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d6volution · 10 months

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Disconcerted.

Jax/Reader.

tags: heavy angst, hurt no comfort.

requested by: @ibbitynibbity

Another new addition to the circus. Great. Those were Jax's first thoughts when you arrived.. you were just like the other newbies, asking questions and not shutting up about this mysterious exit. That was until Caine explained how there never was an exit in the first place. It was merely a placeholder. Then your whole world came crashing down. You were distant for a while.. but soon you opened up and got more comfortable with the members.

You were kind, charming and actually.. kinda funny. Jax found himself getting drawn in by your aura. It was hard not to.

Unfortunately when it comes to Jax, grabbing his attention wasn't always a good thing.

Jax stuck his foot out as you walked by, with a 'digital' breakfast tray in your hand.

CRASH.

Everything flew from your hands, and you hit the ground with a thud, any previous chatter silenced, and all eyes were on you. "J.. Jax.." Gangle spoke up, clearly disturbed by his crude actions, but the bunny simply rolled his eyes.

"Whaatt? They'll be fine, it's just a joke. Right , y/n?" His grin grew wide as he watched you pick yourself up from the ground. Your breakfast glitching away into thin air. "S-Screw you, Jax.." Your voice was trying its hardest not to crack. This hadn't been the first time, no. This poor excuse of a bunny really seemed to get a kick out of tormenting you.

Gangle still made a point to come over and help you out, dusting off your clothes when you stood up. A flimsy ribbon caressed your back in a poor attempt to sooth you. "Thanks Gangle.." You said, shooting a small smile at the kind bundle of red.

"N.. No need to thank me.. he's.. been being a-a jerk more than usual.." She mutters under her breath, making sure to be quiet enough that Jax couldn't hear her. Luckily enough he didn't. The bunny just watched, his smile dropping when he saw you smile at gangle.. why smile at her instead of him? He was just messing around. You should find it funny.. you /would if you had any sense of humor at all.

It doesn't matter. It's not like he'll stop anyways, he told himself and silently poked at the 'food' on his plate.

You headed back to your room, too embarrassed to continue eating in the main hall. Arriving at your door you were greeted by a small note attatched to it, where your faceplate usually is. You blinked before gently yanking down the sticky note.

'Just a little apology doll, ;) maybe you'll have more fun with them instead."

Them?

Who the hell did he let into your room? You thought, and anger bubbled up throughout your body as you swung the door open. But, it was... empty. You sighed and closed the door behind yourself, flopping onto the bed and bouncing a little unceremoniously. Just then, you felt something crawling on your arm, no a LOT of some things crawling on you. Immediately, you shot up, screaming, and swatting the spiders off of your body. You hurried out of your door and fell back onto your ass in the process.

"Ouch.." The spiders had gotten knocked off of you, but their little shadows were still moving stood in your room, causing you to shudder.

Just like clockwork Jax was standing outside of your door, pointing and laughing at you. "Oh, this it too priceless, you should have seen your face, y/n. Bravo. I needed that laugh, babe." He was hunched over, still trying to catch his breath.

You were shaking with anger, the only reason he even knew about your fear of spiders was because of the time you all decided to come together as a group and open up to each other a little. Talking about your likes, dislikes... hobbies and.. fears.

"Jax.. wh-what is wrong with you..?" You said, still shaking from both anger and fear of the spiders from earlier. "What did I do to you to be treated like this!? Y.. You're insane! I hate you!" You screamed at him and his smile seemed more forced now. "Uh huh.. sure ya do." He scoffed and your breath hitched , you could hardly hold back your tears anymore.

"I do! It's n.. not my fault you're obsessed with me or something!" Tears were streaming down your face and Jax took a step closer to you. "You flatter yourself y/n, why would I be obsessed with someone like you huh? You can barely speak your mind without stuttering half the time— Nah, you're just here for a laugh. A form of entertainment for us all." He smirked before walking past you.

Your eyes were wide and you stood frozen in place. Was that true..? Was everyone laughing too.. behind your back? You spun sound but the hall was now empty. Did everyone think you were weak? Just something to laugh at to past the time?

You laughed dryly and felt your vision briefly glitch.

"Oh y/n! There you are." Kinger came rounding the corner shuffling over to you.

"H.. Huh?" His presence snapped you out of your train of thought, and your vision seemed normal again.

"Oh, a-are you okay?" He asked, seemingly worried.

'A form of entertainment.'

The words rung in your ears and your wondered if Kinger was laughing with Jax too before this. " ... No, Jax let spiders loose in my room." Your voice was hoarse from all that yelling and crying.

"Did you say spiders? I.. I'll remove them, I think they'll like it in my insect collection even though they aren't really insects but.." Kinger continued to speak to himself as he happily entered your room. Meanwhile you leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were sitting on the floor completely, silently waiting for him to remove the spiders from your room.

Jax walked back to his room, seemingly unbothered... well until he was behind closed doors. As soon as he entered his room, his shoulders slumped over and he sat on the edge of his bed. "Think I might have went a little overboard this time.. maybe I should check on them.." He muttered to himself, burying his face in his hands.

"Don't be a wuss, Jax. Just apologize. Can't be that hard." He said and stood up to his feet. Who knows maybe this could be a fresh start? A whole one eighty. He wondered if he could get some flowers too.. for, the apology of course. He said in his head as if he had anyone else to convince rather than himself.

Back in your room, you had your door locked and shut. Huddled on your bed, beneath your blankets with just your face poking out. You were muttering to yourself, staring at the wall. 'They all hate you, they all agree with Jax. You're nothing but entertainment. You're stuck here, there's no way out. No way out, no way out no way out.

The thoughts were becoming words and your vision began to glitch again, but worse this time.. at first you tried to fight it. Holding your head in your hands as if to physically keep yourself from falling apart.

Knock, knock.

'y/n, open up will ya? you're not still mad from earlier right? c'mon. i've got something to show ya.' Jax's voice was muffled from outside, but hearing his voice alone was enough to make you snap.

You laughed as your vision went completely black, only specs of color being seen here and there. Then it was silent.. and oh how blissful the silence was.

Jax sighed, and dug into his pocket after hearing no response .. pulling out a key and unlocking your door... his smile dropped and for once he looked to be in complete horror. "No.. no.." He muttered as dropped the makeshift apology basket, for a moment he was frozen but you didn't give him time to process. You were towering over him, a glob of abstracted black shifting shapes taking the form of a mindless monster.

He scurried down the hall, and you unceremoniously bursted through the small door leaving a gaping hole to your room. You bellowed and Jax felt his world crashing down on him. Did.. he cause this? Did he make you abstract?

His mind was racing and he hurried and hid around a corner. Fuck, fuck fuck. He grabbed his head and slid to the floor.

Even for someone like him this was too much, too much too fast. He was going to apologize. He.. didn't mean any of this he was just a dumb ..idiotic bunny. Jax relentlessly scolded himself until Ragatha came rounding the corner, huffing and puffing.

"J..Jax! Thank god.. y/n .. they abstracted.. we have to find Caine.. Jax..?"

He was smiling, but it was more crazed. "T.. This is all my fault.. I.. I'm.. Hah.." He laughs, and lowers his head so Ragatha couldn't see his expression.

"Go get Caine Rags.. I'll distract y/n." His voice was monotone.

"W.. What? No, let's go together—" She tried to reach her hand out and he immediately slapped it away. "I said go get Caine! Now." His voice was laced with a growl but in no way intimidating.. no, his voice shook. It was on the brink of breaking.

Jax stood up and walked in your direction, you were hard to miss. Leaving destruction in your very path.

"Y/N!" He called out, trying to get your attention. And that he did, your large form turned to face him. Bellowing loudly as you ran right for him, but he didn't move.. he stayed completely still and without hesitation you knocked him into a wall. "A.. Alright, you.. earned that one.." He said weakly, trying to pull away from your grasp now but you kept slamming him into different surfaces until he was glitching out uncontrollably.

"Oh my ! You were not exaggerating!" Caine's voice could be heard from a distance, but Jax was in far too much pain to even register it. The glitching hurt, but maybe its what he deserved for being such a asshole. Not just now, but all the time. Maybe his luck finally ran out and karma was here to bite him in the ass.

"And away with you!" Your abstracted form was tossed into the cellar by Caine and Jax reached out to you without thinking, "N.. No.." But you disappeared beneath floor.

Snap!

Jax was back to normal, the pain was gone.. well physically anyway, the pain from losing you was still burning deep in his chest. He didn't have anything to say. Any questions that Caine and Ragatha threw at him was ignored. He walked by them, and all the other members who began to show up after hearing all the commotion. He could hear their voices trailing off , talking about you.

How could you do this?

Do you think it could have been too much them?

Was it Jax..?

He walked faster and slammed the door to his room. Locking it behind him. Maybe it would be better if he stayed here..away from everyone where he could no longer cause any harm.

His thoughts only got louder and more consuming , his room seemed to shrink and box him in.. he sat on the ground before curling up in a fetal position as his thoughts started to eat him alive.

Just then, there was a brief glitch in his vision.

#the amazing digital circus #submission #jax tadc #jax x reader #angst #jax angst

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months

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Hallmark!Series Part Seven: Baby Talk - Joe Velasco x Reader

Tagging: @plaidbooks @misscharlielulu @witches-unruly-heart @storiesofsvu @magic-multicolored-miracle @rosaliedepp @cycat4077 @deekaag @cixrosie @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @legit9thlunaticwarrior @thatesqcrush @mydarkestsecretlol @upsteadlogic @wooshwastaken @imaginecrushes @thiashazzy @kiwiithecrazybird @justreblogginfics @anime-weeb-4-life @hey-dw @alwaysachorusgirl @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @nu1freakshow @resonmalvo @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @evee87 @hearthockey @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @spooky-pomegranate

Hallmark!Series:

Hallmark (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe watches you fall in love with another man.

Be With Me (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe tells you how he feels.

Placeholder (feat: Mike Duarte) - Mike fears he’s a placeholder.

Think About It (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe recalls what happened the night of Fin's engagement party.

Positive - Mike finds out about what happened between you and Joe.

Five Months - You and Mike catch up.

Joe finds out you’re back with Duarte when a friend from another precinct sends a picture of the two of you in a Cuban restaurant in the Bronx. It’s an intimate setting. The two of you are sitting across from each other, there’s a candle in the middle of the table. Duarte’s hand rests on yours, that amused smile on his features as you laugh at something he says. Your free hand rests on the place where his baby resides.

Joe doesn’t know why it hurts so much. You’ve made it clear you don’t want to be with him, he accepts that, respects it, but seeing you play happy families with Duarte, it stings. He can already see his future stretching out in front of him, him left out in the cold, seeing his kid on weekends while you and Duarte raise his daughter. Christ it feels like someone’s ripped his heart right out of his chest every time he thinks about it.

“I hear you and Duarte are back together.” He says when the two of you meet up before the sonogram appointment. He’s both excited and a little nervous because today he gets to hear his baby’s heartbeat for the first time. He tears the edges off the paper sugar packet, piling the strips up in a small heap. It’s gesture you recognise from your time together as partners.

“We’re taking it slow.” You tell him as you sip from a cup of decaf tea. “We’ve had a few dates; he seems to be adapting to the situation.”

“You mean the fact you’re having my baby?” Joe asserts, his elbows coming to rest upon the surface of the table.

“And the fact we’re going to co-parent her.” You input before leaning back in your seat, palm smoothing over your stomach. “It’s a complicated situation for all of us. He’s dating the girl that got knocked up by her partner. It’s an adjustment.”

“You been catching flack for that?” Joe asks you, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

“Not in the unit.” You tell him and he knows that while he’s getting a clap on the back for knocking you up, you’re being branded a slut, especially now your back with Duarte. “Before the baby, I probably would have given a shit about it but now…”

You smile as you cradle the bump between your hands.

“The things I used to worry about don’t really matter as much.”

Joe knows what you’re talking about. There’s so much stupid, petty shit he used to think about before the baby but now it all seems irrelevant because all he cares about is his kid and making sure she’s happy and healthy.

“I want to be a part of this.” He tells you, clasping his hands together on the surface of the table. “I want to be as involved as I can. I want time to bond with my daughter, to feed her, to sooth her. If Duarte has to be a part of that, I’ll find a way to get cool with it, but I don’t want to be shut out if the two of you decide you want to play happy families.”

“Joe…” You say reaching across the table and clasping his hand. “I’m not going to cut you out of our daughter’s life just because Mike’s back on the scene. We made this baby together and I promise we’re going to raise her together.”

You reach into your handbag and pull out an A5 notepad before flicking to the page you want and turning it around to face him.

“I tried to put a schedule together for after the baby is born, you can change whatever you want but I was thinking, you can do the afternoons or evenings. Feed her, bath her, put her down for bed, I read that’s the best way for you to bond with her. We stick to a routine, keep it consistent.”

Joe holds it between his hands, studying it intently. On paper it holds up, he thinks he should be able to stick to it when he takes paternity leave. He’s willing to pitch in at other times if you need it, he knows it’s important to be both flexible and consistent.

“We can work on it as things change.” He tells you, handing the notepad back. “But I’m happy with what you’ve got down here, it’s a lot more than I expected.”

“If you want more or less or if we need to switch something up, just tell me and we can figure it out.” You tell him. “This only works if we communicate openly with each other and that means on everything, not just scheduling. If there’s something that makes you uncomfortable, I want you to be able to discuss it with me.”

There’s a silence between the two of you before Joe gaze lowers to coffee cup.

“I don’t want Duarte to replace me.” He says quietly as his thumb chases over the porcelain. “I’m happy for him to be in her life but I don’t want him to become her dad, I just…”

He trails off, trying to swallow hard against the ache in his chest because this baby hasn’t even been born yet and already, he has so much love for her it hurts.

“Nobody wants that.” You reassure him, dipping your head so that you can meet his gaze. “There’s going to be stuff that me and you go through that Mike won’t be able to understand, he’ll try to but…”

You shake your head.

“At the end of the day I’m her mom, you’re her dad. There is no one in this world who could love this baby more than the two of us.”

Joe looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours and you see the man that you’ve spent the past two years partnered with, the one you’ve trusted with your life, and you know that like you he will do everything in his power to make this arrangement work. Your daughter is the most important thing in the world to the two of you.

You feel a flutter in your belly, and you reach out, taking Joe’s hand in yours before pressing it to your stomach.

“She’s kicking again.” You say and Joe smiles as he feels the baby’s foot nudging against his palm. “She must recognise your voice.”

“You think?” He asks you, his entire face lighting up as he follows the baby’s movements.

“Yea Joe.” You tell him. “I think she knows her daddy.”

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#svu #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order: special victims unit #mike duarte #joe velasco #maurice compte #joe velasco x reader #joe velasco x you #jose velasco #jose velasco x reader #jose velasco x you #mike duarte x reader #miek duarte x you

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thehistoriangirl · 9 months

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Until Our Secrets Drift Us Apart [7]

I apologize because I'm rusty after taking so long in posting a new part of this story, but I hope I will catch the rhythm soon :D

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Modern AU/Marriage of Convenience--- 3.1K ---SFW

> MASTERLIST <- Previous // Next ->

Summary: Upon the surprising death of the CEO of Daxer Corp., the battle for the presidential chair began with unexpected violence. Threaten to lose everything you’ve been working on during your entire life; it’s time you must find a desperate solution to grasp the control over your part of the emporium, and even your own freedom. Which better idea than solidifying your subsidiary's future than ally with the rising tech company, HexTech? And oh, what a special type of alliance it would be…

Chapter Summary: The hunt for your mother's lost will hasn't ended, but Viktor is there to give you words of comfort when you need them--and perhaps even more than that. If you're willing to take it.

7: What Blooms in Winter

Mrs. Emma Quivar was all business when you crossed the spotless threshold of her office outlined in stainless iron and black marble.

Gone were the days where she would greet you with a kiss on the cheek while visiting your mother for business; but you weren’t the same shy teenager wishing to take the least space possible in the enormous penthouse your mother called home anymore.

You still remembered your mother’s words when Emma gestured for you to sit down, with her stubbornly chastising you to erase the word ‘friend’ while regarding her business partners. At the time, you considered it like another of your mother’s quirks, but now you had understood it, a tad too late, maybe.

“My child, hello, hello,” Emma said, her hands gesturing away for you to sit across from her. “I didn’t think you’d have a lovebird tucked away from the eyes of the family.” She chuckled, her gaze miniaturized by her glasses, and yet still piercing to rummage your thoughts. “Your mother would have loved to know about him, that way she wouldn’t have left thinking you were all alone.”

You doubted your mother would care for such a thing if that would’ve happened.

She decided not to marry for a reason, despite the countless business proposals laid over her desk. Just as she thought that there were only business partners instead of friends, she thought so of romantic relationships, carrying in the memories of the Daxer’s tradition of marrying by sole mutual convenience instead of real feelings. Those were frivolities that not even the real frivolities of wealth and power could meet all the time.

Or else—that was something no Daxer was inclined to even consider.

“I see you have read the news,” you muttered. Or perhaps someone had let her know.

“I wonder how you kept it hidden from your mother.” Her black eyes pierced you as Quivar looked at you for the first time, adjusting her glasses to look away from the computer. “You only work and go home. Where did you meet him? He’s… somewhat attractive, I’d say.”

A scoff was about to break free. You were too tired from your family trip for these games.

“Do you keep a copy of my mother’s will? I need it.” Emma was a placeholder in the stock bureau, not much, but she would be interested in how the fight for the CEO position will develop. I know you were appointed with one copy.

Just as the other two ex-business partners of your mother, who preferred to bet on the more obvious winner of the competition, Mathieu.

"Hmmm. And how much will you value a thing such as that?" Emma said, with a hand on her heart. “I held your mother’s friendship very close to my heart.”

It was always about taking. Demand with an unfair deal—and you were also guilty of this, asking Viktor to fake a marriage with you, dragging him into this chaos for a menial reward.

Spend all those upcoming years with you when he could go on and live his life, find certainty instead of more questions after every not-so-accidental touch, the moments right after separating away from a kiss.

Your eyes hardened. “What do you want?”

She pointed at her computer with a sigh. “HexTech is such an ever-growing enterprise; from industrial mechanics to more specialized fields. It has a bright future." Emma smiled. "I hope some of its light can be cast upon me."

Your lips parted, the answer surprising you both.

“No.” Words stern and cold. “I don’t own HexTech, I can’t integrate a new shareholder without consulting it with the board.” Most importantly, consulting it with Viktor and Jayce. It was their dream, after all. You didn’t have any right to tamper with it. “I can give a percentage of my company, FireBird Security, but HexTech is off-limits.”

Emma crossed her arms, the red blazer she wore getting all wrinkled. “Why is that? Your husband won’t approve, by any chance?” She said, her eyes twinkling with mockery. “I thought he loved you dearly.”

“I love him dearly, that’s why I’m not doing anything behind his back.”

The silence hung heavy between you two, both your and her eyes widened, lips slightly ajar at the sudden outburst.

Your heart picked up speed, skin got hotter, almost prickling with shame. What was that? Standing up with a jump, you decided to cut the meeting short as now it was clear that Emma wasn't on your side anymore—if she even was at the beginning.

Emma clicked her tongue. “You’re still very naïve,” she told you. “To think that man wouldn’t have accepted already if given the chance of being in your place.”

You conjured Viktor's golden eyes shining like molten gold against the evening sun, the chestnut locks of his hair moving with the soft breeze that smelled like grass and summer flowers as you cradled his head on your lap.

You chuckled, amused at Emma’s words, thinking that they had gotten out Léonie’s first, echoed in this office as your aunt poisoned her mind.

“Say hello to my aunt once you reunite again,” you stated toward her, your eyes boring holes into her face as you glared at her from above your shoulder before closing the door with a slam.

It was so easy for Léonie to move across society picking her best moves while you struggled to even get a foot in this place, which one each day you were convinced wasn’t for you.

Would the voices that whispered usurper ever cease? Even if you got to sit in the CEO's chair? Because you could imagine them bouncing, reverberating with an endless echo inside such a big and quiet office.

What would have been of you if your mother had never adopted you?

For a moment, a childish part of you imagined you working in a suburban area of this bustling city, crossing paths with Viktor once by crossing a street, with either of you looking back.

You couldn't know if the strange sensation located in your chest was sadness, or the eerily unfamiliar sense of relief.

The cozy apartment smelled like coffee when you opened the door, a warm air coming from the swinging door against the chill of the arriving autumn outside.

Viktor was hunched over the coffee table in the living room, papers scattered everywhere alongside a pen that had exploded, stains of blue ink shining against the lamp nearby. Rio was nuzzled against some blankets, deeply asleep.

His brows frowning in focus relaxed at the sight of you, his golden gaze turned toward your figure as you were taking your shoes off.

He smiled. “Hello,” he said, the pen held in his hands clicking in a rapid rhythm as he flapped it between his fingers. “I made coffee, please feel free to drink some.” Viktor chuckled. “It wouldn’t do good to, eh, drink it all by myself.”

“Thank you,” you said, taking off the coat that now was too warm inside the cocoon of the apartment. “I think I’ll take some tea, though.” You tried to smile when he looked at you. “I need something… relaxing.”

Viktor settled down the papers then, taking the handle of his cane tucked in the armrest. “Did your meeting go badly?” he muttered, standing up to walk toward you.

You nodded, trying to curve your lips upward without much success. You didn't wish to burden him with your problems—despite how much you had dragged him already. Sometimes such thoughts kept you up at night, looking at the dim golden light of the living room lamp on way past 1 AM. And you couldn't help but wonder if, in those hours when the silence ate you away, he was regretting his choice.

“I’ll make you a hot chocolate, hmm?” Viktor was already walking toward the kitchen.

“You don’t have to,” you heard yourself stutter. “I’m sure you’re busy.” Just like you, he always was.

Viktor gestured away. “Don’t worry about it. Jayce always tells me I have to take small breaks.” He looked at you with a little smile. “Maybe I’ll start following his advice.”

“With some luck, not all his advice,” you mumbled, which made him chuckle.

“If you think his advice is… questionable, you should wait to hear mine,” Viktor told you, an eyebrow raised.

“Please do tell,” you said, with him helping to pull out a stool in front of the breakfast bar.

“Well, I think—"

You decided the bad idea of opening a package of cookies that were lying there, the sound waking the cockatoo up, who squeaked “Viktor!” before flying to pose next to you in the breakfast bar, her little head bobbing side to side as she looked at your fingers sheepishly taking a cookie out.

“No, Rio. We’ve talked about that,” Viktor scolded her.

You raised the cookie toward the bird. “Here,” you told her in the softest voice you could manage.

Rio lounged at it, breaking the surface with its beak. But then she noticed that you weren’t pulling the treat away, only rotating it so she could bite into it again.

It could be that Viktor was surveilling her, but Rio started to bite slower, her head gently tilting toward the cookie. Even so, you gave Viktor the remaining core of it so he could feed her so close to his fingers. You could still remember the hot pain of the bird’s beak.

“Say thank you, Rio,” Viktor said once the cookie had gone into her stomach.

The bird flapped her wings, flying away toward Viktor’s room.

“Rio!”

"It isn't necessary," you said, although amused by your (fake) husband's relationship with his pet. In other circumstances, you would've joked that Rio was that adopted daughter reticent of trusting her new stepmother. "Don't worry about it."

Rio squeaked, returning triumphant over the breakfast bar. She wobbled to step in front of you, dropping a sunflower seed near your hand and then flying away as quickly as she had arrived.

You looked at the seed. “This is for you.” You held it between your fingers, offering it to Viktor.

“Oh no, no.” Viktor was smiling, gently wrapping his hand over yours with shy fingers, a touch barely as light as the morning sun cast over your face in early spring. “That’s for you.” He chuckled. “A little gift.”

You felt his warm fingers beneath your hand slightly cold from just being outside, your eyes drawn to his in a gentle motion that still made your heart jump. “Maybe I should plant it, and see what blooms from it,” you muttered.

“I have a little pot,” he answered in the same tone, his hand still hovering over yours.

“Then it’ll be like our little child?” You couldn’t stop yourself from saying, feeling stupid as soon as the words were gone from your mouth and into the world.

Instead of hearing a mocking laugh, or to feel his awkward gaze, Viktor smiled and nodded. "Don't let Rio hear this but… yes," he said, leaning against you to mutter such a secret. "And something tells me that it will be as pretty as its mother.”

You giggled like a fool, feeling your face starting to feel hot.

It wasn't impossible not to take him, the way his face was highlighted by the dim golden light from the living room against the bright white bulb in the kitchen, how his eyes diverged from your eyes toward your lips.

Your fingers grabbed the edge of the bar to lean against him, closing the seemingly abysmal distance between each other’s lips.

Always taking.

Today, though, you wished to give.

Shyness tried to overcome your bold move, redirecting the motion of your lips to pose toward his cheek instead, in a mere fleeting peck. Yet, your resolution was higher, closing your eyes shut with force as if you were about to jump off a cliff.

He tasted like coffee, the motion of his open lips slow and unsure, scared you’d pull him away after realizing your mistake.

Though in this moment you could barely register the action like so. It felt… right, something supposed to be. And even if part of you stayed thrilled at the thought, the other was terrified.

Viktor's hand slipped into the curve of your hip, his fingers finding soft and aching skin, wishing for his touch without realization.

If you’d lived in a lie for the last couple of months, what would Viktor consider your relationship to be? Especially with so many blurry lines starting to conjoin and erase in unknown patterns to try and figure out the result—would it be chaos or art?

One moment, you were still in the kitchen with the purr of the milk starting to boil, and the other you were standing at the edge of the restaurant rooftop, with the wind blowing cold at your back and Viktor's warmth hugging you closer, both trying to take you in and to cover you from the harshness of the world.

Who knew what else you'd done if the stove wasn’t starting to hiss in anger from the abandonment of the milk that was threatening with spilling out the pot.

Viktor muttered a curse that you couldn't listen to, not between the cacophony of your beating heart and the sounds of your obnoxiously loud breath.

He went to pour a tablet of chocolate inside the milk, stirring the contents until the forming foam went away. You stayed sitting across from him on the breakfast bar, playing with the little seed inside your sweaty palms.

“Um…” you said, cringing at the sound of your voice in such a quiet room. "You said you have a piece of advice for me?"

Viktor’s cheeks were bright pink, eyes glued to the hot chocolate in the making.

“Eh, yes.” He cleared his throat. “Well, my advice may sound bland, but I think you can make good use of it. I’ve noticed that we have more in common than… ah—than we might initially thought.”

You blinked, it wasn’t at all surprising. You barely saw each other between the long journeys from work, the only sign of companionship being the slits of light filtering beneath the bedroom doors at night.

“Which is why I struggle with asking for help,” Viktor muttered, taking two cups from the cupboard and pouring steaming hot cocoa inside them. “Which is why I would like to offer you my help in anything you could… eh, need.”

You were about to protest, the phrase, ‘you don’t have to’ almost slipping out your lips.

“I don’t do it out of obligation,” Viktor stated, giving you one of the cups and settling in a seat across from yours. “I mean it.”

That was the scary part, because if he did—then what?

“I… I don’t know if I can give you that back. What you’re giving me.”

“I don’t seek retribution,” Viktor called your name, hands hovering as if trying to land atop yours.

“That’s unfair,” you said, thinking about all the passing deals and contracts you’d done in the past, all the infinite pile you’d do for the rest of your life, and how to think of Viktor like just a passing signature between all those pages made you feel.

“Perhaps.” He nodded. “But I won’t pressure you. I know what was getting myself into, and I abide by it, by all of it.”

It was the first time in the day that you smiled, lips curved and with your eyes crinkling close in half-moons.

“Thank you, Viktor.” His words had stirred an idea.

He copied your smile, the glimpse of his teeth glistening against the white bulb of the kitchen lamp. “Of course,” he simply said, sitting idly and silent until you had drunk all the hot chocolate and waiting for you to excuse yourself toward your bedroom.

You'd wish to say that night your dreams came easier, but instead, you felt your thoughts going in circles as fast as a hurricane's, pouring rain of ideas and possible paths to enter between the storm that was starting to form ahead.

The next day, Viktor and you took the day off due to a sudden snowfall that had covered the roads back to the metropolis.

You were ready to start with the preparations of your upcoming plan, yet alas, you knew you needed to visit someone in person to strike ideas first, especially after all the time you spent apart.

He knocked on your bedroom to give you a small plant pot on the side of your hand right after having breakfast together, the ambiance still charged with the unprompted kiss from last night.

“You can use soil from the plants on the balcony," Viktor told you, his cane tapping the floor. “I will go to buy some more later. Ah—yes, I put some of Rio’s seed peels at the bottom, like compost.”

Thanking him, you waited to hear his bedroom door close before emerging toward the living room, scooting to see if Rio was free before opening the balcony door, shivers running down your spine with the sudden freezing air blowing across your face.

“It’s too cold to put you outside,” you said to no one in particular, because the seed was inside your bedroom, over the nightstand. The sky was pure grey, and white snow starting to get dirty with the kids and the cars as the suburbs started to stir with life.

Then, you settled the little pot by the window, making a small hole in the middle with your finger, plopping the little, lonely seed inside, and then lovingly covering it with the black soil that was starting to make your fingers grow cold. It was humid already, so you let it be.

You hoped the plant would survive the inclement weather, that perhaps, once it grew bigger, you could get it another, bigger pot.

The only thing you could do was wait—perhaps the most terrifying thing in a world you were convinced would fail you.

#viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x you #arcane viktor x you #viktor arcane x you #viktor fanfic #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane x female reader #viktor arcane x f!reader

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rainofthetwilight · 11 months

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AND FINALLY HERE IS A SMALL MASTERPOST FOR THE HELLSPAWN WALKER SIBLINGS!!

I present to you, Jenna and Ethan :DD

(also since you asked to be tagged, @alizibtheterrible)

(pssst, here are the ref sheets for these kiddos)

before I get into anything, here are my timelines in this AU:

2 years between moto and season 11, atleast 5 months between s11 and s12, 5 more months between s12 and s13, 4 months between s13 and the island, a month between the island and s15, canonically a year between s15 and crystallized, 2 years between crystallized and the merge, 5 years between the merge and the events of DR

and jenna and ethan's ages during these times:

jenna: a year old during s11, almost two years old during s13, turned three a while after nya left, four during crystallized, six when the merge happened, and 11 in current time

ethan: a year old when the merge happened, and 6 in current time

I..know it's probably confusing, but I can attempt to explain more if you don't understand!

my fic for these two is currently being rewritten!!

and now, time to ramble abt the kids!! (warning, VERY long)

their full names are: Jenna Edna Lilly Walker and Ethan Ed Raymond Walker (you can guess who was named after who)

jenna was born just a year after moto, and ethan was born also a year after crystallized!

and from that, the age difference between them is 5 years

jenna inherits jay's powers, and ethan inherits nya's

ethan has ADHD and lacks good social skills due to being surrounded by only 2 people for most of his childhood, while jenna has anxiety, trust issues and some slight ptsd

oh and I can't forget to sprinkle the t r a u m a on them both

they have a good dynamic and bicker normally like siblings always do, but jenna sometimes needs to have her alone time and hates when anyone bothers her so she can snap at any time

while ethan is sensitive and cant control himself, especially if he sees someone distressed, but if he himself is the distressed one either no one should even come near him or he needs a genuiene hug or encouraging words from someone

I'm not sure when jenna will get her powers and will get her true potential, but until I figure it out, she gets her potential when she saw a certain someone in danger (kinda placeholder!!)

she didnt have control of her powers much at first, but would soon learn its abilities

and when ethan gets his powers, it doesn't go smoothly at all due to nya having been turned into the sea, so all the sudden power is..quite a painful experience without control

his true potential? realizing his worth and saving his sister from danger

I don't have exact birthdays for them yet, but the placeholders for now are may 23rd (jenna) and october 8th (ethan)

when they got a bit older, jenna decided to dye some streaks of her hair blue (and one time had a pixie cut), ethan didn't take any creative liberties with his hair but would sometimes style it when he's bored

jenna was named by jay, and while nya had wanted lilly she didnt mind and just she told him ''as long as you don't name her nya junior I won't throw you off a building"

lilly in the end was just given as a middle name

want a fun fact? jenna was the one that named ethan, the moment she saw him in his little blanket she just kept shouting "ethan! ethan!"

and jenna has a HUGE obsession for drawing and painting, while ethan likes cooking and is declared 'the gordon ramsey of the walkers* by jenna lmao

Jenna: dude please just open your own restuarant at this point Ethan: for the love of the fucking fsm Jenna-

jenna's special nickname is JJ! long story short, it was at first a shortened version of 'jay junior' that was actually a joke but then it became her actual nickname lmao

jenna is aroace and will go by she/they in the future, while ethan goes by he/him and will come out as bi!

jenna was attached to both her parents but felt closer to nya, especially after seabound

she'd watch her and jay in the sam x cave for ages

never remembering nya nor jay, ethan was wary of nya at first and tried to stay close to jenna but the moment she hugged him? he felt safe and knew it was right (shoot I'm kinda spoiling the reunion uhh)

jenna says she has no favourite uncle, but it's secretly cole and only he knows that

and she bullies kai, even when she's not ordered to do so by jay 👌

she does have a good bond with all of them tho!

jenna, in dragons rising, is 5'0 and will stay that height for a while until she hits a sudden growth spurt at 13 and is literally 5'6

and she'd be 5'9 at 16

happens with ethan aswell, he's only 6 so he's about 3'8 which is average for his age, but he'll keep growing taller and taller and he stops growing once he reached 5'8

The Forest Of Walkers(tm) as a moot of mine once quoted (we both hc jay to be very tall, finn I am looking at you)

and yes, that small part of the drawing of them walking is them in the future, I have no exact design yet and just wanted to throw that in bc of the free space lmao (I will post their future designs tho trust)

fun fact: when me and my friend were still planning what jenna and ethan would be doing after the merge, instead of staying with lloyd they had ended up with sora and arin

in this au, maya and ray are a tad closer to nya than they are in the actual show, they visit regularly to check on her, jay and jenna (soon ethan aswell)

both them and ed and edna SPOIL HER TO DEATH. they'd gladly take jenna any day

..which actually happened, seabound stuff :")

from the way all the ninja grieved, it was extremely lonely for a 3 almost 4 year old kid, especially with how everything happened so suddenly and how she can't yet process grief well, she only had cole who'd stay with her alot when she wasn't at her grandparents

even at their places it felt gloomy, but she loved to distract herself when she'd be in the junkyard by helping ed collect scraps and build with him (when her love of mechanism began)

and she loved to take walks with maya or ray at ignacia, or watch ray blacksmithing

it calmed her down a bit, but she knew something was still missing

edit: jay was also not in the best place after nya left, and wasn't able to spend time with jenna because she reminded him so much of nya, so he went to the lighthouse before he got too far

crystallized was..not the best experience either

because of spoilers and still planning out some more stuff, time to jump to post-crystallized

jenna grew much closer to nya, and had went to school 2 months after ethan was born!

she started in first grade, and was chaotic as fuck

she beat a kid in her class once just because he didnt like her drawings, obviously did not end well but she won and she was proud af 😎

during the timeskip after the merge, when ethan hit 4, lloyd would do some sort of homeschooling for him since he and jenna never left the monastery

Lloyd: okay, what's 5+6?

Ethan: 10!

Lloyd, trying not explode because he was so close:

I have so much more, but this is getting long af and I'm tired lmao

for my moots that are in the combined au, feel free to ramble in the tags aswell if u want to btw!! I wish I could too but I don't have the fuckin energy :'))

I may add on once I have the time and energy in the notes (or another post), but for now here's some info abt these hellspawns :"DD

#ninjago #ninjago oc #ninjago au #early family au #oc: jenna walker #oc: ethan walker #levi's ted talks #levi's writing #alizib tag #levi's art #my art #ninjago dragons rising #ninjago jay #ninjago nya #also I forgot their freckles :'DDD

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eveningearlgrey · 6 months

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I think I didn’t introduce this AU properly when I posted the "Warmth", "Rêverie", and "Good Things about Percival Morton" drabbles. So let me sit back for a while and rearrange my thoughts for a bit.

Okay, I’m ready. Here we go again.

May I present to you, ‘Percival meets Peter Smith-Kingsley because why not?’ AU.

The story started in 2016, two years after Kingsman : The Secret Service, which means James died for real. Percival’s emotional state was a total trainwreck and never actually recovered from the loss. No matter how much he tried to act as if he was fine, at the end of the day he was still broken. He would come home, mourned every night he saw the bed he shared with his husband empty.

It went like this for two years after James's death. Time helped ease the pain a little bit. However, it would take only one trip to Italy to render his recovery process back to zero again.

It could be either a long-term mission or a vacation. I haven't decided on this yet. One thing for sure was during his stay in Rome, fate sent him another twisted and cruel test in the form of one young pianist, who looks almost identical to James.

Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Peter Smith-Kingsley.

I like to imagine they met on a street or in a cafe. Like, Percival was enjoying his coffee when another customer came in and sat at the table not very far from him. And when he glanced at the newcomer’s face, he was shocked to see his husband there, except that he looks about ten years younger.

It took years for Percival to heal from the loss, to put himself together, to forget the pain. All the efforts he took to overcome grief immediately diminished at the moment he saw Peter, when the face he just saw reminded him of what he had lost.

On the other hand, the young pianist was fascinated by the sight of a man he saw. It might sound cheesy if he called it ‘love at first sight’, but that was the closest words to describe how he felt the moment he locked eyes with this one stranger.

Peter felt attracted to Percival since they first met.

Percival wanted to push Peter away, but at the same time he also wanted to keep him, as he saw Peter as a remedy to the loneliness he had been enduring since James was gone.

A second chance, even.

Meanwhile, Peter was more than willing to offer his sincerity, his warmth, his feelings, basically everything he had to get to know Percival more.

He wouldn’t mind being a placeholder. As long as Percival was happy, that was all it mattered.

And that marked the start of their journey.

Since my attention span is too short to write anything longer than 2000 words, I decide to make this a series of drabbles about them in different situations. I'll start posting them more from now on(hopefully).

There’s a bit of an age difference, but not so different here. Peter is 26, while Percival is 36 in this AU. So prepare for the 'you're too young to be with me' excuse. Actually, there's a lot of excuses Percival could come up with.

You can find works and drabbles related to them in my Peter/Percival tag.

#Peter/Percival #percilot #kingsman

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sansxfuckyou · 9 months

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from hero to the hunted

Summary: a brief glance into the ways John Dory coped with the isolation, and how the hell a Pop Troll managed to survive for twenty years in the mountains

Warnings: gutting a massive fish (it gets a bit gross), grieving, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I've been thinking of how in the fuck he survived out there in isolation since I saw the movie, now I've written about it so I can sleep easy at night. anyways! hope ya'll enjoy and if you do consider dropping a reblog or checkin the ao3 port, it really means a lot

"It's just me and my armadillo now, I guess," John Dory said, out loud, too himself, even though no one else existed in this empty forest. It was just him and his armadillo, which he was going to kill for meat, but chose against it when he realized she was sort of... Hollow.

She didn't have any meat, she was just an exterior, why she was like that he didn't know. And he would've left her alone, forever, but she decided to nuzzle up against his leg and chirp at him and he couldn't deny that. Only a monster would deny that, so he picks her up and starts on his way to carry her through the woods so she doesn't step on anything sharp.

It's kind of stupid, adopting an armadillo for no reason other than 'she looked at me and made sound' but he's a big brother. He's the oldest brother, he's spent his entire life before leaving being the caretaker. Their parents just paid attention to each of them equally and it didn't feel like enough, so he decided to start taking care of his little brothers too. Packing lunches, doing laundry, just being as good a brother as he could be before the band started.

And now it's been four years since he left, he's twenty one and he's probably going a little bit crazy with the isolation. Just a little bit nutty, a minuscule amount of absurd with how much he hasn't interacted with anyone or anything in years. Maybe that's why he's picking up this little creature and carrying her around like she's his little sister. He needs a placeholder to fill that void of a little creature in his life, that'll fend off the depression if nothing else.

"I'm gonna call you Rhonda," John stated as he placed her down on a log and started on foraging on some small twigs and slightly larger rocks for a fire pit.

Rhonda just chirps in response.

-/-/-/-

"I think it's a big one!" There's a laugh on his voice as reels in dinner for the night. It fights, thrashing and kicking up a massive splash of water every which way.

Rhonda is quick to amble over and bite the back of his vest tugging him just a bit whenever he lurches forward. Step by step she slowly pulls him back while keeping the cord from snapping with the tautness of it.

"Thanks girl, I'll save you the liver," John promises, it elicits a purring chirrup from Rhonda. He yanks the rod one last time and the fish is in the air, falling down to the ground in seconds, "Hold it down for me."

The armadillo does as told, pressing one paw on the tail fin to keep it down despite it's writhing. She bats it once or twice with her other paw while John grabs his knife, although it's more of a cutlass compared to the size of his body. He drives it through the eye and holds it until the fish stops moving, Rhonda steps back, resting on hind legs as John works.

He works smoothly really, digging the tip of the knife into the tender underbelly of the fish and running it up to the base of the jaw. Blood is minimal, but it still drips from the frayed flesh as he pops on his goggles. He takes a deep breath before diving into the complete and utter darkness. It's dripping with whatever rests inside of a fish's organ cavity and it used to make him feel like vomiting, but that was a long time ago, back when he could still carry Rhonda in his arms.

It's a pulsing and oozing mess, but he persists, cutting the cords and just hauling them out like they're anything but organs. He takes extra care with the liver and tosses it to Rhonda specifically before sliding out and moving onto cutting off the head.

"I hope you like that liver, this guy was living offa swamp scum," John commented as he lopped off the head, severing the spine with a practiced ease to his motions.

He's twenty seven now, ten years into his isolated life in the mountains and the forests and the swamps. He doesn't know how much longer he's gonna stay out there for either, he's probably a freak to the average Troll society now. He's happy here anyways. He has Rhonda, he has his sword, he has a group photo of him and his brothers before everything went wrong.

He's absolutely odd these days, positively so, talking a shocking amount of thoughts that enter his head. Eating whatever plants don't look poisonous and having Rhonda hit him with those defibrillator paws if he passes out from said plant. Cutting open giant fish and other assorted creatures that he comes across. He can store most of his stuff inside of Rhonda anyways, he could sleep in her if he wanted too, but the nights are never cold enough he has to leave her alone at night.

"Hey girl, can you get a fire going for me?" He asked rather loudly as he worked on trying to wedge some of the bones from delicate fish flesh. It was a tedious process but he'd rather do so than risk Rhonda choking on some bones.

There's a loud rumbling purr before Rhonda walks off to get some sticks.

-/-/-/-

It's a bad night, age thirty and he's spending another night laying awake thinking of his brothers and he left them. He thought he dropped this habit on his sweet, sweet twenty sixth birthday where he found an abandoned barrel of lager. He drank himself into a waking coma that night and came too about a week later, semi naked and covered in tinsel and hay. He still shudders to learn where that tinsel came from, but even more so about where the fuck the hay came from.

He's sleeping inside of Rhonda that night, the cold bite of winter air too much for him to bear. He's stuck staring at the ceiling with his few mementos of what his brothers were lay beside him plastered to a wall. He knows they've changed by now, for fucks sake, he's changed, albeit, probably for the worse considering how feral he is. He eats meat, he's always on the run from some monster, he talks to his armadillo van, he definitely wouldn't be able to just assimilate back into society.

John heaves a sigh, tears are hot on his face and his body shudders as he exhales. He misses his brothers. He misses the nights he'd spend falling asleep nestled against Spruce cause he stressed too hard over the song line ups, or he worried too much about his brothers in one way or another. He misses having Floyd there to try and calm down, he regrets not listening to his younger brothers worries and soothing words. He misses all the jokes and the choreography that Clay would carefully craft for them, he misses their secret handshake. He misses Spruce, he misses Floyd, he misses Clay, he (somewhat) misses Branch.

He doubts they miss him, he broke the one law of eldest sibling: never leave you baby brothers. He shattered it, he ran off to the mountains and he's been in said mountain for thirteen years hiding and scavenging. He left, he abandoned them to go be 'brolone' and he's experiencing a intense wave of regret again when he was sure he was over it.

"This is fucking stupid,"

He's an idiot, he thought he'd be fine alone. He adopted an armadillo, he killed her parents, her siblings, he killed all of them and took her in to replace his brothers. He can't go alone, he's not built like that. There's no more stress to keep all of his pieces together, he's gotten so comfortable in the mountains the wilderness fear has gone down too much to act as a substitute.

John just rolls onto his side, away from where his few memorabilia of his brothers exist. Out of side out of mind. He's crying because he lost his favorite vest to the woods, not because he lost his brothers due to his own hubris. Definitely not, and maybe if he tells himself that lie enough times he'll believe it.

#trolls fanfic #trolls band together #john dory trolls #rhonda trolls #trolls 3 #he deserves to go a little bit peculiar with the isolation. a little bit feral. to gut some massive fish.#writing #fanfic #fanfiction

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englass · 2 years

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Plains and Valleys

Pairing(s): John Seed x Deputy/Reader

Warning(s): John is his own warning; Possessive/Obsessive Behaviour; John being creepy; Stalking; kind-of Crack, this isn’t taken all that seriously; Not Beta’d; Experimental Piece; NSFW/Explicit, my first (and likely only) attempt at smut -- please kindly let me know if there’s anything else I should warn of here, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Word Count: 4,020

A/N(s): The title is basically a placeholder for while I was writing this because I had no idea what to name it... and truly, I can’t be asked to think of something better for a piece that only exists to see if I can write smut (spoilers: I can’t, but I’m not letting a completed piece rot away in my docs just because I’m embarrassed; I worked and spent time on this damnit!).

On another note, I was gonna just give this piece over as my contribution to WIP day that @derelictheretic was kind enough to tag me in, but decided against it. I’ll post a proper response and WIP later this week or next, so bear with me please hun! Just wanted to get this out there first.

- - -

John had a problem.

Well, he had many problems. Not least of all his growing frustration at the continued resistance from the Fairgraves' in his pursuit for the deed to their ‘establishment’. He also had been unable to play with Affirmation as regularly as he would have liked, so that put him in an even fouler mood than usual. And he wasn't going to even think about the stress he was starting to feel with his brother constantly breathing down his neck; always questioning his actions as though he were a child constantly getting into trouble and needing twenty-four hour monitoring, always asking after the progress of things that take time. A lot of time.

John may have a substantial amount of money at his disposal, but that does not mean he can work miracles.

Not all of the time, at least.

And his problems don’t stop there, oh no. Despite what many likely thought of him (and what a stroke to his ego that is, knowing that people think of him) John was well aware of his problems, his faults. He’d spent a lot of time getting intimate with them, after all; and every now and again they'd crop up like daisies, weeding their way to the surface yet again. He’d become rather good at managing them, if he said so himself, but even John wasn’t perfect (he was damn close to it though, as many would agree). And one fault he hadn’t quite been able to trim back was his tendency to fixate on things; obsess.

He obsesses over his plane, over its upkeep and maintenance, its flight records, the slightest scratch that wasn't there the day before-- how the fuck did that get there!?

He obsesses over the details on the manifestos he’s given, the contracts he’s made, dates and times for resource collection, rotations, their members' personal records (he denies having those), PR management, expenditures and everything in between.

He obsesses over his home, the décor, the colours and lighting, materials used, the whole aesthetic. How he presents himself, the clothes and brands he wears (it’s vain but he needs those creature comforts), his posture, his presence, his overall look that creates an identity that just screams nothing but John.

He obsesses over things.

He knows he does. It’s a faulty blessing.

And he has found something new to obsess over.

John has had a few run-ins with the local Deputies of Hope County in the past. Mostly Joey Hudson, delightful as she is, but ordinarily he doesn’t think too much of them. After all, he’s untouchable and they all know it. There’s no reason to worry about them, let alone waste his precious free time (what little he gets of it) thinking about them. They’re insignificant in the grand scheme of things. Nothing but an inconvenience, an annoyance at most. Completely irrelevant.

But then he saw her.

Standing there, innocuous, looking out at something (for something? Nothing?) in the distance.

There’s a hitch, the catch of a stilted breath.

Where they were keeping her hidden he has no idea, but he is taken the moment he catches that rogue glance of her.

And, strangely, he doesn't know why.

Sure, John and his brothers have been in this County for a good while now and he has never seen her before, so it’s perfectly normal for him to be curious about the unfamiliar face in town. Nothing wrong with that, it’s innocent enough.

Except there’s everything wrong with that.

Because that’s not it.

He can’t even blame his wandering eyes on her appearance; she’s wearing that drab uniform that even a charity shop wouldn’t take, and it does nothing to enhance whatever natural beauty she may have hidden underneath it. Although, the girl-next-door look she gives off is begrudgingly cute (if he dared to utter the word unironically).

Honestly, she’s not the type of woman that he typically would have paid any special attention to back in his lawyer days. Fucked her stupid maybe, for the extra notch in his bedpost, but he likely wouldn’t have taken her number or thought too much about her afterwards. Relegated to just another lay in a long line of bed partners that he doesn’t remember all the names of.

To be blunt, she isn’t anything special.

And maybe that’s part of the appeal, what hooks him in. Because she is different; unassuming and uncomplicated, modest to a point of simplicity. And yet there is something about her that he can’t actively see or name from his spot across the street that has drawn him in without even trying. And he doesn’t know what or why.

It’s as infuriating as it is intriguing.

Perhaps there is some iota of truth in what Joseph had said to him a while ago, John supposed silently to himself at the time: the simplest of things can be beautiful, in their own unconventional ways.

Although his brother could have said as much with far less words, verses, and vague allusions to a potential future that might never be-- a spark of sudden change that sets a new course in motion; scales tipped by the most consuming of emotions; scorched by a soul so deceptively unremarkable that no one would have thought to believe just how uniquely special they would become--

…

……

… Huh…

John creates a special slot in his increasingly hectic schedule just for her from then on out.

He goes out of his way to find more reasons to harass and bother the local population, all in a fruitless attempt to get lucky and have her answer their call for aid and come and tell him what a bad boy he’s being. (Annoyingly she never turns up, though.)

He makes calls and pulls some strings to the businesses he’s procured, makes inquiries to anyone that would listen to him, including those doing menial tasks or even going through their Atonement (they don’t understand the relevancy of his questioning and he may have been a little harsher with them than he should’ve been because of it), and all in the name of his personal investigation into her.

After all, he had argued to himself in front of a cork board covered with documents and pictures of her with a feverish flavour, what sort of Herald would he be if he didn't know everything about everyone living in his-- their, his and his brothers, soon-to-be County?

His invasive and not completely legal search into this new Deputy (and she is new it turns out, freshly transferred in fact) goes on for a full, nonstop month before -- during one of his totally-random-and-not-planned stops into town -- he discovers something else about her.

When he first saw his Deputy (and doesn’t that feel good to say) she was alone, leaning against the wooden beam of the Sheriff’s Department’s porch and staring out into the distant fields; the late afternoon sun haloing her figure in its golden warmth, its light making the colour of her eyes blaze bright and her hair shine silkily. The perfect picture of ease.

This time, when he finally manages to spy another in-person look at her, he finds that she has company. She’s standing next to the ever friendly Hudson, posture held strong by an understated confidence and arms casually crossed beneath her bust, an amused smile on her decidedly pretty face as Hudson talks animatedly about something that he can’t hear.

And she’s looking up at her.

John blinks, and blinks again.

He’s definitely seen her file, he even remembers glossing through her medical records (which he would most assuredly deny having if anyone asked), so he knows how tall she is. But for some reason it apparently hadn’t quite registered to him until now what that would look like in a physical comparison between the two of them.

He knows that the lovely Hudson is a couple of inches shorter than him, not too far off from meeting him eye-to-eye. His Deputy, from what he can see, is about a full head shorter than Hudson. Which would put her, what, roughly just about eye-to-chest with him...?

He thinks about it. Thinks about her next to him, imagines what that would look like. Thoughts surprisingly innocent as he wonders after clichés of reaching for something that she can’t reach, of cocooning her in his arms as he effortlessly wrangles her into his lap. Envisions the domesticity of easily resting his head on top of hers as he holds her from behind, slotting himself into the mould of her figure like matching puzzle pieces, perfectly meant to be and belong…

A high pitched, shaky sound slips free at the mental reel.

It’s not a secret the type of life that John used to live. He has been with numerous types of women, something he used to take a great deal of pride in, and has indulged in and explored his fair share of kinks in the comfort of expensive silk sheets. But who would have guessed that the former playboy, John Duncan now John Seed, would have a thing for domestic bliss.

Or rather, domestic bliss with little. ol’. her.

John makes the executive decision then and there to talk to his Deputy as soon as possible. Preferably alone. Without interference.

It feels like forever before he gets the opportunity.

A week later, on a daily walk through Falls End that has only admittedly become a thing in order to check up on the lucky woman of his blazing affections (I am not stalking her, Jacob, he had grounded out menacingly to his accusing older brother over Sunday dinner; who proceeded to look on at John with a slow quirk of an eyebrow), he finds his ever elusive Deputy resting around the corner of the Sheriff’s Department’s building. Eyes closed, head down, arms crossed, and safely concealed in the shade; unsuspectingly calm in her desired time alone.

And John is quick to ruin it.

He can’t help himself, he really can’t. The opportunity is here and he would be remiss to let it pass him by.

Even if she does look rather serene.

He's seen a few photos of her, more than a few actually-- albums worth even, so he knows what she looks like up close. He even printed one out (it’s a favourite of his, a near perfect replica of the first time he saw her) and has it framed on his bedside table; but it turns out no amount of photos quite do the real her justice.

The closer he gets to her the more he notices how petite she is, how the loose yet deceptively form-fitting hug of her bland uniform subtly accentuates the curves and slopes of her modest figure; the daintiness of her fingers as they rest against the exposed, smooth skin of her arms; that familiar magnetic draw snapping to life in the colour of her eyes as they lazily open, sparkling as he gets closer and she looks up at him, wide and wondering.

Innocent.

Oh, he was so wrong about her, he realises wondrously. Did her such a disservice in his initial judgement of her all those weeks ago. She is far from average.

And being here in front of her, close enough to touch, to be able to easily reach out and trap her against the wall and between his arms if he so wanted to, safely protected under the cage of his form -- her neck craning back in order to comfortably gaze up at him, meeting his eyes as he stares down at her…

It makes something inside him go wild.

John lays the charm on quick and swift, hand attractively running through his hair as a practised but handsome smile lights up his face, eyes twinkling through his lidded gaze with an aweing hunger he knows he is failing to keep hidden.

Getting the first word in, he leans close to the wall, not quite putting his full weight against it (his shirt was expensive) but close enough to allow him a moment of privacy with her by limiting her field of view to only him. Blocking out everyone-- everything else with his taller frame (and doesn’t that thought spark a sudden twitch of interest) as he eagerly monopolises her attention.

Daringly he edges further into her space while he talks ardently to her, truly basking in the unexpected pleasure he gets in watching her unintentionally baring her neck to him; being so beautifully submissive for him without consciously realising it. Amusement colouring his tone in pale notes as he watches the way her pretty eyes darken and narrow at his progressive disturbance and invasion of her time and space.

Fuck. He didn’t know it would be this intoxicating to be so close to her.

Even as he dances through conversation with playful words and hinting remarks, becomes enamoured by the soothing intonation of her voice as she is dragged along with guarded comments and wary retorts, he can’t stop the way his mind ever so sinfully wanders…

It really would be so easy to have her up against this wall. To crowd her in with his frame on all sides and her vision filled with nothing but him. The centre of her universe and attention, him; and his hers. The concept of that sort of all-encompassing intimacy and devotion makes John shudder. Hungry all the more for it and the woman that has unknowingly given him a taste of what it could all be and become, of what that level of pure, unadulterated want is inspiring in him.

He could easily have her against this wall. Have her looking directly skyward up at him as if he were her moon and stars, as he looks directly down at her-- his entire world and more.

Snatch her thigh and hoist it up towards his waist. Have her balancing precariously on the tips of her toes and clutching desperately at him, trusting John to help hold and support her and keep her steady as he shields her from the world around them. Hides her away from the unworthy just as the unworthy have hidden her away from him. His lips sweetly latching onto hers, her taste finally on his tongue after all these weeks of wanting, involuntarily grounding his hips into hers as a desperate sound breaks within his throat.

Oh, John can visualise it now: the two of them breathing in each other's air, bodies flush as he tugs and pushes closer, her shirt riding up as it's snagged by the rough brickwork at her back, arching into him on an unsteady foot to escape its harsh bite. Teeth nipping teasingly at her lips and tongue licking moreishly into her mouth as his free hand roams down her stomach, pulls the rest of her shirt loose and fumbles in his eagerness with the buttons of her jeans, yanking the zipper down and shoving his hand below the waistband and into her underwear. Hearing her whine sweetly into his mouth as he feels just how wet she is for him, how much she wants him and how eagerly she welcomes him into her as he plunges his fingers into her slick cunt with a needy and quaking moan of his own.

Would she want it quick and rough? His fingers thrusting knuckle deep as he presses tight circles to her throbbing clit, teeth at her throat as he claws into her thigh held tightly in the dip of his waist. Listening to how her moans get higher, her breathing gets quicker, turning into desperate little gasps before he tugs his fingers free of her; lips devouring hers in quick apology as he battles to pull his aching cock free, cursing lowly against her lips as his slick covered fingers slip on the metal of his belt. She’d help him, he knows she would -- such a good girl --, nipping and kissing him back with wanton sounds as she bats his hand away, revelling in the noises he makes for her -- only for her, only ever for her -- as she pulls him free; rolling her hips until his cock catches on her slit and he’s thrusting home into her.

Only then -- while feeling her walls flex around him, mouth hanging open as they both bask in finally, finally being so intimately connected to one another -- would he finally hike her other leg up to wrap fully around his waist, fully supporting her weight and driving himself deeper into her, one of his arms coming up to press into the wall beside her, hand caringly slipping behind her head; bracketing her in. Shivering as her breath warms his neck and she cries out for him.

And considering her height… fuck, he can only imagine just how tight she’d be for him, chocking his cock as she squeezes him, milking him for all he’s worth until his teeth are stained red against her lovingly maimed neck. His hips snapping into hers with a guttural growl, panting sensual snarls of encouragement into her ear as he demands and begs in equal measure that she touch herself for him, dexterous fingers chasing her end as he chases his own until-- she’s coming around him with a high and shuddery keen. Her soft walls sucking him deeper into her, legs locking tighter around his waist and keeping him there as he spills himself into the back of her hot cunt with a strangled moan. Claiming her as his as he presses in closer, plugging her full with his cock and cum and praying that it’ll take--

…

……

… Huh.

He will definitely be exploring that at a later date…

Or perhaps she wouldn’t want it like that. Wouldn’t want him to be so rough and careless with her. Maybe she would want him to go slower, to be gentle-- to be good for her, to take his time and truly enjoy and appreciate every sweet beg and whimper that falls from her perfect lips. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to fuck him at the back of her shabby place of work, or even anywhere out in the open; maybe she would prefer privacy, for him to make love to her. Would want him to steal her away into his home, to carefully lay her out on his bed and unwrap her like a delicate gift, hands tracing teasing paths along her body before spreading her wide for his tasting pleasures. Taking his time to truly savour her unique flavour on his palette, wanton sounds pressed into sensitive flesh as he takes her throbbing clit into his mouth and sucks.

Broad strokes of his skilled tongue parting her lips and drinking her down, fingers firm as they hold onto the soft meat of her thighs and hips, thumbs rubbing soothing motions into her skin as he opens her up for him. Urges her with hot breathes, praising words, the flick of his tongue and the dip of his fingers into her wet heat, to cum for him; pleads with sound and touch and a greedy haze over his lust-darkened eyes. The gravel in his gluttonous voice vibrating into her, in love with how she reaches and cries out for him as he tells her how good she’s being for him, how badly he needs her to cum for him-- a debauched sound choking out of him as she does. Completely enraptured as she reaches the height of pleasure -- pleasure he brought her, that he will always strive to bring her --, bearing witness to his own personal God-given vision as he watches her writhe against his sheets and listens to her songs of praise, easing her down from that divine high and back into his devoted embrace.

Kissing a line up to her bitten lips, answering her mewls with soft coos and grounding touches, brushing over a nipple before taking the perky flesh into his mouth with a brief suck and fleeting skim of teeth, letting go with a lingering kiss before moving across and repeating the process to its twin. Reluctantly drawing away to playfully nip and press wet kisses into the column of her throat before letting her taste the tanginess of her juices on his tongue. Languidly kissing as he strokes her sides, writing indecipherable words of affection into her skin, content to let her enjoy the bliss of post-orgasm before he slowly pulls away, descending back down the line of her body with a husky, ‘one more, just one more for me, darling...’

John knows he wouldn’t stop at just ‘one more’ though. Hopefully she’d be generous enough to give him a few more before he finally slakes his need for her.

And hopefully she doesn't see the hard-on he’s now sporting after such vivid fantasies.

In a particularly bold move, temptation spurred into a fever from improper imaginings, John reaches for her; fixates on a strand of hair that has become untucked from behind her ear. She tenses, muscles coiling tight as she gives him the most suspicious look somebody has ever given him before. He’s actually rather offended. And very hurt.

But it’s sobering, in its own way. Because suddenly he can hear Joseph’s voice in his head from last Sunday (what a turn-off…), advising him that if he wanted to pursue a relationship with this Deputy that he was so smitten with then he needed to be gentle, considerate.

John may have done his ‘research’ on her, extensively so, but that did not mean that he was entitled or even deserving of her affections. He could not expect her to be on the same page as him, especially considering he had yet to even interact with her at that point. She may not have even heard of him yet, Joseph had speculated-- John and Jacob quietly sharing a disbelieving look. Everyone in the County knew their names, and with her being a Deputy there was no way she hadn’t heard of them.

Regardless, Joseph’s point still stood: if John wanted a genuine chance with her then he needed to soften himself, to be delicate, more tactful with her. Demonstrate that he can hear and see her for all that she is and can be, and that he accepts her without reservation.

Think of it like Atonement, Joseph had supplied sagely, fingers steepled, she needs to willingly give her confession over to you, John. Her affections. You can’t just take them.

And to Joseph’s credit, that actually made sense to John.

Atonement was all about accepting one’s sins, confessing them to another whom they trusted would never condemn nor judge them for their past actions or choices; unburdening themselves so they may be reborn pure and untainted for the hopeful future ahead of them. In that regard, his pursuit of his Deputy wasn’t too dissimilar.

So in that brief moment, in that flash of hurt as she steels herself against his considerate gesture and where John remembers Joseph’s words, he pauses. Convinces himself to go slower, to not try to grab at her like a spoiled brat reaching for things that weren't his-- yet. Reigns himself in enough so he doesn’t give her anymore of a reason to potentially be wary of him, to which he has very likely just given her quite a few. Trying in his own distinct way to smooth over her obvious distrust of him.

John knows he’s made mistakes throughout his life. Many would say he’s not a good man, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree with them. But seeing and learning of her, of recalling his brother’s words and advice, of the many fantasies he’s had before and even during meeting her in this moment, he thinks he could change that. Knows that, if she would have him, if she gave him the chance, he’d be good. He’d be good for her.

Joseph always talks about love, about the power and control it wields over people and-- admittedly, John doesn’t completely get it.

But with her? For her? He thinks he just might.

…

He thinks he already does.

#can you tell i didn't know how to end this?#what a mess #plot is less than half baked #but hey i had fun with it so that's good #also #because i love ruining people's day #i can't help but read that first line in Jeremy Clarksons voice. makes this whole thing that bit funnier to me #oh and if anyone would like to draw a certain scene of John and a cork board that would be most appreciated #absolute pinnacle of me going silly with this fic #love it #also also #i was aiming to get this out for halloween because of how scary the writing is but i'm an hour late :(#very typical of me but i'm still disappointed #but it's okay i have my bed waiting for me so all is well lol #john seed x reader #john seed x deputy #john seed x female deputy #fanfic #fanfiction #my writing #fc5 fanfic #far cry 5 fanfiction #far cry 5 fanfic #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: stalking #tw: possessive behavior #don't feel like he's that possessive in this but still tagging just in case

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cat-esper · 1 year

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Intro time!

My name is Cat (she/her and aroace) and while I've been on tumblr for a couple of years now, jumping from fandom to fandom and writing fanfic, I decided to make this blog to focus on original work.

I write fantasy, sci-fi, and a little bit of horror and I love mixing genres like there's no tomorrow. My absolute favorite things are found family, robots, and time travel, and I am a firm believer that platonic relationships can be just as fierce and important as romantic ones. Most of my novels are set within a shared universe I call the Starfish Saga and that's my main focus, though I do have quite a few exciting projects outside that.

I have so so many WIPs but the ones I'm currently focused on include these (all titles are placeholders for the time being):

Project Paladin: a YA science fantasy about a girl whose parents have been abducted by aliens and features portals, light magic, and found family*

Project Arcana: a YA epic fantasy featuring dangerous history, blood magic, and a warrior's desperate and unhealthy quest to honor her dead mentor*

Project Utopia: a post-apocalyptic sci-fi about a young woman with cyber magic, an android, and an undead abomination on a quest to defeat a powerful lich

Project Guardian: a YA science fantasy about an Irish teen, time loops, yet more magic, and the meaning of regret*

Project Array: a YA contemporary fantasy in which a girl grieving the death of her best friend gains a found family of people who fight the very thing that might help her find peace*

Project Slipstream: a YA slipstream portal fantasy set in the 80s/90s in which a group of outcasts wander away from our world and to the enigmatic Spiral, drawn there for reasons unknown by a song all of them know*

Project Wraith: a weird western about two criminals--sometimes partners and sometimes rivals--who team up to rob a ghost train

Project Bootstrap: a sci-fi narrative about the end of human civilization and the androids tasked with collecting data from the past to preserve for the future

Project Portal Epic: My most ambitious worldbuilding project, this epic fantasy brings together characters from multiple worlds connected through the Nightland Tram System; each is on their own quest that culminates in a team-up to prevent the long-dormant Night Beasts from awakening*

(* marks WIPs set in the Starfish Saga)

I'll be gradually posting WIP intros for these over the coming weeks so stay tuned! And if anyone wants to be added to a taglist, let me know by commenting on the WIP's intro post or shoot me a DM, specifying which WIP you'd like to be added to.

I also love getting asks and participating in tag games and just general chatting about WIPs if anyone is so inclined.

That's it for now. If you're interested in my other blogs, you can find me at @that-vibe-i-cant-explain (for multi-fandom shenanigans) or at @redstarsarc (my Pirates of the Caribbean blog).

Anyway, hello! It's nice to be here XD

#writeblr #intro #introduction #writeblr community #writing #writers of tumblr #writing community #fantasy #scifi #wips wips wips

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kakyogay · 1 year

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Several Cheap Fragments!!!!

Finally finished their general ref sheet.

(I may make something like this for FSRW but for now this is all I got)

more info under cut because my brian be thimking

SCF

Like Reese, it's purpose wasn't really to solve the great problem but to house, research, and possibly domesticate the organisms they were assigned. Reese has lizards while Fragments has vultures.

The main idea for their clothing was "since they can go outside their can, they need to be dressed for exploration" so shorter clothing would be more appropriate. And since they have a changeable back panel, the back needs to be open enough to make it easy. I just decided to make the undershirt thing sleeveless with an open back as shown below.

With the above you can also see how their wires work. The back panel only covers up their inner mechanics with a port for their wires. It's mainly used as a placeholder if no packs are being used to avoid breaking their puppet out of stupidity.

If one were to be connected, it'd snap on. The wires would plug into the input on the pack and they'd be able to use the pack as programmed unless it sustained damaged. I only have one kind of attachment at the moment but if I were to make more they would go by the same system. Here is a doodle of it that hopefully makes sense if the text didn't.

Oh yeah also you know how I said the back is covered up so they wouldn't break their puppet out of stupidity? Yeah well they did once and it lowkey messed up their eyesight. Don't ask how, it just did. This now makes them cautious of things behind them, since one small mess up impacted their life greatly.

oh yeah and one final thing their eyes just look like that because I thought it looked cool.

I think that's all for the calculator, time for the pups :)

Link & Lonk

Link and Lonk are a couple of pups that look like lantern mice with similar abilities to those little fellas. honestly I just thought "what if scug look like funky mice :D" and decided to force Fragments to bare the burden of parenthood.

They were separated from their parents and found fragments. It decided to feed the small pups and now they latch onto it like a cyan lizard who'd been given a small centipede.

They are surprisingly helpful when outside it's can. They can hold extra spears and pearls around if needed. Link tends to hold onto pearls while Lonk takes the spears. Probably because Link would rather swim in an ocean full of leviathans than need to hit something twice their size with a spear.

They also know a little bit of sign language. Only simple gestures like hi, yes, no, danger, food, and others along that line. They really like to use the food gesture literally any moment they can because they could eat literally anything anytime. It got so bad that fragments now limits their food per cycle. They don't like the limit but it is what it is ig.

I really hope my organization of whatever this is is alright. It's almost 1 am and I should really be going to bed soon. If I come up with anything else I'll put it under their tag but for now this is all I got. gnight 👍👍

#rain world #SCF #link and lonk #my children I love them so much #now that I've done this I can go back to thinking about pebbles until I pass out from exhaustion <3

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amoebaforce · 1 year

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Cat/Mouse

Part 2 of 4 (Part 1) (Part 3)

After a string of bold thefts rocks the Edenite art scene, veteran hunter Nadine picks up the bounty of a lifetime. Fifty thousand credits, just to capture the elusive thief and bring her in alive. It should be an easy job... but one look at her mark tells Nadine she might have bitten off more than she can chew. On a space station full of secret dealings, dirty money, and luxurious lies, it seems even the simplest contracts are prone to complication. tags: questionable morality, some in-universe prejudice, brief description of bodily harm

In a cheap motel room, Nadine snarled at her error-ridden computer screen. Her aggravated growl pierced the early morning as she slumped back onto the stiff mattress. The hunter was on her fifth hour of decryption, and things weren’t going well. The files she’d copied from Ulu’zah’s data-chip were locked behind an asymmetric algorithm — an elliptic curve, no less — and Nadine’s little ten-year-old processor was having a hell of a time solving for the key. Without it, she couldn’t open a single file out of the hundreds she’d copied. In fact, the only thing unencrypted about this data was the name of the folder it came in:

twig_root

Nadine stared at that title for a long time, trying to decide what it meant. Even now, as she stared at a blank white ceiling instead, she wasn’t sure what to make of it. It was probably just a generated placeholder… But then again, it could be a covert naming system, or a cryptic clue about the folder’s contents. Maybe the piece to be forged was tree-themed. Maybe it was another code, a silly phrase no one would understand except–

Ulu’zah.

The name echoed in Nadine’s ears. Memories thrummed and danced across her mind, all hazy and soft and purple. She dragged a hand down her face, but she couldn’t ignore the way her guts knotted at the thought. Even hours later, Nadine couldn’t explain why she’d acted like that. Kissing that thief was bad enough, but returning the chip? Issuing a poorly veiled challenge to her bosses and then letting her go?

Inexplicable.

She’d done plenty of stupid things in her time, but this definitely took the cake. And to make things worse, she was already losing the race. Nadine hadn’t even started to sift through these damn files, while Ulu’zah was probably close to the end. With that kind of head start, she was already well on her way to snatching another priceless artifact and disappearing into the ether.

Nadine couldn’t let that happen. She snatched her data-cuff from the nightstand and made a call. The line buzzed twice, then clicked as if answered, but no one spoke. Nadine rolled her eyes. Of course.

“Xerxes,” she said sharply. “I need to call in a favor.”

A beat of silence. Then, a low chuckle rattled through the speaker.

“Obviously,” a deep voice drawled. “Why else would you call at such a scandalous hour? Certainly not to ask what I’m wearing.”

“Oh, can it, would ya? I’m in deep shit.”

“Mm. That Diralith girl gave you the runaround, didn’t she?”

Nadine could practically hear the smug look on the bounty broker’s face. It wormed through his honey-sweet tone and right under Nadine’s skin. Xerxes always had a way of bristling her. Even the first time they met, his overblown confidence and cologne-clouded office gave Nadine a migraine. Fifteen years later, the smell of vetiver still made her woozy.

“No,” Nadine snapped. “Just– Just help me decrypt this damn data packet, would you?”

“Oh-ho,” Xerxes replied mockingly. “I should have known. Nothing but a technological conundrum could sink you so low as to call upon me for aid.”

“Shut up and help!”

With a few button-mashes, Nadine linked her cuff to her computer and gave Xerxes admin access. He could see her screen through his own now, and his giggles were muffled as he scrolled through her lines of code.

“Where did you get this thing?” he asked.

“From the thief.”

A moment of surprised silence.

“Is she in custody? I don’t recall getting a–”

“She slipped away,” Nadine interrupted. “Long story. Doesn’t matter. The point is, whatever’s in this packet is gonna help me net her. Maybe even the whole crew.”

She bit her lip. That wasn’t exactly a lie, but it wasn’t exactly the truth, either. And it certainly didn’t explain how she got her hands on this chip. Nadine prayed he wouldn’t press her for details; she wasn’t willing to part with the real ones. Fortunately, her moment of worry was broken by another quiet laugh.

“My, you sound so sure,” Xerxes replied, tone dangerously saccharine. He paused his scrolling, then deleted a few numbers and went back to skimming.

“I am sure,” Nadine insisted.

“Whatever you say, hot-shot. It’s all the same to me, so long as the credits transfer at the end of the day. Tell me, what do you know about Diralith culture?”

The hunter’s brow furrowed. “Oh, now it’s a pop quiz?”

“Humor me, won’t you? I am doing you a favor, after all.”

As if to prove his point, Xerxes zeroed in on another error in her coding. Nadine sighed heavily.

“Fine,” she relented. “Diralith are… creative. At least, all of the Diralith I’ve ever met. Singers, dancers, artists… even a contortionist, if you’d believe that.”

“I do.” Xerxes rewrote a command before he continued. “Would you say Ulu’zah fits within that generalization?”

You don’t wanna know, Nadine wanted to say, but there was no way he’d let that one fly.

“Yeah,” she told him instead. “I guess so. I mean, even if she’s only copying another artist’s work, her forgeries are convincing enough to pass visual inspections. That takes some skill.”

“True,” Xerxes said thoughtfully. “Are you aware of the planet Dira’s status with the Federation?”

“They’re allied, but not members. Something about their government being too unstructured to join.”

“That’s the gist of it, yes. In more precise terms, Dira is too egalitarian to meet the entrance standards. The Diralith uphold no hierarchies, subscribe to no doctrine but equity. Hell, they don’t even have a standard currency. They prefer to trade in goods or services. Kind of admirable, really — but completely incompatible with the Feds. And not just financially or politically, but philosophically, too.”

“Can you please get to the point?” Nadine said, patience wearing thin.

“My point is,” Xerxes emphasized, “no born-and-bred Diralith would leave that little utopia without a damn good reason. There’s a saying I learned in the Security Force. ‘An off-world Diralith is one of three things: a celebrity, an exile, or a criminal.’”

Nadine felt her mouth twitch into a frown. This was another of her gripes with Xerxes: his tendency to paint the universe in broad, careless strokes. He liked to think himself a great judge of character, but in truth, he was nothing of the sort. Xerxes’ tenure as a cop had merely fossilized his worldview into a rigid set of boxes, and he had accepted them as truth. He took great pains to sort people — cataloging, categorizing, and organizing them like trinkets — and his solution for ill-fitting confines was always to add another box. Never to knock down the walls.

“How do you know she’s born-and-bred?” Nadine countered. “Maybe she was born on a station, like I was.”

“Her name is Ulu’zah,” Xerxes argued. “That’s about as traditional as a Diralith name gets. It’s almost laughably old-fashioned — like naming a Terran baby ‘Maria’ or ‘John.’ Her parents were probably homeworld conservatives.”

“Okay, now you’re just making stuff up,” Nadine said flatly. “Ulu’zah might not even be her real name.”

He sighed. “Maybe, maybe not. We’ll just have to find out after you reel her in.”

Nadine felt her face twist. Xerxes’ words settled like stones in her gut. Reel her in, like a fish on a hook. Baited. Doomed.

Was that really what she was doing?

Sure, Nadine had pulled her fair share of dirty tricks to catch a criminal — bribing underpaid staff, hacking security cameras, impersonating a mark’s clientele — but none of them had ever felt so heavy. So wrong. Why did it bother her so much, this game she had initiated? Ulu’zah was a thief, but one of scores Nadine had hunted through her career. She wasn’t even the first art thief. Absolutely nothing about this job was unique.

Nothing but her.

Nadine shivered. Shook the thought from her mind.

“Alrighty,” Xerxes chirped. “Should be fixed now.”

Nadine’s eyes sliced to the screen, where her boss was typing the final characters of an execution command. She held her breath, but miraculously, the code began to run, complete with a newly added progress bar.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Xerxes said, sounding sickeningly proud of himself. “Not an error message in sight.”

“Yes, yes, real impressive,” Nadine sighed. “Thanks a bunch. Now get lost.”

The broker uttered an exaggerating gasp.

“All that hard work to open these files, and you think I’m going to leave before I get to see what’s in them? Not on your life, Nadine.”

She gave a weary groan, weighing her options. She could hang up on him and revoke his admin privileges, but knowing Xerxes, he’d just call back until she gave in and answered. Or worse: hack his way straight back in. And it would be such a hassle to update her firewalls. Nadine pinched the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“Whatever,” she told him. “Just don’t start back-seat driving, okay?”

“I would never.”

Nadine fought the urge to scoff. The program ran and ran, until the bar was full and a wholly decrypted spread of files unfolded before her eyes. Not that the process actually helped much — every thumbnail image was blank, each title a random collection of numbers and letters. No two files seemed to be the same size, and there was no rhyme or reason to their organization. There were photos, videos, text files, digital information in formats Nadine had never even heard of, all strewn together as if they’d been selected at random.

Another snarl fell from Nadine’s lips. She’d just have to open them all individually.

“How exciting,” Xerxes remarked. “I do love a good scavenger hunt.”

And so it went. Nadine combed through a desert of data, sorting by type before scouring each pile systematically. Nearly half the files were entirely, utterly random: furniture instruction manuals, scanned storybook illustrations, dozens of travel brochures, pictures of strange landscapes and monuments, and years-old news articles that seemed to be about everything except crime. Another large chunk was simply empty — blank text documents, mostly, with the occasional image of a blank void.

She pressed on, sequestering every nonsensical clump of ones and zeroes she found, until the simulated sun dawned over Eden and washed the sterile white walls with gold and pink. Then, on the three hundred sixty-first file, Nadine stumbled upon her smoking gun.

Upon first glance, it was just another “vacation” style photo. A pristine courtyard made of metal, surrounded by sleek white structures. A tall, multi-tiered fountain stood in center frame, while the edges of the shot were full of plants and bustling people. Entirely normal. But as she made to file it away, two separate realizations sent alarm bells ringing in Nadine’s sleep-deprived mind.

First: she recognized the destination in the photo. She’d walked past that fountain every day in university; she’d know it anywhere. This was Honore Square, in the center of Eden’s East Lawn. The arts district.

Second: for the first time in any photo she’d scrolled through, there was someone looking at the camera.

The figure was small and slightly out of focus, but there it was, right beside the base of the water feature. A Terran male clad in black, identity obscured by a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of sunglasses. A half-moon smile peaked over his tall collar. His left hand was shoved into a pocket, but his right hovered in the air beside him, flashing a two-fingered peace sign right into the lens.

“Holy shit,” Nadine whispered.

“What?” Xerxes asked suddenly. Nadine’s heart skipped a beat — the broker had been silent for so long, she’d almost forgotten he was there.

“Look,” she told him, fingers fumbling to zoom in. “This picture was taken on Eden! And wouldn’t you say that’s a weird outfit for sight-seeing?”

Xerxes hummed as he studied the male. “Unless he is allergic to the sun… I suppose it is, yes.”

“This has to mean something.”

“Perhaps. But what?”

“Maybe it’s another drop,” Nadine guessed. She swallowed hard. “Or a meeting.”

“Hm… Arranging a drop via touristic photography… It’s plausible, I admit. Though it doesn’t account for the peace sign. Unless he wants her to come unarmed.”

Xerxes giggled at his own quip, but Nadine’s mind was racing too fast to appreciate the humor.

“It’s the time,” she concluded aloud. “Two — probably two in the morning. That’s the only thing that makes sense. He’s giving her a time and place.”

“It’s past five now,” Xerxes said. “We’ve missed it.”

Nadine shook her head, as if he could see it.

“He means tomorrow. It was just after one in the morning when I copied this packet from the chip. There’s no way Ulu could have seen this message and made it to the fountain in less than an hour.”

Xerxes paused. “…Ulu?”

Fuck!

Nadine cringed at herself, covering her screwed-up eyes with one palm. “It’s how she introduced herself,” she admitted, having nothing better-sounding to say.

Xerxes laughed hard enough to clip the audio on their voice call.

“Oh, shit,” he wheezed through his glee. “Say no more. Save it all for the in-person report I’m gonna make you give me.”

Nadine swore under her breath, suddenly regretting her “long story” comment from earlier. But this was a bridge for later crossing — right now, she had to focus on these damned files.

Ignoring the snickering male, Nadine copied the photo to her hard drive and kept looking. Five more documents joined it in quick succession, and after another long hour of study and tense conversation, Nadine had everything she needed.

“Well, Xerxes,” she said firmly, “it’s been real. I owe you one.”

“I look forward to calling that in,” Xerxes chuckled back. “You’d better get some sleep, though. You’ve an appointment to keep.”

Long after the death of the day, Nadine slipped into a narrow maintenance corridor and come to rest in a deep column of shadow. Honore Square stretched out before her, vast and eerily still, save for the bubble of the fountain and the gentle sway of leaves. She didn’t see a single soul on the way here. The East Lawn’s art galleries and theaters were long since shut, and the sky overhead was too ominous to invite late-night walks. Viscous gray clouds swirled as if stirred in a cauldron, perfuming the air with the thick scent of incoming rain.

It was almost too quiet. A breeze rose goosebumps on Nadine’s neck as she pulled her jacket tighter.

The calm before the storm, she thought dryly.

Somewhere in the distance, a clock proclaimed the three-quarter hour, its resonant toll rolling softly across the plaza. Nadine’s skin pebbled with anticipation. Fifteen more minutes, and she’d find out if her meeting theory was correct. What if she was wrong? What if she misinterpreted those files? Focused on the wrong details?

Nadine pushed her thoughts away like buzzing gnats.

Concentrate!

She inhaled. Exhaled. Tucked herself against the wall, letting darkness cocoon her from view. A few long minutes passed. Then, the sound of far-off footsteps rang out through the night, shattering the moment like a mirror.

Nadine froze. Small feet. Stiletto heels. Coming closer, closer, until a sudden movement drew the hunter’s eye to the other side of the square. A pair of golden pumps strode out of the gloom, followed by a pair of lilac legs and a tight ivory dress. Ulu’zah’s face was last to catch the low white light of the street lamp. When it did, she took a long glance up and down the courtyard, and her lips glistened dragonfruit-pink.

Ten minutes early, Nadine noted. Casing the place?

Ulu’zah stalked toward the fountain with determined grace. Unlike before, she carried a bag — a cloth tote slung over her shoulder, full and heavy-looking. A spike of panic prickled up Nadine’s spine. That couldn’t be the forgery, could it? It had only been a day — even the highest-end matter replicators couldn’t work that fast. Not on something like this…

The thief took a seat at the base of the fountain and plunged her hands into her bag. Nadine inched forward, slow as a snail, angling her head to get a better look. Instead of a priceless-looking artifact, though, Ulu’zah produced a thick spiral-bound notebook and a thin rectangular box. She flipped to a middle page and set it on her lap, then snapped open the case. Inside were… pens? Pencils? Something like that. There must have been dozens, all arranged by color from light to dark.

Nadine’s fear morphed to curiosity. She watched, hardly blinking, as Ulu’zah plucked out a deep gray and began to etch a few languid lines into the page on her lap. From this distance, in this darkness, it was impossible for Nadine to see her work — but she didn’t have to. The sound of graphite on paper scratched its way to the hunter’s ears, and she knew. Ulu’zah was composing a sketch.

Maybe the sketch.

Ulu’zah was still drawing when the clock tolled two, and the first clang seemed to jolt her from a trance. She slammed her notebook closed and shoved her pencil back in its box. Her head swiveled, casting her gaze toward the back corner of the square. Nadine followed suit. At first, there was nothing. A sea of black. Then, at the edge of the light, a dark-clothed Terran male materialized like a specter.

It was the same person from the photo. Same hat, same coat, even the same glasses, despite the hour. Nadine’s hairs rose on end. Though he wasn’t there for her, she couldn’t help but dread the sight of him. And it wasn’t just his looks, but his calculated moves. The way he prowled to the fountain, tight and panther-like. The way he circled Ulu’zah once, twice, before settling into place before her. All of it was unsettling. Under the weight of his gaze, the thief stiffened.

The male spoke first. No words reached Nadine’s ears, but she could see his thin lips part. Ulu’zah replied with a furrowed brow, then crossed her arms when he shook his head. The thief snapped. She launched into a rant, and the back-and-forth barbs grew louder and louder, until the gargle of noise sharpened into syllables and words.

“–ridiculous!” Ulu’zah hissed.

“Pipe down,” the male commanded, jutting a thick finger at the space between her eyes.

Nadine bristled. Who the fuck did he think he was, talking to her like that? He certainly wasn’t in charge — unless Ulu’zah’s big scary boss did his own errands. Nadine doubted it. No, this sorry punk was a lackey, through and through. He just liked pushing females around when no one was looking.

But someone was looking. The hunter bared her teeth at the male. Committed his side profile to memory.

His conversation with the thief continued, quieter and tauter than before. Another angry finger point, and Ulu’zah stood, fisting the handles of her bag as if it were a weapon. Maybe with all her art supplies inside, it was — like a brick in a sock.

“Get a grip,” Ulu’zah told him, loud and clear.

It was the same stern tone she’d used on that oaf at the club. All rejection and disgust. She turned to leave, but the male grabbed her by the wrist and tugged. Ulu’zah let out a quiet yelp as her body wrenched backward. Her hand flexed open on instinct, and her bag tumbled from her grip, vomiting its contents across the ground with a loud clatter.

Anger seared through Nadine’s veins. Her every muscle coiled with baleful ferocity. Plan be damned; she wasn’t about to sit there and watch this happen. But before she could leave her hiding place, Nadine watched Ulu’zah’s face twist into something sharper, and the hunter stopped dead in her tracks. Eyes thrown wide, lips curled to snarl, nostrils flaring. Not the passive acceptance of a condemned lamb, but the wild rage of a cornered wolf.

In one quick motion, Ulu’zah clamped her free hand around the male’s thumb and wrenched it backward, breaking his grip with an audible crack. Nadine winced. He barked with pain and anger alike, curses bouncing through the square.

“You bitch!” he seethed, hand cradled to his chest.

“I told you I would,” Ulu’zah spat back.

“Rock’s gonna tan your hide for this!”

Ulu’zah offered a condescending coo. “Aw, gonna run home to Daddy? Gonna tell him I was mean to you? Get real!”

The male gave an indignant snort. He muttered a threat under his breath, too low for Nadine to hear, and turned. His gaze dropped, teeth grinding, to the sketchbook by his feet. The females might as well have read his mind.

Ulu’zah sucked in a hissing breath. “Web, I swear to–”

But her oath was cut short by the crunch of plastic under rubber. The male called Web cracked the cover with his heel, then kicked it away. Papers flew like confetti from the broken spine. Ulu’zah cried out, lifting her palms to the sky.

“One week,” Web said over his shoulder. “That’s final.”

He stormed away, disappearing into the night. Quiet fell once more. For a long moment, all was still, as if the whole universe was holding its breath. Then, Ulu’zah’s shoulders began to quiver. She swayed. Fell to her knees. Small, half-swallowed sobs trickled like water into Nadine’s ears. The hunter’s heart clenched in her chest. As if released from a spell, her motionless body shivered back to life. Nadine stepped out of the alley, divorcing herself from the shadows.

Her feather-soft footfall made Ulu’zah start, head snapping upward. When their eyes met, a thousand emotions danced across the Diralith’s face. Surprise, confusion, realization. Then fear, then anger. The impulse to run. Nadine held up her hands and turned them wordlessly, showing Ulu’zah their emptiness. Above them, a bolt of lightning raced cloud-to-cloud, and under its flash, Ulu’zah’s tears glistened like mercury.

“I should have known,” Ulu’zah said finally. “You were never gonna let it go.”

Nadine tucked her chin, looking at the pages scattered around her feet. Stunningly realistic sketches, the lot. Faces, flowers, buildings, household objects, anatomy studies, color experiments. All composed of thin, elegant lines, shaded with precise crosshatches. It was the kind of work Nadine had seen in frames, selling for thousands of credits. Millions.

“Sorry, baby,” Nadine replied.

They were the truest words she’d said in days. Ulu’zah wiped her face and sat back on her heels, looking even smaller than usual.

“If it makes you feel better,” Nadine offered, “you definitely broke that fella’s thumb.”

Ulu’zah emitted a shocked laugh, but her brows knitted. “Yeah, well… He’s had it coming for a while.”

“I can tell.” Thunder rumbled through the sky. “What d’ya owe them?”

After a few offended blinks, the thief huffed and crossed her arms. “How did you know?” she demanded.

Nadine shrugged. “Young lady like you — beautiful, talented, full of potential — sticking your neck out, doing business with shady scumbags… Call it an educated guess.”

“Point taken,” Ulu’zah huffed. “But why do you care?”

“I just think it’s a shame.”

“I don’t care what you think.”

“That’s fine. You don’t gotta. But when shit hits the fan, and your luck runs out on the job, it’s not gonna be your boss who takes the fall. And someone like you wouldn’t do well in Federation prison.”

“Stop it,” Ulu’zah said. “Stop acting like you know me. You might’ve read a file, looked at some pictures, but you don’t know the first thing about where I come from, what I’ve done.”

“I know that you don’t deserve this,” Nadine countered, gesturing to the carnage around them. She snatched a random page off the ground. “To be belittled and disrespected. Your work exploited.”

“And what would you have me do? Hm? Tell him the deal’s off, after he just moved up the deadline? I only have a week. I’m supposed to have two!”

Her voice cracked, and tears welled fresh in her eyes. Nadine felt something deep in her soul twinge. Another crash of lightning and swell of thunder, and the simulated clouds opened up. The scattered pages began to speckle with drops of rain.

“Shit!” Ulu’zah swore, scrambling to save her work.

Nadine sprang into action. She snagged the broken bindings and gathered handfuls of paper, then joined Ulu’zah and sprinted under a nearby awning as the sprinkle turned to a downpour. They exchanged a glance, then another. Ulu’zah cleared her throat, eyeing the slightly haphazard stack in Nadine’s calloused fingers.

“I need that back,” she said pointedly.

Nadine offered it up. “Let me help you.”

“Help me?” Ulu’zah scoffed, still stuffing everything back in her bag. “Yeah, right.”

“Don’t you want to leave?”

“You don’t get it. It doesn’t matter what I want. These are scary, fucked-up people, Nadine.”

The sound of her own name felt like a splash of cold water. “What would it take?” she pressed, taking a step closer. “How much? Humor me, Ulu.”

Ulu’zah’s mouth twitched into a grimace. She scanned Nadine’s face a half-dozen times.

“I’m half a million deep,” she confessed quickly. “And even if you could pay it, he’d probably kill you before he let me go.”

Nadine’s heartbeat thudded in her ears. Half a million? What the hell kind of trouble had this Diralith gotten herself into? And more importantly, who the hell was rich enough to lend her that kind of money? As Nadine’s mind raced, Ulu’zah finished packing her things.

“I have to go,” the thief muttered, eyes to the floor.

She took a slinking step back, but Nadine reached out for her to wait.

“Just think about it, okay?” the hunter begged.

Ulu’zah bit her lip. Turned on her heel. “No promises,” she whispered.

Then, she vanished around the corner, footsteps dissolving into the sound of the driving rain. Once more, Nadine was abandoned to the wee hours of morning. The hunter sighed long and slow. A dull impulse carried her forward, out from the refuge of the eves and into the storm. She lifted her head to the sky, eyes closed, accepting each cool, heavy raindrop that broke across her face. It was foolish to hope the water would cleanse her, as if it might seep into her very soul and scrub away the ache that lingered in its fibers. But still, Nadine hoped.

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