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flowersandbigteeth · 4 months

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Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.

I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵

Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader

Word Count: 5K

Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference

More monster fluff here

“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”

You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.

“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”

You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.

“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”

“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”

“By assaulting me?” you snapped.

There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.

Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.

It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.

“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”

One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.

“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.

He waved to his accomplices.

“Get in there and restrain her!” Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.

You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.

“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”

The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.

Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.

Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.

The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.

When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.

“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”

You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.

You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.

The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.

He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.

“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.

Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.

You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.

A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.

“What’s in there?” you asked.

He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.

“Hello?”

Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.

“Enter, little one.”

Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.

You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.

“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.

“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”

“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”

He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.

“That’s why you’re here.”

“I don’t understand.”

His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.

“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”

You blinked up at him.

“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”

He chuckled.

“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”

You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.

“I can’t stay here with you!”

He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.

“Why is that, little one?”

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”

A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.

“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.

“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”

The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.

“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.

He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.

“You’ll fit right in here.”

You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.

“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”

“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”

“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”

He flicked a fingertip at your poker.

“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”

Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.

“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”

He snorted at you but nodded his head.

“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”

“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”

He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.

“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”

Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.

“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.

He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.

“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”

You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.

“Do you feel like submitting?”

You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.

“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”

He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.

“This is your bed.”

He gave you another smile.

“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”

Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.

He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.

—

You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.

Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.

“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.

“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”

“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”

“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”

“I outrank you. I can take your command.”

Cedar snorted.

“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”

Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.

“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”

Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.

There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.

“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.

A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.

Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.

“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.

Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.

“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”

When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.

“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.

Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.

“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”

He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.

He smiled.

“Reading.”

You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips. “Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”

He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.

“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”

You looked him up and down.

“I can’t imagine you as a child.”

You thought for a second, tapping your chin.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”

He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.

“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.

Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.

By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.

“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.

Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.

“Here.”

You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.

“What are you going to do with all of us?”

“Hmm?” he asked.

“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”

He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.

“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”

Your eyebrows jumped.

“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”

He shrugged.

“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”

“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”

He chuckled.

“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”

“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”

His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.

“Is that so surprising?”

You thought about it for a moment.

“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”

His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.

“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”

He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.

“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.

His smile widened.

“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”

Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.

“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.

Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.

Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.

It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.

A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.

A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.

“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”

The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.

“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”

You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.

“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.

He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.

“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”

“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”

You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.

“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”

Another woman scoffed.

“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”

Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.

“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”

You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.

“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”

Linda squeaked in horror.

“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”

“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”

“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”

“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”

You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.

“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”

You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.

Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.

“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.

“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”

You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.

“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”

Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.

“What is she thinking?!”

“Linda, come back!”

“Let her go, she’s nuts.”

You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.

“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”

Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.

You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.

“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”

“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”

Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.

—

“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.

Isla scoffed.

“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”

“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”

“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”

You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.

“What…what happened?” you murmured.

“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.

You felt her cool hands against your cheek.

“Take it slow, here; have some water.”

She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.

“Is everyone okay?” you asked.

Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.

“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”

Another woman poked her head out of the tent.

“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”

“Untie who? Is the battle over?”

Isla nodded.

“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”

She smirked at you.

“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”

You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”

“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”

Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.

“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”

He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.

“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”

Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.

“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.

He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.

“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.

You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.

“Our home?”

He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.

“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”

He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.

“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.

Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.

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barblaz-arts · 2 months

Note

As someone who ships Chaggie as well, I want your opinion on this.

Someone made a kinda good point about Charlie and Vaggie’s relationship; the point being that there’s a power imbalance between them. Charlie is the princess of hell. She wouldn’t physically loose anything or be hurt physically if she breaks up with Vaggie. But Vaggie would loose both the love of her life and her home and friends if they break off. And so they see this toxic dynamic because Vaggie is “walking on eggshells” in order to stay in Charlie’s favor and not getting on her bad side.

So….thoughts?

The problem is people who say these things treat the terms "power imbalance" and "toxic" and "unhealthy" as the same things when they are not.

There is a power imbalance, yes, definitely. I constantly make jokes about the fact that Charlie and Vaggie have a forbidden love story in a Boss/Employee HR violation kinda way for pete's sake. It's just a lot more funny thinking about the fact that that probably has more weight than the demon/angel situation.

But the thing is, no matter what Charlie will ALWAYS have a power imbalance with whoever she dates because she is literally the princess of Hell, as they have said. Even if she dates a fellow hellborn royal, the fact that Charlie is in a higher position of power will always be a fact because her parents are literally the only ones above that. So what? Should she just not date anyone??? Also, isn't the one has a higher position of power but still loves the other a super popular ship trope? Rich x poor. Royalty x commoner. Goddess/immortal x normal human. Popular in school x the social loser. The list goes on. So why is it a problem now?

The fact that they think Vaggie "walks on eggshells" around Charlie is a bit...? I'm just a little confused you know? Vaggie is definitely not afraid of Charlie. When they had their fallout, she wasn't afraid of losing the things she was dependent on Charlie if they ever broke up(i.e. a home, her safety, money etc) because Vaggie damn well knows Charlie wouldn't do that. Everyone in hell knows Charlie goddamn Morningstar wouldn't do that. Vaggie was merely afraid of losing their relationship, which is a perfectly normal thing to be afraid of. Vaggie's dedication to Charlie isn't rooted in fear, it's rooted in devotion in the name of what she thinks the person she loves deserves.

The thing that makes Chaggie so great despite that power imbalance is the fact that Charlie is an absolute sweetheart. She isn't the kind of person who would take advantage of that power and Vaggie, as someone who knows her so well, is perfectly aware of that. Vaggie is safe with Charlie in every way that matters, and this is where toxicity and the unhealthy elements come into play.

Charlie and Vaggie as individuals have all the ingredients for an unhealthy relationship. As Husk so plainly pointed out, Charlie would rather fix everyone else's problems than help herself. Meanwhile Vaggie has deep self-hatred that seeps into how she feels about everyone but Charlie. They're both the type of people who would rather think about others rather than themselves. This is the root of their codependency, and why their relationship can be quite unhealthy. It's extremely evident with Vaggie, which makes perfect sense since she probably never saw herself as a person before Charlie.

Those flaws can so easily be taken advantage of in a relationship, but the thing is, do they do that? Do either of them think the other ever would? As Rosie did say...

While Charlie likes to shoulder everyone else's problems, Vaggie looks at the love her life and decides she'll take some of that load so she doesn't get crushed under the weight of the world. Vaggie reels Charlie in by being the realist to Charlie's dreamer. Vaggie used to essentially be Heaven's living weapon, but she has now sworn to be the armor for someone who looks out for everyone but herself.

On the other hand Vaggie's self-worth is shrewed because she's an ex-soldier who thinks she should always be under someone's service to be deserving of anything. But here Charlie is who constantly calls Vaggie her partner and blatantly treats Vaggie as an equal and still loves Vaggie "more than anything" and doesn't doubt that Vaggie loves her in return even after finding out Vaggie's lie and true origins.

So are they good for each other? Maybe not, but there's still more of the show to see. They can be unhealthy, but not to the point that being together damages each other in any significant way. Their relationship is imperfect, which is fine. No relationship is. Especially not in fucking HELL. And perfect for a story because, yunno... They are still in an ongoing story. They aren't a lost cause yet. It's something they can develop from, something we can get to SEE them develop from.

Are they toxic though?? Are they harming each other physically, emotionally, sexually, or financially? Definitely not. Because although whether they're good FOR each other still remains to be seen, it is an undeniable fact that they are good TO each other, despite all the ways they could not be. The unhealthy elements are due to how they treat themselves, but their relationship can't be deemed toxic because of how they treat each other. And for now, that's what matters and that's why I love this ship.

#asks #hazbin hotel #chaggie #as fun as writing this all down was #and it was it really was #I can't help but think about how frustrating it is that this needs to be said #we can't just say that we think this canon ship is cute and that's why we like it and have the conversation end there #instead we have to make an essay to explain ourselves 😞#like dang it aint even that complicated

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lineffability · 10 months

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"Crowley."

Crowley froze, every atom of his body coming to a complete standstill. Aziraphale had appeared out of nowhere, just like that, and he felt like a fly in a spider's web, like he had just run against a glass door that he could not have seen. Oh, this was cruel. He did not turn around.

"Don't even use doors anymore?" He tried to keep his voice level, cold, unaffected. He failed considerably, but the message got across anyways.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale said, immediately flinching at the words. The first time they were seeing each other again, after-- after that, and his first words were I'm sorry and he was apologizing for not using a door? Aziraphale felt like swearing, but could not. "I thought you wouldn't open if I-- well. I thought this was easier. Like a bandaid."

"Well, you were right. I wouldn't have." Steel was creeping into Crowley's voice, steel around his heart. With a forcing of limbs, he spun around, his gaze piercing through the armor of his sunglasses. Facing him.

"I need your help" Aziraphale said.

"What," Crowley said. He had possibly never put as much meaning into a single word. The glass door turned into a Great Wall. Aziraphale understood. But he was willing to climb.

The angel (oh, a true angel now, wasn't he--not his angel) fumbled, talking with his hands before his mouth even opened. Talking with his eyes, too, but they got lost in translation. Repelled by a black mirror.

"I know this is untoward. I know it's-- But Crowley, I don't have a lot of time."

"Nothing lasts forever, yeah," Crowley spat, hating himself the second the words left his lips. Unnecessary cruelty. Demonic, huh? Worse yet, Aziraphale accepted the verbal lashing. Don't forgive me, Crowley thought.

Crowley looked at him. He was still wearing his suit, there was tartan in it, but it had become polished, the worn edges returned to pristine, boring perfection. He looked prim. Proper. Perhaps this hurt most of all.

"Why are you here?"

Aziraphale glanced upwards. Then he looked intently at Crowley. I don't have much time. Right. He couldn't speak freely, Crowley realized. Of course he couldn't. This was exactly what he had been afraid of, what he had known would happen. His angel in chains. (Yet here he was. Here he was.)

"They don't know I'm here," Aziraphale mumbled, gesticulating weakly between them and Up. "I guess I can divert their attention now, for a bit. Comes with the new powers"--he shrugged helplessly--"but not for long. Crowley, do you know about-- about the-- what they're--"

"Armageddon 2.0? Sure."

There was an undecipherable look in Aziraphale's eyes. "Why didn't you-- well. It's not just. I mean it kind of is--it's. More than that. Crowley, I need you to do something for me."

"No."

"This is important." (This isn't about us.)

"I don't care." (There is no us anymore.)

"You do! You always have."

"Oh not this again," Crowley hissed. "You were an angel once. You can be forgiven. Shut up."

"That's not what I meant."

With two long, angry strides, Crowley closed the space between them. Menace, anger, hurt-- "Then what did you mean?" He spat the words. Like a weapon. (Then why was it a question?)

Aziraphale's face crumbled. He stood his ground nonetheless, not backing away. The angel's anger was less spiky, but it rose to meet Crowley's. It made his next words hit like bricks. "I mean that you love. I mean that you, Crowley, are the best person I know. I mean that I love you."

The words dropped like a lead balloon.

There was utter silence between them.

Why were they so close?

Why were his sunglasses so dark? Aziraphale saw only his own reflection. He couldn't bear that, and dropped his gaze. Oh, worse. There was his mouth, mere inches away.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley's lips, really really looked, and there was nothing more, now that he knew about the feeling of Crowley's lips and of his heart, there was nothing more he wanted to do than to kiss him. But he couldn't, he couldn't. Not like this. He needed the next time (he had to believe in a next time, in a time with Crowley, again)--the next time they kissed he needed it to be good and happy and an affirmation. He couldn't bear it otherwise. He would break entirely. He was sure of it.

But still, still-- Crowley was so close. He could smell nothing but him. Think of nothing but him. That weakness again, that soft spot inside him he had never known how to hold down. And with it, Want reared its greedy head. Aziraphal leaned in ever so slightly, felt their noses touch-- and then used all his strength to move away, to pull back. It was not the right time. Not yet.

He looked past Crowley, who might have as well turned to a pillar of salt. Crowley, whose face was a mask he couldn't let slip. The air flickered between them.

There were tears in his eyes when he finally forced his gaze towards Crowley's face, a silent plead to not misunderstand. Please, please. But he couldn't expect that of him. He was pulling away again. But not because he wanted to. No, there was nothing he wanted more than to pull closer. There was nothing more he wanted than to talk to him, to truly talk, to explain and apologize and make amends, but he was bound by Duty and Rules and Watching Eyes more than he ever had been.

This was his rebellion: he lifted a hand, the ghost of a touch, fingertips against cheekbone. The memory of holding on. Of never wanting to let go. Crowley flinched without moving, a shiver of his lips. Aziraphale let his hand drop, briefly, to Crowley's chest, holding it over his human heart. It was beating just like his.

This was his successful magic trick, when it counted: he drew away, leaving a crack in Crowley's steel-clad heart, and a note in his chest pocket.

"I'm sorry. I need to go."

"Of course you do."

"Oh, Crowley. I--" But he did not finish the sentence, knew there was no proper way how. So he said, quietly, softly, "Trust me, please."

And he did. Crowley hated it, hated it so much, but he did, he did trust him despite it all. But it did not erase the hurt. The festering wound. Now what was he supposed to do with that?

With one last pointed look, Aziraphale vanished.

Crowley was alone.

His defenses lay shattered at his feet, and he slowly gathered them back up. He did not mend the cracks. (That's where the light had gotten in.) He cleared his throat. Tried to banish from his mind the look in Aziraphale's eyes, the memory of his lips and of his tears.

And failed considerably.

I love you.

(Touched his cheek, and then his chest, and faltered.)

[this fic is now also on ao3 and being continued there]

#good omens #ineffable husbands #good omens fanfic #good omens fanfiction #crowley x aziraphale #in which crowley and aziraphale meet for the first time after the Divorce #oh god ok i really love this???#i wrote it in one go and am posting unedited but #i need this ?!?!?#im also going through the whole 'i wanna know how this continues' vs 'you're the one writing it' idiocy #oh you wanna know how it ends?? then write it??? fool #but i dont know...how it continues....yet.#i do have ideas though...#inefficable #my writing

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dawns-beauty · 4 months

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Okay, to counteract all my complaining, here are some (lore friendly) mods that I just like a lot (no animals, people, weapons/armors, mesh/texture replacers, etc. because there's too many and it gets boring.)

Ghosts of the Deathbells: adds a really rare, somber event to picking a deathbell flower.

Falmeroon: adds Snow Elf ruins to some remote edges of the map. I've made an unofficial SE port here.

Snow Whale Bones: adds the remains of Snow Whales in some mountainous areas (iffy canon but sorry they are Cool.)

Windmills of Skyrim: adds windmills with unique, custom-painted sails to farms.

Scarecrows of Skyrim: adds scarecrows to farms.

Scribes of Skyrim: makes books and notes use a variety of typefaces (any fellow Pentiment fans out there?)

The Old Ways-Nordic Religion: adds totems representing the Nordic pantheon around Skyrim. Has patches for the next recommendation.

The Great Towns/Villages series: overhauls the smaller, worldspace towns in a really cool way, includes voice-acted NPCs. Personally, I like Kynesgrove the best because it actually adds to the lore about the Nordic pantheon. For Shor's Stone, I recommend this mod as well.

Redbag's Rorikstead: I like this mod over Great Village's version because the houses have sod roofs and I'm a sucker for sod roofs.

Capital Windhelm Expansion: adds some really thoughtful lore touches (Dunmer refugees outside the walls, an Arena, and a cool vampire quest)

Relic of Dawnstar: adds a Gehenoth skull to the White Hall (requires Cities of the North), inspired by the lore of the Travels game

Environs series: thoughtful additions that makes certain places change over time.

WiZKid's mods: especially Lund's Hut, Lively Farms, Icy Windhelm, Pinewatch, Hall of the Dead Stained Glass Windows, and Pavo's House. Sepolcri is also pretty good but loses immersion points for using celtic cross gravestones. You can pry Lanterns of Skyrim II from my cold, dead hands, though. Lux? Idk her, LoSII is my bestie.

Fancy Sleeping Tree Replacer: the Sleeping Tree is supposed to be a remnant of the sentient trees of the flying city of Umbriel (from the novels.) It should be weird, is what I'm saying, and this mod makes it alien and beautiful.

Unique Culture Riverwood: a mod that gives Riverwood its own style of farmhouse and a little more personality. The author has also made a mod for Falkreath.

Immersive World Encounters: adds more and edits World Encounters, including encountering faction NPCs out and about (ex. the Companions outside of Whiterun doing Companion-y things in the wilderness).

Glorious Doors of Skyrim: adds some really cool doors. 'nuff said.

Redbag's Dragonreach: adds some unique flair to Jarl Ballin's crib.

Cultured Orc Furniture: replaces generic furniture in Orc Strongholds with custom furniture.

Lavinia's Memorial: adds some gifts from her grieving parents to the little girl's grave in Falkreath. Ouch.

Nocturnal Moths: adds moths that spawn around lanterns at night.

Moons and Stars: fixes the positions of the stars and moons, as well as making moon phases consistent.

DK's Realistic Nord Ships: replaces Skyrim's ships with some gorgeous new models.

Morgenstern's Mushroom Circles: adds more fairy rings in the wilderness. Delightful!

Bloodmoon Brodir Grove: makes the grove in Solstheim a little more like it was in the Morrowind DLC. The mod author also has more mods that bring Bloodmoon details and locations to Solstheim.

Ships of the Horizon: does what it says on the tin.

EVG Animation Variance: the whole animation series by Everglaid is nice (haven't tried Traversal yet, but that is some incredible technology) but I especially like this one for the old people animations

jasperthegnome's houses: these are SO cozy and comfy.

Arctic- Frost Effects Redux: makes frost spells have cooler effects (including 3D ice spikes)

Northern Roads- Let Me Guess Someone Stole Your Sweetroads: a plugin that cuts down on Northern Roads, removing all the landscape changes and bridges and just keeping the clutter. Way more compatible than the original mod.

Skyrim Bridges: this is my favorite bridge mod. There are many, but I like this one best.

Edit: forgot two tiny mods in my original post:

Nightcaller Temple Unique Shrine of Mara: replaces the generic shrine with a wooden shrine Erandur carved

Broken Tower Redoubt Unique Shrine of Dibella: similar to the above mod, but Reachmen carved this one.

#skyrim #skyrim mods #mod recs #tes

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dindjarindiaries · 4 months

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Doomsday

summary: You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x reader

tags: intense physical & emotional torture (incl. choking), injuries (incl. dislocations & blood), trauma, hurt/comfort, angst

word count: 5.197k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Doomsday had finally arrived, but at least you and Din would be going down together.

Your hands and ankles had since been bound by yellow fibercord, strong enough to resist every effort you tried to make to break free of them. The same had been done to Din, leaving even the galaxy’s most formidable warrior helpless. There was nothing else you two could do than allow the Super Commandos to drag you through the corridors of Moff Gideon’s base.

The thought alone twisted a sickening knot inside your stomach. Somehow, it had come to that again. You played yourselves right into Gideon’s filthy hands.

Of course, you and Din had been the only ones to survive the trap on your side of the blast door. He had acted as your shield, and maybe if he hadn’t needed to block so much of the Commandos’ blaster fire, he would’ve been able to take them down easier. You were quickly finding out that you were more of a liability in Din’s life than a partner, even if your shared vows said otherwise.

The Commandos brought the two of you into what you assumed was the briefing room Gideon had mentioned before. Each pair of troopers had set you and Din on your knees across from each other, forcing you to face one another. You couldn’t bear to look at him, no matter how much the mere sight of him comforted you.

You had only been at Gideon’s mercy once before, but never like this—and that one time was enough to almost take Din away from you forever.

“Cyar’ika.” Din’s modulated voice was soft, but due to the tense silence in the room, it nearly made you jump. Your gaze still darted across the floor. “Cyar’ika, look at me.”

His words weren’t a plea. Instead, they were a comfort, as if he was verbally trying to lay his own cape over your shoulders. It earned him your gaze, and despite how disheartening the sight of him tied-up was, the sweet familiarity of his visor began to ease the unsettled knot within you.

“It’s gonna be okay.”

You swallowed hard, wishing you could borrow his strength for once as you instead dreaded the shadows turning the corner towards the room’s entryway. “Promise?” Your voice was no more than a whisper.

Din nodded. “Promise.”

You fought to ignore the amused huff one of the Commandos let out, but Din couldn’t do the same. He shoved his side against the trooper’s leg, earning him a hit of the trooper’s blaster against his helmet. Din grunted, and you winced to yourself, staring at the floor once again.

Gideon’s bootsteps manifested from the shadows, presenting you with the vision of his full figure. His new armor was still a lot to process, especially with the knowledge that it had been inspired by the Dark Troopers that had nearly taken all of you out on Gideon’s light cruiser. He stopped once he entered and let the door slide closed behind him before he raised his helmet from his head and offered it to one of the troopers at his side.

“And so we all meet again.” Gideon sounded overjoyed at his proclamation, his arms raising at his sides as he chuckled in cruel delight. “If only it was under better circumstances.”

You and Din remained silent. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, but you still couldn’t quite return his look. You steadied yourself with a deep breath and hoped the sudden wave of nausea would go with it.

“Ah, yes, I see how it is. You’d like to get this done quickly.” Gideon’s sickening smirk remained as his arms fell back to his sides. “For once, our desires align.” He gestured over to Din. “Remove his helmet.”

“No!” You couldn’t bite back your instant protest as it clawed its way through your throat. You set your jaw and stared Gideon down with a lethal gaze. Your chest burned with the flame of hatred as you tugged on the troopers’ grasps.

Gideon’s gaze sparkled at you as he set his focus in your direction. “Is there another option you’d like to present at this time?”

Your gaze slid down to Din, who was somehow as composed as ever. His visor had never strayed from you, as if he was studying every inch of you to make sure you were okay. You let out a defeated exhale. “What do you want from us?”

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I’m desiring something?”

“There’s no other reason why you’d have us here.” You scoffed and shook your head, using the logic Din had often praised you for. “You have everything you’ve ever wanted. A shiny beskar suit, a fully-equipped base on Mandalore itself, the ability to make even the strongest of warriors yield to your demands.” You frowned as you sifted through everything. “There’s nothing we could offer you.”

You looked at Din again. His armored chest suddenly stalled, and yours did the same at the same time. Oh shit.

“Bait.” For Bo-Katan, certainly, but mostly for Grogu—for another shot to take more of his blood.

“You’re asking and answering my own questions for me.” Gideon gave you a smile of approval. “That’s a brilliant mind.” Gideon’s attention shifted to Din as his smile widened. “Must be why you decided to wed.”

Din’s chest began to move again as he calmed himself with steady breaths. Still, he presented no response, remaining silent in a way that clearly brought Gideon heavy frustration.

“What do you think, Din Djarin?” Gideon tilted his head, his smile straightening out into a look that had haunted your nightmares longer than you cared to admit. “Should we keep this easy and slip off that helmet now?”

Din only raised his chin higher at Gideon. Your heart twisted in your chest as you realized the motion gave Gideon and his men easier access to the lip of his helmet.

“I can’t let you do that.” Your voice was low, rough, and bitter, as if it had been squeezed out of your tense throat. You narrowed your eyes at Gideon as his gaze met yours again. “I won’t let you.”

“Is that so?” Gideon hummed and strolled closer to you. “And what do you intend to do about it?”

You circled your jaw. “Whatever it takes.”

Gideon’s gaze sparkled again. He knelt down in front of you and held your chin with his fingers. “Anything?”

You jerked your head back, forcing his grip away from yourself as you snarled at him. “Anything.”

Gideon smiled in satisfaction. “There we go. Compliance.” He kept his voice soft as he tilted his head at you. “All I need to ask you is a simple question, then.”

You kept your anger at the forefront of your mind, knowing that if it faltered, fear would surely give way. “Fire away.”

Gideon nodded. He asked his question like it was the easiest thing in the world to answer. “Why did you come to Mandalore?”

Your expression didn’t falter. “For fun.”

The corner of Gideon’s mouth twitched. “Ah. Yes.” He stood back to his full height and stepped back, nodding at one of the Commandos. Next thing you knew, your cheek was burning from the trooper’s blaster hitting it, and the stinging it left behind promised not only a forming bruise but also a bleeding cut.

“Gideon.” Din spoke for the first time since Gideon had entered, though his voice was more a growl than anything else. It was the angriest you had ever heard him. “Keep your hands off them and focus that energy on me.”

Gideon turned his head towards Din. “Is that a treat?”

Din tilted his helmet, a slow and calculated motion. “It’s a promise.”

Gideon huffed, clearly amused by Din—as if he wasn’t on the receiving end of one of the galaxy’s greatest warrior’s threats. Before he could speak, you filled the space with your own voice. “It’s all right.” You rolled your shoulders, ignoring the way the Commandos tightened their grip on you. “I can take it.”

Gideon lifted his brow, genuinely impressed. “I believe you.” His lips spread in a slow smile. “But the question is,” he turned towards Din, “can he take it?”

“No.” You shook your head at Gideon and hoped your pure desperation wasn’t obvious. You couldn’t handle watching them hurt Din at your expense. “There’s no need for that. There’s no need for any of this.”

Gideon waved a gloved hand towards you. “Would you like to plead your case?” You tightened your jaw, and Gideon offered a dramatic bow, giving you the floor.

“You already know why we’re here. It’s why you sent your forces after the fleet. You need us alive if you intend on using us as bait, and given the fact you somehow know about our marriage, it seems there’s nothing about us you don’t already know.” You tilted your head at Gideon, narrowing your eyes as you assessed him. “So why did you ask me about coming here, and what the hell do you really want to know?”

Gideon hummed. “Ah, you misunderstood. I don’t want to know why you’re on Mandalore now. I want to know why you were here before.”

Your blood ran cold, but you kept your face unchanged. “We weren’t here before.”

Gideon chuckled. “Whose TIE interceptors did you think were following you?”

You swallowed hard and looked at Din. His visor, however, was stuck on Gideon, something that made the knot in your stomach tie tighter. There was more that you weren’t getting.

“That’s not the only thing you misunderstood.” Gideon was smug as he went on, clearly proud of himself for outsmarting you. “You thought I intended on hurting him.” He paused for a moment and shrugged. “In a way, I suppose you were right.” You froze as one of the troopers at Gideon’s side stepped in front of you. “Just not physically.”

The Super Commando tossed his blaster to the floor and swung his fist before you could process the action. You took the hit with a gasp of both surprise and pain, feeling the sting of it on the side of your face they hadn’t already hurt. You were ready for the next one, and you had braced yourself before it hit your other cheek that had already gone sore.

The sound of a struggle was somehow louder than the blood roaring in your ears. “Gideon, if you value your life, you’ll stop.” Din’s warning was so terrifyingly ruthless and genuine that it made a shiver run down your own spine. The breathless way it was spoken due to his constant struggle against the Commandos’ grasp on him only made it more threatening.

Gideon remained unshaken. “Answer my question, then.”

“Don’t.” You bit back a whimper at the soreness of your jaw as you gave Din a determined look. “I can take it.” Din’s visor met your gaze and that time, you were the one who sought to comfort him. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The trooper disappeared behind you. You knew better than to think it meant you were in the clear. A moment later, his arm wrapped around your neck from behind, closing your airway more and more as he slowly pulled you in tighter. You tried your best not to make your struggle obvious, but eventually, you couldn’t help it. You fought to keep your gaze on Din, who had started pulling even harder at the Commandos’ grasp.

“Make them stop.” Din’s words were a pure growl once again. You accidentally let your gasp for air escape you in a way that made Din repeat himself much louder. “Make. Them. Stop.”

Your vision began to go spotty. You blinked an apology at Din if he could understand it before you let your eyes fall closed to focus on staying awake—staying alive.

“All you have to do, Din Djarin, is ans—.”

“Get the hell away from them and take my damn helmet off already!”

That was Din yelling. But, it couldn’t be. Din never yelled. He was never afraid. And he sure sounded afraid just then—but also very, very angry. You needed to breathe. Please, please…

The arm at your neck fell away, and you fell with it. Your body crumpled forward as you coughed and gasped for air, your neck and throat burning. The troopers pulled you back up, forcing your lungs to work even harder, but at least letting you see Din again. He was fighting to maintain his composure, and you noticed that right away, but his steady breaths indicated that he was getting closer to calming down again.

“So.” Gideon was smiling again as he looked at Din. How the hell was he smiling at that, at inflicting such horrible pain upon people? “That’s the choice you’re making.” He shook his head, as if he was disappointed with Din. “Breaking your precious Creed instead of answering a simple question?”

Din remained silent. Just like before, he held his chin up higher, offering his helmet up as if it was the easiest thing in the entire galaxy to do.

Gideon gestured for one of his men to step forward. You shook your head, your chest still heaving as you spoke with all the air you had managed to gather back into your lungs. “No, Din. Please.” Your voice was so hoarse even you could barely recognize it. As the trooper stood in front of Din, your panic rose, and flashes of every moment that led up to Din’s redemption in the Living Waters hit you in a single second. “No, no! Please.”

“Just tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make it stop.” Gideon had the audacity to act honorable as he nodded at you with a wrinkled brow, as if he was pitying you. It took all your self control to resist spitting in his direction.

“It’s okay.” Din’s voice was soft again, just as it had been when he first spoke to you in this horrible, terrifying room. You found his visor and lost yourself in it, for once in your life praying to the stars that you wouldn’t have to see his brown eyes anytime soon. “Just like I promised.” He nodded at you, then he turned his attention to the trooper at his side. “Do it.”

The Commando waited for Gideon’s command, and once he earned a nod from the Moff, the trooper reached forward to grab the lip of Din’s helmet. That’s when Din slammed his helmet forward, hitting the Commando’s hand at an angle perfect enough to make it bend and break at the wrist. The trooper cried out in pain and fell back a few steps, grabbing at his limp hand.

You smiled to yourself. Of course Din had a plan. You were foolish to think he wouldn’t.

But that sense of victory was short-lived. Gideon gestured to Din’s shoulder and the Commando on Din’s right side followed the unspoken order. You had no time to prepare as you watched the trooper grab Din’s arm tightly with both hands and pull it as far back and away from Din’s shoulder as he could.

The sickening crack couldn’t be heard over the sound of Din’s agonized scream. You squeezed your eyes shut so tight it made your temples throb, your stomach so sick that it threatened to expel any contents it had left onto the floor. Your lips trembled, the devastation that flooded your being overwhelming you in waves the more you heard Din’s pained breaths and quiet whimpers.

“There we go.” Gideon was satisfied. Of course he was. He delighted in draining the strength from those who posed a true threat to him. “It should be safe to remove his helmet now.”

You managed to open your eyes once again, but you almost wished you’d kept them closed. Din’s right arm was entirely limp at his side, but the Commandos still held him up anyway, no doubt adding more painful pressure to his dislocated shoulder. The trooper at Din’s left side was the one who made the move for his helmet, foregoing any sense of decency as he tore the beskar from Din’s head.

There was nothing but pure pain written all over Din’s handsome face. It contorted every feature in a way that made you fight the grasps holding you down, even if you were aware of how pointless that fighting was. Your chest heaved in panic for him rather than a need for air, and you didn’t care if Gideon noticed.

Then Din’s brown gaze met yours, and you realized there was actually a part of him that wasn’t in pain. His eyes were full of concern and comfort, both of which he aimed in your direction, his gaze never once straying from yours. He wrinkled his brow in a way that somehow differed from his look of agony. Are you okay?

Your lips continued to tremble, but you pulled them tighter in a vain effort to stop them. You offered a small nod and wrinkled your brow to ask him the very same thing.

Din’s brow relaxed, and with all the true determination and strength of the Mandalorian you wed long ago, he nodded as well.

For that moment, you believed him. You always did, and you always would. No matter how damn painful a dislocated shoulder was, especially with so much pressure on it, Din had certainly experienced worse pain before.

“Now we can get some answers.” Gideon sounded relieved as he turned his attention to you. “Are you ready to talk?”

You looked at him with all the hatred you felt for him in your heart. “Hell no.”

Gideon raised one corner of his mouth. “Your resilience is impressive, I must admit.” His head lowered, but his gaze remained in yours, looking deeper into the true feelings that hid within it. “But for as much as you’ve composed yourself, you’ve given just as much away. Nervous glances are saying what your tongue doesn’t have the courage to.”

Gideon paused, looking over at the Commandos by Din and nodding. One of them kicked Din in the ribs, making him grunt in surprise as an immediate punch to his cheek earned a pained gasp. Your eyes squeezed shut. They had already given enough away.

In all these years of being one of the galaxy’s greatest warriors, Din had never gotten a hit to his face without his beskar barrier—until now.

“That’s it.” Gideon’s victorious voice ran a horrible chill down your spine. “You won’t let him talk if we focus on you. But you…” you chanced looking at him again just to see another conniving smile, “you will comply if we focus on him.”

Your gaze found Din’s. You expected to find disappointment and pain there, but in true Din fashion, he offered nothing but comfort yet again. He gave you another nod, just like before. It’s gonna be okay.

“Fine.” Din’s gaze flashed with panic as you spoke with a resigned voice. You let your eyes fall to the floor in defeat. “I’ll tell you.” You swallowed hard and looked up, unable to face Din as you focused on Gideon. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

Gideon smiled in victory. Stars, he was so arrogant that he wouldn’t have been able to see your mask slip even if you let it. “Let’s hear it.”

You looked at Din, painting guilt on your expression in a way that wasn’t completely a lie. Just seeing the pain that continued to remain on Din’s face, as well as the concern he held for you, was enough to make that guilt a little more real. “Beskar.” Din’s brown gaze flashed with understanding, but only for a moment. He quickly began to mask as he dropped his head in feigned disappointment. “We wanted beskar.”

Gideon didn’t buy it right away. “That’s it?” He scoffed. “After years of exile, you returned for… beskar?”

“We needed a large supply. An endless one, really.” You bit your cheek and paused. “I… I wanted my own suit of armor. Our people didn’t have enough for that. So, we took the risk and came here ourselves.”

Gideon’s gaze gave you a less-than-impressed once-over. “Clearly, that plan of yours didn’t work.”

“But our mission was worth it.” You raised your chin, selling your act with the true confidence you felt budding in your chest. “We may not have mined any beskar, but we discovered the planet was breathable, habitable. We were the ones who brought Bo-Katan back, and we were the ones who helped her to unite all Mandalorians—despite your best efforts to keep them apart.”

Gideon’s lip twitched. You didn’t bother hiding your smile of success. It would only sell your lie even more. “In doing so, you still made one critical failure.” Gideon nodded at one of the troopers next to you. “You never got your armor.”

The Commando slammed their knee into your ribs, not even to break them but certainly to bruise them. You gasped at the feeling, and a split second later, Din cried out in pain himself as he fought the troopers’ grasp on him, despite his heavily wounded shoulder. His eyes were screwed shut in an agony you couldn’t begin to imagine, but he fought anyway.

“Don’t forget, Din Djarin.” Gideon’s attention shifted to Din with another one of those sickening smiles. “You can’t hide your pain from us, now. Your face is even more expressive than theirs.” He pointed a lazy hand towards you.

Din reopened his eyes, a brown blaze of fury that would have terrified you if you weren’t so familiar with his softer and kinder nature. He spoke for the first time since having his helmet removed, his voice somehow even more threatening than before even amidst his hoarseness from his screaming. “You think you’ve won something by doing this.”

Gideon shrugged, smiling wider—and confirming Din’s words in the process.

“You think you’re the first Imperial who’s ever seen my face.”

Din huffed, an amused sound that matched the growing smirk on his blood-encrusted lips. Gideon’s expression began to falter. Din raised his chin and lowered his voice in a tone you’d only heard him use one other time before his duel with Paz.

“You’re wrong.” When Gideon’s brow furrowed in disbelief at Din’s words, he nodded. “That’s right. I’ve broken my Creed before.” Din chuckled and raised his brow at Gideon in expectation. “More than once.” He tilted his head. “Does that make you angry?”

Gideon himself stepped forward to deal Din his next blow. You braced yourself for it, closing your eyes as you heard the sound of Gideon’s fist meeting Din’s face. Din, however, only let out a grunt, a sound that immediately transitioned into a laugh as Din gave Gideon a less-than-impressed once-over.

“Really? That’s it?”

Gideon scowled and kicked his boot towards Din’s dislocated shoulder. You closed your eyes before you had to watch Din scream in pain. Hearing it was bad enough. Your lips had started trembling again, especially as Din’s pained whimpers continued with each breath he took.

“I’m satisfied for now.” Gideon rolled his shoulders and nodded at the troopers. “We’ll leave them in here, seal the door.” Gideon’s signature smile returned as he looked pointedly in your direction. “I have a feeling the worst for them is yet to come.”

A chill ran down your spine at his ominous words. With that, the Commandos at your sides all but threw you against the floor. You sprawled out as they filed out of the room behind Gideon, struggling to push yourself up with your bound wrists as you heard the door slide closed. Instantly, you looked at Din, who they had so graciously left on his injured side.

“Oh, Din.” Your voice was a broken whisper as you crawled your way over to him.

Every breath Din took was pained, but there was nothing he could do to help himself. His gaze found you when you got closer, and your shattered heart fell apart within your chest as you saw the tears of pain there he had clearly been fighting to keep away from Gideon.

Your own eyes welled with tears. “I’m sorry.” You couldn’t stop apologizing as you lifted your bound hands to his face and held it the best you could. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You didn’t do this to me. You got me through it.” All of Din’s words came through gritted teeth as he fought the agony that attacked him. Still, he nodded at you with determination. “Can you help me up?”

You returned his nod, biting your cheek as you held his left arm with your bound hands and pulled. Din barely swallowed back his cry—and part of it still escaped—as the pressure on his shoulder released. You wanted to empty your stomach again at the sight of his limp arm, but before you could process it, Din spoke again.

“Are you okay?” Din looked as if he was trying to raise his bound hands to your face, but his shoulder wouldn’t let him, causing him to close his eyes and growl at the pain. “You’re bleeding. And…” his inhaled, reopening his eyes and revealing his pain—though this kind wasn’t physical, “your neck…” He trailed off, circling his jaw in evident anger.

You didn’t have to see yourself to know there were already bruises forming around your neck from the trooper’s tight grasp. “I’m all right. I promise. Like I said before, I can take it.” You covered his bound hands with your own. I’m not the one we need to be worrying about right now.”

Din’s gaze fell to your hands as he heaved the best breath he could manage. “I need your help again.” His eyes met yours. “It needs to go back in.”

“I…” you choked on the words you intended to say, “I can’t.”

Din’s gaze searched yours with a desperation that left you breathless. “Please.”

You closed your eyes and steadied yourself with a breath. “Isn’t it gonna hurt you?”

Din nodded, refusing to lie to you. “Badly.” His forehead fell against your own in his effort to comfort both of you. “But you’ll be fixing me.” Din’s voice was a soft, intimate whisper as his lips brushed over your own. “It’s okay.”

Your lips began trembling again, so Din steadied them with his own. His mouth slotted over yours, as if you were the only remedy that could truly fix him. It alleviated all of the horrors and worries if even for just those precious few moments, your shaky breaths strengthened by his own before he pulled away and kept his forehead against yours.

Din nodded. “It’s okay.”

You tightened your jaw, returning his nod before you leaned away. “Here.” You managed to tug the leather off one of your hands as you lifted it towards Din’s face. “To help with the pain.”

The corner of Din’s mouth lifted in the best smile he could manage. You helped him bite down on the leather and waited for another nod that would be your cue to work on his arm. Even though you weren’t quite ready yourself, you were going to help him, just as he had asked you to.

“On three.” Your grasp on his arm alone caused Din to growl into the leather, but the material at least worked to muffle the sound. “One… two…” you closed your eyes for a moment and inhaled sharply, “three!”

You corrected Din’s shoulder placement in one swift move. The popping it made as it fell back in place could be felt under your fingers, but once again, all you could hear was Din’s own agony—even through the leather. You lifted your hands and saw Din’s eyes screwed shut as his head hung in pain and exhaustion, each grueling sound still cutting through the leather.

You maneuvered yourself in front of him again and held his face the best you could with your bound hands, running circles over his tightened jaw as he began to relax more and more. There was a single tear that had escaped his eyes no doubt caused by his agony, and you were quick to wipe it away as you held him until he was breathing evenly again.

When Din’s gaze met yours, you took the leather and removed it from his mouth. He was quick to lean forward and kiss your cheek. “Thank you.” His voice was nothing but an exhausted rasp. “I love you.”

Your lips and your voice wobbled as you responded. “I love you, too.” You shook your head, the devastation hitting you in waves as it brought a flood of tears to your gaze. “I’m sorry they’ve done this to you.” Your gaze flickered to his helmet that still laid on its side many feet away. “All of it.”

Din raised his bound hands to your face despite how badly it hurt him, something that was clear by the tight growl he released as he did so. As if you were his tether of safety and comfort to the galaxy, his grip on you made him relax once again. His voice was so quiet you almost missed it. “You say that like it’s your fault.”

You tried to steady yourself with a breath, but you hiccuped on it instead. Din’s forehead pressed against yours; he was just as much your tether to the galaxy as you were his. “If you hadn’t had to defend both of us from them…”

“No.” Din shook his head at that, minding your own as he kept your foreheads together. “You should have never been in that situation to begin with.” Din’s gloved fingers ran over your cheek. “Neither of us should have.”

You heaved another breath. “Your Creed… after everything you did…”

Din shrugged, wincing as he moved his bad shoulder. “We’re still on Mandalore.” He managed a half smile. “I’ll just go back to the Living Waters when we’re free.”

You didn’t dare voice your fears about ever getting out of there. Instead, you lowered your head to the space between his good shoulder and his cowl, tucking yourself underneath his bound hands so that his arms could be around you. His hands still held the back of your head the best they could.

You hated how small your voice was, but with all the hours you’d experienced in such a short amount of time, you couldn’t help it. “Can you tell me it’s gonna be okay again?”

Din’s face rested upon your head as he did just that. “It’s gonna be okay, cyar’ika.”

You closed your eyes. “Promise?”

Din nodded. “Promise.”

And despite all the odds stacked against the two of you, you believed him.

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

#been meaning to write this one since april 2023 #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #dindjarindiaries

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abbeym28 · 5 months

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Clarisse La Rue - Between the Breaths

Clarisse x gn! reader

An- Over 3.4k on this one!!! It didn't really take me that long to write it either! Thank you for all of the notes on I'm Your Man, it means a lot to me! Also, if anyone has request for any Clarisse or Luke fanfics, I would be happy to hear them even though I have no clue on how to do requests lol

Warnings- Training, weapons, somewhat gruesome part but really at all, Clarisse being friends with most of the Aphrodite cabin, reader can be from any cabin!! Pls let me know if I missed something!!

Clarisse La Rue had been at Camp Half blood for awhile, and it's safe to say that she has seen a lot of things. Good things, pretty things, but also gruesome things, things that would break a normal person if they weren't strong.

But she was strong.

Just not as much when it comes to you.

You, who the moon and sun seemed to shine on in a whole different light then it did on the rest of camp. You, whose kindness had reached almost every demigod, each of which likes you in their own way for their own reason. You, who was the most beautiful person Clarisse has ever seen.

Except she couldn't ever get too close to you, or have a conversation with you that was long, for she was Clarisse La Rue, child of Ares, the favorite daughter of a man who didn’t like his kids. And you, you were just too good for her. But she would never let a crush like this weigh on her the way it had started to, so she found a good way to regulate it all.

It was fighting, of course.

She let out a battle cry as she stabbed her spear into the ground, getting annoyed at how the other camper had rolled out of the way instead of letting her stab them. Sounds of other kids also fighting in the training ground filled her ears and she could distantly pick up the smell of food. She could thank the instincts she got from her god-parent as she went in for another attack (this time one that would actually hit), but a yell stopped her before she could go through with it.

“Hey! Anyone who wants a snack can take one!” Luke Castellan stood off to the side with his arms crossed, and standing right next to him holding a tray, was you.

Younger campers ran over to the two of you, while older ones opted to walk or to pick up dangerous weapons that had been discounted to the ground.

Clarisse scoffed and began to walk the other way, clenching her gifted spear tightly in her hand. She was stomping down the path through the forest that led to her special spot, her favorite tree, but the sound of running footsteps from behind her made her slow down and lighten her steps.

She twirled around, spear at the ready to go through a neck, but it was your neck in which the spear was now pointed at. And, surprise surprise, your neck was attached to the rest of your body.

The back of her neck and the tips of her ears began to feel hot, the type of burning she swore she could only feel whenever she entered the Hephaestus cabin to complain about her faulty armor. Or whenever she was close to you at the bonfire nights. She lowered her spear a bit and her stance faltered.

“Oh, um, I was just.... Is this a bad time?”

“No, it’s not.” She dropped the spear from the attack mode and turned around, continuing down the path. You followed after her, balancing the last few snacks still on the tray you were holding as you awkwardly stepped over tree trunks and discarded branches.

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted anything to eat, considering that you're, like, the most hard working person in training and stuff. You definitely need substances so you can keep your muscles. ” Wow, you definitely knew exactly how and what to say to a kid of Ares.

“I don’t need a snack from you.” Gods, she hoped you picked up more on the sarcasm and not the accidental longing that had slipped out.

“Clarisse-” -she almost melted with how you had said her name- “-You were training really hard for a pretty long time. You should- you need to eat something!”

“I don’t need to do anything that you or anyone else tells me to!” She whirled around, getting very close to you as you halted, but taking a few steps back as a precaution. She glared at you, and you could feel her heavy breaths on your neck. You were looking down on her thanks to the hill, but despite that she was still pretty intimidating.

And just pretty.

Her eyes flickered to the snacks, and then they flickered back up to meet yours.

“If I take one, can you leave?” You brightened at her question.

“Of course!” She hesitantly took one, and before she turned around, you could have sworn that you heard her whisper a “Thank you, angel.” Your cheeks felt strangely warm as you made your way back to camp.

Throwing down another broken dagger, Clarisse groaned. The dummy she had destroyed was laying in shreds on the ground in front of her, and she was beginning to feel bad for whoever would have to stitch it back up. Someone began to clap behind her and her eye twitched.

“I think you got ‘em!” Selena Beauregard, daughter of Aphrodite, called from the sidelines.

“What do you want?” Clarisse called back, grabbing another dagger from the closest weapons rack near her. Silena watched as she twirled it around a few times.

“I’m here to ask you about something.” there was a strange sly smirk that situated on Silena’s face, that no matter what reputation the Aphrodite kid was, other campers knew that was the universal sign to run away.

Clarisse sighed and crossed her arms, the dagger she was holding pointing to the ground. She quirked her eyebrow as a way to say “go ahead”.

“We know you have a crush.” All of the sudden, at least six other kids that Clarisse could recognize as from the Aphrodite cabin jumped out of the bushes and came rushing towards Clarisse.

That was how she died.

Okay, so she definitely didn’t die, but dying was definitely better than being forced onto a pink chair inside the even pinker walls of the goddess of love's cabin.

Could’ve Clarisse fought of all of them and then report them to Chiron? Yes. But she just really didn't feel up to using that much energy on a bunch of perfect haired people. And besides, the amount of strength they had did impress her, so she was going to give it to them just this once.

A twelve year old girl was holding onto her right hand, delicately and perfectly brushing on a coat of black nail polish onto her freshly buffed nails.

Clarisse tried to pay attention to everything that the girl was doing, but the distracting amount of sets of eyes on her made it hard to do so. Even so, this was the first time someone had ever painted her nails for her.

“Got the ice cream!” Mitchell, one of the only sons of the love goddess came through the cabin doors, and he was met with cheers from every magenta cabin corner.

It took a minute or two until a bowl was eventually passed to Clarisse, but it was snatched away by the girl doing her nails. She wrinkled her nose at her, and the girl stuck out her tongue as response.

“So,” Silena started off, pausing to take a bite of the ice cream. “Want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know what your talking about.” Clarisse stayed stubborn, but she most definitely knew what she was talking about.

“Girl, we see how you get whenever they are around. Do you for real think that we are all stupid?” Another voice piped in from a random bunk bed to Clarisse’s left.

“Who?” She paid hyper attention to how the girl had finished working on her ring finger and was now moving onto her middle one. Shouts of your name rang out under the tall ceiling and Clarisse immediately tensed up.

“I do not have a crush on them.” She scoffed, but everyone else noticed the shakiness in her voice and they all exchanged knowing glances and smiles.

“You soooooo do! And that's why we’re helping you!” Voices of agreement chimed in with their two senses.

“We see how you look at them!”

“Yeah, and there's, like, a certain tension that comes around whenever you guys pass by each other! It’s soooo cute!”

“With our help, there's gonna be no way that they aren't in love with you!” Clarisse glared at the direction the voice came from.

“You don’t think they aren't already in love with me?” It didn’t seem to far of base, since Clarisse herself didn’t believe you were, or that you would ever be. But hearing a bunch of Aphrodite kids practically admit to it hit a bit different.

“I think they like you.” Silena said. Some other kids quickly agreed.

“They get pretty nervous when you're around, and they seek you out whenever there's gatherings. Even when they don’t go up to you, they get more relaxed whenever they see you.” A girl, no older than eight, spoke up from a lower bunk. She was laying her stomach and coloring on a piece of paper while kicking her feat. Everyone turned towards her, questions in the air. The girl looked up and shrugged. “We make paper stars together.” And then she went back to doodling.

Clarisse chuckled. She was not going to underestimate an Aphrodite kid again.

Then, there was a knock on the door. You poked your head through the cracked open door and smiled at everyone.

“Hey, I was just wondering if- Clarisse!” You got more fidgety once you had noticed Clarisse in the chair.

She jumped up and rushed past you and out of the cabin. Shouts of “hey!” rang out from behind her, the most prominent one coming from the girl who was working on her nails.

The next morning while getting breakfast, Clarisse could admit to herself that she was most definitely a fool.

With one hand of painted nails and the knowledge that she had run away from you, she would much rather stay in her fathers dedicated cabin and not anywhere where the kids from last night could find her.

She set her breakfast down at Ares’s assigned table, making sure that her manicure stayed unaffected. A flowery scent passed behind her, and a note was softly dropped onto the spot in front of her. Once she opened it, the note on the inside read : ”Try flexing at training today! ~ Silena + Aphrodite cabin” Followed by a winky and kissy face.

The last thing Clarisse wanted to do was make a fool of herself in front of more than just you and one cabin. She was for sure going to look stupid showing off the muscles she had gained over the years, but maybe she was always a fool after she caught you looking at her while she stretched.

Training seemed to go by fast that day, and by the end of it she was sweating hard under the sun's glare. She placed her spear down on a bench and sat on the ground, trying to catch her breath from all of the extra moving she had done.

“Clarisse!” Oh boy, she knew that voice. You jogged over to her, a water bottle and towel in your hands. She got up off of the ground, making sure to purposely move her arms in just the right way. While she couldn't say that she was an expert on your expressions, she could say that you looked almost breathless.

“Oh-um, these are for you.” She smiled at you and took the two things from you and in an instant gulped down almost half of the water. You tilted your head to the side a bit.

“Only one of your hands is painted?” She raised her eyebrow before realizing that you meant her nail polish.

“Oh, yeah. I… I don’t really like sitting down for that long.” You nodded your head.

“That makes sense. That happens to me a lot.”

“Sooo, I’ll see you later?” Her simple question seemed to make you brighten up, and you watched as she picked up her spear and moved to go in the direction back to camp. She looked over her shoulder and winked at you, all while making sure to hold her weapon in a way to bring attention to her biceps and back.

The fire in the pit got higher as Clarisse poked around in it to make sure that it would keep burning. You were across from her on the bench on the other side, talking to two of her brothers and sisters, and whenever she would catch a glimpse of you she would take it as a sign to add to the fire.

The way her siblings were getting close to you, and the way that you would laugh and allow them to touch your arm. It left a burning feeling in her heart, and a sinking feeling in her stomach.

She focused on running her fingers over the thick stick that was used to help the fire.

“Clarisse?” Gods, your voice saying her name had to be her most favorite thing about her life, and for her to just hear like, you must really have a tight hold on her- her eyes flickered up, and there you were, standing in front of her, fidgeting with something small in your hands. “I got some black nail polish from Silena, and I was- I was wondering if I could paint your other hand?”

Clarisse was taken aback. But still, she sat up straighter and moved over a bit. “Oh, yeah, sure.”

You excitedly sat next to her and reached over for her hand. She put her hand into yours, and it felt as if the fire had gotten hotter, and as if fireworks were going off over your heads.

She watched as you focused and delicately worked on her left hand. Your work wasn't as precise as the other girl had been, but for some reason she enjoyed this more, with how your hands would shake and a deep frown would mark your lips in that way that if Clarisse knew that you liked her as she liked you, she would lean over and kiss you until you couldn't even frown.

Clarisse La Rue was most definitely in love with you.

Over the next weeks, you and Clarisse had gotten closer, but never close enough.

Whenever she wanted to hold your hand, she opted to fix your sleeve or to situate her hand on the small of your back.

Whenever you wanted to grab her and then kiss her till you couldn’t breath, you opted to fix her armor.

But despite all of the things the two wanted, you continued to dance around each other in a way that even Luke was getting tired of. But things changed after Clarisse had that dream.

The sky was clear, and it was a perfect night to have a picnic on the beach. Clarisse had provided the blanket and the food, and all you had to do was show up and give her the attention that she had been craving while she was too busy.

Things were getting more dangerous around camp, monsters getting closer to the barrier and less new kids showing up for that reason.

Clarisse could fight monsters all day everyday, but it was these nice nights that allowed her to get back the drive to do so. She was close to convincing you to just spend the night sleeping with her in her cabin, not caring how many rules that could potentially break. But if she wouldn’t get that, then she would have to love this. It wasn’t a hard task, considering that anything that had to do with you was something that she would love.

She felt you snuggle in closer to her side, and her heart soared as her arm tightened around your waist.

“It’s pretty cold, isn’t it?” you whispered, and she could feel your breath against her neck.

“Yeah, but the moon looks beautiful, right?” She whispered back and you grinned.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” She gently pulled off one of your arms that was around her to take your hand in hers, leading you into a simple type of slow dance waltz. She had never danced before, nor had she ever been taught, but she would do anything for you.

The two of you laughed gently, especially once one of you accidentally stepped on the other's foot. When it was nearing the early hour of one, she led you to sit back onto the blanket.

“I'm gonna find you a pearl.” She promised against your lips as you held her closely to yours. You brought her into a kiss, the best and most slow and sensual kiss she would probably ever experience. Once you drew away from her, you laughed a bit.

“Okay, good luck my love.” And so she bounded towards the water, wading in right at the spot she knew clams and oysters were.

Right when she was bending to pick one up, a scream peirced through the darkness.

Your scream.

You were yelling her name, and Clarisse dropped everything to try to make it to you faster. A cyclops had you in its grip and you were struggling greatly.

She wanted to shout that she had no weapon, and that you would have to use the power in which you had gotten from your godly parent.

But she didn’t shout, and she didn't move.

She just watched as you got eaten.

Clarisse woke up with a start, sweat clinging to what felt like every cell of her skin. She flipped off the blankets of her bed and jumped up.

Nobody else had woken up because of her yet, thank the gods. She wanted to see you, to take you in her arms and know that you were alright, and to tell you that she was sorry that she was so weak. But that wasn’t something she should do, and she knew that.

She sighed and sat pack onto her bed, running her hand down her face. There was no way she could be around you right now.

It was later that night in which you were finally able to track Clarisse down as she was sitting outside of her cabin.

“Clarisse, you skipped all of our meals together. Are you okay?” You were about to go sit next to her but she got up and began walking towards the forest.

You followed after her, speed walking to keep up. “Clarisse, wait! If something happens, we can talk- woah!” You were going down the path that you had followed her down so long ago, and while you weren't paying attention to where you were walking, you tripped over an arm of a tree that had fallen to the ground.

Clarisse whirled around and caught you before you could touch the ground, and you held onto her arms tightly to ground yourself.

“Wow it was a good thing you were there, Clarisse, or else-” but once you met her eyes, they looked watery. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

No tears had fallen, no matter how hard it looked as she was holding it all in. You reached out your hand and gently caressed along her cheek.

She then pulled you into a hug worthy of a bear, and while you couldn't hear her crying, you could feel the damp that had started to soak through the fabric of your shirt. She held you tight;y as you began to softly draw shapes onto her back, mostly hearts.

“I, I had a dream, and you died, and I love you, and I’m sorry I'm this weak and-”

”Shhh, shh, it's okay, hun. You are not weak at all, and you are justified in whatever you're feeling, okay? And… I love you too” You whispered the last part as she sniffled and pulled away from you a bit.

You looked into each other's eyes for a bit, and you found yourself falling into and appreciating her gorgeous brown eyes. She pulled you closer, and then she pulled you into a kiss.

Your arms moved to be around her neck as her hands that grip your hips loosened the more you both melted into each other. As you pulled away, doubt seemed to fall across her face.

“Are you sure you-” But before she could say anything more, you grabbed the front of her shirt to bring her into a second kiss, one that was just as good as the first one, if not better.

“I love you. And your muscles.” A grin broke across Clarisse’s face.

“I love you too.”

And then going in for a third kiss, she made a mental note to give thanks to the Aphrodite cabin kids.

#percy jackson x reader #pjo #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #luke castellan #pjo x reader

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mewwile · 8 months

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Been playing project zomboid (incredibly harsh survival game with hordes of zombies) on an online server, with a lot of people I wouldn't normally hang out with (random dudes mostly) and something really struck me as lovely.

When I arrived, one specific guy scooped me up to take me on a scavenging trip with him and his pals, gave me weapons and armor and a bag, found a car for me, etc etc. It was as random as 'hey wanna come along?' When seeing me pathetically waffling around the spawn zone. This made me decide to stay, to try persisting through the many deaths of a new player without many skills yet.

And almost always, when I'd die, a random person would casually swoop in to help me get my stuff back. Every time I tried to repay them they waved it off.

Eventually I got established and was able to help others- bringing them to get their stuff, giving them supplies, denying all payment just like everyone has for me. Then these newbies who stuck around would turn around and do the same for others. It's had a compounding effect- one person is helped, and they help others, over and over again.

It just reminds me of how humans are at their core. One kind act inspired another, and another, and another.

We are wired to help each other. To lift each other up when facing disaster and a common goal. Modern society may have distanced us from each other and from our core instincts, but in certain places it shines through that we got this far by sticking together and supporting each other.

#project zomboid #humans are scary sometimes but also so sweet #now theres a community hub place i helped to build where newbies can stay with food and books to help them get established #it warms my heart everytime i see it #my post

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brimstonetrees · 6 months

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I want to talk about V1 being developed for combat on the Earthmovers

The new lore that dropped really puts into perspective why V1 moves and fights like it does. On a normal battlefield V1’s agility would be useful but it would be far more effective to optimize things like the guttermen, machines with heavy armor and powerful weapons, as opposed to putting a whole lot of time and money into developing something that has more maneuverability but could go down from less damage. Maneuverability on the battlefield is essential for any machine to truly function as a war machine but the greater machines that had been developed before V1 have already demonstrated their ability to proficiently navigate a normal battlefield scenario so the factor of excess maneuverability wouldn’t exactly be something that dominates a battlefield filled with machines of greater defense and firepower.

However at the time V1 was being created normal battlefields no longer existed, the war was now being fought on the earthmovers and with the chaotic terrain that made up that area vertical maneuverability became much more important. Sure the greater machines can fight on an earthmover, but they are severely limited by the cramped spaces causing the ones with more explosive firepower to damage themselves and their allies, and the complex geography restricting where they could reach. And as seen with how most of the machines in layer 7 arrive by being dropped via a bomb casing, the only way for the greater machines to infiltrate the earthmovers would be to be dropped in from a plane (which poses it's own risks of being shot from the sky by the earthmovers weapons system).

This is where the V models come in. V1's advanced maneuverability allows it to effortlessly navigate and dominate the general terrain of the earthmover, the ability to cling to walls and jump as high as it does makes it one of the only machines that wouldn't be neutralized if it was forced off one of the earthmovers many edges and it's agility allows it to reach spaces that other enemies couldn't reliably damage them from. V1 has the ability to completely skip though entire areas that could be blocked off or heavily guarded against the standard war machines due to its ability to climb through the terrain, which additionally gives it the advantage of being able to infiltrate from below providing a much safer route (as it would be inefficient if the earthmover could use it's cannon to shoot out it's own legs).

V1 also has immense versatility in it weapons proficiency as opposed to most other greater machines. In the cramped narrow walkways along the edges it can make precise controlled shots that wont risk damage to itself, but in more open areas it can utilize larger explosions to contend with the more heavily armored machines. This combined with it's advance maneuverability allows V1 to fight on the earthmovers in a way that tougher enemies can't reliably counter.\

The lore of Ultrakill has always been very fascinating to me and I love how now we have a clearer timeline for the production of the machines and how V1 came to be. V1 being developed for battle on the earthmovers before the New Peace was established makes so much sense in retrospect given it's abilities.

#ultrakill #ultrakill spoilers #V1 #V1 ultrakill #ultrakill lore #brimstone rant

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cloudyyoimiya · 1 year

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Can i request measuring hands with Dazai, chuuya and tecchou and s/o hands are smaller, please :)

this request was adorable! when i saw it i couldn’t get it off of my mind. i don’t doubt that my own hands would be smaller than theirs, well, besides chuuya that is (sorry)! this is also doubling as my hand headcanons whoops. anyways, thank you for the request anon! <3

Measuring Their Hands; Osamu Dazai, Chuuya Nakahara, and Suehiro Tecchou

Format: Scenarios

Osamu Dazai

“Come here for a moment,” you said as you looked at your boyfriend.

Dazai was currently sprawled out on the couch of your shared apartment, hogging all of the blankets he could possibly find. You were honestly worried that he might get overheated, but then again, it was Dazai after all. He had a knack for somehow managing to survive dire situations, so you knew that he would be fine.

“Why? I’m comfortable,” he whined. “How about you come over here!”

You rolled your eyes then got up from where you were sitting. You then sat down on the arm rest that Dazai was resting his head on with a soft sigh. After that you had started to dig around in the cocoon of blankets that Dazai wrapped himself in. Eventually after some trial and error, you managed to find his right hand. You quickly grabbed it and pulled it out of the blankets in victory.

“Found it!” You exclaimed.

Dazai looked at you questionably. “What are you up to?”

You didn’t respond to him.

In fact you silently flattened your hand and put it against Dazai’s. His bandaged hand was larger than yours, albeit not by a lot. Your finger tips had only managed to reach his middle knuckles. His hands were calloused, most likely from wielding fire arms often from his mafia days. It wasn’t unpleasant though.

“Your hands are bigger,” you simply stated.

Dazai raised a brow at you. “They are indeed. Maybe it’s because you’re so short!”

You clicked your tongue then playfully rolled your eyes. “I am not short.”

“But look at you! Your hands are clearly smaller than mine! Oh, it makes me want to protect you even more,” Dazai gushed.

“How romantic. Truly, you are my knight in shining armor,” you deadpanned.

Dazai chuckled. He then carefully took your hand into his. Afterwards Dazai then slowly brought your knuckles to his mouth, then gave it a small peck as he closed his eyes. He then looked up at you and gave you a smile.

“If I’m your knight, then I shall treat you like royalty, my love,” he said as he let go of your hand.

He then pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his blankets around you. He made sure that you were unable to move away from his tight hug as he spoke to you once more.

“I love you.”

Chuuya Nakahara

Today was one of Chuuya’s very rare days off. Therefore, the two of you were currently out at a restaurant. Chuuya had sought out this establishment because the reviews had said that their wine was delectable, and Chuuya didn’t want to miss out on this said wine.

He had brought you to a private booth much to your disliking. The two of you were holding hands, his pinky interlocked with yours. It was a very sweet gesture, but it made you think. Whose hands are were bigger?

Once the two of you sat down, you immediately grabbed his hand. You quickly took off one of his gloves and put it on your lap gently. You then flattened his palm alongside with yours and placed them together.

“What’re you doing?” Chuuya asked, a singular eyebrow raising.

“Measuring our hands, duh.”

You stared at his hand. Your hand was barely any smaller than his. Your finger tips reached his third knuckle; the one that was near his own finger tips. His fingers only had the smallest bit of callouses. He only really used his ability instead of weapons, so it was to be expected.

Despite all of this, his hands were on the softer side. It was comforting to touch his hand like this.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” you said with a smile. “That’s weird. I thought that they’d be smaller than mine since you’re shorter than me.”

Chuuya groaned then interlaced your fingers together. He then brought your hands down to the table and held your hand gently. Afterwards Chuuya started to rub small circles with his thumb into your palm.

“Will you ever stop teasin’ me about my height?!” He asked.

“No, I don’t think so.”

You grabbed his glove off from your lap and brought it up to him. You then took your hand away from his grasp and put on his glove gently. Chuuya only stayed silent as he watched you do this, a small smile adorning his features.

The two of you stayed silent for a while until Chuuya eventually spoke up. “(Name)?”

“Hm?”

“Your tiny hands are adorable,” he said with a snicker.

You rolled your eyes. “They aren’t tiny.”

“Well they’re tiny compared to mine.”

“Only by a little bit!” You exclaimed.

“Uh huh, sure,” he said with a smirk.

“Chuuya!”

He let out a short chuckle then kissed your cheek. He then picked up your hand once more and held it gently. He acted as if your hand was made of glass—or maybe even a stack of cards piled up to make a house.

Chuuya then gave you a soft smile then started to speak once more. “I love you.”

Suehiro Tecchou

Currently, the two of you were out on patrol. With the current rise of crime in a certain district, you and your boyfriend were tasked to look around and make sure nothing illegal is happening. So far nothing noteworthy has happened besides Tecchou holding your hand rather tightly. It didn’t hurt, no, not at all. In fact it was rather comforting—you liked it.

When you eventually looked down at your interlaced fingers, you noticed that Tecchou’s hand was bigger than yours. Curious, you stopped walking and brought your intertwined hands up to your line of vision and stared at them for a moment.

“Hm?” Tecchou looked down at you. “Is something the matter?”

“No. Just flatten your hand real quick,” you said as you stopped holding his hand. You then flattened your own palm. “Please?”

Tecchou’s face remained indifferent as he did what he was told. He flattened his palm, then you put your hands together.

His hand was larger than yours by a long shot. It also had countless callouses all over, the most prominent being where he would normally hold his saber. Despite this though, they were still slightly soft. There were also a few small scars littered across his palm alongside his index and middle finger.

“Your hands are bigger than mine, ’Hiro,” you said with a small giggle.

His expression was still as indifferent as before once he spoke up. “I can see that.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“It means that you have to hold my hands more often,” you spoke matter-of-factly.

“Why?”

“Because they make me feel safe, duh.”

You interlaced your hands together once more, then put them down back at your side. Tecchou then lightly squeezed your hand then started to walk once more. You of course followed him, albeit with a small grin on your face.

“What was the point of that?” He asked while looking forward.

“I was just curious to see how big your hand is compared to mine,” you said while looking up at him.

“That’s weird,” he muttered as he continued to walk. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Again, I was curious. Plus, you have no room to talk about weirdness. I saw you eat mini tomatoes with your strawberry shortcake last night.”

He tilted his head to the side a little bit. “But it was good?”

“Yeah… sure it was,” you said playfully as you rolled your eyes. You then got on the tip of your feet and kissed his petal markings. “I love you, Mr. Big Hands.”

“Don’t call me that please,” he said as he sighed. “And I love you too.”

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heliads · 1 year

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Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:

Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3

when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win

masterlist

You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.

You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.

That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.

This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.

You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.

It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.

Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.

Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.

You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.

A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”

You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”

Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.”

As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”

“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.

It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”

His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”

His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”

Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”

He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.

You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.

“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”

You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.

“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”

Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.

Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.

Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.

Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.

He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.

Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.

Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”

You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”

He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”

You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”

Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more.

Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.

It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.

So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself.

The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.

He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”

Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“You had better not,” you grumble.

He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”

You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”

Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”

He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.

Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.

He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.

You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.

“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”

Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”

You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”

He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”

You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”

He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.

“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.

Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”

“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”

Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”

Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.

You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.

narnia tag list: empty for now!

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