#you can tell me all you want that toma's just like a normal if a little possessive dude who just happened to get fucked up because of time

[doki-doki-imagines]

MK1 men react to their fem s/o wearing an MK9 outfit into battle? 🤭

author note: Johnny, Tomas and Kung Lao reaction here. Some guys are together because I think there is a limit to the kind of reactions someone can have to a partner with a skimpy dress LOL. Writing for these many characters is...hard

If you like what I write consider tipping/commissioning me on ko-fi!

Kenshi Takahashi: -He doesn't have a strong opinion on your new suit. -Mostly because he can't see it. Even with the help of Sento, it's not like Kenshi is able to clearly see, he just notices that something is different. -Things change when you press his thick fingers on your naked stomach, making him feel the strings that keep your dress together. -Kenshi is LIVID. -He is going to tell you he is angry because such an attire won't be safe in battle, but Kenshi is just trying to make you cover yourself up. -Yeah, Kenshi is jealous and doesn't mind manipulating you a bit into doing what he wants, mostly because he thinks he is doing it for your own good.

Liu Kang, Raiden, and Kuai Liang: -They would all stand still, their brain trying to load what is going on. -Like, they find you hot, but their brains work harder this time and tell them "It isn't the right time." -Liu Kang won't push you into covering up, and he'll keep an eye on you in battle. Be ready to get the emperor of earful if you get a scratch, tho. -Raiden and Kuai Liang angers bubble up, but while Raiden won't say anything and try to keep his temper at bay. -But don't expect to see him overjoyed at the end of the battle, for sure the dress elicited more worry and anger rather than passion. -Kuai Liang will be snippy the entire time, he didn't enjoy this stunt, not in front of everyone. -He'll ask at the end if you can avoid dressing like that in front of everyone. "Only if you admit that I'm hot." "Hotter than me, touch my arm if you don't believe me." -You won't touch just the arm.

Geras, Shao Khan, Reiko, Syzoth: -#TeamIdc -Geras simply doesn't mind, not growing up with an Earthreal mindset. -Shao Khan finds you hot, and seeing the blood of enemies on your skin is just a plus for him. -Reiko doesn't really mind, but he'd prefer if you wear more armour just in case? Or directly stay at home; he likes your soft skin. -Syzoth like Geras wasn't raised with Earthrealm's mindset, so he doesn't see anything wrong with that. Another one that is just worried you'll get wounded easier.

Bi-Han, Rain, Havik, Quan-Chi: -#Areyouinsane?Theyareworse. -They are jealous and possessive. They won't accept you dressing up like that for battle. -Bi-Han gets insanely possessive even in a normal setting, he absolutely needs to work on that. He thinks that kind of dress is right just if it falls on the floor in the next .25 sec thanks to his deft hands. -Zeffeero usually isn't too strict, he doesn't mind a deep neckline or vent, but this is too much. It looks closer to lingerie rather than a dress and Zeffeero will die before letting you out like that.

-Havik is anger incarnate. He shouts like a madman and his face being corroded makes him look even scarier. -Quan-Chi is a mixture between the two, closer to Zeffero, tho. He won't lash out, but his revenge will slither slowly, hitting you harder than any outburst.

Shang Tsung: -"What a sight for my eyes" He says after whistling. -His voice is deep, caressing your egos with compliments. -Shang Tsung really doesn't mind your attire, if anything you are now a perfect bait in case he needs to escape…

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader #liu kang #liu kang x reader #geras #geras x reader #mk1 raiden #raiden x reader #bi han #bi han x reader #kuai liang #kuai liang x reader #mk reiko #reiko x reader #shao khan #shao khan x reader #mk havik #havik x reader #mk quan chi #quan chi x reader #mk1 shang tsung #shang tsung x reader #mk rain

[restinslices]

ALRIGHT ENOUGH ANGST MY HEARTS DEALT WITH ENOUGH 😭 CAN I REQUEST THE LIN KUEI BOYS TAKING CARE OF A SICK READER?

I also got another fluff request but for Kitana. Y’all make me sick, I could just BAFFGSGTGSGG (me vomiting cause y’all don’t wanna be depressed). Using stupid pictures because I don’t think I have for them yet.

Bi-Han

The haters will try to convince you that Bi-Han wouldn’t give a fuck. That he’d tell you to walk it off or some other mean shit 

I encourage you to ignore them

Bi-Han is snippy but y’all let’s be fr, he’s an older brother. He’s the older brother. He’s definitely been forced to take care of his brothers 

As the oldest brother he’s always had to do shit for his brothers so this is not his first rodeo 

If it’s something small and you’re in the middle of something, like a mission, he’d encourage you to pull through. If you’re not in the middle of something then he’d take care of you 

A small illness can become bigger so he makes sure to address it right away

He knows random remedies you’ve never heard of. Jump down, turn around, pop your ass, swallow a lemon and now you’re ok

You’d recover way quicker with him watching over you 

And if I said he makes you meals will y’all boo me for making him soft?! Idc.

Once again, he’s the oldest. I’m the youngest so I’ve seen how much weight the older ones gotta carry. He for sure knows how to do things like cook, clean, take care of sick people, ect. 

He makes these heavenly soups and just like that, your sore throat is gone 

Soups, teas, a nice healing stew, he’s on it

If you have body aches, he makes you do certain stretches 

You swear this man knows witchcraft because everything he suggests works 

Obviously if you’re heating up he’ll put his hand on you. We knew this was coming.

He’d prefer you to use an ice pack or use a cold rag but let’s be real, you’re not gonna do that when you could just cling onto him 

The best doctor the Lin Kuei has ever seen even if he won’t admit it

The strongest of illnesses mean nothing to him. He’s gonna get the job done 

Kuai Liang

Also a good nurse

He’d ask Bi-Han for some help when it comes to soups and shit. Kuai Liang can cook but he recognizes that Bi-Han got a magic touch 

If you’re in the middle of a mission and feel unwell, he wouldn’t tell you to stop what you’re doing but he has you doing less. He’ll have you behind him and would suggest you to do simple things, like keeping watch 

If you’re not on a mission then he’d pay more attention. You expect that Bi-Han would have you wait and Kuai Liang would treat you right away but I think it’s the opposite. Bi-Han being the caregiver knows how annoying it is to take care of someone really sick (which could have been prevented) and Kuai Liang is the younger sibling who would put off mentioning his illness 

He’d have you track your symptoms at first to see if it’s something serious or something a quick nap could fix 

Lingers around you to make sure you’re ok

Cooks you warm meals if you’re cold but if you’re warm he’ll give you cold liquids 

You can’t sneakily miss taking your medication cause he’s on your ass. Probably has an alarm set and everything 

If you’re overly warm he won’t be all on you because he’s warm, but if you want physical touch he’ll let you hold his pinkie 

Bi-Han gives you remedies even if they taste absolutely vile but I think Kuai Liang would try to give you remedies that don’t taste that bad 

Has you laying down a lot so you can recover quicker. If you have no responsibilities to tend to he’s not letting you get up 

You’ll have to convince him to let you do things like, oh idk, walking around? I have the flu, I’m not dying 

When you start to recover then he lets you move around like normal. He just doesn’t want you exerting yourself and getting worse 

Tries to find out if there’s a certain thing you were exposed to that got you sick so it doesn’t happen again

Tomas Vrbada

Similar to Kuai Liang in the sense that if you’re on a mission he’ll want you to do less intense things, like keeping watch 

He constantly asks if you’re ok and what your symptoms are 

If it was up to him, you’d be sent back home immediately. You’re just gonna get worse and you probably can’t focus 

If you have nothing to do then he’s basically right on top of you

I feel like he has random thoughts he doesn’t want to have and he makes himself paranoid. He’s the type to google his symptoms and legit starts to think he has cancer because WebMD said so

He also thinks out loud so he’s the type to say “what if you’re dying?… that actually wasn’t appropriate. I’m sorry”

Nah, you gotta move now Tomas 

Because of his paranoia he’s constantly checking up on you 

Kuai Liang but worse because you can convince him to let you move like a normal person but that’s not happening with Tomas 

Becomes your nurse and your butler because he’s doing everything for you 

Cooking? He got it. Making tea? He got it. Making sure you take your meds? He got it. Grabbing a cup of water? He got it. Wanna walk to the bathroom? He got strong arms-

He’s neither hot nor cold so feel free to snuggle next to him 

His brothers are soup kind of guys but I think he’s more oatmeal and tea 

Also tries to give you better tasting medicine but sometimes you just gotta thug it out 

If a mission comes up but you’re still sick, he will not let you attend at all 

Constantly drying your blankets so they can be extra warm if you’re cold 

Distracts you by talking about random shit

Only convinced you’re not dying when you’re no longer sick

He’s on your ass 24/7 but it’s Tomas so who’s complaining?

This is not me turning over a new leaf. If I think of something sad, y’all WILL hear about it💕

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #kuai liang scorpion #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #tomas vrbada headcanons #bi han x reader #bi han headcanons #kuai liang headcanons #kuai liang x reader #mk1 x reader #mk1 x y/n #mk1 x you

[shutupineedtothink]

More Moiraine & Lan (and the Bond) thoughts, because I really just can’t help myself.

Just thinking about how we know every Aes Sedai and Warder share the Bond, but we don’t see any other AS/Warder teams using it as a form of communication NEARLY as much as Moiraine and Lan do.

Like these mofos are having full conversations with head tilts and tiny eyebrow raises and 3 seconds of eye contact from the jump. Sometimes not even looking at each other. And it’s extra great if you’re a show only like me because you only realize it when you go back later after all the stuff with the Bond is explained in 1x04/1x05. Like I remember thinking when I was first watching the pilot ‘wow, these two are really in sync, clearly they’ve known each other a long time,’ but it’s so much more than that obviously.

Now, one easy explanation for this is that we’re just seeing them the most, they’re main characters, and s1 especially does a lot of work hyping up the Bond and how important it is so that we get the full impact of them being cut off later. Makes sense.

But… idk like even Alanna and Ihvon and Maksim, who are actually in a romantic relationship, don’t seem to prefer the Bond as a way to communicate. We even see them have their little diplomatic discussion before Ihvon goes to follow Tomas. It’s an actual conversation. Maksim even prefers the Bond masked, so I guess in that way they kind of have to talk to each other.

Verin and Tomas are pretty quiet in general, but still it’s not emphasized that they use the Bond to communicate that much. Perhaps this is also highlighted by Tomas’s advice to Lan that the Bond isn’t the only common language they share with their Aes Sedai.

Except for Moiraine and Lan, it’s like AT LEAST 80%. It’s the primary way they communicate. Because 1. they’re both so naturally reserved on the outside (but feel very deeply on the inside), and 2. I imagine it comes in handy to be extra good at it when you’re on the road searching for the Dragon Reborn and you don’t want everyone around you to know what you’re about.

Then there’s Stepin’s comment from s1 to Kerene, “Can you imagine their dinners?” Which is funny but also very telling. To all the other Aes Sedai and Warders, Moiraine and Lan seem pretty cold and distant, to everyone else and each other. But again, that’s by design to protect their mission. They’re just having conversations no one else can see, even other Bonded pairs. It’s like most AS and their Warders use the Bond as insurance, a fail safe even, to understand and communicate with each other, with normal human communication (i.e. TALKING) as the primary method. But for Moiraine and Lan it’s the other way around.

My POINT BEING, that this adds weight to their storyline in S2. Like they are REALLY struggling because on top of everything else, this fundamental piece of their relationship and communication is just gone. And it opens a door for Moiraine to push Lan away, when she NEVER would have been able to before, practically or emotionally. And he reels from her attacks because he’s just not as good at understanding her without the Bond, when he would have seen right through that shit before, just from feeling alone. So Tomas can say to him, you need to really listen, but 20 years of shared emotional mind reading is not that easy to bypass. You don’t learn normal person communication skills overnight. Certainly not when there’s this gaping hole in your head/heart where another person you probably knew better than yourself should be but isn’t.

Anyway, I think it just adds even more credence to why they’re both so lost throughout most of S2, especially Lan. And what makes them so badass with the Bond but so absolutely uncoordinated without it. And why every other Aes Sedai/Warder thinks they’re fuckin weird. And why we love them, because who doesn’t want to be so fundamentally understood like that? Who doesn’t want their own secret language with someone that no one else really gets, but that person gets you on a level so real it can’t be replaced? That’s what we’re all reaching for, and that’s what they have with each other. For better or worse.

#other aes sedai and warders: talking 80% / Bond 20% #Moiraine and Lan: Bond 80% / body language 15% / talking 5% #so extra #but I imagined it just happened for them #it wasn’t intentional #but then they got too used to it and couldn’t stop #and they never thought they’d have to #and then they finally get it back and it’s like they become whole people again #like you can see what a missing limb it was once they’re finally back on their game #jfc these two #wheel of time #the wheel of time #moiraine damodred #lan mandragoran #wot on prime #wot

[bihansthot]

How about....reader is kuai liang's lover and he introduces them to his brother, Bi han, and they secretly fall in love with him?

So, I wrote something kind of similar to this a long time ago so I decided to rework it a bit and expand in it. Hopefully this is similar enough to what you had in mind, I hope you don’t mind that nothing happens though, I just couldn’t write Bi-Han cheating with his brother’s s/o. It made me too uncomfortable.

Side note: I need to make some fancy little dividers and kharacter headers, I just need to pick out some pictures I guess.

*********************************************************

You sigh from boredom, walking idly around the Lin Kuei Temple’s complex, waiting impatiently for Kuai Liang. You knew from the start dating the second in command of the Lin Kuei wouldn’t be a normal relationship, but it was lonelier than you anticipated.  Even when you’re with Kuai Liang most of the time it feels like he’s always exhausted or acting cold and distant, leaving you sexually frustrated and craving attention and affection. You’re so lost in thought you don’t notice the sudden chill in the air, or the tall cryomancer turning the corner.

                “Oh? All alone again huh?” Bi-Han’s deep voice startles you out of your contemplations as he makes his way over to you.

                “G-Grandmaster Bi-Han!” you yelp in surprise, looking up at your boyfriend’s older brother. Even though they weren’t twins Bi-Han’s height and messy hair were about the only way to tell the two of them apart.

                “Does Kuai ever spend time with you?” he teases, smirking at you playfully as he makes his way over to you.

                You jump as his cold fingers brush against your cheek, “Honestly, even when we are together it never seems like he wants to be with me, you know?” You can’t help but continue your confession, “all he ever does is spend time with his students or Tomas, I-I can’t even remember the last time we were intimate.” You grimace as you belatedly realize you probably shouldn’t be dumping your relationship grievances on Bi-Han, not only was he too close to the situation, but the older cryomancer had quite the playboy reputation and not much of a respect for boundaries.

                Bi-Han bends down, hovering so close to your face, that you can feel goosebumps breaking out across your cheeks, “If you were mine, you wouldn’t have this problem.” His cold fingers trail down your cheeks as he continues, voice lower and rougher, “I would fuck you all the time, I still can if you want me to. Baby brother doesn’t have to know.”

                You shiver in his grasp, “I-I really shouldn’t, it wouldn’t be fair to Kuai.” Bi-Han’s words shoot straight to your core, you feel guilty as you feel a pang of arousal that makes your stomach flip and flop.

                “He’s not being fair to you, not taking care of your needs, why does it matter if you’re fair to him?” The older cryomancer reasons, his lips nearly touching yours as he continues trying to seduce you.

                “Well, I,” you falter, it had been ages since Kuai Liang had even shown you any physical affection, he was always so proper and buttoned up in front of the students making it harder and harder to resist the physical contact Bi-Han provided so willingly. That’s when it hit you, you weren’t in love with Kuai Liang anymore, you were in love with Bi-Han, it made your heart ache. You didn’t want to hurt the pyromancer but you couldn’t deny your feelings for the cryomancer either. You hadn’t spent much time around the cryomancer but the time you had he had always made you smile and laugh far more than your actual lover had, but there was one way to be sure. You lean forward and press your lips to his cold ones and it feels electrifying, heat immediately coils in your stomach in spite of the cold rolling off his body.

                Bi-Han seems taken aback at first and almost pulls away but at that moment you let out a soft moan and he buckles and gives in. He deepens the kiss as his cold tongue glides across your lower lip and he pries your lips open to gain entrance into your warm, wet mouth.

                It feels perfect, it feels right, it feels like everything you’ve been missing from your relationship with his brother. You part your lips and let his tongue inside and you moan louder, needier against the cold appendage. Bi-Han runs it along your lower teeth before tonguing the roof of your mouth then tangling his with yours. You paw at his body desperately trying to grab onto something before settling with wrapping your arms around his neck. “Bi-Han, please,” you break the kiss to whimper.

                He breathes deeply, trying to regain his composure, “are you sure? What about my brother?”

                “I’m not in love with him, I haven’t been for a while, you’re the one I want, please,” you beg him.

                Bi-Han holds you at arm’s length as he speaks seriously, “some teasing and a kiss are one thing, but I can’t and won’t fuck you until you break things off with my brother, I’m a lot of things but someone who betrays their family isn’t one of them.”

                “I-I understand, I’ll end things with Kuai Liang when I see him next,” you’re disappointed but part of you is grateful Bi-Han stopped things. You didn’t want Bi-Han as a horny, desperate fling, you wanted him, all of him, and you would do what you had to in order to get it.

#mortal kombat #bi han #sub zero #kuai liang #scorpion #tw cheating #kissing #bi han x you #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang x you #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x you #drabbles

[dragon-watcher03]

Hello! <3 how are you?! I love what you write, could you place an order for me, about bi-han's head cannons, Johnny cage, smoke and reptile from mortal kombat 1 meeting and falling in love and conquering an autistic reader or one with asperger's, I'm very curious about that already I have Asperger's and curiosity kills me a lot.

Sorry it took so long to answer your ask. Had to do some research first.

Mk1 x Autistic! Reader

Ft: Sub-Zero, Smoke, Reptile, Johnny

Note: I appreciate all the asks and requests yall. <3

Sub-Zero

He was never good at understanding others either, so you 2 were the perfect match for each other.

He probably met you through Tomas or Kuai Liang and didn't talk to you at first. But as time passed, he realized that you are just as socially awkward as he was. So he plucked up the courage to start a conversation with you.

He fell in love with your strength; you can't tell me otherwise. It's what he looks for in a partner. He also found your silence endearing and comforting. And as you two grew closer, you eventually plucked up the courage to tell him about your autism.

He didn't react that much since that didn't change how he saw you. But he now understood why you were so quiet and socially awkward, so he tried to keep you away from situations like that so you don't feel uncomfortable.

He isn't very empathetic either, so you two can relate pretty well with each other. Most of your time is spent alone with each other in silence and just enjoying the comfortable silence.

Smoke

He's a pretty social person, so he had a little trouble understanding you and your quietness.

You both met when Liu Kang introduced you to them and he obviously tried to start a conversation with you, but sensing your awkwardness and discomfort he stopped. Over time though you started talking a little bit with him which made him very happy.

He probably fell in love with your determination. Since you don't talk much he doesn't really know much about your personality but he saw your determination during missions as clear as day.

When you told him about your diagnosis, he was very supportive and reassuring that he didn't see you any differently. But he definitely does plenty of research about your specific type of autism and does his best to understand.

He tries to have you avoid social situations since he doesn't want to see you uncomfortable. Plus, he prefers your company over anyone else's so it's a win-win in his book.

Reptile

He doesn't really go out of his way to talk with other people or attend social events, but that doesn't make him bad at it. In fact, he's actually quite good at socializing.

You both probably met through Ashrah and he didn't really see your awkwardness as odd, he thought it was normal for people to be quiet when they first meet.

But then over time, he saw you were still quite distant despite having known him for a while. So he took it upon himself to start a conversation with you.

He probably fell in love with your voice, at least when he does hear it. He thinks it's the most beautiful melody in the entire realm and wishes he would hear more of it, but he also doesn't know if it's weird to want to listen to someone's voice.

When you tell him of your condition, he's kind of confused. Poor boy doesn't know what Autism is, so you'll have to explain it to him. When he eventually does understand, he's very understanding. He usually talks for you in social settings but doesn't avoid them entirely since his species are social creatures.

Johnny

He is the most social out of all of them, he's constantly going out to events and talking with everyone in the area.

You both met through Raiden and he warned Johnny that you weren't much of a talker. That didn't stop him from starting a conversation immediately. That's when he really saw how socially awkward you were.

So he laid you off for a bit since he thought maybe you were too shy to speak with him, but the longer he knew you, the more he noticed something off about your behavior. So he does some research and finds out you most likely have autism.

So he keeps it to himself but still tries to engage in conversation with you. He fell in love with your shyness, 100%. And he doesn't even need to do anything to make you that way.

Eventually, you tell him you have autism and he tells you he already knew. So now that you were comfortable with telling him that, he thought that meant you two were a lot closer now. So he tends to let you stay at home while he continues to socialize as he usually does, but he does it a little less often so he can also spend time with you as well.

#mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #sub zero x reader #smoke x reader #johnny x reader #reptile x reader

[thisonehere]

Hello, me again! Another request, could you do headcanons with the MK1 Earthrealmers and Liu Kang with a street racer reader? (Total Fast and Furious 1 and 2 vibes from this, BTW)

Hey you, welcome back.

Live Fast, Die Young

A/n: I'm gonna be honest with you, I barely know a single thing about the Fast and Furious franchise. But I'll try lol Tags: Request, SFW, F&F inspired C/w: None

Liu Kang

This was not what he had in mind when he brought you into the new timeline. He wanted something more peaceful for you, something that didn't put you in harm's way. Yet here you are, racing up and down dangerous roads, going on secret missions, and being involved in dirty money.

He worries about you, every moment you are together he tries to coax you out of this lifestyle. Yet you refuse, Liu Kang created you with a rebellious and fun-loving spirit. He thought it would be more beneficial to your safety...he was wrong.

He often sends Kuai, Tomas, geras, and whoever he can, to watch after you and make sure everything goes in your favour. Sometimes he himself will even come down and intervene. He can't seem to ever understand you. He offer you a life of peace, why won't you take it?

He worries whenever you aren't in his sight, he's scarred you've been thrown into jail, killed, or worse. He fears you might fall in with people like Kano and the black dragon. He fears that one day you'll make a deadly bet you fail to win. That your car will fail you and you crash. Every night he prays for your safety and the hope that you'll come back to him.

Johnny Cage

Oh man, this is exciting for him. Normally this type of thing is something he plays on the silver screen but to see you actually do stuff like this in real life is so thrilling for him. He barrages you with questions every chance he gets, he comes to your races to watch, he's your biggest cheerleader, and he bets a ridiculous amount of money for you, and if you lose? No problem, we'll get them next time.

He'll use you as his muse whenever he writes a screenplay that has anything to do with your profession. He bases his stories on your adventures (and maybe he mixes a bit of his own experiences in Outworld just for fun) he is often asked how he comes up with ideas and he just lies for your safety. "Oh, it just came to me. I'M A GENIUS!".

Sometimes he rides with you whenever you do your races or go on your missions. He whoops and hollers as you go into overdrive, he laughs hysterically as you pass others, he praises your every win and praises you when you lose.

Don't be fooled by how supportive he is, he still worries for you. Some nights he just asks you to stay home with him where it's safe. But you won't though, you promise you'll come back but he's often not too sure you will.

Kenshi

He is no stranger to being in dirty and dangerous business, he was part of the Yakuza after all. So when he finds out about your lifestyle he is quick to disapprove of this lifestyle. He is sure to lecture you and tell you how living like this is wrong.

He gets stressed whenever you are on the road, every time you rev your engine and speed away. Every moment you are in that car there is a risk that you'll crash and die. You seem to be getting in bed with some very shady people, it's bad enough that you're surrounded by enough shady people as it is, the low lives around you want to do terrible things to you and leave you dead, or worse.

He tries to convince you to stay with him and do something with him to keep you away from racing and the dirty money that surrounds it. Maybe he'll take you to the movies, dancing, to the Wu Shi Academy, anywhere he knows you'll be safe.

He will still attend any of your races and missions, he has to make sure you are safe. He acts as your bodyguard in a sense, being sure to protect you whenever any situation arises where you need him. But he can't always be there for you, and that scares him.

Kung Lao

Kung Lao has always been a lover of the fast lifestyle, anything thrilling, anything dangerous and he loves it. So it's no surprise that he gets along with you instantly. He used to think that everything in Earthrealm was boring and uneventful compared to something like Outworld or any other realm. But you proved him wrong.

You introduce him to this life and he can't get enough of it. He's there almost every moment he's free, he watches you race and he even places bets. He even insists that he started racing himself, and the adrenaline he feels when starts doing this is amazing. he never wants to stop.

But unfortunately, he does stop. Soon the glitz and glamour of racing fade away when he becomes more aware of the more shady and dangerous side. This gets worse and worse as he realizes all of the illegal stuff he and you were involved in.

He doesn't know what to do, he can't go to Liu out of shame, but he doesn't want to do this anymore. He especially doesn't want you to do this anymore. He tries his best to convince you to stop this, but you just won't listen. You love this life and you won't stop.

Raiden

He's confused. What exactly are you doing? Why are you doing this? His curiosity leads him to follow along and come with you to your races. He is confused and overwhelmed by all of this, Raiden doesn't like this. Why would you want to do this? He immediately realizes how corrupt and dangerous some of the things here are and he is quick to try and reason with you to get you to stop.

He tries to make you see how flawed living like this is, but unfortunately for him, his lectures fall on dead ears. You won't listen to him, you refuse to stop this, You cannot stop this. Maybe because you love the thrill or because of more personal reasons. Raiden realizes, that you'll never stop no matter how hard he tries. And this you two part ways.

Raiden can't help but still think about you whenever he is at the Wu Shi Academy. He wishes there was something he could do to more to convince you, but there wasn't much he could do. All that is left is for him to pray to the Elder Gods and hope that they will help you.

He will still attend some of your events, hoping to see, to know if you are alright. If you bumped into each other he'd congratulate you on your win and try to make small talk. But there isn't much to talk about, he's against what you do and there's not much more than that. It doesn't mean that he is not in love with you, how could he ever hate you? He misses you, he wishes every day that were by his side protecting the Earthrealm, not living this fast life.

#live fast die young #bad girls do it well #sorry i just had to #mortal kombat #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #mk fandom #mk headcanons #headcanons #x reader #fanfic ideas #mk liu kang #liu kang #liu kang x reader #mk1 johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #mk1 kenshi #kenshi takahashi #kenshi x reader #kung lao #kung lao x reader #mk1 raiden #raiden x reader #fast and furious #race car #request #taking requests

[gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot]

Piedra del Sol

Prompt: I can’t get you out of my head

Pairing: Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra x F!Reader

Summary: Fools in love without the common sense of telling the other (sounds familiar?)

Warning: Just fluff. Also my first time trying the xReader thing, which I’m not completely comfortable with, but ah well. Anything for #Fall4Rudy!

Tagging the master curator @glitterypirateduck and @sofasoap because she gave me the idea

You knew you shouldn’t have, but you did.

You allowed yourself to fall in love with none other than Sargento Mayor Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra, while working as liaison between the CIA and Los Vaqueros.

To be perfectly honest, who would blame you? The man was a dream come true. Serious, honest, with a smile that brightened your day every time you managed to make him chuckle with a bad joke or your atrocious accent when trying to order at the bar.

And that he was damned attractive didn’t help either. The day you happened to find him lifting weights with Colonel Vargas was engraved in your memory and warmed many of your nights in your barely furnished apartment. 

And you knew where you went wrong today, too. 

You shouldn’t have accepted Alejandro’s invitation to hit the bar with the rest of Los Vaqueros. Seeing Rudy in civilian clothes took the breath right out of your lungs. It should be illegal how delicious a man can look in jeans and a white shirt, especially when it happens to fit a bit tight, and has a couple of loose buttons. 

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to look good yourself either. The way Rudy’s eyes darkened when he saw the little black long-sleeved dress you were wearing was enough to make your mouth water and press your thighs together. How in the world could he make you feel like a horny teenager with just his eyes was a mystery. You two hadn’t even exchanged anything more than pleasantries and jokes. 

‘‘¡Bonita! (Pretty one)’’ Alejandro promptly welcomed you with open arms, and you couldn’t help but smile and offer your hand. But he just grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his arms for a quick hug before turning around with you still in his arms to face the rest of Vaqueros, and the rest of clients at the bar. ‘‘You better behave yourselves, compadres (mates), this one is off limits, ¿oído? (understood?)’’

A mixed chorus of groans and laughter received his words, but you felt relieved. Local men were very forward with their vocal appreciation, and you had been asked out by at least five of them already until the Colonel had to hold a meeting to instruct his men about leaving you the fuck alone. 

But once their affection turned elsewhere, you were having a great time in Las Almas, if you had to be honest.

‘‘¿Qué tomas, bonita? (What are you drinking, pretty one?)’’ Alejandro asked, guiding you to an empty stool between the one he had been using and… Rudy. You smiled at the Sergeant Major, feeling the rush of blood in your cheeks when he smiled back, and then looked back at the Colonel to answer.

‘‘Just a soda, Ale, I have a virtual meeting at 7am and I don’t need the hangover’’ You smiled apologetically when he mockingly raised his hands in despair, but went to ask the bartender. You turned your head back at Rudy to find his eyes on you, and for a moment he looked startled, like caught in the middle of an improper act. Was that blush?

‘‘I… ehm… Is it normal to have meetings so early on Sunday?’’ Rudy asked, a bit rushed, as if he were trying to pretend he hadn’t been devouring you with his eyes. It made you feel good. It made you feel more than good. 

Maybe wearing the dress hadn’t been a bad idea after all.

‘‘Only when my boss is feeling particularly shitty I guess’’ You shrugged, not wanting to think about your boss at that moment. Not when Sergeant Parra was sitting that close to you, so close that you could smell his aftershave. Or his cologne. Whatever it was, it smelled good. Sitting next to him, you shifted in your stool to press your thighs together again, trying to ignore the warmth between your legs.

That man had no business being that tempting.

The night slowly went on, between laughs, drinks and smoke, and you didn’t even realize that the hours had passed until Alejandro gently tapped your shoulder to attract your attention.

‘‘Bonita, it’s almost midnight’’ The Colonel laughed at your startled face when you rushed to check your watch to find out that yes, it was. ‘‘May I call a taxi for you?’’

‘‘No need, Alejandro, the weather is nice, I’ll walk’’ You smiled, feeling grateful that you decided not to drink that night. The moment you rose to your feet Rudy was beside you.

‘‘I’ll walk you home’’ The Sergeant Major cleared his throat when the Colonel looked at him with an amused smile. Rudy lived nowhere near where you did. ‘‘I was about to head out anyway’’

‘‘Buenas noches a los dos (Good night to the both of you)’’ Alejandro smiled, waving while the two of you walked out, making your way among the growing crowd pooling inside the bar. You could feel Rudy’s hand guiding you, pressing lightly against the small of your back, and you resisted the urge to lean on him.

Outside, the night was warm and buzzing with activity. The streets were full of people enjoying one of the last summer nights, and soon you found yourself inching closer to Rudy every time another group walked too close. The first time your right elbow brushed his left arm, he immediately raised it to wrap it around your shoulders, keeping you close to his body to protect you from being bumped into.

You weren’t complaining.

Slowly, the ruckus died down as you entered residential streets, more silent and peaceful. You half expected Rudy to let go of you now that there was no danger of being pushed around by other pedestrians, but he didn’t, his hand firm on your shoulder, gently cradling you in the crook of his armpit. 

You dared to turn your head slightly to rest your temple and cheek on his chest, comforted by his slow and steady heartbeat. You felt his hand tighten holding your shoulder, and the rhythm of his heart quicken a bit. To any passers-by, you’d look like just another couple on a midnight stroll.

Maybe it hadn’t been such a bad idea after all.

‘‘No te puedo sacar de mi cabeza (I can’t get you out of my head)’’ Rudy murmured, all of a sudden, and your heart skipped a beat. You weren’t fluent speaking Spanish, your accent and your embarrassment prevented you from doing better, but you were fluent in understanding it. But that was a fact that only Colonel Vargas knew, the rest of the Vaqueros thought you barely knew some sentences.

As the two of you walked down your street, Rudy poured his heart out to you. How much he had tried to get over what he thought at first was a silly crush on the new face. How many times he had longed to be brave enough to ask you out when he had heard the others mentioning how you had rejected them. How many nights he had been awake, unable to sleep, just thinking about you. 

All of that he said in Spanish. And you understood every word.

Finally, you arrived at the door of your building, and Rudy sighed, starting to release your shoulder. But you turned around to face him, your hands reaching up to rest on his chest, looking up at his startled face.

‘‘Tell me something else in Spanish, Rudy…’’ You begged, your voice low and sweet, and beneath your fingers on his chest you felt his pulse falter. Hesitatingly, his hands found purchase on your waist, trembling, almost expecting you to reject him. But you didn’t.

Slowly, he leaned in until he could brush your ear with his lips, his breath raising your skin in goosebumps.

‘‘Amar es combatir, es abrir puertas,

dejar de ser fantasma con un número

a perpetua cadena condenado

por un amo sin rostro;

el mundo cambia

si dos se miran y se reconocen’’

(To love is to battle, to open doors, 

to cease to be a ghost with a number 

forever in chains, forever condemned 

by a faceless master; the world changes 

if two look at each other and recognize each other.)

You exhaled the breath you had been holding without realizing, feeling the brush of Rudy’s lips on your earlobe as he murmured the verses against your skin. Your fingers dig slightly in his chest over his shirt, and you felt more than heard the low grunt that came from deep within his chest. His hands gripped your waist tighter.

‘‘Isn’t that… Piedra del Sol, by Octavio Paz?’’ You whispered, brushing your own lips on the side of his neck, breathing him in, and you smirked when he tensed, feeling the warmth of his skin as he blushed.

‘‘How… you…’’ Rudy cleared his throat, feeling stupid, but his hands gripped you tighter, forcing you closer until your bodies were flush. ‘‘You understand Spanish’’

‘‘I do’’ You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to his neck, feeling his quickened pulse. ‘‘But I think I need more Spanish lessons, Rudy… only if you are the teacher’’

He chuckled, one of his hands leaving your waist to cup your jaw and force you to tilt your head upwards, so he could see your eyes and your smile before he leaned in and kissed you.

‘‘Creo que tienes razón, mi amor (I think you’re right, my love)’’ 

The following morning, you missed your meeting. 

#fall4rudy #rodolfo parra #rodolfo cod #rodolfo x reader #rudy parra #rudy cod #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #call of duty modern warfare 2

[separatist-apologist]

Red Earth & Pouring Rain

Remember what we found? No one can ever take that away. Something forever.

Summary: When Feyre's father tries to set her up with one of his high society friends' sons, Feyre does the only thing that makes sense in the moment: she fakes a Scottish fiánce. Writing him letters detailing her escapades, Feyre never expects anyone to read them. But when a mysterious uncle leaves her and her sisters three scattered castles, Feyre's forgotten fiánce appears on her doorstep, determined to make an honest woman of her yet.

Or- that time Rhys fell in love with a stranger writing him letters.

Big thanks to Unhinged Bookclub for help with the moodboard and @the-lonelybarricade for being my UK consultant (which consisted mostly of me asking about swear words)

Part 1/2: I've Got Something Burning, Coursing Through These Cold Veins | Read on AO3

Dear Rhysand Campbell-

Today is my sixteenth birthday, which ought to be cause for celebration. I want to be happy about it, but I’m not and I can’t tell anyone. My sisters already think I’m terribly spoiled and my father probably would, too, if he ever cared enough to notice me. Ugh, that sounded spoiled, too. Maybe they’re right. I don’t suppose you understand.

Of course you don’t. You aren’t real. And I guess there’s no danger in telling you about this miserable birthday party (if you could even call it that) or worrying you’ll think I’m spoiled and a miserable brat (like my older sister accused me of) (don’t worry, I pulled out one of her extensions in front of Tomas Mandray which…in retrospect…maybe proved her right on the miserable brat front. It was pretty funny, though. Even Elain cracked a smile.). 

It all started with my father. He woke up one morning a month ago, looked me straight in the face, and asked me how old I was. I didn’t know what to say (I might have forgotten), so Elain told him I would be sixteen in a month. And he said we should celebrate, which made me so happy. I rattled off a list of things I wanted to do, and I thought he was listening.

I should have known he wasn’t when he put Elain in charge of planning. It’s not that Elain is malicious, she’s just…prim. Perfect, really. The sort of daughter he actually wants, I think because she doesn’t make a lot of fuss and maintains his calendar for him like mother used to (she died when I was nine). 

And I definitely should have known we were NOT going camping when Elain had me measured for a dress. She looked so apologetic and I couldn’t bear to hurt her feelings when I know she’s trying really hard to fill the gap mom left when it comes to me, even if it makes her spineless when it comes to dad. And I could have asked Nesta to ruin it, but I guess I’m a little spineless, too.

So by the time the day arrived, it’s this huge party for all of dads friends, one of whom is running for parliament and needs money. And I look so very stupid in a floor length ball gown and—I am not joking—a jeweled tiara while all these old men in their fifties whore themselves out for cash. There was a cake (five tiers and chocolate, which is my favorite flavor, at least), there was singing, and of course the aforementioned incident in which several of Nesta’s extensions were pulled from her head unceremoniously. 

Some leering prick told me I was a woman now. Well, he said it to my breasts, not really me. What is it about men that makes them think that’s a normal thing to do? Am I supposed to be flattered? Elain whisked me away, a smile plastered on her face and when I asked her how she stands it, she only laughed and said, “Oh Feyre.” Like I was the silliest person in the world. 

She looked like a princess, and I don’t envy her for it. Every man our father is friends with is trying to trick or trap her into marriage. I think she could be a princess like Kate Middleton if she had the interest. 

Anyway. 

Father made some grand speech right before the cake cutting, where he talked about peace and, for some unknown reason, Brexit. He also thanked God for  our monarchs, which, I didn’t realize he was that religious but I guess for this crowd, he is. 

You know what he didn’t do? Say thank you for his daughters? Imagine, blessing Charles but not the daughters who enrich his life. Nesta was gripping a steak knife so tightly I thought she might actually stab him and Elain’s eyes were glassy and sad, even with that plastered smile.

And despite how Nesta thinks I’m a miserable brat, she DID stand up and demand everyone sing me happy birthday. And Elain led everyone in an off-key rendition of the song, which was nice. Serving staff cut the cake, and there were, of course, no candles.

Happy sixteenth birthday to me.

And at the very end of the night, some lord (I think—honestly, I wasn’t even listening at that point, I was just thinking about getting those miserable shoes off my feet) told father that his son was single, and also sixteen. I could see father's interest peak and I can’t be like Elain. She’s always letting those awful boys take her on dates, and they always make her cry. So I blurted out,

“Actually, I have a boyfriend.”

Father asked who, but already he didn’t care. So I said the most made-up, Scottish name I could think of—Rhysand Campbell. Maybe you do exist, somewhere. Actually, there are probably hundreds of you, though who's counting? What’s important is that YOU, Rhysand Campbell, are not real and this address is to a post office in the middle of nowhere Scotland. I expect it’ll be shredded. Perhaps the mail worker will read it and have a laugh at my expense. 

Still.

Thank you for saving me tonight. 

All the best,

Feyre Archeron 

Dearest Rhysand–

I didn’t think I’d write to you again, but I think I have to confess my lies, and you are the only person I know who won’t judge me.

Of course, you’re fake, but in my mind you’ve become a little real. Everyone wants to know how we met, and if you’re curious why they would ever want to know that, well, you are very convenient. You see, most girls my age want to date. And in some ways, so do I. There are some very handsome boys, nice boys, even.

But none of my family approves of. If they found out I slept with Isaac Hale, I think they might actually kill me. He’s a fishmonger, which is a very real job thank you very much. It only sounds fake and like something from an eighteenth century book because of the word monger. Which made me laugh the first time I heard it. Anyway, I thought maybe it was better to just get things over with, and he really was so nice that I just…kept going back.

He has a girlfriend now, and I’m trying to pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little. Even though I know I could never bring him home. Nesta would sneer and call him smelly and Elain…well, Elain would probably be nice but her eyes would be pitying. So maybe it’s for the best.

I’m sidetracked again.

So Isaac has his girlfriend from Milton Keynes, which I am absolutely NOT  jealous of, even if her eyebrows made her look insane. I admit, I was brooding which Elain says is going to give me frown lines around my mouth. And of course father took that moment to stroll in and say he knew just the thing that would cheer me up.

That thing??? A MAN. In what world has a man’s presence ever made a woman feel better? Even Elain turned her head to roll her eyes, thinking no one saw. Nesta was in a mood, though I didn’t ask why—I don’t care, so long as she keeps yelling at father on my behalf. She told him seventeen was too young to worry about marriage, which made him remember that Elain is nineteen and Nesta is twenty-one, so I suppose we’ll all be dealing with that fall out later.

But the Lord of Rose-something-or-other has a son. Tamlin? Timothy? I was not paying attention. What I did say, was, “You know I’m dating someone already. I’ve told you all about him.”

I probably could have gotten away with that if Nesta and Elain weren’t in the room. We talk more frequently and they’ve never once heard me say your name. Of course Elain was fascinated, and Nesta was suspicious. Father is far easier to gaslight. 

“Ah, yes,” he said, that liar. “Remind me, who’s son is he?”

And I said, of course, that you were no one’s son, but just a regular Scottish man.

Nesta, that traitor, narrowed her eyes. He can always tell when I’m lying. “Oh? How did you meet this London-living Scotsman?”

Murdering your sisters is a crime. I’m saying that as a reminder to myself, because if she invented a fake suitor to get father to leave her alone, I would have gone along with it. So I said we met in a tea shop. I made you charming. I said you saw me from across the room and couldn’t help yourself. In this fictional meet-cute, you were enamored at first sight, and I, of course, believed you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen (I did not mention that because I was talking to my father). 

That was important, because NO ONE thinks that about me. They think it about Elain, who is so beautiful it makes my teeth ache, and they might think it about Nesta if her eyes didn’t promise violence all the time. But not me. And I have mostly made my peace with it, but it would be nice if there was one man who didn’t prefer my sisters to me.

Even if I have to make him up in order for that to happen. 

He told me to invite you to dinner. Please, oh please, Rhysand Campbell, will you do me the honor of dining with my dysfunctional family? Father will want to know all about your father, and if your family could be of use to him and his shipping business. And Nesta will hate you on principle alone, while Elain won’t be able to help but like you. 

Of course I like you, if only because you are not real.

It’s a shame you can’t make it because you’re heading back to Edinburgh to take care of a sick relative. You’re so compassionate, so selfless. This is why I like you. 

Thank you (again) for rescuing me. Too bad you’re just me, rescuing myself,

Your beloved,

Ferye Archeron

Darling Rhysand, 

Last names are formality by now, don’t you think? I’ve officially taken things too far. The nice thing about being overlooked is everyone kind of forgets what you’re doing (or that you exist), which means you and I have been happily dating for the last two and a half years. If I go out with someone else, no one questions it because they assume I’m seeing you.

And no one cares that they haven’t met you, because you’re some nobody they assume I’ll eventually tire of. Which would be all well and good if I hadn’t blurted out, in front of god and EVERYONE, that you asked me to marry you. Let me set the scene:

I panicked. 

Okay, I guess I didn’t need to set much at all. It was another party and as you can guess, I was in another stupid dress. Have you ever seen Gone With the Wind? You know those kinds of dresses? That’s how I feel, no matter how sleek and lovely the dress actually is. And I know I look perfectly fine in them, but I feel out of sorts. Like a doll, like someone who LIKES when men stare down my dress despite their wife right beside them, and tell me I’m beautiful.

They never say that when they’re looking at my face.

Anyway, do you remember Tamlin? Well, he’s a baron and his father and an MP, despite having so much money he doesn’t need to work (I suspect he just misses when the nobility could boss around the english populace), and he is quite taken with me. Rhys (can I call you Rhys? I feel like since you proposed I could probably call you that), he’s actually really handsome, too. The first time I saw him, I almost considered breaking things off with you. No hard feelings, of course, it’s just…you’re not real.

But he’s duller than dry paint. BEIGE dry paint. We have nothing to talk about, and believe me, I’ve tried. I thought if I could get him to talk to me for even thirty minutes, we could get naked.

But it’s like pulling my own teeth, dragging answers out of this man.

And, between you and me, he once told me “your hair looks clean” as a compliment. He couldn’t even lie and say I was pretty? So you and I continue our romance, implausible as it is. Tamlin’s father was saying how handsome we’d be, and Tamlin jumped in to ask me on a very public date and I am a coward, I think. 

Because I said, “Rhysand proposed.”

And Nesta burst out laughing, the bint. It was Elain, eyes brimming with hope and pleasure—she so badly wants to see one of us do whatever we like, father be damned—who asked to see the ring.

Of which there isn’t one. So I’ve made you poor, I’m so sorry. I lied and said you didn’t have one, because you were working toward affording something nice and of course I don’t care about it (because I don’t). Father demanded to meet you and Tamlin was humiliated (a silver lining to this whole affair, truly). 

Any reasonable person would have just confessed the whole plot right then and there. But I am not reasonable, my darling fiance. I am, I think, a little crazy because I slipped out the next morning and purchased a ring myself from Boodles, and since I bought it, it was perfect. Nothing terribly fussy—a sapphire cut in the shape of a diamond, with little diamonds haloed overtop, like falling stars. Set on a delicate silver band, it really is quite lovely. 

I showed father, who was rather impressed with it. I lied and said it had belonged to your mother, who was so overjoyed at the thought of getting a daughter that she solved your ring dilemma on the spot.

It doesn’t fix the problem of everyone wanting to meet you, of course. 

Our engagement is going to be short lived, I think—just as soon as I can figure out what to do next. If I’m not careful, I’ll be saying I eloped and then what? 

What then, indeed.

Yours, faithfully,

Ferye 

Rhys,

Well. 

It’s officially over. Why am I so sad? You were never anything more than a figment of my imagination, and yet telling my family you had ended things drew real tears from me. Elain comforted me, and Nesta called you a self-serving asshole, which is her way of assuring me she loves me. Father, of course, just barely remembered you existed despite the ring I’ve been wearing for a full year. I tucked it in a box as a token of how far I’m willing to commit to a lie (and because it was pretty expensive, and I don’t think I can return it). 

Even though you’re fake, I didn’t have the heart to make you an asshole. I said your mother had become gravely ill and you had to care for her. That it was with your deepest regrets you ended things—that you thought I deserved someone who could be in London fully, and you would always regret me. 

Nesta called it “typical male bullshit,” so I suppose she believes me now. Or she’s willing to pretend, given how sad I am. I’m mostly sad that I think I should probably stop writing to you. I’m twenty, now, and I think it’s time to stop indulging in my fantasies and be real. I’m nearly finished with school, and I should devote more time to paintings.

And besides, Elain is practically engaged, which has taken the pressure of marriage off Nesta and I, for now. Lord Graysen Nolan. How I wish you were real, because you would think he was a total twat, too. Nesta begrudgingly tolerates him because Elain is so head over heels, but he is awful. A scourge, a plague upon mankind and CERTAINLY upon my beautiful sister. He’s going to dump her in some ancient country estate, fill her with babies, and crush her into dirt and she can’t even see it. 

He is handsome and charming, though, and he has my sister wrapped around his finger. I think it’s because he doesn’t think she’s beautiful—though, I think he says so in his effort to break her down. She is so used to everyone finding her impossibly lovely that the first man who insults her is worthy of her heart.

I’m rambling again. Anyway, this is my official break-up, fake boyfriend slash fiance. I have loved you, though you never existed. You were the perfect man (because you were fake), and I’m not sure how any others will compare. Maybe I’ll try boring Tamlin again. 

What’s funny is that we could have been together, if you’d been actually real. Some dead uncle gifted my sisters and I three castles—one apiece—and mine is in the Scottish highlands. Isn’t that wild? He was my mothers uncle, so technically an uncle twice removed? I’m not sure how that works, honestly. But in his will, he left us each a castle in need of repair to do with as we like. Elain has dreams of turning hers (of course it’s located in the English countryside) into a charming bed and breakfast while Nesta wants to live in it as, and this is a direct quote, “the local bog witch all the children are afraid of.”

As for me, well…I’m not entirely sure what to do with it. I intend to go visit at the end of the month with my paints to see if inspiration might strike. I admit, I’m curious about a real life castle—maybe I will start a farm and remove myself from society instead. Everyone will ask (no one would, because that would require remembering I exist, but lets pretend they would), “What ever happened to Feyre Archeron?”

And my father would be forced to tell them I own a multitude of cows. All of which are named—and perhaps even treated like my children. Who can say? I am not sure if I’m cut out for livestock, or farming or even castle living. Maybe I’ll make it a museum or something else that requires little effort on my part. 

The caveat seems to be fixing it up. I can do that, I suppose.

This whole letter is rambling. It is supposed to be me telling you goodbye, and putting this whole messy affair behind me. Thank you for being my only friend, which I recognize is pathetic. I hope the postal worker who has been reading these takes pity on my plight, however pathetic it was. 

I will think of you fondly.

Yours, forever, 

Feyre 

Feyre wiped her nose on the back of her hand, breathing rather hard for someone who was in decently good shape. Six months since she’d moved to the highlands, thinking replacing the inner workings of a centuries old castle would be easy. Replace the plumbing and the floors, rework the electric, and fix the broken glass and she’d be done.

If only. Every day there was some new, horrible discovery. Bats in the attic and rodents in the cellar. A crumbling foundation that had to be nearly rebuilt. A leaking roof that flooded water into the great hall, which then ruined all the flooring Feyre had installed, causing it to be ripped up and replaced again. 

It cost a small fortune before the sprawling structure was decent enough to sleep in, let alone live in. And though she had her uncles inheritance to go along with fixing the god forsaken castle. Of course, that money was only for castle repair, and was just barely enough. She’d used her fathers money, too, a paltry sum given just how much of it he had to give away when it was for one of his friends or some do-nothing politician looking to cut taxes in a way that personally benefited her father. 

Feyre also considered she was far luckier than Elain, who’s castle came with a rather surly occupant that swore he also owned the castle—and after a little digging through legal records, was found to be correct. Feyre would have lost it if she had to compromise at all.

Except, now she had a nearly finished castle she had no idea what to do with. As it turned out, Feyre did not have the aptitude for farming like she’d hoped, and rather missed living in the city—though, she didn’t miss London. She missed people, and things to do, but not London itself. 

There were enough rooms to turn it into a hotel, like Elain was considering. Feyre also thought it made a rather nice venue for people looking to host events or get married. The view of the Scottish highlands was breathtaking, and the castle itself was really nice. Stone on the outside, mostly modern on the inside. Full, working plumbing so long as no one shoved too much toilet paper into the drains, claw baths, and big, four poster beds in circular rooms overlooking the hillside. There was a full, working kitchen Ferye had never used, a ballroom, a grand hall, dungeons—anything a person might want, if she could only figure out how to market it. 

It was just a passing idea. For now, Feyre was living in it with a small, paid staff to keep herself fed and the bats from sneaking back in. 

It was pure privilege to spend her days painting, and yet Feyre felt like she’d earned it. Without her father and his obnoxious social circle breathing down her neck, she could run wild like she’d always wanted to. She had a little hammock in the courtyard she frequently fell asleep in, a barbeque she’d spent an exorbitant amount on only to use twice, and was even considering digging out a pool. Why not? Who could stop her? 

No one. 

She’d have to go back eventually—home, that was. Her father’s calls were becoming more frequent and becoming more annoyed. All three of his daughters had just vanished, leaving him to manage his own life for once. Who was he going to build life-long alliances with if he couldn’t move Feyre and Nesta around like pawns. 

Elain was all but sold to the Nolans, if the ugly engagement ring Graysen had given Elain was any indication. Feyre supposed she’d have to come home for that tragedy. Sometimes Feyre wondered if Elain wasn’t dragging out the business with her castle in an attempt to avoid wedding planning.

Maybe that was just wishful thinking. 

Feyre woke that warm, summer morning like she did every day. Breakfast was waiting in the small dining room on the main floor—a simple fare of sausage, beans, and toast. She dressed, braided her hair in a long, french tail, and gathered her art supplies, intending to make her way to the furthest point on the grounds. 

Outside the heavy, rounded doors lay a neat stone path meant to feel old, though it was very modern. She’d watched the workers lay it herself. And standing at the very end of it, dressed in a black shirt and a blue and green plaid kilt, was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. His dark, blue black hair ruffled in the wind, while eyes so blue they seemed nearly violet, stared openly at her.

She saw plenty of Scotsmen, given she was in Scotland. And yet there was something about this man, with his toned shins clad in high, black socks and his tall, powerful body, that gave her pause. She could see the hint of ink just above his knees and the curve of his neck, and when Feyre looked back to his face, his mouth was curved into a sensual smile. 

“Feyre Archeron?” he asked with a rich, dark accent. 

Feyre cleared her throat. “Yes, that’s she—I ah—I mean, that’s me.”

His smile widened. “Aye, ye are, aren’t ye?”

She blinked. “Can I help you with something, Mr…?”

He chuckled, placing a broad hand against his muscular chest. “Ma apologies. I’m Rhysand Campbell.”

A soft scream escaped Feyre’s lips. “Liar.”

He took a step toward her, reaching into the leather sporran hanging from his waist. Feyre couldn’t breathe, watching in horror as he pulled a stack of letters out and offered them to her. 

She didn’t take them, shaking her head back and forth. “Prove it.”

He was still grinning, reaching for his wallet. Feyre’s hands shook when he pulled out a license, proving he was exactly who he said he was.

“How…?”

“Did ye think there was no one in all of Dornoch with the name Campbell? It’s quite common a last name.”

Feyre’s heart was mere seconds from jumping out of her chest. 

“It was luck I happened to be named Rhysand.”

“Luck,” she repeated, looking skyward. “All those years and you never thought to write back/”

He merely shrugged, taking back his license from her shaking fingers. “At first? It was charming. I figured ye’d stop eventually. Ye wrote a lot of things.”

“Oh, I get it,” Ferye said stiffly. Prick. 

“I’m sure ye don’t,” he replied with that insufferable smile.

“No, I do. You got my letters, figured out who my father was, and now you’re here for money. Is that it, Mr. Campbell?”

“Not quite,” he replied, coming closer still. 

“Enlighten me, then.”

“Where’s tae ring, darling?” he all but purred. Ice slithered through Feyre’s veins, her eyes landing back on those letters. She’d spent three years writing to him, pouring out her secrets, venting about her family…and telling him all about their nonexistent romance. At best, Ferye had imagined an elderly postal woman reading those letters with a mixture of pity and amusement before tossing them. Never, in her wildest dreams, did she imagine that an actual man was reading what she wrote. 

“It’s here, isn’t it?” he pressed, those eyes flashing with delight. “Sentimental, lass.”

Feyre shook her head again. “No. Absolutely not. Send father those letters—”

“And Nesta? Or Elain?” he pressed, preventing Feyre from turning on her heel and leaving him standing in the garden looking foolish. “What about them, hm? What do ye think they’d think of yer scathing assessment of them?”

Feyre exhaled. “What is it that you want? A sham engagement?”

“Oh, a wee bit more than that. I’ve come to claim my wife.”

“You don’t even know me,” Feyre protested, wondering if she ought to just call the police. He was blackmailing her—into marriage, for a purpose she couldn’t ascertain. 

“We’re in love,” he said, some of his smile fading just a little. 

“So I’m supposed to, what, exactly? Call up my father and tell him—”

“The engagement is back on,” he interrupted, closer still. She could smell him, then—like citrus and the sea, washing over her with the warm morning breeze. Rhysand blotted out the sun with his large body, peering down at her with enough intensity to make her uncomfortable. “And we’re in love.”

“Lies.”

“Ye should be verra familiar with that, darling,” he replied, an edge to his voice. 

Feyre ran a hand down her face. “For how long?”

He shrugged. “Who could say?”

Prick prick prick! 

“A marriage built upon the foundation of blackmail. You are too charming, Mr. Campbell.”

“Just as ye always imagined,” he replied with a wicked grin. “Now. Are ye going to invite me in? Or do I have to beg?”

“Why not?” Feyre grumbled, eyeing those letters. Rhysand caught her, offering them up again.

“Take them. It’s not like I didnae make copies.”

Still, Feyre snatched them from him all the same, holding them close to her chest. She’d hoped she might undo this mess simply by throwing them away and thus, removing his leverage. In truth, were Rhysand ever to show her father her letters, it would merely force him to pay attention to her. Elain and Nesta would forgive her, with time.

But the idea of her father knowing just how much she loathed him, all while craving his validation and approval, was too much for her pride to handle. It was enough to make her think that, perhaps, this wasn’t such an awful idea. If she could set some hard rules, having a ne’er-do-well for a husband kept her from ever having to get married to someone awful.

Like Tamlin, who still sent the occasional too-formal text inquiring after her help.

And this man was hot. Surely he knew it, too, if that wide smile and the way he kept running his hand down his chest was any indication. How long could he tolerate her? How long before he realized his new wife had no intention of sleeping with him, of showing him any affection? 

He couldn’t blackmail her into sex—even Feyre had her limits and had to assume he did too.

Or hope, anyway. The bar was in hell, even for a man who’d shown up on her doorstep and declared his intention to marry her. 

She forced a smile on her face. “Right this way, Lord Campbell.”

His smile vanished. “I preferred when ye were calling me Rhys. All my friends do. My wife should, too.”

“I’m not your wife yet,” Feyre reminded him. “My sisters are going to be so thrilled. Elain will want to throw an engagement party, and father—”

“Elope,” he said, stepping through the threshold with big, wide eyes. “I’m not going to London for a wedding.”

“Your wife is from London,” Feyre reminded him through gritted teeth. “You’ll have to visit them eventually.”

“Why? Invite them here. Surely there’s space.”

Feyre whirled on her heel, smacking straight into the hard plain of his chest. Rhysand reached for her arms, steadying her with a soft chuckle. “Careful, lass.”

“Let me get this straight. You will make no concessions in this sham marriage? Because, despite what you’ve imagined, blackmailing is a crime and my father has a lot of money.”

“Do ye want to go back to London?” he asked patiently, one perfectly groomed brow arched. As if he already knew the answer to that. As if he knew Feyre would have done anything to stay exactly where she was—far from London, far from her father and his circle of friends. Feyre crossed her arms over her chest, hating how smug he looked.

“It will be an actual wedding. And you will invite yer family—”

“I have none,” he interrupted, a shadow crossing his handsome expression. Feyre faltered.

“Friends?”

A soft smile. “Aye. Friends I do have.”

“Okay. Then friends. And you will keep your hands to yourself the entire time. Separate beds. Separate lives.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment before nodding. “Aye. I can do that. Any other demands ye have?”

“Once we’re married, I want you to burn those letters,” Feyre said, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable. “I’ll—marriages are not so easily undone.”

“And how do I know ye won’t back out tae moment they’re gone?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

She considered pleading with him. Was it not enough, she wanted to ask, to make her go through with this? That he knew things about her she’d never wanted anyone to know? He couldn’t let her forget it? Feyre took a deep breath and willed herself not to cry. Not in front of him.

“Very well,” she said, trying her hardest to channel Nesta’s icy disdain. “Let me just—”

She turned, and he caught her by the arm, spinning her around. “Give me a reason to trust ye, lass, and I’ll destroy them.”

“And will you be giving me a reason to trust you?” she asked, wrenching her arm from his grasp. 

“I could have gone straight to ye father. Shown him what ye did, demanded he pay me to keep quiet. I came to ye, instead. I don’t want yer money, Feyre. Just…”

“My home,” she finished with a sigh. 

“Aye,” he agreed solemnly. “A castle that belongs to Scottish blood, not the English.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” she snapped.

“Tae only way,” he murmured, and despite the softness of his tone, it was clear he didn’t care for disagreement. Feyre dug the heel of her hand into her eyes and sighed loudly. 

“Call him,” Rhys said, nodding toward her shorts and the phone outline in the tight fabric. “Tell him the good news.”

“He will never accept you as a son.”

Rhys only shrugged. “As long as his daughter loves me.”

“She doesn’t,” Feyre snapped, but it didn’t matter. She pulled out her phone and dialed.

Took a breath. And then. 

“Dad? It’s me, Feyre.”

-*-

Living with Rhysand was a mixture of insufferable and tolerable in equal measure. The castle was sprawling, big enough that for the first day, she didn’t see him at all. She’d instructed the staff to serve him and slipped that ring back on her finger in order to keep up appearances. Absurd, given any truly happy couple reuniting might have spent that first night locked in bed together, and Feyre had very much shut her bedroom door with the letters Rhysand had given and begun to pour through them.

They were worse than she imagined. Not only had she complained about her family, she’d divulged personal secrets, told him about her hopes, her dreams. She’d sent him sketches, she’d told him about the people in her fathers social circle, along with all the most embarrassing and hilarious gossip. Things that Rhysand could have sent to a trash magazine and humiliated half of London with. 

She’d treated those letters like a diary, never thinking there was a real man on the other end. Feyre couldn’t sleep that first night.

Or the second.

She did sleep the third, but only because Elain had promised to come down that weekend, delighted to meet the man she’d heard so much about. Nesta had sent back only three words.

Are you sure?

If Nesta came, she’d see straight through Feyre, so Feyre supposed she ought to be grateful Nesta was embroiled in some kind of property dispute with her castle and a local reenactor who took to staging battles of Scottish victory over the English on her front lawn with loud enthusiasm. Feyre suspected Elain was rather happy to escape for a bit, and might soften Rhysand ever so slightly.

And maybe if he realized there were more interesting Archerons, he might take to courting Elain instead of insisting with the sham wedding. Not that Elain would ever agree to it, but…men had always gravitated toward her. Feyre thought Rhysand simply wouldn’t be able to help himself. 

On the fourth day, Feyre slipped back through the castle, lugging her art supplies in a canvas bag with her. She expected the grounds to be empty, that Rhysand would be inside lording about her staff like some kind of king.

She heard the sound of wood splitting in the courtyard before she saw him.

Shirtless, in that kilt and the same black socks, rolled halfway down his shins from sweat and exertion. He’d found an ax and with a mighty swing of his powerful biceps, brought it screaming onto a block of wood.

Feyre couldn’t take her eyes off the slick, taut muscles of his stomach, his back, tattooed in dark whorls of ink. Rhysand seemed far too pretty to do any sort of manual labor, which brought Feyre back to the present.

Though, he’d absolutely caught her ogling him. He halted, pushing one booted foot up onto the heavy stump he was using to split wood while using the hem of his kilt to wipe at his forehead. “What are you doing?” she demanded. Didn’t he know she paid someone to bring in firewood? Besides, there was heating the castle—she’d also paid for that.

“Chopping wood,” he replied, his eyes sliding to the neat stack at his feet. His tone was polite, though perhaps annoyed. As if he really wanted to say, what does it look like I’m doing? 

“I pay someone to do that.”

“Of course ye do, lass,” he said with relish. “I don’t see why—I am more than capable of helping.”

Feyre hesitated. “You want to help?”

“Aye.” He frowned. “What did ye think I was gonna do? Sit around waving my hands like some kind of fancy lord?”

“Yes, actually—that’s exactly what I thought.”

“I already told ye. I don’t want yer money.”

Yes, he had said this, hadn’t he? Feyre sniffed. “Fine. You want chores? There are bats in the attic again.”

He offered her a handsome smile. Coupled with the bright sunshine and his warm, brown skin, Feyre’s knees wobbled a little. Why couldn’t he look disgusting? Her traitor body had not gotten the message that they hated him.

“I can do that,” he said. “And anything else ye have for me.”

“I’ll make a list,” she said tartly. 

But later, when Feyre was alone with nothing but her thoughts and her canvas, all she could think about was Rhysand, midswing over that block of wood. She thought of the tight expression on his face and the controlled movements of his body.

And even though she hated herself for it, she reached for a piece of charcoal.

And began to sketch. 

-*-

Elain arrived at the end of the first week of Rhysand’s arrival. True to word, Rhysand had done every chore Feyre had left for him without complaint. He’d cleared out the bats and fixed several burnt light bulbs, digging out a ladder from god only knew where. And when he ran out of things to do, he turned his attention to the dilapidated stables Feyre had never bothered with. In truth, she’d always meant to tear them down.

It seemed Rhysand meant to fix them up.

He was out there when Elain swanned in, tan from a summer outdoors in the English countryside. She grinned the moment she saw Feyre, throwing her arms around her sister's neck.

“It’s so good to see you,” Elain said, squeezing tight enough to make Feyre’s ribs ache. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? How are you holding up?” Feyre asked, pulling away to search her sister's expression. A faint blush bloomed over Elain’s cheeks.

“Well—I’m, well, I’m perfectly lovely, if we’re being honest.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked.

Elain held up her hand, wiggling bare fingers while Feyre just stared. “You got your nails done?”

“You’re so terribly observant. I’ve called off my engagement—just in time for you to be married. I’ve come to see if you want any of the things we put deposits on, so they don’t go to waste.”

“You—what?” Feyre gaped, realizing only then Elain was trying to show her a hand without an engagement ring. “What happened?”

Elain only shrugged, though more pink crept up her neck. “It wasn’t right. I was…I was deluding myself, I think. It doesn’t matter, because I know you hated him, so you don’t have to pretend. I’ve brought pictures so you can see everything, and it would be no trouble to have it all brought here for you. I know how much you hate planning,” Elain added brightly. “I only wish I could be more helpful.”

“This is already too helpful,” Feyre said, pulling her sister through the open hall toward the spiraling stairs that led both to the left and the right. Elain drank it all in as the skirt of her buttery yellow sundress swished around her legs. She looked every inch a princess, and it took no effort at all to imagine her walking these halls four hundred years before while poets and bards sang songs about her beauty. 

“Are you going to introduce me to your husband?” she asked, looping her arm through Feyre’s. “I’ve always wanted to meet him. Nesta used to swear you made him up and I told her you’d never do such a thing. It’s nice to prove her wrong sometimes.”

“Yes,” Feyre agreed. “He’s working on the stables. I’ll take you to him.”

This would be the moment of truth. Rhysand would see her and realize his mistake, just as all men did. He wouldn’t be able to look away—and Elain seemed radiant that morning, glowing like the midafternoon sun beating overhead. Her golden blonde hair was perfectly curled, a cascade over her slim shoulders while a set of pearls graced her ears. She’d put on make-up, which Feyre never did, and had the air of someone both effortless and yet unattainable. 

The same air Rhysand had, if Feyre was being honest. They’d make a smart couple. Why did that thought annoy her so much? 

Feyre led Elain over the grounds slowly, giving her a tour and pointing out all the work she’d done while Elain explained how her bed and breakfast was going. She’d created a tentative peace with the other occupant and owner of her castle—a man with a distinctly French sounding last name and decidedly French first one. Lucien Vanserra. He sounded snooty, and given the difficulty he’d created for Elain, likely some seventy year old man looking to exert his control one last time before his time on earth ended. 

“Oh, he’s not so bad once you get to know him,” Elain said, which was a very Elain sort of thing to say. She could charm a wild bear holding a sword. If the man had eyes, it likely hadn’t been hard to talk him into a small compromise. 

Rhysand was coming out of the stables as Feyre and Elain began to walk in. He didn’t see them approaching as he mopped up the sweat on his brow with the hem of his shirt. Feyre’s breathe caught at the sight of peeking abs, vanished the second he saw Elain. His eyes slid from her sister back to Feyre, some answered question flickering in his gaze.

“Elain, this is Rhysand,” Feyre told Elain just in time for her sister to plant her foot in a wet container of wood stain.

Elain screeched, yanking herself backward. Her lovely white flat was ruined, which was a shame, truly—though Rhysand? wasn’t looking at Elain at all, but Feyre. His expression very much betrayed his annoyance, some shared secret she didn’t quite understand, as if to say oh. I understand now.

“I’m so sorry,” Elain said, looking at the mess pooling around them. 

“No need,” Rhysand replied, though there was some disappointment in his tone. “I was going to do tae floor as well.”

“Of course. Probably not like this, though,” Elain replied with a small laugh. 

Rhysand only nodded, looking back to Feyre for some guidance. But it was Elain who was the conversationalist, and when she realized he didn’t know what to say, pressed forward. “How is your mother?”

Oh, christ. Feyre had forgotten that lie, amid the others. Rhysand became rigid for a moment, haunted by Elain’s ask. “She passed, I’m afraid.”

“Oh,” Elain whispered. Rhysand only nodded, his jaw tight with emotion. So that had been true, in some way. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not yer fault,” Rhysand murmured. “But I miss her.”

Elain nodded. “Well,” she said, wiping her hands on her dress nervously. “We should ah, probably let you get back to…”

“I’ll see ye both at dinner,” he replied, offering up his most charming smile. And that was that. Elain, holding her shoe by the crook of one finger, waited until they were out of earshot before she said, “You really undersold how handsome he was.”

And when Feyre turned to look over her shoulder, she found Rhysand leaning against the wooden door frame, eyes wholly on her. 

It was that night that both Feyre and Rhysand seemed to realize they could not sleep apart in opposite wings of the castle. Elain had made some little quip about how nice it must be to have all this alone time and Rhysand’s fork had clattered to his plate while Feyre’s cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He’d come to her, at least. Feyre sat up against a sea of pillows when she heard him knock, sucking in a deep breath.

“Come in.”

A moment later, the handle turned and there he was. He’d put on plain black sleep pants and a white t-shirt, and his still damp hair told her she’d just freshly showered. If she’d been smart, Feyre would have dragged a divan up from another room so he could sleep on it. As it stood, there were two little chairs facing a small breakfast table and then her rather large, four-poster bed. 

And Rhys was a tall man. He looked around, drinking in the cream colored rug and the sand and stone walls, illuminated by an overhanging chandelier. A little potted plant sat half dead in the circular window at the far end of the room, while books were stacked on beneath the television stand haphazardly.

“I’m not sleeping on tae floor,” he told her when he realized their predicament.

“I assumed,” she replied, scooting to the far side of the bed. “No touching.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied with a theatrical eye roll. As he padded toward her, he asked, “How long will she be here?”

“The weekend,” Feyre replied, trying—and failing—not to notice how good he smelled. “Why?”

“She’s not what I imagined,” he finally said, dragging a hand through his hair with contemplation.

Feyre immediately felt defensive. “She has that effect on people.”

He frowned. “Oh? And what effect do ye imagine she’s having on me?”

“She’s just very…”

“Verra…” he prompted, waiting for Feyre to spit it out. “Dull?”

“What?” Ferye gaped. “She’s not dull.”

“Proper, then. A real English princess,” he amended. 

It was asking for pain, and still Feyre couldn’t help herself. “Then what does that make me?”

He smiled again, his face blooming with warm affection. “Wild. Free,” he added, thinking to himself for a moment, as if he needed to choose his words carefully lest he insult her. “Ye are far more lovely than her—”

“Don’t,” Feyre snapped, unable to stand the lie. “No one thinks that.”

She turned to her side, angrily fluffing a pillow before turning off the bedside table.

“I think that,” Rhysand murmured defensively. “I saw a picture of tae three of ye, once.”

She half twisted to look at him. “How?”

“We do have the internet here too, lass. It was simple enough to google ye. I wasn’t sure which of ye was which—but I hoped ye were…well…Feyre. I thought ye must be Elain, given how much you talked of her beauty.”

Feyre’s heart pounded. “You’re such a liar, Mr. Campbell.”

“Not when it comes to ye, darling.”

There was a pause of silence between them, hanging thickly as Feyre digested that information. Hoped. She didn’t know what to make of that.

“I’m sorry about your mother.”

“It was one of the things I liked about getting tae letters,” he murmured, settling into the bed. After turning off the lights, it felt easier to peel back some of her defensiveness, to listen to him talk. “My sister died when she was wee, and my mother, well. She never quite recovered from it. When ye wrote that first letter, she was ill again and my father was in one of his rages. And there ye were, in a similar predicament. I thought maybe it was fate.”

“Why didn’t you write back?” she asked, turning fully to her side, her head resting on her elbow.

“Cowardice, I suppose. Ye were a bit younger than me, too. Sixteen, but I was nineteen. It dinae seem right, and truthfully, I didnae want spook ye.”

“Is this your attempt at not spooking me, then? Demanding I marry you for reasons you’ve yet to divulge?” she asked, this time without her usual anger. 

“Aye,” he murmured, twisting so he was facing her, too. “I never said I was a good man, Feyre. Only that yer letters were never funny to me.”

“Will you tell me why all this was necessary? I might be able to help, you know—”

“One day,” he interrupted, his voice firm. “When all this is done and ye aren’t so angry, I will. I want to. Not tonight. Hate me all ye like, but I know ye—you’ll be trying to get out of this marriage if ye think you can solve my problems with money. I don’t want yer money.”

“Yes, so you keep saying and yet once we’re married, you’ll have it, regardless. Surely you’ve considered that.”

Rhysand’s pause betrayed him. So he hadn’t realized he’d become unspeakably wealthy the moment Feyre said I do.

It settled some wild, ugly thing in her. “That’s yers,” he finally said. 

And with nothing left to say, Rhysand turned over and left Feyre to fall asleep.

-*- 

Feyre agreed to take the least offensive things from Elain’s wedding, which, to be fair, were few and far between. The cake was nice, along with the flowers of which Elain would always be the expert. Tables and chairs, and of course, the caterer. Elain had been delighted, in no small part, Feyre suspected, because it meant Graysen wouldn’t be getting his money back. What had he done to her? It wasn’t like Elain to be so petty, but with each thing Feyre said yes to, Elain’s smile grew wider and wider until Feyre wasn’t sure how her sister's smile didn’t split. 

And then, with an exasperated sigh, Elain was gone to check on Mr. Vanserra, who was likely wrecking everything in her absence. Feyre thought she’d be sad to see Elain go, but the minute her sister's car pulled out of the drive, Feyre felt the smallest hint of relief.

Rhysand, too. She caught him peeking around a corner, muddy boots on a rather nice ivory floor runner she’d need to wash later. 

“Is she gone?” he asked, as if Elain were some terrible creature and not just chatty and maybe a little nosy.

“For now,” Feyre agreed. “She’s putting together your dream wedding, you know.”

“Ours,” he amended. 

“No matter how many times you say that, it will never be true.”

He stared her down, straightening to his full height. Feyre’s heart leapt into her throat. “Will ye tell me tae truth about one thing?”

“I doubt it, but you can ask,” she replied primly, wedging her way past his obnoxious body.

“In yer letters, ye said I was tae most beautiful man ye’d ever seen. Is that true?”

Feyre froze. If she turned, he’d see her answer written all over her face. “Everything I imagined about you in my letters was a fiction, Mr. Campbell—”

“For fucks sake, Feyre, call me Rhys,” he snapped. “I cannae stand hearing ye call me Mr. Campbell.”

Feyre forgot she wasn’t supposed to look at him, turning to argue only to find him so close she could smell him. Eyes wide, she backed up only for him to slam his palm against the stone wall behind her, trapping her with his body. 

“Tae truth, lass.”

“Why does it matter?” she whispered, hating herself for wanting him and hating herself for not being able to send him away. 

His fingers brushed her cheek. “It matters.”

“You can’t have it all, Rhys,” she hissed. He winced as she spat his name, saying it as though it were a curse. “You can’t have your secrets, this marriage and my affection.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t!” she shouted, shoving him away from her. Rhys let her, though she knew if he’d wanted to keep her where she was, there was little she could have done to stop him. “I’m guessing you’re the kind of man who just snaps his fingers and gets exactly what he wants. You could have asked me on a date! You could have been honest and told me who you were, that you got my letters! I would have said yes, you know. If you’d just asked. And if you told me the truth, I would have helped you. You want your secrets, fine. Here I am, playing along. Whatever else you want from me, though? Forget it. For the rest of your life, just forget it.”

“Feyre!” he called as she stormed off. “Feyre, come back!”

She didn’t turn, her heart pounding so hard in her chest she was certain she was going to explode. Feyre didn’t pay attention to the direction she went, running through the halls as fast as she could, just in case he was following her.

He wasn’t. She heard a door slam somewhere in the distance, and if she had to bet, Feyre would have guessed he was headed to the stables. It slowed her just enough to make a decision. He wanted secrets? Well, Feyre didn’t. She’d been too wrapped up in her own misery that past week to bother thinking rationally, but she’d seen him drag in all his things.

Surely there was some answer to the Rhysand question up in his room. 

Feyre didn’t feel even a little badly flinging open that door. Where she was messy, Rhysand was immaculate. His bed was made for the morning, draped in silken black that was just like him.

He’d tucked his suitcase beneath the bed, and when she opened his drawers to the dresser, everything was neatly folded and in its place. Feyre rifled a bit, feeling like a creep as she shoved aside his underwear and socks. 

The curtains to the windows were pulled open, allowing gloomy gray light to filter through. Outside, she was certain a storm was brewing. If it rained, Rhysand would retreat indoors and she’d have to try again another day. 

She didn’t know what she was looking for when she dropped to her knees, sitting on the plush, circular sand rug she’d put in all the rooms. Feyre pulled out his suitcase, unzipping thinking she’d find a passport with his real name, or maybe a criminal record that would explain this whole thing. And then she could call the police and be free of him.

Her stomach clenched when all she found was a large manilla envelope, unsealed.

Feyre. 

With trembling fingers, Feyre pulled out a stack of letters. They were stapled individually before he’d folded them into quarters. She reached for the one on top, surprised to see it was the very first letter she’d ever sent him, highlighted and starred with a blue pen.

And beneath, was the letter she’d said he should have sent her. 

Dear Feyre Archeron,

Don’t be embarrassed, but I have received your letter. I am curious—do you possess the gift of sight? It seems too much a coincidence that you would mail a letter addressed to Mr. Rhysand Campbell to my home in Dornoch. I’ve decided it’s fate, or at least luck. Tell me, though, this one thing: is your birthday on Christmas? I received this at the new year, and I have been trying to figure out when, exactly, you were born.

I guess it doesn’t matter, though it would be nice to send you a birthday gift next year. If you’re wondering, my birthday is in August. Not that you have to send me a gift. It just seemed fair, since I was asking, to tell you my birthday, too.

And, if it makes you feel better (I’m guessing it won’t, but it did make me feel better), my father also forgot my birthday this year. He was working, and I think he expects my mother to handle those things. I shouldn’t care because I’m an adult, and adults don’t need birthdays (or, that’s what I tell myself at least), but it stings every time he looks me in the eye and asks how old I am. 

I think he thinks I’m disappointing. Maybe I am. 

Anyway. I am happy to be your pretend boyfriend if it keeps you from having to date wankers. If you decide you’d like to write me back, send it to my address in Edinburgh. My mother lives in Dornoch, and I visit when she’s ill (which, to be fair, is pretty often), but I don’t want to miss one. 

That is, assuming you don’t find this horribly creepy. 

Yours in pretend,

Rhysand Campbell 

P.S. I think Nesta deserved to have her hair pulled, just between you and I. 

My silly Feyre,

You keep sending letters (that I devour), but I can’t make myself send one back. I’m starting to suspect I’m a coward, which is a terrible quality in a boyfriend. Maybe you should end things with me and date the beige paint (don’t do that). You’re so honest, and I’m so jealous because without my secrets, who am I? The thought of stripping myself bare makes me feel sick, and so I fold these letters up and pretend you read them and they didn’t disgust you.

In truth, I think you’d stop writing if you knew the truth about me. I’m back in Dornoch and mother is ill and father is working and I am just here. Barely existing, both in Edinburgh where I’m trying to be diligent and finish my education, and in Dornoch, where everyone thinks I’m a good son.

Am I? Can I tell you something? 

My sister died when she was nine. It was no one’s fault—except, I suppose, the man driving the car who hit her. We were out together and Ainsley darted out of reach. Father was closest. He lunged, but he wasn’t fast enough, and by the time mother and I could react, it was all over. 

I was eleven. 

I think we tried to rally together for a while, but the days following Ainsley’s death all blur together. Mother cried all the time and father began yelling. Everyone blamed themselves because we couldn’t blame each other, until we were just festering. Father stayed in Edinburgh, and mother went home and I was in-between. 

It’s like she’s lost in a fog, and I’m so angry sometimes because I needed her, too. I needed them both, and it was like, if they couldn’t have Ainsley they didn’t want me. Or anyone—I think mother wishes she’d died, too. And I think father is too busy punishing himself—and by extension, me—to take care of mother. 

I wonder what will happen to him when she dies. He loved her better than he ever loved either of us. And deep down, I think he’s ashamed he failed her by letting Ainsley die, and it’s better to yell at her, to stay away, to pretend none of it matters to him.

I can’t send this to you, but I like to pretend you’re reading it anyway. That you’d understand, because you feel forgotten, too. That’s how I feel. 

Anyway. Tell Tamlin to stay away. I’m fond of you, pretend girlfriend or not.

Your mess,

Rhysand 

Feyre, my darling,

Engaged? I admit, I laughed out loud when I saw what you’d done. I knew the English were awful, but surely there must be one tolerable man among the lot of them. I’m tempted to drive all the way up there and rescue you, if only to spare you the embarrassment from when this falls apart. I’m also curious to see the ring I got you.

I’d like to have it, if only so I can get on one knee and ask you to marry me myself. It’s strange how much affection I feel for you. How often I think about you, how I miss you without knowing you. I feel as if I do (maybe I’m crazy, too). 

I graduated last week. Father wasn’t there, though he did call in the after to ask me what my plans were. I nearly told him I planned to marry an English lass–but I have no plans for that yet, and no idea how to announce myself to you. It’s been almost three years, and I think I should have been less of a coward back then and just said hello.

I think, sometimes, you would have liked me. More than that other bloke (Ian? I remember his name, but it makes me feel better to pretend I don’t.), at any rate. And maybe my plans wouldn’t seem so far-fetched, and you wouldn’t have to keep lying to your family because I would be asking you to marry me.

For now, things seem possible. I feel like my own man for once, even if I don’t know what I’m doing with myself. Only that whatever it is will bring me closer to you. Of that, I’m certain. I am looking forward to hearing of our fake marriage, though—I hope you tell me exactly how you imagine it, so when we do meet, I can impress you.

Is that charming, or does it make me creepy? It’s a question I keep asking, and I think I’m walking a very fine line when it comes to you. Perhaps this will all be charming to you—or maybe you’ll have me locked up. I look forward to finding out. I’m certain I will never live it down, regardless.

For now, just know that I find you endearing.

Yours,

Rhys 

Feyre,

Your ability to tell the future is unnerving. Our relationship is over because my mother is ill—and though you don’t know it, you were right. I don’t think it would give you solace to hear she finally passed, but in a way, it gave me peace thinking you’d written me to say goodbye. That you understood, even if you didn’t know it, why you and I were just a foolish dream. 

Father and I stood in the rain to bury her. I didn’t think he’d come and it would be just me, watching them set her beside my sister. Reunited, at last, just like she’d always wanted. And for one moment, he and I stood there, shoulder to shoulder, silently weeping for all we’d lost and all the things we’d never have again. Ainsley should be here and so should mother. 

Her heart failed. I didn’t think you could die of a broken heart, and today I think I could, too. I thought I’d prepared myself better for this moment. As I so often am, I was wrong. Father left, and I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again. Or if I even want to. Maybe that moment was enough. Maybe enough passed between us to call it even, to start over.

I think I’ve been trying so hard to forget when I should have been trying to remember. And I think you were just another way to pretend I was someone else, at least for a little while. You don’t know me—you don’t know Rhysand Campbell and neither do I. Not your once betrothed, anyway. That man was a fantasy, someone I wanted so badly to be. 

I would have disappointed you. I’m not a good man, Feyre. I don’t think you would have liked the real Rhysand Campbell, and I would have loved you. That’s the tragedy of us, at least to me. You are witty and funny and charming and I am…I am this. I am not the sort of man you fall in love with, but you. 

Oh, you, Feyre. I don’t know how everyone isn’t in love with you. How you don’t walk onto the street and have everyone at your feet, wishing they knew your name. Begging for a second of your time. And even though I know you’ll never see this, and so it doesn’t matter what I think or what I say, I feel as though I’ve been drowning in endless night, and you were the first bright thing that came along.

It would be wrong to go looking for you, no matter how strong the impulse is. You’ve said goodbye, and I am saying it, too. I need to figure myself out and maybe that will take forever. I know one thing, though. I will always be thinking about you. Always be wondering about you.

It’s your birthday (I think), today. That’s what started this whole thing.

Happy birthday Feyre.

Yours, eternally,

Rhys 

A crack of thunder sent the letters flying from Feyre’s hands. Was she crying? For one wild moment she twisted to look up at the ceiling, certain there must be a leak. Only, no, it was just her, dripping salt onto the elegant penmanship of Rhys’s unsent letters. 

“So,” a dark, masculine voice from the doorway intoned. Feyre’s head snapped to the side, drinking him in. His expression was carefully blank, fingertips holding the frame as he leaned forward. Ferye had been caught, had been so engrossed in the parallel lives they’d been living that she hadn’t realized the rain had started or that he’d retreated indoors.

His wet shirt clung to the contours of his chest, slicking that dark ebony hair to his forehead. 

“So,” she agreed, her voice trembling.

Feyre held his gaze. Waiting for his ire.

“Now you know.”

#feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feysand fic #yeah i did this #it started off as a joke #now it has spin-offs #and 13k words #smut tomorrow!

[shirshik72]

BiTomas week

Day 3. AU

Author's notes: the characters' images are taken from the classic games and supplemented with my headcannons. This is completely unrelated to "Mortal Kombat 1" (2023).

reverse!au, in which Bi Han came under the program of cybernetization of Lin Kuei

Yes, it was planned as a kind of SmokeHan, similar to the NoobSmoke from MKD. Planned…

The evening, smoothly flowing into night, again took place in the workshop. Smoke loved this place even more than his own room and, de facto, had long ago arranged his sleeping place here. He didn’t want to stain the feather beds in the room with machine oil, but the sofa in the workshop was no less dirty than the sofa itself.

Tomas, too keen on soldering, had stubbornly failed to notice Kuai Liang, who was watching him, for about 10 minutes. If you don’t break this silence, then Smoke won’t even notice him, Sub-Zero understood this very well.

— Did you at least leave here today? — He asked, tilting his head to the side.

The ninja flinched at the sudden sound, turning to look at the visitor.

— Well... — he fell silent for a long time, recalling the events of today. — I went outside to smoke a couple of times.

— But you can't tell by the smell of tobacco, — the grandmaster grumbled, waving away the disgusting smell of cigarettes. — Have you even eaten today?

— Well... — he looked down at the floor again, trying to remember something other than the cyborg to whom he devoted his entire day.

— This is not normal, Tomas, — Sub-Zero mutters, exhaling heavily. — I understand that you are free to spend your day off as you please, but as a friend, I am very worried about you. I repeat: your actions are abnormal. They harm you, Tomas!

— I... — Smoke bowed his head, frantically searching for some words in his head. — ...I understand the truth of your words. But you also understand me... — he emotionally clasped his hands, pointing at the cyborg with whom he had been fiddling with for the last 2 days. — Bi requires maintenance. Especially after the last mission.

Kuai Liang turned his head towards Bi. Or rather to the LK-7C8. He refused to call it by the name of his deceased brother.

Sighing heavily, he turned back to Smoke. He also considered the LK-7C8. But there was something in his gaze... Reverent. Enchanted. In love. It seems that Tomas really saw Bi Han in this pile of metal. How can we explain to him that there is no soul left in the cyborg? How to alleviate the pain from which he is hiding while caring for LK-7C8?

— You could also use some maintenance after the last mission, — Sub-Zero said after a painfully long silence.

— I was practically unhurt, — Smoke noted admiringly. — Bi took the entire blow upon himself, protecting me, — he pointed his finger at the deep hole in the cyborg’s chest. — I'll have to replace this slab.

— I'm talking about something else, Tomas. You are not a cyborg. You need a break. There's some relaxation there.

— I’m more than relaxed here, — he smiles, not taking his eyes off Bi. — I really like it here.

— And if I take the LK-7C8 out of here, will you like it here too?

— Don’t call him that, — Tomas snapped, almost growling. He grabbed the cyborg's hand tightly, squeezing it.

— What should I call it?

— Just like you once called your brother, — he said getting more and more annoyed

— This is no longer my brother, Tomas, — Kuai Liang remarked seriously and persistently.

— It contains everything that remains of your brother. It contains something that can be used to revive your brother, — Smoke said confidently. His gaze hardened, his lips pursed. The tension in the room grew steadily, causing almost physical discomfort.

— Quan Chi took Cyrax out of the cyborg. He is the only one, who knew the secret of this procedure, and he took this secret with him to the grave, — Sub-Zero muttered, trying – once again – to reason with his closest friend.

— It's all because of your idiot Hanzo!

The truth stings painfully and therefore Tomas responds to it with aggression. The vicious flame of malice and hatred lights up in the gray eyes. A cloud of black smoke appears around him. The faint rumble made by Bi only inflames Smoke and his indignation.

An ice dagger also appears in Kuai Liang's hand, but he quickly calms himself down. He understands that Smoke is just in pain. He understands that this cannot be brought to the boiling point. Taking a couple of steps back, Sub-Zero says:

— I'll leave you. It seems like I'm the odd one out here.

Kuai Liang really leaves. Tomas looks after him for a long time, exhaling heavily. He turns his gaze back to Bi, also squeezing the cold metal hand.

— I’ll definitely get you out of there, — he swears an oath, gently stroking the titanium body. — No matter what it costs me, Bi Han... I... I won’t give up. In no case.

Smoke looks up, staring for a long time at the unnatural light emitted by a pair of cybernetic eyes. So bright, blinding, but at the same time cold... Dead light.

Tomas is trying to say something, to continue convincing the cyborg that everything will work out well with him, but he is treacherously lacking in strength. The head falls wearily onto the metal chest.

Smoke is tired. Very tired. For 3 years now, he has been trying to awaken the soul of Bi Han. There is absolutely no result.

But he has no plans to give up yet. It took him more than a 3 year to find the cyborg.

But he found it! Restored it and brought it back into working order. It took a lot of effort, but it all paid off in full. Bi's return was worth all the years that Tomas spent looking for him and all the resources he spent on repairing him.

The ninja pressed closer to the cyborg. Just like how he clung to Bi Han during the long sleepless nights, which they filled with endless conversations about everything. The hand involuntarily reached out to the blue plates, outlining the contours of the titanium cybernetic body.

Cold.

“Bi Han was always cold and hard too,” Smoke thought. Smiling helplessly at the stupidity of his own self-consolation, Tomas still did not find the strength within himself to get up from his chest. Even if Bi was cast from titanium, and not woven from flesh and blood, but inside this body slept everything that once controlled Bi Khan - his soul. And Tomas loved this soul, and not its shell. This is probably why his affection for the cyborg really knew no bounds, going beyond some limits of reason. There was truth in Kuai Liang's words... But emotions and feelings are indifferent to any truths.

Hugging Bi's body with both hands, he felt the incredible comfort of that distant time, when life was simpler, the grass was greener, and he himself never imagined that his life would become... Like this. Of course, there were problems then, but now they all seemed so stupid, petty, idiotic. At that distant time, he did not have to run away from cybernetization, revive the Lin Kuei together with Kuai Liang, wander around the entire Outworld trying to find what was left of his beloved. Yes, then life was not all sugar either, but there was a ray of light in it. Hope. Support. Bi Han was in it.

— I love you, — he muttered somewhere deep into Bi’s metal plates, as if trying to whisper to a soul that had lost its own body.

— It’s mutual, Tomas, — a painfully familiar voice whispered right in his ear, making Smoke tremble from the sudden rush of memories.

Or maybe he was trembling from the grave cold that enveloped his back.

Postscript: I am not an English-speaking person and this is my first experience in writing a literary text in a foreign language. I apologize in advance for all my mistakes in this text and ask you to point them out in the comments or personal messages. Thanks a lot in advance to everyone!

For organizing the event and a lot of new au, for which I will never write anything, thank @bitomas-week.

#noobsmoke #bitomas #bitomasweek2023 #bi han x tomas #bi han #mk smoke #smoke mk #tomas vrbada #noob saibot #kuai liang #lin kuei #mortal kombat #mk fanfic #fanfic #bitomasweek23 #not mk 1

[ladysophiebeckett]

Thank you for saying Aldo is not good looking at all. Seriously, everyone fawning over his looks (El Cuartel and Luigi) had me thinking we, as the audience, were being bamboozled. The actor didn’t look so bad in other soaps, I think it’s just that he looked much older than Fernando and Lety? Also, I hated his voice lmao and if we include all the red flags of his character, no wonder many of us didn’t like him 😂 he completely robbed Lety of her character development, I will die on this hill. Michel displayed problematic behaviors, but at least didn’t play a huge role on the story until the very end. If Betty’s big proposal to save Ecomoda had been all about Michel’s project, I would’ve been so mad (I know this is simply not possible in ysblf because it’s about fashion and he is a chef whereas in lfmb it’s a production company, so they couldn’t go for the same idea as in the original version, so the door was wide open to come up with something that involved Aldo 😪).

Circa 2006, Vale and Camil were 31 and 33. Soler was 40\41. not very old. but weird that they cast him as the secondary love interest. im certain his casting was bc he reached a certain demographic (older women that like him). bc it certainly wasn't for the youth (women and girls 25 and younger were only in love with fernando\camil).

Aldo's styling is Committed Beach Bum to highlight his flowy, easy, not stressful lifestyle. (the beach jewelry too, ugh). If you notice Michel was not styled that way in Cartagena. He wears light colors, whites and blues (to highlight his frenchy white man blue eyes), his shirts are big and not tucked tightly or at all, he doesn't wear suits or ties. He's easy going, relaxed. (the complete opposite of Armando). Aldo looks like someone who's constantly telling himself to relax. There is something so forced about Aldo's entire character, fm the way the he's written, styled and acted.

It's like Soler himself didn't know what he was doing there, so he just acted like he would if he were a villain in a normal telenovela. There's a huge disconnect. Also, Soler isn't very attractive unless he has facial hair. (see Apuesta Por Un Amor, where he's decent looking.) (he's not my type, feel a need to stress that). (in both Ysblf and Lfmb, everyone fawns over Michel\Aldo and im like 'what am i supposed to be fawning over? men that need to moisturize more???)

I responded to an old ask here about Michel and what happens if he doesn't arrive at Ecomoda to trigger the events of BxA's reconciliation.

But Ocampo and Televisa were like 'well what if we don't let Letty heal and dont give her a make over and Aldo stays forever?'

Congratulations, now you have two protagonists that are stunted and a second love interest who looks like a villain out of a lifetime movie.

Letty was absolutely robbed of her character development when they decided Aldo was more important. Including Fernando.

I had to do some quick refreshing on Aldo and I came across the Fernando and Aldo fight outside of Conceptos.(must be noted that Aldo throws the first punch BTW). I completely forgot they had a physical fight. And after watching it I realized it was the Fernando\Tomas fight redone.

Because Fernando says something like 'he's just using you. he came here and followed you down here bc he wanted to use you for his business'. which is similar to things he says not only about nicolas but also daniel (idr what daniel's name is in lfmb). Anyway he digs himself into a hole and Aldo's like 'yes, bc i want to do business with her'. But he also throws in Fernando's face that he can say\yell out that he's in love with Letty and Fernando can't (And he doesn't). Which again, as we know in Ysblf, Cartagena Arc and after it, Armando doesn't care anymore about his appearance and all he wants is to be with Betty and love her openly.

And then moments before Fernando appears, Aldo tells Letty that he loves her and Letty says 'no, no it's not possible I'm ugly'. Which....I mean do I have to go into it? Do I really need to? She didn't get to heal. She still puts herself down. And now you have some guy she doesn't know saying he's the only one that can love her. (This actually IS a red flag).

If Armando had gotten into a physical fight with Michel, it would show that he hadn't changed. If Armando was challenged to say he loved Betty out loud in some public setting and then didn't do it, it would show he hadn't changed. If Betty hadn't healed and learned to love and accept herself, she wouldn't have the confidence to stand up for herself or run Ecomoda.

Letty and Fernando were robbed of those moments, which is shame because they have decent actors. I would go so far as saying that Aldo\Soler was given protagonist level priority because of his name and fame.

Literally Michel's only job was to give Armando competition and give Betty incentive to leave Bogota. He does display some red flags that, imo, are supposed to contrast with who Betty is now and also contrast with Armando. Betty is much more independent by the end, she doesn't need another man in her life telling her what to do. She needs an equal partner to support her emotionally. Michel wants to fix her, guide her, tell her what do do. ('Let me drive, drink this instead, take this job working for me). Armando wants another chance to show her that he wants what she wants.

Aldo never, ever, ever, should have been given a whole plot about needing Conceptos to help his gastronomy fair or whatever it is that he was doing. It could have literally just been 'I'm opening a seafood restaurant in mexico city. I came to say hi and also, maybe date you?'. They could have kept it at that and let Letty fix Conceptos on her own. There were other ways to make Aldo stay longer without taking away from Letty.

Since Concepto's is a production company in Lfmb, to make a connection\reference to Ysblf, Letty's idea could have been about promoting a suffering mexican fashion company's clothes and suggest to said company that the only way to promote their line is to open their market to every woman and then Letty's puts the cuartel in this said commercial and watch the sales go up. This is not a clear idea but it's better than gastronomy fair because it would give Letty agency.

In conclusion, Aldo should have drowned in the ocean devoured by the Acapulco waves, never to be seen again. And Angelica Vale deserved to showcase her dramatic acting talents instead of....all of that.

#lfmb #ysblf #ask #anon

[ukr-anka-09]

Hello! I'm new here. I will write about MK, reactions, headcanons, etc. Please don't judge harshly! I am Ukrainian and I translate half of the text myself, half with a translator.

Let's start. It was winter, the cold season. There is snow and it is quite slippery. There are holidays coming up in China, but they are strangers to our Y/N. The girl came to China to learn more about her distant relatives who used to trade in China, as well as to learn various facts. The girl also decided to enroll in a small town. Where she is now. Well, for now Y/N has nothing to worry about. The girl rented some kind of house, although one can argue that it was not a house, it looked more like a temple.

But Y/N quickly settled in, and now it’s a cozy place. The girl lived at the end of a small town. Almost near the forest and lake. It’s not very safe to live there, especially for a girl, but Y/N wasn’t worried about that. The girl herself knew medicine. Medicine for people and animals also did not interfere with her making various ointments, decoctions, and teas. She is also good with chemistry, she could make some kind of poison. For example, from insects that love to eat her flowers. Now the girl is currently sitting by the window reading a book and drinking tea, covered with a blanket. Nothing was foreshadowed until someone knocked. Y/N became alert, took the dagger in her left hand and began to open the door. Y/N always prepares there since she doesn’t communicate much with the locals. When suddenly she saw two men holding a third. One had black hair, another had gray hair, and the third also had black hair, but he seemed to be passed out. You decided to start a dialogue.

- Hello, what do you need?Then a man with black hair in yellow answered

- Does a healer live here? We need help, please help .You didn’t really trust them and wanted to close the door. After all, you didn’t want to get involved with different clans. But you let me in and decided to help

- Okay, come quickly. Lay him down on the sofa. I'm behind a blanket and a pillow.You came with a pillow and a blanket. You put a pillow under the head of the man in blue and covered him with a blanket. And you decided to start a conversation.

- Well, tell me what happened. Just like your name and his. But I also demand to tell you how he has been feeling lately, as well as permission to examine him.

- I'm Tomas.This is Kuai Liang, and the one lying there is our brother Bi Han. We were on a mission and he became ill. It takes a day or two to get to our clan. We decided to stop somewhere here. Also, back in the clan, we heard about the miraculous healer. And they told us that it was you

- Ok Tomas, tell me how Bi Han has been feeling lately

- Well, he often grabbed the spine and pelvis. He also weakened, it was obvious. Although he didn’t show it, his muscles probably hurt. You could just often notice how he kneads them or grabs them. He also couldn’t walk, he had a headache, he had difficulty admitting it. He never liked to talk when he felt bad. He was also more irritable than usual. This was last week. And for the last two days he slept poorly and didn’t really eat anything. And it was either too warm or too cold. He is a cryomancer, it was normal for him, but he became even colder, and then even warmer. And then he fell, we couldn’t bring him back to consciousness. Well, we were not far from your house, and here we are. Next thing you know.Y/N walked up to the table. She took the book and started leafing through it. And then she whispered something, then, putting down the book, she walked up to Bi Han. She began to feel my pulse and forehead. He was hot, his pulse was more or less normal. Then Y/N took a notebook from the shelf and began to draw and write something, then tore it out and gave it to Kuai Liang

-Myofascial syndrom and colds Y/N said in a quiet tone. And Kuai Liang looked questioningly while Tomas was quietly silen

-What?

-He just overworked himself and that’s why he got sick. Got a cold

- When can we continue on our way?

-Well what can I say. He may be unconscious for 3 days maximum, but he definitely needs to rest for a week. Otherwise the same thing will happen again.

- Is it possible to stay with you for a while?

-Well, I don’t have enough places, maybe there won’t be enough

-Can we leave Bi Han until he gets better? We can leave, we need to let you know that everything is fine with us

-OK then. We agreed, I hope he doesn’t kill me and you have time to pick him upY/N laughed, and Tomas smiled at the same time. And Kuai Liang just grinned.

- Well, see you later. They said and left. Leaving his brother for a fragile girl

#mortal kombat x reader

[doki-doki-imagines]

It's Okay if you can handle yandere things, can you do the lin kuei trio, syzoth and raiden if they were a yander, i wanna know what's on your mind :D

tw: yandere, toxic relationships (obvs), gaslight, baby trapping, abuse (physically and mentally), death (not reader or characters), if I forgot a trigger tell me so I can add it🫡.

Raiden: -King of gaslight. -"Don't you remember I told you I was going to train? Why do you always trust her, she keeps tricking you! Don't you remember that one time?" -He didn't go out to train, no friends have ever tricked you. -It's impossible for your humble and kind boyfriend to lie to you. He only wants what is best for you. -That's why on your own accord (it's what Raiden keeps telling you) you have no friends, and don't go out. Your boyfriend already gives everything you need and want. -So when you cry alone in a corner of your room, it's just because you are the stupid one because anybody would be happy with what you have (or at least, that's what Raiden tells you).

Syzoth: -What more do you want? You already bear his children. That should be the apex of your life. -That's his strategy, always having kids, so you won't be able to go out. Syzoth taking care of food and every other basic care. -Your life will be forever centred on him and your kids, nothing else, no other important value, not even yourself. -"Act well, if you lose me, you lose yourself." -You can only nod like the mindless pawn you became.

Kuai Liang: -He is always angry, more often than not taking his anger on your body. -"Sorry fireball, I'll never do it again, I swear, stay with me. Forever." -It's never the last time he hurts you, but you believe him every time, cheeks hurting, throat purple, tears never stop flowing from your eyes. -Liang will try to keep you locked in his mansion as much as possible. No Shirai Ryu trainees should be able to see you, and you mustn't even look at other men other than him. -Or women. -The time you talked with Harumi, you couldn't even open your eyes the next day, face beaten up, and you had to take care of the wounds alone. -But every time, Liang promises that he loves you and you can't do anything other than believing him.

Tomas Vrbada: -He is the classical yandere, lovebombing you, saying that he can't live without you. -Killing every person that gets close to you; they should learn to stay in their space, those cockroaches. -Tomas can just think of you, and he'll make sure you will return the obsession. Not physically obliging you, but by eliminating every distraction that you have. -May the distractions be your friends, your parents, your pets… they all have the same value to him. -Zero.

Bi-Han: -Sadly, I think that even normal Bi-Han has toxic tendencies, mostly because he doesn't know how a normal relationship works. -You mustn't interact with other men. You mustn't have hobbies. -Your entire life should be dedicated to Bi-Han and Bi-Han only. -You won't even have the whole mansion for yourself. He'll imprison you in a small room, and he only has access to it. -Bi-Han will personally deliver anything you need, no contact with any other human being is allowed. -The cell doesn't have any window, so you can't even understand for how long you've been there. -Don't try to think too much, or you'll become crazy, just accept your fate.

#mk x reader #mk1 x reader #mortal kombat x reader #mk headcanons #mk1 headcanons #mortal kombat headcanons #tw: yandere #tw: gaslighting #tw: abuse #mk1 raiden #syzoth #tomas vrbada #mk1 smoke #kuai liang #mk1 scorpion #bi han #mk1 sub zero #shit this should have been posted tomorrow...WELP #anyway do you wanna know what's better than exploring this fucked up interactions with yan!characters? #writing about toxic!reader fucking the characters up👍🏻

[restinslices]

Yo, still waiting for that if Tomas was a sub one (canon tbh)

Cannot believe I forgot. Y’all can boo me

Imma just come out and say it. He's such a whiny sub

There are characters that give me dom vibes but I think them as subs would be fun. There are characters that give me switch vibes. Tomas gives me only sub vibes. I don't detect a dom in there. idk, that's just me tho

So needy and whiny it'd probably throw you off when you see him doing anything other than begging you to touch him 

Cannot handle teasing at all. He's ok with teasing you but breaks easily when you tease him 

Honestly he can't backup any of the shit he talks. 

One of those subs who need attention at all times. Even if you're not interacting with him, he still wants you in the area 

Kinks I think he'd have are barebacking, biting, humiliation (a HUGE one and imma stand on it), breath play, collaring (in private), impact play, sex toys and sensory deprivation 

I just feel like he's a slut in disguise. Where's my proof? I made it the fuck up. I'm doing this for US 

If you have female anatomy he's also getting pegged. IDC IDC 

Humiliation is a big one for him because he knows it's still a safe space. You can taunt him about how he's a slut, write things on him, make him get off with something unusual, ect. but at the end of day you still love him and it's all for fun. 

You can tell when he's needy ‘cause he's extremely close to you. He follows you around normally, but he's right on your heels 

To torture him more you can pretend you have no idea what he wants. He knows you know and you know he knows, but watching him try to ignore how he feels ‘cause he doesn't wanna say it out loud is priceless. 

He also has a tendency to say he can't take anymore but in reality he wants you to keep going. This is a big guy, he can take it. 

There's two good punishments for him; Cockwarming and overstimulation 

Cockwarming because he can't handle teasing. It's so simple but he can't stand it and doesn't know which is worse; when you're inside of him (actual dick or strapon, doesn't matter) or when he's inside of you. Either way, it doesn't take long for him to apologize for whatever he's done and beg you to fuck him already. 

For overstimulation he gets turned on and cums pretty easily so it wouldn't take that much to overstimulate him. 

These two go well together. Cockwarming then overstimulation as a “isn't this what you wanted?”

What would make this better is quizzing him on something. His brain stops working when he's horny so quizzing him on Lin Kuei principles or something else he for sure knows adds to it. 

He knows he knows the answer but his brain is a fog. It kinda puts the punishment in his hands but that adds to the torture. If he could figure this out, then you'd actually fuck him (or you'd stop fucking him if you do this while overstimulating him)

As I'm typing this I thought of another thing that can be both a punishment but also something he enjoys. Dryhumping. Listen to me and listen to me well-

I can see him coming up behind you when you're alone and rubbing against you to let you know he's needy. And if you told him to keep going, he'd cum but it's not what he really wants to do. 

So him being in trouble and being forced to rub against you but not be inside you or have you inside him would drive him nuts. 

Aftercare for him would be showering together, cuddling and reassuring him you didn't mean any of the negative things you said. Especially after an intense punishment, he needs to hear you don't actually think negatively of him and you love him. 

Also reading together depending on the day. Just something really chill to pull him back to reality. 

I just realized he has the least amount of words so here are afterthoughts to fix that

I know I've called him whiny multiple times but I genuinely think sometimes he can't even form coherent sentences. All that comes out are noises 

Tries not to pout but does so anyway 

He can get off just from giving head 

Loves you leaving marks on him as long as he can cover it up. He can't be scrapping and the enemy sees a hickey on his neck

Tries to sneakily break rules. For example, if a rule is “no touching yourself when I'm gone” he'll do it anyway and try to get rid of the evidence. He'll shower, change clothes, clean any toy he used and whatever else he has to do but you somehow always know. 

Tomas is not the best liar and has some habits he does when lying, like tapping his fingertips together so you find out that way or from actually catching him and pretending you didn’t

The type to break rules on purpose if you haven't been giving him attention and then be surprised when actions have consequences 

Will call you whatever title you prefer if you don't just wanna go by your name

Like his brothers, he for sure could just throw you off but he never does. It adds to the fun. He's a skilled assassin but if you said “jump” he'd ask “how high?”

The best sub to have if you want one whos so pathetically in love with you but can be a little shit sometimes 

Even after his punishments, he keeps apologizing to make sure you're not actually mad at him. 

Probably begs you to cum inside him anyway you can

I see him and start tweaking fr

#tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke #tomas vrbada mk1 #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada x y/n #tomas vrbada smut #sub Tomas vrbada #Sub smoke #mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #Mdni #feral for this man

[madibyrd]

Madi goes into withdrawal. People help her.

features in order of appearance: @akbartheolder; @hazelbeaufort; @nickalphonsus; @neshionals; @sagetomashardy

Of the many, many things to get back to, try and recoup and reset all this bloody bollocks back to normal ('People still have to eat, Emre,' Tomas said. Or maybe Emre just imagined him saying it, in his usual resolute flat-eyed fashion) Emre had a top priority.  And that was Madi. She'd salvaged him from the tree, but he hadn't seen a glimpse of her since.  And after Emre was thoroughly cleaned, fed, and slaked, he found his way to Madi's little home.

"Maz...nnnf,"  Emre winced as he peered into her home, and his senses retaliated instinctively.  He could clock what was happening fairly quickly. The buckets, the smell, the darkness, the stifling heat of her little indoor chulha.  It was a lot, but Emre beelined towards Madi. He didn't touch her just yet.   "Oi, babes.  Maz, can you hear me, luv?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was not feeling okay, to say the least. SHe felt like something was trying to burst out of her so badly (it kept bursting out, she couldn't quite move from the bucket), she felt so, so cold, and her heart kept beating so fast, it didn't feel too bad, while a little voice in the back of her mind kept telling her if she only got some alcohol, she could get better. It would be an easy solution.

She didn't actually hear Emre come in, only realized he was near when he spoke, and Madi just raised her hand and gave Emre a thumbs up for a few moments. "Yeah, I can hear you. Hi? Are you--" but she couldn't finish the sentence, her insides came out of her once again. Once that was done, she wiped her mouth and looked over at Emre, "Sorry, I don't think I'm-- not the best company right now."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Dear me, shall I return when you're feeling better then?" Emre asked deadpan before he kissed his teeth and got to work.  "Seen you in far worse ways, as you well know, mate. Honestly this is your plan then.  Hole up for a few days and just let it pass.  You chat with Nesh at least?"  Emre bustled, straightening up Madi's little space, organizing it so she had more blankets, better access to the bucket. A wet rag for her mouth.  More water in general.  And he added more wood for her little oven.

Once things felt more organized, Emre finally folded beside Madi to sit next to her. He touched her damp hair, pushing it back from her pale, slick face.  "You're going to need help, you silly little muppet.  Why're you even doing this to yourself."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi tried to follow Emre with her eyes as he moved around and chastized her, but after a few moments, she just felt like her head was spinning so instead she closed her eyes and tried to just listen to him, wiping her mouth with the wet rag as well. "I-- maybe. I just-- it's bad now, but it should be better in a bit, okay? I kind of did this once already." Different circumstances, half as old body, but Madi didn't think about that.

She leaned towards Emre and his touch even though she must have been completely disgusting and shouldn't have had to stick to him, but she just wanted the touch. It felt nice. "I need to-- to get better, that is why I am doing it. I need to get better and-- you know, not drinking is how I get better." Even if right now she didn't feel better.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Emre's brow creased, but he kept stroking Madi's hair when it seemed she was amenable to the touch.  At least she seemed to have prepared somewhat; there was a earthenware jug nearby, filled with some blend of coconut and fruit juice.  Emre poured out a cup, even if he knew it was likely to just come back up anyway.  "Right.  This was how you stopped your bender when you was twenty-one like, yeah?" Maybe he got her age wrong, but he recalled the story.

She wanted to 'get better'.  All this time, she'd only spoke about how there was no need to get better. How Madi was perfectly fine the way she was.  How she didn't need any help; and conversely she didn't think anyone cared enough to help. And also she didn't deserve any help. A whole mess of reasons, but how she wanted to get better.  Like aggravating shadows in the corners of his eyes, memories that weren't his flit into his mind.  (The sensation of being terribly burned in a fire.  Madi screaming, pleading, crying. ) Emre couldn't remember. He didn't want to.

Instead, he offered her the cup of juice and asked carefully, "Why do you want to get better, as you say."  What's the point he wanted to add, but...maybe not yet.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi nodded once, but then it made her dizzy, so instead she just croaked, "Yeah, kind of. It was-- it wasn't easy, but I got through it mostly okay." She also got through it while she was completely in shock for days. She also got into a shock after Emre, but things sometimes happened so fast on meridium, it was almost impossible to remain in a daze for long, especially when she also had to save her best friend who didn't actually die.

Sometimes Emre wanted to talk about. What better time than this. (It would have been easier not to say anything, on many levels, but what was the point of holding back now?) "You d-- you died. Because of me. I thought-- I thought you died." She shut her eyes. He was right, even just the few small sips of juice threatened to come back up again, but she was fighting it. "I don't want to hurt people. NOt-- not like that, not in any way. And this-- I am hurting people." And then the juice came out of her.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Mostly okay." Emre called bullshit on that.  More like Madi likely went through shite but in the triumph of overcoming the urge, she looked back with rose-tinted glasses.  Likely pinkened further by the fact that her sister Liv actually survived, too.  He moved the cup closer.  "Drink.  You'll hate me for it, but drink.  Honestly, did you chat with Tomas, or Nesh before going cold turkey, Mazzy."  Or maybe Hazel, or maybe not.  Everyone struggled return to normal but Emre wasn't even sure what normal was.

He'd died,  Madi then spilled onto him.  Emre said nothing yet, just remained quiet and tried not to think too hard on what that meant, or what shadows flickered in his periphery. A month in the trees.  He didn't die, he didn't fucking die.  That thing was not him. Madi corrected himself but Emre still swallowed back bile. "So you think it'll be a piece of cake then.  Fixing yourself.  Done it before, you can do it again, yeah.  Then you'll be right as rain, no harm to no one, no more.  Pretty fucking sound plan if you ask me."  It wasn't sound.  There was something off-kilter about this.  Some element missing in Madi's epic detox mission, but Emre couldn't put his finger on what.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around Madi's shoulders, and gave her a little cold squeeze.  "I know you'll argue, but you're being quite brave innit luv."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Uh-uh," Madi protested. "I don't want to." But still she took the cup and drank a couple of more sips. It tasted horrible, really, mixed with her own vomit taste, it was just horrible, but at least somewhere deep down she knew she needed it. "Didn't talk to them. Just-- before. Before all of this. But I'm fine." Really, if anything, her talk with Tomas previously should have been indication that doing this alone wouldn't be easy, but she was only hearing and obtaining what Tomas said during his lectures and his talks, so it didn't stick with her.

She gave him the stinky eyes. "I know you are being sarcastic right now, but I don't have any energy to actually argue back." And then he called her brave and certainly no energy to argue even though this was something she would have wanted to even more. So she just buried her head into his shoulder instead, trying to find some energy in his hug. "I should-- I should talk to somebody, right? One of them?" Except... "I can't move. I can't-- I can't get up and find them. Talk to them. I just-- I can't."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"There's my girl," Emre purred softly, taking the cup the moment Madi was done with it.  A few more beats, and then he'd offer it again.  "You're fine, alright."  This was absolutely not fine.  None of this was fine but Emre wouldn't fight Madi on it.  Instead, he exhaled softly.  "Seems we can't stop fighting, can we.  Wager we've been fighting longer now than we've been friends on this bloody island."  That sounded horridly correct, if his timeline was right.  If he hadn't done that one thing that ruined them, permanently.

But really, if he hadn't killed Suresh, it would be something else, wouldn't it? It had to be that way.  Madi would find out sooner or later.  "I'm not being sarcastic," he said, perhaps a bit more plaintively than he meant.  "You just won't ever believe me  innit. Not anymore."

Madi saw some reason though, in her miserable state.  "Obvi, you little plum.  I'll go find them and bring them here. Which one would you want then - Tomas or Dr Nesh?"  And then because Emre felt he should, he also offered, "Hazel?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was never going to drink juice again for the rest of time. Or at least for a really long time. It was horrible, but she gulped it down and hoped and prayed it wouldn't come back up. She could do this. She really could. But not when Emre was saying stuff like that. "Don't-- please, don't--" She wanted to be his friend but this really wasn't the time to have that conversation. "We can have more time in-- in the friendship column. The not-friendship can just be-- a blip. In the long run." Please, Emre, understand what I want to say, she pleaded silently. And the once again she said, "Don't, please. Just-- not now, okay? Later."

She bit her lips, tried to keep things down in her stomach as she took a couple of deep breaths. "Can you-- can you tell either of them? Both of them? Just so that-- so that they know." Breath in, breathe out. "And can you-- can you tell Hazel, too?" No need for an audience, but people knowing-- that couldn't hurt.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi begged, but it wasn't necessary.  Emre searched inside him for that inevitable sting of hurt or pining or bitterness at Madi postponing any friendship chat until the ever-nebulous 'later'.  As if 'later' was a guaranteed moment of time.  He waited to see if his lip would curl, if he'd say something bilious to her and then soothe her rankle with an apology.  Poke and prick Madi just enough to get her upset.  Because 'upset' meant she still cared.  All these options, but Emre just nodded, and licked his lips, all gentle and matter-of-fact as he replied.

"Right, of course luv. Later.  Right.  What d'you want to chat about then?  I could distract you from...all this, yeah.  And before you try to send me away, it's not going to work.  You're not the only one who loves, you know."

Emre hummed in acquiescence about telling the others.  "I'll nip out when you manage to fall asleep."  If Madi was able to fall into anything deeper than a fitful sleep.  He wasn't sure if she could, but he wouldn't leave her now.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"I'm not trying to send-send you away. I-- I'm glad you're here." Would Emre actually believe that? Or would he think it's nothing more than a pain induced declaration she'd take back later? But Madi couldn't quite think about that much. She'd worry about that later, because there would be a later. "I just-- you're right, they should know. Please. I don't think-- I don't think I could sleep anytime soon."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Stop begging, stop saying please. You don't have to beg me," Emre said, his voice caught like a frog in his throat.  "Just...just rest. Rest my darling."

Emre stayed with Madi then, and their conversation gently dipped to just random questions Emre asked as he tidied up Madi's home a bit more, made her drink more juice.  Held the bucket for her.  Wiped her face.  Let her chew on mint leaves (cheers Dr Nesh) until she retched again.  Read to her from a girl's mag he'd found in her hut.  When Madi's squirming slowed slightly, it was just enough for Emre to slip out of her hut and find Hazel.  A brief explanation of what Hazel would expect to find, and then a careful request that Hazel pay Madi a visit.  Please.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

She agrees. But she agrees with terms: Emre needs to remove any alcohol he might've stowed away in a hiding place that Madi knew about before Hazel is willing to help. She's not going one step forward and three steps back. Not anymore. Not with this.

She's not feeling too well, herself, after so long in the trees. When she'd finally given in to sleep, it'd been for about twelve hours straight. But she's awake now and the early light of dawn is bringing with it some relief. One: the voice that had roused her from that dead sleep is beginning to wane. Two: Madi is doing this. And she wants Hazel here to help her through it.

"You know, um, when I learned about this in school, they said, um – that a negative symptom is a positive sign. Like... like you're feeling really bad, but it's because your body's getting rid of bad stuff. It's doing its job," she tries to reassure as she places a new cold compress on Madi's forehead – which is a bit of a moving target, with how the other woman's shivering. "So, um. So this is a good thing. Even if I'm sure it doesn't, like... feel like it."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi managed to doze off, but despite the fact that she didn't have any dreams (no nightmares either, which was a win for sure), she didn't have a restful sleep. It felt like she was on the verge of something but couldn't push through, and somehow she felt the cold even in the darkness of her sleep.

She wasn't sure what woke her up, she wasn't even quite sure where she was or what was happening, she just knew she was cold and shivering and so cold. So so so ridiculously cold. She was fire attuned, but this felt different somehow. And then a voice came and-- "Hazel, is that you?" she whisperred, her throat hoarse, a world of horrible taste in her mouth. She was still not really feeling well in her stomach, though. "Negative is positive. That sounds weird. Are positives also negatives?" she asked, trying not to focus on the fact that Hazel was right, none of this felt like a good thing.

"What-- what else did you learn? In school?" she needed the distraction, but maybe this wasn't the best topic. "What were you like in school?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“I think… positives are also positives.” Which would make everything positive, which is objectively not true, but… Hazel doesn’t comment on that. Instead she gently puts the back of one hand against Madi’s quivering cheek, trying and failing to hide her grimace. She’s burning up. “Oh, um, yes. It’s me. Hazel,” she answers belatedly.

There’s a lengthy pause between that and her next response, too, as she’s moving the damp cloth from Madi’s forehead to run it over her cheeks, her neck, her arms. Then she returns it to her forehead and closes her eyes, focusing on her attunement so that she can get a breeze going in the room, hoping that plus the water will bring her temp down. “I was… shy, at first. It was intimidating, being around all these strangers, especially because I didn’t do a lot of the conventional school stuff growing up. But I found some friends, and my uh — my first real girlfriend,” she admits on a small laugh. “And then I talked a lot. Too much, probably, but it was, um… I learned a lot. They have you do this thing called clinical, in nursing school, where you like — you have a hands-on experience in every specialty in the hospital. I guess to figure out which you like best. But um, I learned the most then. Sorry, that was — that wasn’t really your question, was it? I don’t know. I was… I learned a lot. Um, how do you feel?”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

It wasn't possible to fully push out her body's reactions to things, but Madi tried to focus on Hazel's voice, what she was saying. She could just picture younger Hazel careful and shy, wrapping her hands around her books to protect herself, and then opening up as she got to know more people.

"No, it's okay, I-- I like hearing this. I wanna get to know your past, what you were like in all different stages of your life. So if you want to, I could-- I want to listen." Normally Madi probably wouldn't have admitted it this bluntly, would have felt awkward or anxious over it, but the fever was strong enough that she just said it as she felt it. She might feel all the awkwardness later, but for now, she was feeling too bad because of everything else. "I don't-- I don't feel too well," she admitted it. "It's-- really cold. I and it feels like-- I don't know, I don't know how to put it, I just feel like something is not right." She was breathing strangely, though she couldn't quite tell how weird or what was wrong with it.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“How’d you train to be a firefighter?” Hazel asked abruptly, wanting to keep Madi distracted but realizing her unnatural breeze is dying out when she’s talking. “That’s a job that, um… requires some practice, right?”

But there are things that can’t be ignored, and as Madi goes on Hazel nods. Her breath’s short but there’s not much that can be done for that, other than soothing other things. Hazel keeps the air moving, as if that’ll promote breathing, then rifles through the bag she brought. There’s yellowslipper, which… isn’t too helpful right now, given that Tomas had told her that its best use is for migraines. Unless… “How’s your head? Oh wait!” Here, a jar of cloudy, light purple liquid. The bobbler fruit’s juice, diluted with water. It doesn’t exactly look appetizing but… it’ll do. “Can you sit up, just a little? Here,” Hazel prompts, using a hand to stabilize Madi’s back as she shifts the other woman up then lifts the jar to her lips. “Take a little sip of this for me. Please. It’ll help you feel less cold.” As Madi works on that, Hazel ticks back a damp strand of the other woman’s hair without a second thought, then clears her throat. “Um… did I ever tell you about the time my sister ended up at the hospital I was working at? It’s a funny story, actually.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Yeah, a lot." Madi replied quietly, weakly. "You need to be in a certain kind of shape to even apply, and then they build from there. Both teach you what to do in emergencies, how to handle them, how to handle people during those situations. It's a lot. And then we had to keep going to trainings yearly to make sure we're up to par." It was something she didn't originally think she could do, but she wanted to give it a try and it resulted in over a decade of good years on the field.

It was a nice bit of distraction, to talk a bit, but then Hazel asked her to sit up, and the reality of her situation hit her all over again. She didn't want to sit up, didn't feel like she could, but Hazel helped her and she tried to give her a grateful smile. Maybe it turned out more like a grimace, but she was doing her best. "What-- what does that do?" she asked before she took a few small sips.

If the situations was different, maybe she wouldn't have done it,  or would have hesitated more, but after a few sips she just laid her head onto Hazel's shoulder so a moment, breathing slowly. "You-- you haven't. Can you tell me?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“Was there, like, a firefighter gym?” Hazel says, half joking, but then realizing, “You know… I don’t think I ever stepped foot into a firehouse back in the world. I’ve only seen them in movies. What was the one that you worked at like?”

Then comes the whole sitting up thing, which is a process, but Madi gets up a bit and that’s good enough. “There you go. That’s good. Just need you to drink this and, you know, um. Don’t want you to choke.” Maybe not the most reassuring, but Madi’s getting little mouthfuls down, so it’ll do. “Okay, that’s good for now. You don’t want to drink too much of this stuff. Trust me,” she grimaces with a little smile, trying to keep it lighthearted despite how Madi’s pallor, her constant shaking, makes her nervous. “This helps with fevers. Which, believe it or not, you’ve got right now.”

Hazel tenses up for a moment when Madi leans against her. Her skin is hot. Not that it hurts, of course, but she’s pretty averse to touching in general and the heat doesn’t help and just last night she’d been thinking — she’d thought — it doesn’t matter. Those had been bad dreams. That’s all. “She was, um…” Hazel grimaces again. “Well, she was drunk. We were in our early twenties, I was in school doing my ER clinical. I was about to leave for the night when suddenly I hear someone calling my name. But not really my name, like, all sorts of nicknames and stuff, and I knew who it was before I even saw her, and Ivy was sitting there in this bed and I was like — like, why are you here, what happened, and she was like I just wanted to see you! Aaaand then she puked. All over.” Hazel laughs a little, a tight sound, but her hand has wandered up, just the lightest touch of her fingertips against Madi’s hair. “The bouncers from the bar made her friends take her to the hospital, but we just gave her some anti nausea meds and I took her home with me. She was okay.” Hazel pauses, taking a shaky breath before trying to say with confidence: “And you will be, too.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Yes and no," Madi said after a few long moments. "They are accurate, but they usually don't show all and it's not-- they aren't as big and pretty. It would be nice, but it wouldn't. Not every station has a gym, I've worked at one where there wasn't and one where it did."

She didn't choke, thankfully, but in her state, what she was given tasted horrible and she felt like it would be coming back up for a few very long seconds. SHe shot her eyes and grimaced and hoped for the best and this time her stomach was hopefully empty enough it didn't all come back. And hopefully it would help her fever because yeah, "I feel so cold," she muttered. "So badly cold."

She listened to Hazel tell the story with a small, tired smile on her lips. "It sounds like she had a good night." She at least reached the point where just thinking about alcohol made her want to throw up again instead of wanting another drink. Or at least she kept telling herself that and hopefully it would work. That was what got her here, she didn't need it. "Thanks, I hope so too. It doesn't feel like it right now. I just-- I am so cold and so tired." She slowly laid back down onto the bed and closed her eyes. She just woke up but she still felt so tired and while she slept, at least she wouldn't feel everything she did in that moment.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

“I know,” Hazel murmurs sympathetically when Madi mentions feeling cold, though she can feel the warmth radiating from her skin from here. “This’ll fix that. I—“ Promise. You’re not supposed to do that, not with a patient. But this is Madi. But… still. “I’ll leave it here for you, okay? I-I mean I’m not — I’ll just —“ She starts and stops, frowning for a moment as she stares at the makeshift pillow that Madi had been resting on. It’d be so easy. Maybe it’d be an act of mercy. It’d be fast enough, with how Madi is already breathing, and she might not even fight back, and —

“Yeah, she did. She was, um, she was good at that.” Hazel focuses back in to work up a small smile. And then she does make a promise, of sorts, with Madi’s hot face against her shoulder and her fingertips moving against the other woman’s hair. She could cover her mouth. She could —

“Okay, well, you just get some more rest for now. And I’ll um… I’ll be here for a while.” She gets up and away from the bed as Madi lays back down. It doesn’t help. Not as much as she wishes it would. Hazel wrings her hands in front of herself as she backs a few more steps away. “If you need anything, just um — just let me know. But… but yeah. Get some sleep.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi just quietly nodded and watched Hazel put the cup down. "You don't have to stay, if you don't want to," she felt the need to say it - even though she wanted her there. It was nice to have her there, even if it was just obligation and being a nurse and working at the apothecary. "Thank you, for being here. I-- I really appreciate it. And you." And she did try to rest after that - not too successfully, it felt almost impossible to properly rest, but she did try at least.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

It wasn’t as if Madi’s absence was unusual, given the chasm that had opened between them in the last month. No less Nick knew from the little flutters of memories that he had amends to make. A mammoth bridge to rebuild. Except there was something else too.

For the last hour Nick had been a sitting vigil, with his feet up on the chair in various contorted and uncomfortable positions. “Hey-hey,” he uttered, at the first sign of movement. “Morning sunshine.” It wasn’t, it was the dead of night, but dry humour was all he could fall back on. He felt out of place and out of depth, he’d only ever been on the other side of this. “How’re you feeling…?”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Everything hurt, that was Madi's first thought as she slowly came to consciousness. She was still cold, but it also felt like there was just no air in her lugs. She couldn't have properly defined it, all she felt was that something was wrong with herself, it was abnormal.

She needed a few long moments to even realize who was sitting near her, talking to her - but thankfully she recognized Nick in the end. "Heeeeey," she croaked quietly, weakly. "I'm feeling like I should be getting close to-- you know, thinking about being okay." Maybe. There had to be an end to this, there just had to. "Have you been here long?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick swung his feet down and off the chair so he could scoot forwards just a tiny tad. “I should hope so co-co.” Though it didn’t escape him that her use of thinking as opposed to feeling meant progress was still a way off. “Not long we uh, we had a chat when I arrived.” He lifted one brow and chuckled, “you were telling me a story but it sounded awfully like the plot of the bee movie.”

“Reckon we can get that penned down on paper, yeah? Oldies aren’t gonna know it’s plagiarism.” He teased, but glanced about for the jug and cup he’d been informed of. “Up for something sweet? You’ve got a choice of…papaya or…papaya or…yup still papaya.” Nick smiled, but quickly gritted his teeth in determined ignorance of the voice that needled in his head.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi couldn't remember being up earlier, not when Nick was around, though she didn't know what any of that meant. She just knew she felt really really naseous, like she was becoming ice and she wanted to scratch the wall for some alcohol. She didn't want to, somewhere in the back of her mind she knew it would be better later, but now it just felt like if she could just drink a bit, just a tiny bit, things would be easier again.

"I-- I don't want anything sweet. No papaya or anything," she resisted. "You should-- you know, have some. But I don't--" Madi looked up, and she needed a few moment to realize there was something off. Was that-- no, it couldn't be. Or... "... What are you doing here?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick resisted the urge to fall for a dramatic sigh, and for a moment just fell silent. Contemplating how he could go about convincing her to take a small sip of something. Anything. Someone had mixed up coconut water with honey for her. It was all speared through by the look of confusion come mild…horror?

Right. Nick couldn’t recall what his evil duplicate had done, except his and Mik’s home wasn’t the only to be ransacked. “To check on you…” Nick heard himself say, plainly ignoring that in part he’d come to apologise. Nick chewed on the inside of his cheek none of that was supposed to be important now. But it still was. He of all people should understand the weight of the past. “Make sure you’re okay, y’know. Look I… I know how you’re feeling, yeah?” Nick said, with a hand to the back of his neck as if he was breaking out in hives at the notion of telling the truth. “I just want to help, as your friend or well y’know drinking partner which makes me guilty by default, I guess? Look—shit, I’m not good at this. What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nothing really made sense, especially not her dad sitting by her bedside-- wasn't she on Meridium? Did he arrive while Madi was resting and just didn't realzie it? He seemed really relaxed for somebody who just arrived to the island, but... maybe she was out for so long? But then wouldn't she have to feel better by now?

"You-- you make no sense, why would you call me your friend? And drinking partner? We aren't-- I don't think we drank together more than like, two times and even that was before--" Her heartrate was picking up. Whenever she was sick, it wasn't even her dad who was with her, he could barely take care of himself, let alone the kids, was what her mom always used to say. Typical men, she would say. And now he was here, sitting by her bedside. Him apologizing for something he hasn't even done kinda explained why her mom always said that, really. "Dad, what are you talknig about?"

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick had thought it was all on par, confusion and a little disorientation. She was still deep in the throes of it. Gentle encouragements probably the way to go, right? Except Nick was caught off guard. She so innocently and quietly provided an answer to all the confusion. “No, no, Mads I’m not your dad.” Would it be better to play to her confusion? Shit.

He scooted forward to press the back of his hand lightly to her forehead, except just as it was with Mik he didn’t dare touch. “Shit. Right, okay, Madi.” Nick fetched a fresh cloth to press to her forehead mopping up what sweat he could. “Deep breaths, yeah? Easy, easy, I’ll go get the doc.” This was way out of his remit.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi closed her eyes for a moment - she wasn't a little kid anymore, but it was still kind of nice to have her dad be here and take care of her, try to take her temperature. It was all fine. She probably was just too tired still at first and thought it was Nick, nothing else.

"No, dad, don't say you're not my dad. I know things always haven't been the best but you're still my dad," Madi insisted, her breathing picking up as she tried to push herself up a bit to insist better. What logic there was, she wasn't sure, but she needed to make sure her dad stayed. "Please, don't leave. I-- I'm good enough for you to stay, we don't need a doctor," she pleaded. "Please, just stay."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nick stared, what sort of person would he be if he indulged this? More still if he refused her? He grimaced, but stayed where he was. “Okay, okay I’m not going anywhere.” Fuck. An all too familiar suffocating blanket of guilt encompassed him. He urged her to lay flat again. Then pulled the chair back close to perch on the edge of it.

This would be an ideal time to be fucking air attuned. Nick cautiously touched his hand to hers. She was too hot for him to hold. Much less that needle of temptation from a foreign voice came forth. “You’re alright, yeah? Sleep this off and then tomorrow…” What was he doing? “I’m sorry.” What difference did it make if the apology came from the wrong shitty parent, to the wrong burdened kid? “Tomorrow we’ll I don’t know…how about go climb to top of that mountain? Yeah? You can be ontop of the world.”

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi felt like she calmed down once her dad reassured her he would stay, but her breathing didn't actually slow, it was simply Madi's perception. "That-- that sounds great, I would love that," she said with a small, weak smile on her face, only for it to drop mere moments after. "I-- I don't feel so good, dad," she whispered as she started shaking more and more.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Generic. He could keep this up if he stayed, generic. Plain bland father figure. Except her face fell, and with it so did Nick’s hope for her as the tremors grew more obvious. The severity growing by the second. “It’s okay, yeah?” But words weren’t much of a distraction nor medicine in this matter. Nick was close to giving up and abandoning Madi to find that damn doctor when —

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

‘Shit, thank god you’re here. She’s seeing things man, I don’t think she’s in a good way—‘

Then, Nick had left. Now it was just Madi and him, all alone. In moments like this, Neshdan embodied calm and quiet. His fingers removed the wet cloth from her forehead and he used his attunement to draw the water out of the soft material, just to gently let the water wash some of the sweat from her face. „Deep breaths. Nice and steady.“ His hands moved to push her to her left side, then held her, one of his soft and cold hands wrapped tight around her right arm. „What’s going on, Madi?“, he asked, his words as composed as his mind. „What are you feeling? Try and describe it to me.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Something was happening, that much Madi could feel, but then all she could see was her dad stepping away and then somebody else coming into the frames - the doctor from around. What was going on with her. "Pain. It-- it hurts, I--" But she couldn't finish the sentence. Her shakes that she thought were nothing more than due to the cold got worse in only a second and she was just shaking now, unable to speak, just groan from the pain.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„It’s okay. Madi, it’s okay. Deep breaths.“ Obviously, that was easier said than done, and he knew that. But there was nothing much he could do except from holding her, cooling her down through his own, icy body and timing the shakes. As he waited for her to calm down and for the shakes to subside, he remembered brief mentions of how she’s been drinking, and about how she might want to quit. No epilepsy, then, just seizures as her blood and body was getting rid of the alcohol.

Slowly, Neshdan sat down next to her, continued to keep her laying on left her side and then pushed a few strands of hair out of her face, gently pushed her mouth open for the part of a second to check for her tongue. „Everything’s all right, Madi. It will stop.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

There were voices vaguely next to Madi, but she wasn't fully there in the moment. She could hear what Nesh was saying, somewhere at the back of her mind she understood that he was there, that she was as safe as she could be in this situation, but she was not there, not fully. Her body took over, shaking uncontrollably, her spit dripping from her, while she kept groaning in pain. At the forefront of her it was nothing but pain.

She wasn't sure how long it lasted, she couldn't tell when it all started, or even when it started getting better, but her her body was stuff, her head was pouding as the shaking slow stopped and her body relaxed.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„Okay,“ Nesh said when she was slowly calming down, „Okay. You’re okay.“ When the shaking had fully subsided, he allowed her to lay down on her back again, but his hands stayed on her shoulders, for some reassuring touch. „You were having a seizure.“, he explained as he carefully took the dried cloth to wipe her spit away, „which can occur when you’re going through withdrawals. It’s rare, and I don’t think that it’ll happen again. When’s the last time you’ve eaten something? When did you last have something to drink?“

A lot of questions for someone that’s still partially knocked out, but it’s better to distract her. „When was the last time you had alcohol?“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Seizure. Madi was having a Seizure. This was nothing like what she's experienced before and her exhausted brain of hers told her it really was a ridiculously stupid idea to even attempt to do this on her own - what would have happened if nobody came looking for her?

But they did. They did come looking. She was so convinced she was alone for so long but if that were the case, nobody would have been here.

She curled up as she laid down and closed her eyes as she listened to the doctor's questions. "Drink is-- I don't know, after this started. People-- they kept making me drink." Her voice was pained and weak, but at least she had some semblance of herself and her surroundings now. "Everything else before people got out of the trees."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nesh paused for a moment to take in her features, check for any other symptoms as she laid there. „Your symptoms are quite severe.“, he said, before his fingers reached for hers. Then, for a few minutes, he simply held her hand, fingers intertwined as he applied gentle pressure. Sometimes, that was all patients needed - and he had held many hands, as they struggled to fall asleep, cried, or died.

„We’re going to wait another fifteen minutes and then I’ll get you something to eat. Is that fine with you?“, he asked, now both of his hands holding one of hers. „I’ll sit with you for a while, watch over you while you rest. I told Hazel where I am, and she’ll know to get me in cases of Emergency.“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi didn't have much strength in her, her entire body felt quite numb and wobble, for lack of a better word, but when Nesh took her hand and gently squeezed it, she tried squeezing it back. It was probably barely sensable, but she tried anyway.

"Not really sure if my-- my stomach can handle anything. But maybe-- maybe something to drink." Her throat did feel dry a bit, though she also tasted whatever was the effects of the last few hours? days? in her mouth, so even just getting some of that out would have been great. "Thank you. So much-- for all of this," she said quietly, her eyes closing down. as she tried to rest some more, not letting go of Nesh's hands for any bit.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

„I’ve barely done anything.“, is his honest reply, and Nesh doesn’t even have to leave to get some water, because one of the people that visited her before him left some. It’s not much, but probably enough for now. „Do you want me to get anyone?“, he asks, and he doesn’t know her well enough to know if there’s someone she could ask for.

As he waits for her reply, he makes sure to clean up some of the mess in her hut, lets some fresh air in and gives her a fresh and wet cloth to wipe some of her sweat away, just in case she wants to. „Take it easy, yeah?“

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Nesh claimed he hasn't done enough, but Madi didn't feel that way, but she was too tired to argue against it. She just wanted to feel normal. She'd thank him for his help later, once she could think properly.

She pushed herself up a bit to drink some water - it didn't quite sit well with her just yet, but it wasn't as bad as before. The reaction that became a habit for her in recent months that it would be easier if it was alcohol came up, but she gripped the cup of water harder and drank from that instead. "I'll-- yeah, I'll take it easy," she said taking the washing cloth away from him and then before he left, she added, "If you could-- you know, if you bump into Tomas and could ask him, I wouldn't mind if he came." It felt awkward to even ask and her insides told her she should just remain alone, but that was what got her into this in the first place. She needed to be done with that, or at least try to.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"in case you throw up, please refrain from drinking for about fifteen minutes. Rinsing your mouth is fine, though. Try to eat light foods, nothing too hot, and as health as possible. Take your time to rest, Madi. I'll try and check up on your bees. From a distance." Nesh gifted her one last gentle smile, before collecting the utensils from the emergency kit he's brought. "If you happen to seize again, don't worry, it will pass. Just make sure to try and get me to come, yeah?" The man gently patted her head, then raised from the ground, took a deep breath and left the hut, just to go and look for Tomas.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ — — ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi was in a sleep so deep that Tomas couldn't wake her when he came in. But Nesh had assured him that Madi was past the worst of the danger, and after checking her himself Tomas found that the girl's sleep was restorative more than worrisome, so he passed the time in slowly and carefully giving her a sponge bath. Madi, he felt, had long since crossed the threshold of either of them being too precious about varying states of undress in front of each other, especially in a situation like this.

"Hey there," Tomas said, when she finally started to stir. "You're looking better." He adjusted on the stool he was sitting on, looking her over again, and then said, "--actually, you look terrible. Better put off competing in the Miss Mystery Island pageant this year."

Tomas passed his hand against Madi's forehead, brushing back her damp, sticking curls. "I brought coconut water. You should have some. It's the best thing to rehydrate you." He busied himself pouring the water out of the nut into a cup for her to manage more easily; it was chilled down, courtesy Emre's ice and Tomas' lingering sleety air attunement. Much nicer that way, and easier for her to swallow.

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi both felt better and not at the same time, so to hear that she looked better was-- yeah, that sounded strange, but Tomas quickly corrected himself. "Damn it, that was my dream all along. How will I-- you know, go on now, knowing I don't have a chance to compete this time?" at least her tired voice was just perfect for this deadpan delivery for the joke. And that did make her feel a bit better, waking up to Tomas joking with her.

She struggled, but after a bit she did manage to push herself up onto a sitting position. Her entire body felt like a bulldozer went through it, but hey, that was to be expected, right? She hoped so. "Hey," she finally greeted him and took the coconut water, "Thanks." She took a couple of sips, didn't dare take more before she knew how her stomach would handle it. "How-- how long have you been here? Hope you didn't have to wait too long while I slept."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"Don't fuss," Tomas said, grumpily, when she started in with hoping he hadn't been there too long. "It's my time to spend however I damn well want. The doc was very delicate with giving me an update, by the way. I guess he's still going by doctor-patient confidentiality rules." Tomas gave Madi a tired, soft smile; an unusual expression for him, really.  "But we know better, don't we." He reached over, putting his hand around hers on the cup. "My poor girl. Been through the fuckin' wringer."

Tomas let his hand linger there for a moment before drawing in a breath and looking around, pointing at a covered plate. "Brown sugar arepas, and fried plantain, for when you need to eat something," he said, more briskly. "Easy to eat, sugar and salt, which you need. Were you hallucinating? Did you have any seizures? I'll bring you more food when you need it, we can build you back up depending on how much you can manage, but you should be able to keep it down if you're slow and steady."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi just nodded at Tomas insisting that he wanted to spend his time as he pleased, and when he put his hands around her hands, she looked down for a long moment and then back to Tomas' face. "Your poor girl?"

Why didn't she say how she felt for so long, Alex asked. She was the dick for just expecting and assuming how others felt and now here she was needing the reassurance. And she did need the reassurance, but at least she'd say it now. "I wasn't-- wasn't sure for a while. I know you tried to help now, but before... I just thought that wasn't the case, I'm sorry."

She took a couple of more sips from the coconut water as Tomas talked about what else he brought. "I-- am not actually sure." Did she hallucinate, have seizures? She couldn't really remember much but then-- "I think so, yeah. Unless you're gonna tell me that my dad showed up here and tended to me while I was-- during it." And then she added, "thank you, for everything you brought and coming in general. Helping."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

For a moment, Tomas thought Madi's repeating his words was her objecting to the familiarity, and he was hanging on to see if he needed to walk that back when she went on to say that she hadn't been sure. If that was how he thought about her. "Madison," he said, as she sipped the coconut water and then thanked him, "I've always cared about you. From the very start. With everything that you brought to my farm, all of your -- your enthusiasm, and your dedication, and ..."

He stopped there, giving her a considering look. "You wanna know a secret?" Tomas said. "Emre's not my problem child. You are."

Leaving it there would only make her anxious, so he didn't pause before explaining: "I know him. I understand how he works, mostly, or at least in relation to me and our farm. When he fucks up or we disagree I get it, the fundamental elements of it. But you, sweetheart..." Tomas shook his head, that smile reappearing. "You turn me upside down, sometimes. You I don't get, even though we're probably more alike than Emre is to either of us. Who knows, maybe that's exactly why. But the ways you react to things, your personal moral code, I have to work at grasping how you see the world. And I haven't always been very kind about it."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Everything Tomas was telling her felt like a rollercoaster ride - up and then down and then up. For a second, when he called her the problem child, Madi's stomach dropped, but then Tomas was quick to explain and it made more sense afterward, and definitely less scary, less negative. She didn't feel like she fully grasped it, but it also made sense.

"I-- I didn't think there was a problem child," was the first thing that came out of her, mostly because she didn't even know what to say to any of what Tomas just confessed. "Sorry, that isn't-- doesn't matter. I never thought anything about me was that complicated. Or I guess maybe that's why. I-- I'd like it if you understood me. If you wanted to. Even if it comes with unkind words sometimes, I can handle it. I know the precedent doesn't show that, but I-- I want to get better. About a lot of things."

She remained silent for a few moments, gently tapping at the cup with her fingertips, before she said, "I think I really want you to see me good, worthy. I-- I cannot really explain how, but I feel like in this regard, you are different from the others. You are just-- you are so effortlessly careless and helpful and kind while also sticking to your own sense of moral, and I just-- I really, really want you to think of me the best possible way you could, and when we didn't agree and argued, I automatically jumped to the other side, assuming the worst. No, not assuming, fearing it. I just didn't want you to think less of me, and I thought you did, so-- I'm sorry."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Tomas rumbled a little when Madi said that she hadn't known about the way he saw them, but ultimately he didn't protest. Because what she was telling him was more important, and he nodded, saying, "I'm not all-knowing, Madi. I stumble too, when it comes to people whose ideas don't jive with mine in a way I'm comfortable I can understand -- but I want that. To work through this and start to recognize your patterns. Your -- bee-flight."

She lapsed into a silence, and Tomas got up and moved around for a few moments, tidying things pointlessly before drifting back to take his seat again as Madi continued. "I already see you as good, and worthy," Tomas protested, "but I can see how you wouldn't think so, or at least weren't convinced. I think our languages are different. So maybe I need to stress the positive with you some more. So you feel better about helping me see your point of view, and you feel less stressed when it comes to explaining things to me." He crinkled his nose. "Even if I'm a bear about it. Now you know that it doesn't mean I think less of you."

Picking up one of the soft cloths he'd brought, Tomas dipped it in a bowl of cool liquid and took Madi's free hand, wiping at the inside of her forearm with it. "Water with bay leaves and lime," he explained. "My mom used to like this. When she was sick. It kept her cool and the scent freshened things up a bit."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

"I know that, nobody is. I just-- I guess sometimes it's harder to notice those stumbles with certain people. Or maybe I didn't want to notice, I don't know anymore. But i'm trying-- well, saying I am trying to actively see the negatives feels weird, but I just-- I'm trying in general, I guess." Madi wanted to change her outlook on many things - be a bit more open, not shut herself off from people. It was plenty of steps too many on that regard, and it started with not doing that to those she was already close with.

"You're not a bear, I just-- it started when Emre-- when Suresh happened. We clashed and things... were said, and afterward I just-- I avoided you and then when we did speak, I just couldn't hear things anymore, or only as I wanted to." She needed a lot of time to think through this, pick apart interactions not with just Tomas, but with other people too, and realize all the ways she's been wrong.

Tomas started wiping at her forearm and she let out a long sigh of relief - it did feel good. "This is good.  Speaking of-- you told me so much personal things. About your mom, about you. And I just brushed them off. I am sorry. I should have seen it as you trying to reach, out, trying to help, instead of-- everything."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Now it was Tomas' turn to be quiet for a while, as he kept soothing Madi's arm and then gestured for her to switch hands with the cup and give him the other arm. "Drink a little more," he said, and then more awkwardly in response to her apology, "It's fine."

But Tomas stopped, holding the cool, damp cloth in the crook of Madi's elbow. "No," he said, sounding a little peeved with himself, "actually, it's not. I'm not saying that to be mad at you, I understand why in the state you were in, you couldn't exactly extend any empathy, but -- it's not fine. It's not easy for me to tell people anything about myself, especially my childhood or ... being abused, or my mom being an alcoholic, or how she died. How ugly all of it was. And I need to break my own fear that nobody thinks these things that happened to me were important."

He blew a breath through his teeth, patting the cloth against Madi's arm and then dipping it in the bowl again, sitting closer to press it against her temples in turn. "There you go," Tomas said wryly, wiping her forehead. "I'm all messy and listening to bad internal messages too. So we better both start arguing down those shitty thoughts, huh."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Madi took a couple of more sips and listened - it would have been so much easier if Tomas would have kept it all at "it's fine", but this was better, this was more honest and they needed that. Even if it was harder this way. "I really am sorry, both for how I reacted and that all of it had to happen to you and you had to experience that. I don't want to-- I don't want this to be the reason why in the future you'd decide not to share with me, either about this, or about anything else."

She leaned into his hand a bit as he pressed the cloth against her temple, closing her eyes and breathing in deeply. "Yeah, we better start. We can-- you know, help each other. If we see the other doing their thing, we can have some kind of secret code or something, just a little check in that nobody else would understand but the two of us? Something like, I don't know, the papayas are not ripe enough or something. Some farm talk so people wouldn't question it either."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Tomas snorted at Madi's proposed code, saying, "No, no, that's got too high a probability of somebody asking follow-up questions or giving us advice on how to force-ripen a papaya. Did I tell you when I was a kid what we called them was pawpaws? Saying papaya feels weird to me. But there's a fruit that grows in Kentucky that's also called a pawpaw. I suppose if you know them both it would get confusing."

This wasn't much of a pressing concern and Tomas knew it, but it felt good to ramble on about nonsense for a minute while he recalibrated. "I'll buzz you," he decided. "And you buzz me. That's all, bzzt. Short and sweet and people will just think we like imitating bees. Or buzzers."

He replayed that in his head and took her hand, guiding the cup to his own mouth for a sip of the coconut water. "Could be I'm a little dehydrated myself," Tomas huffed, letting her have it back. He wiped his face with the saturated cloth before dropping it into the bowl and leaning forward, elbows on his knees, one hand against Madi's thigh. "I'm glad to see you getting on top of this thing, peach," he said. "It hasn't felt right. You and Emre both unbalanced and out-of-sorts. I want us -- I want us all to heal."

— ✿ ❀ ✿ —

Pawpaws and papayas - something Madi never would have guessed they would talk about during the conversation, but it felt like a nice little respite, and when he gave her his idea, she let out a small, tired chuckle. "Bzzt. Yeah, I can work with that. That could be easy."

She gave him a smile, nodded. "I want us to heal too. I want us to be able to go back to-- well, maybe going back to how things were isn't going to be possible, not after everything, but maybe something similar. Or something better even, if it's possible." She hoped it would be - she would work as much as she possibly  could to have it back.

FINISHED.

#emre #emre 038 #hazel #hazel 019 #nick #nick 004 #neshdan #neshdan 001 #tomas #tomas 017 #interlude 11 #sometimes a little help is all you need #thank you so so SOOO much for everyone who participated #and did this with me #it was really really fun and emotional and i am eternally grateful

[acourtofthought]

Hello there! I absolutely love all your Elucien posts. You are just a gift!!! I saw this post saying that it would be “wrong” and “unprofessional” of SJM to NOT make E*riel endgame because they’re the only ones “romantically coded” I mean idk if I read that right but….is this ridiculous or what?

That’s like saying Feyre and Rhysand becoming endgame was wrong and unprofessional for SJM to do because Feyre and Tamlin were the ones romantically coded in the first book. Also, did everyone just forget that Elain and Lucien are STILL canonically factually mates?! In SJM canon, that’s one of the most “romantically coded” things you can have.

I just….I can’t with some of these people….

Anyway, thoughts?

Thank you so much for your message and really kind words!!! ❤️

As far as it being wrong or unprofessional of SJM to not make E/riel endgame, I am completely in sync with your thoughts.

A. This is the authors book and she can do whatever she wants with these characters. Considering it's her world, there's nothing "unprofessional" or "wrong" if it's where her imagination takes her. Authors all over the world have love triangles in their novels, characters in polyamorous relationships, characters who start off the book with a spouse who they end up divorced from only to find another love by the end, enemies to lovers, etc. Yeah, maybe a reader doesn't like the direction the author went with a particular relationship but there is no place where readers should be telling the author how she should be writing her own work.

B. Arguments like this make me shake my head. Have these people never read an SJM book before? Have they not paid attention to the other characters in the ACOTAR series?

SJM has a very specific formula she often follows. Most of her main leads tend to have multiple relationships before finally settling with their endgame person. She enjoys taking us on a journey with the character, watching them grow as individuals and through their past relationships.

Celeana / Aelin was in love with Sam, had a brief moment with Dorian, was in love with Chaol, then ended up with Rowan.

Feyre had a fling with Isaac, was engaged to Tamlin, entertained the idea of what it would be like to fall in love with Tarquin, then ended up mated to Rhys.

Both Rhys and Cassian talk about the past lovers they had and we know how much romantic coding Az had with Mor at certain points.

Nesta really didn't have an emotional relationship with anyone but Cassian (which is fitting of her character) however she had a thing with Tomas and many physical experiences with others before ending up with Cassian.

Chaol was with Nesryn, then Celeana, then had romantic coding again with Nesryn, then ended up with Yrene (who he had zero romantic coding with at the start of TOD).

Dorian was a playboy, then had feelings for Celeana, then fell in love with Sorcha, then ended up having a thing with Manon.

Yes, not every character has multiple relationships because she doesn't have time to follow everyone's story. Yrene was a female lead however we only ever saw her with Chaol. But, acting like Elain and Az having romantic coding now MUST mean that they will end up together is a bit naïve in my opinion. If anything, based on history, I think readers who ship E/riel should be extremely concerned that they had romantic coding and over a year of being able to freely hang out before either of them had their own book. That rarely has a positive outcome for an SJM ship.

I feel like both Az and Elain were a stepping stone for one another. A transition between letting go of their past loves and finding their way to their endgame person. Yes, they had romantic coding but flings / rebounds often do. That's normal in real life. We have romantic coding with many people before we finally settle down with who we're meant to be with.

I hate to make a blanket statement or sound judgmental about this but anyone that truly can't understand that Az and Elain (through the author) are allowed to "think" they want the other one at the moment but have the right to change their mind and realize that maybe they aren't meant to be together long term either doesn't understand how SJM writes and / or relationships in real life.

Thank you again for your message and have a wonderful eveing!

#anti e/riel

[silverwings22]

I'll Follow You: Tech One-Shot

I think I can collectively say we all suffered enough after the season 2 finale. So, in honor of that suffering: I wrote this. It's just a quick one shot, but if it goes over well I might cook up a full length fic for Tech.

Context: Shiani is a race a friend and I made up based on some DND sketches we saw. She's a Kaminoan siren, her people live under the sea of Kamino and avoid the long-necks because they'd probably experiment on them. She can shape shift from full 8 tentacles to 4 and 2 legs, and her singing is Force-laden and hypnotic if she wants it to be.

Bonus comic at the end of the song.

I'll Follow You

The first time he'd ever invited her on the ship was just like this. Plasma hailing down around them, his brothers all yelling, and Omega looking terrified. That had been on Kamino, her home planet, the day that Crosshair had shot at them the first time. 

She'd only wanted to see him, and hauled herself out of the sea in the midst of the raging Kaminoan storms to slip into the hangar and wait. She hadn't known about the Empire, or the inhibitor chips then. She'd just been a cheerful Kaminoan siren, all tentacles and bright eyes, wanting to see the man in the goggles who had taught her broken Basic and said he liked her voice.

He was the first good thing she'd ever seen from the surface, made by the long-necks that had forced her people deep below the waves long ago. She guessed they had to do something right every once in a while. 

She'd fallen in love with their creation. Tech was everything that made her brave about the surface, so when he'd spotted her hiding behind a crate when he'd been running to the Havoc Marauder, her oversized teal eyes wide with terror and the normally purplish hue of her skin gone nearly white, he'd thrown out his hand and yelled her name. 

"Shiani!"

That was how she'd joined the Bad Batch. 

Life on the run hadn't been easy, between the Empire and raising Omega. They'd nearly died so many times. But every time, they'd pulled through. She'd seen him do amazing things with his brilliant mind. 

She could catalog the moments like the chrono counting down of what had made her fall in love with him. And him, with her. 

"It is only a broken leg, Shiani. I will be fine."

"Tech hurt. Shiani take care of him until better."

"You are inordinately stubborn… but thank you."

He'd scared her on Serreno. She answered with care. 

"Tech! Tech! Tech!"

"Whole crowd cheering for Tech. Shiani happy."

"Why is that?"

"Everybody see how great Tech is. Like Shiani sees."

She'd surprised him on Safa Toma. He'd answered with a blush. 

"Phee very nice to you."

"She is being polite. We did almost get killed on that mission to the Kaldar Trinary system."

"That not it. She like Tech…" 

"Shiani, you look upset. Your skin is losing pigmentation. What is the matter?"

"No laugh at Shiani? Promise?"

"I would not dream of it. Unless you are making a joke."

"No joke. Shiani… jealous. Shiani not want Phee to like Tech. Not like that. Shiani like Tech… no. Shiani love Tech. With all three hearts."

"Did you say three- wait. You love me?"

"It okay if Tech not-"

She'd confessed to him in hyperspace. He answered with a kiss. 

That had been that. Afternoons in the cockpit talking, nights spent in his bunk curled in each other's arms (and tentacles), and missions taking fire back to back built a bond that couldn't be taken away. Shiani would follow Tech anywhere in this galaxy, from Coruscant to Pabu. And she had. 

That was why, right now, they were dangling from a dart line attached to the back end of a rail car. She'd followed him to reset the power to the rail line, and Imperial V-wings had shot them off the top. Now the second carriage above them was tearing loose, with his brothers and sister inside. 

"Any shift in weight will cause both carriages to fall." Tech looked up. Shiani was tucked against his side, clinging. "You must sever the connection hinge, Wrecker!"

"Not until you're both up here! Tell him, Shiani!"

Tech looked at her. Shiani blinked her big eyes, a clear membrane under her lids flicking across them and pushing away an involuntary tear. "... no time, Tech." She whispered. "They all fall, if train breaks."

"I know." He glanced up again, doing mental gymnastics to try to figure out how to save her, if he couldn't save himself. "You are agile and relatively light. If you jump as I sever the hinge, you could reach the first carriage with your-"

"Shiani not leave Tech." She shook her head. 

"I have calculated the odds of survival, cyar'ika. They are extremely low… to the point of non-existent. If you do not leave me, you will die." He knew she wouldn't, but he had to try. He loved Shiani, and he couldn't bear the idea that he'd brought her off of Kamino just for her to die next to him for that love. "Please, Shiani…"

Shiani looked up. Wrecker was frozen, panicked and waiting for Tech to give him a solution. Omega was about to cry. "Shiani not afraid to die." She whispered. "Just afraid… to live without Tech." Her arms, around his waist, loosened ever so slightly and she pulled his blaster from his hip. "Tell Shiani what to do."

"Are you sure?" He swallowed hard. 

"Where Tech go, Shiani go. Follow you anywhere… even down."

He put his hand over hers, guiding the blaster up. "The connection hinge. Right there." His voice was shaking when he looked up again. "Wrecker. Plan 99."

This shouldn't have been the end. They should have been able to pull this off, find Crosshair and run away to Pabu where she could spend the rest of her life playing in the waves and sitting on the stone railings where she'd playfully steal his goggles until he kissed her. 

"Don't you do it, Tech!" 

"When have we ever followed orders?" His finger twitched on Shiani's, and she pulled the trigger. It reminded her, oddly, of a holo movie they'd watched together that ended in a human wedding where the bride and groom cut the cake together. 

Wedding is love. So is dying. 

The hinge broke, and for a moment they were weightless, then Tech let go of the gun and wrapped both arms tightly around Shiani's waist. She hugged him back, and they went crashing towards the earth below.

She pressed her forehead against Tech’s helmet, waiting for the end of their lives. It was a long way down, there was a moment of silence before the end. "Tech."

"Yes, my dear?" He met her eyes through his visor, and he was glad she could see some snippet of his face. Maybe it would comfort her, in the way hers comforted him.

"Glad Tech took Shiani off Kamino." She smiled, even though she was afraid and the ground was getting closer. 

"If I had known you would perish with me, I would not have." His grip shifted, cupping the back of her head and pressing her just a little bit closer. The tentacles on her head suction cupped to his vambrace. "I am sorry."

"No be sorry. Shiani happy to follow. Shiani love Tech with all three hearts." She squished her lips to the helmet, and it was good enough for her when fate caught them and they crashed at high speed into a lake. 

The impact had knocked her out, but Shiani came awake when a piece of falling train car hit her back. She blinked, gills heaving on her sides under her shirt and chestplate Tech had made her. 

Tech?! Where Tech?!

If she wasn't dead, maybe he-

A flash of white armor was being pushed towards the bottom by more debris, and if it pinned him he'd drown. Shiani's legs split into her full eight tentacles, boots and pants shoved off as she took off at full speed to grab the nearest limp limb and drag Tech out of the way. Bubbles were coming out of a damaged helmet seal, but that meant his lungs were working. She hit the bottom and shoved upward, dragging Tech by the ankle towards the surface.

He even caught her pants on his gear pack as they ascended.

She hauled him to the shore desperately, looking around. It didn't do much good to save him if they got shot… but there were no Imperials yet. She slithered to a sandy shoreline and pulled Tech up. 

He was limp, and she had to make herself remember that she needed to be gentle with his neck as she fumbled his helmet off and dumped the water out. "Tech? Tech?"

His goggles were broken, blood coming up from several cuts on his face. She yanked them off to see better, putting her head on his chest to listen. "Water in lungs… many broken things." She mumbled, more to herself than the unconscious man. "No worry, Tech. Shiani get us to safe place…" 

She supported Tech's neck and spine with her extra limbs and tied her pants around her waist for now. "Tech always says… gotta wear pants." Talking to herself made her feel slightly better, since he wasn't awake to scold her. 

She had to get him out of here, but she had to cover her trail. Hunter had taught her and Omega the basics of tracking… they'd look for footprints.

No feet, no footprints. That was a start. But moving on land with limbs meant for water was slow, and there was no time…

"Tree. Shiani… move in tree. Swing like moon-yos. That smart, right Tech? Yeah, Shiani brain not full of bubbles." She hauled herself to the nearest tree, shooting a tentacle up to pull them into the air. The mountain edges were close, there had to be a cave she could hide them in while she figured out how badly he was hurt. And how badly she was, when the adrenaline wore off.

She swung through the trees, keeping her finned ear close to Tech's mouth. 

Keep breathing. Shiani got you. 

Tech hurt in places he hadn’t been sure he had places. Awareness was fleeting and disoriented, and it took him more than a few minutes to get his bearings. 

He was sure he was dead, but that didn't explain the pain. If he were dead, his nerves would be non-functional. Unless the idea of Hell was real, and his behavior was being punished.. 

 He was laying on something flat, his hips and shoulders strapped to it. He was stripped to his grays, under a shock blanket, with something warm and smooth tucked close to him. There was a soft humming coming from it, musical and carrying a vibrato he could feell in his chest cavity. He’d heard that humming before, when he broke his leg on Serenno. “... Sh-shiani?”

“Tech.” The humming stopped. “Tech awake.” 

If she was here, he couldn't possibly be in Hell. There was no way she'd been damned, not his sweet siren. So somehow, he was alive despite the probability.

He tried to turn his head to look at her, but realized there was a strap around his head too, holding it to whatever he was laying on. His left arm was killing him, but the right was able to move up enough to touch the strap. 

Shiani scrunched her flat nose, displeased. “No touch.”

“What am I strapped to?” Tech winced when his fingers brushed the lacerations on his cheeks and bridge of his nose. 

“Board from Tech gear bag. Blue one.” She sat up from where she’d been tucked close to his side under the shock blanket, trying to keep him warm. “Tech said… support back and neck. Shiani remember.” Her fingers stroked carefully across the sides of his neck, humming again as she seemed to be searching for something. “Neck okay now. Was hurt.” She explained before unstrapping his head. “Try turning? Go slow.”

Tech nodded, carefully stretching his neck left and right to make sure he had range of motion. “How long has it been since we fell?”

Shiani squirmed. “Nine rotations. Tech sleep the whole time.” 

He squinted at her as she checked down his sides, which were still tender and bruised but with surprisingly less broken bones. “Where are my glasses?”

“Broke. Shiani leave them by crash sight, they cut Tech’s face.” She explained as she worked her way down his body. 

“What are you doing?” He blinked as she lightly squeezed his hips. 

“Check for broken back and pelvis. Was all broke when Shiani bring Tech here.” She explained. “Been singing for days, keep Tech alive.” 

"Singing?" He blinked, managing to crane his head down. He was black and blue all over, which explained the pain, but when she finally released him from his own collapsible backboard he was surprised he didn't hurt more. 

"Siren song heal." She whispered. "Can sit up? Shiani need see."

Tech let her help him upright and she checked over his limbs and ribs. He had to squint at her face, making out how drawn and pale she was only when she got close to his. "When was the last time you slept?" His arms were both bandaged, she'd used his own bacta and gauze to tend him. "I should be more injured. Did you do this?"

"Shiani fix. Tech was broken, but Shiani sing and put bacta. Shiani keep safe. Protect Tech." She gestured around the cave. 

She'd pulled broken tree limbs around the entrance to disguise it, and his gear bag was open and rifled through. She'd set out medical supplies, used the broken dartline they'd fallen from to make a clothesline to hang their wet articles, and had been clearly eating handfuls of his stash of instant caf grounds to stay awake in the light of his emergency lantern. 

He smiled faintly and rubbed his face, wincing again at the cuts. "You are remarkable."

"Just love Tech." She curled back beside him, in a spare pair of his boxers and her crop top that was wrinkled and dirty. Gentle suction cups stuck to his waist when she twined her tentacles around him. "Come lay on Shiani. Tech need sleep, Shiani sing some more. Bruises better soon. Bones were hard, bruise easier."

Tech had little resistance to the way she pulled him to her narrow chest,  her aquadynamic figure comfortable to rest on. His cheek squished lightly to her sternum and she ran pointed, dark aubergine nails through his hair tenderly. "You need to sleep too, my dear…"

She ignored him, cuddling close and pulling the shock blanket over them both. "Tech first. Shiani follow."

"We will… have to find a way off the planet." He mumbled. "The Marauder will be long gone…"

"Yes. Brothers get away with baby Omega." She nodded. "But… without Tech, and without tracker on bad doctor ship… they not know how to find Crosshair. He stuck like Tech and Shiani."

Tech's eyes widened. "That is brilliant… we can-"

"No idea now Tech. You sleep. We plan when Tech better." She kissed his forehead. "Shh. Just listen."

Tech nodded and cuddled closer, exhausted, as she whispered a song that made her entire being vibrate and soothed the majority of his aches. Her Basic was clumsy, but he loved the sound of her voice. 

"Shiani follow Tech."

#clone trooper tech #tech bad batch #the bad batch #clone force 99 #orginal character