battle as revenge when Perfuma and Scorpia walked in. Catra sank until only her nose and eyes were above water. She loved scorpia but things had been so awkward between them ever since their falling out in the horde. She’d just make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, so she wouldn't have to deal with it. If they just stayed on the other side of the pool-

“Hello Glimmer, Bow, Catra,” Perfuma said, with her stupid voice that managed to sound like flowers speaking, how can something sound like flowers speaking that doesnt even make sense. “How are you all on this fine afternoon?” She asked.

Catra didn't understand why she sounded so formal all the time. It made her feel… weird. Nobody in the horde spoke that way.

“ We’re good! How are you?” Glimmer said, sounding way too happy to have someone join their little group. Catra didn't want her friends to be stolen away by Princesses who didn't even like her.

“ I am doing well,” Perfuma said. 

Scorpia sat down on the edge of the pool, Perfuma between her legs, back leaning on the side of the pool. Catra stayed silent as their conversation carried on. She heard Scorpia say hi to the group. Sounding far happier than she ever did with Catra, which is no surprise. Hopefully they just didn't interact with her. She could just stay quiet till they left, and not have to talk-

“Catra! How have you been?” It was Scorpia, of course it was Scorpia. The stars must hate her today. Adora’s not here and now she has to talk to all these princesses and deal with Scorpia, who she loves and hurt so much in the past. And her chest is tightening, fuck, not here please not here. She can't breathe, She needs to get it together, she can't do this in front of them. Her eyes are watering, she's crying, she can't breathe. Fuck. 

“Catra are you okay?”

“What happened?”

She didn't know who was saying what.

“Is she okay?”

“Catra, what's going on”

“She is having a panic attack.” 

That was Perfuma. Her voice was distinct. Someone was grabbing her hands. Pulling her into their chest. Another was stroking her hair. 

“Catra, sweetheart, I need you to focus on me okay? We are going to breathe in for 5 seconds, hold our breath for 5 seconds, and breathe out for 7 seconds okay. We are going to do it together. I will count for you alright?” It was Perfuma talking again. She was the one stroking her hair. So that means either Glimmer or Scorpia was hugging her. Fuck.

“Breath in for me okay? 1,2,3,4,5 and hold. 1,2,3,4,5. Now exhale, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. Again”

She didn't know how long this continued for. Eventually her tears dried and she could breathe again, she could speak again. And then the apologies came. One right after the other. They were barely understandable, mumbled into the chest of whoever was hugging her. And then she tried to pull away, to run, like she always did, because she's a coward and everyone would be better off without her. She’d leave and they could go back to their happy conversations and, and, and, fuck! Someone was behind her. 

She glanced up and around, trying to make sense of where everyone was. Trying to find an escape route. Glimmer was hugging her, Scorpia on her left, Perfuma on her right, that left Bow behind her. She was boxed in. She couldn't get away. Fuck. 

“Im fine guys. I don't know what happened. I'm sorry,” Catra was trying to deflect. Everyone knew this. 

“Its okay if you aren't fine though Catra. You can talk to us. We love you and we hate to see you sad,” Glimmer said softly. Scorpia and perfuma nodded in agreement. 

Bow rubbed her back lightly, “She's right Catra, you can always talk to us. You aren’t a bother”. 

How the fuck did they know exactaly what she wanted to hear. But they must be lying. She hurt them so much.

“We have forgiven you Catra. Nobody is angry with you. We all think you are amazing” was this bitch a mindreader. How the fuck did Perfuma know what Catra was thinking. She couldn't do this. She needed to get away.  She was pushing past them. Fuck, she should stay. Listen, but she can't, they must hate her. They have too, because if they don't hate her then.. She must be the only one who hates herself. And she couldn't deal with that. So she was going to leave before she started to believe their lies.

She managed to get past Glimmer, hopping out of the pool and grabbing her towel. “I think I’m going to head to my room guys. I'll see you at dinner”. And she was walking out. 

Perfuma is the one who made chase, she grabbed Catras wrist and pulled her to a stop. “Catra, if you would like to talk sometime, about what you are going through or why you were upset, I am always here”.

“I appreciate that Perfuma, but I’m fine. Really. I think I’m probably just tired”. Catra tugged her wrist out of Perfuma’s grip and definitely did not run away. No she walked calmly, because she was just tired. 

Glimmer glanced at Bow, Scorpia, and Perfuma. Catra was too far away to hear the plan they made to make Catra accept their help and love. And also to make her talk to them.

(2700)

#shera #she-ra #catradora #scorfuma #shera season 5 #fuck this is long #stars who listen

[rainsonata]

Doppelgänger 11/15

Chapter 11: Echoes 

Fandom/Pairing: Elsword; none Rating: T Word Count: 7,958

Summary: It was like looking into a mirror. What happens when one’s reflection talks back and throws uncomfortable questions? El Search Party struggles to find entrance into the Demon Realm, but Dominator has a plan.   

Alternative Title: Dominator fucked up and now everyone meets their alternative selves   

AO3 Link / FF.NET Link

— [Chapter 01] [Chapter 02] [Chapter 03] [Chapter 04] [Chapter 05] [Chapter 06] [Chapter 07] [Chapter 08] [Chapter 09] [Chapter 10] [Chapter 11] [Chapter 12] [Chapter 13] [Chapter 14] [Chapter 15] —  

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

Class Notes: 

Canon Path: Knight Emperor, Aether Sage, Daybreaker, Rage Hearts, Code: Esencia, Comet Crusader, Apsara, Empire Sword, Doom Bringer, Ishtar and Chevalier (Innocent), Bluhen   

Alternative Path: Rune Slayer, Oz Sorcerer, Anemos, Furious Blade, Code: Ultimate, Fatal Phantom, Devi, Flame Lord, Dominator, Timoria and Abysser (Catastrophe), Richter

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

Oz Sorcerer

Dusk bordered at the horizon when Oz returned to camp. Dozens of tents rose in a mass of colors and arranged into smaller circles with a smaller campfire for each group. Oz saw tents of the close-ranged fighters placed closer to the edge of their resting site, the ones ready for combat to the sound of intruders. Those that relied more on magic or needed more time to prepare like Rune and Dominator placed their tents more inward from the edge of the area they resided in.

“Hey, ‘cuse me,” a male voice grunted. “Sorry, come through.” 

The smell of blood and dirt filled the air. Knight was hauling a wild boar that was easily twice his size. Blood was dripping down the carcass and onto Knight’s armor. His great sword was tucked into a scabbard strapped to his back, grating against the gravel as he dragged the ridiculous sized animal over his shoulder. A quiet gasp escaped from a lower tree branch whipping into his vicinity and swapped the young man. 

“Need help?” Oz leaned forward, “I can barely see your face from here.” 

“Yes,” Knight groaned under the weight of the boar. How could someone so short carry a monster of that size? She was impressed. 

With the help of Angkor (“I’m not here to do grunt work!” He huffed.), she helped him carry the dead animal across camp. It took all of Oz’s effort now to lower the boar over a pile of dried leaves. They placed the boar next to a campfire. She watched its beady eyes staring back at her, dead and fish-eyed in death. 

She didn’t know the Demon Realm had animals.

Then again, Angkor didn’t really tell her much about the realm that demons called home. Oz looked up to see the moons nestled among the clouds. Angkor and Timoria spoke of their old allies and enemies, but their narrative of the Demon Realm varied. She guessed that it was as big and diverse as Elrios was. It took her weeks to journey from Sander all the way to Ruben in search of the Ring of Mimir, so maybe it would take weeks to reach the other end of the Demon Realm?

“What are you doing?” Oz observed Knight taking out a dagger from his belt. Angkor scurried off in bat form when Knight started skinning the animal with precision.  

“Prepping for dinner,” Knight said. He let out a nervous chuckle. “Do you want to help?”

“Sure,” Oz placed her staff on her belt to make her hands free. “What do we do first?”

“Uh, right.” Knight looked happy? He moved aside to patted the ground to gesture at her into joining him, nodding his head, “I want you to grab a bucket or any containers you have. We’ll be draining its blood to make pig blood curd for soups and congee in the morning. Once we finish, we’ll be carving the meat and use half of it to make dried jerky for battle rations. I already cleaned it out before I started skinning it.”

“These? Do you make everyone you talk to do this?” Oz asked. Placing the bowls aside, she sat on the floor next to Knight. “What happened to your friends?”

“Most of them are still resting after the fights,” Knight chuckled. “And you looked like you weren’t busy. What’s so funny?” 

He stopped to give her a strange look. What? Was Knight already detecting her sad attempt to keep a poker face during his long lecture? He glanced over Oz before making note of Angkor, who was back to his bat form. Angkor settled on her lap as a bat and giggled when Oz tried to move it. Did Angkor gain weight? Oz placed her hand over her chest and pretended to blush. 

“See something you like?” She teased. 

“I’m surprised you’re helping me after some of my friends tried to hurt you,” Knight was not fazed. 

“This wouldn’t be the first time our enemies became our allies,” Oz mused. “Rune asked me to do the same when we first met.” 

“Oh… sorry about that.” He was embarrassed. 

“What are you apologizing for? It’s always good to have a refresher!” Oz exclaimed, “Your hands were full and you looked like you needed help.”  

Knight looked relieved and nodded to himself. It was subtle, but a distinct smile. The kind Rune had when he learned a new technique to manipulate his runes. He was taller than Rune, towering over her with sleeves rolled back while working. His hair was a short neat cut, matching his eyes and the rest of his armor.   

After they extracted blood from the boar, they let it sit in one of the metal bowls to solidify. They would then slide the curd into smaller pieces to be salted and heated in a pot. Knight handed her a dagger and they began dividing the meat into sections. Oz let the man take the lead and insert the sharp edge towards the spine, cleaning the meat off the bone in one swipe. Knight expertly placed the meat into a separate container for later use and hummed as he worked. For a moment, she caught serenity in his silence, taking pride in his hard work.  

“Is it always you who does this?” Oz asked. 

“Sometimes it’s Elesis or Raven,” Knight said. “The others have offered to help, but I’m doing it today. Are you okay with that?”

“You’re asking me now?” Oz let out a mellow laugh, “It’s gross, but you look so sad doing it by yourself.”

“I look sad?” Knight chuckled, “I’m used to doing it by myself. I had to do it when ‘sis was out of the picture.” 

Stupid, Aisha! She scolded herself. Now she made him remember a lonely part of his life. Oz took deep breaths and counted backwards from ten. He didn’t even look upset about it and laughed. 

“But thank you for offering to help,” Knight said. “Food will be ready sooner and we can focus on everyone recovering.” 

“When was the last time you visited Ruben?” Oz asked.  

“It’s been years,” he admitted. “Haven’t had much time to return with everything that’s been happening.” 

“Do you miss home?” 

“Sometimes,” Knight said. “But when I’m with my friends, it’s like I have a second home. You know what I mean? Don’t laugh, but I hope I can one day show them Ruben when things are peaceful again.” 

“No, that sounds like a wonderful dream,” Oz softened her expression and thought about the people she grew up with. She wondered if her teammates felt the same. 

Oz started setting the seasoned meats onto a dry metal tablet to be smoked when she heard Angkor squeak. She looked up to Aether stomping over to her. Dressed in a white skirt accented by purple, Aether wielded a staff and looked short out of breath. Did all of Knight’s friends wear white?  

“Aisha?” Knight didn’t notice the dark aura radiating from the sulking mage. 

“Elsword,” Aether stopped to catch her breath. The twin cowlicks sprouting from her roots drooped as she rested her hands over her knees before bringing her head up. Her face was flustered, “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Helping Ciel prep for dinner. Oz is helping me.” Knight said and looked at her with pleading eyes. Did he just give Aether puppy eyes? He and Rune were cut from the same cloth. “Did Bluhen heal your arm?”     

“No one else can heal besides him, my arm is fine.” Aether huffed. “Did you just kill that boar by yourself? You should be resting. You’ve gone missing for two days!” 

“I’m not hurt!” Knight stood up for Aether to see. “Not a single cut! Ain healed most of my injuries!”  

“You can’t rely on him all the time for heals,” Aether glared. “I just talked to him and he said you should be resting. I bet you didn’t tell Ciel that, did you?” 

“I… no.” He said in a small voice. 

If looks could kill, Knight would have died twice fold from the intense looks the mage was sending to him. Oz held back her laughter as Aether scrutinized the red-haired man. Aether threw a side-eyed look to Oz as if debating if it was the dark mage’s fault for letting Knight do things by himself. 

“I helped him before no one else was,” Oz said before Aether could open her mouth. “We were almost done before you came here.”   

Glancing at the smoked meats and the pork blood curd finished steaming in the heated pot, Aether didn’t argue. She turned pink, embarrassed and offered an apology to both of them. Oz overheard Angkor chattering to her and hushed him to be quiet. 

“Do I look that awful?” Knight asked. 

“You look like a zombie,” Aether said. 

“Really? I was thinking more like a sad phoru.” Oz pointed to the bags under Knight’s eyes. Knight tilted his head to the side in confusion. 

“Go wash your hands and rest until dinner is ready,” Aether groaned before gesturing to Oz. “I’ll help her finish up the rest of what you already started.” 

“All right,” Knight walked past Aether. “Sorry for making you worry.” 

Oz wished he would stop taking blame for things in a feeble attempt to soothe anger from either side. It was grating on her nerves and didn’t suit him at all. It made her miss the slight flare of arrogance Rune had when thinking he found the perfect ratio of hot pepper flakes to apply to pork jerky, or when he set the entire demon army on fire. 

“Hey, worrying is our job.” Aether stopped him, “That’s what we’re here for.” 

Knight laughed.

There was silence between the two women when he left. Aether finished slicing the meat into thin pieces. Her slices were sloppier than Knight’s but cut close to the bone of the boar and marinated the meat in a metal bowl. Oz rotated the smoked meat for the other side to be cooked and checked on the pork blood curd. Their campsite smelled of smoked and seasoned meats.     

“So you do have a demon,” Aether looked at Angkor with the same fascination as one would with deadly forest fungi.

“Have?” Oz rolled her eyes, “He’s not a pet. More like a contract.” 

It was hard to believe Angkor was a demon god for the number of times he wouldn’t stop chattering demon gossip to her or demanding for more cookies. Oz wondered if looking like a child brought in the childish tendencies in the demon bat. His powers on the other hand were worth discussing and helped her in battles countless times. 

“How did that happen?” Aether asked. 

“Well, I was practicing dark magic when Angkor approached me.” Oz said, “He saw talent in me and offered a deal to me.” 

“And the clothes?” 

“That’s what you’re worried about the most?” Oz said, “I don’t mind. Maybe more ruffles than I wanted, but the gain in power was what mattered.” 

“You didn’t find the Ring of Mimir either?” 

“No,” Oz shook her head. The blood curd was done. She drained water from the pot and transferred them over to a container for storage. “Are you still looking for it?” 

“Yes,” Aether closed her eyes. “We were so close to catching the culprit. He ran off before I had the chance to get it back.”

“Do you think it will return your powers?” 

“I don’t know, maybe? I relearned the fundamentals of elemental magic, but there’s still more to be learned.” Aether said, “Hennon doesn’t have rights over that ring grandfather worked hard to uncover.” 

Oz tried to remember a time when she believed in having the ring restore her powers. After no leads to it, she turned to dark magic because she didn’t want to relearn something she had already lost. The Hennon of her world also had the Ring of Mimir, but that was the least of their concerns when there was an urgent matter of restoring the El. 

“So what’s with you and Elsword?” Aether asked. “I saw you two talking.”      

“Still obsessing over that boy?” Oz teased. 

“What?” Aether paused, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“You keep looking at him.” Oz teased. “It’s like I’m not even here.” 

Aether sat still, frozen in time, and forgot that she had a knife in her hand. The knife remained suspended in a fist hold grip, losing its use in her hands. Her eyes widened, shocked by the statement and Oz’s impatience. Talking to Aether was coming into contact with a reflection of herself when she was eighteen years old, infatuated and hopeful in catching the attention of a red-haired boy. 

“It looked like you two were having fun,” Aether turned pink. “You two share nothing in common, but you made it look easy to talk to him about anything.” 

“I just let him talk about things he’s interested in,” Oz shrugged. “Didn’t you travel with him for five years?”  

“Yes, but I’m not sure if I know him as well as I thought I did.” She confessed, “When he went missing, I mistook Rune for him. It was so obvious. I feel like an idiot.”

“They’re pretty similar,” Oz said. “Both of them act like idiots, won’t stop talking about meat, insist they’re used to doing things alone...”

“That’s the thing!” Aether threw her arms in the air, “He always does all these things by himself, acting like everything is his fault. It’s so frustrating! How many times do we need to tell him we don’t mind?” 

“I think that’s why Knight hides things,” Oz leaned back. “He probably didn’t want to make you all worry, even if it’s a stupid idea and you all care about him either way.”  

Oz collected the remnants of the skinned and deboned animal. The bones were saved to be used as a base for soups and broths. She was impressed by Knight’s work ethic that expanded even outside of his training. Left to live by himself at a young age, Knight must have learned to never let food be wasted. He and Rune were masters in hunting and finishing chores, but worked twice as hard in training.     

“I wonder if I scared him away, yelling at him like that.” Aether thought aloud. “I can’t stand seeing him get hurt again.” 

“You still like him,” Oz commented. 

“Don’t you?” Aether asked.     

“Maybe not in the same sense as you do,” Oz said. “We tried to connect a few times but decided it wasn’t working for us. He’s now with Chung.” 

“What?” 

Aether dropped the metal container with the blood curd. Luckily, it was sealed shut. Oz retrieved the container from the mage with a kind expression. 

“Elsword and Chung are dating,” Oz said. “Or Rune and Phantom if you’re keeping track of nicknames.” 

“No wonder they kept looking at each other,” she overheard Aether mutter to herself. “Does that mean our Elsword and Chung are…” 

“I don’t know,” Oz said. “Not everything is set in stone. Your timeline is already different than ours, so I wouldn’t give up yet. Knight might like Crusader, you, a random village girl, or even Add.” 

“Ha!” Aether snorted. “Unlikely.” 

Oz grinned. She liked her. 

“Let’s deliver these to Ciel and Abysser.” Aether started collecting the containers, one under each arm. “They said they were going to cook something tonight.” 

Would this be enough to feed all of them? After washing her hands, Oz joined in helping her, taking the containers that were left to bring over to their teammates. She couldn’t imagine how Knight could have completed this task on his own. The next time she saw Rune attempting to do the same, she’ll have to make sure she or someone else would help him. 

“It’s always a pleasure talking to myself,” Oz tipped her hat and feigned a formal bow. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Aether rolled her eyes but softened his expression. “I think it’ll be easier to talk to Elsword now that I understand him a little better.” 

“I think you already do,” Oz said. “You’re already thinking like him and helping people.” 

“Is that a compliment I hear?” Aether’s grin mirrored hers, “Don’t expect less from the great Aisha!” 

“Do you talk like that to everyone?” 

“...shut up.”

Oz snickered.  

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

Apsara

“And then Elesis set the pole on fire,” Anemos said. 

“A pole?” Apsara repeated. 

“She got her tongue stuck on one and tried to free himself by setting it on fire,” the elf explained. “The city wasn’t happy and we had to pay for the damage. Luckily, we had enough from the major mission in Hamel.” 

W-wait, that didn’t sound good! Apsara panicked as Anemos let out a noble woman’s laugh. It was good that they had enough money to pay for the damage cost, but was it okay to cause a fire in the middle of a city? 

“B-but, Flame was okay, right?” Apsara stuttered. 

“Oh, she was perfectly fine,” Anemos added. “Can’t say the same about the rest of the city. That was rough.” 

“There’s more?” Apsara squeaked. 

“Trouble always seems to follow your team, it seems.” Daybreaker chuckled. “It sounds like your friends ran into a lot of strange adventures and close calls.” 

Apsara nodded in agreement. She gripped her cup, running her thumbs over the edge and watching the tea steam rise and fall. It was her own personal tea set from what was left over of her ruined home in Fluone's Northern Empire. Bamboo and cranes were painted in dark green onto the cups. The tea kettle was decorated in a similar theme with a giant crane spreading its wings in bamboo bedding. It was a gift from her late mother before she passed away.  

Anemos was just as she imagined the other Rena to be. Kind, funny, always ready to share stories of her travels and offering great advice, although Anemos had a more playful side. A smirk grew at the edge of Anemos’ lips, sipping from her cup of tea. 

“I can say the same to your team,” Anemos said. “Unconventionally breaking into the Demon Realm and angering Dark Elves sounds like a rough trip.” 

“We were lucky that Rena was here to talk it out and help us work together,” Apsara beamed. “Without her, we might still be enemies!”

“It’s a good thing we understood each other,” Daybreaker said. “I didn’t think we would meet Dark Elves so soon.” 

“What are they like?” Anemos asked.     

Both of them are correct, Eun yawned. Luck has saved you and your friends many times. How much longer will it carry you until it runs out?  

Apsara shivered at the meaning behind Eun’s words. The nine-tailed fox was not one for talk and preferred being a spectator from the safety of her mind, but occasionally left a piece of wisdom for her to think on.   

Eun was right. They were lucky that she accidentally fell into the labyrinth of ruin that connected Elrios to the Demon Realm. According to Daybreaker, the language the Dark Elves spoke was closer to the Ancient Elven tongue, a skill not many elves possessed. After struggling to rescue Knight from the El, things were beginning to line up for them.  However, as lucky as they were, there were just as many misfortunes that fell on them and stalled time for the enemy to get away. It was something Apsara couldn’t forgive. They had to do more than fall on lady luck to seek justice for the lives of those impacted by the enemy.   

“Apsara?” Anemos broke through the martial artist’s train of thought. She had a gentle expression, “Was the medicine too strong? You look out of it.” 

“I’m fine,” Apsara rubbed her forehead. It still hurt where she fell on her face.  She was going to let it heal naturally.  It was barely a scratch worth using healing magic. “Hey, Anemos? How do you plan to return back to Elrianode?” 

“Tired of us already?” Anemos teased, placing her finger over her lips. “With the teleportation device broken, we won’t be going home until it gets repaired. Why do you ask? Was your trip a one-way trip?”

“I’m afraid it was,” Daybreaker said. “We were planning to find an alternate way to get back once we found the Dark El.” 

“Your team didn’t look good when we fought you,” Anemos commented. “Was a demon giving you trouble?”

“Nephilim Lord,” Apsara said. “It looked like the one in Velder, but bigger. You saw one before, right? It warned us about a fiery aura.”  

The one they fought was several times the size, asbestos white and covered in bright rainbow-colored armor-like scales. It had horns protruding from its body and had no need to move to efficiently burn through their defense. The most powerful of all Nephilim, it was sentient and lost control of itself until it was taken down by the El Search Party.         

Anemos frowned and bit her lip in deep thought, mumbling to herself in Elven. At the mention of Nephilim Lord, the gears in the elf’s mind began to turn. Her eyes were calculating and darted up to where the sky was. Apsara looked up to see where the older woman was looking. 

Cloud swirled collectively around the portals appearing and closing, deviating from one another. Apsara became dizzy looking at them and returned her eyes to Anemos, whose complexion remained serious.

“Was Nehphilim Lord the cause of this?” Anemos asked. 

“I don’t think so,” Daybreaker shook her head. “It’s been like this since Paradox fought with us. He seems to have control over those portals.”

“Maybe we can use those portals to go back to Elrianode!” Apsara exclaimed. 

“Assuming we can control them ourselves,” Anemos sighed. “Unless you know anything about time and space.”  

Apsara felt her cheeks turn warm and pouted. Was it unrealistic in trying to secure a way back to Elrios? She already felt guilty leaving behind the world she and her friends worked hard to protect. On the other hand, the Dark Elves were relying on them to sort out the unstable spike of energy coming from the shadows of Varnimyr, a place where even Eun was uncertain about their safety. Ever since they have arrived at the Demon Realm, they have dug their feet into the dark with little guidance of where to go. It was worrying not knowing if there was a way back.  

“I’m not even sure if one of those portals even works,” Daybreaker said. “We don’t know what’s on the other side. What if we end up in another world like you and your friends did?” 

Apsara stared into the dense forest surrounding the cavern area. She didn’t even think about the possibility of coming out on one end of a portal into a world that bore little resemblance to Elrios or the Demon Realm. They would have to start all over again from scratch and adjust to a world with new laws and boundaries like they did when they first arrived in the Demon Realm.   

It would be difficult to find a way back to Elrionode, Eun said. There is little else that can be done without taking a risk.  

“We haven’t had the best luck in making things go according to plan,” Anemos added. “We still need to find the Dark El first before returning. Those portals will still be here when we find it.” 

“Finding the Dark El won’t be easy, but I believe we’ll find it soon.” Apsara finally said. “We have even more people now to make it work. We’ll all be coming home soon.”

“How touching,” a new voice drawled. Devi emerged from the shadows, letting the flame light flicker across her amber eyes. She looked down at Apsara’s smaller form. “I never thought of myself as a wide-eyed optimist.”  

Apsara turned around to see a round face covered by dark black locks. The long ripples from the ends of her dress made Devi appear taller and thinner. Next to Apsara, she was covered in black and orange, resembling a dark butterfly spreading its wings in her dress billowing in the gentle breeze. Devi smiled, but her eyes held an unsteady gaze.           

Careful, Ara. Urgency rose in Eun’s voice, She’s dangerous. 

“A-ara! I mean me! Devi, I mean, uh, what do you prefer being called?” Apsara cried and lowered her head in a ninety-degree bow, “I didn’t see you there, did you need something? Of course, you did, that’s why you’re here. Are you mad at us for hurting your friends? I’m so sorry. You must be furious with us, please forgive us. I-”

“You talk too much,” Devi silenced Apsara with a single motion of a raised hand. “I barely caught any of that. Are you a mouse? I hear a lot of squeaking.” 

“A mouse?” Apsara felt dizzy. She lifted her head, moving her hands behind her head in a daze. “You mean the animal?” 

“You’re scaring her,” Anemos chided. 

“I’m not scared!” Apsara protested. “She caught me by surprise, that’s all! ”

“Am I not allowed to join tea with you ladies?” Devi poured a cup for herself and nestled herself between Devi and Anemos. Like Apsara, she drank her tea from a cup carefully held between her delicate fingers. She ignored the milk and sugar provided for Anemos and Daybreaker, who were less accustomed to drinking tea without them.

“Careful, it’s still hot-” Apsara stopped when Devi chugged the rest of the tea and blew hot air from her mouth. How scary, she thought.  

“Your tea is all right,” Devi said. “Needs more herbs.” 

Apsara stopped breathing. Her head was still spinning from processing that they were the same person. The way Devi carried herself was something only Apsara could dream of when she let Eun take over. She couldn’t sense Eun’s presence being the dominant one from her alternate, so the confidence was all Devi. 

Devi and the rest of the alternate El Search Party reminded her of the old folk tales she had read as a child. Doppelgangers from another world that bore resemblance to the people she knew. The doppelgangers in the stories were often demons or evil spirits in disguise, but Devi and the others were neither of them.    

“We’re running low on tea,” Apsara said.  

“You were talking about the Dark El,” Devi narrowed her eyes. She glanced over her shoulder to scan their surroundings before lowering her voice, “I don’t think I need to explain what it is or why it’s important. Where is it?” 

“We don’t know,” Daybreaker said. “We’re still searching for it like you. We’re only a few weeks ahead of you.” 

Devi cursed. 

“But since you’re here, we can look for it together!” Apsara said. “Nephilim Lord said it would offer us information about it if we search for the source of aura that’s been unstabilizing its home.” 

“It’s our best shot at the moment,” Anemos agreed. “With this many people, we’ll find the source of the aura in no time.”   

“You don’t think you’re being used to take care of someone else’s problem?” Devi looked at Apsara with skepticism. “Your girlfriend told me it tried to kill you.” 

It was true that Nephillim Lord tried to kill the El Search Party, but it wasn’t the first time an enemy was restrained under mind control or agitation. How much did Empire tell Devi about their circumstances?  

“We’re doing this because we want to punish those that tried to take advantage of the people living here,” Apsara said. “I won’t stand for that.”  

“Nephillim Lord was influenced by the aura,” Daybreaker explained. “We made a promise to help it out. The Dark Elves revere it as a god and protector. We’re not leaving until everything is back to normal.” 

“They have a better lead than we do,” Anemos placed her hands over her lap. She kept her voice low. “This may be our only chance.” 

Devi folded her arms back and grasped the handle of her spear. Still smiling, it was unnerving to see red flash through Devi’s eyes before returning back to amber. It took Apsara a moment to remember that Devi must have Eun too. Those two must be close for Devi to maintain the same facial expression even when Eun had its brief moment of existence. 

“For the monster’s sake, I hope it understands the consequences if it doesn’t follow through with its promise.” Devi mused.  

“Elesis told me you used different martial arts,” Aspara ignored the dark comment. “What are they?” 

“Is that what’s on your mind?” Devi rose a brow. “They’re secret arts from a book that specializes in dark energy. I’m curious about you as well. We’ll have to find out in a spar.” 

“Another time,” Anemos said. “There might be more fighting if we’re going to find the source of the aura.” 

“We thought the source of the aura was you and your friends,” Daybreaker admitted to Anemos. “But that wasn’t it. The aura is not from you, but somewhere else. We might be struggling to find it because it’s still dormant.” 

That meant they had more time to prepare for another battle, right? Apsara pulled the kettle to pour herself another cup of tea. Blowing the fumes away, she sipped as she gripped on her spear with her free hand. It was unclear what the source of the aura was, but she could feel its presence hovering over the region, a dull uncomfortable weight over her shoulders. It was going to get worse if it awakened. Their friends were still recovering from the last battle and they needed to regroup with a new plan.   

“Elesis mentioned your name when I talked to her,” Apsara looked at Devi, who was already on her third cup of tea. “What did you do to her?” 

Empire gave her a wide-eyed look when Apsara asked about her alternate. Her complexion was the same color as her hair before Apsara took her girlfriend’s hand and offered to change the topic.   

“Hm?” Devi giggled when Apsara gave her a questioning look, “Oh, I may have provoked her into fighting me, called her princess, and now she’s angry at me.”

“You need to go back and apologize to her!” Apsara shook Devi by the shoulders and cried when the other woman cackled. “Devi! That’s not funny!” 

“They’re so lively,” Anemos commented. 

“With two of them, I’m sure they were going to be.” Daybreaker chuckled. 

“Are you happy with your progress?” 

Huh? Devi’s question was one that haunted Apsara, an anxious voice whispering into her ear in the darkest of nights, taunting her with doubt that fed off of her uncertainty.  Apsara felt Eun tense, rising from her subconscious and voicing its opinion of her counterpart, none of them were kind or generous. She ignored the fox spirit and had a thoughtful expression. 

Devi was terse, asking biting questions and offering brisk answers in return. Despite being squished in between Apsara and the two Renas, she never relaxed. Legs crossed with one hand kept close to her spear, Devi’s smile failed to reach the rest of her face.   

“You keep following these people, nowhere close to your goal and walking in circles,” Devi said. “Are you satisfied?” 

“I am,” Apsara examined the woman with sadness. She reached for Devi and placed one hand over her alternate’s forearm. “Why are you always sad?” 

“I’m not sad,” Devi forced a laugh. 

She was lying. 

“It doesn’t bother me that we keep getting sidetracked,” Apsara said with earnest. “I’m not even sure if we’re doing the right thing, but I want to help my friends stabilize the El because I know they would do the same if I needed help. Do you ever feel like that?”   

“I do,” Devi said. For the first time, she relaxed and looked at Apsara with a pensive expression. “We’re lucky to have people like them.” 

“I think they would be happy if we let them know that,” Apsara smiled. “Tell me about your friends.” 

And Devi did.   

---------------------------- 

Timoria

Smoke filled the campsite as Timoria hopped over to put out the fire with a pan lid. Hot air hissed from the top and she jolted back. Her tail curled up and her eyes grew wide, panicking and rushing to put the lid back on. Puffing air into her palms, Timoria shrieked when she bumped into Abysser from behind.  

“Sorry!” Abysser put up her two hands. “Didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m not sure what has gotten into you today, but I can take over now.” 

“You said you felt light-headed,” Timoria accused him. 

“I feel better, I promise!” Abysser laughed. “Not sure what the fuss is about.” 

“You passed out from an explosion,” Timoria said. 

“But I’m still alive and kicking,” he grinned. “You don’t need to sacrifice your time to cook for everyone.” 

An overreaction? Perhaps, especially when her partner in crime was no longer human but now a fully fledged demon, but Abysser wasn’t replaceable. He was more than that, a chimera between a butler and a close friend. People have mistaken them to be related and it didn’t bother Timoria as much as she would have expected. Their bonds were no longer linked as a single unit, but she could tell when the dummy showed his teeth and cocked his head to the side in an attempt to reassure her that he was fine. 

What was Abysser thinking getting up close to shield her from Bluhen? Humans called it heroic, but she called it foolish and impulsive. The man who called himself a priest was suppressing his energy to create an explosion that could have wiped out a demon army. There was nothing heroic about a nearly dying face planted into the dirt. 

“You said someone taught you how to bake and cook,” Timoria said. “Why don't you teach me too? I’m ready to graduate from, ‘Lu, go pick some herbs.’, ‘Lu, can you set up the table?’, and ‘Lu, where’s the spoon?’.”

She made faces and lowered her pitch when she did her Abysser impersonation, pacing around the campsite. 

“Do I really talk like that?” Abysser scratched his head but softened his expression. “I didn’t know you wanted to learn.” 

“You make it sound like I never help,” Timoria pouted and tucked her arms under her long sleeves, feeling the pain crisscrossing into her bandaged fingers like pin needles. “Did I do a good job of cutting the vegetables?” 

Who knew humans consumed so much of them. She didn’t realize how picky Abysser was in how he wanted things to be cut and presented. One would think he was about to serve a meal to the king of Velder.    

“Never said you didn’t.” Abysser said, “I think it’s great you want to help. You did good for a first-timer.”

There he goes again, Timoria placed her hand over her hip. Making that face again, borderlining on smug in catching her showing consideration for others, brimming with the kind of pride she associated with parents to their children. Any outsider would have mistaken them to be related, but she never protested because she saw how happy it made Abysser. People still mistook her as a child, but she was getting taller, she was sure of it!

“Now we wait until it boils, right?” Timoria asked. 

Abysser hummed and nodded his head for an affirmation. 

Timoria hovered over with her wings out for a better view of the stew. She knew there was a lot of stirring involved, but she would leave that to Abysser. The last time she attempted, the campsite was nearly burned down and she didn’t trust herself to know when their meal would be ready.    

She went back to the stream flowing at the edge of camp to wash her hands, carefully cleaning the dirt under her claws. The demon lord felt the cold water run between her claws and relished the familiarity of it. It wasn’t the dark quarters of her old realm, but she recognized the moons passing by when she returned to see a figure waiting for her.  

Sitting at the edge of a fallen log was a demon adorned in white and royal blue. Pale locks cascaded past her thighs and touched the back of her heels. Cyan colored horns similar to Timoria's protruded from the side of Ishtar’s head. Bright eyes the color of starlight gazed past the horizon to meet Timoria’s.    

“Do you always talk to him like that?” Ishtar asked. 

“Who?” Timoria tried not to stare. It was blinding to look at her other self, ethereal under the moonlight and projecting the very image Timoria once wished to reclaim. “Ciel?” 

“You look like you two were having fun,” she looked sad. Was Ishtar envious of them?  

“I don’t expect him to do everything when he needs time to recover from a fight,” Timoria said. “Does he not let you help out?” 

“He does, but insists he can do everything.” Ishtar rolled her eyes, “I don’t think Ciel knows what I can do.”  

“I find that hard to believe,” Timoria said.  

Chevalier was a quiet man. Exchanging a polite smile to Timoria, he waited for Ishtar to talk first before replying back with an equally amicable response. He maintained an air of dignity, but Timoria sensed a difference in his dynamic with Ishtar than her’s and Abysser’s. His hair was a light shade of blue, but it was clear that he was still partially human. 

Ishtar and Chevalier’s relationship wasn’t one of malevolence if she was to believe Richter’s account and from her own observations. Timoria recalled how he and Ishtar fought back at the edge of the forest, perfectly synchronized on the same wavelength of El resonance. Bounded together by powerful magic that turned their souls into one, Ishtar relied on Chevalier as much as the butler did to her. It was not unlike the bond Timoria used to share with Abysser before they parted to become equals. 

“I suppose you’re right,” Ishtar mumbled. “I sometimes wonder if it bothers him doing everything for me.” 

“I think you would be the first to know.” Timoria thought about the time Abysser was depressed after being rejected by a phoru. She bit her lips, “but I think he would appreciate it if you showed him your thanks.”  

Her counterpart rose, parting her lips and rounding them at the realization. Nodding her head, she accepted Timoria’s explanation and scrunched up her brows in deep thought. Much to her annoyance, Ishtar towered over her by almost a head. To outsiders, Timoria was a child while Ishtar had the appearance of an older teen or a young adult.  

“What would make him happy?” Ishtar wondered out loud. “He likes phorus, but I’m not very good with them. I tried baking cookies for him once, but he choked on it and I guess humans don’t like too much red pepper paste-” 

“You put what in cookies?” Timoria interrupted. She tried to imagine what those cookies looked like when they were finished and presented to the butler. Poor Chevalier...  

“I wanted to make them red because he once said he liked that color,” Ishtar protested. 

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to rescue them and make them edible,” Timoria said. 

“He did,” she said. “I’m not sure how he did it, but it was delicious. Humans are more adaptive than we demons give them credit for.” 

It suddenly made sense why Chevalier didn’t let Ishtar take up on cooking duty. 

“Is this why he still treats me like a child?” Ishtar sighed. “I made him do extra work he didn’t have to do.”

“My Ciel treats me like a kid too,” Timoria said. “It’s annoying, but he once told me it was because I reminded him of someone he knew. Did yours ever tell you that?”

Ishtar shook her head.  

“Aren’t you the one bounded to him?” Timoria asked. 

“That doesn’t mean I make him share everything. He doesn’t like talking about the past,” Ishtar said. “It isn’t fair for me to ask Ciel to tell me everything about himself if I’m not ready to talk about myself. There are many things I regretted doing as Luciela. I’m afraid of what he would think of me if he knew half of it.” 

A sad smile appeared on Ishtar’s features, her eyes wandered over to Chevalier, who was standing at the opposite side of the campsite and talking to his counterpart. Abysser laughed at something Chevalier said, occasionally stopping to skim bubbles from the stew.   

“Does yours know what you did?” Ishtar asked, “What we did.”

Timoria felt her limbs growing limp, unable to even lift them up to do something with them. Her silence answered Ishtar’s question, unsurprised by the revelation. Ishtar sat beside Timoria and kept her legs tightly together, contemplating on how much to ask. Demons were aware of multiple dimensions existing, but to meet oneself was something not many experienced. 

“Then both of us are cowards,” Ishtar laughed quietly to herself. 

“How is that funny?” Timoria asked. 

“You’re a little small to be a demon ruler,” Ishtar smirked. “I was wary about whether or not you and your friends were a trick set up by Henir cultists.” 

“How rude!” Timoria exclaimed, “I want nothing to do with those boorish deviants! I don’t think it’s necessary for him to know about my past, but I do want to tell him eventually when we aren’t being chased by Henir cultists.” 

“You have them too?” Ishtar asked. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Timoria said. “They made a fuss about the Dark El and now we have to go fetch it before they do.”

It has been days since Timoria last saw the creeps in black hoods, but that could be a bad sign if the cultists found more allies in demons that may see the El Search Party as a threat. To demon residents, they were foreign invaders from another world and Timoria was a traitor. It wouldn’t be the first time the Demon Realm witnessed a powerful leader backstabbing them. She didn’t like to think about what that meant if word started spreading around about the former demon ruler returning to the Demon Realm.      

“How does it feel to be back home?” Ishtar asked. 

“This is hardly home,” Timoria laid down on her back. “Haven’t had one since the attempted assassination. I don’t think Ciel and I can rest until we find a way to take back power over the realm that was stolen from me.” 

“Your bonds feel different,” Ishtar noted. “What made you separate?” 

“Ciel and I had an understanding,” Timoria said. “I didn’t want Ciel to feel like he was forced to follow me. We don’t need a contract to stay together and I saw him as my equal. It was his idea to abandon his human side.” 

“As equals, huh?” Ishtar repeated her words. “I think I get it. When you were gone, Abysser wouldn’t stop talking about you. He kept saying your name, which is infuriating because it’s my name too!” 

Timoria snorted, “That sounds like him.” 

“But I can see you mean a lot to him,” Ishtar said. “You better be grateful you have him!” 

“You’re one to talk!” 

She couldn’t believe she was being lectured by herself. Timoria sat up to stretch her arms, going on her tiptoes and reaching for the skies. Dinner should be ready soon. She could smell the inviting aroma from the stew she helped Abysser with earlier. She overheard Abysser talking to Chevalier.  

“Oh, so that’s how you do it.” Abysser rubbed his chin, “Why didn’t I think of that?” 

The demon lord showed his teeth, slapping one arm over Chevalier’s shoulder and twirling about to reach over for the ladle to try the stew. His hand was slapped away by his counterpart and whined. Chevalier tasted the stew, glaring at the bubbling water before tossing in a garnish of green onion and a pinch of salt. 

“I didn’t even know you existed until yesterday,” Chevalier said. 

“Ouch, that’s cold.” Abysser feigned a hurt expression. “You don’t even have questions about me or Lu?”

“I do, but isn’t it rude to ask these types of questions when we just met?” Chevalier said, “I think it’s more appropriate to ask how it’s even possible for you to be here.” 

“Blunt and to the point, I get it.” Abysser waved his hands, “I thought your Add would explain all of this to you.” 

“He would, but ours passed out.” Chevalier said. 

Fair enough. 

It was hard to have an impression of someone they fought once and only stopped long enough to deliver provoking taunts and snarky comments. Staggering over with his back hunched and a crazed look; if it wasn’t for the mechanical eye and flying plates (“They’re called Dynamo!” Dominator protested.), Timoria would have mistaken Bringer as someone else.    

“We jumped over here to find the Dark El by opening a portal with a device Add made,” Abysser explained. “You already know the rest.”  

“You’re not an illusion or a manifestation of the El.” Chevalier said. There was a sharpness in Chevalier’s expression when he examined Abysser with a critical eye.  

“From the Hall of El?” Abysser had a sly smile. “Yes, I was wondering the same about you and your friends too, but you are a chattier bunch and more fun to talk to.”

“Fun?” One could hear the blood vein threatening to burst from the side of Chevalier’s head. 

“For one thing, you and your friends weren’t threatening to kill us or attempting to absorb us into the El.” Abysser didn’t seem to notice the irked brows from his counterpart and chuckled, “Isn’t that right, Lu?”

Timoria tried not to laugh when Chevalier was taken back when looking ahead, only to lower his gaze to finally notice her. His eyes averted over to Ishtar pulling out a set of silverware and utensils to set up the table, then back to Timoria, who was patiently waiting for the half-demon to talk. She could see the gears turning as Chevalier processed that there were two Lus. 

Placing her hands over her hips and puffing out her chest, Timoria wore a grin identical to Abysser. This was going to be fun.     

“I’m not sure what I should be more insulted by,” Timoria cackled. “Being compared to Henir cultists by Ishtar or being mistaken as a false illusion.”

“Our enemies are always a few steps ahead of us. This isn’t the first time we had to fight people with the same abilities as us,” Chevalier was defensive. “You’re the first to join our side.” 

“Sounds a little like us, don’t you think?” Abysser asked.  

“They are us,” Timoria pointed out. 

“Not everything is the same,” Chevalier disagreed. 

“It’s the hair, right?” Abysser asked eagerly as if he had been waiting for Chevalier to ask. He beamed, “Doesn’t it make me look cool?” 

“No, you’re stupider.” Chevalier deadpanned.

Abysser dropped his smile and cried crocodile tears, “How could you say something so cruel to yourself? You hear that Ishtar? He doesn’t like himself!”

Timoria covered her face. Abysser really said that in front of Ishtar and Chevalier with no irony in his words. Placing the last bowl down, Ishtar turned to giggle when Abysser continued going on about how cold his alternate was. Chevalier ignored the rambling demon as he silently walked over to the side to chop more green onion for garnish. 

“I like him,” Ishtar said. “He’s funny.” 

Chevalier stared at Abysser and mumbled, “How are we the same person?”

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

Author Notes: There was a lot I wanted to get in, but cut out in the end because it wasn’t relevant to what I wanted to address in this chapter. It was challenging to write certain characters I never wrote before, but rewarding because I discovered them as a person in the process. Everyone’s comments were encouraging to read and helped me see that every character will be someone’s favorite. We still have a few characters left in terms of having them talk to their counterpart.

#eltag #elsword #mywriting #my writing #elsword fanfiction #doppelganger #Elboy (Elsword) #Aisha (Elsword) #Rena (Elsword) #Raven (Elsword) #Eve (Elsword) #chung (elsword #Ara (Elsword) #Elesis (Elsword) #Add (Elsword) #Lu (Elsword) #Ciel (Elsword) #Ain (Elsword)

[dontdietwd]

Don’t Die, day 15

A flock of birds flew through the sky above the road, chirping loudly and joyfully as the first rays of the sun lit up the landscape, pinks and oranges painting it beautifully. A clear contrast against the road, infinite rows of cars parked in line, gloomy and quiet. It was like nature was mocking us all, pretending nothing out of the ordinary was happening. Like it was celebrating the fact that the city a few miles away had been bombed; celebrating that nature had finally won over humanity.

I’d been staring at the sunrise for a while, sitting on the roof of the car, hugging my knees against my chest. It was gorgeous. After a while I took a deep, deep breath and felt the air was fresh; the smoke from the cars’ exhausts having dissipated hours ago. I had always liked the sky. One good thing of having lived in Garden City was that I could always see the sky there; bright nights of full moons or with millions of shining stars; and the sunrise. More often than not, when the sky was clear, I left her house a few minutes earlier than necessary just so I could take a glimpse of the sky.

Now, on top of the truck, head turned up to avoid seeing the rows of cars and strange, hopeless people around, I felt a tiny flicker of normalcy. The world was still out there; it was only different. By my side, having been silent for more than one hour, Daryl had his elbows resting on his knees, biting into his lower lip, mind seemingly miles away but his presence still there, solid by my side.

“About this group,” he slowly broke the silence in a real low voice, for my ears only.

I turned her head to look at him for a moment and waited for him to go on, but he didn’t say anything else, his thumb now suffering the abuse from his teeth.

“Yeah?” I encouraged him in a whisper, which made Daryl turn his head to look at me.

He still took a few moments to speak. “I don’t like people,” he lowered his eyes and it sounded like a confession.

“I know.”

“Don’t trust them,”, he looked at me again.

“I know. I don’t either.”

He didn’t answer, but also didn’t look away, again biting into his lip.

“That’s why I need you and Merle with me,” I moved on gently. “We’ll be with them for safety. For a real camp, for weapons and more look outs, for food.”

“But we –” Daryl said suddenly, without a thought, and stopped himself abruptly.

“The three of us?” I whispered leaning a bit closer to him, as if I was sharing a secret. “We’re our own group, from the beginning. I’d like to keep it that way.”

Daryl kept quiet again, eyes fixed on mine like he nearly never did, dancing from right to left, searching for something. He then nodded slowly, no longer biting on his lip, trying to see if I really meant it.

“We’re still it… Right?” he asked in the same whisper a moment later.

I took a moment to understand. Being in a group, as small as it was with only three people, seemed to mean more to Daryl than he had ever let out, and I understood it by his question and unguarded expression; unguarded like I had never seen before. He like what we had and didn’t want to lose it.

“Of course,” I said softly, hiding well my surprise, I think. “We’ll always be it. No matter the group we’re in. You and me…” I paused and added, as an afterthought “…and Merle,” because for a moment I did forget to mention Merle and I wondered why. Was I thinking of just Daryl and I as a together thing? I did get along way much better with Daryl than with Merle, that was a fact and I’m sure even they knew it. “We’ll stick together,” I finished and gave him a small, reassuring smile and felt the need to add “Right?” having a sudden need to also hear it.

Daryl nodded. “Right. I’ll have your back.”

“Yeah,” I smiled more. “And I got yours,” and lightly shoved his shoulder with mine, receiving the same gesture back a moment after, accompanied by a tight little closed lips smile.

I was still smiling when I looked again to the sunrise, feeling strangely content for someone in my situation. What was it about this little conversation what warmed my heart like what, like I hadn’t felt in a real long time? By her side, I could feel Daryl stealing few more glances at me, not lingering for too long on each look. By the corner of my eye I caught him eyeing my tattooed art, like he was paying attention to each of them just now. There was a perfectly drawn green hummingbird flying among orange flowers, right above my elbow. A little higher, on my shoulder, the silhouette of a little girl standing, arm outstretched towards a balloon that was clearly soaring away from her. Under the balloon, a date; August 1998. Lower, on my forearm, a colorful mandala with Bowie’s “you’re too old to lose it, too young to choose it” written in typewriter letters under it.

Daryl was thinking hard of something, I could tell. He was back to biting his inner lower lip, poor flesh must be sore by now, a sot frown worrying his forehead, but still looking at me and away repeatedly. I wished he would talk to me, speak what was on his mind.

“Uh, hey, hum…” an uncertain voice woke us both from our thoughts. Both of us looked down at the asphalt, a bit startled, to see a young man, Asian with a baseball cap who looked like no more than a teenager. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah?” I was the one to speak, not moving. Daryl did tense a bit by my side, though. Not much, the boy didn’t look like a threat.

“I heard you talking last night? This is my car.” he pointed to the one parked right by ours. “I wasn’t trying to overhear, just… Heard you. I’m - I’m Glenn, by the way.”

“Yeah, Glenn, what did ya hear?” Daryl asked annoyed by the interruption.

“You’re forming a group to get away from the road and set camp?”

“That a question?” I stretched my legs in front of me and crossed my arms.

“No. Question is if I can join.”

I stared at him for a moment. There was no reason at all why I wouldn’t let him join. He was young and probably energetic, and he looked smart – maybe I was just stereotyping him – but we could use smart people on the group.

I looked at Daryl and he shrugged, “You call it.”

I looked again at Glenn, “You know how to do something useful?”

“I learned how to shoot years ago, but I don’t have a gun. And I can run pretty fast, won competitions at school… I’ve killed a few of the dead when I was escaping, so I think I can deal with them. And Atlanta?” he kept going as he pointed towards some random spot with his thumb over his shoulder. “I know the streets like my own backyard, if it’s needed to go there for something. I just… Yeah.”

I simply stared at him for a long moment, one eyebrow up, thinking. Well, I wasn’t really thinking, I had agreed already. I guess I was in a better mood today, enough to even tease the boy. But I felt for him, poor guy, he started t shift his weight from one foot to another, looking from me to Daryl repeatedly.

So I finally smiled at him, “Yeah, you can come.”

Glenn laughed. “Oh, phew! Good, thanks!” and he looked at Daryl, smiling. “Hey!”

“Yeah.” was all he got as an answer, just I Sam hopped down to the floor and extended her hand at the boy.

“I’m Sam.” we shook hands. “This is Daryl, and there’s one more sleeping in the car, name’s Merle.”

Daryl also fell to the asphalt and hit the front of the car three times with his palm. “Wake up!” he shouted and we watched as Merle woke up from a deep daze, defensively looking around the road through the windows, asking “what” repeatedly.

“Morning, sleepyhead!” I said in a sing-song voice.

“Son of a bitch!” was his answer

Daryl poked me and pointed down the road, to where Shane and Lori approached us being followed by three new people who hadn’t been there last night.

“Morning.” Shane greeted us. “You guys ready?”

“Almost,” I answered. “Hey, this is Glenn, he’ll be joining us.”

Shane eyed Glenn for a moment, as the boy waved awkwardly at him, and looked back at me, annoyed.

“Ya picking up people now?”

Oh, the nerve. Instead of an answer, I leaned to her left to be able to look at the three new people behind Shane; an older man with a bucket hat and two blonde girls, very similar to each other. I looked at each of them for a moment then smiled. “Hi, I don’t believe we met, I’m Sam.” and looked back at Shane, smile vanishing in a blink of an eye. “Yes, I am, just like you.”

“Dale’s got an RV. Might be useful.” Shane explained. “Andrea and Amy were with him.”

“And Glenn needed a group. He can run.” I finished and looked again at the three people. “Welcome to the group. We’re heading back south 85 until we find some other road. Gonna look around checking for places. After we find it, all our supplies will be rationed and shared. Get used to the idea.”

“Hey, can I speak to you for a moment?” Shane said in a low, a but urgent voice and touched my arm to nudge me away from the group. Daryl tensed by my side, taking a step to follow us, his chest puffed.

“Alone?” Shane asked looking from me to him, eyebrows raised.

“Anything you gotta say to me, you can say it to Daryl. Gonna him later anyway.”

Shane breathed out loudly as to control something that had instantly boiled inside him. I didn’t want to know what, but wondered what the fuck did he want to tell me tha Daryl’s presence would ruin it.

“Look, it’s just…” Shane started once we were away from the rest of the group, Daryl standing facing us both with his arms crossed. “I’ve come to you and invited ya to join my group. Right? Glad you accepted, but we gotta set some boundaries here. Can’t have too many people calling on decisions here. I’m an officer, alright? I know how to deal with things.”

“You’re a cop?” Daryl asked in an impressed tone, making me look surprised at him. I’d never heard him joke before. I liked it, the sarcastic tone. “Really? Hadn’t heard about it yet.”

I held in a laugh, a smile playing on my lips trying to contain it. By the look in Shane’s eyes, he was quickly approaching some kind of limit that I preferred not to push. At least not for now.

“Being a cop in the fuckin’ end of the world ain’t gonna mean that much, Shane,” I said as my smile vanished. “We all got abilities here, you got yours, I got mine. If ya think you’ll be making all the decisions for the group just ‘cause of the profession ya had before the end o the fuckin’ world, well, you wrong.”

“Now look here –”

“You will be making decisions…” I raised my voice to interrupt him and lifting a hand between us to make him stop talking “if that’s so important to you, if you make reasonable decisions. That’s all it’s gonna take. For now, this group has no leader. We don’t know you, alright? Ya can’t expect people to do as you say with no questions asked.”

“Ain’t that what you just did?”

“I stated the obvious, is what I did. Last night we talked about leaving the road, the only possible way is south. About finding a place, sharing and rationing things, all things we talked about last night. Ain’t that what we gotta do?”

Shane stared at me in silence, big eyed, hands on his hips. After a moment he nodded, tongue liking his teeth, and looked from me to Daryl and back again. With that, he turned his back to them, returning to the group.

“Alright, let’s all get the cars and turn around to south, it’s time now. We’ll travel together.”

 * * *

 The day felt like a week as it passed slowly, the stuck traffic on the road making the all our cars, truck and RV need to navigate through the grassy path between the lanes of the road, ever so slowly. Down south on 85, the asphalt was little less packed with cars and we were able to gain a little speed, but by then it was already mid-afternoon. We were unable to leave the main road that day. When evening started to come, we decided to stop in the middle of nowhere, not having a better place to do that. By this time, our caravan was already bigger. One more car and a van had started following us at about four in the afternoon. Shane had sped up to catch up with our truck.

“Ya think we should be worried ‘bout these guys following us?” Shane had asked aloud with both cars moving.

“Saw them too, huh?” Merle shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yeah, ‘bout a mile ago.”

“Let’s stop.” I yelled leaning over Merle to the window. “We’ll see what they want.”

Shane and I had gone opening the party, Merle, Daryl and Glenn standing behind us with weapons purposefully on sight. It had turned out to be a family, the Morales couple with their two children, and two more people they had picked up to help on the road, Jim and Jackie. Behind them, alone in a van, was a man named Theodore, but he preferred to be called T-Dog. We talked for a while with those six new people, who practically begged to go and set camp with us. I don’t know what they saw in our little group that made them want to join so badly, there was nothing special about us. But well, we did have weapons and food, I guess the value of those was pretty high then. Shane rubbed his nose, scratched his head and, finally, looked at me. I was just waiting, had been quiet almost all the time, and as I looked back at Shane, I nodded. I didn’t think these people would be the kind we’d like to avoid, and they had children. As I said, any group with children would do anything to protect them. At my acceptance, Shane told it would be ok for them to follow.

“Yeah, that’s a good one.” Merle mumbled when the three of us reentered our truck. “Picking up strays. Latinos and niggers. Gonna start mixin’ up our kinds now?”

“Fuck, shut up, ya dickhead!” Daryl barked from the opposite window.

“See, that’s the kinda comment ya gotta keep just here among us, huh?” I told him. “You say that to them, you start a fight, shit hit the fan even before the camp’s settled.”

“Whatever. But ya think like I do, dontcha princess?”

“Of course not! You’re being an asshole again. A racist asshole, to make it worst! Don’t you ever say anything like it to them!”

Merle said even more racist things for a while and I answered to them for a moment, before realizing that working myself up trying to convince Merle of something was a complete waste of time. After a while Daryl and I just told Merle to shut up once again, Merle told us to go fuck ourselves, and everything was peaceful again.

Now night had fallen and a fire had been built on the side of the road. Glenn was standing on top of the RV with a rifle, keeping watch and Jim was doing the same in the middle of the road. We were exactly twenty people – four children, seven women, nine men. Around the fire, all the women were sitting together, light conversation rolling between us, a clear search for bonding starting to happen, asking each other what we did before the turn, telling about our lives.

Jackie told us she worked at Atlanta’s city hall, but hadn’t been in the city on the turning days. She had just lost a cousin in LaGrange and had been there for the funeral. She heard the news about what was happening on the radio as she drove back home. At some point on 85 she got a flat tire and started walking her way up the road. Jackie had walked for hours and was completely exhausted when the Morales pulled up for her and offered a lift. They had just done the same for Jim miles before. On the Morales’ car, she got acquainted to Miranda, who gave her water and something to eat. Their family had been driving from much closer to Atlanta, in search for the shelter. Miranda told us she and her husband were married for almost fifteen years and she was a housewife. Lori and Carol both told they were full-time moms and wives as well. Carol didn’t say much about herself, retreating from the subject by asking Lori about her husband.

Lori told the group he had been a deputy-sheriff in King County and had been shot on duty weeks ago. He had passed away in the hospital just days before, Lori said with a trembling voice and unshed tears in her eyes. Her husband’s best friend had run to their house to pick her and Carl up to take them to the shelter. To enlighten a little the mood, we kept on the subject, Andrea telling them she was a civil-rights lawyer and had been on a road-trip with her sister, Amy, driving her back to college when it all happened. They had been caught up in a walker attack on the road and Dale, with his RV, had helped them to get out, only to later be caught up on the traffic.

They finally asked me what I did, and I told them I was a single waitress who went to adult school at night and jumped around things for sport on the weekends, and that was it. As I spoke, I noticed Carol looking around, eyes searching for something worriedly.

“Uh… Have any of you seen Sophia?” she asked in her small voice.

“She left minutes ago, I saw her get up.” Lori told her. “I thought she had told you she was leaving.”

“No…”

“Where did she go?” I asked Lori.

“Towards their car.”

“Oh… I think she went to sleep then. I’d better –” she started motioning to get up.

“I think it’s alright, her dad’s in the car, isn’t he?” Andrea asked in order to make Carol stay.

“Uh… Yeah. He is…” she got up anyway, a nervous look to the car. “I gonna go there anyway. Good night, girls.”

We all were silent as she left. Jackie looked around at the other’s faces, looking for someone who was thinking the same as her, and found my eyes by her side taking a deep breath, brows furrowed, looking at Carol as she reached the car. I then looked back at Jackie, our glance exchange telling us all we had to know. The group dispersed shortly after that, each woman going to try and find comfort to sleep for a few hours in their own cars.

I went to where Daryl was sitting and smoking on the hood of our truck – Merle had just left him to go sleep inside. I sat by him, controlling by breath because damn, I was angry. My fists were closed tight. Carol didn’t want Sophia alone with her dad, her eyes denouncing just how worried she was at the idea, and the meaning of it made by blood boil. Daryl and I didn’t say anything as Daryl handed me a cigarette. I took it and held it between my fingers, but denied with a gesture when Daryl reached out with his lighter. Still holding it, I rested my elbows on my knees.

“Ed definitely beats up his wife,” I whispered for his ears only. “May touch his girl as well, but I ain’t sure ‘bout that yet.”

Daryl took a deep breath then, looking to the same direction I was; the Pelletier’s car.

“Son of a bitch.” he whispered back.

“I know I got nothing with this.”

“Yeah?”

“But if I see something…”

“Won’t blame ya.”

#twd #twd fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd fic #The Walking Dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fic #daryl fic #daryl fanfic #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl ofc #daryl x ofc #daryl dixon x original female character

[moeruhoshi]

Natsu wants a kid AU

There were some nights Natsu couldn’t sleep. He was never tired the next day which kind of freaked him out, but he was satisfied with staring at his partner till the sun shone its way through the sheer curtains. He liked the delicate rise of her chest against his own, the way the moonlight graced her skin, pale and supple in comparison to his. Her hair would tickle the tip of her nose and he would brush it out of the way, tucking it behind her ear. He’d snicker when she’d snort or let a river of drool spill from her open mouth; not that he would admit it, but Natsu tried licking it up more than once. Those nights he would watch over her of course, but he liked to let his dragon have free reign as well. He tamed the beast to treat Lucy accordingly and rarely had trouble with it springing to action when he got jealous in public places...anymore. He shivered as scales patterned his skin, the temperature rising with its sudden woken state. His dragon purred at the sight of its mate sleeping peacefully in his arms, quick to pull up her nightgown, strangely mesmerized with her bare stomach. Natsu never knew why he’d do this and sat back as it cozied against her, a gentle smile on his face. This went on for weeks without Lucy’s knowledge, though she’d absentmindedly note how much hotter the nights seemed around this time of year. The slayer made efforts to understand his other half’s obsession, thoughts steadily fed to him when Natsu couldn’t take the hint. His dragon desperately wanted to see Lucy pregnant. He’d say it was normal for a husband to want this at some point with his wife, but his dragon was the complete opposite. It’d always growl in one ear to let him out and take Lucy for himself, to fill her over and over again until she was guaranteed the life of his child. It was hard not to agree, the faux scent of his child growing inside her, his hands protectively wrapped around both his wife and child as they slept. Natsu would go out on jobs for the both of them when she’d get too big to fight; not that he would let her out of the house to do anything other than visiting the guild when she was. His mouth watered in anticipation to pleasure his wife as thanks every night, kissing the place she would bare their child from. He’d rest his head against her pregnant belly and listen to the steady heartbeat, Lucy’s voice spinning a tale of the stars for the both of them to hear. She’d crave his fire and need his heat, the fledgling inside of her begging for the heat of his dragon father.

Natsu shut it down with a heavy blush and only let him have his time to cuddle her at night, mistakingly giving control over on one especially strong full moon. He sat back in his mentality as usual as his dragon pouted and snuggled up to Lucy, waiting for the perfect time when the moon was high in the sky to pull the dragon slayer into himself. Natsu cursed as his mind molded with his dragon’s, the beast invading his mind and letting him feel just how strongly he wanted Lucy to have his children. Natsu heaved as its desperation filled his heart, eyes gold and thick horns sprouting along with its tail.

He purred as his mind settled, golden eyes raking over the sleeping form of his celestial mage wife. He pulled up her slip, fingers lit with fire and gently ran down the plane of her stomach, enjoying the sight of her light squirming under his touch. His lips ghosted her skin, fangs begging to mark every inch of her skin. His tongue dragged up and around her belly button, pleased with the mewl stumbling off her lips. Natsu buried his nose against the center of her honeypot, a lustful high present in his blush as he took in her scent. Lucy always thought he was making it up when he moaned about her taste and scent, but it was the most addictive parts of her he could literally get drunk on. The dragon refused to hold itself back any longer as her panties turned to ash, Natsu’s tongue fervently assaulting her sensitive button. Lucy twitched as he lapped at her folds, hips thrusting lowly in his grip as she began to stir from her sleep. His hands gripped her thighs and held his wife in place as her eyes slowly blinked open, heat thumping and building up in her chest.

“N-Natsu, what’re you...?” Her voice was breathy, the golden eyes of her husband telling her that he wasn’t exactly all there. His dragon side was needy and got what it wanted, especially on nights like these; the curtain open and the full moon bathing them with its light. Lucy’s fingers threaded in his pink locks as he pleasured her, back arching as two heated digits pushed into her. Her climax came steadily as Natsu refused to pull away from the hardened pink bud, her head thrown back and teeth gnashing her bottom lip. Natsu’s fingers continued to pump into her as his mouth traveled up her belly, gracing it with light nips and sucking of the soft skin underneath the curve of her breasts.

“Luce,” His voice was gruff, throat itching to let a roar out on her stomach and watch his flames tie around her, tail swinging eagerly as she unfolded with another moan. “I want us to have a baby,”

She flushed as Natsu continued to pepper her with kisses, heated lips leaving red marks in their place. His hand maintained its torture on her overly sensitive nerves, the blonde squirming as she tried to make sense of his words with a still groggy mind.

“B-B-Baby... oh wow, Natsu, don’t you think we should talk about that first?” She asked, shakily sitting up and pushing him back for a moment.

“No talking,” He pouted and pulled her to his chest, his hand grabbing hers to place both over her stomach. “Our baby, I want it.”

“I think I’m going to need a better argument than that,” She scoffed with a smile, knowing that even the dragon had no chance against a rational-minded mate.

“You’d be so sexy,” He groaned in her ear, Lucy’s blush skyrocketing as she felt his hard-on against her thigh. “My scent growing with yours, I can’t keep my hands off you just thinking about it, Lucy.”

His lips claimed hers while she was weak, taking the advantage to push her back down and settle his body over her own. Lucy mewled as he latched onto her neck, further filling her head with lust as he stripped her and himself of pajamas.

“There’s much more to having a child, I hope you know,” She panted as Natsu’s tail eagerly gripped her breasts while his mouth slanted over her pert nipples. 

“I know,” He chuckled as he sunk his teeth into her sensitive skin. “My child would make you fucking hot, Luce. I want to fill you up with my spunk till you burst, ‘dicks twitchin’ just thinking about it. I want to give you my fire to make our baby strong, I want to take care of you both so much.”

“It’s creepy how sweet I think that sounds,” She indulged in the pressure of his tip squeezing into her entrance, eyes hooded as she watched her dragon husband press a hand gingerly to her lower stomach before pushing himself in. 

#nalu #fairy tail nalu #nalu fairy tail #natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #fairy tail #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fiction #nalu fanfic #nalu fan fic #natsu and lucy #lucy and natsu #natsu x lucy #lucy x natsu #fairy tail couples #fairy tail fanfiction #fairy tail fan fiction #fairy tail fanfic #fairy tail fan fic #nalu family #nalu smut #nalu headcannon #nalu headcanons #nalu headcanon #nalu headcannons #nalu prompt

[chicaloxi-blog]

The Lesson (Arthur Morgan/Reader smut)

Words: 2093

A/N SEND ME REQUESTS! I’ll write anything

      You've been waiting in the forest for hours now--crouching for any unsuspecting man who comes your way. This is a risk, you know. Robbing always is, but you have a determination, and a readiness to do anything because you haven't eaten for two days. You check your satchel repeatedly in hopes that if you keep looking, a few dollars will appear, just to get you through the night. With the sun slipping like milk beneath the horizon, you reckon you won't get any passerby. Yawning, you start to doze off and kick back, resting your head against the rough bark of the tree behind you and covering yourself with your cloak. Your eyes start to close and the last thought you remember is the growl of your stomach.

A faint rustling in the trees awakes you. Your eyes fly open and dart around the dark forest, but see nothing besides endless trees. The rustling starts again, and a figure emerges, riding a horse.

"Woah, careful girl", The figure rasps under his breath. The horse slows to a trot and stops. The figure jumps off and turns to put something in the horse's carry on, allowing you to view the person correctly.

It was clearly a man, maybe around 35ish. Standing tall with a blue shirt, bandana, and cowboy hat he was clean shaven but rough around the edges--the look of an outlaw. You feel your heart jump inside your chest at just the sight of him. Out of all the men you've robbed, this one was really a sight for sore eyes.

You take a deep break and quickly stand up, smoothing your curly blonde hair and long dress. You smirk--the perfect damsel in distress. Work's like a charm every time. You look over once more to the mystery man standing a ways away from you, and within the trees, count to three.

On three, taking a deep breath, you start your foolproof plan. You do your best to run through the dense brush, shouting "Mister!! Mister, wait!" The man, clearly startled, jumps around and aims his gun in your direction. "Stand still" He shouts.

You hold your hands in mock surrender with a terrified look on your face. "Mister, I'm awful sorry to bother you, but I'm rather lost. You see, I was with my family and we had an awful accident,"

He raises an eyebrow.

"...we were ambushed and I got seperated--I'm not the best at directions. I've been running through this god awful forest for hours now," You say, as sincere as possible.

"Please mister, my life if counting on it if you help me. Would 'ya help a lady out and take me back where you're goin?", you plead with afraid eyes.

He slowly put the gun down, giving you a once over.

"Now who would want to hurt a pretty lady like you?", he questions in a low southern drawl and spits his tobacco out, examining you carefully with a stern expression on his face.

You just stare at him in question.

"Fine. Miss," he gives up, "I'll help 'ya back to my camp. Dutch'll help you back to your family fine. 'Suppose it's not a problem for me".

You give a smile full of gratitude and walk forward carefully through the brush to where the man was standing. You notice his bright blue eyes and longish brown hair and smile.

"Sir, if you don't mind me asking, what'do you call yourself..?" You ask politely.

"Arthur Morgan"

"Perfect Mr. Morgan, I'll b--"

"Call me Arthur," He says with a wink.

You blush and look down. "It's y/n to you then," You smirk, then continuing with your plan. You pretend to pat down your cloak pockets.

"Oh my god. My locket, it's gone," you say in feigned surprise, "It was in here before my family was ambushed. It's got to be right along where I ran..." You say anxiously as you crane your neck to look at the trail then pausing to look at Arthur.

He shifted and a silence fell. "Miss, I could... If you'd like help findin' your locket... it couldn't be far--" He rationalizes.

"Yes, that would be amazing Arth--"

He cuts in, "But only just a quick look of right around here. We can't have it get too late on us"

You lead the way to where you first were hiding, helping Arthur by holding the brush so he can get by. Bending down and pretending to inspect the ground, you tell the outlaw you see something strange.

"Okay miss, let me look at it," Arthur says bending down to the dirt. You move behind him and finger the rock in your cloak pocket.

"Miss, there doesn't look like..." he trails in a low voice.

Seeing your chance, you lift the rock and just as you swing at his head, he turns to you and with a look of surprise grabs your arm mid-swing in an iron grip. He sees the rock in your hand and the wide-eyed expression on your face, and he connects the dots.

His face hardens into a glare and a sudden rage takes hold of him as he pins you against the tree behind you. However, just before anything could happen, you land a hard kick to his shin and bolt away, leaving him startled and on the ground. You run as fast as your legs will carry you, your heart feeling as if it will leap out of your chest. You risk a glance over your shoulder and see Arthur, to your surprise, hot on your tail. Startled, you clumsily trip over a loose branch on the ground, sending you flying.

In one swift movement, he tackles you to the ground, drawing his pistol and pulling you close to him. Your chest heaved, and you gasp for air-- the impact of the ground leaving you winded.

"Who the hell d'you think you are?" He snarls, his voice husky.

You feel the adrenaline of the fight and the fear of it all is yet to be felt. Instead of fear, you feel the electricity of arousal and blood rushes to your face with excitement. He gives you a knowing look and you see that his eyes are darker.

In the black night of a forgotten forest, a man on top of a woman with his gun in her face is with no law. Nobody would hear you scream. He slowly lowers his gun and his face is in decision. He grabs you and throws you against the tree, pinning you there with his arm in a death grip, and a hand on your throat.

"I won't ask you again. Who the hell do'you think you are?" When you're this close to him, the thought of speaking escapes you and instead you smell the tobacco and sharp smell of whiskey on his breath. He roughly shoves you against the tree and gets in your face. "What the hell were you doin'?" He growls. When you don't answer, the grip around your neck tightens and you gasp and claw at his hand. "Answer me", he snarls.

"I-I was t-trying to rob you---sir" You manage to get out between gasps. He releases the death grip around your neck and you fall to the ground, coughing violently.

He grumbles and holsters his pistol, having an idea in mind. The pale glow of the moon illuminated his rough face as he asked, "What're you, in your twenties?"

"Nineteen sir"

A grin swept over his face as he growls, "You need'a be taught a lesson girl," His face washed over with lust.

You cough weakly and try to crawl away but quickly he laughs and drags you back by your feet. He climbs on top of you and your attempts at bargaining went unheard as he grabs your hands, pinning them above your head. He tugs your thick cloak off and you beg for your life, but quickly shut your mouth at the sight of Arthur's red eyes looking down at you hungrily. His thoughts weren't on killing you but more on the lines of another instinct.

With one hand holding your arms above your head, the other tears off your clothes. Your eyes widen as you watch him rip away your brassiere exposing your body to Arthur.

Arthur gazes down at his prize, his eyes gleaming with hunger. Your face burned as your breasts hung free on your chest. A good size, not too big or small, with light pink nipples hardening at the feel of the cold air. His gaze travels down your stomach and to your womanhood. He smirks, "You're gonna be a real treat y/n"

Your heart races as you watch powerlessly as Arthur lowers his mouth onto your breast. Electricity shoots through you as a moan left your mouth as the pleasure of his stubble tickling you was too much. You felt his left hand come up and massage one breast as his left continued to assault the other. You let out more breathy moans as Arthur's rough tongue swirled around each nipple.

You notice that your hands are free, and for a second think about grabbing the nearest branch to bash his head in--however with the pleasure you are feeling you don't care what he does to you anymore.

You had never felt this kind of pleasure before. Sometimes on quiet nights your hands would roam your body and you'd bring yourself to orgasm, but having a man like Arthur have his way with you was much better. Your body felt as if electricity was pulsing through.

While Arthur's mouth was latched on your breast, you hadn't noticed him pulling your panties aside and slipping two fingers in. You gasped and your eyes rolled back into your head. This man was making you feel things you've never dreamed of.

You felt Arthur leave your breasts, his saliva leaving them cold in the nights' air. He continued pumping his fingers and added another finger to start to stretch you out, as he heard many moans and gasps from your lips. His erection was straining his pants, ready to take you. "Alright 'nough of that" He husks, pulling his fingers out and unfastening his belt.

You stared wide-eyed as you saw your first penis. It stood tall out of his jeans at eight inches long and very thick.

Ravenousness surges in him once more. "Get your legs up," he growls into the night, and when you do, he grabs them roughly and hitches them around his waist. He aligns his cock with your wet slit. His breathing is ragged and with one push he sinks into your tight entrance, unconcerned with being gentle. You moan loudly at the feeling of being filled completely.

"Fuck, that's my girl," he groans, holding your legs, each hand on the backs of your thighs. He draws out and thrusts back in roughly, pounding you with a fast rhythm. Your back pushes you against the sharp leaves on the forest floor as he uses you rough and fast. He moans and leans down to place kisses on your neck, and you cling to his broad shoulders, moaning.

"Arthur.." you gasp, as your insides feel as if they're turning to mush. He continues to pound into you, grunting and picking up a brutal pace. His hat falls off, but lost in the moment, he doesn't care. From this, you know that you won't be able to walk for days. Pleading whimpers escape your mouth which are ignored as he fills you with every thrust, and the quiet forest is alive with the sounds of low moans and whispers of obscenities about your body. The pleasure of it all overtakes you and builds from your core, and you grab fistfuls of his hair, your back arching as you gasp his name--him loving every second of the lust-driven encounter, and he devours your body.

"Arthur, I'm gonna..." You moan, at a loss for words as his thick member comes into you at a bruising force.

"Come for me" He says in a drawl. Your climax comes hard and fast and he buries his face in your neck when he feels your walls clench around him. He speeds up, and with one last pump releases his seed deep inside you. You both sigh and Arthur pulls out of you.

He gets off of you and tucks himself away, and tosses you back your ripped clothes.

"Now," his mouth morphs into a grin, "D'you need a ride back to camp?"

#arthur morgan #smut #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #rdr2smut #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan lemon #arthur morgan rough #rdr2 memes #rdr2 sex #john marston smut

[londone-fog]

The Light Will Guide You Home- It Star Wars AU

AO3 Link

I. II. III.

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…

Darkness is on the rise. Darth Assem the Wise has begun gradually over taking the galaxy with his Neibolt Regime. As his power grows, so does the power of his apprentice, the fearsome Darth Fide. With the demolition of the Jedi, the public is quickly losing hope.

Meanwhile, General Marsh and the Rebel Alliance struggle to keep the Regime on a short leash. With the rumor of a hidden Neibolt base on the abandoned Sith planet Korriban, they have made quick plans to follow up on the intel.

All they can do now is hope the force is with them...

IV.

Eddie Kaspbrak really hated sand. He really did. He hated how it stuck to every surface and how it grit under his shoes when he walked. It caked under his fingernails and blew into his hair. It was a deep orangish- red that stained things when wet.

But, oh, was it beautiful when the fading sunlight hit it. The grit in the air turned the sky to beautiful coral pinks and deep purples. He could see them in all their glory from his perch on his favorite cliff ledge, watching as the sun’s light slowly gave way to the light of Korriban’s seven moons.

The ledge was the only place that Eddie could really think. It was just far enough from the small hovelish hut he called home. He lived alone with his mother, and it was far from an easy feat. She was a nervous woman, always nattering on about Eddie falling off a cliff or getting lost to the long stretches of desert. She was blissfully unaware of his little hiding place; she would have a heart attack if she knew he was sitting so close, legs dangling a good thousand feet in the air.

But Eddie got bored. There were only so many times a day that he could tend to the small, tasteless garden they had tilled, or sweep every speck of red dirt that clung to their floor. Eddie was allowed to travel to the small trading outpost on a few rare occasions, taking his old speeder to trade for things they couldn’t grow or make themselves. Those days were his favorite. He loved looking at all the strange peoples that congregated there. Seeing a small huddle of stormtroopers wasn’t uncommon either. He would listen to them all. It was years after he was allowed to go that he began learning phrases in all of the strange languages that he heard spoken. Enough to understand just a little. He held this secret knowledge close to his heart, only to be whispered when he was alone in the dark.

Another one of Eddie’s most treasured secrets is what exactly he traded at the outpost. While yes, he did trade with some of the wry vegetation his mother grew, he also frequently made stops along the way. There were several large sights of ship crashes, including an old dreadnaught. He was acutely aware that Korriban was once controlled by the Sith, and was the sight of their temple and such. He would dig around and snag anything he thought to be vaguely valuable, earning just enough rations and supplies to keep them afloat. His mother was none the wiser.

But Eddie’s biggest hidden thing, was the voice. The voice that filled his head when he was away from his mother and could concentrate on anything other than the buzzing that surrounded him. He would sit on his cliff and look out, hearing the flicker of a voice licking across his mind. It was only something akin to static at the beginning, but now Eddie could form actual words. If it wasn’t so clear and obvious, Eddie would have thought himself crazy. He was entirely unsure whether the voice could hear him back or not.

That’s where he was, standing and listening closely, straining his ears. The voice was so clear; he could even hear the sounds surrounding the other end, almost like an echo. He reached out, head quickly filling with noise, eyes clamped shut in concentration.

Then silence, like he’d been sucked into a vacuum. All he could hear was gentle breathing, a mixture of his own and that of someone else.

“Hello?” Eddie quietly whispered, warm air ghosting his lips.

“Hello?” Nearly an echo, but it was not Eddie’s voice coming back to him. This was someone else.

“Who are you?” the voice asked, a tiny bit desperate. Eddie didn’t even think before he responded in turn.

“I’m nobody.”

“I think you’re wrong. You have to be more than just ‘nobody.’”

“Well, what about you? Who are you.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Nobody.”

“You can’t say that. Not if I’m not allowed to be nobody. Where are you, where do you come from?”

“I come from somewhere dark,” the voice said, the last syllable of his statement ringing in Eddie’s ears. He could almost see it, almost feel it. Somewhere with corridors, somewhere with stark blacks and reds. Somewhere that was, indeed, dark. “Where do you come from?”

“Somewhere light,” Eddie said in turn. He slowly opened his eyes for the first time, feeling the warmth of the sinking sun, feeling the sand beneath his palms. Solitude, peace, the zeal of freedom. The ever present pull. He let it flood him, and he listened as the voice felt it himself.

But then the vacuum was gone, and the voice with it.

The strangest thing, Eddie thought, was how it didn’t even feel like he was really saying anything. Something had done it for him, and he had just been along for the ride. Something that wanted him to connect.

He felt that Something very often. He felt it as he listened in on the conversations between the outpost patrons. He felt it when he stood far above the deserted expanse below him. He felt it all around, but he never understood what it meant. It sometimes scared him, the things he felt through it. But he never felt lonely.

When he lay in bed that night, he tried and tried to tune back into that vacuum, that voice and all of the cold that came with it. It scared Eddie. It scared him enough to seek it out.

He woke the next morning to his mother telling him exactly what he needed to hear; it was a day he was allowed to go to the outpost.

He jumped in his speeder and zoomed off quick as he could.

He would have never guessed what he’d see.

Eddie was listening, trying and trying to tune back to the dark. That’s when he saw it. The dark plume of smoke rising over the horizon caused him to steer away from his original location faster than anything.  As the source of the smoke grew closer, it became obvious that it was the sight of a terrible crash. What was once a cruiser of some sort lay in ruin, smoke billowing out in a terrifying cloud.

Eddie leapt from his speeder, sure footed steps keeping him from slipping on the sand. As he drew nearer, he noticed three figures lying in the hot sun.

“Hey! Hey, what happened?”

The small shuffling of limbs was all the signal he needed to grab his canteen and approach the group. He tapped the shoulder of the nearest man, sand turning his kinked locks rusty.

“Who are you? What happened?”

The man groaned, slowly lifting his head. He squinted against the sun, dirt caked to his pale cheek. Little cuts littered the edges of his face, weakly leaking blood. Eddie kneeled down, carefully wiping sand from his face and offering his canteen. The man took it greedily, gulping a large sip of the liquid within.

“My name is Stan Uris,” he croaks, slowly moving to sit more upright.

“Eddie Kaspbrak.” They shake hands.

Eddie makes his way to the other two men, one large and blond, the other with dark skin and a stormtrooper uniform. They introduced themselves as Ben and Mike, respectively.

“Where do you guys come from?”

“We’re from the Resistance. We came here on a mission, but now we’re stranded,” Ben said, trying to shake the sand out of his orange flight suit. Eddie raised an eyebrow, vaguely gesturing to Mike.

“What about him? What’s with the stormtrooper get up?” Mike looked up, pausing his efforts to remove the white armour plates from his body.

“I decided to join the Resistance after my first battle. I’m not really cut out for killing people, I don’t think. I helped these guys escape from the Regime base, but we didn’t get very far…”

“Yeah, I can see that. You guys really look like you could use some help.”

“That obvious?” Stan scoffed, a strained smirk painted across his face. Eddie raised his eyebrow, then looked down to pick sand out from under his nail. He had an idea, but he wasn’t sure how it would work. He wasn’t sure how his mother would react, and that’s what scared him the most. But he had to do something.

“Look, there’s a trading outpost not far from here. We could find you a ride back to where ever you guys come from, and you can stay with me until then.”

The group all glanced around, silence palpable.

“We can’t just impose on you. We don’t have any way to pay you or anything,” Ben finally said, shakily standing. He almost didn’t make it upright.

“Look, now isn’t the time to be modest. You guys are fucked if I don’t help you. And I’d rather not leave you guys to dehydrate in the desert. So, I’m not really asking, I’m telling.”

Mike raised an eyebrow, and Stan just shrugged.

And that's how all four of them ended up piled into Eddie’s speeder, following the horizon to the outpost.

Once they arrived, however, the entire atmosphere changed. Nearly every strange being present turned their head to sneak a peek at the rag tag group. Stan and Ben had the sleeves of their flight suits tied around their waists, the obvious Rebel orange catching quite the amount of attention. Mike had at least thought to strip himself of the trademark white stormtrooper armour, instead wearing nothing but the black underclothes that the plates had been attached to. And Eddie, now a familiar face among the regulars, tugged self consciously at his tan, raggedy outfit.

Eddie quickly scuttled over to the rations counter, catching the attention of the man behind the counter.

“Look, these guys need some help, and fast. Are there any ships leaving in the next few days that have room for a few more passengers?” he asked, allowing a little desperation to trickle into his voice. The clerk scratched his chin, humming in thought.

“I think Pit is leaving in the morning. I might be able to call in a favor for you.”

“Thank you, you’re really helping me out here.”

But the clerk just leaned closer, speaking only loud enough for Eddie to hear.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing with those people, but it looks like a world of trouble. People aren’t really happy with those orange ones.” He gestures to Stan and Ben. “Watch yourself Kaspbrak.”

Eddie swallowed, but nodded as condescending as he possibly could.

Informing his mother of their unexpected guests, though, was something he couldn’t just will away.

“EDWARD KASPBRAK, WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!” she shrieked, thick arms flailing as she ran to their small group. Eddie sighed, preparing himself for the anger storm that was fast approaching.

Sonia Kaspbrak was not one to easily let up control. Eddie knew that first hand; he had lived with her his whole life. She loved to keep both of their lives and schedules in a gridlock, immovable and permanent.  

“They crashed their ship. I found them a ride from the outpost tomorrow morning. They’ll just be here for a night.”

Sonia flattened her mouth into a stern line, but didn’t protest. Her expression made it obvious, however, that her and Eddie were going to have a chat later. It made his insides clench.

“Just watch yourself. We aren’t involved in your little war, so don’t expect more support than this.” And with that, she stormed off to go fuss over something. Eddie followed her, trying to think of anything to say to diffuse the situation.

“Mama, they would have died if I didn’t pick them up. Nobody deserves to die in that desert, okay? I couldn’t just leave them.”

“You brought the war to us, Edward! Those people will think they can just stop by here anytime they like now.”

Eddie sighed, his mother’s paranoia washing over him and making him cringe.

“This is purely isolated. I was just doing a good thing. They leave in the morning.”

She still seemed unhappy, but didn’t push the issue. Eddie waited a moment for a response, but when none came, he grabbed a handful of blankets and made his way back to his room to set up makeshift cots.

He listened carefully as the three strangers chattered amongst themselves, whispering about what they were going to do.

“So, what exactly was the Resistance doing on a planet like Korriban? There’s nothing here but strange looking cliffs and sand,” Eddie said, fluffing out a scratchy tan blanket. Stan and Ben looked at each other, a strange look passing between them.

“Well, we were part of a fleet. We were sent to follow up on a rumor of a base on this planet,” Stan said, barely a mutter and with little eye contact.

“Well, I’m guessing the rumor was true?”

His question was met with three sets of withering looks.

“Understatement. What we found was the largest Neibolt Regime base in the galaxy, and an army of stormtroopers. We were the only ones not killed in the attack, and we were taken prisoner by Darth Fide,” Stan continued, voice strained. Hearing the name of the Sith spoken aloud made the hairs on the back of Eddie’s neck stand on end, although he couldn’t place why.

“We were tortured for information for five days. That was, until Mike broke us out and helped us escape.” Ben lifted his shirt to accentuate the point, exposing the still healing wound on his stomach. Eddie felt air rush from between his teeth, cringing with sympathy pain.

“Bev must be worried sick. I doubt she knows we’re still alive. We don’t even know where the ship is, or what happened after we were captured. And Bill... “ Stan paused to swallow. “Our commander is gone. We have no leadership, no one to follow.”

Mike moved to place a large hand on Stan’s shoulder in an effort to comfort.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I do know there is at least one of you that survived. Other than you guys obviously,” he said, voice gentle and smooth. Both pilots turned at breakneck speed, confusion written in plain view.

“What do you mean?”

“I told you I didn’t kill anyone. I had my gun aimed at someone, but I decided to shoot next to him and make it look like I killed him, but I didn’t. I think he just played dead the whole time.”

Eddie watched this discussion with open eyes, enamored by the story he was being told. He was vaguely aware of the fact that there was a war. Honestly, when was there ever not a war? But listening to these strangers had made it all the more real. More personal. Eddie knew his father had been heavily involved at the beginning, and that’s why his mother moved them out to this desolate wasteland. Because his father had died, and Sonia refused to have her son fall to the same fate.

But Eddie couldn’t just ignore it anymore. It was real now, and if what he’d heard about the Regime base was true, very close.

He thought about that later that night, lying awake in the dark. His guests gentle breathing filled the room, but it was nothing compared to the deafening roar he felt in his head. He was filled with so many conflicted ideas and feelings, it was like he was an entirely different person.

That was why he was so surprised when the vacuum finally returned, leaving everything scarily quiet. He took a deep inhale of breath.

“Hello.” he whispered.

“Hello. Seems like we can’t leave each other alone, can we?” the voice asked, a little less informal than before.

“It would appear so. I guess I’m just surprised.”

“Surprised? Because you can hear someone else in your head?”

Eddie chuckled a little bit; it echoed around, making the void a little lighter.

“No, not really. I can usually only hear you if my head is clear. Everything is just really foggy right now. I suppose I’m unsure.”

“Unsure?”

“I feel a calling, but I don’t know what exactly that will entail. I guess I’m just scared.”

“Scared of change?” The voice appeared intrigued.

“Scared of anything other than nothing. That’s what my life has become. Nothing but an empty stretch.”

The voice was silent for a moment, but Eddie knew it was just thinking.

“What do I call you? I know your name isn’t just Nobody.”

“I know yours isn’t either,” Eddie said, but then he paused. “You can call me Eddie.”

His name echoed, and it was like something large had shifted.

“Eddie. Eddie… I like it. I might even call you Eds. How’s that sound?”

“Absolutely horrible. Please don’t ever call me that.”

“Sounds good, Eds. I guess in that case, you can call me Richie.”

Eddie ignored the awful nickname to relish the new information he’d gleaned.

“Huh, Richie’s an odd name for some disembodied voice inside my head.”

“So’s Eddie.”

He laughed a little at that.

But, just as quickly as he’d come, Richie was gone. Instead, Eddie’s name was being called by someone else. He jumped up from his bed, but the chanting was not deterred. It sounded like it was coming from below him.

Basement, he thought, stepping around the people littered on the floor. He tiptoed as quickly as he could, going into their storage room as fast as his feet could carry him.

He’d only ever been in the basement a few times in his life, his mother only permitting him down there to put dried foods in storage. But once he was down there, it wasn’t the vegetables that caught his attention. It was a large chest, hiding in the corner behind several boxes. Eddie shoved them away as steadfastly as his anxiety-corded body would allow.

By the time he wretched open the chest, he wasn’t even in control anymore.

Sitting atop random knick knacks and strange tan clothing, was a tarnished silver handle of sorts.

Tentatively, Eddie reached out and grabbed it.

The reaction was immediate. The feeling was something akin to being violently shot back in time. Visions passed around him in a wild storm of history and knowledge.

He saw a wild lightsaber fight, twelve figures in Jedi robes descending on one dark figure, but they were all quickly vanquished. He saw another man valiantly stand up to the same dark figure, his dark eyes shining with something that both scared and inspired Eddie. Their battle was epic, bright red and yellow blades flailing. But the dark was too strong, and the man was struck down. Eddie screamed, trying in vain to stop it all. But it was too much, every iota of light being crushed.

Then everything changed. He saw a pair of children, one with a mess of black hair and the other a sandy color. They were both crying, flames and violence surrounding them.

“I’m sorry, Stanny. I have to go now.”

The flames faded to rain, and Eddie watched as a darkly clothed man writhed and cried out, an imposing figure standing over him. Laughing. It was a terrible thing that rang out and all around.

The laughing morphed grossly into crying, and suddenly Eddie was watching himself as a child. He was standing next to his mother in front of a simple looking grave.

Where was his father?

Where was he?

wherewashewherewashewherewashewhere-

He was thrown back against the ground, back to the present in his basement. The strange tube was still clenched in his hand.

“Eddie?”

He quickly jumped up, turning on his heel. There in the doorway, shrouded in darkness, was his mother. Her eyes were wide in shock.

“Where did you find that?”

Eddie paused.

“It… called to me. It was calling me and I followed it. I saw… I saw everything.”

“No, I won’t have you ending up like your father. Put it back and go back to bed.”

“No.”

Sonia was shocked.

“No?”

“Mama, this is important. I can feel it.”

“No Edward. The Jedi killed your father, I won’t have you die from them too.”

Eddie swallowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Your father was a Jedi. He died in the first battle that started this war. That’s his lightsaber.” She sounded almost ashamed. Eddie looked down at the object in his hand. The metal had become warm in his hand, and he carefully inspected every groove and scar on its surface. His finger hovered over the button he knew would activate the blade.

When he pressed it, he was faced with a bright pole of amber-yellow light, illuminating the dark room and casting shadows across the walls. It felt easier than anything to hold it.

“You know I can’t stay with you forever,” Eddie said, sheathing the blade in the handle again.

“... yes, I know. But I had to protect you. I had you keep you away from all that violence. It’s not right, what’s happening in the galaxy right now.”

Eddie nodded, understanding.

The next morning, he helped Ben, Stan, and Mike load bags of rations and spare clothes into his speeder, his own bags joining in.

“Are you sure you want to come with us?” Stan asked, placing a supportive hand on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yes, I’m sure. It’s time for me to do something.”

Stan smiled, then gestured to where Eddie’s mom was standing.

“May the force be with you!” she called out, waving as the group piled into the vehicle.

Eddie nodded, waved at his mother, and raced off across the sand.

#my writing #reddie #stenbrough #benverly #It (2017) #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #stan uris #bill denbrough #Ben Hascom #beverly marsh #mike hanlon #the light will guide you home #star wars

[lapsa-lapsa]

Rob James-Collier: Oh, You Handsome Devil!

As Downton Abbey's hot gay villain, Rob James-Collier finds love -- and redemption.

BY

AARON HICKLIN

THU, 2013-01-03 09:04

Photography by David Bailey

Styling by Julian Ganio

Last March, when The New Yorker’s Ian Crouch declared an “epidemic of Downton Abbey fever,” he wasn’t wrong. The show has been nothing short of a phenomenon, a runaway success for dowdy old PBS, far outpacing in ratings that other popular period drama, Mad Men. It’s a classic tale of love and fortune with a fundamental mystery at its core, namely: How can something this schlocky be this good? Maybe it has something to do with its formula, equal parts high class to high camp (yes, Dame Maggie Smith, we’re looking at you); or its bucolic English setting; or, more likely, its blatant appeal to our closeted hankering for a butler fully versed in the art of decanting vintage port. After all is said and done, who has not wished that they, too, could be in the position to declare, like the Dowager Countess with her imperious mix of disdain and perplexity, “What is a week-end?”

Indeed, what is a weekend without Downton Abbey to cozy up with on Sunday nights? And here it is, back again to keep winter from the door—season 3, and with it the Roaring Twenties to blow away the agony of war and the insult of rationing. Expect flappers and the Charleston, and a Marcel wave or two.

Let me come clean: I haven’t seen a preview of season 3 -- in my home that would be cheating; it’s what we still call appointment TV -- but I have it on great authority that this is the season in which that villainous gay footman-turned-valet, Thomas Barrow, experiences the tender love that his poor, neglected heart so craves and needs. It’s about time. His dalliance with the Duke of Crowborough in the opening episode of season 1 turned out to be a tease. He ended season 2 in the arms of the Dowager Countess, twirling around the dance floor at the Christmas party like a neuter content to spend his prime escorting ladies of a certain age to the ball.

We should have known that creator and writer Julian Fellowes would not disappoint. Season 3 is where it all changes for young Thomas. And for us, too. Although there clearly were gay men in Edwardian England, they’ve been in scant supply on television. There was, of course, Sebastian and Charles in Brideshead Revisited, whose “naughtiness [was] high on the catalogue of grave sins,” as Evelyn Waugh wrote, but they merely hinted at what happened when the lights were off. Thomas promises to go somewhat further. It’s what makes Downton Abbey feel, well, modern.

No one, of course, is more excited by this turn of events than Rob James-Collier, the actor who secured the role of Thomas with the understanding that it was a one-season deal. “My agent said, ‘Listen, you’ve got the part that everyone in town wants—he’s a villain, he’s a great role, the only bad thing is that he dies at the end of the first series,’ ” recalls James-Collier. But Thomas clicked with the audience, and his on-screen chemistry with his maid counterpart, O’Brien (a wonderfully surly Siobhan Finneran), was irresistible. “I gave it 110 percent, and after the first couple of episodes, Liz, the producer, came to me and said, ‘We want you to stay on. Will you?’ And I was, like, ‘Fuck, yeah.’ ”

We are in Bloomsbury, London, sitting in a tiny French patisserie hardly big enough to contain James-Collier’s boundless energy. When he walks in, he immediately begins by quoting lines from articles of mine that he’s found online. It’s discombobulating. Research is my job. At another point, he puts me on the phone with a friend summoned to serve as a character reference. I feel like a luckless audience member at a comedy show, plucked from the front row as a volunteer for a gag. When I accidentally insert a “Smith” into his surname (it’s that damn hyphenate), he is gleeful as hell. “Aaron has got my name wrong, and he’s now floundering, trying to think of it,” he dictates into my recorder.

That double-barreled name, incidentally, was not his choice. He grew up in Salford, near Manchester, as plain Rob Collier, and might have stayed that way had actors union Equity not intervened to avoid confusion with another Rob Collier. “I said, ‘Can I have Rob James Collier, and they said, ‘Yeah, if you hyphenate it,’ and I said, ‘Well, can I have Rob-James Collier?’ and they said -- and this is true -- ‘No, you have to hyphenate the James and the Collier.’ ” He wasn’t happy. In England, hyphenated surnames are for posh people. “I was, like, ‘That sounds like someone from the aristocracy, as if I’m being somebody I’m not.’ But they insisted,” he recalls ruefully. In Britain, still today, there’s little more disreputable than the man or woman who puts on the airs and graces of the upper class.

I went to school with boys like James-Collier. You probably did, too. They are the entertainers and comedians, who laugh at their own pratfalls. What they lack in confidence they make up for in banter. It’s no surprise to hear that James-Collier is the joker on set, and the one with the loudest mouth. “Most actors are really shy and insular creatures,” he explains. “I’ve just always been a dick.” He remembers his first day at acting class (he found it by consulting the Yellow Pages), and realizing that he’d liberated himself. “We were doing these warm-up exercises, running around doing crazy things with our voices, and, rather than feeling stupid, I just felt that I’d come home,” he says. He was working as a marketing assistant at the time, “listening to Pink Floyd, Dark Side of the Moon -- great album, bad album to listen to if you’re in a rut, ticking away the hours that make up a dull day.” Watching Ricky Gervais’s masterwork, The Office, compounded his sense of futility. “It was my office,” he says. “I thought, I can’t do this for the rest of my life, surely?”

Oddly, that is the same dilemma facing Thomas Barrow, shackled to servitude as a footman at Downton Abbey, always looking for an opportunity to elevate his station in life -- and failing. His pitiful efforts to establish a black market in rationed goods during season 2 spoke volumes about the limitations confronting Britain’s working class in the Edwardian era. It’s moments like those that save Downton Abbey from being merely an exercise in sumptuous costume porn.

If you grew up in Britain, as I did, the world of Downton Abbey is a familiar one, conjured in an endless parade of finely wrought television shows, which we send across the oceans like telegraphs from our gilded past. Some of them, like 1981’s 11-hour miniseries, Brideshead Revisited, which introduced Jeremy Irons to the world, or 1995’s six-episode serialization of Pride and Prejudice, which did the same for Colin Firth, strike gold. Few, however, receive quite the rapturous reception of Downton Abbey. The reason, perhaps, is fairly simple: Although Downton wears the clothes (and production values) of quality drama, it has the soul of a soap opera. As my boyfriend likes to say, it’s very efficient, meaning that things happen at lightning speed. Resolutions come thick and swift, which is all part of the pleasure.

Fellowes himself takes credit for modernizing the format by borrowing his style from U.S. shows like The West Wing, but it’s also that the concerns of the show are discernibly our concerns, albeit in Edwardian costume. For James-Collier, “Downton Abbey is a workplace like any other. You’re going to get cliques of people who don’t like each other -- Thomas and O’Brien versus Bates and Anna -- and you’re going to get people who really love doing their jobs and people who are bitter and feel they’re just a number. It’s about relationships in the workplace environment, and people can identify with that because the same problems and political conflicts you have in work today were relevant back then.”

Coincidentally or otherwise, almost all the actors who play servants in Downton Abbey got their start in English soap operas -- gritty exercises in social realism, fully rooted in working-class culture. The oldest of those shows, Coronation Street -- set in Manchester -- has run continuously for 52 years, and nurtured generations of acting talent. James-Collier arrived on the series in 2006, as  “loveable rogue” Liam Connor, and stayed for two years before deciding he wanted to take on a different kind of challenge.

“It’s a great, brilliant show, but you have to make a decision,” he says. “I’m not knocking anyone for going that way [of soap operas] -- you can get security, and God knows we need that, but I think you’re limited then in terms of your options as an actor.” After Coronation Street, he was out of work for 15 months, waiting for the right thing to come along. “I watched people who had left these kinds of shows and had seen what happened,” he says. “So I knew you had to literally put the shutters down and just pray and hope that something would come along, and when the wolves were near the door, Downton Abbey came.”

James-Collier has joked that his character’s sexuality became so muted in season 2 that he called up Fellowes and asked, “Am I still gay?” Yes, it turns out. In season 3, we get to see Thomas outed in a powerful sequence of episodes that James-Collier considers the best acting of his career. “It’s the series where we really comes to grips with Thomas’s sexuality and the impact being gay must have had on him, in Edwardian times,” he says. “If you’re including a gay character, there’s an onus and responsibility to at least show what the impact of the time will be on him, and of him on that time. Thankfully we’ve done that, and I’m so proud that I’ve been used to tell that tale.”

A confrontation between Thomas and the butler, Mr. Carson, proves to be a high point, and one that confers uncommon dignity on the footman. “It’s a lovely, beautiful moment,” says James-Collier, clearly delighted by the opportunity to redeem his character. “If you were gay in those times, the fact that you’re even functioning, how you’re not completely fucked up by that, is beyond me.”

Although not gay in real life, he says he has empathy for misfits and outsiders, perhaps because of his own atypical route to acting. Even now it’s clear that he can’t quite believe that he’s earned his place as an actor. He recalls sitting opposite Maggie Smith during the first read-through (“a proper pinch-yourself moment”) and feeling that everything out of his mouth sounded like wooden splinters. It can’t be easy playing the least lovable character on the show. When she arrived on set, guest star Shirley MacLaine greeted him with the words, “It’s you -- the evil one! Why are you so evil?” The answers, apparently, are all in season 3. “With O’Brien and Thomas, you’ve got these two forces, and it’s a kind of paradox -- they work for this great house that keeps them off the streets and from starving, and yet they absolutely despise the system they’re in, because there’s no other option,” he says. “In a weird way Thomas wants to bring down the system, but if he did he’d be putting himself out of a job and a home.”

As he was talking, I remembered something: My own grandmother, now 92, had started her working life “in service” as they say, at the age of 14, still a child herself. That would have been in the 1930s -- the same era as Julian Fellowes other big country–house hit, Gosford Park, for which he won a best original screenplay Oscar in 2002. At the time my grandmother went into service, her father was ill and her mother was struggling to hold things together. “It was an awful wrench to leave my sisters and brothers at home, but it was one less pair of shoes under the table,” she explains when I ask about her experiences. My grandmother, a country girl, didn’t work in the big house (as one of her sisters did), but for a doctor’s family, where she was excruciatingly lonely.

“I think that’s the reason I got married so young -- to get out of it,” she says. “I did all the cooking and all the cleaning, and had one half day off a week, and a whole day off once a month.”

“No weekends, then?” I ask.

“Oh, there were no weekends,” she says, conjuring Maggie Smith’s glorious bafflement in season 1. It is to Downton Abbey’s credit that this stark double meaning isn’t entirely lost on the audience, or that the disparity between those upstairs and those downstairs isn’t varnished into oblivion. It’s left to us to imagine how people of O’Brien’s resourcefulness or Thomas’s ambition would fare in our own age, but one thing’s certain—they wouldn’t be spending their weekends polishing the silver.

https://www.out.com/entertainment/television/2013/01/03/rob-james-collier-downton-abbey

#robert james collier #thomas barrow #downton abbey #interview

[shimmershae]

"Moonlight."  (a Walking Dead One Shot???, Caryl).

Sorry for another shitty, generic title, but I don't even know, lovelies.  I don't even know.  Maybe I'll come up with a better one before I post it to 9L.   

 This started out as a fill for one of my prompts and it just kept growing as these things tend to do when I least expect it, lol.  It was also supposed to be nothing but fluff, but my angsty feels kept creeping in, so there. 

 Set between Seasons 2 and 3 after the fall of the Farm. 

  “This is all your fault

  “This is all your fault.” 

  Daryl rounded on her, his blue eyes narrowed to irritated slits.  “My fault?  The hell you talkin’ ‘bout, Woman?”  It spoke to the amount of confidence she’d gained since the Quarry and putting a pickaxe to that fucker’s skull, since losing her girl out on that highway and again at the Farm, that she didn’t flinch away from him, only stepped closer, but hell.  Weren’t like it took much for them to be toe to toe, being stuck in another airless box and all.  Least it felt like he couldn’t breathe, what with all the dead people’s clutter surrounding them.  There were just the barest slivers of light sneaking in through the cracks of the boards covering up their attic refuge’s small window, and it was fast fading, leading him to believe they weren’t going anywhere soon.  At least not until the small herd out there lost interest and moved on and he didn’t have to be a betting man to know the odds weren’t exactly stacked in their favor on that count.  Weren’t just the living that were looking to fill their bellies, after all.  “Naw.  Way I see it, this is your fault.  Not mine.” 

  “My fault?” Carol sputtered incredulously, stabbing a pointed finger into his chest.  “Really?  You’re really going to try to tell me that…no.  Know what?  I had it handled.  I was fine.  I didn’t need you swooping in and playing the part of my protector like I’m some defenseless burden.  I’m not.  Not anymore.  And reading me the riot act like you know better?  I was fine.” 

  She was breathing hard after spitting out that last part, her posture, her tone, her too bright eyes reeking of defiance, and some small part of Daryl wanted to give her a slow clap of pride, but the larger part of him was fuckin’ pissed and he growled.  “You through?”  Jabbing his own finger at her chest and the threadbare jacket zipped all the way to her neck, her scarf looped double against the biting chill in the air and a pair of exhausted jade eyes peeking over the top of it and watching every move he made with suspicion, he snapped.  “Was a fuckin’ cat.  Not medicine.  Not clothes.  Not even enough meat on its bones to even call it food.  Nothin’ worth losin’ your fool head over.  Had every damn right to swoop in and rescue your stupid, stubborn ass.”  It was clear his words had made some sort of impact from the way she shrank back and put some sorely needed space between them again.  What wasn’t clear was whether it was good or bad because she’d gone quiet, the look in her eyes distant and unreadable from the moment he’d launched into his tirade, and fuck if that didn’t make him feel worse than almost witnessing her become an evening snack for one of them assholes—all for an undeserving scrawny, hissing flea bag with needlepoint claws.  Sighing, he rubbed a tired hand over his face and allowed his voice to soften to the register that usually came so easily to him where she was concerned.  Still, he wouldn’t say he was sorry for something he’d do all over again.  “Ain’t apologizin’.” 

  She matched his sigh with one of her own.  “Of course not.”  Pacing away from him, she peered through the narrow slats out into the growing darkness, absently scratching a nail through the matted gray fur of the kitten curled up all cozy and tight to her chest. 

  Fighting against going on the defensive again, Daryl kept his comments calm and to the point, no nonsense.  “Somebody needed to talk some sense into you.  If I hadn’t come along when I did, shit.  If I hadn’t, you’d have got yourself killed.  So I ain’t apologizin’.  Won’t.  So don’t waste your time waitin’.”  Shrugging his crossbow off his shoulder, he propped it against a stack of overflowing, mildewed cardboard boxes and crossed the small distance between them, doing his own perusal of the shambling obstacles to their safe return to their group.  Letting his gaze drift to her lowered silver head, he mused, “Gonna be a long night.  Cold.  Best find a spot to bed down in while we still have the light.” 

  Without a word, she nodded and turned on her heel, carefully picking her way across the claustrophobic space with its jungle of boxes and dusty, long forgotten furniture like it was a virtual landmine. 

  Like she had experience waiting for the world around her to detonate without a moment’s notice, and Daryl supposed she did.  His thumbnail and words of regret trapped between his teeth, he could only watch her go.   

        It wasn’t long before a full moon rose high in the sky amidst a blanket of twinkling stars and a nearby hoot owl’s distinctive call mingled with the low, rasping growls of the restless undead outside.  Otherwise, the night was eerily still, and Daryl knew he wasn’t the only one that felt it.  Though she hadn’t uttered more than a few perfunctory words here and there since the evening had waned and then only when he’d addressed her, Carol’s own unease was palpable and he couldn’t take it anymore.  Tucking his hands in his armpits for added warmth, he left his lonely sentinel at the boarded window and made his careful approach, gruffly cleared his throat.  “Hey.” 

  “Hey,” she murmured back, her blue eyes liquid in the faint flicker of candlelight as she looked up at him.  The half-starved kitten lolled against her boot clad foot, halfheartedly batting at her frayed laces as she lifted the edge of her blanket in unspoken peace offering. 

  With little hesitation, Daryl settled down beside her, the long months of forced togetherness and his own desire for a return to their usual, earned rapport making the decision easy.  He breathed deep and untroubled when her thin shoulder bumped against his own, kicking out his feet when she curled her legs inward.  Leaning his weary head back against the mound of pillows she’d propped against the skeletal remains of an old futon unearthed in her earlier explorations, he closed his eyes.  Then immediately opened them again.  “What the hell?” 

  Carol startled beside him, going rigid, and the tiny cat seemed to revert back to its feral roots, its fur rippling across its bony back and a low, surprisingly menacing sounding growl emanating from its throat.  “What?” 

  Daryl pointed overhead.  “That.” 

  She followed his gaze to the rafters and her mouth dropped open, before she glanced at him and all but erupted with laughter, albeit muffled laughter.  Blue eyes dancing, pink lips quivering and cheeks flushed, she finally calmed enough to ask, “That?” 

  Daryl resisted the impulse to shudder, the overwhelming need in that moment to press his mouth to hers and preserve the memory of her happiness even if it was at his expense.  Instead, he ducked his head and grumbled.  “Ain’t sleepin’ ‘neath that thing.” 

  “Thing?” Carol teased good-naturedly.  “Are you telling me someone as brave and fearless and capable as you is scared of jolly old Saint Nick?” 

  “When he looks that demented,” he muttered.  “Yeah.  You better fuckin’ believe it.” 

  Wrapping both hands around his arm, she rest her chin upon his shoulder and grinned at his profile.  “Don’t worry, Pookie.  You can always sleep beneath me.” 

  Feeling like his cheeks were flaming ten different shades of red, Daryl groaned and gently elbowed her in the ribs.  “Stop.” 

          “Naw,” he huffed later, his rough hand darting out to grab her by the arm.  “Bad ‘nough you always sneakin’ every other bite you get to Lori or the kid.  You ain’t feedin’ your dinner to that flea bag.”  Seemingly offended by his pronouncement, the little sack of bones and fur mewed pitifully and stared up at him with eyes too big for its tiny head, but Daryl refused to let his heart be swayed no matter how much it might have wanted to.  Woman had been thin enough before, but since the fall of the Farm and their tour of desperation seeking food and shelter in a desiccated landscape, she’d lost even more weight, and it didn’t escape his notice how her clothes hung ever more loosely on her shoulders and hips.  If he were truthful with himself, nothing about her had ever escaped his notice, so it wasn’t any surprise he’d caught her trying to feed her meager rations to the tiny animal that he considered to be at the root of their current predicament.  “Naw,” he repeated, gentling his grip on her before letting it fall away altogether. 

  Carol’s shoulders slumped only slightly.  “They need it more than me,” she insisted.  “Even Gandalf does.” 

  Daryl snorted.  “Fuck kind of name is that?” 

  “Gandalf.  Like in the Lord of the Rings,” she explained. 

  Daryl grunted and shook his head.  “Seen it.  Still a shit name for a cat.”  Sneaking a peek at her beside him, he watched her chew her lips in contemplation before her chin lifted stubbornly and he had to suppress a smirk.  That was happening more and more, her taking up for herself and standing her ground.  He liked it. 

  “Well, I happen to think it fits.  Think Carl will like it, too,” she muttered. 

  He didn’t tell her all the reasons it wasn’t a good idea, putting a name on trouble like that and getting attached, making plans.  He reckoned she knew better than most how fragile the future really was, had known that particular truth long before the world’s eventual end.  No.  He didn’t do that.  Didn’t mention how impractical it was, taking on the responsibility of a pet when they could barely feed themselves these days.  He just played along, in his own way, of course.  “How you so sure it’s a Tom?”

  “I’m not,” she told him with a closed lip smile.  “Either way it looks like a Gandalf.” 

  “’Spose,” he reluctantly agreed.  Eying the pink lump of canned meat that she still hadn’t touched, he sighed.  “You really ain’t gonna eat that?” 

  “I know beggars can’t be choosers,” she told him, her nose wrinkling with disgust, “but no.  There are some things even an apocalypse can’t make enticing, and cold Spam is definitely one of them for me.  Sorry.  You want it?”                                                                                                      

  “Naw,” he eventually said.  “Gandalf over there needs to build up his energy if he’s gonna earn his keep.  Reckon he’ll make a decent ‘nough mouser given time.  Get Lori off Rick’s back and make you smile.” 

  She looked at him like he’d just handed her the moon and all the glittering stars in the heavens above, the promise of forever.  “Me?” she asked softly. 

  He shrugged uncomfortably, reaching over her to grab the Spam and tear it into pieces small enough for the little gray ball of fur to chew.  “You.  The kids.  Everybody.” 

  She nodded to herself.  “Everybody.  Sure.  Right.”  

  “Hey.”  He nudged her shoulder when her face fell, directed her attention to the ravenous little beast as it attacked its donated meal.  “Would you look at that?  Guess you were right.” 

  Allowing herself to be distracted, she laughed.  “I’m always right.” 

  The corner of his mouth lifted in his own version of a smile.  Well, she wasn’t exactly wrong. 

          He must have dozed off because one minute they were shoulder to shoulder, not really saying anything, just watching the cat do what cats do and letting the silence swallow up all their thoughts and words, and the next he was sitting upright with a gasp and searching for her in the darkness.  It only took a quick scan of his surroundings to locate her:  standing in front of an empty white crib and cradling a rag doll in her arms, looking so wistful and lost in that unguarded moment that his throat threatened to seize up.  Unable to bear seeing her look such a way, he cleared his throat and pretended he couldn’t see the silver sheen of unshed tears that made her blue eyes that much more beautiful.  “Couldn’t sleep?” 

  She replaced the doll in the crib before answering him with a simple shake of her head. 

  “Should have woke me,” Daryl told her, thumbing the last vestiges of sleep from his gritty eyes.  When he attempted to stretch his arms and legs beneath the blanket she had covered him with, he felt the razor-sharp sting of a pair of claws sinking into his thigh and swore.  “Fuckin’ hell.  What you do that for?  How you even…”  Glancing back up at her when her soft laugh reached his ears, he frowned.  “You do this?” 

  Her lips twitched with amusement.  “No.  Gandalf decided you’d make a great pillow all on his own.  I happen to concur.” 

  “Yeah, well,” he grumbled.  “Least you don’t claw me up or bite.” 

  Not even a second passed before she made him pay for that unthinking comment.  “Oh, but I would, Pookie.  With a couple of conditions.  Only when asked.  And only when you really deserve it.” 

  “Woman,” he warned, but it was halfhearted at best.  Truth was, he didn’t mind her teasing.  Not so much anyway.  Usually, it made her smile and a smile on her face with the memory of that little girl shuffling out of that barn still so close to the surface was worth any discomfort or awkwardness he might feel.  “You gonna stand there all night or you gonna rescue me from Cujo?” 

  “Cujo was a dog,” she smirked. 

  “Don’t care,” he muttered when she bumped her boot against his own.  “Need sleep anyway.  Got a lot of ground to make up tomorrow.  If we even get to leave.”  This deep into the night, the growls of discontent seemed even louder, closer than they had before, and he wasn’t entirely certain they weren’t.  That very real probability had led them to where they were now, since those fuckers had no way of getting to them—unless they figured out how to pull down the access door and climb the ladder they’d scrambled up themselves hours earlier.  “When we get to leave,” he quickly corrected himself when he noticed worry flicker across her features. 

  “When we get to leave,” she echoed as she knelt down beside him. 

  When he offered her the edge of his blanket, she ducked under it and pulled her knees to her chest, and the goosebumps pebbling her pale, freckled skin had him lifting his arm over her shoulders before he had time to even think about how such a gesture would be received.  Turned out he shouldn’t have worried, though, because for once, she didn’t have a teasing word for him.  She just scooted up close and soaked up his natural body heat, sighed and allowed her eyes to start to drift, and his own lids felt leaden as he fought to keep them open, struggled to remain vigilant.  The little gray lint ball crawling up his chest and kneading away, purring up a storm even as he petulantly stared him into reluctant submission wasn’t helping the matter none either.    

  “Stop fighting it so hard,” she murmured into his flannel covered chest, tucked her cold fingers between the gaps of his buttons seeking the steady comfort of his heart and his heat.  “Close your eyes.” 

  “Just gonna close ‘em for a little while,” he promised. 

  She just laughed and curled closer.  “Sleep.” 

  “Mmm.” 

#The Walking Dead #Caryl fanfiction #Carol x Daryl #Carol Peletier #Daryl Dixon #mentions of Rick Grimes #Lori Grimes #Carl Grimes #allusions to Sophia Peletier #Beth Greene #more #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons #stuff that I write

[cupnoodle-queen]

Chasing Suns: Chapter 14 Loose Ends

1,486 words

And we’re back! Sorry for the brief story hiatus. Like I said, smut took precedence. But I’m hoping to have this wrapped up within a week or so, cause LORDY THE HC’s and drabbles I have planned.

Tagging the best baes and soulmate squad, @nifwrites @blindbae and @themissimmortal <3 <3 you ladies give me life

Gladio stepped out of the barracks, Cam’s kiss still fresh on his lips and heart going a mile a minute as if he’d gone for a quick jog. She was growing on him. Not that he’d complain much...but he had to talk to Steph, and soon. The idea of it was enough to put a bad taste in his mouth, eliminating all trace of his soulmate’s cloying presence, but it was necessary otherwise he was just plain cheating and that wasn’t a fibre of his makeup.

He’d have to be honest with her; That there was someone else, that he felt their relationship well was running dry, that Cam was actually there the majority of the time and he needed something more than the odd shag now and then. Call it maturing, call it side effects of Astral interference. Gladio was ready for more, ready to inject purpose back into his life. Seeing Ignis and his soulmate Raine with their doting son together only fueled that desire, one he’d all but given up on after that day in the Lestallum market when he’d let her get away. 

He couldn’t do that again.

Steph didn’t want that life, for reasons from her past that he was well aware of. Back when she first told him he could easily say fuck it to aspirations; he needed a distraction, a getaway, a sentimental touch to counter the pain. Something to make him forget. Something to make him feel. But now they didn’t mesh and she went against his grain. He couldn’t make her happy. She couldn’t make him happy.

But Cam could…

Dave nodded at him and approached, a question in his tired expression. “Everything alright?” 

Gladio grunted. “Is what it is. Need something?”

“Actually, yeah. The Marshal’s looking to up patrols near the city, in light of recent events.” Dave pulled a folded and heavily creased map of Lucian roads and highways from his back pocket, pointing out areas traced in red marker. “These are the routes, if you’re up for it. Decent pay, just long hours. We’ve got Stevens on this route but we can’t send him out alone…” 

There was a slight air of desperation in Dave’s voice, Gladio could detect it and he frowned; they needed the help, he knew no one else was accepting this patrol because of the sheer quantity of daemons that lingered on the city outskirts, waiting with hopes that the power would go out...He’d seen it firsthand once as a fill-in on a patrol many moons ago. Being in his nature to help those who needed it, Gladio nodded. “Alright, I’ll take care of it.”

Dave all but breathed a sigh of relief. “Thanks, much appreciated. I’ll text you a digital scan with GPS coordinates-”

 Carmine locks of hair demanded attention from Gladio’s peripherals. “Thanks, sorry, gotta run.” He left Dave and jogged towards Steph, calling her name as she was opening the door to her vehicle.

When he reached her she paused, one foot in and the other still on solid ground. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Yes?”

Frosty, apathetic; she must have still held insult from his blatant disregard for her from earlier that evening, before the behemoth battle. Gladio tried his best to be approachable. “Got a minute? Would really like to talk to you about some things.” 

Steph’s expression didn’t waiver, an almost blank canvas devoid of emotion. “Does it look like I have time? I’m heading out, can it wait?”

“It’s kind of important,” Gladio replied, taking a step away from her, the ice in her words almost tangible. “How long will you be gone?”

“One, maybe two days.”

 His hands balled into tight fists. “You sure you don’t have time, for me?”

A heavy sigh deflated her lungs and she rolled tired eyes his way, ire in her voice. “I’m already behind schedule with that asshole showing up,” - she gestured to the dead behemoth overhead - “and Hammerhead is waiting on this gil ration to pay for a shipment of MREs. Any later than I already am and my job’s on the line. Unless you’re fine being the reason I get fired-”

Without warning Gladio pounded a fist against the hood of Steph’s car, exasperation getting the better of him as he narrowed his eyes at her and stormed off.

Steph watched him walk away in the rear view mirror and tutted, closing the car door before driving through the bloodied tunnel entrance and out of HQ. Once under the cover of the tunnel, she dialed a memorized number, two short rings and a familiar voice answered. They were anticipating her call. “So? You have good news, I trust.”

 “Negative,” Steph replied, “the behemoth was barely a distraction for them, it was felled far too quickly for me to access everything required. They only have dibs on what happened in the armory, though, but it’s only a matter of time before they make any connections.”

 “Fair enough,” the voice while not displeased responded in a mixed tone. “So long as you are not held accountable for any of the discrepancies they happen upon, we’re good.”

 “They’re none the wiser, have their sights on the new girl and she’s gotten the blame for it. Though that initiate could rat me out, still....”

The voice on the other line chuckled low, dark. “Another loose end to tie up, my dear?”

 Steph smirked as she accelerated out of the tunnel. “It would seem so.”

Cam’s new job was, in a word, unextraordinary.

She took a break from sharpening the stack of dull blades, leaning on the booth’s counter and watching the same two veteran hunters bicker over their kill count for the second time today. They’d been on hunts and back again in the time she’d stood in one spot, tending to the near endless pile of knives, daggers and swords that needed refinement, repetitive mundane work that bored her senseless. Sure, perhaps she’d enjoy the lackluster task several weeks ago, but today? She felt restless, the body of a fighter restricted to confined quarters. 

The phone call from the night before was back on her mind. Iris had called and asked Cam if she would be willing to do something her own brother would not: train her. She wanted to become a hunter, and help make a difference. Though Cam initially denied it flat-out, saying it wasn’t the right time, but Iris said something that had her reconsidering: “When will it be the right time for me, then? When the power finally gives and the city is taken over by daemons, and I’m backed into an alley? I have no one else, Cam. Gladio barely visits anymore because they have him so busy there, and the Crownsguard members are constantly on call. I’m all alone, Cam...I need to be able to watch my back.” 

In all regards she was right; there eventually would come a time in her life when she’d need to know how to defend herself, be it a disaster in Lestallum or otherwise. Her age did nothing to phase Cam as it did with Gladio, if anything it made her more ripe to train so she could get a head start. 

And the fact that she too, was alone in this...to say it struck a chord in her was an understatement.

Gladio would not be okay with it. Period. She had to be willing to compromise whatever kind of relationship was germinating between them for the sake of training the seventeen year old girl. Perhaps her approach could sway his favour, if she laid out the reasons and proved she knew what she was doing, maybe throwing in some compliments to her trainer and saying she learnt from the best might help...It was futile. He wouldn’t be thrilled at the idea. There had to be a way, though...

A truck sped through HQ, much faster than considered appropriate given the fact there were people walking about the area. It slammed on the brakes and skid into park near where the two veteran hunters were seated by the food vendor. An older hunter got out, already in hysterics and the two bickering veterans rushed to his aid, asking what was wrong and trying to shake some sense into him as he was a mess. The man was weeping, red faced and hunched over, and though a fair distance from her Cam could tell he was trembling. “M-my boy, they got my boy…”

In his hands he clutched a hooded sweatshirt, unmistakably child sized and coated in reddish-pink blotches.

Anguished fury swelled in Cam’s heart at the sight. Without hesitation, without a plan, Cam pulled out her phone and called Iris. She didn’t have to wait long for her to pick up.

“I’ll train you on one condition,” she breathed, the memory of Nolan’s last night alive pulled from the recesses of her mind.

“Promise you’ll slay every last daemon that walks the face of Eos with me.”

#chasing suns #chapter 14 #gladio soulmate AU #gladio x female oc #gladio #iris amicitia #steph's a bitch #gladio x cam #cam reynolds #ffxv fanfiction #ffxv soulmate AU #ffxv #angst

[trinuil]

The King’s Favor: Part IV

“You’ll start work tomorrow then?”, you asked standing up to lead the new nanny to the door.

“Yes, of course”, she said stepping out, with a small smile you closed the door and sighed. Thank the heavens you managed to find a decent dwarrowdam for the task…and in time too, the King and Queen were due to arrive tomorrow evening and you intended to keep your promises.

Soft gurgling invaded your little reverie and you felt a slight smile creep to your lips. You strode over to the massive wooden cradle and peered over the at the smiling toddler. He immediately glanced up at you with his big, sky blue eyes and batted his dark lashes at you before reaching out to you with his chubby hands. You gently picked him up and kissed his curly brown locks, “Awake from our nap, my little one?”, sitting down in an armchair you placed the little prince on your lap and giggled as his grin widened and grew into an adorable laugh.

You handed him a toy soldier and gently bounced him on your lap as he hugged it to his pink cheek, “Are you hungry?”, you asked softly while playing with his tiny toes. You had begun to take quite a liking to the dwarfling, he was certainly a very mild tempered being which made you uncertain after whom he took up after. He inherited his father’s vivid blue eyes and dark hair and his mother’s smile. He was most likely the luckiest dwarfling in Erebor, surrounded by riches and the promise of the throne, but all you could think was how unfortunate that this innocent creature should be to be born into such an unhappy family.

“I bet you miss your Adad”, you said stroking his dimpled cheek, “and I bet he misses you too…very much”, you knew that Thorin adored his child very much, beyond all his treasures. A sigh left your lips at the thought of Thorin, not that he had left your thoughts at all these past few days. You had replayed the events that had unfolded in the study that night and you couldn’t see yourself giving him any other answer than the one you had given…eventhough you wanted to. A dwarf’s loyalty and devotion to his wife are sacred and trumps all things, you hated the thought of being the object that tested Thorin, you couldn’t happily make him break his vows no matter how you felt towards him. You had to stay away from him, no more friendly conversations in the middle of the night, you will not get any closer to the King Under the Mountain.

A light knock on the door was followed by Irida stepping in, “Bo wants to see you, Y/n. I can watch him, besides it’s time for a feeding”, she took Nain from your arms and you left after kissing his cheek.

Bo was waiting for you in the corridor with his arms folded over his breastplate, “Well, good evening”, you said with a smile as he turned his head to look at you, “what brings you here today? Stopped by to visit the prince?”.

“I’m afraid not, a rider arrived earlier today with a message for you from the Queen, she expects to return tonight and wants you to have everything ready for her”.

“Oh”, you said feeling a little dismayed, you had hoped to have one more day to yourself, “Thank you for letting me know”. Oh dear, this also meant that Thorin will be back too.

“Y/n?”, you looked up to see him looking at you with concern, “Are you alright?”.

You perked up and smiled, “I’m perfectly alright. Just thinking about her majesty’s things I need to straighten out”.

That seemed to put his mind at ease, he flashed you a smile and offered to walk you downstairs, “I expect you had a nice little vacation the past two days”, he grinned.

“It’s a shame it has to end so abruptly”, you said with a sigh.

“Y/n, I need to speak with you. Alone.”, Misadora shot Irida a look and she took her leave. You wondered what little triviality she was going to get up in arms about now - after all, she had just gotten back.

She sat at her mirror and looked at you through it, her emerald green eyes mocking you.

When she finally spoke the blood drained from your face: “I know what you did”.

She knew. She knew about you and Thorin and you could only imagine what she’s about to do to you, is she going to have you exiled? Thrown in the dungeons? The gallows? Or have you beheaded?

“My Queen?”, you tried to not sound petrified. You hadn’t done anything. Not really. She beckoned you to help her with her jewellery and you urged your legs to move.

Steadying your hands, you worked her braids loose and began removing the hair ornaments, “Do you know what the first thing I was told when I stepped out of my carriage earlier?”.

“No, My Queen”, you replied.

“There was gossip going around that you had been seen with the King…in private”, she paused for effect before asking, “Do you deny it?”.

Your stomach felt queasy and you had to muster all your will power to look at her in the mirror, “I do not my Queen, but let me explain..”, you were surprised when she didn’t interject.

“I wasn’t feeling well and his Majesty was kind enough to offer to let me sit in his study to gather myself”, there was no way anyone had any proof of your meetings after that day, “That is about the long and short of it. I am forever grateful to him and I am sorry to have been an inconvenience to him, I can assure you that it will not happen again”, that was the truth.

Her eyes bore into your very soul to the point where you were afraid that she could read your mind and see that you hadn’t told her the whole story.

“I could have you thrown out right now, I could finish your life in Erebor in seconds”, Misadora appeared to be eerily calm, it scared you more than her vicious outbursts, you dropped your gaze to your hands as they undid the last of her braids.

“I know what they think of me - what you think of me. The vain, ill-tempered Queen”.

You looked up at her again, “I have never spoken a word against you to anyone, my Queen. You have my loyalty and that is the truth”.

“I dare say, I believe you”.

You looked at her a little shocked.

She stood up, “You haven’t given me a reason to distrust you. And I can believe that Thorin would forget his place as to offer help to a lesser. I don’t believe you have the gall to betray me and still be standing stand here”.

She turned around to face you, “The most that might be transpiring here is that you have a little girly crush on The King”, her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

You shook your head and bowed your head, her eyes on you put you on edge and made your skin crawl.

“Good, because he won’t return the feeling. He has finer tastes, and sure as day wouldn’t waste a single thought on you. Don’t get any ideas, I would stay in my fucking place if I were you”, she managed to sound sincere and sweet but her words bit at your insecurities and unnerved you.

“Of course”, you bit out.

“And should I hear any more of your meetings with the King..”, she took a step closer, “You will find out how true the things people say about me are. I will slit your throat myself”. She cupped your cheek and gave it a squeeze hard enough to sting, “I should hate to lose my favourite handmaiden”. She sauntered over to the bathroom, “Don’t keep me waiting”.

You blinked fast to stop those bothersome tears from spilling, “Yes, My Queen”.

Thorin had chosen to stay back at the Iron Hills for to deal with a few things that had come up, or so you heard - not that you cared.

If life at the palace has taught you anything, it was to go on living like nothing was the matter, to completely detach your personal life from work. Since the line between the two has been blurring the past few days, you were discovering that it is not so easy anymore.

You didn’t know how things will be between you and Thorin when he gets back, it was a problem that weighed on your shoulders. You had begun to enjoy his company and maybe even care for him, but you didn’t see how any of this was rational.

The rain came down hard on the stone pathway that leads up to the little veranda you stood on with Bo. There was very little light from the moon on this particular night and the trees faded into the night as darkness shrouded the landscape.

A single lamp burned behind you, casting a light wash of gold around it, “Coming up from below is worth it to watch the rain”, you sighed.

“As long as you stay within the city walls, I can rest easy”, Bo responded calmly. You smiled and continued to listen to the drum of raindrops on leaves and earth, it did you good to relax after yesterday.

“Y/n?”.

“Hm?”, you vocalized without shifting your gaze from the pale-lit night.

“I can tell something is wrong. I know something is wrong”.

You shrugged not wanting to talk much right now.

“Is it the King?”.

Lowering your eyebrows you turned your head to look at him.

He smiled, “You forget that I am with him most of the time you’re around and I notice things. That’s why I’m good at my job”.

“Nothing is happening. We talked, that’s it. I don’t understand why this is so scandalous, he is the King for Aule’s sake! He has the right to talk to anyone he wants”, you said shaking your head.

“I didn’t accuse you of anything”, he spoke gently, “but there are people who may not think it so innocent”.

“Don’t you think I know that?!”, you were stressed and this conversation wasn’t making things any better. An uncomfortable silence fell upon you two as you tried to regain your composure.

“The Queen confronted me about it, and it was the most humiliating thing I’ve ever experienced”, you said flatly which folding your hands over your chest.

“Did she indeed?”, Bo responded while shifting on his feet.

“I suppose the chambermaid told her”, you thought out loud, “I did promise her that she’d lose her job if she began spreading stories, I would have to keep it to prevent further damage”, these were just thoughts and you most likely didn’t intend to go through with them.

“No”, Bo sounded horrified and surprised at you, “I’m sure the poor girl didn’t talk to anyone”.

You raised an eyebrow at him, “How are you so certain?”.

Even in the soft light, you could see his cheeks lightly colour and he hesitated at first, “She didn’t tell the Queen”.

You gave him a look beckoning him to continue.

“I did”.

“For the love of Mahal!”, you cried out in exasperation and anger, “Why would you do that?”.

“I felt like I had to, you were going down a dangerous path and I couldn’t just watch”.

You dropped your face into your hands and took in a deep breath before slowly voicing your question, “Why didn’t you come to me first?”.

“Because I knew you wouldn’t listen, I knew it was too late. Maybe the Queen made a better argument than I would have”, he looked at you with his stormy grey eyes, pleading you to see reason.

“Yes”, you said anger burning your chest, “she threatened to murder me. I’d say that’s a good argument”, taking a step forward you glared at him, “You threw me to the dogs on an assumption that I was being immoral. I thought you had better regards for my character, but it is clear to me now that you don’t know a damn thing about me! Bo, I feel betrayed and I don’t think I want you here anymore”, you ended witheringly.

“I’m only looking out for you, Y/n”, he sounded heartbroken, “I know when you’re happy when you’re sad, and most importantly when you’ve got feelings for someone. He isn’t right for you…”, taking a step forward he tried to reach out to you, you simply turned away.

“You’re my best friend, and I don’t want this life for you!”, he was losing his patience because he couldn’t see why you didn’t understand his motives, “He doesn’t care for you, he doesn’t have a place for you in his life. You’re just a plaything to him, he is going to toss you aside when he’s done with you and I won’t be able to bear it to see you heartbroken”, he meant for his words to be illuminating but they stabbed you like knives.

“Then leave”, you uttered quietly.

“Y/n…you know I would never leave you”, he replied softly.

“I want you to. I don’t see how I can trust you again. I can watch out for myself”, you said firmly.

Bo opened his mouth to respond but thought better of it and instead slowly retreated back into the fort.

Once the heavy door shut behind you, a heavy sigh left you. You were less angry now and more miserable. You had made up your mind to stay away from Thorin earlier and you had no intention of changing your mind, but your stubbornness had made you speak out against Bo in spite.

You most likely lost your only friend and all you’ve heard from everyone is how Thorin is using you. You put up with Misadora’s nastiness every day because…well, why?

“What am I even doing here?”, you mumbled. Was any of this worth it? Getting involved in so much drama that could very well end your life. You didn’t care about how prestigious of a title it is to be the handmaiden to the Queen, you were still a servant to someone you didn’t respect. Irritation pricked at your skin again and a surge of adrenaline washed over you, a combination that most often lead to rash decisions.

You wore a look of determination on your face as you stepped out into the rain. The cold splattering of raindrops made you gasp but in delight. It added to your excitement and made you feel free…tilting your head back, you let the rain wash over your face. You could go anywhere…the possibilities were endless and you could do anything you wanted, the thought made you giggle. Running down the stone steps, you didn’t think twice about your belongings or goodbyes, you had no one to answer to, you didn’t care about your few possessions - you felt like you were invincible.

Soon you were on the road to Dale, of course, you had no real plans yet, but it seemed like the best place to go to right now since you had no means of transportation to a further destination save for your sopping wet slippers.

You had been walking for a while now, maybe close to an hour when you noticed that it was becoming harder to see the road as the rain got thicker and the clouds blocked out the last of the moonlight. But you could see lights in the little town of Dale off in the distance, so you weren’t far. Your heavy dress grew heavier as it absorbed water till it became a challenge to walk, your long hair fell out of their braids and clung to your skin and when the cold finally reached you through the blanket of optimism you had woven for yourself, you began to doubt your actions. Soon the rain is going to turn into a storm and the lights in the distance will fade, what if you get lost? Your eyes for the first time since beginning this little adventure turned to the unkempt, overgrown sides of the battered road in fear of the things that might be lurking in the dark.

“Mahal, why didn’t I wait until morning?!”, you cursed into the winds.

Wrapping your arms around you in a futile attempt to warm yourself, you stifled a sneeze. While still walking you pricked up your ears when you thought you heard a noise over the heavy rain. You began praying to Aule to not let some demonic creature murder you on the side of the road and at the same time you quickened your pace as best as you could.

It hadn’t been your imagination, the sound was real and it was becoming louder. The distinct sound of the thud of hooves on the ground, but you weren’t sure from which direction the rider was approaching, but before you could decide, the rider was rearing his pony as he tried to avoid hitting you. You screamed in fear as you toppled back and fell into a pool of mud.

You groaned in disgust and pain while wiping some mud off your brow, “Why don’t you watch where you’re going?! Imbecile!”, you sputtered out. The rider was already off his pony and at your side helping you up, ‘Forgive me, but what exactly are you doing here?”. You finally looked up into Thorin’s striking cerulean eyes and swiftly retrieved your hand once on your feet. He looked just as drenched as you did and equally tired.

“I’m going to Dale.  Now if I may, my King”, you said with a clumsy bend of the knee before continuing your walk. You had no time to dally.

He was on his pony in a flash and cantering next to you, “Have you lost your senses completely? You cannot be out here on your own”, he called over the thunderous rain.

“I’m almost there”, you responded confidently.

“I’ll take you back. Y/n, listen to me!”, he was in no mood for your sass.

You didn’t respond, you were not going back there again. Your mind was made up and nothing was going to change that.

When you didn’t respond or even look at him, he leaned over the side of his pony and scooped you up with one arm. You shrieked in surprise, “Put me down!”.

He placed you in front him in the saddle and kicked the pony into a gallop towards Dale. Well at least you were going where you wanted to go, but him being here somewhat defeats the purpose of you leaving Erebor. Speaking was futile because any shouting was drowned out by the rain and the whipping winds. But at least you felt much less cold since your back was pressed up against Thorin’s chest and his arms while holding the reigns anchored you in place.

Soon, you were riding through the empty streets of Dale. Now that you were here, where exactly had you planned on going…

Thorin most likely picked up on that when he turned the pony down a narrow path and into a stable. You managed to uncling your dress from the saddle and hop off. Under a roof once more, it felt amazing to not be continuously pelted by raindrops.

Thorin was tying the pony to a post when you decided to say something, “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that”.

“Have you no regard for your life?”, he snapped turning to face you. In the warm light of the torches, you made out the anger in his eyes. He lowered the hood of his cloak and proceeded to glare at you, waiting for a reply.

You found your tongue, “I was fine, it’s just rain”, you tried to sound as if you hadn’t thought of all the ways you could have died tonight.

He scoffed in agitation, “Clearly you know nothing of the world we live in. You are not to leave Erebor. What if you had gotten hurt?”, he took a few steps towards you, searching your face for a sign of penance, he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, “I don’t understand. What were you doing?”.

“Nothing. I just wanted to go..”, you said meekly.

“Don’t play games with me!”, he barked startling you even more.

“I…”, you shuddered and finally sighed, “The Queen found out about our meetings. She threatened me..”, you laughed bitterly, “And I lost my only friend”. Thorin’s face seemed to soften a little.

“My King, I don’t want to cause unnecessary complications for you”, you slowly slunk down onto a bale of hay, “I don’t wish to get between you and her. I want you to be happy. I see now that I don’t belong in Erebor”, your voice faltered and shook, “And I certainly don’t wish to be your plaything”.

“My… what?”, he sounded like his awoken from a daydream, “Why would you that? Have I done something that would suggest my affections for you are anything but real?”.

You hugged your knees to your chest and avoided his gaze, “I can’t go back”.

“What will you do? You can’t possibly survive on your own”, he said stubbornly as ever.

“Because I’m kind?”, you said rolling your eyes, “I beg you not to mistake my kindness for a weakness. You’d be surprised by what I’m capable of achieving”.

“Why me?”, you asked squeezing your eyes shut, “You could have any dwarrowdam or woman in the world. Many would throw themselves at you if you let them, many who are more beautiful and more worthy than I”.

“Stop this”, he commanded clearly agitated, “There is no equaling you. I won’t hear any more of it”. You didn’t say anything, he restlessly walked up to the pony and unhooked a satchel before walking back to you.

“I don’t want you to leave”, his deep voice which was usually calm and confident carried a note of desperation, “You give me purpose, when I’m talking with you or just being in your presence I feel content with life because I feel like I’m with an old friend”, you looked up and saw the sadness and sincerity in his eyes but said nothing. Not because you weren’t moved, but because you weren’t expecting this from him, this was the most emotion you’ve seen him express since you’ve laid eyes on him.

He quickly regained composure, “You’re cold. Let’s go inside”.

“Where?”, you asked. He beckoned to the two-story building to the left of the stable with a nod of his head.

He stepped out into the rain again and began heading to the side door.

You stood up and realized that this was the night for many risky endeavors, “Thorin”, you called out making him halt mid path.

It dawned on you that this was the first time you’ve called the King by his first name, he turned around and found himself in your embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. He didn’t protest for a second. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer, his lips hungrily fought to claim ever inch of your mouth. To you, he tasted like rainwater and happiness, the sensation of his beard rubbing softly against your skin made you happy. The feeling of reciprocating his longing was indescribable because you’ve never experienced something equal to this to compare it to, it felt right. His lips fit into the curve of your lips, his hands fit into the crook of your spine and over your hips…he fit into your being and you into his. His nose gently grazed your cheek as you slowly broke the kiss, blinking against the drops of water that were collecting at the ends of your eyelashes, you smiled, “Thank you for telling me”.

The feeling of amazement was probably wearing off on him when he murmured a small, “Mmh”, in response. He was more interested in the sparkle in your eyes and the flush on your skin at the ends of your shy smile. He didn’t think anything in this world could compete with your inner or outer beauty.

“Come on”, he said breaking away from you and leading you to the door.

You stepped into an inn. The lower floor appeared to a tavern and given its almost empty bar, you assumed it was past three in the morning.

“Go upstairs. I’ll be right there”, he said walking towards one of the humans.

You took the rickety wooden set of stairs concealed by drapery in the corner and ascended onto a stoop that was open on one side, looking over the small houses and shops of Dale and the other side housed a row of doors.

You waited patiently but it wasn’t long when you heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, “I was able to procure you some dry clothes and a place to spend the night”. He handed you a folded dress and unlocked one of the doors allowing you to step in.

“I’ll allow you some time to change”, he said closing the door.

Hurrying over to the small brazier that warmed the room you held your hands out and basked in the heat for a little bit before shedding your wet dress and then your underclothes. You grabbed one of the towels that were folded in a stack on the only side table in the room and dried your skin. You quickly stepped into the dry clothes, not wanting to leave Thorin out in the cold for longer than was necessary. Looking down at yourself, the blue dress was a loose fitting and felt like it was made of a thin fabric, you tied a sash at the hips to look more presentable. Outside, a clap pf thunder shook the inn making you jump in fright. You thanked the Valar and Thorin for getting you out of that storm just in time.

Satisfied with your dress, you opened the door to find Thorin leaning on the fencing of the stoop with a bottle of gin in his hand. Unbelievable. You left him alone for a fraction of a moment.

He stepped inside and you offered to return the courtesy of some privacy.

“Please, you don’t need to leave on my behalf”.

So instead you sat in one corner of the bed and began to undo what remained of your braids. Behind you, you heard the distinct sound of wet clothes hit the floor. Taking the towel, you dried your long hair in sections.

“Y/n?”, he spoke after a long silence.

“Yes?”

“I hope you know there is no love between myself and Misadora. At least not anymore”.

The thought of Misadora sent you spiraling into a cloud of guilt and dread.

“We are husband and wife in name only. I have never felt about her the way I feel about you”.

“Thorin, you shouldn’t say such things”, you hushed him, “She is your wife nonetheless, you entered into an agreement to honor each other”.

You heard him chuckle, “Is that what she’s been doing? Honoring me? I was a fool to fall into her trap”, a deep sorrowful sigh followed.

“I lost interest in everything. I merely existed to run my kingdom and immerse myself in the work at the forge. It was a miracle that I even looked up that one wonderful day when I heard your voice. I dare say it was fate. I was taken by the mere sight of you. I only regret not noticing you sooner”.

You blushed turning to look at him, he was leaning against the wall shirtless, every single braid in his hair was undone, even his marriage braid, he took a swig from the bottle and smiled softly at you. More blood rushed to your face at the sight of him, his finely chiseled torso earning a second glance from you.

Daringly, you patted the spot next to you on the bed. He slowly walked over and sat down.

“I know our folk like their drink, but don’t you think sometimes you’re a little excessive?”, you tenderly stated.

“I think everything I just told you tonight warrants my drinking”.

You couldn’t really argue there.

“Because you occupied most of my time, when you’re with me and when you’re not - I barely thought of such vices. But now you tell me you want to leave me”, he took another swig out of the bottle before you could take it from him.

“I’m here now “, you placed the almost empty bottle on the ground and took one of his hands in yours.

“Indeed you are”, he squeezed your hand in affection.

Another loud crash of thunder elicited a squeak from you.

Thorin found it amusing, “Still think you could have lasted alone out there?”

You stuck your chin out, “Perhaps”.

He shook his head, “Stubborn lass”.

“I’m stubborn?”, you cried in disbelief, “My King, I believe all of Arda proclaims you as the champion of stubbornness”.

He offered you a smug smile.

You felt so much more at ease here in the comfort of the small room than in the confines of the vast palace.

As if he heard your thoughts, Thorin spoke, “She can’t hurt you, you know. As long as I am there she can’t do anything to you”, he circled an arm around you and brought you closer to him. Sighing, you rested your damp head on his strong shoulder.

“My King, I would like to forget everything tonight”, you pulled your legs up onto the bed and turned to face him. You placed your hand on either side of his bearded jaw, “I want to just be us tonight”, you kissed his cheek and flopped down on the bed.

He looked down at you, his gaze washed over your form like waves on a beach. He wasn’t sure what to do next - a rare event for Thorin to be uncertain. You smiled, reaching for his hand again, you coaxed him to come closer. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, he kicked his boots off and settled in next to you.

You rested a hand on his firm thigh and looked up at him, “So, how was your journey?”.

His eyebrows rose and fell with his sigh,  “Busy. One might suppose that the granted passage through Mirkwood would be the end to all our trade problems, but the three clans from Ered Luin are demanding a tax increase on anything Erebor buys from them since we “have the means to do so”. If it’s not one thing it’s the other”.

Well, he did have a lot of gold, it wasn’t a surprise that others will be after it. You began to trace patterns on his thigh, losing yourself in his stories, giggling at some of his metaphors and marveling at how beautiful he looked when he was being open and himself. Time stopped in this room, you had no cares, neither did he, it was just you and him with nothing in between. He was not the King and you weren’t a lowborn dwarrowdam, you were just two people who were completely enthralled by each other.

“You mentioned a falling out with a friend earlier today?”

You narrowed your eyes at the thought of the betrayal, “Bo? What about it?”.

“Bo? The captain?”, he sounded intrigued, “I always felt strangely about him”.

“He was the one who told the Queen about...”, you sighed.

“Of course. What more could you expect from a half-breed”.

You lightly smacked him on the side of his leg, “There’s no need to be nasty. He is a good person. Loyal to you and a hard worker. He only wished to protect me”, you knew he didn’t have any bad intentions.

You became aware of Thorin casting you a strange look.

“I suppose the reason I didn’t particularly take to him was because he always had your affections and I didn’t”, Thorin said thoughtfully, he chose to leave out the part where he nearly denied Bo the captaincy out of envy.

You laughed, “Bo and I are good friends. I could never feel about him the way I do about you”.

Hours slipped by as you learned many of the details of his numerous adventures and amidst these stories, he showed you parts of his soul that are concealed from the rest of the world. He made you laugh like no other, it was a little surprising to you because he didn’t strike you as a dwarf with a sense of humor. It wasn’t your average sense of humor, it was dry and awkward but also very much him. His deep, rumbling voice became your favourite sound and you wondered how you managed to ever be happy without it before. Somewhere between your conversations, he slid down onto a pillow and gave you access to his almost dry locks of hair to play with.

“And this one?”, you asked tracing a longer scar just under his left pectoral.

“Cave troll”, he seemed to be a little too pleased with your fascination in his collection of battle scars. It was a miracle that this man was still in one piece after all you’ve heard.

“What about this one?”, you lightly touched a raised scar that ran across his collar bone, “an orc?”, you guessed.

He looked down and chuckled lightly, “That was no orc. That’s a gift from my brother from when were dwarflings”.

A small giggle escaped you at the thought of Thorin as a rambunctious dwarfling but then you noticed that he was looking at you funny, “What?”, you asked nervously.

“Look at you…you’re so beautiful. Positively breathtaking. Any dwarf would be lucky to claim your heart or just be graced by your presence..he’d be the envy of the world”, he smiled lovingly at you.

You hid your blushing face in the palms of your hands, “You mustn’t tease me so”.

He reached out and took your hand in his and brought it to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles, “I’m the happiest I’ve been in all my life”.

You lightly kissed his chin and before you could back away, he claimed your lips in a warm kiss, your eyelids fluttered shut as you lost yourself to him all over again. Your fingers trailed down the smattering of dark hair on his chest and back up over his tattooed arms, feeling every ripple in them as his hand slid down the curve of your spine. The taste of gin, the sensation of his touch and the comforting smell of him almost made it too difficult to resist the not so subtle request when his hand finally came to a stop on your bum.

You broke the kiss apologetically, “Thorin…I’m sorry I cannot in good conscience give you all that you desire from me”.

He didn’t get annoyed or frustrated he merely pulled you into his chest and kissed the top of your head, “I understand. I will more than gladly take whatever you offer me”.

You settled into his embrace and let him trace the seams on the back of your dress which made you feel fuzzy and comfortable. Laying there with his heartbeat drumming at your ear, you felt the exhaustion and excitement of the day catch up with you till you felt your eyelids grow heavy.

“Y/n?”

“Hm?”, you responded opening your eyes, it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes of sleep. 

“I have to be getting back now”.

“Oh”, you were more than a little disappointed.

“If you come with me, we can be back before most of the people at the palace are awake”.

That would mean it would be like you never ran away, you would pick up from where you left off and be back at Misadora’s side. You hadn’t really accomplished your goal of getting away from Thorin and you’re certain that you now knew more about him than anyone else. He made you happy and you certainly were the only thing that made him happy right now.

And now that you’ve had time to think things more clearly, you weren’t ready to leave your job- you’d worked too hard for it.

“I will come with you. But..”, you stipulated while sitting up, “only on the condition that you tell me more of your adventures”.

His face lit up as he reached out to kiss your forehead, “My dearest heart...I’ll tell you everything and more”.

The rain hadn’t let up and it still looked like night outside, this would mostlikely work to your advantage on your trip back .Preparing to leave, you noticed that the thought of going back caused the softness in him to slowly recede and war harden dwarf emerge, with this stoicism and curt replies. His heart was only for you.

“May I?”, he asked gazing down at your hair that you’ve been brushing.

“You needn’t ask”, you kissed his hand before letting it trail through your soft hair. Relaxing into his touch, you let yourself enjoy this intimate moment, soon you felt both of his hands work your hair.

“That’s the best I could do in such little time”.

Opening your eyes, you touched the mass of waves that cascaded over your shoulder to find a single braid that began just above your ear and spiraled its way down. Your fingers traced the emblem of Thorin’s clan that was etched in the bead that secured the bead; it was one of his.

“Thorin...”

“I hope you aren’t offended”.

“Not in the least”, you said in amazement.

Of course, you wouldn’t be able to wear it for the world to see, you would conceal it and wear it just for him.

“You are mine”

“I am”.

@dat-targaryen-tho enjoy!

#The King's Favor #Thorin Oakenshield #thorin #reader insert #thorin oakenshield x reader #fanfiction