#// wanted to reply to this days ago but was waging a war against distraction

[dukemeropide]

[JADE TALISMAN] ruby eyes light up once he spots a familiar face by the kiosk. kaveh waves wriothesley over, relieved to see the duke's decided to take him up on his offer. (a debt has to be paid off, after all — hadn't he once forced the man away from his well-earned coffee?)

"have you been enjoying your time off?" kaveh asks, only to briefly turn away. he then draws forth a small parcel and letter, offering both to his guest. "this is long overdue, but thankfully the timing's worked out for us. the rite really is something, isn't it?"

Wriothesley, I'll admit that our last run-in left quite the impression on me — in more ways than one, as I'm sure you can imagine. Have you worked with jade before? Its hard exterior presents even the most experienced craftsmen with a laborious challenge. To carve and shape the stone into a new product is a tedious process in every meaning of the word. That's what makes the end result such an impressive feat. Every profession comes with its own hardships, yours being no different. I won't pretend to know them, but from our time together, I feel confident drawing this comparison. Working with unyielding exteriors is a taxing process in of itself. I would guess that, much like jade, it takes skill, patience, and an unwavering will to help shape a broken person into a polished gem. You grant people the opportunity to change and evolve. I'd argue there's no gift as precious. After all, what is the point of living if we can't mold our existence into something meaningful? Just as you instill hope in others, I sincerely hope the new year affords you the same. Regardless of the path you choose, may your choices bring you great peace and prosperity.

Signed with a flourish,

— Kaveh

RECEIVED: Jade Talisman, Modified Storage Box A round disk roughly the size of one's palm. Two dancing dragons have been etched onto its surface - a testament to the aptitude of Liyue's craftsmen. It has been placed into a metallic box with emulative designs. Inspired by their first run-in (and perhaps the recipient's interest in Mehrak?) the gifter has taken it upon himself to equip it with abilities emulating his beloved toolbox's. Largely simplified, of course, but should the recipient be curious enough to investigate...

Encountering faces both new and old is the heart of Liyue’s Lantern Rite, so glimpsing the Sumeran architect among the crowd of festival-goers - an eye-catching gem in his own right, yet carefully fitted in the middle of the mirth and merriment like he had belonged there all along - comes with not as much surprise as it does joy. Although their last meeting had been mostly one-sided, it had not sullied the impression the man had left on Wriothesley, so he joins Kaveh at the nearby table with an amicable smile.

"Truthfully, I didn't expect to run into so many familiar faces here, but I suppose that's a testament to the Rite's fame,” he says as he pulls the chair out on the other side of the small, round table. It’s the last one with any open space, Wriothesley notices, and glances back half-apologetically.

”You weren’t saving this spot for anyone, were you?” He can’t entirely believe that Kaveh would be here by himself, or that he had not been waiting for someone else to join him, but he decides to take the invitation, and Kaveh’s assurance, at face value, and settles into the chair with arms folded across his chest. With an entire sea between them ordinarily, the opportunity to catch up is a rare and precious one, and Wriothesley has a number of questions ready to pick back up where they had left off. Kaveh, however, beats him to it. The little box he presents, resembling a Sumeran meka, renders him speechless for half a beat - the only sign that the Duke, rarely caught off guard, has finally lost his footing.

“I don’t remember wagering a bet with you,” he recovers lightheartedly, uncrossing his arms and leaning forward to accept the gift, first turning it over to examine the details of the box, then opening it to the beautifully crafted charm housed within. Such a token of sincerity is almost foreign to him, and for all of his experience with the theatrical art of gift-giving and receiving in Fontaine, Wriothesley finds himself at a loss, expression soft, a thoughtful smile illuminated by the green glow from the box’s projection, as he holds the gift in reverent silence.

“Is this your design?” he asks after a moment, glancing back across the table at Kaveh. “That reminds me: I’d actually hoped to meet you again to talk about a commission…”

- - -

Only once alone does Wriothesley open the accompanying letter to read its heartfelt contents. The words describe a man he would liken to the jade artisans to which the letter draws its comparison more than to his own reflection, and he finds it difficult to believe that he had left such an impression on the architect during their brief acquaintance. It’s a precious reminder, however, of the way water shapes the seabed, and the seabed shapes the shore, and hidden between the lines, Wriothesley thinks he can catch glimpses of the author himself.

When he returns to his office in the Fortress of Meropide, he adds the letter to a small collection stored away in an unassuming drawer in his office, on top of the letter conferring his title and a commendation penned by the Iudex. On the edge of his desk, near his phonograph, he sets the metal box in a place where he can always see it.

[sithsecrets]

rumors | din djarin x reader

A bit of gossip gets under your skin, but Din shows you that it's all a bunch of lies.

---

4k words

mentions: VERY EXPLICIT SMUT, fem!reader, a bit of harassment at the beginning, self-doubt, establishing a relationship, discussions about relationship dynamics, din tells reader his name

---

You know you’re in for trouble the minute two Guild Members sidle up next to you at the bar, shit-eating grins plastered on both of their faces.

They greet you and the baby with a kind of fake friendliness that makes your skin crawl, and not for the first time do you wonder what’s taking Mando and Greef so fucking long. The two men usually do business in under ten minutes, five if Mando can manage it, but of course today is the one day they decide to shoot the shit and pal around like old friends.

“So you’re Mando’s crew member, huh?” asks one of the bounty hunters, light eyes glinting mischievously as he leans in. “What’s he paying you these days anyway? Because I’d be happy to double his rate if it meant getting to have something as pretty as you around me all the time.”

“Ten percent,” you answer, choosing to ignore that last little comment, “and I’m perfectly okay with that.”

“That’s not bad,” Blue Eyes’ friend answers, brushing back a lock of his greasy hair with a smirk. “But what does that fee cover? You just a nanny for whatever the fuck that is,” he gestures to the Child in your lap, “or do you provide Mando with other services as well?”

On your left, Blue Eyes lets out a snicker, and Stringy Hair seems pleased with himself. You huff and roll your eyes, not at all in the mood for this shit.

“I take care of the baby and the ship, and I pilot the Crest from time to time.”

“You hear that, man? She’s a pilot and a maid!”

“Three guesses as to what she gives a good spit shine every night,” and then the two of them are absolutely cracking up, snickering behind their glasses as they toss back a round. They’re just mocking you now, so desperately trying to get a reaction, and you’re horrified by how it’s almost working. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction, but if they so much as—

“Everything alright over here?”

Mando’s voice is like a bucket of cold water down your back, startling you so badly that you almost fall off your barstool. The baby lets out a shriek of surprise, and you rush to make sure he’s secure in your arms before you turn around.

“Just fine,” you lie, rushing to get up. “We were just talking about your latest bounty.”

Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes don’t move to correct you, much more subdued now that Mando’s arrived on the scene. They greet him with respect, but he hardly gives the two dickheads a passing glance.

“We need to get back,” Mando tells you, and you’ve never been so glad to hear those words.

You nod, and then the three of you are trekking back to the Crest in silence. Mando goes up the cockpit immediately once you arrive, off to punch in the coordinates for his next quarry. Apparently Greef’s given him some kind of special assignment, so they journey to the next planet will be a long one.

The Crest lurches into hyperspace within minutes of takeoff, and you try to settle in for the evening, putting the baby down for the night, getting ready for bed yourself. The Child sleeps like a rock, but you aren’t so fortunate, tossing and turning in your little bed. It’s the conversation with those two assholes from earlier that’s got you so restless, their words playing over and over again in your head on loop. You don’t know why what they said bothers you, but it does. It bothers you a lot, in fact, mostly because they weren’t entirely wrong.

Everything you told Blue Eyes and Stringy Hair is true— Mando cuts you in ten percent on his bounties, and in exchange, you take care of the baby, maintain the ship (its living spaces and its mechanics, thank you very much), and you pilot the Crest from time to time when asked. But… But you’ve also fucked Mando before. Twice. Three times if you count the blowjob you gave him last week, but you’re not entirely sure that fits under the definition of “fucking.” Regardless of the details, you’ve had sexual contact with the Mandalorian— this is a fact. Mando’s never directly offered you money in return for sex, but it’s not like he didn’t just pay you your cut of his bounty less than an hour ago. And if those two pigs from the cantina could peg you at fifty yards, Maker knows what everybody else is thinking. Greef, Cara, even Peli on Tatooine— all of them must think you’re just Mando’s whore, right along with the rest of the Guild.

The idea of this weighs heavy on your mind, two parts of you waging an internal war. Your rational side says that you shouldn’t care what other people think of you— you’re a grown woman approaching thirty, and what you do with your body and your time is no one’s business but your own. The side of you that yearns to be accepted, however, worries that everyone’s secretly laughing at your behind your back, that they all think very little of you because of what you’ve done. And how could you blame them? You’ve let your employer fuck you twice, and all without him showing you an ounce of affection otherwise. Just thinking about it makes you feel remorseful, anxiety twisting in your stomach as you toss and turn in bed. And to make things worse, a third voice emerges in your mind, one that’s small and timid and raw. This little part of you wonders what Mando thinks of all this— it wonders what Mando thinks of you. You feel sick the minute it occurs to you, the notion that Mando could think nothing of you as well. Everyone else can say whatever they want, you suppose, if Mando still respects you at the end of the day. If he still cares for you at the end of the day…

After a whole hour, you decide that you won’t be sleeping until you get all of this sorted out. You’re almost shaking with anxiety as you approach the ladder, but you climb up to the cockpit anyway, calling out Mando’s name with a wavering voice. He says you can come in, and so you do, padding into the little space on socked feet.

“Everything okay?” Mando asks, vaguely distracted as he looks through holoimages on the display before him. You catch snatches of the same alien being in each one— Mando’s next quarry, no doubt.

“Yeah,” you say softly. “The baby’s asleep. He went down well tonight.”

Mando hums. “Good.”

“I, um. I’m having trouble sleeping, though, and I was hoping we could talk.”

Mando doesn’t look away from the holoimages as he speaks to you. “What about?”

You balk for a moment, gathering courage. “Us.”

Finally, it would seem you have Mando’s full attention. He shuts off the display and turns his chair until it faces you, the blue light of hyperspace reflecting off his armor and helmet. You grow shy under Mando’s gaze as you so often do, but you force yourself to be brave anyway. You can’t go on like this— you have to know.

“Us?” Mando echoes, titling his helmet just the slightest bit forward. You nod, and he straightens up again, regarding you. “What about us?”

“The sex,” you say slowly, “or, more specifically, why we had sex in the first place.”

“We had sex because we wanted to,” Mando says at once, and you just want to scream. He won’t make this easy on you, will he?

“Right, of course, but… but what made you want to come at me like that? Do you just like my body and how I look, or is it because you pay me—?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mando cuts, losing all semblance of cool indifference in one fell swoop, “you don’t— Please don’t tell me that you think having sex with me is part of your job.”

“I don’t, I don’t!” you declare, rushing to prevent a miscommunication before it happens. “I just— I just wasn’t sure why you wanted me of all people, and I met some people today that thought you hired me just so you could fuck me or whatever. They—”

“Was it those two fuckheads from the cantina?” Mando asks, tone absolutely murderous, and all you can do is nod. “What exactly did they say?”

“They asked me about my pay and about what’s ‘included in my fee,’” you reply, face burning at the thought of what Stringy Hair and Blue Eyes said at the bar. “They said you were probably paying me for sex the way you pay me to take care of the ship and the baby. It just… It made me self-conscious because we have had sex, and I wasn’t sure what that meant. I know they’re just assholes, but now I’m afraid everybody thinks that of me, especially Cara and Greef and your other friends.”

Mando lets out a long, heavy sigh. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you over with an outstretched hand. You hesitate to move, shocked by the gesture, and the Mandalorian repeats himself. “Come here, cyar’ika, please.”

The beskar is cold against the back of your thighs, but you settle in Mando’s lap anyway, sure you must be dreaming at this point. He fingers the hem of your long, baggy sleepshirt, one arm holding you securely.

“None of my friends think you’re fucking me for money,” Mando begins, “I promise. Those guys from the Guild you met today, they’re assholes just like you said. They might treat their women that way, but that’s not me. It never will be. Understand?”

You nod shyly, relishing in the way Mando begins drawing little circles at the base of your spine.

“Good. Now to answer your question… I had sex with you because I wanted to, yes, but it wasn’t just to get off. The baby likes you, and you do a good job taking care of the ship. People like you wherever we go… Ilike being around you.”

You’re smart enough to know that that’s a big statement coming from a man like Mando, and you reward him for this display of vulnerability with a soft smile.

“I like being around you too, Mando.”

The helmet tilts just the slightest bit, and you wonder what his expression looks like under the beskar.

“I like being around you,” Mando repeats, speaking slowly, “and… and I’m sorry. For starting like that, I mean.”

Your brows draw together. “What are you talking about?”

Mando readjusts his grip on your, and the way his hand settles over the curve of your thigh is enough to make you shiver. “I should have taken my time with you. Fucking you against the wall, bending you over those crates in the back— that’s fine sometimes, but you deserve more.”

“If that’s how you like it, I don’t—”

He cuts you off then, a gloved thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I don’t care about me right now,” Mando says evenly, the tone of his voice picking at something deep in your stomach. “What do you want?”

It dawns on you then that this is foreplay— Mando’s decided he wants to fuck you again— and that makes your face hotter than fire itself. You know he’s waiting for an answer, so you decide to speak freely, the consequences of your words be damned.

“I want you to fuck me in bed,” you say slowly, whispering more than you’re talking. “With your gloves off. That’s not against the rules, right? You took them off the other day in front of me and Cara—”

“It’s not, mesh’la,” Mando affirms, the strange word dripping off his tongue like honey. You wonder what it means, though you don’t have the nerve to ask. “Go down to the hull and make us a space on the floor. I’ll be there in a minute.”

---

The darkness is disorienting, the blackness so black that you couldn’t see your own hand if it was two inches in front of your face. That’s by design, though, because none of this would be okay if you couldsee.

You had exactly two conditions earlier in the cockpit: in bed, no gloves. But it would seem that Mando had so much more in mind when he told you to come down here, and it’s anything beyond what you could have ever dreamed of. You’ve imagined this situation before, thought about what it might be like to know Mando this way, but to have it happen…

The beskar clangs softly as Mando lays it down, the sound letting you know that he’s somewhere off to your right. You’re sure he’s having no trouble seeing in the dark, given how many settings there on in his visor, but you can’t see a fucking thing. Not him, not his discarded armor, not even your own hand in front of you face. Under any other circumstance, you’d be afraid of the dark, but not now. No, now you simply tremble with anxiety, naked skin prickling with chills as you wait for Mando to undress himself. He stripped you first, of course, when the lights were still on, took his time and peeled your clothes off of you almost with reverence. You wish you could do the same to him, but something about that would be wrong you think— it would be crossing a line.

“Are you sure this is allowed?” you ask, almost whispering. The baby’s upstairs in the cockpit, dead to the world and tucked safely in his pram, and yet you still feel like you’re being too loud. Hyperspace is always so quiet, and the silence sets your teeth on edge even after all this time.

“Can you see me?” Mando asks, voice still filtered and staticky.

“I can’t even see myself,” you counter.

“Then it’s allowed.”

No more words pass between either of you for a moment, the space filled with the sound of clothes rustling. You hear a belt buckle and a zipper, can trace out the sounds of pants being kicked to the floor… Three short, bare footsteps, and then you aren’t alone on your little pallet anymore, Mando presence warm and undeniable close on the other side of the cushions.

“Cyar’ika.”

You aren’t sure if it’s the circumstances, or the fact that Mando speaks to you with a raw, unfiltered voice, but this one word picks at something inside you, gets you hot and needy where it counts. How many people has he laid down with like this? How many of them have heard Mando’s voice, his real voice, if any at all? You don’t know the answer to either of those questions, but you also don’t care, not right now.

“Can I touch you?” you ask softly, mustering all your strength and bravery. Mando doesn’t response, doesn’t so much as let out a breath, and so you jump when you feel his hand on your own. He guides you across the blankets, pulling you in closer, laying your palm on the warm, solid expanse of his forearm. Your fingers curl around it, squeezing the muscle, admiring the way Mando simply feels under your hands. He’s had so much of you— practically your whole body— and yet all you’ve been blessed with until tonight is the warmth of his hands, the feeling of his cock in you and on you. To feel his bare skin like this is strange, the fact that Mando is really and truly human coming into sharp focus as your fingers run along a scar, the hair on his arms…

“You’re handsome,” you declare, awed by feeling of Mando under your palms. He shudders when you lay your hand on the side of his face, the movement almost flinch-like in nature, but you’re quick to soothe his nerves with a gentle stroke of your thumb. You can’t imagine what this is like for Mando, can’t fathom what it must feel like to be touched when you hide yourself from everyone all the time. It’s in this moment that you realize he knows nothing of the sun or the wind, and your heart breaks for him.

“You wouldn’t say that if the lights were on.”

Mando sounds vaguely nervous now himself, voice more subdued than it was before. You have so much you want to say, want to shout out that you love everything about him and his body and your life together, but you that would be too much. No, doing something like that could ruin all of this in one fell swoop, and so you swallow those words down, replacing them with something else instead.

“If I ever get to see you one day,” you tell him, “I know for a fact that I’ll say the same thing. I promise.”

There’s a strange weight in that, a certain trust and understanding that you can’t put your finger on, but the pressure isn’t uncomfortable as it settles in the atmosphere, pressing you and Mando even closer. He pulls you under him without a word, holding you, twining your arms and legs and hands together until you aren’t sure where yours end and his begin. His kisses are tentative and unpracticed, but you feel the passion regardless, sighing as the press of Mando’s mouth tells you all the things he can’t say out loud. You don’t know how you ever got things twisted, aren’t sure how you could have possibly thought that Mando didn’t care for you because these aren’t the kisses and caresses of a man who sees you as little more than something to fuck. No, this is something else entirely, something better than you ever could have hoped for, and the rush of endorphins as your head swimming.

Your entire body arches when Mando begins to crawl down your body, his lips trailing over your neck and chest, your stomach and even the curve of your hip. “Mesh’la,” he says to you, murmuring into the spaces between your fingers. Mando’s paying particular attention to your hands now, kissing them delicately. “Listen to me, please.”

“Yes?” you say, half moaning as he drops your hand in favor of propping your legs open. The anticipation has you dizzy, brain fogged over completely as you wait, as you feel him line up your bodies—

Mando doesn’t say anything, not for several seconds, too distracted by the feel of you to speak. You’re fine with that, already too far gone to care after what, two, three thrusts? You couldn’t keep count if you wanted to, the haze in your brain too thick for any tedious mental activity to penetrate. Still, you try to listen like he asked, try to understand the words coming out of his mouth.

Mando’s voice is strained and low, but you catch everything regardless. “My name is Din,” he says to you, groaning shortly when you wind your fingers in his hair. “You can’t— You can’t say that in front of anyone, only to me and the baby. But that’s my name. I want you to call me by my name.”

“Anything you want, Din,” you say at once, and Maker does that have him swearing. Din does something with your body— opens your legs or lifts up your hips, something— and you see stars, whining brokenly. Not for the first time do you wish you could see his face or the plane of his back as he fucks you, but you have to admit that you’re glad that Din’s blind in all of this as well. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, how ruined and desperate your face must be. The pace is relentless now, and you find yourself struggling to keep up, keening and moaning and taking it until Din’s talking to you again.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, and you don’t understand.

“What?” you ask, breathless yourself. He hasn’t let up once since the two of you began, and even though you haven’t cum once, you already feel like you’re on another plane of existence.

“I’m sorry I never—” Din groans, adjusting his grip on your body. “I’m sorry I’m so bad at all of this shit. Talking and letting go and all the other stuff normal people do. I shouldn’t— You deserve more than that. I’m so sorry, cyar’ika.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” you tell him, holding fast to his shoulders, his arms, anything you can get your hands on. You don’t know how to tell him that all this is more than enough to make up for everything, that there’s hardly anything to make up for as it is.

“Yes, there is,” Din presses, and you know he wants to say more, but you cut him off before he can continue.

“Make me cum and kiss me while you do it,” you say to him, “and we’ll call it even.”

And Din seems more than happy to accept the deal, his fingers on your clit not three seconds after you’re done talking. You cum almost too fast, blindsided by your orgasm despite the fact that it’s been building for what feels like years now. Din’s not far behind you, asking whether or not he can cum inside you, and you tell him no, not this time. You have a long-term implant, but you it hasn’t been looked at by a medic in well over a year. It’s probably fine, but you’d rather be safe than sorry. And anyway, it’s not like the feeling of Din’s cum painting your stomach and chest isn’t incredibly hot, so you’re by no means complaining as you lie there and listen to him jerk himself off, your name falling from his lips.

“Stay here,” Din tells you, speaking gently even as he works to catch his breath. You miss him the second he’s gone, your ears straining to track his movements in the dark. Careful footsteps, the shuffling of blankets, the click of the light in the ‘fresher— you can’t see Din, not from this angle, but the idea that he even trusts you enough to cut a light on at a time like this has your heart pounding. He’s completely exposed in there, helmet still sitting next to his armor across the hull, and you almost close your eyes on reflex as you listen to the water run. But it’s all for nothing because Din tells you to do it anyway, turning off the faucet and stepping out into the hull again after you say that you’ve done as he asked.

The washcloth Din cleans you with is warm, a fact that’s not lost on you as you lie there in the semi-darkness. He’s quiet, but the delicate, precise nature of Din’s work speaks volumes. You want to ask him if this is something he does for everyone he sleeps with, but you keep your mouth shut, thinking a question like that might ruin the mood. He goes away from you again once your stomach’s clean, cutting off the light in the ‘fresher and discarding the rag all while you keep your eyes closed. It’s not until Din’s back in bed beside you that you dare to so much as crack them open, afraid you might glimpse too much if you move any sooner.

“Thank you,” you murmur. You’re not sure if you’re thanking Din for the sex or for cleaning you up, but it’s probably a bit of both.

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he replies, pulling you in close. “Are you tired?”

You don’t speak for a moment, thinking of how hard it is to keep your eyes open now, how your thighs ache and your body yearns for rest. “Yeah.”

“Sleep, then,” Din tells you, and you almost feel pathetic for clinging to him like a child. Almost.

“Will you be here when I wake up?”

You aren’t sure why you’re asking— it’s not like Din has anywhere else to go— but his answer is important to you regardless.

“Right here, mesh’la,” he tells you, sounding tired now himself. “I promise.”

[andypantsx3]

war paint | 8 | impart

pairing: Bakugou Katsuki / Reader

length: 27,765 words / 10 chapters

summary: Desperate times force you to disguise yourself and join the kingsguard. When a suspicious string of crimes strike the palace, however, Captain Katsuki Bakugou starts paying extra close attention. (spin off of in cinders)

tags: mulan AU, secret identity, romance, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, some violence, eventual smut

As soon as you left your patrol the next afternoon, you hurried into the city to post your wages to your family, then rushed back up the steep climb to the castle. The captain hadn’t specified when you were due at his quarters, but you knew you were in for an earful if you kept him waiting. You couldn’t wait until your next half day of rest to send along your pay, however. The six months the creditor had given your father were rapidly dwindling and your parents needed all the money you could get them before the payment window closed.

On your way back, you raced up the steep incline, outpacing every merchant and townsperson set out on the same road, and arrived back at the top of the outcropping out of breath. Sero gave you a conspiratorial look from his post at the portcullis as you passed back into palace grounds, huffing and puffing.

For all your haste, however, Captain Bakugou still acted as though you’d delayed something like a small eternity.

“You’re late,” he grunted when you arrived, eyeing you as he let you into his spartan office. “Patrol let out a fuckin’ candlemark ago.”

You ducked under his arm where he held the door open. “I came as quickly as I could,” you panted, “I had, um, something to do in town.”

A scarlet eye roved over you. “Which was?”

You bit your lip, shifting uncomfortably. “Uh, post. To my family.”

Bakugou shut the door, turning to loom over you. “You kept me waiting so you could trade fucking love notes?”

You flushed, taking a small step back. “No sir! It was more urgent than that.”

Bakugou grunted and crossed the room, dropping into the chair behind his tidy desk.

The office was just as barren as the day before, papers meticulously sorted and everything in its place. The only clue to the fact that someone used this room at all was the red jacket of Bakugou’s captain’s uniform draped casually across the back of his chair. It left Bakugou in only the button up worn underneath and the sight of him was distressingly distracting - the pristine white of his shirt highlighting his sun tanned skin and drawing out the red of his eyes. The top button was undone and your eyes caught on the golden skin revealed there.

“Quit staring and sit,” Bakugou ordered you curtly, oblivious to your inner turmoil.

You sank apprehensively into the chair across from him, perching lightly on the edge. A silence fell over the room, and Bakugou studied you intently. You could feel his gaze almost like a touch where it brushed over you, and you fixed your eyes resolutely below his face, not wanting to look at him.

“You’ve been keeping secrets, princess, and it’s time to come clean,” he said finally. His voice was rough but resolute, and your heartbeat picked up behind your ribs.

What did he mean come clean? What was it that he thought he knew? Was he asking about your family, your reason for being here? The floating rumor that you’d lied about your age to gain access to the kingsguard? The fighting with Nishimura that was still ongoing?

“Look at me,” he commanded, and you slowly raised your face to his.

Again you were struck by how absurdly handsome he was, even as he was about to wring you out with the reprimanding of a lifetime. His serious expression called attention to the sharpness of his features - his straight nose, angular jawline, and thin mouth. His watchful crimson eyes were swept with thick blonde lashes, almost catlike in shape, and intent as always. The latent command of his presence roiled under your skin and the intensity of his focus stripped you bare - you felt seen in a way that unnerved you like nothing else.

“What secrets, Captain?” you asked carefully, picking idly at the fabric of your uniform pants.

Bakugou’s mouth curled. “What was so urgent with your family?”

You flushed under his attention. “My wages," you admitted, "I post them to my family every week. They’re in debt and they need to repay it by the end of this month.”

The truth of it tasted bitter in your mouth and your ears burned hot with shame. After these many months, you’d grown accustomed to hiding your troubles. Admitting to them was uncomfortable to say the least.

A blond eyebrow raised. “You are their only source of income? And your family has no sons?”

“I am an only child,” you replied. “They have no other help.”

A thoughtful expression crossed his features. “I see,” he murmured. His quiet tone was startling in comparison to his usual brash manner. “That explains it.”

“Explains what, Captain?”

“Why you are here,” he said. Something in his tone set you on edge, raising alarm bells in your mind.

“Captain, have I done something wrong?” you asked. Almost as soon as the words were out of your mouth, however, you realized they were the wrong ones. Something in Bakugou’s gaze sharpened and he leaned forward. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and a sense of foreboding settled heavily over you, like a blanket meant to choke a fire.

“How stupid do you think I am, L/N,” he said, placing a calloused hand on the desk before him, “to ask a question like that?”

Your nails bit into your thighs. No. He couldn’t know. Whatever he thought he knew, he wouldn’t be sitting here calmly, having this conversation if he knew what you were.

“I’ve trained a lot of soldiers,” Bakugou continued, his voice rough. “Hardly a one is as capable as you have proven yourself. But you and I both know that under normal circumstances, you would never be allowed here.”

A prickling fear crept over you. You opened your mouth to say something, make any excuse, but nothing came out.

“You know, they talk a lotta shit at court. About why someone like me would run the guard instead of marrying and repairing to Musutafu. Heard a lotta shit about how I wouldn’t know a woman if she pranced naked in front of me.”

His blood red gaze held yours and you found you couldn’t pull your own eyes away. “You think that’s true, princess?”

Your mind flashed back to that evening in the baths, how his eyes had picked over you, the curious tilt to his head before he grinned and came into the water. The press of his broad, wet chest against your back, his voice in your ear.

All his comments, the sword, his watchful behavior since suddenly snapped into place.

He had known. Fuck, he had known.

“No, Captain,” you choked out. A cold terror swept through you. What was he going to do now? Discharge you? Turn you in?

Bakugou tapped his calloused fingers over the wood of his desk, eyes never leaving you. “And what do you think I should do?”

You had shot to your feet before you even knew what you were doing, your mind was filling with only one thing.

“Please, Captain,” you begged, “I need the money. Please let me finish out six months, that’s all I ask.”

Bakugou was quiet a long moment, watching you carefully. His eyes tracked you closely.

“Only six months, huh?” he asked finally.

You started, surprised. “What?”

A smirk played about his mouth and he reached atop the neat pile of papers on his desk. Long fingers pushed a familiar half hand of parchment towards you, and you glanced down. The terms of your recruitment and your own deliberately messy signature stared up at you. “Says here you’re signed into a year and a day of service, princess.”

You could feel your eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Captain Bakugou, I don’t understand.”

His smirk widened and he stood, coming around the desk to you. “You think I would discharge one of my best soldiers before her term is up?”

The look he was giving you suggested that you consider your answer carefully. “....No?”

A predatory grin crept over his mouth. “No.”

You stared at him, bewildered. “Then why call me here, Captain? Why ask what you should do?”

Bakugou huffed a laugh and leaned into your space. You stumbled a step back, bumping clumsily into the chair behind you. Your hand shot out and to your horror you grabbed a fistful of his shirt to keep yourself upright, only succeeding in drawing him closer.

This close, you could clearly see how dark his eyes had become and you thought you might be able to count every one of his golden lashes. That mind numbing scent of smoke and sugar pressed in on you, and you felt like your brain was stuffed with cotton. Your fingers tightened on his collar and a large hand came up to press against your back, holding you steady.

“I meant what should I do,” he said slowly, “if I've wanted to kiss one of my soldiers for months.”

All thought fled from your brain like rats from the proverbial ship. You stared at him, speechless.

Bakugou’s face dipped closer and his hand slipped up your back, pressing you closer. “What then, princess?” he breathed.

He couldn’t be serious. You were many things, but an option to Bakugou was not one of them. Disguised as a boy you looked younger than your years, but when looked at through the lense of womanhood, you were too old to be a possibility to any man. More than that, you had quite literally disguised yourself as a boy, and had spent the last five months training and sweating and bleeding with this man. How could anyone, least of all a man who looked like Bakugou did, want you now?

A calloused thumb brushed over your back and an involuntary shiver went up your spine. Bakugou’s eyes roved over you, unblinking, and you watched as his pupils dilated slightly.

“Captain, you can’t be serious,” you said, holding completely still.

A crease appeared in his brow. “It’s Katsuki.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“My name,” he repeated, “is Katsuki. I am not your captain for the purposes of this conversation.”

You looked up at him in shock but his face remained even, his expression earnest. Did he mean it?

“Katsuki,” you repeated, testing it out. His fingers tightened on your back but he said nothing.

You took another breath and continued. “You can’t be serious,” you said again.

This seemed to irritate him, his grip tensing where he held you. “Why not?” he ground out, the corners of his mouth turning down into a frown.

“There are plenty of women in the castle,” you said. A pretty image of Mina floated to your mind. “Women who dress like women. Women who are younger, prettier.”

He growled. “I don’t care about the women in the castle, princess. I’m not asking just because you’re right in front of me.”

“What, then?” you asked, searching his face for some answer.

He fit his other hand against your waist to pull you impossibly closer. It burned at your side with a heat like a small sun, impossible to ignore. “You’ve got nerve, princess. It’s not any woman who would disguise herself and sneak into the guard. It’s not any woman who could best any of my men. It's not any woman who would start a fist fight with some asshole her very first day, and continue to be a pain in my ass ever since. I don’t want women in the castle,” he spat. “I want you.”

Heat licked up your spine. For a moment you thought he had lit off an explosion against your skin, before you realized with a flush that nothing of the sort had happened. This was your own desire.

Before you could think better of it, you leaned forward and pressed your mouth to his.

For a moment he stood frozen, and you wondered wildly if this was some kind of joke he’d chosen to play before discharging you, a momentary reprieve before he struck the killing blow.

But then his mouth moved and you didn’t have the capacity to wonder anything any more.

Katsuki Bakugou’s kiss was just as deadly as his swordplay. His mouth was hot and he tasted impossibly of smoke and sweetness. A rough hand came up to cradle the back of your head and press you closer to him as he pressed his tongue into the seam of your lips. You opened your mouth compliantly and he swept in like an invading army, letting out a low groan.

“Fuck, princess,” he breathed when you broke apart. You opened your mouth to reply but he was back on you before you could, pressing you backwards and bearing you down to the wood of his desk. He swept a careless arm out, shoving the papers from the surface. They fluttered to the floor in a whirlwind of dark ink.

“You should have seen you in the bath,” he ground out, swooping in for another kiss. “Any idiot would have known you for a woman.”

He pressed a hand to your waist and guided you back, settling into the space between your thighs. He bent to pluck another kiss from your lips, then started mouthing a hot path down the side of your neck.

Your hand came up to grab a fistful of blonde hair, and you felt your leg hook around the back of his thigh to draw him closer.

“Captain,” you said, but the glare of a red eye had you reeling to correct yourself. “Katsuki, I’m not sure you should want this--”

A warning bite at your shoulder cut you off. “Give me your name.”

Confusion swirled into the haze of emotions clouding your mind. “What?”

“Your first name,” Katsuki said, biting down again. You gasped and arched up into him. “I want to know your name.”

“Y/N,” you managed, before he took your mouth again. Then he kept you occupied long enough for you to quite forget what you’d been starting to complain about.

When you next broke apart, the sky outside the room’s only window had darkened and every nerve in your body felt as though it were on fire. You ached to get closer to him even though you were pressed against him everywhere, his weight all but pinning you to the worn wood of his desk. Your lips felt chapped and your mind swam with the weight of him, the feel of him, that scent of smoke and sugar that swirled around him like a mist, fogging up your mind.

“Y/N,” he said, pulling back from you. He held himself over you on the strength of his arms. “I want you to be sure you want this. If you say you don’t, I won’t discharge you. You can go back to being a regular soldier and finish out your contract.”

You pulled together just enough of your wits to process what he was saying. “I understand," you said slowly, looking up at him, "And if I did want it?”

“I’ll keep your secret,” he said, face dipping back down to yours. The scarlet of his iris was darker than you’d ever seen. “But I get to finish what I should have done in that bath.”

Heat swept through you and your toes curled, your fingers flexing where you still grasped his hair. Was he saying...?

“You can take a couple days,” he said, drawing further off of you, “Think it over.”

You shook your head, tightening your grip to stop him. “I know my answer now.”

And you did. After so many months of wondering after him, staring at him, learning about him, how could you not? Katsuki Bakugou was loud, brash, and infuriating but he also was fiercely protective, watchful, and -- in his own twisted up way -- kind. He’d found you a sword, trained you himself, thought you more capable than any man. He’d kept your secret, would keep it still.

There was only one answer.

“You want to finish what you started in the bath?” you asked carefully, tipping your head to look back at him. You let a small smile creep over your mouth. “I think I’m free tonight.”

[the-last-kenobi]

angst bingo prompt idea for "came back wrong": rex tries to rescue one of his brothers post order 66 but something goes wrong after the surgery to remove the chip

I love this. Let’s see what I’ve got in me today, shall we?

Tw for mental manipulation, non-consensual drugging, trauma, abuse, conscription/enslavement, murder, and VERY MORALLY AMBIGUOUS BEHAVIOR that I will not spoil here. Just be careful. It’s fairly sad.

What struck Rex most was how familiar his face was.

Of course, he was one of the brothers - the Clones - and all their faces were familiar.

But somehow he had expected him to look different, changed somehow, damaged, from his life under the iron grip of the control chip.

Instead he looked the same as he always had.

The twisted scar down the left side of his face, the jaw that was slightly blunter than Rex’s own, the extra stress line between his eyebrows that had somehow been there since birth.

Sleeping as he was right now, he looked more relaxed than he had ever seemed while conscious.

Rex rubbed his face in exhaustion as he finally stopped stumping about the recovery room and took the chair beside the bed, groaning a little as his knees protested at the movement.

“We’re getting old, Cody,” he said aloud, staring at the sleeping face. “We were always gonna get old before normal humans, but this... all this... I feel old before my time, that’s for damn sure.”

Cody, of course, did not reply.

Still, Rex felt better. He settled as comfortably as possible in the chair and closed his eyes, content to wait until his vod finally woke up — a free man for the first time in ten years.

][][][][][

Rex woke suddenly, inhaling sharply and jolting in his seat, feeling weirdly as if his consciousness had just been dropped unceremoniously back into his body. He’d really been sleeping.

Then he saw Cody, and his breath caught in his throat.

Cody was looking right at him, sitting up in bed — just sitting there, staring, no cold glare in his eyes, no clipped Imperial arrest declaration coming from his lips. His hair had gone more salt than pepper these days, but he was Cody, through and through.

“Hey—Cody!” Rex said, gasping. He leaned forward in his seat and grabbed Cody’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

Cody just blinked at him.

“It’s gonna be okay, vod,” Rex assured him, feeling a stupid grin spreading over his face. “I know it’s overwhelming right now. It happens to all the guys. But I promise this is real.”

The familiar scarred face tilted slightly to the side as Cody studied him intently with those mirror-image dark eyes. His hand remained limp in Rex’s.

“Some... memories will start coming back soon,” Rex continued. “But I’ll help you. It’s not your fault. Anything you can remember, I swear, it’s not your—”

“My fault,” Cody said hoarsely.

His grip suddenly turned to steel; he squeezed Rex’s hand so tightly that it hurt.

“No,” Rex said hastily. “No it’s not. Cody, it was a—”

“It’s my fault,” the former Marshal Commander of the 212th said firmly, his eyes roving around the room, taking it all in. “I need to get out of here. I need to fix this.”

Cody was not panicking as all the other dechipped brothers had, but he was still gripping Rex so hard that it was bringing tears to the other man’s eyes. “Cody...”

“I need to fix this. I failed,” Cody repeated. “Let me out.”

“I can’t do that, Cody, you’re not well...”

“Let me out. Now.”

“Cody—”

“Let me out. That’s an order.”

“No, Cody—”

“Let me out. I have to go.”

Feeling like he had no choice, Rex used his free hand to reach across and trigger a switch next to the bed. They always had to do this for newbies, although normally they were crying and screaming instead of just issuing orders.

In less than ten seconds Cody was unconscious again.

Rex peeled his hand away, wincing.

The door opened cautiously and a figure stepped inside, a cloak raised high to help conceal the magnificent montrals she was now sporting.

“I wonder how much he remembered,” Ahsoka said thoughtfully. “I feel like he would have been more distressed if he fully recalled... well, Utupau.”

“And everything after,” Rex sighed, rubbing his sore hand.”

Ahsoka nodded, still studying the man on the bed.

Rex looked at him too.

“He’ll pull through,” the former Captain of the 501st muttered. “Fine.”

][][][][][

The next day Cody woke for only minutes at a time, sleeping off sedatives and enduring scans.

Rex was away most of the day, but his friend was on his mind all the time, distracting him.

Cody’s solemn confusion hadn’t been as jarring as the screaming and anguished guilt he was used to seeing in his freed brothers, but there was still something so...

Unbearably sad about it.

Rex decided to spend the night on a cot in Cody’s room.

So he wouldn’t be alone.

He fell to sleep quickly, as he had been trained to do a thousand years ago in a world where everything had seemed simpler — even war.

Sometime in the night he woke to see Cody blinking blearily at him, saying: “...I... I failed... Do you know that Rex? I did.”

Before Rex could reply, Cody was asleep again.

][][][][][

The next morning before dawn, Rex was woken by the sound of Cody attempting to climb out of bed. He was unbalanced and clearly in some form of pain, his forehead deeply lined, but he persisted.

“Woah!” Rex stepped up and tried to take his old friend by the wrist. Cody batted his hand away without even looking at him. “Cody, hey, you can’t go yet. You’re not fully healed.”

“I have a duty,” Cody said. “I have to fix my failure.”

Rex bit the inside of his mouth, a sudden fear crossing his mind. “Cody... this can’t be... fixed. He’s... they’re all...” he swallowed hard, his throat so tight that it hurt. “He’s dead. You can’t—”

Cody’s head jerked up sharply.

Rex blinked in the fixed stare those dark eyes were giving him, a penetrating and cold look.

“Dead?” Cody questioned. “...Did someone kill General Kenobi?”

Rex’s heart plummeted.

He doesn’t remember...

“I... yeah, vod. Someone did. But...”

If Rex had thought his heart had stopped before, it was nothing, nothing to what it did when Cody shook his head and said, so very calmly, “I shot him off the cliffside, but I’m sure he survived. It was a controlled fall. The Jedi survived. I failed in my duty. I have to fix it.”

“No,” Rex croaked out. “No... that’s not...”

The door opened again, and Ahsoka stood framed there. She must have overheard, because she was looking at Cody with pity.

Cody locked his gaze on her, drawing himself up to his full height. “Jedi,” he addressed her. “Duty. Have to fulfill.”

“He’s dechipped!” Rex shouted desperately. “I don’t understand!”

“I have to go,” Cody said placidly. “Excuse me. Don’t worry vod. I’ll come home when I’m done.”

“You can’t!” Rex shouldered his way between his brother and his only remaining Jedi, terrified of the serenity of both of them; Ahsoka’s quiet sympathy, Cody’s placid desire to murder a man that was already dead, a man he had loved— “You have to snap out of it, Cody!” Rex bellowed, and shook the man by the shoulders. “Please!”

“But I’m fine, Rex,” Cody said, sounding surprised. “I just have one more thing to do. You saved me from the Empire. But Kenobi must die. It’s my job.”

“It’s not!” Rex screamed. “He’s dead, Cody! Dead! You already killed him, he’s dead, he’s been dead for over a decade! You already killed him!”

He was crying now.

For Cody.

For Obi-Wan.

For himself.

For Ahsoka.

For everyone.

Everyone.

“Excuse me,” Cody said politely, addressing Ahsoka over Rex’s shoulder. “I need to go kill Kenobi. Do you know where he is?”

“You have to fix him,” Rex begged her, struggling to keep Cody in the room. “Please. The Force. Something!”

Ahsoka glanced at him. Then she stepped forward and carefully pressed two fingertips to Cody’s forehead. She closed her eyes.

Cody closed his too, and for a moment there was silence.

Then he slumped in Rex’s arms.

“What - what happened?” Rex demanded, clutching his unconscious friend and looking around at Ahsoka in panic. “Wha—did you fix him?”

She shook her head. “No, Rex. There’s nothing to be done.”

“That’s not true,” argued Rex. “That can’t — don’t be — Ahsoka, we just have to help him!”

“Cody wasn’t ever fully under the chip’s sway,” she whispered. There was an apology in her blue eyes that he did not want, did not want to see. “Like you were - but he - he wasn’t able to resist it like you did. But he was... conscious... beneath the surface.”

No.

“Always beneath the surface.”

An Imperial trooper. Treated like garbage, like something disposable, barely worth keeping. Barely even worth using.

“He knew what was going on. He didn’t know why, but he learned over time. Overheard things.”

Forced to follow orders. Wage war on innocents. Execute innocents.

Cody felt so heavy. Like Rex was holding the weight of all his friend’s trauma instead of just his physical form.

Forced to issue despicable orders. Forced to be a cog in a machine that served the people and ideals he had so hated.

“He was constantly at war with himself. When we removed the chip from Cody’s head...” Ahsoka’s eyes were grieved. One slim hand came to rest against Rex’s shoulder. “His mind wasn’t prepared to cease battle so quickly. It... it broke him, Rex. The two sides of his mind clashed so violently out of nowhere with nothing to control which one was winning, and...”

“No,” Rex repeated. “No.”

“I’m so, so sorry Rex,” whispered Ahsoka. “We tried to bring him back, but he just... came back wrong. There’s nothing that can be done to fix him.”

Rex’s shoulders shook; he stumbled and slipped to the floor, Cody unconscious in his arms and Ahsoka kneeling beside him, her face painted with pain and concern.

Cody. Cody, and his scar, and his stress lines, and his familiar face.

“What... what do I... what...” Rex heaved for air, finding it suddenly so hard to breathe. His chest felt heavy, his throat so tight he almost thought he was being throttled by invisible hands. “What am I supposed... to do? J-just... put him out of his misery?”

Ahsoka took a deep breath.

Held it.

“...I don’t know. He’ll never be right again. He’ll never be...”

“Free,” Rex finished. “He’ll never be free.”

][][][][][

They had tried to heal him. They had tried to recondition him. They had tried erasing his memories of Order 66. They had even tried erasing his memories altogether.

But the broken mind of Commander Cody did not respond to time or treatment.

Most of the time he was calm. Sweet, reasonable, capable of cracking sly jokes.

But the slightest thing that triggered memories of Utupau would set him off.

Asking oh so politely for permission to go seek and kill a man long-dead, a man that he would once have never considered raising so much as a finger against.

He never harmed anyone in his attempts to leave.

But he harmed himself, skipping meals and sleep, banging slowly and repeatedly on closed doors, and demanding over and over and over to be let go.

And it took too much manpower to keep a constant watch on him. Manpower they didn’t have.

...So Rex, eleven years to the day after Order 66, settled his brother in a bed in the medical wing and set everything in order.

Waited for Cody to drift into a natural sleep.

And then, tears sliding silently down his weathered face, Rex pressed the button that would flood Cody’s veins with a drug that would ensure he would never wake again.

Cody slept.

][][][][][

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide [Livestream] Summary: Luke has a Space Youtube Channel and Leia watches his videos to de-stress from a terrible day. Mouse droids are named and the Empire and its terrible quality are dragged through the sarlacc pit. AN: Anyway, did somebody said TIE-Fighter story prequel? No? Too bad.

Leia was a well-composed and well-behaved serene princess right up until the doors of her rooms closed behind her. The moment she was out of sight, she kicked off her shoes with such a force that they soared half across the room and crashed against her wardrobe with a loud crack. She took the pins keeping her braids in place out of her hair and threw them onto the dresser. Then as graceless as a regular fifteen-year-old girl, Leia dropped onto her bed and screamed into her pillow.

Today had been terrible.

Leia hated all the pointless festivities that only ever served to make everyone there feel important and powerful but did absolutely nothing for the people they were supposed to govern. She couldn’t understand how her parents managed it. They were good and selfless people, always calm and serene even when the newest governor was basically spitting one insult after the other at them. Leia always wanted to shout back, it was her first instinct. Idiots who couldn’t be bothered to contribute anything productive or kind, should shut up and stop hindering others from doing their job. Leia had kept her mouth shut of course. She had smiled pleasantly as her mother had taught her and acted as expected from her.

But that didn’t mean that she hadn’t wanted to strip the gloves off her hands and show him how much of a bloodthirsty royal she really was. She shouldn’t have desired it, but it annoyed her so much when others purposefully misunderstood her. It had been a year since she picked her coronation color. When would people finally stop commenting on it?

Yes! Princess Leia Organa had chosen white! She’d forgone five-hundred-years of tradition and picked the color of the snow on Alderaan’s mountains, of ice so cold it burned, of the sheets upon which they wrote the names of their dead.

Leia wore the color of war, mourning and remembrance and she wore it well.

How could she not when the Empire was murdering innocents, subjugating whole worlds and waging an unjust war? Picking green or blue would be an insult upon the suffering she had been forced to witness. She didn’t want to be remembered as another impassive royal, bowing to the whims of the Empire. Leia hadn’t been meant to live in a tyrannizing Empire in which she had to watch her every word and step. She wanted to speak her mind and missed the Republic she never got to experience.

Her parents, while displeased she out herself in such danger, had understood it. Most Alderaanians understood it and supported her, but not that stupid new governor. Instead, he went on and on about her image and character flaws – and worse! Talked about marriage.

Leia was already dead set on staying unmarried. Her parents had been lucky. Despite their marriage being arranged, they’d loved each other. Or maybe they had been in love first and the political advantage of the marriage was just a bonus. Leia didn’t entirely know, but she knew to one hundred percent that all her potential Alderaani suitors sucked. They were arrogant and petty or worse, both of that but way older than her as well. She could marry somebody from a different planet, but the Old Houses would frown upon that and then she’d have to deal with more in-fighting and risk losing control of Alderaan’s society and give the Empire even more access to her planet. It was bad enough as it was.

Groaning, Leia rolled onto her back and got up from her bed again. She’d hate herself in the morning if she didn’t dress out of the fine robes completely. She fetched herself her sleeping clothes and washed the make-up off her face. It felt like taking off uncomfortable armor and she was more than glad to get rid of it. Leia didn’t mind dressing up. As a child, she had loved trying on her parents’ much too large clothes and she still loved picking out dresses together with her mother, but sometimes she wished it all wouldn’t take so much energy.

Redressed, Leia returned to her bed, ready to pretend to fall asleep when she knew that she wouldn’t be able to close her eyes now. Her mind was too unfocused, her thoughts all jumbled up. She laid still and waited until another moment had passed before reaching for her bed stand and pulling out her secret private comm.

Leia had three of them. One for official business, one was the officially private secret comm – the one every important person in the galaxy was supposed to have and hide – and then there was her own, which she used to stay up-to-date with activities unbefitting on an Imperial princess.

She checked the holonet, skimming through articles that made her blood boil and delightfully bright art that called for resistance. She was pleased to notice that more and more Alderaani artists were choosing lighter colors in their barely legal paintings and downright joyful when she saw an account post images of white flags. Those posts would probably be taken down once the meaning behind them spread a little more, but Leia was proud nonetheless. She had caused this, this was her contribution to the Rebellion.

In a better mood already, Leia went through her notifications. She had a few replies to articles she had written and- oh.

 [Notification: Scrap Hunting has started a livestream – 1 Min ago]

Smiling widely, Leia clicked on the link connecting her to the video. The livestream had indeed only started recently, and not even properly. Leia had missed the last one sadly because she’d been in the Core, too far away for Scrap Hunting’s terrible holonet connection to reach. Alderaan was just close enough to Tatooine for Leia to watch them.

She couldn’t quite recall how she had stumbled upon the channel. She had just been clicking through some random videos one day and there it had been. Leia wasn’t all that knowledgeable about ships – her parents had kept a keen eye on her since the Speeder accident she’d had when she was ten – and didn’t really have much access to the hangers either. Droids, on the other hand, Leia knew plenty about. They were everywhere and nobody wanted to live without them, which made them the perfect spies with the right adjustments. Leia knew how to wipe a droid’s memory so clean, it was shinier than any crystal and how to hide protocols upon protocols in their storage. Her favorite droids were C-3PO and the R2D2 unite serving on the Tantive IV. Artoo especially had a lot of personality. Leia needed to sort out her Binary so she could catch all the colorful curses the astromech liked to inflict on people.

The two boys running Scrap Hunting – well, only really Luke actually – were sympathetic. They didn’t talk about droids like they were simple tools and they were proficient in fixing them up. Therefore Leia was very pleased to see that the title of the livestream was Mouse Droids and How To Fix Them – A Quick And Easy Guide. This would be fun, the right kind of distracting noise she needed after such a long day.

X

“Alright, we’re all set up now,” Luke said. “Hello everybody! I’m Luke and welcome to another episode of Scrap Hunting!”

He waved at the recorder and then picked up a small back droid from his table. “This is what today’s livestream will be about! An MSE-series droid! A lot of you guys said you’d like more livestreams and the weather’s been pretty good recently and I fixed the signals so I hope this works out just fine.”

Luke smiled and reached for the first tool lying in front of him. “I decided that fixing up this little guy here should be fine for a shorter video. I don’t have to think so much about what I’m doing and can talk at the same time.”

He began taking off the outer casing of the droid and carefully set it aside. “I know, I know, I’m always talking, but nobody complains about it.” Luke stopped spinning his wrench for a moment to think. “Okay, alright, maybe my uncle complains about it sometimes but that’s what he gets for making me check all the vaporators on my own. Anyway, I talk a lot and so does this chat. Lots of people joining in here! Hi!”

Luke looked through the chat, returned greetings and explained how he had gotten the droid as payment for helping out in a repair shop.

“And I know the owner thought he was just giving me so boring little plaything, but do you know how versatile these MSE droids are?”

X

Leia definitely knew how useful they could be. She grinned when Luke comically shook his head when people began sending in question marks and began belittling the tiny Mouse droids. They made excellent spies, infiltrators and guides. Underestimating them just because they were cute was fatal. Leia was happy when Luke reacted as outraged as she was and began elaborating on what the droids could be used for.

X

“And like, I get sending the droids back when they trigger your instincts, I wouldn’t keep around a droid that reminds me of a womp rat or a krayt dragon.” Luke paused, the half-open mouse droid lying on his lap, and apparently considered his suggestions.

“Okay, maybe I would actually want them. Could you imagine a droid krayt dragon? So cool.”

Luke reached for the nearest datapad and took a few notes, then put it next to him on the table and returned to working on the MSE.

“But yeah, point being: Why did the Aar’aa sell them to the Empire so cheaply? Add some extra software and boom, you can sell them for twice the price. Then you’d even make a bonus. Oh, well, I suppose the Empire at least made a good deal there.”

The MSE droid laid bare now and Luke could easily access its memory. He took his datapad once more and connected it to the droid. After a few seconds, he had access to its memory and immediately frowned.

“Or it did not. What is this programming? I researched what I could find before, downloaded some protocols-“ Luke looked away from his datapad to point down, “-links in the description as always. But just- honestly. Who wrote this protocol?”

He gently knocked his head against the droid’s frame. “I’m so sorry, don’t worry, I’ll speed up your processors.”

X

The next hour, Leia spent listening to Luke ramble on about what changes he made and why. Once or twice she even threw her own suggestions in the chat and watched contently as Luke picked up on them and began to work with them. She wished she didn’t have so many duties and could spend her days doing things she actually wanted, take a more active role in the rebellion. But she supposed that as long as she could escape annoying politicians for a while, she’d be fine.

Leia glanced at her chrono. While it appeared to be midday still on Tatooine, it was already early morning for her. She should head to sleep soon.

Thankfully, the livestream was also wrapping up. Luke had reassembled the droid and screwed the last bolt down.

 “And done!” Luke said and helped up the repaired Mouse droid. “A Quick And Easy Guide to Mouse Droids. Now, the only thing left is repainting and naming it. Same rules as always, highest donator gets to choose the color and the name.”

Leia watched as a lot of people began donating. Some just threw in five credits, just to support the channel. She’d done so before as well. It was only right to help somebody else and give him a thanks after cheering her up. Leia typed the first one, then stopped.

She was tired, had been for at least thirty minutes now, but her mind was finally calm as well. She was still and upset, but not so that she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

Leia shouldn’t waste her allowance on this, but Leia had also had a terrible horrible no-good day and wanted to name that Mouse Droid.

X

“And that was it!” Luke announced. “Many thanks for all your donations. I’ll keep you posted on what my next project will be. Hopefully something a little more interesting than this little buddy here. Now let’s see… The highest donation is one- one thousand credits from @rebelroyal!?”

Luke’s voice was awfully high-pitched, shock visible all over his face. “Is this real- oh gosh. Thank you so, so much! I’m not sure- Many thanks for supporting this channel! You may name any future Mouse Droids I come across, oh Force. Right. Uhm. What is your suggestion?”

Leia eyes her discarded white dress on the floor and chose.

X

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

Paint it white and name it Emmy! Many thanks for all the lovely content you provide.

Little Emmy, it turned out, look much better in white than it did in the awful black so representative for the Empire.

X

[Notification: Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot has mentioned you in a new post]

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

I have adopted 4 more mouse droids to keep our ship clean!

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

[Foto: Five Mouse Droids standing in front of Luke, who was sitting on the ground, smiling cheerfully. The droid in the middle was Emmy. It was a little banged up and had a couple more scratches. On its right were an orange and a blue droid, freshly painted from the looks of it. On Emmy’s left were two black ones]

@ rebelroyal The orange and blue ones have been painted and named already, care to do the honors for the other two?

X

Leia smiled fondly at the picture and began to type.

History’s eyes on you @ rebelroyal

How about yellow and green? Benny and Penny so it rhymes?

Twin Suns @skyseekerpilot

Done :D

[Foto: The two previously black mouse droids have been painted as well and are furiously cleaning the floor of a ship]

[crimsonbluemoon]

Terrornuckle/ Terrormoo (did we change the shipname?) 18, 1, 26

Okay, I went way too hard on this one. I always do that with this couple, damn >.>

AU: Celebrity Trope: Friends to loversPrompt: “sometimes, i sit in bed and wonder what would happen if things were different.”

Pairing: Terrormoo

“Where are you going this time?” Brian always enjoyed the limo ride to the private plane Brock owned. It was one of the only times that he got his friend alone, really. When he was working, he couldn’t be distracted and would lock himself in his home for days at a time. Brian didn’t blame him for it; being the writer of the biggest novel series in the world meant that he needed to nurture time for his craft. When he wasn’t writing his amazing stories, he was being carted away by Marcel, his manager, to different parts of the world for interviews and book signings. One day he’d be in their city, and the next he’d be in Hong Kong. 

“It’s a small tour, so I’ll just be doing an interview with Ellen, a book meeting with my company in Los Angeles, and then a Q and A at a convention in San Francisco. I should be back before Wednesday.” Brian remembered a time when Brock hated flying. The loudness of the plane, the turbulence, the fear of falling before completing his dreams in life- Brock had told Brian them all one drunk night three years ago. Back at the time, Brock had only just picked up some steam, and had been asked to come to a small bookstore in Atlanta to meet some fans. They met as neighbors four years before, their apartments both sharing terrible heating and thin walls. That was when Brock’s greatness was still hidden. Two months later, the world would be exposed to Brock’s beautiful smile. 

That had been before.

“It’s okay if you can’t make it,” Brian answered, trying to keep his grin wide to hide his own feelings. Brock always worried his lip too much when he thought Brian was upset, which then would get him scolded by Marcel and the make up artist he’d have to deal with for Ellen. Brock once told him he hated that part about his TV appearances the most. Brian remembered the first time Brock  had pursed his lips out for Brian to coat with lipstick left over from his high school theater make-up. How his eyes had popped out after the eyeliner guarded his lids like a coat of armor. How Brock’s eyelashes looked so long with mascara. Brock hadn’t needed blush; he’d turned a pretty shade of red when Brian had told him how beautiful he was. 

But that had been before. 

“It’s your birthday. I won’t miss it.” Again hung so heavy in the air between them, Brian was sure he’d choke on it. He glanced out the limo’s window with a chuckle he hoped wouldn’t be wet with the sadness he held back. Last year had been…a rough time for them. Brock’s busy schedule pushed Brian away, and the conflicting feelings of jealousy and sadness waged war in Brian’s heart, making him curl away from Brock’s friendly affection when he did have time. Because Brian didn’t want friendly; it took a month long absence of Brock’s presence by his side for him to realize it. 

His birthday had been shared with friends and family, with pretty girls and lots of booze. Brock was in Madrid, promoting his new book. There were no ‘after birthday pancakes’ the next morning, no horribly burnt bacon (six years and Brock still couldn’t make it right) and embarrassingly (but endearing) off-key singing. There was a nameless stranger in his cold bed and shameful hickies on his neck, which would have been signs of a successful birthday years prior. 

  But that was before. 

“I’m not saving you a piece of cake if you’re late,” Brian said instead of any of the words that rattled in his heart. Brock rolled his eyes, his shoulder bumping gently into Brian’s. He didn’t pull away, and Brian stayed quiet about it. 

“I’ll buy a whole customized sheet cake from that fancy bakery you liked in California and bring it back with me.” 

“You wouldn’t, you hate showing you’re rich unless it’s for charity,” Brian answered quickly, their eyes meeting at the challenge.

“Or if it’s for you,” Brock’s soft reply twisted something fierce in Brian’s stomach, his fingers digging into his pant leg to keep from pulling Brock into a kiss. Because he knew it was the truth; Brock always spoiled Brian. He did the same for his other friends, sure, but Evan and Tyler never let Brian forget how ‘special’ he was. 

Brock moved him into a house right next to Brock’s that Brian could never afford, and always made sure his needs were taken care of. Brock took Brian on some of his longer trips to Venice or Palm Springs, which Brian loved. But it had been just seven months ago when he had first discovered Proof Bakery in California. It was his favorite place, though not for the pastries like Brock always assumed. The little shop, which was way overpriced and the lines far too long, was where Brian first realized just how in love with Brock he was. The moment would always be sketched into his mind; the whipped cream that had crept over Brock’s nose from his frothy drink, the shy smile, the soft way his voice caressed the tail end of Brian’s name, and the sunlight that illuminated just how breathtaking all of it was put together. 

He’d nearly confessed right there, if not for the fact that cameras and paparazzi were hanging on every word they said. Their picture had been splattered on several tabloid magazines, with questions of their ‘relationship’ hounding both men for weeks. Brian had been avoidant of the question, waiting for Brock to bring it up. He never did, not to Brian, though he always spoke about his ‘good friend’ on TV shows and red carpet interviews. It’d been a knife in Brian’s heart. Because once, Brian had hoped the soft glimmer in Brock’s eyes at the bakery had been love for him. 

But that was before, too.

“Evan’s gonna get jealous, then Scotty will whine, and you’ll have to do it for everyone. With all the friends you have, you’ll actually put a dent in your wallet.” Brian doused any increased heartbeat he had by reminding himself how dedicated Brock was to making all his friends happy. Hurting himself more, he patted Brock’s thigh, not letting himself enjoy the muscle under his palm before pointing out the window. “Look, got here in record time. Almost time for you to head out.” 

“Oh, right.” Brock’s voice hid something that Brian missed looking out the window, but by the time he glanced back, it was gone. He quirked an eyebrow, knowing he was grinning like a fool after Brock’s cheeks turned pink. 

“You don’t sound to excited to get on your plane, mister. What, you gonna miss this beautiful face?” He forced himself to wink and blow a kiss at Brock, expecting the normal eye roll or scolding curve to his name that always made him feel special. 

“What if I will?” So the open heartbeak that cracked Brock’s eyes made Brian pause, frozen by the look he never wanted to see. 

“Brock, what… you know you can call m-us.” Desperate to get rid of the look on his friend, Brian leaned closer, ignoring his own rules of touch to cradle Brock’s face in his palms. “Video chat, anytime. Day or night, I don’t care. If you miss me- or any of the guys, that’s okay. We’ll miss you, too. We always do.” 

“We, or you?” The distinction seemed important to Brock, but Brian’s tongue was too tied up in emotion to give a response. Sighing, Brock closed his eyes, letting his shoulders fall in defeat. “Sometimes…sometimes, I sit in bed and wonder…. what would happen if things were different?”

“Different? Different how?” Brian asked, unsure if his heart could stay contained in his chest at the soft nuzzle of Brock’s nose against his fingers. 

“If I’d told you how having you come on the ride with me in the limo to the airport always helps me feel safe before leaving. If I said how much you saved me from my fears of flying by giving me all those helpful tricks. If I’d admitted you were the first person to make me feel beautiful that night with the make-up. Or, if I’d…if I’d been the one you’d taken to bed the night of your birthday last year, not that girl.” Soft flesh trembled against Brian’s thumb when he brushed it over Brock’s mouth, feeling the words from his own heart spill through Brock’s lips. “Would this be different, if I’d told all those TV hosts or interviewers the truth.”

“What’s the truth?” He was breathless from a marathon only his heart was running, eyes desperate for Brock’s pretty gaze when it finally opened to him again. 

“That I’m head over heels in love with you. Would that make any of this different between us?” He was so vulnerable, splaying himself out in front of Brian with his heart in his hands. It was rare to see someone with Brock’s power, money, status in the world with such an open soul. But this moment, this little piece of Brock now shining bright in the back of the limo, this wasn’t for the world to see. This was Brian’s, if Brian would take it, and nobody else’s. 

“Yeah, that makes a difference alright.” Brian leaned forward slowly, making sure Brock felt every indent and inch of his lips when kissing him. The kiss was slow, longing, full of each negative and positive emotion Brian had ever felt for Brock. He took his time pouring himself over Brock, teasing the crevices and dips of the mouth he’d been sure he’d only taste in his dreams. Brock was a willing participant, once his mind seemed to kick back on. Lust and need simmered just under the overwhelming love he had for Brock, and after fully divulging the months of realized emotion into their kiss, he pulled back. Not far, as his next words were whispered softly against bruised lips. “It’s going to make you late for your flight, love.” 

Usually, Brian hated saying goodbye to Brock after their limo trips, knowing it was another chance for him to find someone to settle down with on his adventures without Brian. Brock still left this time, Brian waving from the limo they’d destroyed with their love making. This time, Brian’s heart didn’t ache watching Brock disappear into the plane taking him away. There was no pain.

Because that was before; before Brian knew Brock loved him, too.

[second-chance-stray]

RP Log: Cravendy meets Lin! I think both of them have a terrible time.

Cravendy Hound woke up two days prior, and has spent those days awkwardly exploring the company while simultaneously avoiding all of its members. Finally, she understands what has happened in her absence...a very basic understanding, at least. The details are far too many to untangle at the moment.

Cravendy Hound has left a note on Lin’s door, inviting her to meet at one of the Lavender Bed islands. She waits on the bench absolutely terrified. Outwardly, this unintentionally translates into a menacing aura. Fists clenched, eyes dark, looking pissed off as hell.

Aislinn North It was a day with no work to be done. For most people, that would be a cause to celebrate. Right now, at this point in time, for Aislinn, it's a nightmare. Nyscera's people and Bertram, all of them had conspired against her. Sweeping the paperwork from her desk, aiding her in the clinic, leaving her with no escape. Work was the distraction used to keep her thoughts from looking back. Like a colorful toy you waved in front of a child to keep their attention where you wanted it. However, there was one piece of parchment left for her on her now far-too-clean desk. A note. She turned her head to the sound of approaching footsteps, the blood promptly draining from her face as she read it over. What in the Seven Hells was this? She fought back a litany of curses. No. She wasn't doing this today. She couldn't do this today. However, underneath the note was another's handwriting. Bertram had written something. And whatever he had penned had her out here, in the rain, making her way to this damned meeting. She caught sight of the familiar silhouette as she approached and immediately felt her throat go dry. As she drew closer, she realized the look was all wrong. The anger, the glaring eyes. Nothing about this....person was Wyda. She came to stand wordlessly just under the gazebo's shelter. She simply couldn't find anything to say.

Cravendy Hound similarly feels her heart sink when Lin steps into view. There is no plan, no eloquent speech prepared. Hells, she doesn’t even have a rough idea of what she wants to talk about. But she feels like she has to say something - anything - for both of their sakes. And yet, words fail her. The silence stretches between two of them like a widening fissure, and it feels unsurmountable. Gods, what was she thinking?

Cravendy Hound gets up. Why did she do that? Now she’s standing! She moves to sit back down, but wouldn’t that be more awkward? Cravendy freezes in a half-squat for a second until finally deciding to throw caution to the wind. Hells. She’s got the nerves of a kid on stage for the first time, but at least things can only get better...right?

Cravendy Hound strides over to Lin, grabs her shoulder, sits her down on a bench, and then takes a seat across from her. Okay, pieces in place. Things should happen now. Aaaanytime now. “.....................................”

(Aislinn North) ((Awww! OKay, this has me laughing! xD)) (Cravendy Hound) xD!! )) (Cravendy Hound) cravs has 0 braincells 0 plans. the apple doesn't fall far from the tree in many ways ))

Aislinn North eyes flared widely as Cravendy grabbed hold of her shoulders, clearly taking umbrage at being maneuvered into place by a person she knows is a total stranger. Unfortunately, her still-healing injuries leave her unable to swiftly move out of the way in time and she finds herself plopped on the nearby bench instead. "Nymeia's bloody britches." she muttered, returning the Seawolf's glare with one of her own. "Starting to think I might have been better off wandering another circle around the House." In all honesty, it's the most emotion she's displayed since the events of that horrible day.

Cravendy Hound: “Aye, you an’ me both. Suppose we got that in common? Not wantin' to be ‘ere. Today being a weird an’ unpleasant day.” Cravendy tries to laugh and her voice cracks from high to low. Twelve have mercy, her expressions are not fully her own yet. Her face reddens and her scowl only deepens. “M-mud an’ shite! Been more than a year since I last spoke, I promise I ain’t like this normally...”

Aislinn North "I'll have to take your word on that." came Aislinn's rapid fire retort. She had clearly reached 'Anger' along her trip through the five stages of grief. But even she can hear the bite in her words and knows they're misdirected. She looked away, out over the water as a war waged within her chest. Logically, what happened wasn't Cravendy's fault. It also wasn't Cravendy's fault she woke up. She just did. Logically, Aislinn knew all of this. She just didn't like it. "....It'll get easier, I'm sure." she finally, grudgingly allowed. That felt alright to say. That felt safe.

Cravendy Hound winces slightly, but the bite in Lin’s voice feels deserved. It isn’t as if she’s unaware of what has happened in the past year. In dreams you can become another on the flip of a dime...She’s in possession of memories that are both hers, and not hers. She shakes her head.

Cravendy Hound: “Don’t go easy on me. I know what happened. The mess I caused.” She  crosses her arms and...my god. She was never going to get used to how after waking up, she suddenly had the toned body of a fistfighter. God, everything is so weird. “...An’ I won’t go easy on ye. Ye look like shite, an’ ye look like ye can stand to get somethin’ off yer chest.

(Cravendy Hound) sleep is the most powerful workout xD )) (Aislinn North) ((God, I wish that were true! lol!))

Aislinn North shot the Seawolf a swift, dry look out of the corner of her eye. "You're looking for someone to unload on you, aren't you?" she shrewdly assessed. "Did you? Cause this mess? I mean, did you mean to summon..." her voice caught, stumbled over the word. "the primal?"

Cravendy Hound: “Personally, could do without. But when ye do somethin’ wrong, an’ ye don’t get what ye deserve then...well, I’d be wonderin’ whether or not I was still dreamin’.” Her jaw set, tight. To Lin’s second point, she found herself at a loss for words. Part of her wanted to absolve herself of guilt and claim it wasn’t her fault. A half-truth to make everyone feel better, and one that she knew would gnaw away at her heart like all of her other white lies. No...She literally died following this creed. She had to carry on differently, no matter how uncomfortable.

Cravendy Hound: “....It was unintentional. But what I did leadin’ up to it was my fault.”

Cravendy Hound: “Accident or not, I made a right mess of things. If hatin’ me will make ye feel better, then I’ll gladly bear it.” Hair fell in front of her face as she let out a short breath.

Aislinn North "How could I hate you? I don't *know* you." Aislinn replied. "And that's an awful lot of wasted energy, in my experience." She grew quiet as she mulled over Cravendy's words. For a long stretch the only sound was the rain drumming against the roof of the gazebo. She saw what she was trying to do. Get all the information and assemble it into something that made sense. That gave her answers. And what would answers do now? They wouldn't change the outcome. "You're right though...you did make a mess of things." she said with blunt honesty. "And we're all just going to have to learn to live with it. Not all of us are going to manage...*well*"

Cravendy Hound’s brows knitted together. She was partly relieved to hear that she wasn’t going to be immediately hated by Lin. Dream-friend or no, it was definitely something she could do without. But the other half of her was frustrated at the existence of yet another problem that she caused, that she couldn’t fix at once.

Cravendy Hound: “Maybe ye don’t know me, and maybe I don’t know ye, but whether ye like it or not, I’m ‘ere for you. Because...” Cravendy pauses. Because what? She feels selfish for saying anything at all. If her goal isn’t closure, then what is it? She doesn’t know, and it infuriates her. “...Just because.”

Cravendy Hound: “....................” It dawns on her that she hasn’t introduced herself. Shit, is it too late to bring it up now? She simmers in anxiety and, as usual, it comes across as looking like she’s about to fight something.

Aislinn North sat back sharply, caught up short. Clearly, she wasn't ready for that. She looked away. Her fingers tapped out a quick rhythm against her leg, her jaw squared. How many times did it take for her to learn this particular lesson? Cracking herself open again and again only to lose people. No. *This* time she would get it. *This* she'd learn. Upon glancing back at Cravendy, her dark musings fly from her. The woman looked like she wanted to punch something. Aislinn tensed. "Alright, there?" ...she asked uncertainly.

(Cravendy Hound) xD )) (Aislinn North) ((Lin's wondering if she's gonna have to dodge and roll xD))

Cravendy Hound narrows an eye as she reads Lin’s expression. Shit, looks like she’s closing up. But then again, what other outcome could she expect? Thrust herself in her life and expect immediate and full reconciliation? Of course not. Cravendy doesn’t know Lin either, and maybe never seeing each other would be the best path to take...but it feels wrong to see her like this. It just does.

Cravendy Hound: “It’s not alright! I...I wake up after tryin’ to end things and I guess things are better? But worse at the same time? I’m still where I was a year ago an...” She cuts off her outburst. Piss n’ wind, just another way to further alienate Lin. “‘SCUSE ME.”

Cravendy Hound gets up, dunks herself under the water and yells at the top of her lungs. When she comes back, she looks spent. “Should’ve said this at the beginnin’, but I’m Cravendy. And I’m...I’m just losing me mind! Haha. That’s a...a joke.”

(Cravendy Hound) i dont know whether to laugh or cry )) (Aislinn North) ((ohhhhh...I think this is one of those times where its just both!)) (Cravendy Hound) both? both. xD )) (Aislinn North) ((xD)) (Aislinn North) ((Also did she just go and pitch herself into the water, or just her head?)) (Cravendy Hound) LOL she stepped into the water, slams herself completely underwater, and then came back )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Got it!)) (Cravendy Hound) lmao i dont know which would give off more of an insane person vibe. if she crawled on the wood and dunked just her head in the water versus what she actually did )) (Aislinn North) ((lol! Oy, that's true! Six of one, I suppose))

Aislinn North As the woman let loose on her, Aislinn realized the turn of phrase she's used since childhood may have been misconstrued. She sat in stunned silence after watching Cravendy pitch herself into the lake. She'd get up but at the moment, in her condition, that seemed like too much of a chore. "I didn't..." it was all for the best as Cravendy immediately returned and squelched back down on the bench. "It's just...something I say. Of course nothing about this is alright." she let go a breath. "Cravendy...I gathered that. From the note you left me." A part of her had to admire someone who could do exactly what they felt like doing. She, herself, had been holding in a scream for days. She looked forward to when she could pick up her pistol again and target shoot. She had always been better at letting her gun snarl and growl for her. "And like I said, it's not an easy thing. But it'll get easier."

Cravendy Hound sits in wet, miserable silence. Her hair, once a dense tangle resembling a pine tree, is now slicked down against her face and shoulders. And she’s godsdamned grateful for looking like a mess right now, as it hides the tears and redness in her eyes. She’s not some whelp to be pitied, she’s a tough pirate that shoots first and asks questions later! Used to be, anyway. Cravendy sniffs once. Must be the cold.

Cravendy Hound: “Hah, ah...No.” She takes a bundle of hair in her hand and wrings water out of it. It’s a little salty. “Yeah. No...No? No.”

Cravendy Hound: “........Aye.”

Aislinn North tipped her head as she listened to Cravendy argue. Though whether it was with Aislinn or herself, the highlander couldn't be sure. "Aye." she affirmed. "Because there's no other option." she spoke like someone who knew that was the way of it.

Aislinn North After a pause, she slowly pulled herself to her feet. "I'll be heading back to the House now. Not that anyone has left me much of anything to do...but still." she sighed. She hesitated a moment, studying Cravendy. Feeling torn in several directions all at once. "Come back up when you're ready. No sense sitting in wet clothes for very long."

Cravendy Hound sighs. Well, that went swimmingly. She shrugs her shoulders and lets Lin go, preferring to unwind in the privacy of this lonely island for now.

[marvel-lucy]

The Ultimate Weapon, chapter 12

The whole team was there, grinning in anticipation of fun. There was a hairdresser setting up a chair and equipment nearby, looking slightly nervous at the audience he had waiting for him. I was tired out and nervous, plus there was a fear inside me, irrational, but the thought of sitting down and letting someone put scissors to my head…

Tony was by my side. ‘Right, come on, let’s get rid of this awful mess. Someone as good looking as me cannot be accompanied by this kind of scruff!’ He pulled me to the chair and sat me down, and then Nat passed me a cup of coffee which I gulped down, choking when she said ‘just remember not to kill this guy if you don’t like the cut OK?’ and winking. Great, a terrified hairdresser, just what I needed!

I finished the coffee, and let the man wrap a towel around my neck and then look at me, thinking. He started to cut and I winced. Tony laughed again and said ‘you’d rather go ten rounds with the Hulk than have a nice hair cut wouldn’t you?’

The man at least was fast, and while the team chatted, I relaxed a bit and trusted that he wasn’t a Hydra agent sent to slit my throat. Twenty minutes later, he brushed the cut hair off the back of my neck and said ‘OK, we’re done. I think that’s the best shape we’ll get with... what I had to work with. I’ll get you a mirror’. I quickly said ‘no, that’s OK’, really not wanting to be seen inspecting myself in front of everyone. ‘Thank you, I’m sure it’s’ great, I appreciate you doing what you can’, I stumbled over my words, then repeated ‘thank you’ as I backed away to the kitchen, hearing Bruce snorting at me with suppressed laughter. I made myself more coffee and heard Tony show the man out before I re-emerged.

‘Niiiice”, Tony inspected me from various angles as I gradually turned redder and redder. ‘What do we think people, no longer such a figure of horror?’. Bucky looked at me, winked, and whistled and Nat came over to run her fingers through it, and say ‘I don’t think I’ll need to kill the hairdresser, this looks good’. God this was uncomfortable. I gulped my coffee, too hot, and coughed then said ‘ok, enough, what do I have to do now, let’s get this over with’. ‘That’s the spirit!’ Tony said.

At that point luckily, there was a distraction. Jarvis spoke up: ‘Mr Stark sir, Thor has just arrived in the roof garden along with a companion’. Everyone bustled about, cheered up by the thought of seeing Thor, while I felt myself backing away. I hadn’t met Thor yet although I knew of him, but although I was getting more comfortable with the team, the thought of meeting new people was still very hard.

Within a minute or two, the elevator opened and Thor appeared, very much larger than life size, along with a smaller, darker man. His voice boomed: “My friends!” as he picked up Steve, probably the only man who could, and gave him a huge hug. He worked his way around the room, greeting the others while I tried to work out if I could make it out of the door unseen but Sam spotted me edging away and spoke up.

“Thor, can I introduce our newest Avenger? This is Ruby”. Thor turned and grabbed my hand for a hearty – if slightly painful – handshake. “A great pleasure to meet a fellow warrior! Later we will share tales of our journeys here over food!” God he was… enthusiastic. I nodded and mumbled something and tried to look invisible, but luckily he turned away at that point. “And I have a new friend to introduce. My brother Loki, who has travelled here to join us. And to get away from trouble he has caused in Asgard!” At this he punched his brother jovially on the shoulder, causing him to wince. Loki seemed a lot quieter than Thor – not hard – but was soon charming the rest of the team, asking intelligent questions of Bruce and Tony, speaking to Nat in Russian and generally becoming part of the group. I felt his eyes looking quizzically at me on occasion as I sat at the edge of the room uncomfortably. I’d made the deal that I’d spend the day with everyone but I didn’t feel I knew how to make light conversation in this way and I could feel my anxiety rising.

Bucky must have sensed my discomfort, and came over from where he’d been talking to Sam, to sit near me. He asked how I was and obviously ignored my reply of ‘fine’ and instead paid attention to the way my knuckles were turning white as I gripped the chair, feigning relaxation. “How about a walk, get some peace?” he asked and I nodded thankfully.

I felt Loki’s eyes on me as we slipped out of the room, which I found uncomfortable but didn’t know what to make of it. I soon forgot as we made for the elevator and Bucky asked Jarvis to take us to the roof. I knew that going outside had been on today’s agenda and maybe not having time to prepare meant not having time to be anxious, but I felt my heart rate rise. I was furious with myself, I was berating myself internally for not being able to make small talk, and now for not being able to face the outside world, and the self-hatred must have ben coming off me in waves. I made a conscious effort to rein in my thoughts rather than broadcasting them to the whole Tower as the elevator stopped.

I knew there was a small upstairs lobby (small by Stark standards meaning a bar, dining area, changing rooms for the rooftop swimming pool and more) so we weren’t outside yet, but the whole wall in front of us as we stepped out was glass and I could see the gardens and the city beyond. My breathing got faster and I felt pale and sweaty, until Bucky put one arm around me and said ‘let’s sit down’.

We sat on a padded bench facing the windows in silence for a few minutes while I fought to get my breathing under control. To an onlooker, I was sitting still and silent but inside there was a battle going on, fury and shame at my inability to be emotionless and at my fear waging war with the part of me that hadn’t stepped outside in years. I’d grown used to the rooms and corridors of Stark Tower, and although Jarvis no longer darkened all the windows, I always stayed well away from any views, but at least inside there were walls and ceilings, curtains if needed. Out there, there was nothing but sky and space, and if even that terrified me, how would I do with a city, with all its people and noise?

‘You’re doing great you know’, Bucky’s voice broke into my thoughts. I’d almost forgotten he was there, so intent on my own self-hatred. ‘A couple of months ago, you couldn’t walk down a corridor. Now you can go anywhere in the Tower. You might not see progress but it’s there you know kid. So stop beating yourself up that you can’t do everything all at once and enjoy what you can do’. His kindness was sweet, but somehow spurred me on to further shame. I shouldn’t need kindness and sympathy; I was supposed to be fearless. I stood and said – growled – ‘let’s get his over with’, then walked to the large glass door, opened it and stepped out.

I would have stepped straight back in again – and then run to the farthest basement and never come out - but as I stepped back, I bumped against Bucky who had walked out behind me. He put his arms around me from behind, holding tightly, and said ‘I’m here and it’s OK’. He must have been able to feel my heart beating even through his metal arm, it felt so loud to me. I felt dizzy but the physical contact kept me grounded as he led me over to another bench, not too far from the door, and not too close to the edge of the roof. He sat us both down, never once letting go, so that I was sitting tightly up against him, his arms around me still and now with both my hands clutching onto his arm where it wrapped across me.

We sat there for about half an hour, with Bucky making idle conversation to distract me. He talked about the weather, the swimming pool temperature, the time they’d had a barbecue on the roof and thrown food to birds, and the buildings you could see nearby. I’d been holding myself rigid with tension but gradually was able to relax and lean against him, giving in to the warmth as we’d both come out without coats and it was cold. His benign chattering was soothing and I started to feel OK. Nothing bad had happened so far, this was good, this was manageable. Maybe Bucky was right, and I was making progress, maybe it was OK to be proud of that?

After half an hour, we were both starting to feel chilled and Bucky suggested we go back inside. Still without letting go of me, we walked back in and into the elevator. When the door slid shut, I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding and rested my head against Bucky’s shoulder. ‘Thank you. Really. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve the kindness you’re showing, but thank you’. I was drained from my early start, the emotions Sam had brought up, the tensions of companionship and agoraphobia. Bucky hugged me and said ‘no thanks needed kid’ then let me go as the doors opened back into the living area.

Everyone was still sitting down and chatting, and Pepper and Clint had now arrived with another woman I recognised as Wanda. This was a LOT of people and there was still a lot of the day to get through. I walked through into the kitchen to get a warm drink as Tony called out ‘hey Moley, I’ve been letting everyone know about your day of enforced company!’. Oh great, no pressure then. I made myself a hot chocolate and gave Bucky a cup of coffee then braced myself and went back into the living room. Smiling at the newcomers, I sat down and hoped that the discussion of my day wouldn’t continue, but with no luck. Bucky spoke up, explaining that we’d been out on the roof and Bruce let out a little cheer, leading to everyone asking how it had been and what I’d felt and how was I now and would I like to try more and so on and so on until Nat noticed I was looking fretful and changed the subject. I needed a break from all the attention but knew it wold be noticed if I left the room, so sat quietly and then slowly used my mental powers to make myself less noticeable. Not invisible, just removing anything that would draw attention so it was only if someone deliberately turned to me and wanted to speak directly to me that I’d need to get involved. It was only a slight respite, but enough just to give me breathing room. I sat back and shut my eyes for a second, then opened them to find Loki staring straight at me, obviously not fooled by the deception I was playing. I smiled nervously at him and a few seconds later he smiled back then looked away. He made me feel nervous, there was something slightly wolfish about the way he looked at me and I wasn’t used to feeling like prey.

A little later the group broke up as people went off to get lunch and run errands, and so feeling slightly less tense, I let my barriers fade. Steve looked up and said ‘hey, I’d forgotten you were there! Want some lunch?’. I grabbed myself a sandwich from the kitchen then sidled off to the library for a little peace. Bruce was in there so technically I wasn’t avoiding company but he grinned when he saw me and said ‘bit much huh?’ and I knew he wouldn’t give me away. I grabbed a book and sat down in an armchair to read while I ate, glad of the silence and Bruce’s calm presence. Finishing the sandwich, I put the plate down on a table and relaxed even further, the early start and busy day catching up with me as I drifted off to sleep. It was quite a bit later that I stirred and became aware that someone had put a blanket over me as I’d dozed. I let my eyes stay shut and enjoyed the warmth and calm that I felt as the tension had al left me while I slept. I became aware of some voices in the far corner of the large room and tried to identify them, then had to resist the urge to sit up when I realised they were talking about me.

I could hear Tony, Pepper, and an unfamiliar voice that I realised was Loki. I guessed they’d been showing their guest around the Tower and come across me in the library. The sound of my name, however quiet, had obviously been enough to wake me from my sleep and I couldn’t help but listen in.

‘…feel sorry for her, poor kid. Been through a hell of a lot and there’s a whole load of unresolved anger and hate in there.’ That was Tony. ‘she’s doing great though Tony, it’s just all that anger is directed at herself these days it seems’. Pepper. Then Loki’s voice ‘she’s not one of you and yet you’ve accepted her so readily, despite everything she’s done?’ He sounded almost affronted and I could hear tension in Pepper’s voice when she replied. ‘She’s had a lot more done TO her than she’s done and she is definitely one of us. Now let’s finish the tour shall we’ and they left. All day I’d had the sense that Loki was watching me, I felt wary of him and hoped he wouldn’t stay long, but put it down to my paranoia.

Once the door shut behind them, I stretched and opened my eyes. Bruce had left, he’d obviously been the one to put the blanket over me, and there was a note next to me on the table saying ‘sleep well and enjoy the peace, I won’t let on where you are because there’ll be more plans later, Bruce x’. I smiled, grateful for the respite he’d given me, then looked at my watch. It was getting late and I should probably show myself or else there’d no doubt be consequences. I picked up my plate and wandered back to the kitchen to clear up. Thor and Bucky were in the living room talking while Nat and Clint played cards in the far corner. I made myself some coffee to shake off the sleep and stood in the doorway watching, until Bucky spotted me and beckoned me over. They’d been discussing who would win in an arm wrestling competition, Thor or Bucky using his metal arm, and wanted to know who I thought would win before they tried, but I decided to be diplomatic and refuse to answer – an enhanced prosthetic made of vibranium or a God? Never mind democracy, who could choose?! – and they got distracted by attempting to get me to pick a favourite. Thor was nice, nothing like his brother, with an easy smile and a frequent laugh. Chatting, they forgot about their match and the conversation moved on.

“It is good to be back here, amongst my friends again after so long” Thor said. “Yeah, what’s kept you away for so long?” Clint asked, as he and Nat came to join us. “Ah, my dear brother has been causing trouble in Asgard. He has long enjoyed causing dissent between friends, and has stirred up much anger in our father. Not for nothing is he known as the Lord of Mischief, although I am fond of him and he has long been loyal to me”. I felt a slight unease at the idea of someone called the Lord of Mischief being among us but Thor seemed happy to vouch for him, and he didn’t know us well enough to cause trouble, I was sure.

[myriadimagines]

One Way Trip

Game of Thrones One Shot

Pairing: Reader x Sandor Clegane

Other Characters: –

Warnings: violence

Request: “Hello you beautiful sunshine! I would like to request a Sandor Clegane one shot, where the reader loses sight of Sandor during the battle of winterfell and reader is really worried, (they are a couple) but in the last moment before the reader is killed by a whig Sandor saves them and we get a fluffy reunion, but after the battle Sandor wants to kill his brother, but reader begs him to don't go, ending is up to you if it's fluff or angst. Thank you very much, I hope you have a nice day!! 💕💖” – anonymous

Word Count: 1,639

A/N: I procrastinated this one so bad oh my god I’m sorry I hope it’s okay!!! Sorry the reunion isn’t super fluffy but I just felt like it didn’t really fit (both for the situation and the character) but I hope you still like it!!

please reblog/leave comments, they’re very much appreciated!

Your name: submit What is this?

You don’t think it’s possible to hear anything over the screams, the screams permeating through Winterfell, coursing through every hallway and every inch of the land like your own blood running through your veins. The screams of your fellow soldiers, the Northerners and the Free Folk and everyone in between who joined the fight against the Night King. It’s a garbled, distorted sound mixed with the relentless cry of the wights as their mindless bodies charge forward, decaying teeth bared as they snap and snarl at any flesh they can rip out.

Your head rings as you swing your sword, slashing out at any wight who scrambles towards you. Your sword is heavy, muscles weakened by lethargy and weighed down by your armour. A soldier behind you screams, and you turn around in time to see three wights pounce on him, a rusty sword plunging into his abdomen before you can stop it. He lets out a gargled sound, blood bubbling from his lips before the viscous liquid drips down his chin in abundance.

The screams become louder. A cry so deafening you can’t even hear your own screams.

More wights charge in as you peel your eyes away from the dying soldier, his arm outstretched to the sky as if he is reaching for the Gods, begging to be saved, to be pulled away from the battle. The thought inappropriately distracts you, and a sardonic laugh bubbles at the back of your throat as you think, surely, the Gods must have abandoned you all. Creatures so monstrous, so horrid, could have only been concocted from the very fabric of nightmares, that the Gods, the almighty Gods themselves have turned their backs to humanity.

You finally stumble backwards, raising your sword and driving it into the chest of a screeching wight that leaps forward. You yank it out harshly, the limp body of the wight falling to the floor before you crush its skull under your heavy boot for good measure. With heaving breaths, you whip around, eyes scanning the courtyard before your heart suddenly clenches with the realisation that you’ve lost him.

His name rips through your throat in a panic. “Sandor!”

Your cries are swallowed by the ocean of screams and cries of dying men, and tears sting your eyes as you blindly stumble forward, shoving past bodies in an attempt to find just one. You stumble over  the dead at your feet, forcing yourself to look into their lifeless faces and praying to whoever can bear to listen to the countless other prayers of dying men and terrified souls you know are being said tonight. Your heart simultaneously elates and sinks as you identify each corpse as someone who isn’t Sandor, yet you want to sink to the floor, want to come apart every time you see a similar face, each time you realise just how many have fallen during this battle that is far from over.

Disoriented, your body crashes against the wall, your fingers skimming over the stone as you attempt to regain your balance. Your sword drags against the floor, and a strangled sob lodges itself at the back of your throat as you cry out his name again. He was behind you, protecting you like he always does, and he had disappeared. It seems helpless, attempting to find him in the midst of the ruthless battle, yet for him, you refuse to give up. Pushing yourself off the wall and onto your feet again, you barely manage to get one step forward when the door beside you suddenly bursts open, wood splintering as a flood of wights spill into the hallway. You immediately retreat, screaming out warnings for the soldiers around you as they clumsily begin to run. One falls, tumbling onto the ground, and against your better judgement, you collapse onto the floor beside him, grabbing his arm and trying to pull him to his feet. The both of you don’t even make it upright before the first wight tackles you from behind, and you’re quick to use your sword to block its growling face from your throat, bony fingers scratching against your skin as you grit your teeth in pain. The wight struggles against you, yet you can’t muster enough strength to push it off your body, and the fight only becomes more difficult as more and more wights pile on top of you. Tears blur your vision, your raspy breaths becoming strained as you realise this is your grisly end. You feel yourself growing weaker with each passing second, and your eyes screw shut as you brace yourself for the inevitable pain that is to come.

You barely hear the low, guttural cry that charges towards you over the wights shrieking in your ear, but suddenly, the weight above you is lifted, and you sit up to see Sandor stumbling to his feet, sword swinging at the remaining wights he didn’t manage to knock off you. Not wasting any time, you pull a dagger from your belt and forcefully thrust it into the mouth of the wight wriggling at your side before you pull yourself to your feet, letting out a cry as you charge towards the wight about to attack Sandor from behind. You swing your sword, your blade beheading the wight, and Sandor finishes off the last wight before turning around to see the brittle skull shattering on the floor.

“Can’t stay out of trouble without me.” Sandor grunts, grabbing your arm as he pulls your close, eyes scanning your body for any injury. You chuckle slightly, raising a hand to touch the light trickle of blood on the side of his face. Shaking his head, he insists, “It’s nothing.”

He softens as your thumb gingerly brushes over his skin, a simple gesture that somehow helps him forget the horrors around him. You smile at him, a smile brimming with relief, and you struggle to hold back your tears, “I thought I lost you.”

“You’ll have to try harder to get rid of me.” Sandor deadpans, and you scoff. Grabbing your hand, he presses a kiss to your temple as he continues, “We’ve got to keep moving.”

Nodding at him, you squeeze his hand before the two of you run back into the battle.

—

You find the rowdy atmosphere almost jarring when you think about the war that was waged and that the living had barely won. Drunken cheers fill the room, alcohol sloshing over already full glasses and spilling onto the wooden tables. There is exhaustion in everyone’s eyes, yet the victory overpowers it, the thrill of having fought against Death itself and coming out triumphant, save for the tremendous losses that unfortunately had to be sacrificed.

You sit opposite Sandor as his teeth sink into the roasted chicken that is being served. The both of you are famished, understandably so after constant fighting for the whole night. You listen to the disorderly hollers around you, mildly amused as you hear toast after toast, praise after praise and story after story of each person’s experience in the battle. Shaking your head, you take a swig from you almost sickeningly sweet mead before turning to Sandor.

“What?” Sandor asks, knowing well the expression on your face when you’re in thought. Dropping a bone onto his plate, he sloppily wipes his mouth with his sleeve as he raises his eyebrows at you.

“I can’t believe we’ve won.” you shrug, gesturing around you. “We did it.”

“We’re not done,” Sandor warns, and you press your lips together. “We’ve still got to fight those cunts in King’s Landing.”

Silence falls upon your conversation. You know there is an abundance of enemies in King’s Landing — Cersei and her soldiers, the Iron fleet — yet you know there is only one enemy Sandor is seeking to kill.

You reach out to grab Sandor’s hand, your finger intertwining with his as Sandor fixes his gaze, his focus, on how your hand fits over his while you insist, “My love, don’t let vengeance consume you.”

A ghost of a smile appears on his face. “It’s too late for me, y/n.”

“No, it isn’t.” your reply firmly, hand gripping tighter around his. Still trying to recover from the utter fear that had gripped your insides when you thought you had lost Sandor on the battlefield, you are far from ready to let him ago again, to let that fear settle in and make itself at home every day until he would return from King’s Landing to you. Desperate, you plead, “Sandor, please, don’t go. Stay in Winterfell with me.”

His eyes finally flicker up to meet yours. You wish you could see the hesitation flicker in his irises, could see some form of uncertainty, but the resolute expression on his face terrifies you. Your hand weakens, slowly pulling away from his as you realise there is no changing his mind, no stopping him from exacting the revenge he has spent years thinking about, and you can feel your already frail heart beginning to crumble.

Sandor catches your hand before you manage to pull away fully. He has prepared himself for a one way trip, prepared to accept whatever fate awaits him, yet for you, he lies, “I’ll be back.”

You nod, breaths becoming shaky as Sandor brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles, and you choose to believe him.

Later, you would watch him mount his horse after kissing him and trying to remember every intricate details of his lips. And as you would watch his retreating back, his horse treading down the path and disappearing into the hills, you would find yourself unable to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, unable to ignore the whispers in your head that would tell you this would be the last time you saw him.

tags: @chinike / @gofandomsandotherstuff / @emmacata / @pascalisthepunkest ↳ want to be added to the tag list?

[heoneyology]

Clinomania

(n.) an excessive desire to stay in bed

A/N: dedicated to @dreamboyunho who just claimed changkyun as her bias and is also not feeling well

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1248

Warnings: suggestive, oops (that wasn’t intended at all, I promise-)

Hours ago, the sun had risen into the sky, filtering yellows and oranges through the sheer curtains. You weren’t sure what time it was now, comfortably hidden under the down comforter and willingly trapped in the arms closed around you. Smiling at the warmth that practically smothered you, you snuggled closer, nuzzling your face into the side of Changkyun’s neck. It took a few moments, but a sleep chuckle fell off his lips, ruffling your hair.

“That tickles,” he mumbled, voice thick and hoarse with sleep.

“That’s the point,” you murmur against his neck, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It’s time to wake up, sleepy head.”

He lets out a low and throaty whine, hugging you tighter and lowering himself further under the covers until it’s him that has his face buried against your neck. You wiggle against him, letting out a whine of your own. “Changkyun!”

“What?” He mumbles, voice barely audible beneath the layers of the bedding and pressed against your neck.

“We can’t sleep all day.”

“Who says we can’t?” Changkyun blinks, leaning back just enough to look up at you. You frown at him, aware of your lower lip jutting out into a pout. “Besides, who said I was sleeping? I just want to stay in bed all day.”

“What were you doing, then, if not sleeping? I was definitely sleeping.”

Changkyun smiles, though the way one corner of his mouth lifts a smidge higher than the other, makes it look more like a smirk than a smile. “I know you were. I was listening to your breathing. I had my eyes closed, just picturing how soft each breath you took was…”

You pull away from him, and he allows you to, though he doesn’t remove his arms from around your frame. There might be some space between you, but his touch lingers against your skin and he keeps you just close enough.

For a moment, you stare at him. His hooded brown eyes and the way he lazily peers up at you. That catlike smirk-smile is still on his face. You frown. “Why?”

“Why, what?”

“Why were you listening to my breathing?” That’s boring, you want to add, though you knew it wasn’t entirely true. Just the way you loved to lay your head on Changkyun’s chest and listen to his heart, you figured it was the same concept. There was a subtle softness to enjoying and admiring your lover in their most tender, unsuspecting moments.

“Because, I love you,” Changkyun replies, matter-of-factly. It was an answer you’d been fully expecting. Of course he’d say that. It was the same reasoning you had for listening to his heart.

“Plus,” he adds in his typical husky drawl. You bring your attention back to him, watching the way his lips twitch. The lazy smile on his face is suddenly replaced with a cheshire grin. It was a devilishly handsome look on him—that grin paired with his tousled hair, hooded brown eyes that currently held a glint. You’re suddenly hyper aware of his hold on you, and find yourself squirming a little too late to escape his grasp as he lowers his hands to your waist, pulling you back down further under the covers so you’re face-to-face with him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Changkyun’s lips are planted on yours.

You’re awake in a matter of seconds, body awake and alive with a fire that suddenly rushes through your veins. Changkyun’s kiss is insistent, passionate. His lips meld with yours, coaxing them to part with flicks of his tongue against your lower lip. You stubbornly refuse, at first, but his roaming hands on your body send shivers along your body, each touch of his fingertips dancing along your skin setting fire to each nerve in your body. You’re suddenly gasping against his mouth, and you swear you can feel him smirk—he’s won the war he’s waging, insistently claiming his tongue with your own.

From the back of your throat, you whimper, and you attempt to pull back—pull away from the kiss that leaves you lacking oxygen and becoming light headed. But as soon as he feels you pulling away, an extension of him, now, his hand finds the back of your neck and traps you against him, fingers tangling into the hair at your nape.

You’d lost track of time since the sun rose into the sky and filled your bedroom with light. Similarly, you lose track of time, lost in Changkyun’s kiss, drunk off scent as it fills your nostrils and fogs your mind, and addicted to the way his lips are honey against your own. When Changkyun finally pulls away, you’re left breathless and gasping, heartbeat erratic as it pounds so loud you can hear it in your ears.

“Y-you—” You stammer out, unable to form any coherent thoughts, let alone sentences. Your breathing echoes your erratic heartbeat.

A smirk lazily forms on Changkyun’s face. He licks his lower lip, satisfied. “Plus, as I was saying earlier,” he says, his husky voice a little more awake, now. He pulls himself up, hovering over you. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, and his smirk widens. “I like the way your soft sleeping breaths sound. Like a calm before a storm. Because I love you, but I love the way I can affect you like this.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss against your forehead. As soon as he pulls away, you throw an arm over your flushed face. “Dammit, Im Changkyun.”

Changkyun chuckles, before he plops back down onto the bad, falling back against the plush pillows. He allows you to recollect yourself, for a moment, before he reaches over and takes hold of your shoulders, pulling you over to him.

“C’mere, love. Come listen to my heart. You’ve got the same effect on me, you know.”

You’re not up to arguing against your favorite thing. As he pulls you close, and you nestle yourself against his chest, head right over his heart, he wraps and arm around your shoulder. Sure enough, his heart is racing, and you smile to yourself.

“I might steal your breath away, but you’re sure as hell going to give me a heart attack someday. You know that, right?” Changkyun murmurs, lazily stroking your back.

“Doubt it. If anyone has a heart attack here, it’ll be me.”

“If only you could see how gorgeous you look when you just wake up,” Changkyun murmured, “I know you’d agree with me, then.”

You scoff at his words, though find yourself biting your lower lip to hide a smile.

“So, love. What plans do we have today?” There’s a teasing note lingering in his voice, and you can’t help but lift your head up and scowl at him, frowning. What else were you doing today? With the way your heart was still racing, and the weakness in all your nerves—there was no way you were doing anything.

Changkyun reads your expression, and quirks a pierced eyebrow. “Staying in bed?” He grins. “Perfect. That’s my favorite pastime.”

And before you can argue against it, knowing that had been his original intentions all along—distract you into staying in bed all day—Changkyun has his arms wrapped around you again, pulling you close and rolling you over, throwing the covers overhead. You let out a squeak of surprise, which promptly turns into a fit of giggles as he begins peppering every ticklish spot along your neck down to your shoulder with doting kisses.

[juleswolverton-hyde]

Between the pages | 03

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, smut, Werewolf AU, Bookshop AU

Pairing: alpha!Namjoon x human!Reader

Warning: Mention of knotting/mating, a conflicted angry Joon.

Summary: Sometimes we find by sheer luck what we lost between the pages. The retrieval, however, is not always as fortunate.

Previous part / Masterlist / part 4 (yet to be written)

Inhibition has come to form a steady aspect of a life full of oppression, whether it be in the form of thoughts about a dearly missed loved one or unspoken words about an inevitable event. All are elements of the mental cage a fortunate woman was distanced from just in time, the second drowsy murmurs started to transform into murring, the disguise of the thing within regardlessly hoping happiness could be found somewhere far out of its reach.

Just in time to remain blind to the monster.

Be safe from the unconscious influence of nature always triggered first by a splendid persevering brother who also falls into bestial primitivity once a month howbeit in a much more controlled fashion than the youngest shame of the bloodline.

From a murderous lustful renegade.

And that same silver perpetrator now stares out over the calmly flowing river mirroring the rays of the sun on a rare bright day, zoning out to the occasional sharp sparkle that distracts all focus from the boiling bad temper and painful stings in the nether region which will only worsen once the monthly “season” starts anew. Is lost in the scent of inked pages that were once read together after class and on dates that seem so long ago if not part of one of the many surrounding tales, completely ignoring the psychiatric alpha earning some money on the side as a barista as broad shoulders are shook with an urgent request for a shift in attention.

‘Namjoon! Have you been listening at all?’ A mirthless though relieved grimace forms on the elder brown wolf’s long handsome face when hazy eyes revert from agitated crimson to espresso, regaining a sense of reality as gazes lock while absent fingers continue to fidget with the iron necklace from which a platinum wedding band dangles. The ring that will never bond with moonstone. ‘Of course, you haven’t. Look, Monie, I know you’re thinking of her as per usual when you stand here instead of actually running the store and can smell on you that your rut is going to start soon, but even so, we really need to talk.’

There is no energy to wage a verbal war despite the anger of the creature within, eager to lash out with claws at being provoked while the man forming its host manages to sedate it at the cost of increased exhaustion but a triumph of civilization. However, before starting on the inevitable topic, a habitual question is asked regardless of the never-changing negative reply to it. ‘Any word of Tae?’

‘You know how it goes, nothing. No new trails nor news. He’s out there somewhere doing fine, I’m sure. We have to hope so.’ An encouraging squeeze in a broad shoulder clad in an earthly colourful loose Mexican-style poncho consoles the melancholic hate-stained thought about the cousin turned away by the family simply for being an omega. A mere boy who was kicked out by parents who were supposed to love their only son unconditionally but easily discarded the blonde boy upon finding out amber would never turn into ruby. It is because of them Tae Tae ran away and vanished without a trace, could be dead for all that is known since childish naivety can become the cause for fatal errors.

Where are you? Please be alright. Please be okay wherever you are, buddy. You were the only other one who actually understood what it is like to be different. To be an outcast.

There is not much time to contemplate the loss of the relative with the odd square smile who was taught reading by a kid who would grow up to be a black-hearted killer, because Hoseok already moves on to the next sensitive topic of debate. ‘Joon, I went to the hospital recently and-’

‘I changed Jungkook, I know. Heard the story over breakfast thanks to Jin.’ Full lips pull back into a snarl, baring stark white teeth with a low self-loathing growl at the thought of having ruined the life of the shy cherry red-haired boy working as a waiter in the restaurant run by the head of the river territory who has strangely always idolized a mere beastly bookseller. Pulled strength from his words when dropping by to ask for tutoring for the seemingly hopeless exams of the high school he just graduated from. Kept doing so because he wanted to make his girlfriend, a really nice girl who is a few years older than him and is in the second year of the study of the mind, proud. But the mentor let the apprentice down in the most terrible of ways possible. ‘I’m a monster, a hazard, a fucking disgrace. I should be put down.’

Bony fingers now enclose both upper arms, demanding a revision of the statement out of fear for the asylum that would rightfully put an end to an endless war. ‘Don’t say that. We’ll think of something, do a bit more research to strengthen your medication. Jungkook’s girlfriend asked me to provide him with therapy so I’ll make sure he’ll go through the changing process as flawlessly as possible and keep you out of sight of The Council.’ The anxiety increases further at seeing the disbelief in an attitude knowing very well there is only so long one can run for justice, for a sane mind to remain separated from the abomination which grows more visceral by the day, for help to actually provide a solution. ‘Please say you don’t have the gun anymore.’

Until, one day, only a bullet helps.

’Joon, say you don’t. That’s not what Y/N would want for you.’ Something is off about the scent of amiable panicked irises, weird in the worried tone of speech. ‘She would support you and find a way. Help us find a way to do something about being a Renegade. Think of her, Monie. Of the ring. She’s out there somewhere and you will get married one day. And what of your brother, of Seokjin? He basically raised you on his back. And what of me? I can’t run this place on my own because I don’t know the summary of every book on the shelves. We’ll find a way and put this situation to rest properly.’

Flowers, but one sort in particular.

Tulips in summer.

‘How can you say that when her perfume is on you?’ The deformed mouth now clearly shows sharp canines, a mad frenzy ignited by smelling the wife who had to be saved from a monster on the other alpha cloaking vision in a scarlet haze as fingers mould into fists, nails digging into the palms to have a weak link to sanity.

But to no avail.

The tables turn, one hand distorted with rage grabbing the collar of a neatly ironed alabaster shirt and pulling the stunned earth-toned wolf with thin-rimmed glasses closer so that every growled word can be heard crystal clear in the air filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and her. ‘Answer me, goddammit. Why is my wife’s perfume on you? Did you fuck her, hm? Given her pups while you know she’s mine?’

The tinkling of the bell at the front door goes accompanied by a fresh alluring wave of the characteristic reminiscent scent also present on a lying bastard, distracting the mind just enough with alluring calming flashbacks to times gone by for Hoseok to once more turn the tide when a small step is set in the direction of temptation.

Y/N. She... she’s here. She finally came back to me, to her alpha.

The hold on the neatly ironed fabric is rapidly broken off by meticulously prying digits loose and turning the formerly offending arm on the spine after flipping a powerful wolf only now stupidly aware of the sudden attack, each endeavour to break free nullified with every ounce of available strength maintaining the locked position against the window behind the counter.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ A protesting wriggle proves as futile as the enemy’s had before, solely resulting in another grunt from the barely older colleague clearly thinking above his status. ‘Let me go!’

‘And let you walk up to her like this? You’re almost suffocating me monthly with pheromones so imagine what it would do to her.’ The unconsciously emitted hormones strengthen the chances of finding a proper omega partner to see the rut with through, intensifying every emotion and touch with the trance-like state it induces in both the lover and the mate. Although not everyone always appreciates the enhanced scents for to some they are unappealing, to put it politely. Regardless, due to the prohibition of werewolf-human relationships, very little is known of what it does to a person without the magnificent power of old but considering their obvious lesser strength, it is likely they shall submit earlier than the average she-wolf. Other effects remain in the undiscovered field of myth and legend.  

‘She’s my wife!’ The view changes from the bright clear spring river to wood supporting stacks of newly arrived books that have yet to be categorized and priced, pinned down on the counter by the cursed mongrel bearing the scent of the gorgeous lady already bound to an alpha from a proud ancient line yet tried to be claimed by another.

‘And she is human.’ The unimportant fact is growled through gritted teeth. Just another supposedly good reason to not meet the woman who should have become the mother of my pups a long time ago, when the force within awakened for the first time after a date in the lush green park nearby the shining river. She would have looked lovely on all fours underneath the long fingers of the willow tree at the waterside of the central pond, flowy dress imprinted with summer cherries hiked up enough to allow her alpha, me, to pump her full while wrists were pinned to the soft young grass.

The heat within worsens at the imagery as the rut painfully signals with restrained by denim twitches that the incredible fantasy can still be lived if only the current situation can be escaped and Y/N retrieved before going somewhere private. Although, with the sensual cravings coming more and more to a boiling point on the brink of an uncontrollable explosion, it is likelier the beautiful woman who was idiotically left behind will first be knotted on the ground.

Floral footsteps head towards the literary section in the back of the shop, removing themselves from a loving husband. Never again will the same mistake be made, that small hand let go of. It shall only be so when having to take over the task of carrying our son or daughter or both around.

Only then.

‘So what? I’m not allowed to even greet her? She’s not yours, bastard. She’s mine. My mate.’ Claws already begin to form where wrists are held captive, canines tangibly pressing against the tongue having greater difficulty with each encompassing second spend in rage, mere moments away from starting a fight as glorious wolves and putting the offender back in place.

If alive at all.

First, an easy battle since the strength of the opponent will be weakened by trying to act above social standing and then, at last, can true lovers be united and form a family. A pack.

I’ll mate her, right there against the poetry bookshelves. We’ll be together, baby. I promised you we’d be.

‘Joon, listen to me.’ A short lifting and harsh downfall onto the wood once more make a furious ruby stare shift attention from hidden loveliness to irritating commands supposedly made with reason. Made by a traitor laying claim to the mistress of another. ‘Listen. To. Me. I know this isn’t you talking, it’s the wolf on his rut, and you’re actually somewhere in there.’

‘Stop the bullshit. This is me. I’m here.’ Nothing but a true person, the rightful second-in-line for the position of the heir of the Kim family and leadership of the river district, is being held down.

Nothing but a man merely wanting to see his estranged spouse.

‘No, you’re not. Namjoon, normally you’re capable of suppressing the symptoms better. I know you can do it, so come back. Snap out of it! Y/N can’t know what you are and you want to keep it that way, emphasizing this by living unmated while still worrying about her. Remember how you’ve tried thus far, successfully, to keep her away from wolf society. Think about the rings.’ Hoseok’s voice lowers to a more peaceful version of itself at noticing the relaxation of tensed shoulders, the ceasing of endless barely containable struggles, the growling fading away into pained whimpers. ‘Your vows, think about them.’

I swore, dammit, what did I swear again? What does it matter? This is who, not who I am. It matters. Fuck, I need to recall. Right, to protect you against them. Against the thing inside even if it meant I’d never see you again. That, someday, I’d be a better man, fit to be your husband. Yours, in every aspect.

Scarlet fades away into deep earthly brown like the forest floor after a twilight filled with rainfall, the shade of the espressos drunk on book dates in this very realm of inked tales bound in a sea of colourful named spines. Razor sharp canines retreat in the gums, replaced by their human counterparts as fatal claws do the same but in the flesh of calloused hands. Speech is restored to baritone coherency, no animalistic trace left behind. ‘Hope, I- what I just- I didn’t mean anything of what I just said. I’m sorry, for what it’s worth after all the times I’ve acted like this.’ The gaze of the personification of the support pillar of the common sense that gets lost too often in the mind of the beast is sought, finding consenting comfort in it as the tight suppressing hold is lifted. ‘I really am.’

‘I know and, besides, you’re very unoriginal with your insults so I tend to ignore them anyway.’ As a way of making up for the rough treatment, clothes are righted by long tanned bony fingers, straightening out the creases and other signs of struggle while also clearly being aware of the boiling heat emanating from the skin underneath the fabric.

When they are finished with polishing, arms are crossed as a long face nods in the direction of the small back room functioning as a wardrobe and storage for new arrivals, back-up copies and second-hand novels which have yet to be sorted onto the shelves. ‘Wait there until she is gone. I don’t know, read a book or something, but whatever you do, try to stay in control. I have some of your medication in my bag, in the front pocket. It won’t really help, but it’ll suppress the symptoms for a while. Once she’s gone, you’re going home and I’ll manage the shop for the rest of the day. Should be easy enough, considering the stream of customers is... well, small.’

Tempting summer tulips are spread by innocent unmated fingers wandered to the fiction section where they are now leaving through a roman, conjuring up the earlier determination seducing the mind to give up sense in favour of true love.

So close, just a few steps away.

The heat encourages bridging the distance, rush to beloved lips that have never been forgotten, let temporary reason fade away into contact. Precisely like the voice falling away into absent-minded dreaming. ‘I’m... I’m just going to say hello.’

A firm hand on the richly decorated fabric of the suffocating cardigan makes the unconscious step forward undone, endeavouring to guide a stony resisting silver wolf to loathsome confinement again. ‘Joon, don’t.’

A pathetic whimper falls from full lips, partially out of the enhanced longing for the moonstone lady and in part due to the continuous stream of sharp stings of pain in the region below. ‘Please, let me see her. I’ll behave, I promise.’

‘I can’t let you do that, Monie.’

‘I can control it. Please, I need to see her.’ Shortly, focus briefly shifts to the light brown eyes of the caretaker of the contained yet mighty dominant creature below the surface wanting to be like any guy on the street. ‘Look at me. See? No crimson eyes. I can do this, Hoseok.’

The wolf wants Y/N too. It won’t hurt her nor will I. What am I saying? I am the wolf and she is safe with me.

A negative shake of brown locks lighting up bronze in the sunlight falling in through the window makes teeth grit because of apparently not being convincing enough despite having proven to not be a risk. And if the gesture did not stress this, the stern tone upon speaking does. ‘You just proved you can’t, Namjoon. Do what I just told you to. Wait in the storage room and take the pills. If you don’t, you’ll be a danger to us all and you know that. Do the right thing. I don’t want to see you disappear into the asylum.’

I won’t. I’m fine, normal. In perfect control.

‘But it’s Y/N, my wife, my mate...’

‘I know, but you can’t approach her like this. At least we know she’s back in town so I’ll ask around and see what the district leaders have to say, find out where she has settled so you can meet privately when the rut has passed.’ Another attempt at going towards reminiscent flowers moved to the thriller section is halted, this time to much annoyance which is answered with a laborious though resigned sigh. ‘Stop it. Deep within you also know you can’t.’

Sharp predatory canines.

Bloodthirsty ruby.

Burning unconvincing hatred.

‘I can! Have got any fucking idea how much it hurts, huh? Know what it’s like to be unmated and going through Hell each month while your brother is nauseatingly happy with his girlfriend, able to knot his mate, continue the bloodline?’ At this point, the political consequences are the least of worries compared to those attached to walking away once more, thus making the same idiotic mistake as five years ago. However, it goes beyond having a reunion as well since this is also about showing that the second ashen-haired heir is not as much of a disgrace to the family as they have made him feel. Can be the father to the strong alpha pups of the next generation, who shall be even better than their parents.

‘Yes, I do because I experienced it once as well, though it sometimes still feels like it.’ Lashes lower in the belated realization that both alphas have a partner which is not approved of, nullifying the argument given earlier that contact between a crazed wolf and human cannot happen due to well-known apparent risks connected to it. Although, how can something that brings pleasure and relief from sensual pain have any other outcome, have repercussions when it only ensures the continuation of the dynasty? ‘Jimin can’t keep up with me already as is and I’m not part of an ancient pack. However, that does not mean my experience can’t form somewhat of a warning.’

The detail of familiar perfume on the bisexual alpha’s skin was almost forgotten yet freshly remembered thanks to the topic of debate. ‘You haven’t answered the question about how my wife’s scent ended up on your skin, said whether or not you fucked her.’

‘Of course, I haven’t because I’m a good friend and have been serving the Kim family loyally. It’s a curious thing I keep forgiving you for the amount of bullshit you can spout when you’re like this.’

The provoked fist lashing out is easily avoided, a slender palm wrapping around the forearm as quick as hunting paws and forcing a silver awesome creature into the unwavering locking position with a cheek against the counter again. ‘Listen for a second.’

A disagreeing growl owns a choked grunt at an attempt to maintain the current position while dearly missed footsteps return to the poetry section, come closer. The brown-haired mongrel seems to notice the tracking, resulting in an enforced surprisingly strong grip. ‘Listen to me. Joon! Listen. To. Me. A new bakery has opened in town and I go there each morning for a cup of coffee before coming here. Luck would have it that Y/N is the owner of the place and present to help the employees out wherever possible. We’ve been negotiating a collaboration between the shop and bakery for a few days now, merely talking about assortment and delivery schedules. That’s the reason. I wouldn’t lie to you. Happy now?’

A difficult look over the shoulder wants to see the lie behind the words, a reason to deal with the fake comrade that will leave him shunned and forgotten in the hierarchy, but all scarlet eyes regard is honest truth pleading for a sliver of sane conscious floating beneath the surface of the split personality to recognize it.

Which the resurfaced humanity does when the normally sunny long-time companion continues when remarking upon a repercussion that was discussed earlier at the breakfast table. ‘If this keeps happening it will only be a matter of time before the Council finds out about your state and send you to the asylum. Think about Seokjin, about me, about her. You will never see any of us again if you don’t fight for control.’

‘I- I know and I try. But, I can’t think clearly.’ Teeth grit themselves at another spurt of scorching warmth shooting throughout, worsening the capability of returning from mindless animalistic behaviour, deteriorating reason with every passing second. ‘Hobi, it hurts...’

Need to mate, need to fuck. Where did the tulips go? They’re still poetic. My beautiful bitch needs her alpha. No, can’t think this way. I’d break Y/N, can’t love her right when the thing inside craves her too.

‘I know, Joon, I know.’ All former caution fades from Hoseok’s attitude, replaced by the persevering calm that tries to be maintained during chaotic moments like these. ‘I’m gonna let go now, okay? I trust you to do the right thing.’

The paralyzing hold unravels, palms placed on the counter offering support while getting up to roll shoulders back before sullenly wandering to the storage room, a hand sheepishly correcting ashen locks grown haphazard in the struggles for liberty that must never be given to the oppressed thing roaming inside. Withal, feet only curtly stop in the crack of the door to gaze in the direction from which familiar eyes surprisingly look back yet are too rapidly turned away from, the door closed too soon, to instigate any sense of recognition.

We can’t be together. Not now, in any case. Someday I won’t have to walk away anymore, someday we can finally get married and I get to kiss you good morning and goodnight. Someday a place of our own will be filled with childish laughter and little paws. Until then, I’m sorry, baby.

The dusty fragrance of pages inscribed with tales of the fantastical, some of which have always been believed to merely be the conjurations of fancy though the underground society would beg to differ, makes a wild heart slow down. Clears sense enough to search the bright cherry red backpack which has “Hope” written in colourful letters on the front pocket and is tucked against a stack of new publications for the wolfsbane medicine.

Two small stark white pills containing a sedating poison for the abomination induce the same brief haze they always do, giving the split mind the breathtaking room it needs to function properly as a human, be like any other man out there.

Simply be allowed to play the role of the bookseller by the river.

Wallowing in the scent of a forgotten summer behind a firmly closed locked door.

Nonetheless, memories tend to resurface.

And this particular one comes too close.

[sithsecrets]

A Matter of Expediency - Part X

After being married off to Kylo Ren in the name of securing an heir to the First Order’s throne, a princess tries to navigate the ins and outs of married life. As she grows closer to her new husband, the princess also carves out a place for herself in the Order, assuming control over her life when she thought she would have none.

---

Part 10

4.8k words

Mentions: graphic depictions of sex, mild gore, blood, swearing

---

The Chairwoman doesn’t deign to insult you for the remainder of the week, and even her cruelty towards others is dulled quite a bit when she’s simply in your presence. You would revel in your victory a bit more if you weren’t so busy, suddenly slammed with a new influx of proposal and funding requests from a planet named Palgodu. This just so happens to be where Kylo and his Knights have been out “scouting,” and you’re sure that the two things are closely related. You don’t have much time to muse on it, though, bogged down in files and appeal letters.

You work alone, mostly, cloistered in a private office that Hux offered you several weeks ago. It’s a relatively small space, plain in furnishing and decoration, but you like it that way. There are no distractions there, no prying eyes, no board members or diplomats to perform for— you get real work done at your desk, work that matters. Some of it is tedious, but you’re happy to be busy.

On Kylo’s fourth day away, two stormtroopers come to collect you, saying that your husband is back and requesting that you meet his party in hangar five. You drop everything upon hearing this news, rushing off at once to meet his husband and his party. Nervous energy buzzes all throughout your body, composed of equal parts fear and excitement; on one hand, you’re elated that Kylo’s returned, but you’re also terrified to see what sort of condition he’s come home in.

Just as you suspected, the lot of them look absolutely awful. The smell of blood and death and earth hangs heavy in the air around your husband and his companions, nearly making you gag as draw nearer to their vessel. They are caked in dirt, crusted in the very lifeforce of their slain enemies, but it’s the slashes and tears in their clothes that make your breath really catch in your throat. Kylo is not uninjured either, sporting a gash on his left arm and right side. He’s standing, thank the stars, lucid and calm— all of the Knights are that way too, long accustomed to violence and pain.

Kylo is your primary concern, of course, and you fuss over him openly, the spectators be damned. “What happened?” you demand. “Who attacked you?”

Your husband’s skin is grimy under your fingers, sweat and dirt soiling the cuffs of your sleeves as you press your palms against his face, making quick study of a scrape on his jaw.

“An insurgent faction,” Kylo replies, answering your question as if you just asked him what he had for breakfast.

The cuts on his arm and side draw your attention next, and you’re only half paying attention as he goes on to say that Palgodu’s leader requested the Order’s help in crushing an uprising that was ripping the planet apart. Kylo doesn’t even wince as you press a hand against the wound on his ribs, though you’re horrified to see your fingers come back slick with blood.

Kylo insists that he’s fine, unflinching as you beg him to go to the medbay. He says that the two of you must speak at once and that he wants to do so in your quarters away from prying eyes and ears. But you stand your ground, only cutting him the slightest bit of slack. Finally, Kylo capitulates to your demands, saying that he’ll be seen by a medical droid in your rooms if you go away with him now.

Your husband begins stripping down the second he gets into the ‘fresher, only stopping to set aside his helmet and lightsaber before he begins pulling apart his outfit. You try to help, his filthy clothes soiling your dress as you get him out of his pants, his undershirt. Kylo’s pained grunts are distressing to say the least, and you can’t even look at the purple-red patchwork of bruises that cover his body. The fact that your husband’s even standing right now is a miracle to you, given the beating he’s taken.

Though he declines your offer to help him bathe, Kylo does ask you to send for a hot meal. You do as he says without question, ordering dinner for yourself as well even though you’re too sick to eat at the moment. The medbay says that they’ll send a droid immediately after you contact them, and then you’re out of tasks to complete, left to anxiously chew on your nails as Kylo finishes washing the grime off his body.

When Kylo hobbles out of the ‘fresher, you insist on helping him dress, too frenzied to sit idle as he struggles to pull on a set of his night clothes. The medical droid chooses to appear just as your finishing up, rolling into the room almost on cue. Wordlessly, the little machine applies bacta and bandages to your husband’s worst injuries, leaving as quietly as it came. Another droid arrives almost immediately with your meals, and only when you’ve got Kylo settled at the dining room table do you feel like you’re ready to receive and understand information again.

“What happened on Palgodu?” you ask, only vaguely remembering what Kylo said earlier about civil war and the like.

Your husband eats ravenously, answering your question through a mouthful of food. “The King of Palgodu has been battling a faction of his own people that want to overthrow him. He contacted the Order and asked us to help him crush this insurgency, and myself and the Knights agreed to do so on the grounds that Palgodu come under the Order’s control.”

Your brow draws together, questioning. “What do they have to offer us in return?”

Kylo shakes his head a bit, already scraping his plate clean. “It’s not so much what the king has to offer as it is how we benefit from destroying the rebels on his planet. They meant to wage war with two other planets in the same solar system, but the king refused to offer his support. Stopping them or negotiating peace treaty would have been a much more taxing than simply snuffing out the warmongering at its source.”

You remember the bruises on Kylo’s body, the way his gash in his side wept blood until the medical droid attended to it. Your apprehension about Kylo’s choices and ideas must show on your face, too, because he moves to explain himself further.

“Palgodu’s current king is a fair, peaceful man loved by the majority of his subjects. The rebels were power-hungry and thirsty for blood. The plants they had their sights on are weak, impoverished places with little in the way of a military. We intercepted intel that said the insurgents were planning to use the inhabitants as slaves.”

“That sounds more like a conquest than a war,” you say then, horrified by the notion of such a plan. You had been afraid at first that Kylo and his Knights ran off for something trivial, but now that you know the truth, you’re relieved that they acted so quickly. Still, something nags at you. “Why didn’t you just tell me all of that? Why lie about the scouting mission?”

Kylo nods, becoming a bit more reserved as he regards you now. “I… I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Yes,” you say sarcastically, “it’s only a bit of combat.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kylo insists, and you could just about slap him if you weren’t so relieved to have in safe in front of you.

“The wounds and bruises on your body beg to differ, Supreme Leader. I would have liked to know that you were in danger.”

You do that sometimes, poke fun at Kylo with his title. He’s used to it by now, huffing out a sigh as he apologizes. “Next time I’ll be more transparent,” he promises.

“Good,” you affirm, nodding as you sit back in your chair.

Kylo eyes your dinner, the meal virtually untouched in front of you. He digs in hungrily after you push the plate his way, scarfing it down as if he didn’t just finish eating ten minutes ago.

“When was the last time you ate?” you ask softly, heart clenching in your chest. This is exactly the sort of thing you’d been worried about, your husband being hungry, or cold, or hurt. Kylo’s indifferent shrug only serves to make you sadder, and you find yourself almost in tears as take in the bruises on his knuckles, the scrapes on his face.

You want to tell your husband everything in that moment. You want to tell him how you feel, how you missed him while he was gone, how you wanted to throw your arms around him right there in front of everybody in the hangar. But you don’t want to ruin anything, don’t want to be too sickly sweet, so you opt to say nothing at all.

Done with his second dinner now, Kylo pushes the plate and silverware away from him. The look in his eyes is softer now, gentler, and he beckons you over. “Come here,” he says, “come closer to me.”

You do as Kylo asks, coming to stand beside his chair. He shifts a bit, turning to face you completely. “I ruined your dress,” your husband states, eyes flitting down to the stains all over your sleeves and bodice.

You make a flippant gesture, unbothered. “I have others.”

“Still, I apologize.” He reaches for your hands, clasping them gently in his own. “Will you come take a bath with me?”

Though you’re more than willing to soak in the tub with your husband, you can’t help but remind him that he did just take a shower.

“My body hurts,” Kylo explains, and it’s only then that you notice how exhausted he truly is.

Kylo helps you unlace your dirty dress as the tap runs, filling the bathtub with hot water. It’s a large fixture, wide enough to accommodate both you and your husband as the you step in. Steam wafts about the two of you, fogging up every mirror in the room and sticking little tendrils of hair to your face and neck. Afraid you’ll prod one of his bruises, you’re reluctant to crawl into Kylo’s lap the way he wants you to.

“You couldn’t possibly hurt me right now,” he insists, settling you so that you’re straddled across the width of his thighs. You half expect him to grope you then, to husk in your ear that he’d like to fuck you if you’d let him the way Kylo so often does when he gets you in this position. So it’s quite a pleasant surprise when your husband tucks your head under his chin instead, wrapping you up in his arms rather gently.

“The King Palgodu has decided to take those two little planets under his wing,” he says, apropos of nothing. “He and his wife would like to host a benefit with the Order’s help in order to raise funding for new schools.”

You look up at Kylo then, smiling a bit. “I’ve always wanted to plan a party,” you say softly.

“I figured as much,” Kylo replies, reaching up to brush some of your hair out of your face with wet fingers. He’s smiling, actually smiling for once, and the very sight of him makes your heart sing.

Curling back up against your husband’s chest once more, you card your fingers through his hair idly. Even injured and exhausted, he is still so solid beneath you, so unyielding. It’s so lovely to be held like this, to be cradled in Kylo’s arms. You are safe here with him, safe in this moment of peace.

“I missed you,” you whisper, finally feeling as though it’s okay to admit how you feel.

Your husband’s hand is warm on your back, palm making long, gentle strokes up and down your spine. “I thought of you each day,” he murmurs, drawing you even closer to his body.

Something goes unspoken between the two of you then, the message translated through touch instead of words. Kylo tilts your face up gently, kissing you the way you’ve been dying to be kissed for days. He’s far too tired to have sex, he tells you as much himself, but the two of you make out anyway, tongues sliding together as your hands roam without purpose or intent. It’s bliss, letting your lover lick into your mouth as you revel in the fact that he’s safe beneath you, safe safe safe.

The two of you are pruny and drowsy when you finally dry off and stumble to bed, snuggling up like puppies together under the comforter. Kylo passes out almost immediately as if he’s never slept before in his life, and you aren’t far behind him.

For the first time in days, the two of you rest.

---

It’s a wonder what a good night’s sleep can do! you think as you breeze into the Board’s usual meeting room, entering in a swirl of crimson gown with a smile gracing your face. Despite your pleasant demeanor, the Chairwoman and her lapdogs still track your movements with caution, poised to defend themselves should you choose to strike in any manner. You’ve been an absolute menace towards the lot of them these past few days, mood soured by lack of sleep and Kylo’s absence. You don’t intend to be any nicer to them now that he’s back, of course, but you still think it appropriate to internally acknowledge your own behavior.

“Good morning!” you sing-song, sliding into your chair happily as you regard the table. Hux smiles one of his reserved smiles, and some of your other friends on the Board do the same. Evan, though, she remains timid and complacent, not saying a word. She’s been like this since you threatened to make her a mute, lacking in smart comments and little quips meant to upset you (or anyone else for that matter)— you simply wouldn’t have her any other way.

Planning for the Palgodu benefit gets underway quickly, everyone diligent in their work as the lot of you field ideas for a guest list, potential donors, locations, and the like. Several of your most dependable Board members feel confident that they can garner interest in the Palgodu cause from planets in the Major Possessions, and Hux speaks highly of several wealthy Order loyalists.

You’re pleased with the group’s progress, though you will be doing some planning of your own in your office this afternoon. There’s catering to think about, and press coverage, and you of course you have to doublecheck that the Palgoduan team approves of your choices thus far. Still, you dismiss the Board before your regular lunchtime, satisfied for now.

However, there’s one last thing you need from a particularly prominent member of your posse.

“Chairwoman,” you call, stopping the woman in question before she can slip out of your field of vision.

Halting at the call of her title, Evan comes to stand before you, still on her best behavior. “Yes, Empress?”

“I know you have connections to several mineral magnates,” you say, cutting the Chairwoman off when she moves to speak. “Please, don’t dispute the truth.”

Your foe’s mouth presses into a thin line at this, but no words leave her lips. She’s fuming, absolutely seething with rage at the fact that you’re about to exploit one of her little not-secrets. The Chairwoman thinks she’s so slick, running around behind closed door with these wealthy men and even their sons. It’s the kind of thing that won’t ruin her, should it ever come into the light, but you just know that she would sooner die than have everyone know her business.

Luckily, this particular weakness works in your favor.

“Yes,” Evan admits evenly, “I know several barons on Valdera and other such planets.”

You quirk one eyebrow, nodding in satisfaction. “Excellent,” you declare. “I want you to convince them all to donate a ridiculous amount of money to this cause. They certainly have the credits to spare, and I think it’s about time the big boys shared a bit with the little guys.”

The Chairwoman swallows heavily, cutting her eyes to the side. “Empress, I don’t know—”

“Nonsense!” you exclaim, mock confident as you rise from your chair. “You’re a resourceful woman, Evan! I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

You place a pat on her arm, satisfied when the Chairwoman flinches away from you just the slightest bit. She’s fifteen seconds from flying into a fit it would seem, her emotions bubbling and boiling just beneath the surface as she curtsies and wishes you a good day. But still, Evan leaves you without another word, stomping out of the room to go whatever it is she does in her free time.

Lunch is a hurried affair, just you and Hux scarfing down something easy before you go your separate ways. Full and refreshed, you practically barricade yourself in your office, sending coms and poring over data lists as you try to work out the finer details for the benefit ball. A date is set, one that will come up on your fast if you let it, and you’re only further motivated to get all of their other details fleshed out once messages of approval start flooding in from the Palgodu team. Over and over, they tell you how grateful they are for your help, and it pleases you to know that you’ve secured more positive connections for the Order.

Time gets away from you, the hours passing in flurries of paperwork and research. The sound of a knock at your door disorients you, the jolt of your body nearly sending you to the floor. Abandoning your desk, you go to the portal to see who’s there, the muscles in your legs straining from lack of use.

Kylo’s is the last face you were expecting to see on the other side, but he’s a pleasant surprise nonetheless.

“So this is where you’ve been,” your husband says in lieu of a greeting, peering at your little office over your shoulder.

“What do you—?”

One glance at the chronometer on the wall shows you that it’s late, later than you’ve ever worked before. You turn back to Kylo at once, flooded with embarrassment and remorse.

“Oh stars,” you breathe. “I missed dinner! I’m so sorry, Kylo, I was just working and—”

Your husband cuts you off, crowding into your space to steal a kiss from your rambling lips. “Mm, don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, still trying to press his mouth against yours even as you fight to apologize again. “The Chancellor told me that you were doing important work. I just came to check on you.”

You blush at that, happy to kiss Kylo back now that you know his feelings aren’t hurt. His affection and concern for you is intoxicating and just the slightest bit jarring, for he never behaves this way outside the bedroom. You can’t help but think of last night, of what was said in the bathtub, and you even allow yourself to get your hopes up a bit. Maybe your husband’s finally opening up…

“I can leave you alone now if you want to continue working,” Kyle declares, arms laced around your middle. “I just wanted to make sure you hadn’t died in here.”

It’s his version of a joke, and the sentiment does make you giggle.

“I should probably be done for the day,” you concede, suddenly tired. Your stomach rumbles beneath your bodice, lunch but a distant memory now.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” your husband insists, brushing a lock of hair away from your face. You let him, shaking your head.

“No, no. I’m starving, and I really was looking forward to spending the evening with you.”

Your voice is soft, husky even, as you tell Kylo that last part. You missed him very much while he was gone, that’s for sure, and in more than one way… To say that you’d like for him to take you to bed now would be an understatement.

Luckily, your husband seems to understand what you mean. He presses your body more firmly against his, hands settling low on your hips. “What did you have in mind?”

Kylo’s eyes are dark, and his mouth quirks into a smirk as you scoff. “You know,” you say, giving him a playful bat on the chest. But then you remember his wounds, the bruises and the scrapes, and you feel selfish. “If you’re still in pain, though, we don’t—”

“Oh, my love,” Kylo chides, and stars does the pet name make your face hot, “I had every intention of fucking you senseless tonight as it was. I’m just glad to hear that you’re similarly inclined.”

---

You’re on Kylo from the minute you both get back to your quarters, kissing him and biting him and fumbling with all of the buttons and stays keeping him trapped in his clothes. He’s just as hungry for you, his desperation showing in the slide of his mouth and hands, but it would seem that he has a particular set of ideas about how he wants tonight to go.

“Slow down,” your husband commands, gently pushing you off of him. The noise you let out as you land on the foot of the bed is pathetic and so, so very discontent, your kiss-bitten mouth molding into a pout. Kylo shakes his head at you, lips quirking up into a smirk. “We have all night, darling. Don’t look so upset, you’ll get what you want.”

“But I want you now,” you whine, pulling at your husband’s belt, palming him through the front of his pants. It’s a cheap trick and you know it, but still, you hope it works anyway.

Kylo’s not swayed in the slightest, however, catching your wrist. “And you’ll get me,” he promises, slowly sinking to his knees before you. His eyes are so very dark as he reaches out, grasping your bare foot delicately in his hand. “Just be patient, please.”

It’s not every day that you hear the Supreme Leader say “please,” and though you want nothing more than to feel his cock in your body, you decide to indulge your husband in this little game.  And really, how could you complain when his lips are so soft on the top of your foot, on your ankle, on your calf. Even the way Kylo shoves your dress up your leg is sweet and deliberate, and all you can do is sigh and suck in deep breathes as he presses kisses all along your flesh.

“Tell me what you want,” your husband mumbles, speaking against the side of your knee. He cuts his eyes your way, nipping you so suddenly that your whole body jolts in shock.

“I… I want you,” you breathe, chest heaving. You shouldn’t be this affected after just a few chaste kisses, but Kylo is such a tease, he knows just how to make you squirm.

Another kiss, this time further up your leg, and then, “Oh darling, I know that. But what do you want me to do to you?”

He’s a cruel man, your husband, a real sadist. He knows very well that you’re awful at this part, that you stutter and stammer whenever you try to make the smallest of demands. You took to riding Kylo and sucking his cock without much difficulty, you could (and have) let him fuck you for hours without complaint, but talking dirty and saying what you want has never been easy for you.

You’re really flustered now, pulse pounding so hard that you think you can hear it in your ears. “Kylo, please, I…”

“You’re the Empress,” he reminds you. The callouses on his palm are maddening, the sensation of them scraping against your skin making your cunt twitch. You don’t even want to think about how wet you are right now, how you’re probably staining your dress. “You can have whatever you want if you simply ask for it.”

Stars do you want this man, you want him to fucking ruin you.

Kylo turns his focus back on your flesh, kissing across your thigh until you can feel his nose almost in the crease of your leg. He’s so close to your cunt, all he would have to do is turn his head and he could suck right on your swollen clit, but he doesn’t, the infuriating little fucker. The tease of it all is enough to make you feral, to almost unhinge you completely. For two seconds, you consider just jerking Kylo around by his hair, consider making him put his mouth on you, some previously unknown part of your mind arresting your thoughts for just a moment until Kylo speaks.

“I am your husband,” he tells you, suddenly more solemn than flirty. “You can say anything to me. I want to hear it.”

You hesitate for just one second more, finally cracking when Kylo’s tongue darts out across your skin.

“I want you to fuck me,” you say slowly, your own words making your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I… From behind. I want you to fuck me from behind, but I want to finish on my back.”

Your husband stares up at you, eyes so dark with lust as he nods. He looks so pleased, so happy. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks, finally pushing your dress all the way up now. You’re already pulling at your underwear, cunt drooling from the anticipation of what’s to come.

“Inside me,” you answer promptly, palms sweating as you remember how hot hot hot you feel whenever Kylo paints your insides.

He must finally be satisfied, because Kylo says nothing after that, finally burying his face between your thighs. You nearly burst into tears, so utterly relieved as he laps at your clit, shrugging out of his outer layers as he does it.

The two of you are wild that night, fucking like animals for what feels like hours. Kylo listens to you, he keeps all of his promises, pulling your hips against his harshly as you press your face into the comforter. But he puts you on your back before he cums, of course, dutiful in following your directions. Your husband is so good to you, thumbing at your clit until you cum for the second time that night before he lets go himself, biting down hard on his lip as he watches you writhe. Only when you’re panting and trying to come back to reality does Kylo spill his seed inside of you, flooding your body as he grunts and holds you in place hard enough to leave bruises. You clutch onto Kylo as soon as he hits the bed beside you, carding your fingers through his hair. Both of you need a shower, or least a onceover with a wet washcloth, and the bed is absolutely destroyed— but stars are you happy, happy and satiated and too tired to move from this spot.

Finally, though, you do get out of bed, stumbling into the ‘fresher with your husband at your side. Kylo makes you drink a whole glass of water, gulping one down himself while the shower gets hot. Neither one of you is in the mood to linger beneath the spray, but you do help each other bathe, soapy hands sliding over skin as you take note of new love bites and bruises.

As per usual, the bed is clean when you and Kylo emerge, the sheets fresh and the comforter set back in place. You and Kylo fall into it together again, dressed in loose comfortable clothes as you revel in the aftermath of your lovemaking. Kylo lets your slump across his chest, petting your hair languidly. Neither of you says anything for a while, content to lie together in silence.

The large window in your quarters draws your attention, and you stare out at the glittering expanse of space all around the Supremacy. Even after all these weeks, you haven’t gotten used to this, drifting amongst and the planets and moons and stars of the galaxy. You find yourself missing sunshine often, tired of artificial light. And weather, too— your heart aches for rain.

Outside the wide, tall pane of transperisteel, two patrol vessels zip past, making their usual rounds around the Supremacy’s massive body. The image of this sparks a memory, reminds you of something Hux told you in passing days ago.

“Don’t you fly?” you ask suddenly, addressing your husband. Kylo’s hand stills in your hair, and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Yes,” he affirms, “since I was a teenager.”

You snuggle against Kylo’s chest, still staring out at the blackness. “You should take me out one day.”

Kylo settles in bed a bit, now looking out the window himself. “Would you like to go now?”

[starrynite7114]

distraction: seven

A/N: An update is finally here! Sorry this took long work, school and life has just been beating me down. This was literally my saving grace this past week. Hope you all are having a good week though!

Things are heating up in this story! Hope you all continue to enjoy it!

=========================

Letty watched Emerson as she began to doze off. They were both at the bakery still since Letty was finishing off some homework. She held in her laughter rarely seeing Emerson this exhausted at work. Emerson has told her that she’s had a hard time sleeping lately and she wasn’t exactly sure why. Maybe it was due to the fact her sister was in town, but regardless, Letty was worried about Emerson. Ever since the incident at the clubhouse, there was a shift.

Angel wasn’t subtle about visiting Emerson though the two never addressed the elephant in the room, most likely due to her presence. And if she was being honest, they both wanted her there so they could keep avoiding it.

“Finish your homework,” she jumped at the voice that came from behind her. For a moment, she thought it was Emerson, but she realized it was from behind her.

Turning around, Letty found Sophia Andres. They had met a few weeks back and Letty hasn’t been shy to show how much she disliked Sophia. She may be biased, but Emerson was her friend.

“Why are you here?” Sophia didn’t miss the hostility in Letty’s voice. She knew why Letty didn’t like her, she got it, but why was this little punk so protective over her sister? Emerson wasn’t her sister.

“Hello to you to Leticia,” Sophia sat across from her. “I’m going home and I wanted to say goodbye to my sister,” she turned back and found Emerson leaning against the wall, fast asleep. “But you know, she’s asleep.”

Letty just nodded her head, getting back to her homework. Maybe if she ignored her, she would eventually disappear.

“Why don’t you like me?” Sophia knew Letty would be blunt with her, just like her father. Most of the people part of the MC or connected to them did not beat around the bush.

Never one to hold back, Letty spoke her mind. “Cause you’re a bitch.”

Sophia smirked, slightly shaking her head. “That’s a bit biased.”

“Maybe, but I’m also not the one who basically wage war with my own sister because of a guy.” Letty didn’t have siblings or anyone for that matter for a long time. She valued people who valued her more than others since she’s never really experienced the love she had received from her father and Emerson. “I know, I don’t know the whole story, but I don’t give a fuck.”

“I won’t argue with you, I was terrible to Emmy.” Sophia held her hands up in surrender. “But Emerson isn’t innocent either you know.”

“I know Emerson has a,” Letty paused. “A darker side, but everyone does. Still no excuse for you to be such a bitch to your sister.”

“Could you imagine growing up in the shadow of an older sibling that you could never reach? Even though your parents don’t believe that they compare you two or they favor one more than the other, it happens. We’re human, it’s human nature.” This was the reason Sophia and Angel clicked all those years ago. Standing in the shadows of their siblings, it was something they bonded over. She wasn’t proud for sleeping with Angel, especially since she didn’t really care much for the guy. But she knew it was what would hurt Emerson the most. She caught Angel during a bad time between him and Emerson, and she was able to sink her claws.

“And is that your excuse for being a bitch?” Letty smirked. “Nice one.”

“Why do you worship the ground Emerson walks on? You don’t even know her.” It wasn’t as if Emerson was a terrible person, but she hated how people made her out to be a saint when she had her skeletons in the closet as well.

“Everyone has a past, she’s good to me, my dad and the club. I don’t give a shit about her past.” Whatever Sophia said to her, her opinion of Emerson wasn’t going to change. She knew everyone had a darker side, but Emerson has always been kind to her and basically took her in, fuck her.

“Of course not, I’m not saying she’s a serial killer, but don’t worship someone you barely know.” Sophia leaned back, crossings her arms over her chest. “I like you Leticia Cruz, I’m glad my sister has someone like you by her side. Unwaveringly loyal.”

“And I don’t like you, Sophia Anne Andres,” Letty leaned against her crossed arms over her trigonometry book. “I’m sure Emerson is weary of your presence.”

“Perhaps, but I am genuine in my intentions to repair my relationship with Emerson.”

“I hope you are.” Somehow, Letty didn’t believe Sophia’s words, maybe she was genuine, but at the end of the day, Letty didn’t have a high opinion of her.

“Angel, has he been around?”

“I think we both know that Angel is a frequent flier here.” Letty should stop talking to the enemy, she knew that, but she wanted to ask her about Emerson and Angel’s relationship. She would ask her dad but he specifically told her to stay out of Emerson and Angel’s business. “Why are you asking?”

“I’m sure you’re aware they were engaged.”

“Angel said they still are.”

“You can’t be engaged to someone who doesn’t remember you.” Sophia scoffed.

“You're not a fan of Angel.”

“I am, to some extent. He made my sister happy.”

Letty nodded her head. “Or you mean he kept her away from Elijah?”

Sophia really liked Letty. She kept calling her out and it was a bit refreshing. Growing up, she was used to people just nodding their head. But here was Leticia Cruz, with no fucks given on who she spoke to. She liked that kind of fearlessness.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that you know Elijah.”

“He and Emerson make a good couple.” Letty made sure to make it a point to say that. They did make a good couple and Sophia could hear all about it.

Sophia laughed. “Don’t let Angel hear that.” Her eyes darted over to Emerson who was still asleep. “You don’t like Angel for Emerson?”

“Elijah is just a better fit for her.”

“And why is that?”

“He treats her so well and he obviously loves her.”

Sophia nodded her head. “I’ll let you in a little secret, Elijah definitely has unconditional love for Emerson but Angel definitely loves Emerson more than Elijah ever did.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because Angel didn’t use Emerson as a way to appease his parents. Elijah loves Emerson because she was the perfect fit for him to his parents’ eyes.”

“I doubt that’s the reason Elijah helps her so much.”

“Perhaps, but you have to wonder why Elijah still chases after her even knowing she would never pick him.”

“Because he really loves Emerson.”

Sophia could tell that Elijah already charmed Letty. He wasn’t a bad guy, but he was also a businessman. Manipulating people was the name of their game.

“I’ll wake up Emerson,” Sophia stood up and softly shook Emerson.

She opened her eyes, letting out a yawn. “Shit, Soph, what are you doing here?”

“Gotta leave for New York, duty calls.” Sophia smiled. “You’ll be there for my bridal shower?”

“We’ll see,” Emerson didn't want to make any promises she couldn’t keep. She did not want to see her family, but she’ll make the decision near the event. “Have a safe flight.”

Emerson stood up and hug her younger sister. “Bye,”

“I’ll be in touch,” Sophia pulled away. She turned to Letty. “Bye Leticia.”

“Hope to see you soon,” Letty gave her such a fake smile that it made Sophia laugh.

The youngest Andres walked out of the shop and slid inside the car that was waiting for her. Once the door was closed, she looked over at her companion in the car.

“Angel is back in her life?”

“I don’t know why you would think that he’s not.” Sophia sighed. “Let it go father, I thought you wished to reconcile with Emerson.”

“I do,” Eduardo sighed. “It’s just not the right time.”

=========================

Angel has been sitting on his bike outside of Emerson’s apartment. He’s been pumping himself up to talk to her. Letty was over for a few hours for dinner along with Coco and he made a deal with Coco to get Letty out by 10 so he could talk to Emerson. It was now 11 and the light was still on in her living room. He wasn’t chickening out, but he didn’t know where to start.

Taking a deep breath, he finally got off his bike and made his way across the street. Going up the steps 2 steps at a time, he was in front of her door before he knew it. He knocked on the door and the door opened revealing Emerson with shorts and a tank top on. Angel groaned internally, cursing her name for wearing such an outfit. Well, it didn’t matter what Emerson wore, Angel always wanted her.

“Hi,” Angel greeted.

“Hey,” Emerson gave him a tired smile. “You’re here late.”

“I know, I was held up with pops for a bit, can I come in?” Angel questioned.

Emerson moved out of the way, letting Angel come in her apartment. They both made their way towards her cough, sitting on separate ends. Emerson wasn’t exactly sure why Angel was here, but she has been avoiding him. It’s been a week since Sophia told her that she knew Angel from a previous life. As much as she wanted to talk to Angel about it, to know more about her past, Emerson chickened out. She couldn’t bare to see the hurt in his brown eyes as they spoke about their past.

“How are you?”

“I’m good,” Emerson replied. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Angel nodded his head. “Elijah told me that you spoke to your sister.” He’s never been the one to beat around the bush, he much rather just acknowledge the white elephant in the room.

Emerson was not speaking to Elijah and even more so now. She was being petty, she knew that, but he deliberately hid things from her for his own benefit.

“I did,” Emerson pursed her lips. “I don’t know what to tell you. I feel terrible. I didn’t even know who you were yet, I shared a life with you.” She could feel the tears building in her eyes and she was trying her best not to cry. She told herself numerous of times that once she spoke to Angel, she didn’t want to become emotional. But she knew that was a moot point, it was difficult to not be emotional. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Honestly? I didn’t know how to face you. You were a blank canvas that had no recollection of what we had together. I already thought our first run around was pure luck, just didn’t think lightning would strike twice.” He shrugged. It was the truth, when he first saw Emerson, without her father’s watchful eye, he wasn’t sure what he should do. So badly he wanted to approach her, to apologize, to hold her once again, but he knew that wasn’t a good idea. It would frighten her and he knew how difficult Emerson could be. When he first met her all those years ago, she never gave him the time of day. At first he thought it was cause she liked EZ, but it wasn’t that. She just wasn’t interested. He accepted that to some extent, then at EZ’s birthday party, before he went to jail, things changed.

=========================

Emerson leaned against Angel as she happily watched EZ and Emily play beer pong against one another. It was only the four of them left and as much as Angel appreciated the time alone with Emerson, he was having such a hard time since she was so clingy to him.

“Teddy, maybe you’ve had enough to drink.” Angel took the red solo cup from her, placing it on the table in front of them.

“Psst, can’t even feel it,” Emerson scoffed, but made no attempts to get her cup back. “You’re the only person that calls me Teddy who’s not a family member.”

“Oh yeah? Should I feel special you haven’t killed me?” Angel called her Teddy since he knew it bothered her. It was childish, but it got her attention and he was all for that.

“Naw, I wouldn’t kill you, like you too much for that.” She poked his cheek before she giggled. “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure,” he smiled at her silliness, waiting for her to tell him her secret.

“You’re much better looking than Ezekiel,” Emerson places her hand on his shoulder, resting her chin on the back of her hand.

“That’s not really a secret, that’s a known fact.” Angel couldn’t help it, but his smile grew when she said that. It was rare for him to be picked over his brother, but the fact his brother’s best friend who he had a god awful crush on picked him? Made his fucking day.

“I wish you like me as much as I like you.” That caught Angel off guard. He never expressed dislike towards Emerson. Sure, he could be an asshole, but he was an asshole to everyone.

“Of course I like you Emerson, you’re the only person I would babysit besides EZ when they’re drunk.”

“No silly,” Emerson moved slightly away from him then. “I like you, as in I think you’re hot and ‘I wish I was your girlfriend’ like you.” She giggled once again. “But you know, EZ told me you weren’t interested.”

“Did he now?” Angel looked over at his brother who was watching them along with Emily. He knew EZ was head over heels for Emily, so why would EZ lie to Emerson? “Is that why you’re always a bitch to me?”

“Well you’re an asshole, why should I be nice if you’re not?” She scoffed. “Anyway, I’m never coming back to this town, fuck it.” Emerson kissed Angel, surprising him, Emily and EZ.

Once Emerson pulled away, she smiled at him one more time before she basically fell against Angel.

“Emerson?” Angel called out in panic. “Ezekiel, what the fuck man?”

“This happens whenever she has too much to drink, she’s fine, just let her sleep against you.” EZ brushed it off.

“Why did you tell her I wasn’t interested in her?”

“You don’t want to get involved with Emerson. Her family would never approve of it.”

“Wow thanks for basically letting me know I’m not good enough for her.” Angel scoffed. EZ has never rubbed it in that he was the best at everything. They were able to keep their relationship the way it was due to that. But knowing that EZ basically tried to sabotage his chance with Emerson, that wounded him. “Nice to know my baby brother is on my side.”

“It’s not like that Angel,” Emily interjected. “EZ is just trying to protect you.”

“From what?”

“Look, I’m sorry I interfered, but I really am trying to protect you. But if you’re willing to find out cause you like her that much, then by all means, go ahead.” EZ was really trying to protect Angel. The Andres family would never accept him. Not even because of his nonexistent degree, he just didn’t have the money or status for their eldest daughter.

=========================

“Did you know ever since the accident?” Emerson questioned.

“I didn’t, I tried to see you, but your father basically had the hospital stabilize you and he immediately had you transferred to a hospital in San Diego.” Angel hated looking back at how easily he gave up on Emerson, on how great it felt that he didn’t have to deal with the Andres anymore. As much as he loves Emerson, as much as he wanted to fight for her, he let her father get under his skin. “I just figured out not too long ago that you lost your memories.”

‘Emerson would never be truly happy here with you. Do you honestly think Emerson is going to stick around this god awful town? One day, she’s going to wake up and realize she made the wrong choice. Are you going to wait for that, Angel? You should just let her go.’ He had told him one day after he requested to meet with him in attempt to save his daughter’s life. ‘Emerson is just trying to make a point, once she makes it, she’s going to leave you. I could ruin you, you know. Take all of this away, get your MC indicted.’

It was then that Angel decided he was going to ruin his relationship with Emerson. He couldn’t call off the engagement, he knew Emerson would try and fight him, so he did what an asshole would do. He slept with her sister and made sure she caught them.

It was one of the biggest regrets of his life.

“I don’t blame you for not coming after me,” Emerson’s heart ached. She wasn’t sure if it was her sympathy towards Angel for not remembering him or realizing that her father deliberately tried to ruin her relationship with someone she obviously loved. “My father could be intense.”

“You can say that again,” Angel mumbled under his breath. “I should have fought for us.”

“Yeah, you should have,” Emerson’s eyes went wide at her own words. “I’m sorry, I’m not sure where that came from.”

“Do you have any recollection of us?” Angel chose to ignore her comment since he knew where it came from. The comment came from his Emerson.

“No, I mean, I don’t think so. I have bits of pieces that come back to me, but the faces are always blurry.” Emerson frowned. “But I’ve had with dreams with you lately and I’m not sure if they’re memories or just dreams.”

“Nice to know you dream of me,” he winked at her.

Emerson laughed. “Glad to further inflate your ego.”

“Tell me about them, I can tell you if they’re real or not.”

“Did you ever visit me in Stanford?” She questioned.

“Almost every weekend since we visited EZ at prison together.”

“Did we live together?”

“When you graduated, you came to Santo Padre to live with me since your father disowned you. We got a place together.” Angel was a bit surprised how much she was giving him. But from what he heard, she was eager to figure it out. After Sophia told her of her past, Emerson was more open to know things about herself. Before, she didn’t care about her past since it didn’t seem like she left anyone behind, but knowing she shared a life with Angel, things changed for her.

“My sister said we’re no longer engaged, is that true?”

“No, we still are,” he sighed. “Listen, I’m not going to pretend I’m a saint, I’m not. We were going through a rough patch at the time of your accident, but know that I love you and our engagement never ended.” Angel knew that was a bit reaching. He remembered the day Emerson caught him, the look of devastation on her face still haunted him to this day. Now, he was choosing to be selfish, he wanted Emerson back and if it meant saying a white lie, he would do it.

Emerson just nodded her head and she wasn’t really sure what to say. What was she supposed to say about that? Sophia told her they were no longer engaged but finding out they still were, she felt awful. Even though she never knew about him, she still felt terrible knowing that she left him behind and basically left their relationship in limbo.

“You must hate Elijah.” Emerson now understood why the two seemed to have such tension between them. They never fought in front of her, but she knew anything could trigger one of them.

“He is a prick.” Angel smirked. “Listen Teddy,” he paused, assessing her reaction and she was waiting for him to finish. “I’m here for you, whatever you need. I would never pressure you, but whatever I felt for you then, it’s still here. Whether you need a friend or whatever it is, I’m here.”

“Thanks Angel,”

Emerson always felt so at ease with Angel. When they first met, she remembered that she was a bit intimidated by all these bikers, but Angel always seemed to make her feel at ease. She always thought it was due to his jovial mannerism, but it made sense now.

Even though she lost her memories, the connection she once had with him was present. Her mind might not have remembered him, but her heart did.

[vegetalass]

Animalia, or the Circle of Life

Sorry y’all i been writing this forever but i got distracted a lot lmfaoo

Based on the line “you’re an animal, steel. A dog.” and my idea of Sidestep’s “game.” I wish it was more violent / angry, but this is the only thing I could think of.

Basically you have a PHAT crush on steel and he knows but he doesnt care and decides to cut you out first. Snip snip i guess.

Villain name: Ophelia

Warning: Contains Fallen Hero: Retribution spoilers!

Huge shout-out to @m4rkab for beta reading and providing amazing feedback! As well as Capri and Sock in the discord chat for helping me brainstorm ideas! and to Grum, of course!

FH:R belongs to @fallenhero-rebirth

Steel/gn!Reader - 2663 words

_________________________

In a way, Steel has always looked slightly deformed to you.

For starters, his arms are a little bit too big for his waist, and his back stands just a little too taut, almost as if you could see the metal rods fused to the bones that hide beneath his skin. It’s never really been a problem, this aspect of him, especially since these are things you easily forget whenever you’re not in his vicinity. It’s only when you stare at his malformed figure in a sad kind of longing as you quietly join him in the Ranger’s HQ, that you realize that there’s always been something off about him that you can’t quite seem to place.

Maybe you’re just being harsh because he doesn’t really like you. Hell, maybe you’re harsh all the time. But when you gently skim his mind and accidentally get a feel for how uneasy he still is around you, it’s easy to begin thinking about all of the wasted effort you’ve put into getting to know him. He only has to snarl at you for you to remember that he is not your friend and never will be, which makes it easy to understand why there must be something else that is causing you to look at him like he’s an animal.

It’s unfair. The fact that Steel won’t be nice to you and you have never been allowed to be nice at all. You know that he doesn’t deserve to be judged as such, when he’s been trying to get to know you the way that one deserves to be known… But it’s hard when you can see right through his forehead, and understand that nothing will ever be enough.

The most dangerous animals are often the most beautiful, after all, and though his scars are a warning that do nothing to favor him, still, you can’t help but think what a handsome man he could’ve been had he not waged a war against you and the whole fucking world.

You wish you could’ve been real friends. More than friends.

Maybe you will be in the next life, after you finally kill him in this one.

You play a game — in your head, that is — where you pretend that everyone normal is actually hideous and that everyone hated is loved, and that here, in this game, you’re the only beautiful savior left who’s going to protect the Los Diablos citizens from evil.

Steel is there, in all his glory, and Ortega too, along with the rest of the Rangers, and it's here that you remain on opposing sides, but instead of helping they just hinder, and instead of having their victories broadcast on television, their mugshots hang from telephone poles all city-wide.

Even though you could’ve been a Ranger, you’ve decided that this vision is much more satisfying.

The fantasy continues with everyone you love turning out to be a Re-Gene and not a single person who turns away when they see blue skin or orange tattoos. You live your life in the open, proud of your scars and body, and become as revered as Ophelia as Ortega is as Charge or as Chen Wei is as Steel, deformities and all.  

The long-awaited celebration comes last, when you finally imagine how you save the day and how people cheer for you, this other you, the real you. And it’s when you see Steel there, begging for your forgiveness against all odds and factors, though you take your time, you also decide to forgive him, not for his sake, but for yourself and the people, to prove that kindness and love really can be a choice.

Because in this pretend place, Steel loves you.

This is always how the game ends, happily, as the real Steel would never choose kindness, and even at your friendliest, you don’t think you would, either.

There’s nothing in the world, you think, that could be better than this. It’s just... too bad it’s not real.

Whatever. It doesn’t matter now, and in fact, probably never will.

Because Steel is still cruel, and because you know that if he even thought of the connection between you and villainy that he would shoot you in the face on sight. And who would want a relationship with a man like that even on his best days?

Not you.

Well…. that’s a lie. But this whole “crush” thing is a recent development. You weren’t expecting to fall for him, not when he can barely look at you in return.

To say he even tolerates you would be a kindness. You talk, you laugh, and you smile, as though you’re normal people in a normal city, doing things that people in a normal relationship would do. Any human could be fooled by his nature, and part of you has been, too. But you’re not a human, and Steel is used to being on TV,  so both of you know when a hand that’s been extended isn’t really a hand at all. And despite the passing kindnesses that you have shared together, Steel still won’t let you in.

You know this, because when you bask in his mind’s image of you, you can see that part of him wants to. He’s just better at being reasonable, or you guess, as Ortega would say, “hurting himself.”

Because you do like Steel. You do. It’s just really complicated to explain, and you know that Steel wouldn’t ever feel like listening.

You can imagine the laugh Ortega would have at this problem already, and frankly, you can imagine having one, too. It would be a lot easier to be nice and kind to Steel if he was nice and kind to you. Because those are the rules, and even if you do have a weird thing for him, you have a much longer history that needs to be respected.

Which is funny, since you’re even at the HQ right now.

Steel shuffles, breaking your train of thought, and turns around, shoulders and then head, before noticing you hiding in the silence of the room you share.

Piss.

“Hi, Chen,” you nod, pretending that you hadn’t just been imagining all the different ways you could get him on his knees. That’s ironic.

“Sidestep,” he acknowledges, body still tilted sideways on the chair he’s been resting on, elbows on his knees.

“Can’t use my name?” you joke, trying to force a smile, at least to replicate the feeling of normality instead of the vicious aura of displacement that already surrounds you. It’s been enough just to have this ill-fated crush on him, you don’t want to reek of insecurity, as well.

He chuckles softly, chest expanding, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

He seems nervous, disrupted by your appearance, as if you caught him in a moment of vulnerability and hesitation. His face is tilted down, and despite the obvious recognition in his eyes, his back stays hunched. You’d be curious at his predicament, but you’re a telepath, and you don’t have to wonder for long.

At the the first burning touch to his mind, you can already see the person that’s reflected back at you, and it’s not hard to see why he’s acting so bothered.  

You might as well be a monster from the way your image distorts. Your face breaks into a mocking smile, with teeth like pointed needles, and as your body grows to a tower-like height and becomes layered with dark armor that is unmistakable in shape and form, you begin to reach out in all directions, as well.

You look terrifying yet familiar, but you recognize the feeling of Steel’s hesitation at the thought. You know this is one of the reasons why you think he is capable of being nice.

You break instantly from your trance at the sound of his voice, though he hasn’t moved an inch.

“This thing we have…” he trails off, waving his hand in the air. You stare at him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights from your resting place by the door.

The way he says your name makes you feel sick.

“I don’t want you coming to the HQ anymore.”

You continue to stare at him, silent at his confession despite the fact that you could have seen it coming.

That you should have seen it coming.

“You’re a variable that I cannot afford,” he voices, again dancing around any explanation or reason why, “and you can’t keep leading me on like this.”

In your game, this is the part where Steel says he’s just worried about you. If this were your game, you also know that Steel would say he’s sorry.

You know it’s naive to assume that he doesn’t suspect that you’re Ophelia, but you’re not sure what evidence he really has, and it makes you angry to think that you may have slipped.

But it’s hard to decide if it was intentional or not, and if this is the outcome, if it was worth it.

“Say something,” he demands, voice straining and suddenly angry, as he watches your eyes hover distractedly over his body but never focus. He rests his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes roughly with terrible metal knuckles.

“I’m...” you start, sucking in a sharp breath when you finally look at his face, “not leading you on.”

His reply is instant. “Then what are you doing?”

He glares at you from behind his hands, but you do not flinch as you’re unsure of what he’s expecting your answer to be.

You see the monster in his mind again, the one that’s a wrongful depiction of you, now shedding a stream of bloody tears. Suddenly, it becomes harder to watch through Steel’s eyes, as the You-Beast morphs from something hideous into the kind, little kid you were eight years ago, still stained in blood.

Oh, Chen! I just want to be a Ranger!

What a sick joke. A cruel one.  

Because that is not your answer, it never was, and now, you have nothing left to say to him, it being clear when your eyes slip to the floor in shock. Anger radiates from every inch of his person, and yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care the way you would’ve, even if you had just a week ago. You reach out for purchase against the slope of his thoughts, and see that his response is easy and his words are endless.

He narrows his eyes.

“I’m being kind. I’ve been more than kind. I just…” he rubs the bridge of his nose, and restarts the thought. “You know that I care for you.”

“You do?” It’s not checkmate, but it’s a start.

He hesitates. You’re a mind reader, after all.

Both of you remain quiet, standing in wait for a battle that is bound to happen. In some ways, you feel numb to his words, unfazed at his unkindness a part of you has always known him to be hiding. Yet, there is also a piece of you that forces your eyes to close in an attempt to concentrate just enough to stop yourself from lashing out. You don’t want to face the consequences of becoming angry at a man who is too pathetic to let you be happy in your spare time.

You peel your eyes open, and realize you have begun to cry.

“I don’t want to watch you drag your baggage around as if there is a way to mend what is broken.” His voice is stern, and suddenly you feel like a kid.

Your hands reach out, finding the closest thing to your body that fits in your hand and throwing it in his direction. He flinches, but the half-full bottle of Neon Rangerade misses his head by a good foot and a half and he stares at you with a blank expression.

“I’m not broken,” you croak, trying to defend what little reason you have left, “ Nothing is broken.”

The words feel heavy on your tongue, like the pills you could never swallow, but Steel ignores your disposition in his stupor. Normally, you’d attempt to reach a finger into his mind, but you know the only things that would be left there are his weird image of Ortega and about a thousand vile words.

“I don’t deserve being lied to,” he says blandly this time, distantly, while gazing far out the window at God knows what.

You don’t care to know what he’s thinking about anymore, or which incident it is that bleeds and stains in his mind. You have been good at keeping your mouth shut, but this conversation has been all the confirmation he needs. Silence can be a poison, and though you could easily find out what it is that Steel has been holding onto, what grief he carries in his heart, you can’t find it in yourself to press him any harder. He would know if you did, and you’re already crying.

He’s being cruel by doing this to you; forcing you to sew your lips shut even when all you wanted was him. People say that it’s the Re-Genes who lack any Humanity. Another fucking joke.  

“You’re an animal, Steel. You know that, right? A fucking dog.”

That’s ironic.

You wipe your wet cheeks. You shouldn’t be crying about a man you know never cared.

“Maybe,” he finishes, avoiding your eyes, “but that doesn’t mean shit coming from you.”

You watch as Steel stands up, finally broken from the paralysis you must’ve put him in. He glances once more at the white folder in his hands, and then at the leaking Rangerade you threw on the floor. He slowly puts down the files, and reaches for the bottle that is staining the carpet a bright orange. He’s always been a good boy.

You want to say you like that about him.

You can’t.

As he rests the bottle on the table, you notice Ortega’s face on the label that gazes up at the both of you in a trained and empty smile. You know it well, because part of you is empty, too.

“I’ll kill you, Steel.” you finally say, angry at both yourself and him for appearing so weak, so flushed red and angry. You turn to watch him as he pushes past you with heavy footsteps, and when he reaches the door to the long, sunny hallway that stretches out to the elevator, he doesn’t stop to look at you.

“I know.” His final words are cold, and it doesn’t take any telepathy to realize that he knows you aren’t lying.

Tomorrow you will be enemies again, and whatever your feelings were, they won’t matter now, because any kindness Steel had left for you died the moment you let yourself fall. The moment you realized it wasn’t a game anymore.

This is the animal kingdom, after all. It always has been, and the both of you are predators, waiting for the day when you can finally taste the sweetness that comes with being deadly.

It’s the circle of life.

You think about your game; about the fake Steel who begs on his knees for you and the boy he becomes when he kisses you despite your tattoos and scars. Despite being broken and animalistic.

You made him up in your head.

It makes you sad… Because it’s true that the real Steel hates you, and that if anyone else you loved knew you weren’t human, they would run for the hills, too. But most of all, it’s too bad that the people of Los Diablos don’t see you as their hero, and probably never will, because even if you pretend you don’t care, it would be really, really nice to feel loved.

Steel made you realize that.

And as you leave the HQ alone for the last time, a long time after Steel, you play the game over. This time, though, not forgiving anyone.

[empress-of-xerxes]

Immortal Passengers

In ages past, the Blighted Lamb had sailed the void under a much more stoic name and under colors befitting it’s once regal heritage. Imperial records had defined it as a Gloriana-class battleship. One of very few such vessels to exist with the others belonging to only the greatest beings ever to walk amongst mankind. It was from this class of vessel that Primarchs waged war against the wayward and brought compliance to nearly the entire galaxy. It was also from these ships that the Primarchs sought to undo everything the Great Crusade had accomplished and the shear volume or depth of fire-power offered by these vessels were enough to cause untold devastation among any who dared fight against it.

System conquerors. Compliance bringers. Every Gloriana-class was made to personify the very being of their Legion and in turn that of their Primarch.

But the Blighted Lamb was different. In it’s many millenia since the events of the Horus Heresy, it had since shrug away any notion of belonging to a single Legion. When it found it’s crew wanting and the call for greater causes brushed against it’s hull, the Blighted Lamb made short work of those who stalked it’s passages consigning thousands to the void and untold millions to infestation or daemonic incursion. It had always been a fickle, quick to bore vessel and it’s attention was easily lost when it’s crew proved unworthy.

That was until the Immortalis had conquered it. That was... until the Daemoness had graced it’s throne.

“Blood.” Adrian whispered, sucking in recycled air and flicking his forked tongue out across his lips as if tasting a scent. A pasty coat of grey powder caked at the edges of his smile, peeling away as the humidity pressed into his skin and broke apart the painted death mask. He often daubed ash onto the radiant skin of his face as a means to preserve both his own beauty as well as that of the many bodies the ash had once been. Burned to cinders only hours ago, Adrian blissfully wore the ashen mask as he strolled through the corridors of the Blighted Lamb. Beside him walked his retinue, a motley crew of astartes salvaged from various Pentacles or Millennials complimenting a different fighting style and skill that Adrian put to great use. 

His armor was a graven-colored grey smear inlaid with finely carved obsidian and trimmed in a deep crimson. Xerxian-script, an old nearly dying language flowed across it’s many contours reciting poems and sagas from dead prophets or artists. Flowing across his chest and down his waist jingled a tabard made of gilded silver coins depicting leaders and nations from all across the galaxy. They clashed and clattered against his armor, vibrating in a noisily pleasing way that rang against Adrian’s ears and only ever caused his smile to wide.

“Yes, there was plenty spilled against these walls”, said one of his retinue. An apothecary by trade but he had long since given up such a title. Flesh-carver or Butcher seemed far more fitting in this day and age. His voice was a dull monotone and filled with the bitter touch of logic. “Records scavenged from what data banks we could salvage indicated nearly twelve different crew changes. From lowly gangers to an entire complement of legionaires. All of which have since been... expelled.” A soft grunt left the apothecaries vox grill.

Adrian nodded, not really caring about this information but saving it from later use nonetheless. All knowledge had it’s purpose after all.

A low grumble left his chest, a purr, and he continued to stalk forward taking in the sights of the newly-christened flagship. It was quite dull as far as it’s interior and it had looked as if many had tried to make their mark without permanence. As quickly as changes were wrought upon the ships walls they were reverted. “This really is a fickle bitch of a ship.” 

Helotes, the apothecary, grunted once more and tapped the end of his narthecium against a ruined tapestry that depicted a warrior in Mark II armor standing valiantly above a newly conquered world. “That is putting it lightly.”

The astartes made there way conducting the last and final checks of the important corners of the ship and found it to be in tip-top shape. No sign of external intrusion, no stirring from the thinly veiled areas of reality, and most importantly no residual constructs. The ship had done a number when an unknown factor in slaved-servitors and skitarrii elements had ambushed the Immortalis’ initial taking of the ship. They had since grown paranoid and always on the lookout for the more colorful of traps. Something that provided as much of a distraction as an opportunity for fun.

The astartes finished their checklist and began making their way back to the ships command deck. Adrian voxed ahead, “Does she still sleep?” There was worry in his voice. Concern and a hint of yearning. It was almost enough to ruin his constant smile but he kept himself in check.

The reply was curt as expected of the braggart, “Yes.”

Upon the command deck of the Blighted Lamb, two-hundred souls worked tirelessly to maintain the ship and keep all it’s needs fulfilled. This was no motley crew but the best personnel to survive the shattering of the Xerxian Empire. Navbeds, Captains from every Pentacle, expert pilots and some fifty former-Cohort members all went about their tasks muttering and whispering as the mortal kind tended to do. There was never silence on the command deck and even the astartes of the Immortalis Primus went about teasing and goading each other.

As Adrian entered, there was a modicum of decorum as a few nods and salutes were passed. But otherwise, the favored of the Shahmaran was given a wide berth and always a clear path to the throne. As he approached it, he felt a brush against his mind. A shiver of bliss and the overwhelming sensation of claws gently scraping against his brain-matter. A divine fleeing that gave him a slight pause but which was quickly followed through less he lose himself in the feeling. He made his way to stand beside the throne and he knelt down low.

“My Shahmaran, the ship has been cleansed to it’s fullest and is ready for transit.” He knew he did not need to say it, but to not do so was to lose an opportunity to hear her speak.

There was a twitch as the woman upon the throne rose to awareness. Short, silver hair crowed a regal, hawkish face. Tanned, radiant skin glistened with ethereal energies that pressed just beneath the surface always waiting to be unleashed. Twin curling horns from up then back along the woman’s scalp, their ends tipped with gilded silver. She was tall for a mortal with a body muscled and resembling an amazoness primed for war. Her armor flexed and breathed as an almost second skin with the leering snake at the center of her breastplate constantly in motion entwined with the pentacle inlaid against it.

She opened her eyes, twin crimson irises pulsing with pale-firelight. She turned to regard him and act that only further caused Adrian to shiver in glee as the full depth of her gaze swept over him. A thin, motherly smile crossed her lips and she lifted her hand to the sound of rattling scales set against the forearms. 

“We go to the Eye. There are many audiences who demand my presence and I will not leave them wanting.” Her voice was rich and deeply accented, that of a scholar with intoned fury behind every syllable. It was only then that the command deck fell silent and all attention went to the throne. The Shahmaran stood slowly from her seat of power and gestured outward at her gathered host, “You all are the survivors because the gods have willed it. What is left of Xerxes is now left within you and it with your blood and your souls that we will conquer far more than fledgling systems.”

There was a rapturous applause and the sounds of hundreds of mortals and astartes beating their breasts. Seras’ smile widened and she soaked in the admiration and the love of her people. Her gauntlets rattled once more as she reached into the warp with a simplicity that gathered disbelief and she pulled from it the weapon of Xerxes destruction. A hellsword that blazed and crackled with a molten heart as it’s core. She twisted the weapon through the air, carving fissures before her and slammed it into the decking. The ship almost seemed to groan at the action, walls creaking and floor vibrating violently.

Seras grinned now as she felt the Blighted Lamb lower it’s geller fields by her command and an even larger tear in reality emerged out in the void ready to welcome her fleet. 

“To the Eye.” She said and the remnants of the Xerxian Armada set sail once again. 

[storyteller15]

Chapter Three: Preparations and Sad Farewells

During Geometry, I was absolutely out of focus.

The fact that I am in the Selection is still processing through my brain. A few nights ago, Felicity’s mom had to dismiss everyone to go home, after dealing with her daughter’s tantrum. Of course, she congratulated me for getting in, she’s so kind to everyone unlike her daughter. In the end, I was the only one from Aura Cove that made it into the Selection.

Like Bethany and Bryn, Nanny was exhilarated to hear the good news. She ended up crying with tears of joy, that it took us a few hours to get her to calm down. According to Nanny, after I was announced to be in The Selection, she received a call from an official that she will come by our house on Tuesday to prep me up for the competition. So, it'll be a very busy day for me indeed, I thought to myself.

This morning, everyone that I encountered told me how excited they are for me to compete. Even some of Felicity’s friends ended up congratulating me. I felt numb, but ecstatic at the same time. I wonder how the other young ladies that got in felt? And how many other mages like me got in?

The bell rings, echoing throughout the room as a sign that it’s time to go home. The students get up, packing their stuff and headed out the classroom. Of course, I was the last one to pack up, since the shockingly surprised news of me getting picked continued to buzz in my head.

“Don’t forget to do your homework! They’re due the next time you all see me!” Our Geometry teacher reminds us.

I sighed softly, getting up from my desk packing my assignments and book. I hanged my cross-body bag across my body, following the other students out.

“Oh, Zefie?" I stopped by the door before I faced my teacher. "I just want to let you know, that I’m so happy to hear that you made it into the Selection. A young lady like you are what everyone in Auradon are looking for.”

I blushed at her comment before I smiled. “Thank you, so much."

I left my class with a tired sigh. All day I've been dealing with cold stares from Felicity. She hasn't spoken a word at all, and I suppose it was a good thing. I followed the crowded hallway, where I finally see Bethany. She was leaning against her locker, waiting for me and waves.

"Let me guess, you're feeling a little drained after everyone congratulated you?"

I groaned a little. "It's very kind of them, but I'm still a little shocked about it."

"Don't sweat it, something this big can be overwhelming."

"It is overwhelming. I've been dreaming of meeting Prince Asriel one day ever since I was eleven. And now that I've been picked to be in his Selection, I am absolutely blown away."

And it's true, there are no words to describe how I feel. Of course I felt nervous. However, I want to do my best by being myself, and do my part by helping Asriel balance out his responsibilities as his queen one day. That is, if I get picked.

Bethany grins at me and gives me a tight hug. We continued to walk down the hallway together, talking about what we did in class until we spot Felicity. She was standing outside the school, with her friends a few feet away from their hot-tempered leader. Bethany and I tried to ignore her glares as we kept walking, but she stands in our way.

"Uhm, excuse us, Jones. We need to leave." Bethany says with gritted teeth, holding her anger at bay.

"No, I don't think so," she approaches us, continuing to glare at me. "I'm here to have a talk with Alban."

She shoves Bethany to the side, now facing me as I hear her gasp. "Hey! Why you—!"

"No, stop! It's okay, Beth!" I stop her before she tries to fight Felicity. I don't want this to end badly between them.

"Just let her talk to me. I'll be fine."

Bethany looks at me, then at Felicity. "Fine, but I'll stay right here in case things go wrong."

She backs away a little to give us space. I then turned to face Felicity. Nanny may be right about the girls being okay with the fact that they weren’t picked, but she wasn't right about Felicity's reaction. She's furious, denying the fact that she didn't get picked. Every student gathered at the school courtyard, to see if we're going to fight.

"I do not accept this. How is it possible that you were picked instead of me?" She scowls at me even fiercer than before.

I swallowed hard, keeping myself composed. "It was a random draw Felicity, we're not chosen to—"

"Bullshit!" She bellowed in anger. "You of all people have some nerve of entering the Selection, and ruining my chance to enter!"

Feeling my heart pound loudly as my magic began to hum dangerously under my skin, I took a deep, calming breath. If I am ever to become Queen, I must remain stoic; even in times such as this.

"That's because it was my choice. Every girl has the freedom to decide and apply, not just you. And for once, I felt proud of myself for making a brave choice to try."

She lets out a dry haughty laugh and sneers at me. "You think that's brave?" She scoffs at my reply, shaking her head as if I'm a child. "Well, your brave choice to enter turned out to be an idiotic one. And now I; no, all of us are left with the humiliation of having you try to become Queen! We have to just sit here and watch a fucking nerve-wrecking dope like you try to drive Auradon into oblivion!"

That's it. Enough is enough.

Felicity continued her rant although I barely heard a word of it. I'm so tired of her always putting me down. My magic hums loudly as it visibly appears over my hands. Felicity suddenly cries out, backing away from me. The students did so as well. Only Bethany stayed somewhat near, I notice.They all watched as I dangerously let my magic spark and dance around my hands in a bright pink color.

"AND JUST HOW ARE YOU FIT TO BECOME QUEEN?!” I challenge, raising my voice loud enough to be heard by everyone and standing as tall as I can.

My eyes pierced through hers; I could almost see the chills shudder down her spine. Bethany's eyes widens at my sudden change of behavior before I continued.

"Do you even understand what it means to be Queen? How will you rule as Queen if the demons reached the surface, and wage war against us?" Felicity nervously opens her mouth, but I cut her off. "What will you do when you face one? I hope to Goddess that you never will. They won't hesitate to kill you, they show no mercy. They're not going to care who and what you are. As long as there's blood to spill and souls to take, they will be more than happy to do so. The demons are the real monsters that we all should fear. And even if you have the guards to protect you, they can't do it forever Felicity. You have to fight for yourself; for Asriel, for everyone that lives in our country. The Selection is more than just luxury and love, something you seem to forget.”

Hearing the other students whispers, Felicity spoke up, “Of course we have to fight for everyone! However, a coward like you just isn’t . . .” Her words trailed off into silence. Nothing about me was cowardly at that moment and she knew it.

“This is a competition to see how far you'll train to become Berdea's future Queen for Asriel's sake. You have to be willing to change, to grow; your mind must be flexible, your heart committed,” I continued. My magic begins to fade, feeling myself calm down a little from my sudden anger. “They need a leader who is willing to sacrifice her own life to fight for the sake of our country. They need someone who will love and cherish every single person of our country, not just Asriel."

I watched as Felicity looks to the side, letting the truth finally sink into her head. I looked at her solemnly.

"I'm not saying normal humans like you shouldn't go, and I’m not saying you’d make a terrible Queen. I'm just proving my point that it doesn't matter if you're an ordinary human, a mage, or a monster. Every girl has an opportunity to enter the Selection. You just have to prepare yourself to pay the price of it."

Felicity grits her teeth, balling her fingers into a fist and stomps away while her pride lasted. Her friends follow after her at a safe distance. The students eventually scattered, going back to whatever they were doing before all of this drama happened.

I let out a shaky breath as Bethany pulled me into a tight hug. “Holy shit, Zef! I know you’re smart at staying away from fights, but damn! I didn’t know you had that in ya!”

“I’m just tired of her always acting so naive. She needed to know the truth about the competition.” I shrugged, leaning my head against her arm.

“Amen to that! Anyway, I have to go. My parents are picking me up for some family bonding. Try and get some rest, okay?”

“I will. Have fun.”

We hugged each other one more time, before she heads to the parking lot. I decided to walk home instead of catching the bus. For now, I just wanted to be alone so I can think without getting distracted. Everyone is being so kind that I feel grateful for their support. After thinking about how I’ve been feeling for the past few weeks, I felt so embarrassed, that I wanted to go back in time and tell myself that it’ll be okay.

However, time traveling for mages is the biggest taboo to ever commit. When a human mage is born, they all must follow the laws of magic. And because my real parents abandoned me, Nanny was able to travel to the mage coven to claim me as her child and guardian to allow me to use my magic wisely. In the end, I was free to use my magic for good purposes.

Something else bothered me. I looked up, watching the sun setting down over the horizon. One way or another, every monster outside Aura Cove will know the truth of my existence. A living descendant of a powerful mage, who was one of the seven that sealed the monsters away after the war. Even if the monsters in here knows the truth and accepts me, the feelings won’t be the same to the others.

I clenched my fists. This is the price I must pay. I shouldn’t overthink, Nanny already told King Asgore and Queen Toriel about me ever since she adopted me. Surprisingly, she told me that they accepted who I am and where I came from. The thought about it eases my worries, just a little.

The skies turned from orange, to a lovely golden-pink color. I watched in awe as the sun begins to set over the ocean. I’ll be traveling up North to Berdea, where Asriel’s kingdom awaits. The gentle breeze begins to blow against my face, feeling my hair dance along the wind as I continue to walk home.

Several hours later, I stretched my arms out as I yawned. I climbed into my big soft bed, letting my body plop onto my soft cushion of my bed sheets. I exhaled loudly before I hugged my pillow. Today made me feel so exhausted. I don't like to snap at people! It's not in my damn nature! But sometimes we have to, because people don't learn that way. I groaned softly against my pillow. The mayor is going to hate me.

Just then, I hear someone knocked on my door. "Come in, it's open."

"Hey, it's just me." Bryn walks into my room, sitting over on the edge of my bed. "So, I heard you finally stood up to that brat."

"Not you, too!" I groaned, chucking a pillow at her.

"Well, I'm glad you did it anyway," She throws it back at me. "Her behavior won't be tolerated in Berdea."

"You're right about that. But, Felicity's selfishness would have gotten her killed first by the demons." I hugged the pillow close to my chest.

Bryn then scoots closer to me and nudges my arm. "The question is, are you prepared to fight against one?"

"Yeah, of course I am. I didn't spend five years training on fighting and using my magic for nothing."

"Well then, it looks like I don't have to hold your hand anymore." She chuckles and stands up, facing me. "Alright, it's kind of late, and tomorrow will be busy with the official going over the rules and all."

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about that. Preparations before I leave home for twelve months. Maybe more than that, depending on Asriel's decision. I let out a loud yawn and pulled my soft sea foam green sheets over me. Bryn begins to walk out of my room, but pauses.

"Oh, right, I forgot to mention that the mayor called." My whole body went still, but she gives me a reassuring smile. "It's not bad, she just wanted to apologize for the way her bratty daughter acted towards you and Bethany. So her daughter is officially grounded for two months. Anyway, goodnight."  

"Goodnight." I replied before she closes my room door.

I laid my head over my soft pillows, closing my eyes. I imagined myself in a ridiculous, long ball gown, complaining about how heavy the skirt itself felt. When I get to Berdea, I have to stay determined. I have remember why I want to be there. And in seconds, I finally fall into a peaceful deep sleep.

"Sweetie? Wake up, it's breakfast time." Nanny says rubbing my arm gently from my sleep.

My body stirred a little under my sheets before I sat up. "Breakfast?" I groaned, rubbing the dried crusts out of my eyes.

"I honestly don't feel like going to school."

"Oh, no. I'm afraid you won't be going to school, not for a long time honey."

I open my eyes wide, flabbergasted from her reply.

"What? Really?" I squinted my eyes at her, trying to see if she's joking.

Nanny chuckles, moving my hair out of my face. "Well, yes? Because, you will be leaving tomorrow for Prince Asriel’s Selection in Berdea, remember?"

Oh! That's right! I face palmed my face. Why the hell do I keep forgetting about these things? I shook my head, climbing out of bed following Nanny. I still feel groggy, and I honestly didn't want to get out of bed.

"Bryn's already eating breakfast, make sure you change out of your pajamas. The official will arrive in a few hours. So, please make your bed in case they come into your room."

"Yes, Nanny." I responded as I make my way to the dining room.

Bryn was munching down on her bacon and eggs, briefly greeting me as I did the same. I take my seat across from her, where a plate of home-styled Eggs Benedict with roasted chopped seasoned red potatoes are waiting for me. My stomach growled, waiting with anticipation for me to eat it all.

By the time it's ten o'clock, I hear three loud knocks on the front door.

"Bryn, go see who is at the door please." Nanny asks while she finished washing the dishes.

I look at myself in the mirror, finding an eighteen year old girl with natural pale skin, and light amethyst eyes. My long light auburn hair was tied into twin tails—my personal touch to my appearance. Felicity thought it was something a baby would wear, not teens like me.

"Zefie! The official is here," Bryn says from the hallway. "She wants to meet you now."

I take one last glance at myself before I leave the bathroom. When I walk into the living room, I find a dog monster dressed in a fancy suit. She has long brown ears and some black spots on her fur. Next to her is a woman who looks similar to Nanny's age. Her blond hair is in a fancy bun, wearing a simple cream colored knitted sweater and dark blue denim pants.

"Oh! Hello, hello! You must be Miss Zafrina Alban." The official beams, wagging her tail.

I chuckled at her excitement. "Yes, I am. You can call me Zefie, it's nice to meet you."

"Ha ha ha! Okay, Miss Zefie. My name is Claire, I'm the official who spoke to your mother last Friday. And I say, I am so ecstatic to have a mage like you competing in Prince Asriel’s Selection!" She exclaims while her eyes gleamed like stars.

I nodded kindly before I looked at the woman next to her. Claire seemed to have noticed before she gasps.

“Ah! Silly me! Where are my manners today?! This lovely lady next to me is Sarah, she will be here to measure you.” She gestures to the woman as she waves at me meekly.

“Nice to meet you, Sarah.” I greeted and smiled at her. “And measuring me? What for?”

“It’s to help us know what size you are to fit in the perfect gowns you will be wearing at the palace. The King and Queen want to be sure your wardrobe of clothes are comfortable for you.” Sarah reassures me in a gentle voice.

That makes sense, but I’m not really looking forward to wearing dresses. Bryn wiggles her eyebrows, grinning at me. I respond by giving her a playful glare. Her dreams are coming true, she’s finally gonna see me in a gown. Nanny was pleased to hear that as well, giving me an encouraging smile.

After Nanny and Claire shared a brief conversation, she begins to go over the rules of the Selection. So far, we have curfews. Our bedtime is at 9 PM sharp. We cannot leave beyond the castle grounds unless we have a guard to escort us anywhere in Berdea. It’s to keep the Selected girls safe from any encounter from the demons.

There are three important rules that stood out for me among the others. The first thing I have to remember is to not cheat on the prince. I can do that, because I don’t have any admirers. The second important rule is to not steal anything from the other Selected girls. Okay, I understand that part. Some girls have the habit of “borrowing” from each other. Once they borrow, they eventually don’t give it back, because they forget to. The last and most important one of them all, is to not physically attack, or use magic to harm the other Selected girls. It will count as a one-way ticket out of the competition. I felt a little skeptic about it, girls can be sneaky. If I remember correctly, Felicity tricked a cheerleader into hitting her. The result got her kicked out of the team, giving Felicity a chance to take the poor girl’s spot. Hopefully this rule will make the Selected girls think twice before they do something this stupid.

Claire goes ahead takes out my contract for me to sign that I understand, and will obey the rules when I compete. Nanny and I reread all the rules one more time, before I signed my name on the bottom of the paper. My stomach was forming knots again, but I tried my best not to let it bother me.

“Alright, Miss Zefie, now that you understand the rules and the things you must do for the Selection. I'm happy to say that you are officially prepared!” Claire beams, wagging her long tail. “Now comes the best part, measuring! Sarah, dear?”

Sarah goes ahead and takes out her measuring tape. She begins by measuring my bust and waist, recording my measurements in her notebook. Bryn and I were able to chat while Sarah finishes measuring my height. In the Kitchen, Nanny and Claire are finishing the last few things that needs her consent to let me compete.

Around three o'clock, Claire and Sarah left. So, it was just the three of us now, we spent most of our afternoon watching movies. The preparations are complete, and tomorrow is the day I leave Aura Cove. Nanny wanted to call Asgore and Toriel, but she was unable to contact them. I guess she wanted to talk with two of her best friends once more. And now that I’m leaving, Nanny has been feeling a bit down. She knew that one day, I have to grow up and become responsible. It hurts to see Nanny and Bryn feeling a little gloomy about it.

I have to stay strong for them, I didn’t enter the Selection for nothing.

Suddenly, Nanny perks up and looks at us. “We should spend time together as a family.” I raised an eyebrow, confused.

“Like what, Nanny?”

Her smile widened “Let’s go night swimming in the ocean.”

Bryn and I gasped, and squealed excitedly. We both knew what Nanny meant every time she mentions the ocean. I quickly run into my room, pulling my drawers open. I flipped my shirts to the sides neatly until I finally found what I was looking for.

Moments later at the rocky shore of Aura Cove’s beach, my magic teleports us here in an instant. Under my baggy white t-shirt, I was wearing my white sweetheart strapped one piece swimsuit. It actually looks like a short dress, and it’s the only thing I’ll ever wear when it comes to swimming.

Bryn on the other hand, is wearing her scarlet-red bikini. When she’s in her bikinis, nearly half the guys at her college drools about it. I felt so squeamish about it, that I pushed those thoughts to the side.

“Well done, Zefie.” Nanny hugs me close.

Bryn looks around in case there are people or monsters nearby. “Coast is clear.”

Nanny nods and pulls off her hood, closing her eyes. A bright white aura begins to surround her whole body, hearing its magic hum. The white aura begins to reshape Nanny’s body into a seal. Her appearance is so radiant and exquisite. Her fur is in a snow white color, but the tip of her snout is black. Her eyes remained dark brown, but a bit bigger.

This is Nanny’s disguise form. She uses this form to look like an ordinary seal to the eyes of humans for centuries. And in this case, anyone who spots us in the ocean, will think Nanny as nothing but an ordinary seal. But Bryn and I are the only ones that know about her true form; besides Toriel and Asgore. Instead of having flippers and a tail, her form is similar to her human features, except her snout, claws, and white fur remained.

Just then, Nanny looks towards the ocean. Bryn and I do the same as we see a herd of grey seals a couple yards from the shore. I smiled, spotting Bubby, the dark grey seal I befriended back when I was a little girl. Nanny nudges her head against us that we can go in now.

Bryn jumps in first, I jump in after her, feeling the cold sea water tingle against my skin. Nanny dives in head first, watching her swim around freely. I lift my hand up, using my magic to form a pink light over me and Bryn’s nose and mouth. This magic gives us the ability to breathe underwater, so we waste no time as we dived in after Nanny.

The seals dive underwater to join us, with Bubby swimming to my side. I gladly wrap my arms around his neck, as he begins to swim after the herd with Nanny leading, and Bryn with her. The place where we’re heading to is the one place our town is famous for, Aurora Cove. It’s located on the west side of town, about five miles across the lagoon. There are two ways to get there. You either take a tour boat to see it, or you swim there.

The ocean was beautiful, the sand glittered like diamonds. We passed by a school of silver fish as their scales glimmered against Nanny's light. Up ahead is a big cave that’s about fifteen feet wide, towering above us. As we enter the cave, I can see the crystals on the walls shimmering against the moonlight like stars. Nanny and Bryn swim up to the surface, as the seals follow after them. We all break through the surface all at once, finding different sized crystals glowing in different colors around the walls and floor.

“Amazing . . . They sparkle like diamonds.” I said, smiling in awe.

“They’re beautiful indeed.” Nanny says, watching the moonlight dance across the crystals.

For centuries, the waves kept crashing against the rocky cliff. Erosion from the tides eventually formed a cave, revealing a beautiful cove filled with different sizes of crystals. When the moonlight flashes over them, they create a beautiful rainbow light just like the aurora borealis. And that was how our town earned the name, Aura Cove.

The seals barked out, hearing it echo throughout the cave. “I guess they’re happy to see the lights too.” Bryn guesses, leaning her body against Nanny.

“When I was a pup, my mother used to take me here whenever I was feeling sad. She used to tell me that this cave is magical, it can take the sadness and pain away. The lights from the crystals is what made me feel happy again.” Nanny looks up at the rainbow lights dancing across the cave.

That’s right, I forgot that Aura Cove used to be a home for the Selkies. It’s the only sanctuary they had before the humans and monsters fought. The female Selkies lived as maids or healers, while the males served in the royal guards. Nanny’s mother used to serve King Asgore’s parents, but she died after getting sick. So, her father raised her as a widow.

“Is that why you brought us here?” I asked, feeling my heart pound painfully.

She swims over to my side and nuzzles her wet snout against my cheek. I leaned my head against hers. Bryn joins in, holding us close.

“My wonderful, beautiful girls . . . You do nothing but make me proud.” She gushes happily.

“That’s because you’re the best mother we could ever ask for.” The seals bark as if they agree with Bryn, making us laugh.

“I hate to say this, but it’s time for us to head back home.”

My heart pinged with pain. This means I won’t be seeing Bubby for a long time. He lets out a soft bark, nudging his head against my arm.

I respond by giving him a hug. “Don’t worry Bubby, I’ll see you again real soon, I’m sure Berdea has a beach nearby.”

Bryn wraps her arms around Nanny as she dives underwater again, with the other seals following after them. Bubby and I were the last to dive, as we swim after the herd.

♕ ❀ ✩°｡⋆*:･ﾟ✧ ❀ ✩°｡⋆*:･ﾟ✧ ❀ ✩°｡⋆*:･ﾟ✧ ❀ ♕

The next day, I prepared my suitcase, packed with the clothes and stuff I’ll need that's necessary. Today, I will be wearing a sky blue peplum top with a bow on the side, and my white skinny jeans to finish my look. I have my white hoodie packed in my cross-body bag in case I get cold. The last thing I packed is my instant picture of me, Nanny, and Bryn at the Aura Cove beach.

If I'm going to be away for a long time, I might as well take something with me that will remind me of home. My flight will take me to Berdea, the city where the palace lies. Before I leave for the airport, I was told by the Mayor, aka: Felicity’s mom, to come to the town square so everyone can give me a proper send-off. I take one last glance at my room and sighed, closing my door.

Everyone was cheering and applauding me as I smile back at them. In the crowd, I can see Bethany screaming for me, with her dad by her side giving me a thumbs up. I even saw every student from Aura Cove High, showing me the support I needed. Sadly, I didn’t find Felicity anywhere. I guess she took the rejection too hard.

The mayor gives me a quick hug as a black limo parks to the side of the town hall. “Despite how timid you are Zefie, I know that every step of the way, you will one day grow to be more sophisticated and fearless in every way possible.”

“Thank you, Mayor Jones.” I gratefully give her one last hug, before I reached Bryn and Bethany.

“FaceTime me any time you want, Zef,” Bethany punches me softly on my arm. “Promise me you’ll continue to be you and not change?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” I promised her.

“Good, now be Zefie the Mage and win Asriel’s heart like a boss!” I hugged my best friend tightly.

Bryn looks at me, trying her best not to cry. I held her shaky hands with mine and looked at her honey colored eyes.

“I will always think of you every day when I’m at the palace Bryn.”

“I know you will, do your best and don’t let anyone break your smile.” I wrapped my arms around my big sister as tightly as I could.

“Just be yourself, and make Asriel happy.” She spoke through her tears, hearing her voice break.

“I will, love ya lots.”

“I love you, too, Sis.”

And then there’s Nanny. She uses her handkerchief to wipe off any visible tears. This is the hardest goodbye I’ve ever had to say to her. I felt my lips quiver, but I swallowed hard to make it stop.

“Asgore and Toriel are there to help whenever you need help sweetheart. Don’t hesitate to ask them.”

I squeezed her hand. “I will, Nanny. They’re your best friends and I trust your judgment.”

She gives me a gentle smile and wraps her arms around me, I responded by squeezing her. I pulled away slowly finding Claire with a chauffeur waiting for me by the limo. I started walking towards them, but stopped. My heart begins to throb painfully.

I take one more glance at Nanny. She was giving me a reassuring smile.

Nanny . . .

I quickly ran straight for her, as she responds by opening her arms. I wrapped my arms around her, hugging her harder than before, sobbing on her shirt.

“Nanny I-I—” I tried to speak, hearing my voice break.

“Shh, it’s alright, my darling.” She soothes me, rubbing my back.

I felt my entire chest beating with pain. I don't want to go, but I want to compete. Nanny tips my chin up, using her thumb to wipe away my tears. She turns me towards the limo once more, rubbing my back again.

“As I said, no matter where you stand Zefie, everyone in Aura Cove will be there to cheer you on from afar. I love you so much, my darling.”

“I love you, too, Nanny.” She kisses my cheek one last time, and nudges me forward.

The chauffeur opens the door for me, as I climbed in. I didn’t turn my head to look back. I must keep looking forward, to my new future that will change my life forever. The chauffeur closes the door while I buckled my seat belt, Claire beams me a reassuring smile next to me. I responded by smiling back and closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths.

The nearest airport is located in Skyberg City. Which is twelve hours away from Aura Cove, so it’ll be a long road-trip. Just then, the limo purrs to life as it begins to drive away, leaving my hometown behind. My flight doesn’t leave until nine o’clock. Which means I got an hour to spare. Claire carefully places her furry hand over mine.

“Don’t you worry, Miss,” She reassures me, giving me a tissue. “Your family and friends will be right there with you along the way.”

I wiped away my tears, smiling a little. “Thank you, Claire.”

I looked over to my window, watching as we passed by a bunch of trees. And in seconds, I felt my stomach twist into knots again when we passed the town line. Finally, I turned my head to look back and watch as Aura Cove begins to grow smaller and smaller. The limo curves to the right, watching the ocean disappear.

For the next six hours, I spent my time chatting with Claire about my childhood. Of course she enjoyed most of it, Claire now understands why my family and friends think I'll be a great queen someday.

She even shared some of her childhood experiences of her time when she used to live underground of Mount Ebott with her family. Claire's home she grew up in is a lovely town called Snowdin. It's a place where it's always covered in blankets of snow, and they celebrate Christmas there having their trees decorated with presents under it. Claire mentioned these crazy skeleton brothers that always do nothing but entertain the townsfolk. She told me that they now work as royal guards at the palace. Hm, hopefully I get the chance to meet one of them, the way Claire described them seem to make the skeleton brothers funnier than any comedy show can. Her company made it much more comforting for me.

Along the way, we made a few stops in cities to get gas and grab something to eat. Who knew eating different foods outside Aura Cove could be so delicious? Like Bryn, I love food too in a well-mannered way as possible.

By the time it's eight-fifty, we make it to Skyberg City’s airport. Apparently, I won’t be taking a plane to Berdea. Claire explained that because Berdea’s far away, it would take fifteen hours from Skyberg on a normal airplane. So, she booked me to a private jet instead, because they fly faster to far away destinations. I was surprised, I never rode on a private jet before. They were for those who can easily afford to get to places on time.

The limo comes to a stop, parking twenty feet away from the private jet. I was amazed, it looked a bit smaller than an ordinary airplane. The private jet is eighty-nine feet long, with Skyberg’s logo printed blue across the body of the jet. Even from a long distance, I can hear its engines roaring. The chauffeur opens the door, as I quickly grabbed my cross-body bag and slung it across my body. From the trunk, I pulled my luggage with me and stared at the jet. According to Claire, I should arrive at Berdea airport at 8 AM sharp, where the other four Selected girls will wait. I shivered at the thought, this is going to be one of the scariest moment I’ll ever do in my life. And at the end of the obstacles will be Prince Asriel. My cheeks burned just thinking about him.

“Miss Zafrina Alban?” A peppy flight attendant calls out as she walked towards the limo.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“Ah, very nice to meet you! You look prettier in person!” She beams at me, making me blush from her comment.

“Thank you so much.”

“The jet is ready to take off, so if you would follow me please.” She leads the way, walking towards the private jet.

I turned to face Claire, as she smiles at me. “Thank you for everything, Claire, I wish you would have come with me.”

“I know, Miss. But I have far more important things to do as an official. I hope our paths cross again in the future.” She smiles softly.

I gave her a quick hug, crying over her grey suit as she wraps her arms around me. “I hope so too, thank you again. I'll miss you so much.”

“You're welcome, and I'll miss you, too. Now get going, Prince Asriel will be waiting for you in the palace. I’ll be supporting you, no matter what. Do your best as a Selected candidate, prove to everyone in Auradon that you are what it takes to compete.”

I smiled and hugged her one more time, before turned to follow my flight attendant, where she’s patiently waiting by the jet. Through the noise, I can hear the limo drive away. My throat tightened, my eyes were burning from all the tears I’ve spilled. Be brave, I begged myself.

“Stairs up ahead! Watch your step, please!” The flight attendant shouts through the noise.

I held on to the bars, taking each step carefully until I walk inside the luxurious jet. Just as I enter the cockpit, I was greeted by the pilot as he gives me a kind smile. I smile at him in return, pulling my luggage to the cabin.

I gaped. It has a small bedroom?! What’s up with rich people and their fancy-schmancy gadgets? I take my seat over at the passenger seat, buckling my seat-belt. I didn’t bother switching on the small flat-screen TV, all I ever thought about is Nanny, Bryn, and Bethany. Just then, the peppy flight attendant walks towards me.

“Alright, Miss Zafrina, we are ready to take off. Feel free to call me if you need something, okay?”

“Okay, thank you so much.” She disappears back to her seat to buckle in.

I turned to look out the window, watching the other planes ascend to the skies. I looked down at my iPhone and set it to airplane mode. I sighed softly, it’s been a long day. All I ever did was travel. Who knew road-trips can tire a person out? I guess it’s just me.

I felt the private jet begin to move, backing away slowly. I turned to my window again as it continues to drive towards the runway. Moments later, the private jet begins to drive faster, making my whole body press against my seat. I couldn’t help but laugh. My stomach felt like it was being tickled, but the feeling changes as the jet ascends up to the dark night sky. I let out a dizzy groan. Well that felt unpleasantly fun. I looked out my window, staring at the beautiful city lights under me. I definitely need to have Bethany and Bryn experience this next time. That is if I got the money for it.

Suddenly, my eyes felt droopy. Oh no . . . I don’t want to sleep now. Not when I want to stay up mo—

✧✩°⋆✧°⋆✩✧

“Nan, look! It’s the king and queen!” Bryn shouts.

“Coming! Coming!” She runs to the sitting room, sitting next to her.

As for me, I was lying on the floor, too busy trying to draw a picture of Nanny with the seals. After Bryn turned thirteen yesterday, we got to go swimming with the seals. Nanny is the prettiest one of them all. Her fur glowed like a shiny star from the night sky.

“Zefie? You’re not gonna watch the broadcast with us?” Bryn asks me.

“Nah, no thanks, I’m far too busy coloring.”

“Are you sure? It’s pretty interesting~.”

I huffed and stopped drawing. “No Bryn I told you, no tha—” I gasped, dropping my crayon.

On the television, there was a small goat child who looked like he was my age, maybe at least a year older. My cheeks burned rosy pink, watching his green eyes shimmer with joy. He was wearing a light green knitted sweater with two yellow stripes across and black pants. He was playing with Frisk in the background while the king and queen were having their first interview.

“Who’s that?” I asked Bryn, not moving my eyes away from the TV.

“Huh? Oh! That’s Prince Asriel, the king and queen's son. Why?”

Prince Asriel . . . I repeated to myself. That's a nice name.

I didn’t bother responding, feeling my heart skipped a few beats. Something about him seems to make me feel a little strange. Strange in a way that drives my fears away in a flash when I look at Asriel. In the background, I can hear Bryn shift out of the couch, laying down on the floor next to me, staring at my face as if she's trying to read me.

“Oh. My. Gosh! No way! You have a crush on the prince?!” I whipped my head towards Bryn, confused on what she just said.

“What?”

“Holy cow! You definitely got it bad! This is the first time in forever that Zefie’s finally having a crush on someone! And it's the Prince! I gotta get this on camera!”

What in the world is she talking about?

“Wait! Bryn! What does it mean?!” I shouted as she disappears to her room, prancing like a weirdo.

I growled and huffed, crossing my arms. I was doing fine just minding my own business drawing, and the next thing I know, I feel my heartbeat strangely every time I look at Asriel. Bryn's being so weird, why in the world does she think it's cute?

“Nanny?”

“Yes, darling? What is it?” She turns towards me.

“What does Bryn mean by crush?”

Nanny lets out a chuckle and smiles at me. “Oh honey, it just means you like the person, and you consider them as special to you.”

Special person? I turned to look at the TV, hearing Mettaton mentioning Asriel’s birthday coming soon. Asriel was smiling again, beaming on how exhilarated he is to celebrate his birthday with his family and friends. His smile is so contagious that I ended up smiling, too.

Suddenly, I think of the best idea ever as I got up quickly, pulling a blank piece of paper out from the drawer and began to draw on the floor.

“Nanny?” I call out to her again, not taking my eyes off of my paper.

“Yes, sweetie?”

I felt my heart fluttered as I continue to draw in different colored crayons. “Will it be okay if we can send a birthday card to Asriel? I want to give him something special. As my way of wishing him a happy birthday.”

She smiles in awe at me, leaning forward to stroke my head. “That sounds like a lovely idea. How very thoughtful of you, Zefie. I'm sure Prince Asriel will be grateful to receive a card."

I let out a giggle, and looked down at my paper. I smile to myself, determined to finish Asriel’s birthday present that's made just for him. If we ever meet one day, maybe we can be good friends.

Yeah, maybe one day, I promised myself.