#So I skipped over its bad and went straight to DIRE with this one

[starman-john-tracy]

"You're safe here with me" + "I won't let anything happen to you" with Casey? :) 💙

John had taken the space elevator down to the GDF headquarters no more than half an hour ago, at Colonel Casey's request. There'd been a cyber attack on base; an attempted takeover of the GDF's long range weapons systems, and though nothing has been fired - they needed to rule out the possibility that someone could. With the tech team scrambling for solutions, scouring the databanks for any way someone could have remotely accessed their codes and their LAN, the Colonel could only think of one man she both trusts, and who’s qualified to step in and salvage the situation.

And with an updated firewall to prevent remote access, that he personally provided the protocol for, the only thing John Tracy can do to help is show up in person.

Only, John's got the soft edge of an atmospheric headache throbbing in his sinuses and his eyeballs are always the slowest thing to respond to the change in pressure between Five and Earth, so, as he bypasses the office full of scurrying IT consultants and heads directly for the server room, ready to not-entirely-legally plug Eos’ palm sized mobile unit into the GDF’s databases to assess the damage, he completely misses the slim, shadowed figure in amongst the data processing banks.

Because the remote attack hadn’t actually been remote at all, and the gunshot wound to John's shoulder, now leaking a dangerous amount of blood all over his IR blues, seemed like a pretty big clue this was no employee.

They're currently holed up in Casey's office - after the head of the GDF had bodily dragged his skinny space ass out of there. She's trying to force him down behind her desk and out of the way, while the intruder pounds on the door: his threats mostly incoherent screams and stray gunshots. John might not be as hot-headed as Scott or his youngest brothers, but he's still a Tracy and, clearly, the last thing he wants to do is sit still while others might be in danger and so the damned fool, who’s clearly never been shot before, keeps trying to get up.

“Colonel, we’ve got to- argh!” The spaceman gasps and jerks like a livewire as Casey presses a wad of cloth - a runner snatched from the fancy corporate meeting table - hard against the dark, bubbling wound in his shoulder. John's feet kick out, heels scraping helplessly against the corporate grey carpeting, and his back arches against the pain in a way that plummets Valerie Casey’s heart straight through her shoes. She forces the emotion away, grabs one of his cold, blue-clad hands, and guides it on top of the wound.

“Keep pressure on that.” She instructs, as the dark stain spreads rapidly into not only his IR blues, but the ugly purple runner too. His fingers fumble and fail to take over the task, and a soft whine makes its way out between his teeth. “Come on John, you know to keep pressure on.” He's having a hard time focusing on her. She thinks he might be in shock.

“But the gunman,” John gasps, his head thrashing to the side, eyes wide, “he’s after-”

“John.” She cups John's ashen, blood-splattered face between both palms, like she would when he was a small boy and he'd come to the woman who was his Auntie in all but DNA with a bruised cheek and a split lip because he didn’t want to tell his Father he was being bullied at school. "You're safe here with me." Her mouth is a hard white line as she unclips her service pistol from it's holster, "I won't let anything happen to you."

The wood around the door handle audible splinters under a particularly savage impact, and Jeff's boy flinches under her fingers.

Oh, absolutely not.

"Security is on their way and no one is getting into this room, John. And if they somehow do," She raises the gun with both hands, holding it steady and level with the door, "they are not getting through me.”

[alfredosauce50]

Method to my madness [Yandere! Switzerland x reader]

Word count: 4,144 Warning: NSFW content later in the fic. There will be a warning line before it starts, and another line to indicate its conclusion. So skip it if you don’t want to read it.

Synopsis: As a stereotypical Swiss, he never did anything unplanned and worshipped punctuality. But when it comes to you, he’d throw that all away and show up to your door unannounced. In another country. And in the middle of the school term. Why? Because he can. Because he doesn’t trust your neighbors, your raunchy one in particular. He was the polar opposite to him—lazy, sloppy, and disorganized. So when he tries to invite you to a party, Basch makes it a point to stop you from going—even if that entails doing exactly what he accused him of. The reader is referred to as she/her.

Crunching numbers occurred to him like second nature. Anything that could be explained in a book, he understood like the back of his hand. In fact, he didn’t have much trouble doing anything at all, but when it came to you, every fiber of his being would clam up. His infallible logic betrayed him like he never had any in the first place. Now was one of those times as he boarded a flight bound for California. 

As he made himself comfortable in his seat, he gave the passengers around him a quick study. Already, they were stripping themselves of their outer layers. Windbreakers, jackets, coats, you name it. A middle-aged man removed his hoodie to reveal a T-shirt underneath, and with big, bold letters spelled ‘USA’, which popped out around his belly as if to emphasize it. A single thought occurred to him as he looked away with furrowed brows. Tourists.

They had their fun, and were on their way home, starting with preparing for the sweltering heat of Californian Summer. He folded his arms together and sank into his chair. He’d remove his knit later. At the moment, he had a more pressing issue in his hands. What was he supposed to say when he’d show up at your door without notice? 

Hi, I felt a dire need to visit you all the way in America in the middle of your semester when I heard you were living in a dorm. But that’s not all. It would’ve been fine until you sent me a selfie with a guy in the background holding a peace sign. Then that other photo showing a different guy using your toaster. Which implies that there are numerous guys living with you. In other words, people I don’t trust alone with you. 

So here I am. 

Surely, that wouldn’t fly. 

You’d known him as a man who had his whole life planned out in a diary. And this was hardly planned. It was spontaneous, even. Basch Zwingli, the stereotypical Swiss who looked at the clock for things to do, was being spontaneous? Hell may as well freeze over at this point. To say this would surprise you was given, but he didn’t see anything wrong with this, per se. He probably would’ve done this to Lilli, but the thing was, he wouldn’t have ever let her study abroad by herself in the first place. 

She was his baby sister, but you weren’t. And that was probably why he was at your doorstep. He couldn’t oppose your choice of study, but he could sure as hell be part of it. 

He knocked a few times. He could barely make out the faint ‘just a second!’, but the sound of the voice was so familiar, he froze up. But that wasn’t quite right. Hearing Lilli’s voice never made him feel this way. The door creaked open to reveal a less than presentable girl in her pajamas, an oversized shirt, and she had the messy bed hair to go with it. 

And when you saw who your visitor was, the droop in your eyes disappeared. 

“Basch!? Oh my god--what are you--” You could barely talk as disbelieving laughs fell from your lips. “I can’t believe it’s you! I almost couldn’t recognize your face because I didn’t expect you at all!” Reaching out to give him a tight embrace, he returned the gesture with a gentler hug. 

His arms were slow to wrap around your form, but to even have your affection reciprocated at all spoke volumes of how he was feeling. It had been nearly half a year since he saw you last, and to realize he was spoiling himself with an unannounced visit sent chills down his spine. He really was pushing the envelope with this one. But he had a gut feeling he wouldn’t regret this at all. 

When you pulled away, he caught you gleaming at him with the brightest of smiles. It was so infectious, he felt a light tugging at his lips. “Well, I’m here if that convinces you.��  

You grinned. “What are you even doing here? My break doesn’t start until a month later! But I can say this is a good time you caught me in. I only have one more final to pull through.” Pulling him into your humble abode, you barely made it into the hallway when you failed to hear the sound of wheels. So you paused. “... Basch, where’s your stuff?” 

Confusion contorted at your expression, but you looked more worried than anything. It would’ve made sense if he was planning to stay at a hotel, but that wasn’t possible. He’d rather sleep on the ground than spend hundreds of dollars for accommodation, and what was the point of visiting if he wasn’t under the same roof as you? He tensed up as he confronted how truly out of character he’d been acting. 

Shit. Even he was shocked that he failed to bring the most fundamental of things for this trip. When he bought his ticket, nothing went through his mind besides the need to see you. It took up so much of his brain, it managed to block out the concept of a suitcase. Packing for a trip that was to last for months. How was he supposed to explain himself? “... They lost my suitcase on the way here.” Perfect. 

Your lips formed an ‘o’ shape as you nodded in understanding. “Ah, that’s too bad. I’m sure they’ll find it for you, though. Otherwise, they’re gonna have one hell of a lawsuit.” 

“... But where’s Lilli?”  

Why was his sister not with him when they were practically sewed together by the hip? And for such an important visit, no less. But he came prepared in case you’d ask. “Lilli’s not here because she had school. And I saw that tickets were the cheapest during this time so I decided to come early.” 

At the sound of that, any traces of worry left your face and you burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Of course you did, you cheapskate. I was always wondering which trait of yours was the strongest, but now I know.” Blood rushed up to his cheeks and he forced himself to look away. But when he felt your hands settle on his shoulders, he slowly turned to you. He didn’t even know if he was supposed to regret that action, because in that very second, he realized he was wrapped around your finger. 

“I’m just kidding, Basch. There’s nothing wrong with saving money. And if that means you get to visit early, I’ll love you for it.” You cracked a tender smile at him this time around, and seeing that look on your face while listening to you talk had him wondering if he was even breathing at that point. 

It was almost terrifying how easily he could lose his head around you. And he thought he had a good one on his shoulders. Everyone did. How come he could barely even think straight when it came to you?   

“... Right.” He tipped his head forward to let his bangs fall in front of his face. It was a gesture that was almost shy in nature, but his action revealed a small ponytail on the back of his head, which of course, stole your attention away in an instant. 

You gasped to emphasize the discovery. “Aw, did you tie your hair up? It looks so good! Everyone’s gonna be asking about you now!” Giving him a teasing elbow, you watched his expression morph into dismay. “Hey, I promise it’s a good kind of curiosity. College has us all swarmed and we’re dying for something out of the ordinary. My friends will be excited to meet you!” 

“Why, because I’m… European?” 

“Are you asking that because I complimented your hair?” He heard a soft snort from you. “I’m from the same town as you, dummy. I think I’d count as European as well. But that’s probably what they’ll be so interested about.” That was right. “If they find out about you, they won’t stop asking about if we’re… You know what.” Your voice strained a little and you looked embarrassed, even.

He blinked. For someone so high-strung about you, he could sometimes miss the key points. 

“I’m having a hard time following. About what?” 

You sighed and pushed his cheeks together to muffle his words. “Why do you always have to make me say everything, hm? They’ll obviously ask if we’re dating. You’ve never met them because they always go elsewhere during the break, but everyone will be here this time.” 

By everyone, he assumed that included peace-sign guy and toaster-leeching guy. Immediately, he frowned with the most potent kind of disdain he ever felt. To think they spent most of the year with you was almost disheartening. But he didn’t need to remind himself they were the reason he was here. Basch could admit he was an oblivious person at times, but he wasn’t ignorant to the promiscuous sex life in college. The men here were wolves, so he had to see for himself if he could really leave you alone here. 

But he had a feeling he wouldn’t be leaving your side anytime soon. 

If that was going to give your friends the wrong idea, or perhaps, the right idea about you two, then so be it. He even wanted them to assume things. Even if he didn’t think much of it, flying all the way here for an impromptu visit was more than enough to get mouths moving. 

He had yet to be on the same page as them. To realize that maybe, what he was doing wasn’t because you were like a little sister to him--like Lilli--someone to be protected. Or rather, someone he had strong feelings for. But given enough time around these so-called friends of yours, he’d learn it the hard way. And who better to press his buttons than your raunchy next-door neighbor? 

The day after his unexpected arrival, he’d encounter this very neighbor who found the leisure in swinging by for a visit. Basch had his hands full with dishes in the sink when a few knocks were heard. He was generous enough to make lunch and clean up, though you had to wonder if doing chores was how he’d repay the debt from all the things you had to buy for him. 

He never moved from where he stood as he could already hear you scrambling to answer the door. When it creaked open, a low and playful laugh greeted you. “There’s my girl.” My what now? Turning his head to the newcomer, he felt a pang of annoyance when he saw a man lean in from the doorframe. Said man reached out to give your hair an affectionate ruffle, and immediately, Basch decided he didn’t like him. 

“Mornin’. Did ya eat yet? I was gonna go to a cafe for some grub. The one that has those killer vegan pancakes. Wanna come with?” 

You hummed in disappointment. “Sorry, Al. I just ate. Maybe if you came in a little earlier, I would’ve been able to come.” Placing your hands on your hips, you placed emphasis on what you later added. “It’s two.” 

No, he hated him. From that brief exchange and study of his physical appearance, he knew he was practically the polar opposite of him. A lazy,  good-for-nothing slob. He had two full sleeves of tattoos. Piercings decorated one of his eyebrows, and as he spoke, he saw a small silver ball on his tongue. His fiery red hair wasn’t even long, but it was still unkempt as if he just rolled out of bed and didn’t bother checking the mirror. But then again, he did greet you with ‘morning’. Basch tightened his ponytail and made his way over to you, disgruntled. “...”

Sensing his presence by your side, you patted him on the back. “This is Basch, by the way. The friend I told you about.” When you exchanged looks with Basch, your smile faltered when you saw his expression. He looked almost upset, though you hadn’t the faintest idea why. 

You figured you’d ask later. 

The stranger was fast to acknowledge him, and with great enthusiasm at that. “Ohh, you’re the dude who flew over from Finland or something!” His striking ruby eyes widened with fascination, and he was grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, you’re pretty high-strung bout’ her, aren’t you? Makes the two of us.”  

High-strung about you? Of course, he was--whatever the hell that meant. “... Switzerland.” The blonde clarified, to where Allen merely shrugged. “Close enough.” 

While you laughed off his playful jibes and apparent forgetfulness, Basch couldn’t humor him. Between him and your neighbor, they were probably completely serious about the high-strung bit. He could tell in that brief side-eye Allen gave him, almost as if he was trying to stir some kind of reaction. 

So be it. Two could play at this game. Unbeknownst to your raunchy friend, Basch could be just as outspoken. 

“Anyways--” Rolling his head to you, Allen shot you an expectant look. “So… What’s your answer, doll? To the party this Friday? Is it a yes or a yes?” 

“She’s not going.”

Your lips separated agape to answer, but he beat you to it. His invitation was shot down just like that. Shock widened your eyes and you gawked at Basch. You knew how protective he could get, exceedingly so, but it never got to the point of canceling plans without discussion. 

“What do you mean, I’m not going? Basch, it’s fine!” You exasperated, but his only response was to squeeze your hand. 

Something was wrong, for sure. 

“... Yeah, it’s not like anything‘s gonna happen. Not when I’m around. So what’s the big idea, man?” Allen folded his arms disapprovingly. A shrewd light glinted in his eyes when he was struck with an idea. “If you’re so worried, you can just come with. Even though you’re not her boyfriend—”

Basch felt himself go red in the face. From both anger and mortification—because Allen was right. 

“... Fine. I will go with her.” He relented, albeit reluctantly. Hardening his stare at the tanned figure, someone who sounded more persistent than he liked, he let his tongue slip. “And it doesn’t matter I’m not her boyfriend. I’m still her best friend, and I care about her more than you do.”

It was a given from how long you’ve been this close to him. But that didn’t change the fact blurting that out was unlike him. It left you in a blushing tizzy to hear him explicitly say those things, and you grew hyper-aware of his iron grip on your hand. 

Being protective was one thing. But when was he possessive? 

Allen laughed. “Yeah, yeah. You can flex that label all you want.” Making a move to leave by turning his feet, his lips curled up into a mischievous smirk. “I don’t want it. Not when a better label’s up for grabs. Boyfriend. Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?”

Shooting you a wink to reduce you into a stuttering mess, he took his leave. 

And when he did, Basch lost his shit. 

“How long have you been friends with that guy? Can’t you see he’s just trying to get into your pants? He’ll probably stop being so nice to you once he does!” He fumed, taking both your hands into his as if to secure you in place. But really, you weren’t going anywhere. Not when you were about to receive the biggest lecture of your life. “You can’t hang around people like that, (F/N). You can’t trust him.”

You hung your head as a frown downturned your features. There was some truth to his words, especially when the man he spoke so ill of was a fairly new friend of yours. It was a shame to say the least because you did like having him around, but that wasn’t the biggest concern of yours at the moment. “You’re right… Kinda… I just really liked him as a friend, so I didn’t wanna say no…”

That didn’t come out right.

He thinned his lips as a grim expression contorted at his face. “... Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head profusely. “No! God, no, of course not! Sorry, I put it weirdly. Nothing happened, really.”

Basch sighed, reaching out to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

His bangs fell over his eyes to hide them. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this worked up over you, over a guy at that, but then again, he was beginning to suspect there was a little more to it than that. “... Okay. So are you gonna go to the party?”

“I don’t know. But I’ll probably go if you come with me, so…” With your free hand, you held onto the hem of his shirt. When he caught sight of the look you had on your face, he stopped breathing all over again. “I can tell something’s wrong with you. You looked really upset just then, and it’s not like you to just snap like that.”

He released you to dig through his hair, loosening the once tight strands pulled back in his ponytail. 

That was right. Since when was he so possessive? 

So jealous? 

He bit his lip and looked positively defeated. As he fixated on the ground to avoid your gaze, he felt your hand gently cup his cheek, forcing him to look up at you. “It’s not like you to suddenly show up out of the blue, either. So tell me, why did you actually come here?”

Basch furrowed his brows and screwed his eyes shut. “... I don’t know. I just wanted to see you. That’s all.” You softened your gaze at that, feeling your chest swell up with warmth. He was always brutally honest, but he was more ambiguous when it came to how he felt. 

So to hear him admit his troubles so easily had you almost worried about him.

As if he sensed this worry, he offered you a small smile of reassurance. 

“Don’t worry about me. I swear there’s nothing wrong.”

Or that was what he wished, at least, because he was far from okay. 

To make things worse, Allen wasn’t patient enough for today because he dropped by two more times after meeting Basch for the first time. Nearly a week had passed since then. This only proved his suspicions—that all he wanted was to get in your pants—and it left Basch positively restless. So restless that he couldn’t leave you alone.

It was finally Friday, and you were in your room browsing for outfits for the night. The man was sleeping like a log in your bed, and after a few unsuccessful attempts at waking him up, you decided to change with him in the room. How he ended up in your sheets wasn’t anything out of character, per se. 

In the previous few days, he followed you around everywhere you went. That, you were perfectly fine with, but sleeping in your bed? He was pushing it. Despite your valiant efforts to get him back into the guest room, it was unparalleled to his own determination. What could you say? He was as stubborn as a mule. That statement would manifest into reality as he stirred awake. 

Sitting up with the worst bed hair you’d ever seen, you found yourself covering your chest instinctively as he stared dead into your eyes with his own drooping ones. “Basch! Sorry, um, I couldn’t wake you so I decided to just…” Blood rushed up to your cheeks as he continued to stare, wordlessly. “Basch?” 

You watched him slide off the mattress and saunter over. Holding your wrists and lowering them, he exposed your bra, but he never gave you the chance to complain. Instead, he loomed his head over yours and glowered at you. “You’re not going.” 

Goosebumps pricked all over your skin when his hot breath fanned over your lips, and you were much too taken aback by his closeness to object. In fact, his face was so close, his nose was brushing against yours. “Wait, what are you--” Your whispers were cut off abruptly when he sealed your mouth with his. 

He was kissing you. Albeit innocently as he parted frequently, pecking your lips over and over again. As gentle as he was, he still left you breathless, but flustered and confused all the same. But you didn’t have the heart to push him off you as your mind raced with questions. Why was he doing this? Had he always felt this way? There was a tenderness in his touch that told you he had. 

But why didn’t he ever tell you? 

When he finally parted, he kept his forehead pressed against yours. “Just tell him you’re not interested.” He frowned. “Say you already have a boyfriend. I’ll pretend if I have to.”  

Because he’d been denying it. 

“But--” Basch kissed you again, leaving a silvery strand of saliva connecting your lips as he parted. Your chest was rising and falling in a fervent manner as you struggled to breathe--the same plight he’d been facing for a while. Frankly speaking, you were at a loss from how much control you let him have over you. But you never tried to push him away. At this point, the throbbing in your chest had completely shattered your resolve. “--why are you kissing me if we’re pretending? There’s nobody here but us.” 

His cheeks reddened before he tugged you along to your bed. Seating you on his lap, he attached his hands to your waist and squeezed it, making you yelp out in surprise. “If you’re letting me kiss you, then how are we pretending?” You blushed at that, realizing you had just as much of a part to blame. 

Leaning in at that, he fanned his breath over your lips. “It just means it’s real.” 

He still wasn’t processing the weight of his actions and just how out of line he was acting. But then again, he never did either of those things when it came to you. And it wasn’t like you were stopping him, either. So really, you were just as guilty for letting things go out of hand. Though you had to wonder if this was how things were supposed to be, especially when you continued kissing him in his lap.

*NSFW content ahead*

Said kissing escalated along with the heat of your bodies, all until he had his tongue in your mouth. 

He never realized how much he’d wanted this until he had you under him, squeezing his neck as he left lovebites all over yours. Then, he made his way down to your shoulder and collarbones, chewing on your flesh until he memorized the taste of you. But he couldn’t say he was satisfied. Not until he truly crossed your boundaries and went all the way. 

That was where this was going, after all.

Rather than going to that party Allen invited you to, you spent the whole night having sex with Basch. To say it was a psychedelic experience was an understatement.

As he held you down to make love to you, letting his arousal curve deep into your walls at every strong thrust he gave, he had you writhing in pleasure so good, the last remnants of your sound mind were completely destroyed. So while you would’ve been fussing about the fact he didn’t use any protection, you couldn’t, not when he fucked you silly.

To him, this was a culmination of everything he wanted. To have you for himself. And this rampant desire was so potent, it inundated him. Tugging apart the strands that held his self-control and reason together, he lost his head. 

You never imagined he’d be so energetic and reckless in bed, even cumming inside you, twice, on purpose, when he was always so high-strung about safety. But as you found yourself on his thighs again, trembling as you sunk down to the base of his cock, you could watch him unravel with all sorts of animated expressions you’d never seen before. 

Desperation, lust, and an aggressive infatuation as he bounced you on his imposing member. Bringing you close so he could bite your ear, you could hear the shivering in his breathing as he held back his moans. “You drive me so fucking crazy sometimes...” He whispered. 

*NSFW content ends*

That was the first time you ever heard him curse, too. So maybe, you really were driving him crazy. This would become more apparent the next morning as he slept in past noon, something he hadn’t done in years. 

And depending on if you’d remember or not, he’d buy you some morning-after pills. 

Because something happening wasn’t a big concern of his. 

In fact, it excited him.

[missscarletta7]

The Broken Crown- Chapter 1

Hello! So this is my first Peaky Blinders Fanfiction.  I own nothing, except for the few OCs I created. 

This story is also on Wattpad and FF.net under the same title if you want to read it there as well--- however be warned it is not as edited as this post and I changed the name of one of the characters because I thought it was a better fit... lol!

Summary: All Margaret Shelby ever wanted, was the opportunity to write her own story. Only now is she beginning to realize that her brother may have already written it for her...

  Enjoy!

OoOoOo

"He's a ghost, he's a god, He's a man, He's a guru,

You're one microscopic cog, In his catastrophic plan

Designed and directed by his red right hand"

~Red Right Hand~

1919

She had that dream again, the one where she had to decide which door she would open. Both doors were identical in every way. Yet, she just stands in the empty room lit as if by candles; frozen in place; The weight of the decision ultimately waking her out of-

No, that wouldn't do, a dark-haired girl thought as she scratched out the words she had just written down. In a small bedroom on the second floor of number Seventeen Watery Lane, sixteen-year-old Margaret Shelby sat on her bed, or rather the bed she shared with her older sister. Dressed in the long white nightgown that had once belonged to her mother and with a pen in hand, she scribbled down more words in her brown leather-bound journal resting on her lap. The journal was gifted to her by her Aunt Polly on her most previous birthday. Upon receiving it she couldn't wait to fill its pages. She liked writing, ever since she learned how to form her words into a cohesive sentence on paper. It had been an outlet, a distraction from the "shit-hole" that was Small Heath, Birmingham.

As a child, she had the fondest memories of taking the drawings her eldest brother Arthur would sketch and would accompany his rendering with an original story. She took pride in how much he would always be so impressed and relished when he called her “his little genius". As the years passed, she believed if she could write and publish a story that was good enough, then maybe one day she could provide for her family. Give them a way out of their current situation. Not that she knew much of how dire their situation really was. To their credit, her family tried their best to shield her, as well as her youngest brother Finn, from feeling the effects of living a life in the slums. She was lucky in that way, most of the girls her age had dropped out of school and had a child of their own already.

Her thoughts of prose were soon interrupted by familiar sounds causing the pit of her stomach to sink. Even after three months of him being back, she doubted she would ever get used to it. Opposite from her bed, through the thin wall with floral green wallpaper which had been peeling off for years, muffled cries could be heard. Maggie knew exactly who it was, her brother, Tommy.

She placed her journal onto the thin cotton sheets and traveled into the hallway. Before she knew it, she was standing outside the door of her older sibling. Taking a deep breath, she decided against knocking and slowly opened the door.

"Tommy?" she whispered into his candlelit room. She could see he was awake. Lying flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"Go back to bed, Mags," the second oldest Shelby ordered, but the girl hesitated.

"I thought I heard yelling," she sounded apologetic, before taking a whiff of the air. "Do you smell that?"

"I said back to your bloody bed," his harsh tone surprised her.

This time she did listen, gently she closed her brother's door and made her way back to the empty bedroom she once was in.

OoOoOo

The next day, Margaret exited the small school she attended that was located right on the edge of Small Heath with her best friend Cara Ryan by her side. The girls had played together for as long as their memories had served them. Cara was a stylish and talkative girl who stood at a height of five feet and six inches. Dazzling green eyes sparkled and her straight honey blonde hair fell upon her shoulders. Her family did better than most, the Ryan's own a dress shop that is very popular amongst the younger women, Ada, in fact, is a frequent customer of the establishment. Though the word 'customer' was a loose term, the Ryan's like most shop owners in the area were obliged to give anyone with relations to the Peaky Blinders whatever they wanted. Mrs. Ryan's and the two oldest sisters operated it, and in her spare time, Cara could often be found working in the backroom, sewing buttons and beads to fabrics. The family had a deal, in a year's time Cara would come to work for the shop full time, but until then Cara could continue her education.

"Can't believe Henrietta's having a baby," Maggie said aloud, as shorter and younger students ran past them excitedly.

"I can," Cara replied smugly. "That girl would open her legs up for any sod that gave her a second glance."

"I feel bad for her." She admitted thinking of the fifteen-year-old whose life was now forever changed.

Cara shook her head, "Don't it's her own bloody fault."

After rounding the corner, they both saw Ross Murray. A thin nineteen-year-old with dark hair standing at five feet and eleven inches, resting his back against the dull red brick wall, smoking a cigarette. Cara stopped them in their tracks and waved at the young man. "All right, Ross?!"

Maggie smiled at her friend, she liked Ross, he'd always looked out for her and Cara like they were his own sisters. They had all been in school together up until the moment Ross was kicked out for beating up another boy named Jonah Smith. In all likelihood Jonah may have had it coming. He never had the ability to let go. For example, just last year Maggie would have to constantly have to turn down his advances for over a month. Due to the reputation of her family, attention from boys was a rare occurrence. Which she didn't mind, she never really felt romantic feelings for anyone. However, Jonah took advantage of her brothers absence. One day he even cornered her when she went back to the classroom to grab the jumper she left behind. Thankfully Jonah eventually stopped, and never bothered her again.

Getting kicked out of school didn't seem to bother Ross though. Once he turned eighteen, he enlisted to help with the war effort. He completed basic training within the required three months, and according to the letters he would send her and Cara, he was held in high esteem with all of his commanding officers. Just as he was about to be shipped to France, an armistice was declared. He'd managed to find a job working at the BSA factory rather quickly, but when he came back into town Maggie could tell he had changed. He now had this mentality that made him seem as though he was ready for a battle, yet had no one to fight.

"Cara, Margaret," he acknowledged, stubbing out his cigarette on the bricks he had rested his back upon "Where are you two heading, aye?"

"Just going home," Maggie told him, readjusting the bag on her shoulder.

He came closer to them, "I'll walk with you. Birmingham hasn't been the safest place now that all these blokes with fucked up brains are back."

"Look at that Mags," Cara said happily, and he allowed her to take his arm. "The only gentleman in Small Heath"

Maggie smiled knowingly at the sight. Since Cara was ten years old, she had been smitten with the dark-haired boy. Cara would frequently turn down other offers in hopes that Ross would one day ask her to be his girl. They both hoped that it would happen soon, because in Cara's words "She wasn't getting any younger".

"Don't know what you two keep going to school for," He expressed to them, as they began to walk in the direction the girls needed to travel. "What more is there to learn?"

His comment made Maggie shrug, "It's something to do."

"Yeah, most girls our age who aren't in school are either whores or mothers." She agreed.  "Or both."

They continued chatting about their school day as they walked closer into town. The canal that ran nearby as well as the different establishments were coming into view. "Mags, is that your brother?" Ross asked, pointing to a couple of boys.

Maggie turned her head to where her friend was pointing. He was right, her younger brother Finn, was running around in front of the pharmacy with Isaiah Jesus. He must have skipped school again. "Oi!" Maggie called out angrily, and Finn froze in place "What have you been up to all day, hm?"

"Please don't tell Tommy," the ten-year-old begged.

Maggie was about to tell him off, but she was caught off guard by the arrival of a person exiting Compton's, "Ada?"

"Oh, hello." The dark-haired beauty clutched the paper parcel tighter in her hands, clearly caught off guard by the sudden appearance of her younger siblings. "Heading home then?"

Maggie nodded and Ada continued, "I'll join you." The older sister then turned to her brother "Right Finn?" The boy scowled, but nodded all the same.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Maggie told her friends, still trying to process what her sister was up to.

Cara didn't seem to mind her best friends' announcement to depart. Turning to the hazel-eyed boy she asked, "Fancy accompanying me to the confectionery?"

He looked over to the Shelby family first, "Will you three be alright by yourself?"

Ada looked amused at his worry, "We'll be fine. I doubt anyone would mess with us." He accepted her answer with a nod and led Cara to the candy shop.

As the water rushed in the cut, Ada and Maggie walked down the sidewalk arm in arm. Finn wasn't too far in front of them. He was running and jumping around like a madman. That boy always had so much energy, Maggie found herself thinking. No wonder he skipped school, the poor thing probably could not sit still.

"That Murray boy has aged well hasn't he," Ada commented, finally breaking the silence, "Have you two?"

"Ada!" The younger sister cried out in surprise.

"Just asking." She shrugged, "Jesus you're a prude"

"Everyone's a prude compared to you" she retorted, "What were you doing at the pharmacy?"

Ada didn't reply though, instead opting to purse her lips. They were almost home now; Maggie could even see Pol heading to the house, traveling towards them. She was about to wave at her aunt until she was distracted by Finn, who ran around in front of his sisters. Her heart clenched when she noticed a black metal object in his hand.

"Finn, where did you get that gun?" she questioned, yet the youngest Shelby only giggled in response. 

"Oi! Quit messing around," Ada scolded, moving forward in an attempt to take the weapon away. "You shouldn't b-"

BANG! The sisters screamed and Aunt Polly, who had witnessed the whole event transpire, rushed over from down the street. Both the girls tried to catch their breath and a shocked Finn looked like he was trying to mentally process what had just happened. 

"The hell were you thinking?!" Polly scolded, snatching the gun from his hand. "Where did you get this?!

"He nearly fucking killed me!" Ada screeched pointing to her brother.

"I-I found it on the sideboard of the shop." Finn spit out as they watched his face concave and he soon began weeping in fear. "I-I thought it was empty. I'm sorry I didn't mean to-"

His tears pulled on Maggie's heartstrings, but Polly wasn't having it. She pushed the sobbing boy towards Maggie ordering, "Take him home, and no more playing with guns. Next time you leave them be." 

The young boy nodded and allowed his sister to lead him back home."I didn't know Mags, I swear" he cried out again.

"I know you. You can apologize to Ada once she's feeling more forgiving" she expressed, her arms wrapped around his small shoulders.

OoOoOo

Childhood had molded her into the person she had become. Now she understood that...

Maggie internally groaned and scratched out what she had just written. No, that was definitely not good enough. She was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard a chuckle. Her eyes were taken off the page by Ada, who was getting ready for her date with some mystery man.

"What's so funny?" the younger sister grumbled.

"You," Ada smiled as she brushed her hair in front of the small vanity mirror, "And how seriously you take yourself."

Quickly she closed her journal, wanting to change the subject "So, what was the family meeting about?" Maggie asked, not genuinely curious.

"New copper’s coming to town," Ada replied unbothered, more interested in fastening her shoe buckle.

"When I went downstairs, I caught Finn trying to listen through the door. Told him off for eavesdropping," the younger sister snickered .

"Can you believe that little tosser?" Ada said, putting on her paste earring. "I don't know what's gotten into him lately. He could have killed me today!"

"It was an accident, Ada." She reasoned, opening her journal once more, "Pol already told him and John off, what more can you do?"

"I can still bitch," the older sister huffed, before looking at the book in her sisters' hands. "Are you ever gonna tell me what you're writing about?" Ada asked pointedly, now completely dressed in a white fur coat that rested over her dress.

"Are you ever gonna tell me who you've been going out to see the last few months?" Maggie shot back jokingly. 

Ada responded by pantomiming the locking of her lips, which only made the younger sister smile. "Cover for me?"

"As always," The girl assured Ada before she quietly opened and closed the bedroom door.

It was about an hour later when Maggie began to hear the familiar muffled cries. Feeling hopeless as she stared at the green papered wall.

OoOoOo

The following day was mostly uneventful for Margaret. She'd gone to school and heard all about Cara's "date" with Ross. According to Cara, he was a complete "gentleman", much to the blonde's disappointment, though she still clung onto hope. 

Now she stood in the kitchen with her Aunt and sister making dinner, continuously kneading some dough until her skinny arms began to burn. Hopefully, this batch of bread would last long enough for her to enjoy. Last time she made bread her siblings had eaten it all, not saving any for her. Upon hearing the door slam, she and her aunt stopped to glance over to the door.

"Holy Shit!" The girl exclaimed, witnessing her eldest brother who was bloody and beaten, being assisted by John into a wooden chair.

"Finn, go find Tommy and tell him what happened," Polly commanded. Like a shot, Finn was running out of the room, but not before Pol hurriedly added, "And tell him we need a shit ton of more alcohol!"

Polly then immediately began to gather gauze and rods of wood to make a splint, "Margaret, start heating up water, then cut this cloth up in stripes." Nodding at the directive, the girl began to do just that.

"The fuck happened?" Ada interrogated, arms crossing in front of her chest.

"Was told some of the men found him like this outside the cinema," John explained.

"Do you know who?" Maggie heard her sister continue as she put the kettle over the flame, but Arthur remained silent.

"I'd like to know as well," An aggravated Polly chimed in.

This time Arthur did speak. “That Belfast copper,” the mustached man spit out, "I'll discuss it more once Tom gets here."

They all fell into silence, the only noise coming from Maggie who pulled out a chair to sit next to her brother, and quietly began cutting the cloth Polly left for her on the table. "Do you think this is enough?" Maggie asked her aunt after she finished.

"Should be plenty, love," Pol told her, taking one of the strips to start mending his hand.

"John, wipe the blood out of his eye," Ada told the third eldest sibling who was just watching the ladies scrabble around as they tended to Arthur.

"Since when did you give orders?" John asked incredulously.

"I'm a trained nurse." The sister stated.

Though seeing as John wasn't budging Maggie rose from her seat and began to wipe the blood herself.

"Don't make me laugh. It hurts my face," Arthur joked as Polly bandaged him up. "You're a nurse like Mags here is a writer."

His comment caused more annoyance than Maggie cared to admit. With her index finger, she pressed onto a forming bruise on his cheek with great pressure, instigating a string of curses to come out of the eldest man's mouth.

"Oops," Maggie said insincerely. This caused Arthur to look to his aunt, wondering if any reprimanding would be given to the girl, but Polly just gave her brother a 'like you weren't asking for it' look.

 "I bloody am!" The older Shelby girl whined to John.

"You went to one first aid class in the church hall and got thrown out for giggling," John corrected her.

"Not before I learnt how to stop somebody from choking," she shot back.

"I'm not bloody choking, am I?" Arthur spoke gruffly.

"You will be when I wrap this cloth around your neck." She told him as she poured hot water from the kettle into the bowl.

"Let me see him." Tommy's voice was heard as he entered the kitchen. "Well, have this" Tommy passed the bottle of rum and Arthur took a swig. Grabbing a rag, he immediately got to work tending to his brother's face.

"He said Mr. Churchill sent him to Birmingham. 'National interest', he said. Something about a robbery." Arthur explained. "He said he wants us to help him"

"We don't help coppers," John said immediately, disgusted at the thought.

"He knew all about our war records. He said we're patriots like him. He wants us to be his eyes and ears. I said -" He paused a moment before continuing, "I said we'd have a family meeting and take a vote".

Everyone remained silent, and frankly, that was enough of an answer to the eldest. "Why not? We have no truck with Fenians or communist," Arthur said exasperated, before heatedly asking Tommy. "What's wrong with you?"

Tommy continued to stare back at him, before asking his aunt, "What the fuck is wrong with him lately?"

"If I knew I'd buy the cure from Compton's Chemist," Polly answered, staring at Tom who stared right back.

OoOoOo

Being alone at night was something Maggie had gotten used to now. The cries next door, however, that was something entirely different. Sighing to herself, she decided to give it another go. Once again, she rose from her bed, and ventured into the hallway. This time though she brought her journal with her. Not long she stood in front of her brother's door, allowing herself to open it. 

Again, in the candlelit room, she saw him lying in his bed staring at the ceiling, though she couldn't tell if his eyes were open or not. "Still awake?" she asked.

"Can't seem to fall asleep," Tommy mumbled calmly. She took his stillness as permission to enter.

"Do you remember when I was a little girl and you used to read me books to make me fall asleep?" she asked, moving closer to the bed, "I used to love those voices you'd do for all the different characters from the picture books."

He nodded and he couldn't help the ghost of a smile while thinking of the memory. Unlike his other siblings, Maggie was the only one who would beg him to read to her. It was something they bonded over.

"If you want," she continued, motioning her hand to hold the journal up. "I can read you my story." Tommy was silent as he looked at the journal for a moment, before Maggie added, "I just thought maybe I could try to help you sleep like you did for me."

"Only if you do voices" he stressed jokingly, then shifted his body to make room for her on the small mattress.

"Remember," she squished next to him leaning her back against his bed frame. "This is a work in progress."

"I won't judge you too harshly" he replied, watching her open the journal that lay on her lap.

"Long ago when she was young, she believed that what she saw in her dreams could be a vision of what was to come. It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of-"

"A what?" He interrupted.

"An amalgamation" she repeated. "Do you not know what an amalgamation means?"

"No, I do. Didn't think you did."

"Shut up. You're supposed to allow my words to lull you to sleep."

"Sorry, please continue"

"It was only now she understood that it was just an amalgamation of all her childhood aspirations, fears, and perhaps a little  too much whiskey. With this knowledge she found herself yearning for-"

By this point, Tommy had closed his eyes and was half-listening to the words his sister read from her journal. It wasn't half bad what she wrote. He reckoned by the time she was his age she'd actually make something of herself all with those stories in her head. Perhaps make a career out of it, possibly even get out of Small Heath. It was to be the start of a new decade, a new time, who knows what would happen? When he finally made it back from France, her face was the first face that caught his attention on the station platform. It shocked him. No more was the little girl he would read stories to, but in her place stood a smiling young woman. She had changed so much during the time he was gone.

Come to think of it, they'd all changed. Arthur was head of the family, in charge of the business, and had done a decent job of it. But that was before France, he was different now. He quickly noticed the change in his brother and how he couldn't think straight anymore. Arthur's personality became more explosive, as well as violent. John, well he had become more reckless, especially after a few drinks got into him, and since Martha's passing the drinking had only increased. 

As for him, well he was the one who had changed the most. He used to be carefree, joke and laugh, but now he was more solemn and even more protective of his family. Constantly worrying about how Arthur couldn't handle the business anymore, how John couldn't be alone anymore, and him? Well, he couldn't stand to see his family scrape and scrounge in the slums of Small Heath in order to survive any longer. No, not anymore. New copper sniffing about or not. No matter what Polly said, Tommy saw an opportunity with these guns. He wasn't about to turn it down. He just had to play it smart. As Maggie continued her reading, Tommy could feel himself slowly begin to drift out of consciousness and into a dreamless sleep.

[sserpente]

As a deposit | Part (2/2)

Synopsis: “Come now, don’t be like that. There must be something else I can appease you with. How about an alternative? A deposit? Be a guest in my house. You’ll get your own room, your own bed and as much beer and ale as you like. Beef, chicken, pork… I can get you everything. You must have appetites like any other man.” Geralt remained silent, making your father clench his fists. “What about a woman?”

With a start, he looked up. You frowned. He would never invite a whore to his home, now would he? He cared too much about his reputation. But to your utter shock and surprise, he suddenly glanced at you. “My daughter is still untouched.”

A/N: At long last, here’s Part II. Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback on this story! Enjoy!

Read Part I here!

Words: 2531 Warnings: injury, mentions of prostitution, bad parenting

Focusing on your daily chores, it had never been this hard before. You were distracted, at unease. This morning, before dawn, Geralt of Rivia had left for the mines. The Gods knew when he would return and what stories he would have to tell.

The beast your father had described to the village was savage, vicious and cruel. Its people were in dire need for help, this wasn’t just about you. If Geralt…

There he was again, sneaking into your thoughts, consuming your mind. What if something had happened to him? You gasped, realising with a start what it was you were feeling. It was worry. You were worried for him.

It wasn’t just your moral compass spinning wildly, knowing you had practically begged him to help you… if he died now, it would be your fault. He might have been a stranger and yet… you cared. Last night, when he had put his arms around you, making you feel so safe and secure… your heart had never felt so warm and at peace.

The sun was setting already. What if something had happened to him? You kept repeating the question over and over. What if the monster… or whatever it was Geralt claimed, had killed him too?

Your father seemed not concerned at all. He knew he had put the Witcher’s life at stake by hiring him for his mines but if he was ready to sell his former wife’s daughter to the local brothel, how would he possibly care for a stranger with a sword?

You flinched when somebody knocked on the door—loud and empathically, as if their life depended on it. It was late. Who could want something from your father… or you or your sister, for that matter, at this hour? Your sister had already gone to bed, as had your father. You were still in the kitchen, cleaning the cutlery and plates from supper, the Witcher still on your mind.

“Father… did you hear that?”

“Ignore it.” His voice came from the nearest bedroom, his door open just a smidge.

“What?”

“Some beggars, probably. Ignore them. I don’t have any money to spare, not right now.”

Beggars? Beggars were quiet, devoted. They did not bang on people’s doors as if they meant to initiate the exorcism of a house.

“What if they are burglars?”

Your father rolled his eyes in an annoyed manner. “Do burglars knock? No. Now shut up, extinguish the lights and let me sleep, useless wench.” He muttered under his breath already half asleep, earning him a mute sigh from you.

His harsh words for you had long ceased to sting. It was now, however, your growing fear made your stomach churn, cushioning his insult.

Pressing your lips together to a thin line, you risked a glance through the rough curtains outside—and gasped for air.

Geralt. He was limping, his expression distorted and full of anger and spite and pain. Blood poured from a wound just above his hips and through his fingers as he pressed his palm against it tightly. Repeatedly, he gathered bits of his remaining strength to bring his fist to the door.

Alarmed, you hurried to open him. He almost landed on the ground, struggling to keep his balance.

“What happened? Geralt…”

“Where’s your father?” He growled, teeth gritted. He hissed in pain when he stood up straight, his yellow eyes locking with yours in the most scrutinising manner.

“In bed, he… went to sleep not long ago. Geralt, you’re hurt.” The slight raise of his eyebrow was all you received in response—as if the blood dropping on the makeshift carpet and ruining it wasn’t obvious enough already. Swallowing thickly, you focused on his face, gently leading him to your bedroom instead.

Whatever it was he wanted to speak about with your father… whatever horrors he had experienced in that mine… you needed to tend to his injuries first.

“Let me… I’ll clean your wounds.” You offered sheepishly, your hands shaking when you had him sit down on the chair in the corner.

His yellow eyes never left yours when you reached for his sword to take it off him and put it in the corner of your room, hesitating for a moment to let him stop you if he so wished. He did not utter a word.

“I’m so sorry… this is all my fault.” You mumbled, your voice trembling.

Geralt gave you a puzzled look in response. It was much softer than his usual expressions you were already familiar with—always calculated and serious, letting no one in on his deepest thoughts and feelings.

“I… I mean I was the one who brought you here. Now you’re hurt.” You meant it—you felt terrible. You could have never forgiven yourself if the Witcher had died because of your fear of ending up a prostitute by the doings of your own father.

“I accepted your father’s offer. It wasn’t your fault. And I’ve had worse injuries, (Y/N).” Your heart skipped a beat when he spoke your name, making you swallow thickly.

“You should… would you like to take a bath?”

“That would be great, actually.” His voice, as deep as you remembered it, sent shivers up and down your spine. Nodding bravely, you stood, disappearing in the bathroom to prepare everything. It would take you a while to heat up enough water, in the meantime you could hear the Witcher following you almost entirely mutely and peeling off his clothes.

You refrained from peeking behind you, already knowing what to expect. A broad and muscly chest with countless scars, well-defined and that fascinating Witcher’s medallion around his neck. It would be immodest to look down any further and find out how well he was equipped down there.

Geralt waited patiently until the tub was ready—only when you had filled it up with hot and steaming water and provided him with a fresh towel did he move and climbed right into it, the water’s splashing noises as he drowned his body in it echoing through the otherwise quiet room.

“Let me properly disinfect your wounds. My father keeps expensive alcohol in the kitchen, it will—“

“No need,” he interrupted you gently but also firmly. “I heal quickly. The water will suffice.”

“Are you sure?”

Geralt nodded, relaxing in the tub. He leaned back so his long hair disgorging over the edge like a white river and closed his eyes, giving you the opportunity to admire his body. Even smeared with blood he looked breath-taking, like the heroes you read about in novels in the local library.

“At least let me wash the blood and dirt off of you, on your back.”

His initial response was a low grunt, barely audible to anyone standing a few feet away from him. “Thank you.”

“So…” you began timidly as you carefully ran a wash cloth you wetted in the tub over the mangled skin on his back, “what happened? In the mine?”

Geralt sighed. “Your father,” he spat the word with disdain in his voice, “is not as innocent as he claimed. He knew about the faun in the mine.”

“A faun?”

“Yes. A creature half human, half goat.” Geralt explained.

His skin was soft when you ran your digits over it to make sure you had not missed a spot. There were scars on his back too. You longed to trace them all with your fingertips. Did he… did he just shiver upon your light touch?

“He blew up the mine deliberately—not just for the coal to harvest. I was right—Mindor is not a monster.”

“Mindor? Is that his name? So why did he injure you?” You replied almost hysterically.

“I didn’t know what to expect when I entered the mine. He knew what I am.”

You frowned, pushing yourself along the outside of the tub to look him in the eye. “That is no excuse. He could have killed you!”

It was the first time Geralt smiled—barely visible, it spread on his lips, revealing the amusement you could not see sparkling in his yellow eyes.

“It takes a lot more to kill me.”

“What happens now? Will�� will Mindor stay in the mine?”

“No,” he replied. “I convinced him to take shelter in the forest, in a cave still close enough to the village to benefit from its resources. The humans, especially your father, wouldn’t have stopped hunting him down like a beast.”

“Is he not?” You murmured quietly.

“No. He killed out of rage and self-defence. Your father’s men attacked him with pickaxes and swords.”

“He never told me that.”

Geralt snorted. “Of course not. They never do.”

Silence spread in the small bathroom, the water he was still lying in slowly cooling down. Lone drops meeting the surface were the only, reassuring sounds you were able to hear for a while. Only now did you give proper thought to why he had returned here of all places.

Your father wouldn’t let him in, assuming he was a beggar asking for food, money or shelter. Had you not been home, would he have nursed Geralt back to health? You sincerely doubted it. If the Witcher failed to do the task he had been paid for, he would have chased him away cruelly, if anything for not actually killing the creature. Now Geralt did not strike you as the type of person your father could simply chase away, yet you feared…

“Perhaps… perhaps you should still tell my father that you killed Mindor.” The Witcher frowned and turned to face you, his medallion shining in the dim candlelight.

“I don’t lie, (Y/N).” He stated seriously. “I only kill monsters. Mindor wasn’t one.”

“I… I know, I just… you don’t know my father like I know him.”

“How old are you?”

“I… (Y/A).”

“So you are of age.” He continued, followed by a thoughtful pause. “You could leave him.”

“As a woman, alone? I am not married, Geralt. Where would I go, all on my own?”

“Away from him,” he growled, heaving himself from the bathtub. You bit your lower lip when you caught sight of his well-defined backside, modestly handing him the towel.

You smiled weakly as he dried himself off, still kneeling at the edge of the bathtub. “I could come with you then. Travel the whole world and help you fight vampires and furies and werewolves…”

Geralt turned around, the soft towel now covering his lower half to not reveal anything. There it was again—that disarming smile you had the feeling not many people got to see on him.

“My life is dangerous, (Y/N).”

“More dangerous than my life here, with my father?” You responded. He sighed. “Honestly? Probably not.” Your father is an atrocity, he added silently. And humans are sometimes the scariest beasts you’ll encounter in this world. They are capable of terrible things they will gladly accuse creatures of to live with their choices. But he did not speak these thoughts out loud. You were terrified as is. 

Geralt spent another night in your bedroom, your petite form, compared to his anyway, cuddled up next to him to keep you warm. You were more careful this time, to not come in contact with the fresh wounds you had bandaged for him before going to sleep.

Today, he had claimed, they had almost healed completely already.

Needless to say, your father was shook when he found Geralt walking out of your bedroom the following morning.

“Geralt!” He exclaimed, failing miserably at hiding the nervousness in his voice. “You’re back! The mines… what happened?”

“The creature is gone.” He growled in response. “I expect my payment by dusk. That should be enough time to sort out your business.”

“Geralt… I thought we had an agreement, that’s so very soon. Have my daughter for another night, did she not satisfy you? I’ll get you your money tomorrow morning. The blacksmith has already ordered—“

“By dusk.” Geralt repeated darkly, shutting him up in an instant. “You can consider yourself lucky I didn’t tell Mindor where you live for him to take revenge on you himself because I care about your daughter.” He added under his breath, so quietly only he himself was able to hear it. Only when he turned his fully dressed form, including that intimidating sword on his back, to the door to greet Roach outside, your father spoke up again.

“Hey, how do I know the monster is really dead?”

Geralt didn’t turn around. He stopped dead in his tracks, barely moving his head to glare at him threateningly. “If you don’t believe me, go up to the mines and see for yourself.”

You were already outside, drying the towel Geralt had used last night and admiring his horse from afar.

“Your horse… is it a she?” You asked curiously when he approached, blushing as his yellow eyes were entirely fixed on you.

“Yes,” he said. “Roach.”

“Hello, Roach.” Smiling, you came closer and petted her nose, gently, to not startle her. Geralt observed you for a long moment—as if he’d forget what you looked like if he did not pay attention. His expression was, just like yesterday when you had offered him a bath and apologised for his wounds, so soft you pressed your lips together to a thin line to not take a step back, confused about how his demeanour shifted when he was with. The tenderness he had wrapped your body in his arms with… you blinked.

“I can’t take you with me right now, (Y/N).” He suddenly said calmly. “I can’t protect you.”

You should have expected this. After all, you had suggested it to him jokingly, last night. Still, the painful sting piercing your heart like a sharp dagger upon hearing his words felt painful, antagonising even. You sighed.

“I know… I know, Geralt.”

“Listen…” He began. Darkly and a little… insecure? No, ineptly. “I will be back. Not any time soon but I will. I will be back collecting my payment tonight, then leave town for good.” You nodded. This was not a promise, not directly and yet… butterflies spread in your stomach, stealing any rational thoughts from your mind.

Your eyes met—you were going to miss that bright and menacing yellow, bearing so many, countless secrets. Bravely, you stepped forward, stood on your toes and supported yourself by gently pressing your palms against his strong chest.

Your lips met his before he could utter a word, a feather light kiss serving not only as a thank you but also a promise of affection and even desire. Your eyes fluttered shut when he wrapped his arms around you, one of his hands buried in your neck to pull you closer. Geralt was the one to intensify the kiss, almost desperate for your touch as his tongue darted out to taste your lips.

When you broke apart, your breathing was heavy—so was his. He nodded slowly, one last time flashing you that rare and sincere smile before mounting his horse, your fingertips caressing your now swollen mouth. You did not return inside before he was out of sight.

A/N: Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥ Also I am really sorry if you asked to be tagged in Part II! I'm really flattered you all want to be the first people to read my stories as soon as I post them, I really am but I don't have taglists, never had any, never will... especially now with 17k+ followers, that be would be way too time-consuming. :( And I really just hate tagging! *giggles*

[the-blind-assassin-12]

See You in New York (part four)

A/N: WOAH ARE WE ALL CURRENTLY IN THE SAME HALLUCINATION OR DID I ACTUALLY UPDATE THIS STORY?! The first might seem more feasible, actually, but strangely enough its the latter. I’m sorry this story went on such a long hiatus and I am very happy to have it back on track...sort of...Anyway. In case you forgot because it’s been eleventy five years, you and Logan are on the ferry on your way to show him the sights from Liberty Island. Oh, yeah...and you have some news to share with him before that part of your day is up. How will he take it? 

Word Count: 5,710 

*parts 1-3 and the intro to this series Services No Longer Required are available on my masterlist under the Logan Delos tab* 

Slow down, Delos. A few months ago, the warning would have come from you, reminding him not to get too drunk or too handsy, not to cause a scene. He would have rolled his eyes and groaned, displaying his distaste for censoring his behavior. But for once in his life, the warning came from himself. For once, Logan refrained from flinging himself headlong into the abyss of whatever new vice had taken hold, tried instead to take his time. For once, Logan resolved to take one step at a time, to be in every moment instead of skipping several steps ahead of himself. It’s worth it, she’s… He turned towards you. She’s different. I’m different because of her. With your hand on his thigh and your shoulder leaning into his, you anchored him in that resolve. He pushed away thoughts of pushing you up against the railing of the ferry and kissing you so indecently that even New Yorkers would stare. There’ll be time for that later, he told himself as you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear before smiling up at him. Plenty of time.

As the ferry cut through the gray blue water of the Hudson leaving white caps in its wake, you promised him the most amazing view of the city skyline. “It’s a good day for this, Logan. The sky is clear, so you’ll be able to see everything.” 

He smiled, nodding. But even if the sky was full of clouds, even if rain fell in sheets to force the two of you to take cover, even if the wind whipped the water into choppy waves, it would still be a good day for him because he was spending it with you. The sun reflecting off the rippling surface made the whole river seem to sparkle and shine. It made the chipped paint and weathered, dated appearance of the ferry feel fresh and new, and Logan couldn’t help but compare himself to the old boat. I bet it’s seen some rocky waters, too. He shifted his eyes to the side, looking down at you from behind his sunglasses as his thumb moved slowly over the skin of your far shoulder. No more rocky waves for me. 

There was still a lot about him and his past that you didn’t know, but the things that he had shared with you hadn’t scared you off, and he had no intention of repeating old mistakes or falling back into bad habits. He knew his limitations and he knew how to keep himself in check. In truth, Logan had been doing just fine before he met you. Finding stability on his own and regaining the control he’d lost over his company had defied nearly everyone’s expectations of him, and while when he was younger he found the lack of confidence from others to be discouraging, he almost welcomed the chance to prove people wrong now. He didn’t need anyone to quantify his happiness or to keep him in line. Getting this chance to have you in his life would simply give him the opportunity to share that happiness with someone else, someone who did believe in him, who saw him and didn’t flinch at the truth. 

But that doesn’t mean I have to rush it. This is… He inhaled a deep breath through his nose as he felt you give a light squeeze on his thigh, calling his attention to the way that the sunlight was hitting the glass panes that made up the flame at the top of Lady Liberty’s torch. He glanced up at where you were pointing, the golden yellow beams refracting to make it look like real fire. But he was quickly drawn back down to you, to the way that that same light was igniting your eyes. To him it was just as stunning as the glass. Letting out the breath he’d held in his chest, he continued stroking his fingertips absently down over your bicep, slipping his pinky beneath the strap of your dress. We have time. 

When Logan first realized that he had developed feelings for you, he tried to push them away. He was in the middle of recovering his public image from scandalous, albeit false, accusations regarding his behavior with female employees and coworkers, and so he knew that starting something with the very woman who had been brought in to clean up that mess was that last thing that he should be doing. For weeks he ignored the fact that every time you passed his office and flashed a smile or a polite wave, it made his pulse quicken. He shook off the fact that your laugh as the two of you ate lunch together was becoming one of his favorite sounds, even as he’d find himself storing up things to say to you in hopes that he’d get to hear it. He overlooked all of the signs that he was falling for the one person who was supposed to be off limits. And it didn’t work. Grinning to himself, he recalled the way it felt to bet high and go all in with you at the end of your contract, taking a chance and asking you to take one on him. Best way I’ve ever closed out a contract.

But even though things had ended almost exactly as he’d wanted them to, he’d felt rushed for time. He’d known that he had exactly one chance to show you that he was interested, and needing to wait for that one chance until the very last day of your contract had only made it feel more desperate and dire. But now there’s no expiration date, no last day. He felt a warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with the sunlight or the statue’s torch and everything to do with your hand on his leg and the chance you’d given him. Now we can...it can be normal. I can take my time. 

Having to wait the two weeks between dropping you off at LAX and seeing you again at LGA had been tough. Logan was used to instant gratification. When there was something he wanted or needed he didn’t wait, he found a way to have it now. In some aspects of his life it had served him well. In business, it made him a harsh negotiator, and in his personal life it gave him a sense of accomplishment to be able to provide for himself at such a high level. It also meant that he dove head first into pools he would have noticed were too shallow had he only been more careful. It was, he knew, a trait that made him more prone than others to fall victim to addiction, and it was something he worked to balance within himself daily. Normally, a two week delay between the moment that he knew he wanted you and the moment that he actually got to have you would have been a deal breaker. Even if he’d looked past the waiting, the fact that this was about as long distance a relationship as two Americans could possibly have would have doomed it from the get go. Different time zones? All those miles? So many closer, more convenient options? Normally, none of this would have made any sense to him. 

But with you, it simply did. Everything with you had been different from the very start. You’d taken the time to get to know him, the real him, not the Logan Delos in the papers, not the one in the boardroom or the ballroom or the bedroom. Him. You knew useless things about him, like which condiments he used on what food items, or that he only used yellow highlighters on paperwork. But you also noticed little details that pointed to parts of him that he wasn’t used to sharing. Like how you could tell from how he undid the top two buttons of his shirt whether or not he was stressed or just trying to get comfortable. If it was the former, he’d slowly trail his pointer finger horizontally under his chin. There wasn’t a scar there because the blade had just barely broken the skin, but when he was stuck on something or upset with an outcome, it was as though he could still feel the cold steel of the knife William had threatened him with in the desert. You’d only seen him do it once or twice when you’d made the correlation between the negligible motion and what he was thinking and feeling, and it took him completely by surprise. No one would notice that. Juliet doesn’t even know that, and she knows everything. 

You didn’t even know the whole story of what had happened on that trip to the park, but you picked up on one of the residual phantoms from it that Logan still carried. I’ll tell her. I’ll… she needs to know. All of it. The ferry began to turn towards the slips at the end of the dock on Liberty Island, and you pulled away from him to sit up straight, gathering your bag and making sure you had all of your belongings. But not… it doesn’t have to be all at once. He let his hand slide down your arm before unwinding it from around your shoulders, bringing it up to comb through his hair. It’s not a rush. I can...we can take things slow. You turned back to him then as you slung your bag over your shoulder, and he had to hold back a throaty groan at the way your lips pressed together before spreading into a grin, cheeks disappearing under the lenses of your glasses. Damn. He was thrilled to be out with you, carefree and relaxed. But I can’t wait to get her back to that hotel room tonight.

“What’s that look for, Delos?” You let your smile curve up one side of your face until it was a smirk. 

Oh you know exactly what it’s for. Logan pulled his sunglasses off and folded the arms to hang them from the neckline of his tee. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, buzzkill.” He shrugged, trying and failing to keep from giving himself away, laughing as you playfully smacked his arm. 

The boat lurched as the captain maneuvered it further to completely dock, and Logan took advantage of the shift and the way it drew your attention elsewhere to wrap his arms around you again, crushing you close and swallowing your laughter with a kiss. Sucking your bottom lip between his teeth, he bit down with gentle pressure as your fingers curled in the material of his shirt. You hummed as he pulled away, and the sound was almost enough to launch him into another, more involved kiss. Slow down, damnit. He brought one hand up to your ear, eyes focused on the earring you wore and the way his sudden attack had caused it to flip around. 

“What are you-” you sucked in a breath as he used his thumb and pointer finger to fix the earring, your eyes falling closed as his touch ran down the side of your neck. 

“There.” He smiled as you blinked up at him, enjoying knowing that he’d just put that look on your face, and that there wasn’t any other face he wanted to see that look on but yours. Damn. Standing, he reached for your hand and pulled you to your feet as well, deciding that if he didn’t get up that second, he wasn’t sure if he could justify moving from that bench on that ferry with you. “C’mon, you promised me some views.” 

You laced your fingers tightly through his and squeezed. “And I always deliver on my promises.” You paused long enough to wink and he was sure you heard the groan in the back of his throat as he wondered what other types of promises you’d make to him. “Let’s go.” Good idea. 

Logan let you lead the way off of the ferry and onto the island, following a crowd of tourists towards the base of the enormous green statue. Shit, it’s a lot bigger in person than you think it is… He felt his eyes widen in genuine appreciation for the massive structure in front of him. People built that. He gave a minute shake of his head, staring at one large sandaled foot where it stood planted on the multi-storied pedestal you were leading him towards. 

“Speechless already, Logan?” You tugged on the hand that you held and he tore his amazed expression away from the statue and looked down at you. “Wait until you see it from the top.” With that, you changed direction and started leading him towards a different entrance. 

“Where are we-” He looked back over his shoulder at the line forming in front of the main entrance. 

“That’s the general admission entrance,” you explained, a hint of mischief coloring your voice that excited him. “But I pulled some strings and called in a favor I had with a friend of mine who...well really he’s a friend of Cynthia’s, but,” you sighed through a smile, reaching up to remove your sunglasses as you stepped into the shade. “Long story short? We’re not waiting in any lines.” 

You shoved your sunglasses into your purse and dug around for your phone, pulling it out and scrolling through your email to find the digital passes you’d been sent that would get you inside and up to the top without having to share the experience with dozens of strangers. You showed it to the guard at the door you’d lead Logan to, and he nodded, saying something into the walkie he had clipped to his shoulder as he opened the door for the two of you. “Wait right inside, Byron will be right down, he knows you’re coming. You two enjoy your visit,” he said as you both stepped inside. 

You both thanked the man as he pulled the door shut again, and Logan’s surprise only grew as he turned to you. “I thought you said you were showin’ me the real New York.” He cocked his head in the direction of the long lines out front. “Doesn’t that mean-” 

“No,” you cut him off holding up one finger and waving it before you pressed it to the middle of his chest to pull a chuckle from him. “First of all, real New Yorkers don’t come here because it’s always full of field trips and family vacations and there are plenty of other places in the city to take pictures. But,” you pulled the finger away from his chest and waved it once more. “If we have to partake in the touristy side of the city, we do it in style. I’m doing this for you here, Delos, not, oh!” 

“I know.” He’d pulled you quickly to his side then, lips landing near your temple. I know you are, and I… no one’s ever done anything like this for me before. “Thank you.” 

“Logan, you’re…” your voice came out as a strained whisper before you cleared your throat. “You’re welcome.” 

The elevator at the end of the small hallway dinged as the doors slid open before he could say anything else, a man in a uniform similar to the one the guard was wearing emerging from the car. He gave you a bright smile and greeted you by name. You introduced the man to Logan, explaining that you’d met him a handful of times through Cynthia, who had known Byron since their college days. 

“Thanks again for doing this for us, Byron, I really do appreciate it.” You followed the man as he headed back towards the elevator he’d come from.

He laughed. “Of course, it’s not every day a woman like Cynthia comes calling for a favor, and once I heard that it was for you, darling?” Byron flashed a large, good-natured grin. “I was happy to do it.” 

“What exactly is goin’ on?” Logan couldn’t help but ask the question as he stepped into the elevator with you and Byron. I thought I knew what today was gonna be like but… this… He glanced over at you to catch your smile widening. 

“She didn’t tell you?” Byron’s eyebrows flew up on his forehead as he pointed to you, and Logan shook his head no. The other man laughed, the sound hearty and genuine. “Oh then you’re in for a surprise, Mr. Delos.” 

Logan was about to press the issue further when you spoke. “Just hang in there a few more seconds, Logan. You said you trusted me to surprise you, right?” I sure do. He nodded, and without missing a beat you reached up to fix a strand of hair that had fallen over his eyes. “Okay, so trust me.” 

He heard Byron’s muffled laugh as the man tried to cover it up with his hand but his eyes were focused on you. Damn. The way she… “Okay,” he nodded. 

“Okay,” Bryon pointed to the lights above the door, the top floor lighting up just as a soft ding sounded. “Here we are. I’ll be just outside here, you’ve got about twenty minutes between tours so,” the elevator door opened to show a small vestibule area, and a set of doors with a small sign over the top that read just one word: crown. “Enjoy.” 

You thanked him again and pulled Logan towards the door, but he paused, pointing up to the sign, one side of his smile pulling his cheek further up his face than the other. “The crown? That mean we’re-”

“No one gets to come up here alone, Logan.” You grinned, your smile changing your voice to make it lighter. “Well, no one but us.” 

Us. The small word sent a big rush through him and he inhaled through his nose as he let you pull him the rest of the way through the doors and into the observation deck of the crown level. He was overwhelmed by the combination of big things and small gestures, special moments and mundane ones all mixed together. And it’s not even...it’s just noon and we’re… 

But his thoughts were completely scattered as he took in the sight before him, mouth dropping open and a breath slipping out. Damn. The inside of the Statue of Liberty’s crown was far less glamorous than the outside, exposed steel beams and grated flooring making the small room feel more like a construction zone than a monument, but it was the arched window panes and the light coming through them that caught and held Logan’s attention. Beyond the glass he could see the river the two of you had just crossed, glittering between the island and the city, and he felt himself drawn towards the view, glancing back once at you before stepping up to the windows. “This is…” He leaned his hand against a beam and looked out. 

“Yeah,” you stepped up next to him, ducking under the arm he had propped against the beam, looking out the window and leaning into him slightly. With a sigh you continued. “It’s pretty beautiful, isn’t it?” Something in the sigh made him snap his attention down to you, but you’d already moved on to the next set of windows before he could bring it up. What was that? “I’m gonna,” you waved your phone and rolled your eyes. “I’m gonna play tourist and take some pictures. You should look out over there,” you pointed to a particular window. “The view facing that direction is-” 

“Alright,” he decided to let it go, figuring that you’d tell him if anything was wrong. What could be wrong, anyway? We’re… this is… she’s amazing. 

He watched you turn back towards the window you’d been walking to, eyes drawn to the way that the skirt of your dress twirled around your knees, and it was difficult to peel them off of you and train his vision back on the skyline and the reason that you’d brought him here. She’s the real reason, though. He felt another warm rush pulse through his chest as he let himself get lost in the view and the woman who had lead him to it. 

After a few minutes had passed, Logan straightened up and took a step back from the window. He turned towards where you stood, still gazing out on the far side of the curved platform. The view that had just stolen his breath, of the sun reflecting in diamonds off of the river and the shrunken city on the other side, had been one of the most impressive things he’d ever seen. And that’s saying a lot. Logan had had no shortage of unique, once in a lifetime experiences- things most people, including you, could only dream of. But this is different. This wasn’t new or cutting edge or high tech. Yet it was something that he hadn’t even thought to dream of- precisely because of what it wasn’t. He could only see half of your face as you continued to soak up your city from above, but he could tell that you were smiling from the slight rise of your cheek. I never would have done this if it weren’t for her. “Hey,” he added your name, loving the way it rolled off his tongue, and you turned, sunlight streaming in from behind you. 

“Hi,” you answered, darkening the screen on your phone and stepping over to where Logan stood. 

“You get some good pictures?” He pointed to the phone you held, but his eyes hadn’t left your face. You nodded. “Good. C’mere.” He reached for you and took the phone from your hand, explaining himself before you had a chance to ask what he was doing. “Need one more.” At that he brought up the camera app and held the phone out in front of the two of you, pulling you close enough to kiss but refraining and snapping the picture in the seconds before his lips met yours. That’s gonna be a good one. He hadn’t checked it but he didn’t need to, and he slipped your phone into your purse where it hung from your shoulder without even breaking the kiss. When he finally did pull away, you hummed and placed both hands on his chest to steady yourself. “Ya know,” he leaned in to run the tip of his nose over yours before pressing his lips against your cheek. “I think I’m really startin’ to like New York.” 

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

Shit. You stiffened in his arms and you knew that he felt it, even if he continued to let his hands roam over your waist and shoulder, and his lips claimed every inch of skin between your mouth and your ear. You sucked in a breath as he walked you back slowly until your back touched the cool glass of one of the window panes. The sensation of the glass and his hands on your body was almost too much, but you couldn’t let it eclipse what he’d just said. Or what I have to tell him.  

“Oh?” You managed the one word question between kisses, letting your hands travel up over the plane of his chest to his shoulders. He responded by humming an Mmhmm against your skin, making you shudder. “And…” your breath hitched as you clutched his shirt. “And what makes you say that?” 

“The company,” he answered, moving one hand from the small of your back to the front of your body, letting it climb up the side of your ribcage. “I can see myself comin’ back  to visit,” he nipped at the earring he’d fixed earlier before speaking around it. “Often.” 

Shit. 

Before you could say anything else, he surprised you by continuing to alternate between speaking and dragging his teeth over your skin. “I like that I get to come see you.” 

“Logan…” You knew you couldn’t let the moment go on without telling him about your move, but you weren’t sure that he heard you. You could barely hear yourself from the way that he was leaving you breathless. 

“Leavin’s gonna fuckin’ suck,” he pressed his nose into your hair and inhaled before changing positions to give the same attention to the other side of your neck and your other ear. “But,” he ran his teeth over the outer shell of your ear and you hissed. “It’ll mean I have somethin’ to look forward to, comin’ back here. And it means I’ll have to be patient. And you know what that means-” 

It was time to earn your nickname. 

“Logan, I...I have to tell you something.” You groaned as his thumb found the triangle of exposed skin at the top of your abdomen, his lips roaming the slope of your shoulder before he took the strap of your dress between his teeth. But if you keep doing that I…

“Yeah?” He released the fabric from his mouth and the hand he had on your hip came up to the base of your skull, the thumb of his other hand still pressing lightly into your flesh. Your grip on his shirt tightened as he walked you back another step. “Go ahead’n tell me then.” You could feel him smiling as he said it, lips pressing to the top of your shoulder again as you felt the cool glass behind you. 

Closing your eyes, you tried to quiet the thundering beats of your heart but they only seemed to echo in the empty observation deck. But between his touch and the diminishing space between your body and his you could feel yourself losing that battle, and it was only a matter of time before his chest was pressed to yours, only a matter of time until he could feel it for himself. You let out a sigh as your head tilted to the left, and you felt yourself give up. Can’t… not when he’s… 

“Thought you hadta tell me somethin’.” His beard brushed your cheek as his warm breath tickled your ear. “ What is it?” 

“You’re not-” Your words were cut short as he leaned his hips forward, pinning you in place. Shit. 

“M’not what?” He kissed the skin behind your ear and for a moment you thought about abandoning the confession entirely. But I have to�� He needs to know and… 

“You’re not gonna like it, Logan.” Your voice was thin, barely a whisper as you opened your eyes. 

He pulled away then but didn't take his hands from you, palms relaxing but maintaining contact. “Hey,” his dark eyes found yours and locked on, softening. “What is it? You’re...worryin’ me a little here.” 

“I’m sorry, I,” you shook your head and let out a breath. “I don’t… you don’t have to worry, I just… Look.” You sighed and brought both of your hands up to your head, combing your nails back over your scalp as Logan dropped his hands from your body. “I know why you like this… why you like New York, and why you like that I live here and not…” 

He spoke your name and tilted his head. “What are you...what do you-” 

“I know you, Logan.” I do. “I know that you like the distance because it means we can’t… that you can’t rush into something, or that we won’t burn out and spend too much time together too soon or-” 

“Kinda blew that one before he had a shot though, didn’t we? Spent every day together for six months.” He brought one hand up to your face to tilt it back up to his, and you saw questions swimming in his eyes. “So what is it?”

“Logan, I’m…” Just say it for fuck’s sake. “Remember when I told you that Cynthia had me on a new project?” 

“Yeah, of course.” His eyebrows came together as creases formed in his forehead and small crinkles gathered in the corners of his eyes. “But…” 

“She promoted me, Logan. She wants me to run a new office and I’ll have to relocate.” Why are you drawing this out? Just say it. 

“Oh,” He let his expression relax. “That’s... that’s great! Congratulations! Don’t...I can still...it doesn’t have to be New York, you know. I’ll come see you anywhere.” He narrowed his eyes and let a small smile seep into them. “I have a ton of miles, I can use ‘em whenever.” I’m sure you do. “So,” he leaned in and kissed you quickly. “Where are you off to? Miami? Is Cyn finally goin’ International?” His expression changed to one of excitement. “London?” 

“Los Angeles.” You answered, closing your eyes and feeling his hands drop from your body again. Yeah, that’s what I… “She needs me to run the West Coast office, Logan, she…” 

“L.A.? You’re…” his eyes widened. “You’re movin’ to California?” You nodded, eyes still closed as he took a step back. “When?” 

Blowing out a breath you opened your eyes to see him staring at you. “Soon. Next month. But it doesn’t have to-” It doesn’t have to change anything. 

“You didn’t wanna tell me?” His expression was a mixture of serious and confused, and you wanted desperately to make him understand everything. 

“What? No, of course I wanted to tell you, I just… I know that…” Your heart pounded in your chest. This isn’t… I ruined it. The day, the trip, all of it, it’s-

“You thought I...wouldn’t want to hear it?” He shifted his weight and leaned his shoulder into the steel beam to your left. “Thought I’d get…” 

“I thought you’d think it was too soon for me to… even though it isn’t- I’m moving because of my job, not because of…” you gestured at the space between your bodies. “Not because of this, I...this is still...we just...I wouldn’t try to rush anything like that, Logan, it’s just...bad timing.” 

“Bad timing?” He blew out a small breath that was almost a laugh, and then he shocked you further by stepping close again, both hands finding their way back to your waist. “You think it’s bad timing that the woman of my damn dreams is movin’ to my city, and I only have’ta wait a month?” He searched your eyes with his as a smile curved his lips.

What? 

You were sure that Logan would have reacted differently, and you wanted to make sure that he wasn’t holding anything back. Even though I know he always… “You’re not...worried? That it’s…” 

He leaned in then to quiet you with a brief kiss, his fingers squeezing into your waist as your hands came back to his shoulders. “No.” He kissed you again. “I’m not worried, ‘cause I know you’re not gonna… I know you’re not movin’ because you’re tryin’ to…” he laughed then and brought his left hand up to wiggle his empty ring finger. “Look. I get it. It’s a business move, out of your control. I did like the fact that you bein’ here meant that I’d have to… take things slower than normal but... “ He gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t see why we can’t…” 

“Logan,” you nodded enthusiastically. “We can. We can take it as slow as...we don’t have to spend every day together just because…” 

He laughed again and pressed another kiss to your lips. “No, we don’t, that’s right, killjoy.” You rolled your eyes, his lips still against yours so that you could feel his breath on your face. Damn, this wasn’t what I expected but… you laughed. But none of this was expected. “Plus, you’re gonna have your plate full, runnin’ a brand new office. I bet you won’t even have time for me for weeks.” 

“See? You won’t have to see me any more than if I was still living he- oh! Logan!” 

He pulled you into him then, winding his arms around you to speak into your ear. “You think I’ll get sick of seein’ you?” He didn’t wait for you to respond before he answered his own question. “Not gonna happen.” 

Relief flooded your system then as he tightened his hold on you just to let it go. That’s one half of the news down. Now I just have to tell him who my new client is. You knew that part was easier said than done, and though he’d reacted far more favorably than you could have imagined to the news of your move, that luck simply wouldn’t extend to his feelings towards learning that you were to become very involved with his sister’s ex-husband. But… later. That’s I’ll tell him later, not...it’s too much all at once. I’ll… 

As though he hadn’t just confessed to being...excited? Happy? About your impending move and what it meant for your brand new relationship, as though he hadn’t put your mind and heart at ease all at once, he blinked twice and smiled. “You hungry? Think I saw a sign for a cafe downstairs? They had pizza and-” 

Despite the way that your emotions had just gone on a wild ride, you had to laugh. “No way I’m letting your first experience with New York pizza be from a glorified, overpriced snack bar, Logan. You deserve far better than that.” You rose on your toes to kiss the tip of his nose and you traced your fingertips over the line of his beard where it met his cheek. “C’mon,” you grabbed for his hand just as Byron poked his head back inside to let you know that your time in the crown was up. “There’s a hot dog cart down on the island. That’s how real New Yorkers do lunch.” 

He chuckled and let you pull him back towards the elevator where Byron was waiting to see you both out. “Sounds delicious, Ms. West Coast Office,” he whispered into your ear and you thought you heard a sense of pride as he teased you with your new title. “After you.” 

Standing in line at a hot, metal cart, waiting for a vendor to pass you a hotdog with Logan Delos, you couldn’t help but wonder… 

Could it really be this easy?  

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Thank you for reading! If you would like to be added to or removed from the tags please feel free to let me know! 

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[lumen-adstrum]

sylvain x reader angst to fluff please! maybe they get in a fight and before they can resolve it something happens to s/o and theres a bit of a scare and then are able to resolve things

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! I tried to deliver as best I could anon, I hope you like it! 

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Ameliorate

Sylvain has never been... the easiest person to like. Many of his friends will say this with confidence, and hundreds of women would likely tell you just the same - if not insult him. Many would think that would be plenty for [Y/N] to keep their distance. However, somewhere in their daily banters of Sylvain mercilessly flirting and in turn being shut down in a witty fashion... feelings began to take root. At first, it was easy to ignore and pretend that things were fine, lunch table discussions flowed like normal despite the lingering gazes or internalized wonders of 'what ifs' and 'just maybes.'

No one tells you how quickly feelings develop, that one moment you're only noticing the small things and then it feels like only days later the mere thought of that person keeps you up at night day-dreaming in a lovesick daze. 

Knowing Sylvain, [Y/N] knows just how much of a playboy he is, they know how he strings girls along, that he can hardly remember their names at the rate he goes through them. They know this, and yet still they find themselves hopelessly gripping onto a possible future where maybe he'd settle and be loyal to them. 

With lunch hour at its busiest, people were bustling through noisily, loud chatter filled the room as people tried desperately to find their favorite dish. [Y/N] always arrived early, for the hottest plate and the best seat. Their friend, Ingrid, was usually hot on their heels, and today was no different. The usual food, the same spot, and recently the same conversation between transpired. 

"Really... [Y/N] I think you should move on." Ingrid's voice was gentle with eyes shining full of concern. "He... Isn't likely to change. You're only going to hurt yourself." She had good intentions, trying to steer them towards someone more compassionate. "Ashe is a hard worker, he's also very kind. Why don't you consider someone like him?"

Before they could even protest, a familiar voice from behind them made their heart thump wildly in their chest. "Ooh, I see. Lucky for you, I stepped in at the perfect time. Sounds like someone's lovesick." Sylvain took his usual spot across the table, for a moment they worried he had overheard the entirety of the conversation and knew just who Ingrid was referencing in the start. "Who's the guy? Dimitri? I guess girls do love a dashing type." Well... He was onto something there. Sylvain was dashing himself, a true knightly personality, and chivalrous too. Although, one could say that was all an act to get girls to fall for him, [Y/N] knew better than that. 

 "No, it's not Dimitri." [Y/N]'s response was half a sigh, poking their spoon at the peach sorbet melting in its cup. They spent the entirety of the dining hall's lunch break together with Sylvain listing off members of the Blue Lion house one by one just to receive a denial in response. 

“Oh come on [Y/N]! I’ve listed every Blue Lion student there is! You wouldn’t turn your back on us and find forbidden love in one of the other houses! ...Or would you?” Suddenly, his eyes are scrutinizing, as if to peer into the depths of their soul and pry the answer out that way. “Unless… You’ve fallen in love with me?” The words made their heart skip a beat, especially when he used that teasing tone of his. Ingrid’s worried glance to their warming face didn’t go unnoticed, and the silence that suddenly fell over the group made Sylvain reconsider the reality of that jest.

“Wait- wait. No. What happened to all that crap before? The ‘not even in your dreams Sylvain.’ This has got to be a joke. Us, together?” A joke… That was exceptionally cruel, as if [Y/N] would be so callous.

“It’s not a joke. Unlike some people, I’m genuine about my feelings and I don’t lie through my teeth to people just to break their hearts later.” Slamming their spoon on the table, [Y/N] stood from their seat just to turn their back on Sylvain and begin walking towards the exit. 

“[Y/N]!” Ingrid and Sylvain spoke in sync, one a more accusatory tone while the other held concern. “That was horrible Sylvain!” Ingrid gritted her teeth together, voice a low hiss seeing as some curious people were now eyeing down their table with the hopes of overhearing what the newest drama was about. As if they clearly didn’t know with a certain redhead being involved.

“How was that horrible?! It was a genuine question!” Truthfully, he didn’t see where he had gone wrong, it was always that way with him. Women were too complex for him to understand, and Ingrid would never tire of saying it was simply because he was an idiot. He watched in confusion as the woman stood from the table with a heated glare. “Where are you going?”

“To comfort [Y/N], and until you figure out where you went wrong, don’t even bother talking to them.” With that, Ingrid was off to search the monastery. She found them at the stables, where they met time and time again with them caring for the horses together. She wouldn’t say “I told you so.” even if it was on the tip of her tongue. Instead, Ingrid laid a comforting hand on their shoulder. As if on cue, the figure collapsed against Ingrid with a helpless sob. “Oh, come now, it’s not that bad. Now you can move on, find someone worth the trouble…”

The sound of footsteps on cobblestone made [Y/N] stand straight, quickly wiping at their eyes and trying to look presentable. “Oh, good afternoon Professor… You’re looking troubled.” At Ingrid’s observation, they lifted their head to observe Byleth, and indeed he looked troubled with his brow furrowed and a slight frown. 

“I’m afraid our mission for the month has turned dire, I need to round up a handful of students to leave immediately. Can I count on you two?” His voice was slightly sympathetic as if he knew the timing might be a slight annoyance. 

“Of course, we’ll ready the horses and meet you at the entrance.” Under new orders now, [Y/N] quickly put on their brave face and saddled up on their horse with Ingrid quick to follow. Soon, they met at the front gates of the monastery with Ashe, Dimitri, Dedue, and Mercedes. It was a small group, but all capable if instructed well. Byleth was quick to reassure them all that Catherine and Shamir would be accompanying them and at their aid. 

When Sylvain had found out about the mission, he was beside himself with worry for reasons he didn’t quite understand. “You’ve been pacing a hole in the floor for an hour Sylvain, sit down, it’s pathetic to watch.” Felix’s voice cut through with an edge to it. If anything, the swordsman was more annoyed at the fact they’d been left behind rather than worried for their classmates.

“Something has to be wrong, they should have been back by now if it was a small mission, right? Why didn’t they take all of us?” The worried fretting had Felix groan out and hold his face briefly, trying to compose his temper.

“Who knows how far out the location was, besides, the professor knows what he’s doing. Mercedes is there if anyone gets hurt.” While Felix had a point, there was still that nagging voice in the back of his head. Even Sylvain couldn’t grasp what had him so anxious, but as he glanced towards the gate, he could see the professor returning with the class. However, something was very wrong with the picture. [Y/N] didn’t sit upon their horse with a knightly air about them, instead, they were laying in a heap in Catherine’s arms. 

“Shit!” Without warning, he was out of the entrance hall and meeting them at the gates. “What happened to [Y/N]?! Are they alright?!” Catherine stepped around him quickly, a brief warning look from Shamir directed at him.

“Out of the way kid. We’re getting her to the infirmary.” 

It was Ingrid who rode up at his side, dismounting with a worried frown of her own. “[Y/N] took an arrow and fell off their horse. Mercedes closed the wound, but they hit their head pretty hard. We haven’t been able to get them to wake up, we were hoping Manuela might be able to reassure us or help in some way.”

How was it even possible? They were always so cautious and diligent on the battlefield… Sylvain was always left in awe half of the time. [Y/N] had the true makings of a vigilant knight, and while he understood everyone made mistakes… It was just unlike them. However, it didn’t take a genius to understand that their earlier conversation had affected their battle. 

“Let’s just see what Manuela has to say.” Under Ingrid’s recommendation, Sylvain followed her quickly to the infirmary where [Y/N] laid unconscious. “How do they look?” As his friend did the talking, Sylvain took a seat next to their bed, watching intently as he awaited an answer.

“Well, the poor thing fell pretty hard… They’ll wake up, but they’ll have a concussion to worry about for a while. I've asked the professor to take it easy on them for the next month.” Ingrid breathed a sigh of relief as Sylvain took their limp hand in his own. His expression was grim despite knowing they’d be okay soon enough. What if that arrow had struck them somewhere fatal, or what if they had the potential of never waking after hitting their head so hard? What if they had died before they could properly talk? They were only students, but their responsibilities put them in grave situations. This school wasn’t as lighthearted and frivolous as he had once thought.

He sat there for hours, well past the visits of their classmates and the occasional check-in from Manuela. Not once did [Y/N] stir from sleep, and briefly, he worried there was that possibility they would never wake. With a heavy sigh, he trapped their hand between both of his and brought it to his forehead in a silent prayer to the goddess. 

“[Y/N]... I wish it wasn’t like this right now… I’d rather have you mad at me in the stables than laying in this stupid infirmary bed. We’d bicker about the conversation we had earlier, neither of us would understand each other because I wouldn’t be honest about my feelings. Until eventually I’d tell you how much you mean to me and that it scares me. That I’ve never felt this way for someone before and that terrifies me.” He took in a shuddering breath, squeezing their hand just a bit tighter. “I’d tell you I love you.” His statement was hardly above a whisper.

It seemed all too unreal to him, the subtle scoff that caused Sylvain’s head to shoot up, staring at [Y/N] who laid with their brows furrowed and just a hint of a smirk tugging at their lips. “So it takes me getting hurt physically for you to confess?” Truly, he was a gawking mess now, enough to pull a laugh from his company’s lips. Sitting up from the bed, their hand brushed against his cheek gently. “Sylvain… I won’t forgive you if you hurt me like that again.” 

Instantly, his hand found their’s, holding it to his lips and kissing the tips of their fingers. “I won’t. Never again, I promise. I’ll be honest from here on out.” He meant it too. Soon he dropped their hand to instead get a good look at their face. “How do you feel? Should I get Manuela so she can make sure everything is in order? Can I get you anything?”

“Well… I could use one thing right about now.” [Y/N] mused to themselves, and Sylvain was quick to lean in closer.

“What is it? Anything, and it’s your’s.”

“A kiss.” The answer was so simple, but it was clear the male wasn’t expecting it, and just even for a moment, his face almost looked red in his shock. He didn’t stay stumped for long, leaning over the bed and closing in to press a ginger kiss on their lips.

“Ah… Young love. Such a waste.” Manuela’s dry voice caused the two to break apart with a start. “Now out! I won’t tolerate this behavior here.” The way she swatted at Sylvain with annoyance caused [Y/N] to bubble out a laugh, gently pulling on his sleeve and leaning in. 

“Oh, and one last thing… I love you too.” There was a dopey smile that spread onto his lips. As he was shooed out the door by Manuela, he stole one last glance with a promise that he would return first thing in the morning for them.

[wizardessheart-sideb]

[Image ID: A chapter image done in the style of Wizardess Heart. A large, off-white imagine with a guy on it. He’s wearing a dark gray uniform. There’s a lavender bar over him that reads “Tsukasa Kuze.” The rest of the text reads “Main Story” and “Chapter 9: The Truth” /End ID]

Chapter summary: Tsukasa’s home sick again and finally tells me the truth about what’s going on.

I’m staying home today. I’m sorry I can’t walk you to class. Love, Tsukasa.

That was the Magic Note Tsukasa had sent me this morning as I ate breakfast. My stomach had dropped to the floor when I read it. I was really hoping he’d feel better, but apparently not. Did Azusa not come over and give Tsukasa medicine? Was Tsukasa just really sick? Again, once classes were over and I’d run an errand, I knocked on Tsukasa’s door with my free hand; the other had a small to-go bowl of soup.

“Come in,” he called weakly. I quickly went in, placing the soup on his nightstand.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” I asked.

“Bad. But I took some painkillers, so hopefully my body stops hurting soon.”

“Is it everywhere?”

“Basically,” he pouted. I sighed and handed him the soup. His face lit.

“You didn’t have to get me dinner. Thank you.” He didn’t wait to dig it, carefully taking off the lid and grabbing the spoon. He said something I didn’t quite understand before shoveling the soup into his mouth.

“You don’t have to thank me. It’s the least I can do.” I got on the other side of the bed, laying back on the pillows. “I don’t want to push you, but have you had your medication recently?” Tsukasa nodded, putting his spoon down and swallowing.

“Actually, Azusa came over this morning and gave me a dose,” he told me. Relief flooded my body.

“So you’ll be feeling better soon?!” He bit his lip and stared at the blankets. The relief I’d just felt evaporated in seconds. “Tsukasa?”

“I… I honestly don’t know.” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“But doesn’t this medication help keep you from getting sick in the first place?!”

“It does. But… I really didn’t want to tell you this.” My heart stopped.

“Tell me what?” I demanded, trying to sound calm when I felt anything but.

“My medication does keep me from getting sick, but it’s real purpose is to keep my body healthy. But we’ve been running low on it and… It’s watered down,” Tsukasa admitted.

“It’s what?!”

“Azusa’s mixed it with fillers so I don’t run out, but now it’s so weak that honestly, I don’t think it’s really doing anything anymore.” My blood ran cold.

“Tsukasa, why wouldn’t you tell me this?!” I demanded angrily.

“I already told you that I don’t want you to worry about me. You’re so stressed about classes and your Judgment and my health problems were just piling stress on,” he defended himself heatedly.

“But this is serious! I’m thankful you’re trying to make me less stressed, but this is your health! I need to be in the know about this sort of thing! I can’t help you if I don’t know everything.”

“I know, but if there’s a way to keep you from being totally stressed, isn’t that something I should do?” he countered, eyes narrowing.

“I mean, in most cases yeah, but this is different. This isn’t getting us dinner while I’m working late.”

“I…” He sighed, clearly frustrated. I certainly felt the same.

“How about we just. Cool down for a couple moments and then come back to talk about this?” I suggested. There was no way we were going to get anywhere when we were both angry.

“Let’s do that.” Finally, something we could agree on.

The tension in the air as we slowly calmed down lessened and lessened. By the time I was ready to talk things out, I wasn’t mad anymore. I knew he just wanted to help me out, but I wish talking to him wasn’t like talking to a wall. I looked over to tell him I was ready when I saw him slumped against his pillows, fast asleep.

“Oh no, Tsukasa…” I sighed. I was caught between waking him up and letting him sleep. After all, he’d been so sick. And besides, I had to go meet Azusa soon. You know what, I’ll just come back. I wrote him a quick note explaining I was going to be studying in the library and to send me a Magic Note when he woke up and placed it on his nightstand.

Azusa had asked me to meet him in the forest, at a large rock in the middle of the forest. He’d drawn me a map and with the moon lighting the way, I made my way through the forest. By the time I reached it, he was already there, arms folded and looking around his surroundings.

“Sorry I’m late, I ran to Tsukasa’s room to bring him dinner,” I told him. He didn’t look happy, but he nodded.

“It’s fine. Let’s head out.” He didn’t waste a moment, walking away. I hurried after him, falling into step with him.

“Head out? What we need isn’t here?”

“No, it’s just a little ways away. We’re going to the Spring of Unicorns,” he informed me.

“The Spring of Unicorns? What’s that?”

“According to a friend, unicorns live in his area and there’s a special spring they like.” I knew unicorns lived in Gedonelune, but I had no idea they lived on campus. You’d think more people would talk about that.

“So, uh, what are we getting at the spring? A special flower? Special water? What?” I asked.

“We’re going to get a part of a unicorn horn,” Azusa said.

“We… wait,  what?!” I stopped in my tracks. Azusa stopped too and gave me a tired look.

“Come on, we don’t have all night,” he snapped at me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me along. Once I got my footing and kept walking, he let go. But it was as if I could still feel his hand around my arm. My head was moving fast, trying to figure out why we’d need something from a unicorn. And then it hit me.

“A unicorn horn?! But… wait… is that what’s in Tsukasa’s medicine?!” I squeaked.

“Yeah.”

“Hold on, but unicorns don’t live in Hinomoto.”

“Really? I, a Hinomotan, didn’t know that,” he said ssnidely.

“Stop being sarcastic, you know what I meant!” He rolled his eyes.

“When Tsukasa was sick, I used to go around to some shady merchants and see their wares. I was desperate for something to save him. One merchant managed to smuggle a unicorn in. Somehow, it died on the way over and I took it off his hands. It cost too damn much, but it worked, didn’t it? Tsukasa was healthy for years until…” His voice trailed off.

“Until what?” I prodded.

“I didn’t think getting access to a unicorn would be so hard. I knew they lived in the forests here, but I didn’t realize they only live on the peninsula the Academy’s on. I haven’t been able to get to a unicorn until this year.”

“So why do you need me to help? Do you need me to talk to the unicorn?” I asked.

“Sort of. They like the pure of heart and having you with me when we negotiate would look good. Besides, I’d rather make the medication in the Night Class lab. No one will bother me there.”

“I see. Is there anything else we need for his medicine?”

“I made the first batch with unicorn blood since it also has magical properties, but this time around since I don’t have a dead body, I’m going to skip it. It was just for extra strength, anyway.” I shuddered at the idea of Azusa butchering a unicorn, even if it was already dead.

“Does Tsukasa know what’s in his medicine?”

“No. He loves animals so much it’d be a bit of a slap in the face.” He gave me a look so sharp that it could’ve killed me. “You won’t tell him what’s in his medication.” It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a demand.

“My lips are sealed,” I said hurriedly. He gave me a smile and my skin crawled.

“Good.”

The trees gave way to a clearing with a sparkling pond in the middle. And lo and behold, a majestic unicorn had it’s head bent down, drinking from the spring. I’d seen horses before, but this creature seemed so much bigger than a horse. The air of grandeur around it made me stop in awe. There has a hand on my back and Azusa was forcing me forward. His message was clear.

“Um, excuse me?” I called out timidly and the unicorn looked up, looking at both of us.

“Humans? What are you doing here? Isn’t this a little deep in the forest for your type?” he inquired.

“Uh, we were looking for a unicorn to talk to.” What was I even saying?

“Then I guess you’ve completed your task.” He leaned down, continuing to drink.

“We wanted to ask a favor,” Azusa spoke up. The unicorn lifted its head again.

“A favor? That’s a bit arrogant to ask of a creature you just met,” he said. I mean, he wasn’t wrong, but he was being so rude to us.

“I know,” Azusa replied. “I wouldn’t ask this if the situation wasn’t dire. My brother’s body is slowly shutting down and the only medicine that can save him needs a very small amount of a unicorn horn.”

“Oh, so that’s it? You want my horn?” The unicorn’s eyes started to change to a deep red and I quickly shook my head.

“We don’t want the whole thing,” Azusa said quickly. “We know what that means. We just need a small chunk.”

“And what will I get in return?” the unicorn asked pointedly. We paused.

“… The satisfaction of knowing you’ve helped someone?” I said.

“Wrong.” How is that wrong?! “How do I know you just aren’t going to sell it off?”

“That’s fair,” I conceded. “But please. We need to help his brother. He’s really sick and needs this medicine.”

“Come back in five years. If you’re patient, I’ll let you have a piece,” the unicorn said. Azusa twitched.

“Five years?! We don’t have that kind of time!” Something about Azusa changed. He tensed beside me and it was as if I could feel negativity radiating from him.

“If you aren’t patient, then you aren’t getting a piece of my horn, which I was generous enough to offer,” the unicorn sniffed. Yeah, it’d be generous if you weren’t being such a jerk about it.

“My brother will be dead in five years if we don’t get this horn!” Azusa cried. Dead?! My stomach fell straight to the floor and a wave of dizziness hit me. No… He was being melodramatic, right? Tsukasa always said he was overdramatic. That was the case, right? Tsukasa couldn’t be dying. He couldn’t be. He was just sick right now and he was going to get all better soon.

“I will not give you anything unless you wait. I need to know you’re trustworthy.” The unicorn acted like he didn’t even care, like our words weren’t even reaching him. Did he not understand death? Considering unicorns were endangered, surely he had to understand?

“We… You…” Azusa’s fists were clenched and there was something disturbing in his eyes. The air grew still and in a moment, my body was moving.

“We’ll come back tomorrow to talk this out more, Mr. Unicorn,” I piped up hurriedly. My arms were around Azusa’s waist and not a moment too soon. A second before I grabbed him, he started to lurch forward.

“Let go of me!” he screamed at me. He was seething as I dragged him away. It was like trying to drag a rock around, but somehow, we got out of the spring. “Let GO!” He pushed me and I stumbled backwards. He was breathing heavily, glaring into the darkness. “That selfish piece of -” A long string of expletives left his mouth as he stormed forward back towards campus. I scrambled to follow after him.

“What are we going to do now?” I was at a loss. Maybe we could find another unicorn if this one was going to be a jerk? Maybe there was something else we could do?

“We’re going back tomorrow and we’re killing it,” Azusa announced coldly. My blood froze.

“Kill… Kill it?! Azusa, that’s illegal!”

“Yeah, no shit. What else are we supposed to do?! If we don’t get that horn, Tsukasa will die!” he yelled at me.

“But… !” I couldn’t think of what to say. Of how to fight back. Sure, I wouldn’t mind slapping the unicorn for being so rude, but killing it?! There had to be another way! Killing a unicorn was a serious crime. If we got caught… I shuddered at the thought. But at the same time, what if Azusa was right? What if this was the only way to save Tsukasa? I wasn’t going to let him die, but if this was truly the sole way of keeping him alive… I just didn’t know.

The walk back to the dorm was silent. If I wanted to break the tension between Azusa and I, I’d have to cut it with a knife. I stole glances at him every so often. He looked quietly furious, fuming at how things turned out. I didn’t blame him. I understood where the unicorn was coming from, but it was harsh. Maybe if we came back tomorrow, he’d change his mind?

“Meet me tomorrow at the same place, same time as tonight,” Azusa ordered me. “We’re getting that horn if it’s the last thing we do.”

“There really isn’t another way?” He made a noise of disgust, rolling his eyes. What Dorian and Aika saw in him, I didn’t know.

“There’s not! How many times do I have to tell you that?!” he fired back. I flinched and he just rolled his eyes yet again. “If you don’t want to help, fine. I’ll just do it on my own since you clearly don’t care enough about my brother.”

“Excuse me?! You have absolutely no right to say that!” I argued. “Sorry that I actually have a conscious about killing animals.”

“Oh please, like it’s a big deal. It’s the circle of life. How is killing an animal for medicine different from killing an animal for food?”

“Uh, are y’all okay?” I looked over to see Isabelle coming out of the dorm building, eyebrows furrowed. Azusa straightened up, giving her a smile and a laugh.

“Oh, we’re fine. We were just talking about food ethics,” he lied. Isabelle just gave him a skeptical look.

“Uh, okay? Sweetie, we’ve been looking all over for you. Dorian’s almost done with dinner.” She put her arm around me and pulled me away. “Later, Azusa.” She didn’t even wait for him to respond, taking me inside and up to our dorm. “Was he bothering you?” she demanded as soon as Azusa was out of earshot.

“N-No, not really,” I lied.

“I have no qualms about beating someone up -”

“What? No, Isabelle. I don’t need you to beat him up. We just had a disagreement,” I added.

“Okay. But if you change your mind…” She winked. Note to self: don’t make Isabelle mad. “But seriously, where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“I got into a fight with Tsukasa and… Oh no!” I need to go talk things out with him! “Crap, Isabelle, I’m sorry, but I gotta go talk to Tsukasa!” I started running back towards the dorm.

“Uh, okay?! Dinner’s in like, twenty minutes!” she shouted after me.

“Okay!”

I ran through the dorm, hurrying back to Tsukasa’s room. Was he awake now? Was I gonna have to wake him up? How did I even really feel about this? His door was open and I knocked before poking my head in.

“Tsukasa?” I called out tentatively. He was still in bed, a textbook open. He looked over to me. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry I fell asleep,” he said as he shut his book and moved his study supplies onto his nightstand.

“I’m sorry I left while you were sleeping. And... Look, I get it. I know you were trying to do what you thought was best for me,” I said.

“I know. And I’m sorry, too. I was frustrated and not feeling well and I took it out on you. I think we both were just doing what we thought was best for each other.”

“Yeah…”

“We still need to work on our honesty with each other, but I promise I’ll keep working on it. And I promise that that’s everything going on.”

Was that true? He sounded so sincere. Maybe he didn’t know he was… No, Azusa, was totally just being melodramatic. But what if he wasn’t?

“I love you, Tsukasa. You know that, right?” I asked. He chuckled and grabbed my hand. His hand was so warm in mine.

“I love you, too,” he said, and the butterflies in my stomach were in a frenzy. … I had to find a way to save him. No matter what.

---

A delicious, savory smell wafted from our kitchen and my stomach started rumbling. Isabelle, Aika and Dorian were already at the table, eating.

“Jeez, where have you been? You’re never late to dinner,” Dorian said, irritated.

“I-I, uh…” Should I tell them about what happened?

Meeting Azusa, the unicorn, everything came rushing back to me. Azusa’s claim Tsukasa would die without this medicine. Tsukasa and I making up. My throat felt tight and it ached. My vision got blurry before the tears started. I felt Isabelle’s arms around me and I could hear Dorian trying to backtrack, telling me he wasn’t angry at me, he was only surprised and bit worried.

Isabelle sat me down, keeping her arms around me and letting me cry into her shoulder. Everything spilled out of me: my trip with Azusa, Tsukasa’s health, the unicorn refusing to help us. My sobs quieted the more I spoke, and by the time I was done, I was just sniffling. Dorian handed me some napkins.

“I had no idea Tsukasa’s condition was so bad…” Aika said.

“I knew there was something up with him, but I didn’t think it was this. Jeez, killing a unicorn...” Dorian sighed.

“I mean, I get it. If killing a unicorn was the only way to save my sister Felicity, I’d do it,” Isabelle said.

“Yeah, I get it too. But it’s not like it’s his only option,” he said. I perked up.

“There’s another way?!” I asked.

“Of course there is,” he answered. Isabelle’s eyes narrowed.

“If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, that’s a pretty big price to pay, Dorian,” she told him cautiously. “Not everyone is willing to make contracts.”

“Contracts?” I asked.

“Anything’s possible if you make a contract with a magical creature or a demon,” Dorian said.

“A demon?! I-Is that really necessary?” I couldn’t help but balk at the suggestion. But then again, if it was a way to save Tsukasa without killing anything...

“I wouldn’t say it’s necessary, but it’s easier to summon demons than magical creatures,” Dorian informed us. “Demons actively look for people who want contracts. Magic creatures generally don’t.”

“What, so you’re just going to go tell Azusa to make a deal with a demon instead of killing a unicorn?” Aika challenged him.

“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” he shrugged.

“Summoning a demon is so serious, though,” she pointed out.

“Uh, Tsukasa’s dying. I think this is a pretty good reason to summon a demon,” Isabelle said, folding her arms in front of her chest. “And also, it’s pretty rich that you -”

“I’m just saying Azusa is stubborn and even if Dorian suggests it, it’s not like he’ll do it,” Aika cut her off. “He likes us, but he’s also super stubborn.”

“But it’s worth a chance! And if Azusa won’t do it, then I will!” I declared. Aika and Isabelle gawked at me. The edges of Dorian’s lips twitched before he burst out laughing.

“Oh, you’re going to summon a demon? Well, if you need help, just give me a holler. Demonology is sort of my thing,” he told me.

“Don’t patronize me,” I snapped. “I want to help Tsukasa and if this is the only way I can do it, then I will! I don’t want Azusa to kill that unicorn. If I have to make a contract then I’ll do it!”

“We’re not trying to patronize you,” Aika frowned. “It’s just that making contracts with demons is a really serious thing. Sure, it’s so easy even non-wizards can do it, but it still carries a hefty price.”

“I don’t care. I’ll do it if I have to,” I told her.

Why did everyone look down on me?! I knew how big of a deal it was. But if I could save Tsukasa and the unicorn, of course I’d do it. I’d finally be able to do something for him. After so many days of being helpless and not able to do anything for him, I could finally do something to help.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb

TW: Vomit, blood, descriptions of periods, strangulation, opium 

——————

Mercy wasn’t feeling good in the first place.

She groaned before her eyes were even open that morning. She cringed when she rolled over, feeling hot slickness between her thighs, and didn’t even want to look at the crime scene that she already knew was lying beneath her blankets. Remaining in the mess, however, was plain gross. It was going to be painful to stand, but if she lays in bed for too long then the fabric will stain. Mr. Putnam and Goody Putnam would certainly not appreciate that, so she has no other choice but to haul herself up and save the bedding.

As if it were that easy.

Mercy liked to describe the feeling she just went through as “the floodgates opening” because that’s exactly what it was. She was forced to kneel when the pain flares up, which only seemed to strengthen the flow when her knees parted and her vagina seemed to feel the need to open like a window during a hurricane. She prayed for her ruined undershorts, which are sticky and wet around her legs, clinging tightly to her skin like they had been glued there.

Eventually, she gets herself to stand and, with trembling hands, carefully and quietly strips the sheets of the bed, relieved to find that the blood hasn’t soaked through to the mattress. She stumbles down the stairs and out of the house, trying to keep the bloodstained part of the sheets angled forward and away from the rest of her body, but her groin was already sopping wet with what was probably twenty-five percent of her body’s blood, so hygiene didn’t really matter in the long run. On the way outside to clean, she grabs a rag and then a bucket once out of the house.

Walking is uncomfortable, lugging a bucket of water from the well isn’t any better, and the wet fabric of her undershorts chafe horribly. However, the blood is almost welcoming in a gross sort of way because it was freezing outside and the dead-baby sauce was actually pretty warm. Unfortunately, the cold seeps in through every fabric of clothing and she’s soon chilled to the bone, even with the abundance of red syrup glazing her loins. The cold only intensifies when she plunges her hands into the ever-icy water of the bucket and gets to scrubbing her bedding.

It takes nearly half an hour to clean the bed sheets, half an hour of having to stare in humiliation at a crimson mark created from her leaky vagina in her sleep, having to smell the scent of her shredded uterus juice, and having to bleed all over herself. By the time she’s finished her hands are so cold she can barely feel them, her thighs are so wet she’s sure they’re going to be permanently stained red, and she’s in absolute agony. All she wants to do is curl up in a ball and cry.

Then, she hears the front door open and someone calls her name from the porch- a high pitched, youthful voice. Mercy doesn’t answer. She’s too embarrassed by her state and she doesn’t want who she sure is Ruth to see her suffering and ruin the cool image of herself the younger girl sees her as.

Her silence is to no avail.

Fallen leaves and icy grass crunch underneath shoes.

“Mercy?”

Mercy kept her eyes shut for a long moment before forcing herself to own up to and face her situation.

“Ruth, hey,” She said, standing up, but nearly collapsing back down because of it. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Ruth replied, “What are you doing?”

“Washing some sheets.”

Ruth went to ask why exactly, but then her eyes trailed downwards and she saw the small puddle that had accumulated in the grass beneath Mercy, as well as the dark red streams running down her legs.

“Your monthly blood?” Ruth said quietly.

“Clearly.” Mercy said, attempting to keep her voice from wavering. She shifted her weight to a different leg and cringed when a fresh bout of blood oozes free.

“Will you be okay?” Ruth asked, “We’re supposed to go to the forest today, but if you’re in pain...”

“No, no, I’m fine,” Mercy lied quickly. “Trust me. I’ll get a cloth to catch the blood and then I’ll be all good.”

Ruth nodded, believing her, since she has it to bleed and didn’t know the intense pain that came with it.

Mercy also believed herself, thinking that should would be fine, but when she actually went out to the woods with her friends, she proved herself to be very, very wrong.

In just a few hours, the sharp cramps in her stomach had become violent spasms and the dull aching in her back turned into an intense, radiating burn. She was both sick with hunger and too nauseous to eat. Her bladder and bowels ached. She was sweating from the pain of it all, but also shivering and weak from anemia. And, to top it all off was the gross, hot feeling of her uterus being filled to the absolute brim with blood and pressing uncomfortably up against her lower stomach with so much pressure she thought she would burst if the fluids weren’t deposited. The cloth she had bunched up to her vagina was doing its job at soaking up the blood, but it rubbed her thighs in a way that made her want to peel her skin off, which was a whole other problem in and of itself. Plus, sometimes it feels like the rag shifts a bit too high and actually goes into her bloody folds and she just about passes out from the unwanted sensation of a piece of fabric literally plugging up her vagina.

Needless to say, Mercy felt like death warmed over with an extra pinch of suffering.

Somehow, she still found herself at the usual meeting spot in the woods, despite how sick and horrible and disgusting she felt. As much as she wanted to spend the whole day curled up in bed while cuddling her pillow close to her stomach, she knew she couldn’t skip out on the outings just because it was her time to suffer Eve’s curse. Susanna, Abigail, and Mary all suffered through their own every month- hell, they could be bleeding right now as well- and they were able to function just fine, although Mary does have a tendency to not talk or move around too much, or simply not go out at all. Mercy didn’t want to be that girl, especially since Abigail didn’t like it when someone chickens out just because of a little leaky vagina and stomach pain.

Though, that sounded like an impossible feat with the way that her frame shook from the exertion of standing alone. Mercy’s whole body was as heavy as lead, everything in her entire being hurt, and it was all swirling in a kaleidoscope of pain until all she could focus on was how bad she felt. She was sure she could faint, could already feel the faintest numbness slowly creeping in on the edges of her consciousness, but she held strong until she just couldn’t anymore.

One of the worst cramps she’s ever felt in her entire life hit her when she was clambering across a thick branch to get to another tree. She and the other girls were playing a very serious match of hide-and-go-seek and she was determined to win by hiding in the dense patch of leaves and branches she saw when she had been seeker during the round before. However, her plans of victory were rudely interrupted when the ovaries at the end of her Fallopian tubes seemed to morph into claws and viciously stab her from the inside, causing her to teeter right off of the branch just as Mary, who was that round’s seeker, burst through the underbrush.

Mercy didn’t feel her body hit the forest floor- the pain in her stomach overpowered every other sensation in her body. She could, however, miraculously still see through the raging storm of black spots across her vision and saw Mary above her, looking absolutely mortified, like she could see the invisible ovary-claws goring their way out of Mercy’s abdomen. The younger girl was completely paralyzed and stark white, and her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, which would have made Mercy laugh if it weren’t for the fact that laughing pulled the muscles in her stomach tighter until it felt like they would snap.

Mary wasn’t doing anything to help, too stunned to get her head on straight, and, if she had the strength, Mercy would be griping at her to do something. Luckily, someone more capable of functioning properly in dire situations came to the rescue.

“What happened?!”

Abigail, who must have been hiding somewhere nearby or maybe was just trying to sneak around, leapt from the thicket like a jungle cat, startling Mary into awareness. Mary looked from Abigail, to Mercy, then back to Abigail, stammering and sputtering over her words and clenching the rims of her cowl like she does when she was anxious. It was honestly quite pitiful, and Mercy felt kind of bad for the kid.

Abigail, however, felt the opposite.

“What did you do?” Abigail snarled, stalking towards Mary, whose eyes were practically bulging out of their sockets. Her own were smoldering like hot coals. “What have you done to her, Mary Warren?”

“N-nothing!” Mary squeaked, “I haven’t touched her!” She backs away, but Abigail advances on her, seizing her by the throat. “Abby...-!!”

“You are a liar!” Abigail roared, shaking Mary slightly, “What did you do to her?!” She could so easily wring Mary’s neck like a towel. She grips tighter in her fit of rage. “TELL ME!”

“Abby...”

Abigail pauses her process of strangling the younger girl to glance over her shoulder. When she realizes it was Mercy who had called her name, she releases her prey and darts down to her side. Carefully, she lifts Mercy’s head into her lap.

“Mercy? It’s Abby. I’m right here. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” She sets a hand on Mercy’s back, “Your muscles are so tight... What happened? What did that little mouse do to you?”

“Hurts...” Mercy rasps out, so soft Abigail nearly missed it.

“What hurts, Mercy? Where does it hurt?”

Mercy couldn’t answer when the cramps return with just as much power as before and render her uselessly silent. She can only grit her teeth to the point where they may shatter and hold onto Abigail’s dress like it was her only anchor to consciousness.

“What’s going on?”

Susanna, Betty, and Ruth all emerge from the tree line, having been alerted by Abigail’s yelling. They don’t miss the way the leader of the group protectively holds Mercy closer to her.

“Is she okay?” Susanna, who had spoken before, asked, glancing at the blue-clad girl.

“I don’t know.” Abigail answered. First she shoots a momentary glare at Mary, then looks back down at Mercy, who seems to have settled slightly. “But she’s trembling and is really flush.” She said, feeling her friend’s cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Wait,” Ruth piped up, “Is this because of her monthly blood?”

Silence.

Abigail feels Mercy tense in her lap.

“Oh, Mercy,” She murmured, “You should have told us.”

Her eyes then glance at Mary, who was on her hands and knees, silent as she paws tentatively at her neck. Abigail wanted to send the other girls away, give Mercy privacy so she wouldn’t be anymore embarrassed than she already was, but she knew she had to settle things with Mary first.

“Mary Warren.” She said, not missing the way the younger girl flinched when her name was spoken. “Come here.”

Mary doesn’t move, like she was now being immobilized by cramps.

“I will not ask you again.”

That does it.

The smaller girl awkwardly skitters over, still very much shrunk in on herself. It doesn’t help when Abigail makes contact by cupping one of her cheeks, keeping the other hand on Mercy’s waist, and lifting her chin to make her meet her gaze.

“I’m sorry, sweetie,” Abigail whispers, thumbing away a stray fearful tear that managed to escape Mary’s sparkling eyes. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Are you okay?”

Mary nodded feebly. She tried to break eye contact while doing so, but Abigail taps her cheek with a finger and she’s too scared to not look back up at her.

“Are you sure?”

Another nod, although this one is definitely weaker and more unsure. However, Mary knows she shouldn’t be fretted over, Mercy is clearly the one in a lot more pain, not her.

“Alright,” Abigail said. She leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Mary’s forehead. “Go home.” Her voice raised to address the others, “All of you. Go home.”

Like that, they disperse. The others knew not to cross Abigail, especially when she was protective like this, so they all obey and head back to town. Only for a moment does Mary hang around. Her hand hovered over Mercy’s shoulder, but she pulls back at the last second. She mutters a tiny “Feel better soon” and “I’m sorry” before scampering away through the trees.

Abigail waited until the footsteps of the fawn-like girl receded to do something. She wasn’t really all that guilty about what she did to Mary- Mercy was her best friend and if she’s hurt and someone is around, then that makes them a possible culprit and she was going to attack! Mary had just been at the wrong place at the wrong time and her poor neck was the victim of Abigail’s chosen assault method via strangulation. Abigail made a mental note to go check on the younger girl later that day, just to make sure she was completely alright.

Right now, however, she had someone else to tend to.

“Do you have anything?” Abigail asked once the sound of footsteps completely died off in the distance.

Knowing what she meant, Mercy nodded.

“That’s good, at least,” Abigail hummed. “Wanna go home?”

“I don’t- I don’t think I can-I can stand.” Mercy panted, “Can I-” She swallowed thickly, “-can I lay here for a little longer? Please?”

“Of course,” Abigail said. She cards her hand through Mercy’s hair to calm her. “We can stay here as long as you need, okay? Just try to relax.”

“Thank you,” Mercy whispered. She closes her eyes and nuzzles closer to Abigail.

For a long time, they just sat there in silence, relaxing and listening to the sounds of the woods. That would soon be broken by Mercy whimpering and wrapping her arms around her stomach.

“Mercy?” Abigail looked down at her. She set a hand on her shoulder as she writhes in her lap, “Mercy, sweetie, talk to me. What’s wrong?”

“...hurts...” Mercy gurgles, holding tighter. Acid curls in the back of her throat.

“I know, sweetie. I know.” Abigail said, threading her fingers through her hair.

The acid curls higher, burns more.

“No, no, Abby-”

Mercy jerked upwards and began to vomit, just barely missing her dress. Through her coughing and heaving, she heard Abigail cuss and then pull any stray fringes of hair that may have escaped her bonnet out of the way.

“Get it out, sweetie. It’s okay. Just get it out.” Abigail murmured, holding Mercy upright so she wouldn’t completely crumple in on herself.

Eventually, Mercy stopped ejecting her internal organs through her mouth and collapsed against Abigail, panting heavily. The cloth Abigail kept her in her pocket wiped away the bile dribbling down the sides of her mouth, but she can’t find the voice to thank her friend. All she could do was make a miserable keening noise.

“Shh, shh,” Abigail hushed her. She wrapped an arm around Mercy’s waist and leaned back so Mercy would be slightly laying on her, hoping that position would be more comfortable. It must not have been, because Mercy began pushing herself up with shaking arms.

“I’m sorry,” Mercy mumbled, deep shame burning on her cheeks. “I think- I think I can go home now.”

“Are you sure?” Abigail asked, worry glinting in her eyes. “Maybe we should wait a moment longer. Let you get your bearings.”

“Please,” Mercy said softly, “I just want to-” She swallowed thickly, “-go lay in my bed and sleep.”

Abigail pursed her lips, but agreed and helped Mercy stand up. Her friend didn’t lean on her to walk, she seemed to be able to do that on her own, but Abigail would still reach out to steady her every one and awhile.

“Where were you hiding?” Mercy asked, trying to distract herself. The conversation was much needed, especially when blood squirted free onto the rag and reminding of just why she felt so miserable.

“In a log,” Abigail answered with a small laugh, “It was kind of hidden in the bushes, so I thought it would be a good hiding spot.”

“If Susanna was seeking, maybe,” Mercy comments, “You know how thorough Mary Warren is when she’s seeker.”

“True,” Abigail agreed. Whatever she said after that was completely drowned out by ringing in Mercy’s ears when a powerful wave of dizziness washed over her.

Mercy couldn’t help but doubled over, wrapping both arms around her aching middle. She grits her teeth tightly, but the cramps last longer than usual and tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Abby-” She gasped, “Abby-!”

Abigail looked over her shoulder and her eyes widen. She darts to Mercy’s side and the girl just about crumples in her arms.

“Abby-” Mercy rasps out, “Can I-” It’s punctuated with a wince, “Can I sit down- for a moment? Please?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

Abigail helped lower Mercy to the ground, and her friend instantly curls around her stomach. She lifted her head into her lap.

“Shh, shh,” Abigail murmured. She untied Mercy’s bonnet and let her hair down. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Despite her calming tone, Mercy still writhes. She squirms like she’s trying to wriggle our of her own skin, and wept silently, unable to hold back the tears any longer. The pain was too much- it felt as if someone was reaching in and pulling out her small intestines.

“It hurts,” Mercy sobbed, digging her face against Abigail’s thighs. “It feels like I’m being stabbed, Abby- I’m being stabbed!”

“No, no, you’re not.” Abigail said. She picked up one of Mercy’s hands and makes her feel her lower stomach. “See, sweetie? There’s nothing there. No knife, no arrow, no nothing.”

The dagger was inside of Mercy, stabbing and stabbing and stabbing away at everything within her. Abigail couldn’t see it, of course, so all Mercy could really do was make a tiny noise and curl up tighter. She clung to her best friend’s dress, digging her nails in. If it hurts when they hook on Abigail’s skin, she doesn’t show it.

“Abby...” Mercy moaned softly.

“I’m right here, sweetie. I’m right here.” Abigail assured her. She used one hand to caress her friend’s tear-stained cheek while the other remained on her waist for a sense of grounding. “You’re going to be okay, my sweet. I promise.”

Mercy shook her head. When she looked up at Abigail, her eyes are glazed and unfocused.

“It hurts so much, Abby...” She whimpered.

“Where does it hurt?” Abigail asked, slightly taking Mercy by surprise.

Mercy didn’t answer immediately, instead hissed air in through her teeth and waited for her Fallopian tubes to stop using her ovaries as projectiles against every other organ in her body.

“L-lower stomach,” She stammered, clearly shy about this. “...And my back.”

Abigail nodded and carefully placed a hand on her friend’s lower stomach.

“Here?”

Mercy nodded. She gasped softly when Abigail began to rub her stomach in slow, tentative circular motions, but then eased up beneath her touch.

“Does this help?” Abigail asked.

“Yes,” Mercy said softly, “A lot.” She sighed quietly, relaxing as Abigail massaged her abdomen gently, moving in careful circles against her dress.

After a few minutes, Mercy’s breathing no longer hiccuped, and her arms weren't squeezed at her front anymore. Abigail’s fingers were still soothing the cramps as best as they could. She’d always been affectionate with her girls, but she’d never done anything like this before. However, she assumed she was on the right track, as Mercy seemed about ready to fall asleep against her, with her hands working easy patterns on her body. She couldn’t help but chuckle lovingly and use her other hand to stroke back sweaty hair from Mercy’s face.

“Thank you,” Mercy mumbled, dozing.

“You’re welcome,” Abigail replied, just as quiet as to not hurt Mercy’s ears.

“I think...I think I can walk again.” Mercy said. “Can I try?”

Abigail nodded and helped Mercy to her feet, despite the hiss of pain that was elicited immediately after. She kept an arm around her friend’s waist, letting her lean on her when needed. She kept glancing down at the hand over Mercy’s stomach, which would sometimes clench tightly during a cramp.

Finally, they got to the edge of the Putnam’s property and Mercy untangled herself from Abigail’s tender embrace.

“Thanks, Abby,” Mercy said, completely coiling an arm around her middle.

“I can walk you to the house.” Abigail said, but Mercy shook her head.

“Go check on Mary Warren.”

“...Alright.” Abigail agreed. Before she left, however, she tied Mercy’s hair back up, put her bonnet back on, and then kissed her forehead. “I’ll come by and check on you tomorrow, okay?” Mercy nods in her hand when she’s cupping her cheek, “Feel better soon, sweetie.”

With that, she begrudgingly leaves, starting down the dirt road that led to the Proctor’s house.

Mercy stands there for a moment, just breathing through vice grip-like cramps, before turning around and walking to the house.

The short trek proves to be hellish without Abigail’s tender, protective presence, what with the dizziness and the increasingly wet slickness between her legs. The rag was completely soaked through by this point, turning her thighs into a sticky, sopping wet mess. Every step made the soggy cloth shift and rub, smearing against her skin to dirty it further. She knew she would have to exchange it for a clean cloth, so she grabbed two new rags and two buckets, one filled with water and the other empty, before heading inside.

She manages to get up to her room without being seen or called and quickly closed the door. The first thing she did was strip from her dress and then undergarments.

As expected, the cloth was soaked. In fact, there wasn’t a single speck of white left anywhere on it. The sickeningly sweet, fishy aroma the uterus blood gave off made Mercy’s stomach churn and she quickly dropped the fabric into the empty bucket. With one of the clean rags, she uses it to wash off her thighs and paw water on her messy vagina to try and flush it out of blood, despite knowing it wouldn’t matter in the long run.

Once she was cleaned up, she scrubbed her hands in the water, put a new rag in her undergarments, threw on soft trousers and a tunic to sleep in, disposed of the buckets, and then finally collapsed into bed. Just in time, too, because her stomach twists again and she whimpers into her pillow.

For awhile, she just writhes and thrashes in her bed, unable to get comfortable or fall asleep due to the intense pain. She began to hear Goody Putnam calling for her, but she just couldn’t get up, so she lied there, weeping softly and wishing she hadn’t sent Abigail to the Proctor’s.

Footsteps walked up the steps and approached her room. Mercy braced herself for a storm.

“Young lady, I have been calling you for-”

Ann’s scolding died on her tongue when she saw the state her servant was in- face very grey and drenched in sweat, cheeks stained with tears, panting heavily, hair falling out of her crinkled bonnet, curled up into a tight ball, clutching her stomach. Mercy is rocking herself ever so slightly and Ann watches for a half second before going to her bedside.

“Mercy?” She brushes the girl’s bangs out of her eyes and felt her forehead. “You’re so hot... What’s wrong?”

“Monthly...monthly blood.” Mercy panted, her voice tight with pain, “It’s my monthly blood.”

Ann hummed in sympathy, knowing exactly what the teenager was going through. She began untying Mercy’s bonnet and then her hair as the girl started to talk again. Her worry grew as she did so.

“It- it hurts so bad, Goody Putnam. It’s never lasted this long before. Nothing helps.” Mercy screwed her eyes shut and hugged her stomach tighter. An audible sob accidentally slipped from her lips and she felt her ears burn hot with embarrassment.

“Oh, my poor dear,” Ann murmured, stroking Mercy’s cheek with a finger. “Take deep breaths, darling. I’ll be back.”

“Wait-”

But Ann was already out the door.

Mercy stared at the empty doorway, hand outstretched, mouth half open in a cry, and tears brimming in her eyes. Her delirium-riddled mind began to hiss horrible words of abandonment and she started to weep much harder than before, flipping onto her other side and burying her face into a pillow.

That’s how Ann found her about half an hour later and she gasped softly, rushing over to comfort the crying child.

“Mercy, Mercy, sweetheart,” She gently shook the teenager to rouse her. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

Mercy’s glossy eyes widen and she launches herself into her mistress’ arms, not caring about how unprofessional it may have seemed. When she was vulnerable like this, she desperately needed to be held by someone, consequences be damned.

“Shh, shh,” Ann soothed, stroking her servant’s messy hair. “I’m right here, darling. You’re alright.”

“No, no-” One hand moves to grip back at her stomach as Mercy shook her head. “It hurts too much, Goody Putnam. I think I’m dying...”

“Don’t be daft,” Ann said. “Eve’s curse is a terrible one. Unfortunately, it seems to be bewitching you pretty horribly right now.” She notices Mercy grimace and quickly went on, “But I have something for that.”

Mercy hadn’t even realized Ann had brought a few things in- a steaming cup of liquid and an equally steaming pot of hot water.

Ann props Mercy up and brings the cup to her lips. She urges her to drink with encouraging words and the girl eventually relents.

“Good girl,” Ann cooed and it makes Mercy’s heart leap in her chest. “Ah, ah.” She tuts when her servant tried to pull back. “You need to drink all of it, sweetheart.” She puts the cup back to Mercy’s lips, who has no other choice but to down the bittersweet liquid.

When Mercy pulls back, taking deep breaths, she realizes how lightheaded she feels. She lifts both hands to grip at either sides of her skull and doesn’t even notice how she was swaying in her bed. Ann’s chuckle alerts her to look up.

“Someone’s feeling the effects already,” Ann mused, stroking back some sweaty hair from Mercy’s face.

Mercy’s tongue feels swollen and numb in her mouth for some reason. She blinked several times, but it won’t clear up she vision. That combined with how she struggled to speak made her panic slightly.

“Shh, shh,” Ann hushed when her servant began to freak out. She rubbed comforting circles against the girl’s back to relax her. “It’s just laudanum tea, sweetheart. It’s pain relief. You only feel dizzy because of the opium in it.”

Mercy stared at her mistress in shock. She had just been given liquid opium. Although, she wasn’t going to complain if it was a pain relief.

“Now, lay back for me, sweet girl.” Ann helped Mercy lie back down. She lifts her servant’s shirt slightly and pulls a damp rag out of the pot of water, placing the hot cloth on Mercy’s stomach.

At first, it was way too hot, but Mercy’s hiss of pain turned into a sigh of pleasure when the warmth soaked into her skin and began untangling the knots in her stomach. She rests her head back into the pillows, letting her eyelids droop close. With the nice, hot compress, added with the pain relief and Ann’s hand stroking at her hair, she found herself being pulled closer and closer to sleep.

“Goody Putnam?” She croaked, managing to find her voice.

“Yes, Mercy?”

“Thank...thank you...”

Ann smiled at the dazed, loopy girl.

“You’re welcome. Now rest, sweetheart. I shall stay here until you have fallen asleep.”

Mercy liked the sound of that.

She relaxed her body and let herself think she was rolling in molten gold, because that’s exactly what it felt like. For the first time all day, she felt the closest thing to relaxation.

[firebirdsdaughter]

Random Writing Demo…

… Okay.

First off, I would like to blame my three main enablers:

Me.

Myself.

And I.

Also this is Banba’s fault and I hope he’s proud of himself.

I guess you could say this is a little like a game demo—bc it’s rough around the edges, and I cannot guarantee that this is exactly how it will appear in the finished product.

Long Post.

Okay. So. You wanna know how this started? *breaks out Mike’s Hard Lemonade bc it’s pretty much the only alcohol I can drink and dramatically opens bottle while equally melodramatic western music plays in the background as I lean forward on my stool, putting one foot up on the table and then slamming by bottle down* I’ll tell ya how this started.

It started with one, single question:

What if there were evil clones of the Masters?

Quick summary of how we got to this point (in dramatic summary fashion!): (Obviously, this takes place later in the series, once we’re all rather attached. And is less on the killing people XD) After the Druidon manage to steal Kou, Asuna, and Melto’s RyuSouls, the team sets out to retrieve them. They succeed, but encounter what appears to be Masters Red, Pink, and Blue alive! The Druidon claim that they used the Souls to revive them, but something is wrong—the Master’s personalities have been horribly twisted, and they’re siding with the Druidon! Worse, they have now one, single mission: to kill their former students! The three are incredibly distraught, and can’t bring themselves to properly fight their own Masters, and the team only just manages to survive the first encounter and retreat back to the Tatsui house. There, Banba and Touwa decide to try and spare the the trio from having to fight their beloved Masters again, and depart to fight the copies alone. However, it seems the false Masters also have the ability to hypnotise others! While the Ryusoulgers were regrouping have been amassing an army of mind controlled civilians as shields! The fight goes badly, and the brothers are soon overwhelmed…

Banba crashed roughly into the ground, landing hard on his wounded shoulder. He tasted blood from a split lip as he struggled to rise, and his vision was blurring slightly. He didn’t get much time to get his bearings, because hands appeared, dragging him back up by his arms, twisting his shoulder and the sizeable cut on his chest even more. He was forced up to his knees, restrained by the hold of multiple people—they were all clearly civilians, all had the same blank gaze. Normally, he’d’ve been able to get free from any one of them, even wounded—but there were so many that their hold seemed practically unbreakable. When he heard his brother cry out somewhere off in the haze, however, he still tried, gritting his teeth against the pain when the strain aggravated his injuries even more.

He was about to call Touwa’s name when he was abruptly interrupted by a sword blade at his throat—specifically, his own RyusoulKen.

Turning his head just bit, he glared at the person holding it. He may not have known the face, but he’d been well informed that the cold, heartless look did not belong there.

“You two were quite reckless.” The tone was just as frozen as the expression—bemused, bored, and dangerous. “All this for those three?”

For the first time in a while, it took effort to keep his emotions under control, between worry for his brother and direness of their situation—but he focused on the pain from his injuries and the harsh sting of the sword point with every breath he took to keep his head clear. “You wouldn’t understand,” He managed to snarl, and almost succeeded in keeping his voice completely even.

The fake smirked cruelly, turning the sword slightly under Banba’s chin to force his head up further, so that they were looking right into each other’s faces. “Oh? I’d think we know them much better than you.”

“You don’t know them.” Black growled back. “Especially not anymore.”

“You think quite highly of them,” The clone replied, “Risking your lives like this.” His eyes narrowed in thought, the ruthless grin growing wider. “And what do we do with you now…? Slit your throats and leave them your dead bodies as a present?” The sword edge pushed harder against Banba’s throat, pricking slightly and making even more difficult to breathe calmly, as the copy considered his choices.

“I don’t care what you do to me.” Black hissed, straining forward again, despite the sword. “But leave. Those four. Alone.” Each word made the blade sting against his skin, and he felt  a trickle of warmth when it drew blood, but he still spat them back at the copy’s face with as much force as he could.

The fake Master Red studied his glare silently for a moment, staring right back into his eyes. “… I didn’t think you were such a noble fool.”

“I protect what’s important to me.”

The imposter’s head tilted slightly, looking his captive over more thoroughly—until his eyes finally lighted on Black’s necklace. “Important, hm…?” He mused softly.

Slowly, the sword lowered away from Banba’s throat for a moment, the point tracing down the line of his neck to his collarbone. Turning it to slip the tip through the necklace cord, the clone gingerly lifted the pendant clear of Banba’s shirt collar, balanced on the flat side of the blade. For a very long moment, he held it there, tilting the sword just slightly for better light. There was blood smeared on the front and back from the stab wound in the Black’s shoulder and the gash on his chest—bright red which was still wet, smudging slightly onto the blade. Banba tried to jerk away, but the the hands holding him down were also on his shoulders now, and found himself unable to move at all. 

“Well then…” The copy whispered—then he swiftly crouched down, catching the pendant in his hand and laying the blade edge back against Banba’s throat in the same motion. He turned the pendant over in its fingertips thoughtfully for a moment—then hooked two fingers around the cord, gripping tightly. “… If they won’t come for us…” Turning the sword so that the flat side was against Black’s throat, he yanked, hard. A slice of burning pain cut across the back and sides of Banba’s neck when the latch of the necklace snapped and both it and the cord cut into his skin as it was wrenched off. The motion his head forward against the blade so roughly he couldn’t breathe for a moment, and was forced to gasp for breath when he fell back again. The fake rose, though he readjusted the RyusoulKen to ensure it stayed against Banba’s throat—not as closely as before, but near enough that Black’s slightly panicked pulse was pounding against the metal. His other hand held the necklace up by the cord, dangling the pendant to inspect it even closer. Finally, his gaze returned to his prisoner, eyes gleaming with a vicious brand of delight at the horror he could see slowly creeping into the Ryusoulger’s expression. “… Maybe they’ll come for you.”

Banba’s heart skipped, and he struggled against the hands holding him again. “You…!”

In response, the fake spun the blade around and struck him across the face with the hilt of his own sword, leaving more blood in his mouth and an ugly cut on his cheek. “Behave.” The imposter growled. “We only need one of you alive, and neither of you have to be in one piece.” The sword point slipped immediately back under Banba’s chin, forcibly dragging his head back up to look into the clone’s merciless eyes again without a chance to recover from the hit. “So don’t try anything. Unless you want to watch us feed your little brother to a Minusaur.” There was a commotion nearby, and the clone looked over his shoulder casually. “Same goes for you, boy.” He called, as the fake Master Blue dragged a fiercely resisting Touwa bodily into sight. “Stop squirming before it kills your brother.” The blade point pressed closer, cutting another thin line of red beneath Banba’s jaw.

Touwa froze immediately, gaze flying to his brother, quickly taking in the extent of his injuries, genuine terror brimming in his eyes. Finally, his eyes fell to the ground and he nodded meekly when the copy gave him a questioning look.

“Good boy.” Grunted the fake Blue, reestablishing his hold now that Green had stilled.

The fake Master Pink appeared on Banba’s other side, and took over holding a sword—Touwa’s RyusoulKen—to Black’s throat when the fake Red moved away, striding toward where the Blue clone was holding Touwa. “Well, well…” The clone murmured, taking Green’s arm and pulling it sharply up to examine the bracelet on the boy’s wrist. “… You’ve got one, too…” He smirked again. “It does pay to have a matching set.” Unceremoniously, he pulled Touwa’s arm straight by the wrist, and wrenched the bracelet sharply off as well, causing Touwa to wince slightly as the cord burned his wrist. Stepping back, the clone Red held the bracelet up to look over its pendant, too—there was blood smudged on it, as well, running down Touwa’s arm from a bad gash above his elbow.

Banba took the brief moment of respite to check his younger brother for other injuries. Aside from the nasty cut on his arm, Touwa had several bad scrapes, and another nasty looking graze on his head, matting his hair with more blood, but he still looked alert and was moving normally. None of his injuries were as bad as Banba had feared. Relief allowed his shoulders to relax a bit—his own mind was still hazy and his movements sluggish from pain and blood loss, and it was probably only going to get worse. But if there was a chance to get Touwa safe… Especially if he could manage it before those three, in their incurable kindness, fell into whatever trap the imposters were planning.

But then the fake Red gestured sharply to the false Pink. The RyusoulKen disappeared from his throat for a moment, and there was rustling and a rush of air behind him—something struck him hard on the back of the head, and everything went black.

And that concludes this demo! XD

There might be another later… ^^

But I hope people enjoyed. And that they might actually be interested in seeing the full thing at some point… DX

(Also, I would like to personally apologise to Master Red—it’s a clone, okay?)

[writingthingsisdifficult]

Pretty dolly - The teaspoon girl pt 6

A witch turns Y/N into a teaspoon sized woman, and Sam and Dean has to make sure she doesn’t get squashed – and find a cure.

Word count: 3152

Hopefully part seven (the last part) isn’t too far away (I’m sorry – I’m a slow writer).

Please let me know what you think – and remember that I’m not English. Also let me know if you want on – or off – my tag list.

From part five:

Dean found Sam lying on top of the covers in his bed. He was fully dressed and sleeping restlessly. The laptop had slid halfway down from his stomach, and the cursed bowl was in his hand. Scattered all over the bed and floor were papers with scribbles, copies of the symbols on the bowl, attempts at translations.

Smiling softly, Dean checked on Y/N before cleaning up the mess and the computer, and carefully moving the bowl so it wouldn’t fall to the floor and shatter.

Once that was done, he expertly removed Sam’s shoes and coaxed the blanket from under him. “We really need to figure this one out, little brother,” he whispered as he shook the blanket out over Sam. “And then you and Y/N are gonna have a serious talk. Don’t think I haven’t seen through you. Both.”

With a squeeze on Sam’s shoulder, he went to get ready for the night. When he got back after brushing his teeth, Sam had turned over on his side, facing Y/N and stretching a hand towards her.

The next morning, Sam skipped his morning run. Instead, he gathered the notes he’d been taking that night and began pouring over them, comparing symbols and tracing new ones, and when Dean woke up, he was already through one pot of coffee, one note pad, and had started on a second one. He muttered to himself, frequently shaking his head, and sighing when he realised he was on the wrong track.

“Morning, Sammy. Sleep well?”

“Morning. No. I gotta figure this out. It’s driving me insane – can’t find anything even remotely similar –“ He took another sip of coffee.

Dean got out of bed and patted Sam’s head. “If anyone can figure it out, it’s you, man. Oh, jeez! Did you even shower today?” Backing up a few steps, Dean huffed and grimaced.

“No, why?” Sam didn’t even look up.

“Because you stink! I’m not gonna… Go take a shower!”

“But…”

“Just do it, Sam. Y/N’ll wake soon. You don’t want her to die from BO poisoning, do you?

Sam glared at Dean, but he got up and did as he was told.

A couple of minutes later, the box on the bedside table shook, and a hushed curse cut through the sound of the running shower.

“Morning, Y/N,” Dean said.

“Mrn…” she replied, not ready to face the world yet. Dean was unnaturally chipper, and that made her even grumpier. When she couldn’t throw her leg over the edge of her box, she dropped back on the mattress, and let out a string of profanities so hard that Dean rushed over to see what was wrong.

At first, he couldn’t see her, but when he did, he froze. “Oh shit!”

Giving him a bitchface that rivalled Sam’s, Y/N cocked her head. “You don’t say. Help me out, will you?”

As careful as he could, he picked her up and carried her over to the window table, where she stretched as far as she could. “How bad is it?”

Coughing awkwardly, he measured her against this hand. “You’re not gonna like it.” She was just a little bitt shorter than his thumb, and the t-shirt she wore reached to her knees.

“Just lay it on me.” Her face was set, prepared to anything he could bring.

“Well…” Showing her rough size with his fingers, he gave her a humourless smile, and she stared, trying to take it all in.

“Well, crap.”

Dean nodded, and was about to say something when Sam walked out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel. He stopped mid-step and blinked a couple of times. “Holy shit!”

“Mhm…” It was the only answer Y/N could think of.

For a few moments, the room was completely still. Y/N stared at Sam, Sam and Dean stared at Y/N, and no one said anything. Then, as if his brain was suddenly shocked to life again, Sam took a deep breath.

“Um, I was thinking,” he began, picking up his note pad and a pen, the towel forgotten on the floor. “This case really is an easy one. Any hunter could do it…”

“…yeah?” Dean said, but he had a hunch where the conversation was leading.

“Yeah, so I’m thinking: what if we call someone to take care of it? We need to, uh, focus on getting Y/N to grow, I mean…” He gestured to Y/N, who felt very exposed and self-conscious on the table.

“You’re right.” With a nod, Dean pulled up his phone and scrolled down. “I’ll make a few calls, see if I can find someone.” With another glance at Y/N, he went outside to get better reception.

Ten minutes later, he came back inside. “Bad news and good news,” he said with half a sneer. “No one’s close enough to take over right now. Looks like we have to ride this one out. Sorry, Y/N. But the good news is the sheriff called. He might have something for us. Said he had time for us around five.”

Sam stood and grabbed his jacket. “Fine. Let’s go. The faster we can solve this –“

“Please don’t leave me alone again,” Y/N begged, her voice thin and scared. She really didn’t think she could face another day by herself in that goddamn motel room.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Sam said, beckoning for her to jump into his hand. “You’re part of the team: I’m never leaving you behind again.”

Dean gave him a look that told him that that was a bit much, don’t you think, to which Sam answered with his usual bitchface. Guess not, Dean shrugged and grabbed his suit and headed for the bathroom.

“Thank you, Sam.” Y/N’s voice was still uncertain.

“Don’t worry about it. I feel better when I know you’re okay, you know?” Sam dropped her into his shirt pocket.

There was a small hole in the seam, just large enough that she could see through it, but not big enough that she could be seen.

“This is good,” Sam said, looking in the mirror, tying his tie. “But I can’t wear the jacket, I think. You’ll get crushed. God, it feels weird talking to my pocket.”

“Heh… yeah, tell me about it. This whole week’s been weird.”

“We’re gonna figure it out, Y/N,” Sam whispered. She didn’t have an answer to that.

A loud rumble broke through the silence. Y/N and Sam turned to Dean, who shrugged. “I’m hungry. Not ashamed of it.”

“Yeah, I could go for a nice, big breakfast,” Sam said, getting an elated grin in response from his brother.

“I know just the place. Found a, uh, small diner up the road on the way back last night. Sarah – Sally… uh, anyway, she said that, um they have the best pie in the entire state.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s settled then. Breakfast at the diner.” He downed the rest of his coffee, and followed Dean to the car.

Sam leapt from the car and almost sprinted over the small parking lot before skidding through the door. “Please. Restroom…?” He waved his arms, not capable of standing still.

The gentleman behind the counter nodded to the door on the left. Sam was gone before he could say a word.

It wasn’t until Sam had finished his business and took a seat across from Dean he realised. “Oh shit, sorry,” he muttered into his pocket. “I didn’t mean to… it was pretty dire…” A soft shade of pink spread over his face.

Y/N giggled quietly. “Don’t worry. Emergency is emergency. Though it’s not an experience I particularly wish to repeat.” Leaning against the pocket wall so she could see up, she drew a deep breath. “I’ve never understood why men’s restrooms stink so much worse than women’s, though. And I don’t really want to think too much about it.”

“Shouldn’t have had so much coffee,” Dean added with a grin.

“Shut up!”

When the waitress had brought the food, and left again, Sam looked around to see if anyone would notice. The he reached into his pocket at carefully lifted Y/N out.

She jumped from his hand onto the table, landing with a tiny oof. “What now?” she muttered, sliding down to sit on the spoon Dean had turned upside down for her.

“Dunno,” Dean grinned, unable to keep a straight face from the absurdity. “We finish this case, I guess. And then…”

“Yeah. Just have to talk to the sheriff. He’s bound to know where it all began,” Sam said with a lopsided smile. “Imagine the –“ He didn’t get any further, because the diner cat chose that exact moment to jump up on the table.

For a few moments everything stood still: its eyes were locked in on Y/N, and its tail swishing ominously back and forth before it crouched low, ready to pounce.

“Shit!” Sam had never moved so fast before, slamming his hand over Y/N like a cage, trapping her under his fingers. The cat swatted at his hand, and meowed miserably when Dean lifted it off the table.

Once the cat had slunk away around the corner, Sam lifted his hand. Y/N stared at him with large, watery eyes. “I want back in your pocket.”

He nodded and offered his hand; she climbed in and on her way up, she spotted the cat sitting on the counter, swishing its tail and eyeing her hungrily.

She didn’t come back out again before Sam announced that he had to use the restroom again, but she kept close to Dean’s hand in case anything happened, and when Sam got back, she was laughing at some joke Dean had made.

“That’s right, gotta stay positive,” he said, smiling gently. “You might be small, but at least you’re adorable like this.”

“That I am,” she agreed, hoping she was too small for them to notice the blush creeping over her face.

“Hey! How come he can call you adorable, but when I do it, it results in a nasty bite?” Dean held his hand against the light and squinted at the tiny, red bite mark. ”I should probably get it checked out. Maybe even get a tetanus shot.”

“Because,” Y/N said, deciding to hide the truth in plain sight, “I actually like him. You on the other hand are like the annoying brother I never wanted.”

“You’re an idiot,” Dean countered.

“Takes one to know one.”

Dean’s eyes crinkled, but before any sound had a chance to escape, he was silenced by a deadly stare from Y/N. “Come on,” he grinned, “you gotta admit it’s pretty funny. Badass hunter Y/N that fits in the palm of my hand and gets carried around in a pocket?”

“I’m tiny, but I reckon I could still take you in a fight,” she spat back, but her eyes twinkled with humour.

“She’s right, you know.” Sam grimaced to his brother and winked at Y/N before getting up to pay for the meal.

“Great! Gang up on me!” Dean huffed, holding up his hands. “I can squeeze you with my thumb. You’d end up as a stain on the table.”

Y/N nodded sideways once. “You’d have to catch me first.”

“Nah. Ain’t worth the hassle. Sam would never shut up about it.”

“Whatever you say.” She stuck her tongue out and kicked his hand before running and hiding behind the ketchup bottle.

“You’re a very violent person, Y/N,” Dean teased. He’d barely felt the kick. “Always threatening to kick my ass. Come to think of it, you never do that to Sam.” He gave her a shit-eating grin and winked, to which Y/N replied by sticking her tongue out again.

“That’s because you deserve it, and he usually doesn’t. But I’d take you both in a fight.” Drawing her hands up in a classic fighting stance, she swayed back and forth on her toes.

Dean chuckled and patted her head with one finger. “Aw, isn’t that cute? I think you got a case of small dog syndrome.”

“Nyehnyehnyeh… You’re just jealous because I’m so much awesomer than you.” She sounded confident, but inside she felt like hiding, so she did: sliding down behind the ketchup bottle again.

Picking her up, Dean was about talk, when he was interrupted by a high voice that cut into their ears from the other side of the room: “Pretty dolly!”

As if by instinct, Y/N stiffened in Dean’s hand.

The little girl, towing her mother behind her, jumped up and down and craned her neck to see better.

“Yes, honey, it is,” her mother replied absentmindedly, petting her daughter’s head gently, but not looking up from her phone.

“I want it.”

The mother sighed and looked at Dean. “Sir, how much for the doll?”

“What?”

“My daughter would like to buy the doll you’ve got there. How. Much. Do. You. Want. For. It?” She enunciated every syllable as if she thought he was stupid. She probably did.

“I’m sorry,” Dean said, growing impatient and more than a little annoyed. “It’s not for sale. Not at all. The doll is an heirloom in my family, and we’re not letting it go. Not for no amount of money.” He made a big deal out of wrapping up the “doll” and putting it in his jacket.

Every sound was muted by the wrap, so Y/N couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation, but it didn’t matter, because the only thing she really could focus on was the blood rushing in her ears and the thudding of her heart, and when Dean let her know it was safe to come out again, Y/N let out a huge sigh of relief. Not that she actually thought he’d sell her as a doll, but for a fraction of a second the ugly creature in her brain reared its head and told her that the Winchesters were better off without her. And she had to agree. What good was she to them like this?

“Thank you,” she muttered, sliding off Dean’s palm onto the table.

“For what?”

Blushing and feeling exceptionally stupid, she shook her head. “For not selling me.”

Dean leaned back in his chair, almost tipping over with laughter. “As attempting as it was,” he said once he got his breath back, “you’re not really a doll. It’d be false advertising.” Flinching from an expected slap or sting that never came, he sobered quickly. All he got in response was a feeble heh. “Hey, you didn’t really think…”

Y/N shook her head and looked at the french fry on the plate.

“Because you know I would never… You’re family. I can’t get rid of my favourite adopted sister, can I? Who am I gonna fight with then? Sam ain’t a fair fight – I’d kick his ass in a heartbeat. At least you leave me with a challenge before I kick your ass.”

Looking up, she pursed her lips into a stiff smile. “In your dreams, Winchester. I’d beat you anytime, anywhere.”

Leaning closer to her, Dean winked and whispered: “I know. Just don’t tell Sam I said that. I’ll never admit it.” After a small, silent pause he cocked his head slightly. “You okay?”

“Not really,” she replied truthfully. “But I will be. I think.”

When Sam returned to the table, he scooped up Y/N and dropped her quickly into his pocket again. “That damned cat is eyeing you again,” he muttered. “What kinda diner has a cat anyway?”

“Right, I’m not leaving your pocket until we find a cure,” Y/N sighed. It really was the only place she felt safe. In Sam’s pocket she didn’t have to worry about the world outside; no bugs, no prying eyes, no predators that wanted to eat her, and best of all: no real reminders of how utterly useless she was. In Sam’s pocket she could let the pleasant warmth and his intoxicating scent wash over her and lull her into a calm bubble.

“Come on,” Dean said. “Let’s go interview the witness before our… appointment… with the sheriff.”

The sheriff was late. They’d waited for almost an hour before he finally showed up with no explanation, and no apology, and Dean was ready to punch a man.

“Good afternoon,” the sheriff said and stifled a yawn. “What can I do for you, gentlemen?” He was trying to sound tough, but failed miserably. Clearly he just wanted to go home.

Dean flashed his fake badge and put on his best persona. Y/N wisely kept well out of sight in Sam’s pocket, peeking through the tiny hole in the seam.

While the Winchesters played their parts and got the sheriff talking, Y/N let her gaze wander through the room, not really paying attention until her eyes fell upon a poster with a very familiar face. Her stomach fell, and she clutched the lining of the pocket in frustration that she couldn’t say anything.

On the desk of one of the officers who’d gone home for the day, were a folder and a printed photo of Dean and Sam. Luckily, the photo was older, and the brothers looked nothing like their professional selves, but still: it posed a considerable risk to work in a town where the law was supposed to keep an eye out for you.

Back in the car, she spoke up. “Uh, guys? Did you see the folder on the desk by the window?”

“No, why?”

“Um… How do I say this nicely… You’re wanted.”

“Aw, that’s nice of you,” Dean teased. “Yeah, we’re wanted. Comes with the job,” he added, more seriously.

“Well, they have your photo. And a folder marked with your names on it.”

Dragging a hand through his hair, Sam swore.

“I know,” Y/N continued. “We gotta do something. Think we can break in and steal it or something?”

Dean nodded. “Probably. But it won’t do any good. Pretty sure they can just print out the photo and information again.”

“Yeah, but it might give us some time to finish this case,” Y/N finished with a satisfied nod.

“I agree,” Sam said. “We can go back tonight, after we salt and burn the…”

“Sure. Let’s break into the police station to steal a bunch of papers,” Dean muttered. “Great idea.”

Accompanied with the information from the police, it took them just a couple of hours of digging through old newspaper archives and good old fashioned thinking to find out who the unfortunate poltergeist was, and after just an hour of digging and sweating and swearing, the skeletal remains were covered in dancing flames, and the three of them were heading back into town. Y/N sat comfortably in the hood on Sam’s sweater, and Dean was whistling behind the wheel. They decided to go straight to the station, and not stop at the motel for supplies; being more than ready to get it over with.

Fortune was on their side when they discovered that the window was open just a few inches, but it soon turned out to be more difficult than they’d thought.

Dean grunted with frustration. The window was impossible to pry open. “Back to the drawing board,” he muttered, sinking down on the pile of boxes. “What now? Think we should try the front door?” He fished in his pocket for a lock pick.

Y/N poked her head from Sam’s hood. “Let me try,” she said with poorly disguised glee. Maybe she could actually be of some help. “I fit under there. And the file is just on the desk, see?”

“It’s too heavy. You won’t be able to carry it back to the window.”

She thought for a bit, then tugged on the string in the hood. “Tie this around me. That way you can pull me back.”

“That’s… actually a great idea,” Sam agreed, offering his thumb up for a high five. “You’re a genius!”

She blushed, but puffed up, taking every bit of praise from Sam to heart, feeling bigger than she had in ages.

Read the last part here.

Tagging my wonderful friends:

@awesomeahwu @brynleewolfe @funwithfanfics @babeinthebowtie @savingapplepie-eatingthings @winchesterprincessbride @savvythedork @littlegreenplasticsoldier @youtubehelpsmesurvive @blackcherrywhiskey @mrswhozeewhatsis @schwarzwaelder-kirschtorte @aiaranradnay @iamreadinginsecret @barneybrigade @fandomismyspiritanimal @mogaruke @kathaswings @superwholockyooooo @missdestiel67 @blackfandomtrashandproud @wstrumpel @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @saradiamayaf @escabell @exploratiionist @hennessy0274-blog @sushi-senpai-chan @femmewinchester @tardis-is-mine @badasssweetsrebel @sama1314 @jensensjaredsandmishaslover @megasimpleplan4ever

[fearlesshades]

D&D Stories

@charlesoberonn asked for fun stories from Dungeons and Dragons so here are some of the best from the group I'm in right now. (There's eight of us and we are currently in 3 different campaigns so there's a lot of shenanigans.)

(Under read more because wow so much shenanigans it got way longer than I thought it would)

First Campaign:

This party consists of: a pyrophobic elven druid, a dragonborn sorcerer (pyromancer), a dwarven fighter, a half-elf warlock, a half-orc paladin, a changeling bard, a human ranger (me) and her Tibetan Mastiff, Pup.

We met our dwarf after he had pissed off an evil wizard and was teleported away, where he dropped on top of a table in the beginning tavern.

We met our warlock when he was completely naked

He had clothes. They were in his bag. He didn’t remember why he was naked.

Upon being confronted by a cultist asking after the gem we had just found in a mine, our sorcerer responds with, “What’s a gem?”

The time we were all being slaughtered by dragon wormlings (no spell slots between the 7 party members, four AOEs at our faces) and the dragons kidnapped our paladin to carry him to the top of the tower and our bard got to second base with a god

So we had already been in this tower and we had looked through the trapdoor in the ceiling. After seeing the BBG’s crest in the sky a la Dark Mark with bats pouring out of its mouth we closed the trapdoor and continued on our way. Turns out this tower roof was where we were supposed to meet BBG for the first time and have our first big battle with him.

We were trying to get out of the castle so we could rest in the forest without fear of being attacked en masse by the castle. As we’re walking through the front door the four creepy dragon statues turned into four creepy baby dragons that immediately dropped a couple of us.

We were struggling. Dying. It was not good. Until...

UNTIL

Our bard looked down and saw ‘Blessing of Milil’ written on his sheet.

Like three months ago real word time he had left like 10 gold at Milil’s alter and our DM had told him to write that, which we all promptly forgot about

But, in our dire straights, we decided it was time to try whatever that was.

Bard starts playing and calling to Milil. And light comes down from the heavens with tinkling music, surrounding our almost dead paladin and invigorating him. It filled his HP, his Lay On Hands, and his spell slots to the brim.

He starts slashing, healing, etc, managing to get everyone else out of the entryway. He then turns to get himself out of the entryway when he got hit from behind and dropped.

Dragon wormling takes him and starts flying for the top of the tower with the BBG fight we had accidentally skipped

Our sorcerer (no spell slots and 2 HP) and I (also no spell slots and 3 HP) sprint to the top of the tower where we are immediately Charmed by BBG.

We are expecting Death

Meanwhile, on the ground, our bard is still playing in the hopes of wresting one more favor from Milil

Milil shows up in person in front of him

Milil dusts him off (restores all his spell slots and inspirations and HP), then slaps him on the ass, sending him flying up to the top of the tower, screaming an empowered Counter-Charm the whole way.

The time our sorcerer set a tree on fire right next to our (pyrophobic remember) druid.

The time our sorcerer tried to make up for setting a tree on fire next to our druid’s head by getting him a magic flower pot

The pot is enchanted to resist cold so the flower doesn’t die and has a Ring of Spell Storing wrapped around it

He spent an entire day (in game) and thirty minutes (real world) doing this

The time we (level 7) fought an ancient red dragon with our DM’s old party

Three of them came up to play with us

One was an insane cleric named Pancake Flea (yes really)

One was a level 15 Druid (we didn’t know he was level 15 until we came up to the dragon though)

The third we thought was a bronze colored dragonborn paladin

He was not

He was an ancient bronze dragon

When we came up to fight the ancient red he dropped the polymorph or whatever the fuck he was using and transformed into a giant fucking dragon who then went toe to toe with the other one, sassing the whole way

The time I pissed off the DM by making him come up with what all the hundreds of alchemical bottles in a witch’s brewing room were and he blinded my dog in retaliation

The time our bard cast sleep on skeletons. And then did it again.

The time our paladin (of Bahamat. Oath of Devotion) ran away from skeletons, leaving our much less tanky sorcerer alone in their path

The time we made our DM hate us by using Leomund’s Tiny Hut to take a long rest in a dungeon, and then fought all of the things that had gathered around outside the hut through the walls of it

The time we beat the BBG I’ve talked about before by shoving him in an invisible box and ignoring him until he was tired

Staff of Power is ridiculous, and has Wall of Force

Second Campaign:

This party consists of: a human dragonknight and his friend platinum dragon, a human Eldritch Knight, a dwarven sorcerer, a half-elf monk, a human barbarian, a halfling bard, and a halfling rogue (me).

The time the rest of the group forgot to get me thief’s tools and then asked me to pick locks cause the key was broken

Turns out our sorcerer has mend. And didn’t use it on the broken key.

The time(s) our barbarian (INT 7) crit:

(Little bit of background, the barbarian, for roleplay reasons, can only attack while raging and can only rage when someone else in the party has been hurt)

Created a hang-glider out of bug parts, thereby allowing us all to get over a chasm and escape

Cast shriek because he couldn’t attack yet and the bard had just cast shriek

(He screamed and crit on the attack role, he did like 3 damage or something)

Did the best goddamn pose after the two halflings flipped onto his shoulders to diffuse tension

The time our sorcerer hit me with lightning so I hit him with fruit.

I wanted to hit him with fruit until I did equal damage he had done to me with the lightning (it worked out to 15 fruits that would have needed to hit him) but the rest of the party didn’t let me

Everyone in the party asking the dragonknight for permission to do everything, from getting out of line, to retrieving a dagger (ok it was actually just me but that’s only cause he had yelled at the sorcerer for not following orders) (also this character of mine is 16 (14 in halfling years))

Third Campaign:

This party is made up of: a human ranger, a human rogue, a tiefling multiclass, a human barbarian, a gnome mad scientist, a human monk, and a goliath fighter (me).

The time I got into a shouting match with a statue about the city outside that had been completely wiped off the face of the planet about 30,000 years ago

He didn’t know the city was gone

The city was fUCKING GONE

The time three of us couldn’t shake one bad guy’s concentration cause we were rolling too low on damage

The time our rogue got the entire town guard on his side and threw the ranger in jail

He said the ranger had stolen his dagger, which he actually just happened to have a match to, but the point was he was rolling really well on deception, the guards were rolling really low on insight, and the ranger was rolling really low on persuasion, so ranger went in jail

We went to get the ranger out of jail and the rogue said he would drop the charges if he got his dagger back. When the ranger got out of the jail, he started yelling at the rogue. The rogue had been doing so well on his roles the entire guard was basically in love with him and smacked the ranger, yelling about how “this nice, honorable young man just got you out of jail! How dare you speak to him like that, he’s so nice!”

The time our ranger filled a Bag of Holding with water and got all his stuff wet

The time my goliath (who doesn’t like alcohol btw) got into a drinking contest with the Viking barbarian and passed out, before waking back up and the two of us went drunkenly singing through and out of the town we were supposed to buy all our supplies in and our DM had spent hours on all the different shops and the various people running them

Just goes to show: don’t put effort into anything as a DM cause your players will fuck it up

The second time my goliath got into a drinking contest with the barbarian, won this time, before waking up with the worst hangover ever and deciding to stick to what she actually wants out of life and had milk with her breakfast

Don’t change for anyone, kids

[bonerhitler]

So I’ve been playing Hollow Knight.

So, in lieu of anything interesting to say I've been playing Hollow Knight. I do love the metroidvania genre and people have been telling me it's fun, charming and “like Dark Souls”. So far, I can kind of see it I suppose but not necessarily in the best ways. That's not to say it's a bad game, no I'm enjoying it a lot. It's just got some problems I'll go over in a bit. And before I start talking about the good bits I've got a bigger thing to blather on about; Metroidvania games and why I love them.

Castlevania Symphony of the Night was an excellent game, and personally speaking it is the pinnacle of the genre and the holy grail I compare all other metroidvania games to. Progressing through the castle and earning more abilities to progress deeper actually felt like progression. Even if half of your abilities, like the dog and mist forms, weren't especially useful beyond their specific one-off implimentations. Bat form, double jump and less flashy survival skills like the one that let you not take damage in water were amazing to uncover because they let you dig through the gameworld with more ease. But at the same time it was very rare that the game would straight up block you. Outside of a few very specific doorways, very little in Symphony was made so you absolutely had to follow a strict path through the game and you never really had to play according to how the game wanted you to, you were free to do whatever you wanted and abuse the game's mechanics however you saw fit. This was something it inherited from the Metroid line of games which were infamous for their sequence breaks and tricks to simply skip huge portions of the game. Symphony of the Night made exploring one big area an absolute treat, you gained more and more ways to make backtracking easy and bearable while uncovering new paths and areas that utilized those same abilities to traverse them. Then, just as you finished it all you uncovered an entire second map! Even if it was just the first map flipped upside down, it introduced new challenges to just getting around without having to wall off segments of the game behind glorified keys.

I could keep going on about Symphony, I really could. But this is about Hollow Knight! So lets get this party started right. This game looks great. The art is nice and the level design sets up a really nice world that flows fairly well, for the most part. The character and enemy design is awesome as well. I especially love that they went with a bug theme for everything, it makes the game stand out a bit from the rest of the crowd. I also enjoy the music. None of the tracks I've experienced so far stand out to me especially, but it's a nice ambient soundtrack that fits the areas you traverse very well. I don't think I would ever listen to it outside of the game, but at the same time I don't think I would ever mute the game because it's pleasant on the ears. Also the NPCs are all pretty cute and I'm pretty eager to play more and see how this unfolds with them.

Gameplay-wise Hollow Knight is a fairly simple hack and slash sort of affair. No real combos or special attacks thus far, the only special skill I've gotten is a kamehameha sort of skill where I shoot an energy blast that consumes my energy, as well as the default special skill. That default skill, however, is something I think is really cool. Rather than relying on health drops, pickups or anything you can just heal whenever. You have a shared pool of energy that all of your special skills rely on, but it recharges any time you damage an enemy. It's a bit of a double edged sword though. As far as I can tell, there's only one weapon in the game with a linear upgrade path which isn't necessarily bad and the game gives you nearly every tool you need for combat right off the bat.

Nearly every tool you need. I'm having fun with Hollow Knight but it's got some pretty frustrating issues and a big one I find is that there's no dodge skill. Symphony of the Night gave you a back-dash right off, you could hit triangle and just back dash forever. Great for avoiding hits, great for travel and great for being stylish. In Hollow Knight, you don't get anything. You can't dash, you can't run. You're slow. Combat is kind of frustrating because if an enemy is going to attack you, all you can really do is jump out of the way and that's just not good enough sometimes. Plus there's the aforementioned double edged sword of healing and offensive skills taking from the same, limited, pool of energy. I find myself almost never using my offensive magic because I never know when some annoying really hard to kill enemy is going to pop up and take off most of my health leaving me in dire need to heal. Because get this; no invincibility after you get hit. So not only do you have poor mobility, but half the enemies in the game are designed to just hit you into other enemies or instant death spike traps so you take two or three times as much damage because there's nothing stopping you from getting combo hit. In fact the game's favorite environmental trap is to just have a tight platforming section over spikes and just drop a spike on you from the ceiling, so that if it hits you you fly into the spikes on the floor and get sent to the room beginning taking extra damage.

I also take issue with the world design. Unlike, say, symphony of the night where every breakable wall was clearly marked with a crack and there were usually multiple different ways to tackle a path that might look like it needs a specific mobility upgrade to get past, Hollow Knight's world feels like it was designed for the sake of placing all its secrets first and then how you get around to unlock them was an afterthought. I'm constantly just finding ledges I can't reach with no way to get to them. Breakable walls are in no way indicated until you hit them and then there's the map.

Oh snap this game's map, guys. So you know how in Metroid, any of the metroids really, and Symphony of the Night you have a really nice grid that shows you where you are, updates and just generally manages to be vague but at the same time tell you everything you need to know about a room (except that one room you have to enter from a secret back passage in Metroid Prime. You know the exact room I'm talking about.)? Yeah none of that here. First off you have to buy maps in this game, otherwise you just don't have one. You have to buy upgrades to let you see NPCs, important interaction points and other things on maps. You also have to buy an item that lets you see yourself on the map because otherwise you can't -and- you have to equip it. Right now, I have three points to spend on equipment and this thing takes up one. A thing that every game with a map ever has by default. That's still not all though. Because the map is still, still just plain bad. It tells you nothing and gives you zero indication for size or scale. More than once I've accidentally wandered into a boss fight because I thought I was in an entirely different area of the map. Also the map only updates when you rest at a save point. That’s real bad.

Oh and the game is inconsistent about things in ways that feels slightly off. Some enemies respawn instantly. Small flies and other enemies that you would expect to. Some don't, like bigger enemies that take more hits. Then there's this big knight miniboss type enemy that respawns every time you enter the room. What? No, seriously, what? Why, that thing nearly killed me the first time it showed up and I got locked in a room with it. Now I have to fight it every time I want to pass by this room, this room which is dead center in the middle of the map. Backtracking in this game is a nightmare because your mobility is so abysmal and enemies all take like twice as many hits to kill as it feels like they should. Like you could cut down every enemy's HP by half and the game would flow a lot faster because then you'd stop having to, well, just stop and stand there whacking an enemy three or four times before it died. Funny fact; enemies get invincibility frames, you don't.

So I guess what I'm saying is that it's a cool game but the gameplay is frustrating? Like I really like everything except the gameplay because it feels like the developers just kind of didn't do the metroidvania thing good. In fact it feels like they went out of their way to do it bad. It reminds me of Valdis Story in a lot of unpleasent ways, and that game was a huge disappointment.

So in the end, would I recommend this to someone? Maybe. Have you played Aquaria yet? If not, go get Aquaria and play that instead. It's a very fun metroidvania style game with a unique control scheme, amazing OST and some really cool level design. If you have played Aquaria then sure. Despite everything I've said here I would still recommend Hollow Knight to anyone who asked because while the gameplay is really burning my biscuits an that map is a crime, I really like the atmosphere and character design. I want to see where the story goes too.