#figured this could be either post - war before they turn themselves in | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sailorgreywolf-german · 2 years

Text

Rekindling Feelings

This was for the fourth day of @hwsrarepairweek2022 week, though I think I’m a little late posting it. The theme was Historical.

Plot: Old spouses meet again at the Congress of Vienna and old feelings assert themselves again.

Characters: Spain and Austria (mentions of Prussia)

Ship: SpAus

Word Count: 1.7K

Spain walked around the outside of the gathering, trying to decide what to do. It was such an extravagant ball meant to celebrate the convening of the Congress. There was pageantry in spades as the peace with France was concluded, and Spain found himself adrift.

At one time he would have been the most powerful person in the room, but those years were gone. Napoleon was defeated and there were other Great Powers discussing the fate of the continent, and he was not part of their number. Spain was just a small part of the decision making, and he wasn’t sure how he should feel about it.

His empire felt like it was falling to pieces, and without it he had no idea of who he was. Large parts of the Americas were in open rebellion and he had yet to bring them back under his comfortable control. But the war with France was over and his attentions could be turned back to his empire. It would all go back to normal once he focused his energies.

But as he watched everything unfold, though, his attention was not on his colonies. It was all focused on the slim figure in his white coat, who was almost always accompanied by Prince von Metternich or the emperor himself.

Austria looked comfortable with the political machinations as only a man who had been raised for it could be. As Spain watched, Austria leaned elegantly towards Prussia like he was listening intently. There was something captivating about watching him victorious and in his element.

Spain felt something stirring in his chest that he had not felt since the annulment, a kind of admiration for Austria’s skill. He was sure that Prussia could not see that he was standing next to a master politician or that he was being played like a finely tuned violin. His armies had been important, and Austria had been clever to secure his support.

But Spain also had the feeling that Austria’s attention was not all political either. He could see the way that Austria was leaning towards his newfound ally, and it made the most uncomfortable feeling stir in his chest.

He knew the word for it, but he refused to think it. There was nothing more absurd than feeling jealousy over a man he had divorced decades ago.

If he was honest with himself, Austria was just having a conversation with Prussia. But Spain could see the hints in the way that Austria was leaning and the tilt of his eyebrows. He could tell the tone that Austria was using, and it made his blood feel uncomfortably hot. That had once been the tone for him and only him.

Spain felt himself chafing at the whole situation. Between his limited role in the peace and watching Austria flatter other men, he was feeling particularly ill-used. He wasn’t certain whether he missed the political attention or Austria’s personal attention.

He didn’t realize how much he was staring at Austria until the other turned his head towards him. Austria met his intense gaze, and Spain hurriedly looked away so that so that it didn’t seem like he had been glaring.

He felt his heart flutter like he was embarrassed. He considered briefly whether he should ask someone to dance, since that was the point of a ball. But the music was between songs, and he knew it would be too transparent to ask the orchestra to play. He decided that it would be best to turn away and pretend that he had not been looking at all.

Before he could turn away completely he realized that Austria had apparently taken notice and started advancing towards him. Spain felt the strangest lightness in his chest that he had not felt in centuries.

He had thought that the feelings he felt for his former husband had died with the divorce, since he had felt such ample resentment at the time. But the way the traitorous organ in his chest was thudding said otherwise. It felt like a mirror of when they had first married; he was once again an outsider and Austria was a rich, politically savvy man. Spain almost chucked to himself as the thought crossed his mind that he should propose again to escape his political isolation.

Austria reached him, and the closeness only served to remind Spain that he was a handsome man in his dark angular fashion. The experience of campaigning against Napoleon had given Austria an unusual tan, which stood out tremendously against his white coat.

Spain immediately said, trying to excuse his staring, “Have I distracted you from your plotting?”

He meant it as sarcastically as he said it, and Austria did not miss his meaning. He seemed to decide to not engage in an argument and instead said, “I have plotted enough for today.” He extended his hand and continued, “Now I would like a waltz. If you still remember how to dance with me.”

Spain scoffed, “Of course I remember.”

He didn’t add that it had been a while since he had danced a waltz. In his own court he still preferred older dances. Before the war with France he had been living more and more in the past, where he was still glorious. But somehow it felt imperative that he did not appear unfashionable in front of someone who was setting the trends of the day.

He took the hand, expecting to be led onto the dancefloor. He was not disappointed. Austria’s hand was stronger than he remembered it being. Austria said, as he pulled him into closed position, “I have missed dancing with you.”

Spain found that hard to believe since it had been at least a century, and the compliment seemed empty. But he could also not deny that he was surprised at how good it felt to have Austria lay his hand on his hip again.

His mind went to the way Austria had been leaning towards Prussia, and his blood felt hot again. He said, “You certainly seem like you’re enjoying your new alliances.”

He heard his own cutting tone, and noticed the way he unconsciously tightened his hold on the other’s hand.

Austria’s gaze was sharp and knowing, like he was aware of the thoughts passing through Spain’s mind. He said, seemingly diplomatic, “You are out of practice. Otherwise, you would remember that appearing to enjoy alliances are part of the game. It was what I needed to defeat that disgusting little man.”

Spain scoffed as he they swung around in the waltz. He was sure that he had not mistaken the glances or the body language, and that it was not all just persuasive political theatre. He said, “So you are staring at the cousin you used to loathe because he has a useful army?”

He felt the jealousy boil up in his throat and he could not stop the words from tumbling out, “I know you have a liking for soldiers.”

He knew it was a bridge too far, but he could not take the words back. He expected Austria to recoil and repudiate him. But he was surprised by the slow smile that spread across the other’s face. Austria sounded like he had a laugh trapped in his throat as he said, “I know that tone. I cannot believe that you are jealous.”

He raised an eyebrow and boldly pulled Spain closer as he said, “Are you missing your old fetters? You always said you were happier without me.”

Spain didn’t know how to answer the question. Until that moment he had been convinced that he was happier, and the wave of affection had taken his feet out from under him. He shook his head and said, trying to rationalize his feelings, “I am just impressed with how you handled the war. I haven’t seen this side of you for a while.”

He looked directly at Austria and managed to keep some words to himself: Rodrigo, my Rodrigo. He could see the man he married for his brilliance and he was not sure how to handle the sudden tenderness.

Austria smiled at the compliment and said, “I could say the same. I heard so many stories about your heroic resistance against France. And I thought ‘that is the man I married.’” He paused before smirking, “And you are right, I do like soldiers.”

Spain felt himself being pulled even closer and he realized that Austria was actually being forward. He must have been giddy on victory. Spain felt himself blush as he drew closer. He replied, “I would never lay down for him. Not with the empire in jeopardy.”

It had been a bloody fight, but it had reestablished Spain’s reputation in Europe. Once the empire was in order it would all be perfect. Austria said, with the widest smile, “I almost wish we were m-“

His smile fell as he comprehended what Spain had said. His tone was considerably colder when he said, “What about the empire? What is happening?”

Spain realized he had said more than he should have and couldn’t escape explaining. He sighed before he said, downplaying the situation as much as he could, “It is just a few rebellions because of this mess. Now that we have peace it will be over soon.”

Austria’s grip loosened and he said, understanding what Spain was saying far too well, “And is he one of your little rebellions?”

Spain knew who he meant and was certain he did not need to ask. His face must have given the answer away before he said anything. Austria scoffed and said, “I should have guessed from your new interest.”

The music was drawing to an end and Spain could see that he wasn’t going to get a second dance.

He felt like he was being so misinterpreted that he had to correct it. He scrambled, “No, Rodrigo. It isn’t like that. I-“ He paused to collect himself under Austria’s cold gaze, and he continued, “I remember why I loved you.”

Austria released him and said, “I must get back to my chancellor. There are things we have to discuss for tomorrow.”

It was a cold political rejection, and it stung. But then Austria took his hand and kissed it sweetly. He said, locking eyes with Spain one more time, “I could never resist you, dear. If you want to see me again tonight, send me a note. But only do it because you want me, not because you’re looking for options.” He pressed Spain’s hand to his face one more time before turning away.

#hws spain #hws austria #hwsrarepairweek22 #spaus

34 notes · View notes

synthwwavve · 1 year

Note

what are some of your bo katan hcs?

Omg hi!!!! First of all thank you for shooting me an ask, that's so exciting!!

Second of all I'm literally so full of Bo headcanons I could go on forever, the level of brainrot I'm on w/her is frankly embarrassing lmao. I'll list a few and if you're interested in more I'd be happy to share more! Anywhoo... some HCs:

— Sorry, kicking off with a dark one, I think the event that split her and Satine's ideologies was a scenario in which, as kids, they got cornered during an attack on their home and had to either shoot the assailant or probably die themselves, Satine couldn't pull the trigger but Bo did. Taking a life at like 6 or 7 even in self defense obviously highkey f*cked her up, and I also feel like their relationship never recovered for many reasons from this point (Satine is scared of Bo's lack of hesitation to kill, Bo is pissed that Satine was (in her mind) too weak to protect them etc etc)

— I feel like this was not too long before Satine was taken into protection by the jedi— at the same time Bo was sent back to the Kryze stronghold on Kalevala for her safety, under the care of the group of Protectors that served as the family's personal guard. Spending a year or two of her childhood living and hanging out exclusively with a bunch of soldiers definitely contributed to her interest in combat/warfare/weaponry.

— She never really adjusted to life after the war and always felt alien and like an outsider compared to her sister who was the savior/always in the spotlight/etc. despite (as she increasingly came to believe) not being a worthy leader. I feel like she never really thrived during her teen years and spent way too much time alone stewing in depression (god sorry didn't realize so many of my HCs are sad lmao)

— She met Pre Vizsla like ~5-6 years before the start of TCW, they instantly hit it off. She starts visiting him on Concordia and he makes time for her whenever he's on-world in Sundari. It starts out surface level but it doesn't take long for them to figure out that they share a lot of uh controversial/extreme beliefs too. Things snowball from there, radical echo chamber ensues etc etc

— I feel like he'd already been putting together the pieces of reviving Death Watch for a few years, but once they joined together as co conspirators, she played no small part in getting it off the ground and growing it into a full-scale movement.

—Bo feels it's her ultimate duty to restore honor to the Kryze name as a warrior clan. She has mixed feelings about her parents, mostly her dad— she barely knew them, they died tragically in the war, the few memories she has are good, but at the same time (in her mind) they were also traitors for turning on tradition and spearheading pacifism.

Okay wrapping it up for now before the post gets too long! Sorry again if you were hoping for lighthearted headcanons, I have plenty of those too if you want some lmao. Thanks again for the ask!!!

#god sorry i really need to start funnelling these into writing fic because there are So Many thoughts inside my brain #also admittedly I'm shipping trash of them but any of my hcs re: her relationship w. vizsla could absolutely be read as platonic/gen too #thanks again anon and also sorry you engaged me on this topic I literally can't shut up about #star wars #bo katan kryze #blor(bo) from my shows #headcanons

6 notes · View notes

yourlunarspice · 2 years

Text

My General Fics Masterlist

I figured that my original masterlist post would get too long. It actually began crashing when I originally tried to put all my fics in, hence why I'm splitting them up.

All of these are from My Hero Academia because I have a hyperfixation. This list only contains fics rated G for General Audiences.

Teen & Up | Mature | Explicit | Unrated

My favorite fics will be in bold while my beta reader's favorite fics will be italicized.

"You call it 'torturing', I call it 'mercy killing'. Same difference." | 589 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Eijiro Kirishima, Hitoshi Shinsou, Katsuki Bakugou

Bakugou is so done with Kirishima. One day, he acts accordingly.

Academia With A Side Of War | 3509 words, 2/? Chapters My Hero Academia & Food Wars crossover Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Soma Yukihira, Takumi Aldini, Background & Cameo Characters

It happened without warning.

Although, when 1-A is included, that's pretty much par for the course at this point.

Soma couldn't even begin to explain it.

A Christmas To Remember (With Friends Like These, Who Needs Bad Memories?) | 7739 words, 9/9 Chapters Main Character(s): Class 1-A (My Hero Academia), Shoto Todoroki, Endeavor, Rikido Sato, Rikido Sato's Father, Izuku Midoriya, Inko Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Eijirou Kirishima, Ochako Uraraka, Ochako Uraraka's Parents, Hitoshi Shinsou, Shouta Aizawa, Momo Yaoyorozu, Denki Kaminari

It was a week before Christmas And all through the dorm Not a creature was stirring Not a single form...

But that was because of the giant bombshell Todoroki had dropped on his classmates.

When Todoroki reveals that he's never celebrated Christmas, his friends take it upon themselves to make his first Christmas special, while reminding themselves how important the holiday is for them too.

A Hard Pill To Swallow | 762 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 31 of Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Part 2 of Anger Management Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Shoto Todoroki

His groan returned as he blearily opened his eyes and saw the kissing witch next to him.

Oh yeah, that's right, because fucking IcyHot brought him to the infirmary.

His middle finger lifted up instinctively as he turned away from the centuries-old woman.

And came face-to-face with fucking Half-'n'-Half.

A Better Hero (Hopefully) | 543 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 29 of Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Shouta Aizawa

What doesn't kill me makes me a better hero.

What doesn't kill me makes me a better hero, Hitoshi repeated the mantra to himself.

It had been a rough couple of days.

An IcyHot Date | 1,296 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 18 of Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Main Character(s): Kyoka Jiro, Shoto Todoroki

Kyoka pulled on her usual leather jacket and considered her reflection critically.

She wasn't particularly nervous, but she wasn't really excited either.

Maybe she should go without the jacket?

She could hear Mina's voice in her head, saying, "Jiro, that jacket completely clashes with that outfit! Don't you dare wear that on a date, especially with Todoroki!"

The 'Eligible' Bachelor | 528 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 9 of Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Main Character(s): Mina Ashido, Shoto Todoroki

Mina looked back over the expanse of other students laid out on futons in the middle of the common room.

When she'd suggested a sleepover party a few weeks ago, this was not what she had in mind.

In The Spotlight | 462 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 3 of Lunar's Whumptober of Suffering (2022) Main Character(s): Neito Monoma, Setsuna Tokage

Neito pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he walked towards the prop house. "Ah, it's so good to be back, he said grandly. "There's no place like home!"

The scene shifted in an instant, thanks to multiple Quirks working in tandem. Neito found himself walking into a somewhat sparse house. He quickly spied Tokage working in the kitchen and walked towards her. "Katniss, my love!"

The Trouble With Plushies | 317 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Shoto Todoroki, Katsuki Bakugou

Bakugou gets angry. Shoto gets sassy.

"We need to talk" | 1,295 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Katsuki Bakugou, Eijiro Kirishima, Mina Ashido

Something's wrong with Shitty Hair.

It's not bothering me.

It's not.

So why can't I sleep?

Memories | 1,095 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinsou

So what if he couldn't remember small details here and there?

Everyone got gaps in their memory, right?

This was normal... right?

Late-Night Hypotheticals | 304 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 14 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinsou

"'Toshi."

...

"'Toooshi."

...

"'Toshi."

"What?"

"Are you awake?"

...

"Who do you think said 'what'?"

Opportunities | 342 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 11 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinsou

As the pair walked out of the restaurant, Denki felt happiness bubble up inside his chest.

They were just finishing up their second date, and he could tell that Shinsou was beginning to open up to him.

Aizawa Discovers His Student's Love Life | 1,332 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 9 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Shouta Aizawa, Hitoshi Shinsou, Denki Kaminari

Shouta Aizawa loves cats.

Because he loves cats, people would normally assume that Shouta Aizawa would rather enjoy being a cat.

He naps a lot and he's grumpy, but he's also very loving and sweet (in his own way) with people he's deemed 'good' and 'deserving' of his attention.

However, in actuality, Shouta hated being turned into a cat.

As You Wish | 1,234 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 5 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinsou

Popcorn ready to be popped? Check.

Floor vacuumed? Check?

Showered? Check.

Candle?

Denki hesitated, thinking about the implications of a candle during a date. He might think I'm trying to set the mood or something.

Better not, then.

Addict | 264 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 3 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Denki Kaminari, Hitoshi Shinsou

"I'll take, uhhhh, a double mocha chip frappuccino with extra whipped cream, please!"

Denki loved his coffee sweet. It was the only way to drink it.

Birthday Shenanigans | 1,319 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 1 of Shinkami Month 2022 Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Shouta Aizawa, Denki Kaminari, Bakusquad

Hitoshi twirled the pencil in his fingers as he thought furiously.

It had to be perfect. It just had to be.

Kaminari's birthday was coming up, and Hitoshi wanted to treat him to lunch.

It wasn't a date. It was not a date.

He Had A Quirk The Whole Time | 956 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugou, Other Characters Mentioned

For the longest time, Izuku thought he didn't have a Quirk.

He tried to use telekinesis and to breathe fire, but nothing worked.

Izuku was distraught. All he wanted to be when he grew up was a hero like All Might.

All Might was the coolest in the universe, and all Izuku wanted was to get a Quirk so he could become a hero just like All Might.

It wasn't until his early middle school days when Izuku discovered that he had a Quirk.

"Get in" | 674 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 22 of The Merry Whump of May Main Character(s): Shouta Aizawa, Hizashi Yamada, Emi Fukukado

The kitten stumbled into the room, giving a small, pitiful mew.

"You can cry, it's okay" | 359 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 9 of The Merry Whump of May Main Character(s): Nemuri Kayama

Nemuri had been working late one evening when she received the phone call to her work number.

"Hello? I can't find my little sister."

"Don't mind me" | 420 words, 1/1 Chapters Part 3 of The Merry Whump of May Part 1 of Stalker Monoma Main Character(s): Hitoshi Shinsou, Neito Monoma

It was dark.

That was the first thing that registered in Hitoshi's brain when he clawed his way into consciousness, sleep-heavy limbs still numb.

Quiet Day | 748 words, 1/1 Chapters Main Character(s): Hizashi Yamada

What happens when the Voice Hero - the guy who seems incapable of shutting up - shuts up?

#my writing #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha #rated g #fic rec #masterlist #ao3 fanfic #ao3fic #read on ao3 #ao3 link #ao3

3 notes · View notes

xansmenagerie · 2 months

Text

SYJKR: Prologue

I had told myself I wasn't going to post much SYJKR here as I might like to publish if I ever finish it; that said, given how much I enjoyed of T. Kingfisher's work back when she was posting large chunks on LJ, it might be a tad hypocritical.

So. Reblogs are turned off, everything else is going under a Read More, and if you do read this bear in mind that this is very much the unedited first draft and I am going to be getting So Many sensitivity reads done if there's a chance it's going to a publisher...

A sorting office is far more alive than it has any right to be; the constant movement of letters and parcels dragging all the potential of futures along with them, the busy machines clicking and whirring away, the human staff doing their best to keep up even with addresses like "That Bloke On The Cookery Show, England".

Even in that rare quiet spot between the last of the day's local post being sorted and the bags arriving from all over for the morning delivery the machines still tick away, humming to themselves, and it's into this murmuring gloom that a small figure cautiously makes their way. It's not comfortable, being around all of this technology, but it could be a lot worse; so much now is plastic and aluminium that the small amounts of iron and steel left register no more than an itch.

But it has a job to do, and given the Whoms that have Commanded it it's going to get it done.

For one who in the not so distant past would have been responsible for swapping babies in cradles, the idea of swapping letters in envelopes is no great challenge. Finding the letters in the first place is a different matter - babies after all tend to be big, squally, and not generally found in large batches - and it wastes no small amount of time until it finally works out the system of bins and slots and the strange codes that govern them. A tiny touch of magic to bring the right envelopes to the surface, another to open the seals-

"Ahem."

The pixie freezes. By Summer and Winter both there is absolutely no way anyone could have entered the sorting office without it noticing and yet there is someone standing in the corner, dressed in the uniform of the messengers.

"You do understand," the newcomer says slowly and deliberately, "that tampering with the post is a crime against the Crown itself?"

"Not a crime!" squeaks the hapless pixie. "A Command, a Command by the Crowns and Horns themselves!"

It takes some time and no small amount of patience on the postman's behalf to establish that they are talking about two very different Crowns. "Do you know why the…Crowns and Horns are interested in playing a postal prank on-" He glances back over the two envelopes. "-the Symonds families?"

"No, no, but no prank." For such a small creature the pixie manages a very emphatic smacking together of hand and fist. "Important, this is. Needed. Don't know why, but Crowns and Horns said so."

With an expression warring between extreme reluctance and acute distaste the postman extracts both letters and reads them carefully. One eyebrow slowly raises.

"I see. And this is important to their Majesties, you say?" The pixie nods vigorously, almost bouncing off the worktable it's perched on. The postman hrms, low and contemplative, then deliberately swaps letters and envelopes and holds them out to the pixie to be resealed. Rather than putting them back in the slots, however, he adds them to his satchel.

Before the pixie can protest the postman holds up a hand. "Given their Majesties are involved, I would rather deliver these myself than risk either letter getting lost in the post. Do give them my regards when you report back, won't you?" The pixie nods, beaming at a job not only done well but potentially Better; the postman steps back into the shadows, and once again the pixie is alone in the sorting room - and then it too vanishes, nipping between the sparkles cast by the first light of dawn in the dusty air.

#syjkr #multichapter

0 notes

shrinkthisviolet · 1 year

Note

For the fic files game - who are you ( in this vast multiverse) ❤️

When they finally awoke, the trio found themselves in three different places. Peter found himself in the midst of a desert, with a sandstorm building on the horizon, and only a small cave nearby. Thinking quickly, he got up, ran to the cave, and ducked inside. MJ found herself on a strange ship, at the end of some kind of strange gun, aimed by a man she’d never met. A furry creature of some kind stood beside him, growling at her. Ned found himself aboard a ship, face-to-face with a woman in a white dress and a strange hairstyle, pointing some kind of gun at him. But before either could say anything, soldiers in white armor swarmed the room and grabbed them, ignoring their protests. All three of them had a very bad feeling about this.

So this is the post-NWH Star Wars AU! Basically, right when Strange casts his spell, Peter, Ned, and MJ get thrown into A New Hope—Peter ends up with Luke, Ned with Leia, and MJ with Han (imo these duos can play off each other well and have quite a few similarities!)

Oh, and did I mention that Ned and MJ remember each other but not Peter, and Peter doesn't remember them? Turns out the memory spell worked its magic after all...in an unexpected way.

This is the first fic in what I plan to be a trilogy, spanning the three OT movies of Star Wars. The Rebellion stuff will be going on, but the overarching plot is about them getting their memories back, figuring out what happened, and figuring out how to get home...if that's even what they want 👀

fic files ask game!

#star wars #marvel #mcu #spider man #peter parker #michelle jones watson #ned leeds #luke skywalker #han solo #leia organa #wip ask game #fic files ask game

1 note · View note

croneboulder · 2 years

Text

re: recent post, and my journey to learn about my heritage, for witchy purposes and otherwise

so, in a lot of ways, I’m really, really privileged in how easy it is to track back my heritage. i can’t imagine the kind of like... cultural mourning of either kidnapping of, and/or violent erasure of, evidence of your ancestry or heritage. like, I’ve got no diasporic jewish heritage, or african heritage cut off by slavery, that I know of at least. so I’ll preface with that. the fact that I can even trace it is a privilege, and I feel like that needs saying, both more often in general, and by me specifically, before i whine about some other shit lol

details under a read more, discussing both sides of my family. its interesting (but heavy) stuff!! tw for discussion of colonization, slavery, civil war, and the KKK on one side, and discussion of famine and homophobia on the other side.

won’t lie, checking out my heritage on my dad’s side was so goddamn rife. a cousin of mine (an adopted one, funny enough) did a huge project when they were younger, tracing our family history back a good long ways. like, further than anyone else had bothered before. I think she even traced it back across the pond to a couple details about where we were from in Europe.

a huge part of my heritage is American, though, early english colonies and onward, basically staying in the same state. its really interesting, because I can look back at a lot of REALLY local stuff (local to the coastal area of my home state at least, before we nudged over to the center of the state) and know that it’s relevant. but y’all, it’s a fucking minefield looking back through your heritage in early colonized America when you’re from a southern state. Just staring at that family tree, scared to read some of the captions my cousin had added, just a mantra of ‘no slave owners please, no confederates please, please please please’ over and over lmao. Like, if I’d have found that, I’d have done the work to process and come to terms with that... y’know, like any white person should do, regardless of if their ancestors were directly guilty or not. I got lucky, in that respect, very much so. I’m sure there’s some horrific shit in early colonization, but that certainly wasn’t written down- a lot more on their involvement in the revolutionary war, since they were real close to some important battle sites and strategic bases, and unquestionably involved in SOME way. Skip ahead to slavery, they were too damn poor to own slaves, some of that side of the family working alongside slaves as indentured servants, even (there’s that privilege again, though, whaddya know!). Skip ahead to the civil war, they were in a very neutral state, as far as that far south is concerned- the last state to secede, I think, and thus the slimmest chance possible they were confederates (still possible, but statistically the lowest chance it COULD be). Skip ahead to more current politics, you’ve got local politicians, local business owners, local journalists (one of my great grandfathers being all three lol) campaigning against the presence of the KKK in their small towns. Like, right there, there’s a lot to actively be PROUD of, actually. In some ways, wrangling my dad’s current racism has been more of a fucking pain than looking back through my heritage.

It’s still loaded as hell- I’ve been contacted by the Daughters of the Confederacy multiple times, and I remember my mom said she threw those letters out, or even burned them when she was especially mad at the racism in the news, up until I was 18. the first letter of theirs she gave me, she gave me a choice to join them for a debutante ball, figuring I’m an adult who has to make that decision themselves. which i obviously turned down bc like. why the everloving fuck would I. but in general, lots less to work through than I thought.

meanwhile, my mom’s side..... kind of a blank slate, thanks to, fuckin drumroll, conservative and evangelical bullshit fucking christianity. its own form of cultural erasure, but so very self-inflicted, I fucking hate it, and just.... even MORE loaded, surprisingly, and that shit HURT to even try to wade through. plus, way more wishy-washy borders, which is natural, and a lot less of a problem, all told.

I’ll go back as far as I really have, because my mom is main source for that, and she never looked into it much. my grandmother, on her side obvs, was the first to be born in America- she had some stories of my great grandmother and grandfather, my most direct link to the actual Netherlands. Famine hit their area of.... southern Netherlands, I think?... and moving to the states was their best bet. It was actually a toss-up for them, whether they would’ve settled in Iowa or Alaska, which is pretty buckwild to think about, that heritage could’ve ended up SO different from my great-grandmother onward. However, I just don’t have much information on that. My grandmother lived a long time, but by the time I was old enough to give a shit about my heritage and even think to ask her questions, I kinda hated her, was definitely scared of her in a way I would probably deny at the time. I remember my mom telling me to flat out LIE to her about when we left to drive to see her, because she would give my mom shit for making someone pump gas or take care of us at a hotel on the sabbath. my mom had to break the news to her, on that same trip, that they had never ACTUALLY found weapons of mass destruction in Afghanistan, unlike what the single conservative radio station she ever listened to had claimed. and I could see, even if subconsciously at that age, how fraught their relationship was- my mom was the middle child of seven, of a single mother after her dad died when she was four, rough enough on its own i imagine. she was always the rebel, questioner of the status quo and her own pastor, the second to branch way from the conservative environment after her oldest brother. she grew up in a church that made those pregnant out of marriage announce it to the entire congregation, repent vocally but still never really live it down, ending with the most bitter and unsupportive laying-on-of-hands, which my mom said was her most horrifying memory of growing up there. meanwhile, my mom married a man who was pro-choice, which NONE of her siblings did, at least at the time. most of her siblings refused to talk to my dad for years, and several didn’t come to their wedding because of it either.

So, I heard everything third hand from my mother about that, when I finally bothered to ask about it, period, maybe six years ago (three years after my grandmother had died). and as I mentioned, my granddad died when my mom was so fucking young, so it’s not like SHE was able to ask him about anything about that side. All I know is that he was also Very Very Dutch/German in heritage, but his side had been in America for longer than my grandma’s side. Anyway, as rough as my relationship was with my grandma, my mother’s relationship to her was even more so, though she loved my grandma way more than I ever did. I don’t know how much she’d ever wanted to learn about her heritage, though, and I wonder if that was part of it.

There’s... so many blanks to start with, considering all that, and there is NO WAY I could’ve dug up any folklore, local or further back, because at some point, Christianity became the most vital part of my cultural identity on that side, and I tentatively remember it being my grandpa’s side that was the main culprit (not surprising, since his side’s been in midwest America for longer). so on that side, I’ve just had to skip past my most recent history, and there’s... a certain bitterness that I’m harboring about that. that I can’t explore it via my own family, and not because it was really decimated by an outside influence, at least in the same way as slavery or genocide would have done.

add to it, that I don’t even have the option now, to contact most of that side of my family- especially those with the most ties to Iowa and the rural farming heritage that traced back to the Netherlands. I came out as bisexual on facebook, and I burned all of the most significant bridges to that heritage. I didn’t mean to salt the earth, make it so it’s basically impossible to trace back that culture the way I want to, but hindsight is 20/20, and there’s no taking it back now. Plus, I don’t know how I would have felt about it anyway, even if I’d managed to gain some understanding from those people, with the inevitable stain of their hatred on what I could’ve learned.

all of that is to say.... its been Quite The Process, and thanks to the response to that recent ask, I’ve got some places to claim that heritage for myself, to get started. but it’s still gonna be rough.

#how do i even fucking tag?#long post #folk witchcraft #conservative christianity tw #ancestor worship

1 note · View note

purrincesskittens · 3 years

Text

Star Eyes, Zuko is mistaken as Water Tribe.

Gift for @muffinlance based off this post and this one

......................................................................

It was night when they found him. A quick examination showed blood on the back of his head. As they pounded on his back someone noted his eyes. “Gold eyes.” They called. “Are you fire nation?” The boy lifted his head and the light of the lantern caught his eyes reflecting back at them. “Of course I am.” The kid snarls. “Star Eyes.” Someone breathed. Shit this kid was one of theirs. “Could be the child of a war bride.” Was suggested by someone. “At least he’s not a fire bender.” There was a laugh that was quickly interrupted by the star eyed boy himself. “Yes I am.” “Well that was.... honest.”

Star eyes were only something seen in the water tribes though. Even if this kid was a fire bender he had to be water tribe. More then likely the result of a woman stolen from her tribe during a raid and raised as Fire Nation since he looked enough of the part. But he was young, probably just recruited or practically forced into joining the military. There was a easy way to figure out how dangerous this kid was or rather how much more dangerous he was considering he was a fire bender.

“Have you ever killed someone?” Hakoda asks crouching before the boy lifting his chin in one hand so the boy had to look him in the eye with those gold colored star eyes. “What? No ... I don’t think.... No.” The kid seemed confused the blood on the back of his head suggested a head wound but this kid was young probably just assigned to a ship only to get knocked overboard by either by a storm or by another soldier. Those eyes probably didn’t make him popular or the fact that this kid’s eyes kept sliding away from Hakoda’s own suggested he may be a fey child.

“What do we do with him?” Somebody asks as they watch the kid cough up water, curling and uncurling his fingers against the wood of the deck his eyes cast down. “We keep him for now. His mother is probably Water Tribe war bride if he is star eyed. Have Kustaa check him over and if he survives we figure out what to do from there." Hakoda announces to the crew. They took care of their own and until they figured out who his mother was and could turn him over to her family if she had any left the crew of the Akhult would take care of him for now. Half Water Tribe and the child of a war bride was still Water Tribe and like hell were they going to turn him over to the Fire Nation to continue using as a weapon.

Kustaa later informed him the boy had hypothermia as well as potentially severe head trauma it was hard to tell right now. The kid mistook him for his uncle. Which uncle they weren't sure. It's possible the boy's mother had a picture of her family she either managed to take with her or she drew herself or he could be thinking Kustaa was his father's brother. The escape attempts didn't help some of the crews opinions on keeping the kid but considering he was raised as Fire Nation and was in a strange place so its expected that he would try to escape although climbing the mast was something Hakoda really wished he didn't do along with scaling the side of the ship.

Kustaa had mentioned the boy called for his mother while delirious along with begging his father for forgiveness pledging his loyalty to him and pleading no to the man which didn't paint a pretty picture of the man or gain much favor of the fire nation in the crews opinions. "Tell me about your mother." Hakoda suggests sitting up on the mast beside the boy. Glowing gold eyes blinked at him. "I remember trailing robes. She favored long sleeved robes with delicate embroidery. She had long hair I remember her brushing mine when I was little. I would sit in her lap and she would brush my hair talking to me about theater or turtleducks or plants. Different things she liked. I think I would sometimes tell her about my day or what I had done recently I don't remember clearly its... faded almost. Fuzzy. I barely remember what she looked like."

Hakoda frowned the boy was water tribe he had to be with those star eyes of his but why wouldn't his mother tell him about her people, her home. Maybe she couldn't? Maybe the boys father was so controlling he made sure she never spoke of home to their son? Then the boy said something that made him rethink everything he knew about the kid. "Uncle said my hair is alot like hers. Or it was. I don't even remember why I shaved it." The kid frowned obviously struggling to remember rubbing his head with one hand. The head wound had left him confused he didn't rember his name or much of anything recent but he remembered he had been burned for cowardice supposedly or partially for that but what did the fire nation consider to be cowardly? Kustaa suspected the boy's own father burned him based off what they gleaned from fever dreams and night terrors.

“What did she look like?” Hakoda questions softly holding his breath hoping he was wrong with the hunch he had. “Elegant, beautiful, she had long straight black hair that was so soft and amber eyes with flecks of true gold in them she wore long sleeved red robes with elegant embroidery. The sleeves would bellow and she would hide me in them when I was little.” The boy continued to talk about his mother someone he remembered fondly although all the details suggested the hugs, the turtle duck kisses and every else stopped when the boy was small. Something happened to his mother and Hakoda was beginning to suspect it may have something to do with the boys true parentage. But how to suggest it to the kid without breaking the poor things mind? The whole crew already suspected he was spirit touched as the water tribe liked to call those who were different mentally the earth kingdom called them fey and not all of the earth kingdom where kind to them.

“If I promise no one on this ship will hurt you and we won’t turn you over to the Earth Kingdom will you stop with the escape attempts?”Hakoda asks when the boy falls silent picking at the grain of the wood under his hands not meeting Hakoda’s eyes. The kid blinked up at him startled. “Okay.” Getting the kid down the mast was surprisingly easy after that and a few more rules were hashed out before the kid was sent to see Kustaa again and the crew was gathered. “The boy’s mother was fire nation. He remembers her more clearly then anything else.” This drew murmurs from the crew some wanted to toss him over board then since he wasn’t the child of a war bride. “But he’s star eyed he has to be Water Tribe.” Toklo says tilting his head in confusion. “Exactly. We know he seemed to have issues regarding his father and Kustaa suspects he may have been the one to burn the kid. I learned his mother also disappeared or may possibly have been killed when he was young.” This gained more murmurs from the crew.

Panuk pulled in a sharp audible breath. He had figured out what Hakoda was getting at. “Does any one here know where they were about 16 to 17 years ago? If they were around the Earth Kingdom or the colonies anywhere?” Their chief had to ask if none of the men on this ship was the boys father he would have to send messages out to all the others in the fleet see if anyone remembered if maybe had met a pretty woman in the Earth Kingdom or in the colonies and spent a night with her. If the kids mother was Fire Nation and he was star eyed that meant his real father had to be Water Tribe. His mother had to have married or started a new relationship soon after and the boy looked fire nation enough to pass him off as her husband’s but the husband probably suspected what with the star eyes. There was silence followed by an uproar. “You can’t be serious?!” Aake shouted in outrage. “I’m not judging anyone but the boy is water tribe and with his mother gone we most definitely are not giving him back to the Fire Nation so we need to figure out whose he is. We take care of our own.” Hakoda soothed the crews ruffled feathers listening as the men scrambled to remember where they were and what they were doing all those years ago.

Slowly they managed to clear the majority of the crew those who couldn’t remember were left struggling valiantly to justify why they couldn’t possibly be the boys father while their youngest two crew members watched with glee obviously in the clear themselves due to their age. Once Kustaa cleared the boy Hakoda set him to work and had to add no breathing fire to the list of rules. Toklo and Panuk made friends with their newest crew member over laundry and the boy was very shouty about women’s work. And then the issue over the kid not having a name he remembered came up. Names like Siqinq, Kallik, Cupun, Tulok, Yuka and Tulugaq were tossed around. He is pretty sure they settled on Tulok simply because they already have a Tuluk and Toklo on board and that name is almost a combination of the two plus it had a star meaning behind it. The boy just wanted to fit in.

Reds were changed for Toklo’s blues and the boys hair shaved to regrow properly after Kustaa managed to break it to the kid that a real father wouldn’t abuse his son, biological or not. They picked up Bato who sympathized with them for wanting to keep the star eyed child, teach him his real culture, and find his real father but the kid was still a fire bender. A fire bender on a WOODEN SHIP!! The boy, Toluk looked like a kicked polar puppy being denied sleep in the hammock he was used to and his usual snacks when ever he wanted. They still had a lot of work cut out for them when the kid thought he would be killed over a bending accident because he didn’t fully remember he needed to mediate to control his fire. His memories were still patchy at best. So Hakoda ended up with his temporary foster star eyed child sitting in his cabin breathing with a lantern holding a dog.

The kid liked sea prunes proving he was Water Tribe at heart. He was good at using his fire bending for non evil purposes even if he protested it. He proved he shouldn’t be left alone in port either by himself or with his friends. He gained a piercing, two rusted swords, a theater scroll and a cabbage? No one seems to know about the cabbage. He can cook as it’s proven despite how spicy his cooking is and nearly gets kidnapped by prostitutes. Sex workers were not on the list of people Hakoda thought he would have to fight for custody of Tulok with. He nearly gets himself kidnapped by a Earth Kingdom solider they are allied with who seemed sure their boy was then dead prince of the Fire Nation. Never mind that the prince was dead and their boy was star eyed. The solider was surprisingly unfazed by the heat of the kids cooking. He didn't end up kidnapped despite his best efforts.. The kid really needed to stop climbing the mast. “Prince Zuko?!” Hakoda’s kids seemed to also mistake Tulok for the dead prince.

“That’s the Prince of the Fire Nation, dad he chased us all over and tried to capture the avatar numerous times. His sister did capture Aang.” His kids argued trying to convince him that their new foster brother was some evil prince. The kid in question for his part had more headaches then usual and just seemed more confused and angry. He remembered something. A little sister named LaLa. It takes a while but after watching their new brother and listening to the crew, “His name is Zuko, he is the prince of the Fire Nation, his father is Fire Lord Ozai does no one care about that?!” Sokka asks in outrage staring as the kid in question does laundry like its a perfectly normal thing for a prince to do. “His mother may be fire nation but his father sure isn’t.” Panuk comments dodging a wet shirt thrown by their resident fire bender. This earned laughter and calls of “Good for her!!” And “She could do a lot better!” Followed by “At least a water tribesman would treat her right!!”. Sokka groaned in frustration and confusion.

“Why is my nephew wearing blue, convinced Ozai isn’t his biological father and that he is water tribe?” General Iroh the Dragon of the West questions calmly. Tulok seemed to recognize Iroh and even called him Uncle and recognized some of the crew but he still didn’t have complete clear memories although his headaches grew worse until Kustaa told him it didn’t matter if he remembered or not he was water tribe and nothing was going to change that spirit touched or not. “He is star eyed you can’t possibly tell me the fire nation has star eyed kids that’s a water tribe thing only.” Iroh considered it briefly before dismissing it. His nephew looked similar to a young Ozai, so Ozai had to be his father even if he wasn’t much of one and his nephew deserved better then Ozai. But surely Ursa couldn’t have had an affair while married to Ozai it was impossible. Iroh tried to do the math off the top of his head of when Ursa and Ozai married vs when Zuko was born. “Look the obvious answer here is that the boys mom met with a Water Tribe beefcake and had a one night stand that lead to the boy. It’s the only thing that explains why his supposed father hated him so much and why he struggled with fire bending and is star eyed.” Bato explains grinning. “Beefcake?” Hakoda and Iroh question.

Azula finds this all far to amusing. “That just means I’m the rightful heir after all. You can stay here with your little water tribe family and I can be the next Fire Lord after Uncle.” Somehow things get worked out that their star eyed fire bender’s fire nation sister will be staying with them along side her two scary friends and the kids supposed Uncle will become the next Fire Lord once they take down Ozai. The kid is still confused and there are still gaps in his memories but they aren’t giving him back now he is their’s and the fire nation can’t have him. They still call him Tulok since the fire nation does consider the sun to be a star after all. He seems to like it better then Zuko. He still does their laundry still wears beads in his braids in red, blue and one gold. In all that’s happened no one thought to alert the rest of the fleet about what they learned leaving them in for one heck of a surprise when they reach Chameleon Bay where the rest of the men from the fleet scramble to try to remember where they were sixteen-point-nine years ago.

#water tribe zuko #star eyed zuko #zuko Is mistaken as water tribe #glowy eyed zuko #zuko’s eyes glow #gift for Muffinlance #salvage au #inspired by salvage #hakodad #hakoda adopts zuko #atla fanfic #atla zuko #atla hakoda #sokka is not okay with this #put the feral fire bender back where you found him #the akhuklt’s crew is okay with zuko being one of them #like okay if his mom isn’t a war bride then his mom hooked up with a water tribesman #which good for her at least a water tribesman would treat her properly #Iroh protests this #He is 90 percent sure Zuko is actually Ozai’s son #not that that’s is a good thing #he can’t be sure though #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #Give Zuko happiness #ursa could do better then ozai #hey uh no judgement whatsoever to whichever water tribesman is the kids father but uhh come pick up your lost cub #Bato calls other warriors beefcakes #which watertribesman lost their cub they didn't know they had #everyone struggles to remember who they were with and where they were 16 years and nine months ago

973 notes · View notes

jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—moonstruck. (m)

⟶ pairing: taehyung x reader

⟶ genre: werewolf!taehyung au / arranged marriage au / smut with a sprinkle of fluff

⟶ words: 7,421

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: in hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted” and the only way to save you is to be mated with taehyung. whatever that means.

⟶ warnings: multiple smut scenes, first time (virgin!taehyung), clumsy sex, soft and gentle sex, sort of rough sex, all the sex, cunnilingus, riding, hair pulling, knotting, buckets of cum, biting kink, slight impregnation kink, unprotected sex, creampie

⟶ disclaimer: first fic back after a long hiatus and i’m suddenly v nervous to post this!! also this is shamelessly and 100% inspired by an episode of the show outlander (to be exact, the wedding episode). i couldn’t help myself!!

“Are you serious right now?”

In hindsight, being friends with a pack of werewolves and, thus, suddenly being thrown into a world of supernatural furries and other inhuman beings isn’t something you would recommend but it was too late to back out now, especially when you consider the fact that apparently you’re now being “hunted.” Whatever that means.

Had you heard yourself speak a year ago before meeting Taehyung and having your life turned upside down, you would have surely thought you were insane, and you would have definitely thought Taehyung is insane, and the rest of his friends who are, subsequently, now yours ━ each of whom are all currently splayed out before you in Namjoon’s spacious country-side home with similar grave looks staring back at you.

“Dead serious,” Hoseok takes the liberty of breaking the odd silence saturating the kitchen. He’s made it a point to be on time for once, which you consider great and all if it wasn’t basically to dispute your current death sentence. “Always thought Jaebum’s pack were sons of bitches ━ glad to know it’s still true.”

“Hoseok,” Yoongi scolds. “Be a little more compassionate.”

“Am I wrong?” Hoseok refutes.

From off to the side, Jimin pushes himself forward with a frustrated groan, shaking his head. “Tae, I told you this was a dumb fucking idea ━ bringing Y/N into the pack━”

“I didn’t think this would happen,” Taehyung protests hotly. He’s leaning against the wall somewhere behind you, arms crossed over his chest and a deep frown darkening his face.

“How could you not think this would happen?” Jungkook retorts bitterly.

“Shut up, Jungkook.”

“She’s a human,” Jungkook says. “Jaebum wants her gone, but if he were to get his hands on her, then who knows what could happen━”

“I said shut up, Jungkook,” Taehyung snarls, an odd vehement tone dripping from his every word that is out of the place for the usually tranquil boy. Jungkook’s mouth clamps shut at once, though you suspect it’s not to do with defeat more so than because he’s the newest addition to the pack and, while Namjoon is their leader (or Alpha, as you’ve heard being thrown around before), Taehyung was something of a second-in-command. You could only imagine the consequences of crossing either Namjoon or Taehyung within the pack.

“Hold on a second,” You try to sputter for air, lungs wheezing. Your mind has since been spinning, struggling to keep up. At first you thought they were joking when they had told you, but now you were beginning to understand the severity at the very least. “I’m being hunted? Why?”

Now, Namjoon looks from Taehyung, then to you, and back again. Taehyung hesitates to answer at first, and Jungkook scowls. “Well, tell her, Tae. You dragged her into this mess. She deserves to hear it from you.”

As you twist in your seat to look up at Taehyung, your eyes locking briefly with his, the boy grimaces and then has to look away. He takes a deep breath before responding. “Okay, look. You know that pack I told you about? Jaebum’s?”

You nod, though the memory is vague. You’ve heard the name in passing before, but you could only gather that there was some sort of animosity between his and Taehyung’s pack.

“He found out about you, and I don’t know how,” Taehyung explains. “And now he wants you gone, and he’ll do anything to see it through.”

You blink once, dumbfounded. Terrified, even. Taehyung can certainly hear it in your voice and it makes him flinch again, as if being striked across the face. “Why?”

“Because you’re not one of us,” Taehyung says. “Because you’re human. When I first told you about us, I was risking everything. It’s uncommon for one of us to bring a human into the pack just because, and often even frowned upon. There’s a fear you’ll expose us to the human world or the hunters. Jaebum’s threatening to start war if we don’t deal with this situation ourselves.”

It’s only then that the dread begins to creep upon you, chilling you to the bone. “Deal with it… how?”

“The ultimatum is either kill you ourselves, or give you over to Jaebum to deal with, as a sort of peace offering,” Namjoon says carefully.

“Which probably also results in death,” Hoseok points out morbidly.

Jin scoffs. “Or worse.”

“Is there any option that doesn’t result in death?” You ask warily. At this, the group falls silent once more.

“Well, there is one.” Namjoon glances fleetingly around at his brethren, then sighs. “You become one of us.”

“I━” You stammer, face suddenly hot. “You mean, like, a werewolf?”

“I mean, a wedding.”

“A wedding?” You gasp. “How is that going to save me?”

“Not a wedding like you think,” Namjoon says. “More of a bonding. A handfasting. Right now, as a human, you’re vulnerable and exposed. We have no claim over you. But if you become one of us ━ without being turned ━ then Jaebum shouldn’t be able to touch you.”

Slowly, you begin to piece together the fragment of your dilemma. “Marry who?”

A beat of silence passes amongst the group in which time you spot Namjoon nod in the direction of Taehyung’s figure beyond you, a wordless yet clear gesture. Suddenly, a stubborn warmth of a blush pinches at your cheeks. You wonder if they can notice, if Taehyung can notice. You start, “Taehyung━?”

“He offered to be the one,” Namjoon says. “And Jaebum knows Taehyung’s role in the pack. If he knows you’re mated to Tae, Jaebum would be absolutely insane to try and come for you. It’s the only way, Y/N, and it ensures your safety.”

“Marrying Taehyung?” You ask shrilly, voice dangerously thin. “How is marrying Taehyung going to ensure my safety?”

“It’s not just a marriage,” Jimin explains.

But of course you already know this, werewolf laws a strange and intricate jumble of rules that you’ve long since grown accustomed to. When he speaks next, you already know it’s much more than a marriage; and, when he speaks next, you fear you’ve already had your fate decided for you.

“It’s not just a marriage,” Namjoon repeats, matter-of-fact, “because we’re making you Taehyung’s mate.”

“You didn’t have to do this.”

You try not to think about it. Admittedly, marrying your friend who you have only known for a year isn’t something you had been expecting. But, as Namjoon had explained it, it wasn’t necessarily a legal unification between you and Taehyung, though you suppose it’s as valid now as any marriage with the ritualistic handfasting ceremony making it official. That, and you favoured living to see another day instead of becoming a werewolf’s next meal or ripped to shreds by one.

Only a day after your conversation with the boys of Taehyung’s pack, you’ve come to your ultimate decision which has led you to where you are now, returning to Namjoon’s home for a wedding. Your wedding. You hadn’t very long to decide your own fate anyway, with the boys grimly warning you it was now or never. But you trust them, despite this crazed ludicrous situation you find yourself in ━ and you trust Taehyung more than anything, your friendship with him having quickly blossomed into something so sincerely profound over the year that you’ve known him.

If you’re being honest, Namjoon’s pack had at least made an effort for the occasion because despite how unconventional it is, it was still a celebration. A celebration for your marriage, and a celebration for their hopeful victory over Jaebum. Still, the underlying threat of the evening remains, made more prevalent by the fact that it was required to invite at least another pack (of which you’ve met the leader, Jisoo, a handful of times before) as witnesses. It’s a simple ceremony too, quaint and cute if you weren’t clinging to life. You had made it a point to dress up, digging a pretty white dress from the depths of your closet with flowing butterfly-like sleeves; Taehyung had forgone a suit but was still handsomely dressed too, leaving you to feel like less of an idiot. Namjoon had officiated it, standing before you and Taehyung as you held one another’s hand, wrapped delicately in ribbon, listening to the vows being proclaimed that talked about true love, and the passion and yearning involved.

When the handfasting finally draws to a close, you’re shoved into a room alone with Taehyung for a moment of privacy by Hoseok, who can be heard quipping wolfishly, “Get it over with quick!” before vanishing behind the closed door. You wager he’s left to join with the rest of the festivities outside where, no doubt, every werewolf is currently drinking themselves blind.

Finally alone with Taehyung, a saturated silence fills the air that has you wringing your hands anxiously in front of you. You sit on the edge of the bed in the center of the room. “What other choice was there, Tae?”

Taehyung takes a moment to respond, and even he knows the thought is a useless one when it crosses his mind before voicing it aloud. “We could have ran away.”

“How far would we get?” You sigh. Still, the sorrow earnest in his voice and riddling his face is enough to make you look up at him sympathetically. “I’m no use to you if Jaebum or someone worse finds us by ourselves. Besides, the boys need you.”

“No, you need me,” Taehyung insists. “Jungkook’s right. I dragged you and the pack into this mess. It’s my responsibility to fix this.”

He drags his feet towards the bed, then flops down onto his back on the mattress. A troubled groan punctuates the air, and you sneak a glance behind you to see him rubbing warily at his eyes.

You decide now would be the best time to ask the one question that has been on your mind since the night before when you were sitting in Namjoon’s kitchen to discuss Jaebum’s scorn. “Is that why… Is that why you offered to be my mate?”

“Yes,” Taehyung admits meekly. “Sort of. Think we’d all rather it be me than Joon, anyway.”

You don’t argue with this. The reasons as to why it had to be Taehyung satisfied you well enough. That, and aside from having befriended the pack over the months, you’re much closer to Taehyung than you are with the others.

“So…” You trail off, clearing your throat. At this point, you’re simply speaking for the sake of filling the void. “What now?”

Taehyung shrugs. He looks around the room. “Nothing.”

“Well, what did Hoseok mean just now? Get what over with?”

“Erm━” Taehyung opens his mouth, as if preparing to explain, then decides otherwise. “It’s nothing.”

“Taehyung, we literally just got married and you’re already keeping secrets from me,” You retort. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he insists. “It’s just that… Well…” He sits up from the bed, meeting your curious gaze. “This was essentially a mating, and every mating needs to be seen through to the end to be considered valid. The pack can tell when it’s… uh… done.”

Oh.

Now it hits you. It’s the way he awkwardly trails off, hand ruffling through his long locks, that has you immediately understanding what he’s trying to imply. You gawk upward at him. “Are you asking me to sleep with you?”

Suddenly, Taehyung looks flustered and he shakes his head frantically. “I mean, they expect it, but I would never force it on you.” Then, he straightens up, as if captivated by a newfound confidence. The smallest of smirks dances upon his lips that you don’t miss. “Besides, I never said it had to be between you and me. As long as they can sense it, I’d say your hand would do just fine instead ━ but you have all night for that.”

“Oh my god.”

The smirk widens into a devious look now. “You said you wanted honesty.”

As he dissolves into a fit of stifled chuckles, you scowl but you wager it’s mostly an attempt to hide the frazzled look on your face. Then, hurrying to change the topic, ask, “Is every mating like that then?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung admits. “If two mates want to stay together forever, they complete the process with marking, usually by a bite. It strengthens the mating bond.”

Taehyung notices you squirm in your spot, crossing your knee over the other and squeezing your thighs together. He can sense you’re uncomfortable, understandably with your current situation, but can’t quite pinpoint what else seems to make you sit so rigidly.

“What was it like for you?” He decides to ask. “The handfasting?”

The question takes you by surprise, though his sincere intrigue makes you smile smally to yourself. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before, but it was… It was nice.” You think back to nearly an hour ago, and the way Taehyung had looked standing before you. While you were marrying him out of necessity, there was something candidly beautiful about the entire ceremony. At the very least, you were glad it had been with Taehyung of all people. “Can I be honest with you, Tae?”

“Of course,” Taehyung says. “At this point, you can pretty much tell me anything. Don’t think anything’s as shocking as coming out as a werewolf.”

An innocent giggle bubbles at your throat. Suddenly, you look sheepish. “I might have had one too many glasses of wine before coming.”

“Ah.” Despite the interested hum of noise, he looks genuinely entertained. “So you’re drunk?”

“Not quite. Pleasantly buzzed,” You say. “Well, can you blame me? The occasion called for it considering a bunch of wolves want to kill me and I’m being arranged into a marriage.”

“So you don’t remember anything about your own wedding?”

You pull a face, though Taehyung gathers it’s because of the blunt mention of the word. “I do. Just… not all of it. Some things are clearer than others, but I think that’s mostly because I was nervous.”

“I remember every moment,” Taehyung muses thoughtfully. “I remember seeing you there, in your dress, and everything felt right despite it all.” His stare hardens in that moment, as if probed by the harsh reminder of the reasoning behind the night in the first place. “You know I’ll do anything to keep you safe, right? We haven’t had time to sit back and talk it over but you really do mean the world to me.”

A muffled groan eclipses your lips. You dig the heels of your palms against your eyes as you bemoan, “Don’t say those kinds of things, Tae.”

“Why?”

“Because… Because…” Your eyes shoot open, though suddenly you refuse to meet his curious wandering gaze.

But Taehyung doesn’t even need you to finish your thought. You wonder if it’s one of the many keen abilities possessed by these shapeshifters or if it’s simply a Taehyung thing, being that he’s quickly become one of your closest friends over the year that you’ve known him.

“You’re still nervous,” he hums as delicately as possible. It’s not an accusation, but a simple fact of the matter. He pushes himself to sit on the edge of the bed beside you, leaving an appropriate amount of space between the two of you. “Are you nervous because of me?”

“No.”

“That’s a lie,” Taehyung snorts. When you don’t respond immediately, a small inkling of a doubt makes him question apprehensively, “Are you scared of me then? I wouldn’t blame you, especially after everything that’s been going on━”

“What?” You finally turn to look at him, a look of incredulousness contorting your face. “No! No, I’m not scared of you, Tae. I could never be scared of you.” You don’t dare turn to face him, instead keeping your eyes fixed on your hands as you continue. “You make me nervous, but not in a bad way. Does that make any sense?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it does.” When you chance a look at him, you find him smiling softly to himself. “It’s the same way I felt when I saw you earlier tonight.”

Your heart quickens in pace against your chest, and you’re almost positive he can surely hear it. Now, you finally lift your timid stare to meet his pensive look, and you have to bite back the smile that threatens to form on your face. He looks distracted, though not in a way where his mind is elsewhere entirely; instead, he seems besotted, dark eyes shimmering gently, and there’s a palpable shift of energy in the atmosphere.

Without even realizing it, the pair of you begin to gravitate towards one another, leaning in close enough to shorten the distance between the two of you. You pause, lingering near enough to feel his warm breath fanning against your neck. He can’t help himself, and reaches out with his hand to brush his fingers along your shoulder to the base of your throat, sending chills down your spine. His hand comes to rest against your neck, fingers stretching outward to cradle the back of your head. He guides you toward him this time, closer and closer.

“Taehyung…” You whisper.

He stops at once, clamps his mouth shut and squeezes his eyes closed. His restraint seems to be not without labour, judging by the sobering small shake of his head, and the way he leans his forehead against yours, tendons in his jaw fluttering as he clenches his teeth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t.”

“I want you to.”

He’s startled when you’re the one that moves first, catching his lips onto yours. He’s unmoving at first, basking in the feel and taste of your mouth smoothing over his. It’s slow, steady, but then he’s craning his neck to deepen the kiss and something feverish overtakes the both of you. You clamber onto his lap at once, swinging one leg over his and settling back onto him, your dress bunching up at your thighs. He’s taken aback for a moment, though his hands instinctively come to grip at your waist and you try not to focus on how large and warm they feel, burning against the material of your dress. In fact, every inch of him radiates a thermal energy that is both comforting and excites you. You chase his lips, yearning for another kiss, but he hesitates at the last moment, jerking his head away. He doesn’t move very far at first, then he drops his head into the crook of your neck. His nose burrows against the base of your throat, his lips brushing against your skin as he moves along your neck to your shoulder, then back again. You can tell he’s holding himself back, not quite allowing himself to enjoy this. To enjoy you.

“You said we have all night, didn’t you?” You rasp. “So why not start now?”

“I also said it didn’t have to be between you and me if you didn’t want it to be.” Taehyung finds his voice at long last, however hoarse it may be. You’re already driving him crazy, just by your smell alone. “Are you sure? You said you wanted honesty, so be honest with me, Y/N. Don’t just say it’s because it has to be done. I don’t want you to regret anything.”

“Well, don’t you want this?” You question.

“Fuck, yes.” He groans against your neck. Something feral seems to stir within him, and you can feel his canines bare against your skin. “But only if you do.”

You aren’t quite sure what seems to possess you all of a sudden. He’s intoxicating, you think. Your hands tug at his hair now, desperation wearing your own voice thin. “Yes, Tae. Please. I want you inside me so badly.”

Finally, he presses his mouth against your throat, tonguing hot open-mouthed kisses there. His grip tightens around your waist, tugging you harder against him, and the feeling of him growing harder against your inner thigh in a matter of seconds has you both enraptured by a newfound heated ferocity.

Grasping at a moment of clarity, you ask meekly, “Isn’t this your first time?”

“Is it that obvious?”

You want to tell him anything but, the way his hands and lips move across you an indicator of that. “I thought you wolves are all about sex. Don’t you, like, go into heat or something?”

It’s a feeble attempt at a snarky joke, judging by the way your lips unfurl into a languid smirk. “Typically. But I never wanted sex for the sake of fucking. The boys make fun of me all the time for it.”

You snicker, but the delightful noise is lost in a simper as he continues to kiss upward to the underside of your jaw. He grips tightly at your waist and moves, shifting the two of you around, until your back is splayed out on the edge of the bed and he’s hovering directly over you.

“Taehyung…” He grunts in response, though you don’t blame him for not responding. The way his cock bulges against your core now, the way you press your hips up into his instinctively, is enough to drive you insane, let alone the boy. Still, you manage to rasp, “Tae, just don’t bite me. Promise me.”

“I won’t,” he assures, though now he certainly seems preoccupied. He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring, and whines aloud, “God, I can already smell you. So fucking good.”

His head falls into the crook of your neck as his hips dig harshly into yours in a way that makes you aware of what his words seem to mean. Slick arousal already begins to form between your legs, pooling into a mess on your underwear that has you squirming beneath him. The thought of him being able to smell you makes your face heat, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He kisses down to your collarbones, then, without warning, flips you over at once. Rough hands grasp at your waist, pulling you to your knees and your ass off the edge of the bed. As he fumbles to tear your panties from your hips, then lifts the skirt of your dress up with one hand, he hurries to undo his belt and the button of his pants with the other.

“Wait, Tae━” You gasp. Before he can push himself into you, you heave yourself up with your hands and twist just enough to place your palm above his waist on his abdomen, stopping him in his place. “What are you doing?”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, brows creasing with concern. “Isn’t this how it’s done? I’m not totally helpless.”

You bite back your abrupt grin, swallowing your amusement when you realize he’s genuinely confused. It’s hard to grasp how he can look so innocent even despite his leaking cock still in his hand. “Well, yeah, but not always.”

“I just thought it was like how dogs go at it, y’know?” Taehyung says. “The guys all seem to say so anyway.”

You can’t help it now when this newfound information has you keeling over with laughter. You’re fortunate he doesn’t seem offended by your delight, instead grinning sheepishly to himself as he watches you wipe tears away from your eyes.

“What?” he asks promptly, and then as if to nudge you back to reality, tightens his grip on your waist and yanks you towards him gingerly. Pressing his front flush against your back, he catches your ear lobe between his teeth and nibbles on it.

“Then I feel sorry for their mates,” You manage to choke out. “It’s not bad, but I want to be able to see you the first time around. It’s better that way. More intimate.”

You squirm out from beneath him, turning to face him properly. Still sprawled out before him, you prop yourself up on your elbow and then reach out with your other hand to grab at his face and pull him down to you.

“Noted,” he hums into your mouth. “Anything else I should know?”

“Nothing that I can think of at the moment,” You admit, though maybe that’s simply because your mind is spinning at the sight of his length.

He’s much, much bigger than you imagined, tip irritated and swollen red already, glistening with precum as he swipes his palm over himself a handful of times. You hike your dress up further around your waist as he guides himself towards you.

“Stop me if it hurts,” he says.

You nod, though you trust him well enough to know he’ll treat you right in the best way possible. As he pushes the tip of his length against your folds and into you, your reactions are almost immediate. He ceases above you, face scrunching up at the feeling of your slickness around him. You notice his furrowed brows, the way he bares his teeth. A guttural growl sounds deep within his chest that has you shuddering in anticipation.

“Oh, fuck,” he moans. “You’re so fucking wet. You take me so well, baby. I don’t think I’ll last long.”

“Don’t care,” You whimper. “Just wanna feel you.”

He pushes himself in further, slowly and carefully, inch-by-inch, in just a way that has the both of you feeling how he stretches you open every single step of the way. You wonder how much further you can go until he’s stopping, bottoming out within you. He sputters for air, collapsing against your chest entirely as you fall back onto the bed. He waits just enough for you to adjust to the girth of his weight in you, then rolls his hips into yours. Then again, and again, until he’s grinding into you with such measured and deep strokes that you melt beneath him entirely. You kick your legs up to wrap around his waist, head lolling back at the feeling of his mouth sucking against your throat.

“I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off then into an abrupt cry. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum━”

He’s quick to dissolve into shambles, grunting and moaning every time you clench around him and every thrust of his hips. Just when you think you’ve lost yourself to the moment, he cums much faster than you thought and entirely unexpected for him too, in hot waves that have you still writhing beneath him. When he’s spent, his weight falls slack against you, crushing you beneath him but in a comforting manner. It’s silently peaceful for a few moments as he settles, heart thundering in his chest and against yours. Your fingers smooth over his sweaty long locks, scratching at his head. Then━

“That was terrible, wasn’t it?” he mutters wretchedly.

“Not terrible,” You confess. “What was that? Three minutes, top? For your first time, I’m honestly surprised you lasted more than a minute.”

“Fuck off.” His fingers poke at your sides teasingly as you burst out into laughter. He lifts his head to meet yours, perhaps a little embarrassed. “Don’t tell the guys. They’ll never let me live it down.”

“Doesn’t matter,” You hum, tracing your finger down to his lips. “We can practice whenever you want. I’ll make you into a lover so good, you’ll want me to brag to them.”

“Practice, huh?” His eyes sparkle mischievously. He pulls himself from your core and you hiss at the sudden loss, tugging at his chest as if to keep him close to you but he seems to have other plans. “Why stop now?”

You watch him curiously. “Easy there, boy. Don’t wear yourself out.”

“Well, I have to make it up to you,” he points out. “Especially on your wedding night. It’s only fair. What kind of lousy mate would I be to call it a night without having you cum on my face?”

“Romantic.” You roll your eyes but you marvel at the way you had shuddered at the word only moments ago and now, under such a different circumstance, the way he utters it makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Is this the first time you’ve eaten a girl out?”

“I said I was a virgin,” he says. Your eyes stay trained on the boy as he shifts himself further down your body to wedge himself between your thighs, throwing one leg over his shoulder. He kisses at your navel, then down to your core. He takes his time as he reaches out with his fingers to swipe at your folds, admiring the way his cum leaks from you; then, with his forefinger, he wipes at a stray bead of his arousal and pushes it back into your cunt slowly. The simple action is enough to have your back arching off the bed, hands flying out to brace yourself by gripping at his hair. “I never said I didn’t know how to please a woman elsewhere.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Gladly.”

He sinks lower to your core and out of sight, leaving hot open mouthed kisses along the way. His finger never once leaves its spot within you, and instead is joined by another that spreads you wide in absence of his cock.

“Do you know how hard it is to focus on anything other than your beautiful cunt?” he asks, voice low and sultry. “From the moment I could smell you, I wanted a taste.”

His tongue probes against your clit, the wet muscle a sudden startle that has you slackening against him. He flicks it back and forth, mouth wrapping around the bundle of nerves and sucking hard. A moan threatens to fall from your lips but an intrusive thought crossing your mind has you swallowing it with much difficulty.

“Can’t the boys hear us from down there?” You ask. You wonder how the celebration for your “wedding” has unfolded over the night without you or Taehyung there, or if they even notice your prolonged absence.

“No.” His voice is a deep mumble, rattling you from your core outward. “We learn how to tune out sounds nearby unless we really want to pay attention. The new ones struggle a bit, though.”

He curls his fingers inside you, stretching them upward. You pant, “Isn’t Jungkook still new?”

You can feel his smirk unfurling against you even before he pokes his head up to look at you with devious, hooded eyes. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit of a hazing process.”

You hardly have time to register the thought, though it doesn’t matter much. You’re far too overwhelmed by the way Taehyung is making you feel to even care. He drops his mouth from your clit to your folds, tongue swirling against your aching core. He laps at your cunt like a mangy dog as his fingers continue to work within you. The further he burrows into you, the harder his nose digs against your clit and sends you over the edge. You try to hold on just a little longer but your core is already achingly sensitive from when his length had made it home.

“Cum for me,” he murmurs. “Don’t hold back, baby. Let me taste you.”

Fingers twisting in his hair, he growls roughly against you, basking in the way you mewl and moan his name. Time seems to blur and, before you know it, you’ve reached your high. You’re embarrassingly wet, soaking his chin and nose which glistens with a mixture of yours and his arousal. Taehyung doesn’t hold back, instead licking you clean of every last drop, a muffled moan of content emitting from him.

“So good,” he says. “All mine.”

When he finally pulls away from you, he licks at his lips as if not quite finished with your every taste. From where he sits, you’re an entire mess, brows scrunched in concentration, teeth tugging at your lower lip. Needy hands yank at his hair and he obliges, kissing his way up your body to meet your mouth. His tongue pokes through to lav at your lips and wedges itself beyond, and you suck delightfully at the taste of you and him mingling on it. His own hands caress your body, bringing you back down from your high gradually but you can still feel his straining dick against your thigh and it invigorates you even further despite the beginning hints of exhaustion starting to creep upon you.

“Want more,” Taehyung growls with a newfound intensity, catching you off guard. “Need your cunt. M’gonna make it mine. Need to make you mine. Gonna fill you with my cum till you’re bursting with my pups, how does that sound?”

Mind spinning, you nod eagerly at the thought. Your words form in the shape of a moan. “Yes, please.”

“Gotta get this dress off first,” he mutters, greedy palms wandering up beneath the hem of your dress.

You scurry to obey, helping him slide the dress off your arms and toss it away on the floor. He’s more than pleased to see that you had decided to forgo wearing a bra earlier in the day, and reaches out at once to grasp at your perked breasts in his large palm. He buries his face into your chest, catching one of your nipples between his teeth. He busies himself by marking your chest red with small nibbles until you grow impatient, tugging at the shirt he’s still wearing. He’s quick to oblige, shedding himself of his clothes; then, his nails are digging viciously into your hips as he flips the two of you over with incredible ease.

“Sit on my cock,” he snarls into your ear. “Need to feel you again.”

Legs weak from your past orgasm and the huskiness of his voice, you sidle onto his lap, tossing one thigh over his. He sits up to join you and helps push himself past your folds, though you finish by settling back on his length carefully until you’re filled to the brim. Despite already knowing what to expect from the first time around, you still shudder at the feeling, mouth unhinging as you roll your hips leisurely against his. He hardly strays from your body, instead continuing to kiss between the valley of your breasts and up to the underside of your jaw and back again. Fingers poke and prod at your body as they follow his lips, then grasp at your ass to push you closer to him each time you grind against him.

Just when you begin grinding against him in a new angle that makes you moan into his ear, a sudden noise startles the both of you but only just. It takes you both a moment to register it’s the sound of knocking on the other side of the bedroom door (that you can’t remember if Taehyung had locked, because you certainly hadn’t), followed by Jimin’s familiar voice. “Joon said he wanted us to check in on you!”

Taehyung immediately groans into your neck out of frustration, though you suspect it’s because your pace starts to stutter and not because of his bothersome friends.

“Taehyung,” You bite at your lip in an attempt to hide your moans. You tug at his hair, as if to portray what your words fail to do, but he can hear it plainly riddling your voice. The concern, and the sudden shyness, as if fearing Jimin may walk in. But part of you is thrilled at the thought, and judging by the way your unabashed cry of glee slips from your lips without much hiding is proof of that. “Oh, Tae━”

“Shit,” Taehyung’s muffled grunts of pleasure and the way his hips continue to dig into yours to meet your efforts makes you aware Jimin is the least of his current troubles. “Fucking hell━ Don’t stop.”

“Are you guys okay in there?” Now comes Hoseok’s voice, a little faint but undeniably there. Can they hear you? Do they care? They must know what’s happening beyond the door.

“They’re doing it on purpose. Fucking idiots,” Taehyung snarls as he slams his hips up into yours. A contented whimper falls from your mouth, and you cling to him tighter as you quicken your pace. Taehyung grabs at your chin, forcing you to keep your eyes fixed on him despite wandering to the door. “Look at you fucking yourself on me still even with them listening. Such a good girl, huh? So desperate for my cock, aren’t you? Gonna breed so well.”

You think Hoseok and Jimin give up and leave at some point, though you don’t recall when. Instead, in the next moment, something primitive seems to awaken in Taehyung once more and he’s shoving you onto your back on the bed. Kneeling before you, he pummels his hips into yours again and again until you’re only crying his name.

“Mine. All mine,” he growls. “Wanna feel you cum on my cock.”

So wearied from your first high, you tumble easily to your second, coming undone in a matter of seconds, spurred on by the lewd wet noises of his length thrusting into you.

“That’s it, baby,” he mutters, basking in the sound of your moans. “Fuck━ Let them all know who you belong to━”

But just when you think Taehyung has reached his own orgasm ━ sputtering for air and crescendoing in moans of your names, panting hot breath into your ear as he leans against your chest ━ he doesn’t. His thrusts become desperate and sloppy, bordering on frantic, that the soreness between your legs begins to burn. It’s an amalgamation of stubborn yet bearable pain and something harshly pleasant that has your head lolling back.

“What’s wrong?” You moan, blindly tugging at his hair. “Taehyung?”

“I can’t━” He cries out. “I can’t━ I’m so fucking hard, it hurts. I don’t know what’s wrong━”

Confused yet too tired to keep up, you reach out to smooth your fingers across his back. “It’s okay. Just let go, baby. Cum for me, Tae. Please.”

“I’m trying,” he chokes out. “I just can’t━”

Your mind works in a haze to understand what’s happening, but through it all you’re able to discern one reasonable thought. What had Taehyung said about matings and bonds? Aside from the obvious of sleeping with a mate, he had said that typically certain bonds require marking. But he had also said that marking proved to be almost irreversible, resulting in a connection so close that a pair of mates would be together forever. It was a troublesome concept to think about, especially when considering you didn’t think you were a fit match for Taehyung if only because you’re human.

But is that what he needed? The physical strain he puts himself under now to reach his high is almost unbearable to watch. So, you settle on a whim of a decision and conclude that you won’t think of any consequences until after the fact, only wanting to see the poor boy in relief.

“Tae,” You whisper. “What if you bite me?”

“I won’t,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. His pace has slowed as he slumps against your chest in nearing defeat. “You told me not to.”

“I don’t care,” You retort. “Just bite me.”

He hesitates, lifting his gaze to look at you. When he sees your earnest zeal, he grimaces as if despising that this is his only option. Still, the look of relief that crosses his face is undeniably there. He presses his mouth against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your flesh as he grazes the smooth expanse for a spot, sharp canines poking against you. You brace yourself for the bite, though the pain isn’t as bad as you had thought. A sharp jolt runs down your spine as he sinks his teeth into your skin, and his reaction is immediate, crumbling into pitiful moans of glory.

“Fuck!” he wails. With one final slam of his hips into yours, he finally reaches his high and it’s unlike anything you have felt before. As if he begins to swell within you, his length pulsates as he cums in you to the point where you can’t help but feel so full. It overflows and leaks from your core and onto the sheets, a sticky mess that lingers even long after he’s done. Your mouth pops open at the foreign feeling, whimpering his name.

“I’m sorry,” he flinches. “I’m sorry, does it hurt?”

“No,” You manage to say. “It just… It feels so good━”

He sluggishly rides out the rest of his high until you both physically can’t take anymore. When he hears you hiss his name in a soft reminder, he apologizes once more. Then, as the room falls oddly silent, he slumps against you. He lavs his tongue over the fresh mark on your neck, the gentle motion alleviating the sting left behind. As Taehyung settles finally, he shifts his head to look up at you. You note the faint yellow hue lingering in his eyes, fading now.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “We might have to stay like this for a while.”

“Can’t say I’m mad about that,” You croon sleepily. “You better draw me a bath after this.”

He laughs, rubbing gentle circles against your hips. “Of course. I’ll do anything for you.”

You believe him wholeheartedly when he says it, smiling against his mouth when he leans in for a kiss. His tender wandering hands over your body does wonders in calming your shrill heart, the stretch between your legs, and the bite on your neck. He nuzzles his face into your collarbones, the tip of his nose tickling against you. As your fingers rake through his hair and scratch at his head, he mewls in content.

“Is it always like that?” You ask through a stifled yawn. “You had so much energy, I could barely keep up.”

“No,” he admits groggily. “It’s only like that when you’re mated with someone.”

“What does that even mean anyway?” You ask. “To be mated with someone?”

“Well, it’s━ It’s not really a conscious decision. It sort of just happens,” Taehyung says. “It’s a connection. You gravitate towards one another. You can’t live without the other. We call it imprinting. Sometimes you’re mated to a person who doesn’t even want you, but those are rare instances.”

“So we’re the exception?”

“I thought we were,” Taehyung trails off now. He finally lifts his head to look at you, perhaps a little embarrassed. “I━ Well━ All of this, and especially the bite, doesn’t just happen ━ and definitely not with humans.”

“Oh.” You blush now, face warming under the boy’s introspective stare. “So you’re saying we’re…”

“I always thought there was a connection, but I didn’t think it meant this,” Taehyung murmurs to himself. “As crazy as it sounds, I think we were meant to be.”

“So the bite…”

You don’t finish your thought, instead already having pieced it together in your mind. It does sound crazy, but even you have felt it before. A strange connection to Taehyung, far more exceptional than simply having feelings for him. And the bite is what draws it all together, proving his point and your previous speculations about some sort of affection between the two of you.

“Are you starting to regret this now?” Taehyung asks sheepishly, a weak attempt at a joke to what he had asked you earlier in the night.

He braces himself, as if waiting for your outburst of annoyance or anger. To push him off of you and leave forever. But you do neither, instead reaching out to grasp at his face in both of your hands. You delicately lift his head, meeting his docile stare, entirely and utterly bewitched by him.

“No,” You say earnestly. “I couldn’t have asked for a better night.” A smile forms on his face, innocent and ardent in nature. “I’m just wondering how I’ll hide the mark.”

“I think there’s little to hide now after tonight,” Taehyung grins wolfishly. “Especially with the boys.”

He quivers with laughter at the sight of your scowling face and fingers poking at his sides. As he settles, he leans into your ear to hum, “I’ll make it up to you. Everything. Jaebum, the bite, the boys. But I think you should rest now. We’ll deal with all of that later.”

You don’t argue with that. You’ve already begun to fight the beginnings of sleep, eyelids drooping and itching with a need to just close them ━ and with Taehyung’s arms wrapped around you, his body emitting a pleasurable heat, you decide there’s no place else you’d rather be, moonstruck and in love.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

3K notes · View notes

sundayswiththeilluminati · 3 years

Note

I LOVE your meta on how essek was the perfect asset and want to ask the follow-up question in your tags: how do you think it went down? The agreement between Essek and the Assembly? And I think the fandom was convinced Essek would be disposed of after the peace talks — how do you see his future if there was no intervention by the Mighty Nein in 97?

ruvi-muffin asked:

What are your specific thoughts abt how ludinus recruited essek??👀👀 oh Person who knows a surprising amount of spy stuff 🙏🙏🙏👀👀👀

Anonymous asked:

PLEASE share your specific thoughts about how Essek was recruited, I'm so intrigued!

Anonymous asked:

Hello yes i am very interested in these very specific thoughts about how Essek got recruited? All these things about how actual intelligence works/uses their assets/how that ties to Essek and the M9 is really interesting :D

Thank you all so much for asking me the specific question I wanted someone to ask. I had to write and rewrite this post a half-dozen times because I kept going off on tangents about other Cold War spy stories so trust me there’s plenty more where this came from.

For reference, my original post on what made Essek an ideal recruitment target and why the M9 were the ideal counter to it.

First off, this is all based on real-world intelligence ops and is only as relevant to the campaign as Matt Mercer cares to make it. Having said that *slams notebook on table* BUCKLE UP, KIDDOS.

There are two ways Essek may have been recruited: he approached the Assembly or the Assembly approached him. I think the Assembly approached him. Not to be too hard on the guy, but Essek said it himself: he’s kind of a coward. I can’t see him mustering up the nerve to take that first step. Plus his espionage seems to have focused specifically on the beacons rather than dunamancy as a whole; that sounds like the Assembly to me. The beacons specifically offer the prospect of immortality and the Cerberus mages are arrogant enough to assume they can figure out dunamancy themselves if they have a beacon in hand. There’s no way the Assembly haven’t been trying to beg, borrow, or steal those beacons for centuries. Essek may not have even been their first try - just the first that worked.

Chronologically, Essek would have popped up on either the Assembly or the Augen Trust’s radar quite early as I assume they keep tabs on all powerful Dynasty mages. As they followed his career, the Assembly would have ID’d Essek as a perfect target for recruitment as a spy, and then further for ego-based recruitment. Recruitment for espionage is a slow process - even slower in a fantasy world where some races reasonably expect to live 500+ years. Many intelligence agencies will do a sort of light meet-and-greet just to start a file on various people who might years later be of interest. The Assembly would have cultivated Essek as an intelligence asset with the same degree of time and care - and using some of the same methods - that Trent used to turn the Blumenthal trio into assassins.

If they followed a modern playbook, they would have made contact with Essek anywhere from 2 to 10 years before the theft - nothing underhanded. A Cerberus mage approaches him at a negotiation or conference and strikes up a conversation. Then it’s increasing “chance” encounters to get Essek familiar with the handler, play the “we’re both mages, really we’re on the same side” angle to earn enough sympathy & trust to start talking regularly. Once the channel’s open, the handler and asset meet and/or talk routinely while the handler assesses the target’s motives, weaknesses, and the possibility that they’re a double agent.

Espionage proper then starts with small favors, acts Essek can rationalize as victimless or even helpful to the Dynasty. In this stage the handler is getting the asset comfortable with engaging in espionage. They reward the asset for what feels like minimal moral trespass. For Essek that would have been praising his research, encouraging avenues of investigation they knew the Dynasty had shut down. Having meetings with Ludinus plays right into the ego trip - the Head of the Assembly himself is taking the time to meet with him! The Assembly gets how important this work is! That keeps Essek isolated from Dynasty members who might convince him to take a step back and builds loyalty to the Assembly over the Dynasty.

Once an asset settles in, espionage becomes easier. Routines get established. Moral hurdles have been overcome. Now the asks get bigger and the rewards get sparser. The handler will suggest larger acts just to get the asset thinking about them, since the more they consider “just hypothetically” how to pull it off, the more likely it is they’ll do it. This is where the idea of stealing the beacons would get introduced (though of course it’s been the goal all along.) I’ll bet the Assembly hinted at all the study that could be done if they could just get to the beacons in person, constantly bemoaning the lack of access. By now Essek sees the Assembly as colleagues in arcane pursuits, kindred minds, unlike the boring, stuffy old mages of the Dynasty. Of course he could outwit the Dynasty’s security and get the beacons to the Assembly - he’s a prodigy, a genius, everyone says so. And it’s not like he was stealing all of them. The consecuted would be fine. Everyone would be fine.

None of this is intended to absolve Essek of personal responsibility. But it provides a context for his actions, and for why he might regret them so much even though he apparently did them willingly. Asset handlers are very, very good at drawing someone willing to commit minor transgressions into far greater crimes. Look at how Trent shaped Caleb, Astrid, and Eadwulf. He didn’t order them to execute their own parents on day one. He spent years coaxing, tempting, and coercing them into darker and darker crimes, letting them rationalize their own actions at each step, preying on the same vulnerabilities as Essek: isolation (separating the three from other students, telling them their work was secret), ambition (the promise of great arcane power, of shaping the Empire’s destiny), and ego (”we were going to keep the empire safe,” telling them they were gifted, they were chosen).

So how do IRL spies rationalize their actions? Those who spy for reasons of conscience or ideology have done the rationalizing ahead of time, but everyone else has to get there somehow. Some who spy for revenge tell themselves it’s what their superiors deserve, while others tell themselves everyone’s doing it. Some just need a lie to get started (most commonly about who they’re spying for), while others have to keep up the charade all along. Let’s look at a few cases similar to Essek’s that demonstrate just how slippery the slope can be.

Aldrich Ames, a long-term CIA officer slash double agent for the KGB, got suckered in by thinking he could control the situation and wasn’t really hurting anyone. Ames had chronic financial trouble related to excessive drinking & his wife’s lavish lifestyle and in 1985 came up with a plan: he would essentially con the KGB by selling them a minor amount of classified info that he deemed “virtually worthless.” In April he set up the exchange and the KGB paid him $50,000, enough to satisfy his immediate debts. But after actually doing it Ames said he felt he’d now crossed a line he couldn’t step back from, and continued to sell information to the Soviets. By the time he was caught he had, by his own admission, compromised “virtually all Soviet agents of the CIA.”

While some assets just need a lie to get started, others require a delicate dance of self-delusion. Col. George Trofimoff was an Army officer who ran the center where would-be Soviet defectors were assessed & questioned. Trofimoff, a Russian émigré at a young age, was chronically in debt. In 1969 he renewed his acquaintance with his stepbrother back in Russia, now a bishop in the Russian Orthodox Church, and began to pass secrets in return for money - but he and his stepbrother never framed the transactions as such. Trofimoff described their meetings as, “very informal. ... First, it was just a conversation between the two of us. He would ask my opinion on this and that--then, he would maybe ask me, 'Well, what does your unit think about it?' Or, 'What does the American government think about it?’” His compensation was similarly informal: “I said I needed money. ... And he says, 'I tell you what, I'll loan it to you.' So he gave me, I think, 5,000 marks and then, it wasn't enough, because I needed more. ... Then he says, 'Well, you know, I'll tell you what. You don't owe me any money. And if you need some more, I can give you some more. Don't worry about it. You're going to have to have a few things, this and that.' And this is how it started.” Trofimoff could pretend to himself that he wasn’t really spying - just having a chat with his stepbrother - and wasn’t really getting paid for it - just borrowing a little money.

This got longer than I intended it to be and there’s still plenty to talk about, so I’ll save the rest for a second post. Next time: what happens long-term to espionage assets? And what happens if an asset regrets their actions and/or attempts to cut off contact with their handlers?

(This accidentally turned into a series on Essek & IRL espionage: Parts 1, 2, 3, 4)

#Critical Role #Essek Thelyss #tradecraft #mostly Cold-War-related tradecraft TBH #hot boi got ROLLED by the Assembly though #sounds like he didn't even get paid!#I do wonder at stealing TWO beacons though #why two? what was wrong with one?#maybe Essek was just showing off at that point #it's been a long pandemic

453 notes · View notes

deniigi · 3 years

Text

Lando The Nosy Neighbor AU

Title: good fences make good neighbors

Summary: Modern AU based off the premise presented to me as ‘Han and Leia move into the same neighborhood and start a feud, only to eventually overthrow the local Homeowner’s Association.’

Relationships: Pot-farmer!Han/Lawyer!Leia; Farmboy!Luke/Survivalist!Din; Lando & Breha Organa & Chewbacca

This is based off a rural community in Washington which has local cults.

Lando POV

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

A hippy has moved in next to the Organas.

It’s a good one, too. This one hasn’t even rented a moving truck, they’ve just come on over with all their furniture tetris-ed in on top of itself and wrapped tight with rope, blankets, and prayer.

Lando’s petunias screech for watering as the hippy throws open the truck’s door and comes staggering out, cracking his lanky back. Out of the other side comes an even hairier, even lankier person. He closes the truck door and looks right at Lando.

He stares.

It is a challenge. But of course, not one that Lando is not prepared to handle.

He points at his watering can.

Hippy Two seems to scoff.

Lando waits until he’s distracted by the first hippie struggling with the blue house’s doorknob to dump the remaining water into the pebbles under his ornamental bridge.

He returns inside and goes about his busy business, tying back the curtains.

It is always good to have someone new in the neighborhood.

It takes the hippy couple a few weeks to get settled into their new home, and in that time neither has ingratiated themselves to Lando.

The stupid one with the floppy hair caught onto Lando’s tricks at the weekly poker match held in the local bar. Lando may have lost his irrigation system, but he has not lost his dignity. It was old anyways. He’s been planning to replace it for nearly a year now. There is never a better time than the present to start making your dreams into reality.

And anyways, the floppy haired out-of-towner will get what is coming to him. Lando has already sown the seed of his demise.

Leia Organa returned home to look after her poor, sick, stubborn mother just two months ago. Breha is fine, of course, not even cancer could snuff out her fires, although she is bored of her husband and daughter trying to trap her indoors. Her immunocompromised escapades have been delightful to watch.

The Organas are always a lively group. There is never a dull moment or lack of machinations among them—especially the lady of the household. She, like Lando, appreciates a good tussle. Which is why he has pointed out to Leia that her new neighbors’ greenhouse is mighty interesting, is it not?

Lawyer Leia’s ears pricked up like a horse’s, and Breha’s sharp eyes took on new sheen.

Lando watches Leia in the mornings now, struggling to find upper-body strength and purchase on the wood of her backyard fence, among the roses and bougainvillea. She’s so tiny, Leia. Breha is not an overly large person either, and thus is no help in this endeavor to collect data on the greenhouse of questionable origins and purposes on the other side of the fence. Leia doesn’t need her, though. She needs no one. She’s seen what she needs to.

Lando pours tea from a glass pot given to him by someone in his company who wishes for their secrets to remain so and beautiful, clear amber liquid fills his cup.

He looks up to see Leia holding her phone out as far as she can without relinquishing her grip on the fence. She fumbles, trying one-handedly to document the crime before her, but alas. Even the mighty sometimes trip on the red carpet.

The phone slips. She grabs after it in slow-motion, horror filling every pore of her face.

It is gone now, that phone.

The Public Nuisances will know what she has been up to.

Lando sighs and leans back in his seat.

It is no time at all before the dropped phone is returned graciously over the white, waist-height fence that separates the Public Nuisance’s yard from the Organas’. Leia snatches her phone back and wipes it off with her hand and sleeve. The shorter public enemy, Han, he calls himself, smiles at her cheekily. He retracts his hand and gestures to the taller fence, barely visible for the fruit trees and vines, between their backyards and says something that makes Leia go very, very still.

It is, undoubtedly, a challenge. Not unlike the one that that the more polite public nuisance, Chewie, opened his and Lando’s relationship with.

Chewie has explained without mincing his words, that he and Han have come here because their last venture was lost in a snowstorm. Chewie will be damned if his precious seedlings are so callously frosted over again. The Pacific Northwest has no chance of freezing over, he says. It provides a better setting to grow stock.

Weed, he means. Marijuana. Chewie is again, not shy. He and Han make good money supplying dispensaries with their organic, hand dried leaves. It is apparently ‘artisan’ like in quality.

Lando isn’t sure he’d go that far, but yes, it is nice stuff. And yes, Leia, bastion of justice, does need to see the men’s permits.

Lando opens the window for a breeze and catches Han telling Leia that he’ll produce them if she arm wrestles him for the right to witness their authenticity. Leia agrees. Han fetches a small worktable from the house’s garage and sets it between them.

The match is over within seconds. Leia has never been so insulted in her life. She demands a rematch and, out of sheer indulgence, Han gives it to her.

He is nearly a foot taller than her. He could lift her up and over her own fence with ease if he so desired. He wins the next round. And the next one. He loses the last one by reason of having his leg deadened under the table but stands abruptly to renegade on his earlier promise.

“You watch yourself, princess,” he calls over his shoulder with his hand on his front door’s knob.

“Oh, I’ll be watching,” Leia snarls back.

Han slams the door. Chewie looks from him to Leia standing fuming in the shade of her family’s pine trees.

“Unbelievable,” she snaps at him before stomping off herself. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

Lando flicks his eyes up to see Breha’s dining room window wide open. She too, has a cup of tea. She lifts it his way and he lifts his back.

Finally, some quality entertainment once more.

Han and Leia’s hatred has become neighborhood gossip. They have begun going to extraordinary lengths to gain the others’ attention. For example, Han, in weeding his sparce flowerbeds, was careful to shove the fruits of his labor between the fence slats into Bail’s well-tended herb garden. Bail, ever the gentleman, does not mind, but of course Leia feels that her family honor has been spat upon. She collects the weeds and returns them to her owner, via mailbox. It is kind of her to put the flag down, so Han knows that he’s received a message.

The retaliation is a mural in rainbow colors commissioned by Han and painted by one of the budding young teenagers from a school about a thirty minute drive downtown. It is...psychedelic. And facing Leia’s bedroom window.

Han asked the youth who painted it to add in a figure in the center of the composition; it is a brown-haired woman dressed all in white, surrounded by thorny vines, and attempting to climb a fence. The young artist must have felt like Michelangelo in the application of those delicate strokes of artistry. They knew they were creating something holy.

Han helps that along by bracketing the figure with solar lanterns that light up at night and keep the image fully illuminated.

When Lando arrives to Breha’s side to go on a walk, arm in arm, with her and her beast of a terrier, she giggles like a schoolgirl behind her hand.

“Han is very handsome,” she tells Lando.

“He’s alright,” Lando says.

“I think he and Leia are a perfect match. Will for will. No one’s ever dared to cross her like this.”

Now that is a fact.

“I wonder if this is the start of something more,” Breha says.

“What does your husband think?” Lando asks.

Breha waves him off dismissively.

“Oh, you know. He’s convinced that Leia will kill Han in his sleep, and we will be forced to post bail, but I told him—as I’ve told you, Lando—Leia’s too smart to get caught committing axe murder. Now poisoning, that’s a different story.”

Lando wakes up and makes coffee. He turns on his computer and opens his curtains to let the light pour in and warm his hardwood floors. He stands at the window, hiding a smirk behind his mug.

Leia has had enough. She has called the Home Owner’s Association and they are standing at Han’s front doorstep.

It is about three weeks before Han and Leia have overthrown the Home Owner’s Association for interfering in their escalating romance—ahem—bloodfeud. By then, Lando’s work-from-home situation is suffering. It is impossible to focus with those two cluttering up his view with distractions left and right. He determines that, for the sake of his finances, he must direct his attention to something a little further afield.

The Lars’s vegetable stand is becoming something of an institution.

It’s about a mile or so out of Lando’s way, tucked smack in the middle of the battlefield that is the stretch of land between the survivalist cult that lives in the forest and the pseudo-Buddhists that live in their compound. The farm itself is a few acres and the Lars’s son can be seen walking around, herding livestock out of the road and into pastures.

Lando has heard whispers that this son is none other than Leia’s twin brother, but no one has the nerve to directly ask the Organas about the truth of such a scandalous idea. The most that can be said about Luke Lars-Skywalker is that he is a master of social media.

He has created a Youtube channel and an Instagram to document the practices of his family’s farm and the products they produce. He is in a twitter-war with many communities online for his videos on small-scale bee-keeping, and his family’s stand is proudly boycotted by the vegan association in the city on farmer’s market days.

It has become well-known among the farm-to-table restaurants in the city, though, and that is why Luke keeps on keeping on with his cows and his fowls and his silly camera holder.

But all that means little because Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love.

Anyone with eyes can see it.

He is in love with an ancestral enemy.

See, in this area there are not one, but two cults and naturally, they abhor and reject the others’ teachings. To the south are the pseudo-buddhist, clairvoyants who have fashioned themselves more or less as monks preoccupied with meditation, self-development, and a few fairly mystical beliefs among the rather terrifying devotion to martial arts. To the north are the survivalist whack-jobs who don’t believe in electricity or running water, but who are also, somehow, preoccupied with self development and a terrifying devotion to martial arts.

Both groups have publicly denounced the other as misguided extremists.

The rumors say that Luke and Leia’s biological father is one of the clairvoyants, and this is where the heart of the current delightful irony lays.

Luke Lars-Skywalker is in love with one of those survivalists.

Lando knows this because he has seen it with his very own eyes.

He took a trip a while back to purchase some greens from the vegetable stand and he was there for a little while, picking through the selection, when he looked up and saw Luke’s posture explode out of its lax boredom. Lando looked over his shoulder to see what Luke’s tan, freckled attention had latched onto and lo and behold.

It was a man. And not only a man, a man with a baby.

Luke stuffed knuckles into his mouth to keep from cooing as the father of the child nodded at him and meandered over to have a poke through the produce piled up on the stand. The baby, dressed carefully in layers of warm, water-resistant clothing, watched Luke right back. He smiled and grunted, waving his dark, stubby arms and Luke melted—literally collapsed into a fraction of his size behind the paystation.

The father, a white rugged guy with dark curly hair and a great deal of stubble, shifted the baby to his other arm. His worn, heavy clothing and the military-style canvas sack on his back marked him as one of the Cabin-In-the-Woods people.

Lando felt like he was watching a country romance flick in real life.

Luke gathered his courage and approached the dad and baby to ask if they were looking for anything in particular. The baby immediately held hands out to him. Luke asked the father if he could hold the little one. The father said ‘no.’

Lando nearly choked on his own spit.

“Oh, sorry buddy,” Luke said to the baby. “Daddy thinks I’m gonna eat you up.”

“He just got a bath.”

Luke gooey expression hardened in an instant.

“Excuse you. You sayin’ I’m dirty?” he asked. “You sayin’ I smell like horseshit?”

The father stared at Luke wordlessly.

“Pigshit,” he corrected.

“WHAT.”

Lando no longer needed only greens. He had to pick a cheese from this bountiful pile. Oh dear, so many to choose from.

“I said, you smell like pigshit. And he just got a bath,” the survivalist father said. “How much for the tomatoes?”

“Twenty a pound,” Luke said viciously.

“That’s steep.”

“There’s a discount for people who smell like pigshit.”

“You get a lot of those?”

“No, but I know how to wallow in the time between buyers.”

“Are you angry or something?”

“Take your damn tomatoes.”

“I didn’t pay yet—”

“Just take ‘em. Go. Go.”

“Twenty—?”

“Hey, Mr. Calrissian, that’ll be ten-fifty,” Luke said over the protests.

That was then. This is now. And Luke Lars-Skywalker has not let up on his tirade against this survivalist. Nor, it is important to note however, has the survivalist stopped coming to the vegetable stand when Luke is working it.

What is even more is that Lando can see with his own two eyes that the survivalist is not holding his baby at the vegetable stand now, as Lando closes his car door a little ways from the stand. Luke smiles at Lando as he draws near; he is bouncing at the knees. He waves the baby’s hand in greeting and the child gurgles and twists back to grab at his face.

Lando smiles and does not say anything.

He finds Chewie inspecting a sprinkler at the edge of his and Han’s yard on the way back and crosses the street to inspect it with him. It sputters. Chewie suspects outloud that their squirrels are getting stronger and more destructive by the day.

Lando asks him if he’s been the Lars’s vegetable stand since moving into town.

He has.

Lando asks if he’s ever seen Luke there, holding a baby.

He has.

Lando is smug.

“Mr. Rugged Mountain Man is falling for the farm boy,” he tells Chewie.

Chewie lifts a thick eyebrow.

“One day soon, that baby is going to go from living off the grid to living in a barn,” Lando tells him. “Mark my words.”

Chewie tells him that that is impossible without a kidnapping charge because the Rugged Mountain Man is the straightest man that he’s ever seen. Lando tells him not to judge a book by its cover.

Weirder things have happened. Han and Leia, for example.

Chewie tells him that he knows that Lando is somehow responsible for those two’s newly inescapable sexual tension and he will never forgive him for it.

Lando cannot believe his ears. Him? An instigator? Of course not, Chewie. He is but a humble spider, waiting around in his house for a fly to shake things up. He is an observer, nothing more, nothing less.

Chewie just points a finger at him.

Lando points a finger-gun back. He fires it with a click of his tongue.

#star wars #han/leia #dinluke #lando calrissian #fic #ficlet #don't mind me I'm just thinking about petty neighborhood politics

187 notes · View notes