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nah-she-didnt · 3 years

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JILY AUGUST CHALLENGE | @nah-she-didnt vs @floreatcastellumposts

summer + ok so I almost drowned in the sea whilst body boarding and yeah you saved me but hEY don’t laugh

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Lily Of The Sea

Absolutely mental. He must have been absolutely mental to agree to any part of this.

First, there was the fact that he had chosen to spend a week in Wales with Remus when he should have been training for football season. That decision alone would surely ruin his life when he showed up back at school completely out of shape and got booted from the team.

Second, while James liked spending time with one of his best mates, Wales was bloody boring. Remus lived in a charming little cottage with his charming parents in a charming town that had absolutely nothing for a couple of teenage boys to do. There wasn’t even a damn cinema for them to waste away in for the summer. Really, how did people live like this? It was only out of sheer boredom that he’d agreed to spend the day at the beach in the first place. He usually made it a point to avoid the beach at all costs, but these were desperate times indeed.

Herein lay James’ third, and stupidest, decision. He must have been absolutely bloody mental to agree to wade out into the frigid mass of water before him that was the sea.

He turned to throw Remus another reproachful look. “Do I have to do this?”

“Yes!” Remus called over from his spot on the shore. He looked perfectly content, and dry, as he watched James’ slow march to his certain death. “Your fear of open water is, frankly, embarrassing. It’s high time you nipped it in the bud.”

James winced as the water lapped at his shins, blistering his sun-warmed skin with icy cold. “I thought you said you were right behind me?”

Remus grinned. “Oh, you don’t need me. You’re doing brilliantly.” James couldn’t help but notice the mirth in his friend’s voice.

It was true, he did harbor an embarrassing fear of the sea. And why shouldn’t he? The water was so dark you could barely see three inches below the surface. Surely some unknown horror came closer with every step.

James swore loudly. “Rem, I hate this. It’s bloody freezing!”

“It’s the Irish Sea, what do you expect?”

“Damn the Irish then!”

“Mate, you’re English, I don’t think you’re allowed to say that.”

And so, James plowed onward, cursing Remus under his breath. The water was now up to his knees. He could feel the hair on his legs standing at attention as goosebumps emerged from his skin.

However, as he became more and more submerged, something in James began to change. The water was so cold it nearly took his breath away but it also filled him with a new resolve. It wasn’t so bad, really. He could do this.

With that thought, he plunged forward, brought his hands together above his head, and dove straight into an oncoming wave.

He hadn’t been prepared for how quiet underwater was. He was vaguely aware of the wave crashing above his head, but the force of it merely rocked him backward gently. He tried his best to open his eyes but the saltwater stung so fiercely that he shut them tight again. After a few moments of floating beneath the waves, James found his feet below him again and pushed up toward the surface.

He heard Remus’ triumphant whoop as his head broke the surface. He straightened up, embarrassed to find that the water was only about three feet deep, and shook his hair out of his eyes like a dog. “There,” he shouted in Remus’ direction, “I’ve done it. Now, will you come out here with me, please? I don’t need a bloody babysitter.”

Remus sighed loudly. “Yeah alright. Plus, if you drown, I’m sure you’d rather be saved by a fit lifeguard than by me.”

“Too true.”

They spent the next half hour lounging in the water. It was still freezing cold, but James found that it did not bother him so much now. The sun, in a rare moment of favor, had decided to shine bright and warm on the beach today. Remus showed James how to lie back and float so that his top half could be drenched in warmth while his back half rocked with the waves. The effect was actually quite lovely. Perhaps he wasn’t so mental after all.

It was at this very moment that he heard the muffled sound of a whistle.

“Wha-?” James said stupidly as he sat up from his float, pulling his head and ears out of the water so that he could hear properly, “what was that? Remus?”

But Remus was gone. It was only then that James realized how far he had floated from the safety of the beach. He was at least twenty yards away from the shore now, and Remus was not only a few feet away as he previously thought. James whipped his head around frantically. “Remus!”

“Riptide!” Remus’ voice called from somewhere behind him. He turned to see his friend scrambling up the beach through the surf. “Swim parallel to the beach! Now!”

Shit.

This was why he avoided the ocean. What the hell was a riptide? It certainly didn’t sound good.

James flapped his arms wildly as he swam, trying his best to stay parallel to the shore. Now he could feel the pull of the water on his body, coaxing him further and further out into the vast sea. He had to keep swimming. He had to, otherwise how on earth would he be able to murder Remus?

“You’re a bloody bastard, you know that?” James screamed to his friend as he fought against the sea, “You made me come out here!” He was closer to the shore now, almost at the wave breakpoint, only ten yards from where Remus stood.

“I know, I know, keep going!” Remus called, “You’re almost there.”

James fought with all his might to keep swimming. He really was out of shape after all, but he forced the thought from his mind as he struggled. Nearly there.

Finally, he made it back to the shallows. He stood with a great effort and began to stagger drunkenly toward Remus. “I can’t believe you left me out there alone! You smug toss-”

WHAM.

The wave hit James squarely in the back, knocking him hard into the rough, rocky beach.

His cheek caught the edge of a sharp rock. He felt his skin rip and sting fiercely, but he had bigger problems before him. The strength of the retreating wave was dragging him, helplessly, back into the deep. He tried to stand but he had no idea which way was up. The fall had knocked the wind out of him, and for a moment he truly wondered if he was about to drown.

Then, suddenly, there was warmth. Hands - yes, small, warm hands - wrapped protectively around his chest. Then there were arms, a torso pressed against his back. The last thing he felt before everything went dark was the mysterious body pulling him up, up, up.

...

“Is he dead?”

“Don’t be daft.”

“I’m not. Look at him. He looks dead.”

“He’s not dead, you idiot. He’s breathing just fine. What did you leave him out there for? He can barely swim.”

“We were floating! I didn’t know how far he’d drifted.”

The first thing James noticed was the warmth. His whole body tingled with a warm glow in sharp contrast to the freezing water. The water. Where was the water?

James snapped his eyes open. Two blurry faces swam above him. Remus, who looked concerned, but James only had eyes for the other face that hovered above him. A girl’s face. A very pretty girl’s face.

James blinked. “Am I dead?”

“Apparently not,” Remus sighed, “Christ, James, you really know how to make a scene.”

James barely heard this comment. The girl continued to stare at him, her brow furrowed. She didn’t look all that excited to find that he was alive. The more she looked at him, the more James felt that he’d seen this girl somewhere before.

“Who are you?” He whispered up to her. He hadn’t meant to say it, but he still wasn’t sure that she was not a dream.

“Hold still.” She spoke with a practiced, authoritative voice as she turned away from him to rummage through a red bag at her side. She withdrew a white package that she tore open with her teeth, pulled out a wet cloth, and brought it to his face.

James gasped as the cut on his cheek seared with pain. “Ouch! Blimey, what is that?”

“Rubbing alcohol,” she said, again with that focused voice, “don’t want it getting infected. What month is it?”

“Uh-”

“Evans, let him rest,” Remus protested, “he’s just had a shock.”

The girl shook her head. “We’ve got to make sure he’s not concussed. The month, Potter, what month is it?”

“August,” he said stupidly, “it’s August.”

“Who’s the Prime Minister?”

“Wilson.”

“What’s your name?”

“James Potter, what’s yours?”

This seemed to surprise her. The look of concentration slid from her face as she regarded him cautiously. “Lily.”

James squinted up at her with curiosity. “Of the valley?”

Get it together, you prat said a voice in his head, what a stupid thing to-

To his surprise, she smiled, and his heart did a backflip. “Yeah, sure.” Then she shook her head as if to rid herself of the distraction. “You’re going to be fine. Can you stand?”

James nodded and allowed Remus to pull him roughly to his feet. He steadied himself and reached instinctively up to his throbbing cheek. Lily smacked his hand away.

“What did I just say about infection? Blimey, maybe you are concussed.”

James wracked his throbbing brain. Everything was still a bit fuzzy, but now he was sure that he’d seen this girl before. “How did you know my name?”

Lily shot Remus a knowing look. “We go to school together. In Scotland. Remember?”

James felt his cheeks grow hot. That’s how he knew her, he’d seen Remus hanging around with a cute redhead before. “Ah - yeah, ‘course. Sorry I didn’t recognize you.”

She shrugged as she bent down to pack up her first aid kit. “Why would you? I’m not a footballer, not a posh kid, no big deal.”

James frowned. “I have plenty of friends who aren’t footballers or ‘posh kids,’” he said as he made quotation marks with his fingers. It was hard to keep the defensive edge out of his voice. She made him sound quite shallow. He motioned earnestly toward his friend. “Take Remus over here.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Anytime.”

“Look,” Lily straightened back up, a look of annoyance on her face, “I’m sure you’ve got lots of friends and all, I just meant that we don’t exactly run in the same crowd.”

“But you know Remus. I heard you call him an idiot before.” James glanced at Remus, who looked like he wasn’t sure if he should stay for this tense conversation or disappear back into the safety of the water. “He only lets his very best friends call him that.”

Lily raised her eyebrows. “Really? His friends sound swell.”

Remus, still looking uncomfortable, finally cut in. “We knew each other before school,” he said quickly, looking from James to Lily, “from when we were kids.”

Lily nodded. She was starting to look downright testy now, but James could not for the life of him figure out why. “I used to spend the summers here with my aunt, and we met as kids. We used to go swimming on this beach all the time.” Her face softened at the memory. “It was lovely, actually. I used to love to swim. Haven’t had much time for it lately, until today.”

“Why not?” James persisted. It seemed that every question he asked did nothing more than to elevate her already defensive mood. He couldn’t help it, he had to keep talking to her. Had to keep making her cheeks flush like that.

Lily jerked her head back toward the lifeguard stand. “Don’t have much time, I spent most of my days working here ‘till sunset.”

“Ah,” James pulled what he hoped looked like a sympathetic face, “I see. Not a fun way to spend a holiday, I can imagine.”

Very unfortunately this seemed to be the worst thing he could have possibly said.

“Yeah, well. Some of us have to work to live.” She caught Remus’ eye and said with purpose, “Right. I’ll see you at school, Remus.” And with that, she turned and stalked away, leaving a very stunned James in her wake.

...

“You really cocked that up, huh?.”

“Cheers.”

“No, I mean it. Now she probably thinks you’re some stuck-up, rich brat. Really excellent job on that one.”

“I’m leaving.”

Remus laughed as he grabbed James’ elbow and pulled him back down to sit on the beach. “Christ, you’re touchy today. I’m sorry I almost let you drown, alright?”

James stared out over the glowing pink water. The sea was no less ominous even in the light of the early sunset. He could still feel the waves lapping at his shins, the force of the water smacking his bare back, the pull of the water as he struggled beneath the waves…

He shook his head at the memory. He was safe now, anyway. Thanks to Lily.

“Do you think I’m a stuck up, rich brat?” He refused to look at Remus as he asked the question. Instead, he picked up a large, rough stone and chucked it into the water.

Remus put a hand on his shoulder. “No James, I don’t think that. I think you’re a kind, loyal, and caring rich brat.”

James laughed. “Cheers, mate.”

“Anytime.”

“Give her some time and Lily will see it too. Speaking of...” Remus nodded in the direction behind James.

He turned to see Lily Evans walking toward them. She had pulled a pair of denim shorts over her red lifeguard’s bathing suit, slung a large blue tote bag over her shoulder, and held a half-melted vanilla ice cream cone in each hand.

“Hiya,” she offered as she took a seat next to Remus. James couldn’t tell if it was nerves or embarrassment that kept her from meeting his eyes. “These are for you two. I’m sorry I was a bit harsh before. I mean, you did almost drown, after all.”

James smiled as he accepted the ice cream. “Thanks. And thanks for this, too.”

Remus, however, waved her away as she offered him the cone. “No thanks, I don’t eat dairy.”

James frowned. “You love dairy. I’ve seen you put away an entire wheel of brie in under ten minutes.”

Remus shook his head and stood up, stretching. “No, really. Can’t stand the stuff. I better go find something else more digestible, leave you two alone to talk.”

Lily shot him a dirty look. Remus could not be more transparent if he tried. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

But Remus was already walking back up the beach. “Too late, see you in a bit!”

“Rem!” James called to his friend, but he merely waved his arm wildly over his head in farewell.

They sat in silence for a few moments with only the crashing of the waves to break the tension. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. James watched her fidget as he finished his cone. He wondered if it were uncomfortable to sit in those shorts with the back of her legs pressed against the small, jagged rocks that made up the beach. But he couldn’t let himself think for too long about her legs.

“So,” she broke the silence with what sounded like a great effort, “why can’t you swim?”

James sighed. “Oh, let’s just say it’s none of your concern,” he couldn’t bring himself to admit something so embarrassing, “why don’t you like posh kids?”

Lily, to his surprise, laughed. “None of your concern.”

“Are you sure about that? Since I’m apparently an insufferable rich kid maybe I can provide an inside scoop.”

Lily did not laugh this time. Instead, she stared out over the ocean, her vivid green eyes suddenly orange, reflecting the sunset’s light in the choppy water. “I’ve got a friend from school. Well, a friend from home, really. He’s like me, doesn’t have a lot of - of money, and stuff.” She was starting to shift even more now, clearly uncomfortable. James opened his mouth to stop her, but she plowed on. “He made some not-so-nice friends at school. They care a lot about status and all that, so he doesn’t want them to know anything about his home life. Doesn’t want them to know about me.”

James blinked. He’d known this girl only two hours, and he’d seen her in about fourteen different emotional states. He was quite sure he liked them all and wanted to see even more.

“That bullshit,” he said emphatically, “if he doesn’t value you then he’s an idiot. What a prat, giving up a true friend just to social climb.”

Lily smiled sadly. “You’re right, of course. Still hurts, but you’re right.” She shrugged, trying but failing to seem unphased. “Anyway, I think that’s why I was a bit, uh, prickly earlier. Forgive me?”

James just waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. I’d be prickly too if it were me. He sounds like a disappointment.” He smiled at shyly, glad that they were approaching something like a friendly conversation, “plus, Remus assured me it wasn’t my finest moment either.”

She smiled again, and another shockwave shot through James’ body. “I forgive you. Friends?”

“Friends with the girl who saved my life? Absolutely.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time the air around them seemed more relaxed. Lily seemed to have found a comfortable position at last. She sat with her legs crossed and her hands placed on the ground behind her, propping her up toward the sea. She had her eyes closed and her head leaned back like she was savoring every roaring crash of waves or whiff of sea air.

“How can you not just love the sea,” she sighed, leaning her head back even further as she sunk into her surroundings, “I don’t know what I’d do without it.”

A few seconds passed before James realized that, at some point, he would have to stop staring at her to answer. “I guess it’s just not for me. You make it look pretty good, though. The sea, I mean.” he said quickly. Very smooth.

Lily, thankfully, ignored his comment. “Tell me the truth,” she turned her head to fix him with an intense look, “why don’t you like the ocean? I shared my trauma, now it’s your turn.”

James sighed. “Alright, I suppose I owe you. I’ve got to warn you, it’s pretty embarrassing.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Try me.”

James paused, trying to decide at the last moment if there was any possible way to tell her the truth and still be respectable in her eyes. There wasn’t.

Finally, he looked at her. “Have you ever seen a movie called ‘Jaws’?”

She pursed her lips, obviously trying not to smile. “Uh, yeah James. I think everyone’s seen that one.”

“Well,” he closed his eyes, preparing for her worst, “I had nightmares for weeks. I don’t know why, but it really got me. I could barely walk through campus puddles on a rainy day. Kept thinking some bloody shark or something was gonna come up, grab my ankle, and pull me in.” He opened one eye to cautiously scan her reaction. “Well? I’m mad, aren’t I?”

He was shocked to find that she was not laughing. Not much, anyway.

“It’s a completely rational fear,” she said thoughtfully, staring out across the blazing water. The sun was almost entirely set now, and soon they’d be engulfed in night. “It’s the fear of the unknown, innit? The anxiety that there’s something unseen lurking around the corner. It’s why people are afraid of spiders and centipedes. All the hidden things that might be there to hurt you. It’s why we wish we could see the future, to be sure that everything is going to turn out alright.”

He knew she was right. He followed her gaze out over the waves. It wasn’t the water that scared him. Wasn’t the searing cold, the slippery rocks underfoot as he plunged further and further into the deep. It was the unknowing, the darkness below him that scared him shitless. “Lily Evans, you are very wise.”

“I know.”

They were silent again, but not uncomfortably so. A strange sense of serenity washed over him. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t know what was out there.

“I could help, you know,” Lily said without looking at him. Instead, she seemed very interested in picking at a hangnail on her thumb.

James raised his eyebrows. “Help me? With swimming?”

“Swimming, the sea, all of it,” she chanced a glance up at him. She really did have the most staggering green eyes he’d ever seen. “I’m pretty good out there, and you clearly need help.”

James laughed. “That bad, am I?”

She grimaced. “Yes, that bad.”

He sighed and glanced back toward the sea. The sun had fully started to set now, and the pink and orange waves looked as menacing as ever. “I dunno… I’m not keen to repeat my near-drowning.”

“Oh, come on,” she winked at him, “a strapping lad like yourself should have no problem swimming in there.”

Strapping? She thought he was strapping?

James forced himself to focus. “The sun’s almost set. What if it gets too dark to see?”

“So?” She pushed herself to her feet, then offered his hand to pull him up. “You can’t see through the water anyway. What’s a little more unknown going to hurt?”

She helped pull him to his feet then began unbuttoning her shorts. James had the self-control to look away, though his hands shook just a bit as he removed his own t-shirt. Together, fully outfitted in their swimsuits, they marched toward the now-purple water.

“Don’t worry, we’ll go slow,” she murmured as they reached the shoreline, “I’ll hold your hand through the whole thing.”

James smirked, “Figuratively, of course.”

As if to spite him, she grabbed his hand and squeezed hard. With a jolt, James remembered that very hand on his chest not two hours ago, pulling him up and out of the same water they charged into now.

“The trick,” Lily said decisively as she stared out at the breaking waves, “is to choose the right moment. You have to wade in past the break line between waves. If you time it wrong, you get creamed. That was your problem last time.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem. Ready?”

“Actually,” James hastened, suddenly feeling sick. He wanted to drop her hand and run back, but he found that his skin felt glued to hers. “I think not. Thanks for the offer, but I’m fine being a coward for the rest of my life.”

“Not a chance!” She cried, gesturing out over the water, “Look how far you’ve come! You can’t go back now. I’m not going to let you drown.”

James tried to shoot her with a mischievous grin, but he knew it more closely resembled a grimace. “Promise?”

“Promise. Go!”

And so, Lily pulling at his hand, they sprinted out into the shallows together. The remains of the previous wave rushed merrily alongside their feet and legs as they sprinted into the water. James did not stop running until he could feel the water at his collar bones, his feet skimming the bottom of the seafloor. He felt around with his toes. No sharks or monsters as far as he could feel.

“See?” Lily laughed and splashed him a bit with water, “it’s not so bad. Jump!”

He turned to look just in time. A wave was coming at them fast. He barely had time to push off the ground to sail over it. The two of them soared through the water, over the wave, and back down again as it crashed onto the shore behind them. He laughed with glee and disbelief. His lungs felt icy cold as he gulped down air to keep himself from panicking. It felt like flying, and James suspected he’d been meant to fly all his life. This was easy. This was wonderful.

Suddenly, a wave larger than the rest descended upon them. “Alright, James,” came Lily’s confident voice as she squeezed his hand tighter, “we have to go under this one, alright?”

“What?” He just managed to yell before she pulled him under the wave. Again, there was that eerie stillness, only this time James wasn’t alone in the silence. Lily’s hand was still warm and sure in his own.

And so they flew through the water, dodging and riding and floating over the waves. It was exhausting work which was not made any easier by their fits of laughter every time the other received a faceful of icy water. Finally, when the sky had turned a deep navy, they dragged each other back out of the surf and onto the shore.

Brilliantly illuminated stars scattered across the night sky as they threw themselves back down on the beach. Lily reached into her large tote and produced a beach towel that they shared, taking turns to wipe the saltwater from their eyes and faces. They had barely talked the whole time they swam, just laughed, and gasped for air.

“See?” Lily sighed as she flopped back onto the beach towel, “I told you it’s lovely out there.”

“I stand corrected,” James said as he laid down next to her. He could see her chest and stomach rise and fall with the effort of breathing. “You were an excellent teacher. You’re not Lily of the valley, you’re Lily of the sea.”

She looked at him with a look that he’d come to learn meant she was about to make fun of him. “Have you been thinking of that line the whole time?”

“No!” James said with mock indignation, “No, it’s true. You made me see what all the fuss is about. Thank you.”

Lily grinned at him. She turned onto her side to face him, her head resting on her outstretched arm. He could see her freckles even in the dim light from the stars. He hardly stopped to think before he leaned in, his mouth inches from her own. He could feel her breath, still coming in sharp gasps, against his lips. “Do you think it would be alright if I kissed you?”

She smiled, and his whole body lit on fire. “I’m going to insist that you do, Potter.”

Her lips tasted like the sea. Her hair, when he took the back of her neck into his hand, was coarse and tangled from their swim. The shock of her warm hands on his cold, bare chest nearly caused him to cry out, and she smiled into him. God, she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

It was impossible to know how long they stayed entwined in one another. James had lost all sense of time and space. All he knew was Lily. He knew he could stay like this forever and be just fine.

Unfortunately, Remus had other plans.

“OI!” Came the shout from the darkness. Lily and James jumped apart in alarm. Remus stood a ways up the beach with his arms crossed. It was hard to tell in the dark, but James would bet anything that he was smirking. “You’re not snogging my best mate down there, are you?”

“No!” cried James and Lily in unison.

“That’s what I thought. I hate to break up the party, but James, we’ve got to move. Mum will flip if we get the car back late.”

James nodded. It was a horrible thought, leaving Lily, but he’d seen Remus’ sweet-tempered mum angry only once before. He didn’t wish to repeat the experience.

“I’ve got to run,” he whispered apologetically to Lily. He grabbed her hand in the darkness, and for a moment they could have been back in the water, soaring over waves together. “I’ve got a few more days in town, then back to school. Can I meet you here again tomorrow?”

Lily beamed at him. “That sounds lovely. Maybe at school I’ll even allow you to be seen with me.”

He laughed, then kissed her once more. Remus’ exaggerated cough told him that it was, really, now time to go. “Do you need a ride home?”

She shook her head. “I’ve got my bike. See you tomorrow, then.”

His chest felt like it was fit to burst. They could do this all again tomorrow.

“See you then, Lily of the sea.”

He turned before he could see her roll her eyes again and made his way up the beach toward Remus. He put his hands in his pockets and tried his hardest to stifle the grin that was permanently etched upon his face.

Perhaps he wasn’t so mental after all.

#jilychallenge #we made it folks!#Feeling very clever bc I'm late but it's still technically august #nina writes #jily oneshot

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 2 years

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This Is Nothing Like The Disney Star Wars Trilogy -- Ch 3

Happy Halloween fuckos how about some gore and angst :3c

AO3 Link

Summary: Good news, Jacob is getting better. Bad news, Edix...isn't.

Edix hated watching his pet suffer.

He never liked seeing his human upset, much less in pain, and tried as best as he could to alleviate some of its stress. There have been plenty of times Edix was sure it came across as him being unnecessarily forceful with the struggling thing, especially when it came to things that would be irresponsible for him to ignore. The human refusing to sleep, refusing to eat, refusing to cooperate and take its medicine to aid in the illness it brought upon itself -- all things Edix needed to step in and put a stop to, much to the little one’s disdain.

Plus, the last thing Edix wanted was to give the little one a reason to dislike him with excessive punishments. It was a fine line to tread between correcting behavior and keeping a hold of its flimsy trust. Only once had it really been daring and broke a piece of his equipment, the heated reaction of Edix exterminating a scrappy pack of humans back on its planet they had encountered outside of the base. His pet was punished, of course, but it was more of a time out inside of a netting container rather than actual discipline. It wouldn’t be fair to expect it to know how to behave when it was hardly trained, much less when it didn’t understand that the other pack was trying to take it away rather than play.

That being said, the Venandi did let his pet get away with quite a lot.

The human liked to run and hide, as expected of any prey species. When they met it was a fun way to kill some time given how utterly dull its planet was and Edix was more than happy to use this as a bonding activity for the two of them. Then it became a little more annoying when he was trying to focus on packing his materials and specimens for departure and having to keep track of the skittish thing. Then it became equal parts frustrating and dangerous when the little one still insisted on running amok once it was rehomed aboard the ship.

Of course Edix would love nothing more than to shower it with affection and play as many games of chase its tiny heart desires (or could physically take, it hardly ever lasted more than an hour), but he couldn’t. Unlike the human, he had an actual job that he was required to work at and as such needed to devote a majority of his day to completing his research. It was his own fault, he knew. Edix had spoiled it with his undivided attention that week back on Earth and now it didn’t understand the change. More than likely it had simply acted out as a way to garner more stimulation, not to mention it was already overly anxious by nature. These massive shifts in homes and attitudes probably weren't doing it any favors.

But still, he had indulged it. Though he had received plenty of comments from Ylva and Talan (not that he fucking cared about the second one), he never made much of an effort to nip these behaviors in the bud. He continued to put off his reports in favor of chasing it around his lab and spending the next hour trying to get it out of whatever hiding place it had stubbornly squeezed itself into. He worked tirelessly to try and find something it would eat to keep it from keeling over like it seemed to so eagerly want. He made sure, at the very least, it got an adequate amount of sleep throughout the day and night cycles so its overactive mind could take a break. So they could both take a break, really.

And then his human nearly starved itself to death and it all went to shit.

It was a possibility this would have happened whether or not Edix had intervened. Even if he kept it locked in the repurposed container that was meant to function as a nesting cage, even if it had been trained to be perfectly obedient, there was really nothing he could do to force it to ingest anything. Well, he supposed there were plenty of medical options to have fluids and nutrients pumped down its tiny throat, but that seemed a little extreme. Looking back on it in hindsight, though, maybe it should have been something he considered…

Regardless, his little one was on the mend now after he rushed it over to Ylva for her to play veterinarian. It was not happy about the ordeal, but in Edix’s opinion it brought this on itself. Perhaps this would serve as an appropriate punishment and try to drive home the notion to just listen to him. This whole fiasco could have potentially been avoided if it ever swallowed its misplaced pride and allowed the Venandi to take care of it. Stars above, his pet loved to put up a fight over nothing, and while sometimes they proved to be fairly entertaining to watch, it was becoming tiresome to deal with when Edix was always made out to be the bad guy.

After the first sol, it seemed more tired than anything, probably because it threw itself into a fit of hysterics when it had to be separated from Edix to be given a dose of medicine and subsequent bath. Its clinginess was only ever prevalent when it came to strangers, though he would be lying if he said he wasn’t equally upset over the whole ordeal as well. Partly because he was loath to ever willingly give away the rare times it would seek comfort from him, mostly because the shrieks and cries it made drove him up the wall as he was unable to protect the poor little pup. It had been returned to him soon enough with clear instructions on how to handle its recovery for the time being, not that either of them paid Ylva much mind. Rest and hydration, basic enough, no different than nursing any other pup back to full health.

Except on the second sol, his pet was burning up, far hotter than what the average human’s core temperature should be. This resulted in another trip down to Ylva’s lab much to Mibao’s delight, which quickly turned into adorable disappointment when it realized it wouldn’t be able to play with the other this time.

“It’s normal for it to experience a fever,” Ylva had reassured him. “It’s just its body sweating out the toxins that developed from severe malnutrition. Keep it cool and plenty of fluids in its stomach and it should bounce back.”

Edix readjusted his hold, keeping the tiny, hot body pressed into the crook of his neck. “Should?”

She had given him a rather nervous looking smile. “Well, I mean, we’ve only just recently started examining the biological components of the human species...we don’t have all their little bodily quirks and functions down yet.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance the medicine you gave it could very well be the thing that kills it?”

“...a very unlikely chance, in my opinion, but-”

Edix groaned. “No, don’t tell me that, I don’t want to think about that.”

Ylva raised up her hands in mock defense. “Okay, look, we’ll just keep an eye on it, alright? If its fever gets any higher or doesn’t break within the sol, then we can worry.”

Edix ended up staying awake the entire sleep cycle to worry, too unnerved at the idea the twitching, burning body of his beloved pet would be cold and limp the next time he opened his eyes. He brushed back its sweaty hair with his thumb to lessen some of the heat radiating from its head, crooning every time it woke up whining and squirming to push itself away. Its strength and consciousness would fade just as quickly until the early hours of the day cycle when the fever mercifully broke.

Unfortunately, it was replaced with fitful aches and nausea. A sol and a half of profusely sweating in a near comatose state was now being rewarded with chills that racked its entire lithe body, restless and tense with another wave of illness. Poor thing really did seem to be doing all it was physically capable of to keep from retching so frequently, especially considering there was hardly anything in its stomach to vomit back up, if only because it knew if it continued to expel its fluids then more would have to be put in. Edix felt awful every time he had to coax the little one to sip on the water it clearly didn’t want, but either due to weakness or understanding it didn’t struggle against it.

So much for inducing an appetite, Edix thought as he watched the human choke and gasp on its own spit, desperate to empty its stomach of absolutely anything. When the bout of nausea appeared to have passed for the time being, the human all but collapsed in on itself from where it had been set up on his desk. It had been trembling and whimpering, arms wrapped tightly around its midsection that was no doubt sore from the repeated contractions. Edix had tried to take some of the nesting he had put in the container intending to be its bed and arranged it on his desk as a way to keep an eye on the little one’s progress. As to be expected, the human wanted nothing to do with it, always squirming out of the soft fabrics moments after Edix had just bundled it up. At first he thought maybe it was because it was still overheating from the remnants of its fever, but he noticed no matter how he tried to cool it off, it would always refuse to relinquish its little green jacket.

So, Edix tried letting it rest on the bed. No dice, it still fought against the comforter and pillows and he was constantly turning around to make sure it hadn’t managed to roll off the mattress. Then he tried to have it actually stay in the container as it was meant to be used, this time with the human laying on top of the bedding rather than burrowed under it so that it didn’t get too hot. Nope, it wasn’t comfortable in there either, in fact it seemed more uneasy every time Edix brought it near the ‘renovated’ cage. It was almost like it didn’t like the idea of the Venandi being too far out of sight, despite its affinity to run and hide when it’s more or less healthy. Then again, as soon as it had hidden itself away, he was always right there trying to get it back out, so maybe in its mind that counted as being close enough. Regardless, Edix was running out of options of where he could put the poor thing to recover while he could work on finishing his duties. As much as he wanted to fret and try to alleviate the human’s pain, he did have other commitments he had been slacking on. As a last resort, he settled on keeping his little in his lap and that...surprisingly worked.

He was half expecting it to fight with all the strength it had left as soon as it had been placed on his legs. The human really only cuddled when it was dozing or fully asleep, then it absolutely loved being pressed up against him. Any other time, however, it would struggle and push against his fingers if he held it for longer than it liked and refused to ever stay still in his lap when he’d attempt to keep it corralled without using both of his hands. Sometimes, if he kept his hand as deadweight on top of it for long enough, it would eventually huff and settle and stay still a while for him to be productive. Of course, that defeated the purpose of him having to be short one hand for at least two hours, but something was better than nothing when he was this far behind on his reports.

But now, unlike all the previous attempts to get the sick human to settle down and sleep, this time the human relaxed rather quickly against his legs. It was still curled in on itself, but not so tightly that it shook. Its trembling evened out with every deep breath it forced itself to take, miniscule fingers gripping onto the fabric of his pants. The frail body was still pale and shaking, nowhere near as bad as it had been only an hour prior and Edix figured that was probably as good as they were both going to get for the time being. Ylva had offered him another dose of medicine, this one being something that was supposed to soothe its general aches and pains, but he declined. As helpful as she knew she was trying to be, he was a little put off by the notion that the medicine had a chance of severely doing more harm than good.

Unfortunately for his little one, that would mean it had to suffer through these muscle cramps and sickness naturally, which Ylva kindly reminded him could be anywhere between three to five sols before it made a textbook recovery. Edix felt bad about it, but it was a better alternative than bleeding to death from the inside out or something due to its strange little Earth biology.

Edix gingerly placed two fingers on his pet’s back, feeling just how tense the muscles were as it flinched away from the contact with a whimper. Its breathing started to pick up again and Edix rubbed between its shoulder blades as softly as he could. After the initial contact, it started to relax again and partially buried its flushed face against his thigh. The little doe eyes he adored looked glassy and wet with a sheen of tears, but when he tried to rub its face with his thumb it moved away. Understandable, its head probably hurt, probably the same reason it didn’t want him touching its aching back muscles at first. Edix decided to leave it be for now, not wanting to disturb it too much when it was finally starting to calm down. Mercifully, it appeared sleep was finally going to take a hold of it after several hours of fitful rest. He doubted this nap would last very long, but at least it was still, its tiny body at last getting the time to fight off the remainder of the virus.

So, no, Edix hated to watch his human suffer, but he was absolutely going to relish in how much of a little snuggle bug it was being right now.

He wasn’t really sure if this counted as the human being affectionate and he didn’t care, he was going to take whatever type of obedience he could at this point. The little one was much quieter than usual for the most part, only a whimper or groan here and there, not to mention much calmer over all. There was no worrying about it accidentally plunging to its demise off of any furniture, no trying to fish it out from some obscure hideout, and being pressed so close against him meant he could monitor its recovery without any issues. Well, perhaps a few issues, like being so utterly enamored with his pet that he still couldn’t focus on his job half the time. How ironic to know whether it was behaving or being a brat, it would still be a massive distraction. The way it kept pawing at his pants legs and making itty bitty squeaks, burying its cute little face in its arms or his leg, made his heart soar.

As awful as it may sound, he wanted to live in this kind of bliss forever, which was only possible due to the human being miserably ill. He could only hope that maybe it would remember these interactions once it was feeling better and a bond could be rebuilt. Or, with his luck, it would only remember Edix taking it down to Ylva’s lab to get that awful medicine in the first place and act out even more as revenge. Oh well, they could cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, he was content with the way his sweet little pet curled up in his lap and melted under his touches. It seemed like it got the best rest whenever he positioned it on his chest, but that was typically only when Edix was in bed himself. No matter what, it always liked to hear him purr, the soft vibrations helping to soothe its uncomfortable fidgeting.

One would have thought having their sick pet in such close proximity would have helped ease some of the worry he had. And it did, but not a whole lot. It was true that Edix was easily sidetracked with how adorable the little one was being--after all, who didn’t love watching their pet snuggle up in their sleep?--but his main concern was whether or not his human was actually going to get better or if it would experience a sharp decline. He had been too careless in the past in regards to its health and he already knew how fragile earthlings were as a species. Although he was confident in Ylva’s multiple assessments of the human, he couldn’t help but worry over the knowledge that it wasn’t one hundred percent accurate. There was no saying that the medicine she administered earlier wasn’t slowly poisoning it, that it’s fever wouldn’t return and fry it from the inside out, that it could go to sleep and just never wake up. Edix was a man of science and these were simply too many variables for him to ignore.

So, while the novelty of admiring his human’s cuteness never wore off, he found himself checking it more often than not to assure himself that it was still alive. Whenever it whined or shifted, he would stop what he was doing to check that it wasn’t a reaction to anything nefarious. As always, it was merely the earthling readjusting its position into something a little more comfortable, but given how frequent it was it meant that the cataloguing that should have only taken him two hours was easily stretching into half a sol. The constant starting and stopping of tasks carried over into the next two sols, although its frequency was beginning to noticeably dip as the human recovered. The hovering didn’t stop there; he found he was skipping his own meals in order to catch up on the backlog of work he had created himself, only ever taking a real break to eat something light when it was time to make sure the human was staying hydrated. His sleeping schedule was suffering, too, pulling late nights to finish reports and then waking up instinctively every hour to check that the little one held to his chest was still breathing.

All in all, he was certain he was going to stress himself out to the point of becoming similarly ill soon. Even Ylva said he looked like shit (“Oh gosh, Eddie, you look so tired!” was actually what she said because the biologist was considerate like that) and offered to watch his human for a bit so he could either work or sleep, but he couldn’t bring himself to take up her offer. If anything, the sweet thing would probably be in even safer hands should anything happen given that Ylva was a fauna expert. In the event something went terribly wrong, though, Edix wanted to be the one who was there. He adored the little earthling to the stars and back and he couldn’t bear the thought of it suffering without comfort. Not to mention, while it might not be overly fond of Edix most of the time, it absolutely despised strangers. Leaving it with someone it wasn’t entirely familiar with while he wasn’t in the vicinity had the potential to worsen its recovery if it decided to self-destruct again.

So, he stuck it out, because he was a model employee with a fantastic work record and was a great pet owner on top of it. This was just one little hiccup. As soon as his human was back to its old self--well, maybe not completely its old self, ideally a little more behaved than it used to be--then he would be able to catch up on everything just fine and have a more doable routine in place. It was only a few more sols, in theory. The little one was already proving to be coming back around once it was able to keep the glucose infused water down, even sleeping undisturbed all of last night without waking up due to general discomfort. Seeing the sweet thing finally, finally starting to noticeably improve did ease a fair amount of anxiety he felt about the situation, hoping that the worse had finally passed.

And now he was here, sitting in his bed to work remotely on his data pad with the human snuggled between his thigh and tail. It felt like the first truly peaceful moment he’s had in the past week, maybe even the past cycle if he were to include how long it took to calm his pet down into something more manageable. Shame it took the human being at death’s door for him to find some work-life balance after the unofficial adoption, but like most things regarding the little one, he had to take what he could get.

His eyes stung with exhaustion, thoroughly dried out from staring at various screens and microscopes for hours on end. Just one more report, he mentally noted. As soon as he finished these last few notes he could take a break for a couple of minutes, perhaps even go to bed for an hour or two before he would force himself to wake up another two hours before his scheduled shift to get an extra jumpstart on his work from last week. Slowly but surely he was making a sizable dent in his backlog of projects and if he kept going at this rate, he would ideally be caught up within another three sols. That being said, he was almost certain his quality in work was dipping dramatically with each sleep deprived sol, mind muddled with an unfortunate combination of stress and fatigue that made his writing gradually more rubbish as it went on. Oh well, they would be able to understand the gist of it all. Maybe. He could rewrite them later when he wasn’t running on fumes and his pet wasn’t on the verge of dying, the latter probably never happening with or without this sickness weighing down its prey tendencies.

It was becoming harder and harder to focus on this write up of a pink blooming shrub, his mind constantly slipping off topic to check for the umpteenth time that the earthling snuggled against him was still breathing. Occasionally, he would rub a finger against its forehead to make sure a fever hadn’t spiked again, though thankfully ever since its first one broke sols ago it hadn’t relapsed. It still felt clammy to the touch, but it was better than burning close to a Venandi core temperature which, Ylva explained, was very much not a good thing when it came to human biology. Strange little creatures, no wonder it was always shivering and seeking out his warmth in sleep. Much like the last time he looked five minutes ago, or was it ten, his little one was just fine. And much like the last time he looked ten or fifteen minutes ago, he had made zero progress on his report.

With a weary sigh, he relented and let the datapad drop unceremoniously out of his hand and into his lap. Fuck it, he’ll finish it when he regains a couple brain cells that have died off from lack of sleep and can semi function well enough to write a sentence. Edix was already behind as it was, a few minutes of rest wouldn’t make much of a difference at this point. Like clockwork, his body would wake him up hours before his alarm anyways as was the new routine.

His eyes had only shut for a moment, a blink, and before he knew it they were prying themselves open again. His alarm wasn’t ringing and the lights were still dimmed meaning it was still the nocturnal cycle aboard the ship. He couldn’t have slept for that long then, but it definitely only felt like a second had passed when he would have thought exhaustion would drag him much deeper into sleep. Damn. Whatever, it was more time to work, even if he hardly felt rested, not that he did lately anyways. Picking up his tablet, he scrolled through the pages of words and pictures with a frown, none of the lettering making any sense in his tired brain. Was his writing truly that horrendous when his reserves were drained, or was he so braindead that he couldn’t even read at this point? Maybe Ylva had something for that, master of tonics that she was.

Was it a little dubious to be asking your coworker for foreign stimulants in lieu of taking adequate care of your own well being? ...who cares.

He had very nearly gotten out of bed to drag himself down the halls (wait, shit, it was still nocturnal hours. Ylva was probably asleep. Should he wake her?) when he remembered his pet was still sandwiched between his appendages. It should be fine to be left alone for a minute while he scrounged around for something with high levels of caffeine, but he still needed to extract its little arms and legs of his tail lest it go flying off the bed when he stood.

Except, when he looked down at where it had been nestled for hours before, the spot was void of any tiny humans.

Edix blinked, registering what the absence meant before a cold panic seized his chest. There was always a risk of sleeping with something so small and fragile in bed, accidentally rolling over or knocking them off, but he had never had a problem with it before. Ylva was smart for cage training her human to sleep in a secure enclosure, Edix, however, could never get his to settle unless it was cuddled against him in some way. He quickly patted the bed around his legs to ensure the little thing hadn’t slipped down anywhere before getting up and turning on the lights, ignoring the blinding ache that shot through his retinas when he did so. The bed was completely empty, even more so when he stripped it of blankets and pillows to double check it wasn’t trapped under either of them. Shit, shit, shit. The only way was down, then, but a frantic scan of the floor showed no tiny splatters of human remains.

That made no sense. Where could it have gone? It didn’t know how to scale down the bed to his knowledge, not that it was very keen on scaling anything in its current state. Great, not only was it lost and potentially injured as a result (or worse), but it was also still fending off its sickness. If he didn’t find it soon it might very well succumb to it.

“Where are you?” he cursed, looking around the bed again in case it hid itself away somewhere as wounded prey tended to do. Or bratty pups who were trying to get their owners attention. Damn, he really needs a name for the thing for situations like this, to let it know it was safe to come out when he called it. Too late now, but something to work on in the future, he definitely didn’t have the braincells to start thinking of names for it at the moment. Another survey and he finally spotted it, or at least he spotted the tail end of its little green jacket when it disappeared behind the side table. Okay, so it was up and moving, that was good as far as he was concerned. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was ever holding and dropped to a crouch beside the table.

“Honey, come on, what are you doing?” Edix groused, reaching a hand under the table to snag the evasive little thing. “How did you even get down here?”

He caught movement out of the corner of his eye by the bed, indicating the human had fled its now compromised hiding spot and had dashed off again. Oh no, not this again. Not chase. How in the fuck did it even have the stamina to want to play that right now?! It had been practically comatose with fever and fatigue for weeks, not to mention he knew it had hardly any energy from its reluctance to eat or drink under the fear of vomiting. There should be no way it had the capability to sprint from one side of the room to the other like it would have been able to back on Earth. Maybe the medicine was some kind of miracle drug when it came to humans, but it was taking effect at a very inconvenient time. Then again, chase quickly became one of its favorite games to play on its home planet and seeing as it was left bedridden for an extended amount of time, it must be eager to jump back into the swing of things.

Edix, however, was not.

His mouth pulled a stern frown as he stood to stalk over to where he had seen the tiny figure disappear from. “No. I’m not in the mood, it’s not play time,” he warned. No response, not that there ever was one, not that it ever listened. If anything, his shortness only added fuel to the fire as it darted away again towards the desk, its favorite hiding spot due to how difficult it became to grab it if it got far enough under. Absolutely not. Edix did not have the patience to deal with that kind of nonsense right now, he was barely holding onto composure as it was. Everything he did for his pet, sacrificed even, and this was how it always acted.

Before it could even make it to the desk legs, Edix pounced with a harsh growl, hand slamming on top of it and pinning it to the ground. He could hear it sputtering as all the air was squeezed out of its little chest, head smacking painfully against the solid ground, but Edix found that he couldn’t be bothered to fret over the new injuries. It was what it deserved for disobeying him, language barrier be damned. He bared his teeth in warning, much like he had done when they first met and it pointed that stupid metal stick in his face. Strangely enough, the human didn’t seem to react how he expected. Usually at the first sight of punishment, it would submit and cease whatever it was doing, but this time it just held that same expression of panic it had whenever Edix simply existed in its general vicinity. It wiggled and clawed under his hand, ignoring the dribbles of blood that leaked from its cute button nose and from the gash on its forehead that came from colliding face first with the floor.

Edix removed his hand, fully intending to grab it by its scruff, but the second the pressure was lifted it was scrambling up and off again, like it hadn’t just been partially crushed by him. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug. It made him feel a little better about the situation to see that he must not have caused it too much harm, though the relief was twisting into something bitter. Something that wanted him to force the human to stay down like the prey it was, to give into the hunt it was clearly baiting him with. So he did. He gave it a headstart before pouncing again, swiping his hand to knock it to the side and collide with a chair leg. It skidded into the furniture with a wet cough, one toothpick arm twisted at an unnatural angle as a result of the impact that made it cry out. The sound should have made Edix stop in his tracks and snapped him out of whatever he was doing, but sickeningly, it only encouraged him. His pet, his prey, was wounded. The chase would end soon, yet the need for self preservation had the poor thing up and running again. Its speed was lacking, though still impressive for something so weak. Still no match for the Venandi who shot a hand out to dig his claws into the tender flesh of its calves, causing it to howl in pain and stumble to the ground once more.

Admirably, it tried to push itself up to flee once again, but the gashes in its wobbly legs proved that to be near impossible as every clench of muscle made more blood weep from the bone deep gashes. Edix was not one to play with his proverbial food, he never had any desire to consume his food raw and struggling unlike a handful of other Venandi, much less so when that food was an alien species he knew very little about. And yet, he couldn’t help himself when he leaned down to dig his fangs into its back, a strangled yelp of terror and agony choking off into a whimper when he bit down harshly into its brittle spine, snapping it like the twig it was. The human went mostly limp after that, but not silent, still writhing what little muscular function it had left and gasping. Edix lifted it up in his mouth a few inches before dropping it to collapse in a pitiful pile of itself, now laying on its broken back and forced to stare up at him with those wide, doe eyes.

Its baby face was smeared with its own blood, obscuring the freckles he loved to nose at, and it gurgled as the red fluid started to pool in the back of its bobbing throat now. Be it from the bloody nose or if its lungs were filling up with the same liquid, he didn’t know. And he didn’t care. He only cared that he had succeeded in his natural instinct to capture and eliminate the weaker prey, just as intended by the hierarchy of living things. He was an apex predator after all, it was good to live up to the expectation. And still, he wasn’t done yet. There was no point in leaving a fatally wounded prey alive to suffer like this, not when it was going to die either way. It wasn’t so much as a mercy killing at this point rather than it was simply finishing what he started. The human had no reaction other than to keep staring at him with those sweet eyes that were fading by the second, life leaving them at the same rate as the blood leaving its crumpled body.

Edix could remedy that as he dove forward again and snapped his teeth into its fluttering chest, the blood that had pooled in its twitching lungs bursting over his tongue to run down the corners of his mouth. The bones of its ribs punctured the other organs around them as they were crushed, effectively shredding its insides in a single blow. Again, he dropped the body from his mouth to splatter gracelessly onto the ground, the puddle of red spreading rapidly around it now. Considering its chest was entirely caved in, there was no point in checking if there was still a rise and fall to it, the unblinking eyes telling all he needed to know that the human was deceased. He licked at the blood that dripped from the corner of his mouth and pulled back to sit on his knees and admire his handwork. Arguably one of his most brutal kills when it came to humankind given how much time he spent working on one single creature as opposed to wiping out several in one go.

For several minutes, he stared at its corpse, the copper flavor still spreading over his tongue. It was almost like he was waiting for it to get up, waiting for it to start the game again, though he knew that was impossible at this point. It was dead. He killed it.

...it was dead. He killed it.

He killed it. He killed it, he killed it, he killed it -- WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO!?

All at once, the revulsion of his actions hit him. The taste of blood made him gag as horror blanketed him. His hand shot out, claws still bloody and pulled the broken body to him. No, no, no. No, that wasn’t happening, this wasn’t real, he would never do this! He loved his human, loved it like it was his own pup, he would never think to do anything so...awful to it! Why did he do this? Why did he have the sudden urge to gore it like he did to all of its annoying little packmates? This one was different, special, adorable, that was why he had spared it the same fate. He knew it was too sweet to kill, attaching itself to him just as quickly as he had to it. But there was no changing the facts of the situation at hand, its lifeless body curled in unnatural positions as a result of several broken bones, blood leaking from between Edix’s fingers as its wounds were still draining. Its eyes...the eyes Edix loved so much were dull and grey, no longer wide with an innocent curiosity he always tried to encourage.

There was no fixing this. There was no magical cure in Ylva’s lab. This was his fault, he did this. He killed it. He--

Edix’s eyes snapped open, body jolting to sit up before his mind even had time to register the action. The datapad, still awaiting the rest of his borderline incomprehensible report, slid off of his legs to clatter to the floor but he found that he couldn’t care less about it. The only thing he could think of were those last few moments of ecstasy and horror he felt as a majority of the dream faded from his subconscious, leaving only the residual memories of blood in his mouth and flesh in his claws. Just a dream, he had to repeat over and over in his head, anything to banish the unpleasant imagery of--no, no he wasn’t even going to say it. He refused to even think of the words. And yet, he belatedly realized as his eyes finally blinked away the remaining scenes, for someone so convinced it was merely a dream, he had yet to actually check on the human to confirm this theory, almost as if he was afraid to find it missing from its previous napping position just as how the nightmare had started. Or worse…

Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry himself for long as the human started to stir only a few seconds after Edix’s physical outburst, obviously disturbed by the sudden movement. Well, if it was any consolation, Edix was equally disturbed for a number of reasons and he really didn’t want to dwell any longer on them. Stars above, how long has it even been since he’d had a night terror as startling as whatever the fuck that was. At least a couple of rotations, maybe even more, he was never prone to them to begin with and in this line of duty he was more than used to seeing a few squirming bodies of various species with various lethal injuries for various reasons.

But this one...this one just made his stomach twist in nausea, his heart still racing even now and he was sure his pupils were the thinnest of slivers. How ironic, he had killed dozens, hundreds maybe, of humans out of both annoyance and boredom every sol of being stuck on that painfully uninteresting planet without a second thought. Quick kills, drawn out kills, a few accidental kills when he wasn’t watching where he was going or pouncing too hard, all of them completely forgettable as soon as they happened. The same could be said for just about any species he had the go ahead to exterminate as needed from prior missions. Not every research project went smoothly and not every sentient species agreed with (or were worthy of being offered, quite honestly) an alliance with the Venandi, leading most samples to being taken by force. If the inhabitants were foolish enough to get in the way, they met their end efficiently and Edix was just as much a soldier as he was a botanist.

And then, of course, there were prey species like humans. Inferior, underwhelming, pests more than anything. There was no real reason to go out of one’s way to kill them, which was why most of his coworkers stuck to snuffing them out whenever they got too bothersome in the midst of working. No qualms about letting them live or die, seeing their species thrive or collapse after the Venandi’s departure. All of them are insignificant in his memory...except for his little one. His sweet little pet that he adores so much, that he was destroying his own health just to ensure its own health would mend, that he wanted nothing more than to hold and cuddle and spoil until it finally gave into his affections. In his mind, this was the only human that mattered (well, he supposed Mibao could have a solid second place ranking) but it was also his mind that had decided it was no different than any other prey to be torn into an-

He scrubbed his hands down his face to wash away the bitter aftertaste of the dream once more, exhaling deeply through his nose to soothe his rapid heart rate. Goodness, was this how his human felt all the time, always vibrating with anxiety like this? This was torture enough just for the past few minutes, let alone every waking hour of his life. Perhaps this illness that rendered it near comatose wasn’t all bad, as morbid of a thought as it was. At least it was getting a moment's reprieve to partially relax. Edix rubbed his eyes with a wince, the dryness still present but a welcome distraction at this point. When the human kept squirming against his thigh, he opened his eyes again to finally get a good look at it and hopefully coax it back to sleep.

Although...maybe it would do them both some good for it to stay awake for a little bit, just so Edix could...keep an eye on it. To see it alert and moving and not a limp body bleeding and broken and gutted a-

The little one seemed to be having a bit of trouble coordinating its stiff limbs to work how it would like, struggling to untangle itself from how deeply it had nestled into the long strands of fur on his tail that had puffed up significantly. When it finally pulled free from the auburn hairs, it was faced with the new challenge of finding the strength to push itself up on its wobbly arms. It made the tiniest of keening sounds, like it was asking for help, and Edix was happy to oblige by pressing two fingers against its back to help push it into a mirrored sitting pose. He removed his fingers once it was up, his knuckle tracing down its spine before pulling away. As soon as he did, its body pitched to the side, but before he could try to catch it, the sweet thing was already leaning against his thigh with a whine. Clearly, it was not happy having been woken up for seemingly no reason, even less so now that it had to deal with the general discomfort sickness typically wrought on the body. Poor thing, being sick was better than being mauled.

Edix cooed in apology, his hand returning to rub a thumb against its matted brown hair and push its bangs out of its eyes. It didn’t seem to be paying him any mind at all, doe eyes dazed and staring at nothing, glassy, lifeless. It probably wasn’t fully awake yet, meaning he had a pretty good chance of getting it back down without much of a hassle, not that it put up much of a fight these sols. He really should help it back to sleep considering rest would only help it in the long run when it came to improving its fragile health, even if Edix had no plans himself on going to bed again any time soon. Not while the dream was still so fresh and not when there was plenty of work to keep his mind occupied. Carefully, he cupped his hand to wiggle it under the human’s body and scoop it up, shushing the little protests it was slurring. That was surely a sign it was getting better, always putting up a fight over nothing.

“I know, I know,” Edix crooned as he pressed his little one’s curled body to his chest, rubbing a thumb across the clammy skin of its cheek that was tragically losing a fair amount of its baby plumpness as a result of hardly eating. They would be remedying that as soon as the human could keep something down longer than an hour. “We’re just going to move back to the desk, okay? No more...no more working on the bed. I’ll hold you like this, okay? Sounds good?”

Of course, he wasn’t expecting a verbal reply, or any kind of reply really. Under normal circumstances, it was usually wriggling and pushing against his hold which was usually ignored on Edix’s end. Lately, it didn’t seem to care whether it was being cradled or tucked into his arm or probably even dangled upside down by its ankle, so long as it had the physical proximity it craved. He really hoped that behavior would last once it was cured of its illness, but he doubted it. The best outcome he could reasonably wish for would be that maybe it wouldn’t fight him so needlessly when he did cuddle it, or maybe the human could be the one to initiate the snuggling for once. Then again, it was always shy around other Venandi, so if he was ever really desperate for it to willingly snuggle against him, he could always take a walk through the departments.

A glance down at the little one surprised him when he caught it looking back up at him with a rather peculiar expression. Its sweet brown eyes were still clouded with fever dream, but Edix could have sworn there was something akin to recognition in its look, like it was trying to fit the pieces together of how it ended up in his gentle embrace when any other time it fought tooth and nail to put a fraction of distance between them. Or there was the other possibility that even in its hazy state of mind, it was able to feel the minute trembling in Edix’s fingers as he held his pet, hear the too fast beating of the heart that usually lulled it to sleep, see the nervousness in his eyes that had envisioned awful, awful things done to its cute little self.

He still huffed a laugh at the strange face it was pulling, little furrowed brows reminding him of the absolutely adorable pout he hadn’t seen in almost a fortnight. Gosh, he missed that. “What? What’s that look for?”

Again, the little one said nothing and it appeared whatever its little train of thought was had completely derailed as soon as it was addressed, not that Edix would have ever known what it was to begin with. Instead, it looked away to position itself more comfortably against his chest, only to be bothered again before it would even properly settle when the Venandi raised his hand slightly to be able to press a kiss on the crown of its head. Normally, his pet would be flailing and fussing up a storm if his mouth came anywhere near it, the fear of being masticated and ripped apart by fangs alone, but this time it only whined like a petulant pup until Edix returned it to its proper snuggling hold so it could get comfortable again.

“Brat,” he teased. The small smile on his face disappeared into a grimace when he finally maneuvered himself to pull himself up and off of the bed. He couldn’t be bothered to retrieve the datapad off the floor right now, it’s not like it was going anywhere. The reports he was working on would be automatically synced to his work station anyways, allowing him to sift through the sleep deprived gibberish he’s written for the past two sols until a more cohesive report could be mashed together. If nothing else, at least that unintentional power nap coupled by the burst of adrenaline to wake him up had returned a good amount of cognitive function, enough that he should be able to power through a few more reports tonight. Not that he had any plans to sleep, not so soon…

Edix looked down at the human one more time and purred, smiling as its half lidded eyes slipped all the way closed as soon as he started. Everything was fine.

#g/t #giant/tiny #macro/micro #gt #gianttiny #fearplay #g/t angst #tw gore #its edix's turn to have a bad time now #hiddendreamer is the real mvp for beta'ing this #g/t ocs #this series is back and ready for action bby hell yeah

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wedreamedlove · 3 years

Photo

Xu Mo vs. Mo Yi [Character Study]

I can never get over the aesthetic of these two pictures placed side by side LOL. But, anyway, the point of this post is to nip any undue comparisons in the bud and claims of copying organize my thoughts and compare these two characters to highlight their similarities, differences, and further explore each character through these contrasts.

Q) If you like Xu Mo, would you like Mo Yi?

Honestly, I think this depends on what you like most about Xu Mo. I already knew beforehand that I gravitate towards characters who think 5 steps ahead, are predominantly logical, and scholars/gentlemen, so it’s not surprising I bias both Xu Mo and Mo Yi.

However, as I got to know Mo Yi further (Themis is around 6 months old now), I find that he’s distinctively different from Xu Mo on three crucial points that’ll determine whether people from either camp will like the other character.

1) Stance on Others

In a post for Xu Mo, “Into Your World”, I argued that Xu Mo is an alienated genius who had troubles getting along with others, until he mastered the social game as an adult. However, you can still see glimpses of this as he tries to understand MC’s world and shares his own.

To be fair, Mo Yi’s past is still under wraps but I feel confident in saying that, while he was probably highly intelligent compared to his peers [SR Sculpted Heart], his isolation doesn’t seem to come from his innate nature but rather his social position (there’s heavy implications that he’s like some sort of noble or something) [SR Snowy Pine Fairytale].

IMO, these backgrounds really shaped the way these two men interact with the world.

Xu Mo has a detached and indifferent view towards other people. They simply exist and don’t bring anything positive or negative to him. His ambition to ensure the survival of humanity reflects this too because it’s pure utilitarianism; everyone (apart from MC) can be sacrificed equally for the greater good. If anything, he probably finds other people to be interesting subjects to study, no matter what kind of person they are. IIRC the only time he expressed dislike to people, or a group of people, was when he told Hades he enjoyed killing thieves LOL.

Meanwhile, Mo Yi has an elitist streak to the point where he and his MC actually clashed opinions and debated each other [SR Warm Fingertips]. It’s incredibly ironic because he’s a psychiatrist who treats his patients without judgment, but at the same time he looks down on so many things and people (PUAs, people who betray love, hypocrites who only seek power and fame) [Ch2; Personal Story Ch1-3; SSR Moonlit Ball].

One of the things I noticed early on is that Xu Mo draws from the Eastern scholar archetype, “Xu Mo Character Study”, while Mo Yi actually draws more from the Western gentleman archetype.

So, just to summarize this section, Xu Mo is detached from the world naturally and likes to observe people and try to blend in. Mo Yi deliberately draws a line between him and others and, at times, has the casual cruelty of someone born as nobility (arrogance is carved into his bones, even if he tends to keep it low-key because he generally has a “gentle and polite” attitude).

2) Stance on Love

Xu Mo didn’t understand love, or really even emotions. Love is grown between him and his MC (there’s multiple analogies throughout the game about how their love is like a seed). I think [Ch25] pretty much sums it up for Xu Mo, where he goes through that emotional rollercoaster and muses about how, at the end of human evolution, emotions should be discarded. He also admits that MC taught him the “fear” of a normal person, because now he has someone he cannot give up no matter what, which goes against his previous utilitarian beliefs.

Compared to this, Mo Yi fell in love at first sight. Yes, you read that right. The “scientist and logical” archetype fell in love at first sight LOL. Not only does he acknowledge it right off the bat, but he fully embraces it too and believes that real love makes people better versions of themselves [Personal Story]. Mo Yi is a through and through psychiatrist in that he never underestimates how primal emotions (and love) can be.

Heck, not only is this central to his personal story, but we also have hints that one of Mo Yi’s parents fell in love at first sight with the other person (and he inherited their predisposition for that). Unfortunately, their love had a tragic end and Mo Yi seems to have a huge grudge against his father for whatever happened to his mother (again, Mihoyo is keeping this a mystery LOL), but Mo Yi explicitly confirms that even if his love leads to a tragic end he will still walk down this road and attempt to change it [SR Cool Summer].

IMO one other difference between them re: love is this exchange that lives rent free in my head which I saw in a Xu Mo/Reader/Mo Yi fanfiction LOL. Bear with me here.

Mo Yi: Wearing a mask for a long time will tire you.

Xu Mo: It’s enough just to wear one in front of the necessary person.

Xu Mo and his MC make great efforts to understand each other’s worlds, but this understanding comes from the doors he chooses to open to her. He reveals himself as much as possible, but I think he’s an inherently private person (and there’s all that Ares stuff) so there are times where he hides things so that he doesn’t worry his MC. I think this is enough to count as a “mask”. Sometimes he pretends he’s okay when he’s not.

On the other hand, while I think Mo Yi shares the sentiment in not wanting his MC to worry unduly, he tries to reveal himself as much as possible. There’s an amazingly relatable conflict in him here where he wants her to know every side of him, but he’s also terrified of how she’ll react if he shows her his ugliest sides and imperfect sides (he has some sort of phobia or fear about imperfection, but Mihoyo has been keeping mum on the exact details of this so far) [Personal Story; SR Sculpted Heart].

It’s pretty ironic that Mo Yi wants to be perfect, but he realizes that the more perfect he is the more of a sense of distance there’ll be between him and his MC because of the subconscious pressure someone “perfect” brings LOL [SSR Border of Light and Darkness].

3) Stance on Growth

If you haven’t realized that one of Xu Mo’s greatest themes is the phrase “Take your time in growing”, then what have you been reading? Jkjk, but seriously this gets repeated in multiple places, although my brain always goes back to [Blossom Date] for this.

Even if he and his MC start off with fundamental differences (she believes all people have inherent worth and can’t be involuntarily sacrificed), he wants to personally watch the journey of her maturation. He also subtly guides and teaches her. Unfortunately, due to circumstances of the main story, he doesn’t get his wish and she grows up a lot out of his eyes, but their relationship still revolves around him wanting her to have as much time as possible to grow.

He’s, for a lack of better word, extremely gentle about this (setting aside as much of the Ares and story parts as we can, because LovePro’s story is tragedy on tragedy LOL). I think [Autumn Blaze Date] shows a good analogy for this, because he holds the bicycle steady for MC until she can get going on her own, and he also catches her the first time.

Meanwhile, Mo Yi... ha ha ha. I just came out of chapter 3 for his [Personal Story] and let’s just say his philosophy is tough love. It’s ironic because, in many of his other dates, he wrestles with an internal conflict to protect his MC but also to let her experience all sorts of things to both test and temper her.

This is going to touch on the previous topic about love for a moment, but a part of Mo Yi’s love at first sight experience is also “testing” the other person through all sorts of situations and, after seeing all their different sides, he can determine whether his love at first sight is one that’ll last for the rest of his life or if it’s just a fleeting moment of beauty and emotion.

He also extremely respects his MC’s sense of justice and pursuit of the truth in the world, no matter what she encounters, and I wouldn’t be surprised if this is what drew him to her in the first place. But MC’s occupation and beliefs will make her confront a lot of dark and dangerous things and so, whenever possible, Mo Yi lets her confront these in “controlled” situations to train her. If I had to make an analogy, IMO, he’d let his MC ride the bicycle and pick her up only after she falls, or when she’s like 0.1cm away from the ground LOL.

Mo Yi is (perhaps rightfully) called out on this by another character, who believes Mo Yi is too arrogant in believing everything is under his control and he can prevent MC from getting hurt whenever he lets her get into dangerous situations, and I’m interested to see if Mihoyo will let him experience failures with his philosophy so he can grow more, like the things Xu Mo went through re: his personal beliefs [Ch24].

Overall

I don’t know how well I explained myself, especially for people who don’t know anything about Mo Yi, and each section goes back and forth between the two characters LOL so here’s another section that attempts to describe their overall atmosphere.

If, like I said in my Headcanon Notes, Xu Mo makes me immediately think of all the words for soft, gentle, light, still, water, etc etc., then the words I constantly think about for Mo Yi is messily human. He’s like a bundle of contradictions, but coherent because it’s being intentionally done.

Mo Yi doesn’t discriminate against his patients, yet he can be elitist and looks down on others. He wants to let MC have dangerous experiences, but also wants to protect her. He wants to be perfect, but he also wants to reveal himself entirely to his MC because that’s real love.

In contrast, Xu Mo has a very clean and orderly personality LOL. You can draw clear cause and effect lines from his personality to his actions.

So, anyway, these are two interesting characters who start off with similar archetypes as scientific logical men of scholar/gentleman dispositions, but yet they’re also on opposite ends for a lot of things such as their approach to emotions and the world.

Oh wait, lastly, because I don’t have a good place to put this—but I think it’s funny—is that both characters are pretty possessive and greedy, but while Xu Mo does things in a sneaky, cunning and fox-like way Mo Yi gets ridiculously open about his jealousy and it’s hilariously cute but also almost childish? I often forget Mo Yi is older than Xu Mo by a year, because Xu Mo honestly feels a bit more mature than him LOL. If we count them actually aging by when their game came out though, then Mo Yi is 28 and Xu Mo is 29 now.

#mr love queen's choice #tears of themis #mlqc xu mo #mlqc lucien #wdsjb mo yi #love and producer #weiding shijian bu #mlqc #love and produc(ing) meta #tears of meta

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problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

Into My Body, You Just Fold

Floyd Talbert x Reader

Warnings: FLUFF, optional!smut (poorly written dirty talk, lite name calling/degradation), OOC Tabbykins, mutual pining, drunken love confessions, Reader has an unfaithful husband (but OMC isn’t the worst), period-typical restrictions of women’s rights, not vv good writing tbh, and no-no words (per usual)

As terrible a person it made you to admit as much- you didn’t think you could imagine life without Floyd Talbert.

You’d promised yourself at a young age that you’d never be one of those women who needed a man to complete them, far too disenchanted by the sight of your friends losing their fire and spark upon marrying their husbands. Your father had raised you with the same permissive encouragement as he had your brothers, something that horrified your mother so much that she eventually stopped inviting you to her happy home with her new husband altogether.

Now that you were older you realized that marrying Frederick had been your desperate attempt to win back your mother’s love and approval, much more than your marriage had been for any sort of actual love towards your husband.

You’d tried, though.

Frederick was funny and charming and could get along with anyone. He was driven and supportive, and he always made sure that you knew how much you meant to him. You should’ve been able to love him easily and completely.

But you didn’t- You couldn’t when, more often than not, he came home smelling of liquor and another woman.

Sometimes several other women.

It became abundantly clear to you that, as much as you meant to him, you clearly weren’t enough to keep him from straying.

Which is why you found your love for someone like Floyd so….unexpected.

Upon first meeting him you’d hated him, obviously. He was just like Fred, no- he was worse than Fred because at least Frederick made some effort to hide his infidelities from the world.

If anything, Tab flaunted his conquests like a badge of honor. It made your skin crawl.

Not that your dislike for him did anything to deter him, of course.

On the contrary, he seemed to take it as a challenge.

It also didn’t seem to matter much that you were married. The ring you wore on the same chain as your dog tags seemed to deter any other potential suitors- and if for some reason that didn’t dissuade any overly-confident troopers, your marksmanship and reputation nipped any nonsense in the bud.

Not Floyd Talbert, though.

It didn’t matter where you two were- Tab made it his personal mission to win you over. He flirted with you on the boat ride to England, in the plane as it soared towards Normandy, in the middle of a gunfight on the way to Eindhoven. Hell, he’d even tried to charm you while recovering from a stab to his gut.

The boy was shameless.

If you had to narrow it down on a timeline, things had become more sincere and less childish in Eindhoven- when you’d gotten mobbed by a group of drunk and curious men who’d wanted to see more of the lone woman sniper of the 506th.

Floyd had appeared from nowhere and helped you wrestle your gun away from one of the idiots who’d attempted to divest you of it. He’d wasted no time in taking his own helmet from his head and placing it onto your own upon realizing that yours had been taken, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and guiding you from the throngs of people while you shook from leftover adrenaline.

He’d kissed you that day after he had been unable to get you to refocus on him and stop you from hyperventilating.

You’d stood stock still for a few seconds, mind scrambling to process the gentle feeling of his lips on yours as well as the fact that you were no longer tossing in the sea of people you’d been lost in moments ago.

When he’d pulled back, you could only gape at him like an idiot.

“W-why did you—?”

Floyd’s rough hands had come up to hold your face, taking a deep breath of his own before replying.

“I, uh…” he had stammered for a moment before shaking his head quickly and clearing his throat. “I was trying to get you to snap out of...just trying to get you back.”

After that, things had progressed pretty quickly.

He’d stopped seeking out any female company other than yours- not that you’d noticed at the time- spending the few nights of freedom he was afforded with you while you would ritually take apart and clean your rifle, talking with you about anything and everything. He had a knack for making you laugh harder than anyone ever had before.

Sometimes you’d talk about serious things, like your families or past loves or the foolish hopes you both had had before the war.

Every so often, he’d ask you about Frederick.

Thinking about Fred made you uncomfortable. Unhappy.

But because Floyd had been so honest with you, you tried to be honest with him as well.

No matter how innocently the questions began, they always ended with Floyd furrowing his brows and saying your name softly enough that you couldn’t help but hesitantly meet his imploring gaze. He’d always ask some variation of the same question:

“Why did you marry him?”

Most nights you didn’t answer. Some nights you were able to deflect the question well enough that eventually you both fell into a different conversation altogether. One night you’d been in a bad mood and snappily asked him an uncomfortable question of your own.

“Why do you have such a hard time keeping it in your pants whenever a pretty girl is around?”

That always shut him up. And, despite the fact that you could feel the upset rolling from Tab in waves, he never left.

That night, you had taken his fist between your hands and uncurled his fingers. You had felt his eyes on you as you purposefully dug your thumbs into his palm to ease the tension you found, eventually turning his hand over so you could carefully trace your fingertips over his war-calloused knuckles.

“That was unkind,” you had whispered, guilt churning your stomach when at the hurt you knew you had caused. His grey-blue eyes were curious as you hesitantly looked up at him, and once you had met his gaze you’d almost lost your train of thought. “I’m sorry, Tab.”

You hadn’t been expecting him to kiss you again, but even as he had you didn’t immediately stop him.

It was only when he had started to pull you closer that you quickly pulled away. Your breathing had become heavy, and while you didn’t let go of his hand you still said his name admonishingly under your breath.

“You shouldn’t do that,” you’d whispered, unable to look at him and electing to look at your feet as you brought your hand up to press your fingertips against your still-tingling lips. “You- you know I’m….you know why I can’t—”

“I know,” Floyd’s voice was low, and despite the fact that you weren’t looking at him you’d been able to see the grimace on his face. “I just….I know. I’m sorry, Y/N”

You’d cleared your throat, pulling your hand away from his and giving him a tight smile.

“No need to apologize. Let’s just forget about it, yeah?”

Without waiting for his response, you’d gone back to the table where you had been working on your gun, desperate for a distraction.

“So, uh, what was it that you were saying about your brother? He’s graduating high school soon?”

Despite Floyd’s willingness to play along, you had been unable to stop thinking about the feeling of his lips on yours. You wondered if this was what happened to Frederick- if this rush of adrenaline after doing something you shouldn’t was what he was chasing each time he went home with someone else.

You’d never known guilt could be so heady. In that moment, you’d started to realize just how dangerous this friendship with Tab could be.

But even then, you’d also had a sinking feeling that you weren’t going to be able to give him up, That you were no better than Frederick.

Taking your oiled rag back into your hands, you’d scrubbed the metal o-ring of your piston and tried not to think too hard about what this revelation said about you.

It had been during a 48-hour pass that he’d asked the question about Fred for the very last time, after you’d each finished a bottle of sweet French wine while sitting on the floor between two beds of the hotel room.

That night, you’d given him a sad smile and gestured half-heartedly with your canteen as you brought it to your lips.

“Because I thought it was what I was supposed to do. Because…. I didn't think I was allowed to say no.”

He’d stared at you sadly, clenching his jaw a few times before clearing his throat and letting his head loll back to rest against the side of the bed.

“Ask me again.”

You’d frowned at him, confused as to what he was asking you to say. Your silence must’ve given away your lack of understanding, because he laughed humorlessly before closing his eyes.

“

Ask me why I can’t keep it in my pants….'round pretty girls….”

“Oh-kay…?” you’d said slowly, leaning back and stretching your legs out in front of you. “Why can’t you keep it in your pants?”

With a bit more effort than it probably should’ve taken, Tab twisted his body so the back of his head was resting in your lap, the strands of his hair ticking the skin of your thighs where your sleep shorts had bunched up.

“Same fuckin’ reasons.”

In the dim light of the hotel room, you’d been the one to kiss him, your lips trembling with heartbreak on his behalf and complex (if not unbidden) emotion. Floyd sat up so you weren’t having to hunch your body over to reach him, carefully wrapping an arm around your waist as he shifted your bodies so neither of you had to strain to reach the other. Despite Floyd being Floyd- he didn’t kiss you greedily, the plush of his mouth soft as it followed your gentle rhythm without any sign of wanting more than you were willing to give.

Once he’d realized that you had begun to cry, Tab broke the kiss carefully, and he had reached a gentle hand up to brush your tears away, a sad smile crossing his face.

“Now, isn’t that a sight?” he’d whispered. “Never had a girl cry for me before. Don’t think I like it much…’specially when that girl’s you.”

He’d allowed you to cry for him, allowed you to cry for yourself and all of the hurt and pain you’d been holding inside of your chest for what felt like decades. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but when you had woken up the next morning you felt his fingers combing through your clean hair as you both lay sprawled out together on the floor. At some point, one or both of you had pulled the bedding from the bed’s mattresses and tangled yourselves in the soft fabric.

“Is it bad that I wish I’d met you first?” Floyd had asked, his voice a warm rumble as you rested your head on his chest.

“Yeah,” you’d admitted, scratching your nails lightly across his shirt-covered stomach. “But I’m much worse for agreeing with you.”

As he turned his body so he was leaning over you, his hand came up to rest on your collarbone while his eyes danced across your face.

“You’re beautiful….too beautiful to be ruined by someone like me, I think.”

You’d frowned, bringing one of your hands up to trace his mouth with your fingertips.

“Oh, Floyd- you can’t ruin what was already spoiled.”

Tab then lowered himself so his nose brushed against yours, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

“Can’t I?”

Even thinking about it now broke your heart.

Now, nearly two years after the war had ended.

Now, living in the house you’d once shared with Frederick.

Now, as you lay in bed and watched Floyd brush his teeth in the bathroom of the home you shared.

Fred had last written to you five months ago, telling you that he was probably going to be in Japan for at least another six months before he could even apply to come back to the states.

Despite the fact that he claimed his senior ranking in the Navy and his responsibilities to oversee prisoner exchanges were the ‘sole reason for his prolonged absence, you knew that it was probably more a case of him not wanting to return to a life of expected monogamy that kept him away.

Not that you minded one bit.

Not when you had Floyd.

You hadn’t expected him to want to stay with you, in the literal sense or in the more metaphorical sense of commitment, yet he’d barely let you finish your offer before he agreed emphatically.

If you were truly being honest with yourself, you hadn’t imagined that he’d even want to stay after you’d slept with him the first time, shortly after returning to the states.

But he had. He had stayed.

You’re ripped from your thoughts when you realize that the sound of Floyd brushing his teeth has stopped, and when you shook yourself from your trance you realized that he had caught you staring at him. Judging by the smug look on his face, he’d finished getting ready for bed a while ago, and when you begin to blush he crosses his arms across his chest and leans against the doorframe.

“You know, ma’am,” he smirks as you clear your throat and pick at your nails embarrassedly. “It’s not wise to stare at a man like that unless you’re willing to face the consequences….”

You snort a laugh despite yourself, furrowing your brows and looking back to him with a dumb grin on your face. “Oh yeah? And what consequences would those be, Sir?”

His eyes darken with a flash, having made it very clear long ago how much he liked it when you called him that. You cannot help but smirk at his clear shift in arousal.

He pinches his bottom lip as he considers you- something that you couldn’t deny made your heart race with dark promise. Wetting your own lips, you lean back onto your elbows and watch him watch you.

Quirking his brow, he tilts his head and pushes himself from the doorframe to stalk to the foot of the bed and brace his arms against the mattress so he’s nearly leering at you.

“Oh Lovely, I think I’m gonna have to show rather than tell.”

~Smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

You shook your head in amusement, a smile breaking across your lips as he crawled his way up your body- his softening hands smoothing your silky nightgown up your thighs and stomach as he did so. A low, pleased curse rumbled low in his throat at your lack of underwear, smiling against your skin as he ducked down to kiss your hips and soft stomach while completing his journey.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before I convinced you to stop wearing underwear to bed,” he says warmly, encouraging your thighs over his own while he kneels between your legs.

You can’t help but scoff at the wording of his observation.

“Yeah, if that’s what you’re calling ruining all of my expensive undergarments with your impatience, then yes Floyd, you’ve thoroughly convinced me to forgo underwear.”

With an easy familiarity, Tab slips his hands under your nightdress and ghosts his blunt fingernails over the swell of your breasts, smirking at the goosebumps his touch elicits across your bare skin.

You lift your shoulders off of the bed enough to bring the bunched-up nightdress up and over your head before tossing it somewhere on the floor beside you, allowing your eyes to drift shut as he bows his head to kiss at your nipples in near-reverence. His hands map the rest of your body in a cycle that only he can predict, the sound of his skin brushing against yours paired with the warmth of his palms and mouth relaxing you in a way that no hot bath or soft bed ever could.

Floyd groans as you rake your fingers through his hair, allowing you to guide his face up to yours for a slow, imploring kiss before one of his hands slips in between your legs and massages at the lips of your sex.

“Was I taking too long, Sweetheart?” he asks against your lips, his voice growing rough with need. “How long have you been this wet?”

You don’t answer, choosing rather to roll your hips into his touch. Your breath catches in your throat at the first swirl of his middle finger over your clit, something that he does again with a smug hum against your lips.

“Don’t worry, Y/N,” he reassures you as he wets his cock with your arousal. “I’ll take care of it. I’ll make it all better.”

Whoever said that slow sex couldn’t also be filthy had clearly never met Floyd Talbert.

By the time he’s flipping you onto your stomach, you’ve been brought to the teetering precipice of release three times- his mouth and fingers and cock working you up while he kissed the sweetest admonishments into your skin. Tab called you needy, cockhungry, and wicked- all while kissing across your skin with such a sweet contrast to his words that it made your head spin.

When he finally, finally pulls your hips up and begins to piston into you, you’re already so delirious for him that you are pleading for him to let you cum- something that only serves to make him grip your hips harder and groan in anticipation.

“Dirty girl,” he grits out as he bends enough that his forehead can rest between your bunched shoulder blades, the line between admonishment and praise blurring headily as you feel that familiar flutter building in your lower belly. “Are you going to come for me? Can feel you shaking for me like a good little whore….”

You barely have to ask for more before he grips your sex possessively with one of his hands, your orgasm tearing through you and stealing your breath as well as your capabilities for speech.

Floyd, whose curse is drowned out by the rush of blood to your ears, follows you quickly over the edge- grinding out as much of his own release as he can in between your legs before collapsing atop you.

Almost as an afterthought, Tab slips himself from your body, rolling to lay beside you as you both come down from your highs.

“So good,” you’re barely aware of him panting out. “You’re so fucking good, Y/N….”

You blindly reach out to drape your arm across his waist, incapable of returning the praise just yet.

He knows, though. You know he does by the way he sighs happily beside you.

~End of smut interlude, doodiLEEdedoo~

“Y/N?”

You look down your body to where Floyd's head rests in the valley between your ribs, your fingers having been lazily combing through his overgrown hair for the past twenty minutes.

“Hm?” you reply, your other hand snapping out to grab one of the pillows near the top of the bed and folding it beneath your head so you can watch him.

Turning his head to press a kiss on your skin, he looks up at you lazily. When you smile down at him, he returns with a content grin of his own.

“Can I ask you something?”

Raising an eyebrow, you narrow your eyes teasingly. “I don’t know, Floyd….can you?”

You nearly shriek when his fingers dig into your sides, rolling your lips together in an attempt to quiet your laughter as Floyd bestows biting kisses up your sternum while you wriggle beneath him.

“You’re such a brat sometimes,” he grumbles as he takes your face in his hands, unable to keep the smirk from his lips. “Lucky for you that you’re a good lay….”

Rolling your eyes, you nod your chin at him.

“Just ask me already, you jerk.”

His wicked expression softens, eyes scanning your face as you look up at him. The beginnings of a knot start to twist in your stomach, feeling the first drops of anxiety begin to stain your blood.

“Floyd…..what’s wrong?” you ask, not liking the way he suddenly electing to look at your mouth rather than into your eyes. “Is everything—?”

“Would you ever marry me?”

Your eyes widen at that. That had certainly not been what you were expecting him to ask you.

Taking in a deep breath, you consider his words for a bit before answering immediately.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love him, because you did. No, what gave you pause was all that marrying him would entail- the greatest obstacle being that you were already married, and unless more things had changed in post-war America than you realized, polyandry was still illegal. Not to mention the fact that, upon marrying Fred, anything you had once been able to call your own was now- at least legally speaking- his.

You didn’t even have any right to the house you and Floyd had been living in. It, along with everything inside of it including you, was Frederick’s in both name and law.

And that was what scared you the most- the idea that, should you divorce Fred, you’d be penniless. Homeless. Destitute. You would have nothing.

But, as you looked into the blue eyes of the man you loved more than anything in this world, you realized that you wouldn’t mind any of that at all.

Because you’d have Floyd Talbert.

With a heavy sigh, you sit up so he doesn’t have to lean over you any more- taking his face in your hands and giving him a smile.

“I’d have nothing to offer you, you know.” You grin a little wider at the confusion on his face, brushing your fingertips over his bottom lip as you continued. “No savings or car or house for you to come home to at the end of a long day?”

As the wrinkle in his brow smooths, you know that he knows what you’re really asking him. Bringing his own hand up to mess with the ends of your loose hair, he pouts for a moment.

“Hmm, that’s a tough call, Y/N,” he says with a faux seriousness, tilting his head consideringly and narrowing his eyes at you. “I really like this bed frame—”

You nod, biting the insides of your cheeks to keep from laughing. “It’s a nice bed frame-”

“And the mattress? Best thing I’ve ever slept on.”

“I’m sure. All that built-in lumbar support cost a pretty penny, too.”

Smirking openly now, Tab brushes his nose against yours. “Still not the best thing in the house, though. I’ve gotta say, the pretty girl who lives in it takes the cake in that regard.”

Cupping your hands around the back of his neck, you pull him in for a deep kiss, the both of you almost clicking your teeth together several times because of the stupid smiles on your faces. When you pull back, you peck a quick kiss on the tip of his nose before sitting back enough to look him full in the face.

“If I could, I’d have married you already.”

The smile he gives you is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Yeah?” he presses, biting his bottom lip like an excited kid.

“Yeah, Floyd. I really would.”

“Good,” he says simply, carefully slipping from your grip enough to shift back down so he’s resting his head on your stomach. “Maybe I’ll ask you one of these days.”

Looking down at him fondly, you let yourself lay back so you can grin up at the ceiling.

“Who knows, Floyd Talbert,” you say quietly, heart feeling so full it could burst. “Maybe I’ll even say yes.”

“Good.” he grumbles.

“Good.” you agree.

~ ~ ~

(HELLO YIKES AND SORRY MY DUDES I’M PMSING AND DEEP IN MY FEELS BUT THANKS FOR SOLDIERING THROUGH THIS PILE OF YUCK!)

Taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @liebgotttme

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #floyd talbert x reader #floyd talbert imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

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eryiss · 3 years

Text

Ship: Freed x Laxus

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Two Bros Chilling in A Hot Tub/Lightning Struck

Summary: Freed knew he had a lot to learn about being a professional wizard, and when he was paired up with Laxus for a mission he expected to learn a lot. He didn't expect to spend a day with him in a hot tub, and he certainly didn't expect to get an entirely unrelated education about life and about love.

Notes: Hello everyone, happy Fraxus Week. For the two bonus days, I've murged the prmopts together to make a two-shot. The second chapter will be uploaded on July the 22nd. I hope you all enjoy it, and head over to @fuckyeahfraxus to see all the other content for the event.

Links: Chapter Two ||| Event Masterlist ||| Archive of Our Own, Fanfiction

Chapter One

Year: X782

Location: Magnolia, Fiore

Professional Wizardry was still new to Freed. He hadn't wandered into the profession without the expectation that he'd be forced to do things that previously would have been unthinkable, or that his life wouldn't change entirely the moment he had joined a guild, but he felt like he was learning a new aspect to his profession every day. His expectations of the job and the reality of the job was almost entirely different, and Freed found himself enjoying the challenge.

He'd thought he'd be on missions near constantly. He'd go to some place in Fiore, use his magic to fight off a monster or dark wizard, and get paid for it. He hadn't expected there to be a community attached to it, that they'd be such a rigid tier system of missions, and how missions could be anything from finding a lost item, to being on a team attempting to disband a cult. There was so much more, and it was all fascinating.

After his eighteenth birthday three months prior, the jobs that he was allowed to accept had greatly opened up. They were more difficult, presented him with a greater threat to his life, and he was relishing the challenge. He could have gone on those missions earlier, but he much preferred working alone. While he was accepting that being in Fairy Tail meant there was a certain level of comradery with fellow guildmates, and that with that comradery there also came obligations, he didn't see the point in splitting his finances with others while he was powerful enough to perform these missions on his own and take home all the money himself.

The exception to this was Laxus Dreyar.

Master Makarov had approached Freed on his birthday with a proposition. He was worried for his grandson, wanted someone to look after him, and wondered if Freed would mind occasionally attending missions with him. He claimed that, while officially the money would be split between them, Makarov himself would make up the difference for Freed so that he would be paid in full. Freed had agreed, and that had been that.

Up until that afternoon, Freed had not gone on any missions with Laxus. They'd hardly spoken, even with Makarov's assurances that they'd get along. Freed would only be on certain missions and that afternoon's mission was apparently one of them. Makarov told Laxus Freed needed training in more advanced missions, and that he should be the one to do it. Laxus hadn't argued.

Somehow, while attending to a supposedly A-Class mission, they found themselves in Magnolia's hot spring and spa resort.

It was surveillance, so the mission stated. The Rune Army themselves had place the job, stating that they believed that members of a potential dark guild were using the site to host meetings and plan attacks. The resort had been trying to get rid of the suspects but couldn't do so without putting their staff in danger, and having an army presence suddenly appearing would tip the dark guild off and give them time to hide all evidence. The Rune Army wanted mages from Magnolia who could plausibly be in the spa for leisure time, but could also defend themselves from attack, to watch them for suspicious activity. Freed had a feeling that Laxus had taken the job to have a day relaxing in a spa, rather than because he felt the Rune Army needed the help.

None of this would have been a problem for Freed – he'd long since accepted that what constituted a job was a wide array of things – if it weren't for the elephant in the room. Or to be more precise, the Adonis wearing nothing but swimming trunks in the room.

Freed was a professional, but he was also eighteen years old and in the presence of an undeniably handsome man. Nobody, no matter their opinions on Laxus, would state that he was anything but sexy. Tall, blonde, square jawed, barrel chested with a scar over his eye and a tattoo over his pecs. His abs looked to be cut from steel and his legs comparable to tree trunks and, well, Freed was only human. Laxus was distracting.

"So," Laxus suddenly spoke as he slung a towel over his shoulder. "I don't exactly know what Gramps wants you to learn from this, but I'll try and teach ya some shit. Surveillance rule number one: fit in with yer surroundings. You seem pretty good at that."

It was only a moment, but Laxus' assessing gaze over Freed's body was exhilarating. But unprofessional.

Laxus didn't seem to notice, and instead started to walk out of the locker room they'd both changed in, and towards the area where they were meant to be watching. Freed followed, making sure to look straight ahead, rather than give into temptation to check out the man's back and his ass, and it wasn't a difficult task. While Freed had no qualms admitting his attraction to the blonde, he knew where his focus needed to be put. The mission was important, not his hormonal desire for his guildmate.

"That's the door we need to watch," Laxus said as he tilted his head to the door. Freed knew that of course, but Laxus was speaking again before he could say anything. "Pretty open room, lots of vantage points. Where should we go?"

Ah, it was a test then. Good, a worthy distraction and hopefully it would nip any ideas that Freed was in some way Laxus' inferior in the bud. Freed looked around the room quickly, glanced towards the door that they needed to keep in their sights, and quickly made a plan of how the rest of the day would go. Strategy was his strong suit.

"The hot tub," He said firmly. "At least for now."

"Why only for now?" Laxus asked. There was no condensation in his tone, he was simply asking for Freed's reasoning.

"Staying in the same place throughout the afternoon would be suspicious. We know who the suspects are, but that doesn't mean they're the only people involved, so we need to look like regular customers constantly," Freed explained, speaking quietly as they walked further into the room. "As we've only just got here, it makes sense for us to use a facility instantly. Going to sit by the pool or at the juice bar would be odd, at least for now. The massage tables and spa treatments are too distracting, but the hot tub allows us to sit and watch without anyone questioning it. It'll give us the lay of the land without drawing any attention on us."

"And we both have to do it?" Laxus probed. "Wouldn't it make more sense to split up and cover more ground.

"Later," Freed dismissed. "We came in together; we'll need to do things at the same time at least once in a while. As I said, the treatments are distracting and as such we should do them one at a time rather than simultaneously. If we spend the whole day apart after we've arrived together, it'll raise suspicion. The hot tub is a good vantage point, and so a good way to be seen together while not losing an advantage."

Laxus thought for a moment, before nodding, clasping Freed on the bare shoulder, and giving him the smallest of grins. "Yer good at this."

"Of course I am," Freed retorted, and that seemed to make Laxus grin wider.

They walked towards the hot tub, which was at the back wall, attached to the main pool. As it was a Tuesday afternoon, only a few people were loitering around the resort and the hot tub was empty. Freed placed his towel on the handle provided and walked into the hot tub, soaking his entire body sans his head in the hot, bubbling water. His muscles relaxed instantly, and he felt himself slinking down ever so slightly.

"You ain't here to relax," Laxus said in a voice almost teasing as he climbed the stairs into the tub. "Eyes on the mission, remember."

Freed went to point out that, given Laxus was looking at him rather than at the door, he was just as distracted. But Laxus chose that moment to sit down, submerging his chest in water and spreading his arms wide. His left hand was close to Freed's shoulder, and Freed felt that it was an act of great resilience that he didn't give into base urges and watch Laxus as he adjusted to his relaxed, wet – very very wet – state.

"I will if you will," Freed eventually said back, looking towards the door. He missed how Laxus' gaze lingered on his body just a little too long.

They fell into silence, and Freed made a genuine effort to keep his gaze away from the man who shared the hot tub with him. He truly hadn't thought this through. He hadn't realised that, as good as Laxus looked from afar, he looked better up-close. Maybe he should have denied the request to join the mission. And maybe he should have worn a looser swimsuit…

"So," Laxus said after a while, looking up at the ceiling for a moment to crack his neck. "How much is the old man paying you to spy on me?"

Freed halted, and removed his eyes from the door and looked towards Laxus. His face only, of course. "Excuse me."

"Rule two, you gotta trust the guys you're working with. So don't bullshit yer team members," Laxus said with a little grin. "Answer the question."

"For every mission that I do with you, he'll cover all the money you take from it, so I'm fully paid," Freed explained. He saw no point in lying.

"Guess we're gonna be doing some well-paying missions together then, if we wanna bleed the old bastard dry," Laxus smirked, and it was an oddly alluring look on the man. Freed looked away from it, and towards the door again. "You gonna tell him that I'm onto him?"

"I'd rather keep the deal up, I can get good money doing this," Freed shrugged, and he saw Laxus grinning a little from the corner of his eye. He tried not to pay attention to the expression, and instead focused on a man who could fit the description of a suspect. The man walked past the door, but that didn't mean he wasn't who they were looking for. "Why did you agree to this if you knew your grandfather wants reports on you?"

"Because it's gonna happen anyway, might as well accept it," Laxus shrugged. "I knew he was gonna get someone to do it, kinda glad that it's you."

"Why?"

"Because yer interesting," Laxus said, looking up at the ceiling again and closing his eyes as he lowered himself deeper into the water. Freed's gaze flickered low on the man's abs for a moment before looking to the door again. "We get a hell of a lot of mages joining Fairy Tail. Lots of people who think they're tough shit and wanna become the next powerhouse. Yer the only person I think whose got a chance of actually doing it."

The compliment was flattering. Laxus had something of a reputation for being generally rude and selfish, and either they were exaggerated or Laxus was making an exception. Freed felt it was a combination of both, but he accepted the compliment without complaint.

"You know my magic?" He asked.

"I've been keeping tabs on you since you came here, yer interesting," Laxus nodded, wading a hand through the water absently and sending ripples through the bubbles. "People give the darker magics a lot of shit. They're idiots. You can kick ass, and you're not bad to be around. Pretty much the opposite of a Fairy Tail mage right now."

"Does that opinion extend to you?"

"What d'you think?" Laxus asked with a cocky expression that Freed found himself enjoying.

"I wouldn't be here if I thought you weak."

"Good."

They fell into a silence, with the bubbling water warming Freed and making his muscles loose and relaxed. He kept a steady gaze on the door, making sure to avert his eyes when someone walked into the room, so his staring wasn't too obvious. It was a worthy distraction, and one well needed now that Laxus had apparently been watching him for all of eight months. That, combined with the fact that Laxus was wearing swimming trunks and was less than five feet away, could all become rather an issue if Freed didn't focus on anything else.

"Okay, your turn to relax now," Laxus said, cutting through Freed's thoughts. His voice was a little more relaxed. "You can't stay lookin' at the door all day. You'll get a crick in the neck."

"I'll be fine," Freed dismissed.

"Doesn't matter," Laxus stated, shifting slightly to get closer to Freed. It was to get a better view of the door, but the body heat that rivalled the warmth of the water was a noticeable feeling and Freed tensed. "Rule Three: lean on yer teammates. Sometimes you'll need to slack off, that ain't something to fight against. So long as someone in the team is on full alert it isn't too bad a problem. So sit back, close yer eyes, and let me take over for a while."

Freed was hesitant, but Laxus was clearly taking over keeping his gaze on the door, and Freed eventually found himself sliding down to further cover his body in water, and closed his eyes as relaxation flowed through him.

When his mind began to slip, Freed found himself thinking that Laxus was actually rather helpful. Freed wasn't quite so arrogant to think he knew everything about wizarding work, and an S-Class mage would have things to teach. Laxus especially would be useful to learn from, given their apparently similarities in working styles. Freed would need to learn how to work in a team, even if it wasn't fond of the idea, and Laxus might know how to offer actual advice rather than pointless mantras like 'your team should be your family' and other nonsense he'd heard from Fairy Tail. Without lying about why he was there, his team-ups with Laxus might be mutually beneficial.

Perhaps relaxing wasn't too bad an idea, either. Freed's mind had been somewhat consumed by his work. Finding a place to live as a seventeen-year-old had been difficult, and he'd put in a lot of effort in getting rent on time. But now he got better paying jobs, that urgency could fall away a little.

With a bit of effort, he tried to push the fact he was on a job to the back of his mind.

Once this whole thing was dealt with, maybe he would invest in a pass for the resort. In his preliminary research for the mission, he'd heard good things about the facilities, and even though he'd only been in the hot tub as of yet, he felt inclined to agree.

Though perhaps Laxus' company was partially to blame for his mood.

Fairy Tail had sometimes felt like a lonely place. Their focus on friendship, family and their revoltingly sentimental ideas about goodness were nice in principle, but when you were on the outside looking in it could get under your skin. Freed knew he was at fault for his lack of relationships with his guildmates, but perhaps Laxus might be a good starting point. Ironic, given that nearly everyone had told him Laxus was off-putting and rude.

The bubbles sent a pleasant chill over him, and Freed felt his tenseness ebbing away. When he got a pass for the resort, he'd have to explore the idea of a massage. He'd never thought it appealing, but perhaps he could be convinced.

There wouldn't be much convincing needed if Laxus were the one massaging him.

"Shit," Laxus hissed, and Freed's eyes whipped open. A rush of panic filled him that somehow he might have said that aloud, but the idea was ridiculous. He looked to Laxus to see worry flickering over him. "The suspect saw me looking, I think he went to get backup."

"Are you sure?" Freed asked, mind suddenly back on focus again.

"No, but we made eye contact. He's suspicious of me," Laxus was clenching his teeth, seemingly annoyed at himself. "We can't fuck it up, the Rune Army don't take shit like this lightly. We need a distraction or to get out."

"A distraction will be easier," Freed concluded. "Does he know for sure that we're looking out for him?"

"I wasn't being careful. I was watching him for about a full minute without being subtle. Pretty sure he knows it's not a passing glance."

"But that doesn't mean you know what he's doing, it just means you were looking at him," Freed mused aloud. "What if we throw him off the scent, give him another reason for why you were so focused on him."

"The hell would that be?" Laxus growled a little, and Freed scanned the room. They were the only two people in there now.

"Maybe you wanted him gone," Freed thought, plans forming in his head. Many of them he had to dismiss outright. "Perhaps if he sees something he wasn't meant to see, he'll think you were looking at him because you wanted him to leave."

"What the hell would I wanna do that I wouldn't want him seeing?" Laxus snapped, agitation rising. An idea came to Freed. It was good, it would get them out of the situation no doubt, but it might have a few repercussions in the future. Many arguments both for and against it flung through his mind, and his indecision must have been obvious, as Laxus continued talking a moment later. "Rule four, if a mission's going to shit and you think you can salvage it, you do it. So if you've got any ideas, I'd love to hear them."

Freed went to open his mouth to explain his idea, but he heard movement from across the room and glanced towards the door. It was opening, and two more suspects were walking through it, stone-faced and angry.

Before he could second guess himself, he launched himself onto Laxus and began to kiss him.

It was a sloppy, energetic, and passionate kiss. Laxus was frozen for a few moments, but Freed forced himself to push on in the hope that Laxus was trying to understand what was happening. Laxus quickly started to kiss back, and a hand ran down Freed's back, pulling him close. Freed began to mess his hands through Laxus' hair, heart pounding and a ringing in his ears cutting through his panic. He couldn't think of how bad an idea this was, about how there were probably hundreds of other ways to deal with this, because rumours stated that the dark mages were powerful, and he didn't want to get into a fight he could avoid.

Kissing wasn't enough for his plan. People kissed all the time. They needed to get… intimate. Freed began to run his hands over Laxus' torso – damn was he strong – and he felt large hands groping at his ass in return. He gasped into the kiss, and forced himself to remember that it was just for the mission.

The sound of a door closing snapped him back to reality, and he glanced to the side without breaking the kiss to see the suspects had left. He pulled himself off of Laxus, to find he'd been dragged so he was straddling the man's thigh at some point, and turned away with a blush, panting quietly.

"Good plan," Laxus said, voice also breathless. "Think it threw them off."

"Yes," Freed agreed. He couldn't look towards Laxus now. He simply couldn't. "I'm sorry for doing-"

"Don't, you did what you had to do," Laxus cut him off, voice somewhat stern, which wasn't helping the situation. "I would've done the same if I thought of it, and you fixed my fuck up. So no complaints."

"Okay," Freed didn't feel any better. He stood up and reached for his towel, still not looking at Laxus. "I think I should sit at the juice bar for a while, we've been together for long enough."

"Wait," Laxus began, shifting slightly but Freed was climbing from the hot tub before he could reach for him. "This ain't- you don't have to leave on my account."

"I'm not," Freed lied. Because of course he was. Laxus might be straight, he might not like Freed, and he might not appreciate being kissed like that at random. "If we spend all out time in the hot tub, it'll look odd. It was overdue, more so now they've seen us."

Laxus looked ready to argue, but sighed and nodded. Freed walked towards the juice bar, fighting the urge to touch his lips. Electricity danced over them.

Kissing Laxus… it felt like being struck by lightning.

#Fraxus Week #Fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #Fairy Tail #Fanfic #Writing #Two-Shot #Chapter One #canon divergence #Word Count: 3.5k

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

Ill and Alone- Prompt Fill

cw food mention, nausea mention, fever, anxiety, the concept of not feeling bad enough to merit comfort, depression, isolation

Hi! I am still accepting bingo prompts! The crossed out prompts are already written, the starred ones are ones that I have gotten, but not posted yet! Let me know which character you want and if you prefer writing on a drawing! Bingo sheet by the wonderful @celosiaa

Jon wakes up to Martin leaving before dawn. Walks him to the door, hands him breakfast and a thermos of tea. Goes back to bed, the sticky exhaustion nipping at his heals, at the back of his skull. Inserted in the grit in the corner of his eyes.

He wakes up to an empty bed, Martin’s side of the room looking sad and empty, usual trinkets of their cohabitation lacking. No prescription on the nightstand, no glasses, no poetry book, no neatly folded outfit set out for the morning, closet looking empty.

The room is bathed in the grey light of early morning. Jon goes back to sleep.

He wakes up properly at nine. He makes tea, staring at the faded sticky note that Martin had written precisely how both he and Jon respectively take their tea. Jon remembers by this point. It’s been years since he Needed to look at the note, but he still looks at it because… well… it’s Martin’s writing. Instructions written with care and precision, with a little heart and a smily face. He doesn’t trace the writing, he isn’t that pathetic, and he doesn’t want the paper to disintegrate any faster than it already is… but he wants to.

Martin will be back in a couple days. He shouldn’t be this clingy… But the flat already feels empty and cold. Jon shivers, holding his tea close to his chest, and resisting the temptation to make a second cup for Martin.

Jon teaches his classes. He eats lunch in his office. A sandwich that tastes like chalk and fills his mouth with cement. He grades a few papers. He teaches another class. He rides the tube home. He falls asleep on the couch. He wakes up on the couch. The flat cold around him, the cushions stiff and frozen against his slight and hurting frame. Joints stiff against the chill.

He thinks about making dinner, or even just reheating some leftovers, but he doesn't. He texts Martin. 'Love you, hope the volunteer training is going well.'

He falls asleep. Heavy and aching and so tired.

He wakes up on the cold couch to a buzz from his phone. 'Going well, just finished up for the night. Love you!'

It's dark now, but not late. Daylight doesn't last long in the grey of winter in London. Jon shivers. He thinks again about dinner, and how Martin would want him to eat, but he just wants a warm shower and to go to bed.

He considers his cane, but doesn't feel it worth the effort. It is out of his way, and he would just like to get this over with.

Jon hates sitting in the shower, but he hates baths more, and his hurting limbs won't keep him up any longer.

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat. Salt on his lips, saltwater on his lashes. The flat is cold. Cold like his dreams. Panic on his breath as the Lonely dreams still hold him in their vice. He wraps his arms around his chest. He tries to rub his own back despite aching muscles, trying to make his own boney hands sooth him like Martin can. He shakes and he cries silently.

He checks his phone, the low brightness still stinging his eyes, and smears the numbers of the time beyond recognition, but he makes out no new messages.

He pushes himself out of bed on aching legs, and shaking arms, pulling on one of Martin's sweaters and stopping by the loo.

He makes tea. And tries to take comfort because it is almost as good as when Martin makes it.

Jon goes back to bed.

It's morning and Jon's head hurts. His head hurts and his arms hurt and his legs hurt and his back hurts.

He almost pushes himself up to get ready for work, but he remembers it is Saturday.

Jon rolls over to Martin's side of the bed. Placing himself in the divot where Martin would be, if he were not out of town.

Jon texts Martin. 'Morning, have a nice day, love you.'

Jon dozes.

He should make breakfast. But he isn't hungry, and he doesn't want to move. Even if his small frame isn't holding heat, even under the thick covers of their bed. He wants the weighted blanket. He wants the heated blanket, but those live in the closet. Those are for bad nights. Mostly of the time He and Martin under the thick duvet is enough.

But it isn't night and it isn't that bad, is it? And even so, that is more effort that he thinks he can spare.

He texts Martin.

Meaningless texts with the mundanities that are beyond him. Little messages about missing him, about making tea, about reading. None of them lies, but cutting out the dragging exhaustion that has given way to a dragging fever.

And Martin texts back.

Jon bundled in the heated blanket and Martin's jumper on the couch. Dosing off to the Archers. He still hates that show, but it's easier to hate something for the content than admitting he feels too shitty to even enjoy the documentaries he has been saving for the weekend.

He grades some. Not much. And he makes tea.

He thinks again about the leftovers in the refrigerator, but he doesn't have the energy to eat them. Lacks the appetite.

Jon falls asleep on the couch. Tea cooling on the coffee table. Papers spread around him in uneven heaps.

Jon texts Martin. And Martin texts back.

Only the buzz of the phone keeping him from sinking deeper into misery.

Jon texts him whenever he is awake to do so, and Martin texts back during his breaks.

Jon's head hurts. He is shivering despite the heated blanket that is tight around him. Woken from another nightmare by his own gasping breath. The Stranger this time.

He calls Tim.

"Jon? Everything okay?"

Still gasping from the phantom hands rubbing him down, fighting the nausea that comes with that particular brand of terror, of that trauma of his invaded personal space. And the desperation that someone come and save him from his cold and empty flat and end this lonely weekend.

"Jon, are you alright? Where are you, do you need your inhaler?"

Jon probably does, but he fights for breath for a minute and he's more or less okay.

"I'm home. It's fine, sorry for calling." He feels foolish for being needy, and more foolish still because he's fighting back tears now. Tears over nothing at all. Just the fever. Just the dreams. Martin will be home tomorrow, and Jon will probably be feeling better by then, and if not, it's probably mostly exhaustion anyways. He's been having a hard time getting restful sleep.

"Hey, hey, hey Jon. It's okay to call. Are you alright? Do you need someone to come over?" Tim isn't angry. It still surprises Jon that there is no bite to his voice. No snipping, not sarcasm, not annoyance. Just... warmth, caring.

"Just a little under the weather. I'm okay. Sorry for bothering you... Had a dream... and just... Sorry it's foolish. I'm alright." Jon shivers, and hoping he doesn't sound too soggy over the phone. He aches. Stupid joints. Stupid immune system. Gives out the minute Martin leaves. Which... good. He guesses… at least Martin isn't losing sleep over him this time. He hates that Martin doesn't sleep when caring for Jon. He Hates it. He hates stealing sleep for him, even if this is the mundane way of doing it, he still has cost Martin too much over the years.

"I'm gonna come over, okay? It's not a bother, it's not an inconvenience, I had been planning to give you a visit anyhow, I've been too busy to drop by in a while and I want to see you because you are my friend, and if I make you soup as well, hey we both get dinner out of it. I promise I Want to. Sasha still has work, so I don't have any company tonight anyhow. No plans. Nothing."

"Not been hungry." That's all Jon has the energy to argue.

"Feeling queasy, or just the usual fever nonsense?" Tim asks. He sounds too cheerful for this.

"Nightmare queasy now, but mostly just... fever probably."

"Oof. One of those nightmares? Yikes. Well, that kind usually passes in a bit, then we can make you some Spicy Stoker Sick-day Soup. This Is to my benefit. Sasha isn't a big fan, and Martin isn't either. It's a good excuse to make some good comfort food."

Jon almost smiles. "'kay."

Tim must guess he's falling asleep again. "Get some rest. I'll be there soon with some soup stuff and meds. Don't worry about letting me in, I have a key, remember?"

Jon falls asleep on the couch.

He wakes up to tea being set in front of him.

Jon groans and rubs at his eyes.

"I know I've said it before, but that note in the kitchen is fucking adorable! I mean... a little sad that it took you that long to learn how to make yourself tea, but still fucking precious that the note still has a place of honor. Not to mention, it's good reference for when I want to make you the perfect comfort cup of tea!" Tim smiles at him.

And it isn't the same as with Martin, but it still warms him up. At least a little.

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"

Jon tiredly rock his hand in a so-so motion.

"Mind if I take your temperature before you drink that tea?"

Jon turns his attention inward to see if what remains of the Eye wants to be helpful today. "38.6."

"That... I can't tell if that is handy or inconvenient. In any case, not bad but not great. You okay if I start the soup? You can either get some more rest of join me in the kitchen and we can watch some Buzzfeed on my laptop?"

Jon nods. He gathers his blanket and his tea, and limps to the kitchen.

Tim sucks in his breath at Jon's clearly stiff movements, and rushes to plug the blanket back in before Jon can move to do so.

"You. Are not gonna help, okay? You can help by drinking your tea, and some water and then getting back to the couch and using me as a pillow and eating a little something."

Jon opens his mouth to argue, but sees the steel in Tim's glare. Nothing unkind, but still solid resistance. He nods.

Jon falls asleep on Tim. On the couch. Empty bowls stacked next to Tim's laptop, cord plugged in next to Jon's blanket.

Tim stays the next afternoon until Martin gets home. Marin scolding Jon for not telling him he was ill. Martin thanking Tim for coming. Martin wrinkling his nose at the soup.

Martin's prescription and glasses, and clothes and book back in their proper places. Martin in Martin's divot in the mattress, Jon smooshed against Martin, still a shade too warm, but much better than earlier.

Jon falls asleep in Martin's arms.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #martin blackwood #jontim #fever #cw nausea #cw anxiety #cw isolation #cw depression #cw food #fic #my writing #my fic #my words #my art

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melonsmessymusings · 3 years

Text

Let’s have a few ideas about Jenny and Giles always having the munchies because my brain won’t stop. I swear one of them almost always has food nearby.

Not necessarily together but they graze throughout the day. On anything too. Whatever they can get their hands on, doesn’t matter what it is.

Neither of them are morning people (unless they happen to be awake after an all nighter) so breakfast is out, unless it’s a special occasion. Knowing Jenny, this could be literally anything.

You’re joking if you think Giles is going to eat the slop served in High School cafeterias, especially if it means braving that hellhole where he could run into people. He’d be a proper packed lunch kinda guy. But that’s effort, so he’d either nip out somewhere or just pick up some fruit in his way out the door to pretend he’s healthy. Lead by example and all that. Either way, probably too busy berating himself for something to acknowledge the fact he’s ravenous by 10am.

Jenny would probably skip lunch in favour of coffee. If she eats, it’ll be something sweet like a muffin or something. Possibly something like crisps. Nothing too messy because she’s a busy woman and can’t be arsed to tidy up. Pre-packaged, likely out of a vending machine. Microwaveable is good. Toast is also good but the crumbs have the audacity to go everywhere and she doesn’t need that energy in her life.

So that leaves dinner.

Giles would cook. He’s probably pretty good at it too. After all, he has to train a Slayer, he needs to be physically capable of doing so and nutrition is essential. I’m not saying he’d ever dry scoop pre-workout, have some decorum, but he would prefer to eat balanced meals that aren’t going to give him heart disease. He’s also probably conscious of his age and knows his metabolism isn’t what it once was and doesn’t want the effort of having to do more exercise than necessary considering his already active lifestyle fighting evil. Pre-Jenny, he probably just chucked something together because cooking for one is so bloody boring and dull and I saw a headcanon about this the other day that I adore, so let’s go with that. Giles probably enjoys fresh veg and we know he likes mushy peas so that’d be chucked in. Although he still probably doesn’t do anything extravagant. Let’s be honest by the time he gets home, he’s exhausted so anything he can throw together in less than half an hour is good.

Jenny’s a disaster in the kitchen. She can make a few basic meals with sauce from a jar without burning her flat down. But she’d also microwave something with a spoon in it so... she probably has ‘dinner’ at 1am. And I’m guessing it’ll be something fairly basic that wouldn’t be considered a proper meal. She would cook like my 1st year flatmates used to, and holy fuck was that scary. She sees no problem with putting sweet Chili sauce on pasta or dousing everything in ketchup. Condiments add flavour right? Failing that, takeout it is. Taste buds have been burned off, she’ll devour almost anything. She makes up for it with enthusiasm though, A+ for effort.

But when they’re together...

Jenny would be at Giles’ and he can make nice meals, even though it’s a bit early for her to eat, (it’d probably still be like 8pm because Giles wouldn’t eat too early) and she enjoys his cooking. He knows she seldom eats vegetables so he’d try and cram as much as he could into one thing like a mother hen because it’s concerning. We’re talking like my mother with courgette, hiding that filthy green sludge in everything and feigning ignorance if interrogated. Jenny would literally watch Giles scoff the whole thing down because he’s a man of efficiency and regiment so he’d not waste time. Plus he’s always hungrier than he thought. The only time he ever takes his time is if they’re out or he’s not feeling good.

Jenny would be a little more likely to not rush, enjoying watching him with a mixture of awe and concern and also because she’d be chatting his ear off. It’s the only time she’s guaranteed his silence while he’s conscious. Unless it’s takeaway. Then they’re both dead silent. She’d probably make a competition of who can eat the quickest, then end up with indigestion sat on the sofa thinking she’s going to have a heart attack. And it’s not fair because Giles is a good decade older than her and he should be the geriatric whining about heartburn but somehow he’s completely fine and it would irritate her.

#btvs #meta #tbh this has been sat in the drafts for a while but hey

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goldenlaquer · 4 years

Note

Hey ! Adding some Drifters content here : what kind of husbands/fathers do you think Toyohisa and Naoshi would be ? Btw, thank you for the quality content of your blog

Part 2! Part 1 with the husband headcanons can be found here: x

Apologies for the late post! Real life got me a bit distracted.

Drifters Father Headcanons:

Butch Cassidy:

Wild. Bold. Insubordinate. Fine traits for an outlaw, but for a father? Many wouldn’t think so. But it’s Cassidy’s pleasure to prove all them bastards wrong.

Alright, so maybe you’re going to have to be the main disciplinarian in this household because he can’t help himself from jumping into his child’s fun (read: trouble), often helping them reach for another piece of sweets that you had said ‘no’ to by distracting you with kisses while the kid makes a run for it or taking them out for a ride with the horses and coming back all grimy and stinky and in dire need of a bath or two, but who are you to stay mad for long? Seeing your husband and your kid grinning and laughing, it’s going to be so hard to keep a stern, straight expression on your face, the corners of your mouth just threatening to twitch upwards.

Still, as much as Butch Cassidy likes being the fun parent and toeing the line, he never allows any behavior that seriously undermines your authority and respect as a parent, skillfully dissuading their mischievous attentions away from, say, dumping a pail of water over your sleeping head ( “C’mon, let your mama have her rest. Try Uncle Kid.”) or letting them break any promises that you had specifically made with them (“Nope. Nuh-uh. You promised your mama that you’d wash your hands after playing. And your mama trusts you to keep that promise. We don’t go back on our words, alright?”)

And it’s not as if he doesn’t have any ground rules of his own. There aren’t many (he knows better than anyone about the struggles of being restricted), but he still has ‘em: one, don’t go near the horses without anyone present, and two, don’t touch the guns. The horses are well-trained to not spook in the worst situations, but still, it makes you and him breathe easier to be able to watch what your kid does around such large and powerful creatures. And as for the guns rule, Cassidy has seen too many boys and men alike blow off a toe or a finger or their life with careless handling. He’s a daredevil, but he ain’t going to ever stupidly risk his kid’s life like that.

The sternest he’s ever been is when your kid ignores those rules. His sharp eyes immediately picking up the way they inch closer to his guns when they think he’s not looking, hands slowly reaching out for the grip sticking out of his holster. His own hands are quick snatching up his child before they can even blink, setting them down on the ground outside or a crate and looking them straight in the eye, angry, but his voice is low and calm. He speaks to them plainly. He’s disappointed in them. The rules were there for a reason and they had gone back on their promise to not break them. By the end of the lecture and once he’s sufficiently sure that they understand what they did was wrong, Cassidy’s back to being the fun parent, ruffling their hair playfully as they sniffle and wipe away the tears.

Not bad for an outlaw, eh?

Kanno Naoshi:

By some miracle, Naoshi finds it in himself to have patience.

Actually, he probably always had patience for children in general, not just when it comes to his own kids. It’s the adults who he doesn’t hold a single lick of tolerance for, the same adults who do dumb shit and should know and act better than a child. Those are the type of people he doesn’t mind beating some physical and verbal sense into. But kids are kids, and kids they will be. Naoshi, despite many opinions otherwise, understands this well.

That’s not to say that he’s a perfect A+ parent, because sometimes children can get hella annoying and too hard to handle and there’s so much Naoshi’s patience can take before it breaks and his temper takes over. He’s usually good at nipping tantrums in the bud, but when the kid gets especially persistent, he can’t help but to snap out in frustration, which does nothing but make make the kid sob louder. He’ll give you a look, to let you know he needs a break to cool off, and you nod and give him a thumbs-up back to communicate to him to take his time. It’s a tag-team effort. You’re in the ring now, trying to calm down one child who is screaming on top of their lungs.

Food. He’s strict when it comes to meal times. Maybe it’s from being in the military or just being from a time where frugality is necessary, but he doesn’t let his brat mess with their food. Eat your damn fruits and veggies and respect the nourishment it gives you. Don’t like something? Too bad, you gotta eat it anyways. There’s no way in hell he’s raising his kid to be picky eater.

He makes all the toys himself. He’s got the quite the crafty spirit, being able to make some very decent knick-knacks from the available wood and spare metal, some of which are modeled after various aircrafts. In his spare time, he squats down in the dirt and plays with them, barking out commands and obscure pilot lingo that your child easily understands and follows like a mini pro, the both of them roaring at each other and trying to smash each others plane down to the ground, aerodynamics be damned.

AHH but just IMAGINE Naoshi settling your kid onto his lap up in the cockpit, engines turned off, letting them play with the controls and turn the yoke with their clumsy hands, as he grins proudly in response to his kid’s obvious joy being in the fighter jet (like father, like child). He’ll even plop his hat on their head, patting down the flaps to engulf their small ears AAAHHH

Okay, so about the cursing... he tries.

“Fuck!” A small voice pipes up from beside you, and you turn to slowly look at your child, who innocently smiles at you with two missing front teeth. You immediately crane your neck to peer at the culprit, your husband.

“Fuck,” Naoshi mutters, awkwardly coughing and pulling down his goggles to hide from your glare.

Shimazu Toyohisa:

our resident feral is actually? very good? with children?

He’s in tune with their emotions. And that’s GREAT for when they’re experiencing things for the first time and don’t know what to do with their new feelings or how to handle them. Toyohisa is gentle, yet firm as he guides them, his words simple and straightforward, but most importantly, Toyohisa speaks to them like they’re an adult, never belittling them or insulting their intelligence. He knows that children can understand more than what other adults give them credit for.

He’s the type of parent to let his child learn their lesson the hard way. He knows that children get into trouble despite the warnings, and as long as they’re not in any real danger, he lets them figure it out themselves. Saves him the trouble of telling them multiple times, and besides, it wouldn’t do them any favors if he coddled them too much like those overprotective parents do. But if they start crying from fright, Toyohisa’s patting their head with his big palm, comforting them until the tears dry up.

The rough play is insane. Like, Toyohisa is really out here throwing your kid 20 feet up in the air and catching them by the ankles, and he just grins and waves you away when you voice some actual concerns. He’s got it. He’d never let his kid fall. But despite his confidence and your trust in him, you can’t help your mini heart attacks every time your kid waves at you from the tree tops.

Nap time. Toyohisa never says no to naps and your kid inherited the same sentiment. You often find them napping together under the warm sunlight; kid tucked against his chest, drooling on his neck, and the man himself snoring and drooling at the mouth also. It’s so fucking adorable.

likes to carry them on his shoulder, listening to their giggles as he bounces them playfully up and down. and you too. you’re on the other shoulder.

Toyohisa is strict in his values, and he’s strict in passing them down. He is unwavering in his teachings, just as his father had been with him. He tells them once and expects them to remember it forever. To him, it’s not just about morality, but a way of life, a guide to live and let live, a just and straight pathway to follow until the end and beyond. No matter where they are, his child is part of the Shimazu clan and will grow up upholding the Shimazu creed.

Toyohisa want to be traditional in his child-rearing. He doesn’t value sons over daughters or anything like that, but he does staunchly believe that sons should be raised as warriors and daughters should be raised as household caretakers. It’s not something you can easily change his mind on. But if your child becomes an adult and really wants to become someone else than who they were raised to be, Toyohisa is surprisingly not so opposed to it then. By then, he has taught them everything he knows. Toyohisa trusts their judgement and ability to live their own life.

How does writing launch me into baby fever???

#drifters #drifters headcanon #drifters imagine #butch cassidy #kanno naoshi #shimazu toyohisa #unedited #will edit later #answered ask #asks closed

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dingoat · 4 years

Photo

Character meme woop woop, let’s try and get this one done before it gets lost in the endless scroll of tumblr notifications and I forget it exists haha. Tagged by @melissagt and @greencrusader13, thankyou thankyou! Maybe if I have energy to spare tomorrow I’ll do it for another character but of course I’ll start with my Number One Girl!

GENERAL

name : Ahuska Crow (in most realities), maiden name Charka, birth name Tala Kit’kota (unknown to her) gender : Female age : constantly up for debate place of birth : Ruweln, as far as she knows spoken languages : Basic, Mando’a, some sketchy Selonian and making an effort to learn Huttese. sexual orientation : Wouldn’t rule anything out, but too loyal to experiment occupation : I guess technically, as far as how she actually earns credits is concerned, she’s a mercenary? Animal trainer/stock keeper isn’t terribly wrong at the moment, either.

APPEARANCE

eye color : Sky blue hair color : Off-white height : Average scars and burn : If you shaved her, you might find a few little scars here and there, including a disturbingly humanoid bite mark on her ankle. Werewolf au, she’s positively littered with scars, with particularly nasty scarring at the back of her neck. overweight : Nah, but will quickly gain an extra soft layer if she takes it easy for any stretch of time. underweight : No

FAVORITE

color : Autumn music genre : Alternative/folk, with a growing fondness for country that she tries very hard to deny is a thing tv show : Wildlife documentaries, saturday morning cartoons, and fantasy holodramas (especially if they star Ziminder Antilles) food : hand picked wild berries, fancy chocolates, and womp rat chomps. Still chasing the ever-elusive pink iced donut. drink : CAF. Strawberry milkshakes. Sweet cocktails. book : ....this is one I’m going to have to think on! Probably some sort of animal adventure novel though.

HAVE THEY

passed university : Haha nope, no formal education had sex : Eeehehehehe had sex in public : Definitely in public places, though probably not while any general public has actually been around haha. gotten pregnant/gotten someone pregnant : Noooope kissed a boy : Yep! kissed a girl : Not that I’m aware of, but pieces of her backstory have yet to be revealed to me so who knows! gotten tattoos : A permadye job, yeah, which is the most feasible Bothan equivalent! had a broken heart : Oh, poor teenage girl, yes. been in love : HEAD. OVER. HEELS. I have yet to see a version of her that doesn’t fall HARD when she falls for someone. stayed up for longer than 24 hours : hahahaha yes and thank the stars she was caught out before it became a habit

ARE THEY

a virgin : *eyebrow waggle* a cuddler : All the time a lot a kisser : Oh yes! scared easily : Not really, but she spends so much time in harrowing situations she is nonetheless scared often jealous easily : Ahahaha jealousy is one of her defining character flaws trustworthy : If you’re someone she’s loyal to, 100%. But she’ll lie through her teeth and break promises to anyone else to protect those who matter. dominant : Sometimes *eyebrow waggle* submissive : Sometimes in love : Absolutely single : Nope!

RANDOM QUESTIONS

have they harmed themselves : Only by accident, unless you want to include her fledgeling stim habit that got nipped in the bud before she really suffered for it thought of suicide : No way attempted suicide : Hell no wanted to kill someone : Ahahahaha. Ha. Ha. Mmmhmm. Sometimes even gotten to follow through. rode a horse : She’s ridden a lot of space animals. Maybe one of these days I’ll let her go to Dathomir and she can ride an actual horse! Elder Scrolls AU owns two horses have / had a job : Sorta kinda but her lifestyle is very unconventional have any fears : Yeah, but mostly all the standard fears of loss/lonliness/failure etc and a little PTSD that can be triggered by unexpected explosive sounds and/or feelings of helplessness/loss of control of a situation. She has an irrational dislike/discomfort around a particular species of Concordian wading bird, and a very rational dislike/discomfort around Bizarre Force Related Nonsense.

FAMILY

sibling(s) : None that she is currently aware of >.> parents : Sana (deceased) and Jinn Charka (adoptive mothers). Blood relatives currently unknown, but odds are good they’re Bothans. children : Nela, formally adopted via Mandalorian tradition pets : Pexu the nexu. Boy the varactyl. Dinii and Duraan, ottas. Percival, arkanian dragon. Responsible for twelve scout varactyls in training.

EVERYONE I KNOW has probably already been tagged hahaha ummm but lemme throw in @askshivanulegacy @kaosstar @cinlat @kunoichi-ume @humanrevolt @abbienormal for good measure

#character meme #ahuska asks

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inqorporeal · 5 years

Text

Okay, I'm gonna do a separate post since I don't want to hijack @dad-plo-koon‘s post.

Here's my theory about why Mandalore is the way it is in TCW. Even better, the canon isn't saying I'm wrong.

Cut for length:

HOkay. SO.

719 years before the rise of the Empire: The Mandalorian Excision.

Mandalore is doing well -- great, actually, they've never been more productive and they've just opened a few new beskar mines. The settlements on the moon -- Concordia -- and on Concord Dawn (not to be confused with Concordia) have proven to be self-sufficient. Things are looking up!

Except not quite. Mandalore's nearest neighbor is Kalevala. They're absolutely terrified of Mandalore going on the warpath again; Kalevala's likely sent spies to investigate Mandalore's status. What they find is deeply concerning.

Kalevala goes to the Republic -- specifically the Jedi -- for assistance. If Mandalore starts conquering again, Kalevala thinks it'll be the first target on the list. They’re probably not wrong, either. The Jedi and the Mando'ade do not have a fantastic history between them; the Jedi's response is to nip Mandalorian growth in the bud.

The Republic invades Mandalorian space. Technically illegally, but history is written by the victors.

Parts of Concord Dawn and other Mandalorian-held worlds suffer catastrophic bombardment during the fighting, but Mandalore is hit the hardest: half the planet is literally glassed before the end. What's left when the surface cools is a scintillating crystal desert on the southern half of Mandalore, the sand utterly useless for industrial applications without extensive processing. Even the untouched northern half of the planet suffers ecologically as the seas boil off. The planet spends months wracked by deadly weather systems caused by the complete disruption of the existing balance.

The Republic then blockades the sector and occupies it, installing their own government to manage things. The Mando’ade are forced to conceal all outward connections to the Resol’nare: no armour, no weapons, no overt training.

Beskar being as resilient as it is, the southern mines have been sealed at ground level, but below the surface are relatively intact. The Mando’ade try to rebuild, but it's a tough process when you have no outside trade coming in and a hostile power literally controlling what you can and cannot do with your own planet. It’s also physically dangerous -- inhaling glass dust can lead to silicosis and other diseases, as well as any of the compounds in the dust which might be carcinogenic. A huge portion of the southern continent had been used for industry, after all. And with half the planet's lush farmland slagged, they can't locally support the work.

Maybe it started as altruism; maybe it was always the plan.

Kalevala offers assistance in rebuilding. The Republic lets them, because hey, Kalevala was the one that lit this off in the first place. Maybe they feel a little regret? The glass-dust sand is bad for everything -- machines, droids, and people alike -- so they start with force fields and then transparisteel domes that also regulate their internal climate. Kalevala starts by building on top of the southern beskar mine access points and drilling through the melted bedrock, so the material to rebuild can be collected without risking going out on the desert. They bring in extra help from Kalevala. It takes a couple decades to get the dome cities to the point where they can operate without direct assistance from offworld.

The Republic offers no direct assistance during the Reconstruction, but it’s pretty clear who they’re favoring. When they finally back out of Mandalorian space, it’s a Kalevalan regent they leave in charge.

By this point, the Kalevalans who arrived to assist in the reconstruction have settled. Families have been started. The domes are designed for comfort, and with the beskar mines now functioning as commercial sources, there's a financial boom that promises to have the population living well.

Somehow, those proceeds never make it to the northern half of Mandalore. Some of the survivors warned against cooperating with the Kalevalans, and others kept reminding the people set on restoring the south that the Mando'ade don't need a planet in order to have a home: they can have the Resol'nare again, for which these outsiders have no understanding nor respect.

The largest dome in the south, Sundari, schisms from Keldabe. The northerners have a Mand'alor -- or choose a new one, if the previous perished in the Excision (there’s no information either way) -- but they don't understand what it was like to suffer in the desert trying to rebuild -- maybe there was a disagreement during the process on how things should be done. Sundari picks its own Mand'alor -- one of the Kalevalans who had gained a good reputation during the Reconstruction, someone who at least appreciates the local culture.

They set up a local government that's similar to what they're accustomed to on Kalevala -- and why shouldn't they? Their advisors are Kalevalan, and it's not like the southern population is going to resist the policies of a Mand'alor they elected.

Diplomatic discussions open up with Kalevala. See, they didn't just provide assistance out of the goodness of their hearts: they expected repayment. Through a combination of politics and trade deals, Mandalore becomes subject to Kalevala; to take the sting off, it's declared an extension of Kalevalan territory -- rather than a colony, which would have much lower political standing -- and declared a duchy so the planet has self-determination. The southern Mand'alor gains the title of Duke/Duchess. They're still elected, but somehow the role never strays far from the hands of Kalevalan political elites.

Again: maybe this was the plan all along, or maybe it was a bunch of rich people being opportunistic. The end result is the same.

Here’s the thing about the Resol’nare: one of the tenets is answering to the Mand’alor. If you don’t follow the Mand’alor, you’re considered dar’manda -- no longer Mandalorian. If there’s more than one group with their own Mand’alor, things get... sticky.

Tensions are high between south and north -- the New Mandalorians and the True Mandalorians. It's not really surprising the True Mandalorians would be upset: who are these outsiders to come in here, claim our titles, and then sell our world? In an effort to boost the New Mandalorian population, Kalevala offers opportunities to its citizens to help their Mandalorian territories, and to show the Mando'ade that there's a better way to live than constant warfare.

If this looks like a classic example of colonization, that's because it is.

Attempts by the New Mandalorians to subtly colonize the north have only limited success -- they can't prove it was sabotage, but they suspect. The Mando'ade who do go south for whatever reason -- extending friendship, joining family, seeking work, accepting offers from the New Mandalorians, whatever -- find that their appearance sets them apart. The New Mandalorians are nice about it, but enough social pressure happens that those Mando’ade who can't afford to leave feel stifled. Dark hair is bleached to fit in, accents are adopted, Mando'a is only spoken at home and isn't taught in the schools. Mando’ade who aren’t human -- and there are many -- have a particularly difficult time among the New Mandalorians. The Resol'nare is still kept, but only in the privacy of the home.

AND THEN.

A few hundred years down the line, Mand’alor Jaster Mereel of the True Mandalorians attempts to enact some (overdue and widely demanded) cultural reform. Resistant splinter groups form, most notably Death Watch under the command of Tor Viszla, sparking off the Mandalorian Civil War. Viszla kills Mereel during a battle on Korda Six, leaving Mereel’s adopted son, Jango Fett, to pick up the reins. Death Watch arranges for an ambush on Galidraan that pits True Mandalorians against a detachment of Jedi and ends with Fett being sold into slavery for several years.

With the True Mandalorians scattered, Death Watch turns their attention on the New Mandalorians, who had remained neutral throughout the conflict.

The Duke is assassinated. His teenage daughter, barely old enough to accept the title the New Mandalorians offer her, goes into hiding from Death Watch’s assassins for a year with her Jedi protectors. Traumatized and blaming anything that could be considered a warlike nature, she completely abolishes part of the Resol'nare. No armour, no weapons, no training at all. Those who protest are offered a shuttle to Concordia or Concord Dawn -- not sending them back north to bolster the decimated ranks of the True Mandalorians. She would clear the True Mandalorians off the north entirely if she could, but achieving that would require the type of violence she abhors.

Dipping into the meta for a moment: any visual designs are a deliberate choice by the creators. Even in other cultures in TCW where there’s a level of uniformity, there are defined genetic differences in hair colour (not going to get into how everyone’s clothes always use the same palette, because that’s done for a different reason). Satine’s blond hair is noticeably a more natural shade; the bright yellow or “brassy” colour seen on a lot of civilians is the result of a bleach job that hasn’t removed all the natural tint, either by choice or by accident. This is a deliberate artistic choice and the creators are trying to tell the audience something about the culture. There’s no reason for that to be the case unless there’s social pressure behind it to maintain a certain appearance. Particularly since -- one would assume -- Death Watch still maintains the acceptance of non-human species into their ranks, conformity of appearance both expresses the New Mandalorians’ passive resistance to their enemy and internal support for their culture.

It’s worth noting that the Excision itself was a plot device introduced to the IP in 2010 specifically as backstory for the show.

Mandalore’s implied recent history is one of colonization and cultural genocide, and you can fight me over it.

#star wars #mandalore #i have opinions about this

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dahniwitchoflight · 5 years

Text

Candy 22-23

hmm, interesting, so 5 minutes of Terezi time equals about 2 weeks of John time?

What’s the math on that, how many minutes are in a week? 10,080? Neat.

what’s that divided by 5? 2016?

so time is moving almost 2000 times faster for John than it is for Terezi?

a Day for Terezi is literally 5 and a half Years for John by that Math.

All of John’s conversations have been happening over the course of not even 2 full days for Terezi so far, and by John’s estimation that she only ever messages every year or so

that turns out to be like, every 260 minutes for Terezi?? If my math is correct? (525,600 minutes / 2016 = 260 minutes = 4.333... hours)

4 and 1/3 hours.

oh my god, Terezi and John talk literally every 4 hours and 20 minutes that’s hilarious they turned 413 into a 420 weed joke that’s amazing

I wonder if Terezi takes his convo’s seriously or just think it’s an extended prank that their both neck deep in at this point? I mean, they joke with eachother a lot and he literally messages her what seems from her point of view, literally every 4:20 (Trolls understand weed jokes because I said so and because it’s funny)

Does he ever send her pic’s of what they all look like as adults? Does she think it’s badly like, photoshopped or something like what she used to do with Dave?

Or does she really know? Either way is interesting to be honest

Wait, did Gamzee make out Jake’s/Jane’s son Tavros?? Why is John so nonchalant about that?

or is it a different Tavros???

I’m confused, or maybe not, John’s going straight into a line that says take Tavros away from his family. what the fuck is Gamzee doing.

So I guess this is what happens to all non canon timelines? They get torn to shreds by the inevitable cosmic background blender that is the giant black hole thing in Meat?

Oh god Jane made a crockership, yeah we’re in the nosedive of all of Jane’s unsavoury tendencies made manifest

we don’t need a tiara here, this was carefully manifested and nurtured to happen by another guy who all fell into the worst version of himself

Sad to see karkat and dave seperated too, but interesting karkat finally got fed enough enough to lead a resistance

this friend circle is really going down the shits

but then again, kind of was to be expected, i mean, it’s not like they were all actually friends, there wasn’t really much of an extended friend circle for the alpha kids. its a stretch to even say John and Jane were close friends because they didn’t really have much interaction with each other either

Jane and Jake is pretty much a lost cause, Dirk is dead and also encouraging her downfall, and Roxy is totally accepting of everything around her for better or worse, and Calliope and Jane were never close not to mention Calliope seems content to just follow Roxy everywhere

there’s literally no one actually close enough to Jane to have an actual “i care about you’re my friend” conversation with that would actually feel genuine, so it’s kind of inevitable she’d end up like this in this sort of situation with no one to help her steer her course

John’s getting desperate to feel some sense of reality again, that picture of Terezi is almost like an anchor in the storm

he’s only attached to his reality because of his personal investment into it, like he’s too deep in it now to ever escape, not because he really truly cares and is happy I think but because he’s put so much effort into making this all work

Also damn, he’s really gonna kidnap Tavros, but i mean like, I don’t blame him if apparently his sort of father clown figure has been making out with him as part of a religious cult nonsense i hope im interpreting that wrong but he literally says PBandJ again and says Tavros, so like, who else could he mean

Fake redemption nonsense finally going down the toilet where it belongs

but damn, John’s gonna start a war I can see it now, this is gonna pop Jane’s cork and for all we know she could easily use it as an excuse to attack trolls by blaming the kidnapping on them

You know what is so interesting about this though?

Jane was raised by the condesce, and feared alternian society like it was inherent to trollkind

but here she is displaying that same tyranny in the name of humanity, it does a good job of showing this bullshit isn’t inherent to any person or race

but man, it is ironic how much of a mini Condesce Jane is becoming, complete with her own Grand High Blood too, while fighting what she probably considers tyrannical trollkind

It’s cute how Harry talks in a lighter Roxier shade of blue though, unfortunately due to the name I can imagine anything except Harry Potter being their actual child, Harry Anderson as a figure means nothing to me even though I know the reference and the picture that shows up in Homestuck I get the joke

Maybe it’s because it’s also Roxy’s child and she always had a thing for wizards so

Tavros talking in a dark purple is less endearing, because it so clearly shows that despite supposedly being a product of love between Jane and Jake, Gamzee as a weird third interloper has entirely taken over this family

Gamzee being the auspistice for Jane and Jake doesn’t sound good. Weird that he’s seen as like an Uncle figure too. This family is messed up to hell.

mmm.. I don’t think Jake and Jane are in a kismesis...

*UPSETTING CHILD ABUSE CONTENT AHEAD*

I don’t like how uncomfortable Tavros seems to be with an uncle figure taking him up to his bedroom im getting all kinds of bad child abuse vibes, not from john god no but like, Tavros seems so expectant of something to happen and that’s not pairing well with what Gamzee has apparently been doing

“Tavros sighs, his facial expression unchanging. He looks resigned. To life in general, as well as whatever it is he’s expecting from this particular situation. Wait... what is he expecting from this situation, having been led away to a secluded part of the house by an adult? What has he been taught to expect?“

I don’t like this. John please kidnap the child. Even though it’s going to start a war.

No I don’t like where this is going this is getting a big gigantic NOPE for me

Oh fuck okay, so it hasn’t happened yet, big relief there

but almost, still warning sirens going off in my head because

“JOHN: TRAIN you???

TAVROS: Yes,

TAVROS: In matters of combat,,, philosophy,,, life,,, love,,,

TAVROS: I suppose to behave the way a mentor does, as he sees it,,,”

WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT GAMZEE BEING A DIRK GAUGE

Is “Combat, Philosophy, Life, Love” just like symbolism for the four shitty ingredients of Lord English symbolically mixed together? Like yeah they don’t all sound bad when you put it that way but really it’s like

Combat = Physical Abuse = Caliborn

Philosophy = Religious Cult = Gamzee

Love = Obsession = Equius

Life = Dominance and Power = Dirk

Every shitty part of the LE soul combo contributes something bad to the whole

uh oh, they’ve been found out by Jade

Jade’s not exactly gonna throw him to the big bad wolf, but is she just gonna disagree with his actions? Or is she gonna try to stop him.

or argue? argue’s good, sure, not really but sure

Everyone knows Jane’s gone to shit, but everyone’s too cowardly to stand up to her and tell her she’s wrong

oh shit, speaking of

oh, well, that didn’t go how i wanted it to

John got so close to saying something that could break through to Jane, but Karkat was right, she couldn’t get her head out of her ass long enough to listen to what was being said to her, and instead immediately jump to conclusions about what she thinks people are talking about

she probably think everyone hates her suddenly because of her political ideas and thinks its ridiculous thats everyones getting so mad at her for it, head so far up the ass she should be turning into a fourth dimensional pretzel by now

even though this could have all have been avoided if someone just had enough bravery to nip it in the bud, so instead of angry raze the ground retaliatory action she could have just been embarassed and angry in the personal and then gotten over it in a few weeks

but nope, genocidal war in the works now

oof

just big oof

gotta say though, I’m sitting practically eating gigantic mounds of popcorn at the drama (Besides the one part that was implying gamzee was sexually abusing tavros before they made it clear he wasn’t, I could do without that one honestly)

other than that though, loving the drama, feel bad for the people getting the shit end of the sticks though

#Homestuck #Meat or Candy

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winchest09 · 5 years

Text

Shatter Me - Chapter Two

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 6068 (Yeah...sorry not sorry!)

Summary: The Winchesters were your world. After joining their hunter ranks, you quickly became attached to the brothers. After a successful hunt, you insist on going out celebrating with the boys – only for a loose end to catch up with you. You’re trapped in a world without hunger, thirst and the Winchesters. With the brothers beside themselves, they make preparations to say goodbye until Dean starts to connect to you through his dreams. Little do they know that you’re much closer than they think…

Chapter warnings: 18+, Mentions of alcohol, mentions of smut, actual smut, masturbation, oral, language, violence - i think that’s everything.

A/N: I hope you enjoy chapter 2 of this series, i’m really enjoying writing it. Please let me know what you think, feedback is my fuel so even if it’s just a like, comment or reblog, i’ll love you guys forever!

Also any mistakes are my own, please do not repost my work anywhere however reblogs are fine and welcome :)

Shatter Me Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Let me know what you think!

Chapter Two

Taking one last look in the mirror, you gave yourself a smile and a half twirl. You had made more of an effort with your make up and you had packed the perfect outfit for you to go out in, just in case the situation occurred. Your hair was loosely curled to add a touch of volume, you’d done your favourite dark smoky eye to highlight your eye colour and you’d just added the finishing touch of your red lipstick.

You opened the bathroom door and walked towards the spare bed, silence filling the room. You looked from under your lashes to see the Winchesters staring at you, unreadable expressions on their faces.

“What?” You questioned slowly, anxiety creeping up on you telling you that maybe you should go and change. You had stepped out of your comfort zone a little with this outfit. A loose red v neck top with spaghetti straps and a loose back that traced the curvature of your breasts. You paired this with some leather looking jeans that hugged your curves.

“Wow…you look…wow” Sam was the first to speak, his tone soft. You smiled his way before looking over to Dean who was still starting at you, his eyes roaming.

Truth was, Dean was speechless and his mouth had become dry. As soon as you opened the door, he felt his breath hitch in his throat and his body temperature rise. The top you were wearing was loosely fitted but as you moved, it clung to your breasts and curves. The jeans you were wearing complimented your ass wonderfully and he couldn’t help but think about it being bent over in front of him later when you were beating his ass at pool.

“Thank you Sam” You tucked your hair behind your ear as you packed your previous outfit into your duffel bag, ignoring the awkward tension in the air.

Sam looked over towards his brother, his eyebrows arching and his head gently nudging towards your direction, hinting for Dean to at least make some sort of compliment. Dean half frowned back at Sam, almost having a silent argument through facial expressions before clearing his throat and getting off the bed. “I…uh…I’m…I’m gonna go take a shower”

Dean raced into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before he could receive a comment from either you or Sam. Looking down, he palmed the erection through his jeans and let out a barely audible groan. Five minutes ago he was telling himself to push all feelings aside for your safety, now all he could think about was you moaning and squirming underneath him, making his dick wet.

“Son of a bitch” He muttered underneath his breath as he removed his flannel, leaning over to turn the shower on. He expected you to come out all dressed up, he’s seen it before but he never expected you to come out looking like that.

Dean undressed and stepped under the hot spray, thinking of anything he could to will his ever throbbing erection away. He couldn’t really masturbate over you could he? No of course not, you were his friend, his close friend and that was it. He’s never been attracted to you in this way, so why would he be now. He was just sexually frustrated, at least that is what he told himself, it had been a while.

Trying to distract himself, Dean grabbed his shampoo and vigorously washed his hair, the suds cascading down his back and over his bare buttocks. He rinsed his hair and rubbed his hands over his face. Opening his eyes, he saw you standing there, naked under the spray. Dean’s eyes went wide “No. This isn’t real” He whispered “God what is happening to me?” He questioned, using his fingers to wipe the water from his eyes and to pinch the bridge of his nose. When he opened his eyes again, you were gone and he sighed, either from relief or from frustration, Dean couldn’t make his mind up which. Reaching to his side, he grabbed his body wash and started to rub at his chest, willing you to leave his mind but it was of no use. His hands travelled towards his lower abdomen before finding his erection. His large hand wrapped around his length and he hissed, sucking his bottom lip through his teeth. He needed release and he needed it now, there was no way around it.

With the soap and water as lubrication, he started to pump. Slow at first before picking up the pace and as he did so, his mind couldn’t help but go back to you. He imagined you coming into the bathroom in that outfit and he would watch as you slowly undressed for him. He imagined how perfect your body would be, how your nipples would peak when they greeted the cold air. He drew in a shaky breath. He thought of you then climbing in the shower with him and taking some of his body wash in your hands before rubbing it over your body. He watched as you slowly lathered the suds over your breasts, using your fingers to knead and tweak till you moaned slightly. He kept pumping, his mouth slightly agape. He imagined you standing there, your hands then travelling down your wet, soapy body to find your clit, your fingers slowly circling and tweaking the bud. You moaned louder and Dean growled. He watched you as you found your release and you moaned his name. You looked at him, your eyes darker than usual as you made your way over to him. Your hands slipped down his soapy body as your lips found the edge of his jaw. He imagined you nipping and sucking at his neck, softly kissing his pulse point before your hand found his erection. His green eyes bore into yours and you confidently took his cock from his hands and started pumping him yourself. Dean’s breath became heavy, if this were real, he’d pick you up and slam you against the shower tiles, burying his length deep inside of you. However, he was happy with where his imagination was taking him.

He was just about to catch his lips with yours before he imagined you on your knees in front of him, your lips sucking deliciously at his tip, your tongue swirling and tasting him before taking him all the way to the base. His hips jerked at the thought. He watched with his mind’s eye as you made eye contact with him as you moaned around his hard cock. He let out an audible groan as he braced himself with one hand on the shower wall, the water cascading down his back. He saw you there on your knees, taking every inch of him before letting him go with a pop. He watched as you traced your tongue painfully slow up the underside of his throbbing cock and he sighed shakily before he started pumping himself harder. He imagined you playing with his balls before taking him in your free hand, looking up at him with lust filled eyes whispering “Come for me Dean” You took him in your mouth again as deep as your gag reflex would allow, his tip nudging the back of your throat. Dean’s hips bucked as he pumped faster and faster, the thought of you taking his seed was more than he could handle and with one more buck, he imagined spilling his orgasm down your throat instead of the harsh reality of it being over his hand and the shower wall.

“Holy shit” Dean whispered shakily, taking a moment to steady himself before getting the soap and cleaning himself up once again. Trying to wash away the evidence of the fact he just masturbated to the image of you going down on him, he didn’t know if he would be able to look you in the eye for the rest of the night.

Back in the motel room, you joined the table with Sam and watched him scanning the local news and police reports for any hints of another case “Anything?”

Sam shook his head and leant casually back into his chair “All seems quiet at the moment, what I did find is already being covered by other hunters”

You smiled slightly, your eyes still focusing on the laptop screen “Well – silver lining, at least we can chill back at the bunker before shooting off again”

Sam scoffed as he shut the lid of his laptop “Your version of chill and mine are completely different. If you mean training with Dean and turning it into a hefty competition where you rope me in to being the judge, sure”

You giggled, your hands up in surrender “Hey that was like two or three times”

Sam joins you laughing before changing his position slightly on his chair, angling himself so he was facing more towards you “So…what’s going on between you two?” The hand that was dangling off the back of his chair, gesturing between you and the bathroom.

You frowned slightly “What do you mean?” You questioned, your attention on playing with your fingers.

“The incessant flirting and oh, you straddling my brother about an hour ago” Sam immediately replied, truthful and honest.

You closed your eyes “Don’t start Sam” You sighed “It’s just friendly”

Sam knew it was more than that and he wasn’t about to drop this conversation, not with you. It was the first time he felt confident with what he suspected and it was about time that he saw his brother putting himself first for once. He wanted Dean to have a chance of happiness and if that is with you, then he wanted to do all he could to encourage it. “From where I was standing, it looked more than friendly” Sam changed his position in the chair and leant forward onto his arms on the table “Come on Y/N, you’ve been with us for over a year now. It’s not hard to see how things have changed for you and how you’ve changed with them”

“Sam” You warned, not wanting to take this conversation any further.

Sam placed one of his hands on yours, encouraging you to make eye contact with him “I know you like my brother Y/N, from my position, it’s pretty obvious”

You shrugged his comment off, your cheeks feeling flush and anxiety tight in your chest “He wouldn’t want someone like me” You whispered, not expecting Sam to hear.

However Sam did hear your comment and he squeezed your hand softly “You mean someone as funny, caring and as incredibly smart as you? You’ve also got a mean right hook” He chuckled.

You snorted, remembering the time you accidentally punched Sam in the face during one sparring session “I’m not his type. It’s a silly crush that will pass in time. I think I’ve just taken the flirting to heart” You stated, feeling reassurance from Sam’s hand on yours.

“Have you ever thought of telling him how you feel?” The youngest Winchester asked softly.

You scoffed and looked away, removing your hands from his as you stood up, heading towards the mini fridge “What and be embarrassingly shot down? No thanks Sam, I don’t feel like hunting alone again” You passed Sam a beer and he noticed the sadness in your tone.

“Hey, you don’t know that would happen” Sam replied softly as he opened his beverage.

You placed your beer on the table and proceeded to sit back down, explaining how you feel “Sam, I’m not Dean’s type. I’m not the stereotypical girl who drinks cocktails and spends forever every day doing their hair and make-up” You took a breath and held up your hand in Sam’s direction as you noticed his smirk on his face “and before you say anything, tonight was an exception, I just wanted to perk myself up a bit” You defended.

Before Sam could continue the conversation, the bathroom door opened and Dean scurried out, his hair slightly fluffy from where he had rigorously towel dried it. He had dressed himself in a fresh pair of blue jeans and a white shirt, sleeves rolled up slightly and the top two buttons undone. He went to the mirror to start fixing his hair when he caught your eyes in the reflection “…and you say I take forever in the shower?” You teased.

“I took nowhere near as long as you sweetheart” Dean deflected, breaking eye contact and focusing back on his hair.

You half giggled, the teasing tone still in your voice “Yeah you keep telling yourself that, I think you were having a bit too much fun making yourself clean” You winked at him before catching his reaction in the mirror, his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. “I..what..no” Dean flustered. You and Sam both raised your eyebrows, knowing smirks on both your faces. Dean finished his hair and stormed past the pair of you, grabbing his leather jacket on the way out “Come on, first round is on you” He muttered your way.

You and Sam both burst out laughing as you watched Dean storm out the motel room towards his Impala, not waiting for either of you. You grabbed your phone and some spare money and shoved them into the pockets of your jeans, ready for the night ahead. Sam held open the motel room door for you as you made your way to the impala, a smile still on your face. You hadn’t really thought much about what Sam had said, you hadn’t really had the time to process it. If he was questioning how you felt and your actions, did he know something that you didn’t? You shook your head slightly as you got closer to the impala, noticing that Dean’s focus was on baby’s dash. You noticed he wouldn’t really look your way or make eye contact with you. You frowned discreetly, working out what possibly you could have done wrong.

You slid into the back seat of the Impala as Sam got in the front. Before Sam had even shut his door, Dean had started the engine and had started to reverse out of the parking lot. “Bar isn’t gonna shut anytime soon Dean” Sam quipped, curious about his brothers eagerness.

“I’m just looking forward to the night Sammy, the sooner I get a drink inside me, the better” Dean said, his voice sounding quite rough.

Your frown returned to your face as you studied his face in the rear view mirror, he was so focused on the road, his classic rock playing softly in the background. You thought over your actions to try and place what you might have done to upset him. Your mind settled on when you whispered in his ear, he didn’t appreciate you being that close to him. You took it too far; that was the only explanation. Dean must have felt your stare as he chose that moment to check his mirror and he held your gaze. Something felt different, his eyes were soft but his smile didn’t reach his eyes like normal. You made a note to ask him about it later so you could clear the air.

Dean turned a corner and pulled onto the main road, the street lined with shops, homemade business and small bars. It was homely. Dean slowed his speed as he drove past a couple of the bars, seemingly looking for somewhere to park.

“Who puts a bar on a main road?” He muttered under his breath, his head ducking forward to look for any kind of parking.

You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself forward, in between the two boys in the front seat. You eyed a free parking spot just a few shops down from a bar and nudged Dean in the shoulder “Stop complaining and just pull up here”

Dean grunted and swung his beloved baby into the vacant spot, making sure he left enough space between him and the car in front. You got out the car and walked over to the sidewalk, smiling as Sam joined you as you waited for Dean. The bar was only a short distance away so you turned and slowly started taking in some of the shops that were around you. Some were shut, some were open late. You loved towns like this, where everything was personal and homemade, this is a town with shops that had a story, something you had a soft spot for.

The boys soon starting walking towards the bar, making idle chit chat between themselves as you followed them towards your destination, the thought of an ice cold whiskey in your hand was making your mouth water. However, a few stops before the bar, there was an old antique type shop. The windows were surrounded by a red frame and inside the window display were all manner of trinket type items. Crystals, jewellery boxes, dream catchers and so on. Your walking slowed and you stopped in front of the store window, the centre of the display catching your eye and your attention. There in the centre, was a medium sized snow globe but it was unlike one you had ever seen. The globe was crafted with blue and clear glass which gave a moonlight effect, the snow inside powdering over a cottage in a woodland. There were crystals delicately placed inside the glass that gave the effect of a glistening night sky. For want of a better word, you found it truly magical.

Your fingers pressed against the glass, an automatic reaction to try and get closer to see any details that you might have missed. The boys had gone on ahead unaware that you had stopped in your tracks but you hadn’t noticed, you were transfixed with the object winking back at you. It was no secret that you had a tiny bit of a snow globe obsession but only for ones that were truly unique. You had no interest in the happy holiday’s plastic globes or the tourist souvenirs you got from shops, you only had interest for the globes that were one of a kind. You just knew this was one of them.

Dean and Sam walked towards the bar at a steady pace, hands in their pockets, talking through the day, still not noticing that you were gawping through the window of the shop.

“Man I hate witches” Dean grumbled, thinking of the days previous events.

Sam chuckled “We know, you say it every time we have a case with them”

“No I don’t” Dean frowned and went to ask you for reassurance “Back me up on this one sweethea-” Dean turned around and noticed you weren’t by their side anymore, his sentence cutting short. He raised his eyebrows when he noticed you slightly hunched over, looking through a glass window. Dean turned to Sam, a questioning look on his face and when Sam shrugged, they both made their way back to you.

“Could have told us you’d stopped you know” Sam spoke up, making you jump slightly as your gaze met his only briefly.

“Sorry…I uh…” You stuttered, your attention going back to the globe in the window “Something caught my eye”

The brothers looked past you into the window and eyed all the various items and trinkets on sale, wondering what it could be that had caught your attention so.

“Do you guys mind waiting just two minutes, just while I go in” You spoke softly, interrupting the brother’s inspection of the window. You turned and looked at them both pleadingly, more so towards Dean. You already felt like you had upset him somewhere along the way, you didn’t want to make matters worse by making him wait for his drink.

Dean smiled softly, his hand gesturing towards the shop front “Sure” He confirmed, leaning back on the hood of the impala. They were near enough back where they had started but he didn’t mind. Something calm seemed to wash over him when you looked at him like you just did, he hadn’t got the heart to say no.

He watched as you entered the store excitedly, a sudden spring in your step. Sam walked over to join his brother leaning on the side hood of the car, both of the boys facing towards the shop window. It was only a couple of minutes before Dean saw you and the store assistant in the window. He watched as you pointed towards the centre of the display and he let out a knowing breath when he saw what object the assistant had retrieved. He crossed his arms over his chest and muttered “Of course it was the globe”

Sam frowned slightly, wondering if he had heard Dean correctly “What?” Sam questioned.

Dean turned to look at his younger brother “The globe, you know Sammy, Y/N’s obsession with snow globes. Whenever she sees one special enough, she has to bring it home. Her room is full of them”

Sam scoffed, a little knowing smile on his face “So when are you going to tell her man?”

“I’m sorry…what?” Dean questioned, a quizzical look on his face. He was completely thrown off by the question Sam had just directed at him.

“Y/N” Sam said bluntly “When are you going to admit you like her?”

Dean stared at his brother blankly, swallowing down his feelings and shrugging the question off “Again Sammy, like I said earlier, you don’t know what you’re talking about”

Sam broke the eye contact and looked down towards his boots, gently kicking the edge of the sidewalk “Sure I don’t. The way you looked at her back at the motel meant nothing either right?” Sam retorted, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Sam just drop it ok?” Dean snapped, his gaze burning into the side of his little brothers face.

Sam however, would not drop it. He would bang your heads together if he could “If you like her, tell her” Sam stated.

Dean growled in annoyance “…and what, ruin everything that we have? Make her feel awkward, potentially put a bigger target on her back? No Sammy, I’m happy she’s in our lives. Let’s just leave it at that, end of conversation” Dean hated his little brother reading him like a book however he didn’t understand his own feelings towards you yet. He didn’t know if it was just a crush that would pass in time or if it was something that was rooted deeper. Dean wanted time to figure it out on his own but Sam already appeared to have worked it out himself.

Sam knew by the tone of his brother’s voice to not press the issue any further, if he did, it could cause an argument which would ruin the night you had wanted. So he did what his brother asked and left his questioning there, silence falling over the pair.

Inside the shop, you were in awe at all the little items you could see for sale. There were so many original and handcrafted things, you could spend a good hour in here looking through it all. However, you promised the boys you wouldn’t be long and your heart lay with the globe. You watched as the store assistant walked the snow globe over to the counter and placed it there, you were transfixed “It’s a very interesting globe, I’ve never seen one like this before” You mentioned, as you bent slightly to look at all of the detail engraved into the legs of the ornament.

The assistant smiled slightly as she placed one hand on her hips, the other gesturing towards the item in question “It’s very old dear, many owners have spoken different legends about this particular piece” She stated.

You looked up briefly as you took in the assistant’s complexion. She wasn’t old but wasn’t young, her hair was long and blonde, tied in a braid over her shoulder. Her blue eyes bore into yours as you looked at her, eager to learn more “Really? Like what?” You questioned as you went back to stare intently at the piece you were so close to adding to your collection. The assistant chuckled slightly as she walked behind you to close the glass doors to the window display “It is said that a lost soul was trapped inside many years ago until her love came to find her. If the globe were to break, she would be forever lost”

You gasped slightly, completely taken in by the story the assistant was spinning you, completely forgetting your hunters rationality “Oh no, so she could still be in there?” You questioned, your eyes never leaving the globe.

The assistant turned around to come back towards you when she noticed a familiar tattoo between your shoulder blades. As you were bent over slightly to take in all the details of the globe, your hair had fallen forward leaving clear sight of your anti possession tattoo. The blonde haired assistant frowned slightly, knowing full well at that moment what you were. She took a moment to compose herself before painting a fake smile on her face to walk around the counter to face you “It’s just a story dear” She mentioned softly, patting her hand on top of yours on the counter “Nothing to worry about”

With that single touch and a quiet whisper from the assistant, she had entered your mind and you were oblivious. You were so transfixed with the object in front of you, you had ignored your hunter’s instincts. You didn’t question the charms that were around the assistant’s neck, nor did you notice the spell book that was sat just behind the till on a stool. In this particular moment, you still hadn’t realised that the assistant in front of you was a witch and she was scouring your memories. Time had stood still for you.

The witch saw many flashes of your life in her mind. She saw how you fought, how you became seriously ill over one Christmas but thanks to your family, you still enjoyed yourself over the festive period. She saw how you became a hunter, the reasons behind it and she felt your pain. The witch was working through your memories as if they were a maze and with the correct turns, she happened upon your last few years. She saw the Winchesters and you in the bunker, laughing over something Castiel had said. She saw you hunting with them, training with them. She felt your fondness towards them, towards Dean. She smirked sadistically but that expression was soon knocked off her face when she saw the memories from earlier today.

The witch felt the anger bubble in the pit of her stomach when she saw that it was you and the Winchesters that had killed her friends earlier on that day. She snarled, she knew it wouldn’t be long until you would be after her, after all you had already made the slip up of not realising that she was part of the group or in fact, a witch. She knew she couldn’t risk letting you get away only for you to come back and kill her and oh, how she wanted to hurt the Winchesters. The brothers were basically famous and as much as she wanted to end their lives, killing them would be too easy, she wanted them to suffer like you had made her friends suffer. The blonde haired witch smiled smugly and with one hand on you and the other hand on the snow globe, she leant closer towards you and whispered “Altum somnum” A blue hue shone around you and the globe and within seconds, your eyes shut and you fell backwards onto the floor, the globe in your hand. The witch laughed vindictively, putting her hands together to think of the next steps of her plan. She never expected a hunter to walk right in to her store, let alone someone that was so close to the Winchesters. She felt like this was her lucky day and she was enjoying it.

Outside, Dean looked at his watch and frowned. He knew you liked to shop and he also knew that you were probably asking a million and one questions about the globe but something seemed off “She’s been in there for about ten minutes” Dean stated.

Sam looked at his brother, who was holding his watch and staring at the door of the shop “So? She’s probably buying more than one thing”

Dean shook his head “No Sammy, something’s not right here”

The eldest Winchester pushed himself off the impala and headed towards the trunk. He grabbed his beloved gun, checked the ammunition and placed it in the back of his jeans, pulling his shirt over it. Sam noticed the look on his brother’s face and knew he wasn’t messing around and he followed his brother as they made their way into the store.

Pushing the door open, a little bell sounded above them to notify the store of their arrival. Dean looked around cautiously and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end when you were nowhere to be seen. Sam was quick to notice this also and he motioned for Dean to take one side of the store while he took the other. Before the brothers got halfway through the store, the blonde witch came from behind a door and stopped dead in her tracks, a cunning smile on her face.

“Gentlemen” She gestured “What can I do for you?”

Dean snapped “Where’s our friend, she came in here ten minutes ago after a damn globe and hasn’t walked out since”

The witch had to force herself to not smile but before she could respond, Sam had walked around the counter to see you lying motionless on the floor.

“Dean!” Sam shouted, his voice deep and sharp as panic flooded his body. He looked towards the assistant with anger as he leapt forward to grab her, only for the witch to throw out both hands and magically push the brothers away from her. Sam went flying backwards into the wall whereas Dean had crash landed through some racking. The witch cackled loudly at the sight, her attention more so on Dean due to the memories she had previously seen. Sam briefly opened his eyes to see the witch’s attention on Dean, looking past her, he also saw the spell book on the stool behind the desk. Sam silently cursed and then faked being unconscious until the witch had walked past him, heading towards his brother. As soon as it was clear, Sam moved quickly towards her, tackling her and grabbing her arms in his to restrain her. The witch screamed in annoyance but she was no match for Sam’s larger frame.

Dean groaned as he got up out of the racking, a hand going towards the back of his head from where it had collided with the hard surface. He quickly got up and grabbed a nearby chair to assist Sam in restraining the witch. Dean also found a few scarves that were littered around to help bind her.

“She’s a witch” Sam spat, the anger in his voice evident as he tied the knots in the scarves tight around the witch’s wrists.

“No kidding Sam” Was Dean’s response, the sarcasm dripping off his words, his hands reaching around his back for his gun and he was thankful it was still equipped with witch killing bullets.

“You’re too late” The witch cackled, her eyes boring into Deans. The eldest Winchester lowered his gun slightly to look at Sam who was still crouched on the floor. Sam motioned to behind the counter before taking the gun out of Dean’s hands, taking over pointing it at the witch.

Dean’s eyes went wide as he ran around the counter to find you lying motionless on the floor. He skidded onto his knees and desperately took your head in his hands, willing you to move “Y/N come on sweetheart” He stressed, his hands pushing the hair out of your eyes.

The witch laughed loudly “It’s no use Winchester” She almost sung the words.

Dean growled “You shut your mouth” He shouted, his anger evident in his tone. He turned back to you and propped you up onto his knees, his arms cradling you as if the warmth of his body would stir a reaction “Come on sweetheart, open your eyes” Dean whispered, the desperation getting to him. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest, he just wanted you to wake up.

Seeing his elder brother with you in his arms, motionless stirred something dark within Sam “What did you do to her?” Sam shouted as he pointed the gun closer to the witches face “We killed the rest of your little gang, you’ve got nothing left. What did you do to her?!” He roared.

The witch didn’t even flinch at Sam’s volume or tone, instead she just smirked, her head swaying slightly “Got quite a connection to her don’t cha boys?” She retorted, a cockiness to her tone.

Dean’s hands were all over your pulse points. He was checking your wrist and your neck repeatedly, the devastation of not finding one crushing him each time he failed “Sammy…Sammy I can’t find her pulse” Dean stressed, his eyes starting to glaze over as he looked towards his little brother. Realisation sinking in that he may have lost you.

The witch pouted towards the scene “Aww. Poor little hunter. She’s all dressed up with nowhere to go”

Dean’s anger flared as he placed you back on the floor, pacing towards the blonde haired assistant “You bitch!” Dean roared, his fist colliding with her jaw “You bring her back, right now!” He commanded, pointing towards your lifeless body.

The witch spat out some blood in the brothers direction “and why would I do that?” She sniggered, the blood staining her teeth. Dean grabbed the gun from his brother’s hands and aimed it point blank range at the witch’s forehead, spitting out his words clearly “Bring. Her. Back”

The witch just rested her head on the end of the gun, shaking her head slightly from side to side “Oh Dean, when will you let the dead be dead huh? She’s gone Dean, crossed over, left you and your pathetic little brother” She cackled and threw her head back with a hearty laugh. Dean’s nostrils flared and his finger was itching on the trigger. She brought her head back forward and stared into Dean’s eyes “and it was oh so worth it, just to see the look on your beautiful little face” She smirked.

Dean saw lost it, his finger squeezing the trigger on his gun. Blood splattered up the wall behind her before silence fell between the brothers. Dean’s position hadn’t moved, his gun was still aimed towards the now dead witch, staring blankly at the wound he had inflicted. Sam placed his hand over the gun and lowered it, taking it from his brothers grasp before he watched Dean run back around to where you were lying, sill motionless, still with the globe in your hand. He held you close to his body, rocking slightly back and forth as his tears spilled over onto your hair, his silent sobs racking his body.

Sam placed the gun in his jeans as he came to his brother’s side, his hand placed comfortingly on his shoulder “Dean” he stated softly. He knew you had passed, he knew you had gone and he knew how hard Dean was going to take this. All he could do was be there for him, to look after him for once instead of the other way around.

Dean looked up at his brother with glassy eyes as he held you closer to his body, his arms feeling empty even though you were there “Sammy, she can’t be…she just can’t be” Dean sobbed before he nuzzled his head back down towards you, resting it on your forehead.

Sam wiped his own tears away as he squeeze Deans shoulder reassuringly “We should take her home” He said softly.

Dean didn’t move, he just continued to cradle your body as Sam stood next to him, both of them silently grieving over you and what they had lost.

A/N: Eeeee so there we go, what do you guys think? Let me know HERE! :)

Any feedback would mean the absolute world to me so if you have the time, i’ll love you forever!

Also if you want to come along for the ride let me know - TAG LIST IS OPEN!

Shatter Me Taglist:

@squirrel-moose-winchester @witch-of-letters @flamencodiva

#dean winchester x reader #deanwinchesterfic #deanwinchester x you #deanwinchesterfiction #spn #spnfiction #smut #shatterme #winchest09 #dean x reader #dean fanfic

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toloveawarlord · 5 years

Text

Ch. 1

This wasn’t meant to be finished anytime soon since her creation just happened yesterday. But.... here it is anyways. Tagging @plumpblueberry for loving Aster the moment I made her.

The sun bared down on her, adding sizzling heat to her already sweaty skin. Days were meant for hiding, resting, and sifting through all the goods that had been previously obtained, but today had a special treat. Only once a month did a merchant bring goods from Central Quarter all the way out to the outskirts of Diamond Territory. The only thing that could draw the little dragon out from her den. The wonderous smells of freshly baked pastries, cooked to absolute perfection. Her mouth watered simply imaging the gooey goodness melting in her mouth.

First, a little fun.

Despite the regularity of this event, despite all their efforts to trap and catch her on this fated day, Aster managed to evade them. The men all dressed in crisps white and red uniforms, and they hailed from the Red Army, stationed out here in the middle of nowhere. With hardly anything else to do, they awaited this day like clockwork. They plotted, planned, always trying to outsmart the girl and failing spectacularly each time.

Evading would be too easy. Being undetected a simple task.

Playing around them suited her just fine on this day. It would a shame not to test out what ridiculous traps they had set up to capture her.

Dust rose from the dirt road under her feet. Worn old muddy shoes carried her through the crowd, ducking and weaving through them. Nearly no one noticed, occasionally a passing glance that saw nothing, like the touch of a ghost written off as the wind.

No shouts followed her today, a strange occurrence. A trap. Yet, having to use her wits to avoid the army soldiers, who gradually learned that the chances of getting close to her increased when their positions weren’t revealed, sent a wave of electric exhilaration tingling over down her body. Try as they might, catching her neared the impossible.

Ducking down a narrow alleyway, Aster lithely hopped upward, using the crates stacked precariously perfect to allow access to the ledge of a small balcony. The ideal vantage point. She snuck a bite of the bun, allowing the warm apple filling to dance across her taste buds. Three, no four, were in pursuit of her. One attempting to blend in with the townspeople, out of uniform but unusually clean. That bearded face one that Aster could recognize anywhere.

“It seems that they require new training, wouldn’t you agree?” An unfamiliar, yet cheerful voice drew her attention away from the buffoons parading around the streets, like wild monkeys. The uniform familiar but much more detailed and unique. Someone important.

Aster crumpled the empty wrapper of her treat and tossed it over her shoulder through the open window behind her. “I here the army only employs idiots who can’t catch a common thief,” Aster answered, remaining on her perch.

The light chuckle brought from her statement gave indication of his intent to play. “Oh, well, that just won’t do. May I reeducate you?” Dipping down in a slight bow, the man kept his watchful jade eyes on her, sparkling with anticipation and delight.

A new player.

Her tongue darted out from between her lips, lapping up the stray spot of apple filling off the side of her mouth. “You’ll lose,” she answered, rising to stand on the balcony ledge, arms out for balance. All a show.

“Do I get the pleasure of acquiring my prey’s name before I begin the hunt?” His tinkling voice offset the threatening words that dripped off his tongue. They had the same desire. The chase giving a thrill like none other.

Aster tilted her head, repeating the inquiry. “Do I?”

Placing his hand over his heart, giving another gracefully shallow bow, he replied, “Edgar Bright, the Jack of Hearts.”

“Aster, no fancy titles,” She answered, giving a mock salute with two fingers. Her advantage clear; intimately knowing the town’s streets and obstacles. Having a new pursuer would not change those facts.

Edgar straightened, tucking his hat under his arm to brush his hand through his brown locks. “Shall I give you a head start?” It mattered not if he did, the confidence that he would catch her showed clearly in his eyes. His only advantage the experience of nearly a decade more of training. The wind blew around them, howling through the alleyway like a warning of the start of the game.

Aster broke out in laughter, making her sides ache. Oh, she liked this one. White hair fluttered around her face, wind dancing around her, almost as if beckoning her to follow its path. “Good luck, Mr. Jack of Hearts.” Twisting gracefully on the ledge, like a dancer turning a pirouette, Aster cast a smirk back at him. “You’re gonna need it.”

The drop down to the other side of the crumbling wall that divided the alley in the middle jarred her body, a rush of adrenaline accompanying the pain. It had been some time since the thrill of being chased put a permanent smile on her lips.

The busy market street aided in hiding her small frame in the masses. Sweeping under a large horse, Aster spotted a soldier ahead, pointing at her and shouting. Her path easily redirected down a side street, placing her just out of their blockade. It must be his doing. A boring tactic, but the chase had only just begun.

The more she wound through the town, the more blockades she met, an attempt to keep her from leaving town. Edgar never reappeared in her sight, but his presence carried on the breeze, nipping at her heels. Run as far as you like, little mouse, you won’t escape.

Aster winded through the streets until she reached the town hall. The stalemate in the chase begged her to gain some ground. The windows lining the three floors were perfectly placed for climbing the side of the building. The flat roof giving a perch for her to wander and examine all her options. Pulling her body up and over the edge, her safe haven had been taken by intruders.

More military men, all equally as well dressed as Edgar, stood in her path. Red eyes analyzed them, all carrying weapons aside from one. This had been his intention. Though Edgar enjoyed a good chase, his mission had been to collect her for his king. By managing her movements, he’d brought her here without her realizing. Edgar clapped his hands together. “Had no one been here, I do believe you would have won.” His admittance fake, but he smiled at her all the same.

Aster cocked her head to the side. “Who says I’ve lost?”

“Don’t be such a child. We have you cornered,” Another interjected, amber eyes pulled narrowly at her.

“The cornered rat will always bite the cat,” she recited, shoulders shrugging innocently. Stepping back, she fell softly onto the ledge to rest her sore legs. Her eagerness to have a new opponent had drove her to run more than before. Hiding took much less energy. “Six ways out, seven if I kill one of you.” Her eyes flickered to Kyle, sourcing their weakest link easily.

Folding her legs up criss-cross, she retrieved a small loaf of bread, sinking her teeth down into it. “I’ll assume that this wasn’t all for a common thief’s capture. So, what does the esteemed Red Army want with me?” Pigeons gathered around her, pecking softly at the crumbs that fell away around her.

“Watch your tone. You’re speaking to the King of Hearts.” Again, the man with the amber eyes snapped at her, like a guard dog protecting its master.

Edgar stepped forward to diffuse the ticking bomb of a superior. “Easy, Jonah. She’s riling you up on purpose.” His gaze fell on her once again, assessing her calm behavior. Surrounded by soldiers yet no signs of fear or concern. Quite intriguing. “Aster, you’re quite skilled. Can I inquire how old you are?”

“Too young for any of you.”

“Do you not know?” Surely an estimate could be made. A teenager, clearly.

The girl sprinkled more crumbles of bread on the ground in front of her, drawing more pigeons. Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip, thoughtfully watching the birds in front of her. “Sixteen, and some odd months. You still haven’t answered my question. What do you want? It’s really not worth your time to chase down a girl that steals a loaf of bread or two.”

Her knowledge of the army was limited, but the Chosen 13 were still revered here. His title as the Jack of Hearts, and the other man having the King of Hearts, had her curious. This town way out in Diamond Territory had never once been visited by them, and no reason presented itself as to why they would.

The King of Hearts with his icy blue eyes and regal cape draping over his shoulders sent a wicked glare at her. “I’m growing tired of this. You will come back to headquarters with us, immediately. If you refuse, we will use force.” His word absolute.

To those who cared.

Aster grinned plopping the final piece of bread into her mouth, savoring the taste of the herbs used to flavor it. Her palms swiped over her ripped pants, sending the final crumbs tumbling to the ground. “Yeah, no. I don’t plan on going anywhere unless it’s of my own free will.”

Jonah retrieved a pair of glimmering silver handcuffs, adorned with gold roses. “As the Queen of Hearts, I am ordering you to comply.” The pair of them had equally intense gazes.

“Cute handcuffs, but again, I’m a little young for that, don’t you think?”

Her words stopped him from stepping closer, disgust crossing his doll-like features. “What a crass little girl.” Jonah shook the indecision away, intent on bringing her with them. He would carry her if he must.

Aster’s mock salute directed at Edgar was accompanied with a wink. “I never lose, remember?” Striking her foot back against the thin metal piece of siding of the roof, the rattle echoed. The pigeons scattered, taking flight in all directions, blocking their path to her. Aster rolled back, allowing herself to fall from the rooftop.

Right on top of a passing cart full of hay. The scratchy bails marring her pale skin with red scratches. As quickly as she had landed, she disappeared into the shadows, to hide once again. “It would have been more fun to play with them some more, but it isn’t worth my freedom.” The wind carried her whisper away, her only remaining companion.

Home called to her, beckoning its little dragon back into it’s comforting clutches. Her time in the small time had begun to draw to a close.

Oc hell is dragging me further and further down into it!

#she is gonna have some good times working with the red army #her sense of humor gets me every time #ikemen revolution #ikerev #edgar bright #lancelot kingsley #jonah clemence #kyle ash #zero #red army #aster #ghost in the starlight #chapter 1

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aquilaofarkham · 5 years

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title: mercy mirror pt. 1 rating: teen and up (strong language, mentions of violence, mentions of abuse) word count: 2,796 summary: Trevor helps Hector improve his sword fighting skills while they discover that there are more similarities between the two of them than differences.

read on ao3 at aquilaofarkham

Curiosity is what brings him underground. Scaling down the almost fully rebuilt staircase, minding where he places his foot every step of the way, Hector’s hand slides along the fractured bannister. His eyes wander between each blood red flag hanging off the walls, proudly displaying the Belmont crest in gold. He’s not sure how to feel about the sight of them yet. He’s not even sure how he feels about working beside a wearer of that family emblem.

A month ago, they were on opposite sides of this conflict between humans and vampires. Yet Hector can’t help but ask himself: suppose there could be a sort of kinship between him and Trevor? The church wants them dead, the common people hate them for their ties to occult magic, and they both spent their adolescent years quietly alone.

Still, there are glaring differences including where they started in the war. The most formative moment in their early lives might have been forged in fire and death, but it was forced upon Trevor. Hector created it with his own hands, willingly.

It’s a fleeting thought, one that is soon forgotten. Pushed to the back of his mind to make space for more important, more concrete matters.

Hector arrives at the bottom, his only light being the scattered wall bound torches and the sunlight from above. As he walks towards the doorway leading into the archives, he notices how much red coats the walls along with the way his boots stick to the floor every time he lifts them. Blood. Old enough to start drying but not by much. Hector thinks about that group of special night creatures sent to nip Dracula’s most threatening opposition in the bud. He should have let them loose on a certain member of the lord’s court instead.

He’s made several poor decisions both in the past and present; perhaps that’s why he brought himself here. Not all the way down to the Belmont Hold per say but back to the castle itself, now under new occupancy. To try and rectify those poor decisions. Maybe if he can help end this war for good, it will bring him something close to redemption. A sense of good after enduring the worst and the uncertain for so long.

Upon entering the massive room filled with multiple levels of shelves and suspended walkways, Hector is struck by an odd feeling. These books, artifacts, relics - they seem so familiar. Like the ones found in Dracula’s library, his study room, and even the forgemaster’s own workspace. Not everything, but enough to be this noticeable. For a clan so hellbent on destroying such a supposed evil, the similarities are difficult to ignore.

Hector’s train of thought, along with his leisurely pace amongst the bookshelves and cabinets, is interrupted by a sight just down one of the aisles. How unexpected, even amusing. Despite being surrounded by so many oddities that seem more likely to pique his interests, a rack of weapons is what captures his full attention, drawing him closer. They’re displayed so plainly, so out in the open, begging to taste fresh blood.

At the very least, Hector is now presented with a variety of options, which he didn’t have before. His hammer? Too small and light. It can give life easily enough, though taking a life requires more effort. His creations? A possibility. They were quick to answer when he called upon them to rip apart that silver clad vampire who guarded his shit hole excuse for a room. But Hector knows he can’t always rely on his creatures - he cannot cower in their shadows forever. Now he stands before flanged maces, throwing daggers, small axes, and common broadswords, trying to make a decision.

He reaches for a longsword with a thick grip and cross guard. Using both hands, Hector lifts it off its hanger, grunting at its weight. The muscles in his arms and fingers strain as he raises the blade. How many lives did it take? How many were human? Inhuman? His grip on the hilt tightens, taking the first few swings at nothing. Again, and again, changing his stance and intensity with every strike.

Swords were largely absent from Hector’s life. His family, being farmers, had no use for them - they didn’t have much use for anything or anyone apart from their animals, crops, and tools. However, there were the occasional convoys of soldiers that passed by his isolated home in Rhodes. He watched from his window as they made camp until it was time to move on. They never asked him for shelter.

“They say a necromancer lives up on that hill. Best stay away.”

No one ever bothered Hector and he never bothered them, which was better for both parties. But he remembers catching glimpses of the soldiers sparring with one another in the nearby fields. With his own longsword, Hector mimics their movements as best he can.

Suddenly, he turns around at the slightest noise. “Who’s there?” No answer, but it doesn’t put Hector’s nerves at ease. He listens to his intuition, still feeling the presence of someone else close by. Stepping forward with an angered expression, he keeps his weapon at the ready. “Come out. Show yourself now.”

“You’re not holding it right.” A faint yet recognizable voice replies. Hector lowers the sword ever so slightly and frowns. What an odd thing to hear out of nowhere.

“What?”

Several seconds pass before Trevor’s head cautiously peeks out from behind one of the bookcases. He joins Hector, staying clear of the sword’s tip. “The way your hands are positioned. You’ll never land a decent blow if they’re so close together like that.”

The forgemaster watches and listens in utter confusion. So casual, so informal; the Belmont speaks to him as though they’ve known each other for months instead of days. “Were you spying on me?”

Trevor raises his hands in defence. “No, I wasn’t. Honest. I just came down here to look for something when I noticed you swinging around that thing. Your form’s pretty good, I’ll tell you that much... can’t say the same about your choice in weapons.”

Hector’s attitude changes from suspicious to irritable. He seems to be doing that a lot following his return to the castle, constantly switching between those two emotions. Not that he can help it. “Say what you mean, Belmont.”

“I mean that sword’s not right for you.” Trevor’s eyes briefly scan the rack before he settles on a different longsword with silver and golden accents along the cross guard. “This one looks more suited for you.”

The two men trade swords while Hector is still unable to shake his apprehensive nature, even as he gets a feel for his new weapon. First in one hand then in both. “You know so much about a sword just by looking at it.”

“Learned it from my family. They taught me as much as they could given the... limited time they had. Everything else I mostly had to teach myself. Watching other masters certainly helped.” Again, so casual and informal, it catches Hector off guard. Was it ever this easy for Trevor to talk so naturally about his past? “How did you learn?”

“By watching others as well. Obvious, isn’t it?” There’s a hint of bitterness in Hector’s voice.

“A little.” Trevor is nothing if not honest. “But I already said your form was good. And the way you fight is so raw, I could see how angry you were from all the way back there.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Far from it, actually. You just need some pointers and guidance, that’s all. Sparring with someone else would help.”

Exactly what Hector expected to hear. Trevor doesn’t need to say it outright for him to realize what the Belmont is really offering him. “You’re being nice.”

“Well, Sypha once told me I needed to be nicer.” Trevor adds a chuckle to the end of that statement. Was it meant to be a joke? Hector can’t tell, nor is he amused.

“And it doesn’t bother you that we were on opposing sides on this war before.”

“If it did, I wouldn’t be talking to you right now. But we all share the same enemy and you explained yourself when you showed up at the front door.”

“I already said I don’t want any pity.”

Trevor crosses his arms, stung by the feeling that they’re getting nowhere together. “Look, if you don’t want my help, that’s fine. It’s your choice. I at least want to give you that.”

Hector stares at him then down at his sword. He needs to be better this time, they all do. He’ll perfect his skills as a fighter, but perhaps he’ll also find that possible kinship between him and the Belmont. The one that still keeps nagging at him like a tick that grows stronger every time he pays it any attention.

“Where would be the best place for us to practice?”

Trevor’s eyes aren’t particularly ablaze with happiness, though they are filled with accomplishment. “That went easier than I expected. Bring that sword, I know a decent spot.”

Hector wants to enjoy the outside. Bask in the sun’s rays, breathe in the fresh air, and listen to all the sounds of the surrounding woods. Everything he took pleasure in whenever he spent just a few moments of respite away from the dark castle. Then too much happened. The forgemaster wishes he could still enjoy the outside the way he used to. He wishes for a lot of things.

Everyone is occupied with something; if it’s not one task, it’s another. Sypha and Julia are a flawless match, devising spells that can be used for battle and defence, having a bit too much fun in the process. The truce between Isaac and Alucard has quickly strengthened as they work tirelessly to bring the castle back to life. “Un-break it” as Trevor so eloquently puts it. Hector follows him down the road, patient enough to not ask questions yet impatient enough to start feeling twitchy. Memories of the last time he walked along this dirt path aren’t helping.

He thought he would be taken to a patch of grass somewhere close between the ruins and castle, not deep in the forest away from safety. It starts happening again, the switch from mere annoyance to skepticism and distrust. Trevor eventually leads him off the road towards a tall tree with spindly branches and a trunk that seems like it’s twisting in on itself. Bearing right down its center is a large crack big enough to house more than a few animals. Hector never noticed it before. That night when he ran, he was more focused on what was ahead of him. Not off to his sides and not behind him, where he left all the hurt, lies, mistakes, and manipulation.

“I think I spent more time climbing this tree than I did actually living in my own home.” Trevor runs his hand over the tough bark in an almost sentimental manner. “My mother and I used to have our training matches at its base.”

“It looks dead,” Hector comments. Trevor can’t feel offended because it’s true.

“Probably been dead for a while. Ready?” He unsheathes his own sword, thinner than Hector’s and with ruby embellishments on its grip. They take their positions and prepare themselves, their eyes fixated on each other. “Remember, I won’t be ruthless, but I also won’t let you win too easily.”

“Good. I would have been disappointed in you otherwise.” It’s not a joke, but Trevor laughs regardless.

They begin slowly, carefully. Taking enough time to better understand each other’s level of skill. Never glancing away for a second. Trevor wants to see how much Hector knows on his own. The forgemaster wants to see if all those stories boasting about the Belmont family are true, especially for its last surviving member. After all, this is the man who had a hand in destroying Dracula.

Trevor is the first to attack with more force, aiming his sword towards the upper body and head. Hector blocks each of his blows with speed and effectiveness. The sound of steel singing against steel can be heard throughout the woods. Trevor takes a step back and adjusts his stance, as does Hector. He almost compliments his opponent on how fast he is, but there’s no room for talk, not now.

Amidst all the clashing and scraping, the constant moving of bodies and every heavy breath, the two swords suddenly lock in place. Trevor pushes but Hector holds his ground, matching the hunter’s display of strength. Both waiting for the other to make their next move. It doesn’t take long for Hector to become aggravated with this standstill. With the right combination of quick thinking and impulsiveness, he forces Trevor’s sword to the side, using his elbow to land a blow in the center of his face while there’s still a window of opportunity.

“Fuck!” The Belmont stumbles back, holding his nose and hisses in pain. Any sense of personal victory is gone once Hector realizes what he’s done.

“Shit... shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to do that, I wasn’t thinking-” His apology is interrupted by an unexpected sound - laughter coming from Trevor. Genuine, not done in a mocking fashion.

“Christ, that actually fucking hurt.” He removes his hand; no blood and nothing seems to be broken but Hector still stands in place, holding the weapon uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? It was a good hit.” He says through a smile.

“It was fighting dirty, though.”

“So?” Trevor tosses his sword in the grass before collapsing onto his bottom with his back against the tree. “Sometimes it’s necessary in order to win. Besides, the concept of fair fighting is a myth. Everyone fights dirty. I’ve done it enough times to stop keeping track. Come on. Time for a break.”

Another awkward pause. The brief surge of adrenaline he felt while sparring fades as Hector’s heartbeat returns to a normal pace (or normal enough). He sits down, back towards Trevor, and brings his knees close to his chest. They pass the time in silence, catching their breath, while every so often Hector glances over his shoulder at the hunter. He seems content, almost too much given the larger situation they’re playing a part in.

This moment would be the perfect chance to ask Trevor something that’s been on Hector’s mind for quite a while. Something he cannot or has difficulty understanding. Still, he hesitates and second guesses himself. He never used to do that so often as he does now. It never used to be so bad.

“How can you defend them?” Hector finally asks.

“Who?”

“... humans. The people of Wallachia, I suppose. After what they did to you and your family. Don’t you hate them?”

Trevor gives his answer some thought. His chest rises and falls as he lets out a huff. “I did. Maybe I still do. In a way, I guess I never really forgave people for those years filled with lies, rumours, and... well, torment.”

“Then why do you still protect them? Why did you decide to stand up and fight back against Dracula?” Hector still feels a sharp sting of discomfort after saying that name out loud - like a small knife or a hot needle to his chest.

“Because I actually found people who were worth protecting. Then I found even more while Sypha and I were traveling. Not just from vampires, but from the church and the same bastards who shat on me my whole life. I don’t have to completely forgive all of humanity. Neither do you, in case you’re worried about that.”

The forgemaster crosses his arms on top of his knees. Same lonely life, same... conflicted feelings towards humankind. Different yet similar, him and the Belmont son.

“So, should we do this tomorrow?”

“Sorry?”

“Another sparring match. Your form is a bit stiff and I always need the practice. It’s up to you, though.”

“Will you be offended if I decline?”

Trevor laughs again. “Actually, I’ll be more offended if you say yes. I’m not the greatest teacher, but I’ll try my damnedest.”

If a sense of unification and god knows perhaps even camaraderie will help them win, then Hector might as well accept. But after some thought, he realizes it doesn’t have to be begrudgingly. He always believed that being alone was better. Alone, no one could hurt you. No one could use or tear you down. Alone, no one - not even one’s own self - would ever get hurt. Trevor must have understood that way of thinking at some point. Now here he is, offering companionship.

“Tomorrow...” Hector begins. “Alright. That... that would be alright.”

#castlevania #trevor belmont #hector #hector castlevania #hector cv #trevor x hector #my writing #*cvfic #my first tractor fic.......... i'm very brave

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